#( Here is my heart and I give it to you; take me with you across this land || ship aesthetic )

[hotshotsxyz]

too little, too late

(8x08 coda) (buddie) (1.2k) the episode chose violence and so did i :) spoilers for 8x08, and hey, guess what? this is my 100th 911 fic! it feels right that it's an evil one <3

The real estate agent has an irritating voice. It’s pitchy and run through with vocal fry, and if Buck has to listen to her talk for another second, he might actually tear his hair out. And it’s definitely about her voice. Nothing to do with the largely helpful information she’s handing over to Eddie like candy on Halloween.

“Anyway, we can touch base again once you’ve had a chance to look over those listings. I’m sure we’ll find something for both of you to love!” the realtor says.

Buck smiles. It feels brittle and fake.

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says with all the sincerity Buck can’t quite muster. He ends the call and sits back against the couch.

“That, uh—that went, um—” He’s choking on the positivity he’s trying so hard to exude. “—well,” he manages.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Seems easier than I thought it was going to be.”

Easy.

That’s—

Yeah.

“You know you—you don’t have to buy straight away,” Buck says as casually as he can manage, which is to say, not casually at all.

“Buck,” Eddie says with a sigh.

“I know!” Buck says, throwing his hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Just—maybe you want to make sure, you know? Before it’s—it’s permanent.”

“I can’t keep missing out on his life,” Eddie says quietly.

Buck swallows. He knows. He knows! Knows it like he knows there’s going to be an Eddie-and-Chris shaped hole in his heart for the rest of his goddamn life.

“I don’t want you to,” Buck says, and it’s maybe the first honest thing that’s come out of his mouth since he sat down on Eddie’s couch.

Bile rises in the back of his throat as he realizes this might be one of the last times he gets to sit on this couch, in this house, with this man.

Eddie drops his head into his hands. “I don’t—” He cuts himself off.

“Have you told Bobby yet?” Buck asks. His breath catches.

“No,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Buck says in a rush of air. “That’s—” He wants to say good. He can’t say good. Eddie needs—he needs—

Eddie lifts his head from his hands and his eyes are shining. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “I thought—”

“That he’d want to come back,” Buck supplies when Eddie doesn’t finish his thought.

He nods.

“He still—he could still—” Buck starts.

“He’s not going to change his mind.” Eddie cuts him off. “He doesn’t hate me. It’s worse than that. He doesn’t care.”

Buck’s chest feels tight. “He—he loves you, Eddie,” he says weakly.

“Maybe before, but—”

“He does,” Buck insists. “And—and if this is what you have to do to make sure that stays true I—I get it.” He does. He gets it. He’d do anything for Christopher. He’d—

It’s the worst feeling in the entire fucking world, but he’d give up Eddie for that kid. Is. Is giving up Eddie for that kid. A sob jumps up in Buck’s throat. He fights it back.

“I want to believe you,” Eddie says.

Buck knows that he doesn’t.

“Have you, um. Have you talked to Chris about this yet?” Buck asks, feeling a little bit like he’s just laid his neck across the base of a guillotine.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I—I’ve got to do this, whether he wants me to or not.”

All at once Buck’s angry. Angry at Eddie, angry at his parents, at fucking Kim, at himself, and maybe even a little bit at Christopher.

“Eddie, you—you told him he could come back!” He says, a little louder than he means to. “Doesn’t he deserve to know that’s not going to be an option anymore?”

Eddie’s gaze snaps to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s got—he’s got friends here, and—and Carla, and—” He can’t say it. He doesn’t have the right to say it, doesn’t have the right to feel like he’s already lost a limb and now they’re taking a lung, but— “and me,” he finishes quietly.

Something like devastation flashes across Eddie’s face. “Buck, I—”

“No,” Buck says quickly, standing up from the couch. “I shouldn’t have—I’m not—”

“Buck, wait,” Eddie says, following him as he retreats toward the door.

“I, um—I forgot, I have to—I promised Maddie,” he tries to lie.

“Please don’t go,” Eddie says, and god, how many times in Buck’s life has he yearned to hear someone say that to him and mean it. How many nights has he driven home from Eddie’s wishing he’d been asked to stay.

This thing building in his chest, this thing of anger and grief and regret—it hurts. Every breath he takes is a little more constricted, a little less effective.

Eddie looks at him, and Buck sees it. That thing he’s always wanted to see. That thing he didn’t even know he wanted from Eddie until right now and it’s—

There was a small, naïvely hopeful part of Buck that really still believe that if someone loved him enough, they’d stay. Eddie loves him, looks at Buck like he’ll break his heart when he walks out the door, and it still isn’t—

Eddie loves him, and it isn’t enough to make him stay.

Buck is in love with him, he realizes, and it doesn’t fucking matter because he’s leaving. Like Abby and like Tommy, except Buck didn’t know how much hurt he hadn’t even discovered yet, because this isn’t Abby or Tommy, it’s Eddie, and Eddie—

Eddie’s supposed to be the one that stays.

Buck shakes his head and shuffles back until the doorknob is digging into his spine. “I have to,” he breathes, a grossly distorted reflection of what neither of them has quite managed to say.

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to ask again, like he’s going to beg Buck to stay, to show him all these awful pieces of his heart that he’s just found so he can remind himself that it’s not too much to leave behind.

Buck’s out the door before he can say another word.

He throws himself into the Jeep and all but fishtails it out of Eddie’s driveway. He makes it three streets away before he has to pull over.

The first sob surprises him with its softness; the second with its violence. He wraps his arms tight around his stomach and, god, he tries to breathe. But there’s not—there’s not enough oxygen in the entire world to make up for the way his lungs refuse to expand in the face of this loss.

He has to—he can’t—Eddie needs him to pull it together. To—to help him. To support him, and god help him, Buck will. There’s nothing Eddie could ask of him that he wouldn’t give. Nothing Eddie could do, Buck’s realizing, to make him love him any less.

Hot tears spill down Buck’s cheeks. He takes a shuddering breath and wipes them away. His vital organs are crumbling, so what?

He’ll set himself on fire if that’s what it takes to keep Eddie warm.

[suugarbabe]

Origin Stories

(part 2)

summary: baby first year matty arrives at hogwarts and the first person he interacts with seems to not know him at all. matty is unsure how to feel when someone treats him like just another person instead of the dark lords son

warnings: fluff, angst, baby matty, draco being an asshole even at 11

an: thank you @musingsofahufflepuff for reviewing and editing with me. lysm <3

Sleep did not come in the form of rest for Mattheo that night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw your face twisted in disgust, a variation of the same sentence leaving your mouth, “They told me the truth about you. You’re going to be just like your father. Nothing but a murderer. Don’t ever talk to me again Mattheo.” He woke up in a sheen of sweat, panting and trying to catch his breath. 

Each intake of air felt like his lungs were shrinking; he grasped at his sleep shirt trying to feel if his heart was truly beating as quickly as it felt in his throat. The clock on his bedside table read 3:45am. Throwing back his duvet he slipped on his house loafers, glad that Feindre convinced him to take them to school. He made his way from his dorm and across the metal bridge that led to the common room. 

He looked around the expansive common room, deciding on a lounge chair in front of the fire. Mattheo curled in on himself, sitting sideways in the chair and pulling his knees up. He laid his head against the back of the chair, doing his best to breathe deeply and focus on the crackling of the fire. What finally let him fall asleep was thinking about the train ride with you. 

A shaking of his shoulders jolted him awake, “Andiamo, amico.” (C’mon, mate) He snapped his head up, seeing Theo Nott and Enzo Berkshire standing behind the chair. Enzo wore a toothy grin, his ears slightly peeking out from his hair; Theo almost looked concerned. Mattheo pulled the blanket tighter to his chin, though he didn’t remember having it when he fell asleep. 

Theo must’ve seen his confused look, speaking up again, “I noticed you weren’t in bed when I woke up to use the bathroom last night so I brought you down your covers.” Enzo nodded like he was involved with the interaction, “You should probably go get dressed, we’re going to go to breakfast and then explore the castle to see where our lessons are.” 

Mattheo still didn’t speak, instead looking briefly between the two boys. “We’ll wait for you compagno,” Theo sat down on the sofa next to Mattheo’s chair. Enzo nodded enthusiastically, following suit and sitting beside the taller boy. Mattheo silently gathered his blanket, making his way to his dorm. 

He threw his blanket back on his bed before heading to his trunk, digging for a pair of trousers and casual shirt. Students had two free days to roam the castle and the grounds before classes were to begin and Mattheo decided he was going to take full advantage of not having to wear a uniform. 

The door to the bathroom opened, Draco walking out and fixing his dress shirt in his trousers. He glanced at Mattheo as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, running both hands through his curls to fluff them slightly. Mattheo could hear the sneer in Draco’s tone as he spoke, “Is that what you’re wearing?” 

Mattheo didn’t even give him a glance, “Do you have a problem with what I’m wearing, cousin?” Draco let out an annoyed sigh, “Auntie Bella would kill you if she saw you in that.” Mattheo grabbed his wand from his night stand, grip knuckle white but avoiding actually pointing it at his family member, “Well my mother isn’t here, is she.” 

Draco rolled his eyes, “Whatever, let’s just go to breakfast. Theo and Enzo are already there.” Mattheo didn’t bother to tell him they were waiting downstairs. He personally wasn’t sure if they were doing it to be nice or if they were just trying to stay on Mattheo’s good side. 

It was hard for him to assess who was being genuine with him versus who was trying to placate him due to his “title”. He didn’t get that feeling with you. 

Mattheo followed Draco toward the common room, Theo and Enzo still sitting on the sofa where Mattheo left them. “Thought you two were headed to breakfast,” Draco questioned the soon to be dynamic duo on the sofa. “Waitin’ for Matt,” Theo nodded briefly towards Mattheo who couldn’t explain why his cheeks were warming slightly. “Yeah, Blaisey boy is saving us a spot,” Enzo gave a boyish grin. 

“You know he’d curse you if he heard you call him that,” Theo fixed the strings on his tracksuit as they started towards the great hall. Enzo shrugged his shoulders, “That’s what his mum called him on the platform. And he can’t curse me, he doesn’t know any yet.” 

Mattheo never knew how to interact with the back and forth. Never quite felt comfortable with joking with the rest of the boys growing up because his mother always told him that they were not his friends, they were his future followers. 

“Yeah but you’re not his mother, Enzo. And we all know a few curses, you know that. Our parents made sure of it,” Theo was giving a playful tone but his words held true. They all knew it. 

Entering the large doorway to the hall Draco spotted Blaise first. The latter boy had chosen a spot in damn near the middle of the table and Mattheo felt his stomach knotting again. He knew people were already going to stare at him, but this table placement felt like he was on display. 

He would’ve much rather eaten at the far end of the table, where no one would likely notice him. He’d rather eat in the kitchens with the elves. He follows the others anyway, sitting on the farthest end so there’s plenty of bench on his left. That’s something he learned very early; always know where your escape route is. 

Mattheo was too busy pushing the food around on his plate to notice you approaching. Your touch on his arm as you went to sit down was the first alert of your presence and, again, he flinched away. “M’sorr-” he starts to apologize but you’ve already cut him off, “S’okay, Matty, it’s my fault. I forgot.” 

You turn to the rest of the boys around him, “Morning! So exciting we get to explore the castle today isn’t it?” Mattheo isn’t sure if you’re ignoring it, or you just are too blissed out on magic thoughts to notice the rest of his group looking at you nearly dumbfounded. Everyone else at the table knew the rule: never touch Mattheo. Yet here you were, still unharmed at that. 

Draco’s platinum brow was raised, glancing between you and Mattheo, “I mean this in the rudest way possible…who are you?” You hum in acknowledgement, “Of course, m’so sorry I did the same thing to Mattheo on the train,” rubbing your toast hands on your jeans before holding it out to Draco and introducing yourself, punctuating your name with another bright smile.

He stares at your hand before glancing towards Mattheo. Enzo grabbed your hand instead, shaking it enthusiastically, “Lorenzo Berkshire, but call me Enzo, and this is Theodore Nott and that’s Blaise Zabini.” He nodded to the two boys on his and Mattheo’s other side. 

“Just Theo is fine,” Theo corrected, “Can I ask…what’s a badger like you doing wandering into the snake den. Didn’t you hear? We Slytherins are dangerous.” All of a sudden it feels like Mattheo’s body is not his own, like he’s shrinking smaller and smaller inside himself and what’s sitting next to you on the bench is just a shell. 

The back of his neck starts to feel damp and it's reminiscent of when he hears his mother call his name from across the manor. He’s terrified. So fearful that you’ll see the people around him as cruel and immediately associate that with him without questions. Then he’s alone again. 

“You know a badgers bite actually has a BFQ of 109,” your response to Theo’s quip is quick and easy, not a hint of defensiveness in your tone. It’s simply…informative. Your response clearly confused most of the others as well, sweet and naive Enzo the only one open enough to ask for clarification, “What the hell is a BFQ?”

Between sips of his pumpkin juice Blaise speaks for the first time since you sat down, “Bite force quotient.” Theo rolls his eyes, “Yeah, okay but what does that even mean?” You stab a sausage with your fork and set it on your plate, knife in hand as you begin to cut it into smaller pieces, “It means that a badger bite has enough force to crush bone like I’m cutting this sausage.” 

You take a bite from your fork before dancing it around in the air as you spoke, “Mmm, guess I’m just saying to mind your tone because,” you took another bite, “yeah snakes are all in your face, hissing and what not, venom blah blah…but badgers are unassuming. People see them as dumb little furry rodents so no one is quite ready when they BAM!” You stabbed a piece of cut sausage with enough force to rattle your plate and cause all the boys, including Mattheo, to flinch, “they come in for the kill.”

“Anyway, heard we’re going to actually get to learn how to fly?!” You continued with your meal like nothing was the matter, “Personally I’m quite chuffed about it, you lot already know how I’m assuming?” 

Enzo laughed nervously, scratching lightly at the base of his neck, “Yeah we kinda all already know how mostly. But ehm, where’d, erm, where’d you learn that badger thing? You read a lot?” You shrugged, continuing to eat as normal, “I mean, I do like to read. But I did a project on badgers in primary, ironic huh?” You went to nudge Mattheo with your elbow before stopping halfway, seemingly remembering his issue. 

His stomach dropped, fearing you’d never want to get close to him again. Theo spoke up, clearly still confused, “Is no one going to explain primary to us now?” Blaised sighed, though eleven he seemed to have the patience for his peers as that of a seventh year, “It’s muggle school, they start young, like six or seven years old.” 

“Muggle school?” Draco looks at you like you’re covered in filth and his voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Mattheo, “Cousin…you let a muggle sit with you on the train? With us here? At breakfast?” 

There it was again, that sinking, shell like feeling, only now any emptiness was being filled with anger. Without Mattheo’s help you were quick to quip back, “Technically my parents are muggles, I got my letter the same way all of you did. That’s why I’m sitting here.” 

Your obliviousness to the wizarding world and what each of their families and their titles held around you made you unlike any person Mattheo had ever met. He wasn’t quite sure yet if that made him scared or enamored. 

“Watch out for the badger bite, Malfoy,” Theo teased the blond and everyone laughs. Mattheo laughs too, glancing in his peripheral to see your smile reaching your eyes and that his cousins words haven’t offended or have you wanting to run. 

You take a sip of your pumpkin juice before wiping your lips with your napkin and starting to stand up. There it is, Mattheo thought, finally running. “You ready, Matty?” you’re fully standing now, hand across your middle holding your other arm. “W-what?” it was the first Mattheo had spoken since his interrupted apology. 

“To see where our lessons are going to be? We should have most of them together I would assume, unless they separate the houses for most classes, but surely not right?” Mattheo stood up quickly, his heart dropping to his stomach and he scrambled to take out the course list that he had haphazardly shoved in his jeans pocket. 

He smoothed it out on the table before holding it up next to yours, “Oh see, no worries then, we’ve got most of them together.” Theo asked to see your list, comparing it to his, Enzo’s and Blaise’s. You all had a mix of courses together, you and Mattheo seeming to have the most in similarity. 

You asked the other’s to join you both in your exploration. Theo and Enzo agreed, Blaise said he was going to find the library. Draco said he would “find things on his own”, stalking off ahead of the rest of you, keeping a pace that would ensure he was no where near the rest of you. 

“Is he always like that?” You were asking Mattheo, but Enzo answered, “Don’t worry about him, it’s not you. Well, erm…it might be you. But Malfoy doesn’t seem to like anyone really.” 

Mattheo huffed a non-committal laugh, “Yeah, including himself.” The other two Slytherins laughed in agreement. You simply looked concerned, “I wonder where that comes from.” 

You’re too kind for your own good, Mattheo thought to himself. Per usual, Enzo is eager to answer, “Oh his father is a nightmare. Real piece of work.” Theo snorted, “He’s not the only one, aye boys. Kind of a requirement with our group.” 

Enzo barked out a laugh, Mattheo gave a half-hearted grunt. He glanced over at you, trying to gauge your thoughts. You were the hardest person he’s ever tried to read. Your face just held the same look, slight concern and something else Mattheo couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he hoped to Merlin it wasn’t pity. 

All of the lessons seemed easy enough to find. Whether that was due to magic or not Mattheo wasn’t sure and he never truly had the desire or care to find out. Mattheo was just glad you were in nearly all of his courses. 

The only ones the two of you didn’t share were potions and herbology. For some terribly bloody reason potions were split by houses, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs together and Gryffindors with Slytherins. Mattheo was going to Avada himself if he had to hear his cousin and his idiot lap dogs try to get a rise out of Potter and his ginger friend all term. 

Enzo somehow lucked out and got Herbology with you, whereas Mattheo was stuck with Theo and the others. Mattheo couldn’t help the jealousy that seemed to creep into his stomach each time you complimented something Enzo did during that lesson. 

Even though you sat by him in every class, Mattheo craved your presence. He wasn’t able to describe exactly why he craved it, though. Maybe it was because you were kind. Or maybe because you were so smart and able to pick up on things easier than everyone else. Or maybe it was because you were the only person who didn’t give a rats ass who his father was. 

The conversation, or more so argument, he overheard last week, confirmed it. He was going to meet you in one of the empty classrooms to work on transfiguration spells. For someone with founder’s blood in his veins he couldn’t transform a goblet to save his life. 

“Why do you hang around him?” Mattheo heard someone ask, a Ravenclaw who he was pretty sure sat behind the two of you in charms. “Because he’s my friend?” Mattheo stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice, clearly laced with a bit of annoyance he’s never heard from you before. 

“But you know who his father is, don’t you? Haven’t you heard what he’s done?” The Ravenclaw girl was getting on Mattheo’s last nerve. He was ready to turn that corner, tell her to shut her prat mouth when you started speaking again. 

“Mattheo is not his father, gods, why does it feel like I’m repeating that to everyone these days. People need to stop trying to warn me about him and maybe try to actually get to know him. He’s a really nice boy. And very funny. You’re being kind of a bitch, Padma.” 

Padma scoffed, clearly deciding to walk another way to wherever she was headed as you turned the corner alone, nearly running into Mattheo, “Oh, wow, sorry Matty.” 

So people were talking to you about him. They were trying to convince you to stop hanging around him, not to be friends with him. But you’re not listening, his internal thoughts rang as a reminder. 

Your hand moving back and forth in front of his face brought him back to the present, “Where’d you go? Was like you were looking into another realm, is that a thing here? Can you guys, er, can we do that?” Mattheo completely ignored your inquiry and instead answered your question with another question, “Did you just call someone a bitch?” 

The bridge of your nose seemed to display a light shade of pink and Mattheo couldn’t recall ever seeing you flustered before, “They were being mean.” He couldn’t help himself, a desperate need deep inside had to see if you would admit it, “What were they being mean about that warranted that response?” 

You started walking towards your shared destination, but Mattheo couldn’t let it die. “C’monn,” he dragged the word out slightly, “we tell each other everything.” And that was mostly true on Mattheo’s part. He wasn’t so sure talking about watching his mother use unforgiveables on guests was something you needed to know; or even something you’d understand. 

“Ehm, it was you,” your voice was small, nearly a whisper that Mattheo didn’t catch. “What? What’d you say?” You huffed, stopping in front of the door to the classroom you were meant to practice in, “They were being mean about you, Mattheo. Okay? I know I shouldn’t have called her that but…ugh, I am so sick and tired of people trying to convince me that you’re a bad person.” 

