#not be salty that there isn’t one for high as hope

[moryera]

Entirely too amused by this tempo marking.

Do I look moderate to you??

[dearhargrove]

Sink or swim

summary When the tsunami hits you're at the pier, watching in confusion and shock as the huge wave nears. You're swept away with a dozen others but gain back consciousness with a weirdly attractive guy and his.. son?

tags medical inaccuracy (I made everything medical up pls ignore it), blood and injuries, one POV change, cursing

word count 2831

a/n just watched the episodes with the tsunami and oh my god? I’m so in love with Buck, Chris and Eddie. These three are adorable. Also these episodes were just good as hell, wtf? Andddd I hope I didn’t make any of them OOC (out of character) but if I did forgive me yall 🫶🏻 also English isn’t my first language, so… 🥹

masterlist

Maybe you should've guessed what it meant when the sea started retreating and a huge wave built up more by the second. But somehow it seemed so surreal that you didn't. You clung to the thought that it was an optical illusion, after all there was no way a tsunami would hit that one time you're at the pier.

Now moments later you regret not running faster, earlier or simply finding a spot to hide. You're pulled under the surface every few seconds, swallowing mouthfuls of salty seawater that makes your nose burn and eyes blur.

You're choking when you're swept against a hard object, it's sharp edge digging into your waist. “Fuck!” you curse, though it ends in a gurgle when more water sweeps over you.

When you resurface you're facing an object that turns out to be a sunken fire truck. The red is striking against the blue and Grey around you and you could cry at relief when you manage to hoist yourself onto it.

You're exhausted, your side hurts and you're dizzy. Your phone is useless, the water having destroyed the technology. Cursing, you pocket it again and lean back. You're about to relax, aware that it could take hours for emergency services to reach you when you hear high pitched screaming. You look up, just in time to see someone with a yellow sweater being pulled towards you with the current, screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Jesus,” you swear and crawl to the edge of the truck, yelling to get their attention with your arm reached out as far as possible.

You almost faint when the person turns around and a small child looks at you, red glasses full of water and messy brown hair. He's crying, reaching out as he's struggling to stay afloat.

“Hey! I'm here, grab my hand!” You yell and lean over the ledge as far as you could. As soon as you saw that little boy you knew you'd jump after him if he couldn't grab your hand now.

“I got you, sweetheart, come on!”

Your assurance seems to help and he kicks his legs, managing to move closer to where you are. In a split second you grab his hand and pull him over the railing and onto the truck, holding the little boy close to your chest in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, coughing a little as he adjusts his glasses. You try to look as calm and collected as possible, gently smiling at him and beckoning him further away from the railing and rushing water.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He shakes his head, biting his lip as he looks out at the water again. He must've been with someone else, you guess when he sits up at every piece floating by.

“Are you looking for someone?” You ask gently and he nods. He slowly speaks, hands fidgeting in his lap, “B-Buck. He's a firefighter.”

You stop yourself from cooing at this adorable child and nod, “We're gonna find him, okay? Just stay here and it'll be okay.”

He looks worried but slowly nods. You go back to sitting between him and the railing, looking out for anyone else.

Just as you spot someone, the small boy moves rapidly and pulls your shirt, “Buck! It's Buck!” He stutters loudly.

You whip your head back around to the rushing water and try thinking of a way to save him too. You couldn't just grab his hand, he would probably just pull you off the truck and you wouldn't risk leaving the kid by himself.

“Shit,” You mumble as you look for a way to help the man, the boy desperately crying out for ‘Buck’ behind you.

It seems you don't need to do much when something slams into the truck and seconds later the man pulls himself up and next to you.

And, damn. He was attractive. His dark blonde curls stick to his forehead as his blue eyes fixate on you and then the boy, strong arms holding him up as a smile builds on his lips, “Christopher!”

You move a bit as the two reunite, the boy- Christopher throwing his arms around the man's neck and giggling wildly.

You watch with a smile, the adorable sight momentarily distracting you from the tsunami keeping not just you but these two strangers trapped on top of a fire truck.

He turns around after a minute, keeping Christopher in his lap as he looks at you. He clears his throat and nods, “Thank you for saving him.” You shake your head and wave your hand in dismissal, unsure how to deal with compliments.

“No, really. I was going crazy when I couldn't find him,” his eyes are fixed on your face and you blame the heat creeping up your neck onto the temperature changes from the water and sun, smiling nervously. “It's all good. Your son is a sweetheart.”

He chuckles, “He definitely is. Though he's not my son,” he mentions, poking the boy's side when he mumbles something. You quickly nod, embarrassed. “Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed-” he shakes his head and a relaxed smile sets on his face.

“It's fine, don't worry. Did you have any luck reaching 911?” You shake your head and hold up your broken phone, screen flickering sadly as you do. He sighs and brushes a hand through his hair (you try not to stare at the hot sight because wow, what are the odds of meeting such an attractive man in the middle of a tsunami?).

“We're probably just gonna have to wait. It'll take time to get boats and units here. It probably looks like this everywhere,” he explains and you tilt your head in surprise before remembering that the kid had mentioned he's a firefighter. Meaning he knew the protocols.

“Right. Christopher mentioned you're a firefighter.” You smile when the boy perks up, a seemingly never faltering smile on his face. “Guess I'm lucky to be stuck with you. Safest I could be.” You shrug, a bashful smile on your face.

“Buck will s-save us all,” Christopher proclaims proudly and you coo at the cute boy. The man now seems a bit uneasy and sighs before his eyes widen, “Shit, right, I'm Evan. Everyone just calls me Buck, though.” You shake his outstretched hand and introduce yourself in turn, biting your lip as a nervous habit.

“So you're a firefighter?” You prompt curiously.

“It's a bit complicated right now…” He sighs, a frown setting on his forehead. You're about to apologize for overstepping when Christopher speaks up again, “He threw up blood.”

Your eyes widen and Evan- Buck pinches the boys’ side in reprimand. “Blood clots,” he elaborates as he looks at your slightly shocked expression. You hum sympathetically before realizing something. “Wait. You were the one trapped under that fire truck? On the news?”

He chuckles (which makes him even more attractive, what the actual fuck?) and nods, “Yep, that's me.”

You grimace in sympathy at the memory and automatically glance at his leg, “Is it all healed? You don't have to talk about it, it's fine if you don't-” he waves you off assuringly, looking relaxed.

“It's fine, don't worry. Yeah it healed fine, had some physical therapy and stuff but now I have blood clots kicking my a- butt.” He stops himself from cursing with Christopher on his lap and you almost smile at the adorable expression of confusion on the kid's face, when Buck presses his hands over both of his ears and whispers what he was originally going to say.

You laugh at the two and a relaxed and almost light atmosphere surrounds the three of you, momentarily disregarding your situation.

“It's kind of ironic isn't it?” He starts and you tilt your head in question. “You saved me, a firefighter, by pulling me onto a fire truck,” he elaborates and you can't help but chuckle, “Right. It should've been the other way around,” you sarcastically add and he holds up his hands in mock surrender.

You relax back against the railing, your eyes drawn to Buck again just to notice him already looking at you. You cock your head questioningly and he bites his lip before grinning, “Sorry, you're just- like, really beautiful.”

Your jaw drops momentarily before you compose yourself and hide behind your hands, “Stop! Geez,” you laugh and he does as well. You exaggerate a shake of your head as you look at Christopher who giggles happily and exclaims, “He likes you!”

Now both you and Buck fluster as he continues, “He's always angry but n-now he's happy.” You notice the small struggle of getting his words out but you couldn't care less, you'd wait hours for this sweetheart to finish a sentence if you had to.

“Oh, really?” You ask in mock surprise and he eagerly nods before Buck intervenes, “Woah, Woah. I'm not always angry. Just.. grumpy.” Christopher makes it a point to look at him and then at you, rolling his eyes and shaking his head which makes it hard to refrain from laughing.

When Christopher busies himself with leaves floating around them Buck lowers his voice a bit as he speaks to you again, “Don't get the wrong impression it’s just, it’s hard. Not being able to work, saving people and all that.”

You nod quickly, “No worries. I’d go insane if I was in your place. I’m guessing they’re keeping you from really doing anything ‘dangerous’?” You ask, careful in case of him wanting to change the subject.

He nods and drops his head back against a siren light, “It is. They’re trying to put me behind a desk! I mean, I’m supposed to be out here, saving lives, fighting fires. That’s my purpose.” He frowns and you hum to show that you’re listening.

“I know they just want me to recover, but…”

“It feels like they’re holding you back?” You finish for him. He chuckles in surprise at the accuracy of what you said and nods.

“I’m probably in no place to tell you this, but trust me, it’s worth it. Get better, do the light work and sooner than you think you’ll be back doing what you love. But if you start now and ignore your health.. it’s going to catch up with you. And it’ll be way worse than a few weeks behind a desk.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment before slowly nodding, “You're right. Thank you.” You smile and put a hand on his leg, making sure he doesn’t mind before adding, “I mean look at you, crushed by an entire ladder truck and you’re up and running already.”

“I’m just that great,” he sarcastically pats his own shoulder and you both break into laughter.

-

You don't know if it's been minutes, seconds or hours when you wake up, laying on top of destroyed concession stands and other things. Something is digging into your back, your leg is awkwardly bent and your ears are ringing.

Groaning you sit up, wincing in pain when a sharp pain strikes through your back at the movement.

Around you is just more trash and destroyed cars, you see an arm laying on one of the cars and decide to avert your eyes as quick as possible for your own sake.

Every step hurts but you keep going; walking through the flooded streets with your eyes looking for either of the two boys you’d spent earlier with or other survivors.

The sun is starting to set and you’re starting to get hopeless. You have no clue where you were, completely disoriented as you pass houses that look entirely the same. Your phone is useless and you’re alone. Shouldn’t you have met at least one person by now?

Your back has gone practically numb, same as your leg, when you see faraway lights in the distance. Your steps get quicker as you see people and to your utter relief firefighters. You don’t know if the tears in your eyes are of joy or utter despair from what happened but you couldn’t care less when a man with short, brown hair spots you and approaches.

You’re trying to walk closer when a small voice somewhere close stops you. You’re not sure if it’s your imagination but you turn around, squinting your eyes in the darkness. And then you see it. A small boy, waddling your way with his arms stretched out like he couldn’t see.

Could it be..?

“Christopher?” You see his head perk up and he tries going faster, stumbling over his own feet. Your heart drops in relief and you gather your last strength to run to him, “Hey, you remember me right?” He nods and you note the missing glasses.

“There’s help, come on,” you point out but he doesn’t look happy. He looks almost angry, “Buck.” You had almost forgotten about the charming firefighter. But your priority right now was Christopher.

“We’re gonna find him. Let’s get you help first,” you say with fake enthusiasm in your voice. He doesn’t look okay with that but stays silent and you awkwardly wrap your arms around him after making sure he’s okay and lift him into your arms.

It’s hard to avoid any obstacles while walking but you manage, seeing the brown haired man from a few minutes ago still there.

“Hey! I need help! It’s a kid!” You yell.

He waves you over while walking towards you and as soon as you can actually see him you’re once again surprised. What was it with these firefighters and their good looks? Jesus.

When he’s close enough you nudge Christopher, “There’s help, he’s gonna make sure you’re okay,” you nod at the man and he stands still before running the last feet over to you, basically ripping the child from you.

“Chris!” He cries, clutching the kid with all his might. Oh, this must be his father.

You smile, relieved that they found each other. He looks up at you with gratitude, “Thank you so much. Thank you.” You just smile.

“He’s found us himself. I couldn’t find him after..” you don’t even know what happened- you just know you passed out and woke up alone. Sighing you rub your temples and shake your head.

“You should get checked out, too. You’re barely walking,” the medic (you guess) advises. You take in the people behind him, the full cots and stressed professionals. “I’m okay. There’s people that need more help,” you nod.

He frowns and shakes his head, “I could tell you at least two injuries of yours that need treatment. Come on.” He nods his head in the direction of one of the tents and you chuckle but follow him. At least you try to. Four more steps and your legs give out, you clutch a random person's arm to prevent your fall, mumbling a sorry when they just barely catch you.

The ringing in your ears is back and you groan when you’re laid on one of the cots, your back protesting painfully.

Your vision is blurry and you can’t understand what’s being said - what the hell was happening to you?

-

“Wait, she’s- she was with me and Chris.” Eddie looks up in confusion as he hooks you up to an IV, checking your pupils with a small torch. “What?”

Buck nods, “Yeah, she saved Chris and then me. When the last wave happened she was swept away- we were all swept away.”

Eddies brows furrow and she looks down at you, your hair a damp mess, clothes dirty and bloody. “She saved Chris?” His best friend nods and crouches down next to you - Eddie notes the pained groan he tries to conceal as he does so - extending a hand and awkwardly patting your shoulder.

“Will she be okay?”

Eddie's answer is interrupted when you open your eyes and wince at the lights surrounding the tent.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Buck asks before Eddie can get a word out, and you almost faint again seeing these two fine men looking down at you with concern. Great first impression, you think.

“Feel like I was in a tsunami,” you grunt and both of them laugh a bit. A third voice pops up next to you, “We were in one, silly.” Leaning over your head and looking upside down at you was Christopher, a smile on his face.

You huff a laugh and hum, “You’re right. Smart boy.”

Eddie looks at Buck at the exchange and he just shrugs with a grin. Chris walks to Eddie and leans into his side, eyes still on you.

“Is there something on my face, or..?” You ask half joking as three pairs of eyes stay trained on you.

“Just beauty,” Buck grins and there’s a second of silence before Eddie gags and rolls his eyes, “That’s so creepy, díos.” You laugh as Buck tries defending himself, simply looking just as cute to you as earlier.

[hushedlover]

Screaming and Fighting

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x reader

Summary: You and Xavier were always best friends. And like all best friends you fought. But this fight was different.

A/n: Part 2 may or may not be already in progress but I want to see if you guys like this first.

Edit: Part 2 Here

Requests are open! Send anything in!

________________________________________

Xavier Thorpe is a lot of things. He’s high-strung, talented, smart, cocky, annoyingly handsome, charismatic, charming, and an asshole. But above all, Xavier Thorpe was your best friend. You had been friends for a long time, your families both being wealthy and high class. You grew up together and had originally hated each other. But as you were forced into spending more time together you grew closer. Your hatred bloomed into friendship and then, for you at least, bloomed into a crush. You found your cheeks growing warm whenever you would hug him or when he would share his food with you. As you got older that crush blossomed into something even more. You didn’t want to admit it was love, because that meant admitting he had power over your heart and you couldn’t have that. So you pushed it away and you continued as things were. That meant bullying the hell out of each other like best friends do, which led to a lot of arguments. Especially as you got older, both of you attended Nevermore.

It had been a normal Friday, you were walking back to the school together having spent the afternoon in his art shed. It started off as idle conversation, and then had turned towards the new student who had joined your class. And somehow that exploded into an argument. This fight had been about some decisions of his that you didn’t exactly agree with. You have always supported Xavier. No matter what he did. Of course, you’d give him shit if the choice he made wasn’t great, but you always supported him.

But when he talked about his huge crush on the new girl, Wednesday Addams, something in you snapped. It wasn’t that you didn’t like her. You really did. You admired the way she carried herself, not caring about what anyone thought. That was something you struggled with greatly. But you also didn’t like the idea of her with Xavier. The thought made your gut twist and turn, and your throat burn. So when Xavier mentioned maybe wanting to take her to the Rave’n you did not hesitate to tell him what you thought.

“With her? Really, Xavier? I would hope you would have more dignity than that,” you scoffed, lightly kicking a stone.

He whipped around to look at you, bewildered and offended. “What the hell does that mean?”

You only shook your head.

“No! Y/n tell me what you mean.”

“I just mean… C'mon Xavier. She has this thing going on with Tyler or so I've heard, but honestly, I get vibes that she plays for the other team. What I'm trying to say is she obviously doesn’t like you! You look like a fool running after her like a love-sick puppy.”

Xavier stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t find the words to say to you. But what he said next made it obvious that that wasn’t the case.

“God you are such a bitch! You can’t for one moment be happy for me,” He yelled and pulled at his hair. “First Bianca and now Wednesday! Any girl I like isn’t good enough for me. And you say I look like a fool? You’re constantly trailing me. You're just jealous and clingy and awful! I can’t stand it anymore Y/n! I can’t do it.”

You stood in shock at his words. He had never hurled such hurtful things at you, never. Not even when you fought about his parents, one of the worst fights you had ever had. You could feel the tear well in your eyes and your heart started to burn. You couldn’t, no you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Calling out a “Fuck you, Thorne” you turned and left.

Now here you were walking through the forest trying to clear your thoughts. You had stopped trying to keep the tears at bay long ago. Your cheeks were wet, salty drops rolling down them silently. You weren’t angry. Not anymore. Or at least not at the moment. You were just numb like your body was protecting you from the hurt. You didn’t feel anything. You had picked up the bad habit of shutting down when hurting emotionally from the toxicity that was your family when fighting.

You didn’t know where your feet were carrying you. You didn’t care. Anywhere but where he was. You looked up from the forest floor when you heard voices ahead of you. You glanced up and realized where you were. Fuck. In the distance ahead of you, you saw Xavier’s painting shack. Your legs automatically carried you where you usually went when you were upset. But now that was the very thing upsetting you. Glancing around for who the voices were coming from; you found the people but you wished you never did. There, standing in front of the shack, were Wednesday and Xavier. Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you carefully crept closer and hid behind a tree to listen to their conversation. You were far enough away that they wouldn’t see you but that you could still hear them clearly.

“Are you really going to make me ask?”

“Oh absolutely,” You could hear the smirk in Xavier’s voice, and it made your heart clench.

Ask what? You thought.

��Would you… “ An awkward moment of silence. You furrowed your brows. “Would you possibly consider going to the raven dance with a certain- Would you go to the dance with me?”

You didn’t wait to hear his answer. You knew what it would be. You turned and bolted back into the forest. Who cares if they heard or saw you? Everything hurt. Shame and embarrassment, along with jealousy and agony squeezed your heart. It burned everywhere in your body. It was all too much. Everything around you was blurred. You had no idea where you were going. You didn’t care. The only thought going through your head was to get as far away from them as possible. You were so angry and humiliated. It made your blood boil. Literally. It felt like your blood was boiling. It felt like you were going to explode with all the feelings inside of you. You felt like screaming and punching something as hard as you could. So you did.

The poor victim of your anger ended up being the tree closest to you. And the karma for attacking the innocent part of nature was instant. Pain bloomed across your knuckles and the skin split, and a burning sensation radiated up your wrist to your elbow. You screamed out in pain. And then you screamed again and again and again until all the anger was gone and you were just tired and numb.

[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 9 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: You continue to worry about what summer ending means for you and Aemond.

word count: 4.7k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, explicit p in v, fingering, praise, mild choking, titty squeezing, light nipple play, cock warming, hospitals, mentions of death, themes of grief and loss, pregnancy, themes/descriptions of high-risk pregnancy/birth.

note: I appreciate your patience for this part so so much! hope you enjoy it!

