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ja3hwa · 4 months

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♡ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 | 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡

【Synopsis】 : It's been so long since you've seen your boys. And when the youngest comes knocking on your door, the new life you had only just managed to build comes crashing down.

『Word count』 : 4.8k

-> Genre: Mafia au. Angst. Fluff.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Ot8 Ateez x Reader

[Warnings] : lots of heart ache. The reader is beside herself a lot. Blood. Gore. Death. Torture. Reader gets kidnapped. Tears. Hugging. Lots of cry. Grovelling (we stan a good grovel). And yeah, lots of angst but fluffy at the end. Kissing. Mingi got a dirty mind. Whoops.

Note: uh, so hi. Ahha It's been a while... I finally decided to actually finish the alt ending of this fic. I've had people ask for more, and I honestly forgot about it. But then i saw someone send in THIS request, and it made me want to finish this. So this can be read as a stand-alone. But if you want to read part 1 and the other ending. Go ahead, otherwise enjoyyyyy ♡

Part one | Other Ending

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You were alone. Wandering through life with nothing to hold onto. You were going underwater, and no one was around to help you above the heavy waves. You were numb. Heartbreak ridding you of happiness… Or so you thought.

Through a bottle or two... Maybe three or four. You found at the end of it. You were just as unhappy as you were before you took the first sip. You needed a change. A change of scenery. A change of personality. A completely new life. So there you were two towns over. Maybe not a whole country away from the old you, but this was just as good. A new apartment. New job. Architectural design. You enjoyed it, so dearly. It became something that kept you going. That kept you waking up. You were fighting for a glimpse of happiness in mornings that were still hard, and nights were just as restless as ever.

You were alone. Yes. But you tried.

It's been two whole years. You think you’d forgotten everything by now. But the biggest, deepest pain didn’t seem to heal as quickly as everyone says it does. Fucking Liars…

You were having a break from your long hours of sketching a new mansion floor plan, a private owner wanted it done within the week and for a heavy price and as much as it was a distraction you couldn't help but think how the design the private buyer seemed to want a floor plan that resembled something that one of your old lovers would have loved. The vintage vibe with a green and gold theme matched Mingi and Yunho perfectly. Your brain almost thought maybe they were the private buyer. But why would they go to you after what you had ‘apparently done’ to them? Before you could dwell on the idea anymore, the sound of your doorbell broke your gaze from the large sketch in front of you.

You question why someone would be visiting you at this hour, given that most of your clients would email you beforehand and your ‘friends’ would text. So, who could possibly be at your door? Your heart thumped strangely as if your body knew who was beyond the large oak before you. A ball started to form at the base of your throat. Was this anxiousness you were feeling? Gripping the silver handle, you creek the door open slowly, and when your gaze met the other person you feel your heart stop.

“Hi…”

You looked at the man with a dumbfounded expression, tilting your head in confusion. Hi? After all these years, hi is what he starts with. What does he take you for? A hopeless woman needing a man to catch her when she falls?

You go to shut the door without a second thought, but he catches it in his strong arms. The same arms that used to hold you. Shield you from all the danger―no stop you didn’t need them when you were completely broken and you most certainly don’t need them now.

“Please let me explain. Honey, I just…” He was scrambling to find his words, his breath catching his throat like he was running a marathon prior to this interaction. “I wanted to see you…tell you.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Jongho.” You finally spoke, silently yelling at yourself for sounding so shaky in your voice when you wanted to be mad, tone-deaf, blunt. But here you are, wanting to cry cause of the anger surging through you. Why must you always cry when you get mad. “You don’t get to come here after almost two fucking years, call me honey and tell me how much you miss me and think I’ll just fall back into your arms as if nothing happened.”

“T-that’s not what I want nor expect from you. I just want―I don’t care what you want. Now get off my porch.” You cut him off, slamming the door in his face before breaking down the minute you heard the latch click. Your legs buckle, sliding down the door before your knees hit the ground, sobbing into your hands. Your heart was breaking all over again, just like the night you left. You wanted nothing more than to run after him, beg him to hold you. But you couldn’t. They hurt you so much. How do you even begin to forgive them for what happened all those years ago?

Through the next months, you kept receiving letters, flowers, and gift boxes. Even teddy bears. Why would they give you teddy bears? You think they would have known you from being with them for so long. Throwing yet another soft plush toy on the ever-growing pile that sat in your office. You were beginning to become sick of it. You thought after you yelled at Jongho, he and the others would have gotten the hint, but you guess being dumped by eight mob bosses wasn’t as easy as you thought.

Sighing, you click your tongue, looking at the stack of letters you have yet to burn. You can’t even be bothered to open them, not wanting to even listen to anything they might have to say. But another part of you was curious. Maybe one letter couldn’t hurt, right? Reaching for the one on the top, your fingers grasp the small paper. It’s rough against your skin. Like the paper was made from a poor-quality tree. Odd? Why would your ex-lovers gift you such cheap gifts? Not that you were expecting high-priced gifts, but they had enough money to buy half the world, so you think them getting something with a heavier price tag wouldn’t matter. Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t adding up.

But before you could think of anything else, a loud, almost anger-filled knock comes from the front door. Your body was suddenly on high alert. Goosebumps erode all over your skin as a sickening feeling clouds your head. Grabbing your letter opener―just in case―you walk slowly towards the noise. Thoughts ran through your head in time with the beats of your racing heart. You knew walking towards the suspicious noise was a bad idea, but what else could you do? Whoever was there would know you were home by the lights being on or how your car is parked in the driveway. You couldn’t just pretend you weren’t home, no matter how hard you wanted to try.

Your fingers graze the door handle, feeling your breath hitch. You twist it slowly until you hear the creek of the door hinges swing inwards. You brace yourself for whoever it was, but what you are met with confused you. The porch was empty?

No one in sight…

But you certainly heard a loud knock. You were going crazy… were you? You huff, straightening up, feeling relief wash over you. Maybe it was some kids pranking the neighbours again, and you were their target for the day. Who knows. You click the door closed, but you lock it this time because even though you see no threat, you wanted to be sure. Entering your office again you walk over to the letters in order to continue what you were doing but when your eyes gaze over the pieces of paper you notice the one you were going to open wasn’t on the table. Where did you go? You thought, placing the letter opener on the table so you could place your hand on the edge of the oak desk so you could look under it. You looked everywhere and couldn’t seem to find it. It was like it had vanished. But…was that a flash? Something caught your eye.

Looking at the teddy bears, you see the letter sitting in the lap of one of the plushies. Tilting your head you notice a little red flash like as if there was a recor―Your eyes snap open stumbling back slightly before turning to run but your body is met with a very broad object and then before you can get any baring on what or who was in behind of you, everything went black.

It was like the world was spinning, your head pinging with an aching pain from the left side of your skull. You tried to open your eyes and look around, but you quickly figured out you were blindfolded and bound to what seemed to be a chair. Typical. Why is it that whenever someone gets kidnapped, they get tied to an old wooden chair? Why couldn’t it be a couch or one of those soft deck chairs? You could hear some scampering around you, three, maybe four people had entered the room you were in. You can smell their shitty cheap cologne that they most likely think bend women at the knees. You knew what kind of people they were before even seeing them.

“Well well. Looks like my men have caught a pretty mouse of us to play with.” The heavy voice echoed around the room, hinting to you that you were most likely in an open area. A warehouse, maybe? “You are gonna be my ticket to freedom songbird.”

You had to cringe at the pet name that fell from his lips. The name you were known as in the mafia world. More specifically, Ateez’s Songbird. You tried to sit still, hoping to show a fraudulent sense of confidence, but in reality, you were petrified. You no longer had the eight men you loved dearly to save you. Then again, you had no one to save you. Most of your friends lived out of town and wouldn’t even come to the rescue if you begged. You were alone with these men. Blindfolded and at their will. The man you assume was talking before lifted your blindfold off, seeing your eyes suddenly gaze upon the piercing light from the headlamp above you. You can see your suspicions were correct, four men ranging from sizable jock build to more lean ones but in the end, they were all ghastly, staring you down as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

“I want to know where Ateez is….” The grunt that escaped from the immoral male smelled of booze and low-quality cigars. His eyes were painted his redness, as if he hadn't slept in days, weeks even. He was boarding insanity at this rate by his expression. “Well come on, I know you know where they are, and to be blunt, I need them dead. You know business and all.” He rambles, walking around your figure while you sit there listening to his utter bullshit. His words remind you of when a villain in the story starts blabbering to the captor about how they needed to defeat the hero in order to take over the world. But in this case, both sides are just as villainous as each other, and the “world” that’s referenced is stocks… weapons, contraband, drugs, money. The list goes on and on.

“Why are you so quiet, Songbird? Protecting your lovers?”

Now that one made you laugh, shaking your head in annoyance. Argh, what you would give to be home with a strong whiskey in hand right now. Your reaction sent a shocked expression to the disgusting man's face. He expected you to plea, beg for him to not hurt Ateez, to not hurt the loves of your life and yet here you sit, laughing right in his face like he had just said the most entertaining thing to you.

“I don’t know where they are.” You finally spoke, a sadistic smile painted your face. To never backed down from his gaze, almost trying to intimidate him with your blazed stare. “Why would I know, or care where they are? They don’t care about me.”

His paced. Fuck. He thought. Did his men really just kidnap you for no reason? He was going to shoot someone for this. He began to sweat, you were his only hope of getting the men he hates, attention. And now you were useless. His hand raked through his hair, coming down to scratch the stubble on his chin. What is he going to do with you now? Looking back at you his eyes slid down your body from head to toe, as if he was a predator sizing up his prey. You felt a sudden uneasiness. Maybe telling the man that held your life in his hand you were useless, wasn’t your greatest idea.

He moved away, whispering to one of his men before he sent him off, turning back to you straight after. He stepped one foot in front of the other in a slow and formed way, as if he had come up with the best plan in history. His devious smile brought a lump in your throat and the way he leaned down in front of you, placing both hands on the chair arms so he was face to face with you. “Well, little dove. We can find other uses for you, hmm?”

An idea popped into your head, and maybe it was your hotheadedness or your sheer stubbornness to do things out of spite. Bringing your body back slacked against the chair frame, you watched as his smirk grew, thinking he had finally managed to scare you, but before he could react, you whipped your head forward. Your forehead smashes against his nose with a sickening crack, and a blood-curtailing scream follows. The man gripped his nose with a sharp hiss. You could see blood pouring down like a waterfall from his nose, spilling all over his clothes and floor. Your blurred vision and ache in your skull doesn’t last long as you shake your head. You can see his men crowding around him to see if he is okay.

“Bitch!” He swore, standing up straight from his crouched position to stomp over to you and slap you clean in your face, making you and the chair fall over, smacking your side against the concrete. You can feel your wrist twist before popping out of place from the impact. Your elbow scraped against the harsh floor along with your arm, making you feel the sensation of your blood escaping through the broken skin. A cut on the top of your head also spilled some blood onto the floor making a headache begin to form. Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Get the kit. I wanna teach this whore a lesson.” He spat out some blood that spilled into his mouth from his nose.

“whore? I thought it was bitch? Or as it little dove?” you need to shut your mouth but you choose to keep pushing his buttons. Idiot. He kicked you square in the gut making you hitch your breath before almost coughing up a lung at the pain. Your watered eyes could now barely see as you tried to blink the tears away. You spot out the corner of your eye a bag of what you could only guess, torture tools. Great, now you really fucked up.

You had passed out at least two or three times, and every time, you were woken up by ice-cold water to the face. The temperature of the water stung your opened wounds and burned at your hot red flesh. Time was absent to you, not knowing how long you’d been sitting, tied to the comfortable chair. God, your limbs were gonna ache once you were able to get out. that’s if you get out.

Maybe you will die here. The irony. Dying in a place of crime in a life of anguish when you so desperately tried to run from it. To try so hard to clean up and forget the darkness that lingered in your past. But in truth, you missed. As sicken as it sounded. You missed the violence, the thrill, the wealth and power. You missed being feared by your enemies and adored by your lovers. Call you sadistic for finding nostalgia in torture, but it was true. Even if you were the one who was currently being hurt, you couldn’t help but smile weakly.

“I found her!!” A muffled voice and sounds of gunshots echoed around you. But you were so dazed you couldn’t seem to pinpoint the noise. Your eyes were fuzzed, and blood tainted your view. Everything was happening so fast until you saw the stillness.

“Y-yuyu?” Your eyes glossed, seeing a blurred figure that resembled Yunho. But it couldn’t be him, could it? You must be dreaming, finally getting ready to leave this plane, but why would your guardian angel look like Yunho?

“I’ve got you, baby. Hold on.” You had already passed out for the final time before you would hear another word slip from your ex-lover's mouth. His rough hands gripped the rope that bounded your hands, cutting it away with his pocket knife. He snaked his arm under your legs and on your lower back, picking you up from the old wooden chair with ease. Your blood had pooled on the floor and now trailed behind Yunho as he jogged with you in his arms. His suit was now tainted red from you, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing on his mind was getting you to safety and maybe killing some assholes along the way.

To say you couldn’t explain the pain surging through your body was correct. You had never experienced such torture before, and man, you were definitely regretting some of the stupid shit you had said to the low-life mob boss earlier. Your vision was still so blurred, and your head was ringing. You could faintly see a bedside with a clock on it. But the face was dark like it was unplugged. You know this place. You remembered the smell of vanilla and pine. You remembered the dark spruce bed frame and emerald forest green bed sheets. You weren’t thinking when you started to snuggle into the bedding, inhaling the comforting scent.

You missed his smell. You missed being in this bed. God, you didn’t realize how much you missed them. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want them, didn’t want to forgive them. But the comfort…. tears were falling from your cheeks onto the silk pillow. You were sobbing, and your mind was beside itself. One part screaming at you, telling you to suck it up and leave. But on the other side, you were so tired. So, so…tired…. and all you wanted was your boys.

“Sugar…” You froze, hearing the man that belonged to the bedroom. His deep voice, velvet and smooth. You could hear a crack in it like he had been in tears prior. You didn’t move, frozen with fear, because you knew if you looked at him in those beautiful brown eyes, you would be done for. “Baby, are you awake?”

He knew you were, but he didn’t want to approach you without knowing if it was okay. He knew by the way you looked at them last time you saw them that you had feared them. Something he never wanted to see in your beautiful innocent gaze. Torment that he and the others caused. He would never forgive himself, so he understood if you never did either. “I want to go home…”

You didn’t know what else to say. So god damned scared to stay cause if you did, you might not leave. And you couldn’t do that. What they put you through. You couldn’t possibly begin a relationship with them again… right? “Mingi, please take me home…” you felt so small calling for him, you didn’t want to be surrounded by his scent but at the same time, you didn’t so much as budge from the covers. You didn’t want him to be near you, but yet when he sat down on the edge of the bed, your body was screaming to be held by him. Everything was so messed up. Why did it have to end up like this? Why was this your ending with them?

Mingi couldn’t find his wording, his hand coming up to your covered shoulders, putting a firm but gentle touch on it. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, kiss you. Make love to you while repeating how sorry he was over and over while he caused you to come over and over. “I missed you…” His voice cracked. “We all have…” better now than never to explain himself, right? “After the first couple of weeks, we found out that those pictures were faked. A way to manipulate us into crumbling our empire. They thought if they could put us all at each other's throats. I guess they won…”

“How did you find they were fake?” You asked in a whisper, keeping your face covered with the bed sheet.

“Another anonymous tip went off that San was ‘sneaking’ around with some guy. But Wooyoung was quick to debunk it cause San was with him that whole week. So we quickly found out that this was a ploy to rip us all apart… which worked.” Mingi regretted every word he spoke. They managed to find out San was innocent quicker than you. San was lucky he had an alibi, though unlike you, that was away without their knowledge, just trying to buy a gift for your anniversary... god, they were so stupid...

“It...Worked?” You were confused about that since it only caused you to leave. From your knowledge, the boys were all still together? Mingi sighed, standing up, which caused you to peek out from your hiding spot to see him pouring a whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room. Before downing the amber-coloured liquor.

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong became obsessed with work. They’ve become biter…” He took another shot of the harsh liquor. “Cruel… The number of people they’ve put in the dungeons just from looking in their direction wrong.”

You felt sick, flashes of them yelling at you, cursing you. The image of them with that anger plus a gun. You felt sorry for any of the suckers that were unlucky enough to gaze at them wrong. You tangled your fingers into the soft sheets, playing with the velvet fabric. You note how the hand that had popped out earlier was still slightly swollen and numb, making you barely able to feel the fabric on your right fingertips. “W-What about the others…”

“Jongho spent most of his time looking for you. Spying on you. Seeing all the achievements you have made.” He sounded proud of you for a moment like he sought knowledge of your life from the youngest. “Yeosang drove himself into his computer work, taking on small tasks in the outer parts of the city. If we hadn’t said we brought you home, he would have still been hiding somewhere.” He flicked his hand in the air, scoffing slightly.

“San and Wooyoung changed the most when you left. They became lost without you, distant… different. Like the sunshine was ripped from their life, and darkness consumed them.”

