#not to mention everything hes been through already ofc

[verycorrectlegomovie]

So apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

-Emmet

[hyukalyptus]

something nice — sub!fem!reader x dom!yeonjun x servicetop!kai

cw. reader is in an established (open) relationship with yeonjun, cucking? (kai eats reader's pussy while yj watches lol), cunnilingus ofc, nipple play, orgasm denial, edging, pet names (baby, jjun), begging, mention of "punishment" but nothing's ever done, yeonjun and kai talk about reader and what they're gonna do to her (without her understanding—everything is consensual in the beginning, but read note below), let me know if there's anything else. notes. IMPORTANT: ok so the tea with this one. the idea here is that the reader doesn't speak korean well and kai and yj are speaking korean to kinda talk about the reader and what they're gonna do to her so she doesn't understand. nothing aggressive, just describing what to do to her body so she's kinda surprised? SO!! anything in italics is in korean. thats important!! also idk how i feel about this???? smut under cut. wc. 1.5K

“Did she give you a reason or did she just break up with you?” You’re eavesdropping on Yeonjun and Kai—not that they’re being very secretive. They’re talking about a woman Kai’s been seeing while you play video games and attempt to translate in your head, but you're not being too successful, catching a few words here and there. 

“She did say one thing,” Kai says hesitantly. “But it’s kinda embarrassing.”

“What is it?”

“Well,” he starts, scooting closer to Yeonjun to awkwardly whisper something to him, twiddling his thumbs, running his fingers through his hair.

“Oh,” Yeonjun chuckles. “That’s…man, if you get really good at that, you could date anyone.”

“What are you talking about?” You finally pause your game, curiosity getting the best of you. Looking up, Kai looks like you caught him stealing cookies from a cookie jar while Yeonjun tries to hold back a chuckle. The three of you exchange looks until Yeonjun rolls his eyes to bluntly say—

“Eating women out.”

“Yeonjun—!” Kai says, shoving his arm.

“What?” He chuckles, returning the shove. “I eat her out all the time. She knows what it is. She knows you eat pussy too.”

“But that’s why that woman broke up with you?” You ask. “Because you…you're bad at eating pussy?” He blushes, averting his attention to the floor while he clasps his hands together, nodding shyly.

“Be honest, babe—am I good at eating you out?”

Looking between the two of them, you sit up and say, “Yeah, you’re probably the best I’ve had, but we’re super compatible, you know? We’re, like, super in love. That makes a big difference sometimes.”

Holding back a cocky smile, he asks, “But, objectively, I’m pretty good, right?” You shrug and nod—really, he probably is the best you’ve ever had, but that’s another story. 

“What makes it good?” Kai asks.

Humming, you think before saying, “First, he doesn’t go straight for it.” Turning red and ears getting warm, you gush and— “Oh god, Kai, don’t look at me when I tell you this.”

“Ah, this is ridiculous,” Yeonjun exasperates. “Do you just wanna practice on her?” You both whip your heads in his direction. “If you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he says to you. “Just thought it might be helpful.” 

Oh, how did you end up here? Laying in Yeonjun's bed, clenching your thighs together out of nervousness. “Remember, this is kinda specific to her. Pay attention to what whoever you’re with wants.” Kai nods, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

“She already said this—” Yeonjun says. “I don’t go straight for it. I kiss her first, then make my way down there.”

“You want him to kiss me?”

He shrugs and says, “If you’re alright with that.”

“If you are,” you say, looking Kai in the eyes. Both of them can’t help but notice the confidence you seem to be exuding, especially compared to Kai. Trembling fingers reaching for your cheek, he looks at you for permission one final time. Finally leaning in, his lips press to yours. 

You’d forgotten what it was like to have a first kiss with someone. Kai’s kisses are different from Yeonjun’s. Kai’s are much more cautious, more careful—not necessarily shy, but careful. It quickly turns hot and heavy. But you remember Yeonjun is watching you, suddenly overtaken with bashfulness, you break the kiss to glance over at him. 

Him and that sinister smile. 

Turning back to Kai, you crash into his lips again, humming into his mouth and smirking to rub how much you're enjoying this in Yeonjun's face.  

“Touch her,” Yeonjun says. “Kinda slowly, but then a little more intense.” Kai does as he’s told, his hand dragging up your hip to squeeze your tits. “Under her shirt.” 

His hand on the outside of your bra feels new and exciting. Reaching around your back to unhook it, you break the kiss to take your shirt off, pulling at the hem of his. 

“Slow down for a second,” Yeonjun chuckles and Kai listens, placing gentle kisses to your collarbone. “Lick her nipples.” Swirling his tongue around your nipple, you gasp, reaching for his hair. “Pay attention to which one she likes better.”

Kai tests both, slyly licking between the two. After testing the waters, he picks correctly. You chuckle thinking about Yeonjun sitting on a chair across the room, smirking in approval. You could look for yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. 

“Keep licking her until her hips roll.” This is a bit crazy, isn’t it? The guy you love telling another man how to fuck you the way you like. “Not yet.” Yeonjun switches to Korean, making you roll your eyes. If you didn’t have the energy to translate in your head earlier, you definitely can’t focus enough to translate now.

Lips trailing down your body, he tugs at your shorts, but keeps your cute pink panties on. Yeonjun talks him through every move—to lick his thumb and rub your nipple, to press his nose to the outside of your panties, to skate his lips across your inner thighs. 

Your hips roll uncontrollably, practically begging him to taste you. 

“Kai—” You whisper, your body instantly burning at the sound of the both of them chuckling. Pulling your panties down and off your legs, he throws them to Yeonjun who happily wads them up to sniff them and smell how delicious you are. 

Licking his thumb again, he keeps rubbing circles over your nipple as he finally licks your clit, your back arching as soon as he touches it. 

“Fuck—” You say breathlessly, looking down at him as his eyes sparkle up at you, your head dropping to your pillow with a thud. “Who the fuck is this bitch that says you’re bad at this?” He shakes his head, digging deeper into your pussy. 

Smiling cockily, you look over at Yeonjun, trying to control his breathing. He can’t help it—the two of you are just too hot together. He's never been able to enjoy this kind of view before. Seeing how every part of your body reacts to being touched—it's an incredible view.

“Please tell me he’s allowed to make me cum, baby,” You beg.

“Of course,” he chuckles smugly. “If he can.” Kai’s eating you out like he’s absolutely starving. And it’s true—he can’t help it. You taste too fucking good. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as you start squeaking, throwing your head back. 

“Okay, that sound means she’s gonna cum soon. Try to bring her as close to the edge as possible and then stop.” 

“Fuck, Kai,” you breathe. “Right there—yes.” You can’t believe how good he is at this, especially given the reason you're under his tongue right now. He’s supposed to be bad at this, right? 

You’re so fucking close and he can feel it. “Don’t stop—” he brings you right there. And then he does it. He stops. “Agh, fuck you,” you groan. Looking down at him, his smirking at you, eyes flashing between you and Yeonjun. 

He doesn’t waste too much time before getting back to your pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit. 

“Take it away from her for a bit. Lick her nipples again.” He does just that. You’re aching, bucking your hips over and over, desperately trying to relieve some kind of tension. But his tongue does feel amazing on your tits. Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it hard. He groans, his mouth dropping open like you just unlocked a new kink of his. 

Now he can’t take it anymore. Hips jutting forward, you feel the roughness of his sweatpants drag against your center, relieving some of that tension. You gasp, resorting to begging him to get back to licking you. 

“No, don’t,” Yeonjun says sternly. 

“But I want to,” Kai whines back, looking at your pussy hungrily, sticking the tip of his tongue out, giving his best begging eyes. But Yeonjun just shakes his head, satisfied with watching you uncontrollably rolling your hips up toward Kai’s mouth. Kai compromises, wrapping his hands around the backs of your thighs to yank you closer to him and presses his lips to the skin right around your clit, teasing you even more. 

“Babe—” you breathe, begging Yeonjun with your eyes to let him continue licking you. 

“I know, baby, I know…” he responds, his voice low and rough. He finally lets him lick you again. But he doesn’t show much mercy. He repeats the same tactic over and over—having him bring you right to the edge, even to the point of tears, then he stops right in his tracks.

"I'm gonna tell you to stop, but I want you to keep going, okay?" Kai nods, agreeing to his instructions. Bringing you to the edge again, you're begging for mercy, begging to cum. "Don't let her cum, Kai," he says, making tears form in your eyes. "Stop—"

And he does.

"I told you to let her cum that time."

"Sorry," he smiles up at him, licking his lips. "It's so fun to see her beg like that though." Tilting his head toward you, he says, "Look at her...she's got tears in her eyes. Isn't that the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen?"

"It's okay, baby," he says, fingers flowing through your hair while Kai's mouth finds your clit again. You're moaning, gasping for air, swearing, screaming, anything to try to find a release. "Not yet. Don't let her fucking cum, Kai." You don't think you can handle this much longer. Edging is nice, yes, but this? This is bordering torture.

"Please, please, please, Jjun..." you trail off. "Just please let me cum. I can't take it anymore."

"I know you can take it, baby. Fucking taking it so well..."

It's building again. That knot in your stomach that gets tighter and tighter with every second. That white hot fire in the pit of your stomach waiting to explode.

"Don't stop, Kai," you blurt. "I'm gonna cum—" Slamming your palm over your mouth—you shouldn't have said that. He's gonna make you regret saying that.

"Don't let her cum," he orders.

But his grip gets tighter. His tongue licks furiouser. His face digs deeper. You're so fucking close. Closer than you've ever been tonight.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kai..." your orgasms crashes over you like a bolt of lightning. "Yes, fuck yes, that feels so fucking good." You feel like you're having an out of body experience. It's one of the best fucking orgasms of your life. "Don't stop, right there." You chest heaves with heavy breaths.

Coming down from one of the best orgasms of your life, your vision clears up and all you keep thinking is how much Yeonjun's gonna make you pay for this. You came without his permission—what's he gonna do now? Everything flashes across your mind: not letting you cum for a week, spanking you until your ass had his hand print on it, tying you up for hours, you're not sure.

But he doesn't do any of that. His hand caresses your cheek as he smiles down at you, "Did that feel good, baby?"

Confused, you nod, "Mhmm." You're still nervous, looking around at everyone's reactions. Kai's smirking while he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bad at eating pussy my ass," you say, shoving his shoulder with your foot.

"Ah, I knew you a had a little crush on him...I've seen how you look at him." Your face turns beet red. He's noticed that? Oh god... "I just wanted to do something nice for my baby."

[yoru-no-seiiki]

tagging @onyanjune and @h0ly-l3mb for giving me the idea/motivation to do this lol

link to original post here

tw/cw: MDNI or you WILL be blocked, DDDNE, (skip for spoilers) yandere! reader, mentioned non/dub con, mentioned filming of said non/dubcon.

yan! cool kid has two siblings, your upperclassman and underclassman respectively. and it hella irritates him how close you are to the two.

ofc yan! reader’s intentions have and will always be depraved yearning. they only befriended the pair for the sake of “getting close to the in-laws.” after all you wouldn’t be a good future spouse if you weren’t somewhat involved in the family side of things.

but your tunnel vision sort of . . . backfired.

“quite a bunch of lunches you’re packing.” he mumbled, raising his head from his arms after a thorough nap through class. he had already studied everything that subject had to offer and thoroughly memorized it thanks to his notes that were covered in photos of you.

“oh these? these aren’t just for me, silly.” you answered. he already knew what you were planning, and you already knew that he knew, but keeping this façade of normalcy was a game you two liked to play, “you haven’t been bringing food to school recently i’ve noticed. so i made some more to share.”

“just one?”

you blinked at him, confused. laughing after you realize where his eyes were focused on. you explain that the rest will be going to his siblings, since you thought it may be a household / financial problem.

soon after that you took off, trying your best to hide the giddy feeling in your body threatening to spill unto your facial expressions.

yan! cool kid stares at his brand new lunch and wonders if you also cut out heart shaped potato for their curries, planning out ways to torture yan! loser later

yan! loser who’s yan! cool kid’s younger brother. they look so different, their demeanors even further apart. the only way you knew they were related was cause you stalked the latter on his way back home and almost killed the former before you found out.

you dropped by his class with a smile. his classmates staring at you with wide eyes as those in higher levels rarely ever go to this section of school.

“i hope you don’t mind, but i made lunch for you. is that okay?”

“is ThaT okAy?” he parroted back at you, his voice cracking, nerves on edge at all the people staring at the situation. he was going to eat lunch alone in the bathroom again like always but was occupied with erasing the marks left by his bullies on the table.

you laugh at his response, and set the lunch you prepared on his table.

you stare blankly at the brutal remarks written across. silently you walked outside before coming back with a spare table. you frown as the food you left remained untouched.

“you should eat first. lunch won’t last forever.”

you pat the poor boy’s back and left.

one last delivery til you were done.

you breathed in, knocking the door to the student council’s room. “mr. president, it’s me.”

“come in.”

yan! school president doesn’t even raise his head to look at you. his focus remaining on the papers in his hand and table. “leave the lunchbox there.” the bespectacled man points to your table in the room.

you set it down obediently and walked out. at least, you tried to until he stops you. “before you go, tell me why i shouldn’t report your actions to the faculty.”

you don’t turn around from the door, but still you answer, “hm, actions?”

“you, using school funds to pay for my youngest brother’s harassment.”

“…mmm…” you turned around, placing a hand on your chin in feigned deep thought “because . . . you love love love me?”

yan! president sighed. you hear paper shredding.

“you may go.”

you giggled. stepping outside of the stuffy room to go finally see your beloved again in class.

you put a hand in your pocket and fished out your phone. briefly smiling at the home screen wallpaper of yan! cool kid and quickly tapping out the password.

you then delete the video of yan! president tying you up as his unclothed hips slammed into yours. your skin covered in bites and slap marks all over. your eyes converging fear as tears fell and your mouth was gagged and unable to voice the feeling. the once prim and proper man man groaning in ecstasy and yelling words of degradation as he defiled you.

but you could only cringed at the words “i love you.” escaping his lips.

“a little reward for mercy i suppose.”

you stuff your phone back into your pocket. wondering if you should also warn him about the laxatives.

[imaginesmai]

Hiii I absolutely adore your fics! Especially the angst 😭😭

I was wondering if you could you write something super angsty about when Az comes back from the dungeons after torture and he just looks so... broken.

Y/n (his mate) first comforts him, ofc, but then she's so pissed at Rhys for making Azzy do this that she goes to pick a fight with him. Maybe even the others have to step in after the fight starts to get physical...

You asked for angst and you shall recieve! I kind of imagine Azriel being quite closed off about his missions, so I hope I made this right! Feel free to make more requests, and thank you for your kind words!

Warnings: mentions of violence against children and their death, kind of mean!Rhys but not cruel nor hateful, just a bit dumb. Not a hate Rhysand fic.

Breaking point - Azriel

The fire had already died down, and the dinner was cold. You had spent half of your afternoon cooking, and the other half choosing your best dress. The one that kept Azriel’s eyes captured all night, that seemed to be a magnet for his hands.

It was rare to have a night for the two of you, between his work and yours as an emissary. It was rare to have him accept that night without responsibilities, but lately you always found some excuse to be together. Not mated for too long, Azriel found himself drifting away from his work to your presence.

That wasn’t the case that night.

You stared at the last candle as the fire consumed it, minutes away from turning off. Azriel had closed his side of the bond early in the morning, before you started your shift, but you tugged at it once more. Briefly, softly, tired of hours of waiting with no result.

Part of you wondered if dating the shadowsinger would be always like that. You had never complained about him his work before you, but that night was starting to feel too long.

The brief rush of air from the door being opened turned the candle off, and you turned around with a scowl ready. Your high-heels laid forgotten next to the door, and that would have been enough other times to make Azriel feel bad.

But you watched as Azriel left his own shoes next to yours without saying anything, his shoulders tense and his wings dropped.

“Az” you stared, squinting your eyes to see in the darkness of the night. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine”

His answer was harsh, like the edges of his body. Once your eyesight accommodated to the dark, your discovered that there was indeed blood. Not only the smudge on his neck that you had seen, but also on his clothes. On his wings, dripping to the floor. Dried on his shoes, that had left a few prints on the wooden floor. His hands seemed too crusted with it.

You rose from the chair and he looked at you. His face already looked crestfallen, but after noticing your dress and the dinner table, slumped more. Azriel must have forgotten about the dinner, the date and everything else. You didn’t usually talk about the details of his job, yet you gathered it took a stroll on him most of the days.

Going against every fiber of your body that had been angry minutes ago, you walked towards him barefoot.

“I’m sorry” he sighed, turning around to hang his coat. “Lost track of the time down there. I… forgot”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t sure food was edible. It did smell weird” you tried to change the mood, but he didn’t look at you. “Everything okay? That’s a lot of blood”

“Not mine” he repeated. “It’s been… complicated. Do you mind if I take a shower? We can reheat dinner and eat in the couch. I’m sure we can savage something”

“Sure. There are some leftovers from yesterday”

Azriel was a tough male, and hated to talk about his feelings. You had learned that through hard years of friendship where he didn’t let on any feelings towards you, just cold indifference. Being mated changed some things, but other stayed the same.

It would have been a mistake to try and drag answer out of him, so you let him get away to the shower. He gave you a tense smile and walked out, ignoring the worried glance you casted.

Sounds of clothes hitting the floor filled the silent apartment. You doubted what would be best, if talk to him or leave him alone. Maybe he wanted to be alone, you tried, because he hadn’t asked for your presence. Shared showers were common in your household, but not that time. Biting your lip, you considered what to do until you heard the soft brush of his wings against the tiles of the bathroom.

Azriel wouldn’t be dragging his wings through the floor if he wasn’t devastated.

Fae hearing and smell weren’t a good ally to surprising people, so he didn’t say anything when you closed the bathroom door behind you and undressed. His bulky form took almost all the space, shadows gathering close to the sink and on every corner of the small bathroom.

They brushed against your feet when you pushed the curtain aside and squeezed yourself between him and the wall. There was no way of knowing if those were tears or drops of water on his cheeks, but he still smiled at you.

“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow” he tried, his voice sounding vacant. “I’m not feeling like it right now”

“It’s the first and last time you’ll hear me say this, but I’m not thinking about that right now. Do you want to talk about it?”

“About me not wanting – “

“About today, love. I’m right here if you want to talk” you wrapped your arms around his chest, staring up at him. “Maybe it’ll feel better if you let it out”

“Doubt it”

Azriel was a head taller than you, bigger in every aspect, but your eyes still bored into him. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and his left wing twitched. It was unusual for you to have his naked form so close and do nothing about it, for him to have his favorite parts of you within reach and do nothing.

But that night you weren’t thinking about any of it as his breath shuddered for the first time since you had known him, as composure seemed to crack a little.

His face was pure anguish for a moment, all pain, devastation and sorrow. Every feeling he had comforted you through broke through his face at once. Drops of water fell from his soaked hair, that covered most of his forehead. There was no way of knowing if those were tears of just water, but there was a suspicious salty scent on the air.

“I want to be here for you, but you have to let me” you assured him, squeezing him tighter in your arms. A primal need was born in you to keep him whole, to be the glue to his broken pieces.

“It’s not something you want to hear”

“Nothing you can tell me will make me love you less, or see you different. I already love every part of you”

“Not this part” his voice sounded tight, desperate, as he made eye-contact with you.

“That’s for me to decide, Az, and I’ve already decided. What’s the matter?”

Azriel still seemed to doubt for a second. His hand searched for the back of your hair and he tugged at it aimlessly. He tangled his fingers, now clean of blood, between your soaked locks. As if the words he was about to say would break him in two, he was steadying himself against the wall with his free hand.

Maybe they were, you thought. Azriel never shared his feelings with you. He was a closed person that barely let you inside his heart as his own mate, but you were okay with that. You would give him time, every minute and second he needed, until he was comfortable with giving you his heart.

That moment seemed important enough to deserve a short pause. Azriel’s throat worked around the words, his heart speeding.

“There is a man, in the mountains. He owns a cabin deep in the forest, at least ten miles away from the nearest civilization post. Rhysand has been keeping tabs on him for a while, for some… suspicious activities”

“What activities?”

“Children. Going missing” he explained briefly, avoiding the further explanation. Him sharing something about his life outside you and your family was enough though. “It’s been going on for a while. Devlon’s daughter was between the missing ones, so the camp lord finally demanded something to be done about it”

“And you were the one to do it”

You kept your annoyance to yourself, your thoughts about Rhysand using your mate as his personal guard dog. You might love Rhysand as your High Lord and friend, but the things he made Azriel do were enough to keep your distance from him sometimes.

That time, you braced yourself for Azriel’s information and tried to be as open as possible.

“Yeah”

Azriel took another pause, and that time you were sure those were tears filling his eyes. For any answer, you leaned a bit forward and got on your tiptoes to press your lips to his jaw. It was a soft, brief kiss against his stubble that had him shuddering once more. His head fell even lower after that.

“So that’s where you’ve been all afternoon. That’s fine, no different from any other day” you contemplated when he didn’t continue. “What really happen, Az?”

“You don’t want to know”

He made his intention, his thoughts, clear for a second time. Yet there was a hidden urge on his voice that pressed you to keep asking. The bond was still closed off, but through the cracks of his part, you could feel the need to share it. It was clear that he didn’t want you to be the person to share it with, and you would have normally respected his choice.

But there were tears on his eyes, actual tears on your precious mate’s eyes that were shattering your own heart into pieces. Your strong, brave shadowsinger was breaking in that tiny shower and you were dying to be there for him.

“Azriel”

You just needed his name. It was like a prayer, like an order or a command, like a petition. He used to tell you that you saying his name was enough to put him to his knees, that buckled at the sound. Azriel’s face broke into a grimace and he suck a breath before he finally broke down.

“He kept those children in cells in his own basement. They were so skinny, so small, he wasn’t feeding them” Azriel’s breath sped up, as his words stumbled down his throat. He broke eye-contact and stared at a spot in your collarbone. “I couldn’t tell one apart from another, because he heard I was coming and burned them all down. There was no one left alive”

It took you a moment to separate the horror of the story of his own horror. The one that marked his hands that held you so lovingly, that made you coffee each morning and ticked you in the early mornings. His stepbrothers had burned his hands down, and since then, Azriel hadn’t been near an uncontrolled fire.

“I tried to save them, so save any of them. But they were all ashes”

When Azriel leaned down so he could rest his head against your shoulder, you only held him tighter. When the water turned cold and he started shivering, you just turned it off in silence and guided him to bed.

You dried him with soft touches, stopping to touch every inch of his scarred hands. Helped him get into comfortable clothes and laid with him in silence, letting him knowing you weren’t going anywhere – at least yet. You stared at him with a small smile until his eyes closed and his body relaxed, his breathing finally becoming even.

For good measure, you brushed his hair out of his face. There was no need for him to happen what had happened next. The blood on his clothes, the stains on the wooden floor. You were sure there were specks of blood in his wings, where he couldn’t reach.

Nothing Azriel told you would drag you away from him. He could become a monster and you would destroy the world with him. But that night, after hours of staying awake just staring at him safe from the horrors of the world, you got up and put back your clothes.

Then, you winnowed away.

-

Rhysand had been finishing reports when he noticed the breach in his home. Cassian was sitting on the couch, half-asleep with un-done reports on his own desks.

He had been waiting for Azriel’s that night, but he guessed he would receive it the next morning. When he noticed the breach, he guessed it was his spymaster bringing back information from his latest task.

Rhysand didn’t expect you appearing out of thin air on his office, with a murderous look on your face. He raised his brows lightly, and got up from his chair. He didn’t miss the way you were clenching your fists, so he decided not to cross the barrier between you and him.

“Y/N” he called your name carefully. “It’s late, shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Azriel just came home. Destroyed. And I’m supposed to be asleep?”

“What happened?”

The mean, sarcastic laugh you barked at his question wasn’t the ‘you’ Rhysand knew. The kind emissary that settled political relationships between courts, that lighted up his brother’s darkness. You snorted again when you looked at his expecting face.

“You mean besides completing yet another cruel mission for you, one he was clearly too attached to? Why do you always send him for the worse ones? What makes your sanity more worthy than his?” you extended an arm and pointed vaguely around the room. “You’ve been here, sitting so comfortably, while my mate was getting his hands dirty on your name. And you dare to ask about – “

“I don’t sit here comfortably, I don’t value my sanity over his. Where is this coming from?”

It wasn’t the first time you had that argument, more common during the last few years. Even when Azriel was just your friend, you had always spoken against his role in Rhysand’s court. You had seen the bags under his eyes, the weight of his actions that he didn’t share with his family.