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected ❤️

The house is quiet when you wake up, besides the sound of Aemond’s breathing. Sunlight streams through his open windows; the light cotton curtains blow gently with the sea breeze. You can smell the salty sea air, and feel the coolness of it on your skin. 

You’re pressed up against Aemond, your back against his chest. One of his long arms lays under your head, the other thrown across your waist. His body is firm and warm against you, with each breath pressing his chest closer to your back.

Aemond kept well on his promise. Goosebumps blossom on your arms as you recall the remainder of the night. 

Helaena and Aegon had teased you ruthlessly as you all stumbled into the Targaryen manor; you and Aemond a tangled mess of limbs, unable to separate from each other for even a moment. Of course, the bottle of champagne you’d shared while stargazing didn’t help your clinginess.

You’d teased Aegon and Helaena right back, ending with a small fight in the kitchen. You don’t remember who exactly started throwing marshmallows like they were weapons of mass destruction, but you think it had to have been Aegon. You’d pushed a button when mentioning how close he seemed with Sara earlier in the evening. 

Aegon had flushed crimson and began raining fire with the marshmallows he’d previously been snacking on. The fight only ended when Aemond picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder and carrying you upstairs. You were giggling like a mad woman all the while; even as he threw you on his bed, stripped your lace thong from under your dress, and buried his face between the softness of your thighs.

It was still very funny, but that did get you to stop laughing. 

Aemond hums, tearing you from your thoughts. His arms tighten around you, melting your body against his chest. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, his nose dragging against the smooth skin. 

“How long have you been awake?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep, lips ghosting against your neck.

A pleasurable shiver rolls through you, eyelashes fluttering shut. 

“Not long,” you admit, as he places a kiss right below your ear.

“Sleep well?” he asks, chest rumbling. 

“The best,” you tell him, earning another squeeze, another kiss. 

He’s so affectionate, you never expected him to be this way. Like a dragon hoarding his treasure. 

“Would you like some breakfast?” he asks, “Coffee? Tea?”

“I’d love that,” you tell him, fingers stroking his arm, “But I don’t want to get up yet.”

Aemond chuckles, the vibrations reverberating through his lean frame and into you. 

“Not yet then,” he agrees. 

You scoot closer, as close as you can get, pressing your backside against him. You can feel him getting hard through the boxer briefs he wore to bed. It presses against you sending a delicious pang of need straight to your center. You had opted for one of Aemond’s t-shirts for bed; a black one with red lettering on the front for a band you hadn’t heard of. 

“Dracarys,” Aemond had told you when you asked, “It means dragonfire in High Valyrian.”

The arm that isn’t trapped underneath your head moves to stroke a path up your thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Aemond plays with the hem of your shirt, before dipping below it.

“Aemond,” you breathe, arching into his touch.

“Shh,” he coos, following the curve where your thigh meets your hip, “Let me.”

You suck your lower lip between your teeth, head tilting backward as he continues to nip and suck the sensitive skin of your neck. He bends his opposite arm, moving it from under your head and letting it dip through the neck of your t-shirt, taking your breast into his palm. He squeezes just as his fingers spread through your folds, causing a small gasp to escape you. 

“Fuck,” you mewl as his fingers dip lower, gathering some of your arousal before rubbing circles around your needy clit. 

Sparks of pleasure tingle through your veins, warmth flooding through you. You’re burning everywhere he touches, happily consumed by his flames. 

“You like that?” Aemond asks, lips pressed against your neck, fingers working your bud and your nipple in tandem. 

“Yes,” you breathe, pressing your ass against his erection. He’s fully hard now, straining against the confines of his briefs. 

Aemond’s hand moves away from your clit, and he lets a finger dip into your center curling upwards against your spongy walls. The pleasure heightens, your abdomen tightening as he searches for your most sensitive spot. He finds it effortlessly, as though he’s mapped your body and memorized it completely. 

“You need more?” Aemond asks, a teasing tone present in his sleepy voice. 

He curls his finger as he asks, causing you to whine. They’re so long. Aemond’s hands have become somewhat of an obsession of yours the longer you’ve been together. Your hips grind against his finger, wanting it deeper. He’s teasing you slightly, you know it, keeping his thrusts shallow and focused. 

“What is it, baby?” he teases, teeth sinking into your shoulder.

“Yes….please, please,” you whimper, “Please I need more--Oh.” A second finger breaches your entrance, joining the first in its movements. 

You’re so much more full, warmth blooming in your abdomen, but it's still not enough. You need him, completely in all ways possible. 

“This feel good?” he murmurs, curling his fingers against your walls. 

Aemond thrusts his fingers inside of you expertly, his palm grazing your clit. You buck your hips against his hand, desperately riding his fingers as pleasure grows in your belly. His languid pace is maddening, steadily building your orgasm with no rush. 

There are no distractions this time; no park full of moviegoers, no carnival, no hot tub. It’s just you and Aemond, in the comfort of his bed. Door locked, siblings occupied. Nothing to come between the two of you. 

“Cum for me,” he growls in your ear, “Come on baby, cum, then I’ll give you my cock.”

You writhe against him, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave of white-hot pleasure, pussy clenching around his long digits. 

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder, “My good fucking girl.”

“Aemond,” you whimper, reaching behind you to tug at his briefs, “I need you, please.”

He removes his fingers from your soaked pussy, bringing them to his lips. You turn your head, watching as he cleans them, moaning at the taste of you. When he’s finished, you feel his hand against yours, helping you ease off his briefs. 

“Wanted to eat that pretty pussy of yours,” Aemond says, chuckling at your neediness, “Perhaps later then?”

“Later,” you agree, feeling his hand curl around your knee, bringing your leg up towards your chest, “I need you inside me, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Aemond says, smiling against your shoulder.

You can feel the head of his cock pressing against your slick opening, as he eases his length inside you. The angle is new, with you laying on your side and him pressed against your back. Your pussy grips him like a vice and he groans as he bottoms out in your warmth.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “You’re so tight, baby.”

He rolls his hips, sliding his cock in and out. It’s similar to the attention of his fingers; unhurried and sweet. If you thought you were on fire before, it's nothing compared to the feeling of Aemond’s cock inside of you. Fire erupts in your belly, stoked by every roll of his hips. 

Aemond is in no rush, keeping one hand wrapped under your thigh as he slowly thrusts into you. His other hand moves to your neck, his long fingers wrapping around your throat. It’s not quite choking, just a comfortable presence. You’re sure he must feel your pulse fluttering against his thumb like a butterfly’s wing. 

A desperate noise leaves your lips as he moves against you, sliding effortlessly in and out of your wet heat. Aemond groans, letting out a breathless gasp before sinking into you again. “Fucking love this pussy.”

You whimper in response, and his hand moves upwards gripping your jaw. He turns your face toward him, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Blistering heat courses through your veins as he kisses you; you nearly lose yourself in the sensuality of it. The passion. The coil in your gut tightens, and your eyes squeeze shut. 

“You close baby?” Aemond murmurs against your lips, before pressing a kiss to your cheek. You clench around him as he releases your thigh, bringing his fingers to play with your clit, “That’s it, baby, that’s my good girl, go on….let go…”

The tightly wound ball of pleasure snaps and you shudder against him, a strangled cry leaving you as he presses kisses to your cheek, your neck, any part of you his lips can find. 

“So good for me, that’s it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, chasing his own release, “Such a pretty girl, fuck you’re beautiful.”

You feel the warmth of his release deep within you, the twitching of his cock inside you maddening. You turn to kiss his lips once more and stop him as he begins to move.

“Stay,” you murmur, reaching behind you to touch his face.

You look back at him through your lashes, running the back of your fingers against his cheek and down the curve of his jaw. Aemond’s eye watches you, staring intently with such compassion it nearly takes your breath away. You caress his cheek again, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Stay,” you whisper again, “Stay with me.”

Your voice is thick with emotion as you speak, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. A different question lies below the surface of your request, soon to be answered but summer’s end. 

“I’ll stay,” he says, leaning into your touch, “I’ll stay.”

You remain in bed for a while longer, before both you and Aemond succumb to the rumbles of hunger your stomachs emit. Begrudgingly, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen. Aemond beelines toward a cabinet as you enter the kitchen behind him. 

“I didn’t know you could cook,” you comment as he places two bagels in the toaster. He chuckles at your comment.

“I think I can handle a bagel,” he says, flashing you a smirk. 

You smile in response, cheeks warming as he meets your eyes. You bite your lip, moving past him and opening the fridge, peering inside. It’s well stocked with fresh-cut fruit and vegetables, and Helaena’s fancy kombucha is placed next to Aegon’s Red Bull stash. You chuckle at the juxtaposition of items before grabbing a tub of cream cheese. 

You place it on the counter, turning your back to it before hoisting yourself to sit atop it. Aemond raises an eyebrow at you as you wiggle back further onto it. 

“Chair not cutting it?” Aemond asks, his eye intently focused on where you tug your shirt to cover your thighs. It had ridden up slightly as you adjusted yourself.

“I’m trying to reach your eye level,” you tease, “How tall are you exactly?”

He shrugs, smirking at you causing you to roll your eyes. Aemond side steps toward you, letting his fingers ghost across the lip of the counter before they reach your knee. He positions himself in between your legs, fingers curling around your knees. Your breath hitches as he widens your legs.

Aemond looks up at you, the corner of his lip tugging upwards in a small smile.

“What?” you ask, returning his grin.

He answers you with a kiss. 

It’s slow and passionate and needy all at once. His hands smooth over the tops of your thighs until settling on your waist. You can feel the hardness between his legs; it’s truly incredible how quickly he recovers. You pull away from him, laughing slightly as he nips at your jaw.

“You’re insane,” you tease, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. He hums against your neck, sucking a purple love bite into the sensitive skin. “Aemond…our bagels.”

Your attempt to get him to refocus is futile; once he’s determined about something there’s not stopping him. His fingers trace the smooth skin of your inner thighs and you suppress a shiver.

“I’m not fucking you in the kitchen,” you tell him, but it comes out as practically a moan.

“Why not?” Aemond murmurs; you can feel his smirk.

“It’s unsanitary,” you tell him, “Oh fuck, Aemond-”

“Ew!”

Aemond pushes away from you, glancing at the source of the complaint before turning his body, hiding the ever-obvious tent in his sweatpants. Helaena had entered the kitchen, and judging by the horrified look on her face, had seen and heard a lot.

You tug your shirt down, slipping off the counter so it falls to almost your knees. You didn’t have any shorts here--you hadn’t been planning on a sleepover. Baela had stayed the night as well, crashing in Helaena’s room.

“Hey Hel,” you squeak, face burning with embarrassment. Aemond clears his throat as the toaster dings, before busying himself with fixing breakfast. “Where’s Baela? Sleep well?”

Helaena’s nose wrinkles in disgust as she moves toward the fridge. 

“I was perfect until that,” she says, shivering in disgust, “Luckily, Baela’s still sleeping. Jesus Christ you two.”

“You could’ve announced yourself,” Aemond snaps, smearing cream cheese onto a bagel half.

“Oh yeah,” Helaena says, rolling her eyes. She closes the fridge, turning and plastering a fake smile on her face, “Hey bestie! Hey little brother! Umm hello? HELLO?? Oh..can’t hear me with all the moaning and fucking….okay! I’ll just get my muffin elsewhere!”

You move toward her, wrapping your arms around her in a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, “Sorry you had to witness that.”

“I’m just gonna start screaming next time,” Helaena mumbles, “That’s my brother you know.”

You pull away from her, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m aware,” you say, smiling.

“Like, my little brother,” she clarifies, “Annoying, geeky, science fair winning-”

“You won a science fair?” you interrupt, turning to Aemond.

“The Doom of Valyria,” he says, nodding at the memory.

“Dork,” Helaena finishes, crossing her arms, “You’re fucking my dorky brother.”

“You approved!” you accuse.

“I still do, duh,” Helaena says, sighing, “I just don’t want to witness it.”

Aemond hands you a plate, smiling down at you. You quickly take a bite, moaning in satisfaction. You really were starving. Helaena gives you a warning glare.

“Don’t,” she says, “I’ve heard enough of your moans.”

“I haven’t,” Aemond says, taking a bite of his bagel and smiling at his sister. Helaena shakes her head, before looking at her phone.

“Disgusting,” Helaena says, pouting, “I am disgusted.”

You laugh, trying not to choke on your breakfast.  

“We’ve got a busy week,” Helaena tells you, “Luke’s doing final test runs on Seasmoke these next few days. Then we’re on cleaning duty again so it sparkles for the regatta.”

“Friday, right?” you clarify, and Helaena nods.

“Ugh, I love and hate it,” she says with a groan, “Love competition, hate summer ending.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. It’s inescapable, no matter how you choose to ignore it. You glance sideways at Aemond but his body language gives nothing away. He continues eating, leaning against the counter. 

“It’s not over yet,” you tell her, hopefully, “I mean, there’s still time…”

“I move in early,” Helaena says, a pained grimace on her face, “The Sunday after the regatta. RA duties and all.”

“You’re an RA?” you ask, surprised.

“My residents love me, thank you very much,” Helaena says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Cause you let them get away with anything and everything,” Aemond comments, placing his plate in the sink.

“You can just say you’ll miss me,” Helaena teases, “But yeah. I’ll be gone early.”

“I’ll miss you,” you tell her, meaning every word. Helaena has become a close friend of yours this summer. The thought of not seeing her again makes your heart hurt.

“You’ll have to come visit me,” Helaena says, smiling, “Eyrie College is pretty cool if I do say so myself.”

“And far,” you tell her.

“Holidays then,” Helaena insists, “You’ll be back here, right?”

You glance at Aemond, he’s leaning over the sink, his back facing you. You don’t know what to say. Will you ever be back here? Baela is one of your best friends, so the obvious answer is yes.

But will you ever be back here?

At this moment, right now. That question is a little more complicated. Aemond clears his throat, the silence laying heavy between you. 

“I’m going to shower,” he says, walking over to you. He drops a kiss on your head, before leaving the kitchen.

Just as he exits, Baela enters, yawning and stretching her hands above her head. She rubs the sleep from her eyes before grabbing the other half of your bagel. A tradition you share, splitting meals. It’s second nature for the two of you.

“You haven’t talked yet?” Helaena asks, phrasing her question in a way that reveals she already knows the answer.

“About what?” Baela says, through a mouthful of bagel. 

“No,” you answer, “I mean…we always said when summer ends…”

“Things have changed,” Helaena says, violet eyes wide and all-knowing, “Talk to him.”

You should. You will. But not today. Not yet. Having that conversation breathes life into the inevitable end. Your chest tightens at the thought alone. 

“I will,” you promise, nodding. 

Baela leans her head against your shoulder and Helaena presses her lips together, returning your nod with one of her own. 

“Can he fuck off?” Baela grumbles, a few days later. 

You’re sitting at the Kingsroad Country Club beside the pool, soaking in the afternoon sun. The forecast called for thunderstorms this evening, and you had decided to sunbathe for as long as you could. 

Her phone has been vibrating all afternoon. No matter how many times you’ve told her to put it on do not disturb she refuses. Out of spite, you think. You peer over your sunglasses, seeing Daemon’s name on her screen. Not dad, not father. Daemon Targaryen.

Baela presses ignore. 

She slumps back, throwing her arm over her head, mumbling obscenities. 

“You don’t think you should answer?” you ask.

“He’s just going to cuss me out about the gala again,” she grumbles, “Or talk about school. Or dinner, or some other frivolous event I couldn’t care less about.”

Daemon tries her again. She lets it go to voicemail this time. 

“I’m done with summer,” she says with a sigh, “I’m ready for the fall semester. Senior year. Honeyholt. Gods I miss it.” 

That tugs at your heartstrings. Honeyholt truly has become your home these past few years at school. Fall is nothing short of magical. When the leaves turn red, orange, and yellow, bathing the campus in a sunset glow. It’s your favorite time of year. And yet this time it looms like a threat. 

Baela glances at you, tilting her head to the side. I can read your thoughts, her look says as she raises an eyebrow at you. You pull your book closer. It’s a spicy read, one of your favorites. You’d sent Aemond a text message earlier, detailing the section you’d been reading. 

Anything you read, I do to you later, had been his response. 

Your whole body erupted in goosebumps, and you’d been unable to stop the stupid lovestruck grin from your face. Wait. 

Like-struck.

Like-struck grin. 

“We need to start planning for Halloween,” Baela says suddenly, “We’re behind already.”

“It’s August.”

“Like I said,” she says, as her phone rings once more, “For fuck’s sake!” 

Baela picks up the phone, angrily bringing it to her ear, “You call me again, I’m blocking you. For real this time I don’t care what Mumuña says---” she stops suddenly, eyebrows furrowing together. 

She reaches up toward her face, taking her sunglasses off. “Jace?”

You lay your book against your chest. You hadn’t even realized Jace was back yet. Baela turns, a confused expression on her face. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, but she shakes her head.

“Yeah, we’ll be right there----” she holds her phone between her head and shoulder hurriedly packing her poolside items into her tote bag.

Lip gloss, suntan lotion, water bottle. Baela’s hands are shaking. You can’t make out what Jace is saying, but you grab your things as well, prepared to leave the second Baela finishes the call. 

“Got it, yeah,” Baela says, lower lip wobbling, “Bye.”

She hangs up, blinking rapidly, eyes downcast. She doesn’t move for a moment, just sits hunched over the chaise lounge. 

“Bae?” you ask, worry curling in your gut, “Bae talk to me.”

She lifts her eyes, meeting yours. 

“It’s Rhaenyra,” she tells you, “There’s….there’s something wrong. It’s the baby.”

You’re not a fan of hospitals but then again, who is? You’d been in the private waiting room for the past hour, seated next to Baela, Jace, Luke, and Rhaena. The younger children were safely tucked away on Dragonstone, blissfully unaware of their mother’s whereabouts and wellbeing.

Not much was said. The baby was turned the wrong way, the cord wrapped around its fragile neck, something like that. Emergency surgery. 

Daemon was nowhere to be found. 

A bit of an exaggeration; he’d been here earlier but went for a walk. Jace said he was climbing the walls with anxiety. 

“He should be in there with her,” Luke spat, his face contorted with anger at his stepfather’s actions, “He should be--”

“He’ll come back,” Rhaena insists, hugging her stepbrother, “He always does.”

Baela was pacing as well. Restless like her father. Unable to sit still. You’d offered to get her food, coffee, anything to ease some of her anxiety. She declined. 

The hospital is a graveyard to Baela, Rhaena, and Daemon.

Laena Velaryon spent her last moments on this very floor. 

Rhaena hides her despair well, but you watch her wipe the corner of her eyes every minute like clockwork. The sleeves of her sweatshirt are now damp.

A nurse came to update them, and you texted the Targaryen-Hightower siblings. You’d been giving them updates. Helaena said she was on her way to the hospital, in desperate need of being by her elder sister’s bedside. Alicent was coming with her as well. 

Baela turns away from the nurse, placing her hand on her forehead. She walks quickly down the hall, bursting through the doors. You get up, sprinting after her. 