He took a seat at the end of the bed again. You had sat up, crossing your legs, eyeing his figure. He has gotten bigger than the last time you’ve seen him. He’s bulked up, and from what your memory could recall, Yunho was bigger as well. The way his arms felt being around you as he carried you to safety were definitely bulkier. “And what about you? Yunho?”

He huffed, glancing up at you. His hand was so close to your covered legs. So close yet so far. “Yunho and I are…fine. We missed you.”

You knew fine meant they were both struggling just as much as the others. You shifted, moving a little closer to him. Your heart was still aching, but your body was craving to feel some warmth. and at this point, you were so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of running. Tired of anyone telling you who or how to live your life? who cares if you run back to your exes? Who cared if you decided you move back with them? It’s not like you have friends or family that would tell you otherwise. All you had was them. Eight cruel mob bosses who would do anything for you and who were scared when they thought you had betrayed them. “I missed you too.”

His wide, glossy eyes snapped to yours. Like he had just heard someone spill the secret to life itself. His mouth went dry, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to spill his guts about how much he missed your smile and missed your laugh. Missed the way you would tease him for being too clingy, but yet you were just as clingy in the next breath. He missed the way your body would melt against his on cold nights, searching for warmth. Or how you would fit so perfectly around his….

“Min…You mind is wondering…” You knew his tells, and you knew he was sinking into his mind.

“I uh…I’m just trying to find the words to say I’m sorry without it sounding like it was an excuse.”

“I believe you’re sorry, mingi. I believe you are all sorry. It doesn’t change or fix what happened. And it’s going to take time for me to trust you all again. But…” You leaned over, placing your hand on his shaking thigh. “I do forgive you.”

He broke.

“We don’t deserve your forgiveness. We don’t deserve you…” Tears were falling down his red cheeks, making you jump to wipe each one away without a second thought. You hadn’t realized how close you were until you noted the smell of the whiskey on his breath and the warmth of his body radiating to yours.

“You might not deserve me. But who is here to tell me to stay away…” he gave you a smile. You didn’t want to forgive him or the others fully per se, but you did want this push-and-pull game. This cruel twisted game of forbidden love.

“The others are going to want to see you…” He spoke cautiously, afraid you might recoil away from him if he spoke too loudly. You just sighed, lowering your hands into your lap once again, sitting back. You could feel your wounds with every movement, but it wasn’t as painful as before. They must have given you some painkillers prior to when you were passed out. You were about to speak when a sudden thud was heard, quickly followed by a bunch of hushed whispers. You couldn’t help but smirk at the childishness, for angry mafia kings they sure know how to act like goofballs.

“They’re outside aren’t they?” You cocked your brow, giving Mingi a simple straight expression. He just rubbed the back of his neck with a small whisper of, ‘Sorry.’

You rolled your eyes, telling him to let them in. Your heart might have been racing faster than a race car, but you tried to hide the growing anxiousness with a plain expression. You were going to hear them all out. You were going to hug San and Wooyoung as they sobbed on the end of your bed with mumblers of ‘I’m sorry.’ over and over again. You were going to give Yeosang a knowing look, so he knew that his silence was accepted and that you weren’t mad. You were going to thank Yunho for saving you, and he was going to kiss your palm as you held his cheek briefly.

And you were going to cry.

Sob at how Hongjoong sat on his knees, grovelling for your forgiveness and pleading how he was so messed up for not believing you. You’d all cry seeing the leader so vulnerable. And Seonghwa. Your darling, hwa… you would see such sorrow in his eyes. But you would let him kiss your cheek, hold you for a moment. Let him have you for a moment while you get your mind into check.

This was not a redemption. This was not forgetting. But a new chance.

Not a new chapter but a new book entirely.

You were going to grow, do your own thing. Be with them while you find yourself. And maybe, just maybe. You’d take Jongho’s offer all those years ago…and finally say yes…

— ♡

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fioiswriting · 5 months

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Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread.

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness.

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again.

Haven't you given enough?

Could they not show you mercy?

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers.

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further.

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too.

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please."

And you know he never begs.

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity.

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals.

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket.

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel.

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white.

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire.

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact.

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum.

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath.

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity.

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well.

You can't stop your body from aching for him.

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours.

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes.

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant.

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood.

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed.

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion.

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him.

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass?

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands?

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite.

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons.

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down.

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty.

Now you are plunged into doubt.

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair.

"What are we going to do now?"

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself.

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles.

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream.

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost.

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust.

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two?

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance.

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words.

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it.

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was.

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier.

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor."

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice.

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark.

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you.

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished?

You don't know, but you accept the risk.

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing.

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly.

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

"And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead.

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences.

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything.

Where you were that night when you didn't come home.

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you.

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support.

You know it wasn't his fault.

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder.

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you.

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door.

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time.

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her.

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up.

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again.

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him.

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course.

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time.

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired.

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe.

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks.

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face.

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too.

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt.

You know he is there.

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him.

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried.

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world.

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward.

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him.

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family.

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this.

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate.

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago.

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?"

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed.

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence.

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old.

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach.

You no longer blame yourself.

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago.

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

"This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there.

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought.

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away.

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory.

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** ***

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

Tag list : @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis (I'm tagging you since you asked for it ❤️)

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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nori-the-cat · 15 days

Text

What does dating the RIIZE members feel like?

With everything going on in the riizevile, I thought I should post something light-hearted and cute. Although there are many of these kinds of posts circulating, I'd like to add my own twist on this by adding tarot.

Remember: I don't know them personally. These are just interpretations based on tarot cards. The true nature of dating each member would depend on their true individual personalities.

☆ Shotaro (The Magician) The magician card was strong in this one. A relationship with him could feel exciting and full of surprises. He might be full of surprises and constantly have something interesting up his sleeve. He brings playful energy to the relationship, keeping things fresh and interesting.

He might be the type to surprise his partner (you) on their birthday or during anniversaries. The giggly and happy-go-lucky Shotaro you see on screen might be the Shotaro behind the screen. I think he is secretly attentive, so, surprising his partner is something he likes to do. He might get something you've been talking about or wanting to get, and then, BAM! comes your birthday and he got it for you as a surprise. My assumption is that he likes to see them smile and he appreciates a good "Aw, thank you, babe".

☆ Eunseok (The Page of Wands, The World, and The Empress) Eunseok is a "little" hard to read. He is clear as day but is also full of surprises. You will not know what is going on in his brain. He is unexpectedly full of surprises. I admit he is a bit of a wild card.

In some ways, he is a little similar to Shotaro. Dating Eunseok could be exciting and full of life. He might be impulsive and bring a fun, light-hearted vibe to the relationship. I say could because he gives off a serious vibe to me, but he can still poke fun at his partner (you), throw playful/sarcastic remarks, and banter with him is fun.

He might be the boyfriend who unexpectedly brings/invites you to a board game cafe, cat cafe, dog cafe, park, or late-night food adventure. Your reaction would be something like this, "Huh? Now?" and he would nonchalantly say "Yeah, now" with a shrug.

He could be the type to make you become the centre of his world once he’s down for you. Similar to Sungchan, Eunseok is also someone who values personal growth. But he focuses on inner work. So for him a relationship is about a journey of self-discovery and shared growth. Filled with surprises and tricks up his sleeve, Eunseok is a weird yet romantic guy.

Another thing about Eunseok is that he might be a nurturing and supportive person. He is a softie at heart. Behind that mischief of his, he can provide emotional warmth and stability to his partner (you) making you feel cherished and cared for.

☆ Sungchan (Strength, The Star, and The Wheel of Fortune) With Sungchan, you might find a relationship built on stability. He could be the kind of partner who provides constant encouragement and is always dependable. He is the guy who would drop everything when you need help. I think Sungchan is reliable and Sohee thinks so too.

I know I said this is a tarot reading, but Sungchan is such a Virgo. He also has his Venus in Leo. Being needed and then complimented will make him smile from ear to ear.

Dating him will make you feel like you're bettering yourself. So you might need to be on your toes! He will help you become a better person while still showing you support and becoming a shoulder to lean on. Definitely the type of guy who wants to see his partner (you) succeed.

Do you want to lose weight and become healthier? He will make you go to the gym with him. Do you want to become a better person? He will buy books about self-development for you. Do you want to have new hobbies? He will try it out with you.

Sungchan is like your life coach (not in a bad way). Additionally, I also think this is because he is continuously bettering himself, so he expects a partner who is more or less just like him. He is someone who is a little spontaneous but with a plan.

☆ Wonbin (The Hierophant and The Wheel of Fortune) His was unexpected. I thought he would be into the non-stereotypical relationship dynamic. The type to does not mind if the girl leads, but he does mind. He turns out to be quite traditional and grounded.

In a relationship, Wonbin is a bit unpredictable. Definitely not like Shotaro, Eunseok, or Sungchan. These three are spontaneous and full of surprises for different reasons. But Wonbin isn’t like them. He is unpredictable in a way that makes the relationship fun, interesting, and exciting for him. Being with him might make someone feel they’re in a constant change.

I think he might also prefer to be the provider or the one who wears the pants in the relationship. Might I say, the decision maker too. He is also loyal and respectful. But, he expects you to do the same. If you don't do the same, it would make him have second thoughts about his partner (you). Hence, for him creating a sense of security and stability in a partnership is important.

Yeah, this is why I think he’s unpredictable. You just need to follow his lead. Just imagine the actual wheel of fortune, whatever you land on is what you get. That’s how it is with Wonbin.

☆ Seunghan (The High Priestess, The Emperor, and Strength) Being with Seunghan could feel like it’s your anniversary everyday. He might be the kind of guy who listens really well and cares a lot about having a strong emotional bond with his partner (you). He would make you feel super special by showing you his unwavering focus and attention.

If any of you guys watch his fan sign video call videos, he is exactly like that. He engages and communicates with his fans. He might be the type to actually do that to his partner (you).

I, personally, think there is no hiding for Seunghan. He is straightforward with his feelings, emotions, and love for his partner (you). Have you seen how he dotes on Sohee? He is pretty much like that with his partner (you). He wants his partner (you) to feel loved.

I also think this stems from his desire to keep a peaceful relationship or a harmonious dynamic. He has Libra placements in his Sun and Venus. For him, listening to his partner and catering to them is his way of keeping the relationship peaceful. So, do not worry if you argue with him. He will prioritise making you happy.

☆ Sohee (The Sun and Temperance) Dating Sohee could feel like sunshine and laughter! He might be the kind of guy who brings happiness and fun to the relationship, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. For reference, I did a tarot reading on him as your boyfriend.

Anyway, he is someone who doesn't take things too seriously (in a good way). He is pretty much optimistic about life.

As your partner, he might secretly admit he is proud to have you as his significant other. He would also show his love warmly by playfully throwing jokes at you just to see you smile.

For Sohee, a relationship is a mutual bond between two people. Unlike Seunghan whose main focus is his partner’s happiness. Sohee thinks a relationship is when two people are happy together.

A little similar to Seunghan, he also craves harmony in a relationship, but his focus is on balancing the dynamic between the love. He might prioritise finding a balance between his partner’s (you) needs and his, fostering a relationship built on compromises and understanding.

Lucky for you! His smile is contagious, so fighting/arguing with him will make you admit defeat because of how sweet his smile can be.

More or less, this relationship will be built on humour, balance, and friendship.

I'd say Sohee is a mixture of Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan and Seunghan. Though he likes surprises like Shotaro and Eunseok, because he will make things fun. But is also pretty serious like Sungchan. He also have similar thoughts on relationships like Seunghan does.

To Sohee, a relationship might be based on two things and that is communication and trust. Hence, for the relationship to be positive, he expects two-way communication and trust. He thinks it takes two to tango.

Imagine this, the sun shines its light on everything and that is Sohee. A relationship with Sohee will be filled with warmth, joy, and laughter. He is sweet, considerate, and playful. (SIGH. He is my bias. I want to date him too.)

☆ Anton (The Moon, The Knight of Wands, and The Emperor) Shy and reserved Anton. He is just like how he portrays himself on screen.

My reaction while doing his reading? "Aw! How cute!" Another friends-to-lovers trope. He is a little bit like Sohee.

However, going out with Anton could be like a puzzle! At first, he might seem a little shy, but as you get to know him, you could discover a whole new side to him – deep and interesting. It could keep things exciting!

A disclaimer, it might take years to figure him out. I think it's best to get to know him as a friend rather than going for a confession. That might intimidate him.

Anton is someone worth getting to know. He might not be an open book at first, but the effort of getting to know him could be rewarding. Hence, I do think it's better to be his friend first. He might have interesting hobbies, thoughts, or experiences that he doesn't reveal right away.

As you engage in conversation and share experiences, he'll likely become more comfortable opening up. You'll constantly be learning new things about him, which can prevent things from getting stale. He's like that big bag of his that he carries everywhere, filled with surprises.

Once you get to know him, being with Anton feels like having a reliable and dependable partner. He might be someone who takes charge and provides a sense of security in the relationship.

He is passionate and energetic. He is a little similar to Eunseok. He might be spontaneous and adventurous, keeping the relationship dynamic and full of surprises. So, expect a planned yet unplanned dates.

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radioisntdead · 1 month

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can we get op reader just beating the absolute SHIT out of valentino while vox and velvette watch on in horror? :3 perhaps others too, like perchance we somehow stutmbled upon valentino's set while angel was there and are just *appalled* and therefore decide his second living privileges need to be taken away <3

- snake

Good evening my dear!

When I tell you I audibly screamed when I read this request I mean it my dear! I despise Valentino and I adore this request! I did change some things because it didn't make much sense for the reader to just pop into the studio randomly and start going ham, so I went with some light backstory and causally gave the reader the found family treatment, anyways enjoy!

The Forgotten one

Reader fic,

Warnings!!

Mild torture {I say mild but limbs are getting ripped off, I don't go into detail and there isn't much of it but be warned!!} I'm imagining reader as an eldritch horror, This is literally just the reader murdering the grape guy horrendously, Reader ended up in eternal damnation for a reason! Also I'm imagining the reader to be British??? I don't know why, that was accidental but if you get British vibes that's why.

You died centuries ago, your generation laid long forgotten, you could barely remember your life before the black death had claimed it, you could just barely recall the high fever, hurling over in your cot and spitting out the blood that had gathered in your mouth.

You probably weren't the best person since you ended up here, maybe you were a tyrannical peasant? A murderer? A person of the night? A thief?

Maybe you had a family, maybe you were wedded, maybe you had kids, maybe you didn't.

Who knows, you certainly didn't.

You wondered if you will ever be able to recall those forgotten memories about your life.

All you knew is that you climbed the ranks quickly once you ended up in the underworld, gaining many souls, and power one could only dream of, becoming a feared overlord.

You've gone through many names, The dark one, the Wicked, The witch, the Warlock, A child of darkness, the devil's child, {That one didn't age well},

Most recently though you were deemed as the forgotten one, always lurking, watching, never coming out into the spotlight unless necessary, sending one of the souls you kept in your place while you hid in your castle.

However decades of solitude gets rather boring,

So you decided to go out, see what was new, after all when was the last time you were out and about? The 70's? Oh you adored the results of that decade.

Well venturing out turned out to be such treat! Turns out that fellow who adored ducks's charming daughter opened a hotel to redeem sinners! Oh how darling it was!

You popped in to visit it, finding the residents quite lovely, you simply adored how Charlie thought that you of all sinners could be redeemed! It was quite a foolish thought

But you liked that hotel along with it's lovely little residents,and if playing along with the Princess's delusions of you getting redeemed after so, so many harsh years, would let you stay in that hotel and cure your boredom then it wouldn't hurt to entertain that foolish thought now would it?

And so you stayed as one of the residents on the path of so-called redemption!

you got along well enough with the others, although Vaggie and Alastor were suspicious of you at first, although you and Alastor got along well after bonding over how the noisy picture box was overrated, it had wow'd you at first but that quickly faded as it progressed,

It took Vaggie awhile to trust you, but after you had taught her some of the skills you had picked up in your lifetime you became like a parental figure to the woman, which played out well as Charlie was already quite fond of you,

You had practically proclaimed them both as your daughter and daughter in law, you adored them both, baking them treats, gifting Vaggie a pair of some type weapon, giving Charlie something related to unicorns, or a joint gift for them,

You quite liked their reactions upon receiving something they liked,

You liked seeing them happy a little too much, so much that you started giving the others things you thought they might like, expensive alcohol for Husk, shiny sharp knifes to hunt bugs down with for dear niffty, vintage radios for Alastor, tools and things for inventing for Sir Pentious, and matching clothes for Fat nuggets and Angel for Angel dust,

You liked seeing their expressions when they liked something, it gave a warm, bubbly feeling in your stomach,

You liked spending time with everyone too.

Chatting at the bar with husk, Angel dust explaining things to you that you don't know, watching your fellow residents sleep with Sir Pentious, sparring with Vaggie, scrapbooking with Charlie, watching one of Niffty's roach puppet shows, taking a trip to cannibal town with Alastor to visit Rosie,

You slowly began seeing the hotel residents like family, you didn't have a family, or at least you didn't anymore so you don't know exactly how they worked but you thought that this was good enough,

They were your beloved family now, formed from delusional hope,

and you were their family reborn from a forgotten era, burned to ashes and thrown to the dark pits filled with brimstone, sin and death.