Cassian perked up from his spot at your argument and raised voices, and noticed the hostile atmosphere immediately. It was hard not to, when your own power was making the lights tremble and your eyes spark.

“Because you are draining him! He’s not a weapon you can yield against your court, he’s part of your family and your brother. And you’re gonna end up hurting him”

“You’re not the person to talk about my court or how I handle those matters. You’re not High Lord and certainly not around enough to question my rulership”

“I am his mate, the one who picks up the pieces. What you do with him isn’t family or brotherhood, is extortion and manipulation” you busted out, taking a step closer. “You saved him, good for you! That was centuries ago! And now he feels like he owns you his life and you just throw him around!”

“Careful there, Y/N. I don’t appreciate how you’re talking right now” the high lord growled under his breath, his own power waking up.

“We should talk about this in the morning”

Cassian tried to interfere, but you didn’t pay attention to him when Rhysand stepped away from the table and towards you. It wasn’t your friend who stood before you, the man you had laughed with and worked for during many years. It was the responsible of your mate’s pain and all you saw was read and hate and Azriel’s first tear rolling down.

You bared your teeth at him like a wild animal, you guessed. You were coming at him with everything you had kept through the years, and maybe it was rushed and mean, but it wasn’t unfair.

“Azriel is my brother, and he’s a valuable resource for our court that I carefully blade against – “

Rhysand’s words died down when your fist collided with the side of his mouth. He stumbled against the table, a pen rolling off. Cassian finally rose from his seat and opened his mouth to warm Rhysand, to stop you or to do something. But he didn’t move as your hand lowered again against your High Lord. You pushed him away from you, and any answer or complain Rhysand had died down when he finally focused on your face.

There were tear tracks down cheeks, and you didn’t look angry anymore. You looked desperate, broken, so sad that it robbed Rhysand’s breath.

He kept still as you pushed him once more, now his body rigid against your touch. You chocked on a sob when he didn’t flinch, your fist hitting the side of his chest. He didn’t stop you when you kept hitting him, pushing him, as you cried down every truth in that room.

You’re hurting my mate

You’re going to kill my mate

Please just leave him alone

It was your begging that made him realize that his mistakes. The sorrows that you poured in them that he saw himself in, when Feyre was hurt. It made him wonder what kind of brother he was for driving Azriel’s mate to that state.

Rhysand took everything you gave him and ordered Cassian with a silent look to leave. The male obeyed with a sharp look, disappearing minutes before your knees finally gave out and you crumbled after a weak punch. You hid your face in your hands as Rhysand tried to keep you straight. Your body shook with sobs and you didn’t have it in you to feel bad when shadows caressed your shoulders as Azriel winnowed behind you.

Your mate gently grabbed you in his arms and helped you get up. Not once he looked at Rhysand, not once he acknowledged his brother’s desperate tries to meet his eyes and speak into his mind. Azriel just held you together as he winnowed back to your bed, where he had noticed you had left him to do what he was too afraid to say himself.

“Just let him be happy” you whined one last time as shadows covered you both. His arms pulled you farther against his embrace. “You fucking prick, let me be happy”

Rhysand watched you two disappear without catching his brother’s eyes once. Azriel only looked at you with a mix of adoration and gratitude, and kept Rhysand off his mind. The High Lord stared at the empty spot you had left for a while, caressing his already bruised jaw.

Then, he fell to his chair and let the doubts and mistakes crowd his mind.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend

[justporo]

Hello! Very sorry if your post was rhetorical, but you asked for Astarion fluff and I had an idea. Since he's a canonical cay person, I like to think that a druid Tav would enjoy wildshifting into a cat and lounging in his lap, either acting as a heat source or letting him run his fingers through their fur when he's nervous or upset.

Anon, thank you so much. I immediately had a scene in my head and this was a true delight to write.

So now that I'm already crying from replying to that other Anon message (not their fault ofc), let's return to our regularly scheduled fluff, eh?

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You, Druid this time) Wordcount: 1,8k

Cats with Benefits

Sometimes it got all too much. Those were usually the moments you used your wild-shape abilities to shift into a cat and strolled off into the forest to have some moments of peace and quiet.

Today had been an especially exhausting day – the party had been fighting and bickering trying to figure out how to get through the Mountain Pass. The way was always steep and only loosely fixed, so you only made very slow progress and all of you were already completely exhausted came noon. So, you had decided that you’d take an additional rest midday when the sun was high and hot, adding to your already physically demanding hike.

You had put down your pack, went a few yards into the nearby patch of trees you had stopped at today to use their generous shade, and shifted into your usual form of a fluffy black cat and started to stroll around the small patch of forest. For some time you just wandered over fallen trees or through the underbrush, enjoying how differently it was to experience nature from the perspective of a feline creature. You loved it – it was almost like meditation for you.

The others didn’t know you wandered off like this sometimes. Or at least they hadn’t mentioned it. They wouldn’t leave without you and so far, you’d always gotten back to them in time. And as of late tension was high enough that everyone was pretty much occupied with just themselves, so they didn’t miss you.

After some time, you found a nice big rock in the sun on a clearing in the woods. Perfect for a cat to lounge on and take a nap. You jumped up, allowed yourself a long full body stretch and a big yawn and then rolled up into a ball of fur to enjoy the sun and some time alone.

As you laid there, your thoughts started to wander. You thought about your companions. You liked them, each and every one of them. Naturally, some more than others but you respected them all. But the path through the Mountain Pass had been a strain on all of you. And it really hadn’t helped that today everyone had just seemed on edge from the very first step on out.

Specifically, Astarion had been incredibly annoying today. Not being able to stop complaining about everything. Always replying with a sarcastic remark. To be honest, your relationship with him was probably the hardest and most formal of all thus far.

You had already realised that his flirty and sassy behaviour obviously were his coping mechanism for something deeply troubling, but by the Gods, it seemed he could never shut up. He was hand full at the best of times. Your furry ears started to twitch and the tip of your tail zig-zagged just thinking about it.

You tried to clear your mind then after your thoughts kept spiraling, hoping to relax enough that you could actually sleep a little.

But only shortly after your peace was broken.

“Well hello, who are you my beauty? A descendant of a mighty mountain lion? Rawr.”

No, it couldn’t be… The damned vampire had found you.

Of course he didn’t know it was you, but…

You opened one eye lazily and saw Astarion lean down to you, reaching out one hand to stroke you. Your jaws opened and you could already feel the hiss inside you rising to the top, but oh.

His touch was so gentle. His fingers softly stroked from the top of your head down your feline neck and back and you couldn’t resist leaning into his hand when he started again from the top.

“Someone likes that, hmm?”, Astarion said softly while petting what he received only as a wild but friendly cat.

Shifting into an animal also meant adapting some of their unique abilities and habits, so you couldn’t help when your feline body responded to the gentle touches by purring.

The vampire was positively intrigued when he heard that. As you opened your other eye you could see his big smile – a genuine one. You had never seen him smile like that. “Seems like someone’s just as touch-starved and desperate for some comfort as me”, he whispered while continuing his pets. That made your ears perk up and you immediately felt for the pale elf. Questions filled your mind about his unknowing revelation.

But you had barely any time to ponder them because suddenly the vampire scooped you up into his arms and sat down in front of the boulder you had laid down on. You yelped – or rather meowed at the sudden change of position.

Astarion moved carefully with your cat self in his arms until he was laying in the grass, legs angled, and you snuggled up against his chest. Since he had donned his armour and was only in his camp clothes you could feel his body, beneath your own.

This was incredibly weird and would probably end up with an awkward revelation but – you couldn’t deny that it was also very delightful.

“We can be cuddle buddies, my beauty, at least for an afternoon. So we can both get some much needed affection, hm?”, Astarion whispered to you. His red eyes looked so sad saying that. Whatever you had started to think about to get out of this situation evaporated. Suddenly, you only wanted to keep him company – it seemed he desperately needed it.

And the way he unknowingly had started opening up to you: it was a good albeit saddening look on him. You wanted to provide some comfort it that was what he seeked.

Also, it felt incredibly good to lay there on your new vampiric stone, soaking up the sun together while Astarion carefully continued petting you: scratching behind your ears, stroking down your back with both hands, even when he tickled one of your paws with a single finger. And you couldn’t stop purring. That bastard knew exactly what to do to keep the purrs coming.

Then after a while he just laid there with you, hands on your soft and shiny fur. He sighed: “I wish I could take you with me. You seem to like me. At least more than my other companions.”

Your ears perked up again, you looked at him but he had his eyes closed, head lolled back to enjoy the warming sunlight.

“Especially, Tav”, Astarion continued with another sigh “I wish I knew a way how to change that.”

That was it. You couldn’t in good faith continue to lay there with him as he offered up his innermost feelings. You got up and jumped off the vampire’s chest who got up on his elbows looking sad by your departure. You sat there and shortly pondered if you should just leave, keeping your secret. But you couldn’t, you needed him to know – and also have some words with him.

You changed back into your humanoid form, making Astarion scurry back from you, eyes wide with shock.

“Hi Astarion”, you whispered as you knelt beside him.

“You – what? How? Oh, I knew your eyes looked familiar!” His voice rose several octaves and you kept silent as his mood changed from shock to anger – but he stayed where he was.

“What the fuck was that about? Trying to spy on me?”, he hissed at you. Excuse him? He invaded your privacy. “I was here first, you bastard!”, you spat back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“And you didn’t think to reveal yourself before I proceeded to make you fucking purr?” “How when you didn’t leave me anytime in between petting me and lifting me up? I only wanted to be alone!”, you screamed back.

That made Astarion’s shoulders slump a little, some of his softer side returned. “I’m sorry”, he said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry”, you replied and looked down at your knees while pressing the balls of your head against your forehead “I should have said something way earlier.”

You looked up at him: “But then you sounded so sad and I… didn’t want you to be sad so I let it happen and it was kinda nice... I’m sorry, I invaded your privacy like this, Astarion. I’ll just leave and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

You saw the surprise on the vampire’s face who remained silent. So, you moved to get up, but Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist. “No, please. Stay… It was nice”, he confessed and looked into your eyes. The look he gave you was almost pleading.

The urge to move in and hug him overcame you, so you acted upon it – you had already laid on his chest, hadn’t you? How much worse could this make it?

You moved in and wrapped your arms around him – surprising the yelping vampire so much that he fell onto his back again. You were scared that you had crossed yet another line but to your own surprise you felt his arms wrap around you in return slowly.

And so you hugged him long and tightly. He was tense at first, but you felt him relax after some time. He even started to stroke your back again. You squeezed him and held onto him trying to offer him as much comfort and affection you could muster.

“For the record, I do like you, Astarion. You’re just annoying sometimes. But so can the others be, and I too”, you spoke into his chest, squeezing him yet harder. “And if… if you need someone to maybe talk to or hug you or just, you know, lounge in the sun… I can also change back into a cat, if you want me to. I could be your cat with benefits so to speak”, you brabbled into his shirt before you got too shy to make the offer. Your words were muffled but you hoped he heard you.

He did and the vampire chuckled softly. “That sounds… nice. Thank you. I may take you up on that if you promise you will keep this our little secret”, he answered hesitantly. You lifted your head from his shirt but not letting him go. “Would you like me to change back into a cat?”, you asked him and blushed as you realised what kind of weird deal you had just made with the vampire.

“No, Tav, not this time. This… this is very nice too”, Astarion replied and gave you another – the second this afternoon! – genuine smile. And this time it felt even better, knowing it was actually meant for you. You smiled back and placed your head on his chest again. Astarion’s hands kept softly wandering over your back as you kept holding him.

This is where you comfortably remained until it was time to get back to camp. But you were both sure it wouldn’t be the last opportunity to enjoy a nice cuddle in the afternoon sun.

[juvenillia]

~ under my skin ~ John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!reader [fluff/smut oneshot]

Summary: Johnny never wanted any more tattoos. Memories and people were more important to him than a little sketch on his skin. He didn't need those to be reminded of what he hold dear, because he kept all that in his heart. This opinion somehow changed when he met you and suddenly he found himself with five fresh tattoos that meant the world to him. Because these five tattoos reminded him of something he wanted to stay for eternity. The ink holding a meaning deeper than the bare eye could ever see.

a/n: this one was supposed to be a sweet short oneshot about Johnny falling for his tattoo artist but somehow it escalated very quickly and it could've been even longer but I stopped right there (for now)

tw/cw: tattooartist!reader, needles (ofc), tooth rotting fluff, smut, suggestive content, petnames, mentions of a past toxic relationship, flirting, mentions of angst, violence (but only the slightest, this is pure fluff), bestfriend!simon, comfort, love at first sight, pinning

wordcount: 10.4k [upps]

》 Read on AO3 《 》 Masterpost 《

„C’mon Lt. Tell me,” Johnny bragged him for the millionth time today. They just arrived back at base after a draining operation, but as soon as Soap could turn his work brain off, he only had one thought on his mind. For three weeks there was one thing circling his thoughts and he had to pay a lot of effort to shove this one aside during the mission. Therefor he had no intentions in holding back anymore now. Three weeks ago, that was the actual day his world took a sudden turn.

Simon and he had to go undercover through London. Following a trace of a Russian insider who would lead them to their actual target. Nothing unusual. Something the 141 was used to it. Also, it wasn’t that uncommon that their trace led them to a well crowded area, where they needed to observe and find the target person. Usually, it would’ve been Gaz and Price going undercover, or some more rarely even Soap and Gaz, because they were simply the most unobtrusive, but this place literally screamed for Simon and Johnny to go. It was a tattoo convention. A place where numerous of eager artist presented their skills and works. A place where you found the most eccentrical looks. No one would bat an eye about the behemoth of a man Simon was, plus he already had numerous of tattoos covering his body. While Johnny on the other hand seemed to be just the guy looking for some new ones, next to his quite discreet one. They just blended in perfectly in between the many kinds of humans strolling through these halls.

That way they walked through the halls, keeping their eyes open to find their target. Price and Gaz stayed in touch with them over the comms, observing everything from afar, watching their six for just in case. They looked through all the booths, looked at every artist they could find. They didn’t know much about their actual target, only that he frequented a specific tattoo artist with a unique style. “Find the artist, find the man,” Laswell’s words echoed through Johnny’s head as he scanned through a portfolio of the booth he just stopped by. The works looked all perfectly made, with an amazing eye to details and such fine lines. Some medals and trophies placed next to their winning projects decorating the desk. If he ever would get another tattoo, he’d be sure to find an artist with that level of skill. Still, he really wasn’t into getting another one. Never found something with enough meaning to stay with him forever. In his job most of things were just temporally and those who weren’t, those were kept in his heart. No need to ink them into his skin. He absently browsed through the pictures of various body parts decorated with stunning grey and black artworks. His mind keeping track on the conversation Price and Ghost just shared when Johnny’s eyes just locked onto a picture of a back piece with which he was somehow familiar with.

“Something caught your interest?” a soft female voice dragged him out of his haze, but Soap only shook his head no. Closing the booklet in front of him as his eyes wandered slowly upwards to be met with a pair of bright eyes. Some of the prettiest he had ever seen sparkled into his own. Usually, he’d bring out a cheeky comment, a bold smile on his lips. But as his clear azure eyes stared into yours, no words left his throat. He was frozen in place, completely smitten. You gifted him one of your sweetest smiles, which just grew wider when you noticed another man behind the speechless Scot. “Simon!” you cried out, eagerly rounding the desk to give the man a quick hug, which he returned, somehow a bit tense. Johnny only blinked in disbelief at the two of you.

“Hey…” Simon gave your shoulder a quick pat before his eyes met Johnny’s. A warning hidden in his glare, something the Scot haven’t seen so often aimed at himself. Mostly at enemies while interrogation, but nearly never at himself. It made him swallow, before he calmed himself.

“I hope you aren’t looking for a replacement,” you teased while taking his beefy arm into your hand. Inspecting his tattoo sleeve, or better said your work from a few weeks ago. Letting your delicate fingers follow the black lines down to his wrist. Perfectly healed before he had to leave for deployment again. You always made sure he came as early as possible so that your art wouldn’t get destroyed.

“Why should I leave ‘e best?” he nudged you with his elbow, only the slightest, before you let go of his wrist. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. His eyes pinned at your figure. Softer than Johnny was used to it.

“Well, won’t argue with that.” You laughed, while pushing your hands into your hips. You wore a simple pair of black cargo pants. Pockets stuffed full of necessities for the day. Your phone, your vape, some little snacks, some business cards, a pocket mirror and your favorite lipstick, a small ring light for your phone, and stuff you could need at a convention. Headphones loosely hanging around your neck connected to your phone, and the crew tag hanging loose from your belt around your hips, where your shirt was neatly tugged into your pants. The simple shirt revealing your own tattoos on your arms. “Besides…” your voice got that teasing, nearly mocking tone again. “I’d kick your ass for cheating on me.” You punched his upper arm playfully. Knowing that you could never even cause him pain. That’s why he was one of your favorite customers, you could just pull through an eight-hour session without him growing tired or whiney. He would just sit it out, listening to your tea, sharing a quick smoke in between.

“’m sure ya do, sweetheart.” He smiled softly beneath the casual black mask. He just got dragged out of this private comfort as Johnny cleared his throat a bit too dramatic for Simon’s liking. “That’s John by the way.” A sigh left his throat as he pointed at his teammate who eagerly stepped forward to you.

“Friends call me Johnny though.” His smile reached his eyes as he reached his hand out to you and you took it, shaking it with a smile. Eventually his thumb brushed over your knuckles during the process.

“Pleasure to meet you. Heard already a lot,” you cooed, squeezing your eyes shut while crossing your arms in front of your chest. Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, thinking about the things his Lieutenant could’ve told you already. Hopefully nothing too embarrassing he thought. Just then you told him your name before he repeated it quietly. Letting its sound roll over his tongue, the same smile from earlier on his lips.

“Would love to chat with ya more, y’know, but...” Simon interrupted the scenery in front of him. His glance searching for the blue ones of his teammate, sending him a knowing glance. “work…,” he said in his usual stern manner but still calm. You only nodded your head.

“And I thought you would drop by to say hi. I’m violated, Riley.” You faked a shocked face before a chuckle left your throat. Simon’s glance softened at your statement. “My work’s also waiting.” You pointed to a guy with a naked upper body half and half-finished chest piece. “Some awards to bring home you know.” You smiled smug patting your flat palm against his chest. Simon only nodded; his brows relaxed.

Johnny couldn’t suppress his bright smile the whole time, his eyes watching every move you made. It amazed him how much at ease you were with Ghost, because Soap knew it took a lot for him to be comfortable around people. Especially civilians. But Johnny couldn’t blame him, you already got him hooked as well. That’s when something clicked in his head.  “Wait a sec.” He pulled a picture out of his jacket. Simon tensed, as the Scot moved to show you said image. “Yer recognizing that style?” his voice was serious but somehow, he couldn’t suppress the adoration beneath it.

“Johnny…” Simon instantly had a scolding tone lingering in his voice. He knew from the beginning that he could’ve asked you about that specific artist. He knew you were quite known in the scene, having contacts everywhere, but he didn’t want you to get involved in all that his life was. Yes, he told you a few things about it. Especially when getting his own dog tags inked under his skin. You knew about some things he didn’t like to talk about. Especially when you decided to grab some dinner after a session, and he grew more comfortable around you. And with that he grew to become one of your closest friends. You knew many things about the ghost he was. You knew that his job was bone crushing and bloody. Still, he didn’t want you to get corrupted by it.

You ignored Simon and took the picture out of the Scot hands. Your eyes lingering on his forearm for a while - you called it occupational disease – before you investigated the work in the picture. It was nothing special for the unknown eye, but you saw anything that wasn’t traditional made. You saw every line that had a personal note in it. “Check out Mad Hatters studio, Misha I suppose. Could also be Sasha, he did learn from Misha though,” you stated while still looking at the picture.

“Thanks, bonnie.” Johnny’s tongue was faster than his mind as he once more caught himself starring at you. You looked at him, your face relaxed again. Your features were like a flame, warming him up from the inside as himself became a moth pulled to it all the way.

“Don’t even wanna know what you need from them. Good luck,” you said looking at Simon, who’s brows were ached in concern. You then turned back to Johnny. Your eyes once more clinging to the small piece on his arm. “I could do better.” You winked at him, the smug grin playing on your lips as you gave the picture back to the Scot. It caused Johnny to really start considering getting another one. He was that impulsive, and if there wasn’t that dumb job to get done, he would immediately jump onto your chair. Just to see how you would do it, just to see you more, feeling your delicate fingers running over his skin. Simon watched the scenery with an unsettled rumble in his stomach, as you walked back behind your booth and pulled some black rubber gloves out of the box. Smiling once more at the men in front of you and with a little wave you turned around to get to your model.

“Boys… focus,” Price cleared his throat and scolded them after watching the whole situation a bit longer than he should have in the first place. But still you gave them the needed evidence. You led them to the person they needed. So, the operation could process any further until they found their actual target three weeks later.

 All those incidents leading us back to the day when Johnny didn’t stop to ask his Lieutenant about his tattoo artist. “Why’d ya want to know anyways?” Simon’s Manchester accent was thick as he rolled his eyes. He already knew why the Scot wanted to know. Simon knew that his teammate didn’t want any more tattoos. They had plenty of talks about it. Always when he came with a new one back from leave, Soap told him ‘not up to that Lt’. And suddenly he wanted to know your name and the studio you worked in, or better said own.

“I really want to get that one tattoo…alright. Made up ma mind.” Johnny’s nearly whiney voice pulled at the little strings that made his bag of nerves up. Simon was a patient man, especially when it came to his team. Still, he didn’t want to get you involved with more of his life. Knowing that Johnny would tell you so many stories that wouldn’t be meant for your ears. Knowing you too well, fearing that this could become more. “C’mon Lt. Please. Dinnea let me down!” Simon only rolled his eyes at him and wrote an address down. You could see his hesitation in his handwriting, but Johnny would find out this way or another.

And a few days later Johnny found himself in London, in front of a cozy looking studio. Warm lights inviting him in. A bell jingled sweet as he pushed through the door. The place lovely decorated with plants, fairy lights and some candles. Framed pictures of stunning works along the wall as he walked up to the counter. “One moment.” A familiar voice clung from the back to his ear and made him instantly smile. It was ridiculous how your voice was already imprinted in his brain from such a small encounter. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you, Johnny?” you cooed smiling at him. Relaxing your arms on the counter and your body weight on it.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” his voice was calm as he leaned against the counter, closer to where you placed yourself. “Gonna show me how ye can do better, bonnie.” The smug grin facing your figure. The first time you caught him off guard. This time he prepared himself.

You exhaled sharp, followed by a chuckle. “That’s not how it works, darling.” You reached to your side and pulled a book in front of him. “I have a tightly filled schedule. Didn’t Si told you how I work?” You raised a brow at him. Johnny only shook his head no, while the smile started to falter. Seeing the gloss in his eyes slowly fading made your stomach turn. Why did he affect you so much? “Damn idiot…” you pinched the bridge of your nose. You opened the book and went through the appointments of the next days. “How big you’re planning?” Your eyes scanning through the upcoming projects.

His eyes instantly lighting up again. He was like a puppy that just got told they were going to the park. It was adorable. “Well, as big as it need to be. But upper arm.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal his perfect toned arm and presented the area he thought of as placement. A veiny hand circling around the spot. Your eyes were pinned onto the flexing muscles as you felt a certain warmth creeping up your stomach. It’s not like you didn’t saw well shaped men rarely, but something about John MacTavish was different to say the least.

“Alright.” You slid your phone over. “Put your number in. I’ll see if I can fit you in the next days.” He eagerly took the phone and put his number in. Before you could say something or even snatch it back, he even dialed it to give himself yours. It made you chuckle as you took your phone back. You looked at the contact, there was only ‘johnny’ written with his number of course. “Lastname?”

“Already wanna take it, lass? I like straightforward.” There was that coquettish smile back on his face. His azure eyes staring into yours. “MacTavish, would suit ye though.” He slowly licked over his lips, as his eyes didn’t dare to avert from yours.

“You’d wish.” You typed his last name in. “Johnny is just a really common name, and you don’t want me to call the wrong one. Don’t you?” you teased, still a slight blush on your face. He shook his head no, while straighten himself up.

“Aye, would be a shame.” He placed his hand quickly onto yours which laid on the counter. Giving it a quick squeeze, before leaving again. “Waitin’ for yer call, bonnie.”