“Baela!” you call, jogging to catch her, “Bae-”

She comes to a stop, turning to you, a panicked look on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. You’d only seen Baela cry a handful of times.

“Oh, Baela..”

“I don’t like her, okay?” she says, breathing becoming ragged, “But I don’t…I don’t want her to die.” She chokes on the last word, a sob bubbling up out of her throat. 

You feel tears leaving your own eyes, falling freely down your cheeks. 

“I don’t want her to die,” she repeats through her sobs, “I don’t-”

“I know,” you tell her, pulling her against you as she cries, “I know.”

She collapses against you, the sobs wracking through her, echoing down the hallway. You hold on tight, as she releases all the pain of the past summer, the past years. 

The ghost of Laena Velaryon lingers in these walls. 

You hold her until the door down the hall opens, and Daemon Targaryen steps through. He looks so much like Rhaena in the way he holds himself. Trying to remain stoic, but unable to hide his pain all the same. He walks down the hallway slowly approaching Baela as though she were a scared animal. 

“Tala (Daughter),” Daemon says softly, stroking her hair, “Come here.”

“Kepa,” she sobs, reaching for him, “I’m sorry.” She clings to her father, and he smoothes her hair, holding her close. 

“I know,” he says softly, “I am too.”

“I miss her so much,” Baela sobs, “So much.”

“I do too.”

“But I don’t want Rhaenyra…I can’t…not again--”

“Shhh,” Daemon soothes her, “It’ll be alright.”

You leave father and daughter to reconcile, heading back into the room. Daemon and Baela join several moments later; Baela returns to her pacing and Daemon is called into another room by a doctor. Helaena and Alicent arrive, demanding to see Rhaenyra. 

Eventually, the nurse caves and ushers them through the same door Daemon went through. 

The minutes feel like hours, but finally, finally, Helaena emerges from the doors. She takes a deep breath before a small smile appears on her face. Jace stands immediately, waiting with bated breath.

“She’s okay,” Helaena says, “Rhaenyra and the baby. They’re okay.”

Helaena’s words breathe life back into the room. The tension begins to dissipate and Rhaena collapses into her chair with relief. Luke begins to cry, and Jace wraps his arms around his brother. Baela blinks rapidly, nodding.

“Can we…can we see?” Jace asks, and Helaena nods. 

Jace and Luke hurry through the doors, and Rhaena grabs her twin's hand, dragging her behind them. You’re so happy you feel you might start crying as well. You stay in your seat, happy to let the family share this special moment together. Helaena walks over to you, tilting her head to the side. 

“Come see,” Helaena insists, taking your hand.

“It’s okay, really-”

“Nonsense,” she says, cutting you off, “You’re family too.”

Your heart sings at her words, and you take her hand as she leads you to Rhaenyra’s room. She’s sitting up at an angle in the hospital bed, recovering nicely. Sweat gleams on her brow, but she smiles when Helaena enters the room. 

Daemon holds his youngest daughter in his arms, standing next to Rhaenyra. She looks so small in his arms, a tiny little creature with pale flesh. You can count the bluish-purple veins that lay beneath her paper-thin skin. 

“This is Visenya,” Daemon says, his voice soft, “Jace and Luke have just held her.” He looks up, his eyes meeting Baela’s. 

She’s watching the baby as it stretches its small fingers toward the sky. Baela doesn’t say anything, just moves forward and holds her hand out to her sibling, letting Visenya’s small fingers wrap around hers. 

Rhaenyra smiles softly. 

It’s not completely healed, you know it. Wounds like that take time to heal. But you feel a warmth bloom in your chest as Baela smiles at Visenya and knows that they’re headed in the right direction.

You decide to give the family some privacy when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Aemond. You hadn’t updated him in a while. 

You excuse yourself, answering as you leave the room. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Aemond says, “Just wanted to check in, is everything okay?”

“Yeah everything’s okay,” you tell him, walking down the hall, “Rhaenyra is good. The baby is good.”

The line is quiet, you can hear his steady breathing.

“Visenya,” you tell him, “You officially have a niece.”

Aemond hums at the end of the line. You reach the end of the hallway, facing a large window. Dark storm clouds have gathered in the sky, and you can see lightning in the distance, and hear the low rumble of thunder.

“How’s Baela?” he asks.

“She’s doing well. I think she’s glad Rhaenyra is okay,” you say.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I really do.”

The rain begins, fat droplets splashing against the glass. 

“I’m glad too,” Aemond says suddenly, “Just…she is my sister.”

You smile, watching the streetlights turn on as the sky grows increasingly darker.

“I know you are,” you tell him, unable to stop the ache from growing in your chest. You can feel it. The presence weighs down the air between you, even through the phone. “Aemond-”

“I have to go,” he says suddenly, “Can I call you later?”

We have to talk. 

“Y/N?”

We need to talk.

“Are you still there?”

I think I’m falling in love with you.

“Yes,” you answer, “Sorry. Yeah of course. I’ll talk to you later.”

It takes him a moment before ending the call. Your heart hammers against your chest as you cradle your phone against your cheek, long after he’s gone.

note: ONE PART LEFT!! I REPEAT ONE PART LEFT!!! ilysm

OLS Taglist 1: @talesofoldandnew, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

@grungegrrrl, @melsunshine, @helaenaluvr

bold means tumblr would not let me tag!

[sashi-ya]

𝑵𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝐊𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞! 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤹˚ synopsis. a noble woman like you have been invited to the anual christmas dinner, this time organized by the Kuchiki clan... But you aren't new to those lands, and Byakuya is a little bit weak when it comes to you ~

tw: mndi. smut. penetration. masturbation. semi public. cream pie. wc: 1,5k

Noble, refined, rich. Status. All of the things you didn’t need. Because you already have them. As equally as Mr. Kuchiki.

Your red dress, sexier than any of the rest, but still elegant caught the attention of everyone in the room. But you could only care for one just pair of dark blue eyes; Kuchiki Byakuya’s eyes.

Soft hand placed on his, sliding in glamourous style and still so full of lust.

“Welcome Miss (Name)” Byakuya salutes you, taking the back of your hand to his lips. Such action, causes little gasps around. Byakuya Kuchiki kissing a woman’s hand? What is this?

But not even him, a self-control freak, could resist the enchantment of you.

“Thank you, Kuchiki-san. I am glad this year it was you who were in charge of organizing the Christmas Noble Night” you whisper, coming closer to his face… oh so dangerously close, with bold bloody lips tinted in carmine hues.

Byakuya swallows. His motions seem to become slow, slower. Nothing but your seductiveness occupies his mind, fogging his judgement, making him extremely sensitive.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here” “The pleasure is mine…”

You walk past him, letting your hair play like a hypnotizing pendulum barely covering your exposed back. Byakuya’s eyes fix on the small of it, already imagining a thousand ways of kissing your skin.

After you have successfully asserted dominance over every little noble, it’s time to sit down at a fine, and full of food, table.

You sit in your spot, especially chosen to be right in front of the host and wait for Byakuya to arrive at the dining room.

Every low-grade noble woman awaits for his presence with great enthusiasm, even if they know he is a man of a single woman. However, every rule has always a certain exception…

As he enters everybody shuts up. His formal attire, a dark green kimono with gold details, flashes before the eyes of hungry singles. His hair, as always so silky and beautiful, flows with every step he takes, properly fixed into his Kenseikan. And his eyes, as always looking like a dark spring night, scan quickly the room before falling upon your imagery.

“Thank you all for coming tonight, I hope you enjoy” he announces, as always short and to the point. Byakuya will never rumble, Byakuya will never speak a single word more than what it should be pronounced.

He sits down and as he does, you cross your legs in such way that the high cut of your dress slides enough to let him see everything he was hoping for you to show.

Byakuya’s gaze changes from a severe to a troubled one; his gloved hands slide down his lap… there is probably something he needs to make sure it isn’t showing.

However, the seductive dance of courtship isn’t over. In fact, it is barely starting.

The first plate is served, on extremely fine tableware on top of silver plates. A assorted pieces of Sashimi await to be devoured. Like you wait to devour him, soon. Quick… faster.

You notice the noble man constantly -and rather notoriously- peaking at you, trying to know of every single thing you do. And as the long tradition in Japanese cuisine marks, you use your own hands to eat the pieces of Sushi. The juiciest one, sexily kisses your lips with salty taste. A little drop of sauce pulling on the middle of your lower lip, inviting a voyeuristic Byakuya to fix his gaze in them.

Ginrei-sama, Byakuya’s grand father and ex head clan, notices how lost in lust his grandson looks and decides it’s time to wake him up.

“Byakuya, pay a visit to the rest room. You are making a bad impression. You are visibly flustered, kid” Ginrei whispers, breaking Byakuya’s fantasy.

He immediately widens his eyes; now the embarrassment is too high for him. He debates himself whether to deny the allegations; to assert his dominance by mentioning he is the head of the clan now… but he choses to stay silent; his grandfather is right.

You notice, smirking ever so softly. There is something so beautiful about a needy man unable to control his own desires…

He excuses himself and stands up. Visibly annoyed, but still acting to supress any type of emotions he turns around and disappears into an endless hall of the Kuchiki manor.

Of course, it wouldn’t be proper to stand up and go behind him immediately… even if you would love to show the rest who has more rights over him than anyone else in there.

By the time the dessert is served and finished, Byakuya hasn’t came back. And that could only mean two things; either he is not willing to get tempted in public again, or he is waiting for you. In any case, both only lead to one single solution…

When everybody is a little bit dizzy from alcohol and good food, you quickly escape the place. You don’t need nobody telling you how to find him, you know the place very well.

And right where you knew he would be, you find him. Byakuya’s nose points to a snowy moon, with his body bent over the railing of his room’s balcony. You can’t see him, as he is facing the vast gardens of now wintery dried cherry blossoms and endless pristine snow.

You walk slowly towards him, taking your heels out before stepping into the deck of his balcony. You can subtly hear soft pants coming from his beautiful lips.

“Just as I thought, you can’t resist yourself no more… right, Bya-kun?” you ask, whispering and surrounding his body from behind towards his waist.

In between his delicate hands, his hard sex. Dripping precum, desperate to be touched, to be relieved. Warm skin you reach that contrasts with the cold breeze of a silent night.

He can’t speak. In his eyes, aside from lust is relief… you have arrived, his helper, the woman that brought back his masculinity is there for him.

You kiss his shoulder, surrounding his shaft with delicacy and yet very firmly.

“Were you waiting for me, Bya-kun?” you ask, sliding your free hand up his cold belly. “For how long have you been this hard?”

“Si-since you arrived… no, even before” he stutters; how strange it is to see this facet of such a serious man. So needy…

You begin to pump his dick, jacking off to drain every drop of seed out of his impassioned body. His legs quiver just a little, one of his hands grab the one you have on his lower belly, and his lips separate enough to let low grunts escape.

“You are so hard already, how would you like to cum… Bya-kun?” you ask, biting the lobe of his ear.

He shivers, letting his body succumb to blinding passion for just a little bit before ripping the kenseikan holding his hair up… Byakuya has lost control, and he is allowed now to do so.

The metallic piece falls into the deck, with such strength that reverberates and creates echoes on the now -hopefully- empty garden underneath.

He turns around, dominantly stopping your masturbating hands.

“Inside. Of. You.” He assures, lifting you by your legs and sitting you over the railing of his balcony.

You let a soft gasp out; even now, when you think you have control… you were so absolutely wrong.

His lips crash against yours, kissing you so concupiscently. Giving you the right to shut up and get violated by a tongue desperate to taste yours.

Byakuya rips the red fabrics of your dress; the sound of the sewing stretching gets covered by panting and whining. Long slender fingers, as soft as silk, discover with great surprise there are no panties covering your wet sex.

“Always so slutty, aren’t you? Always ready for me to fuck you” he murmurs, muzzled by your desirable trembling lips.

“Always, Bya-kun… ngh…” you whine, as he doesn’t wait much time and you immediately get impaled by his hardness.

Pulling from his lower lip, you let him destroy you with heavy thrusts and unmatched technique.

An exquisite increasing rhythm, and your legs snaked around his waist. Pants, whines, and grunts devoured by each other’s mouths. Curled toes, hair flowing on the edge of glory, mounting such a spectacle that can be seen by anyone who decides to pay a visit to the Kuchiki gardens…

The icy cold of Christmas does nothing to your body, the warm embrace of the captain of the sixth division keeps you hot enough. His teeth that sometimes travel to your hard nipples, biting on them, sucking on them.

Your head thrown back, your hands caressing and sometimes pulling form his beautiful onyx hair. To see his eyes fixing in yours while he pounds you, while he pull from your nipples… what a Christmas miracle, what a good present to receive on such a holly night.

Byakuya’s hand reach for the small of your back, once and for all. Pressing against his crotch, he has you trapped. With your back a little bent towards the abbys, and his mouth on your neck, you can feel against your walls the throbbing sensation of his sex. Your spasming walls, milking it harder, reaching climax, aching to be bathed by the Kuchiki descendance.

“Here, now… here is where I wanna cum… Inside you… now, and fo-forever” Byakuya growls. “Forever, you say? Please, do… Bya-kun. Merry Christmas, sweetheart~”

[rollinouttahere-writes]

I was thinking about the Little Lucky AU and found myself wondering how Ace’s reaction would have changed if he’d seen Lucky before she had a chance to heal, so here's that

Smile For Me

4.1k words

Not an experience in the world could top the feeling of the salty sea breeze whipping past him as he cut through the ocean in Striker. Ace was positive he would never grow weary of the sensation. The intoxicating views and endless freedom of it was enviable to say the least.

An unimposing wave headed straight for him, Ace only grinned and increased the speed. His prized boat ramped over the wave, temporarily becoming airborne before crashing back into the sea. Water shot up and coated him in a fine mist, enough to feel refreshing but not so much as to weaken the devil fruit user.

The figure of a ship on the horizon caught his eye. It was too far away for him to be able to identify whose it could be, but he changed course anyway. Might as well approach and ask if they know anything about that backstabbing bastard Teach.

Plus, if they turn out to be marines, he’ll get a much needed opportunity to blow off some steam.

As soon as the jolly roger was identifiable, a grin broke out across his face. It hadn’t been long since he’d last seen Luffy and his crew, but who was he to pass up such an opportunity? Besides, for all he knows they’ve heard or seen something related to Blackbeard. Though, admittedly, he’d prefer if that traitorous piece of shit never so much as made eye contact with any of them.

Especially not his niece. 

For most of his life, Ace would have never considered himself to be a family oriented man. Between the loathing for his father and complicated feelings regarding his late mother, the word ‘family’ left a bitter taste in his mouth. Sure, he eventually opened himself up enough to let his brothers in, but that felt different.

It wasn’t until his introduction to the Whitebeard pirates that he started to come around. At first, all he felt was a gnawing envy for the close knit family bond displayed by them, but as time went on and he grew closer the feeling subsided. Then he was properly assimilated into the crew- no, the family- and accepted Whitebeard’s offer to become one of his many sons. He’d never realized how badly he needed the unconditional love and support of a family until he was thrust into it. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Then there was you, his darling little niece.

Granted, calling you his niece wasn’t necessarily accurate. Luffy was distinctly not your father (Sanji would absolutely never let that mix up take place), but the term just felt right. Who cares if it wasn’t technically correct? Luffy isn’t technically his brother, and Whitebeard isn’t technically his father. Technicalities didn’t matter with them, so why should they apply with you?

Ace would be lying through his teeth if he said you weren’t the person he was most excited about seeing again. Despite not having known you for long, you’d wormed your way into his heart more than anyone ever could hope to. He’d even temporarily put his mission on hold to stay with you while in Alabasta. As much as he knew he needed to be hot on Blackbeard’s trail, he couldn’t bring himself to just leave you while in such a high risk situation. Luffy had barely set foot in the Grand Line and he’d already managed to pick a fight with a warlord. 

While that wasn’t necessarily surprising knowing his brother, what was shocking was that he was doing all this with a four year old in tow. Ace didn’t doubt Luffy’s strength by any means, but he was more unsure of his ability to multitask fighting a warlord and his army of assassins while also keeping you safe. 

That’s why he volunteered to hang back and keep an eye on you while Luffy proved himself, something he was relieved he did after seeing how banged up everyone got during the final battle. He can’t imagine you would have gotten out of that unscathed, and you were far too young to be getting caught in the crosshairs of fights of that magnitude. Just the idea of you scraping your knee made him feel sick.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if you ever got seriously injured. Or worse. He doesn’t want to even think about it.

As he closed in on the Going Merry, a familiar figure in a straw hat hopped onto the figurehead and waved his arms wildly.

Ace waved back while raking his eyes over the rest of the ship. He hoped to see your familiar head of hair peeking over the railings, but had no such luck. That’s fine, he supposes. You could be napping or simply hadn’t realized he was here yet.

The Striker slowed to a stop next to the much larger ship, and Ace barely managed to tie the rope attaching the two before he was yanked up into the rubbery arms of his brother. They both tumbled backwards on the deck with Luffy laughing boisterously.

“Ace! What are you doing here? Did you catch that guy you were looking for?” Luffy rolled off of Ace and pulled him up onto his feet.

Ace readjusted his hat, “Not yet. I was just passing by and thought I’d check in on you.” He snatched the hat off Luffy’s head with one hand and ruffled his hair with the other.

Luffy whined and swatted Ace’s hand away while trying to get his hat back. It’s then that he notices the massive burn on one of Luffy’s arms. It starts at his elbow and goes all the way down to his finger tips.

Grabbing him by the bicep, Ace pulls the arm closer to look at it, “The hell happened there?”

“Oh, that? I fought this guy with weird earlobes and he melted some gold onto my arm. I punched him with it though, you should have seen it!” Luffy grinned and puffed out his chest with pride.

“Only you would somehow neglect to mention that that psycho had lightning powers from a devil fruit,” Nami called out. She was leaning against the mast with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Small burns were littered across her arms.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” Luffy chuckled. It makes sense that he wouldn’t care as much about that part. Since Luffy is made of rubber from his own fruit, those powers would be essentially irrelevant to him. 

Ace dropped the straw hat back onto his brother’s head and playfully shoved him back, “I’ll ask more about that later. Where’s my niece at?”

Nami tensed, then shifted her weight from foot to foot, “She’s napping right now, I doubt she’ll wake up before you have to leave.” The words were spoken sharply.

“I’m sure she won’t mind being woken up when she sees her favorite uncle here. Plus, I’ve got a little present for her,” Ace replied. The last island he stopped at was known for a chewy candy made from a fruit that exclusively grew there. It was all the rage with the kids, so naturally he grabbed a couple boxes of it for you.

He made for where your room was, but Nami leapt in the way and pushed him back. “She needs her sleep, you can just leave the gift with me!” The navigator snapped at him. 

Ace’s eye twitched in annoyance. He was well aware that she wasn’t his biggest fan, but this was ridiculous. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll get her back to sleep myself if it matters that much to you,” he ground out. 

She opened her mouth to respond, only for Luffy to interrupt her, “Is she still napping? I thought Lucky was in the kitchen with Sanji.” 