You'd do anything for them, you'd die for them, you'd live for them, and you'd kill for them, they most definitely were your family now.

And you typically protect family, right?

Right?

You heard about what happened in Valentino's studio with Angel dust, the bruises.

You were displeased,

More then displeased you were upset, you were angry, how long has it been since you were this angry how dare someone lay a hand on your dear family member?

You waited until the majority of the hotel were asleep, most notably Angel,

You made up an excuse to go out, saying you had to check up on your castle after all you had unfortunate sinners working there and they're headless chickens without you!

Charlie told you to stay safe before she went up to bed with Vaggie.

You would be safe!

fortunately though, a certain Vee, would not be safe.

You did stop by your castle, to grab a spear with Angelic steel, you mentally thanked yourself for grabbing it a several extermination days ago,

You twirled it in your hand before a large sinister grin over took your face.

It had been awhile since you were out for blood.

Getting into the Vee's tower was disappointingly easy! Scaling up the wall and breaking a window? Child's play!

What wasn't easy was finding Valentino, the bald pimp moth guy, you had to look through several rooms, why did they have so many rooms? Did they even need these???

Nevermind all that, after searching for an inconvenient amount of time,

you finally found the one that had dared to harm your dear family member, you tilted your head as Valentino squinted to see who you were, unraveling his wings once he didn't recognize you.

He didn't look like much, he was tall, red eyes, and he looked like a grape with wings, the grimaced, oh poor Angel Dust, he had to look at this everytime he went to work!

Thankfully after this he didn't need too, you twitched, transforming into a more demonic form.

"Who the fu-"

He didn't get to finish the sentence as you swiftly kicked him in the kneecap causing him to fall, cursing you and wincing at the sudden pain in his knee, taking that moment you kicked him again, this time on his side, pushing him properly on the ground, placing your shoe on his ribcage you began to slowly crush his rib, grinning at the beginnings of a cracking noise

Unfortunately the little grape screamed out for the TV fucker to appear,

You could hear the sound of cables getting ripped out and the sound of footsteps.

"Val, what is it this time? Is it about angel dust again, I- ShIT VaL, wHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?''

And the TV man makes an entrance shouting, how annoying, well you could always deal with him later, raising your hand pitch black inky tentrals came out from beside you, wrapping the TV headed man and attaching him onto the couch.

Returning your focus to the soon to be deceased, again, grape

You bent down to wrap a claw onto his wing,

It was soft, maybe you could make something for Niffty with it, a blanket perhaps? Or maybe a coat?

You pulled out the wing as Valentino screamed out in pain, blood splattering onto you, the floor and the walls,

a door swung open behind you before quickly being closed, just barely leaving a gap for a phone camera to sneak though, the owner of the phone looked on in horror.

You kicked Valentino over causing him to hiss and groan as he now laid on his stomach, how unfortunate for him, who knew that if you horrendously abused your employees an centuries old overlord would be out for your blood!

You grinned at how helpless he was now, how pitiful!

You grabbed one of his arms and pulled, nerves and muscles separated and blood leaked out.

Vox looked on in complete and utter horror, he couldn't do anything,

Would he be next?

The Vee's floor was destroyed, Valentino was shredded and separated, stabbed in the head with the angelic steel you had brought along as to ensure he would NOT be coming back.

Both of his wings were folded and set neatly on the counter away from the carnage, after all if you were to make Dear Niffty something with them they had to be clean, mostly, you'd have to clean them again, who knows what diseases that man was carrying, Yuck!

You took some of the carnage and place them into containers before putting them in a bag to carry with you, you tucked the detached wings under your arm, dusting yourself off you checked the digital clock on the wall,

You should get back quickly, they'll be up soon.

Moving around the broken glass and furniture that had gotten caught up in the downfall of Valentino you made your way out the door,

You let Vox free from your tendrils, hearing him move to possibly inspect the remains of his business partner and whatever else.

You wonder if the third one was still recording?

Oh well, that's none of your concern,

You knocked things over, shattered, torn and destroyed anything you could get your hands on as you went down the Vee's tower, destroying what you could.

At the bottom floor a box of fireworks caught your eye, you supposed it was for one of the Vee's something, maybe Velvette's fashion thing or one of the skinned grape's filthy films,

Well either way, you were going to borrow the fireworks, set them up on the ground floor and light em' up,

The fireworks boomed onto the floor, sparkling and bursting into flames, burning and sizzling anything it could get it's clutches on.

You left swiftly after, getting bored, and you were practically done anyways.

You should head home now, and stop by your castle to dispose of that spear.

You hummed as you moved around the kitchen swinging a spatula around on your finger before checking on the meat that was beginning to brown in the pan,

"Good Morning [Name!]"

Charlie popped into the kitchen, turning your head to her, you smiled at her,

"Morning Dear Charlie, I'm preparing breakfast for everyone, French toast for the majority and I picked up some fresh demon meat to make something else for Dear Alastor since he doesn't like sweet things,"

"Really? That's so sweet of you!''

"Mhm, It's nothing, But be a dear and call everyone to the dining room so they can feast?"

You ask tilting your head as Charlie nodded with a 'Yes!' before hopping off to gather everyone for breakfast.

You turn back to the stove, poking your spatula into the simmering remains of Valentino, hopefully the peppers and seasons make him taste decent, you would hate for everyone else to enjoy their food and Alastor be the only one to not enjoy the meal.

Hopefully they didn't suspect you when the news covers Valentino's demise and the destroyed tower.

You are not a good person by any means, you were condemned for a reason, this all started to sooth your boredom, you can NEVER be redeemed....

Or could you?

Maybe this little makeshift family that you desperately want to protect could change you, make you a better person.

It was a foolish thought, but as long as you can make them a mildly concerning breakfast, spend time with them, give them trinkets you think they would like, you were willing to entertain that foolish thought, more then willingly.

Thank you for tuning in folks! I'm working on those Susan requests and the other WIPS I have in my pocket so look forward to those!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #I don't know exactly how to tag this

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9800sblog · 10 months

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pick a card tarot reading - which version of you will meet your forever person?

what's your character development before they come along? or have they already arrived?

from left to right, up to down: red nails - pile 1, yellow helmet - pile 2, kitty - pile 3, pool - pile 4

pile 1

cards: knight of swords reversed, 7 of wands, ace of swords, ace of cups, 10 of cups

this is one of your happiest chapters, the end of a book that has a sequence, a teenager in the end of a coming of age movie. you're not prepared for your whole life or done developing, but you have gone through rigorous moments already. this is a new beginning, you're stronger, smarter, happy, but irresponsible or scared. you think you're better than everyone, you have better ideas and values, you might be right, but there's no need for a fight, you're a rebel in a small idle town. you are unique, you bring freshness into the world with your talents and experiences but you may not have the exact type of support you need to succeed with those right away, your person will be that support, you're gonna have to rely and trust on them to be the backbone of your newest story. you're a little cynical, sarcastic and defensive. you may be very into a specific social fight but not know enough about the subject to actually take part in it. you know this is your person because they're gonna go against tradition to take care of you and make sure you're safe and happy.

gilmore girls vibes! the whole show and all characters fit this description, if you see yourself in them at some point in your life, that might be when ;)

pile 2

cards: king of wands, 2 of cups, 5 of cups reversed, 2 of swords reversed, the hermit

introspective, experienced and major respect to the elderly, understands the value of interchanging informations and respecting others' boundaries. probably a loner tho, you have accepted your fate as the old neighbor with 5 cats, whatever these cats may represent for you. ironically, you're so comfortable alone that you're attracting many people to you. you're someone that others are curious about, you're different than the rest and they wanna hear your opinions on different things, you may be the quiet kid that somehow got friends without saying 2 words. you're seen as wise and confident, you feel like it's a lie, that you ain't nothing special, you're just different from this batch but there are others similar to you out there; that's your person. your person has these same life experiences and you'll know it's them because you've never met someone as similar to you before. they'll probably surprise you because you're so used to being alone you plan a whole future of loneliness.

pile 3

cards: page of wands, the emperor reversed, the world, page of pentacles reversed, the devil reversed

childlike wonder, you're almost crude, if this word can be used for people. someone who refuses to grow up and be an adult for whatever reason. you're probably focused on inner child healing - that may be as simple as watching childhood movies, playing on an inflatable bed or more thoughtful as allowing yourself to make mistakes and exist as a regular person. this is giving me the feeling of summer, so this may be a version of you who knows how to have fun and forget responsibilities or goes to your family's for a while and allow yourself to be taken care of. you engage in worldly behavior without any shame, it's literally harmless in this case, it's good and healing to your soul. if you have a position of power, you'll have stepped down from it because it's too much pressure and you wanna enjoy life more. you'll know you wanna be with them forever because it'll feel easy, they are perfect, an angel sent from above and you may feel a little inadequate at the time, but you'll get over it because you're cool as fuck.

pile 4

cards: the magician reversed, 4 of cups, queen of swords reversed, judgement reversed, the star reversed, 8 of cups reversed

your whole life is upside down, this is probably a depressive episode. you don't have patience, energy or hope even for the near future, you may be physically sick too. you know you're worth more than this, you wanna change but you think you don't have the resources. you feel lazy and bored, harsh on your words with yourself and others, you may have a creative outlet that you don't share with the world yet, it may be the thing that's gonna change your life. you're scared to show people you're unwell, but you desperately need help and you feel like you're making a wish on a dead star. your person shows up during your darkest time to help you get out of it, they'll give you that nice butterfly feeling, tingling on your tummy and warm on your face ^^ you'll know this is your person because you usually like nobody, including yourself, but this soul is just like yours and you think they're the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your entire life, maybe too good to be true - they're not. you like the same things and match very well, this person deals with emotions in a different way than you and you will start seeing the world in a different perspective.

#pick a card #pac tarot #future spouse reading #pac #tarot game #free tarot #Spotify #nirvana

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pandorasprongs · 10 months

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PROLOGUE | hold on to the memories.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: stories of jamie and reader's friendship over the years, from age 7 to 17.

WARNINGS: language, slight body image/appearance issues, slight panic attack, vague descriptions of sex

A/N: yay! finally starting this fic with sort of an overview/background on their relationship, but there will be more flashbacks throughout the chapters. no gif for this one cause tbh i could not find one that fits the vibes here, but regardless hope you all enjoy the prologue!

Age 7

"You mind handing that back over?" You hear a voice coming from the other side of the fence as you pick up a loose football.

You turn to find a boy around your age in a football kit. His hair was completely waxed to one side, probably to keep it from covering his eyes while playing. You recognize his uniform as your school's football team's, though you're not sure if you've seen him before. Then again, you didn't know anyone in town yet. You had just moved to Manchester a few months ago, just as the school year started and while you had a few people to talk to in class, you didn't have any solid friends really.

You toss the ball back to the boy, who catches it swiftly. You think that's the end of it, so you start heading back to your house when he calls out to you again.

"Hey! What's your name?" You answer him, with him nodding in acknowledgment. "I think I've seen you around the school. I'm Jamie."

He reaches over the fence and extends his arm for you to shake it, despite the fact that you were already at your front door. You walk back and shake it, as he asks, "Do you wanna play football? I got a game tomorrow, but Mum's too busy to play goalie."

You had hoped your look of glasses, multiple layers of clothes, and generally un-sporty demeanor was enough to dissuade offers to play, but this Jamie didn't really seem to care.

"Maybe another time," You reply, but this boy is persistent.

"Okay, do you wanna watch me score goals?" He offers before glancing at the book tucked under your arm and pointing at it. "You can read while I play."

Once you realize that he wasn't going to quit, you finally agree. You head back inside to tell your mom that you'd be playing with your neighbor for the afternoon and since you already finished your homework, she was more than willing to let you go. She always said you needed some fresh air, which was why you were outside in the first place.

You walk back to your yard to find Jamie still standing where you left him, but this time he was practicing his dribbling. He was pretty good from what you knew about football, and walk over to his side of the fence. He stops when he sees you and starts leading you to his backyard. There was a goal net in the far back and some cones set up, probably to practice maneuvering the ball better.

Jamie turns to see if you're still following him and drags you to a small table with two chairs near the door to the house. "You can stay here and count my goals," he instructs you and you nod your head in understanding.

While Jamie kicked around the football, you continued reading your book, occasionally looking up at what the boy was doing. It was easy to keep track of the score since Jamie would be cheering like he just won the Premier League when he scored.

After getting bored of reading, you decide to ask Jamie to teach you how to play. You see his eyes light up and immediately drags you up from your seat. The first thing he teaches you is how to dribble the ball. He held your hands the whole time to stop you from falling over, but that only seems to make it harder for you to move around.

Once you finally got the hang of that, — meaning you no longer tripped over your own feet — the next few hours were then spent teaching you the other basics of football like passing and shooting. You only started to get decent at shooting when you realized that the sun was already setting.

"I think I have to go home now," You tell Jamie, whose expression suddenly fell at your statement. You go and grab your book from the table and wave at the boy. "It was nice playing with you!"

If he said anything in reply, you didn't hear it because you sprinted back around the fence and into your house. You take off your shoes, relieving the ache of kicking around the ball, and go to tell your parents everything you did that day.

—

The next time you see Jamie was Friday morning. He spotted you leaving your house for school and invited you to his team's football game that afternoon. "You just have to stay in school a little later. My mum said your mum might get worried, so she told me to tell you now so you can ask her."

You run back inside to do just that and after informing her that the other parents would be chaperoning the game, she agreed. You also take the chance to get your scarf and gloves because you hadn't realized how cold it was outside. She went out with you to tell Jamie the good news.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he replied, causing your mom to let out a chuckle at how polite the boy became. She finally sends you off to school and Jamie decides to walk with you too.

—

You couldn't help but be amazed at how well Jamie was playing. You knew that he was at least decent based on how well he taught you that day, but he was practically scoring all the goals for his team. None of the opposing players could even catch up to him, at times. You wonder how he kept his energy up despite the fact that it was freezing outside and he was only in shorts.

After the game, his team got hot chocolate to celebrate their win. You go to congratulate him, but find it hard due to the number of people surrounding them. Jamie was looking for you too, so the moment he spots you trying to make your way through the crowd, he heads to you instead and pulls you aside.

"Did you like the game?" was the first thing he says to you.

You immediately nod, "Yeah, it was really fun to watch! Congrats on winning."

Jamie shrugs, "Thanks, but it's really nothing, we've been on a streak for a while." You don't know if he's just being humble or bragging about his team, but either way, you're happy they're doing well.

Afterward, Jamie decides to bring you to meet his mom. She's quick to embrace you and mentions that Jamie's been talking about you non-stop, much to the boy's embarrassment. She hands you a hot chocolate of your own and you're grateful to be able to warm your hands. You lost one of the pair around lunchtime, so you've been keeping your hands in your jacket pocket the whole day.

While Jamie goes to change, you stay with Georgie as you savor your drink. She notices the lack of cover on your right hand and gives you an extra pair that she kept in her bag. It's clearly too big for you and its orange color clashes with the blue and white on your left hand but you're grateful regardless.

Soon after, Jamie's rushing out of the locker room looking cozy in a sweatshirt under his winter jacket. He's wearing gloves as well and when he notices your mismatched gloves, he takes one of his off and switches them with the orange one.

They're a much better fit and you thank Jamie for it. The boy adds, "My hands are bigger, so they won't slip off as easily."

"Come on, let's go home!" He adds, grabbing one of your hands with his left and his mom's with his right as you walk off the pitch.

After coming home, your mom notices your new glove and decides to bring some cookies for the neighbors as a thank you. That started a months-long gift exchange between the two moms for reasons ranging from watching over their kids on weekdays to lending their kids a pencil for a standardized test.

You didn't really mind it though, because it usually meant you'd get to hang out with Jamie longer. You spent countless weekends riding your bikes around town, playing football, and even camping in your backyards. The boy who threw that ball over your fence was quickly becoming your best friend.

—

Age 15

“Aww, my little girl is so grown up, now!” Your mom exclaims as she opens the door to see you in a pink knee-length sundress. You don’t know why she’s so shocked you’re wearing it considering that she was the one who bought it for you. “Hmm, but do you think you need a necklace?”

“Mom!” You whine and she immediately backs off. It’s not like you minded the suggestion, but you had your own issues to deal with and didn’t need your parents to get involved.

When you said yes to Tim asking you on a date, you knew you’d be both excited and nervous. But you didn’t realize how insecure it would make you. Your parents say all the time that it’s normal for kids your age — being insecure about your looks and body, — but that advice never seemed to help. As your mom leaves the room, you turn back to the mirror and sigh. Something was just off. The dress was pretty, the shoes matched, and your mom did great with your hair, but even then, you still aren’t satisfied.

You weren’t as experienced with make-up and fashion as the other girls in your school and you had long since accepted that. You just didn’t realize it would backfire on you in times like these. You sigh sharply again. If Tim really liked you, it wouldn’t matter that much right? You add the necklace your mom was suggesting before heading downstairs.