That last part came out in a huff of frustration as you opened the door and walked inside. Mattheo couldn’t move. He was stuck in the doorway. You turned when you couldn’t hear his footsteps following you, “Are we still practicing?” 

“How many people have tried to convince you I’m a bad person?” He truly didn’t want to know the answer. Just asking the question made him feel like his insides were boiling. You shook your head slightly, “I dunno, Matty. I’m not exactly keeping track of every miserable git telling me my best friend is terrible.” 

Mattheo started walking towards you now, “You think I’m your best friend?” He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach seemingly in his throat and he sort of felt like he might throw up. The sound of your laugh soothed all of that out. 

“Well, yeah ya knob. Am I not yours? Don’t tell me you picked Nott over me.” Mattheo stammered for a moment, “Wha- ehm, Why did you…huh? Theo?” You laughed a little harder now, “You guys are close too, aren’t you?” 

Mattheo’s head hurt a little, “I, uh, I mean…yeah I guess. But not like you and me. I mean…fucking Salazar.” Mattheo ran his hands through his curls, tugging at the sides slightly. You held your hand up as if to calm his stammering, “It’s okay, Matty. I know I’m your best friend too.” 

He grinned at that, your reassurance. It still felt new every time you did it; he’s never gotten it as much as he has with you. “Ready to finally learn how to change a toad into a goblet?” You reached in your pocket and pulled out the amphibian. Mattheo grinned, nodding and setting up beside you. 

The next several months seemed to fly by in lessons. Mattheo never realized how much practical magic he never really learned at home. 

Feindre did all his washings and cooking, he lived in a manor that was centuries old and protected by magic so he never needed to know any repair or fixing spells, and the doors being locked or not were irrelevant as his mother just apparated to where he was if she were to punish him; she also never locked a door if she were torturing. “You need to see the weakness that leaks from those beneath us Mattheo.” 

He shuddered at the thought. He was well aware of what was going to be expected of him. He was half sure his mother only let him attend Hogwarts as a means of gaining more respect and more followers. “You want them to fear you, you’re not looking for friends, you’re looking for followers.” 

He didn’t like that either. Draco was a follower. Draco was afraid. He didn’t want that to be the only type of people around him.  

For someone who didn’t know magic was real until five months ago, you were exceptional in all your classes. You were always trying to study, always trying to soak in more information. 

The last day before Christmas holiday was no exception. You had asked Mattheo, Theo and Enzo if they wanted to start on course work for next term. They had all said no. 

Well…Enzo had looked at you like you’d grown an extra head, whereas Theo and Mattheo declined politely. Mattheo would’ve have went with you in a heartbeat, but he hadn’t packed a single item in his trunk. 

His original school of thought was that if he didn’t pack then he’d have to stay at school for the holidays. The thought of seeing his mother again made him short of breath from anxiety. 

But Draco reminded him that the Malfoy Christmas ball was happening (as it did every year) and Mattheo actually loved his Aunt Cissy. She was the only person in his father’s circle that treated him like any other boy his age. 

You didn’t mind going to the library alone. You often did when the Slytherins wanted to play quidditch. You were not quite as good at flying as they were yet, so you’d go to the library to make revisions instead. 

The content for next term actually seemed exciting to you. But everything about Hogwarts excited you. In History of Magic next term you were going to learn about the origins of wizards sports, quidditch the primary subject. 

I have to tell Mattheo, he’ll be so excited, was your only thought and you rushed out of the library, not quite paying attention to your surroundings as you crashed into someone; dropping your texts in the process. 

You heard Draco’s scoff of disgust before you heard his annoying voice, “Out of my way mudblood.” You let out an annoyed huff, bending down to pick up your books from the floor. 

“I don’t even know what that means, Malfoy. But I know you’re trying  to insult me,” you held your books flush to your chest, “your insults don’t mean anything to me you know.” 

Draco laughed out loud, taking a look at each one of his chubby minions beside him, “Do you want me to explain it to you?”

You adjusted the strap on your shoulder bag, “Not really but I’m sure you’re going to.” The malicious glint in Draco’s eye should’ve warned you of the delight he was about to get from this. You should’ve ignored him and walked away but there were three of them and only one of you. 

“You’re a filthy, little, mudblood,” Draco emphasized each work with hatred and disgust,  “Your blood is dirty, you come from nothing. Fucking Salazar, you are nothing. I honestly don’t get how the others are so blind to it.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, make any kind of retort but Draco kept going, “I’m what you call pureblood. The blood that runs in my veins has centuries of magic in it and Mattheo is the same. Enzo, Theo, Blaise, all of our blood is pure. I don’t know what little spell you put on my cousin, but it’s going to fade. 

“It may not be tomorrow, it may not even be a year from now, but he’s going to realize your worthlessness. Fuck and when he does…I want you to remember this moment. I want you to hear my voice in the back of that empty fucking head of yours telling you I told you so.” 

The tears brimming your eyes were uncontrollable. You didn’t want to believe anything he was saying, you knew Mattheo didn’t think of you like that. But there was a small part of you that couldn’t help but agree. 

“Don’t go running to cousin with your tears either, he’s the Dark Lord’s heir after all. He doesn’t need to deal with whiny babies.” Draco had to deliver one more blow for his satisfaction, him and his friends laughing in your face. 

“You’re a prick, Malfoy. No wonder everyone can’t stand you,” you wiped your eyes with the heel of your palm as you pushed passed them. 

You could still hear them laughing, mocking you all down the corridor until you turned the corner. You were supposed to meet up with Mattheo before dinner, but now you just wanted to be left alone. 

♡♡♡

When you didn’t meet him at the common room entrance for dinner, Mattheo was a little worried. Theo tried to calm him down, telling him they were running late and you probably just went to the hall already. 

But that made Mattheo more distraught, since houses don’t mix at dinner time. He was quieter than usual once they sat down, far more focus on searching the faces and backs of heads at the Hufflepuff table. 

When he didn’t recognize any student to be you, he turned to the group, “You guys didn’t happen to see y/n on the way to dinner did you? I don’t see ‘em here.” 

Enzo and Theo looked over at your house table, shaking their heads. Blaise looked a little guilty, “I wasn’t going to say anything…honestly Matt I thought maybe you had a fight or something.” 

Mattheo turned towards him, “Say anything about what?” Blaise shrugged his shoulders, a slight apologetic look in his eyes, “I saw them crying earlier, I think they were going towards the astronomy tower.” 

Instant panic spread over him, “Crying? Were they hurt? Could you tell?” Blaise shook his head. “Why do you even care?” Draco sounded annoyed, Mattheo got angry. “That's my friend, did you do something to them?” 

Draco rolled his eyes, flipping Mattheo the bird, “Wouldn’t waste my breath on a mudblood.” Mattheo slammed him open palms on the table as he stood up from the bench. 

Everyone in a ten foot radius was staring now. Draco looked terrified, rightfully so. While he only just learned reparo, Mattheo learned crucio at age 5 and he was pretty confident he could cast it on his cousin this very moment. 

Instead, Mattheo stormed off, heading straight to where he hoped was the astronomy tower. After only two wrong turns he started up the mountain of stairs. 

After only two flights he spotted you, curled in on yourself on one of the large steps with your back to the wall. Your face was hidden in your knees but the gold from the hood of your robes gave you away. 

You were crying, muffled and trying to be silent but Mattheo recognized the posture. The shaking shoulders, the small sniffles. He’d done it a dozen times himself this last summer. 

“There’s my badger…what’re you doing up here?” Mattheo’s voice was soft, gentle. It’s what he always hoped was used when he felt this way so he could only assume it’d be comforting to you too. 

You lifted your head just enough to rest your chin on your knees, “I got tired,” you sniffed again, “too many stairs.” 

Mattheo nodded, small smile on his face, “S’that why you’re crying and missed dinner? Too many stairs? Couldn’t get back down?”

You knew he was trying to make a joke, a weak smile was all you could manage before frowning once more, “Wasn’t the stairs…” 

Mattheo moved to sit in front of you, barging into your eye line, “Then what was it?” Your face scrunched and you shook your head. 

Mattheo placed his hands on your ankles, the action was so out of character for him, the physical touch. But it make you lock eyes nonetheless, “If I tell you, you have to just let it go.” 

The tilt in his head was slight but you noticed it, “I mean it Matty.” Mattheo nodded, not speaking in hopes you’d continue. 

“It was your cousin. He just…ugh,” you hid your face in your knees again, taking a deep shuttered breath. Mattheo gave your ankles a small squeeze as if to encourage you to keep explaining. 

You turned your head to the side, not wanting to look Mattheo in the eyes when you said it, “He called me a…mudblood.” 

Mattheo’s hands disappeared from your legs and it made you look at him. People had told you Mattheo could probably get angry. That his father was considered the darkest wizard of our time. 

You never really saw any of that before, but you saw a glint of it in his eyes now, “Is that all he said?” You shook your head, sinking back into the wall slightly. 

“I told him I didn’t know what that meant…then he told me I had dirty blood. Said his was pure. That all of you Slytherins had pure blood and that no matter how hard I tried…I would never amount to the same as you guys.” 

Mattheo frowned. You had started crying again and he felt like someone had just punched a hole in his gut. “He’s wrong,” Mattheo was shaking his head, “Some of the biggest sodding cowards I’ve ever seen are from pureblood families.” 

“Just made me feel really cruddy,” you snuffled, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your robe. Mattheo could feel a fire kindling inside his chest, “I’ll kill him.” 

You reached out, grabbing Mattheo’s forearm; he didn’t flinch away this time. “Don’t,” you pleaded, “you promised you wouldn’t do anything.” 

Mattheo chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Well I have to do something..” 

“Will you just sit with me for a little bit…please?” You pleaded, your hand was cool against his heated skin. 

“Yeah, erm, I can do that.” So that’s what he did. Mattheo found solace on the step one above yours. He sat as you did, pulling his knees to his chest. 

He sat with you until you felt better, calmer. Then he walked you to your common room, popping into the kitchens with you to grab a small bite since you both missed dinner. 

When he got back to his own common room he grabbed his duvet from his dorm and then back to the communal space and picked the largest couch to lay on. 

He couldn’t sleep in his dorm tonight. Draco was in there. And if he saw Draco, he knew he’d hurt him right now. And if there were two things Mattheo knew he would never do: (1) become his father, (2) break a promise to you.

[mbsneur]

Long time no see

Alexia Putellas x Reader

@melissabarreraswife

Summary: Alexia has not been home for a long time, and she brings you a present that you will surely be happy about

warnings: Smut18+ minors DNI, Cunnilingus, strap using

A/n : my requests are open for wishes

My Masterlist / more from Alexia

A Thursday evening in Barcelona over a whole week had passed when Alexia went to the national team

The apartment was quieter than usual, the scent of Alexia's favorite detergent and the smell of the warm kitchen floated in the air from the small room covering the cloudy weather outside.

You were happy to see Alexia again, the last days had been long without seeing her smile. The long conversations after training weren't the same as being alone without the familiar face you used to see every morning.

The pot on the stove blew softly in the air as you continued stirring you thought about cooking Alexia's favorite meal, fresh pasta with a homemade tomato sauce it has become a little ritual of yours that you always cook her one of her favorite meals after long trips or training.

After a while, you heard footsteps outside the door a key turned in the keyhole. The familiar sound of Alexia's boots came into the room, a broad smile spread across your lips and your eyes widened as you set the spoon down and looked towards the door.

Your heart beats faster as you look into her brown-green eyes. A smile stretches across her face “Hola, guapa” she calls across the room as she closes the door behind her. You sprint towards her and land directly in her wide-open arms.

Your face buried in her neck as you rub against it you pick up the smell of her freshly washed hair. She pulls you tighter against her front "Did you miss me?" she asks with a smile and tries to push herself away from you so she can look at you, but you press her tighter against you. She lets out a little laugh "So that's a yes?” she adds, closing her arms tighter around your hips.

Alexia takes a deep breath as she leans into your embrace, her hands gently stroking over your back and you feel how you both relax against each other "I also missed you, Bonita" she whispers and her voice has a calming effect. A little smile is reflected in your eyes as you pull her into a warm kiss. Her hands are still on your back and your hands are slung around her neck. 

Your lips lock as if you hadn't seen each other for years. You deepen your kiss, and she pushes away from you and looks directly into your eyes "I've got a surprise for you" she says and you slightly tilt your head "May I see them now or must I wait until Christmas?” you joke, and she taps your bottom "You will get your surprise today but for now I smell something good. You have cooked something for me?” she questions and gently detaches herself from your body.

She slides over to the stove and takes a look in the pot "It smells heavenly" she says with raised eyebrows, you smile at her words and go over to the cupboard to take two plates out "Let me set the table since you have cooked", she takes the spoon out of your hand and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek.

// 

When you have prepared the meal, Alexia quickly takes the pot with the noodles and carries it to the table. She taste tests the sauce after you.

// 

You talked about everything possible that happened in the week.

"You know I love football but I’m always looking forward to coming back to you after weeks since which I have only slept in hotels and stood on the field," says Alexia taking a bite of the food.

"it was quiet here without you," you say and smile at her. "I missed you before, I finally called the janitor so now our heating is fixed," you say, laughing and Alexia chuckles also.

She reached out her hand to grab yours.” I mean it seriously, whenever you are not there it feels like a part of me is missing," you say and wrap your hand around hers.

The silence that followed was not unpleasant, just familiar before Alexia pulled her hand back to eat a spoonful of her noodles.

// 

The time passed when you were finished with the dinner. You had cleared the table, and you wanted to wash the dishes but Alexia kept you from it "Put it here, let’s do that tomorrow morning I still have a surprise for you" she whispered and hugged you from behind. Her head rests on your shoulder as you drop against her.

You nod slightly and notice how Alexia’s arms loosen up "So you sit on the couch and I will quickly go to my suitcase and I’ll be with you in a minute," she says as she rushes into the hallway. You run to the couch and make yourself comfortable on the pillow. 

Alexia comes back with a big black casket she looks at you slightly nervously and watches any reaction you make. Your stomach tightens as Alexia comes closer, she sits down directly opposite of you, her back leaning against a pile of cushions, her eyes fixed on yours as she smirks at you.

“it's just a little something but I'm sure you'll be happy about it,” she says proudly as her shoulders rise. She holds out the box to you and you take it nervously in your hands. It is well wrapped with a bow around it “What did I do to deserve this, Ale?”, you ask in admiration as you look at her. “I bought it when I was traveling alone in Madrid, it's just a little something”, she says and shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. You slowly open the bow and pull the lid off the box. Alexia’s cheeks are now deep red, you notice her nervous demeanor before your gaze turns back to the black box. You see a white velvet bag and your hands start to sweat as you take the gift out.

You open the velvet bag and pull out a new strap, a big one, probably the biggest one you have now. Your jaw drops and your pupils widen as you look up at Alexia again.

You waste no second and lean in immediately to kiss her hard. Your tongue slides into her mouth and it rolls against hers. Your lips become stronger against Alexia’s and her hands find their way to your ass. Your body is tense after a few seconds."I can’t wait to ruin you with this baby", she whispers and nudges her nose. Your lips are wet and red from your previous kiss."Ale, now please" you say to her and your lips meet hers again. This time she gets up and tries with all her might to hover over you. Her hands explore your body as if it’s the first time. "Right here, right now?" she asks with a curved eyebrow and gently strokes over your thighs."Yes right there, right there" you whisper, gasping as you try to push her hands closer to your center with your thighs.

She kisses you further your kisses are all mixed up and wet these obscene noises that you give off are unmistakable "Ale please" you moan and try to rub yourself on Alexia’s thigh.

She bites on your lower lip which makes you shudder. Your hands clasp tightly around her neck to press closer "Please, Ale, I haven’t had you in so long" you moan and you beg again. Your breath trembling as Alexia’s knee presses deeper against your pussy

"Use your pretty mouth baby say what you need" she whimpers as she looks into your radiant eyes. Alexia looks at you, her eyes full of desire for you with lust that she could not hide for so long.

"Alexia, fuck me" you weep and moan, waiting for some kind of reaction. She gets up quickly and removes her clothes, she has some bruises from her training. Her shiny tight skin sticks out immediately which makes you moan again. "Take off your clothes," Alexia demands.

Your hands desperately try to grab her body to speed up the whole thing but Alexia doesn’t go for it. She’s relaxed as she always is. "Give me your gift" She smiles and points in the direction of the silk bag. You take it and put it in her stretched hands immediately. 

She pulls the harness over her hips and you start to whine on the spot. You feel like you almost explode so desperately for your long-awaited orgasm. She bends down to you, her silicone cock rubs the inside of your thighs and her lips find their way to your hard nipples. She sucks vigorously as she grabs your twist to bring down your head. 

Your fingers hang in her blonde hair as a whine comes from your lips. As she takes the other nipple firmly in her hand, she teases every inch of it as the strap presses against your front side. Your hard nipple touches her fingertips. She takes your breast in her mouth and moans against your nipple.

She starts to care for the other nipple as her tongue snaps against it “Fuck Ale, please do something" you whine and press her head further down but she just hums against you and continues her work. With a loud plop, she lets go of your nipple and looks up at you, her eyes are big. She looks so horny, lips swollen just like your nipple.

She looks into your ruddy face. Your eyes are also full of desire "You make me crazy you know" she says breathlessly as she pierces her fingernails into your ribs which makes you squeal slightly. Her tongue drives a long strip over your belly she spreads your legs further apart to detect your smell.

"I need you please" you whine and push her against your body. Now her hands have no choice but to leave your ribs. She smiles naughtily as she looks down at your dripping pussy before you have a chance to beg again she shoots out her tongue and licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clitoris.

Only a desperate hum comes from your throat. Her lips close around your clitoris as she starts to suck. You rock against her mouth, her strong arms lie you down. Your thighs and your mouth are wide open when she fucks you with her tongue. Your fingers catch in her hair as you beg for more. 

"Give me your fingers Ale," you say as you moan. You buckle against her as one of her arms detaches from your thighs and wanders to your core. Her middle finger teases you easily which makes you babble.

At your next breath, Alexia presses two of her fingers deep into your hole which makes you let out a little scream. She makes her finger curl perfectly against your g spot where her tongue has not yet stopped sucking on your clitoris. Obscene sounds fill your room, the moist noise becomes louder with every push, and this makes you groan.

A wave of lust overcomes you as you let out a pornographic moan. "Oh mierda" you moan and lift your hips against Alexia’s face and try to fuck her face. When you look down you see that her eyes already know each inch of your body. Alexia’s licks at your clitoris become stronger which makes you cry loudly.

This feeling brings you closer to your first orgasm and Alexia feels how tight your hole around her fingers gets "I’m so close fuck" you moan and bend your back again. Your moan gets deeper as you feel your legs turn into jello."Don’t stop I’m gonna come" You moan and your muscles start to tense.

You let it happen and with a loud whine. You tremble on her fingers as you come. She comforts you until you have calmed down completely.

Alexia looks longingly up at you her eyes are glassy and her face looks like she's just had an orgasm her fingers are wet with your juices as she wipes them on your stomach making you wince underneath her. 

.

“I want your cock now” you moan as she gently removes herself from you, causing you to whimper softly.

‘“How bad do you need it?” She taunts and looks down at you, your mouth open in horror “Don't be ashamed I love it when you are such a desperate cock slut” she adds with a grunt “Yes, baby please fuck me” you answer her and moan as she pulls away from you completely.

She now guides the tip of the cock to your entrance you let out a throaty moan as you feel her move it up and down. Another moan escapes you as she pushes the toy into you and lets you adjust before pulling it out and eagerly thrusting her hips forward.

“Mierda” you moan as she starts to pick up a brutal pace your hands clasp around her neck searching for any free flesh for your fingernails to dig into. Red streaks form all over Alexia's back.

“How tight are you mh? Haven’t been fucked for a while? “She asks herself before kissing you and swallowing every little sound you make. You feel the toy stretching you completely and you wrap yourself around it so full she pulls away from you to look down and see how well you're taking her.‘“You’re so pretty you know that?”She gasps as her hips get faster and faster. 

She reaches the spot that makes you fidget and squeal. "Can I come, please?" You beg and moan as she goes deeper into you. The clapping echoes through the quiet room."Fuck come for me, Bonita" she stutters and stops. She starts to stretch you open and that’s all you need to get on her cock. Your hips are shaking and Alexia is trying to prolong your orgasm in which her finger finds their way to your clitoris and rubs circles. You scream as your legs cling to her hips and tremble uncontrollably.