That call came like two days later. You managed to rearrange some appointments to clear a day for the Scot. Telling yourself that it was only because he was a friend of Simon. Not because you found quite a liking in the man and his flirtatious manner. So, two days later he was seated in your shop again. Upper half of his body completely stripped. He told you he was more comfortable with wearing no shirt at all, then pushing the sleeve up again and again. Yes, he could’ve just worn a tank-top but who were you to judge? He was quite a treat for the eyes. You just prepped his upper arm with the stencil as he told you a story how he tried to sneak into the military while he wasn’t even old enough.

“Simon was right, you’re unbelievable.” You smiled while smoothing the stencil paper over his arm. He stayed completely still, while his inside was trembling as he felt your delicate touch on his skin. Even with you wearing those gloves it gave him so much to enjoy. Desperate for more already.

“Hope he only told yer good things. Dinnea want ye to think bad of me.” He smiled sincere. His face turned to you, as you slowly removed the paper. It was close to yours, as your glance found his once more. The smile he wore reached his eyes and again you found yourself with the same warmth on your cheeks, your own lips tugged up in a genuine smile.

“Don’t worry. Only the best.” You chuckled while rolling with your stool a bit away to look at the outline of the work. “Take a look, if we can start or if you want to change a thing.” You took a mirror to let him get a proper look at the piece. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace. Because this is going to stay with you for eternity.” You were used to customers completely smitten by the stencil itself, but with Johnny it was different. His eyes were shining bright, as bright as his smile. But his eyes were more pinned on you, and not onto the future piece of art decorating his skin.

“Dinnea think of anything to change. Dae yer thing, bonnie,” he cooed, and it gave you that feeling in your guts again. Somehow you believed he didn’t even care about the tattoo itself. Still, he used something that fitted him perfectly. Well, as perfect as you could assume from Simon’s stories. And the following hours reassured you. With that you started to let the needles sink into his skin for the next seven hours. Black and white ink forming a masterpiece just after your liking while you listened to all the stories Johnny shared eagerly with you. Asking you many questions about your life beside the studio and customers. Asking about your family. You learned that he had two sisters and was really close to them as well to his mum. He shared openly so much information about himself, that you yourself kept talking about everything under the sun.

Sometimes he had to reposition his arm that you could reach a spot better. What led to a half hour of his calloused palm resting on your thigh. He couldn’t help but let his thumb stroke over the fabric of your pants. You’d lie if you said you didn’t enjoy it. With your job it came naturally to be close and kind of touchy-feely with your customers. But it wasn’t so common for you, that it affected you personally. Especially when it came so casually by him. He kept talking about that one time when his teammate, Gaz, fell out of a helicopter. Even if Johnny wasn’t there himself, he told the story so passionately that you believed you were there yourself while his thumb still caressed your thigh. His gently touch making your stomach tingle as you tried to stay focused.

Soon seven hours came to an end and a boar’s head was now engraved onto his upper right arm. Not like the usual animal portrait you so often had to do. No, it was indeed something more meaningful to him. Connecting the pride for his home country to his family, mixed with your personal note to give the tattoo a specific spice. Johnny loved it as he stood proudly in front of the mirror, investigating every line you made.

“It’s fuckin’ perfect. Bonnie, yer the best,” he exhaled while placing a quick peck onto the crown of your head while turning back to the mirror. His gesture left you breathless for only a second. Emotional outbursts after a finished session weren’t something you were unfamiliar with, but Johnny always added another note to his actions and words. A subtle undertone that gave you butterflies.

“Glad you like it.” You smiled putting on another pair of gloves on to clean the piece and wrap it up properly. “You know how to take care of it?” you said calm while placing the second skin onto the fresh wound. Johnny shook his head slightly and it earned him a chuckle. “Alright, the second skin stays on for like five days. If it loosens before, don’t break your pretty head about it. Then you wash it with usual water and cream it with special lotion. I’ll give you some. No gym, nothing to make you sweat more. No sunbathing and no swimming for the next two weeks,” you said reaching to your supplies to get a tube of tattoo med out. “You should drop by then to let me have a look. If we need to improve…redo some things, or if everything heals perfectly fine.”

“Lass could simply ask me out if ye wanna see me again.” He winked while pulling his shirt back on. His eyes never leaving your figure and finding a liking in seeing you all flustered. He was good looking; indeed, he knew the effect he held against woman. But with you it was different. He just wanted you to like him, to look at him like he thought he looked at you. Smitten.

“Not my kinda style.” You shrugged it off. What somehow demotivated the Scot. The whole time you were flirting back and forth with him, and when he discreetly asked you out, you turned so distant. He wouldn’t give up so easily though. Therefore, he was way too eager, but he called it a day. Paying you your loan and with that you somehow parted ways. The job was done, and you both went after your business.

Unfortunately, Johnny couldn’t stop by after the two weeks mark was passed. He got suddenly drafted in again, he just shot you a quick text.

Johnny MacTavish [09:03] Sry, bonnie. Works callin. Gonna make it up to ye ;)

You [10:36] Don’t ruin my masterpiece.

You [10:39] Come back alive.

Johnny chuckled silently after your second message arrived. Those three words gave him an unbearable urge to see you again. Already sitting on the truck next to Simon. “Ye couldn’t keep her away forever, Lt.,” he snickered, shoving his phone into the pocket that would stay off the fields.

“At least I tried…” Simon sighed half annoyed, but half amused. He knew both of you well enough to know, that you’d fit each other’s liking way too good. It was hard to keep up with one of you, but having both combined would bring him the death of his peace. But he was sure, that it wouldn’t become something more. At least he hoped. You had rules, and on top of the list stood: No flings with customers. Especially not after what happened with your ex. So, Simon was sure that Johnny would become at furthest a good friend to you, just like Simon did. He was as sure as he was that this operation would be easy and that nothing would keep them occupied for too long. But Simon was so very wrong about both.

The mission went south faster than Price could smoke his cigar. Kyle was the worst injured, while Johnny didn’t sustain any injuries. It made it clear again. Clear how dangerous the path was they were following. He loved his job; he wouldn’t change a thing. But to know that he almost lost his teammates, it made something to him. So, while sitting at the train station, that should bring him back to Scotland to spend some time to recover, he pulled his phone out.

Johnny MacTavish [12:29] Yer havin a free spot for yer fave Scot?<3

You [12:39] Drop by the studio tomorrow noon.

You [12:41] Sacrificing my days off for you. Make it worthy.

Johnny MacTavish [12:42] Aye!

And Johnny made sure to make it worthy. Instantly jumping on a train to London, instead of home. Booking a hotel nearby on the way and making sure to collect some stuff on the way. He picked up some good lunch on the way to the studio. Making sure to treat you right. He even thought about buying some flowers, but he didn’t want to make you somehow uncomfortable.

When he wanted to push the door once more open, it didn’t move an inch. Just then you walked up from the inside, unlocking the door and letting him in. “Hello there. C’mon in.” You held the door open for him to slide in. Locking the door once more after him, avoiding passing customers. “So, what’s the idea Mr. I don’t want any more tattoos?” you asked him mockingly, while he placed his stuff at the couch in the waiting area and unzipped his hoodie. You were used that customer often came back after the first one. Literally nobody stayed with only one of your pieces. For Johnny you were overly glad that he came back though.

“It’s even more special than before,” he said calm while pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. You took it in, and a little smile played on your lips. “I trust ye with it,” he added before his eyes met yours. You knew that look. It wasn’t the cheeky and playful smile. It was genuine, meaningful and he entrusted you with this, it made your heart flutter. So, you took your graphic tablet and get it to work out. Just as perfect as it needed to be.

You were seated on the couch in your waiting area next to him, while he kept telling your stories of operation and after-operation celebrations. He didn’t talk about the most recent one. You kept listening to his voice as you drew the outline for his next piece. He leaned a bit closer into your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked at the tablet. His talk paused. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t move, let him rest against you as you inhaled his scent. He smelled nothing like you’d imagine a soldier. Nothing like Simon when he came to the studio. He smelled just fresh. His mohawk holding a scent of balsam in, but also like a tone of green apple. “Something to fault it?” you asked calm.

“Yer dae even better.” Johnny let his head linger on your shoulder while his eyes scanned over the screen. There was shown a hat, a cap and a skull in your original style. Something so insignificant to others, but something so important to him. You sketched it out and prepared the stencil as he stripped his shirt once more. You stood in front of him as you looked at the piece from the last time. Checking if anything was damaged, a satisfied smile on your lips. Just then you prepared his left chest for the three symbols. His hands twitched as you stroke over his chest, and he just wished for you to ditch those damn gloves. His eyes pinned down to your figure, as you wore a little smile, while your fingers worked over his chest.

It took another good amount of time to get this piece done. You took more breaks this time. Sharing some of the food he brought, and many laughs, while he laid on the flat bed and your next to him. Carefully going after the lines of the stencil, while his arm slipped around you and his hand lingered on your waist so often during the process. You didn’t mind. Neither of you said something about it, just enjoyed the company, the closeness as you shared some more chats. But sooner than later this session come to an end.  That way you found yourself standing next to him, observing his face as he looked at the latest addition in the mirror. A smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t like the bright and toothy ones; it was heart melting and genuine. Something so meaningful. “Tapadh leat,” he said a bit absently. It made you raise your brows. His eyes finding yours, while his hands finding your waist. “Thank ye,” he repeated for you to understand, and you smiled, while he didn’t dare to pull you closer. His huge palms only squeezing your side a bit as you stood in front of each other.

“It’s my job, Johnny,” you said calm. And he shook his head no, while he once more squeezed your waist what made you tilt your head in confusion slightly. But you didn’t give it another thought. You wrapped his tattoo up; he pulled his clothes on again and you went to the front desk for the check out. You broke down the skin routine once more with him, but he interrupted you.

“Go out with me,” he said abruptly before you could even say something more. His voice was desperate, but at the same time so gentle.

“MacTavish…” you sighed while your own heart ached. You had your rules. A rule you broke once, and it was the worst decision you ever made. Simon had to help you back then to free you from the stalker your ex-customer and ex-boyfriend was. And with his leaving you lost many regular customers and friends. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it again, even if you knew that Johnny would be different. Even when your heart screamed to just say yes to him.

“Otherwise, I need to come back every time on leave to get another one.” His voice gave you some hints of a joke, still you weren’t so sure about it if he really was joking. His eyes were filled with a certainty, a determination. You averted your eyes.

“I am sorry…” you said calm. But he only declined it. His face a bit defeated, but still something told you he wasn’t done with the thought. Simon told you once how stubborn this man could be, so you steeled yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t give in. Even if it would be hard when those azure eyes literal begged for you to do so.

“Gonna stay ‘n London for three weeks. If ye make up yer mind. Ye ken how to find me,” he said while leaving your studio.

You exhaled deeply after closing the door after him. Waving after him as he crossed the street. His eyes still bright as always. You cleaned up the studio and went to the front desk for a last time today. As you flipped you through the bills to put them away something different caught your interest. A little paper neatly folded between the notes. You took it and unfolding it. It revealed a sketch of your own face. It was a unique art style, and it made your heart ache even more. Under the sketch was something written in a sloppy handwriting. ‘nae stunning as the original’ You pressed the paper to your chest, while a desperate chuckle left your throat. “John MacTavish…you’re gonna be the death of mine,” you said calm to yourself as you put the drawing into your personal journal.

“He came for ‘nother one?” It was a few days after your gripping encounter with the Scot when Simon was seated in your studio again. Working to add a new part to his back piece. You only nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. “Ya like him, don’t ya?” The Brit said calm. You paused your work for a second. Not answering him was answer enough for Simon, what made him chuckle deeply.

“Si…” you exhaled while continuing your work. You wanted to say so much about that topic because he was right. You liked him. He already reserved a place in your heart for himself and the last days were only filled with that god damn genuine smile of the Scot. You found yourself often at night looking at the portrait he gifted you. Asking yourself how long you’d be able to turn him down.

“Tomorrow, drinks at yer place.” It wasn’t an offer, more like an order and you sighed. Not like you and Simon didn’t spend some time of sessions together. You were close after all. Drinking and talking or just watching some stupid shows together at your apartment. Even if the thought of you meeting his teammate still annoyed Simon, he couldn’t bring himself to watch two idiots pinning for each other when it was way too obvious. And even if he wouldn’t admit it for anyone to hear, seeing two of the people he liked the most falling for each other, it made the coldness of his own heart melt. You only needed a little excuse to ditch your rules. Even if Simon hated to break those. If it meant that you could finally be happy again after your ex, he was willing to help.

Lt💀 [17:09] 1900 at the studio

John MacTavish [17:11] What yer up to Lt?

Lt💀 [17:15] Don’t ask stupid questions.

Johnny knew better than asking more questions, so he got ready and made sure to be punctual. It was Sunday, so the studio was indeed closed as he stood in front of it at 18:56. As Simon walked around the corner, wearing all casual sweatpants and a hoodie, Johnny was even more confused. The Brit had a plastic bag from a nearby grocery store in one hand. “C’mon Johnny.” He punched his shoulder playfully while walking around the studio, aiming for a door in the side alley.

“Mind fillin’ me in, Lt?” he arched his brow at him while trailing close after him. Hands pushed into the pockets of his denim pants. Somehow, he felt overdressed next to the way too casual look of his Lieutenant.

Simon looked at his watch, waiting for another minute to pass. So, it was actual 7 p.m. and he pressed the button of an intercom. “It’s Simon for tonight,” he said, shooting Johnny a glare who only looked more confused but raising his hands in defense. The door started to buzz, and Simon pushed it open, signaling Johnny to follow him. Climbing some stairs before they found themselves in front of another door, which already stood a gap open. So, Simon naturally walked in, kicked his shoes of and Johnny followed his lead.

“Hello there,” you chimed while walking up to give Simon a quick hug, which he returned before ditching his mask. Your eyes switching to Johnny who just wore a stunned smile. He had thought of many things to happen tonight, but not to find himself in your apartment together with his Lieutenant and a various beers and whiskeys.

You all shared some good laughs, some amazing and catching stories. You told them about some cringe customers and very hilarious stories they shared with you. Johnny and Simon entertained you with sharing stories of their daily events. Johnny didn’t know what excited him more, the way he saw his stoic superior so at ease around you. Joking, laughing and even open so much. Or the fact that you were seated next to him, somehow always having one of his limbs touching any part of you as his eyes were glued to your lips.

It was an easy-going evening when you all had way too many drinks. You were just on the way to bring some empty bottles over to the kitchen when you could hear the teasing voice of Simon once more. “For a lad, that didn’t want any more tattoos, ya fast with getting’ new ones,” he joked, and Johnny only scratched his neck. His cheeks tainted red, mostly from the alcohol running through his system you supposed. “Ya know, Kyle even bet ya’d get a trump stamp if necessary.”

Johnny let out a wholehearted laugh. To be honest, if his whole body was already covered in tattoos and this would be the only way to see you again. He’d do it without hesitation. Hesitation was something you didn’t know today either. Just like that you walked over to the Scot. “Real talk now.” Without a warning you sat down, straddling his lap as your arms found his shoulders. Johnny only swallowed, sobered up so suddenly as you pushed your body weight onto him. “If you ever get a tramp stamp and I am not the person to do it… we won’t have a shared future darling,” you said mockingly, while your hands found some loose strains of his hair. Simon only laughed as he leaned back in the armchair, sipping on the beer in his hand. Watching the scenery in front of him in amusement.

“Bonnie, yer the only one for me. Ya ken,” he said while his beefy hands found your waist, helping to stabilize you on top of him. His words held much more meaning in it than you’d realize in your drunken state. His heartbeat quickened up as your fingers played with his hair. The redness of his cheeks rose, just like a certain tightness in his pants. He just hoped to not scare you away. But he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hide it, you simply had to feel it the way you were seated just above the bulge.

You only laughed. Eventually you felt his arousal, eventually you just chose to not pay any attention to it. “Then let’s do it,” you joked, leaning a bit back to look at him properly. He looked flabbergasted back at you.

“Sweetheart, yer drunk,” Simon cooed, and Johnny literally forgot that the Brit was there until this very moment. At this point, he felt somehow embarrassed but also thrilled at the same time.

“Darling. You’d be able to kill a man when drunk. Aren’t ya?” you tilted your head to the Brit with a devilish smile. Simon only sighed, and your smile grew. “See! And I can tattoo then.” You laughed, turning your attention back to the Scot, who by now started to let his thumbs stroke over your waist, drawing lazy circles into the fabric of your top. “What you’re saying, love?” your mischievous smile aimed at him as your eyes pierced into his.

“Fuck it. Let’s dae it,” he said. The alcohol running through his veins was the main reason he agreed, but how could he deny you, when you were so beautifully seated above him. Hands stroking a long his neck and hairline what sent shivers down his spine. His mind was hazy, and he didn’t care for any consequences.

“That’s my boy!” You laughed while slowly standing up. “Benefits of living just above the studio.” You reached for the keys to the studio and signaled the men to follow you. Just a few minutes later you found yourself in the studio downstairs, everything prepared for this very spontaneous and somehow dumb idea. If you’d be sober, you’d never agreed on it. Giving a tattoo to a drunken person is indeed very unreasonable. The body tend to bleed way more with alcohol rushing through it. Quite apart from being drunk yourself. But who said that you made wise decisions in the whole process?

Johnny was positioned on his stomach on the flat bad. His shirt gone once more, and his pants awkwardly pulled down to reveal the required spot. Simon was seated next to you, as you started to draw a tramp stamp freehand on his lower back. For this part you ditched the glove and Johnny couldn’t be happier about it. At the same time, he found himself in quite the misery. This tattoo session giving him a literal hard time, while Simon talked with you the whole time and Johnny only felt your delicate skin onto him. Simon laughed from time to time about the design or the muffled groans the Scot let out. Johnny was certain that Simon did fairly well know about his misery.

In your current state the tattoo took way longer than it would usually have been. But you didn’t mind. The delicious view in front of you made it easier to pull through. And now while your mind was flooded with those inappropriate thoughts, you couldn’t suppress the longing the Scot caused deep in your heart.

“What’d you think, Si?” you placed the tattoo gun down and looked at the artwork, wiping the excess ink away. It wasn’t your masterpiece, but you were more than satisfied.

“Bloody ‘ell. ‘s perfect.” Simon laughed, while looking at the lower back of the Scot.

“Lemme see.” Johnny carefully stood up and walked over the mirror. You haven’t talked about a design, he trusted you to just do your thing and the face he just wore made it so worthy. Even if he would’ve been pissed seeing it. “Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny stood in front of the mirror and looked over his shoulder to see a squiggly tribal leading to the center of nothing else than a unicorn.

“You don’t like it?” you walked up to him, standing just in front of him as he faced you again. There was no regret in his face, only a smile on his lips before he started to laugh wholeheartedly. He pulled you close to his chest as he kept laughing and you just joined him. Placing your hand gentle on his bare back as you started to giggle yourself. It felt way too comfortable.

“Wait a damn minute.” It was Simon who interrupted the scenery. Pulling you a bit away from him. Not forcefully, not to cause any harm. He looked stunned at the chest of the Scot, while his hand was still placed on your shoulder from his earlier action. “Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he said with disbelief in his voice staring at the three familiar icons on the bare chest in front of him.

Johnny only smiled at him. “Surprise.” His hands stayed at your hips, as all of you three started to laugh at the situation. One of your hands pulling at Simon’s shirt what led to a tight hug shared between the three of you.

Time passed and you haven’t heard of one of them in the next months. You were used to it through your friendship with Simon. But now it was different. It bugged you more than before. Of course, you always did kind of worry for the man, but now there were two men you struggled about. You needed to fight the internal urge to shoot him a message. Asking if he’d be fine and safe, but you didn’t. Not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him.

It already turned fall when and you started to decorate the studio. The whole place screamed Halloween now, but it wasn’t enough. One of your favorite seasons and it needed to be celebrated right. It was already quite late as you received a text that your appointment for tomorrow cancelled due to sickness. You hated last minute cancellations because you wouldn’t find any replacement. But this time it was somehow fine. The last days were so stuffed full that you could actually look forward to a day off. So, you made plans to go shopping for even more decorations. Enjoying a day off just for yourself. Well, that was your actual plan. A plan that got thrown over as soon as you noticed a familiar face walking through the front door. You turned around and greeted him with a bright smile. Relieve settling in your bones to see him again. He walked strictly up to you and only stopped a few centimeters away. “Johnny.” Before you could even say anything more, he pulled you close to his chest, and you completely engulfed in his embrace. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, as your hands found his back. Drawing lazy circles on his back.

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You didn't know how long until you spoke again. “I can make you some tea and we can talk. If you want to,” you offered with a soft voice, your hand still caressing his back through the thick layers of his jacket.

“Need something stronger.” Was his only response. So, you closed the store and brought him upstairs. He instantly sank down on your couch as you grabbed the bottle of whiskey and purred him a glass. “Thanks, bonnie,” he said calm while taking the glass. You sat next to him; your eyes filled with concern. The usual smile washed away from his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Johnny,” you literally begged him. Your hands finding his thigh, what made him look at you. His eyes were still the same azure ones you fell for, but somehow, they looked pale. He looked drained and tired.

He leaned closer to you, until his forehead was resting against yours. Eyes closed, while his hand found the back of your head. “I was scared…” His voice just above a whisper. A quiet confession. “so fuckin’ scared…that I wouldn’t be able to see you again.” His fingers stroked through your hair as you closed your eyes. Trying to suppress the sudden burn you felt in your eyes. His honesty broke your mind and the sheer thought of not being able to reunite with him anymore, it broke your heart. But he was here with you. He was safe with you. Still, you were only friends. You shouldn’t feel those things for your friend.

“I am here, Johnny.” Your voice was soft as your palms found his chest. “I am not going anywhere.” You added a little reassuring tone before he pulled his head only a centimeter away from yours. His blue eyes somewhat brighter than before, staring in yours. You melted right there as his other hand discarded the glass to reach out to your cheek. Your eyes were glued onto the gaze he gifted you. His eyes filled with adoration as the corner of his lips slightly tugged up again.

“Please…” His thumb stroked over your cheek before it took a gentle grip of your jawline. “Let me kiss you.” His glance darted between your lips and your eyes, waiting for your response with anticipation. The slight movement of your head giving him permission was the only thing he needed. Instantly closing the gap between you, as his lips brushed over yours. Gentle and soft, and still you could feel how he held back. The hand on the back of your head pulling you closer. Your hands found his neck as your melted into his touch. You broke away for a second looking into his eyes once more. They were blown with lust and endearment. No way you could retreat anymore.

“Johnny…” Your voice was soft as you pulled him back. You slowly leaned down on the couch and he immediately followed you, hovering just above you. “I am not a person for a one-night stand.” Your voice cracked a bit, but the smile on the Scots face reassured you instantly.

“Who said I’d leave ye.” He connected your lips once more. More eagerly, more lust filled, and you followed his lead. Taking a tight grip onto his neck. If you thought he was hard in the drunken state a few months ago, you were wrong. Nothing compared to the need he felt right now, growing every second as his kisses grew sloppier. Openmouthed wandering down to your neck. A moan left your throat as his teeth gently sank into the soft flesh of your neck. You could feel how everything in you screamed to take him. To feel him.

He leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his perfect shaped body. A body you had seen so many times before during his appointments, but now everything felt different. He played with the hem of your shirt before he helped you strip out of it. “Like a goddess,” he praised while his calloused hands roamed down your body. Followed by passionate kisses and gently nibbles down to the waistband of your pants. “Let me taste ye hen,” he plead while toying with the hem of your pants.

“Go on, love.” Your voice was filled with so much adoration, it sent electric jolts through his body. He started to fidget with your trousers to free you. Just as your pants landed on the floor, you could feel the cold breeze brushing against the hot spot between your legs. His finger carefully brushing over it. Your panties already soaked, what made him groan with anticipation.

“’st tell me when something feels wrong,” he said soft before pushing the black lace aside to let his mouth take care of your cunt. As soon as he let his tongue slid through your folds you already arched your back. Another groan was heard as his hand took grip of your hips. He ate like a man starved, while you cried out his name.  Johnny had to pull himself together not to cum right there as he tasted you. Everything in him screamed to let go. He couldn’t wait any longer. Not when you were so pretty spread only for him. He stood up, liking over his lips as you looked at him. Your chest heaving. “Cannae wait any longer. ‘m sorry, pet.” He unbuckled his belt and discarded his trousers, followed by his briefs. It made his hardened member jump against his stomach. You parted your lips at the sight. He was an average man, but still shaped like an image out of your wildest dreams. He climbed back on the couch to hover over you. Leaning on one arm, the free one was between your bodies. His hand guiding his cock along your folds. Your hand found his back as your eyes locked again.