After a string of ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ from your parents, you start heading to the restaurant. Most popular restaurants among your schoolmates were walkable and you didn’t want an even more awkward introduction with your parents there, going there by yourself was the best plan. You had gotten there early, so you settled on the bench outside the restaurant to wait for your date.

Maybe around the first half hour, you should’ve suspected something was off. But you stayed for another hour in case Tim actually showed up. God, you shouldn’t have believed he was sincere. Why would someone ask you out? You always kept to yourself in class, spent most of your time studying, and never even tried to go to parties or anything.

You check your phone again because some hopeful part of you thought he’d text you with a valid excuse, but all you see are some messages from classmates asking for notes and a missed call from your mum. You were not ready to face your parents right now, not after the hopeful looks on their faces that their daughter might be sociable for a night.

Instead, you call the only other person you can. Jamie makes it to the place in record time and the first thing you do is hug him. The moment you make contact with his body is the moment you let the tears flow from your face. It didn’t really matter at that point if people were staring: you just needed someone. You needed Jamie.

“I’m gonna murder that prick,” Jamie threatens as he reciprocates the hug.

“Please don’t,” you whisper into his chest. “I can’t have you going to jail right now.” Despite trying your best to say it jokingly, your voice is too hoarse to properly convey it.

After what felt like hours in that position, you finally let go. You soon realize that your streaming tears had stained Jamie’s shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

The boy looks down and just shrugs. “It was getting too small for me, anyway.” That’s enough to put a smile on your face.

The two of you get into the car – Georgie’s car, since technically, Jamie only had a provisional license – and start driving back to your house. Maybe it was your wrecked emotional state, but you decided to outright ask, “Jamie, do you find me attractive?”

You gasp as Jamie almost crashes the car. You quickly clarify as he steadies the vehicle, “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just, I don’t really know how I look to guys.”

“Right, sorry.” He says but doesn’t look away from the road. “I mean, you are pretty. As long as you don’t let it get to your head.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off Jamie, I’m not you.” You could list the number of times Jamie’s flashed that cocky smirk to girls at school during breaks. Those were some of the very few times you were embarrassed to be seen with him and you laugh at the reminder. But your smile quickly disappears when you look down at your outfit. “Do you think other guys think I’m pretty?”

Your voice is as soft as it’s ever been, not wanting to show how insecure you’re feeling at the moment. But Jamie can tell like he always does. You turn the corner to your house and he stops the car in the road and fully turns to you.

“Fuck those other guys. Fine, if you need someone to say it, I will. You are fucking gorgeous, especially tonight.” You cringe at his words, not used to having anyone say that about you, but he gets you to look at him again. “I’m serious. And Tim’s a fucking idiot for ditching you.”

Despite his harsh tone, the soft look in his eyes as he tries to comfort you almost makes you tear up again. As if it’s become a routine, you reach over and envelop him in a hug once more. To make up for the failed date, the two of you spend the rest of the night eating a tub of Neopolitan ice cream and soon enough, you forget that Tim even existed.

—

Age 17

Your teachers always said you were a good writer. But no one ever told you how fucking difficult it was to start your personal statement. You'd never realized how hard it is to prove you should go to university until you forced yourself to sit down and actually try and write something. You started with the outline route, trying to note all your academic achievements, extracurriculars, and things like that before you ended up boring yourself.

You've written 9 possible starting lines at this point, and in the end, you decide to just shut your laptop in despair. Try again tomorrow, you said to yourself. The same thing you said yesterday and the day before that.

You go to lie down on your bed when you hear something hit your window. It's a light clinking sound, and you ignore it till you hear another one. You finally decide to check outside your window and hear shouting from above.

"God?" you ask hesitantly.

"Nope, just me," you look up to find Jamie Tartt sitting on his rooftop, almost giving you a heart attack.

"Get down from there!" You tell him immediately and instantly cringe at how similar your tone is to your mom’s. Jamie rolls his eyes at the order but obliges anyway. He starts going down the roof into his bedroom — carrying an empty bottle of beer in his left hand — and makes it through his window. Once he's safe with his feet on the floor, he turns around to face you in your adjacent bedroom.

"Why'd you even go up there?" you question and Jamie, like always, simply shrugs.

"Felt like it," you shake your head at his reasoning. You knew your best friend could be reckless, but you didn't think he'd do something as stupid as that, especially before scouting season.

"So falling off and breaking your legs wasn’t something you thought could possibly happen?"

"Well, that’s why I have you to warn me," He exclaims, before going back to the conversation. "I'm coming over."

Both your sets of parents were out for the night and they'd known each other long enough to trust each other's kids enough, so neither of you needed to message them about it. You watch him sprint out of his room and after a few minutes, you here the doorbell ring.

You head downstairs and open the door to find a panting Jamie leaning on the frame. "3 minutes, new record time."

"Well, they do say I'm one in a million." He jokes as you let him inside and he takes off his shoes.

"Who's they, in this situation?"

"Mum." He says blankly, collapsing on the couch. "And Simon."

You laugh, before lifting his legs and shuffling on the opposite side of the couch. You rest them on your lap for a second, before a wave of stench from his feet hits you and you shove them off. Jamie goes back to sitting upright and he instead leans his head on your shoulder.

You turn on the TV and start browsing for a movie as your entertainment for the night. Most weekends were like this; hanging out in one of your houses, ordering pizza — which Jamie did as you looked through channels, — and relaxing on the couch.

The order was placed and you settled on the Hunger Games this time. You watched the first part of the movie in silence as usual, but once the pizza arrived, Jamie decided to change things up.

"Wanna play 20 questions?" You look at him curiously. You knew practically everything about each other, so why on Earth would you play a game that's every person's go-to icebreaker?

You don't have a chance to protest because after taking a bite of the pizza, he asks, "What were you doing before I got here?"

Your eyes widened at that. Maybe the one thing you never really talked about with Jamie was your future. Neither one of you would admit it, but there wasn't any chance that you two were going to be doing the same things in your career. You had academia and Jamie had football. It's hard to imagine something that kept the two of you together and also made both of you happy, so you never brought it up.

"Uh, I was having a wank," you joke but Jamie isn't amused. He continues to stare at you with an expression that you rarely ever saw; he was being serious. "I was trying to write my personal statement."

You look cautiously at your best friend who is quiet for the first time tonight. He takes a bite of his pizza again and with a full mouth, says, "And? How's it going?"

You groan and lean your head back. "Fucking terrible. I can't think of anything to say about myself."

"The fuck do you mean? You're like the smartest person I know." He points out and while you're touched he thinks that, you sigh.

"Unis don't just look at grades anymore. They want substance and worldly impact from their applicants. How the fuck am I supposed to change our societal landscape at fucking seventeen?" You admit, and it's like a weight has been lifted off of you. You drop your plate of pizza on the table and lean into Jamie's side.

"You want me to write it for you? I've got a bunch of great things to say about my best friend." He offers and you finally let out a laugh. "I can put how fucking amazing you are at Scrabble, how you can predict the ending of a movie in the first 20 minutes, how loud your voice can get when you cheer me on at a football game, and how you can hear a song once and already figure out how to play it on the piano."

You look up to find Jamie giving you a wide smile and his happiness is contagious. But that feeling is almost instantly replaced when you remember the position you two are in and feel your heart beating faster.

You don't ignore the fact that Jamie has grown up a lot more in recent years: finally passing you in height, having more defined arm muscles, and definitely growing into his features. It's harder to feel normal when you do the things you did as kids like when he rests his head or arms on your shoulders, pulls you into his chest to stop you from walking in front of a passing car, or just like right now when you're leaning into him, his arm pulls you closer to his body.

You slowly pull yourself away, but then he grabs hold of your hand instead. You've held hands before, but again, there's just something different about now. You decide to leave it there before finally replying, "I'm sure with that kind of stories in it, they'll let me into fucking Oxford." The two of you laugh before you grab your plate of pizza again and turn to back to the movie.

—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You hear someone say, as you turn the corner to your school’s locker room.

It was normal to hear the players get nervous before the finals, but hearing Jamie Tartt panicking was a whole new thing for most of your classmates. Some league teams had sent scouts for the striker in this game and while everyone knew he’d do great, it seemed like the school’s support still wasn’t enough to convince him of that.

When his teammates couldn’t snap him out of it, their Plan B was to call you.

“Sorry, I’m looking for my best friend, Jamie Tartt. Brown hair, blue eyes, kind of conceited, but pretty nice if you get to know him.” You start out jokingly, but when his panicked eyes landed on yours, you quickly shift gears. “Shit, sorry. Not the time for jokes, I guess.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m off my game right now,” He starts, still trying to catch his breath as he moves around frantically. You take his hands into yours in order to steady him, but when that doesn’t work, you grab him by his shoulders.

Usually, Jamie would be towering over you, but with his slumped posture at the moment, you were almost eye-to-eye with the guy. “Jamie, take a deep breath. Focus on me, okay?”

You’ve gone through this enough times — usually with you in Jamie’s place — to know how to calm him down.

He follows your directions and you slowly nod your head. “Keep breathing, just do that for now.” Jamie closes his eyes and slowly starts to steady himself. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hands like you initially planned.

“I know it’s fucking terrifying, but believe me when I say that you are incredible. You know how you always tell me that I’ll smash it as Model UN conferences? This time, I’m the one telling you you’re gonna be the best fucking player out there.” You pause for a moment in case he reacts, but all Jamie does is nod his head. “I believe in you. Georgie and Simon believe in you. Hell, this entire school fucking believes in you. I swear, I saw people planning a chant for you outside.”

That gets the player to laugh and you smile, seeing a glimpse of his usual self. “Also, I know I’m complimenting you right now, but better savor it cause I’m never inflating your ego like this ever again.”

“Not even when I help Man City get another win in my first year?” Jamie finally speaks up.

“I’ll be complimenting Pep, not you.” You playfully roll your eyes. “But to be able to do that, you have to get out and play today.”

Jamie straightens up and starts shaking away the nerves. He turns to head to his team, but not before giving you a quick hug and a ‘thank you.’ Once he enters the locker room again, you start heading back to your seat.

—

Age 18

"Do you really want to do this?" Jamie asks carefully, but you've already made up your mind as you pull him closer.

You were going off to university in a few months and Jamie would be doing his summer training soon. Both his and your parents were out of town on a couple's retreat, so it was either now or never.

You knew that going off for college would increase the chances of your first time being with a random guy you met at a frat party infinitely, so you could say it was a calculated decision to jokingly ask Jamie when you talked about it if he'd be willing to sleep with you.

You didn't really expect anything and for the first few seconds, Jamie was too in shock to actually reply. You immediately tried to dismiss it as a joke, but before you could, he replied, "Sure."

You knew that Jamie had already had sex with girls before, — hearing him try and sneak the girls out of his bedroom window was always a fun story to bring up the next day — so you thought that it would just be another one for him.

But that night was the most delicate you've ever seen him. He didn't rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. He checked up on you constantly, making sure it didn't hurt and you were actually enjoying yourself. You made sure to hug him after, — not being able to say any words of gratitude out loud, — and you eventually went to sleep like that.

You woke up the morning after, still with him beside you, but after you got changed and he went back to his house, neither of you brought it up again. You went back to your old routine of hanging out in the afternoons and movie nights as if nothing even happened.

And it really was for the best, considering that the next time you had sex really was in a frat house’s bathroom.

—

Now, you were loading the last of your things into your car for your family road trip to Cardiff, which was to also move you into your dorm. Your mom was recounting the boxes, making sure you didn't forget anything because in her words, "We are not driving 3 and half hours twice just to bring you your toothbrush." Your dad was in the kitchen fixing up snacks for the trip, so you decide to take this chance and finally say goodbye to your best friend.

You barely saw Jamie in the weeks leading up to this since he spent most of his time at training. Even on weekends, he would be passed out in his room from the painstaking drills of the days prior. So as you knock on their door, you aren't very hopeful.

It reveals Simon who instantly pouts and brings you in for a hug. You always appreciated him for how he accepted Jamie into his life, despite the latter's fears that he'd be just like his father.

"Come inside," He offers, but you shake your head. You had to leave soon and you didn't want to delay the trip any longer. “Alright, but I was actually baking some muffins that you guys can take on your drive there, and you can’t say no to those.”

You laugh as you nod, before asking, "Is Georgie home?"

Simon calls out to his wife to tell her that you're about to leave. You soon hear quick footsteps descending the stairs before you are once again enveloped in a hug.

Simon heads out to presumably pack up those muffins, but you're too distracted by the rising feeling of sadness as you say goodbye to the woman whose practically been your second mother for a decade.

"You stay safe, okay? I know you'll enjoy your life there, but don't make your parents worry too much. Cause then they won't be able to stop talking about you," You laugh at her prediction before giving her one last hug.

Simon races back to you with a brown paper bag which he hands over, along with a pat on the back. You turn around to see if there's any sign of your best friend, but Georgie answers that for you. "He said he might be running late at practice." You feel your heart sink, but do your best to mask it. You wave goodbye to the couple before walking to the car.

You hand your dad the bag of muffins and sigh, "We can go." Your parents exchange a look but oblige nonetheless. You start heading into the car when you hear the call of your name.

You turn to see Jamie, still in his kit — shorts and all, — running towards your house. You decide to meet him halfway and once he's close enough, the football player pulls you into a tight hug, as if he's never letting go.

"Did you really think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?" He whispered into your shoulder.

"If you're in trouble for leaving practice early, that is not on me." You try and keep it light-hearted, but his laugh only makes the pit in your stomach feel worse.

"Call me, okay? As often as you can. And send me pictures of all the stadiums you're playing in. I don't care if you send ten pictures of Etihad Stadium in a row, just do it. If you ever come to Cardiff, take some time off to see me. And," you try and think of more things to say, but Jamie cups your face in his hands to make you stop.

"I'll see you during the off-season, yeah?" Jamie's look is soft and you can feel the dam stopping your tears about to break.

"Don't you fucking forget me, Jamie." You try and say as angrily as you can, but your voice cracks as Jamie pulls you into another hug.

The two of you finally separate and you head off to your car. You stop yourself from looking back as you get into your seat.

Jamie doesn't take his eyes off you, though. He watches as your car starts and turns the corner off your street.

A/N: hope you all enjoyed this one! if you couldn't tell, some of these flashbacks were based on the song 'it's nice to have a friend' by taylor swift which is what inspired this whole thing! see you next week for the official first chapter !!

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt angst #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #it's nice to have a friend series

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multifariousqueer · 1 year

Text

All that remains

Summary: You notice Shuri's attention has been elsewhere and in an attempt to get it back, your plan backfires

Wc: 1468

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, edging, Dirty talk, nicknames???, ,manipulation, jealousy, overstim, face riding, language(although if you're reading smut with the intention of it being clean, you've come to the wrong place),

Song: Escape From LA- The Weeknd(specifically the beginning)

"sthandwa you're so fucking wet for me. You gonna be a good girl and cum for me yeah?" Shuri moaned in your pussy.

"mmmmm yes my queen" you breathed out.

The pleasure mixed with the brain fog caused by how amazing Shuri was enough to almost push you over the edge. Just as you were about to reach your high, you heard Griot's voice alerting your girlfriend of someone entering her lab. You instantly panicked thinking it was Okoye or the Queen but it was someone else:

"Princess? RiRi Williams is here to finish working on the herb and the Ironheart suit."

"Tell her to wait one minute."

"Yes Princess."

Shuri pulled her fingers out of you and gave you a quick peck on the lips:

"Get dressed, my love. We'll pick this up later." Shuri said with a smirk as she licked her fingers clean of you.

You groaned at the feeling of emptiness and a missed orgasm. All you could think about was that she stopped fucking you mid-orgasm. Sure, Shuri may have edged you on multiple occasions but she never and I do mean NEVER denied you an orgasm when you were that close. It felt like a slap in the face but you knew you couldn't dwell on it for too long, RiRi would be down any minute and you had better things to do. You put on some sweats and went upstairs to shower and go out when you heard Shuri and RiRi laughing and talking. It hurt your feelings a bit to know that Shuri was giving her attention to someone else but you knew it wasn't personal, it was business and RiRi was one of the only people who could help her recreate the herb and suit.

You layed out some lingerie that Shuri bought you with a t-shirt and jeans. When you got out of the shower and put the lingerie on, you made sure to take some pictures to send to Shuri later.

Wakanda was truly the most beautiful place you had ever seen and the scenery and botanical elements were truly one of a kind. Even after Namor's attacks, the place was still thriving and the people were still friendly. You bought some herbs and spices, as well as talked to some of the merchants and a couple even gave you a discount. You decided to walk by the water and send the picture of your lingerie to Shuri; normally when you did this, you would get a reply almost instantly and it was always something along the lines of "come home now." or "I can't wait to eat your pretty pussy 😍" but you didn't get that today; All you got was left on seen. You felt your chest ache so you left and went back to the palace. When you got there you dropped your stuff off and went on your phone for a while when an idea crossed your mind.