Nami hissed at Luffy to shut up, but Ace didn’t care enough to stick around for whatever disagreement was about to break out between the two. He shoved past the redhead and bolted for the kitchen. His eyes rolled, of course she tried lying to him. He tries to smuggle his niece off the ship one time and she has to go and make a whole song and dance out of it. It was just a joke!

The door to the kitchen was thrown open with what was probably more force than necessary. The doorknob loudly collided with the wall, something that Thatch would scold him for doing if he was here.

The crack of the collision wasn’t the only thing he heard. It was immediately drowned out by a shrill scream. Yours.

He hadn’t even gotten a good look at you yet, all he’d seen was a blur as you leapt from the counter you were sitting on and clung onto Sanji like your life depended on it. Ace’s heart was in his throat from the sight. The last thing he ever wanted to do was scare you. He didn’t remember you being this jumpy last time he’d seen you.

The guilt was piled on more when a small sob could be heard, too.

Sanji cradled you to his chest, whispering soft words of assurance before whipping around with the coldest look on his face. Surprise momentarily flashed across his face before being replaced with an even angrier expression. A hand came up to push your head further into his chest.

“Don’t slam the damn door! What is wrong with you?!” He whisper yelled.

Ace held up his hands in defense, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I would scare her.” He took cautious, quiet steps towards you and Sanji, “Hey, Lucky. I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Your hands were clamped over your ears, but his voice appeared to have still gotten through. Gingerly, you lowered your hands and whispered a tearful, “Uncle Ace?”

Ace, however, was too shocked to hear it. Actually, shocked wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how he was feeling. Horrified was more fitting. Your arms were covered in scabbed over burns. That was bad enough, but what really got to him was the bruising around your neck.

Someone had strangled his niece.

What happened to you? Who did this? And where are they right now? Ace needed to know so he could personally finish them off.

You’d finally turned to face him, and the tears and busted lip did nothing to calm him. The fire that made up his very being crackled dangerously beneath his skin, and it took every bit of self control he had to keep himself from torching the kitchen.

It wasn’t until you held out your burnt arms to him that he snapped out of the rage he was in and rushed forward to snatch you out of Sanji’s arms and into his own. Despite the cook’s protest, you eagerly clambered onto Ace. Your much smaller limbs locked onto him and you buried your face into his neck while sniffling pitifully. 

Ace bounced you gently, but refrained from speaking. His anger still had a hold on him, and he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to not let it show quite yet.

Nami entered the kitchen, appearing visibly uncomfortable and tense.

The control Ace had regarding holding his tongue went out the damn window. He all but snarled at her, “Is this why you didn’t want me to see her?”

“Don’t pick a fight with her, Ace,” Sanji put himself in between them. 

Ace scoffed at the warning, but he had no intention of starting a fight. You’d already been subjected to more fighting than you ever should have been. What you needed right now was some fresh air, and honestly he needed to step away from this situation for a bit before he exploded. Going for a ride on Striker should do the trick.

He shouldered past them, tightly clutching you to him. Nami and Sanji were hot on his heels as he headed straight for where his boat was tied off.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Nami demanded. Her hand shot out and latched onto Ace’s backpack, successfully bringing him to a halt. This was not well received by Ace, who then whipped around to shove her away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Luffy came bounding over, looking thoroughly confused about the altercation. “What happened?”

“I should be asking all of you that!” Ace raised his voice, though immediately regretted it when he felt you flinch. He spoke in a lower tone next, “I’m taking her for a ride on Striker, she looks like she could stand to have some fun for once. You’re all going to tell me what happened when we come back.”

“Absolutely not! Are you insane, why would we let you run off with her?!” Nami made a move to come closer and grab you, but Luffy blocked her. If looks could kill, Luffy would be dead several times over.

Luffy ignored Nami’s venomous gaze and stepped close enough to rest a hand on your back, “Do you wanna go with Ace?” His tone was more soothing and gentle than Ace had previously thought it was capable of being.

You turned your head just enough to be able to look at him over your shoulder. For a moment you mulled over what to say. Your voice was hushed, like you were afraid to make too much noise. Or maybe because your throat ached too much to speak up. Both possibilities made Ace’s blood boil.

“Y-Yeah… It sounds fun, I guess.”

Luffy grinned warmly, patting your back before stepping away, “Alright! Have fun, Lucky!”

Nami and Sanji both started to protest, but Ace didn’t care enough to stick around and hear it. After muttering a quick ‘thanks’ to Luffy for being the most reasonable person here (something he never thought would ever be the case), Ace finished the rest of the short walk to where Striker was. He dropped down onto it and made quick work of untying the boat.

Just like that, you two were off. As much as he wanted to take off at max speed, he kept the pace leisurely. There was no rush, and he did not want to startle you again. 

Your face was back to being firmly planted in his neck, and you haven’t said anything since answering Luffy. You haven’t smiled at all since he’s seen you.

Ace didn’t know what to do. Comforting people has never been his strong suit. Luffy had learned to roll with the punches of his toughlove growing up, but you weren’t Luffy. And Ace wasn’t the same kid with a shitty attitude that he used to be, either. For now, he’ll wait for you to come around on your own. He’s sure you will, you did agree to come with him after all. 

Eventually, he felt your head move, followed by the sensation of you propping your chin up on his shoulder. At least you were finally taking in the sights. Feeling like he was making progress, Ace takes his chance and tries to start a conversation with you.

“It’s a nice view, right?”

“Mmhm.”

A silence fell over you two again. That was… something? At least he got a response, however brief. It was odd for you to be this quiet. Back when you all were in Alabasta you were a little chatterbox. 

The question of what exactly happened loomed over him. Who could do this to a child? What kind of a monster does someone need to be to do this? The idea that anyone could so much as think of hurting his niece made him feel sick. Learning who was responsible would have to wait until later, though. He wasn’t about to risk making you more upset by asking you about it.

This whole situation was extremely frustrating. You deserved nothing but good things in his humble opinion, not this horrible abuse and suffering.

A realization hit him. The candy! He’d completely forgotten about it after seeing you. Maybe that’ll be enough to put a smile on your face.

You’d traveled far enough that the Going Merry was barely visible, so he should be able to take a break and sit down with you for a moment. He might even be able to get you talking. Though honestly, just seeing you look happy would be more than enough for him.

The Striker slowed to a stop until it was doing nothing more than drifting with the current of the ocean. He felt you perk up and look around.

“Why did we stop? Is your boat broken?” The stress in your voice was palpable.

“No, no, no! Everything’s fine! I just remembered that I had a present for you, that’s all!” Ace hastily reassured you, feeling bad that he’d made you worry for even a second. He shifted you to one side and sat down. He attempted to put you down across from him, but the instant panic in your eyes and you clinging to his arms put a stop to that.

So now you were perched on his lap while he rummaged through his rucksack. While you did appear to be mildly interested in what he was doing, your eyes were lacking any real excitement. You were more invested in clinging to him and taking in your surroundings.

Ace was beginning to think he’d lost the candy when his fingers grazed the ribbon bound box hiding at the bottom of his bag. “Here it is!” The package was pulled out and the bag discarded to the side while he held it out to you.

There was a bit of hesitation on your part, but then you slowly took it from him with a small ‘thank you’. You carefully examined the box while lightly picking at the ribbon, “What is it?”

“You’ll know if you open it,” he jostled you a little while trying to encourage you.

Slowly, you tugged at the ribbon, watching with a blank expression as it came undone. Ace took it from you once it was off so you could keep your hands free. The lid was pried off next, revealing the candies inside. Sunlight reflected off the sugar coating the light pink treats, making them appear even more enticing.

Ace watched with trepidation as you eyed them, and almost sighed in relief when you picked up a piece. You scrutinized the candy, sniffed it, then finally popped it into your mouth.

Your face remained neutral briefly as you first bit into it. Then, finally, your eyes widened, and the faintest hint of a smile began to tug at the corner of your lips. You chewed more vigorously and dug two more pieces out of the box.

“That good, huh? I’m glad you like them, Lucky,” Ace moved your hair out of your face as the ocean’s breeze blew the strands about. 

An idea occurred to him at that moment. Moving the ribbon he’d been holding to his mouth, he gathered up your hair and pulled it back. After a messy attempt to finger comb it, he took the ribbon and wrapped it around your hair. He tried his best to tie it into a nice looking bow but… it was bad. One loop was noticeably bigger than the other and the way the knot was tied made it look extremely lopsided. 

Good thing you couldn’t see it.

Suddenly, you turned around in his lap and held up a piece of candy to him. Ace smiled at the gesture, “I got those for you, kid. You enjoy them.”

“I wanna share it,” your tone and serious expression left little room for argument, especially when you started persistently pushing the sugary treat against his mouth. Taking it into his mouth, the first thing he registered about it was how sweet it was. His face scrunched up involuntarily, this was much sweeter than he liked his food to be. Ace could only hope you would be content with this and wouldn’t insist on sharing any more with him.

A soft giggle cut through the air, surprising him so much that he almost choked on the candy. He looked down at you, and sure enough, you were actually smiling.

“Your face was funny,” you mumbled, averting your eyes back to the half empty box in your hands.

“Was it?” Ace laughed. He swore he could feel a weight being lifted from his shoulders thanks to seeing you in better spirits. He swallowed the candy, glad to be rid of it. Hazarding another glance at you, he noticed you were starting to absentmindedly pick at one of your scabs. His hand shot out and pulled the offending hand away, “Don’t do that, it’s not gonna heal if you pick at it.”

You flinched and whined from the contact, making him let go in a panic. In his rush to grab your wrist, he’d unknowingly squeezed one of your many burns. Well then. Now he felt like a piece of shit.

“I’m sorry, I should have been paying more attention to where I was grabbing,” Ace very gently brought you in for a hug, hoping that he didn’t accidentally touch any other injuries.

“It’s okay,” you sniffled. 

“All these must hurt a lot, huh?”

You nodded, “Yeah… It always hurts.”

Ace frowned. It wasn’t right that you had to be in agony around the clock because his brother’s crew dropped the ball when it came to protecting you. He might not know what happened yet, but he knows they’re all feeling guilty for it based on how shifty and defensive Nami got.

Wait.

Now that he’s thinking about it, there is a way to make all your pain go away.

“You know… One of my brothers could heal you right up.”

You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows knitted together, “Is he a doctor? Chopper is already doing that.”

“He is a doctor, but he’s a doctor with a devil fruit that can heal any injury. On himself and on others,” he leaned in closer to explain this, as if he was sharing a secret. “Not only that, but he can do it in seconds.”

“Really? That’s so cool!” Your eyes were wide and rapt with interest.

“Really! We can go see him right now, how does that sound?”

Uncertainty pulled at your face, and you shifted in his lap, “Now? But what about everyone else? They’ll be all worried if we don’t come back.”

“It’ll be fine! Besides, once they see you healed up they’ll be happy about it!” Ace knew they were going to be pissed about him leaving with you, but he didn’t want you thinking about that. He needs you to focus on how nice it’ll be when you aren’t constantly hurting, “Don’t you want to feel better sooner?”

“I do… Are you sure they won’t be mad?” 

“Of course! Seeing you happy and healthy will make your being gone for a little bit all worth it, I promise!” Okay, realistically some of them will still be mad, but only at him. He knows that Luffy will appreciate it at the very least, and his opinion is the only one that matters to Ace.

“Plus, if we go to Whitebeard’s ship now, you’ll be able to meet Kotatsu. You still want to see him, right?” If the medical treatment couldn’t get you over the barrel, he’s sure the promise of a cat will.

“The kitty?! Yeah, I wanna see him! Let’s go!”

Bingo. Convincing you was easier than he thought it was going to be. 

Ace tossed your box of candy back into his bag and scooped your excited self into his arms. You were downright giddy and it was relieving to say the least. It would be even better when those nasty burns and bruises were nothing more than an awful memory.

Now that you were in a better mood, he fully utilized how fast his boat could go. Small but delighted giggles came from you as the Striker effortlessly cut through the water.

Everyone was going to be more than a little surprised to see Ace come home with a kid given that he hasn’t gotten the chance to tell them about you yet, but he knows they’ll love you just as much as he does. If they could welcome him into their crew despite how hostile he was when they first met, you’ll be adored by them in a matter of seconds.

Ace won’t even need to ask Marco to treat you, he’ll be all over you the second he lays eyes on your battered form. And Pops isn’t exactly the type to turn away a little kid, especially one that’s family.

Honestly, they might not even want to let you go after they get a chance to know you.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

hey!! happy celebration time bestie :) sorry this took forever, i got sick but i'm here now!

i was thinking it would be cute to do a blurb for steve based off these grumpy x sunshine prompts: (i love sassy steve, he's my fav)

having the habit of hugging them randomly

^ and when u forget to hug then, they just stand there like an npc, too cool to ask for that hug.

or they pull you into a hug without any words and wouldn't show u their face after

i feel like steve would get this attitude probably bc you're in front of the kids or something and he doesn't wanna beg for your hello hug but he also doesn't want to go without it. you can decide if they're in an established relationship or not <3 congrats again on 500!!

riley i hope you enjoy this cause i wrote this in two days. both times while at work. completely forgot the grumpy x sunshine part, but i feel you could see hints (let me know if you want a rewrite)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader wc: 969😏

masterlist / steve harrington

you and steve are friends who’ve kissed a few times. twice while drunk, one at a house party and another while at a surprisingly packed hideout where eddie’s band played. there were three other times where you kissed but both of you were sober and it was broad daylight hours. however, the two of you weren’t a couple. haven’t really chosen when to have a proper discussion or just blatantly ignoring how both of you are just waiting for the next time a kiss could happen.

yet, when it comes to hugging, you and steve are a gross couple in love. always holding onto each other for a time that isn’t considered a friendly passing hug. sometimes you’ll hug steve from behind as a ‘sneak attack’, other times it’ll be a side hug with your arms around his waist and one of his thrown over your shoulder while waiting in a long line. or it’s where you crash into steve chest seeking his warmth as a safety blanket, even could be where the two of you are full on cuddling while taking a nap on his king bed.

hugs are something steve fully expects to receive whenever the two of you are in the same room, within reach or quick steps. so when steve sees you walk into his backyard for this pool party the kids forced him to have, he’s completely frozen when you walk past him and throw your open arms around dustin first. dustin doesn’t deserve to be in your arms first, that’s a steve harrington only privilege. but he allows it since it’s the twerps birthday.

steve just stands back by the loungers, watching as you sway the boy side to side, almost throwing the both of you to the ground. the two of you laugh and steve swears he gets a bit tipsy from the high pitched lilt.

you pull away from dustin and turn on a 180 to then pull bright cheeked max into a sisterly embrace.

“what the fuck?” steve grumbled to himself. his eyes never leaving as you pull each kid, one by one into a firm hug. and when you’ve given will the last one of the group, steve expects you to come find him next, but no. you see nancy and bounce over to her.

“mad your girlfriend ignoring you?” steve startles at the voice of robin appearing beside him. she was unbothered while picking chips off her paper plate. “jesus, gotta put a bell on you.” hand over his heart while side eyeing her.

“i’m not a fucking cat, drill bit. you're just lost in that smooth brain of yours while creepily staring at y/n. might finally put that restraining order on you.” sentence punctuated with her loud chewing.

steve rolled his eyes, “she wouldn’t do that. and she’s not my girlfriend. she’s a girl who’s a friend.” his quiet tone showing his real emotions on that claim.

robin hummed, “yeah. a girl who’s a friend that you’ve kissed five times and been to chicken to do shit about.” he glared at the accusation. she then pointed a salty finger across the pool, “who’s also giving eddie a nice hug and you're over here standing like a tree waiting for her to take the initiative.”

steve whipped his head at robin’s pointed location to see eddie with his right arm casually holding your waist as your left is over his shoulder. steve could only see the mesmerized grin of eddie and it’s making his head fuzzy.

there was a slight shove at his shoulder and it forced him to once again glare at robin. “dude!” she rolled her eyes, “stop being wuss and get your girl. it’s not that hard, you both like each other already. act grossly coupley in public, that’s why you’re always ‘oh, not dating’ bullshitting to strangers.”

“robs, it’s just… i’m- im scared…” steve trailed off while turning his eyes to the ground. robin’s hand touched his shoulder and she asked, “of what? there just needs to be proper communication and everything will come together.” robin squeezed his shoulder before boldly stating, “she loves you. and you love her. be in love together.” and she walks away leaving steve by his porch door.

that is until there’s two arms sliding around his waist from behind and something laying along his spine. he automatically raises his hands to fold over yours, ruffling your arm hair from his back and forth motions.

“was wondering where you were?” your voice is muffled by the way you're pushing your left cheek into steve’s skin.

he turns his chin over his shoulder, “i’ve been here the whole time. thought you were ignoring me.” trying to play the last part off as a joke, but he really did think you were ignoring him.

you gasped and moved to stand in front of him, “never. just wanted to save the best for last. and also i wouldn’t have to let you go after i got to everyone else first.” making your point while rewrapping yourself into steve. his own arms resting over your shoulders with his cheek laying on your head.

“i love you.” he blurted with such an ease that steve was a bit shocked that it was such an easy and true statement.

a dreamy smile on your lips as you replied, “i love you too, stevie.”

and his heart jumped a little faster, both from your silky voice and you possibly saying it in a different meaning, “no, not as a friend.”

“i know, stevie. i love you both as a friend and more.”

steve lifted his head away from your skull and you tilted your head up. the two of you stay held together as infectious smiles grasped at your lips and childish giggles spilled free.

-

[esther-dot]

oh and I hope you don't mind (we can share my mood) 11k by @thkingslayer

“You make presumptions, your highness.” “I do not. I know how unwanted I am by you, Lady Sansa.” Her mouth opens as she struggles to find the words to tell him it isn’t true. She’s a lady. She would be nice if he would. She just wants— She just wants— -- When the king travels north, Sansa takes an immediate liking to Prince Aegon. She does not, however, want anything to do with her cousin Prince Jon—the brooding, dark haired, younger brother. She's quite sure he does not want anything to do with her also. And by the Old Gods and the New, she will not let him ruin her mood.

Dawn 19k

Like her mother before her, Sansa will do her duty. She will marry a man who is practically a stranger, mere days before he sets off for war.

All That Glitters 3k by @rumaan

Sansa is annoyed she has to give up a day with Prince Aegon to show his boring younger brother around Winterfell. Some alone time with Prince Jon makes her re-evaluate her opinion.

Sapphires and Salt 9k by @wendynerdwrites

The Princess to be is jilted, the unwanted prince rises

Salty Teens one, two, three by @blackholeofprocrastination

Sansa bursts into his solar in a swirl of skirts, her precious courtesies forgotten. Jon remains seated behind his desk, earning a scowl from his lady wife.  “What did you say to Jeyne?” she demands. “Nothing.”  It’s not entirely true, but he is still too furious to be cowed in his own damn solar.

Learning to fight, learning to Dance 1k by @myrish-lace-love

Lyanna Stark survives, and Jon and Aegon are half-brothers. Jon is in a hastily arranged marriage with Sansa Stark. They get on each other's nerves constantly during the day, but their nights are a different matter.