Your orgasm overcomes you as she attempts to pull out of you. "Alexia no stay in me" you whine and she chuckles at your words "Good girl" she whispers as she pushes you on your belly. "Get on your knees," she says grunting and helping you up.

You try to come up to breathe but t, there is no time for that. She firmly pushes into you. Her hand wanders and taps your butt. She focuses vigorously on what makes you cry before she pumps back into you. Her hands rest firmly on your hips and your sight is clouded as Alexia fills you again so well.

Her name comes out a few times in a croak. Whines leave your lips before her tempo once again quickens. Alexia draws you closer to her so you don’t fall.

A moan comes out of alexias mouth as the strap rubs on her clit. Her orgasm gets closer her head falls back her fingers drill harder into your hips and you whimper and whine under her.

Your second orgasm comes closer as you hear Alexia moaning louder and louder. "Please" you whine when you hear how Alexia starts to sound more desperate "Please come in me" you beg again and alexias moaning turns into deep grunting.

Your orgasm overtakes you both at the same time your legs tremble again but this time only slightly. Your eyes are turned firmly in the back of your head and you feel how Alexia pushes slower and her hands become softer on your hips.

She gently rubs your clit until it becomes too much. Your hand pushes Alexia’s away.

She takes her cock out of you and lets herself fall on the bed next to you. You crawl immediately onto her chest and give her small kisses on her cheek. “I missed you and your gift was great" you whisper, relieved and Alexia begins to smile "Your pasta was also very tasty" she whispers back.

[thebiggerbear]

This was the very first thing by you that I ever read and I fell in love with it as well as your writing!!! One of my favorite Dean scenes in the later seasons is the dream Sam has with the pizza and pie, and Mary calling him "little piglet...with love". Plus you included the Latin flair on one of my favorite holidays, girl, my heart was bursting at the seams as I read this while also drooling while also slightly jealous of Dean LOL. (you should know as I'm typing this I am daydreaming about the flan, you should just straight up know that LOL)

The rich custardy goodness is calling to him like a siren song.

I am happily being led while pushing Dean out of the way to get to it first. Lovingly of course lol.

“You’d also be 300 pounds,” Sam remarks, taking a sip of his beer. You eye Sam with a frown. But Dean just laughs it off and cuts his little brother a slice.

Not going to lie, I'd be giving Sam a little bit of the stink eye myself. What is so wrong with Dean enjoying himself a little? Besides...give me ALL the flan!!! Sam doesn't know what he's missing.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is a quiet, deep rumble washing over you. You know what he’s thanking you for: good food, and a small, but warm Christmas.

This made me smile because it is so sweet and so Dean. ❤️

“He ate half his weight in pig,” Sam says. You can’t exactly deny that, but you cross your arms and turn to him, leaning your hip against the counter. “So? It’s Christmas. Let him be happy,” you retort.

Exactly. Let the man enjoy it.

“Even though you guys didn’t have enough money at times, your brother always made sure you were fed,” you explain. You meet Sam’s gaze, squeezing his arm. “Sometimes he went without.” Sam’s expression slowly slackens, contemplative and dismayed at what you’re implying. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and rubs at his mouth, like he’s reeling back the years of evidence in his mind and trying to confirm if you were right. “You don’t remember?” you gently ask. Sam shakes his head. “I mean, I knew things were tight. I remember him taking care of me, obviously. But…” He doesn’t remember his brother going hungry. It carves a hole of remorse in his chest.

This right here is perfection. It made my heart break for Dean as well as Sam for their childhood, what Dean had to sacrifice at times to take care of Sam, how Sam never realized it before...just so perfectly written and so on point.

You slide into bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. He groans deep and slowly lowers his arms. One of them wraps around your frame.

Okay, this is just beyond sweet. Literally made me

Moments like this are worth melting for. 😉 (seriously though, I'm pretty sure I have to call someone to get the wetvac to get me up off of the floor)

The whole ending scene just makes my heart glad, especially with her offering to go for a walk with Dean, most likely keeping in mind what Sam said (while Sam is keeping what she said in mind - like I said, perfection!) , but I especially loved the ending sequence right here:

Dean makes a sound of mild interest in the idea. “I guess, if you like stringy trees and frozen lakes.” It’s winter in Lebanon. Not much to look at. You smirk and press a kiss to his chest. “I mean, that, and you in some little Richard Simmons shorts.” Dean gives you a look, and you giggle so hard it shakes your whole body against him. “Honestly, I think that’ll really do it for me,” you tease. You walk two fingers across his thigh, where a cute pair of ‘80s-style exercise shorts would cut off. Dean grabs your hand and rolls you over, pinning you underneath him on the bed. His thigh slips between both of yours, causing friction against your jeans. And he smirks down at you. “Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

Oh, Dean, nice try. We all know you do. 😉

This was just beyond sweet and it was something I very much needed back when I read through it the first time. (I'm sorry I didn't leave feedback until now! I'm trying to be better about that these days) I love the way you write the Winchesters and this one shot cemented you as one of my favorite writers I've come across in this fandom (as well as a few others 😉).

I definitely cannot wait to dive into the Midnight Espresso verse and get more of these two. You did a beautiful job here, lovely!!! Well done!!! 😊💖💖

Get Stuffed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @iprobablyshipit91: Sam making the usual digs at Dean about his diet, and how much he eats, and the reader pulling him aside and telling him to back off as he doesn’t realize how much Dean went hungry as a kid to make sure Sam was fed.

Word Count: 1,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, innuendo, tinge of angst

**This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he's seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk. You glance at him with a smile as you set down the metal pan.

“It is a flan,” you affirm. “I tried my hand at coconut this time.”

“Ooh, tropical,” Dean says, waggling greasy fingers. He wipes them on a napkin before he reaches for the pie cutter, which is usually reserved for his favorite dessert. Although, flan is rapidly becoming his second go-to. The rich custardy goodness is calling to him like a siren song.

“How can I get you to make this more often?” Dean mutters while carving out a generous slice.

Your lips curve. You rest your chin on your hand and lean towards him, earning his gaze. “If I made it all the time, you wouldn’t savor it, now would you?”

Dean smirks. His gaze lowers to your lips, like he’s contemplating some persuasive maneuvers.

“You’d also be 300 pounds,” Sam remarks, taking a sip of his beer.

You eye Sam with a frown. But Dean just laughs it off and cuts his little brother a slice.

By the end of the meal, all three of you are stuffed. Dean groans and leans back in his seat. A gurgle mounts audibly from his stomach.

“Jesus. Are you erupting?” Sam says.

Dean holds up a finger. “Wait for it.”

You give your boyfriend a bemused look. You know exactly what’s about to happen. As does Sam, who’s grimacing.

A few seconds later, Dean does erupt, with a truly legendary belch.

“Nice,” you say wryly. Dean squeezes your soft, thick thigh and backs his chair away from the table.

“Well, since I roasted the pig and you did the rest, I’d say it’s Sammy’s turn on cleaning duty,” he says.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a wan smile. Yours is more jovial, even as Dean’s hand toys with a curl of your hair after he stands.

“I’m gonna shower off the meat sweats,” he says.

You giggle, but you nod. “You do that. I’ll help Sam a bit, put away the food at least.”

Your smile becomes more genuine when Dean drops a kiss on your forehead from above.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is a quiet, deep rumble washing over you. You know what he’s thanking you for: good food, and a small, but warm Christmas.

You reach up and give his cheek a tender touch, before he withdraws and makes his way to the bedroom he shares with you. It leaves you and Sam to collect what’s on the table and bring it all into the kitchen. While Sam does the dishes, you start to put away the leftovers.

Something has been nagging at you all night, though you’ve tried to stamp it down time and time again. You don’t know if it's your place to say something. Especially if Dean doesn’t seem bothered…but it bothers you. And you’ve never been one to hold your tongue.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you begin, even as a small bit of trepidation niggles inside you.

Sam looks over at you. He’s quick to catch the serious note in your demeanor.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replies. You okay? his eyes also ask.

“Why do you get on Dean so much for enjoying his food?” you ask.

Sam blinks. Then he scoffs a little. “There’s enjoying, and then there’s gluttony.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue.

“He ate half his weight in pig,” Sam says. You can’t exactly deny that, but you cross your arms and turn to him, leaning your hip against the counter.

“So? It’s Christmas. Let him be happy,” you retort.

Sam levels you with pinched brows. “He’s not in his 20s anymore. All that crap he eats is going to catch up to him someday.”

“What, you expect him to down some kale smoothies?” you reply, giving a pointed brow raise and a teasing smile. “Get up at the crack of dawn for a bare-chested run?”

Sam shoots you a dry look.  

“My point is, I’m not gonna survive hundreds of monster attacks just to get taken down by cholesterol,” he says.

You sigh a raise a placating hand. “All right. I get what you’re saying. I’m just saying…have you ever thought about why he loves food so much? Why he overindulges sometimes?”

Sam's brow quirks. It’s a question you know you need to tread lightly in order to answer. You uncross your arms to lay a hand on Sam’s wrist. He stops washing dishes and turns off the sink to give you his full attention, sensing your shift.

You look up at him, and you steel yourself.

“He might’ve mentioned once…that you two sometimes had a hard time growing up. With John taking you guys from motel to motel while he was working a job, and every now and then, leaving you guys alone longer than he meant to.”

Dean had been more than a bit drunk when you’d gotten this out of him. Hearing about that aspect of his upbringing had upset you, not just as someone who cared about him, but the caretaker in you smarted.

“Even though you guys didn’t have enough money at times, your brother always made sure you were fed,” you explain. You meet Sam’s gaze, squeezing his arm. “Sometimes he went without.”

Sam’s expression slowly slackens, contemplative and dismayed at what you’re implying. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and rubs at his mouth, like he’s reeling back the years of evidence in his mind and trying to confirm if you were right.

“You don’t remember?” you gently ask.

Sam shakes his head. “I mean, I knew things were tight. I remember him taking care of me, obviously. But…”

He doesn’t remember his brother going hungry.

It carves a hole of remorse in his chest.

This isn’t the first time he’s had to reexamine Dean’s role in his life, and not the first time he’s felt this flavor of guilt. But he sighs and really doesn’t know what to say.

You seem to realize that, and you squeeze his arm one last time.

“Just keep that in mind,” you implore.

You soon leave him to venture upstairs, but there in the kitchen, Sam makes a resolution before the new year. One that includes having a conversation with his brother.

You find Dean in your bedroom. Now in his most threadbare sweatpants and an old black shirt, he lays over the covers on the bed. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head, but he hears you when you come in.

You slide into bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. He groans deep and slowly lowers his arms. One of them wraps around your frame.

“Think I overdid it a bit,” he admits, cracking his eyes open. You smile and gently pat his stomach. 

“Wanna go for a walk tomorrow?” you ask. “We can go down to the park.”

Dean raises a brow at you. “You hate walking.”

“Not true,” you shake your head, before you rest more comfortably against him. He tucks you in beside him and begins to run his fingers down your arm. It’s a bit distracting.

“Could be nice, with the right view,” you add, though you shiver a little at his touch.

Dean makes a sound of mild interest in the idea. “I guess, if you like stringy trees and frozen lakes.”

It’s winter in Lebanon. Not much to look at.

You smirk and press a kiss to his chest. “I mean, that, and you in some little Richard Simmons shorts.”

Dean gives you a look, and you giggle so hard it shakes your whole body against him.

“Honestly, I think that’ll really do it for me,” you tease. You walk two fingers across his thigh, where a cute pair of ‘80s-style exercise shorts would cut off.

Dean grabs your hand and rolls you over, pinning you underneath him on the bed. His thigh slips between both of yours, causing friction against your jeans. And he smirks down at you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

AN: 😂 A little callback to S1 at the end there. I hope you guys liked this! Just in time to prepare for my Christmas cooking! ❤️💚

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "A Wish to Build a Dream On":

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

▶️ Next Story: A Wish to Build a Dream On

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictear @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[bbkoolkatz]

hi lovey! Back here with the Kats request sighhhh… (I’m not really that guilty 🫣) I have so many tests this whole week, won’t have much time to do anything at all Ughughughugh sooooo Kats forcing you to study even if you don’t want to 😞 or smth abt studying (not about taking a break tho 🫠🫠) taken too many of those I need to be disciplined to actually study and maybe a reward or punishment just for some extra motivation 🤭🤭

-💫

sorry I took so long bby 💫 lemme know if ya like. n good luck with ur tests ( ͡°³ ͡°)

"sit." katsuki ordered, pointing to the cushion he placed on the floor next to the coffee table.

"but i don't wanna!" you whined, flopping onto the couch dramatically, tossing your books onto the floor as if the table wasn't right there.

"boohoo." he mocked, picking you up from the comfort of the sofa to plop you down by the table. "y'got exams, 'n i'll be damned if I let ya fail 'cause y'wanna act like a goddamn brat."

"ugh, you're so mean," you grumbled, with all the enthusiasm of a child being sent to time-out.

"yeah? keep it up, 'n i'll show ya what mean really is," he sassed, throwing your notes down in front of you.

you silently mocked him, but he just stared at you, as he arched a brow, unimpressed. "y' think 'm jokin'?"

"mmm, I'm gonna say, yeah," you teased, shrugging your shoulders, nodding as you leaned back with a smug grin.

"okay." he leaned over the table, caging you in with his hands on either side of you, his face mere inches from yours. "here's how 's gonna work," he growled, "study like i tell ya to, or yer not gonna like what comes next. ya feel me?"

your cheeks flushed, but you refused to back down. "what makes you think i won't?"

" 'cause it's not a reward..." he folded his arms over his chest.

"a reward?" you blinked as your interest piqued. was that all you heard?... definitely.

"yep," he said, standing up straight, arms still crossed. "y' do what i say, and maybe, i'll give ya somethin' nice. keep bein' a pain in my ass-"

"what kind of reward?" you interrupted, squinting at him as you looked him up and down, suspicious.

"yer gonna have to behave 'n find out," he said with a shrug, smirk widening across his face.

your curiosity got the better of you, and with a dramatic sigh, you sat up straight and grabbed your notes. "fine," you grumbled, "better be worth it..." and mumbled.

"mhmm," he hummed, walking to sit across from you. "now, start with this." he pointed to the section of your notes you'd been avoiding.

you pouted but obeyed regardless, mumbling the words under your breath as you worked through the material. every time your focus drifted elsewhere, katsuki snapped his fingers or tapped the table, to get your attention back.

after what felt like an eternity, you finally finished the first section and you looked up at him, eyes big and hopeful. "do I get my reward now?"

he snorted. "y' finished one part. keep goin', 'n i'll think about it."

"you're evil," you whined, but you turned back to your notes, determined to earn whatever 'reward' he had for you.

by the time you'd finished another section, your head was spinning, and your patience was wearing thin. "can i have my reward now?" you asked, edgey and maybe a little desperate.

katsuki leaned back in the couch, red eyes flickering from your eyes to your pouty lips. "think y' earned it?"

you nodded, your entire face lighting up. he leaned forward, grabbing your chin and tilted your face up to meet his. he pressed a soft, slow kiss to your lips. "there ya' go." he rasped, face still barely a centimeter away from yours.

your heart raced at the action, and your cheeks grew hot. but before you could respond, he pulled back. "now get back to work."

"that's it?!" you complained, cheeks red with embarrassment. "i thought there'd be more..."

"keep workin'," he said, ignoring your outburst. "maybe y'll get 'more' if ya finish it all."

mlist!

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXIX)

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! It’s the poetry reading!!! Also, we’re getting some special guests in this chapter!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 5237

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Anne Hathaway

‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’ (from Shakespeare’s will)

The bed we loved in was a spinning world of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme to his, now echo, assonance; his touch a verb dancing in the centre of a noun. Some nights, I dreamed he’s written me, the bed A page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste. In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on, dribbling their prose. My living laughing love- I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head as he held me upon that next best bed.

Carole Ann Duffy, The World’s Wife

It was raining in Dublin that afternoon.

Andrew was nervous, to say the least. As he hurried into the bookshop that was hosting his poetry reading, he was questioning all of his life’s choices. If he was proud of his work, if he had been on a stage before, if he was used to talking in front of crowds… he still had dreadful nerves right before any of these events.

He tried to calm down, opening the glass door of the bookshop in a hurry. He was suddenly very aware that the rain must have made his hair look like a bird’s nest, and as he bent to enter the shop, he could feel himself taking up too much space.

He put these thoughts aside, forcing himself to smile as he walked across the shop, recognising his agent instantly as she was talking with the bookshop owner.

“Andy! This is Niamh O’Brien, the owner of the bookshop,” said Caroline, as Andrew shook hands with the fifty-something woman in front of him.

“It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for organising this,” Andrew smiled, his voice sounding a little hoarse as the stress was making his throat tighten.

“Oh, it’s nothing! It’s a pleasure, indeed! Thank you for accepting to come here, I truly admire your work,” complimented O’Brien, making Andrew nod and blush.

“Thanks,” he answered automatically, pushing the compliment away instantly.

“Alright, let’s go to my office so we can run through today’s event, and then I’ll give you a little time to get ready if you need,” explained the owner of the bookshop while they walked across the shop and to a small door at the back, near the Shakespeare section. “As I was telling Caroline, we have a large room upstairs for these readings, for seminaries, lectures… all those things. The response to the advertisement was very encouraging, indeed! We’re expecting over two hundred people today.”

Andrew nervously chuckled.

“I thought this was a small event…”

“I thought it would be! Poetry readings are not always the most popular events, sadly. But we had underestimated the popularity of your work, clearly! We have about two hundred seats upstairs, and we’re expecting a full house!”

“Wow… that’s grand,” Andrew grinned, digging his hands into his pockets.

They walked inside O’Brien’s office, and discussed some details about the afternoon around a warm cup of coffee.

“We have planned some questions after the reading,” O’Brien went on, sipping on her beverage. “Anything that we should… avoid or that you are adamant to discuss?”

“Erm… like… I reckon it’s best if you decide what questions are more relevant. I’m not going to discuss anything too private, though.”

“Too private?”

“Like… my personal life is private, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Of course. I can understand that.”

“Thank you.”

“We gave Caroline a few titles that we would really like you to read, if that’s fine by you. But I’m curious to know what are the other poems you’ve decided to share today.”

“Erm… yeah, totally! Erm… I’ve noted the ones you asked for, I’ll read them obviously. Then, I’ve just picked a few that I felt fitted your selection. I’m also going to publish a few poems next month, so I thought I could read three of these.”

“Oh, that would be amazing! Maybe finish the reading with these new ones!”

“Yeah, I thought I could do that. Do you prefer to read them before hand?”

“Oh, no, no! You’re the author, you choose what you read and want to share today! On the contrary, I can’t wait to discover them when you read them aloud!”

She grinned excitedly.

“Oh, now I truly cannot wait! Right, we still have about forty-five minutes before the reading begins, I’m going to help welcome our visitors. You take some time to get ready, and ask us if you need anything, alright?”

“Totally… yeah. Thank you.”

As soon as O’Brien had left the room, Caroline heaved a sigh, relaxing in her chair while she turned to Andrew.

“You’re ready for today?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Good… are your parents coming? I mean… they always come when the readings are in Dublin, I don’t know why I’m asking,” she chuckled, and Andrew enthusiastically nodded.

“Yeah, they’ll be here! Jon is off to Cork for a project he’s working on, but both my parents are coming.”

“Anyone else you’ll know in the crowd? Alex?”

“No, Alex is busy working on a music project with his new band at the moment. I… I have another friend who’s coming, though.”

“Really? Who?”

“Erm… Her name’s Y/N. We work together, actually.”

As she studied his features, Caroline raised a teasing eyebrow, a grin slowly creeping over her lips.

“And… is this Y/N nice to look at, too?”

“Caroline!” Andrew chuckled, rubbing at his cheek. “She’s just a friend.”

“She is at the moment, perhaps… but is she meant to remain just that?”

Andrew didn’t say anything at first.

“I can’t see the future, you know? I didn’t pass the exams in divination back in College.”

“Are any of these new poems influenced by her?”

Andrew cleared his throat, reached for the thermos of tea and honey he had brought for his throat.

“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled under his breath. “I should read these again, just to practice.”

“Yeah, I bet you should,” Caroline laughed, taking her phone out of her purse to check her emails.