You shouldn't. Shuri's gonna destroy you. Buutt, Shuri's not giving you the attention you need rn but you know who will? People on Instagram. So with that, you found the photo least likely to get taken down and posted that with the caption: 4 Your Eyes Only.

You reposted it to your story and pretty soon, it racked up a lot of likes and reposts. Most from your friends, a few from random people; you got a lot of DM's from friends telling you how hot you looked and from random people telling you how hot you looked. You checked your story views and saw a random finsta and instantly knew.

Back in Shuri's lab:

Shuri was working with RiRi when they took a short break to just check social media and vibe. Shuri and RiRi talked about everything, from quantum mechanics to the Chicago bulls to even you at one point:

"So how long have ya'll been together?" RiRi asked.

"3 years-ish. We've been through just about everything together." Shuri replied.

"So did your brother meet her?" RiRi asked

"Yes. He loved her just as much as he loved me. He said that we balance each other out; that I need someone who will get me out of the lab every once an awhile when he couldn't." Shuri answered earnestly

"So do you love her?" RiRi asked.

"You ask a lot of questions." Shuri chuckled.

"Sorry it's just that, ya'll seem so happy." RiRi answered half-apologetically.

"We are. And to answer your previous question, yes, I do love her." Shuri replied with a half smile.

RiRi was about to say something when Okoye called:

"Shuri, you need to see this." Okoye said.

Shuri clicked on the link to see the post of you in the outfit(or lack thereof). Shuri froze and said:

"She's gonna get it."

You left your room and tried to come up with something to say when you suddenly felt Okoye's hands on your arm:

"Where do you think you're going?" She asked

"I don't know." You said shaking

"Well I'll tell you where you're going, your girlfriend wants to speak to you about that post." Okoye replied

"What if I don't want to speak to her?" You asked

"Than you should't have made that blasphemous post." Okoye replied sternly.

You felt your heart sink when you saw her sitting at the table with a picture of the post.

"Why did you post this? And better yet why did you use that caption?" Shuri asked tersely. It honestly made you feel better that even mad, Shuri still knew that you hated beating around the bush.

"You weren't giving me attention so I found people that would." You replied plainly.

"Y/n you know how important this is for me and RiRi. Have I ever done anything to make you question my loyalty before?" Shuri asked

"No but-" You were cut off by Shuri

"So why are you questioning it now?" Shuri asked

"Because RiRi is smart and pretty and she knows how to do the things you do and you guys have the same interests and stuff" You said, with tears in your eyes.

"Oh Y/n. I hope you know that I'd never be with anyone that wasn't you and that includes RiRi. I love you and I always will. Sure we have some stuff in common but we don't have what you and I have. Everything between us is strictly business and I know that you need constant love and attention and it's my fault for not giving you that. I won't make that mistake again. I love you and only you Y/n." Shuri said getting a bit teary eyed.

"I love you too. So much and I'm sorry for letting my insecurities get to me." You said.

"It's okay." Shuri said, embracing you and resting her chin on your head.

Y'all stayed like that for a while before Shuri pulled away and said,

"You know... we never finished our little escapade."

"Well why don't we?" You said with a smirk.

"Mmmmm that's my girl." Shuri said, rubbing your body down.

That was all Shuri needed to start kissing your neck and pull down your jeans. She rubbed circles around your clit through your panties and teased your dripping wet hole.

"Mmmmm this pretty creamy pussy. All mine." Shuri said in between breaths.

"all yours" You breathed out

"Shit you're so wet, I feel you through your panties." Shuri said, grabbing you and putting you on the table.

"Let me eat this pussy like I should've done this morning." Shuri said in your panties.

"Do whatever you want, your highness." You said with a smirk

Shuri took down your panties and stuffed them in her pocket before getting back in between your legs. She lapped up all of your juices in one lick. You moaned as she licked your folds and kissed your clit. She stuck her tongue inside of you and you felt your walls clench.

"Mmmmm fuckk feels so good baby" You said

"Such a perfect pussy. Who's pussy is this again?" Shuri feigned

"I- ahh- yours-mmm" You moaned

Shuri got up from in between your legs inserted three fingers.

"open your mouth" She said.

You did exactly that and she spit your juices and her saliva in your mouth.

"And don't ever forget." She smiled.

You felt yourself nearing your high and before you knew it you were on the edge. Shuri was sucking on your clit while finger fucking you when you felt your high approach:

"Cum for me, princess. Or I'll have to puni-" Shuri mumbled.

Before she could finish her sentence you had finished all over her fingers. Your juices coated her fingers and your moans were all that remained.

#mcu fanfiction #shurixpoc!reader #shurixfem!reader #shuri x reader #shuri headcannons #shuri #shuri smut #foryou #black panther wakanda forever #black panther

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familyvideostevie · 6 months

Note

hi hi lovely first of all i would LOVE to read your fluffy joel fic with no smut, i love your writing a lot and it’s just perfect and so comforting. also, if it is okay i would like to request a joel fic where the reader is someone who gets cold really easily and he’s always being a bit bossy and grumpy with her because she doesn’t wear enough layers or always gives him their blankets, and just like very fluffy very cute vibes! i love youuuuu

omg. yay!!! congratulations you are my first joel request!! thank you very much, this was a lot of fun. it's very short and a bit sweet and i hope you like it! (hope you like the fluffy joel fic, too!) joel doesn't get why you won't wear your damn gloves. fluff, jackson au, 0.8k

---

It starts with gloves.

"You okay?" Joel asks. Well, grunts, more like. You're on patrol which is serious business so you're getting serious Joel.

"Uh, yeah," you say. "Why?"

His jaw shifts like he's grinding his teeth. "You look..."

You try not to smirk too much. "How do I look, Joel?"

The two of you have been doing...whatever it is you're doing for a few months now. Gentle flirting turned to drinks turned to dinner turned to nights in his bed or yours, whispers in your hair and lips on your skin, his steady, solid presence at your side around town.

It's nice. You're enjoying it. And, perhaps most of all, you're enjoying how Joel Miller continues to surprise you. The depth of his worry and care, the jokes he tells out of nowhere, how his nostrils flare when he's trying to hide his smile.

You knew him to be a man capable of violence. You're all capable of violence. You've seen it, done it. That's life. It hardens you.

And while Joel is grumpy a lot of the time for good reason he also knows how to laugh loudly and is learning a song you love and haven't heard in twenty years so he can play it for you on his guitar.

So his unamused glare delights you more than anything.

"You look cold," he huffs.

"Well, it is fall in Wyoming, Joel," you say. "It's cold outside and we're outside." You sweep your arm in a wide arc at the beauty of the valley. Your horse snorts as if agreeing with you. He's right, though. You're cold but it's bearable. You get cold pretty easily, in fact, but Joel has no reason to know that. The weather just started to change.

"Well," he says, mocking you. "Why don't you have gloves or a hat or somethin'?"

He knows why. Because you left for patrol from his house without stopping at yours. You know he's going to find a way to make this his fault, for not checking that you had everything you needed, for not offering you the clothes on his back. You also know he's going to file this away and make it his new mission.

"Because I'm fine, that's why." Your tone leaves no room for argument but Joel tries anyway.

"Your hands are red."

"Joel," you snap. "I'm fine. Leave it."

Sometimes it's overwhelming to be cared about by a man with his intensity. He doesn't do things by halves. You're still learning what it means for him to be all in on you.

He says nothing. You glance at him and see he's holding out a pair of leather gloves you recognize.

"I'm not taking your gloves --"

"Just fuckin' take 'em, alright? If your hands are cold then you can't shoot and I don't want to have to leave you out here because someone got the jump on us. Ellie would kill me."

Typical Joel. Covering up his concern with gruffness. But you know better than to take it personally by now -- you see him with Ellie, see him with people in town. You know what he's like in your bed when he wakes up, the way he strokes your jaw and presses his lips to your temple. You know what's underneath this exterior.

So even if it's a little overwhelming you take the gloves and work them onto your hands. But you don't say thank you because you can't let him win everything.

But after that patrol Joel does make it his mission to ensure you're not cold. It's a little overbearing but you know he likes to be useful so what do you do? You lean into it. You do get cold easily, after all. You let him drape his flannels around you when you don't wear enough layers on the way to his house. You let him tug the hat on your head over your ears. You let him tuck a blanket under your feet on the couch. You let him take care of you.

"Feels like you're doin' this on purpose," he grumbles one night as you walk back from The Tipsy Bison. There's a bite to tonight's wind and he's got his arm around your shoulders so you're pressed into his side. You aren't wearing a coat warm enough for the chill.

"Doing what?"

"Being a pain in my ass. Givin' me grey hairs with your fuckin' determination to get frost bite."

"Well if you hate it so much --" You pretend to pull away from him but his doesn't let you go far.

"Didn't say that. Just think you should dress properly for once."

You laugh and pull him to a stop, turning so you're pressed against his chest.. "Why do I need more layers when I have you?"

"I see how it is," he drawls. "Usin' me for my warmth, are you?"

Joel isn't big on public displays of affection. He's a private man and likes to keep his cards close to his chest. But it's nighttime and there's hardly anyone out, so when you lean close he allows it, brushing your noses together.

"Course I am," you whisper.

He huffs. His palms press into your back. "Figures."

The kiss he gives you warms you all the way down to your toes.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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thelaurenshippen · 5 months

Note

re: that *chef kiss* PERFECT Franken-Drummer post and tumblr not being all over The Expanse, I know right?? it’s such an amazing show with so many delightful, complicated characters yet it’s so unfairly slept on! maybe because S1 takes awhile to get going and ppl give up? idk but it makes me sad that I have so few ppl to squeal about Drummer and Amos and Bobbie and Christjen and Ashford and Naomi (ad infinitum) with 😭🚀😭

WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT OBSESSED WITH THE EXPANSE HELLO!?!?! there's literally so much to love about it oh my god. you're right, it DOES take a second to get going but once it does!!!

for those of you who have not read or seen The Expanse series (I myself have yet to read the books), let me tell you why you'll love it:

political space drama with incredibly distinct cultures and phenomenal world building, if you're a details girlie (gn), you're gonna go nuts

the found family vibes!!??! are off!?!? the charts!?!? (minor spoilers for the first few episodes) four people are thrown into a situation in which they accidentally become the most important people/fugitives in the whole galaxy and most of them DO NOT trust each other, what could possible go wrong, and even better, what could possibly go RIGHT

Christjen Avasarala. you are not ready for her. most powerful mover-shaker on earth with the most incredible outfits you've ever seen, refined elegance with the filthiest mouth, plus she's got a classic "whatever those two have going on is so gay it veers into something else entirely" with her younger protective knight lady, Bobbie

Bobbie. the "not to be a lesbian but oh my god" post is made for her. we meet her in the show for the first time when she arm wrestles a robot and WINS. you will be begging for her to step on you with her mech suit

speaking of women I want to step on me Camina Drummer. angry revolutionary pirate queen of my heart. do you miss the unique agony of 2000/10s queerbaiting but want it to be not baiting somehow? this show does that, idk how else to explain it. the most agonizing sapphic pining you've ever seen but it's textual and also not painful because its gay. don't worry, Camina fucks, just not the girl she wants most (also spoilers, but this is not a bury your gays show don't worry)

Jim Holden is literally just Some Guy who becomes the special fantasy chosen one because he simply cannot stop Getting Involved. nosiest bitch in the universe, I love him.

imagine you're a girl who leaves your shitty ex and gets a normal industrial job on a spaceship, only to have a six foot, two hundred pound killer dressed as a mechanic imprint on you like a baby duck, and its unclear whether he wants to fuck you or call you a little sister but he definitely WILL kill for you and will do literally anything you say and then you both end up caught up in a weird galactic war by mistake and there's this other guy with a captain america level moral compass and he's cute and you're into him except your shitty ex is still out there with the biggest secret you have and meanwhile your best female friend is the coolest person you've ever met but you don't think you can be what she needs and you're holding your family together, you're holding the universe together and all you want is justice for your people but unfortunately you've gone and fallen in love with the accidental most important man in the galaxy. well, every day Naomi Nagata wakes up

Praxideke Meng. botanist of my heart. literally tames the rabid guard dog that no one else could. gentle and able to stay gentle because of said dog. which brings me to...

Amos Burton. I saved him for last because he is my guy. he is THAT guy. canonically aromantic pansexual king. are you into guard dog characters? do you find yourself drawn to the "sorry my love language is acts of service and all I'm good at is killing people" characters? amos burton is like seventeen tumblr posts come to life. previously mentioned enormous killer dressed as a mechanic, former heels wearing "I didn't always work in space" sex worker who is always rolling into brothels and being like "you guys unionized?", gives a shit about basically no one in the universe except his crew and every single child in the galaxy, accidental comedian because he cannot stop saying weird shit, not a nice or good person but a loyal one, and one who is always trying to relearn the empathy that was carved out of him as a young person. every time he goes homicidal to protect one of his chosen people (crew + any and every child), an angel gets its wings.

fin.

#answered #the expanse #most of this is cribbed from the essay I was texting a friend the other day lol #which is what inspired my expanse posting in the first place #bc I was like 'I HAVE to stop bothering this friend' lol #btw the canonically aromantic pansexual thing teeeechnically comes from the writers' twitter?#but like #you simply have to watch the show to know that about amos #he mostly doesn't sleep with people in the show and yes the few he does are women but the dude is queer #but anyway the authors have explicitly said he's aromantic and that his sexuality is 'yes'

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alwaysshallow · 5 months

Text

coffee at midnight, part 7

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

You try the whole "dating" thing. Soap doesn't quite like that, and it shows. (4,4k)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

READ ON AO3

If you'd known how much of a fuss it would be, you wouldn't even tell him. Hell, you wouldn't even think about telling him, you'd just describe it as a simple meeting with an old friend, and he'd know everything afterwards.

Now, you felt like you were seventeen again, trying to explain yourself right in front of your mom when you did something that she didn't like.

The only difference was, Soap acted like your mom, proudly taking her place in scolding you.

"'s like a free invitation for an axe murderer to come and get ya. Bonnie, thought yer gonna be smarter than this." He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see how conflicted he was with you going out without him.

Well, maybe it was also the fact that you were going on a date; an unexpected one, but you couldn't really say no, when your best friend played as your wingman.

And, what could shock the most, the wingman wasn't Soap, but Gaz that got into the conclusion you needed something like this; after your injury, but also in general since he hasn't seen you in ages on date with someone. Truth, harsh but still truth, got into you, so you've decided he's completely right. You needed this, a fresh air in the whole situation.

Which was funnier, that date was with Cody. Cody, who got your fake number from Johnny just because he didn't like him and he gave off weird vibes and you deserved better. You felt bad for a moment considering it was a fucking helpline, but it was too late to do anything with it. What's more to it, you really didn't want to tell him that your idiotic best friend decided to joke, thinking it would be funny.

That guilt was until Garrick proudly admitted that he gave him your number because it felt right. Because Cody asked about you since he saw you with them, and after a quick "interrogation", he felt like a proud wingman to allow him to take a shot on you.

Pretty funny choice of words, but all in all, you knew what Gaz was thinking about. You've babbled with him about it for almost two hours straight, drinking wine, while Soap just listened, throwing his snarky remarks from time to time. He looked like a kid that got his candy stolen from him, and while you didn't really like that kind of behavior, it was kind of funny to see him like this.

Such a contrast to his usually playful nature, especially in something stupid; you were just getting ready for the date. Nothing too scandalous, nothing too fancy, and nothing too deep, but the last thing you kept to yourself, just to get him riled up.

"Axe murderer that I know, Soap," you groaned, when he stood in your way, clearly not wanting you to go any further. Or to at least think what you were doing, which was funny enough, given you were a grown up woman. Not his sister that he needed to protect because she's not mature enough to think for herself, his best friend that knew exactly what she's doing.

At least, she pretended like she knew it. He was so stern that even when you gave him a look, full of politeness, he wasn't impressed.

"You just met him after years," he emphasized the last word. "He could be so much different than the last time you've seen him, 'st sayin'. Yer too good to people, always been."

You sighed, a little defeated; there was nothing you could say that would convince him enough to Cody. "Yet, Kyle thinks he's pretty good for going out."

Soap laughed at your words, shaking his head with disbelief. His previously royal, blue eyes, were nothing like before; they were a bit... colder, if it was even possible. "And since when Kyle is your love advisor?" He raised his eyebrow, his arms crossed at his chest. It felt pretty defensive, even for him.

And, you would lie if you'd tell that you didn't like that, even if it was weird for you, to see him care about something like this. It was heartwarming; like he didn't actually want you to see that guy, to see him adding his statement.

But, of course, you couldn't admit that. It would only make his ego burst, and it was the last thing that he needed to know.

Besides, it would only make things more complicated.

"And like, it's..."

"Why do you care anyway?" you interrupted him; he opened his mouth for a moment, to close it right away, like your words actually hit him. "Genuinely. It's just a date."

Soap rolled his eyes, playing with his fingers – when you only glanced at them, he swiftly hid them behind his back. Like he wanted to keep them away from you, like you would say something about it. It was weird, but you didn't pay much attention to it back then.