What a Disappointment 7k by @justadram

Sansa Stark and Jon Targaryen are married and neither of them is pleased about it. Set in a world where Rhaegar lives and Jon was raised in King's Landing as a legitimized bastard.

lights still shining in the room, you left me here 11k

Perhaps at one point, her marriage to Jon had become less of a sham. But with a history of three dead children between them, even the strongest of unions would break, let alone one as fragile as theirs. When Sansa tries to save herself, her actions lead to some interesting revelations.

Made New 3k

Sansa does not get the wedding night that she longed for and has to fix it

Tell the Ones That Need to know (We Are Headed North) 10k by @vixleonard

After years of confinement in the Red Keep with Ned prisoner in the black cells, the Dragon Queen comes. With the knowledge that Jon Snow is actually a Targaryen, she agrees to let the Starks return to Winterfell only if Jon marries one of the Stark daughters. Sansa volunteers so they can all go home. Soon she figures out being married to Jon isn't bad but it is complicated.

half a kingdom and a princess 2k by @misshoneywheeler

“Guess you’re stuck with me, old girl.” Old girl. He’s never called her that before. He’s never called her anything but Sansa and my lady, or sometimes Lady Stark, a title that gives them both discomfort as Lady Stark is still Sansa’s mother to each of them. Something in Sansa thrills at the strange endearment, though she should – and may – protest at being called such a thing. There’s just something so familiar in the words, in Jon’s soft affection as he says them. Something intimate and real.

A Convenient Inconvenience 4k

Once Daenerys takes the Iron Throne she knows the battle is only half over. Now that she has the throne she must keep it. Since she cannot have heirs of her own she names her new half-brother, the former Jon Snow, now Jon Targaryen, the Crown Prince. And a prince needs a princess which is where Sansa Stark comes in. The pair marry yet it takes months for Jon to realize that Sansa thinks of their relationship as more than just a duty.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - POST CANON

[jessmaybank]

Her - JJ Maybank

Based on the song Her by Chase Atlantic

Outer banks x Chase Atlantic masterlist

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Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x fem! Kook reader. A bit of Rafe x reader also.

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Whilst being in a relationship with Rafe for over a year, JJ comes along and fucks everything up.

Warnings: swearing, smoking, drug use (Molly & weed), cheating, angst, daddy issues, SMUT, unprotected sex, choking, oral (f receiving).

AN: mutual pining, lots of jealousy. if you like the innocent reader trope, this one probably isn’t for you.

Giuseppe steppin', she ain't moonwalkin'

Copped Balenciagas, then we drew on 'em

Molly had her shaking like an asthmatic

She told me to take the drugs in public, I ain't backtracking

Her vision is hazy as she steps into the smoking area of the club, a mixture of cigarette smoke and the pills she had taken blurring her eyesight. Her dainty hands clung onto her boyfriends arm as he lead her through the erratic crowd, their heightened senses doing nothing but provoking the chaos around them.

Ever since she started dating Rafe, she found herself doing drugs more often, his bad habits seemingly rubbing off on her.

Shortly after they find a seat, Rafe springs up, leaving her to navigate her high on her own as he goes to talk to some friends. Her hand dove into the depth of her LV handbag, retrieving a cigarette and a lighter.

The various array of designer jewellery and accessories planted on her figure contrasted greatly to the dull expressions displayed through her features, her body language indicating she didn’t really want to be there.

That’s when he saw her for the first time. JJ was stood on the opposite end of the small smoking area, a matching cigarette decorating his ring clad fingers. He observed the way her face lit up as she lit her cigarette, the dancing embers reflecting on her blown out pupils. He thought she was the most mesmerising thing in the world.

She pursed her lips together, her boredom evident as she scanned her surroundings warily, and that’s when her eyes met his for the first time.

JJ brought his cigarette up to his ruby red lips, inhaling a long toke as he fixated all of his undying attention to her petite frame. She mirrored his actions, an exhilarating sense of euphoria consuming her as she did so, her sinful urges most likely exacerbated by the Molly. Nevertheless, she liked it.

The corners of his mouth turned upward into a timid smile, and suddenly JJ felt like a giddy teenager again. He ran his hand through his picturesque blonde locks, his eyes never wavering from her.

She couldn’t help the small smile that creeped up on her face, one that matched his perfectly. Her features radiated a sense of hunger and need for him, and JJ swore he would do anything he could to get her.

Rafe walked back over to her, planting a kiss on her flushed cheek, and just like that, his smile faltered. She barely acknowledged him though, too engrossed in the blonde stood across from her, his blue orbs holding her captive.

JJ’s insides twisted in the most disturbing way, a certain coldness rushing through him. He couldn’t fathom how someone as enchanting as she was could be with someone like Rafe.

She brought her hand up to wipe her cheek, as if to eradicate all traces of her boyfriend from her, and JJ felt a sliver of hope that maybe she wouldn’t be Rafe’s for long.

Woah, she's high fashioned

Took me to the back room in Chanel so we could smash and

Everything is Louis V and Louis V her casket

And she's so good at walking out because her dad did

A waterfall of salty tears streamed down her rosy cheeks, her breathing unorganised as she makes a poor attempt to catch her breath. She sat in one of the many rooms in her mothers house, the space cluttered with expensive furniture. Tears rolled onto her phone as she stared at the text from her father, her vision hazy. He had tried to reach out to her for the time time today, a random occurrence due to fact he left her and her mother when she was just a child. The night sky caused a dim light to engulf the room, an obvious reflection of her low mood.

Despite the fact her skin was agitated with redness from crying, JJ thought she looked as angelic as ever when he spotted her frail figure at the island club. Her breathing stilled as she took notice of him, her puffy red eyes finding solace in his softening features. His work attire made him look as charming as ever, and suddenly she didn’t feel so suffocated by her surroundings.

He noticed her boyfriend was no where to be seen, and although that made him somewhat happy, his heart sank at the realisation no one was trying to eradicate her obvious sadness. If it was up to JJ, he wouldn’t leave her side until he saw her smile.

So as soon as his shift finished, that’s exactly what he did. The two of you sat on some wooden decking which overlooked the crystallised waters that graced the outer banks, passing a joint back and forth. The weed aided her in numbing her pain, and JJ was happy to help, knowing the feeling all too well when a family member disappoints you.

She turned her head to face him, exhaling the smoke that previously engulfed her lungs. He mirrored her actions, his logical thinking crumbling right before his eyes as he studied the light freckles that were splattered across her face.

To her, time felt like it was in slow motion, leaving her plenty of time to remind the boy that she had a boyfriend. But she never did. Instead, she brought her hand up to his cheek, the cold metal of her Cartier ring a stark contrast to his skin, which felt like it was on fire under her touch.

And she welcomed his kiss.

She says "Ooh, we could do whatever you want

But boy, don't go falling in love

You can't stay with me

All you'll ever have is one day with me"

“God j” she moans, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she lay underneath him, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked her deep in her bedroom.

He had climbed into her bedroom in the middle of the night, a risky move considering he knew she could be with Rafe. Unfortunately, once again his sinful urges overpowered his rationality.

Her acrylic nails dug into his back, skin almost breaking as she dragged them up to his neck, pulling at the shaggy strands of hair on the back of his head. He groaned into her mouth, their kissing sloppy as neither of them could control their moans.

JJ buries his head in her neck, lips latching onto the sensitive skin as he thrusts into her once again.

“No hickeys” she reminds him, an abrupt wave of sadness and frustration rolling over him at the reminder that he will never have her all to himself. He would never be able to call her his.

He turned all his pent up anger and resentment towards Rafe as a means to fuck her harder, wrapping his hand around her neck and squeezing.

“I bet he doesn’t fuck you like I do, huh?” He says, his zealous thrusts causing the loud sound of their skin slapping to fill the room. She shakes her head, her lack of response an indication of the overwhelming pleasure she was feeling.

“Words” he said sternly, needing to hear her submit to him. He thought maybe that would make him feel better about the fact that the girl he was falling for was with another man.

He brought his face back up to look at her, their lips brushing as she uttered her next sentence.

“not even close”

Ooh, she said "We can do whatever you want

You could fuck me in the back of your car"

But I won't ever get to stay with her

'Cause all I ever had was one day with her

She bounced on his cock like her life depended on it, the faint pitter patters of raindrops being drowned out by their heavy panting as she fucked him in the back of the Twinkie, straddling him. She had an argument with Rafe that night, and as always, she turned to JJ.

If she was telling the complete truth, she would have to admit that she was picking fights with her boyfriend on purpose, so she had an excuse to leave him for the night and be with the boy she really wanted. JJ was the only boy she knew that could turn the pit of despair that usually sat in her stomach to a knot of building pleasure, and tonight was no different.

As much as she was tempted at times like this, she knew breaking up with Rafe wasn’t really an option. Their families were too close, and her mother’s business relied heavily on Wards generous deals. Her lack of a father figure also meant that she had a hard time trusting men, and a hard time believing she could really be loved. Growing up neglected by someone who was supposed to love her unconditionally meant she always struggled with her self worth, and it was hard for her believe that JJ only wanted her for her.

His nails dug into her hips, helping her bounce on him as he leaned in to kiss her. Her glossy lips smashed against his, his tongue diving into her mouth as soon as she let out another gasp. She bit his bottom lip, the action causing him to groan into her mouth, and she slowly felt herself melt into his lap.

“You taste like heaven” he mumbles, bringing his hands up to her head, pushing the falling strands of thick hair behind her ears, before pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes lidded as he feels his climax nearing.

She smiled at him, a sickly sweet smile that would make someone think she could never be capable of fucking him like she was, least of all whilst she was taken by another.

Her smile faded into a frown, eyebrows furrowed as JJ started bucking his hips up, the tight coil in her stomach starting to unravel as she struggled to keep her eyes open. JJ grabbed her jaw, forcing her to maintain eye contact whilst she came all over his cock, legs weak as they started to spasm on top of him.

Her pussy clenched, sending JJ over the edge, and he came inside of her, a mixture of their juices spilling down her thighs as they attempted to catch their breath. Although JJ could never have her, at least he could find comfort in knowing that when she crawled back into Rafe’s bed tonight, his cum would still be inside of her.

JJ planted a sweet kiss on her forehead, the gesture making a wave of guilt consume her. Deep down, she knew he deserved better than what she was giving him, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop seeing him, captivated in everything JJ Maybank.

The sound of their heavy breathing is interrupted by her ringtone, and she peers down at the phone beside them to see Rafe’s contact on the screen, their movements coming to a halt as they look at the phone, and then back at each other. Her eyes were tinged with pain, and as always, his facial expression matched hers.

Ooh, think her boyfriend might be Christian Dior

I'm getting feelings that I didn't before

And all I wanna do is stay with her

But I know all I have is one day with her

The party was in full swing as she spotted him across the room, her muscles tensing as she sat on her boyfriends lap. The room was crowded, so he was hard to spot, but she did it with ease.

JJ was sat with John B, the only person he had told about his encounters with her. He observed the way his best friends face fell as he noticed her, relishing in the way Rafe’s arms were wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer against his back as her legs draped across his.

“Let her go, bro. She’s not worth it” John B says, and it was like a dagger to JJ’s pained heart.

“Trust me, I’ve tried” he replies, running a hand through his blonde locks, a sign of his distress.

By the end of the night, JJ had her in the bathroom, sitting on the counter and gripping at his hair, whilst his head was buried in between her thighs. Her clothes had been discarded on the floor tiles, her nipples hardened from the exposure.

His tongue flicked over her aching clit again and again, and she had to bite her lip to stifle her moans, so hard she almost drew blood. his nails dug into her thighs, his grip tight as he ate her pussy like it was his favourite meal. And truth be told, it was.

Ooh, she's always been running from love

'Cause daddy didn't give her enough

But I can make the pain better

All I need is one more day with her

It was about 2am when she snuck out to the chateau, a slight adrenaline cursing through her veins as she texted JJ to come outside.

It was tipping with rain, her drenched hair stuck to her face as the door opened, and she couldn’t escape the small smile that framed her face as JJ appeared from the run-down house, the tension in her shoulders relaxing.

“Are you crazy, you must be freezing” he says, taking in her cami top and pijamas shorts as he runs downs the wooden porch steps to meet her on the muddy grass.

“I broke up with him”

JJ freezes, raindrops falling onto his face as he registers her words. “You…what?”

“Rafe. I broke up with him” she says, taking a step closer to the boy she had fallen for. Her eyes glistened with excitement as she finishes her sentence, relishing in the fact she finally got the courage to do what she wanted all along.

After hearing it the second time, JJ knew he wasn’t dreaming, but nevertheless he gave his arm a quick pinch for confirmation. He moves towards her, one hand tangled in her wet hair, the other snaking around her waist.

JJ lowered his head, his lips brushing against hers, lingering there for a moment before he finally kisses her. The kiss was sweet and slow, and neither of them had experienced anything quite like it before.

“This mean your ready to become a pogue now?” He teases, and she lets out a giggle, admiring the way his wide smile decorated his beautiful face. He smelt of lynx aftershave and weed, the combination giving her nothing but a sense of comfort as she gazed up at him through her eyelashes.

“Well, I’m not sure about that…” she starts, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“But I’m sure about you”

[yxami]

ANGST...? IM IN! cant wait for it <3

This is just lil short blurb since this isn’t actually part of the story, more like a “what if”

I hope you enjoyed this!

description: Eros the yandere cupid, male yandere, gen neutral reader, angst, relationship mentions, manipulation, toxicity on Eros’s part?, that type of stuff.

How I imagine angst to happen with Eros and reader is mainly about Eros meddling with reader’s love life. If reader was ever able to find out, their anger would not only stem from the fact he’s been scaring off potential lovers but the fact that they’ve been incredibly insecure from all these failed attempts of dating.

“You’ve been scaring people off so I couldn’t date them?? Eros, I’ve been fucking looking for someone for so long, wondering why I’ve never gotten the chance! You know what I thought?! I thought something was wrong with me, that I wasn’t good enough for anyone” Your rage was boiling to say the least. Tears prickled your eyes out of the overwhelming discovery.

“I had to! I wanted to be with you and I thought that was the only way!!” His voice was shaky, he had never seen you so upset before, nor has he ever heard you scream. He was sat on your bed, watching you pace around in anger.

“That’s not okay, it’s not fucking okay to mess up my love life just because of your selfishness! What else have you been controlling??” Hot tears ran down your face. You weren’t even sure why you were crying, you were supposed to be angry!

It was probably the betrayal you felt that you thought this genuine friend was one that you could develop feelings for, was actually a lying Cupid, manipulating your love life for his benefit.

“I haven’t controlled anything else! It was just scaring off those people!” Eros saw your tears and his face was matching yours. He was tearing up and sniffling, he had never felt this heart aching feeling before. It felt awful!

“I don’t even want to see your face right now” You mumbled, stopping your frantic pacing back and forth. You needed space, and lots of it. Either he was going to disappear or stay out of your room. At the same time, him disappearing wasn’t satisfying because he could easily watch over you without you realizing. That meant you wouldn’t be getting any actual space.

“Get out of my room” You looked at him with as much seriousness that you could muster. Your eyes glossy from your salty tears. The two of you had face expressions that showed sadness and overwhelming pain.

“Please just hear me out! I know it wasn’t—“

“Get out Eros, I mean it” You walked towards the door and opened it wide open for him to leave. Your glared eyes met his sad ones. He reluctantly left the room, never actually leaving your home. He knew he had to stay out of your way though.

You shut the door and locked it, being able to gain whatever privacy you had left. You threw yourself against your bed. You sobbed and sobbed, until tears no longer spilled. You felt betrayed, why did he think that was okay?

You could hardly breathe from the overwhelming intake of air that your body demanded. You sat up trying to compose yourself despite the thirty minutes of crying just ending. You had an aching heart and head. Everything felt awful, everything sucked!

Your only close friend actually being a fucked up cupid who stopped you from finding true love because he loved you. It was sick! Your insecurities had reached an all time high because of him. You believed you were never going to be good enough or pretty enough for someone.

It had gotten bad this one time where you refused to leave your house for a week, staying in bed as if you were bedridden. And now it was repeating again, for the same reason. Just this time, it was about him, him and his stupid fucking actions!

Eros felt weird, he felt empty like his heart had been ripped away from him. He felt immensely ashamed to make you so mad that you couldn’t even see him. He knew it was a mistake to do what he did. He still took the chance because he loved you, a lot.

He was in his room, sat on his bed, in a pensive mood. What was he supposed to do now? Does he apologize and admit his wrongdoing? Or does should he wait it out and see what happens.

He knew the first option would likely be the best one. From all the matchmaking and fights he’s seen, apologizing seemed to be the best option he could go for. He was just worried when he should or if you would even let him apologize.

The both of you were in your rooms, either one was sobbing or the other was reflecting on something. It only came to dinner time when it meant the both of you had to go and eat something.

You were not in the mood to cook anything so you were looking around for a snack. You heard his footsteps into the kitchen as he observed you, standing there.

“Hey..” Eros meekly said, as quiet as mouse but enough so you heard him. He was trying to feel out whether you were still heated up about it. He knew you wouldn’t get over it so quickly. The part he was worried about was whether you were okay with seeing him.

You completely ignored him, continuing to look for something to snack on. You were able to find some cereal and you grabbed milk from the fridge.

“Are you still mad?” He nervously bit on his lip, not hard enough to puncture his skin.

Complete silence filled the room other than your rummaging for a spoon. You were obviously ignoring him but he didn’t get the message until now.

“I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t okay to do any of it. I.. I was scared, scared that you were going to find someone else and that I would never get the chance to be with you..”

You were a little surprised that he apologized. You honestly expected him to wait until you were cooled off and ready to forgive him. It still didn’t change anything though, he was still wrong for doing it.

“It was really fucked up, I hope you know that.” You put your silver spoon into your bowl and turned around to look at him. His wings wrapped around him, an obvious sign of self soothing.

“I do! And I’m really sorry that it made you feel insecure and scared. I never meant to make you feel like that, I just wanted you to myself because I believed that I was never going to get the chance to be with you. I think you’re gorgeous and I couldn’t believe you actually wanted to be friends..” He made sure not to overstep your needed space and froze his feet where he was standing.

You were flattered by the compliments but it was still angering that he believed it was okay at the time. You knew it was going to be awhile until you truly forgave him for what he did. You needed to see that he was actually sorry and not just saying it so you would stop being angry with him.

“It’s gonna take me a long time to forgive you. I hope you know that.”

“I know.. just don’t give up on me… please?”

[twst-drabbles]

Floyd and Jade 5

Summary: You’re putting both of them in their own shame buckets. If they want to fight with each other, they can do so apart from each other.

Really, you thought you mastered the art of patience by now, but it seems that this wasn’t the case. At least not today. Not for these two eels fighting each other for who knows what reason.

“Stop it,” you grabbed them both, hooking your fingers around your limbs so they don’t slip through. “You’re going to crack the tank with all that flailing.”

And they have before, back when the tank was smaller and not the roomy space it was now. Your poor floors were smelling of salty water and mucus for a solid month.