Meanwhile, Andrew read some of his poems again, just to remind himself of the pauses, the stresses, the intentions he wanted to add when he would read them out loud. About ten minutes before the beginning of the reading session, he checked his phone. His father had sent him a couple of texts, one to notify him that they were ten minutes away from Dublin, and another later on once he and Andrew’s mother were already seated in the bookshop.

There was another text from you as well, and Andrew’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Waiting for the reading to begin! Just wanted to wish you good luck, although I have no doubts you’re gonna kill it!

He started typing while Caroline was checking a few last-minute details.

Hey! Thank you again for coming today, it means a lot to me. I’ll try not to make too much of a fool of myself out there.

 Your answer was almost instantaneous.

No need to thank me for that. I’m glad to be here.

You’ve got a full house btw! I was right to come here early, the room is packed. Some people are sitting on the floor, others are just standing. Apparently they’ve had to turn some people away, there was just no room left.

And I didn’t even know you wrote poetry, shame on me…

Andrew chuckled at that, not noticing that Caroline was talking to him. He was too busy answering.

Ha… thanks. Now, I’m going to die of stress before I can get up there and read.

Also, I hadn’t warned you, but all these people were hired. I’m only trying to impress you.

He realised there was a little bit of flirt in that last message, but he didn’t change it. Instead, he bit on his nail, eyes fixed on his screen while you typed a response.

Ha, that explains it then! You’re actually a rich egomaniac who is forging his success!

He chuckled.

Indeed, I am. You’ve read right through me.

Caroline frowned, but he didn’t notice either.

And I thought you were just a talented poet.

He blushed, tried to brush the compliment away.

Christ, I really am not, trust me.

“Andy!”

Andrew finally looked up, startled.

“Hmm?”

“It’s time to go, come on.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah…”

“You’ll do just fine. You always do great in these.”

Andrew nodded, typing quickly one last message before he would follow Caroline upstairs.

Time’s up. I’ll talk to you after the reading, if you want to stick around a little.

You sent him one last encouraging text that he didn’t have the time to read, but that would make him grin later that night, when he would discover it, hours later.

For now though, he was walking inside the large room, after O’Brien had quickly introduced him, and he waved shyly while the crowd clapped for him. He settled in front of the mic stand, readjusted its height to fit his tall body better.

When he looked up again, he easily spotted his parents, first row, as per usual. They grinned proudly at him, and the sight made him relax instantly. He took one more second to scan the room quickly, and it was indeed packed with people, more than he had anticipated for such an event, that was supposed to be a small gathering.

His eyes finally landed on you, fifth row, grinning at him with genuine excitement. You gave him a thumbs up, and it made him grin, almost laugh. You were wearing a green shirt that was revealing your cleavage a little more than usual, he noticed that right away. He noticed how you were smiling, how your eyes were shining, how you seemed happy to be here.

He blushed, before finally speaking.

You were beyond impressed, to be fair.

Andrew’s deep, soft voice was lulling you into another world, another plane of existence, while you listened to him reading his poems. There was something unbelievably magnetic in the way he spoke, in the way he stood there, alone in a single spotlight, a hand in the pocket of his brown corduroy trousers, the other holding his book. He looked so handsome like this too, curly hair partially tied back, the rest let loose over his shoulders. His brown jacket matched the colour of his trousers, the black of his turtleneck was the same shade as his leather shoes. His glasses perched on his nose caught the light from time to time, but you were obsessed by the eyes beyond them, irises seeming brownish in this light. You noticed that he often looked at you as he spoke, or while he talked a little in between poems, explaining something about the text before he would read it, or sipping on his thermos of hot tea. You spotted the two teabag tags hanging from the grey bottle, and couldn’t refrain a fond smile at the sight. He liked his tea so strong, just like his coffee…

Behind him, across the white wall, there were pictures projected while he read, matching the poems. Sometimes short, silent films. You were particularly struck by the LGBTQ+ meaning on the black and white extract for Take Me To Church, the roughness of the themes for Cherry Wine, the dancers that moved behind Andrew’s frame for Movement. You were more impressed by his work itself though, by the beauty in the images he summoned, the sincerity he seemed to inject into each word, the gentleness he used to speak about love, the complexity of the feeling, too, and the way he talked about sex as an act of worship instead of pure lust, as a sacred act of loving. You loved every second of it.

Finally, he closed his second book, but pulled from it a few loose sheets of paper, and smiled at the crowd.

“We have only a few minutes left, and… erm… I thought I could share with you a few new poems today. They will soon be published in a poetry journal, but this sounded like the perfect occasion to finally… erm… release them into the world and… and… erm… to just, let them loose, I guess. The first one is called Why Would You Be Loved, and it is about… the despair that comes with love. With sharing something so absolute, and wondering why it should even occur to you, and why you should let yourself be engulfed in this kind of… erm… like… this kind of overwhelmingly strong feelings, that will probably hurt you an awful lot, in the end. So… yeah, I definitely thought that I needed to lift up the mood a little for this last part, and thus chose the most pessimistic poem I could find for you all. I expect a lot of smiles and giggles for this one.”

Everyone chuckled at that, and you weren’t an exception.

Although, you were most definitely not laughing when Andrew started reading. He seemed a little more nervous with this poem, you noticed how he was fidgeting with this piece of paper, how his eyes were shining a little more now, how his voice sounded deeper than before.

You listened, not realising that you were tearing up. But you were, you noticed it at last when a tear rolled all the way across your neck, tickling your skin.

His words echoed into your own pain, and you read in them his heartbreak after Samantha’s betrayal.

Why would you play it all on somethin' as hollow as trust?

What if you gave it all, to find that it wasn't enough?

Damn, you brushed your cheeks to dry them on your sleeve. This was echoing in your soul a little too much, a little too desperately…

The woman next to you was crying as well, you noticed the man before you rubbing discreetly at his eyes.

And then Andrew was quiet again. The applause was so loud, he looked up in surprise.

“Erm… thank you,” he smiled, nodding his head. “I… I have a couple more poems. This next one is called NFWMB, you’ll find out pretty quickly what that stands for. And it’s just… I had fun with the theme of the world ending, and I was reading a lot of Yeats too at the time, so there’s a bit of that in there. I just played with the… erm… like, the idea of having your partner being absolutely terrifying, and actually almost… thriving in that chaos. So, yeah…”

He cleared his throat, caught your eyes as he took a deeper breath before starting reading. And there was something different in his gaze, something so intense, it made you unable to look away. When Andrew looked down at his paper to read, his body was still slightly turned in your direction.

Your breath caught in your throat when he spelled out the title, when you realised what this was truly about…

Nothing fucks with my baby

You thought back about that afternoon with him, that conversation. That joke you made about being tougher than you looked; the way he had replied with a serious gaze, a firm tone, that you were tougher than you thought you were.

He looked up right after that verse, caught your eyes with his, and you knew then, you knew without a doubt that this was about you.

If I was born as a blackthorn tree

I'd wanna be felled by you

Held by you

Fuel the pyre of your enemies

But these words, they couldn’t be aimed at you… how could they? Was that what he thought of you? Was that… was that what he was ready to be and do for you?

You were struggling to breathe by the end of the poem.

Did that mean that he wrote about you?! That Andrew wrote love poems about you?

And not just love poems, but poems that showed you as some badass independent woman?!

Was that how he saw you? Strong like that?

“This is our last poem for today. It’s more of a tongue-in-cheek kind of poem. I played with the idea of using language to seduce someone. Especially in poetry, we use words in an aesthetic way, like… erm… like, I wanted to play with that idea of using poetry to lure someone in, in a way… like, using metaphors and beautiful turns of phrase to hide the fact that you just… want to jump their bones, basically.”

He smiled humorously, while the audience laughed and chuckled.

But then his eyes were back on you, and you noticed the way he blushed before he began reading.

He stole a few glances at you throughout the poem, and you almost liquified on your chair when he looked at you right after reading a certain verse…

Imagine being loved by me

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

You struggled to swallow when he kept eye contact with you while he repeated that verse, your heart pounding, head spinning a bit, and feeling your entire body react to his deep, suave voice speaking these words directly to you.

You could barely breathe by the end of it.

You didn’t pay attention while Andrew was sitting now with O’Brien, you merely clapped along, but couldn’t conjure up any logical thought.

You took a couple of deep breath, feeling your entire body on fire. And then, you were the one imagining things he could do to you as you stared at his hand while it reached the microphone O’Brien was handing him…

The questions offered an interesting insight on many of Andrew’s poems. He sounded passionate about them, about the political messages he wanted to carry, about the vision he had of love and sex and the honesty that he thought was necessary in poetry. You listened attentively, often agreeing with his views. When the interview was over, and the applause had quieted down again, O’Brien announced a short break, before Andrew would sign copies of his books. You weren’t sure if you ought to talk to him now, as people were walking out of the room, some to go home and some to wait outside to get their books signed. You had already bought both of his books, even though you had not read them, wanting to discover Andrew’s work while he would read it. So, you stood there awkwardly for a while, hesitating to walk up to Andrew even though he was now talking to a couple of people he seemed to know, or to walk out of the room.

You were about to listen to your anxious self and walk away to wait for him outside when he called for you.

He approached with a grin on his face, and you tried to ignore how everyone was staring at the two of you.

“Thank you for coming!” he grinned, and you offered him back the same happy smile.

“No need to thank me. On the contrary, thank you for inviting me! It was amazing.”

He looked nervous for a moment.

“You… you liked the poems, then?”

You chuckled.

“That… is the understatement of the century!” you joked, and Andrew seemed deeply relieved. “I loved it. You… your poems are so beautiful, and so deep and complex and insightful and just… amazing. Truly, absolutely stunning.”

He stared at you for a moment looking a little stunned by your words, blushing more and more. He nodded, burying his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you so much. I’m glad you liked my work.”

“I really loved all your poems.”

You saw him biting the inside of his cheek, and he was about to speak again when he was interrupted by the woman he had been talking to a moment before. Actually, she didn’t speak to him, but he must have felt her approaching, and he turned to her with a warm smile.

“Oh, erm… This is Y/N,” Andrew started introducing you while a man was joining them too. “We work together at Trinity, I told you about her. Erm… Y/N, this is my mom Raine, and my dad John.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, hearing that Andrew had told his parents about you, but you quickly recovered and shook their hands, warmly greeting them.

“Of course! Andy has told us a lot about you, indeed!” Raine nodded, making Andrew blush. “We were thinking about going for a coffee while Andy is signing some autographs. Would you like to join us? We could all go for dinner after that!”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, and looked at you with a careful expression, that seemed to convene the message that you shouldn’t feel pressured to accept if you didn’t feel like it. But you merely grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you politely declined a first time, but Raine insisted, and this time you accepted, excited at the thought of talking with Andrew’s family.

“Alright,” Andrew nodded, and he seemed a little uncomfortable but happy all the same. “This shouldn’t take too long, I’ll join you all when I’m done here.”

You ended up in a coffeeshop nearby, bought some cake and a coffee with Andrew’s parents. You were a little nervous, worried that they might dislike you, although you refused to dig into the reasons that made your heart quicken with dread. Your fears were unfounded though, the conversation went smoothly, and both of his parents were kind-hearted. His father was a little quieter than Raine, but you couldn’t help but notice how much Andrew and John were alike, both physically and in their behaviour. They made you laugh while telling you some funny stories from Andrew’s childhood, and you answered their questions about your life, your career. Andrew joined you about an hour later, and he offered for all of you to come to his flat for dinner. You didn’t want to intrude, but they all insisted, and so you ended up yielding.

Andrew was nervous, although he tried very hard to hide it.

The adrenaline from the afternoon had not waned yet, he was still a little high on it. The fact that his parents were now sharing some of his childhood stories with you wasn’t helping. It felt a little surreal, to have you talking with them, joking, laughing with his parents. You seemed to easily fit in though, and Andrew couldn’t help but draw the comparison with Sam, how she never quite felt at ease with his parents, especially his father, who was a little more reserved than Raine. But now John was deep in conversation with you, telling you about the days when he was a blues musician, the drummer of a band called Free Booze, and you laughed with him at his anecdotes.

“Of course, everybody was coming in with that written on the sign by the door of whatever pub we were playing at. And once they were inside they thought ‘might as well buy a beer’, and so we were often booked around town!”

You laughed at that.

“So cunning. Great marketing skills right there,” you joked, everybody laughing at the happy memories.

“Ha, these were back in the days,” John heaved a nostalgic sigh. “Then, we had Andrew, and… I had a choice to make. Being a gigging musician wasn’t paying all the bills every months, sometimes it was working well, but other times it was inconsistent. Having a second child, I had to give up on it. Besides, I didn’t feel like travelling around the country with my two lads at home.”

“Do you ever regret quitting music?” you asked, voice gentle.

“No, not really. It was not an easy choice to make, but music demands a lot of sacrifices. And I was certainly not ready to sacrifice my family for it.”

You nodded, humming in quiet agreement.

“So, that’s where your love for music comes from then?” you turned to Andrew, and he nodded with a smile.

“Yeah… grew up being fed a lot of blues, rock, soul music… stuff like that.”

You nodded, before Raine would draw the conversation to another topic. Andrew saw you sneaking a bit of food to Elwood, and he smiled fondly at the sight, his heart growing warm at the thought that you fitted so easily into his family, into his home. His parents seemed to genuinely like you, and you seemed to like them as well. By the end of the evening, you had learned a worrying number of silly anecdotes about Andrew’s childhood, you were planning to exchange recipes with Raine, and were setting a bet on the next win for the Irish Rugby team with John. It seemed easy for you to fit into the bubble of love that surrounded Andrew. Sam had never felt like that…

His parents were staying a little longer, planning on helping Andrew clean up, but they all shushed you when you offered to help. You seemed tired, Andrew could see it, and he knew you had classes early the next day. He offered to walk you back to your car, just so that he could steal a few minutes alone with you.

“Thank you for today, Andy! It was grood craic!” you grinned up at him as you both walked across the street towards your car.

“Thank you for coming. I hope my parents weren’t too obnoxious, especially while I wasn’t around.”

“No! Not at all! Your parents are lovely.”

“Yeah… yeah, they’re very nice people.”

“And now I have so much to work with to laugh at you… mister ‘I’m a bad boy because I climbed a rotten tree thinking it was a ladder, and now I have scar on my chest and I look like I was attacked by a bear!’”

You both exploded with laughter, Andrew shaking his head.

“Christ, don’t tell that to anyone, I’m begging you…”

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

You reached your car, but lingered by the door, turning to him instead.

And God, you looked so beautiful like this, in your black jeans and green shirt… the lights of the lampposts shining in your hair. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the street was still damp, tainted with orange hues by the light.

He wanted to kiss you so badly…

“Andy… can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” he encouraged you, tilting his head to the side a little.

“I… I assume the poems you wrote in your collections are about Sam, as you were together at the time, but… the ones you added… the new poems you read at the end of the session… were they about her as well?”

Andrew’s heart started to quicken its pace until it was pounding. He nervously rubbed his palms together.

“Hmm… no. I wrote these after she left, so… they were not about her. They… they are about another woman.”

He intensely stared at you, silently trying to convey his feelings. That the poems were about you, about his desire for you, about how strong he thought you were…

He saw that you were struggling to swallow, heard that your breath was catching in your throat. He could have sworn that you were glimpsing at his lips…

But then you shook yourself, and looked away in a hurry.

“Well, good night, Andy! I’m gonna read the rest of your poems this weekend. I’d love to talk about it with you next week, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah! That would be grand, yeah. Sure… Totally!”

You exchanged a shy smile, before you would turn to your car.

And as he watched you drive away, Andrew wondered if you had understood him. If you knew that he had written NFWMB and Talk for you. And if you had, indeed, understood him… were you running away now? Had he made you uncomfortable? Perhaps he shouldn’t have chosen these poems after all, perhaps he should have kept them a secret, or at least, hidden their true meaning, hidden that they were about you.

He walked back to his home, helped his parents wash the dishes.

“Y/N is such a lovely woman!” Raine praised while Andrew was getting busy washing the plates.

“She is,” he nodded with a soft smile.

“Very smart, and with a lovely humour too,” John approved with a nod, putting the washed glasses back into the right cupboard.

“And she is very beautiful,” Raine added. “And single.”

Andy laughed, although he was blushing.

“Mom! Stop it! How do you even know she’s single?”

“I asked her!”

“You’re incorrigible…” Andrew laughed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying is that… she’s beautiful, around the same age as you, that she… has a strong career, a stable situation. And as your father said, she has a lovely personality, she’s smart… and you seem to have a lot in common. And she seems to be so nice, Andy. So very nice…”

“She is,” Andrew nodded quietly.

Raine looked carefully at her son for a moment, before speaking again.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Andrew said nothing, merely pressed the sponge against a plate.

“You know, we’ve never told you about it but… your father and I… we’ve never really liked Samantha very much.”

Andrew chuckled.

“I know, mom. It was pretty obvious.”

“She was… I don’t know. There was something off with her. I’ve never felt like she fitted into your world very well. Not that a couple should share everything! It’s very important that you both have hobbies of your own, some things that belong to you. But it’s something else entirely to show no interest in your partner’s life.”

“She made efforts,” Andrew answered, growing defensive out of habit more than conviction.

“She never came to your readings. She never read your poetry…”

“She doesn’t like poetry…”

“And I don’t know anything about music. I still listen to your father when he talks about it, still try to support him in the things he loves, even though I don’t understand it on the same level as he does. Just like your father supported me with my art, with me going back to university for a degree…”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“You’re right. She wasn’t like that with me.”

Slowly, Raine nodded.

“It’s good that you can see that now, son,” John patted Andrew’s shoulder.

“Hmm…”

“We really want to see you happy, you know?” Raine added, and Andrew nodded with a tender smile. “So… Y/N… for how long have you been writing poems about her?”

Andrew laughed, clearly uncomfortable now.

“Who said I am?”

“Come on now, I’m not blind. The way you look at her…”

Andrew blushed all the way up to his ears.

“Have you asked her out yet?” John asked, but Andrew shook his head.

“We’re both getting out of difficult break-ups… I don’t think this is the right time. I don’t think I feel ready for that. I… I like her a lot. I don’t want to mess it up because I’m trying to move on too soon.”

He didn’t tell them that he was in love with you. That he had fallen in love with you a little bit more every day for months now… that he kept on falling every time he looked at you, with every conversation and every new detail he learnt about you.

No, he didn’t tell them that. Instead, he merely cleared his throat.

“Anyway… I don’t think she sees me like that at all,” he added, but both his parents exchanged a look, and then chuckled fondly at their son.

“You can be so blind sometimes, Andy…” John shook his head.

“What?”

“She likes you. A lot,” Raine stated as if it was the most obvious truth on Earth.

Andrew blinked at her, his hands still in soapy water.

Did you? Did you like him? Really?

[lostsyren]

love your fanfics on Rafe and Sofia! 😍👏😍👏 I was wondering if I could request something on how Rafe first met Sofia’s dad. There was a scene in S4 where her dad enters into her room but looks around before going inside to talk to Sofia. Idk but it makes me think her dad walked in on her and rafe once and that’s how he met him 😂💀

⋆𝄞⋆ my place or yours?

{a/n: thank you sooo much for the kind words! i hope this is what you expected! i kinda got a bit carried away!}

{summary: rafe and sofia decide to go to her place for a change, but things don’t go to plan…}

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It was the day the furniture was being moved into Rafe’s new house– that meant Rafe and Sofia were left stranded.

He turned to face her as they stood on the lawn watching the U-Haul truck pull into the drive. “Why can’t we go to yours again?”

Sofia rolled her eyes– this was the third time he’d pestered her about it. “Because Rafe, my parents wouldn’t like it.”

“We’d just chill– it’ll all be PG 13 yeah?” He teased with a smile, giving her a little nudge.

Sofia scoffed but a small grin crept across her face.

“Fine. But you gotta sneak in from the back.”

So that’s how Rafe ended up teetering between the street and Sofia’s back-garden, throwing his leg over the rickety fence and landing with a quiet thud on the grass. It was still daytime so he didn’t even have the cover of darkness– he just loitered about, hoping to god none of her family would spot him.

His phone buzzed with a text from Sofia.

S: coast is clear

He let out a little chuckle, sprightly following Sofia’s instructions: Past the oak tree and the first door on the right.

With surveying eyes, he quickly made it there, Sofia opening the door straightaway, yanking him inside by the forearm.