"Carin' about you. 's all." He shrugged, looking carefully at you, when you put your shoes on. "'st... be careful, aye? 'm gonna kill this lad if he's..."

"...Johnny." You sent him a look; your hand instinctively covered his for a moment. "It's all gonna be alright. I'm not like, going to a mission where I'm gonna get another injury" you joked. He didn't take it quite well, considering that he gave you a scolding look.

"Mhm." Soap grumbled, helping you as you moved on to your coat. "Text me if you'll need anythin', bonnie. I mean it. Yer arm good?"

"Good, thank you. I'm gonna remember." You smiled softly, nudging him for goodbye, indicating that he could step down from his protective role. Cody was supposed to pick you up, so there was absolutely nothing for him left to do.

Well, at least you thought this way. His thoughts were a little different, as you saw the moment he escorted you to the exit of your apartment building, leaning against the door, as you were getting into your date's car. Cody even waved to him, but all Johnny did was a slight nod, like he was acknowledging him.

Small win, but a win anyway, you thought.

"Hope he's not your hidden boyfriend or something?" Your old friend looked at you for a second, before taking a turn to the left. "Like, he seems pretty... tense, when he sees me. Like he's protecting something."

You needed a few seconds to process what Cody was implying; and when you understood, you couldn't help but laugh and with disbelief. "No, he's completely harmless. Seriously, it's just... maybe he doesn't take strangers well, you know."

"Does he give strangers a distress hotline number instead of yours, or is it just me?" he grinned, and even then, you could hear the question in his tone, which made you gulp a little.

Well, if you’d think this way...

"Well. Johnny is... he's..."

Best friend. He's your best friend.

Why couldn't it leave your mouth?

"He's my... Johnny." You eventually said, looking at him. "He's like that, you'd understand after some time. But he's not my hidden boyfriend or something."

"Note taken. Would be awkward, if I'd taken you on a date and didn't know that." He laughed, shaking his head. "He'd probably kill me, huh?"

You laughed at this too, instead of telling him how Soap was already not pleased with you going out with him, and he was only your... best friend, technically. Heaven only knew what would happen if you'd want to meet Cody if you were in a relationship with him.

It was the possessiveness speaking. If anyone wanted to know something about MacTavish, he was possessive about his things. Obsessively so; it was cute when he clutched the Subway's sandwich to his chest from Ghost, when his friend wanted to take a bite. You, of course, had permission to take it (just a little bite since you were a girl), but no one else could. He cared about his things, he didn't let anyone touch his stuff if it had a sentimental matter to him.

The funny thing about it, he was possessive about people too, which sometimes irritated you to the core; he could have multiple friends and all, but you? Oh, he was interrogating the shit out of them, giving you the side eye if they managed to plan something with you before he did. He felt like he came before anyone, no matter what.

Not to mention, he was only like this about guy friends. Like a dog with a bone that's too precious to give to others. Funny thing is, they didn't even flirt with you, and he was acting like they were stealing you from him.

So, it wasn't really surprising when he didn't want to let you go out with Cody, especially that he somehow knew that you two had a history. You were thankful enough he didn't make a scene right in front of him because that would be humiliating.

Especially when your date seemed to be so nice. Not only did he open the car door for you, but also the restaurant's one, and you couldn't help but smile at that little gesture, nodding to him as a silent thank you. What was even better, you loved the place he chose for tonight.

Your old friend had to remember your taste, considering that the Italian restaurant was probably the prettiest building you've seen in a while. A lot of warm lamps around, climatic music that got your attention right when you walked into the room, greeted by an older waiter with a mustache; everything screamed Italy here, and you were taking in the view with pleasure.

"You like it so far?" Cody looked up at you from the menu; his bright, green eyes sparkled with curiosity in dim light. You suddenly felt bad, since you appreciated the effort more than you've probably let him know.

So, you nodded quickly, your painted nails clicking against the table. "Reminds me of this one restaurant back at home. You know, where we went with Stacy and others?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember." He laughed, shaking his head "I remember how Stacy spilled expensive wine on your shirt. Before meeting with your moms, you were pretty pissed back then."

You opened your eyes a little wider at this memory, suddenly remembering it; yeah, Stacy did something like that. What was also important to mention, you were right before an important dinner with your moms and their friends (Price involved), and the tragedy was huge back then. "So, you do remember things, huh?"

"Most of them," he admitted, tilting his head to the side with that boyish charm that he always had. It was something you couldn't really take away from him. "If something is worth remembering, I remember. Mostly situations with you."

It would be a lie if you'd say that dinner didn't go smoothly – because it did. Perfectly, even, knowing how much of a gentleman Cody was, how swiftly he balanced between topics, trying to entertain you. Trying to at least get a glimpse of your life that he didn't get to know since you left your hometown after being deployed and you cut ties with most of your friends. It was something that you liked, something that you adored, knowing he once was interested in you, and you were in him, when you were at high school.

Key words: high school.

As much as you liked him now, you knew it wouldn't work the moment waiter brought your food, and you awkwardly smiled to him, when he bon apetite'd you. Even if he tried to be smug, conversation wasn't effortless like you wanted it to be, you didn't like the way he asked you about your work, implying how it was men's work. Maybe it wasn't evident at first sight, but comments about you ruining your nails and your struggle as the only woman, and everything like that, irritated you.

Maybe it was you being hypersensitive, but you didn't really enjoy comments like this, no matter who it would be.

The chemistry between you two wasn't sparkling as well, and as much as you kept yourself from admitting it, you couldn't brush off a feeling that you would enjoy time with Johnny better. Hell, you were sure that your Scot would make those few hours a lot better. Movies, cooking together, even visiting the gym together... anything.

You felt bad for the thought, when Cody was so nice overall – yet, not nice in a way that would interest you.

"Is that your friend?" You heard him, which brought you back to Earth; he frowned, as he looked behind you. You were sitting right by the window, so he had a pretty clear view on the street.

"Friend?" You raised your eyebrow, amused.

"From earlier on."

You turned around, to see if your date was right; you doubted, really doubted that Cody would see Soap. Your friend was anything but someone that would disturb your date. "I really don't think Johnny..."

Well, Johnny indeed was here, and the thought of him not interrupting your date was completely crushed. You had to give him credit, though; he wasn't that recognizable, you didn't catch him right in the moment. He was in his dark sunglasses and brown cap; if the situation would've been different, you could laugh at how ridiculously similar he looked to all the Marvel characters when they had to hide.

Back then, you balanced on the line between being amused and furious that he didn't respect your time enough with someone else.

Having fun, Johnny?

As you observed him, you saw how quickly he looked around; for a brief moment, you felt like his gaze was on you, and it only confirmed itself when he started typing in his phone again.

dinnae ken what yer talkin about.

"I guess he's just here." You shrugged, lying to him swiftly. "It's the center of the town, yeah? Things... happens."

Cody chuckled, playing with his fork. "Yeah. Yeah. Maybe he is. As long as he doesn't disturb our date, right? It's too nice."

You're a menace to the society, MacTavish; you swiftly typed out under the table. "Yeah. It's too nice." you agreed, even if you thought how interesting it got only because your best friend was outside.

and yer mean: (

You had to hold back a laugh when you've read it; so, you put your phone down and came back to talking with Cody, eating and drinking that delicious wine; you knew you had to buy a bottle after this little adventure. Maybe they didn't sell it, but you were willing to try as soon as the waiter would come with the bill.

It was a personal win for you to come out twenty minutes later out of this restaurant with a bottle in your hand, laughing to your date about something convincing enough to sell it to you. You had to speak with two managers, but it was yours after all, ready to go home with you.

Soap was ready too, even if he acted like he wasn't here; you turned down Cody's proposition of taking you home just to call your best friend to ask where he is exactly, since he disappeared from that bench before you knew it.

"Over the date already? Had to suck, eh?" His eyebrow arched, as he wrapped his arm around your waist. "Sad. But yer sure that lad ain't for you."

"You know," you started, as you grabbed his glasses, just to wear it yourself "if you wouldn't be such a stalker, I'd let you drink wine with me at home. But, now, I have doubts about it."

"Stalker? C'mon. A simple coincidence, that is," he chuckled, as you two walked into his car. "Not my fault you'd rather have me on this date, not him. Can't really blame ya, hen."

You could feel how your face heated up in the moment; maybe if his statement wasn't true, you'd react differently, maybe you would think of a snarky comment. Back then, when you felt exactly like he said, well... It was hard enough.

He seemed to catch the hesitant look at your face, considering how smiley he got. "Oh? Got ye real good, if yer blushin'—"

"—you imagine too much, Johnny, " you mumbled out, as you got more comfortable in your seat, ready to go. "Let's go home, yeah?"

"'st sayin', bonnie. I could have a better date, even at home."

You didn't say anything about his reply. Not because it wasn't true (because it was), not because you were at a loss of words, but because you were conflicted about him and you having a date, when you two were friends. Was he honest, or playing like he always did?

It was just easier to think of it as just banter, ignore it, than actually take him seriously; because if you did and he would have to explain it to you it was just a joke... You were pretty sure that death of embarrassment was gonna happen, honestly. John was too important to you, friendship with him was too important to you to experiment with things like that.

Besides, it wasn't like you two would fit, right? There was a difference between being friends and someone that you could date. Your best friend was great, but as a lover? You didn't know this side of him, you could only guess.

When you finally arrived, you automatically left the car with your head in the clouds. Maybe that's why you haven't even noticed that your best friend was on the other side, trying to open the door for you; and that end up badly, considering that you've hit him with the door.

Low "fuck" snapped you from your thoughts, as well as him holding his nose; you immediately approached him, your expression bashful.

"I'm so sorry, Soap, I—"

"—S'alright." He shook his head, smiling at you like it was nothing. "I've been worse, you know. 'Suppose I deserved that." He nudged you, laughing when you rolled your eyes.

"It wasn't intentional," you groaned, grabbing his arm to start walking with him. "Come on, I'm gonna check it. Just in case."

"Apartment first, ma'am."

So, as soon as you were in the apartment with him, you had to check if nothing was broken – and even if it sounded like a wild thought, breaking a nose in close contact with the car's door, literally everything was possible with Soap, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Wouldn't be the first time that you did something to him without intention of doing it.

Once, when he pretended to be a burglar (he thought it would be funny this way) and he grabbed you from behind in your apartment, you hit him with a flower pot. You laughed afterwards, but you were pretty mad at him in the first ten minutes, trying to find something with ice that would help his headache.

After you checked everything, he seemed to be good. At least, excluding the moment where he thought it would be funny to whine and make you worry, which you smacked him for, but that was just his idiotic side speaking.

This incident though was definitely a lighter one. You've found yourself cleaning his shirt with soap and cold water, since he had a few drops of blood on it, and somehow you felt responsible there wouldn't be any stain left. Soap kept you company even then, shirtless, leaning against the doorframe to have a joke or two about how well you are cleaning blood, suggesting that you have "close connections" with underground fighters.

A simple answer would be period, but you didn't feel like going into that kind of conversation, so you just agreed, telling him he has to book you for the next cleaning. His laugh was everything.

Quickly after this, you were off to sleep, tired with the events of the day; you really needed a good rest, where you'd wrap yourself in the sheets, a warm nest around you. Calm environment, nothing to worry about since you were on leave, and your best friend was in your apartment too, it was the sense of safety here.

Except, your nightmares had a bit different plans than you had.

Ruthless, like they needed to remind themselves, and the worst thing about it was: you lived through every one of them. It wasn't something of your imagination, monsters and creatures that had no place in the real world, no – the realness of it all was scary. The memories you had from missions blended perfectly with events that didn't happen, causing you to have a heart-attack experience.

Nightmares about your team were the worst; where everyone was killed. Where you couldn't do anything but scream; this time, you watched their execution, as every one of your boys were killed right in front of you. Gun wounds, humiliation, where killers wanted them to beg for their life, when they cut the fingers of your comrades just to shoot them afterwards.

And you had to watch all of it, teary-eyed, just begging to stop all this madness.

The worst moment was when royal blue eyes looked right into yours, terrified, with a silent plea in them, hoping that you're gonna be the one to save his life; and the worst thing was, you knew you're gonna fail him. You knew there was nothing you could do to prevent the bloodshed, not when your body refused to move, not when you couldn't even move your finger, nor legs to defend them.

To defend him.

You remembered screaming, when the hope died in his eyes; silent, maybe meaningless words from your side that you're gonna fix all of this, no matter what. How you were the only one alive, and it felt worse than being dead with all of them.

And then, you woke up.

Your breath rapid, shuddery, you had no control over it, as well as you had no control over tears streaming down your face, without you acknowledging the fact of them. The only element that you saw? A pair of blues, looking at you with horror.

Owner of them shook you gently, trying to get you out of the trance you were in; after a minute you were pretty sure that he was talking, but you couldn't really recall what.

You had other things in mind.

"You're alive," you said, breathing out; he seemed shocked at least with your statement, but as he held your hands in his, he nodded quickly.

"Yeah. Yeah, 'm alive. Always will," he whispered. For a moment, the two of you were just looking at each other in silence and breathing. He took as it personal job to ease your nerves, and you could say that he really succeeded at it – the feeling like someone ripped your heart from your chest, slowly but surely vanished. "Better?"

"A bit," you murmured, sighing. You felt kind of bad, even if it wasn't your fault entirely. "I woke you up. I'm so sorry Johnny, I don't even—"

"—sssh. None of that right now, lassie, 'salright." He shook his head, leaning even more in your direction. "Come on. Give me a bosie."

"A bosie?" you chuckled, wiping away your tears. "It's a... hug, or...?"

"It's a hug, aye," he laughed too, wrapping his arms around you tightly – he knew how you liked to be hugged, he knew what you needed back then.

Soap hid his face in your hair, as he caressed your spine softly. He whispered a lot of words back then; soothing ones, encouraging, sweet nothings that made your heart go. How you weren't alone in all of this, how you could always count on him, how he was always gonna be here, no matter what was gonna happen.

All of this, in his arms, slightly rocked back and forth by him, seemed like the sweetest promise ever made, when you listened to his heart, slowly coming back to normal, just like your breath did not long ago. You two had magical influence on each other, you knew, but seeing it in action had you on a chokehold.

If this would be possible, you'd never leave this hug. You were more than happy to stay there with your eyes closed, your arms tightly around him, chin on top of his arm, where you could just smell his scent that somehow calmed you even more.

"'m gonna bring you a glass of water. Then, you're gonna go to sleep, all right?"

You couldn't care less about a glass of water, when you had all you needed in one person.

“Can you... stay?" you asked, slowly, when he started getting out of your bed. Somehow, you felt out of place asking that, but you needed to do this, even if it could seem outward weird to him.

You saw how he froze for a moment, before sitting in your bed again. "Of course."

This wasn't the first time; you once comforted him in bed, you slept next to him on missions just to keep both of you warm, but that was definitely the first time when both of you felt... more intimate. Like it was a change in the air, and after all it was your bed, in your apartment, and you wanted him to be next to you because he brought you comfort.

And because, somehow, it felt like he belonged here.

He spooned you from behind – one of his arms going under your head, so you could easily use it as a pillow if you'd only want, the other around your waist, like he was personally protecting you from anything that could happen to you. His body heat hit you the moment you snuggled more under the sheets. Soap was like a personal heater, ready to do anything to keep you warm.

You were in heaven.

"This will do?" he asked, his voice low. "Is it good for you, lassie?"

"...yeah." You smiled under your nose, when he ruffled your hair with the tips of his fingers, when you laid your head on his arm. "Good."

"Mhm. Sleep now, I'm gonna be here, if you need me." He kissed the back of your head, and from that gesture alone, you just knew for a fact that he was smiling too. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know. Love you too."

And for the first time, it felt a bit different from "I love you" than usual.

#soap x reader #soap x you #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #x reader #cod x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap fluff #soap fanfic #friends to lovers #soap cod #soap call of duty #john mactavish

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galene-gothic · 1 year

Text

𝖶𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗ PAID SERVICES

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

꒰ Who do you think you are ? ꒱

This seems to be touching more on what you're experiencing right now or have experienced in the past. You think that you're heartbroken, it's coming through quite strongly here. You think that your emotions run deep which results in you feeling hurt very deeply too. You think that you're lonely and kinda alienated from others. Some of you might have gotten deeply betrayed by people who you really trusted which has left you wondering if it's even worth it at all. I think that we both know that you're not in the best place right now. However, you're starting to have realisations that are really helping you at this time. As much as you're heartbroken, you don't want to and will not lose your compassionate self. You're seperating yourself from things and people that hurt you but I'm getting that you're the kind of person who desires closures so things feel incomplete to you on a subconscious level but you have a deep understanding that you've outgrown those situations and even if it's heartbreaking, you're moving away, even if it's uncomfortable, you're starting to choose peace and happiness. You think that you're someone who learns lessons from every experience especially heartwrenching ones.