“The impatient man you are, John MacTavish.” Your smile enlightened the passion within him even more, as he let the tip slid through your entry. Teasing you with a mischievous smile. Your nails digging into his back as your breath got caught in your throat. “Johnny…” You whined into his mouth while he kept it occupied with his heated kisses.

“Who’s the one impatient now, mo ghraidh?” His smug grin only grew as his lips caught yours in another kiss as he pushed himself inside. You cried out while he gave you some time to adjust. He ditched everything, the prep, the foreplay, he needed you right now and for the loving woman you’re, you couldn’t even try to protest, as it already made you feel that good. You wanted to be good for him, and only him.

“Takin’ me so good,” he praised while pushing deeper in. Feeling your plushy walls around his length already sent him into an abyss. It took him a bit longer to fully button out, letting you adjust to his seize. Showering you with more praise and kisses. As your body started to relax more he started to move. Rolling his hips against yours, letting him slip out and in again. “Hells bells…,” he cried out as he thrusted into your tight hole. His hands holding you tight against him. His forehead pressed to your temple.

Both of you knew you wouldn’t last long. The longing, the desire that grew over the time so huge that it became unbearable anymore. But he promised you that it wouldn’t be just a casual fling. He promised to stay. All the pent-up emotions leading you to the edge so soon. “I’m so close.” He didn’t slow down at your words. Rather pushing his pace up as he felt your walls pulsating.

“I ken.” He kissed your forehead, as your nails dig deeper into the skin of his back. “’st let go, for me.” He assured you while he pulled himself together. Your hands forcing him impossible closer to you as you felt your walls clenching around him as he rocked against that spongy spot inside you. You nodded fast as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, while he pushed his body weight onto you. Kissing your temple as he went deeper and slower. Rolling his hips to keep pushing at that same spot.

The heat building up as it felt unbearable anymore. He pushed you over the edge and you could feel how his length started to twitch inside. You only nodded before he could even ask, while your head stayed pressed against his shoulder. Your orgasm washing over you so hard, that tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. Completely clouding your mind. Somehow, you had to compensate the overwhelming sensation, so your teeth found his neck and you bit in his flesh as he painted your walls white. A deep groan leaving his throat as he rode out his high. You only loosened your jaw as your tongue could sense the taste of iron. You fell back as he collapsed on top of you. He placed another kiss onto your temple. “Dae so good for me, mo ghraidh,” he cooed while your hands clung to his back.

“Will you stay?” your voice was low, brushing over his skin. Somehow scared that this wasn’t real. That his promise wasn’t real. That he wasn’t serious. Even if you knew deep down that those eyes couldn’t lie. And even if they did, you were too addicted of him, you would just accept it that way.

“Inside ye?” The smug grin that reached his eyes was finally back on his lips as he propped himself up a bit. You punched him playfully.

“No, you idiot. In general.” You looked into his now softened eyes. He placed another kiss onto your lips. He slowly pulled out and gently stroked some damp hair from your forehead away. He didn’t need to answer that. Actions were louder than words. He made sure you took a relaxing bath together and afterwards just cuddled up in your bed.

“I’m nae goin’ anywhere.” He kissed your temple while pulling you in his chest. Spooning you and you just curled yourself up, clinging to the strong arm around you. Already on the way to drift away with him being all around you. You couldn’t even wish him sweet dreams anymore.

The next morning felt unreal. As you woke up you found the side next to you already empty. A sigh left your throat as you walked into the living room. After your actions of last night, you slept in nothing more than a fresh pair of panties and his shirt. You stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway to your living room. It looked hilarious how big his shirt was on you. A smile crept on your face as you noticed a low humming.

“Mornin’ bonnie.” Johnny came out of the bathroom, instantly pulling you close to him again. He only wore his briefs. A sight you never wanted to miss anymore. His tattoos by now perfectly healed.

Suddenly something different caught your interest. “I am sorry.” Your eyes wandered to the mark you left on his neck. It was slightly bruised, and you could clearly see an imprint of your teeth. Johnny looked at you and then at himself in the mirror. Examining the spot on his neck and a smile crept on his lips.

“Dinnea need to.” He turned to you, pulling you close to him once more. “Tattoo it.” His words rolled so easily over his lips. You blinked at him in confusion. “’m nae jokin’.”

“Johnny… that’s…a confession…quite possessive”. You tried to find the right words which was hard. You didn’t even know what you actually were, and he wanted you to tattoo your bite mark onto him. Maybe it was like a kink to him? Maybe he was just that cocky. But he didn’t give you space to let your mind wander any more.

“That’s the whole fuckin’ point.” He placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I want the whole world to see who I belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was his way to show you, that this indeed wasn’t just a one-night stand. A love drunken smile crept on your face.

“You’ll regret it sooner or later.” You stated while your fingers brushed over the mark.

“But what if…” He placed a kiss onto your head. “…what if I dinnea.” He smiled at you, watching how your eyes scanned the spot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am yer eejit.” He corrected you without hesitation. “If ye let me though.”

You pushed your face into his chest, and he wrapped his beefy arms around you. “Let’s get some breakfast first.” Your voice nothing more than a mumble against his chest, which vibrated due to his laugh, nodding before following you into the kitchen.

Did Johnny spend his whole time on leave at your place in London? Eventually. Just as he got a text from his Captain he left with a sad look in his face, but he promised to return safe. He now had a reason to return. Was the time on operations harder? Not really. You worried as much as before, but now you were officially allowed to text him or Simon to look after each other. Did he get teased by Gaz for the new tattoo found at his neck more than the tramp stamp? Equally Simon would say. But Johnny didn’t mind because both held a unique and deep meaning in his heart. Just like his love for his home country shown through the boar on his upper arm, with what he also had the connection to his family on him. Just like the tattoo symbolizing his teammates, his second family, just above the spot where his heart pumped in his chest. And for every man that would mock him for the tamp stramp he’d flash them in the gym, he only smiled wide, giving them a wink. Knowing that this tattoo marked the start of one of the best things happening in his life. An evening with two of the most important people to him. An evening that he’d forever cherish.

At this point John MacTavish was sure that he was done with getting tattoos. He had the things that were most important to him now immortalized onto his skin. But sometimes this man was in the very wrong. Because about two years later, he found himself once more surrounded by the buzzing of a tattoo gun. Two years that were spent in the fields with his team to make the world a better place. Just to return into your arms at the end of the day. In those two years he never regretted any line you placed onto his body. And he never would regret the fifths tattoo he was just about to get. It was different than the times before.

He was surrounded by his teammates, and your closest friends. Really just the closest of the inner circle. Keeping it as discreet as possible. The big day with everyone would be postponed to another date. But as always, Johnny wasn’t a patient man, so he wanted to have something beforehand. Something just for both of you before he had to go save the world again. That way he wore a casual decent but still traditional fit. The red and blue of his family’s tartan painted his kilt. The same tartan the scarf had you wore around your shoulders. A decent dress below, as you let the needles sink into his skin once more. His hand in yours as you tattooed a simple line around his ring finger. A similar one you already had on your hand. The first and only tattoo the Scot would ever give someone was now around your finger.

Just as you finished you kissed once more, while smiling at each other like the love drunken birds you were, as everyone around you clapped and cheered at you. Your studio filled with so much love and joy like never before. A moment you will always look back to in awe.

“I told ye, MacTavish would suit ye.” He teased while holding you close. His words nearly drowning between the noises of your friends and family.

You punched him playfully against his chest. “I love you too, eejit.”

“Don’t they have to say like I do or anything like that,” Kyle mumbled over to Simon, who just shrugged but smiled at the couple, now husband and wife, in front of him.

Even if you were glad that all the important ones were here around you, in the end only on person mattered to you. And that was the man holding you close in his embrace as he leaned his forehead against yours like he did millions of times before. Every night wondering if he’s alright. Every day waiting for his return. Every nightmare you endured. Everything was so worthy, just to have him close next to you and see him smile down at you. And everything started with a tattoo he never even wanted in the first place. A tattoo that led to four more. A tattoo that gave him a life with you by his side, because from the moment he met you, you went under his skin and there was no way he could ever escape it. Not that he even wanted to.

taglist: @cooliofango @ghostslillady @bunnyreaper @anothersimpsblog @kitkatscabinet @starry-eyedblog @yawnderu

[redr0sewrites]

HSR Characters When Your On Your Period Hcs

my period is kicking my ass rn ngl so heres how i think these hsr characters would be like if u were on ur period! i might do a part 2 to this 👀

🥀pairing(s): blade x reader, sampo x reader, kafka x reader, dan heng il x reader

🥀CW: reader is AFAB but i used gn pronouns, mentions of blood, smut, fluff

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

BLADE

when u first tell blade ab ur period, he is kinda confused

he knew ab periods ofc, hes been alive for a while, but he just doesnt know how to react 😭

at first he acts kinda cold and unconcerned, but SECOND he sees u doubling over in pain cuz of cramps or whatever hes rushing to ur side and worrying like crazy

if ur in pain bc of cramps, he will slowly open his arms for cuddles which is rare for him cuz hes scared of initiating intimacy

blade will do anything for u while ur on ur period, hes just very worried

he will heat up one of those packs or heat pads that u put on cramps, or he'll fill it with ice if thats what u prefer

he'll make u soup if u get headaches, and he'll give u head massages and belly massages for cramps and headaches

when blade learns that orgasms can help with period cramps, he is hesitant to try it at first

he doesnt want to accidentally hurt u and wants u to be comfortable

but if ur really needy cuz of hormones, he'll try it out

and suddenly

HE LOVE PERIOD SEX

blade has no problem with the blood, hes had enough experience with it already

in fact, he lowkey finds it hot

he finds it so arousing how desperate and sensitive u are, he loves how loud u are and how sensitive ur body is

hes esp soft during sex when ur on ur period, he worships ur body sm

all in all, blade is pretty helpful when ur on ur period and is very good at doting on u <3

SAMPO

ngl sampo would probably tease u at first

he would think its funny how easily irritated u are when ur on ur period and would try to annoy u for a while

however

if u get super irritated or stressed out bc of him he will feel super guilty

if u start to cry bc ur hormones r so out of wack and bc hes stressing u out, HE WILL FEEL SO HORRIBLE

sampo would do EVERYTHING in his power to make u happy again

he would be cracking jokes, telling funny stories, tickling u, anything to see u smile

if u ever snap at him during ur period, i feel like he would be the most likely to understand that ur hormonal and dont mean it

also since he KNOWS hes annoying u on purpose

if u have really painful cramps, sampo will go and ask natasha for some pain killers and medicine for u (if u want him to😭 im always too scared of taking medicine to take stuff for my cramps)

sampo is also super clingy and loves cuddling u, so u both are always cuddling and clinging to eachother when ur on ur period

if u get headaches, he'll just silently hold u and run his hands through ur hair while letting u rest

i also feel like he would give u a lot of gifts when ur on ur period, like a bouquet of flowers or a small piece of jewelry

when it comes to period sex, sampo is totally down

he just loves fucking u regardless of whether or not ur on ur period

he will go down on u without a care in the world, he'll lay a towel below ur hips and eat u out as if ur the most delicious thing hes ever tasted

i also feel like sampo would really enjoy u getting off on his thigh, seeing u all desperate bc of hormones and watching u grinding against his thigh and mewling his name is SO HOT TO HIMMMM

he'll start of slow, guiding ur hips to gently rock against him but pick up the pace until ur humping his leg, and then he'll start to bounce his leg and ur GONE. DECEASED I TELL U.

he will also finger u, and he enjoys watching u squirm cuz ur so sensitive <3

KAFKA

kafka has ur whole cycle memorized within the first 4 months of dating, she probably knows ur period is coming even before u do

listen, she is a planner. the second u say ur on ur period, shes pulling out a heating pad, an ice pack, some chocolates she stole bought, some extra pads, some tampons, ur comfort foods, EVERYTHING

i think kafka is really good at massages, and she'll totally give u a massage when ur on ur period, if u have back cramps, stomach cramps, thigh cramps, a headache, anything tbh and shes ready

kafka is very understanding if u need to rest, she would probably take the day off work to rest with u since u guys'll prob sync up eventually

its just a very relaxing day with her, u guys bathe together and do all different types of selfcare while just enjoying ur womanhood

she'll run her hands through ur hair while u lay on top of her, dozing off as she whispers sweet nothings to u

kafka is esp soft and doting when ur on ur period, she knows the struggle of periods

she will get any medicine that u need for cramps and anything else u need for that matter

shares ALL of her supplies with u

when the two of u sync up, i think kafka is super needy when shes on her period, she already has a pretty high libido but shes a whole different breed when shes on her period

she really enjoys when u two r grinding ur wet pussies together, ur blood mixing as the sound of ur moans fills the room while she grips her hands brutally into ur thighs, leaving behind dark bruises and scratches as the squelching sound of u two rubbing ur messy clits together fills ur senses

kafka would also be into boob stimulation, ur sitting in her lap while she plays with ur tits, mercilessly squeezing ur nipples and poking and prodding at ur breasts

she'll take one into her mouth, sucking and nipping at the mound while she pinches and rubs ur other nipple<3 the whole time ur grinding and whimpering in her lap, the stimulation making u both see stars

aftercare is important to kafka as well, she will prep u both a lovely epson salt bath to soothe u both, with bubbles and fancy soap and rose petals floating daintily atop the water as lofty music plays in the background

Dan Heng IL

dan heng is very considerate and kind when ur on ur period

like kafka, he probably tracks ur cycle as well and likes to stay relatively prepared for when its coming

he can also prob sense it with his vidyadhara-whatever powers/senses

he is always asking u how ur feeling when ur on ur period, if u need anything, he wants u to feel as comfortable as possible

dan heng will invite u to sleep with him and cuddle u, wrapping his tail around u and keeping u close

hes a little more possessive than usual when ur on ur period bc he is just worried ab u

he will certainly keep u occupied, he'll talk to u ab the archives and the worlds hes visited and all of his interests and will gladly listen to u too

if ur hormonal or sad, dan heng will gladly listen to u vent ab whatever ur upset ab and do whatever he can to change it

DAN HENG LOVES COOKING FOR U WHEN UR ON UR PERIOD‼️

hes just do caring and he loves doting on u when ur on ur period

u barely ever have to lift a finger when ur around him on ur period

dan heng loves to read to u a lot, and when ur relaxing on ur period thats what he does <3

if u get headaches, he would just lay with u and give u a head massage and hum softly while his tail curls around u

i feel like he wouldnt be super good at massages but hed try!

if u need a medicine/painkiller or anything for ur cramps, dan heng would immediately consult the other express members ab where he can get it

he would probably ask himeko for advice a lot

overall, when it comes to period sex, i feel like hes prioritizing ur comfort over his

dan heng is super big on cleanliness, and whenever u guys r fucking he will lay a towel under u

he also enjoys taking baths with u, and washing ur hair for u!

i feel like he would like it when u rode him during ur period, theres something so arousing to him ab u taking the pleasure u need from him

dan heng needs eye contact during sex, ESP DURING PERIOD SEX!

he wants to read u and know how ur feeling at all times and also to make sure he isnt hurting u

i also feel like hed enjoy simple missionary while ur on ur period so he can be close and intimate with u, plus eye contact!!

URGHH WHAT CAN I DO TO GET ME A S/O LIKE THEMMMMMMM IM IN PAIN 🫠

[yangbbokari]

Skz making a bet on you Maknae Line pt.2

Pairing: OT8 SKZ x f!Reader

Genre, AU: angst ofc, lovers to exes!AU

Warnings: cursing, mentions of cheating, many mentions of insecurities, a little suggestive. I think that abt it

Summary: you happened to learn one day that the never really loved you and only made a bet with the other members to see if you would fall in love with them

A.N: Not proof read at all and FINALLY GOT ALL PARTS OUT YAY

Parts: Hyung line Maknae Line pt.1

HAN JISUNG Han sat there. He was stunned to say the least. He didn’t expect you to show up nor hear what he said. It wasn’t until Chan nudged his shoulder that he let go of the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. The older boy looked at Han disappointedly.

Chan held him by the shoulder as he told him, “Are you gonna be a dumbass and sit here or are you gonna chase after y/n and hope she’ll take you back?”

After hearing that, Han finally got up to his feet as he nodded his head. “I’m gonna get y/n back be-because I don’t know what I could possibly do without her. Yeah… that’s what I’ll do.” Then he bolted out of the room to go and find you.

As he ran down the hall and almost out of the building, a particular box caught his eye. It just so happened to sit on the top of the rest of the garbage. He could tell it was yours from the way it was made and decorated. Seeing the box there on a pile of trash made him tear up. He grabbed it and held it tightly to his chest.

You were walking down the street by now. Kicking at the rocks that stood in your way. All the hard work you put into everything just for him to turn his back on you. All the tears had already been cried and dried. Now you were extremely exhausted and your only goal was to get home.

Making your way through the crowded streets, you suddenly hear your name being called. You whipped around to see a very distressed Han racing towards you. Seeing the tear streaks on his face made your heart break. In that instant, you almost forgot the hurt he caused you. But when you did remember what happened earlier, your past anger returned and you decided to walk away from him.

When he saw you turn back around and just walk away, he became panicked all over again. He chased after you until he was right behind you. As soon as he could, he grabbed your wrist and made you face him.

“Y/N!!! I understand that you’re hurt and you don’t want to talk but please just hear me out! You mean everything to me and—”

You immediately covered his mouth. He tried to take your hand off but you put another hand over his mouth.

“Let’s talk about this at home. Please?”

Han finally eased down and nodded his head. The two of you were just a couple blocks away from home anyways. So you and Han walked side by side in awkward silence(insert song, sry I had to😭). He constantly glanced between you and the floor until he gathered the courage to ask you,

“Can I… mmm… Can I at least hold your hand? I’m scared you’ll run away and you won’t listen to me. Then I’ll never see you again! You’ll break up wi—”

You grabbed his hand so he would just shut up. So he did. The rest of the way was in silence with the soft comfort of each other’s breath and presence.

When you made it home, both of you sat on the couch. Spending a couple moments in silence. Eventually, you spoke up, breaking the uncomfortableness.

“Are you not going to explain yourself?”

No answer.

“If you don’t say anything, I’m gonna go to my friend’s house. I need some time. Food’s in the fridge so warm up something for yourself to eat if you get hungry.”

No answer.

You sighed as you rose from your position, almost walking away before you felt a small and gentle touch on the tip of your small finger. A soft voice of the one you loved spoke.

“Don’t go… I’ll talk. However much you need me to. Just don’t… leave.”

The last word made you feel a pang of pain in your heart.

“It was a stupid bet we made when we were younger. Hyunjin brought it up during our debut. The first girl we found the most attractive, we would ask out no matter the circumstances. It took me a month to even get to know you and a year to get close to you. I was scared but they made me confess. So when you accepted I was so happy. Nothing matters more than you. I promise. You’re everything I could ask for so please don’t… don’t leave me. I’ll do anything you ask. Just don’t.”

As much as he tried to keep strong for you, there were tears brimming his eyes. You knew you couldn’t stay mad at him for long. And the way he confessed the truth warmed your heart. How could you leave him?

“I forgive you. I’ll just need a little time. I promise, I won’t leave you alone. I just need to take a bit of time for myself, yeah?”

Han slowly nodded his head as you pressed a kiss on his cheek.

Everything was fine though. You returned on the second day and boy did he make it up to you. In more ways than one. If you know what I mean. 😘 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LEE FELIX You didn’t hear from him for a few days. It angered you. He was the one who did the wrong thing and now he just thinks he can pretend you never existed!? It’s probably for the best. You don’t know what you would do if you saw him again. Forgive him? Probably not. You’d rather jump on him and claw his face right open. Wait, let’s backtrack that. Probably just punching him in the face was enough.

It had probably been a month since Felix last contacted you, and you to him. It hurt you, you admit. But you were slowly moving on. Finding people you could actually trust in.

Well let’s just say… things did not go according to plan.

On a late night out with a couple of you girl friends, you were drinking and getting hit on. It was fun. The freedom, you mean. You weren’t held back by the restraints of a relationship.

But I guess not everything goes like what you'd expect. Because while you were drinking a margarita, in walks in, no other than, Felix. And who did he just happen to walk up to first? You. The audacity to even take this action made you give him a hard slap on the cheek.

“Hey, asshole. How’ve you been?”

Felix just held his cheek in shame. He couldn’t exactly just yell at you. It was his fault in the first place.

“Hey, y/n… I’ve been awful.”

“Good.”

You were fuming. You were not gonna let some man walk back into your life after saying such hurtful words and then ghosting you for a month. You absolutely loathed him. That wasn’t really true though. Deep down, you still loved him as much as you used to. But, you were too scared to get hurt again.

Felix was equally as irritated but you mattered more to him right now, than his petty thoughts. So he grabbed you by the hand and dragged you out of the bar, ignoring your cries and pleas.

When you were finally outside, his grip loosened but he didn’t let go. You just sighed and rolled your eyes.

"The hell do you want?" You said as you yanked your hand away and began rubbing your wrist.

"A chance to explain myself to you."

"After you ghosted me for a month? Not a chance. Get a life."

"Wait, y/n-"

"Leave me the fuck alone."

"I still want to be with you..." He nearly said breathlessy.

"Well I don't." You were fighting every fiber in you to run back to him tell him how much you love him and never let go. But you didn't want to be the dumb, naive girl, who always ran back to the same man. The same person. The one who hurt them. But you stayed there and listened.

A moment of silence was exchanged until Felix said something.

"We were just immature little fucks when everything happened. Minho made a bet with me, that if I got the number of the roundest woman I could find then he'd give me 200 bucks. I was foolish, so I took up the bet. Had it never happened, I wouldn't have gotten to know the great person you are. I never expected to love you this much, but I do."

You looked up into the night sky to prevent your tears from falling. It was stupid of you to want to run back into his arms. To feel the warmth of his smile and presence again.

“That doesn’t change anything, Felix. You still think I’m a woman who weighs too much and looks… fat. You told me yourself that you love my body. But that’s all a lie because if Minho never made that bet then you would’ve never approached me. You’re just like the rest of them, Felix. Someone who only focuses on looks and not the actual person. You’re no different than Minho. It might have been just an immature joke to you but it meant everything to me.”

“Y/n—”

“No! Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to ever see you again. You ruined me, Felix.”

Felix could do nothing but stay silent and so you walked off. The emotions were too overwhelming for you. You may not have been able to punch him in the face but you were able to express yourself. A month of no closure and now you finally got it. At first, you thought that it’d make you hurt most. But surprisingly, it felt as if you lifted a weight from your chest and now you could be yourself again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ KIM SEUNGMIN You weren’t walking for a long time before you heard another pair of shuffling feet right behind you. You began to panic. It was dumb of you to leave the house this late at night, especially in a big city like this. Your pace quickened and so did the person's behind you. Not only your pace but your breath too. Your fight-or-flight response immediately kicked in and you were definitely opting to flee.

Suddenly, the person ran up to you and grabbed your arm, yanking you back.

"Ahhhhh!!!" Your scream peirced through the night. "Get the fuck off of me! Leave me alone!" But the person only brought you close to their body and hugged you. Then, you heard the soft voice of your boyfriend. "Shh.. shh... y/n it's me. It's me, Seungmin."

You gladly hugged him and thanked him. "Oh god, thank goodness it's just you, Seungmin. I was so scared that someone was following me. That I was going to get abducted or something. Thank you, thank you, thank you." You stuttered out between shaky breaths.

Seungmin only continued to comfort you. "Shh... it's okay. I understand. You're safe now. Sorry for making you so scared, love. Shh..." He rubbed soft circles onto your back as you sobbed into his arms. "I came to find you because you didn't grab your coat and I got worried. Even when we're mad at each other, you shouldn't be out in the cold. I understand if you don't want to talk to me but please make sure you won't get hurt or sick."

It was moments like these that kept you from being mad at Seungmin. You could argue for hours but you would still be his highest concern.

With your hands still holding him to you, you whispered, “Can we just go home?” Seungmin nodded his head, still rubbing your back. “Yeah, let’s go home.” He kissed the top of your head before taking your hand and leading you back to your house.

When the two of you arrived, the once comforting silence became awkward and insufferable. You patted the sides of your arms as you stared at the ground. While Seungmin rubbed the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at you. The uncomfortable silence was eventually broken by Seungmin.

“I’m sorry for saying that. I shouldn’t have taken my stress and anger out on you when you had nothing to do with it. I should’ve talked it out with you instead and I’m so stupid for taking you for granted.”

“What about the last part, where you said… you know.”

“I said that out of anger. But it was mainly because me and a few of my friends made a bet to take out the first girl who walked through the door at that party we met at. Lo and behold, it was you. But then I really fell in love with you and I became thankful that that bet was made. Because if we never made that bet then I wouldn’t have found you, the wonderful and amazing person I love.”