“Woah somebody’s eager,” he smirked, enjoying the way he could rile her up so easily.

“Oh shush, my parents and my siblings are home so you have to be quiet ok?”

Rafe mimed zipping his lips, before he let his eyes roam her room. It was small but cozy, the sunlight filtering in through the floral lace curtains, her bed littered in fluffy pillows and a quilted throw, a cutesy vintage record player on the drawer. It was so Sofia– a mismatched assortment of pretty things. She was like that, he’d noticed, a collector– finding beauty in everything and treating nothing like it was worth something. He sometimes felt like one of her trinkets– the way she’d cherish him sometimes, even when he didn’t deserve it.

“I know you’re used to something a bit more grand,” Sofia mumbled, watching as he drank in her room, tone reserved.

“It’s cute, I like it.” He quickly said, smiling down at her.

“Yeah?” A bright grin spread across her face, making him suffuse with giddiness.

“Yeah.”

“Ok, sit down, let me show you the records I found at the thrift store the other day, in near perfect condition– I couldn’t believe someone just gave them away like that!” She gushed, tugging him by the wrists and gently nudging him to take a seat on her bed.

With a soft grin on his face, Rafe watched Sofia display her bounty, eyes glinting like shiny gems– they always did that when she got excited.

He really tried to focus on what she was saying, but she looked so damn beautiful, cast in the sunlight pooling in from her window, a sense of comfortability that he’d never seen her posses suddenly exuding out of her. This was her room, her little slice of the world, and here she was showing him. Rafe’s heart surged with pride.

Sofia abruptly stopped her rambling, “am I boring you? You can tell me if you’re bored.”

Rafe shook his head, stretching his arms out so they slung lazily around her hips as she stood looking down at him with a winsome expression.

“Never bored by you.” He pulled her down so she was sat in his lap, Sofia letting out a little gasp of shock, her arms flying around his neck.

“Rafe,” she warned, twisting around to make sure no one was outside her door.

“Just one kiss.” He murmured, breath tickling her chest.

“It’s never ends up being one kiss.”

Rafe smirked, his hands roaming up her shirt, massaging soft circles into her skin, as he met his lips with hers with a ravenous softness. Pulling away with a teasing grin, his stomach somersaulted at the image of Sofia trailing for more, her eyes lidded as if in a kiss-drunk haze.

“There…one kiss. We can stop now…”

Sofia rolled her eyes, “that’s not fair.”

“Your rules not mine baby.”

Sofia pushed him back onto her bed until she was left straddling him, Rafe intoxicated by her low breaths and wet lips.

“You better be quiet ok?” She whispered, resting her hands on his chest.

“You’re the one who ends making the most noise–“

“Shut up,” she playfully dismissed, before resuming their kisses, Rafe’s hands greedily running up and down the planes of her body.

They stayed like that for a while, Rafe savouring the way she took control, letting himself sink into her mattress, luxuriating in her velvety blankets and satin pillows that crowned his head.

But her movements soon became languorous and mellow, Sofia’s tell-tale sign she was beginning to get tired. Rafe then gripped her hips, flipping her on to her back in one swift yet gentle manoeuvre, their mouths still hooked by a kiss, until he was the one towering over her.

“God, you’re tired already?” He whispered against the sensitive spot on her neck, between his voracious kisses.

“No…” she lied, her swollen lips caught between her teeth as she simpered up at him, her eyes once again scintillating like diamonds.

“Didn’t take you for liar Sof,” he joked, as his hands traipsed lower, his hot palm pressed against her navel, making her squirm.

“You lied to me…PG 13? You look like you’re about two seconds away from making this an R rated feature.”

“Stop putting ideas in my head.”

Rafe kissed her again, breathlessly, hungrily, inhaling every little noise she made.

He was so enamoured by her lithe body moving up to graze his, lost in their idyllic stupor, glorying in the sensation of her feathery fingers skimming his midriff– he didn’t even realise what made Sofia scramble away from him.

He moved off her quickly, following her eye line to the doorway.

Shit. It was her dad.

“Pinche cabrón,” he yelled, in what Rafe presumed was a curse, striding across the small gap between the bed and the door, grabbing Rafe by the collar of his shirt and yanking him up to his feet.

“No dad stop!” Sofia interceded, clumsily pulling her father’s hands off of her boyfriend.

He let go, leaving Rafe standing between Sofia and her father, silently praying to god the ground would open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole. He regretted ever pestering Sofia to let him go to her place.

“¿Qué crees que estás haciendo, niñita?” He groused, question directed to Sofia but gaze still firmly affixed on to Rafe, who began to swelter under his scrutiny.

Rafe opened his mouth, tongue like sandpaper, throat all dry, “I’m so sorry sir–“

“You shut up, I am talking to my daughter.”

“Dad, this is Rafe, remember I told you about him?” Sofia tried to alleviate the tension, her tone imploring and meditative.

Her dad’s eyes narrowed, still harbouring a bitter distaste for the boy in front of him. “Sneaking him in like that? That’s not like you Sofia,” her dad chastised.

“It was my idea sir, don’t blame her–“

“Listen kid, you’re already getting on my nerves, so I’d suggest you zip it, yeah?”

“Yes sir.” Rafe shut up. He hated this, scared that her dad would beat him up or something– because that’s what fathers did, didn’t they? And he wouldn’t even be able to fight back since it was literally Sofia’s dad. A sharp pit lodged itself in his stomach at the reminder of his own father.

Sofia was saying something to placate him, and it seemed to be working. But Rafe was too overcome by his ambushing memories to comprehend the conversation.

Her dad nodded his head slowly, his previously stony eyes softening when he looked at his daughter. Rafe stirred with sadness, remembering how cold Ward’s gaze always was. (It was only on the steps of the plane did Rafe feel some semblance of warmth from his father’s eyes).

“Fine, but keep the door open, and I want you to stay for dinner Rafe, ok?”

Rafe was taken aback, his mouth dropping slightly, “dinner? Yeah of course I’d be honoured– thank you sir.”

“You’re lucky Sofia likes you,” he muttered, before turning to leave, making a show of keeping the door wide open. Once her dad was far enough away, Sofia collapsed back into bed, her hands shrouding her face.

“That was mortifying,” she mumbled.

“For you or for me? Your dad hates me now.”

“Yeah well you’re the one who started it– just one kiss, that worked out real well, didn’t it?”

“Hey you’re the one who jumped on top of me!”

Sofia rolled her yes, beginning to giggle quietly, until her laughs faded away, her eyes turning serious.

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” She asked, sitting up as Rafe took a seat opposite her on the chair instead of the bed, scared that her dad would return again unannounced, to check on them.

“No, I’m more embarrassed than anything– god, whose great idea was this?”

Sofia scoffed throwing a pillow at his face.

Rafe just chuckled, throwing it back at her softly so it wouldn’t hurt, “he wants me to stay for dinner? Really?”

“Of course,” Sofia soothed, leaning over to hold his hands in hers, “you don’t mind do you? I can make an excuse for you if you want to leave?” She murmured, almost embarrassed.

Rafe’s fingers tightened around her own, “of course I want to stay.”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable…I know your family wasn’t the greatest.” Her voice lowered, resembling silk that wrapped around his throat. He held back a choked sob, feeling exposed. Naked.

“I’ll be fine, you’ll be there.” He tried to smile, but it came off as a grimace.

“I promise they’ll love you.” Sofia assured sweetly, shaking his hands with her vow.

Rafe fidgeted at the funny feeling that pooled in his abdomen– love. It was such an alien concept to him. He loved his father. He loves Sofia. But he wondered who loved him?

Glancing toward Sofia’s consoling visage, he finally smiled easily, assuaged by her opiating essence. She loved him…he tried to ignore his morbid past he kept under wraps, pushing it to the deepest trenches of his heart. That wasn’t him– this was. The man he’d become around Sofia. At least that’s what he told himself.

Sofia lifted his hands with her own, bringing Rafe’s knuckles to her lips and brushing a soft kiss against his rough skin, “it’ll be ok.”

Rafe nodded, letting his anxiety melt away at her touch, “ok, I trust you.”

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Dinner time rolled round quickly, Sofia leading him to the kitchen, Rafe trailing behind like lost puppy. He felt like he was taking up too much space in their house, everything already so bustling and enclosed.

Her mom was in the kitchen, stirring something that smelled amazing whilst her siblings were scattered everywhere. One was watching TV in the living room, another was running about in her little fairy wings and the last one was helping her dad fix a broken shelf.

Rafe smiled at the havoc, being reminded of dinner time at Tannyhill where him, Sarah and Wheezie would rile Rose up, before being on their best behaviour when Ward came out of the study.

He missed it.

Sometimes it got lonely in that big house of his– if it wasn’t for Sofia, Rafe sometimes thought he’d go insane.

“Sorry about all the chaos,” Sofia said sheepishly, turning around with an apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nice.” That’s all he could say? Nice?

But Sofia took no notice of his scarce vocabulary, instead leading him to the dining table and telling him to take a seat.

“Wait where you going?” He asked when she didn’t take a seat beside him.

“Just in the kitchen to help out my mom, I’ll be back in a bit yeah, just relax.” She squeezed his shoulder placatingly.

So Rafe tried to do that, relax, tapping his fingers restlessly against the hardwood table. His gaze continually strayed to Sofia in the kitchen, but she was too busy getting the food ready to meet his eyes. Her little sister whizzed about the room, flapping her arms as she pretended to fly, Rafe recalling Wheezie doing the same thing when she was kid. His heart stirred with an aching nostalgia.

Sofia’s little sister eventually took notice of the strange man sitting at their dining table, stopping still in her tracks, before nervously approaching him, shrugging off her fairy wings as if she was embarrassed. Rafe offered her a smile and a friendly wave, trying his best not to appear scary or intimidating. But it was hard to do when was 6,2 with a buzz cut– and apparently he had a resting-scary face, that’s what Sofia had told him– whatever that meant.

And he was notoriously bad with kids, never knowing what to do or say around them. They always ended up crying because of him or running away from him, so the nerves began to quickly inundate Rafe when the little girl came and sat right next to him.

“Hello,” he greeted, mind blank.

“Hi.” Her eyes wandered about the room, occasionally lingering on Rafe’s face, when she thought he couldn’t see.

“So what’s your name?” Rafe asked, scratching the back of his neck.

“Isla.”

“That’s a pretty name.” He realised he was quickly running out of conversation starters.

“Are you Sofia’s boyfriend?” She suddenly asked, blunt as a rock.

He laughed nervously, beginning to feel hot, “yeah I am.”

How was a 10 years old making him this anxious?

“Isla, I hope you’re being nice to our guest,” Sofia’s voice suddenly saved him from the awkward silence.

“She was being wonderful,” Rafe said, giving Isla a playful smile, one which she actually reciprocated this time round– it made his heart swell with warmth.

Soon the table was set and everyone took their seats. On one side of Rafe sat Isla, and on the other was Sofia, her parents on either end of the table, the two other kids opposite them. Their names were Anita and Luca, Rafe learnt.

Sofia’s mom had made some sort of meat stew with beans and rice that looked delicious and smelled even better. Rafe wasn’t used to home cooked meals– Rose or Ward never cooked and he could barely remember his mom’s cooking. The thought sent ripples of sadness through him, which he endeavoured to push past.

“Thank you Mrs Flores,” Rafe nodded his head in gratitude, trying his best to make a good first impression on Sofia’s mom at least.

“I tried to make it not too hot for you– Sofia told me you couldn’t handle spice.”

“Mama,” Sofia whispered, glancing at Rafe in chagrin.

Rafe kicked her gently under the table– it was true, he couldn’t handle spice but she didn’t need to embarrass him like that.

“Oh she’s just making fun, I love spicy food.” He lied, giving her mom a flashing smile.

They all got to eating, Anita and Luca bickering between mouthfuls of rice, Mrs Flores constantly having to remind Isla to finish her food, and Mr Flores glancing ever so often between his daughter and Rafe, trying his best to remain poker faced.

The first few spoonfuls were fine, probably the best thing Rafe had eaten in a long time, but soon the spice began to build up, hitting the back of his throat. He tried his best not to cough but that just made it worse, his oesophagus feeling like it was on fire.

“Baby drink some water,” Sofia whispered beside him, noticing him silently struggle. Anita and Luca seemed to notice too, and soon began to chitter with barely concealed giggles.

“Cállate,” Sofia hissed, whilst Rafe just tried to survive.

“So Rafe, Sofia tells me you’ve moved house recently.” Her dad began, paying no heed to the commotion around the table, as if he was used to it.

Rafe took a long sip of water before his answer, “yeah actually, thought it was about time.”

“And you’re a property developer?”

Rafe just nodded, taking down another gulp of water.

Sofia was still squabbling with Anita and Luca and Isla has gotten distracted, beginning to make a tower of mashed up rice.

“How do you feel about those new rezoning laws– must mean business is booming for you right?”

“Dad.” Sofia clipped warily, suddenly honing into the conversation.

“Well I personally haven’t rezoned anything, but a couple of people have started.”

“Hmn,” Mr Flores hummed, taking another forkful of food. Rafe was glad he’d left it at that– business talk never led to anywhere good. He recalled countless arguments between him and Ward over the business at the dinner table– arguments he’d never get to have again, he realised with a bitter afterthought.

Mrs Flores thankfully changed the conversation, asking if Rafe liked the stew and if he’d ever had Mexican food before.

And before Rafe knew it, dinner was over, the kids all rushing to the kitchen to deposit their plates and go back to their games and TV, leaving Rafe to say his thank yous and goodbyes.

“Thanks for dinner, I appreciate it.” He said.

“Of course Rafe, anytime.” Mrs Flores smiled.

Sofia’s dad gave him a reserved nod of the head, letting his daughter see him out.

Once they reached the front door, Rafe let his body relax, a deep sigh escaping his chest.

Sofia giggled seeing his pent up stress, “see I told you it’d be fine.”

“Fine? You forgot to mention the spice, I was dying there– at least your siblings were entertained.” He joked.

“Oh stop being a baby.”

The two stood in the doorway, faces stuck in a lingering smile.

“I had fun, thank you Sofia,” Rafe finally said, tone sincere.

“No– thank you for staying, you didn’t have to but you did…that means a lot to me.”

That funny feeling began to rouse in his chest again– the sickening sentiment of being appreciated.

“Well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” He said, rubbing a palm across the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, see you then.” Sofia tiptoed up to press a kiss against his lips, Rafe letting himself melt into her body, his hands planted on her waist.

“I’m scared your dad is going to interrupt us again.” He whispered against her mouth.

Sofia laughed softly, “yeah we’re never doing that again.”

Rafe left Sofia’s house, a strange sensation of floating settling over him. For a brief moment it felt like he was a part of a family again, his body consumed by a warmth he didn’t knew still lived inside him.

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[mangostarjam]

birthday boy — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader, established relationship aka they're happily married, smut mentioned but not described, reader is called "wife" and "darling" and "sweetheart", fluff, birthday fic, 1.7k words

"Quit smiling so much, bowl cut," Narumi Gen snaps. "You're giving me the creeps. Who called you out here, anyway? This is First Division territory!"

Hoshina Soshiro sheathes his blades as officers begin to scatter from the area. His smirk grows. "We're right on the border, so my wife called me."

And there it is — a telltale pink rising on the Captain's cheeks, hands spasming on his bayonet as he tries to come up with something that doesn't betray his jealousy. Not that Soshiro cares — not today, anyway, not when his wife woke him up with a soft, sweet kiss before making him cum so hard he went a little boneless.

Still, it never hurts to rub it in.

"She knows I'm the best at neutralizin' these small fry kaiju," Soshiro says lightly, "and y'know my wife — she deserves the best."

Gen's jaw ticks. "Oh yeah? Well, your wife still thinks I'm the best Numbers Weapons user!"

Both men subconsciously straighten when their earpieces click and you sigh loudly over comms. "Seriously?" you ask, but Soshiro can hear the smile in your voice. "Shouldn't you guys be working?"

"Aw, sweetheart, we're done here," Soshiro says, glancing around quickly. The scene is secure, the kaiju are all neutralized, and officers from the First Division are handling the rest. There's only one thing left.

Soshiro spots a drone hovering nearby and waves a hand at it. He can feel the camera focusing on him, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Gen watching with a frown. He shoots the camera a cheeky grin. "I think it's time I get back to my wife. See ya, Captain."

You groan loudly over comms and Soshiro laughs, shoulders shaking as he waves goodbye to the First Division and heads back to his car. Gen scoffs just as loudly and begins barking out orders, because he is a good captain underneath it all, and Soshiro should really get out of their territory before he ends up with more paperwork on his desk.

You're waiting for him in his office, perched on the edge of his chair with a familiar jacket covering your body. "The troublemaker returns," you announce, sweeping your arms out as if the office contains an audience and not just the two of you.

Soshiro laughs and steps into your embrace, squeezing you to him as you giggle. You're warm — and soft — and you smell like laundry detergent and sunshine and the faintest whiff of freshly brewed coffee. "Didja borrow my shampoo again, my dear?"

"It was my shampoo first," you scrunch your nose at him playfully. He snorts. Resists the urge to kiss your cheek — and then gives in a moment later, lips brushing soft along your skin. Your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. "Need help with your combat suit?"

Soshiro's fond smile goes a little sharp. "Are ya offerin'?"

"Yes, you menace," you stretch a little to give him a kiss. Soshiro's heart thunks painfully in his ribcage as the warm metal of your ring sweeps across his cheek. "Here, let me."

Soshiro stands still as you begin unzipping his combat suit. He keeps his gloved hands on your hips, muscles relaxing out of the subtle, constant strain of the suit as it releases his body little by little. You're taking your time �� fingers dancing along his shoulders and pecs, palms smoothing down his biceps and nails catching just barely along the edge of his compression shirt.

He always keeps a spare set of uniforms in his office, so he's not the least bit surprised when you drag the zipper further down, your touch featherlight along the tense muscles of his abdomen. You suck in a breath and it's gratifying, always, to catch your gaze and the heat in your blown pupils.

You keep your eyes on his and nearly go cross eyed when he tips forward, purple strands tangling with your hair. Your thumbs trace idly along his hip bones. "Who's the menace now?"

"Still you."

Soshiro laughs quietly, nerves thrumming in his fingertips as his heart threatens to overflow. "I think you're a pretty good contender."

"Hmm, I dunno," you mutter, tugging the zipper a little further. Soshiro's briefs waistband is in view now, but you just lick your lips. "You're the one who insisted on returning the favor this morning, even though it's your birthday."

"Can't help it," he sneaks a kiss to your jaw, presses his lips against your fluttering pulse. "That was a great birthday gift — my pretty lil' wife, cumming all over my cock 'cause she knows it belongs to her."

Your face warms and Soshiro grins. Kisses your cheek. Catches your hand in his and rubs his thumb along your matching ring. "Alright, Vice Captain, you should really get changed," you say, and immediately Soshiro's expression falls. "Wh-what?"

"That's illegal," Soshiro says. He can feel himself pouting, but it's fine. Nobody's around to see except you. "I'm your husband!"

"Oops," you say. Your eyebrow raises and you tug the zipper the rest of the way down. Soshiro sucks in a breath. "Want me to make it up to you, birthday boy?"

He's achingly hard, nerves shivering with the release of the suit and anticipation, but you've gotten in trouble before for shenanigans on duty and he knows better. He does.

Really.

You smile into the kiss, lips moving comfortably against his own. Soshiro sighs into your pretty little gasp, teeth nipping at your lip before he pulls back completely. "Soshiro…?"

That's really not fair. "The captain'll understand, won't she?" Soshiro mutters. You giggle and he can't help it — he kisses you again.

You tug at his gloves wordlessly, too caught up in kissing him back for any finesse. With the removal of his gloves, the sleeves of his combat suit slide off, and the rest of it follows until it pools on the floor. You slip your fingers under the edge of his briefs as he tugs you close, his own hands now free to roam appreciatively over your body beneath your borrowed jacket.

"Does my husband have plans to take his boots off?" you ask teasingly, tilting your head as he sucks another mark into the soft skin of your neck. "We don't have much time before your next meeting."

Soshiro groans into your shoulder when you touch him, eyes flashing hot as your lips part in silent awe. "Are ya still stretched out from this mornin'?"

"I might've been — ah, touching myself, just a little bit, while I was waiting for you to get — Soshiro!"