You think that right now you're kind of purging, the universe/god/whatever you believe in seems to be clearing away the crap from your life, be it people, situations or your own unhealthy habits. I'm getting that this purging is very uncomfortable for you. You think that you've got atleast alright social skills. You think that you're open to loving people and want to express positive emotions (affection) to others in a deep and touching manner. You think that you are a person who helps others heal even if it triggers them, you see yourself as someone who has tried to heal really vile people in the past. I'm getting that you're starting to take more pride in having been a good friend/partner/daughter to people, if you don't then you should. You think that you're really careful with people's emotions and pretty good at understanding patterns especially emotional ones. You seem to be going through a new beginning, emotionally. You see yourself as peace loving. When you love someone you start looking at things from their perspective, you're very sensitive towards their needs and even if you have gotten into situations that were abusive or toxic, you've always tried to maintain the other person's or the relationship's peace. You think that people find it easier to open up to you regarding things than with others.

꒰ Who are you, really ? ꒱

You're someone who wants to leave behind a legacy. You wish to be abundant in every sense, you want the money, the love, the life that others can only dream of having. You care about your family deeply, for some of you, you might have family issues but even so, you sacrifice a lot for them. When you love someone, you consider them to be family and they become the center of your world. You are wealthy, if not financially (yet), you're wealthy when it comes to experiences. You might have experienced significant losses in your life which has always managed to get you closer to yourself. You like to make others feel like they belong because you've felt like you don't fit in for majority of your life, for some of you, it's still difficult to find people who you truly vibe with. The people who make you feel like you belong are very important to you, you grow affection towards such people very easily. You're a harmonious person, you care about reputation, material resources and money a lot but you hold just as much value to emotions, relationships (both platonic and romantic) and growing internally.

Compared to other people, you're pretty self aware in regards to your negative traits and know how to live with integrity which provides you with a sense of fulfillment. The thing about you guys is that you cannot be labelled because of how complex your personality is and also because of how balanced you are. While, for some people they could choose between love and money if they had to, it's difficult for you to do so because of how much importance you hold to both of them. I'm getting that you guys want a stable environment, a home to call your own but also cannot exactly be tied down, you likely know that you cannot do a 9-5 but a part of you likes the structure and routine that a 9-5 provides. There's a part of you that wants to settle down and there's another part of you that wants to fly really high. You're integrating a different version of yourself in your current self and it has not been easy for you but you're resilient and you're completing a cycle. You're strong enough to face any challenge, you've always overcome the hardest battles and you'll continue doing so in the future if it comes to it. I'm so proud of you.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ Who do you think you are ? ꒱

You guys probably know that you're pretty. You think that you're a mature person who's emotionally intelligent. You think that you're kind, loving and sensitive. You think that you get hurt pretty easily. You think that one of your positive and negative traits is your ability to daydream. You think that you're a loyal and forgiving person who loves people at all costs. You think that you hope for the best for people. You think you've got many deep insights on life and that your presence is healing. You think that you're understanding and forgiving. However, you also think that you end up burdening yourself by taking responsibility for other people's emotions. You see yourself as someone who's kind of burnt out as of lately. You think that you're often taken for granted and tend to struggle a lot :(. Most of you haven't had an easy life but you keep on pushing yourself. Your ability to never give up is really admirable and I think that you respect yourself for that. You might have gone through humbling experiences recently which is causing you to focus on your duties and confidence. You think that you're a hardworking person who doesn't really mind carrying the relationship, I think that is starting to change. You think that you have the tendency to be obsessive at times.

In the past, you might have made a lot of sacrifices for others but now you're starting to realise that that's not how it's supposed to be. Now, you're starting to make sacrifices for the life you wish to live is what I'm getting. You think that you tend to take more than you can handle but still manage to get it done, however, you're starting to realize that biting more than you can chew is not good for you. You think that you're really ambitious but you might have been lazy in the past, you're starting to stay disciplined now and I think that's one of the best things that you've been doing. You think that you tend to get really stressed out because of how seriously you take everything. You think that you've lost yourself but you're trying to take this opportunity to build yourself as a better person. I'm getting that you've tried to protect people by handling their responsibilities, helping them work through their trauma, even taking blame for their mistakes, etc. Which didn't leave you well. You might have felt like you destroyed yourself but you're starting to build compassion towards yourself again because you realise that it's not your fault that you care about people, it's not your fault that they couldn't have been kinder to you, it's on them, it's their loss. You tend to struggle with loneliness.

꒰ Who are you, really ? ꒱

You're actually who you think that you are. You're an emotionally intelligent person and love people deeply. You're sensitive, loyal, forgiving and never give up on love. You have a lot of empathy towards others. I think that you don't know some things about yourself though or even though you know it, you tap into those parts very unconsciously. First of all, you care about money and material possessions, you are also pretty thrifty with money. You are a pretty practical person and likes to weigh out risks and potential outcomes before investing. Your ability to grow is beyond astounding, you're always growing, you're always becoming better but you haven't tapped into your potential entirely. You like to set goals and follow through with achieving them. Even though you have the tendency to daydream, you're much more grounded than other people your age. You have so much potential that you're not even aware of. Right now, some of you here are like "I know that I have a lot of potential" but you have even more potential than you think.

You especially have a lot of potential when it comes to money, you know how to be realistic when things come to it. I'm not sure how to say it but your relationship with earth or the material realm is much stronger than your relationship with spirit. You can ground anything you want to into reality unless you're choosing to be lazy 💀. Some of you might be artists here, while some of you have the soul of an artist but haven't been able to harbour your skills to the point where you could call yourself an artist? I'm getting that in 2023, you should focus on money and improving your skills when it comes to any artform that you feel called to. For you, healing is very important. You really care about your own and other people's emotions. I get the vibe that people not considering your emotions can make you really upset at times even though usually you choose to understand where they're coming from. You're a really loving person too. You're a really romantic person who has deep insights on life. You might sometimes feel like no one deserves you because of how loving you are.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ��

꒰ Who do you think you are ? ꒱

Right now, you're probably transitioning and you're aware of it. You think that you're someone who overcomes any hardship that comes upon you. You think that you're in a healing period right now. I'm also getting that you might have helped or tried to save a lot of people in the past when they were down but when you're down, you're having to go through everything all by yourself. You seem to be running away from something. I'm getting that it's not anything bad, like you're not ghosting people, you're just choosing to get away from bad energy. You think that things are finally starting to be calmer for you and that you're moving into a positive direction. You're making a lot of progress in your everyday life. You think that you're someone who learns from your regrets. You think that you've mentally left situations even if you're unable to leave them physically due to whatever reason. You think that you have a lot of courage and are an independent thinker. You think that you're releasing your past pains and starting to take more responsibility over your own happiness. You're likely exhausted and taking a rest right now.

You're trying your best to regain control over your life again and to balance things out. You feel supported by the universe or whatever you believe in right now, you feel like the universe sends in someone to help redirect you everytime you are about to go astray. You think that you're moving towards creating a more stable and comfortable life for yourself. You're either on the verge of leaving someone or something in the past or you already have. This is talking more about things that you're going through and the energy you're in right now. Let's move towards what you think about yourself, you think that you're a prideful person. I'm getting that it's very important for you to be proud of yourself, proud of your partner, proud of your friends, etc. You think that you naturally attract attention. You think that you're a confident person who possesses a lot of inner strength. You're starting to realise that achievements mean a lot to you. You want to be successful and some of you have a feeling that you are destined to be in the public eye in some way. You think that you're constantly working on improving yourself as being and feeling confident is very important to you.

꒰ Who are you, really ? ꒱

One thing I can clearly pick up on is that you feel completely drained out. I'm actually surprised that you still have the energy to try and make your life better. Your attempt at trying to stay positive is quite admirable too. You have a lot of setbacks in your life right now. It's as if nothing is working out. It seems to be really worrisome to be honest, you might be on the verge of not being able to continue your education or job anymore, some of you might be on the verge of losing your home, etc. You're still choosing to be courageous and not lose your mind though. You're persistent on making things better for yourself. You've learnt lessons from your past failures and mistakes and you're choosing to practically apply those lessons into your life. You also seem to be really guarded, with your time, energy, money, information about your life, etc. Regardless of how bad things might be going for you and how many setbacks seem to be placed on your path, you're choosing to push forward. You're tired of everything, you just want to be stable at this point. You also seem to be really wounded from all your past experiences. You're actually going through a really hard time right now, you know that but you don't feel like it because you are doing your best, I'm so proud of you. You're a resilient person who's choosing to have faith in how things play out while still trying your best to get your desired outcome/outcomes. It's like, you know that things can't possibly get any worse so you might as well choose to have a positive attitude towards things, that's what you think subconsciously.

I think again, we ended up picking up more of your energy than on you, so moving on to who you really are. You were meant to give out and receive love. Socializing is like second nature to you. Maybe, not anymore but most of you were very good at socializing as a child. You hold pure intentions towards other people and choose to deal with emotions in a balanced way. You're someone who doesn't really try to make your feelings towards someone stop growing unless they do you dirty. You also really seem to enjoy the early stages of relationships and crushes. You're an emotionally open person even though you're really guarded and choose to love people freely. However, you might have a fear of commitment and might purposely like people who are commitment phobic too or you know you won't last with. You like forming new connections and tend to go with the flow while still wondering how to control situations. You don't seem to have a balance, you either go with the flow to the point you almost don't care or you become really controlling. You're actually very peaceful and peace loving. I'm trying to figure out how and why your life is so chaotic. You know how to maintain your emotional well-being while not losing your ability to love. You're actually pretty satisfied and fulfilled with yourself and that's why you seem to keep going despite everything. You know how to make others happy :'). I'm so proud of you, keep loving, take care.

#pac #pac reading #intuitive readings #pick a card #pick a deck #tarot pac #tarot pick a card #future spouse pick a card

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pikahlua · 6 months

Note

Thoughts on the official translation of 405?

Yeah, thoughts abound.

1. Is the official translation of the final line in chapter 405 accurate? No.

2. Regardless, some people think it's inaccurate in really blatant ways that it actually is not. For example, some people think the official translation is changing some explicitly used pronouns around. If there's EVER anything about Japanese that isn't completely clear, it's what the pronouns should be--because the vast majority of them are implied.

3. Re: the "yeah yeah" line, I can conceive of a delivery of the line that does not sound disrespectful. That doesn't mean that's how the translator meant it, and this translator does have a habit of translating Katsuki's rude language with a certain *VIBE* that I don't always agree with--but that doesn't change the fact that Katsuki does speak very rudely and the translator clearly tries to capture that in the way they seem to think is best.

4. It's quite a leap to claim that this official translation is inaccurate due to deliberate malice, which I see a lot of people doing. From what I can tell, the translator just didn't realize the final line is a callback to chapter 322. Without that context, yeah, I can see how it'd be difficult to fully understand what's being said there, because enough of the words are vague or implied that it'd be confusing what Katsuki's talking about without that realization. Katsuki doesn't say "I (ore)" in the line, he says "kocchi (this/here)," which depending on the context can mean "I, we, us over here on this side (of the line, of the argument)." He also doesn't say "Izuku/Deku/that nerd" specifically, he says "aitsu (that guy over there)" with the kanji reading as "One For All." Without the context of chapter 322, it could easily read like "we'll wipe the floor with you where those One For All guys couldn't."

5. Building off #4, we need to be a little more self-aware as fans. When you are a big fan of something, you're gonna be more likely to remember specific lines and notice callbacks and be keyed into the little details. First of all, not everyone is capable of that, especially with respect to a long 405-chapter-and-counting manga. This line is referencing something that the translator hasn't necessarily seen in over two years. Should the translator have to comb back through the entire manga every week just to be safe? Is that really feasible? Of course I'd love for the official translation to be as accurate as possible, but when you're translating something on a weekly basis that isn't even finished yet, it's just a fact that there will be times you miss things. You don't always have the luxury of time to go back and check for things you've missed that need to be tied together. I've messed up lines in my translations before too. Please keep in mind this is the translator's JOB, not necessarily their PASSION. They're likely translating multiple projects at the same time for a meager paycheck. They've got a lot of stuff to remember from various projects at the same time, and they're gonna miss stuff on occasion. Did the translator "not care" in this case? I think it's far more likely the translator cares enough, but if they're not in the fandom they're not gonna care more than the fans nor should we expect them to.

The proper response is not to ATTACK THE TRANSLATOR'S LIVELIHOOD like I see MANY people doing, holy crap.

Translating is often a thankless job. No one writes Viz telling them how good of a job the translator is doing when they get 99% of the translations right. The most obsessive fans often jump on mistakes as if those mistakes are personal attacks. But we're complaining about 1 or 2 lines out of the whole chapter. The rest was pretty good. That's the case for most chapters. It's hard to justify claiming malice when the translator far more often than not gets it right. But goodness, attacking the translator is not going to endear you to anyone who matters. If the translation is something you truly care about and you want to foster nontoxic fandom spaces and have good relationships between the fandom and the producers, a more proper response would be something like:

"Hey Viz, I think the translator missed this key bit of context which could have helped him with this line's translation. I love Horikoshi's work and want the best for it, and I think the translator cares about doing a good job. Would you please let the translator know about this and have him look into it for the official print tankoban release in English?"

The more you alienate and dogpile the translator, the less they're gonna care about doing a good job.

#ask pika #anon ask #my hero academia manga spoilers #final showdown spoilers #linguistics fun

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helaelaemond · 7 months

Note

REQUEST TIME Because of your beautiful, beautiful mind, this idea came up after reading your amazing Billy fic (Only worth living if somebody loving you).

How about a Billy who, as you showed, is turned on by taking care of his SO, but turned on so much that he cannot help but cum from this?

I know it'll be great, as the idea mostly came from you and the EYE CONTACT will break me.

thank you for this wonderful prompt, and for trusting me with it! In @myfandomprompts I believe!!!!!!!

Title: This Is My Idea of Fun - part of the It’s All For You series but can be read as standalone

Pairing: Billy Washington x female reader

Summary: You've come back from a week long holiday with your friends, and your boyfriend Billy has missed you. He's missed taking care of you, touching you and tasting you, giving you everything you need. And in giving you everything you need, he finds his own satisfaction.

Cunnilingus, breast worship, nipple orgasm (female), hands-free orgasm (male), mild praise kink, pet names, established relationship, fluffy smut.

Rating: E

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: references to Lana Del Rey (this whole series is based on Video Games - the lyrics and the vibes. JUMPSCARE I GUESS)

Tag list: @sylasthegrim / @myfandomprompts/ @arcielee / @babyblue711 / i forget who else might want Billy tags <3

"Billy!"

He grins as he waits for you at Stansted arrivals with open arms, and you fly to him. "Hey!"

Catching you in his embrace, he peppers your face with kisses, not caring that you're feeling gross from your flight, not caring that you smell of the stale aeroplane air, not caring, not caring, not caring. Behind you, your friends meet their partners, too, although none are as welcomed so lovingly as you (not that it's a competition - but it still feels good).

"I missed you!"

His heart leaps when you say that, and he runs his fingers over your hair. "Hmm. I missed you too. Didn't know what to do with myself all week. God, you look good. Look at your tan!" The Mallorca sun has warmed your skin and left you glowing, and he kisses your forehead. "You wore sun cream, right?"

"Of course!" you laugh, batting away his worries. "Factor fifty, three times a day."

"Hmm. I'm not sure it counts if you're adding tanning oil on top of it."

"Shut up!"

He grins and grabs the handle of your suitcase, and although you protest, he takes the rucksack from your back, too. When you turn towards the train station within the airport, he grabs your hand. "Where you going?"

"Aren't we-?" you gesture to where your friends are meandering to head back to central London.

"Absolutely not. No public transport for my girl."

"For God's sake!" you laugh again. "It's only a half hour train! You didn't have to drive. Couldn't wait to get me alone, huh?"

Billy ducks his head but gives you a glance. "You joke, but..."

You shove him playfully. Leaving him for a moment, you hug your friends goodbye and promise to see them soon, and then you go back to him. Arm in arm, you walk out of the airport. It's only been a week away from him. But you're giddy being back with him.

After some convincing from your side, you'd agreed that you'd text every day, but not go into detail about what you're up to - that way, when you got home, you could tell him everything. At first, it made him nervous, but now that you're animatedly telling him everything as he drives down the M11, he's glad.

It's magic, seeing you like this. It's a beauty to listen to you talk about anything, let alone something that makes you so happy. He listens almost in a trance, and as he sits at a comfortable seventy-five in the outside lane, he rests his hand on your thigh. God, it's good to have you back.

By the time you've returned to the flat you rent together, you've told him all about your week-long holiday. Inside, it's clean and tidy, and on the living room windowsill is a fresh bouquet of lilac and lavender.

"Oh, Billy."

He smiles and kisses your temple. "Welcome home."

"Thank you."

You hug him for a long moment, just happy to be in his arms. But then his kisses move to your neck, and you squirm away. "No, stop. I need a shower. I feel gross."

Billy's nose scrunches as he beams at you. "Alright. Want me to unpack for you in the meantime?"

You think about telling him no, that he doesn't have to worry, but he strokes your cheek, and you're reminded how much he likes to take care of you, in his own way. "Could you?"

He nods.

"Thank you."