You couldn’t help but tear up at his words. Seungmin didn’t get upset easily but when he did, he would argue with you for days on end. But he always came back around when he all too quickly became worried for you. That’s what made you love him.

When Seungmin didn’t get a reply from you he suddenly asked, “Are you going to break up with me now?” But then he heard your sniffles and his heart broke. He constantly kept making you cry even when he didn’t mean to.

Unexpectedly, you ran to him and hugged him. “I can’t even think of ever leaving you. I love you so much and your way with words just makes me want you even more. You know me too well, Seungie. I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head before resting his head on yours. “I love you too.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ YANG JEONGIN Jeongin waited outside the bathroom for you to come out. It wasn’t like he could go in. He’d be casted out of the restaurant for being a creep and a pervert. So he patiently waited.

Eventually, you did come out but you had washed all your makeup off. The crying left streaks of mascara running down your face so you washed it before exiting. As soon as you saw Jeongin, you turned the other way. But unfortunately for you, that way just so happened to be a wall. You sighed before turning back to him. You were being a bit dramatic but you didn’t know how else to deal with it.

Jeongin spoke up quietly. “Do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You slowly nodded your head in response and he held out his hand to you. You silently took it and followed him into a more quiet and private room.

“I’m sorry for walking away instead of listening to you.” You said.

“No.. no, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you earlier and this was a horrible way for you to find out about it.”

He paused to see if you had anything to say. But when he got no response, he continued.

“Umm… so I used to have a big fat crush on you…”

You giggled at that, a little surprised that he could admit it so easily.

“D-don’t laugh at me! I’m being serious!” He said out angrily. "I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You said as you kept giggling. Jeongin was happy to see you smiling again so he kept going.

"When my hyungs found out they constantly teased me about it. But then the teasing turned into bets. They were betting on me to see I would ever confess or not. I told them I would but I never actually stayed true to my word. One day, they got bored with each other and came to me. They said that I should confess to you. If I succeeded they'd get me the latest Bruno Mars album and if I didn't then I'd have to give each of them 80 dollars. So we shook on it. I didn't want to lose so of course I mustered up the most courage I possibly could and asked you out. When you said yes, my whole world suddenly brightened as if this was what I was waiting for for my whole life. After I took you on a date, I told them of the success."

Your heart swelled at his words. You never knew he was so in love with you. It was almost as if the past event never happened. Now you were smiling from ear to ear as he told the story. Upon seeing your smile, Jeongin did too.

"I thought they'd stop teasing me after we got together but they never did. Calling me a simp and stuff. I'm not saying I'm not because I'm glad that I love you so much people can see it. But I hate being titled that."

Your eyes were full of affection for each other and it was clear as day. Every word that came from his mouth only reminded you of why you loved him so much. So how could you not voice it?

"Innie?" His ears perked up, indicating he was listening to you. "Have I ever told you how much I love you." He immediately pouted his bottom lip and opened his arms as an invitation. You slowly made your way over into his embrace. "Have I ever told you how much I love you too?" You chuckled as you nodded your head. You looked up at him and saw that he was still pouting. So you took it as your responsibility to kiss it away. Glad to say it worked as he laughed at you antics.

How could you ever doubt him when he loved you this much?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @123rinu @pgnwook @mixtape-racha @hannieslovebot @lolareadsimagines @garrixer-06 @bandolls @chansbabygirlsstuff @camilagonzalex @mariteez @beccaskz @kibs-and-bits @kaitchan

@lynlyndoll @bangchansslut6 @hanniemylovelyquokka @changbinsjuicybiceps @xx-twalia-xx @bangchansprettygf @lvlnijiro @totallynotlyntv @htnw004 @shecheatedwithme @jiisungllvr @neteyamsmate4life @yoongles2025 @cosniffee @gdaymates @iilliess @tadashisdisaster @celticcountrygal @dazzlingligth @mylilliposts @troublemaker02

[cobaltperun]

i have a request if possible ? for a tara carpenter x reader , or any jo character as you see fit , but in my head , it’s always been tara and no gf au-

so basically , if you’re familiar with 5 seconds of summer , every time i listen to them (their self titled album, specifically heartbreak girl) i always come up with like scenarios of r, mindy, amber and wes being 5sos basically and having r write that song about tara and how she’s always calling/texting r about the problems she’s having with chad without realizing that r is in love with her

which ofc leads r to go to amber, mindy and wes to write that song together and having them preform at a local bar/club or something because they’re locally known and tara, sam, chad and the rest of the friend group is in the crowd, being supportive- but once they hear the song , they immediately know who it’s about and just look at tara awkwardly , and- that’s as far as i’ve gotten

Heartbreak Girl

Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader (Request)

First of all, thank you for the request, it kind of just flowed out and here it is. I went with gender-neutral Reader since you didn't specify the gender. I hope you'll enjoy reading this.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.7k

"I know I should have seen it coming, but it still hurts, you know? I still love Chad, I just can't get over him," she sobbed, and you stopped pacing around your room to lean back and rest your head against the wall. You knew the story, you heard it from Tara countless times, and you may have heard it from Mindy even before Tara told you, mostly because Mindy got a bit pissed that Chad would end his relationship with Tara like that. Tara and Chad were in a relationship, they worked the summer job together and met Liv. Chad fell in love and broke up with Tara. The rest was history, and Tara, sharing Chad's circle of friends, and still being in love with him, couldn't move on.

One time Tara told you she figured it would be easier if he cheated on her. He didn't. He just sat down with her one day and said how he felt. Two weeks later Chad and Liv went on their first date and the circumstances kept Tara and Chad as somewhat friends.

"I'm sorry for being a bother, Y/N," she must have noticed your silence.

"You're not being a bother, Tara, I just don't know what to say that I already didn't tell you before," you bit your bottom lip, knowing full well you were lying. You knew what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her you loved her, that in her heartbreak she kept breaking your heart too. Another sob made you speak before you could think things through. "Let's go out, just the two of us," you suggest, realizing too late what you were saying. "As friends, of course, just to get your mind off of everything," you quickly backtracked, hoping the explanation was sufficient enough, hoping she couldn't hear the nervous tapping of your foot against the floor, or the crack in your voice when you said 'friends' or anything else that could give you away.

Because, as much as you loved her, as much as you wanted to be with her, you didn't want to push her into another relationship when she was vulnerable and still heartbroken. You also didn't want to be her way of getting over Chad and nothing more. And you absolutely didn’t want to take advantage of her emotional turmoil.

"I'd love to, Y/N," it sounded like she stopped crying, thought she still sniffled a bit. "Thanks for being my friend and always being there to cheer me up," her words, even if you just encouraged them yourself, still hurt you.

"Don't mention it, I'm here for you," you brushed it off, subconsciously hoping maybe, just maybe, she'd realize how you feel on her own. You had no idea how mixed the signals you were sending her looked every now and then. In less than a minute you went from proclaiming friendly hanging out to promising to be there for her. "When do you want to meet up?"

Tara paused for a moment. "I'll call you tomorrow at ten to figure that out. Is that okay?"

You nodded and then frowned when you realized a moment later you were on the phone with her. "Of course."

And so you said your goodbyes, and you just slumped into the chair and dropped your head down to the table. A bit recklessly you tossed the phone to the bed on your side and silently expressed gratitude that it didn't hit the wall or drop to the floor. You sighed and placed your hands over your head, feeling like you were stuck in a never-ending cycle with Tara Carpenter.

Against your better judgment, you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began writing.

~X~

The friend date went well, better than you imagined it would and you and Tara hung out an hour longer than either of you anticipated. It was a nice change of pace and for a moment you actually convinced yourself you didn't feel anything romantic for her. For a moment, you were reminded of simpler times, when Tara really was just a friend in your eyes. That time was a long time ago, but sometimes you wished you could go back to that, at the very least everything was much simpler back then.

The paper waiting for you at your table broke that illusion and you grabbed your guitar, maybe you had something here after all. As you sat down to try different tunes you sent a message to the band, Mindy, Wes, and Amber, asking to meet up tomorrow for an additional practice.

~X~

The four of you met up in your garage where you kept your instruments, the guitars, and drums, anything else you needed you would just rent out for a couple of days. You were still a local band, so renting still saved you money.

"Let me see if I got everything right. You," Amber pointed at you, almost accusingly. "wrote this song about Tara and you don't want to confess how you feel?" she asked incredulously.

"Come on, it's not that obvious," you defended yourself and pointed at a line in the song. "See? Chad didn't exactly treat her bad, he just broke up with her."

"Yeah, sure, one line is going to convince everyone it isn't about Tara," Mindy added sarcastically and threw her arms up. "It's there for the dramatic effect, Y/N! Remember?" well, yeah, but still, were you really that obvious?

"She got you there," Wes wasn't helping.

You picked up your guitar and began playing the tune you thought would work well with the song. "Listen, I think we got something good here," you tried to focus on the song itself. "Regardless of who it was written for," you muttered.

"You're kidding, right? A sad tune? You're making this a ballad? No way," Mindy went to her drums. "This needs more energy," judging by the tone of her voice she wasn't budging on this. Well, at least she was on board.

"We are totally adding 'Thanks for being a friend' to the lyrics," Amber teased and you just groaned and buried your face in your hands.

"Don't forget being a sucker for anything Tara does," Wes joined in, causing all three of them to laugh at you.

"You're the worst," you muttered, too embarrassed to look at them. As it was the song that maybe could have passed as, you know, not absolutely obvious, might as well be named ‘Tara’ with how specific it was turning out to be.

~X~

Over the next month and a half, you and Tara fell into a bit of a habit. The first two weeks she continued sobbing, and you'd ask her to hang out. The week after that she just complained and you still asked her to hang out. The past few weeks she rarely even mentioned Chad during your calls, but she still insisted you were friends.

Honestly, just the fact that she seemed to be moving on as weeks went by mended your own heart. Somewhere along the line, you found out you were fine with the way things were. In a relationship or as friends, you wanted Tara in your life.

You walked her to her house, the backs of your hands occasionally brushing as you walked. The accidental touches became something both of you were comfortable with, as neither of you moved away from each other.

"You'll be performing tomorrow night, right?" Tara asked out of the blue.

You glanced at her and your eyes met. "Yeah. Are you going to come?" it wouldn't be the first time Tara would be in the crowd. Tara, Sam, Chad, Danny, Anika, and Liv were all supportive of your band, so they regularly came to your performances.

"You're not really asking that, are you? Of course, I'm going to come," she lightly jabbed your arm. "Besides, Mindy might have told me you guys have a new song you'll be performing for the first time in front of a crowd."

That little traitor. You cleared your throat to buy yourself a few extra seconds to get it together.

With the way things were going between you and Tara, you were almost tempted to scrap the song, but the other three voted against it. "No pressure then, it's not like we haven't had a new song in almost four months now," what could you say, it was a bit of a drought period as far as creativity went.

Tara laughed and just for a moment you thought you saw something else in her eyes, something similar to the way you would so often look at her. "You'll do great," she offered a much-needed encouragement as the two of you stopped in front of her house.

"Guess this is it for tonight," you smiled at her.

"Mhm, I'm glad I was the one to ask you out tonight, as friends, of course," she took a step closer and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. And then you froze when she got on her tiptoes and kissed your cheek. "Thank you, for always being there for me," somehow, this time she omitted the friend part.

"I," you cleared your throat once more. "did say I'd be here for you, didn't I?" you tried to brush it off as you usually did for months now.

The intensity of Tara's gaze captured all of your attention and for a moment you even considered leaning in. You didn't though, you weren't sure she felt the same, or that she actually moved on.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" she asked, lowering her gaze to your lips before quickly looking away.

You noticed it, and you wondered if Tara could hear how loud your heart was drumming in your chest. "Y-yeah," you finally stepped back from her, and the tension you were trying so hard to ignore began fading.

~X~

Tara pretty much threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. What was wrong with her? Falling in love with you so quickly and almost out of nowhere. Especially when you so explicitly insisted on hanging out as friends. Perhaps you were insisting too hard to cover your own feelings? A girl could hope, right?

She turned her playlist on, hoping to find some peace in music. As if to spite her, the first song that played was Brian Fallon's You Have Stolen My Heart and she nearly chucked her phone into a wall. Groaning she turned around and tucked herself into a blanket. It was entirely your fault. With your charming smile and clumsy mixed signals, she could never get a good read on them.

~X~

You were amazing on that improvised stage, just mesmerizing to watch and listen to and Tara found herself falling even harder. She also found herself ignoring Sam's teasing smile.

"Thank you, thank you! You are too kind! We'll wrap up the night with a premiere of our new song!" Wes yelled, hyping up the crowd.

"Let's hear an applause for Heartbreak Girl!" Mindy demanded, encouraging the crowd to interact with the four of you.

Tara was pulled to her feet by Anika and they both cheered. The name of the song, however, made Tara's heart skip a beat. Or was it the way you looked at her from the stage?

"You call me up, it's like a broken record, saying that your heart hurts. That you'll never get over him getting over you, and you end up crying. And I end up lying, 'cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do," you sang, your eyes never leaving Tara's. It felt like there was no one else in the club but the two of you. But you weren't alone, and Tara felt the awkward stares directed at the back of her head.

Did you actually write a song for her?

"And when the phone call finally ends, you say "Thanks for being a friend" and I'm going in circles again and again," now she had no doubt, that the song really was about her. She stopped cheering and just stood there, taking the lyrics in.

She saw you hesitating, probably since you noticed her reaction, and she just smiled. You smiled back and continued.

"I dedicate this song to you, the one who never sees the truth, that I can take away you hurt, Heartbreak girl. Hold you tight straight through the daylight, I'm right here, when you gonna realize that I'm your cure, Heartbreak girl?" did you...? Were you saying what she thought you were saying?

She wasn't reading this wrong, was she?

"I bite my tongue, but I wanna scream out, you could be with me now. But I end up telling you what you wanna hear, but you're not ready. And it's so frustrating, he treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair," her heart skips a beat as you continue, quoting the promise to call you tomorrow at ten and once again singing the chorus.

"I know someday it's gonna happen, and you'll finally forget the day you met him. Sometimes I'm so close to confession, I gotta get it through your head, that you belong with me instead," the look in your eyes, the eyes that told her 'This is it, I can't take it back now' it vanquished any doubt she may have had about how you felt.

She just wondered how long you felt that way about her without saying anything? Definitely before you first asked her to hang out as friends, but how long before that? And she felt like apologizing, for not noticing how you felt, for leaning on you for support even if it hurt you as well. And at the same time she fell even harder, because you were there for her even with everything you were feeling you were giving her all the time she needed.

~X~

The moment you ended the song and without any idea where the sudden boldness was coming from you jumped down from the stage and went over to Tara. You took a few deep breaths as you closed the distance and offered her your hand, the guitar still in your other hand.

Yeah, you didn't quite think that through.

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly looking at the guitar, but then shrugged and took your hand.

"Uh, what now?" you asked sheepishly.

"Isn't that something you were supposed to figure out? Before you jumped down and came over?" she gave you a cheeky, teasing smile.

"I didn't think I'd get this far," you admitted, causing Tara to laugh.

"Just go behind the stage dumbass!" Mindy yelled, with the microphone still on. "And leave the guitar there while you're at it!"

You lowered your head and winced, trying to hide the embarrassment clearly visible on your face. Tara wasn't doing much better as she quickly pulled you behind the stage to escape the teasing.

You packed the guitar as both of you took time to compose yourself and catch a breath. "I really didn't think this through, did I?" you asked.

"No," Tara sat down on the chair near you. "You really didn't," she was fiddling with the loose thread on her shirt.

"I meant it, the song. Well, at least when I wrote it a month and a half ago," you decided to just be honest with her.

Tara raised her head to look at you, you could see hopefulness and uncertainty in her gaze. "What changed?"

You approached and sat down next to her. "I don't think you are still heartbroken," you took her hand.

Tara smiled. "I'm not. I'm in love with a clumsy musician that sucks at flirting," she leaned closer to you.

"Hey, it worked," you closed the distance, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "Mhm, how about we go on a proper date then?" she asked when the kiss ended and you couldn't think of any better idea.

[carigm]

About Dyersfilm’s “leak”

For all of you who don’t know, dyersfilm is an insufferable individual who used to go by the name of swiftlynatalia. She is racist, homophobic, transphobic, and even made fun of her supposed favorite actress’ eating disorder. However, people on Twitter (especially mlvns) entertain her because she had reliable sources during the filming of S4, and after during post production. She had some true leaks, many being the same that Reddit got right, while others only she had. She was also wrong about quite a few things, but generally she was reliable.

It is worth noting though that she is extremely biased against byler (many of the leaks she got wrong for S4 were pertaining their storyline) and absolutely hates the ship.

This time around, she was getting some leaks during the first couple of months of filming to her curious cat, but she herself claimed that these were not reliable leaks whatsoever and that she was pissed because this time she doesn’t have access to the real sources she had for S4. She has complained about this repeatedly for these past few months. The leaks she has gotten tho, many she has mocked and made fun of because they don’t align with what she wants from the show. She also made a “disclaimer” when the show started filming again that she would not be posting leaks about Byler because she hates us all, and yet every single one of those most likely fake leaks she got she posted, and many of them talked about Byler. She would post them and mock them for “clearly being untrue”. She has barely gotten a single Mlvn positive leak this whole time, and when she’s gotten at least something that alludes to them having scenes together she immediately ran to post it and alert all her friends, even tho she herself knows all of these are most likely fake.

For weeks now, her curious cat has been dry af because I guess nda’s are stronger this time, or no one wants to leak shit to her (she’s rude as hell). she posted the following ask 10 days ago. Someone asked her if she knew about any Mike and El scenes and she said no. Keep this in mind for what’s coming next…

Then suddenly yesterday, she alluded to a Jonathan spoiler she’s supposedly pissed about, but refused to post it like she’s done for everything else. People quickly thought it might involve Byler because she said she wasn’t going to post “leaks” about it, even though she had already lol. So they asked her and she said that “yes, it has to do with Byler.”

Then shortly after this someone asked about Mlvn again, this was just today. Again, note how she proceeds to say she knows nothing about Mlvn 😭

Bylers on Twitter noticed her answers about Mlvn and her comment about a supposed byler leak involving Jonathan and started speculating. She ofc noticed this, and not even after an hour of her saying she knows nothing about Mlvn she goes on to say this.

….

She knows nothing but somehow she knows Mlvn is stable? The bipolar disorder of these answers could rival my own bipolar.

Mind you, we all know that she would’ve jumped up at the first opportunity to post any leak that implied Will was pining and miserable, her and her friends would’ve had a field day over it. And yet, she only clarifies this after…

Not to mention how utterly ridiculous this all is. They’ve filmed stuff up until episode 4 (from what we know), why the hell would Will be pining and hung up over Mike if Mlvn is endgame? That makes absolutely no fucking sense. They would have him immediately fully patch things up with Mike and move on, not be hung up on someone he can’t have in the middle of an apocalypse. Especially not after the Duffers said he’s getting a happy ending. Will getting a happy ending but still being in love with Mike halfway through the last season with Mlvn being endgame is absolute lunacy.

Especially when you consider the fact that narratively, in a sense, Will has already moved on. He doesn’t expect anything from Mike, he doesn’t think Mike can like him back. He saw Mike confess his love in front of El, he helped that confession happen. Will literally has no problem with Mlvn anymore pls 😭 He saved them!!

This is the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever read.

Will is somehow upset at Mike not feeling the same way…when Will already believes Mike doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t ever expect any reciprocation 😭

Either she’s wildly twisting this supposed leak out of context to fit her own perceived narrative of what should happen, or she’s straight up lying about this.

And we know she’s lying about Mlvn so…you people decide what you think of this buffoonery lol.

Wait for Reddit leaks y’all. This woman could get a legit leak saying Byler is endgame and dig her own grave before posting it.

[grandlinedreams]

I forgot you had that list of prompts!! Could I please please pleeeaaase request 71 Law x reader? “I’ve never seen this man before.”

Maybe like Law pisses them off and they pretend to not know him? 🥺

ofc!! I need to figure out my tagging system 'n make stuff like that easier to find when it gets buried but also I gotta get my masterlist put together at all wlkjadf but YES i live for that kind of trope as long as it's not like,,,an indicator of bigger issues bc communication is key in relationships my friends!!

[heads up!: both reader and Law are a touch of orange flag behavior, touch of angst]

"How long are you going to stay mad at Captain?"

"I don't know, Bepo." The mink looks far from reassured by your answer, eyes flicking nervously over your shoulder and then back. You don't have to turn around to know Law is staring at the pair of you, the weight of his gaze square on the back of your head. "Did he tell you to come over here and ask?"

Bepo flinches, squirming nervously. You know he doesn't want to be caught in another of your spats ㅡ though they rarely happen, it's hard to keep your crew out of them when you're all typically confined in such a finite space.

There's a lot that anger dictates you say ㅡ that it's childish of Law to make Bepo come over here to ask instead, to try and wheedle his way into getting you to apologize first because he knows there's not much you hate more than upsetting Bepo and that it's not fair to the mink to make him choose between picking sides or playing mediator.

"Are you mad at me too?" Bepo's question pulls you out of your thoughts and you shake your head, expression softening.

"Of course not, I could never be angry with you." Again, you have to bite your tongue not to add more that'd further the distinct air of a pair of parents at odds with each other. "You can go back to Law, if you want."

Bepo still looks uneasy, but he slides off his seat and moves back towards where Law is sitting with Shachi and Penguin. Even though you know that you shouldn't assume, you don't blame them for taking his side. After all, they've known him longer, been through more with him, he means more to them.

But you? Even though you know they don't see you as such, you're temporary. The crew won't fall apart without you. You can leave and while it'll hurt for a while, they'll get over it.

You've never once feared that Law would demand you leave, but the fury in his eyes during your argument makes you reconsider it. Maybe you'd finally gone too far, and he's finally truly tired of having you around.

The idea of leaving the vessel that's been your home for the last handful of years and the people who have become your family makes your chest ache and your eyes burn with the threat of tears. You don't want to leave.

Lost in your your thoughts and the spiral that your mind threatens to tumble into, the hard clink of glass against the counter makes you jolt. Looking up at the bartender, you watch him jerk his head. "From that gentleman. You know him?"

The drink in front of you is your favorite. Normally you'd be touched that Law remembers such an obscure detail you've only ever mentioned off-handedly, but right now it feels like a slap to the face. Law is still trying everything he can but talking to you.

"I don't know that man at all," you tell the bartender flatly, handing over a couple of berri for your already finished drink and get to your feet. The path you take is intentional as you stalk past your crewmates' table, giving Law a look of icy fury before you continue on.

"You know Captain," Penguin suggests tentatively, "you could always just apologize. [Name] looked super pissed."

Law scowls. "More like being stubborn," he huffs, but guilt still pools in his stomach as he glances at the untouched drink on the counter. It feels like a cheap attempt at forgiveness the more he thinks about it, and he groans. "Fine, fine. I trust you can find your way back on your own?"

"We've got it, don't worry!"

Law gets to his feet, dropping off the appropriate berri for his drink as well before he moves off in the direction that you'd gone. The Polar Tang is quiet by the time he reaches it, lights dimmed for nightfall ㅡ and he slows his pace as he approaches his room.

What is he going to say? He knows he should apologize, but so should you ㅡ you've always had an innate talent for getting under his skin, something that he both loves and hates for how easily you do it. And while fights are truly something few and far between, this last one has left a bad taste in his mouth that only worsens the longer he lets it go.

Exhaling, he reaches for the handle. Part of him expected it to be locked ㅡ but it isn't, and his gaze flicks to you as soon as he walks in. Your back is to him, blanket pulled to your ear ㅡ but he knows the various rhythms of your breathing well enough to know you're not asleep.

He doesn't talk right away, busies himself with getting ready for bed as well before settling behind you and resisting the urge to roll his eyes when you scoot further from him. "Can we talk?"

"I guess." Your tone is clipped, and Law frowns as he reaches for you, hand on your arm.

"Are you going to look at me?"

"No."

Sighing, Law waits a moment before he begins tracing idle shapes against your arm, trying to soothe some of your anger. He knows you well, the way you can never quite stop yourself from leaning into him just a little bit, no matter how upset you are. "...this got out of hand."

You snort. "An understatement," you answer, but you lean a little further into him, and he takes it as a good sign.

"We both said things we didn't mean, and I wanted to apologize for how I talked to you." Law pauses. "And for sending Bepo to talk for me. And the drink."

"I would have drank it, but it felt like a cop out." You roll to face him properly now, and Law hates that he can see the red tinge around your eyes that always means you've been crying. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have said any of that either. But you need to talk to me Law, you can't just shut me out because you don't want to be a bother."