Anyways, perhaps Jade and Floyd got too caught up in trying to tear each other apart. Perhaps they were too high on the adrenaline that only comes up when you’re fighting your sibling. Either way, when you tried to tear the wetly growling pair apart, they simultaneously whipped around and bit your arm.

All of you froze, Jade and Floyd’s blown up pupils shrank down to pin points as they slowly looked up at you. When the pain hit you, only your eyebrow twitched. Only then did they let go, shrinking into themselves as they gave you the biggest, wettest eyes, begging you to not be too angry.

“You’re both getting the shame bucket.” You were not merciful.

You walked to one end of the wall, jostling Floyd a bit when he tried to lick your bleeding wound. “No, stop that. I’m pissed.”

You plunged Floyd into the first bucket. He tried to jump up to grab your fingers but you’ve long since developed your dodging skills. He missed and plopped right back into the shallow water, just enough so he doesn’t dry out and doesn’t climb out.

Jade actually climbed into the other bucket, putting his face underwater as though not to test his luck and your patience.

“An hour,” you stated, even though you knew they didn’t quite understood you, “Hope you enjoy your stay.”

You set up the timer and went to a cabinet to find the first aid kit you kept in here for occasions such as this. The bathroom isn’t that far, but you’re not willing to let them out of your sight. You just know one of them is going to knock down the shame bucket and spill water everywhere.

Though, as soon as you pulled it out, you heard Floyd’s high pitch growls. Jade responded with some chirps, which only caused Floyd to respond back with a semi-bark.

Great, they’re arguing.

You heard splashing and some scraps. You didn’t even turn around.

“Get back in the buckets, both of you.” Silence. Then a slimy slide before the proper plash of water entered your ears. “Good.”

Ah, these bites around going to sting. They’re right in the meat of your arm too. Well, at least it wasn’t on a joint. And that you don’t have to worry about infections. Bacteria and viruses and all that don’t exactly flourish in magical creatures like them. Had you had magic, that would be a different thing entirely, but you don’t, so you’re good.

Meep!

Hiss!

“Quit it.”

[englishstrawbie]

Ooh. I really like prompts 9, 11, 12, 29, & 51, so whichever most inspires you of those for Marina would be nice to read!

Thank you for the prompts! I took three of these (9, 12 and 29) and combined them into one ficlet. I hope you like it, I'm a little rusty! 😊

>>>>>>>>>>

Carina pauses just inside the door of Joe’s bar, her eyes sweeping the room as she looks for her wife. She is momentarily distracted when she spots Jack and Travis on the far side, arguing over a microphone as they fight to be heard on the karaoke machine. Vic is nearby, her face scrunched up and her hands covering her ears, while Cutler, Larsson and Kline cheer them on.  

Carina bites back a laugh as she resumes her search. She finds Maya at the bar, perched on a stool – her usual spot, the same seat she occupied all those years ago when they first met; the same seat she always gravitates back to subconsciously. Andy sits beside her as they knock back a shot of something Carina knows they will regret in the morning. She resists the pull to go straight to them, holding back as she takes in Maya’s outfit. She is wearing a pair of dark jeans and a simple tee, the already short sleeves slightly rolled to show off the muscles in her arms.

Carina feels a familiar stirring inside of her as her stomach flips – no, not flips. It somersaults, the kind that would win a gold medal at the Olympics.

“DeLuca!”

She turns towards the call of her name to see Ben waving a bottle of wine at her, offering her a glass. She shakes her head at him, her hand instinctively running over her stomach. They haven’t told anyone about the embryo transfer, deciding to keep this one to themselves for now.

When she looks back towards the bar, Maya is grinning at her, calling her closer. Carina moves through the crowds and greets her wife with a kiss. Her lips taste of salty fries and tequila as Carina sweeps her tongue over them.

“What took you so long? I missed you!” Maya says when their lips part, her words a little slurred.

“You’re drunk!”

“And that’s my queue to leave,” Andy says teasingly.

As she stands up, she reaches out and squeezes Carina’s arm gently, her eyes bright and sparkling. It is easy for Carina to guess what they have been talking about.

“You told her,” Carina says as she slips onto the stool that Maya has pulled closer for her.

“It’s Andy,” Maya says with a shrug, “she doesn’t count. And…” She holds up a finger and points it in the direction of her wife. “I am not drunk.”

Carina chuckles, a small shake of her head as she calls the barman over and orders a sparkling water.

“How was work?” Maya asks.

“Busy,” Carina laments. “Two mamas – twin sisters – who wanted to give birth to their babies at the same time. Except one was crowning while the other was only six centimetres dilated.” She sips her drink. “When I give birth...”

She stops herself, silently berating herself for getting her hopes up too high. After all, the IUIs didn’t take, she isn’t getting any younger and the knowledge that time is running out for them weighs heavily on her.

“I mean, if…”

“When,” Maya says. She reaches out and takes Carina’s hand, waiting for Carina to look at her. “Hey, it’s okay to be optimistic.”

Carina opens her mouth to object, but Maya interrupts her again.

“When.”

A small smile passes Carina’s lips and she nods, but doesn’t say the word out loud again, doesn’t want to jinx them. Instead, she leans in and kisses Maya, lingering a little longer this time as she feels the day’s tension leave her body.

“How’s the party?”

She looks over her shoulder to where Sullivan and Ross dance, ignorant of the celebrations going on around them, their eyes only on each other. They had kept their engagement secret for several months, fearful of the reaction they might receive, not only from 19 but from the powers that be within Seattle FD. They need not have been worried about their family at 19, though, as the team had rallied around them and insisted that they celebrate at Joe’s after work.

As the happy couple move around the dancefloor lost in their own little world, Carina smiles to herself, knowing that feeling very well as she is transported back to her own wedding day when she couldn’t keep her eyes off Maya. Especially in that dress.

“Better now that you’re here,” Maya says.

Carina can’t help but roll her eyes at the corny line, but she melts at the endearment anyway.

“Do you ever think about doing it again?”

Carina looks at her, lost. “Think about what?”

“Getting married again,” Maya says.

Carina laughs. “You’re more than enough wife for me, Maya,” she says.

“No,” Maya says, “I mean… do you ever think about marrying me again?”

“I think you’ve had too much tequila.”

“No!” Maya says. “I mean, maybe…”

Carina quirks an eyebrow, watching as Maya shifts in her seat, turning her body to face her.

“I’ve been thinking,” Maya says. “We rebuilt our foundations. We had a second first date…”

“Twice,” Carina reminds her.

“… we started over and I… I fell in love with you all over again. Every day, every time I look at you, I think I fall a little more in love.” The corners of Maya’s eyes crinkle as they shine at her, so full of love that Carina’s heart swells. “I promised myself that we’d take it slow, that we’d take our time making sure that our foundations are really strong this time.”

“They are, my love.”

“I know,” Maya says. “But all of a sudden there’s Liam…”

Her smile widens at the mention of their son.

“…and a house, and IVF, and I never got to ask you to marry me again. Because I never asked you the first time, not properly, not the way you deserve; and I wanted us to have a second chance at that, too.”

“Maya,” Carina says, taking Maya’s hands in her own, “I asked you, remember? I got out of that taxi and I asked you to marry me. And yes, it was messy, but I love that it’s part of our story.”

“So do I,” Maya says. “And I’m not trying to rewrite our history. But I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime, and I want to celebrate that. Me and you and Liam and…” Her eyes drop to Carina’s belly. “…whoever else might come along.”

Carina’s eyes widen as Maya slides off her stool, her face determined. Definitely too much tequila.

“What are you doing?”

“What if I asked you right now? What if I got down on one knee, right here in this bar, and asked you to marry me?”

“I’d think you were crazy!” Carina laughs.

A few curious glances are thrown their way and Carina grabs Maya’s hand, tugging her closer before they draw too much of a crowd.

Maya looks at her stubbornly. “Would you say yes?”

There is a nervous lilt in her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed and Carina softens. The answer is an easy one.

“Bambina, I would say yes every time.”

She smiles as she pulls Maya even closer, their lips crashing together, not caring that they have an audience. She thinks she hears a wolf whistle from across the bar and doesn’t know if it is meant for them, but Carina ignores it anyway, too wrapped up in her wife’s embrace to think about anyone else. They are breathless when they finally break apart, but Carina keeps Maya in her arms, burying her face into her neck and inhaling the lingering scent of her perfume. She wonders how Maya will propose, and whether it will be a big spectacle or somewhere quiet; if she will be surprised when it happens or if she will see it coming. Her heart flutters with excitement and she tells herself to be patient.

“So,” Maya says with a conspiratorial tone, “since you’re feeling so agreeable tonight, do you wanna sing karaoke with me?”

Carina tips her head back and laughs loudly.

“Absolutely not!”

She ignores the playful pout on Maya’s face, slipping off her stool and grabbing Maya’s hand.

“But I will dance with you.”

As she walks towards the dancefloor and listens to her wife’s laughter behind her, Carina’s hand rests on her stomach one more time. Maybe, just maybe, all of her dreams are coming true.

[calxia]

I was sitting around and thinking while relaxing after a very painful bike ride, what are the ghouls favorite snacks? Who gets the midnight munchies the most and raids the fridge the most often?

- 🎸 Anon

I hope you've recovered from your bike ride and that you had fun while on it! I actually had a bit of a struggle with this ask because I've never realised how little variety there is in what I eat until I'm trying to think of different foods.

Here are my thoughts on what the ghouls' favourite snacks are and their late-night eating habits.

Dew loves spicy snacks. The spicier the better. If it is crunchy it makes it even better. Things like spicy crisps and rice crackers are a staple in his diet. He happily will eat those crisps that are spicy challenges with zero issues. He hoards snacks in his room and will get up in the middle of the night to eat something from his hoard in bed. His sheets are always coated in crumbs and spicy powder so all the other ghouls refuse to sleep in his room. Nobody wants to wake up to chilli dust in their eyes.

Mountain always snacks on fresh stuff. When he’s working on the abbey grounds, he will often pluck a few berries off a bush to have if he gets hungry. He eats those big tomatoes like an apple while walking through the grounds and all the other ghouls despise it. Mountain definitely eats the healthiest out of any of the ghouls as most of his diet is the fresh produce he grows. Mountain isn’t a night snacker at all. When he sleeps, he tends to stay asleep until the dawn breaks in the morning.

Rain will eat basically anything salty. Pretzels, crisps, nuts, he will eat basically anything as long as it’s got enough salt to kill a slug. Sometimes he will even eat salt straight from the grinder (he gets in trouble whenever he gets caught). Rain also likes jerky. He likes the really low-grade stuff that’s like chewing an old boot because the act of chewing soothes him. He is often caught raiding the cupboards at midnight. They have had to put locks on all the snack cupboards because Rain would regularly empty the cupboards overnight and the food bill was getting too high.

Swiss always eats the weirdest snacks. He’s the sort of ghoul who will just pick two random items from the cupboards and eat them together for fun. It disgusts everyone else. Some notable combinations are: Cheetos in milk; cheese and jam on toast and one notable occasion where he dipped broccoli in biscoff spread. He will always try to convince the others to try the combinations but they never do. He once managed to convince Phantom to try a combination and it made the younger ghoul sick for days afterwards. Swiss only seems to eat normal snacks when he’s up at midnight, in which he will just eat whatever the other ghoul he is up with is eating.

Cirrus is a big fan of sour foods. She’s not the biggest snacker, but when she does it's always on things like Greek yoghurt and pickles, separate not combined (she’s not a monster like Swiss). She adores those sour sweets that they make you sign a waiver for before you eat them and can easily eat multiple packs in one sitting. Copia had to put a limit on how many packs she was allowed in a month because it really can’t be healthy eating that many at once. Cirrus is not a night snacker at all and would rather stay in bed hungry than get up to snack.

Cumulus has a massive sweet tooth. Whenever she snacks it's always something sweet like cakes or biscuits. She enjoys baking too so there’s always a constant supply of baked goods in the abbey between tours. She makes all sorts, from pies and pastries to cookies and cakes, and she always has to be the first to try them when they come out of the oven. All the other ghouls and Papa love her cooking and put in requests for what she will bake next. She very rarely gets up to snack at night, but when she does, she will always choose to eat the fresh berries from the fridge instead of what she would usually snack on.

Both Aurora and Phantom are still relatively new to the surface and are still figuring out what sort of snacks they like. They are, however, using very different methods to figure it out.

Aurora will try anything she’s offered and usually likes them all. She sidles up to anyone who’s eating and will sit there pouting until they offer her a bite. She likes Rain’s salty snacks and Cumulus’ sweet treats but despises Dew’s spicy foods. When Dew let her try one of his crisps, she sulked for a week after because the spiciness had hurt her mouth.

Phantom is a lot more cautious with what he tries. The others all constantly try to offer him things and he just turns his nose up at them. When someone does manage to convince him to try something he usually spits it out in disgust almost instantly. The only things that he has enjoyed so far were the little zoo biscuits cumulus had offered him, and the slices of cucumber Mountain had given him when they were in the gardens together. He also often accompanies Swiss on his kitchen runs during the night (where Swiss always manages to get him to try some horrid food mix).

[azsazz]

Snatched

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Request from @acourtofmenandthirst where Knox gets stolen from the family while they are on vacation. Thank you for the heartbreaking suggestion, enjoy. 😅

Warnings: Kidnapping, weapons

Word Count: 4,015

Notes: Lots of requests for kidnapping fics...y'all okay?

_________________________________________

“Thank you again, Tarquin, for having us,” you speak graciously to the High Lord of Summer. It isn’t often that you and Azriel get time off, and with the over-thoughtful Illyrian Spymaster, he was cautious of where your family set to vacation, untrusting some of the High Lord’s intentions.

But not at the Summer Court. It has been a home away from home for you and your mate since before your children were even born and Tarquin is like a brother to you. Even all six of your energetic children are welcome, unlike Cassian, though the High Lord says that it’s mostly a joke.

“No need to thank me, (Y/N), you know you both are always welcome in Summer,” the High Lord beams before bringing his golden goblet of wine to his mouth for a sip of the saccharine liquid.

You respond with a tired smile of your own, resting your head on your mate’s shoulder who wraps his arm around you, kissing the crown of your hair sweetly. It’s utter bliss. The babes are all playing in another room, the younger of the brood probably fast asleep by now from the help of Tarquin’s most trusted wraiths, who have been helping corral your children throughout your stay.

You peek up at your shadowsinger but he’s already staring down at you lovingly. With the extra eyes on your children it will be much easier for you and Azriel to get the alone time you so desperately need, and you’re hoping to make it through the night without one of the babes sneaking into your bedroom.

And you can see it in his eyes too, slightly hazy from the few drinks he’d allowed himself, looking at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, nearly pleading for you to end this conversation with your old friend so that he can take you to bed.

The High Lord catches your gazes and takes the hint, grinning at the two of you with a wicked smile as he leads the way to the suites.

“Don’t you say it,” you warn your friend, pressing close to Azriel's side. You feel amazing, completely at ease as you stroll through the long halls, the ocean’s salty breeze sweeping all around you.

Tarquin doesn’t listen, chuckling, “Trying for baby number seven then?” he teases and your pink cheeks warmed from the wine sting with a blush. A flash of surprise filters through the bond and Azriel hugs you closer, biting back an amused smirk.

“Quiet you,” you groan, playfully shoving at your friend.

He laughs heartily as he catches his footing. “Shoving a High Lord? That’s the kind of thing that could get you banned from the Summer Court.”

Your snarky retort is on the tip of your tongue when a piercing scream has you all freezing in the hall. Azriel’s shadows immediately slither away as he tucks you closer to him, reaching for the hidden knife in his boot. Tarquin listens to the calls of the water for word of what’s going on as you take off towards the sound.

It’s a wraith, shroud with fear and tears in her eyes as she runs, aqua skirts balled in her fists. 

“Lady (Y/N),” she sobs and you halt. Dread fills your stomach and the look in her eyes has your knees wobbling. “It’s the babe, Knox. He’s–he’s gone.”

__________

The High Lord receives the call from his brother in the Summer Court and he stills, unease twisting his gut like a whirlpool, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the head of the table. His mate glances at him, brows furrowed. The dark feeling sends a shiver up his spine and he knows immediately that something is not right.

Calling out to Azriel he goes still at the brother's words, dark matter swirling from his body and throughout the room, casting it into near complete darkness.

Nyx makes a startled noise, the fork loaded with lovely chocolate cake falls to the plate below with a clang. Feyre clutches onto her mate's hand, begging him to let her in, see what’s going on. He shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want his love to hear this, how Knox was taken from his crib in the Summer Court. The dessert he’s been eating threatens to make a reappearance.

He lets her see and her gasp is heartbreaking. Feyre clamps a hand over her heart in shock, staring up at him with wide, sad eyes. She brushes her fingers through her son’s hair, needing the reassurance that he’s there.

Rhys has to go.

He’s already giving orders, squeezing Feyre’s hand because he can’t even manage to do anything else, he feels too sick to.

He calls out to Cassian, and the warlord replies just as quickly. Rhys can hear the utter devastation in his brother’s voice when he responds, the hot fury burning from his words, letting the High Lord know they’ll be ready.

He and Feyre winnow to the House of Wind, Nyx holding tightly to both of their hands. He doesn’t ask what’s happening, why he didn’t get to finish his cake, he knows better than to pry.

Cassian and Nesta had been in the middle of playing a game with their son, but now, a terrified feeling flitting through the air, it had abruptly ended their competitive match.

Nesta stands with the most emotion he’s ever seen, bracing herself against a chair, hand pressed to her mouth as she stares at Cassian, eyes brimmed with tears. The warlord must’ve just finished telling her what happened as he’s adjusting his weapons on his belt with finality, a murderous look in his eyes.

Gideon keeps glancing between his parents and sends a questioning glance toward his cousin when he sees him, wondering what’s going on. Nyx gives a slight shake of his head; confused doesn’t even begin to describe why his parents are acting like this.

Feyre is to take Nesta and Gideon to the River House where the wards are more secure and wait for Rhys to bring the rest of the babes to safety.

Rhys and Cassian winnow to the Summer Court, their hearts breaking at the sight, plunged into the sound of you sobbing, holding onto your mate for dear life.

He’s never seen this look on Azriel’s face before, and if he didn’t know his brother he’d think him a Death God all his own, hazel eyes dialated with murderous inent, standing stock straight, his shadows already sweeping through the castle for any leads.

Rhy’s is terrified to approach, not only because of the shadowsinger, but because of you. A female who’d just had her son taken. You are sure a force to be reckoned with.

“Where are the rest of the babes?” he murmurs softly. He can see the horror in his brother’s eyes, the heartbreak, how small and scared he is behind that deathly look. He has one hand cradled to the back of your head where it’s buried into his chest, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you upright.

“They’re in the other room with Tarquin and his wraiths,” Azriel’s voice is strained. He’s barely holding himself together but he has no leads yet, shadows revealing nothing of who has taken your son. “We need to question them all.”

You don’t even protest. Even though Tarquin is your friend and would never do something like this, if he had any sort of hand in this you need to know and you need to know now.