You take your time in the shower. You scrub every inch of yourself clean in an attempt to scourge travel from your skin and hair. By the time you've finished, Billy's unpacked your bags and stuck a wash on. It makes you feel all warm inside, the little gestures he performs that show he loves you. That you're his person to look after. You wrap yourself up in a towel and pad into the living room.

"All better?" he asks from where he's sitting on the sofa.

"Yeah. I need a proper brew, though. Want one?"

"Go on, then."

In the little kitchen, you pull out two mugs. They're ones you painted together on a date when you were still teenagers. He painted sprigs of lavender on his. It's what you smelled of on your first date. It's his favourite smell now, and your favourite flower. The memory makes you smile.

Strong arms encircle you as the kettle boils. A sharp chin finds its place on your bare shoulder. You put a tea bag in each mug, and a teaspoon of sugar in yours. Where Billy's mug has your signature lavender painted on it, yours has yours and his initials in a purple love heart.

"Shouldn't I be the one making you a drink?" he asks softly. His voice is low and smooth, every bit a comfort as a cup of tea.

"You've done plenty for me! But you can wash it up later, if it makes you feel better."

He laughs lowly, and kisses your neck. "Mmm. You smell nice now."

"Yeah, I didn't enjoy stinking of eau de Ryanair."

"Mm. Much better now. All clean. Just in time to make you dirty again."

You lean back against him as you cackle in delight. "That's a shit line, Billy! You'll have to try harder than that."

The kettle shakes as it comes to a loud boil, and you pour the hot water, followed by milk. The tea bags can stew for a few minutes.

"You want me to try different lines?"

"Hmm. Depends what lines you've got."

"I don't think I've got any."

You turn to face him and give him a smile. "You must have some. You know the right things to say in certain contexts."

He tilts his head down almost bashfully. "That's different."

"Yeah?"

"It's easy to say the right things when you're already half out your mind."

Heat flushes your cheeks, and you rest your hands on his shoulders to pull him down for a sweet kiss. "That's true. And you always know what to say then, anyway. How do you know what to say?"

Billy gently presses you back against the counter and places his hands on it either side of you. His gaze roams down your neck and to your exposed collarbones and shoulders. "Dunno. You just make me want to say them."

"Well, I'm glad that you do. You know, Sofia told us that Tom doesn't even talk during sex?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sometimes she has to even beg him to go down. He doesn't like doing it that much."

Billy meets your gaze with surprise in his eyes. "Really? Tommy?"

You nod.

"Huh. Maybe I need to get better friends."

That makes you laugh. "You should give him some tips!"

"I dunno. You think I've got anything worth sharing?"

You swallow. Butterflies have burst into your stomach. Just talking about it makes your skin tingle. And it's been a week. A week away from Billy might as well be a year. Yeah, a holiday with friends was really nice, but it had its drawbacks. On the second night you had cried because you missed him. Of course, your friends had laughed and rolled their eyes, and you'd got yourself together quick, but- but Billy.

"Yeah. You're alright at it, I guess."

His smile is so sweet as he leans closer to you. He tilts his head down and cocks it slightly to the side. "Only alright?"

You lick your lips. "Well. It's a better way for you to use your mouth than trying shit chat up lines."

"Wouldn't you prefer it was that way round, though?"

You try - and fail - to bite back your laughter. You're still blushing. "Yeah... when you put it like that."

"I missed it while you were away, you know?"

"'It'?"

He kisses your lips softly, nipping ever so slightly. "Your taste."

The power he holds over you is unreasonable. When he pulls away, your breath is still held. "My...?"

He watches your face for a moment, and then grabs the cups behind you. "C'mon. Let's go sit down."

Where he goes, you so happily follow. Back in the living room, you sit on the sofa next to him and cradle the mug in your hands. You blow on the top of the tea, and take a sip. Mm. Tastes like home.

"So what did you do with yourself while I was away?"

Billy positions himself on the cushions so that he's close to you, facing you, his knee touching yours. "Work. Saw Lana."

"How is she?"

"Settling in, I think. Mum and Dad are happy she's home."

"Bit of a different climate to the Middle East, though." You smile.

He sips his drink, too, as his fingers ghost along your shoulder. "Hmm."

"How's work?"

He doesn't answer. But his expression is soft. His sweet blue eyes follow the line his finger traces on your skin, up the side of your neck, and then down to where the towel is still wrapped under your arms and over your body.

"Billy?"

"Work's fine."

Another sip. And then he leans in and kisses your throat. The tea makes his mouth hot, and it draws a quiet noise from you. "I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too."

As he kisses your throat again, you take another sip. It's sweet, refreshing, soul-warming. The tea is nice, too. You smile softly.

When Billy's fingers carefully tug the towel open, you let it fall with a certain amount of relief. Since you came out of the bathroom in it, you've wanted him to do this. To welcome you home properly. From the moment he gripped your thigh in the car, actually, your heart has been quicker.

"Give me your cup." He takes it from your fingers, half empty, and rests it next to yours on the table. Another intimate gesture, a sign of him taking care of you.

Your body is dry now, clean and smooth and fresh. He runs his hand over your stomach and up your side, and his thumb caresses the swell of your breast. The other hand turns your face by the chin to look at him. He smiles slightly. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I missed you."

It never gets old, hearing that. "I missed you, too."

He kisses your mouth again. You close your eyes, and give into him.

How beautiful it is when you give into him, he thinks. You're clay under his hands, ready to be moulded, shaped, turned into something divine with the help of his touch. How you part your lips when he guides you makes his heart leap. He sighs when your tongues meet lazily. It's a hot and wet pressure that sends bolts of lighting down his spine.

He could kiss you all day and all night and never get bored, never need more. You're so soft and pliant under him. How sacred it is, to be wanted like this. Billy keeps hold of your chin as you share deep kisses, while his other hand spreads fingers wide and caresses your side. After a long moment, he guides you to lie back on the sofa.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes against your cheek.

You laugh breathlessly. "Even with these tan lines?"

Smiling, he traces the line over the top of your breast. Your skin is so supple here. "Yes."

"They look stupid."

"Better than there being no tan lines at all."

"I'd never sunbathe topless."

Just the thought makes his arms tingle. It makes him bite gently against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot against it. "You'd better not. Your body is for my eyes only."

That earns a soft sigh from you. "Says who?"

It's a poor attempt on your part to tease and challenge him, but already it's under his control that you've fallen. "You. Every time you give yourself to me like this, it's a promise that you're mine."

"You don't own me." But your voice is gentle, your smile wide.

"No? Then why have you stopped breathing?"

It's satisfying how you gasp under his touch. He kisses you deeply a final time before his lips find a path down your skin. He follows the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, and at your collarbone, he leaves careful bites to the bone. Between your breasts, he presses his nose and breathes hard.

Across your lower back, he splays his fingers and lifts you up slightly. You arch closer to him, and he hums lowly at the grasp on his sandy hair.

"So beautiful." He can't help telling you again and again. "You're so beautiful."

You laugh softly. "Stop being so sweet." But your eyes are closed, he sees as he glances up, and you're preening at his words.

"You want me to be cruel?"

Again, you laugh. "Alright. You can keep being sweet."

"That's my girl."

Billy kisses the underside of your breast, and brings one hand to the other to carefully massage it. He bites the delicate skin here and there, and makes a pattern of kisses around your flesh. As he neglects your nipple, you feel your areolas tighten at the stimulation and anticipation.

"Please," you whisper.

"There's no rush," he soothes.

"But I want you."

He kisses your sternum harder than before. "I know, baby. Just relax. I'll take care of you."

You whimper quietly. He's doing everything right, except this time he's being slow about it. He drags his pretty lips down your stomach and you tense, but then he returns back up to your neck.

"Relax," he whispers.

You try to let the tension go, but it's difficult when anticipation is coursing through you. You open your eyes to see him looking down at you. Against your waist, his thumb runs soothing circles.

"Take deep breaths for me," Billy murmurs. As he leans over you, his short hair falls over his eyes, and it makes you smile. You stroke his face affectionately. You do as you're told.

"That's it. In, and out, nice and slow. Good job, baby. Just like that."

As the tension slowly melts away from your body, Billy is satisfied. Barely holding back his hunger, he returns his attention to your breasts. As you lie comfortably on the sofa, focusing on your breathing, he strokes up and down your sides, fingers ghosting along the swell of your breasts. Circles replace strokes, the tips of all four fingers trailing wide over your flesh.

When his touch glides over your pebbled areolas, you sigh and smile. The expression on your face makes his stomach tense. God, he could come from that alone.

"Does that feel nice?"

The deep breathing you've been practising has you finally relaxed and almost in a haze of desire now, and you nod. Words are out of your grasp, but you give him an encouraging hum. The anticipation no longer feels like a burden - now, it's just a promise.

"It feels nice for me, too." Closer and closer, Billy's fingers get to where you want them. And then, with a careful grasp around the bottom of your breast, he licks over your nipple. The stimulation makes you whimper and arch up. He runs the tip of his tongue around it, watching your face carefully for your reaction. Against your other breast, his fingers mirror the action of his mouth.

Billy blows cool air over where his tongue has been. He smiles when you toss your head to the side in response. After taking a long sip of warm tea, he takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks. The heat and rush of blood is so good.

You try to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the tension, but his knees are between yours and you can't. Instead, as the tension at your chest makes your mind foggy, you clench and unclench, driving your pleasure higher.

He notices. He can read you. "Easy," he whispers. "Breathe." His eyes bear into yours, blue flame, and you nod, obeying him. He smiles. "Good girl."

Another whimper sounds in your throat. He rewards you with his mouth again.

"Oh, God," you sigh. "Yes. Please."

Not a single touch has drifted south of your navel yet, but that doesn't matter. The attention at your breasts is more than enough. Pleasure builds deep within your body at the touches Billy lavishes on you. Soon, your steady breaths are not so steady anymore. Your jaw is slack, your hands fists at your side.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

He pulls off your nipple only to latch onto your other one. His fingers replace his mouth quickly and between his finger and thumb he carefully twists and pulls on you. Teeth catch puckered skin, and the sensation sets your whole body aflame. It drives you higher and higher.

"P-please!"

His free hand is firm around your back and he holds you firmly in his strong arm. You're drunk on his attention, seeing stars, consumed by him, by your Billy. The attention on your nipples is everything you need, and it builds and builds and your vision blacks out, you lose all sense of the world, and, and-!

"Fuck! Fuck, Billy! Yes, yes-!"

"Good girl," he hisses with your nipple between his teeth. His eyes are fixed on your face. "Just like that, baby. You're doing so well-!"

"Oh, shit-!"

As your orgasm erupts within you, you swear and writhe, burning. You twist and turn and arch, pleasure washing over you and making you cry out. It's overwhelming. It rips through every cell until you're shaking and mewling.

Billy's attentions slow, and after a long moment of taking you through your long peak, he presses his forehead over your heart. Hands stroke your sides soothingly, down your hips and thighs, and back up to your arms.

Silence follows. It's only punctuated by your heavy breathing, his quiet noises of encouragement.

"That was so good," he praises softly. "You're so pretty when you come."

You sling an arm over your eyes, but laugh softly at the praise. With your orgasm, some tension has been relieved from your body, but the haze in your mind remains. "Billy..."

"You want more?"

With flushed cheeks, you nod.

"Where do you want me?"

You trace your skin and drag a long line down your chest, your stomach, your hip. You spread your thighs and rest one foot on the floor for balance. The other is thrown onto the back of the sofa.

Billy lets out a shaking breath. "Oh, baby. You're so generous. All for me?"

The arm that was over your eyes now reaches for him, and you hold his hand. Lacing your fingers together feels as intimate as anything else. The butterflies in your stomach take flight again. "You."

"I missed your taste so much." He slinks down your body and kneels in front of the sofa. Strong arms twist you so that your legs come to rest on his shoulders. "Look how ready you are for me. Oh, you're so pretty."

His mouth is watering at the sight of you. Glistening, swollen, hot. His toes curl.

"Please," you whisper.

"What do you want me to do, baby?"

The pet name makes your thighs twitch. You used to cringe when you heard people call their partners 'baby', but in the most intimate moments with Billy, it feels so right. You're his. "Your mouth."

"Should I use it for 'shit chat up lines'?" And despite the overwhelming desire that shrouds you both, he grins.

God, it's so pretty the way his lips pull up like that. It makes his eyes sparkle, brings out smile lines on his cheeks. He's so loveable. "No. The other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You know."

He kisses the inside of your knee where it rests on his shoulder. "I know. But I want to hear you say it."

You blush - you hear your heartbeat in your ears. You feel it rush between your legs. "Please, Billy. Eat me out."

He almost growls in relief. "God, you're such a good girl. Thank you for using your words for me."

The praise makes you whimper. He's so good at it.

Between your thighs, Billy bites his lip. And then he closes the distance, and he's home. There's no home without you, not really, and this is the hearth. Warmth, fire, comfort. He loves your soul - but it's your cunt he worships.

His fingers make a 'v' shape at the apex of your thighs to spread you wide for him. The sight of your swollen clit, red and wet, makes him groan quietly. He tilts your hips slightly and presses his tongue first to your entrance, and the briny saltness of your readiness makes his eyes close. Your taste. Your fucking taste.

"Look at me." Your voice floats in the air like a song. His eyes open quickly and meet yours. It sends bolts of pleasure through him to hold your gaze as he runs his tongue up your length. Beneath it, your pulse rushes. A testament to how much you need him. How desperate he makes you. It's a love letter, every beat.

His tongue is soft while he pries at your entrance. The nerves there are stimulated in response, and your stomach tenses and relaxes in a familiar rhythm. Like he did around your nipple, here, he circles in a steady pace until you're arching closer for something more. As he sucks on your soft folds, you throw your head back and whine.

"Billy," you moan. "That feels so fucking good."

You're rewarded with a long lick up to your bud. He can't resist ghosting his teeth over it, and when you squeal, he smiles against your cunt. Each time you glance down at him, you meet his gaze. He can't take his eyes off your face.

Between his legs, his cock is neglected and aching. There is no stimulation for him, no relief. But it's like he's sharing in your physical pleasure now. He applies pressure with the flat of his tongue to your clit and rubs it back and forth, and the pleasure that builds for you also does for him.

Then, he pulls back.

"Shit, Billy-!" You glance down at him, panting, and see how wet his chin and lips and nose are. It makes you proud. All for him.

He can't keep away from you for long, though. Only a few seconds of respite are given to you before his tongue finds its place back on you. You're so warm and silky against his mouth, it's heaven. So slick and wet, too, impossibly ready. Billy nods his head up and down - still holding your gaze like his life depends on it - and lets his tongue pry against your entrance. Just a little angle change, and his nose catches the underside of your clit.

"Yes!" you beg. "Just like that, right there!"

But he can do more for you. He can be better, always better. With your thick scent filling his nose, your salty taste filling his mouth, he nips at your folds and then finally, finally, seals his lips around your clit.

Stars pop in his eyes now, not just yours. His cheeks hollow out as he sucks on you. Arms clamp around your thighs, biceps straining to hold you fast. Your own hands bury into his sandy hair to stop him from moving, too. You're locked together, bodies and souls.

"Yes!" you encourage again. "Billy, I'm so close, I'm so close, keep going, please, pl-!"

His mouth fills with your taste, with his own saliva, and he keeps suckling on you. Pressure is building in your stomach and his, and your cries and moans and begs push him, push him, push him. It's too much, he'll crack soon, he can't last much longer, not with your own climax imminent-

"Billy! Billy! Oh my God, oh my God! Billy! Bill-"

The lips around your clit wrench an orgasm from you that makes you scream. Your knees tighten against his ears and your whole body shakes. It washes over you for five seconds, ten, fifteen-! Your throat is raw from the gutteral cries, your cunt is throbbing from the tension and release, tension and release.

And then Billy is moaning between your thighs. His blue eyes are fixed on yours. But they're blown wide, and his hands are trembling, and then his jaw is slack, and his whole body jerks once. You whimper when you realise what's happened. It's the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen.

He’s come just from eating you out alone. No touch, no stimulation. Just making you finish has him spilling in his fucking trousers.

After a while, you both go limp. He barely has the strength left to climb on top of you on the sofa, but somehow he manages.

Minutes go by. Your breathing steadies. It matches up. Your hearts beat in tandem.

Peace reigns in your home.

After a while - minutes, hours, who knows? - you return to your body. The weight of Billy on top of you helps. Your hands find their way back into his hair, and you slowly massage his scalp.

"Mmm."

You smile at the noise he makes. "You're brilliant. You know that, right?"

His face is tucked into your neck, sweaty and sticky. "For that?"

"For everything."

"Mmm?"

"Yeah. I mean, you're good at that." You laugh quietly. It makes him shake a little on top of you. "But everything else, too. You picked me up from the airport. You made sure the flat was spotless. You bought me lavender."

He kisses your neck softly. "This is all I think of."

"Mm?"

"It's you, all for you. Everything I do."

You pull him closer and smile, letting your eyes close in bliss. "You're my heaven."

Billy strokes your sides. "You're my home."

#Billy Washington x female reader #billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington #ewan mitchell #trigger point #mine #billy multi

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