Your laughter fills the air and Soshiro engraves it into his memory, takes every gasp and moan and the wet, warm heat of you and etches it into his bones. It never gets old — just better, with age and familiarity and the silly inside jokes layered upon your shared history. With the boundless love echoing through both of you, the promises and the choice to keep choosing each other through it all.

Soshiro chokes on a surprised laugh when you mumble something about how your tits must look like mont blanc desserts from how much attention he paid them. "Aw, darlin', are ya jealous? I swear I love ya more."

You lift a shaky hand from your face and manage to shoot him a look. "You're not denying it."

He kisses you, but you're both smiling too much, so he pulls back slightly to brush your noses together. "Didn't ya say somethin' about bein' late?"

"We won't be late," you say. Soshiro raises an eyebrow and you shrug demurely. "What can I say? I know my husband."

The loud bark of his laughter makes you grin, and he finally pulls out to get the two of you cleaned up and presentable. You had the foresight to stash a change of panties for yourself among his things, but he leaves his jacket on you, opting instead to wear your lab coat even though it strains over his shoulders.

"Sexy," you snort, tugging him closer by his belt loops. He steps into the space between your legs and hums as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "You look like you ran a marathon."

"Someone was a lil too distracted to care about my poor hair," Soshiro says lightly. You roll your eyes fondly. "But it's alright," he sighs, "at least I match my wife."

"Not quite yet," you mutter, gaze flicking to the mark you had managed to leave on his skin, sitting just beneath the edge of his turtleneck. "But it's fine," you smile sweetly, "I've got time."

"Is that a promise, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you slide your arms around his waist and he steps obligingly closer, letting you press your ear to his chest. The sigh you release makes his lips twitch with a pleased, fond smile. "The captain granted us the day off tomorrow, since you had to go help the First Division today. So you can party as long as you want tonight, and we'll still have all day tomorrow for me to make sure we match."

"Party?"

"Don't play dumb, Soshiro," you say. "You know I wouldn't have let you mark me up so visibly if we were going to a real meeting."

"I dunno," Soshiro hums, hugging you a little tighter. "I thought it was just my birthday present."

You lean back slightly to look at him. Sitting on his desk puts you at a bit of a disadvantage, but he thinks you look cute like this, with your soft gaze and the pretty tilt of your lips.

And to think — he'll have more of this. Years and years together, getting to see you smile and hearing the bright sound of your laugh. All the time he spends with you more than makes up for the reality and danger of your jobs, but it also means he cherishes each second with you in a way that he never takes for granted.

"What is it?" you ask. Soshiro's grip tightens slightly. Your confusion melts into understanding and you reach up to cup his face in your hands. "We're right here, Soshiro."

"I know." He kisses you softly. You sweep your thumbs along his cheekbones, so tenderly his heart aches.

"Happy birthday, my love."

[strnilolover]

Vet!Chris taking you to an animal café and he has a little bit of a hard time getting you to leave …

Chris glanced at his watch, then at you, sprawled across the floor with a calico cat purring in your lap. “Alright, baby,” he said softly, crouching down next to you. “We’ve been here for two hours. I think it’s time we head out.” he states.

You didn’t even look up at him. Your fingers scratched gently behind the cat’s ears, earning a contented trill from the feline. “Five more minutes,” you mumbled, clearly enraptured by the small sea of animals around you. A golden retriever had settled at your feet, while a tiny rabbit hopped curiously near your hand.

Chris sighed, trying to hide his smile. He’d taken you to the animal café as a way to unwind after your stressful week, but he didn’t anticipate just how hard it’d be to pull you away. Not that he blamed you — seeing you so happy, your face lit up with childlike wonder, made it impossible for him to be annoyed.

Still, he had a schedule to keep. “Sweetheart, the café closes in fifteen minutes. You know we can’t just move in, right?” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world — which it was.

You finally glanced up, your lower lip sticking out in a dramatic pout. “But Chris, look at them!” you gestured around at the assortment of animals, your voice full of longing. “They need love and cuddles! What if they miss me when I leave?” you whined, already feeling your chest tighten with the fact you had to leave them for the day.

He chuckled, reaching out to boop your nose gently. “I think they’ll survive, babe. Besides, don’t I give you enough cuddles at home?” You gave him a teasing look. “Not nearly as fluffy, though.”

Chris’ hand came up to his heart, like you had punched it. “Rude,” Chris shot back, feigning offense. “You’re hurting my feelings, baby.”

You giggled but stayed rooted in place, your hand now occupied by a curious kitten batting at your bracelet. Chris leaned back on his heels, watching you with an affectionate smile. “Okay, what if I make you a deal? We can come back next week, and I’ll buy you that strawberry boba you like on the way home. But only if we leave before the staff has to drag us out.”

You perked up at his offer, your lips twitching into a grin. “Promise?” he nodded his head, “I promise.” he said, placing a hand over his chest.

Reluctantly, you scooped up the calico cat one last time, giving it a soft kiss on its tiny nose. “Okay, but I’m holding you to that boba and next week’s visit.” you said, placing the kitty down as your hands reached out for Chris.

As he helped you to your feet, Chris wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Well come back as much as you like, i promise. And of course i wouldn’t go back on my word, you know that baby.” he said, walking toward the doors as you gave a quick smile and wave to the workers.

“Yeah, i know..” you muttered, still a little bummed that you had to leave. Chris noticed, pressing another kiss to your temple as he held the door open for you.

“You know i love you, yeah?” he said, pulling his keys out and unlocking the car as he opened the passenger door for you. And you looked at him, smiling.

“I know.” you said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips before situating yourself in the seat.

© strnilolover

LITTLE VET CHRIS BLURB. MY SWEET BABY 🥹

[fairyberkshire]

FALLING FOR SHADOWS | RAFE CAMERON AU

pairings: frat!rafe cameron x female!reader

a/n: here's some texts ! this chapter takes place the day after the party ! i hope you all enjoy !

parts: 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . .

There you were, off to the side in a bar, nursing a drink. The music and chatter of people all just a blur in the background to you as you feel disconnected from the crowd– the world. And, as you sit here surrounded by the crowd of the bar, you can’t help but feel isolated.

Your thoughts drifting back to your father…You had earlier had a conversation with Kiara, about her father and how he was always hovered a lot in her life…And you couldn’t help but feel…sad.

Sure, your relationship with your father was long gone. Always having been complicated. And you no longer wanted him in your life…but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt at times. 

Rafe soon strolls into the bar, spotting you almost instantly from across the room, a smirk on his lips as he walks closer to you…But when he gets closer he notices you're alone and that you seem slightly off. Shoulders slumped, and eyes distant.

And, he hesitates for a moment questioning if he should turn around or not. Wondering if it’s overstepping if he sees what’s wrong…Wasn’t even sure if you’d want his help or want him there.

After all, you two had only known each other for a short period of time…but at the same time. But another part of him– it makes him want to go and comfort you. So he does.

“So…what’s got you standing all alone?” Rafe starts, deciding to go with a more casual start, and you look up at him slightly startled, before quickly brushing off her discomfort with a laugh…But Rafe doesn’t but it, picking up fully that something is wrong. He knows you aren’t acting like yourself.The girl he’s seen before who’s witty and playful. 

And, as he doesn’t say anything back, you just give him a weak smile, dropping your gaze to your drink to avoid having to look at him. 

“Are…you alright? Sorry– you just don’t look like you’re having much fun” He says, and her eyes, flicker up to meet his, before dropping back down, giving him a small shrug.

“Just not my scene,” You say it, but he knows you’re lying. Sure, it wasn’t your scene…but neither were a few other places, and you hadn’t seemed like these before.

“Something’s off– Can tell. You can talk to me, you know” He says, reaching for your drink, gently taking it from you, not even waiting for you to protest. 

“Rafe– really. I’m fine. I just…need some space. Please” Rafe knows you’re trying to push him away, maybe as a defense mechanism…so he doesn’t take it personally. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to give me details– I know some things up. But I’m here…”  Rafe says this, and you just slightly roll your eye, but you can already feel yourself slipping to want to tell him. To let him in. But questioning if you should.

“Why do you even care, Rafe?” Your voice wavers slightly, and the crack in it…the vulnerability he can sense slip through…it hits Rafe harder than he expects. So, he pulls you with him to a table, sitting down with you, and for a moment he doesn’t respond, just watches you silently– this isn’t exactly what he’s used to…caring like this.

And sure, he’s been there for his sister at times…but with you, it feels different. “I care– I care because no matter what’s going on right now…I can sure as hell tell you I was probably in worse…And that look you had? The one that tells me that you felt like the world was moving on without you. Like you’re just…stuck. Yeah– I’ve been there. And it’s not something you should face alone…trust me” He admits, and it’s when you look at him, tears welling in your eyes that he feels his heart break.

“It’s stupid…Doesn’t matter–” “If you’re sitting here like this it matters…” His words hold the truth obviously, making you stare at your drink for a long moment, your fingers fidgeting with the rim of the glass, making the condensation smear against the…the words tight in your throat making you feel suffoacated– but his gaze makes it feel like you can say what you need to.

“It’s my father…” You softly say, and his brows furrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, giving you the time to say something more. “When uhm…When I was born…he didn’t want anything to do with me. Told my mom that– or some bullshit like that. He just…left. And I– I was okay with that, you know? Like, I told myself that I didn’t need him” You pause, your voice cracking slightly as the next words spill out.

“But then, he’d occasionally just pop into my life out of nowhere– and then when I was fifteen…He decided he wanted to come into my life again…more permanently, like he wanted to make up for all this lost time, making all these promises. And stupid me– stupid me believed him. I believed him. I thought…I thought maybe I was enough..”

You start again, but your hands start to tremble slightly, and all while yours do, Rafe’s do the same under the table…his chest becoming tight as his own mind flickers to his family. The pressure and expectations he’d felt growing up– how his father was never what he needed in a father…So Rafe pulls his hand from under the table, reaching out and letting his fingers softly brush yours to provide you (and himself) some sort of comfort…and it does.

“But then…he’d leave again…And now here I am. I’m 19...I’ve had him out of my life for a while. Blocked. And I don’t even want anything to do with him– But…It still hurts, Rafe” You say, tears falling, as you pause.

“What– What is so wrong with me that I couldn’t stay?.. Why– why wasn’t I enough? Why am I not enough…” Rafe’s jaw tightens as he processes your words, and he’s quiet for a moment, making you wonder if you’ve said too much, but then he starts to speak, and it’s steady and sure.

“There is nothing wrong with you, y/n. Nothing. If your dad couldn’t see how lucky he was to have you in his life he’s an idiot, and that’s on him– not you. That’s his failure. Not at all yours” He says, it, and you blink at him, his words hitting you like a truck.

“And for what it’s worth?...You’re amazing. So amazing. Hell, you barely know me and you’ve already put up with my crap more than most would” You give him a smile, and it’s the first one you’ve given him all night, even as the tears fall down your cheeks…and he too smiles, shifting closer to you, his hand now fully holding yours…

And when he does this, the heaviness in your chest starts to lift,  just a little, and he stays by you– not letting go of your hand as you both just sit in the quiet corner of the bar, and for once, you feel like you aren’t alone.

[yallthemwitches]

A Hundred Visions and Revisions

She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again.

Rated T, Read below the cut or on AO3 Here!

Like usual, she’s already splayed herself across the couch, too enraptured in her book to notice the portrait hole swing open. Spotting her, he makes a show of staggering across the room, dropping his broom idly to the floor with a groan while soaking in the way her lips twitch behind the page in an attempt to ignore him. Making it around the couch, he gives no preamble and collapses against her with an oof, enjoying her small squeaks of surprise as he nuzzles his face into her clavicle. 

“Practice was bad?” Her eyes settle back on the page and a hand finds its way into his hair, fingering the ends that have been shocked into fractured points by the winter wind. 

“Horrible, awful, downright contemptible.”

“That many adjectives, huh.” 

He grunts, scooting his body down further so his head is cradled into her chest, arms snaking around her sides to find the place where her shirt has gotten untucked to draw circles into skin. It has become a tradition of sorts—she waits for him after practice, holding court in front of the common room fireplace and making herself look too irresistible to not fall into the second he returns. It’s a shame they only have one year of school left to enjoy it. 

 She tries to go back to reading, but he continues to sigh, each more theatrical than the last, fingers starting to tickle and pinch at her waist rather than caress. 

“If you want attention, just say so,” she says behind the book, mouth pressed into a tight line but her eyes sparkling.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just lay here…suffering.”

She snorts, and he presses a victory smile into her skin. “You’re so spoiled.”

“Apparently not spoiled enough to get a little love from my girlfriend in my time of need.” He groans, wiggling his hips against her.

“When are you not in your time of need.” She murmurs, deadpan, but her hand moves to the back of his neck, slowly massaging the muscles that hide just under his tangle of hair. She feels him relax under her ministrations, finally abandoning his ‘woe is me’ act to let his body meld against hers. 

“What are you reading?” He asks after moments of silence, eyes fluttering closed from the rise and fall of her chest. 

“Oh, some book about sex magic. Some absolute nutter muggle wrote it—complete madness but fun to read.”

“Sex Magic you say?”  Suddenly he is wide awake, propping himself up and arching an eyebrow from over the book. She eyes him warily and tries to ignore the fingers that have wasted no time to drift upwards and play with the buttons of her shirt. He swoops down, pressing his lips to her neck. 

“Don’t get so excited, Potter. It’s a load of bunk.”

He hums, already undoing her topmost button and moving to kiss the skin there. 

“I dunno—-maybe we should test it out first…get a first hand account.” He gets another button undone and she makes a noise between a laugh and a moan. 

“I’m not very keen on being topless in the middle of the common room so if you could kindly quit it—-“

“You didn’t seem to mind it the other night,” he quips back and enjoys the view of her skin flushing from her cheeks all the way past where he can see under her uniform. 

“James.”

“Fine,” he whines. He stops his progress on her shirt and gives her exposed sternum one last kiss before settling his head back down, hands moving back to encircle her.

“You’re a tease, Evans. A dirty, rotten siren taking advantage of my poor knackered heart.”

She cradles him against her, letting one hand slide back through his hair while the other caresses his back. She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again. 

They lay in a comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling low beside them. She can feel James’ breath start to steady against her, somehow keeping his grip tight on her despite sleep setting in.

“Hey James?” 

“Hmmm?” He nestles his nose down into her, hands grasping tighter at her waist. 

“Have you thought about it at all?”

“Shagging in the common room? All the time.”

She snorts, shaking him a bit. “No, you git—about Dumbledore’s offer.”

His eyes remain closed but his mouth sinks into a small line against her. 

“Nothing to think about—-I’m all in.”

She fidgets under him and the bottom of his jersey rides up, exposing some of his midriff. Absent-mindedly, she runs her hand over the skin, rubbing anxious circles.

“And your offer from the Canons? That’s a pretty big deal.”

“When the war is over, I can try out again.” 

“And if they don’t let you?”

He props up on his chin, looking up to see her staring off beyond the common room. “Then I’ll look into another profession– like magical artifacts or becoming your indentured servant.”

He expects her to crack a smile at his joke, but her eyes continue to look away, seeing something that feels much bigger than job prospects.

“Lily?”

She shakes her head like trying to dispel smoke. He sits up, swinging her legs so they now rest over his, hips flush together. Taking her cheek in his palm, he forces her to look at him and he sees tears just harboring past the surface. 

“I know it’s silly—but can you tell me the future? The way you see it.” she whispers, curling into him so the top of her head can rest right under his chin, book falling abandoned down onto the floor. She knows he’s no divination master–she’s seen his grades to prove it—but they both know that’s not what she’s asking.

“Well–” 

He stares into the fire, watching as the embers slowly lower and diminish one by one. It’s hard to ignore the feeling of encapsulation–that they are just children needing to concoct stories to make it all worth it. Her fingers play with the bottom of his jersey, anxiously awaiting his turn to spin this night’s fable, probably one of many before the war lets up.

“Well, first and most important, we will still be madly in love—sickenly so.” 

She makes a noise and he can feel a smile break through for the first time that evening. 

“Sickenly you say? Says who?”

“Says everyone who is jealous that they can’t be us. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to you as it is our current reality—obviously.”

“Obviously.” she echoes, before muttering arrogant under her breath. 

“We will fight for the Order, beat out Voldemort, and have an incredible victory shag afterwards—”

She hums against his chest and he can feel some of the warmth coming back to her.

“Who knew it was so simple—have you told Dumbledore this strategy?” She turns her head up to flick his nose and he kisses the tip of hers in return. 

“I did–he was shocked he never thought of it actually–said the last bit was particularly vital…”

She can’t help but laugh. “Sometimes it’s like your head deflated but landed right in the gutter.” 

She continues to look up at him, eyes getting more brilliant as her tension melts.  “Go on then—Voldemort’s miraculously easy defeat, victory shag…ok what else?”

He lowers his lips to her ear and lets them skim against the shell. “We get married.”

Suddenly both of their heartbeats fall into overdrive. He flashes his eyes down to see her cheeks are bubbling with pink, eyes wide and targeted right at him. 

“And what part of the sequence does that occur?” Her voice is barely a whisper and he notices her hands have stalled against him, frozen mid-fiddle with the fabric. 

“Well,” he knows she can feel his heart jumping against her, but he doesn’t care, “I was hoping during the exposition or rising action portion of the plot rather than the conclusion.”

Her eyes are dancing, surely from the fire that continues to drop beads of light into her hair and face. 

“And you don’t think that’s…unwise, seeing we’ve only been dating officially five months.”

His eyes meet hers, now devoid of jest.

“It’s not like being wise has ever been in my wheelhouse anyways.”

She could fight it—tell him it’s a mad idea to be thinking about marriage at a time like this, in a time where every passing day seems less sure than the last. But something about it feels too enticing to pass up—the image of them in a home all their own, sitting just like they are now but more solid and sure of themselves, leaning into the domesticity and adoration of it all because they can. 

 She worries if she ruminates on it too much, it will be painful to let go when the time comes.

“And we won’t bicker?”

“Not anymore than married people do—or we do now I guess I should say.”

“And you will make me breakfast everyday, in bed?” 

“Evans, if you’re my wife I’ll do anything anything you ask of me. My occupation is indentured servant, remember?” He is trying to stay light, but she can tell he means it. 

She wishes she could dream like he can—see beyond the rubbish and focus solely on the parts that can work. It’s simultaneously what she is jealous of and admires in him, the bright side is always where he wants to be. 

“James—” Its a warning: a warning that perhaps he is flying too close to the sun. A warning that perhaps it’s too tempting not to accept it. A warning that at this moment, it might be too much. 

But she doesn't need to say anymore. He pulls her closer to his chest, catching the top of her head under the crook of his chin and locking her there against him. 

“Don’t worry, this isn’t me proposing—just…just dreaming.” He lets the last word hang there, and Lily watches the image of them in their house with their happy life become clouded and technicolor. A fantasy. 

Suddenly, the thought of losing it terrifies her. 

“A good dream—a nice dream.,” She doesn’t know who she is assuring more, herself or him. “Something I want too.”

She feels his body heat rise, hands finding the end strands of her hair and curling his fingers through them. 

“Yeah?” His hope, like most other aspects of him, is contagious.

“Don’t get too excited Potter—there’s a lot that can happ—“

“Shh, Evans,” he says, grabbing her face, hands shaking with unparalleled joy. In his eyes the dream still lingers and she doesn’t want to ever look away.

“Let me kiss you—our dream can wait, but let me kiss you now.” 

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 52

What the hell happened when i was coloring this one- Oh hi there! Looks like today we’ve got ourself more of Junko showering Mikan in affection!~ 

I don’t know why it looks like I had a live sturgeon slammed into my spinal cord while I colored it but that’s neither here nor there.

I’m writing this post on Day 31, so here’s a time traveling HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I also want to take this opportunity again to say thank you all so much for the kind words you leave on these posts, it all really adds up to help me stay in fighting shape to keep working on art and really balances out on the amount of energy I burned up during the 9 months making this project.

I’ve probably yapped about this before, but I’m not fuckin crosschecking 51 previous days to double check, but if I have any goals with this project it’s this.

A!. Give back to the small community of people who’ve kept me fed with either their fanart or fanfic for this highly niche version of the ship. I think you all have a pretty good idea of who you are in specific but I can’t emphasize enough that this project wouldn’t be happening without ya’ll making my brain deep fry in my skull from the levels of obsession I had for these two getting to be happy. This is my thanks to ya’ll! 