"I know." It's easier said than done, but you're patient. He knows that, knows that because you've told him time and time again that there isn't anything that will make you love him any less, either from his past or in the future. ("You're stuck with me," you like to say proudly, and he's never heard better sounding words than that.) "I'll keep working on it."

"We can work on it together," you answer as you press closer and he finally, finally gets to hold you the way he's wanted to since you stormed off after the argument. "We're a team, you and I. You're stuck with me until you don't want me anymore."

Law stills for a moment and then wraps his arms around you, tucking his face into your neck. "Forever," he mumbles. "That's how long I want you. Is that okay?"

You shift against him just enough to press your hand against the back of his head, fingers brushing soft, dark hair. "That sounds perfect to me."

[endless-ineffabilities]

le marquis et le moineau - first dance

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.

more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ (ill)fated ▪︎ other works

themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language, the Marquis is a manipulative asshole (to be fair, so is the reader) so don't expect a gooey romance!

The dinner was not what you expected.

First of all, you are surprised that you are actually enjoying yourself. Of all things to find pleasure in, you did not think it would be this - sitting across the man regarded as the most stupidly imperious beanpole in your profession.

Well, no one has ever called him a beanpole, but you think it appropriate. So pompous beanpole it is. He towered over everything- the fucking giant - blocking your line of sight when you had followed him into the dining room.

Why did you follow him? It might have been fear for your head, deferrence to who is currently the most important guest in the Continental. But with how it's going now, you think that you would have agreed regardless.

Maybe it's the way simply being there feels like there's a hundred mini electric shocks going through your body, like you're on high alert the whole time. His eyes would rake over you as the two of you converse, scrutinizing, and you would return the favour.

It's strange, for someone already living in a highly demanding and dangerous world, to take particular notice of any thrill. It is constant, akin to breathing.

But this... why does this feel different?

"Do I have something on my face?" you hear him ask, the ego practically jumping out of his voice. Connard. He smirks at how you seem to have been staring at him for quite a while.

"Well, I noticed this little wrinkle you have between your eyebrows," you make a little gesture, and his expression sours a bit, but he doesn't look convinced. "It's a lot similar to what Winston has, which is strange since he is ahead in his years."

I spaced out, asshole, you wanted to say instead. Why the hell would I be looking at your face?

That's a lie. He's a sight, and he knows it. You know it. The thing, he never has to know that you know.

Or, something like that.

He prattles on, yet another probing question bubbling from his lips. "From everything you've said, it does not look to me as if you are satisfied with your position. Am I correct?"

"Not satisfied? Marquis, I am exactly where I want to be, doing what I want to do - "

"And what is that, hmm? Being an apprentice? Waiting on the guests of this fine establishment? Always at their beck and call like some... " He pauses, although he's well aware of what he means.

"Some what?" you say, keeping your tone civil through gritted teeth.

He appraises you, wondering why he is hesitant in dealing the final blow, and simply hurling the insult as he usually does. You are nothing to him, after all, are you not?

But no. If he is to use you - and this option is growing on him - he must stay on your good side. It would help in making you more pliable to his demands.

You straighten, after you're sure that he would go no further, taking a sip of your wine, "Why, Marquis, I didn't think you would be so... considerate."

He sneers, "I can be all kinds of nice to you, ma belle, if you please me well enough."

Ma belle. From any normal, warm-blooded admirer, the words can invoke amusement or gratitude. Maybe embarrassment at the other person's audacity, in your perspective. But from him? The coil in your stomach that unfurled brought forth a weird sensation of warmth, despite your job-mandated emotional regulation training.

More understandably, it raised your suspicion. What does he want? Is he just being... well, French?

"On behalf of the Continental, consider it our mission to ensure that you remain pleased throughout your stay," you recite like an AI automation, in an attempt to appear unaffected.

He titters, shaking his head, "Be that as it may, I only require you."

"M-me?" Smooth. Real smooth, super spy.

"Your services," he elucidates, basking in your surprise. "I would like to take you into my employ. I think you have immense potential."

"I don't think I understand."

He rolls his eyes, frustrated at how slow he thinks you're being. "You may just be a baby receptionist - "

You scowl at that, "Assistant to the Concierge, actually."

The prat ignores you, " - but you're a baby receptionist at the Continental New York. You have considerable training, and from your background, it is clear that you're plenty accustomed to this life."

"What do you need me for? I'm sure you have an array of specialists at your disposal. I happen to know of someone who can do anything you require. John Wick is - "

He scoffs, his eyes glinting in amusement, "I am not too inclined to assign John Wick as my date to the most important gala in Paris."

"Pardon me? Date?" you blanch.

Again, he makes his trademark insolent expression. Are you deaf, his face practically screams.

"Oui, my date," he gingerly wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and you imagine stuffing his mouth with it so he stops speaking entirely. "You've heard of the Paris ball, have you not?"

"The one held in your honour, every year."

"In my honour," he repeats, disdain lacing his voice. "Around three hundred little ants who claim to respect and admire me. But the thing about ants is... they have the tendency to destroy their queen."

"I see," you exhale, understanding his implication. "So I won't be there to simply be your date."

He tilts his head, "Were you expecting any different?"

Yes.

"No."

He smirks, having pushed you into a corner as planned. "Instead of having some dolt of an heiress or model with me like I normally do, I am choosing to bring you. I thought you would be able to weave your way into the crowd, sort out which ones are the little rats and report back to me. No one would suspect you because they would think you're just there to look pretty."

He sure has a way of being flattering and demeaning at the same time.

"Why can't your men do that job?" you challenge him. Your answer is nearly fully formed in your mind, for various reasons, but if there is a way out of this, you'll take it as a sign to bow out for your own good. "I'm sure you don't need to go through all this subtlety. Pick out the bad weeds and crush them underneath your polished boot, as you do."

"My dear, we are not animals. I prefer to move with a bit more finesse than my lowly counterparts."

Finesse? Or is he just unwilling to get his hands dirty? To wade into the murky waters among the sharks?

"Besides," he stands, walking slowly until he reaches you. He casts a shadow over the table as he stops behind your chair. When he speaks again, he has stooped so low you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck. "You need me. I am offerring you an opportunity to advance quickly in our world. Do me this favour and there is no one who will dare doubt your potential."

When you twist around to look at him, he is close. Too close. There is an almost sadistic glint in his blue eyes, a mark of someone who is used to getting what he wants.

You nod, once, expecting him to back away after that. Instead, he leans even closer, his eyes never leaving yours. You clock him raising a hand to your face in your peripheral vision, "What are you doing?"

He sighs in annoyance, and his fingers graze your jaw. He makes a condescending tsk noise, before saying, "If you're going to be my date, you have to be comfortable with being close to me. I will have to touch you, you know."

Prick.

Why are his eyes so goddamn blue?

Asshole.

"Of course," is all you mumble after a while.

It is as if he decides that he's done with you after that, stepping back, and gesturing to the hall with a noncommittal "Off you go."

"Thank you for dinner," you say, but he does not even care to look at you. "Do let us know if you need anything else."

You confidently walk to the entrance of his penthouse suite, head held high as you pass by his lackeys and associates. Thinking that the Marquis stayed behind in the dining room, goosebumps erupt on your skin when he says your name, and he is right behind you.

Before you can wonder why on earth he would see you out himself, he rubs his thumb momentarily in the space between your eyebrows, smirking.

"Oh would you look at that," he teases, "you have that little wrinkle too."

You notice how his accent is more pronounced when he is relaxed, in this case when he is making fun of you.

"Mmm," you smile sarcastically, and the glee on his face deepens.

"À bientôt, petit moineau," he says in finality.

There it is again, and you're resolved to find out what that means.

"Be seeing you."

Here I thought I ran out of juice for this story, but then...

[melrosing]

what do you think of the take that Cersei loves the kids as an extension of herself?

idk i think this line is a bit like 'Brienne is Sansa with a sword', in that it may have some truth to it but it's been repeated so often that I feel the nuances are kind of lost. GRRM does say this much:

[Cersei is] a character who’s very protective of her children. You can argue, well, does she genuinely love her children, or does she just love them because they’re her children? There’s certainly a great level of narcissism in Cersei. She has an almost sociopathic view of the world and civilization. X

I don't always know what to do with this quote, bc to an extent.... doesn't everyone love their children because they're their children lol. but obviously here GRRM intends to suggest something akin to the 'extension of herself' phrase here, given he follows it with 'there's certainly a great level of narcissism in Cersei'.

the way i see it..... how meaningfully this phrase applies I think depends on the kid. in Joffrey's case, I think it's largely true: she does genuinely love him, but that is very much based on the fact that he's practically the embodiment of Cersei's own grasping for power. he was raised to be exactly that. her feelings of love for him are still real, but that is plainly why Joffrey is the stand out favourite: Joffrey is what Cersei can never be.

she almost never mentions Myrcella besides as 'my only daughter' which tells us very little lol. in her instance I think yes, it's a kind of love, but very much the love one has for a possession. we learn things about Sansa and Arya through Cat, even if we already knew them. we don't learn shit about Myrcella through Cersei. actually we learn more about the kid through Arys Oakheart lol. so whatever love she does feel for Myrcella, true to what GRRM says, this seems to be based around the fact that Myrcella is her daughter. what does she love about Myrcella?? well. who knows

Tommen I think is the most complex, because Cersei acknowledges herself that Tommen is almost nothing like her, or indeed Joffrey, and that stirs a protectiveness in her, as well as a kind of grief that she was never like him:

I was never so sweet and innocent, Cersei thought. AFFC, CERSEI X

so she has an affection for this side of Tommen.... but ofc is seeking to basically abuse it out of him. there's a kind of protectiveness in this. but then as soon as Tommen demonstrates assertiveness, strength, and courage - but in a way that Cersei herself feels undermined by - she terrorises him. like this whole passage

"I should go to court with you every day, to listen. Margaery says—" "—a deal too much," Cersei snapped. "For half a groat I'd gladly have her tongue torn out." "Don't you say that," Tommen shouted suddenly, his round little face turning red. "You leave her tongue alone. Don't you touch her. I'm the king, not you." She stared at him, incredulous. "What did you say?" "I'm the king. I get to say who has their tongues torn out, not you. I won't let you hurt Margaery. I won't. I forbid it." Cersei took him by the ear and dragged him squealing to the door, where she found Ser Boros Blount standing guard. "Ser Boros, His Grace has forgotten himself. Kindly escort him to his bedchamber and bring up Pate. This time I want Tommen to whip the boy himself. He is to continue until the boy is bleeding from both cheeks. If His Grace refuses, or says one word of protest, summon Qyburn and tell him to remove Pate's tongue, so His Grace can learn the cost of insolence." AFFC, CERSEI VIII

like idk man. Cersei should be encouraged by everything Tommen exhibits here, but because she feels undermined by it (i.e. Tommen claiming, rightfully, that he's the King and not her, and that they shouldn't be ripping Margaery's tongue out), she exacts the worst punishment on him yet. so I'm just like. sure, she loves this kid to an extent, but does she love him more than herself?? I really don't believe that.

when Cersei says 'all I do, I do for Tommen', whilst meantime thinking how much she enjoys power, how Tommen has no business stealing this moment from her, etc etc, it should be quite clear to the reader that this is not for Tommen: this is for Cersei. I don't think Cers herself would ever be able to admit that, but it's quite obviously true. her children may bring her comfort, but she puts herself first every time.

and I think given Cersei knows Maggy's prophecy, and fears all of the time that it may come true.... it is extremely telling that rather than seek any means possible to basically break the curse, whether that meant abandoning the throne somehow to get her kids out of there, basically removing their 'crowns' from the damn prophecy altogether.... or not having three children maybe having four lol.... like anything to make untrue the things that the prophecy relies upon.... well she doesn't does she. she keeps her kids precisely in the firing line, and never even seems to consider a way out besides hording more power for herself.

which like: fine, that's Cersei's outlook. the way it came to be her outlook is incredibly complex, and comes from systems of abuse that she herself has suffered within. but we can't really ignore that Cersei is primarily concerned with self. she puts her kids in danger every single day because she can't let go of the power that endangers she and the kids in the first place. she might love her kids, she might grieve her kids, but they will always come second to her intense preoccupation with self. so that's basically how i interpret GRRM's words; it's not that that love isn't authentic, but that it regularly and detrimentally gets lost in her own self obsession

[humanpurposes]

It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of violence and trauma

Words: 7.4k

A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at a laptop screen as they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planning this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to the rest of Westeros that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. So there can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

Aemond’s eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan for the main ballroom.

Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind the space where his eye should be.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease. He has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it. A glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in my office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and get you some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face, the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

“I thought you knew,” Aegon says. “Mum said she was going to talk to you.”

“Evidently that conversation is yet to happen.” Maybe it was meant to happen tonight. It’s a Friday which means Aemond will go to his mother’s apartments in the Keep for dinner after work.

It’s a struggle but he breathes through the worst of it, and blinks a tear from his eye. The pain hasn’t quite faded but something else burns hotter through his blood. He clenches his jaw and his fists. “How long have you known?”

Aegon makes a startled stuttering noise. “I– well–”

Aemond glares at him.

“A few days. The note came from Rhaenyra’s office on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t really remember–”

“Grandfather knew,” Aemond says, a question, but he can guess the answer. If it involves Dragon Bank or a member of the Targaryen family, Otto Hightower will know.

“Of course he knew. He said it was a last minute decision, one that Viserys was insisting we all bend over backwards to accommodate.”

Of course he would, anything for the precious daughter of his favourite child, the girl who slashed Aemond’s eye out with a broken bottle. 

He hates her for it. He hates every burst of pain, like an echo of that moment pulsing through his head. He hates every person he catches staring at him, he hates the way his reflection looks with her cruelty carved into his flesh. Most of all he hates that it reminds him of her. In a way he is grateful too. Time helped to heal the wound and eventually he realised how he had been changed by that night, how it made him the person he is now. 

But for the first time in a long time he does not find any pride in it, cowering in his brother’s office like a child at the mere mention of her name. 

“I can’t go,” Aemond says, hating how quiet his own voice is.

“That’s alright,” Aegon says, “you can sit here for as long as you need.”

“I meant the party.”

“Oh right, sorry.”

“I can’t go, not if she’s going to be there.”

There’s a long silence, filled only by the hum of the AC and the distant sounds of the city far below the keep, car horns, engines, sirens, the occasional cry of a seagull.

“Why don’t you talk it through with mum?”

“Aegon,”

“She’ll want you to go. She’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“I can’t,”

“I know you two were close, but, you know, I’m sure you both regret how things happened,” 

“Aegon, for fuck’s sake,”

“She cut out your eye, you said you’d cut out hers if you ever saw her again, we were all caught up in the moment.”

Aemond pushes up from the sofa and tosses the water bottle at Aegon’s head, not stopping to see if he caught it or not, before he’s yanking open the door and marching into the hallway.

The Red Keep is older than Dragon Bank itself, a red brick holdfast that has loomed proudly over King’s Landing for centuries, even as the skyline of the city has come to meet over time. It’s easy to get lost here, with its grand hallways, winding staircases and hidden passages, if old rumours are to be believed. He knows this place like he knows his own mind. He walks to his office through empty stairwells and forgotten corridors.

When he finally makes it to his own office he closes the door and lets his back fall against it.

He takes a slow breath, holds it, pouts his lips and exhales steadily. 

Who else knows? Viserys would have sent the invitation, Rhaenyra and the rest of her little runts will know. Otto knows, clearly his mother and Aegon both know, and he couldn’t have kept that secret, he would have told Helaena or Daeron, most likely both.

Everyone knows. Jaya is coming back home to King’s Landing, and everyone knows but him.

His mother told him everything when she thought he was ready to hear it. The bandages had been removed from his face and the cannula had been taken out of his hand. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few more days so all the drugs could wear off and he could start getting used to the disorientation of losing half his vision. Alicent wanted him home, in his own bed. So he left the dry air and the white overhead lights of his room in the hospital, back to Dragonstone.

She told him that while he’d been on his knees with his hand over his face, trying to stop the blood and the remains of his eye from spilling onto the ground, Viserys had barked out his orders. He didn’t want ambulances or sirens because it would cause a scene in front of the guests. The shame, the damage it would do to the family’s image. Otto had persuaded him away from such a nonsensical idea and convinced Viserys to get the guests inside the house so Aemond and Jace’s injuries could be seen to.

He remembered shouting and sirens, blue lights and his mother’s hand clinging onto his before he blacked out. He had gone in for surgery almost immediately and woken the following evening surrounded by white walls, his mother and Criston Cole at his side.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron all stayed at Dragonstone while he was there. They said once he and Jace had been taken away, Viserys had gathered the entire family inside the house. With their faces all still red from crying and Jaya’s pretty white dress still coated in blood, he demanded to know the truth. 

They all knew what the truth was. Jace didn’t know his limits and Aegon didn’t care about his.

He could see it all happening in his head, walking towards the orchard with Jaya and Baela, catching Jaya when she tripped over a stone, her tipsy smile as she looked up at him, the pearl and the sapphire pendant settled against her chest.

Who knows what started the argument between Jace and Aegon, but suddenly Aemond had found himself between them.

“There he is,” Jace had sneered, but his voice quickly raised into a shout, “‘perfect’ Aemond Targaryen, fucking mummy’s boy, thinking he’s some kind of fucking diplomat!”

Aegon tried to shout back, “more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Aemond couldn’t make out everything through the way his voice slurred.

“Not so fucking perfect though, are you? You’re no worse than Aegon– no! You’re so much worse, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?

He’d watched Jace’s expression darken, his lips sneering into a sickening smile.

“You’ve got my sister wrapped around your fucking finger, fucking creep.”

He told himself Jace was just drunk. It didn’t matter what he thought… only it did. Jace could tell Rhaenyra or Viserys. Worse, he could talk to Jaya. She had always been devoted to her twin. She had picked Jace over Aemond before, in petty arguments when they were children. 

“You want her, don’t you? Don’t you!? She’s too good for you though, and you know it. You want her but you’ll never fucking have her!”

When Aemond’s fist collided with Jace’s jaw it was on pure instinct. He was sober enough to stop himself but he didn’t. He just kept going.

According to Aegon, when Viserys came to Jaya, she said that it was Aemond who had started the argument. Jace was in the orchard with the others, when Aemond had come from nowhere and threw the first punch. She had seen it, so had Baela, so had Luke and Joffrey. It was their word against Aegon and Daeron’s.

The official story was that it had been a tragic accident, one in which Rhaenyra’s children were certainly blameless.

She called him the night he got to Dragonstone but he let the phone ring. A week later she appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. She was hazy, or he was still delirious from sleep, his mother hovering over her shoulder, reluctant to leave them alone together.

He doesn’t remember most of the conversation now. He doesn’t want to remember it. He knows it ended with tears streaming down her cheeks, but her face was completely still. She didn’t flinch, didn’t distort her face, scrunch her nose or make an ugly shape with her mouth. She looked utterly beautiful and cried effortlessly. It wasn’t fair when he still had stitches sewn into his flesh to keep the left half of his face in place.

At one point she approached the bed and tried to touch his hand. He snatched it out of her grasp. When she tried again he pushed her away.

“Why did you do it?” she said. “You attacked Jace, why? Why? Why? Why?”

Because Jace could have taken away the one thing he thought was his, by right, by love. Instead he gave some bullshit excuse– Jace had threatened Aegon, insulted Daeron, insulted him. And what did it matter anyway? Viserys believed her. 

He needed her. He needed her and she pushed him away and cradled her coward of a brother in her arms. He needed her and she’d thrown it all back in his face with a slash of a broken bottle. He needed her, but she had made her decision.

“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He saw it in her face then, her desire to fight melting away. To Aemond that had always meant that she knew he was right.

“Show up here again, utter so much as a word to me again, and I’ll tear yours out as payment for mine.”

Some weeks later Aegon mentioned that she had abandoned her plans to go to KLU and instead found a place at the University of Pentos. She never tried to call after that and neither did he.

A layer of sweat clings to his skin and makes him shiver. He shrugs it off as he sits down at his desk, and spots a handwritten note sitting beside the keyboard of his laptop. Investment figures for Seasnake Shipping back to me by 7pm at the latest. Knowing Otto Hightower, that means an hour before the specified time.

In for three, hold for three, out for three. It always amazes him how well that trick works, he thinks as he takes out a packet from the top drawer of his desk and pushes out two tablets, the one good thing he’d gotten out of his year of therapy. He swallows the medication dry, suddenly regretting throwing away the bottle of water.

It’s nearly 6pm when Aemond has everything his grandfather wants, the names of Seasnake’s investors, the other companies they’re attached to, numbers and details he’s found buried in endless spreadsheets and pages of paperwork. He shouldn’t be able to see most of them but he has his ways. The Velaryons have been in business with the Targaryens for centuries and there are always trails to follow. 

A few familiar names appear, Rhaenyra Tagrayren, Daemon Targayren, married to each of Corlys’ children. Aemond was only a year old when his sister married Laenor, but he’s always known how sceptical his mother and grandfather were of the match. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra had to do. She wasn’t going to inherit Seasnake, that had been promised to Laena, the elder sibling, and she was already Viserys’ chosen heir, so what did she think she was going to get out of it? Not a loving husband, surely.

Other investors and partners include the names Stark and Arryn, both wealthy and well established families. He also sees the names Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, old names, though not as respected as they once were.

He leaves a note for his grandfather at the top of the document: Seasnake is being directed by a man who built his wealth to match his own pride, supported by opportunists with more money than sense.

With that task done he opens a new email to inform his father’s office that he’ll be absent from the event. He types it quickly and reads over it once before he can talk himself out of pressing send. He doesn’t give a reason why; Viserys should know why.

This leaves him just enough time to pack up and get ready for dinner.

The Red Keep has a series of apartments separated from the offices, where Aemond spent most of his childhood. The building is known as the Holdfast, with its own gatehouse leading into the city and gardens surrounded by high red brick walls. Historically it was built to house the extensive members of House Targaryen, but it is mostly empty now. His mother has had her own apartment for a few years, since Daeron moved out. The only one of his siblings to still live here now is Aegon, at Alicent’s insistence. 

Walking from his office to the Holdfast brings him through courtyards and underneath old battlements, until he comes to a facade with towers, tall windows and an unsuspecting wooden door, save for the armed guards standing either side of it. His mother’s apartments are on the first floor, along a gallery and up the grand staircase, past portraits and tapestries. The hallways get smaller the further in you go and soon he comes to the private rooms.

Alicent often dismisses the staff on quiet Friday evenings. The minute he’s in the door he is met with the sound of one of her 80s playlists, the scent of spices and her favourite lemon and lavender candles. He finds her in the kitchen, dark blue jeans, a white shirt, black pumps and her auburn curls pulled into a bun to show off her pearl earrings, stirring two pots on the stove. 

“Criston’s got me learning another one of his recipes,” she says, only looking at him for a moment, “I’ve got rice on too, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Aemond approaches her to kiss her on the cheek and takes a look inside the pots, one filled with chickpeas, the other with black lentils. “Is Aegon here?” he says.

“He’s in the lounge, tell him to set the table.”

Aemond watches her, entirely absorbed in the notebook on the counter next to the stove, with handwritten instructions. Nothing seems to be especially bothering her, even though the centenary event has had her on edge for over a month. She looks no different from the last time he saw her, before he knew about Jaya, when she was supposed to talk to him, supposedly.

“I want a drink first,” he says, whisky with no ice. He pours it for himself slowly while his mother hums along to Tears for Fears. “Do you know why grandfather wanted that information on Seasnake’s investors?” 

“Hmm? Oh he’s probably doing one of his checks, you know what he’s like. Good to keep an eye on everyone,” she says. She has a glass of red wine next to the notebook, though by the looks of it she’s hardly touched it. “He said something interesting about Rickon Stark recently, his son Cregan is in King’s Landing.”

Aemond pulls his glass away from his lips, the sweet sting of alcohol slipping down his throat. “Shouldn’t be too unusual, they’re attending next week.” Staying at Dragonstone no less, some of Viserys’ most honoured guests.

“He’s staying at Queen’s Lodge.”

That takes him by surprise. “Hmm,” he says, bringing the glass to his lips again.

“He and Jacaerys are quite close, Aegon tells me.”

The Starks had visited Dragonstone once or twice as summer guests, back when they were all kids. Cregan was always talkative and effortlessly charming, but it was obvious to Aemond that his warmth was far more calculated than anyone else believed. He made sure Jaya kept her distance, but Jace followed him around like a lost puppy for the weeks he’d stay with their family.