Cassian’s already moving for the door, set to watch the children while his brothers create a plan of interrogation and attack. They will not be left without watch again.

__________

Rhys helps Azriel winnow you all to the River House where Feyre, Nesta, and their children wait. The females immediately usher you into their arms, tears streaming down their own faces as they whisper soothing words into your hair.

You’re numb. Can’t feel a thing as you let the floodgates open once more. You hadn’t wanted your children seeing you like this but they were smart, noticed that one of their siblings was missing from the room but didn’t know why.

Wren runs to his cousins, completely confused and alarmed, trying to figure out what they know. He doesn’t know where his youngest brother is and no one will tell him a thing no matter how much he pleads.

Baz’s brows are furrowed in anger. He wants his brother and he wants to see him now. He doesn’t understand why his uncle Cassian isn’t letting him though, and the little boy is beside himself with anger, knowing that something isn’t quite right.

He’s tempted to run over to his older brother, beg him to tell him what’s going on. Surely Wren knows, he is the oldest and knows everything. But Baz waits patiently, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his little shadows swirl around him, slithering towards his parents to listen in.

Zuzu, ever the stubborn half-Illyrian, keeps insisting that she’s going to go wherever her father and uncles are going. Each time one of them sets her down she runs to another warrior on her little legs, begging to be picked up. When they ultimately do she lets them know that she wants to go with them.

Jax’s face is stoic, wide eyes the only thing giving away that he’s watching intently. He doesn’t know what’s going on, too young to understand. He’s irritated by all of the noise, but he can tell that whatever is happening is not good, and he bursts out in tears once Rhys sets him on the floor.

And Knox’s twin sister, Malos, has not stopped crying since her brother had been taken. They’d never been more than a room apart from each other before, often wailing loudly until they were aware they were in the same vicinity with each other, calming down immediately. 

You’re worried she’s going to make herself sick with all of this crying but you can’t even blame her because you had hardly stopped sobbing since you’d found out he was gone.

Overwhelmed, you excuse yourself, slipping out of the chaos and into the nearest room with a lock which just happens to be an extra study.

You brace yourself against the desk, taking a shuddering breath that does little to calm you. Your hands are shaking and your heart feels like it’s been cleaved in two, a piece of you taken with your son.

How could this have happened? How could you have let this happen? Is Knox going to be–

You tense at the feeling that sweeps through the room, dark and heavy. It’s Azriel, emerging from the shadows, not even the locked door keeping him away.

He says nothing as he closes in on you, shuffling you gently into his arms as he rests his head against yours.

There’s nothing to say. Nothing that can fix any of this, make anyone feel better, and while he is going to go off with Rhysand and Cassian to find Knox you are going to be left here with your terrified children asking where their brother is.

“I’m going with,” you say weakly and his grip tightens. You know you’d be of little help, having hardly any training or powers of your own, but he’s your son and you feel the need to aid the search.

“(Y/N), someone needs to stay here with the children,” Azriel begs, cradling your face in his hands. He’s trying to be rational, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen your mate more scared in the long years you’ve been with him. You know that he’s trying to hide how he’s truly feeling but you can feel his hands shaking where they rest against your cheeks and the terrified feeling is burning hot across the bond. It’s mixing with your own sickly fear and it’s consuming.

You can’t stop the tears from falling. Your baby is Mother knows where with Cauldron knows who. 

“Then you stay here,” you bellow, shoving weakly at his chest. He doesn’t so much as move an inch and his trembling hands are doing nothing to ground you. All you can do is stare up at him in disbelief.

“Az, he’s–” you can’t even say it, choking on the words in your mouth as you collapse against him again in a fit of rage and sobs. Your youngest son, gone without a fucking trace, from right under your noses.

“I know,” your mate's tone is strained, like it hurts him to speak, trying so desperately to keep it together for his family. He blames himself, should’ve known better than to think he could relax and enjoy time with his brood.

You’re keeping him too long, pressed up against him and clutching his clothes for support. He needs to go and you need to console the children that are downstairs with the rest of the Inner Circle.

“I should go with you,” you clear your throat, pleading once more, trying to stop the hot tears from flowing freely down your cheeks. You know that he’d take you in a heartbeat but it would mean leaving your other five children to be tended by their aunts. It would serve better for at least one of you to stay and show them that everything is going to be alright, even if you’re not sure you believe it right now.

“I’m going to bring our baby home, (Y/N). I promise you that.”

__________

“(Y/N),” a soft voice calls from the entrance of the room and you wipe your tears furiously. It’s Cassian, the warlord on guard while his brothers search for your missing child. He must have heard your sniffling and come to check on you.

How he’d managed to remove himself from the pile of children that had climbed atop the Illyrian and fallen asleep was beyond you. He is a true warrior indeed.

Your eyes hurt from the amount of tears you’ve spilled and you’re burning with the need to sleep but your stomach is in knots and your mind is racing, thinking of what they could be doing to Knox at this very moment.

Your friend catches sight of Feyre, who’d been keeping you company but had given into her own drowsiness, snuggled into the blanket you’d pulled over her hours ago. She’d offered a helping hand herself but Rhysand was more than adamant that she stay here with you, Cassian, and all of the children in case something should happen.

“You should be trying to sleep,” he says softly, his usual mirthy tone raw with emotion, the ache he feels for you and your mate as he lowers himself to the ground beside you in front of the smoldering hearth.

“How can I sleep when a piece of me is missing?” you question. Your voice cracks and your already burning eyes fill with tears once again. You’re surprised you have anything left to shed, you hadn’t even been able to eat or drink anything since he’d been gone, that feeling in your stomach all too much.

He tucks you beneath his large arm, pulling you in close and it helps a little but not enough. Nothing is ever going to be enough. “He’s okay, (Y/N).”

You swallow thickly, peering up at him weakly. “How do you know that?”

“Because he’s your and Azriel’s son.”

You’re quiet for a moment, mulling the warlord’s words over as you stare into the dying flames before you, missing the warmth against your already hot cheeks.

“I just don’t get it,” you hide your face in your hands, “A child, Cassian. A fucking child. And not just any child, sweet little Knox who can’t even speak,” you sob and he holds you closer. He’s not so good with knowing how to comfort a crying female, often unleashing his own emotions through his fists, but he does what he can and you’re thankful. 

“And I know Az is killing himself over this and remembering how terrifying it was for him when he was young and even though it was his own brothers these are adults who have taken him. Adults who have been trying to hold something over us for centuries…what do you think they’ll do to him?”

Oh Gods, you’re making yourself sick again, hyperventilating at the thought of any sort of harm coming to your child.

Cassian doesn’t even know what to say or do, how to calm you down because Knox may not be his own child but he sure feels like it with how fiercely you all love each other’s children.

So he doesn’t say anything, he just holds you tight until you give into the sleep trying to pull you under, only to jolt awake when you sense your mate’s presence hours later. You haul yourself off of the couch Cassian had laid you on to meet the spymaster, shadows thick like a cloak covering his hands that he’s wringing together.

The look he gives you has you breaking, a slight shake of his head that has you slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle a cry of pain, knees giving out beneath you.

They hadn’t found him.

He looks horrible, hair sticking up from where he’s been pulling it endlessly, dark circles beneath his dull, golden eyes from days of searching, wings drooped lowly behind him in defeat. 

Your little boy must be so scared out there all alone.

“I’m going back out there,” Azriel rasps, a promise in those exhausted eyes. “Just came to switch out Rhys for Cassian.”

You want to offer to help, you’ve been running yourself ragged here, trying to do tasks that will keep your mind from going insane with theories about what is currently happening to your son. But Azriel has the experience, gone for days on end with little to no sleep, he’s used to the kind of stress that comes with a mission. But his heart is involved this time too. He will not stop until Knox is found.

You nod, letting him help you to your feet. You have nothing to say, the thickness in your throat won’t allow it.

You mate kisses your forehead tenderly, gesturing to Cassian that he’s ready to go, taking his brother's arm in his grasp, his shadows sweeping around them thickly, ready to winnow.

A knock on the door sounds.

You look between the High Lord and the rest of your friends, brows furrowed. They’re just as confused as you are, wondering for a moment how someone’s made it onto the property through the wards. It could just be Amren or Mor, and you all follow Rhys as he stalks towards the front room.

Azriel’s breath hitches in his throat as you approach, his shadows already receiving word of who’s on the other side.

“Knox,” he whispers in disbelief at the same time Rhys swings open the door to reveal your little boy cradled in the last person you expected arms.

Baz appears around the corner, woken from a nightmare about his brother going missing. There’s fat tears in his eyes and he’s trying to find you – he loves a good snuggle with his mother, it makes everything better – when he catches sight of his littlest brother.

“Knox,” he calls, startling you all. The boy races through the entry, dodging his aunts and uncles that try to lunge for him with ease. You rush forward as well, straight for the child in the arms of the Autumn Court royal.

Baz reaches him first, colliding with his legs that has the auburn haired male staggering back a step, his grip firm on the babe in his arms. Your son scrambles to try and get a peek of his brother, wholly confused as to why this stranger has him, yelling at the lordling to hand his sibling over.

Eris looks like he’d rather be anywhere else as Cassian steps towards him with a glare, prying young Baz off of him. He’d like to see what the tiny half-Illyrian could do, knows he could land some good hits on the autumn native, but now’s not the time, not as he’s surrendering Knox over to you.

You don’t even care that it’s Eris. He has Knox and he looks as happy as ever, playing with the lordlings long fingers.

“Knox,” you cry, taking him from the Autumn male and hugging him tightly to your chest. Rhys has already called for Madja to check on the child and while you examine him, rubbing your fingers across his chubby cheeks Feyre and Nesta lead you away from Eris.

As soon as he has a clear shot Azriel takes it, shoving the male up against the wall with Truth–Teller pressed up against his neck, hissing down at him.

He ignores Baz’s cheering, muffled quickly by Cassian’s large hand covering the boy’s mouth.

“Eris,” his voice is like midnight, sending shivers up the Autumn male’s spine. He knew it was a risk to bring the babe back like this, how it would look when he showed up with the shadowsingers youngest in his arms, but when his mother had handed him the child and begged him to get him back to safety he couldn’t refuse.

He holds his hands up in surrender and only Rhysands grip on Azriel’s shoulder makes the shadowsinger stop, fully intent on killing the auburn haired male before him.

They let Eris speak, you listening with half an ear while the healer looks over the content babe in your arms. You still can’t believe that he’s here, dread slowly ebbing from you when she deems him unharmed and retreats back to the library.

It had been Beron’s plan, and the lordling didn’t even know the babe was in his court until his mother had come to him, beaten and bloody but curling the little boy into her chest, pushing him gently into Eris’ arms with tears streaming down her face.

One look at the babe and his stomach had dropped. He knew exactly who’s child he was cradling in his arms, and had seen that very look directed at him more times than he could count throughout his 500 years of life.

Confused and absolutely terrified of what would happen should the shadowsinger show up and see his son in the arms of the Autumn Court royal, he set out to return him, not only for you and Azriel, but for his mother. She’d been absolutely broken when Beron brought the babe to her, for she knew just how cruel her husband can be and it reminded her of what he’d been dreaming to do to her youngest son, Lucien.

Eris hated to leave his mother there. Amber eyes burning hot at the sight of her and this babe, quiet and calm but staring up at him with a look that made him shift uncomfortably. Must be a family trait.

He hadn’t known how exactly his father knew where you were or how to attack, but he could give Azriel the go ahead to finally kill that son of a bitch. For his mother, for himself, for you.

This is simply something he never would have done.

Even Rhys gives a slight shake of his head in agreement, permission to do just that and a gleam in his eyes to say that he will personally help the shadowsinger rid Prythian of its resident Autumn abuser.

Eris has to admit that the thought of stealing a child made him sick. Couldn’t even fathom what he’d feel like if he had children of his own, but as he took care of the little boy now tucked safely in your arms – the poor thing – and the reaction of his older brother, so fiercely running into the fray to get to him, it made his heart ache in a different sort of way.

And as much as he doesn’t like the shadowsinger, and he’ll never admit something like this aloud – he does have some cute children.

[casuallyimagining]

When September Ends // part eight.

Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Six years after leaving your home planet, you’re forced to confront your past… and the one you left behind.  Word Count: 4,697 Genre: Star Wars au, friends to enemies to lovers, angst Warnings: minor character death, survivor's guilt, yoongi has anger issues, mentions of the death of an entire planet, anxiety, alcohol, reader character suffers from the burden of high expectations, mentions of torture (nothing  explicit), mentions of needles, hospitalization, brief descriptions of scarring, brief descriptions of panic, hospitalization, an assassination attempt, a gun fight, murder

Notes: Thanks to @daechwitatamic and @the-boy-meets-evil for listening to me complain about this fic, helping me plan, and beta-ing for me; to @oddinary4btsfor the late-game encouragement and edits.

Playlist: All of the poetry in this fic has been pulled from various songs and poems. You can find all the songs (and some others) in the playlist that I made for this fic on Spotify.

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Yoongi’s convinced that he has never walked so fast in his whole life. Not run–running would imply that there’s something wrong, and for anyone else on Spira, his life is going perfectly great. No, he’s walking, following the path as it curves around the resort lobby, past the cantina, through the trees, to the bungalows. You had a head-start–he’d stood there, a little shell-shocked, for at least a minute–and he had no doubt that you were already in the bungalow.

He just hopes you haven’t bolted the door.

But no, the proximity chip works, and as he crosses the wooden bridge, the door beeps and clicks unlocked. He pushes his way in, the cool air from the aircon hitting him in the face like a wall. He’s careful to shut the door gently behind him. He doesn’t want it to slam and you–wherever you are–to think he’s mad. 

The door to the deck is ajar, and he can see you out there, sitting on the edge of the hot tub. But he doesn’t go out. Not yet. A little part of him feels like throwing up, and he’s not sure why. All he knows is that this somehow feels even more tenuous than the situation with the Connois. And he’s not entirely unconvinced that they’re going to end up killing you both and dumping your bodies into the ocean.

Get it together, idiot.

Quietly, he slides open the glass door and steps out into the salty air once again. You don’t even look up, not when he closes the door behind him, not when he sits down beside you, not when he slides his legs into the water. The hot tub must not be on, because the water is surprisingly cool. It’s actually nice out on the deck–there’s a great view of the sea from this side of the peninsula, and the setting sun has turned everything a shade of warm gold. 

“Why’d you leave?” He tries to ask it softly. And by some miracle, there’s no venom in his voice. He can't, however, hide the tinge of hurt that comes through.

You shrug and avoid his eyes. He’s known you long enough to know that you’re anxious, can see the tension in how you hold yourself, can see how every muscle in your body is tensed and ready to spring you away.

“I’m not mad,” he clarifies, just in case you had any doubts. For a moment, he’s a little surprised by it himself. He isn’t mad. Three months ago, he’d be flying off the handle right about now. But no, he’s mostly just confused. “I’m just trying to figure out what went wrong.”

“You know what went wrong.” Your voice is hard, almost robotic. Even without knowing you the way he does, Yoongi knows it’s forced. 

But instead of pushing like he so desperately wants to–I really don’t, why don’t you enlighten me?–he lets the silence linger for a moment. And then, tentatively, he asks, “Do you regret it?”

Your response is almost immediate. “Do you?”

“No.” He says it without thinking, but he means it. 

A month ago–hell, an hour ago–he would never have dreamed that he’d be in this situation. But now, sitting beside you as the sun sets the world aflame? He kind of wants to kiss you again. 

And why shouldn’t he? Maybe he’s never flat-out admitted it to himself, maybe he’s deluded himself into thinking your friendship was perfectly normal, that everyone else would act the way the two of you did, if only they had a best friend as close as you were to him. He’d been so mad when you left, and he had never really been able to figure out why. He’d always thought that he’d been upset by you not saying goodbye, but now, Yoongi’s starting to realize that maybe there was more to it. 

That maybe there is more to it.

But he has no idea how to say any of it. That there’s a part of him that wants to accomplish nothing else in his life but making you laugh. That not having you there for six years–not knowing how to find you or contact you or even if you were alive–was like a part of him was missing. That when he was angry and mean, it’s mostly because he’s hurting and a little because he’s scared out of his fucking mind. That he’s less hurt and less scared when you’re there.

It’s all too much and not enough and he’s worried about how you’ll take it. Looking back, there are plenty of times where he thinks that maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way. But if he’s reading it all wrong–if you don’t feel like he does and you think that you’re just friends–that would be the absolute end of him. He would put on a brave face and shut the fuck up and be your friend, just as he’s always done. But now that the door is open, there’s no shutting it.

The sun is so low on the horizon now that it’s almost entirely gone. The sky is starting to darken, the gold has started to fade. He looks over to you, and you’re watching the sun droop, and you’re beautiful, awash in the dying embers of the sunset. He sighs, pulls a leg up to his chest, and watches as the water drips off his toes.

“We can pretend like it never happened,” he hears himself say. His voice is calm, his tone even. He sounds much braver than he feels. “We’re just too damn good at our jobs.” He laughs then, even though part of him is dying and he kind of feels like his stomach could vacate his body through his ass at any moment. “You have to do a lot of things when you’re undercover. This can just be one of those things.”

“I…” You trail off, and Yoongi waits for you to continue. Then, you sigh. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

What the fuck?

Immediately, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, can feel his blood pressure rising. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You can’t deal with it right now? He could have handled you saying yes, that you did want to forget about it. But what the actual fuck does it mean that you can’t deal with it right now? 

He can feel himself getting angry. But he takes a breath, closes his eyes, forces himself to cool off. He’s mad, sure, but he doesn’t want to explode, doesn’t want to ruin the progress that he’s made–with you and with himself. Despite what you’ve just said, you don’t deserve his outburst. He can be angry. He can’t be unreasonable. 

So instead of saying something he’ll regret, he simply says, “Okay.” And he stands. And despite the fact that his legs are dripping water and that he doesn’t particularly want to do it, he goes back inside. And that, he thinks, is that.

Yoongi wakes up in a cold sweat. It’s freezing in the bungalow–the aircon must be working overtime. He’s in the bedroom. Alone. The shades are closed, but light is streaming through the cracks. It must be mid-morning. You’re supposed to meet up with the Connois. Why hadn’t you woken him up?

Where are you?

He’s freezing, so he tugs the blanket off the bed and wraps it around himself before venturing out into the rest of the bungalow. The kitchen is empty, but there, sitting on the sofa in the living room, is Seokjin. When did he get here? Was he even supposed to come? Did you call him? Was he here to take your place on the mission?

Seokjin watches him emerge from the bedroom, watches as he shuts the door behind him. Yoongi can feel his eyes on him. It feels almost judging. And when the older man speaks, Yoongi really feels judged.

“At least she’s still around for you to get mad at.”

“Shut up.”

Seokjin shrugs, sips at the cup that’s in his hands. Weird. Yoongi hadn’t realized he was holding something. The closer he gets to the older man, the more he smells like Corellian rum and tropical fruit–same as the drink from the bar.

“Where is she?” Yoongi looks around. You’re not out on the deck, you’re not here in the living room. There’s not many other places you could be.