And

B!. I do this in the hopes that it’ll inspire people to make more art of these two, whether drawn or in a literary sense. My hope would be soft given what I’ve been doing for this project, but even if it ends up laying a bit outside my lane it’ll do my heart good to know I inspired anything at all with what I’ve been doing here. And hey, is this partially influenced by the fact that I’m really desperate for more junkan art because there’s only so much my hands can do before they break?

. . . maybe! But while I may be a greedy woman, I’m an artist first and foremost!~ It is my primary goal and desire to bring joy to the masses and inspire the artistic hearts of people everywhere, whether it be people who’ve been in this game longer than I, or people who were like me and hid away in the shadows taking in the current amount of Junkan in the world and eternally spinning it in their mind!

And the funnier third option, the people who randomly came across this and accidentally found out that they’re really into this, y’know like me. But that’s a story for another day!~ . . . and by that i mean like day 98 yeah you’re not getting the proper origin story for awhile.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 30-33 Commentary

No meta, just reactions! I have less to say about some eps so I'm combining several episodes worth. To make up for my head-emptiness and lack of meta, I've included more pictures lmao. Spoilers under the cut!

Ep 30:

"You really are pitiful." Li Lun waking up thinking of ZYC's words oooh they did that opening line for Li Lun/ZYC lovers (me)

What a homoerotic way to give the Truth Eye

ZYC and ZYZ having their first drink(s) together here, ZYZ and Li Lun having one last game of chess here. Gay ppl will go “I know a place” and take you to a damp cave and a little stone table in the Wilderness

Oof. The apparent inherence of winning/losing in their activity of choice compared to the drinks that took place here between ZYC and ZYZ. Even with a draw, it’s competitive by nature. If Li Lun knew about the three (very intense, very intimate) toasts that came before in this very spot, I wonder how aggrieved he’d feel.

Ah well there goes the date spot /:

I’m so happy to see LZY (Bai Jiu’s actor) get to fight! His fight scenes in MTJY were awesome and he continues to impress here as well. It’s so fun to watch!

………..to revisit my question from previous commentary about when the grievances against Ying Lei will end, the answer is never ;-;

Damn…For ZYC to promise to spare Li Lun after all that Li Lun has put him through specifically and personally. ZYC really fucking loves ZYZ doesn’t he.

I’m so fucked up over Ying Lei’s last words jesus christ.

ZYC sobbing and feeling the fleeting warmth of the rock Ying Lei was just leaning against…when will the world stop taking away his family members??? His brothers???

That scene of everyone looking at Bai Jiu after Ying Lei dissipates. The fact that he's right there. And it’s like they traded one life for another. The two babies of the group. Goddammit.

Do NOT hit me with Bai Jiu’s actor singing “Broken-Tailed Bird” right now oh my god

So like…regarding ZYZ losing his demonic power, does he still count as the most evil demon of ZYC’s time? Can someone ring Ying Long and ask?

ZYC crybaby oh no I can’t believe he’s crying over ZYZ being so weakened aw I love him

My god, Bai Jiu running after Ying Lei and into ZYC’s arms has to be one of my favorite sequences in the whole show. So so good. So so painful. Between this scene, all the flashbacks, and ZYC’s reaction when he died, I’m at least glad the show is spending so much screen time and significance on Ying Lei’s send-off, even if I’m heartbroken that he’s gone. We couldn’t even have the whole family reunited for one moment.

Also have you ever seen a man so mother?

No but seriously "Cry if you want...[tears] have to do with our hearts" ZYC my healthy masculinity king!!!

This song fucking hurtssssssssss this cheese (it's buttermilk) hurts everything hurts

I’m glad PSJ gets time and space to react. Her lines about being a mortal and not being needed are so good but also ow!!! And oh WX always knows exactly what to say to her 🥹

I love everything ZYC says to Bai Jiu about each family member (like yeahhh WX is unlucky 😭 and yeaahHH PSJ does need support too) but MAN the way he says ZYZ’s name is so fucking good. The fact that it gets so much emotion across without saying a single word further as he gets interrupted. His voice and his expression both collapsing a little in that moment. Efficiency of acting strikes again.

Is it even possible for ZYC to cherish this little family more?

Yo this dramatic ass lighting on ZYZ and ZYC standing in the doorway. Why y’all need so much drama just to talk? Also oughhhh ZYC’s gaze is a mess looking every which way while discussing WX’s poison. He is such a bad liar (but he looks so good doing it). Is that why they gotta talk about this like ten feet apart so ZYZ can’t see him lying? Lmao

Okay also tho if ZYC's coming around looking like this I am not hearing a single thing he's saying:

They flashed back to the previous time ZYC held his hand out but cut away from ZYZ taking it this time. Is it bc the absolutely unfettered tension between them can’t pass censors anymore? Haha god but that shot of ZYC slowly meeting ZYZ’s eyes from ZYZ’s POV whewwww we don’t got the skinship but their gazes are kind of insane??? TJR in blue contacts is too powerful I'm shaking somebody needs to stop him.

Ep 31:

Trying so hard not to be driven a little crazy by the lapses in continuity in this show (‘: It’s just tonal and costuming stuff that are a little difficult for me to ignore, just the fact that it’s kind of apparent which scenes were filmed in what order based on their costume/styling changes + the sets, and how sometimes the tone from the previous events don’t smoothly carry over because of this. But it's momentary, I just gotta. Power through.

YO the Pei siblings sparring was so cool and for what. They should have had WX spectating instead of staring at nothing in the previous scene (-:

Damn how long has it been since they played the fun music. Also feels kind of wrong without Ying Lei though fml

Awwww Qing Geng I missed her she’s so cute!! I wasn't doing ep commentaries during her arc so I gotta make up for it here. Her actress is so talented and adorable, and her costuming in this show is stunning!! Her lashes!! Her colors!!

THE TREE BRANCHES lmfaooo ZYC what happened to being worried for ZYZ’s weak body?? We really haven't had a moment like this in so long though (':

Well I do like the reason why WZY had a fake out death, that’s pretty clever and narratively sound, but also oh god what in the AOT??? The inner cores hidden in the medicine is some odious fucking work dear lord

I also like that the endgame is coming about from what initially seemed like another small-time case. Of course the evil physician's huge scheme at the end weaponizes plague and poison and medicine.

Ayeee fun that they used the teleporter on WZY instead of as a getaway

Lmfao ZYC just standing there taking a huge hit of the poison smoke. Poor baby doesn’t watch movies and doesn’t know smoke from a bad guy always means some kind of poison

Why does poisoned!ZYC have such an incredible smokey-eye siren look I’m shook

After knowing the poison is about indulging in your greatest wishes, the first moment ZYC woke up and approached ZYZ they sure looked like they were about to indulge in something sorry ignore me

The way this is so similar to ZYZ’s imaginings where he and WX always turn around and look at the camera. The show wants censors to believe they’re looking at ZYZ but we've known all along who the third POV is here

Also why aren’t ZYC’s bro and dad in the wish illusion?

Ohh the eerie instrumental rendition of the OST when ZYC draws his sword is too good. And yesss we were so due for some more crazy dream fuckery like is this real? Is this real??

Ep 32:

The team is spread so thin )-: One man (mountain god) down and a whole town to save and an immortal villain to vanquish.

WZY's eagerness in trying to goad ZYC into killing himself while poisoned is so so sinister goddamn. I love how disturbing it is to slowly realize what he wants without any lines at all

ZYZ shielding ZYC from a huge fucking fireball with just his hand is adorable and sad:

I already normally love Li Lun's whole leaf-swirly entrances and exits but you know I cheered when he deus ex machina-ed his way here!!! With that bgm too!!!

Li Lun came back to accept ZYC into their throuple. He's had some time to think and yeah he's decided ZYC's kinda hot and maybe shouldn't die or else ZYZ will be sad.

):

ZYC's soft and anguished, "Qing Geng" when he realizes she gave him her inner core. That's my bleeding heart hero ;-;

Throuple of the fucking yearrrrrr:

Spoiler for ep 33/34 but—watching Bai Jiu watch the three of them and realize he can't do anything to help here... It would have been dangerous for him to stay, but I wonder if things could have ended differently ):

Ep 33:

Oughhhhh Pei Siheng ))): The cruel fucking poetry of PSJ, the most emotionally closed-off character, having her heart, her brother, made into her armor. And then to lose him once more.

ZYC proving time and again that his heart is entirely boundless and he'll shelter anyone from the rain and he just wants everyone to live:

LI LUN/ZYC LOVERS HOW ARE WE FEELIN'?!?

Did not expect MORE ZYC choking now that they're on the same side but yeah Li Lun is not one to let go of a good thing I get it. I'm screaming but I get it. "I'm giving you half my demonic power" yeah right just admit you like doing this dw Li Lun this is a safe space.

Literally what am I watching and also no don't mind me, keep going. Feral over ZYC dropping his hand and letting it happen.

But lmfao the way Li Lun did not need to be doing all that, like he sends his power out to ZYZ without even making physical contact. He could've just grabbed ZYC by the shoulder.

Can't believe I just keep winning:

ZYC didn't even know what Li Lun was doing putting his arms around him and he just let it happen. That's some next level trust.

Ah goodbye Li Lun, presumably another victim of the "(ex-)villains can't have good endings" brand of censorship

Oof I love that the initial horror after the seeming victory is reserved first for the simple fact that ZYC and ZYZ are separated, that ZYC can't go to him the way he was intending to. Even when it's unclear yet that WZY is still alive, just the wrongness of them being divided this way is so poignant. ZYC has such a helpless look about him when he says ZYZ's name.

Goddammit WZY saw Li Lun choke ZYC and got ideas.

Oh I love the uncertainty of whether the One-Word Spell works on ZYC or not. ZYZ's sudden and intense fear. Also though WZY tries to use ZYC dying as a deterrent for ZYZ blowing up the barrier but he's literally choking the life out of ZYC as we speak

Bai Jiu's completely unrestrained screaming and crying in pain is so brutal to listen to. His scenes go on forever. Also, the choice of having some of his flashbacks be blurred and vague in the background, once again something privately kept for the character

ZYC holding out his hand to ZYZ a third time ;-; The utter relief of being able to reach each other again paralleling that previous horror of separation.

ZYC physically feeling Bai Jiu's death oh god. We do not get a single moment of happiness and victory in this drama everything is bought with pain and returns pain I hate it here.

Also another post-finale thought (spoilers for the end of the drama)—If ZYZ remained in his weakened state, I really am curious if he would have still met the conditions of the prophecy (ZYC being cursed to kill the most evil demon of his time, if the prophecy is indeed conditional like that, of course). If that could have been a technical loophole, did Li Lun giving both of them his power and then ZYC giving ZYZ his as well basically fulfill it again? I mean, logistically speaking, without that extra power, I'm not sure if ZYZ would have been able to trigger the Baize cycle again (or whatever it is he did to save the town). So the show's final tragedy can be traced all the way back to these moments of giving out of love and protection, just as Bai Jiu being in the perfect place for his final sacrifice came about because ZYC, ZYZ, and Li Lun were trying to protect him and get him out of danger. The way love and grief are so helplessly, inevitably intertwined that one begets the other. They were all just trying to save each other.

On that completely painful note, that's 30-33! And it'll be downhill from here for the next one (-:

[httpsdana]

Could I please request Rasmus Højlund with prompt 3 and 6 from the fluff list? Reader is tired from college or work and wants some comfort. Thank you if possible <3

Soft Serenity~Rasmus Højlund

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I've got no more requests in my inbox so send me in some to write them <3

3-“I’ve had a long day, and I really need a hug… from you, specifically,”

6-“How come every time you smile, my day somehow gets better?”

The apartment door swung open, and y/n stepped inside, exhaustion written all over her face. The weight of a long, grueling day at college—it all blurred together—pressed on her shoulders.

Between endless deadlines, group assignments that seemed to go nowhere, and the never-ending to-do list in her head, she felt like a tightly wound spring on the verge of snapping.

Rasmus was sprawled out on the couch, his long legs stretched across the cushions as he flicked through channels on the TV. The second he saw her, his expression softened, his lips curling into that lopsided smile that never failed to warm her heart.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, sitting up immediately. “Rough day?”

She dropped her bag to the floor with a heavy sigh and shuffled toward him, her steps slow and deliberate. By the time she reached the couch, she was already melting at the sight of him holding his arms open. Without a word, she sank into his embrace, burying her face in his chest.

“I’ve had a long day, and I really need a hug… from you, specifically,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against his hoodie.

His arms wrapped around her instantly, pulling her in tight. “I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his lips against her temple.

The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, the warmth of his hold, the scent of his cologne—it all began to chip away at the tension in her body. She let out a long, shaky breath as his hands moved up and down her back in soothing strokes.

After a moment, she lifted her head to look up at him. His blue eyes studied her face carefully, concern mingling with his usual tenderness, though the soft smile never left his face.

“How come every time you smile, my day somehow gets better?” she asked softly, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

He let out a soft laugh, his hands coming up to cradle her face. “You’ve got it backward, my love. It’s your smile that fixes my day, every single time.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead

y/n felt her cheeks warm up, but the anxiety of the day wasn’t entirely gone. She sighed, pulling back slightly. “I can’t even relax yet Rasmus. I have so much to do—assignments, deadlines—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupted gently, his hands sliding down to grip her waist as he gave her a firm but comforting squeeze. “We’ll get it done, okay? I’ll help you. We’ll sit down tomorrow, and I’ll go over whatever you need with you. But for now, you need to take a break, baby.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he said firmly, though his tone remained soft. “You’re running yourself into the ground. You can’t give your best if you don’t take care of yourself first. So, tonight, you’re mine. No assignments, no stress. Just us.”

She hesitated for a moment, but the sincerity in his eyes—and the way he gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear—made it impossible to argue. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” he said with a soft smile, kissing her cheek. “Now, come on. Let’s get you comfortable.”

He pulling her into his lap and wrapped a blanket around both of them. His arms circled her waist as sjey rested her head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling her into a rare moment of peace.

“I mean it,” he said after a while, his voice a gentle rumble against your ear. “Whatever you need help with, I’ll do it. I’ve got your back, baby.”

She tilted her head to look up at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

He smirked, leaning down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers in a way that made her worries fade just a little more. “And you’re my everything,” he whispered. “Now, relax. That’s an order.”

As he began peppering kisses along her jaw and cheeks, a genuine smile crept onto her face. For the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe again.

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XVII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

After spending sometime with her brothers, Valaena makes a discovery.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Revelations, Brother/ SIster Teasing, Aegon Being A Menace, Mild Violence, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, P in V.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 6000

A.N - Bit of a fluffy/cheeky one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Jace and Luke strode purposefully through the corridors, their voices low but heated as they bickered.

“I went last time,” Jace argued, his dark brows furrowing. “It’s your turn to ask.”

Luke scoffed. “No, it was me, and I got the door slammed right  in my face.”

“No. That was me,” Jace countered sharply. “And, I also got called a bastard.”

“Well, so did I,” Luke snapped back.

Jace’s pace quickened as he turned to face his younger brother.

“What if we both go this time? Aemond can’t stop us both. Valaena is our sister. We’ll demand to see her. He can’t just keep her locked away forever.”

Luke tilted his head, considering. “That’s not a bad idea. Safety in numbers and all that-”

The two brothers quickly nodded in agreement as they neared the door that would lead them to Valaena and Aemond’s chambers.

However, their path was blocked by Lirri and Arro, who were sat nearby, guarding the entrance, as they played some sort of card game with each other.

Arro glanced up, his stoic face giving nothing away. “I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.”

Jace frowned. “Why not?”

Lirri, smiled as she, leaned forward. “My lady and my lord are very busy.”

Luke blinked, tilting his head in slight confusion. “Busy doing what?”

Before Lirri could answer, a muffled yet unmistakable sound of pleasure came from behind the heavy oak doors.

Both boys froze in place as the noise repeated, louder this time.

Jace groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re at it again?”

Luke cringed. “How is that even normal?”

Lirri, clearly amused, grinned as she answered. “My lord has a ravenous appetite for my lady. He is very virile man-”

Jace grimaced. “I did not want to know that.”

Luke shook his head quickly. “Neither did I.”

Before either could continue, Aegon strolled into the hallway, a mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

He spotted Lirri, and his grin widened when she blushed and smiled back.

“What are you all standing around here for?” Aegon drawled, hands on his hips.

Jace cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “We were just—”

Another sound of pleasure, unmistakable and unabashed, spilled into the hallway.

Aegon burst into laughter. “So, my brother’s back to getting his end away, and you’re all standing here listening. You dirty little buggers.”

“Hey!” Luke protested. “That’s not true. We were coming to see if Valaena wanted to go dragon riding.”

Aegon arched an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “From the sounds of it, she’s already riding the dragon.”

Jace groaned in disgust. “You are so disgusting-”

“Me?” Aegon laughed. “You’re the ones standing here listening to your sister being fucked into the mattress.”

Luke turned the tables quickly. “And what are you doing here, then?”

Aegon’s smirk faltered for a moment as his gaze darted to Lirri and then to Arro.

“No reason. I-I was just-out for a walk.”

Luke let out a heavy sigh, clearly done with the entire situation. “Maybe we should come back later.”

Arro nodded slightly. “Might be best to give it an hour or two. Just to be certain.”

Jace blinked at him, incredulous. “Are you actually being serious?”

Lirri nodded cheerfully. “In Qarth, sometimes my lord would take my lady many times, until he very tired and needed many hours sleep-”

Luke stared at her in disbelief. “So they’ve always been like this?”

Lirri’s smile widened. “Oh, yes. My lord is not shy about the love he gives my lady.”

Jace tugged on Luke’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go. We’ll wait until later.”

“You coming, Aegon?” Luke asked.

Aegon muttered under his breath, “I would have been if you weren’t here.” Then, louder, he said, “No. I’ll finish my walk.”

As Jace and Luke trudged off, grumbling to themselves, Aegon exhaled in relief, glancing at Lirri.

“Thank the fucking gods. I thought they’d never leave.”

Lirri chuckled. “They’re nice boys.”

Aegon’s brow furrowed in mock offense. “And what about me?”

Lirri’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re a very naughty boy.”

Aegon seized her waist, pulling her close. “Maybe you should punish me then.”

Lirri glanced at Arro, who gave a small nod of approval.

Aegon’s grin grew wicked. “Arro may join us, if he wishes. As you know, I enjoy it when he does.”

Arro inclined his head. “As you wish my Prince-”

Without another word, the three slipped away toward Lirri’s chambers, leaving the hall outside Aemond and Valaena’s chambers blissfully quiet—save for the occasional muffled sound of passion behind closed doors.

Valaena watched Aemond for a moment, her fingers tracing the line of his cheekbone as his silver hair spilled across the pillow.

His serene expression as he slept, so free of the tension he recently carried, made her heart swell.

Leaning down, she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, brushing away a stray strand of hair.

He didn’t stir, merely exhaling a soft sigh of contentment.

With a small smile, Valaena turned to the bedside table where the moontea sat.

The smell made her nose wrinkle, but she lifted the cup, holding her breath as she downed the liquid in one gulp.

She grimaced, sticking out her tongue slightly as she muttered under her breath, “So gross.”

Setting the cup aside, she walked to the door, opening it just enough to poke her head out.

“Lirri?” she called softly.

No answer.

Valaena frowned. "Odd," she murmured before closing the door quietly.

Moving quickly but silently, she took a warm, damp rag from the washbasin and cleaned herself, ridding her skin of the evidence of her many vigorous encounters with Aemond.

Her insatiable husband was determined to make up for the weeks he had deprived them both due to his fears, and he had been unrestrained when they had returned to the Red Keep.

He took her many times with passion and ferocity in equal measure, his cock stirring as soon as he’d spilled his seed after every encounter, until he’d passed out from exhaustion.

Once refreshed, Valaena dressed herself in a comfortable gown and headed toward the nursery.

Rhaegar, Elaena, and Daenys were spending the day with Alicent, leaving only Aemon too check on.

She entered the room to find her youngest child still fast asleep, his tiny hand resting on the dragon egg nestled in his cradle.

This egg, gleaming with faint golden scales and red streaks, had been gifted from Syrax, her mother’s dragon.

It was a hopeful token, though it weighed heavily on her heart.