They would have studied together at White Harbour, though Cregan was a few years older than Jace. They could have met again and reconnected. Aemond doesn’t interact with his nephew outside of necessity.

“And what would Aegon know about it?” he says.

“More than you,” a voice calls from the doorway. Aegon has ditched his suit for brown cargos and a comically baggy sports shirt, leaning against the frame. “Ran into them last weekend,” he says, grinning coldly and running his tongue over his teeth. “The Starks are making some close personal connections with our sister’s family.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Alicent sighs.

Aegon scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. While their mother is still distracted, he looks at Aemond and raises his eyebrows. 

“Set the table, Aegon,” Aemond grumbles.

His brother does as he’s told. Aemond helps Alicent bring the dishes in. She sits at the head of the table, Aemond to her right, Aegon opposite him, to her left. She says a quick prayer to the Seven, as she always does. She asks the Mother to protect her children and asks the Crone for wisdom, for a light in dark and uncertain times. 

“Speaking of close personal connections,” Aegon says, already having wolfed down half of his plate. Aemond already hates the tone of this conversation. “We’ll finally get to meet Daeron’s new bit,”

“Do you have to say it like that?” Aemond says.

Aegon ignores him. “Are you excited to meet Nettles, mother?”

Daeron talks about her constantly. They met in Oldtwon while they were both studying. Now he’s working for the Citadel Institute, she’s some kind of journalist, and they live together in a perfect little flat that looks out over the Honeywine river. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“That can’t actually be her name, surely?” Alicent says.

“Perhaps it’s short for something,” Aemond says, prodding his food now to find himself with no appetite. He thinks about the drive he’ll have to make through the city, back to the empty house waiting for him on Silverwing Square.

“Nettles,” Aegon says, eyes on the ceiling like he’s trying to decipher a hidden meaning. “Nettles, like stinging nettles?”

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent says, looking down at the uneaten food on his plate, “what happened with Maris Baratheon, why is she not on the final guest list?”

Aegon smiles, folding his elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear an explanation like he hasn’t already coaxed it out of Aemond over too many bottles of wine at a steak restaurant on Conquest Street.

“Things didn’t work out with Maris,” Aemond says shortly. An understatement. The thought of their last conversation makes him nauseous.

“Aemond, sometimes I feel like you don’t love me.”

“I don’t think I do,” which felt untruthful, because he knew from the start that he never would. There were lots of things he liked about Maris. He liked that she was interested in him, he liked that she was blunt and unrelentingly honest, he liked that she had dark hair, and that she liked being fucked from behind and would let him press her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans. Soon the things he liked about her only felt like another reminder.

“Maris is old news, mother,” Aegon says.

“What a shame,” Alicent says, reaching for her wine again. “Oh well, I don’t think Viserys particularly likes her father anyway.”

“Well you know Aemond, always striving for perfection.”

Aemond’s eye meets Aegon’s over the table. His brother is trying not to grin, violet eyes bright from the light of the candelabra between them. Shadows catch on the hollow parts of his face, it makes him look tired but vicious. 

Then he looks to his mother. She eats slowly with small mouthfuls, not making eye contact with either of her sons. It’s not often he finds himself upset or angry with his mother, not since he was old enough to understand just how hard she has worked, or know what she’s had to put up with as the wife of Viserys Targaryen. Aemond knows she trusts him in a way that does not always extend to his siblings. 

But now all he can think is that she knows about Jaya. She knows, and she won’t even look at him.

Jaya could be in King’s Landing this very moment, lounging around Queen’s Lodge, looking out over the orchard she watered with Aemond’s blood while her mother fawns over her only daughter’s return.

He just needs to say it. He won’t go to Dragonstone if Jaya is there, he won’t stand to be in the same room as her, or breathe the same air as her. The thought already sends a feeling like flames licking up his spine that makes him restless with rage, with hurt and betrayal.

Aegon is still watching him and gives him a small nod. 

Aemond takes a soft breath through parted lips–

Until a sound comes from the hallway that makes them all freeze, the sound of the front door unlocking, opening, then slamming with an ear splitting bang!

Aemond feels his face harden, brows straining with every footstep that marches against the hardwood floors towards the dining room. 

Viserys appears in the threshold, dressed in one of his red and black suits, his face one of stone cold fury. He doesn’t look at Alicent, or Aegon, his eyes are fixed on Aemond.

He steps slowly into the room, placing one hand on the back of the chair closest to him at the head of the table, miles away from the rest of his family. His voice is quiet and clear through the stunned silence. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Alicent makes a stuttering, scoffing noise. “Viserys–”

He holds up a finger to silence her, his eyes widening in warning. “Aemond,” he says, “you will answer me.”

Aemond keeps his jaw clenched at first. He can feel his teeth wanting to chatter, anger aching in every part of his body. He cannot afford to show any sign of weakness or remorse, not in front of his father. But why does it feel so difficult to speak? He swallows through a dry feeling in his throat. “I thought I’d worded it all very simply–”

“Look at me when I speak to you, boy.”

He hadn’t realised his gaze had fallen to the table. He looks up with an expression that is as passive as he can manage. “I would have thought it would be obvious why I can’t go, with the recent addition to the guestlist.”

His head is turned completely so that Viserys is in his line of vision, but he hears his mother make a small sighing sound. “Aemond, I was going to–”

“ALICENT!” Viserys roars.

Aemond feels himself flinch but his gaze is unwavering. Why does he think he has any right to barge in here, to ask anything of them? 

If Aemond were to stand he’d be taller than his father, but he finds himself unable to move.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Viserys says to him. “This could be the single most important night for the family for centuries and you’re still holding onto childish grudges?”

Childish grudges. He was mutilated and forced to carry the blame because of a lie, but of course his father expects him to let go, to forgive and forget. 

He feels the leather of the eyepatch digging uncomfortably into his forehead and wishes more than anything he could just tear it off.

There are some things Aemond can argue with Viserys about, but they tend to be logical arguments, work related. The longer he looks at his father the more he remembers that no amount of sense could ever compare to the blind devotion Viserys has for his eldest child. There’s nothing Aemond can appeal to, not love or loyalty, not even sympathy.

“This is not about you, Aemond. This is about the bank, this is about the Targaryen name, our legacy, does that all mean nothing to you?”

“Of course it does,” Aemond says. He’s worked for nothing else his whole life, Dragon Bank, his heritage as a Targaryen, what is he without all of that? 

Viserys’ face softens a little, as if he thinks he’s made some kind of progress. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, it’s not in your nature.”

“Well then you clearly know nothing about me,” Aemond says, glaring up at him.

Viserys frowns. “You will be there, and I want to hear no more of it. You will be polite. You will grin and fucking bear it because that’s what the rest of us have to do.”

He’s delusional, he’s fucking delusional.

Aemond looks to his brother, slumped in his chair, his eyes even darker now. He has his hand around the stem of a wine glass. He’s been staring at the crimson liquid since their father walked in. He might have been expecting to be the target of Viserys’ anger tonight; he usually is. 

Aegon looks across at him, furious, exhausted, eager for this exchange to be over. He tilts his head in a questioning motion, though his lips stay firmly sealed.

All the years he spent trying to be the best that he could, how hard he pushed himself to get through that final year at KLU while recovering from his injury, all the hours he’s devoted to the family business, all the times he’s kept his mouth shut and his head held high, is this the hill Aemond is going to die on?

He won’t try to look at his mother, but he can guess she would have a similar reasoning. 

A fearsome wind from the Narrow Sea howls against the windows of Aemond’s black Jag. The road to Dragonstone is a desolate one, leading through a forest that might as well be nothingness in the dark. The headlights beam against the tarmac which turns and rises and falls, so he can never see what’s ahead of him.

There’s a burst of light as he approaches the gates. He hasn’t seen the gatehouse for years and remembers that he used to be scared of the stone dragon heads that stand open mouthed and teeth bared on either side, at the base of the turrets. Some hired security guard comes to his window, his demeanour changing completely when Aemond glares at him through a single eye. 

Cars line the acres of grass before the house, the driveway lined with lanterns and more statuettes of dragons. Dragonstone lies ahead in its full glory, lights on in every window, moonlight shining upon its ancient walls so the castle looms in shadows and silver. 

He must be one of the last people to arrive, the last of the important people, slotting the Jag next to a golden Dodge Charger he recognises as Aegon’s. The rest of the Targaryens all drive black cars.

He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for as long as he can stand to look at himself, glaring at the blunt edges of the sapphire in his left socket, dull and dark in the low light. The flesh around his eyelids are twisted and red, the scar itself deep but clean. His mother had suggested they could get it looked at, to make his eye seem less severe, but that’s what the eyepatch is for, to cover up the worst of his injury, for the comfort of others and not his.

He slips the leather patch over his head and secures it in place, careful not to mess up his hair in the process. 

One day he’ll make her look at it, the sapphire and the scar, maybe then she’ll understand what she put him through. Not tonight, no, tonight he intends to play it safe.

He effortlessly exits the car, checking his cuffs as he walks up to the front doors. A server offers him a glass of champagne when he steps into the entrance hall which he takes a small sip from, parched after his drive from King’s Landing. He knows his way through the opulent halls that have stayed the same for as long as he can remember, towards the hum of at least a hundred voices. 

The ballroom glimmers with reflected light, mirrors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses. The guests are all in their finery, tuxedos and floor length gowns, either in black or the colours of their houses. Some have started to take their seats around the circular tables, but many are still mingling.

Any head of silver hair stands out rather obviously, and the first he sees is his father standing in the centre of the ballroom, a smile on his face and his arm around his wife’s waist. Alicent is radiant in a gold gown that catches the warmth of the candles dotted about the room. She looks less than pleased being made to talk to Rhaenyra and Laenor– now there’s a surprise, he doesn’t usually make a habit of appearing at family events. Rhaenyra is in black, as is her husband, with a waistcoat embroidered with swirling gold patterns, like waves on the sea.

His eye continues to scour the room. He sees Helaena and Daeron with the girl he assumes is Nettles. He sees Aegon getting friendly with the Martell siblings. He sees Corlys and Rhaenys with Laena and Daemon. He sees Jacaerys standing with the Starks, closer than is friendly to Cregan. He sees those with the surnames Tyrell, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, all the others, and keeps searching.

She’s not where she’s meant to be, at the table closest to the high table where Viserys will sit with the board members. She’s not with her parents, she’s not at the bar, she’s not at the doors to the gardens. Each moment he does not find her fuels some kind of fire within him, adrenaline pumping through his blood, like he’s chasing something just out of his reach. 

A flash of loose, dark hair steals his attention. He doesn’t see her face at first but he notices when she nudges his shoulder as she passes him on his blind side, very nearly ending up with champagne down her silky, off white gown or spilled across the string of pearls sitting on her bare collar.

He apologises on instinct, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket that has only ever been intended as decorative.

“No harm done,” the woman insists. “It’s good stuff, I would have been mortified to waste any of it.”

He recognises her face, the slanted nose, the sharpness of her cheeks, her bright green eyes and unsettlingly perfect smile. He’s seen her at press events, some kind of relation to the Strongs, but not close enough that she’d ever be invited to any personal occasions.

“Alys Rivers,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Deputy editor for Seven.” He’s heard of it, a high society gossip magazine, they often run stories about his family, Daemon and Aegon mostly, the rest of them clearly aren’t newsworthy.

“You used to work for the Harrenhal Observer, didn’t you?” he says.

“I did,” she says, “between you and me though, I think cousin Larys felt a little threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aemond says, noticing a pair of girls who are oddly familiar to him. He can’t place their names but he thinks they might be old friend’s of Jaya’s. They approach Jace, turning their heads around frequently like they’re looking for something. “How so?”

“He thought I was too opinionated,” Alys says, keeping her eyes on his.

“I didn’t think there could be such a thing,” Aemond says, though now he thinks he recognises the girls from one of the parties at Maegor’s Square, from years ago. One of them meets his gaze and quickly looks away. 

“The Observer is supposedly a neutral publication after all, I had a few things to say about the working conditions at the Casterly Rock mines which caused quite a stir.”

That’s where he recognises her name from. Viserys wasn’t happy with the article given their ties to the Lannisters and their gold. It sets off a silent alarm in his head, suddenly her gaze is a little too scrutinising for his liking and he’s aware of every breath he takes, shallow or deep, soft or sharp, she could use anything against him.

“I heard a rumour you weren’t going to be attending tonight’s event,” she says.

“It’s Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary,” he says, “I’m incredibly proud of all the work my family has put into the last five hundred years.”

“You say that like you’re expecting this conversation to go to print.”

“That’s why you approached me, is it not?”

She hums a gentle laugh to herself as her gaze roams over his suit, black, simple and perfectly fitted. She looks back to his face, he sees the way her eyes flicker to his left side. She smiles lazily in a way that makes him wonder if she’s trying to flirt, and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer until he can smell the classic, musky scent of her perfume. He lets her do it, lets her lips get closer to his ear.

“I only wanted to see if you had something interesting to say,” Alys whispers over the noise of the party.

He glances up, towards the grand fireplace at the end of the room. Gold plated engravings of dragons intertwine and spread their wings, framing the fire that burns within.

She’s standing there, a glass of champagne in one hand, in an emerald green dress suited for summer, loose fabric, exposing her arms, her hair pulled up into a style that’s effortlessly elegant.

Their eyes meet. It’s like electricity strikes his heart.

Six years fades into oblivion, she looks different and exactly the same. He can almost believe he’s never known a life without her, but she’s always been there, hasn’t she? An unspoken secret, living in the lightest and the darkest parts of his mind. 

He can see the moment of recognition, when her expression goes from passive and proud to alert, eyes widening, lips falling, her hand lowering the glass to the nearest surface.

It’s dangerous how quickly he can already feel himself start to slip. He’s had seven days to prepare and part of him is still in disbelief that Jaya is a living, breathing person and not just a memory. Another part of him is calm and unsurprised, like he’s always known she was going to come back. To King’s Landing, to the family business, to him.

He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his head or his chest, but he feels empty, starved to the point of ravenous. 

Jaya starts to move through the crowd, towards the glass doors that lead to an outlook over the gardens and the sea. It only sparks excitement for Aemond, imagining all the thoughts that could be swimming through her head, anger, pride, fear. By the Seven he hopes one of those is fear.

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“What?” he says, looking back to Alys.

“I thought I’d refresh my memory a little before I came here tonight. It’s been six years since Jaya Velaryon was in King’s Landing. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”

Close. 

Close like the way Jaya used to hug him when they were children. She’d wrap her little arms so tightly around his chest or his neck that he could hardly breathe. He’d tell her to stop, shove her away, but then she’d only cry, and he could never say no to her after that. 

Close like their minds worked in the same way, when they only needed to look at each other a certain way to know what they were both thinking.

Close like the air of his bedroom the first night they kissed, feeling the shared warmth, her body against his, the softness of her skin, when she tasted like wine and smelled like smoke.

Close was never close enough, but what difference did it make?

“Then there was that accident at Queen’s Lodge. The press release was so vague, it only said you and Jacaerys were recovering from minor injuries…”

Aemond glares at her, the same look that would usually silence Aegon, but Alys Rivers is not afraid of his warning.

She makes a gesture to his eye. “I mean, clearly one injury was more severe than the other. Curious that Jaya left for Pentos so soon after that when she was due to start at KLU that year. Why did she leave, do you know?”

Aemond pushes past her without another word, towards the glass doors that only Jaya has passed through in the last minute or so. The other guests are starting to take their places at the tables now. He sees Rhaenyra and Laenor looking around the room, having gathered their other three brats. His own mother tries to capture his attention but his mind can only think of one thing. He walks towards the doors as calmly as he can, even though it feels as if his life depends on reaching them, on reaching her.

The doors lead out to a patio, seemingly empty right up to the balustrade. He walks to the edge, the noise of the party lost to the roar of the wind and the waves in his ears, no doubt his hair will be blown into a mess but he doesn’t care.

Everything below him is black, out of reach from the lights of the castle. Then he spots something, a flicker of flame far below him, down a series of steps, out of view, down at an outlook over the sea. She shields it with her hand, lighting a cigarette by the look of it, until the end glows with a red ember.

He walks slowly, savouring the sound of every step his shoes make against the paving stones. He keeps his hands in his pockets, single eye fixated on the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her spine and her waist through the dress.

He tries to guess the moment she realises when she’s not alone. She angles her head slightly as he reaches the bottom of the steps, still a good distance away from her. He watches her take one drag from the cigarette before she lowers it, resting her hand against the stone balcony.

He comes close enough to realise she’s shaking, jaw clenched, looking almost determinedly out across the sea. The wind cuts across his cheeks like it’s burning his skin, so how she can stand to be out here with nothing to protect herself from the cold is almost admirable. It is also foolish of her.

Goosebumps bloom over her skin, skin he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

And she won’t look at him.

She won’t look at him.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @asumofwords @summerposie @thedamewithabook @ammo23 @valyrianflower @jiminie-08 @magnificentdelusionr @hiddencurator

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 1 The Dragon

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 1103

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

“Да. Good. Make sure she stays that way. Now, tell me everything.” Bucky listens to his henchman’s answer, pissed in general but only getting truly angry when he hears one specific detail. “She was with who?! Ублюдок!!” He takes the phone away from his face for a second as he curses in three different languages. Fucking Gleb. He fucking knew it. He’s going to cut his fucking dick off! When he brings the phone back up to his face, all he utters is a deathly quiet, “We’re in the Dragon’s Den. Get them here. Both of them.” He ends the call.

The gun at Bucky’s back has stopped buzzing. Funny, how it’s the sudden lack of pain that makes goosebumps rise to his skin. “Boss?” Natasha asks.

Bucky’s eyes flick over to Steve, who’s sitting next to the Karpovs on the couch. One moment of intense eye contact between the two of them, and Steve’s face goes wan in recognition. Tight-lipped, Bucky gives an almost imperceptible nod of confirmation. Steve squares his shoulders and pushes up to standing to go over to the bar. The guy has an almost preternatural ability to predict Bucky’s wants and needs, which is one reason why he’s risen through the ranks so fast (well, it's one, leastways). He artfully flips a lowball, knowing what this situation calls for without having to be told; ice and two fingers of the Russo-Baltique that’s so expensive, Bucky once stabbed a guy’s hand into a table for drinking it without permission.

Steve delivers the glass and retreats to stand sentinel along the wall. Bucky sips, sets it down, growls and grabs it up again. He rolls the liquor in his mouth as he fumes, a dark plan starting to form in his head. It comes together quickly, because it’s not like he hasn’t spent plenty of time fantasizing about it before now. What he’d do when he finally got her back.

His little one is tenacious and likes to make trouble. She has a penchant for running away, but she’s never lasted this long before. It’s been over ten months—long enough to put the fear of God in Bucky that he could actually lose her for good, if he isn’t more careful. So, he has to be careful, has to make a statement, send a message. He has to make it stick.

Luckily, when it comes to “sending messages,” Bucky Barnes can be very creative. Like tattooing, torture is an oft underappreciated artform. “Dimi,” he barks. “I’m expecting some special guests tonight. Go and sort things out downstairs. I want the place packed by ten—Make sure it’s with the right people.”

“Boss?” Lev pipes up, confused. He’s Karpov’s kid brother: new, inexperienced but eager, still “earning his scales,” as the boys like to say.

Dimitri jerks his head for his brother to follow him. “Boss wants a demonstration. C’mon.” He’s already got his phone out as they leave the room to get things arranged. Bucky’s “demonstrations” usually require plastic sheeting and a crowd of people who are either Hydra themselves, or else educated enough to know to keep their mouths shut about Bratva business.

“Where’d they find her?” Steve asks.

Bucky scoffs, still fuming. “Floating off the coast of Belize. On my own fucking yacht. Can you even believe that?”

“Sounds like her.”

“Lena?” Nat hums. “Who’d you send?”

“Maximoff and Belova have her.” Bucky grits his teeth at the sting as Natasha uses a wet cloth to wipe off the excess blood and ink. He can feel her scrutinizing her work. “You can keep going,” he tells her, but she ‘tsks’ in that way that only a Russian tongue can really do.

“We’ll come back to it. Skin behaves differently when you’re not relaxed.”

“I’m am relaxed!” He hears how ridiculous he sounds and heaves a long sigh, trying to let his shoulders untense to at least somewhere below the level of his ears. “I’m relaxed.”

“Keep saying it and it might come true.” Nat rolls away on her stool, peeling off her gloves with finality. “Your blood pressure and vodka’ll push the ink out faster than I can stick it. Just come over to the Red Room once it’s done scabbing and we’ll finish it then.”

She’s already packing up her stuff when Bucky gets the idea. “Wait.” He narrows his eyes at the rolling toolkit that Nat keeps in the club’s upstairs lounge just for him and his men. “Do me a favor,” he says slowly, the idea taking shape in his mind. “Run down to the shop and print out a transfer for me. Cyrillic. A small font. Something pretty but … bold. Easy to read.”

Natasha tenses. “What do you want it to say?”

“собственность дракона.”

“No,” she says, and when Bucky looks over, she’s standing ramrod straight.

“Clearly, you disapprove.”

“I’m not inking it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he snaps, low on patience tonight, even for Natasha. “Print it out on a goddamn transfer sheet and bring it to me.”

She’s doing that dead faced thing she does—where she goes still like a doll to avoid making some expression she doesn’t want you to see. Right now, Bucky suspects it might be sheer disdain. “Size?” she asks. “Shaping?”

“One line straight up the forearm. Delicate lettering, but clear as a fucking bell to read.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what spacing—”

“You know how big she is, you figure out the fucking spacing!” he yells. “Or what the fuck am I even paying you for?!”

Natasha goes eerily still, then abruptly pivots to leave, the severe line of her hair whipping around with the motion. She’s unhappy with him.

“Red ink!” Bucky calls out, the door slamming shut after her a millisecond later. He grinds his teeth together and stands up from the chair he’s been perched in for the past three hours, carrying his drink over to the mirrors so that he can get a better look at his back.

Scales, teeth, claws. Crouched and curling across his shoulders, tendrils creeping up onto his neck, marking him as what he is: Дракон.

The Dragon.

“Will you help me?” he asks Steve, quiet now that it’s just the two of them.

“Depends on what you want me to do.”

“It depends”—No other man in the Bratva could give such an answer and expect to remain in one piece. But Steve’s gaze is steadfast when Bucky meets it and tells him, “She’s gotten away with too much for too long. It’s time to shorten the leash.”

In the mirror, Steve’s eyes darken. He nods.

Take me to part 2!

Masterlist

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[mitsuyeaah]

TRAIL OF BROKEN HEARTS

TŌRU OIKAWA x f! reader

“cause i’ve made some real big mistakes but you made the worst one look fine. i should’ve known it was strange.”

cw: college au, older brother’s best friend!oikawa (older brother is iwaizumi ofc), mutual pining (but oikawa is dumb and doesn’t know how to handle his feelings), nsfw (mdni), slight angst, smut, drunk sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol use (brief), pet names (baby, pretty girl)

word count: 5.9k

a/n: for my pookie tōru!!! hehe of course i’m posting something for him, i’ve been having severe tōru brainrot and i just HAD to write. © divider: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

“Say it..” Oikawa panted, umber eyes staring intently at your own, clouded with lust.

Loud music that penetrated the thin walls of the frat house slowly turned mellow—the sharp beats, and bass that had vibrations coursing through your veins were drowned out as every minute passed. Occasional cheers of many intoxicated college students that littered the house were watered down into a muffled mess as your ears rang from the sheer tension slowly building inside the walls of this very room you were in. That’s right, it was only the two of you—you and Oikawa, all alone with the door locked behind him.

Your cheeks warmed under his intense stare, moonlight that seeped from the window casting a faint glow on the side of his handsome face, accentuating his features and bringing out its sharpness that you’ve grown to love—pools of endless hazel glimmering from the silvery light. You swallowed thickly, his hot breath fanning over your face as he waited for your response. Your skin burned under Oikawa’s touch, his hand rested on your hip, and the other planted on the pillow, just beside your head to brace his torso.

He needed you to say that you wanted him—all of him—before doing anything further with you. Yes, his head spun from the mix of lust and alcohol but he was still in the right mind to ask you whether you wanted this or not because after all, you were his best friend’s younger sister. God, there were so many things wrong with this but neither of you cared; not when you’ve already exchanged a passionate kiss before entering the room, moaning his name into his mouth as his lips desperately collided against your own.