Seokjin nods toward the front door silently. And Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, he drops the blanket and throws it open. And when he steps out of the bungalow and onto the bridge of the Star Chaser, he doesn’t question it. Kitt is in the pilot’s chair. The warning lights are flashing, the alarms are blaring, the instruments on the panels are beeping. Frantically, she pleads into the comms. A TIE Fighter whizzes past the cockpit window, guns blazing. 

He watches as Kitt gets up quickly and practically jumps down the ladder to the belly of the haulcraft. He doesn’t need to go down there to know what’s going on. He doesn’t want to go down there. But his feet carry him there anyway. 

His heart is pounding as he climbs down the ladder. Rung after rung, he can feel the dread pool in his stomach like a rock. But he’s gotta get to the bottom. What if you’re there? He has to make sure you get into a lifepod. He’ll give you his if he has to.

And as his foot touches the grated metal of the cargo hold of the ship, something changes. Everything goes silent. No alarms, no beeping, no frantic last words of his ill-fated friends. Just… silence.

Which makes sense, because the hold is empty. The lifepods are still there, everything is physically as he remembers it. But he’s the only one there. Kitt, Feeney, Jieun, you. Everyone is gone.

Suddenly, he’s hit with a wave of unease. It makes him nauseous, like he’s being tossed about in a patch of solar turbulence. He can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, and something inside him knows that it’s related to the fact that he can’t find you. If he could just find you, he thinks that maybe, he’d feel better. But where does he even start? 

Where are you?

Where are you?

Where are you?

Yoongi gasps. He can’t breathe. Something is squeezing his lungs and he can’t suck in a breath. His heart rate quickens, he can feel it pounding in his chest as he struggles. He takes in a shallow breath, but it’s not enough. He clutches at his shirt, the neckline strangling him as he tries desperately to fill his lungs. Another wheezing breath. The panic starts to set in.

But with the panic comes an odd clarity. He’s in the bedroom of the bungalow again. It’s dark, but he can make out the shapes around him. The bed in the center of the wall. A side table and lamp beside him. A chair in the corner. His bag sitting open on the floor. Yours, closed, sitting upright beside it. The door, and the light flooding in underneath it. Outside, the sound of the waves lapping against the pillars holding the bungalow aloft.

He focuses on the waves, and on the softness of the blanket on the bed, and slowly, ever so slowly, he calms down. 

It was a dream, he tells himself. Just a stupid fucking dream.

He stands, and in a few long strides, he’s in front of the door. His palm is sweaty as he grips the knob, nervous for what he’s about to see on the other side. But then he opens it. And there you are, still sitting on the deck. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You’ve moved onto the sofa, your feet propped up on the ottoman as you face out toward the water. The sun set hours ago, so he doubts you’re even looking at anything. As he’s standing there watching, you tip your head back and stare up at the stars.

Yoongi takes a deep breath to gather up his courage and pads across the polished wooden floor to the glass door. He slides it open quietly, but in the stillness of the night, it sounds like a ship taking off compared to the gentle waves below. You look up at the sound, offering him a flat smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. Neither of you say anything as he sits down beside you, but you move your legs over to give him room on the ottoman, so he assumes that he’s welcome out here.

It’s relaxing, listening to the waves lap at the supports of the bungalow. Somewhere in the distance, he can hear music, but it’s far-off and he can’t even make out what instruments are playing. Surprisingly, there are no insects–at least, none that make noise. If he closes his eyes, Yoongi could probably pretend that he’s not on a mission and that he’s actually here to relax. 

Eventually, you sigh deeply, and you turn your head to face him. “You could have gotten mad at me, you know.”

“I was.” Maybe it’s how quiet the night is, but Yoongi feels like he has to whisper. “There was a minute where I was mad.” He shrugs and turns his body so that his shoulder is against the back of the sofa and he’s facing you. “But mostly, I’m just confused.”

You make a noise, and he isn’t sure what to think of it. It’s almost like a hum, or kind of like a scoff, but it’s also high-pitched and sounds a little sad. “It’s what I do, right? I run away. Just like Yavin. Just like Fest.” 

Yoongi frowns. “So you have something to work on. What’s so bad about that?”

“What?”

“Start now. Stop running and face it. Whatever you’re running from. I’m here–I can help if you want. We can work on things together–you on this and me on my anger.”

“I don’t… not want to do that.” You turn, tipping your head back so that you’re once again looking toward the stars. “But that would mean that a lot of things would have to be real.”

“And real is scary.” Yoongi guesses, but then you make a face. And he knows he’s right.

The smallest part of him preens a little, proud that he still knows you so well. But then he considers just how long you’ve been running, and what that could mean, and what you might be running from. And he hurts for you, knowing that maybe, a little bit of all of this is his fault.

Slowly, he brings a hand up to pull you close. But he stops short of touching you, his hand hovering in the air centimeters from your back. What if you don’t want this? What if you want him to just leave you alone? What if you’d rather sit there in whatever emotions you’re feeling but not saying?

Fuck it, he thinks, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. 

The silence returns. He’d give almost anything for some sort of noise to cut through the deafening quiet. He’d probably even take the thrumming and whirring and beeping and clanging of the factories on Fest. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, it’s tense. The kind where you sit there, anticipating something, but you don’t know what. Yoongi’s not a fan, but he doesn’t dare break it.

Finally, though, you rub at your face as if you’re trying to scrub away your emotions. “What if,” you mumble, voice muffled by your hands. “What if we didn’t pretend it didn’t happen?”

His heart stops. Like, full-on stops, someone call a medical droid, he’s dying. His hand is still on your shoulder, and at this point, he’s not sure he can remove it. Thankfully, you continue, and he has time to get himself together before you expect a response.

“I mean I… I don’t know. I don’t think we have to forget about it. I don’t think that’s fair.” You sigh. “If we don’t regret it, then what’s the problem?” You say it like you’re trying to convince yourself.

“Then what’s the problem?” Yoongi repeats. 

“I just got you back.” 

The crack in your voice shatters him. He doesn’t even know how to react to it, not really, but he pulls you close anyway. Your body bumps into his chest, and all he wants to do in that moment is hold you until you’re both not so broken anymore. He knows that’s not possible–it’s a disservice to everything you’ve both been through and come out on the other side of–but maybe, if you were both still twenty and mostly whole, this would be easier.

Mentally, Yoongi is rolling his eyes. It’s been two hours, and it didn’t even take one for him to determine that the Connois are among the most insufferable people in the galaxy. At breakfast, Yoongi was ravenous–all he had for dinner the day before was that blue-green cocktail at the bar–but instead of breakfast at the cantina, they led you and Yoongi to a smaller restaurant further down the beach. Small plates. They served small plates. And really, it’s not the Connois’ fault, but fuck, he’s hungry and he already doesn’t like them and now, everything is terrible.

At least he’s not alone.

You must sense that Yoongi’s annoyed, because you’ve been shouldering most of the conversation. After breakfast, they’d wanted to take a boat to one of the islands a few kilometers offshore. And you’d gone along with it with a smile, taking his hand and not letting it go the whole time. You’ve fielded every question, prompting him to respond where necessary.

The Connois have brought you to a small shop. It’s not as pristine and commercial as the buildings in the resort, but that’s not to say it isn’t nice. It’s made of some sort of thin wood, and it’s filled to bursting with all sorts of tropical flowers and plants. You’re gathered around a small table, a teal-skinned Twi’lek stands in front of you. So far, she’s showed your little group how to weave the flower stems together to make intricate designs. She speaks with an air of authority–calm confidence oozes from her every time she brings up a new type of flower or leaf. It would be impressive if he weren’t so incredibly done with being here.

 She hands Yoongi a palm frond.

“You’re awfully quiet, Yulli,” Alain asks, happily accepting a long-stemmed flower from the Twi’lek. He looks up, makes eye contact with Yoongi before turning back to the awkward clump of flowers on the table in front of him.

Yoongi shrugs and doesn’t look up from weaving the palm frond through his bundle of buds and palms. “Having trouble letting go of work, I guess.” It’s a stab, a fairly clumsy one, but if you’re bothered by it, you’ll have to forgive him–he’s hungry.

The Connois both laugh politely. “Oh we’ve been there,” Lylla says.

“I dedicate an hour each morning to work. Then I put it aside to focus on Lylla.” Alain takes a break from mutilating a flower stem to pinch his wife’s side. She squeals and jumps away, and Yoongi once again has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

You lift your creation, eyeing it carefully before sitting it back on the table and taking a dark flower from the Twi’lek. You make subtle eye contact with Yoongi. “Sounds like a good way to handle it. What do you do?”

Okay, so we’re doing this.

“Alain commands a star destroyer in the Mid-Rim,” Lylla chirps. Judging by her smile and how she’s preening, she’s very proud of her husband. Alain makes a noise, as if to say that it’s not that impressive of a job. “He was personally selected by one of the Commodores to help with a top-secret mission once he gets back on-ship in three days.”

It’s not new information, but hearing them say it, hearing them acknowledge it, makes Yoongi’s blood boil. They’re proud of the fact that they are actively supporting and participating in the subjugation of an entire galaxy. And either they don’t know, or they don’t care. Yoongi isn’t sure which is worse. 

For your part, you ‘ooh’ politely and gas Connoi up a little. He basks in the attention, demurring and waving you off as you tell him how cool and impressive of a job it is. And then you drop the big question.

“Where are you stationed at?”

And Yoongi has to give you credit. You ask it so casually, it really does just sound like genuine interest. You don’t even look up from the flower that you’re casually tucking into the circlet you’ve been making. But then you make eye contact with him briefly, and he can see the barely disguised panic in your expression. He can almost tell what you’re thinking, too.

We’re so dead.

“We’ll be moving to Kashyyk space. That’s where we’re meeting up with the Commodore.” Alain primps the clump of flowers in front of him. Then he looks up, sheepish. “But, of course, you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “Of course.”

You change topics to something a little less suspicious–ask about their family, their homeworlds, how they met. Yoongi can’t bring himself to join in on the conversation. He listens, of course, for any signs that maybe you’re struggling or for questions directed at him. But for the most part, he just focuses on the flower arrangement in front of him.

After a few moments, you catch his attention, and when he looks up, you present him with the flower circlet you’d been weaving together. It’s pretty, with purple and blue tropical blooms and fancy palm fronds. Gently, you place the circlet on his head and mess with his hair, pulling strands out from under the flowers carefully. You look so pleased with yourself, and you’re so close that Yoongi can see the way your eyes sparkle as you smile. It’s cute.

You’re cute.

The Twi’lek takes all of the flower arrangements and sprays them with something to keep them looking nice. Yoongi’s not sure what the chemical is, but the flowers feel different, like maybe they’re coated with a plasticy substance. You place the flowers back on his head, apparently proud of your handiwork. 

The Connois giggle together, showing off their creations. Yoongi can’t quite make out what they’re saying to each other, but based on the stupid, gooey looks on both of their faces, he doesn’t want to. You nudge into him, nod in the Connois’ direction, and make a face. Yoongi laughs, embarrassingly loudly, but you grin widely, and he doesn’t care. 

“Where do we want to go next?” Lylla questions once you’re all outside of the florists’ shop. She gloms onto her husband’s arm.

“Actually…” You mirror Lylla’s stance, molding yourself against Yoongi’s side. You play with the fabric of the sleeve of his shirt, rolling the red cloth between your thumb and forefinger. “I could use a break.”

Alain smiles, like he’s in on some secret. “Let’s not monopolize all of their time, dear. I’m sure they have plenty of things they’d like to do on their own.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen at the implication, and he can feel his face heat up. Is that what you were trying to imply? He tries to hide his surprise by looking at you, and when he meets your eyes, you’re clearly just as shocked as he is. Thankfully, you think quickly on your feet. You laugh awkwardly and give a half shrug.

“I just want to take advantage of our vacation before we have to go back. Shoot me.”

The Connois laugh, and Lylla paws at your shoulder playfully, like you’ve just told the funniest joke ever. 

You part with the promise of meeting up for dinner.

You don’t end up meeting up with the Connois for dinner. Instead, you spend the time planning and preparing to take the information you’d gleaned from the captain and his wife. That, and calming down Yoongi.

“I can’t tell if they’re blind or stupid, or if they’re just that cruel,” he says, falling backwards on the floor of the bungalow’s bedroom. It’s the third time he’s said something like this, speculating on why the Connois are who they are.

You shrug, pulling the components of your communicator out of the hidden compartment of your bag. “They seem too clueless to be cruel.”

“But how could they not know?” He rolls onto his side and reaches for a component. He snaps open the port covers in the casing so they can be plugged in later. “How could they not see?”

You don’t have an answer. It seems impossible. How could someone not see the press of the Empire’s thumb on your homeworld of Fest? How could someone not notice the obliteration of planets like Alderaan and Scarif, or the destruction on Jedha? How could someone ignore the subjugation of Wookies on Kashyyyk, of the Bodach’i on Kerev Doi? You weren’t even that highly ranked in the rebellion, and yet you’d heard of it all. Word travels fast among the rebels. But it’s convenient–and beneficial–for the Empire to compartmentalize their atrocities. So it wouldn’t surprise you if you found that the Connois had no idea.

Of course, Yoongi knows all of this.

He groans, handing you another fully-opened piece of the comms-array. “How much do you think this mission cost? I get it’s important, but there’s got to be a better use for these funds, right?”

“In a world where Mon’s life isn’t in danger? Probably.”

“It’s bullshit though! All of these people here–all of these families–the money they’re spending here could support us for months!”

You let him vent. It’s probably healthier for him to get it out now, and you’ve always found it a little amusing to watch him get fired up about things like this.

“It could feed a whole apartment block on Fest for months,” he continues. “And yet they sit out there, not a single care in their putrid little minds.”

“Putrid little minds.” You repeat it, pitching your voice up slightly and masking your laughter with a cough and a well-timed snap! of the communicator parts.

“Too much money for their own good.” He says it like a diagnosis, his tone sage and all-knowing. 

Lazily, Yoongi rolls onto his back and pushes himself into a sitting position. He continues to rant as he helps you assemble the comms-array, connecting wires and snapping parts together while complaining about the hundreds of presumably wealthy, unbothered couples and families you’d seen at the resort. It’s cute, watching him fret and complain. He looks so grumpy bent over the comms parts, raven hair falling into his face. You quickly glance away when he looks up to hand you the section he’s been working on. 

It only takes a few minutes to finish assembling the communications device. It sits on the floor of the bungalow, small and boxy and light. There’s no way that it would ever reach far enough into space for its signal to be received by the main rebel fleet. But of course, that’s not what it will be doing. There’s a small transport ship in orbit just far enough away from Spira that it won’t be detected by planet security. You flick the switch to turn the comms-array on and watch the lights on the display illuminate one-by-one as it makes a connection to the larger, stronger system on the ship.

You wait. Even though this is far from the first comms-array you’ve assembled, it still makes you anxious. What if you’ve done something wrong? You hold your breath as you watch the lights flicker on, only letting it out when the final one turns on. The machine beeps, signaling that it’s fully connected, and you switch it over so that your message will be encrypted.

“Tee?” You speak into the small attached microphone. “You there?”

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so we've successfully done some spy shit. what do we think? next chapter's the last one, are we excited? I'm pretty pumped.

[johaerys-writes]

As Fate Would Have It

Achilles/Patroclus | E | Omegaverse | Ch. 5

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Patroclus doesn't realise how exhausted he is until his head touches his pillow. And then he sleeps deeply and soundly, dreaming soft and warm dreams filled with light. 

He dreams of being at the beach at sunrise, of watching the gulls fly overhead and clouds roll over the horizon. It is so quiet and peaceful. The salty sea breeze is mellow and sweet, and Patroclus lets it fill his lungs. It's such a comforting and familiar smell, reaching deep into his core while enveloping him like a blanket. Patroclus never wants to lose this; he never wants to be away from this place which makes him feel so good, so safe. This is where he's meant to be, he knows. And it smells, it smells…

Like home. 

There is still a smile on Patroclus' lips, delicious warmth blooming through his entire body, when he slowly emerges through the spider silk webbing of his dreams. The scent is still with him, following him even as he opens his eyes. 

Patroclus realises, in a sudden rush of consciousness, that he isn’t gazing up at the open blue sky, nor at the ceiling of his room; he is staring straight into bright and impossibly green eyes, that are staring right back at him.

"Good morning," Achilles says. 

He is bent over him, his face so close to Patroclus' that their noses are pressed against each other’s. Achilles blinks, and his long golden lashes almost touch his skin. Patroclus simply lies there, petrified, completely paralysed by their proximity as his brain tries to figure out what's going on.

His body and his instincts have no such trouble, though, as heat instantly pools low in his belly with the intensity of Achilles' scent around him, the warmth of his skin. 

Achilles edges back, his hair a lovely curtain of gold around his face. "You're awake, finally." 

Patroclus glances out of the window; it's later than he usually wakes up, but still not very long after dawn. He clears his throat and pushes himself up on his elbows, rubbing the grit from his eyes. 

"Sorry, I slept in, I guess. Um, what were you just—"

"It's alright," Achilles rushes to say, interrupting him. He sits back on Patroclus' pallet, but he seems a little tense and wired. He is watching Patroclus' every move, hardly blinking. "I was just waiting for you."

"Did you… need something?" Patroclus asks cautiously.

"There is something I wanted to show. Some things."

He stands up, and it is only then that Patroclus notices the array of ornaments strewn at his feet. It’s an impressive display that looks as if it has been carefully arranged while Patroclus was asleep, and it was evidently done so quietly that he never even stirred from his sleep. Achilles kneels at the foot of his bed, his features very sharp and serious.

“Patroclus,” he starts in his princely manner, “noble son of Menoetius, most cherished of companions, blessed by the gods; please accept these offerings I present to you, as keepsakes to mark our special bond. I hope that they will please you, as much as gifting them to you is pleasing me.”

He picks up one of the artefacts, a bronze bowl, and extends it towards him with both hands. His head is bowed reverently so that Patroclus can only see his golden crown; it is as if he is offering a gift not to a therapon, but to a king, or a high priest. 

Patroclus stares mutely for a long moment; longer than he ought, as his still sleepy brain tries to make sense of this. Achilles doesn’t lift his head, waiting patiently until Patroclus gingerly plucks it from his hands and gives it a careful look. 

“Right,” he says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again. “Um… thank you?”

Achilles lifts his head then, his eyes fixed intently on Patroclus’ face in that unsettling way of his, pupils wide and pitch black. “Do you like it?” he asks. The hurried, almost breathless way he says it makes it sound as if he’s anxious to hear Patroclus’ response.

“It… is very beautiful.” Patroclus turns the bowl in his hands, this way and that. It really is lovely: it is relatively small but expertly crafted, with elegant carvings of courting doves in the centre of the bowl, and of flowers along the rim. It’s a prize ornament, far too expensive and well made for one to give to a therapon—unless it’s the spoils of a battle just won. “If I may I ask: why are you giving me this?” 

Achilles blinks, taken aback by the question as if Patroclus asked him why the sky is blue. “Last night, you gave me a gift,” he says. “Today, it’s my turn to give you one.”

Read the rest on AO3!