Fuck, Oikawa had been waiting, waiting, and waiting for this. There wasn’t a day where his mind didn’t wander to you, sometimes wandering a bit too deep for his liking which usually ended up with his hand wrapped around his hard cock, desperately fisting it as your name escapes his parted lips. He’s been waiting long enough, and tonight was the night he decided to do something about whatever he felt deep inside. Oikawa knew he’d be dead if he ever told Hajime about any of this, which is why he kept it all to himself but it didn’t help how his fantasies drove him up the wall—his body yearning for you to the extent where he swore it was almost painful.

Everything that led up to this moment was a blur, kind of. All you knew was that Oikawa was all over you as soon as you stepped foot in the house. His hand wrapped loosely around your waist, him pulling you onto his lap, his lingering stares; normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye at him since he effortlessly made you nervous in his presence but you blamed the alcohol in your system. Oikawa mentally cursed himself for being so mean by slightly rejoicing at the fact that his best friend—your brother—couldn’t make it to tonight’s party due to being rostered for a shift.

This was all new to you because Oikawa had never given you this much attention for the entirety that you’ve known him—the two of you weren’t even close. Your older brother, Hajime, being the middle ground for both you and Oikawa. There were small exchanges of formalities here and there but that was just about it but tonight was different, he followed you everywhere and you let him—like two celestial bodies locked in an endless orbit around each other, bound by gravity. But what exactly was this gravity for both of you?

There was this voice at the back of your mind that told you this was wrong. That this would end it a messy disaster, given his reputation—not only loved and adored by many women but also surrounded. A ladies’ man, if you must, all thanks to his popular history with volleyball. You’ve always known deep down that Oikawa would never reciprocate your feelings because he merely saw you as Hajime’s younger sister, and acted like nothing but an older brother to you. But up until now, everything you believed didn’t seem so believable anymore; not when Oikawa had you underneath him, eyes blown with pure lust.

Maybe this time, this time you’ll shut out that pesky little voice in your head because you wanted nothing more than him—the man that’s got you trapped between his body and the mattress in a stranger’s bedroom, your brother’s best friend. Whatever comes after this, you’ll face head on but you trusted Oikawa to handle your heart gently despite the trails of broken hearts he’s left behind—something in you knew he wasn’t going to let you down. Nonetheless, you prayed to the stars above that you were right about this. About him.

Pleasure now, consequences later.

“I want you..” You breathed out, chest heaving up and down as your breaths became shallower with every passing minute.

Oikawa cursed under his breath before dipping his head down to kiss you. This time, his kisses weren’t as eager as earlier, they were slow and sensual; cherishing every second the way your pillowy lips moved against his own, and how it felt. The desperation behind Oikawa’s kisses were long gone, like he was rest assured that you weren’t going anywhere else, that you chose to be here with him. You reached your hands out, shakily grabbing the collar of his shirt as he shoved his tongue past your lips.

He placed a knee between your legs, situating it under your skirt, right at the apex where you needed him the most but he didn’t dare move it; it drove you absolutely crazy, the pressure on your cunt was there but it wasn’t enough to elicit some kind of pleasure—it also didn’t help how there was no friction at all. Whining into his mouth, you moved your hips up and down, grinding your clothed cunt against his knee. Oikawa pulled away from the heated kiss, the corners of his lips tugging into a smirk as he watched you desperately rut your hips into his knee. “How eager..” His tone was saccharine, sweeter than what he usually uses around other women.

If Oikawa was being honest right now, he was completely shitting himself. Not because it was his first time, no, but because it was you. You weren’t some other woman who would fall to his feet from mere flirtatious expressions which were often not genuine—hell, he’s pretty sure you never even saw him as a man but instead just another older brother figure. Oikawa knows this was wrong, completely wrong; he won’t blame you if you were confused out of your mind right now, given how he’s been acting neutral towards you for the past years you’ve known each other, and now suddenly he was all over you.

It was like he was put in a trance as his eyes wandered across your features. Fuck, you looked so pretty and it was all for him. Oikawa hastily grabbed the hem of your blouse and yanked it above your head, exposing the white lacy bra you donned underneath—his eyes traced your front, from the valley of your breasts down to your stomach. You were only half naked and yet you already left him speechless.

Oikawa didn’t hesitate to strip down to his underwear, he also didn’t give your eyes enough time to wander down his torso by flipping your skirt up and parting your legs further. At this point, the alcohol coursing through his body made him hornier and more impatient. He planted your feet on the bed, bringing your knees up before peppering your inner thighs with sloppy, wet kisses that earned small whimpers from you—Oikawa held your gaze as he kissed your clothed cunt.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you stared at his lustful gaze, your hands gripping the hem of your skirt at his lewdness. It wasn’t your first time having sex with someone but Oikawa was just so different from the ones you’ve slept with—so lewd, so dirty, and not as adventurous as the other’s you’ve had. “O-Oikawa.. Haah..” A moan slipped past your lips as he licked the wet spot on your underwear, the tip of his tongue stiffening to apply pressure at your sopping entrance.

“Hmm? So wet f’me already..” You threw your head back at the friction from his fingers that were rubbing up and down your clothed cunt. Oikawa’s smug smile widened as the wet spot on your panties grew from his ministrations, earning another moan from you as you clenched around nothing. “Oikawa, please. I want you in me..” You whined, the warmth from your cheeks spreading to your ears as you held his gaze. You didn’t miss the way his hazel eyes glimmered at your pathetic plea.

He tilted his head to the side, fingers still rubbing at your clothed cunt, “Oh? It looks like you don’t want me at all, baby. Your begging sounds pathetic.” The drunken words he slurred earned a slight whimper from you. You felt defeated that he was making you beg more for him when you were already as impatient as you could get. “Mhm.. Please, Tōru..? Fuck. I want your cock inside me.”

Oikawa would’ve asked you to beg for him more if you didn’t use his first name. Fuck, something about the way his name rolled off your tongue made his cock twitch. He used to fantasise about you moaning his name underneath him, and now that it’s right in front of him, he won’t let it go any time soon.

“Let’s get these off first, hm? Show me yourself, pretty girl.” Oikawa skilfully snaked his hands behind your back to unclasp the lacy restriction on your chest. Before you could even compose yourself, he eagerly pulled your bra from your chest—goosebumps immediately forming from the cool night air. “Oikawa, h-hold on..!” Your arms defensively crossed over your chest, hiding your breasts from his view. “Mmm, there’s no reason to hide from me is there? After all, I’m going to be fucking that sweet cunt soon.” Oikawa circled his hands around your wrists, gently tugging them out of the way and pinning them on either side of your head to expose your breasts.

He bit his lip at the view. Fuck, it was just like how he imagined when he fisted his cock to the thought of you. Your heart pounded against your chest, getting extremely shy from the way Oikawa was eyeing your breasts a little too long for your liking. He let out a breathless laugh, not missing the way you turned your head to the side from embarrassment. He slowly let go of your wrists to cup at each mound, his large palms perfectly covering the entirety of each breast.

Your lips parted to let out a soft moan, face contorting in pleasure as Oikawa massaged your breasts—he switched between squeezing the supple skin and lightly pinching at your hardened buds, earning a small yelp from you. “Baby, as much as I’d love to spend more time playing with your tits, I’m sure we both have one thing in mind.” He gave you a saccharine smile before placing a chaste kiss on the valley of your breasts.

Oikawa pulled back to remove the last article of clothing he had on, your keen eyes watched as he slowly pulled down the fabric, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen as he fully exposed himself. You bit your lip at his cock, your gaze tracing every ridge along his shaft. Not only was it pretty but fuck, was it long. Pride swelled upon Oikawa’s chest as he saw the way you keenly eyed his cock. You watched as he wrapped a hand around the shaft and languidly stroked it, throwing his head back in pleasure.

As if on instinct, you sat up from the mattress with your hands jutted, wanting to grab his pretty cock—your head spun a bit from the swift movement. “Ah, ah, ah. There’s another time for that, my pretty. I want to be inside you right now.” Oikawa grabbed your shoulder and gently pushed your torso back down on the mattress before climbing over your body once again.

Another time? Was that a sincere promise or an empty one? You couldn’t help but think.

With your skirt flipped up, he pushed aside your soaked panties to tease his tip at your wet entrance. You threw your head back at the raw skin contact, allowing Oikawa to dip his head down to pepper your collarbone with open-mouthed kisses.

“Fuck.. P-Please just put it in, ‘Kawa..” “Mhm, that’s Tōru for you.”

Oikawa breathlessly chuckled against your skin, and before you could retort, he pushed the blunt tip of his cock past your wet folds, earning a whine from both of you. Your hands flew to wrap around his torso, nails gently scratching at his back as he pushed his cock in inch by inch—tracing every dip and curve of his back muscles. Oikawa’s eyes rolled back at the sensation of your nails running down his back, sending a shiver up his spine as the pleasure within him grew.

“S-shit..! You’re so fucking tight, huh? This pussy is taking me so well—aah!” He let out a heated gasp as you clenched around him, his arms trembling and almost giving up from it. “Ngh! Just put it all in, Tōru.. I can take you.” Oikawa almost moaned out loud, not only did you use his first name again but you also reassured him that you could take his length just fine. That there was no need to hold back with you. His arms wobbled as he pushed the rest of his length in.

With his cock fully sheathed inside you, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out a long loud whine. Oikawa stayed that way for a while, heavy pants leaving his lips as he pulled himself together. Fuck, you were squeezing him so good. His nails dug deep into his palms as you scratched his back once again from the way the blunt tip of his cock kissed your cervix, he was about to lose his mind and he hadn't even started thrusting yet. “What? Best pussy you’ve had?” You panted, one hand snaking up to play with his chestnut strands.

Normally, Oikawa would’ve retorted with something cockier but what you said was true. He’d been fantasising long enough about your sweet cunt but he didn’t know it was going to be this good. Too good. “Of course.. And it’s all mine, yeah? Fuck, this pussy is all mine and no one else’s.” He lifted his head from your neck to meet your gaze—his cheeks were now a shade of crimson, lids heavy from lust.

“Yes, Tōru. All yours. I’m all yours.”

You didn’t miss the way Oikawa sucked in a sharp breath as he held your gaze. Both of you knew there was weight to your words—it had meaning behind them, and not spurred like a drunken, meaningless confession at the heat of the moment. But that was reserved for the morning, at least.

He pulled his hips back and started thrusting while giving you a passionate kiss, earning a loud muffled moan from you. Oikawa couldn’t believe this was actually happening and fuck, it was definitely much better than having a hand around his cock while imagining it was your cunt. The sound of skin slapping, squelching, and heated moans bounced around the thin walls of the room as he picked up his pace. Fortunately, these erotic sounds coming from the two of you were enough to be drowned out by the loud music originating from the living room.

Normally, Oikawa would’ve had you in a ‘face down, ass up’ position just like with the other girls he’s had—mainly because it was his favourite position but something about being in missionary with you was different, despite how boring he thought the position to be; Oikawa wanted to see the entirety of you, how you reacted to the pleasure he gave you, your breasts bouncing with every sharp thrust of his hips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. All of it. Not to mention how intimate the position was, being able to look into your pretty eyes as he pounded into you, and whisper sweet praises that only you can hear.

“F-fuck..! So tight for me—ngh! Just like how I ima—aah! ..How I imagined.” Oikawa rested his forehead against your own, his hot breath fanning over your face as he angled his hips to drive his cock deeper. You let out a broken moan at the feeling of his heavy balls slapping your ass over and over again which each thrust; the slapping was so harsh that it felt like your skin was burning but fuck it burned so good. “Ha—aah! Tōru..! So so good—ngh!” Oikawa breathlessly chuckled at your broken moans before grabbing your leg to prop over his shoulder, driving his cock deeper into you.

You arched your back at the new angle, a heated gasp leaving your lips in the form of his name as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Oikawa held onto the headboard with one arm, the other one planted beside your head before moving his hips harder and faster, causing the bed to squeak loudly. His lips were parted, endless desperate whines escaping as his pretty face contorted in pure bliss—his sounds definitely did not disappoint, they were breathy and higher in pitch, so desperate and needy. His moans and whines went straight to your cunt, making you wetter with each erotic sound that came from the man above you.

“Mhm—aah! Yeah? Better than any dick you’ve had, right? Haah! Of course it is..” You clenched around him, earning a loud heated gasp, and his head bowing in pleasure. “So perfect f’me, my pretty girl..” Oikawa whined, bringing his lips closer to yours—he had a hard time chasing them due to your body jolting from his quick, rough thrusts; his own lips were parted, sloppily kissing you with desperation.

Your moans increased in pitch as the familiar knot in your stomach was slowly starting to thin, and ready to snap any time soon. “Ah..! Haah..! T-Tōru—ngh! I’m cu—ah! I’m cumming!” You tugged at his hazel strands, back arching off the mattress as your limbs started to tingle with pleasure. Oikawa moaned against your sweaty skin at the feeling of his hair being pulled, he had his face buried on your neck, his whines and whimpers loud against your ear. “Y-Yeah? Mhm—ah! Fuck! That’s right, cum for me, my pretty.” He trailed wet kisses along the side of your neck and up your jaw, leading to your lips.

“Look at me. Look at me when you fucking cum so you know who’s cock is making you feel this good—haah!” He pulled away from the heated kiss, grabbing your chin to keep his gaze on him by using the hand that was previously on the headboard, while the other rubbed tight circles on your clit. You looked up at Oikawa, his umber hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, no longer swept in a neat hairstyle. His lips were red, and swollen, parted to let out heavy pants while staring into your eyes. Fuck, he was beautiful. You couldn’t help but think that all the other women he’s had have seen this view before as well.

Oikawa looked down at you, eyelids threatening to close from immense pleasure but he didn’t dare give in, he wanted to see your face while you came around his cock—the face he’d been fantasising about since the day he realised he had feelings for you. Your face contorted in pleasure as the knot deep in your stomach finally snapped, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you screamed in silence, orgasm washing over your entire body as you came around him. Oikawa cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your face while breathlessly whispering sweet nothings as you two locked gazes. Your body trembled with a cry of his name, pleasure shooting up your spine, “Tōru..!” “F-Fuck! I’m here, baby.. Ngh!—So so good for me..” He whined desperately as you clenched around his cock, his hips stuttering.

“I—aah! Inside..” You moaned, head lolling to the side as you came down from your high. Oikawa didn’t know if he heard that right or he was just drunk, “Wha— Huh..?” Your words definitely sobered him up a bit but it made his head spin. “Cum inside me. Please, Tōru.. I want all of you.” He cursed under his breath, giving you a few more hard thrusts before letting go. Oikawa sheathed his cock deep inside you and held your torso against him, his arms securely wrapped around your trembling body as he lifted your back off the mattress.

With your chests pressed against each other, he gave you quick shallow thrusts as he came, fucking his cum deeper into you while moaning you name close to your ear. The leg that was propped on his shoulder burned from the stretch but you didn’t care, not when he was fucking you this good. “A-aah! Fuck..! That’s it—ngh! God, I love you so much.” Oikawa whined as he pressed his fingers against your back, the last bit of his hot cum spurting inside you. The two of you plopped down on the mattress with a soft thud, his head buried in the junction of your neck, letting out heavy pants as he tried collecting himself.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, your hands gently playing with his messy hair as you stared up at the ceiling, realisation slowly washing over you as you sobered up more than ever. Instead of catching your breath, it turned into panicked ones, realising that you’ve had sex with your older brother’s best friend. Oikawa noticed this and looked up at you, holding your panicked gaze as you were already looking down at him.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I love you? Did he really mean that or was it just from the heat of the moment? You definitely heard him say it, so you knew you weren’t just making it up, not when his lips were that close to your ear.

How foolish, you thought. What happens now? Worry settled in as you remembered the trail of broken hearts he had behind him. You knew it was wrong to judge a person this way but everyone—your brother included—was aware of the relationships Oikawa had. Yes, no one is perfect but yet most—if not all—his past relationships weren’t ideal, and some didn’t even last more than a month long while some clearly were just a one night stand. Was that where you stood with him? Just a one night stand? You let out a shaky exhale, “Tōru—” Oikawa cut you off with a sensual kiss, his lips eagerly moving against your own as if he had an idea of what was about to come next.

This didn’t make you feel better. You didn’t know why but there was something in your mind telling you that he wasn’t going to leave you hanging like this; your mind suddenly went back to earlier tonight, where Oikawa basically gravitated towards you, following you wherever you went. You felt something back there, like he wasn’t holding himself back anymore—not selling himself short like what he’s been doing for all the years you’ve known each other. Like he wore his heart on his sleeve.

He broke away from the kiss, umber eyes tracing your features as his thumb gently swiped your bottom lip. “D-did you really mean that..?” You stared into his eyes but he didn’t return your gaze nor answered the question, “Shhh.. Let’s just stay like this for a while.” Oikawa rolled over to the side, wrapping his arm around you from behind and resting his chin atop your head. You stared at the wall in front of you, unmoving and mind racing with unwanted thoughts. No matter how much his hand massaged your hip, it didn’t put you at ease because now you didn’t know where you stood with Oikawa after sleeping with him. Fuck, how were you even going to face your brother? What would he think of you?

Shit. You wouldn’t even know how to face Oikawa the next time you see him after this, that is, if you do see him. Not only did unwanted thoughts plague your mind but you also felt disgusting. For doing something like this with your brother’s best friend; yes, you’ve had feelings for him for as long as you could remember but did he even reciprocate them? Or did Oikawa just stick beside you tonight because you both had alcohol and he wanted to get in your pants? No. He asked you earlier if you really wanted this with him and you said yes.

Maybe you weren’t so foolish after all. Or so you thought.

It had been a few days since that night and you were fucking restless. Every single time your phone chimed from a notification, you’d be quick to grab it, hoping it's from the man you’ve been wanting to hear about but disappointment washes over you when his name doesn’t pop up. Panic builds up as the days pass without hearing anything from Oikawa. You didn’t even know why you were waiting, it wasn’t like he owed you anything but you just thought that maybe it would be different for you. It also wasn’t like he was obligated to contact you, maybe you really were just a one night stand for him, and that attraction you felt was one sided. Were you just really imagining it all? Were you just waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen?

“Iwa-chan!” You were pulled back from your trance as you heard a familiar voice coming from the living room, where Hajime was. Closing your notebook, you stood up from your desk and took a few steps before peeking through the slight crack of your door to see Oikawa happily chatting with your older brother. Your heart skipped a beat upon seeing his face, legs tingling with eagerness to go to him but what would you even say? It’s not like he promised you a relationship that night nor did he confess his feelings. You couldn’t help but remember those three words he told you but at this point, it looked like it was just from the heat of the moment. Those three words probably didn’t have any weight to it like it did when you stated that you were all his.

You stiffened as your brother called out your name, instinctively ducking down as if he caught you peeking. Making your way out of your room, you tried to act as normal as possible. “We’re going to head out for a bit. Do you want anything?” “Mmm, any food is fine. Thanks..” You replied before shifting your gaze to Oikawa who stared off to the side, not even acknowledging your presence. Normally, he would smile at you whenever he came over or even give you a pat on the head while he greets you. Hajime nodded before ushering his best friend out the door, Oikawa didn’t even look back. Not even once.

The door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the whole apartment, and you were left with your mess of feelings. Ah, so he’s ignoring me, you thought. You didn’t even know why you were feeling this way. Was it because you hoped for something more given the feelings you’ve held for Oikawa for the past years? You sat on the couch, not knowing what to do—your mind kept replaying the words he said to you that night. How he told you he loved you; how he said he’s been imagining you in ways you didn’t even know. What was the meaning of that? You knew better than to believe these words given how his personality is but you couldn’t help hoping that there was at least some kind of feeling behind them.

You buried your face in your palms, letting out a deep sigh. You couldn’t even get angry at Oikawa because he never led you on in any way. For him, what happened that night was just plain sex but for you, you thought he was finally seeing you in a different light and not just his best friend's younger sister. And now you’re left with nothing but confusion. Another statistic to the trail of broken hearts that he wore like a cape, dragging behind him. You were frustrated at yourself for letting your feelings completely overtake your common sense.

A few days turned into a week but nothing changed for you. Oikawa was still on your mind but he never reached out to you—not that he was obligated to but you figured it was necessary, given his deep-rooted friendship with Hajime. At least a little discussion about that night would’ve helped you with your thoughts a bit but no, your mind was still a swirling mess. You cursed yourself every time you remembered your foolish mistake, you knew what you were getting yourself into and yet you bit onto the bait without thinking about the dire consequences to not only your feelings but also your relationship with Oikawa.

Maybe after all, you were just imagining it. That was the easiest fact there was—being delusional because you had feelings for him, so you instantly misread what he told you that night. You looked into words that never had a meaning behind them. Baseless sentences that held no feelings.

Deciding to study at a nearby café on a whim, you enter the cosy shop, the distinct aroma of roasted coffee beans and warm atmosphere of the café immediately putting your mind at ease. The café was filled with the soft chatter of customers, and the sounds of the coffee machine. Before taking a few steps to the counter where the cashier stood behind, you noticed a familiar brown-haired man sitting at one of the tables, and he wasn’t alone. Your heart skipped a beat as Oikawa already had his hazel gaze on you, his expression somewhere between surprised and panicked. He noticed your gaze drift to the person who sat in front of him—a woman—who happily talked about something you couldn’t exactly hear.

Seeing Oikawa with other women wasn’t new to you. After all, you’ve known him long enough for you to become accustomed to this sight despite your heart breaking a little. Throughout the years, you’ve managed to patch up the little cracks in your heart whenever you saw him with someone else—whether it be the flavour of the week or a relationship that lasts for a month but today, seeing him with a woman after being intimate with him was enough to break your heart into pieces. What you did next was purely out of instinct, your feet moved on their own, hasty steps out of the café just to get away from Oikawa; you didn’t know where you were going but you wanted him out of sight.

You knew you were being a complete idiot for acting this way. Hell, why were you even running away from him? Stupid. Foolish. Why am I acting like this?! You thought. You let out a shaky sigh, your nails digging into your palms as you swiftly walked down the footpath, trying to forget the way Oikawa’s face looked when he saw you.

The sound of shoes loudly hitting the concrete footpath behind you suddenly filled your ears, you stopped in your tracks as he called out your name—you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Oikawa knew exactly why he chased after you, it was almost like a reflex for him given how fast he stood up from his seat to run to you. He’s aware he’s been ignoring you for the past week, and he also knows it’s probably shitty of him to suddenly chase after you like this but Oikawa’s got a sinking feeling that if he didn’t chase after you, you’d slip away from his grasp. Forever.

Turning around, you crossed your arms over your chest as if to shield your naked heart. “What do you want, Oikawa?” He winced not only at your tone—sharp, and cold—but as well as the use of his last name. He didn’t know what to say if he was being honest; you watched as he opened his mouth but no words came out, gears turning in his head to find the right thing to say to you. “I meant it.” Oikawa held your gaze, brows knitted together. You knew what he meant by that, it was the answer to the question you asked him that night. You sucked in a sharp breath, heart pounding against your chest as if it was ready to leap out and jump straight into his hands like it belonged there—to be cherished, and loved.

As much as you wanted to jump with joy that he did, in fact reciprocate your feelings, it was anticlimactic. The overwhelming hurt and confusion you’ve felt for the past week was just consuming you. “I-I don’t..” You trailed off, not knowing what to say to him, especially when his umber eyes stared at you with such desperation. You’ve never seen Oikawa like this; he was usually a man of many expressions—mostly full of cunning, and ingenuine smiles but this one you haven’t seen.

“Look. I know I fucked up. I really do love you. I don’t know why I ran away—no I do know. I was scared because I’ve never been so serious about a woman, let alone my best friend’s younger sister.” He scratched his nape, taking a step closer to you. You watched him in silence, a wordless invitation for him to keep going.

Oikawa let out a shaky sigh. “I know saying sorry and this half assed explanation isn’t enough but.. these feelings I’ve had for you.. they’ve been here for as long as I could remember, and it fucking sucks that you had to find out through this mess. That night.. I don’t regret anything but I did wish it could have happened without any of these consequences. I know I’m asking for a lot but.. can we start again?” It was your turn to sigh, “It’s not that easy, Tōru.. but it really isn’t your fault as well.” Oikawa’s face softened at the use of his first name. “I mean, I knew what I was getting myself into. I admit that maybe I was just being a bit dramatic about this whole thing because I had feelings for you but looking back at it, there’s really no reason for you to be apologising..”

You took a step closer before wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. Oikawa blinked, taken aback by your sudden action, nonetheless, he wrapped his arms around you—still trying to process the fact that you actually like him back. “T-That woman back there, we were meeting up for a project..” You chuckled at his reply before looking up at him to meet his hazel gaze, “There’s no need to explain to me, you know?”

Before he could reply, you smiled at him,

“I want to start again, Tōru. This time, no running away from our feelings?” “No running away.”

© mitsuyeaah