Neither her nor Aemond’s eggs had hatched in their youth, and they both knew the sting of disappointment as they were left on the ground as the others took to the skies.

Valaena prayed silently that Aemon would not have to endure the same fate, but upon closer inspection it would seem as though he would not, as she noticed a faint crack in the shell.

She let her hand hover over the shell, and she smiled as could feel the warmth and the unmistakable presence of life.

Leaning down, Valaena placed a soft kiss on his silver hair. “Dream sweetly, my little dragon, for you will also soar amongst the clouds alongside your brother and sisters-” she whispered.

Gently closing the door behind her, she turned to leave when a muffled scream caught her attention.

Her brows furrowed as the sound came from Lirri’s chambers.

Panic surged through her as she pushed the door open without hesitation.

The sight that greeted her made her freeze in the doorway.

Lirri sat in the centre of her bed, naked and flushed, her long hair dark falling in disarray around her shoulders.

“Oh, my gods-Lirri I’m so sorry I-AEGON?” shrieked Valaena.

“Good sister-” Aegon drawled, his grin widening as he folded both arms behind his head.

“W-What are you doing?” exclaimed Valaena.

“Errr-I think it’s fairly obvious what we were doing” said Aegon, moving his hips slightly, making Lirri gasp at the movement.

Arro quickly removed his hand from Aegon’s chest and scrambled out of the bed; his face red as he fumbled for his breeches.

“M-My l-lady-I-I apologise-” stuttered Arro.

Valaena’s violet eyes darted between the three, her voice faltering. “The three of you?”

Lirri covered her face with her hands, mortified, while Arro stood awkwardly, half-dressed, still stammering. “My—my lady, I-I-”

“How long has this been going on?” asked Valaena.

Aegon shrugged nonchalantly. “Couple of months, maybe?”

Valaena placed a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. “And you join in with them?” she asked Arro pointedly.

The guard blushed extended to the tips of his ears. “Yes, my lady. Sometimes I join in and other times, I just watch-”

“Right, and I take it Lirri is the woman you was telling me about?”

Aegon nods “Yes, she is-important to me”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Valaena let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Well, I guess I’ll leave the three of you to it then.”

Lirri slid off Aegon’s lap, clutching the sheet around her as she rushed after Valaena.

“Wait, my lady, please let me explain!”

Valaena turned, smiling gently. “You don’t have to, I will admit that I’m a little shocked, but it’s fine”

Lirri hesitated. “You’re-you’re all right with this?”

“As long as you’re happy and safe, that’s all that matters,” Valaena replied sincerely.

Relief washed over Lirri’s face as she nodded. “I am very happy, my lady and safe-”

“I’m glad,” Valaena said warmly, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

From the bed, Aegon piped up, “You’re not going to tell my mother, are you?”

Valaena snorted, rolling her eyes. “Gods, no.”

Aegon let out a sigh of relief, lounging back with his arms behind his head again.

As Valaena reached the door, she paused, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Out of curiosity-” she began, turning to Lirri. “-Is Aegon, you know-good?”

Lirri’s face turned scarlet as she glanced at Aegon, then back to Valaena. “Very good, my lady.”

Valaena burst into laughter, waving a dismissive hand. “You and Arro are excused from your duties for the day. Enjoy yourselves, all three of you-”

She left the room giggling, her laughter echoing down the hall as the door clicked shut behind her.

The gentle sound of Aemon’s cries carried down the hall, immediately drawing Valaena’s attention.

She quickened her pace finding her son fussing in his cradle, his tiny hand still resting on the dragon egg.

Scooping him up, she held him close, murmuring soft reassurances as his cries settled into quiet whimpers.

Cradling Aemon against her chest, she made her way back to her chambers.

Pushing open the door, she found Aemond now awake, sitting in bed with his legs draped over the side, rubbing his face while wincing slightly as his fingers brushed too close to his left eye socket.

The sapphire embedded there glinted in the morning light, a stark contrast to his pale complexion.

“Are you ok?” Valaena asked, concern evident in her voice as she shifted Aemon to rest against her shoulder.

Aemond sighed, nodding faintly. “The sapphire, it’s irritating my eye socket a little today. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Valaena frowned and quickly moved toward the vanity, pulling out a soft cloth and a small jar of salve.

She also grabbed a bowl of clean water before turning back to Aemond.

“Here,” Aemond said, extending his arms toward her. “Let me take him.”

Valaena hesitated but then handed Aemon to his father.

Aemond took his son gently, pressing him against his bare chest.

Aemon immediately calmed, nestling into the warmth of his father’s skin, his tiny fist resting against Aemond’s collarbone.

“Lie back,” Valaena instructed softly.

Aemond reclined against the pillows as she approached with the damp cloth.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she dipped the cloth into the cool water and began to carefully dab around the edges of his scar and the sapphire.

Aemond hissed softly at first, but her touch was so gentle that the discomfort soon eased.

“How does it look?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

“A little red,” Valaena admitted. “I don't think it’s nothing to worry about, though.”

Aemond nodded, his hand absently stroking Aemon’s fine silver hair as the baby rested quietly on his chest.

“He seems content,” Valaena observed with a soft smile. “I think he enjoys the sound of your heartbeat.”

Aemond’s expression softened as he gazed down at his son. “I’m glad my children can find comfort with me,” he said quietly.

“You’re a wonderful father, Aemond,” Valaena said firmly as she set the cloth aside and began applying the salve to the reddened edges of his eye socket and along the scar. “I know you worry about it sometimes, but you truly are.”

“It’s not like I had a great example of what a father should be,” he admitted, his tone tinged with the bitterness of memory.

Valaena paused, her gaze meeting his as she gently worked the salve into his skin.

“As much as I loved my grandsire, I also hated him for how he treated you, your brothers, and your sister. No child asks to be brought into the world—it was his duty to guide you, to love you. And he failed you all.”

“I got used to it,” Aemond said quietly, though there was a flicker of pain in his voice.

“I once asked him why he loved my mother the most,” Valaena said, her voice soft but contemplative. “Even as a child, it was obvious how he favoured her. He told me it was because of Aemma—the guilt he carried for her death. My mother was the last piece of Aemma he had left.”

Aemond reached out, taking her free hand in his. “In part, I understand his grief-especially after I almost lost you.”

Valaena paused, her thumb gently brushing over his knuckles. “But he still should have been there for all of you, not just one of you.”

Aemond nodded silently, his grip tightening on her hand. “Do you know how much I love you?” he asked after a moment, his voice low but full of emotion.

Valaena smiled, leaning closer. “A lot, I hope.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and unguarded. “With every fibre of my being. I love you.”

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his in a tender kiss. The moment was quiet, intimate, and full of unspoken promises.

And then Aemon let out a loud fart, his tiny face scrunching up as it turned a vivid shade of red.

Followed by a loud squelching sound.

Valaena pulled back with a startled laugh. “Well, I think someone’s cloth is soiled,” she said, as she lifted Aemon from his father’s chest.

Aemond leaned back against the pillows with a groan, folding his arms.

“Way to ruin the moment son,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose at the unmistakable smell.

Valaena laughed, bouncing Aemon gently in her arms as she laid him at the end of the bed.

“Don’t worry, my love. There will be plenty more moments,” she teased, flashing him a playful grin.

Aemond huffed but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips.

Valaena finished securing the fresh cloth around Aemon, who was now kicking his legs eagerly.

She leaned down, nuzzling his tiny tummy until he squealed with delight, his little hands reaching for her face.

Valaena grinned, her heart full as she placed soft kisses on Aemon’s face.

“You should know,” she said, glancing at Aemond, who had just finished getting dressed “Aemon’s dragon egg has cracked.”

Aemond’s single eye lit up with a rare, genuine smile. “It shouldn’t be too long before another hatchling joins us.”

“No,” Valaena agreed warmly. “-but speaking of hatchlings, we need to talk to Rhaegar about Sapphyre. He’s getting far too large to be staying in his chambers.”

Aemond sighed, folding his arms. “I know Rhaegar won’t like it, but perhaps it’s time for Sapphyre to be with Vhagar and Silverwing. He needs space to grow properly.”

Valaena carefully dressed Aemon in fresh clothes, smoothing the soft fabric over his tiny body. “I think Rhaegar fears that Sapphyre will be chained in the pit.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “I will not allow such a thing to happen. That place-it is not fit for dragons. Or any living creature, for that matter.”

Valaena nodded, meeting his determined gaze. “As you know, I hate that place too.”

Aemond stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “I swear to you, the hatchlings will never see chains. Not while I have breath in my body.”

Valaena’s expression softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. “I believe you, my love.”

Aemon let out a loud gurgle, his legs kicking energetically again. Valaena laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Someone’s eager to be on the move”

Aemond chuckled as he reached out and took Aemon into his arms, cradling him close. “How about I take this little one out flying with Vhagar?”

Valaena nodded, smoothing the baby’s hair. “Sure, I think he’d enjoy that. Oh—but before you go, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Aemond furrowed his brow. “What is it?”

She hesitated, then said with a wry smile, “I walked in on Lirri and Arro earlier-but they weren’t alone.”

Aemond’s expression shifted to confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Aegon was with them,” she said bluntly. “Seems the three of them are-a thing.”

Aemond blinked, then pursed his lips. “A thing, as in—”

Valaena nodded, cutting him off. “-Laying with each other. Yes”

Aemond exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “So that’s who he was talking about the other day-”

Valaena raised a brow. “You knew?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, adjusting Aemon in his arms. “I knew he was involved in some kind of dalliance with a woman and a man. But I didn’t know it was Lirri and Arro.”

“Should we be worried?” Valaena asked, leaning against the edge of the bed.

“When it comes to Aegon, I’m always worried,” Aemond muttered. “I suppose the only thing we can do is keep an eye on it. And for the Seven’s sake, make sure Lirri drinks moon tea. I’ve accepted that my brother and sister have an understanding, but I won’t have Lirri birthing his child. He has enough bastards running around the streets of silk; he doesn’t need more.”

Valaena nodded. “I agree. But it’s not exactly ideal, especially if she wants a child with Arro.”

“That’s for them to sort out,” Aemond said firmly. “But I mean it, Valaena. I won’t have it.”

“I know,” she assured him, touching his arm again. “And I understand.” She smiled down at Aemon, who was squirming in his father’s hold. “Right—let’s get this little one ready. He’s clearly getting impatient and I said I’d help Aegon and Viserys with their high Valyrian-”

Aemond grinned, shifting Aemon to a more comfortable position. “Our little dragon. Is eager to get into the sky.”

Valaena laughed as Aemon gurgled in delight, his tiny fingers grasping at Aemond’s tunic. “He’s certainly determined-”

“Of course-”Aemond said with mock seriousness. “He’s my son, after all.”

The library was quiet except for the soft murmur of Valaena’s voice as she spoke in High Valyrian, guiding her younger brothers, Aegon and Viserys, through a lesson.

Aegon leaned forward, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he attempted to mimic her pronunciation.

Viserys, meanwhile, sat cross-legged on the floor, doodling dragons in the corner of his parchment when he thought no one was looking.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Luke’s dark curly head popped through the gap. “Is it safe?” he asked cautiously, his eyes darting around the room.

Valaena laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Aemond has taken Aemon flying with Vhagar. You’re safe—for now.”

Luke’s face lit up. “Jace! She’s in here and finally free of Aemond!”

The door burst open as Luke came barrelling through, Jace trailing behind him with a less enthusiastic stride.

“Sister,” Jace greeted her with a grin, “It’s good to finally see you without your one-eyed—never mind,” he quickly corrected, catching the venomous glare Valaena shot his way.

Luke flopped into an armchair, his legs hanging over the armrest. “What are you doing?”

“Helping Aeg and Vis learn High Valyrian,” Valaena replied, gesturing to her brothers.

“Why didn’t Mother just ask Gerardys?” Jace asked, frowning. “He was the one who taught me.”

“Because he’s the Grand Maester,” Valaena said, rolling her eyes. “He has more important things to do. And if I recall, you didn’t actually finish learning the language of our forebears.”

Jace scoffed. “Just because Daemon taught you—”

“And Luke,” Valaena interrupted with a smirk. “You’re just lazy.”

Jace stuck his tongue out at her. “Am not!”

“Yes, you are,” Valaena shot back without missing a beat.

Jace sat up straighter, puffing out his chest. “Keligon lēda nūmāzma!” (Stop with mean).

Valaena exchanged a knowing look with Luke before sighing. “It’s actually Keligon issare nūmāzma, ao rōva mittys.” (Stop being mean, you big idiot).

Jace blinked. “Did you just call me a fool?”

“No,” Valaena said with a grin. “I called you a big idiot.”

Luke burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Sīr skorkydoso glaesā mandia?” (So, how are you sister).

Valaena smiled warmly. “Iksan sȳrī kirimvose.” (I am well, thank you)

“That’s not fair!” Jace grumbled, glaring at them.

“Well,” Valaena teased, “-If you had kept learning, you’d know what we were saying.”

Little Aegon, who had been following the exchange with wide violet eyes, giggled before chiming in. “Aōha sīr doru-borto rōva lēkia.” (Your so dumb, big brother)

Both Valaena and Luke burst into laughter as Jace glowered at his younger brother. “What did he just say?”

Viserys, still doodling, added helpfully, “Se ziry’s jiōraton quba ōghar.” (And he’s got bad hair).

That sent Valaena and Luke into another fit of laughter.

Jace scowled. “Ao aspo!” (You bitch),

“Oh, so you know what that means?” Valaena teased.

Jace crossed his arms. “I called you a bitch.”

“Yeah, I know,” Valaena replied with a smirk. “Duh-”

Aegon yawned, looking up at her. “Mandia, issi īlon tetan?” (Sister, are we finished?)

“Syt tubī kessa,” Valaena said gently. (For today, yes).

Viserys perked up. “Can we go play with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera now?”

“Of course, I’ll come with you-” Valaena said, standing and stretching. “I want to see Helaena anyway.”

Before the little ones scampered off, Jace slouched deeper into his chair, sulking. Valaena walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind, ruffling his hair.

“Turn that frown upside down, little brother.”

“Pffft” muttered Jace still scowling.

Luke stood and stretched. “I think I’ll come with you with you as well”

Valaena nodded. “Are you coming, Jace, or are you going to keep throwing a tantrum like a little girl?”

Jace grumbled as he stood. “I don’t like it when you pick on me.”

“Now you know how Aemond felt when you used to do it to him,” Valaena said pointedly as they left the library.

“That wasn’t just me, you know!” Jace protested.

“Yes. I’m well aware of that,” Valaena said with a knowing smile.

Later that night, Valaena had just finished tucking her children into bed and was on her way out of Rhaegar’s chambers when a figure rushed past her, sobbing.

She barely caught sight of Lirri’s tear-streaked face before the young woman disappeared into her chambers.

Alarmed, Valaena turned and followed, pushing the door open to find Lirri crumpled on her bed, her body shaking with quiet, wrenching sobs.

Valaena approached and sat down beside her, resting a comforting hand on her back.

“Lirri, what’s wrong?” she asked gently.

Lirri sat up, her breath hitching as she wiped her face with trembling hands.

“Aegon has ended our involvement,” she managed between sobs.

Valaena frowned. “How come?”

“He said he worries his mother will find out,” Lirri said, her voice breaking.

Valaena let out an incredulous scoff. “A pathetic excuse. Since when has Aegon cared about his mother’s approval? He certainly didn’t when he busied himself with the whores on the Street of Silk.”

Lirri sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “I love Arro very much. He’s kind and gentle, but I—I—”

Valaena’s expression softened. “You love Aegon too,” she finished for her.

Lirri nodded, her face crumpling again. “Yes. Very much.”

Valaena sighed, squeezing Lirri’s hand. “It’s a rather unique situation, that’s for certain.”

Lirri hesitated, looking down. “Are you ashamed of me, my lady?”

“Never,” Valaena said firmly, taking Lirri’s hand in both of hers. “How could you even think such a thing?”

Lirri lowered her gaze. “Because I do not act as a woman should.”

“And who decides how a woman should act?” Valaena asked, her voice sharp with disdain. “A man? Please. Most days they don’t know their arse from their elbow.” She softened her tone. “All I ask is that you’re being careful.”

“Careful, my lady?” Lirri asked, frowning.

“The customs in Westeros are vastly different from those in Essos,” Valaena explained. “I know Aegon has some kind of understanding with Helaena but—”

“Yes,” Lirri said. “He loves her like a sister, not a wife.”

“That may be so, but she is still his wife in the eyes of gods and men,” Valaena said. “Having his child would dishonour her.”

Lirri stiffened. “He’s sired children on other women before.”

“Yes,” Valaena admitted. “But given how close you and I are, it wouldn’t be fair to Helaena to have her husband’s illegitimate child living in the Red Keep.”

Lirri’s face burned with shame. “Have no fear, my lady. Aegon does not spill his seed inside—”

“That’s something, at least,” Valaena muttered. “But what else did Aegon say to upset you so?”

Lirri hesitated, her voice trembling. “He told me he had fun but that it’s over. And then he became cruel and called me he called me a byka līve.”

Valaena’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing with fury. “Oh, Did he, now? We’ll see about that.”

Before Lirri could stop her, Valaena shot to her feet and stormed out of the room.

Ignoring Lirri’s frantic calls, she marched through the Red Keep, her anger bubbling hotter with every step.

When she reached Aegon’s chambers, she didn’t knock. She shoved the door open, finding him mid-conversation with Aemond.

“You!” she shouted, pointing at Aegon.

Aegon turned, startled, but had no time to respond before Valaena barrelled toward him.

She knocked him to the ground and climbed on top of him, her fists flying as she struck any part of him, she could reach.

“You dare call her a little whore?” Valaena snarled, her words punctuated by punches. “The only whore around here is you—rude, selfish, arrogant, pig!”

Aegon giggled through the chaos, half-laughing, half-wheezing.

Aemond finally stepped in, wrapping his arms around Valaena and pulling her off. She struggled against him, still thrashing.

“No! You don’t understand—he needs to suffer!”

“What has he done?” Aemond asked, his voice calm but firm.

“He ended his involvement with Lirri and called her a little whore,” Valaena spat. “I won’t have it—I won’t!”

Aegon groaned as he climbed to his feet, rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry, all right?”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to, you vicious little CUNT!” Valaena shouted, lunging again.

This time, she wrapped her hands around his throat, shaking him.

“Valaena” exclaimed Aemond, his arms folded across his chest, watching with mild amusement.

“You will go to her, you will apologize, and you will do whatever it takes to make her happy again. Do you hear me?”

Aegon gasped, clawing at her hands. “Aemond—help—get her off me!”

But Valaena released him on her own, shoving him away.

Aegon staggered back, coughing and rubbing his neck. “Gods,” he wheezed. “You really are strong.”

Valaena stepped forward again, ready to pounce, but Aemond quickly grabbed her. “Whoa there, my feisty dragon, that’s enough-”

Valaena struggled briefly against Aemond’s vice like grip, but then relented.

Aegon straightened, still catching his breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I-I just got scared.”

“Scared of what?” Valaena snapped. “We’re not going to say anything.”

“Y-You’re not?” Aegon asked, eyes wide.

“No,” Valaena said firmly. “I would never allow harm to come to Lirri—or Arro, for that matter.”

Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I love her. Gods, I love them both.”

“Then go make it right,” Valaena said, her voice low and dangerous. “Or so help me, I’ll cut you from cock to throat.”

Aemond smirked faintly. “Better do as she says, brother, she’s serious-”

Aegon nodded quickly and fled the room.

As the door slammed shut, Aemond turned to Valaena, his expression dark and intense.

He grabbed her and slammed her back against the wall, pressing his body against hers.

His hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek.

“Watching you kick the crap out of Aegon was-incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Valaena smiled, sliding her hands up his arms to his shoulders. “Oh, really?”

“Made my blood hot,” Aemond admitted, leaning closer, before capturing her lips in a ferocious, searing kiss.

Without breaking contact, Aemond gripped her thighs and lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against the cool stone wall.

Her hands flew to his shoulders, anchoring herself as her breath hitched, her body heating under his touch.

Aemond’s hand slid down her side, rough and eager, while his other braced her firmly against him.

His lips left hers to trail down her jaw, nipping and kissing the sensitive skin of her neck as she arched into him.

“Aemond,” Valaena breathed, her voice shaky yet teasing.

His eye, dark with desire, met hers as he rasped, “Hmm?”

“Are we really doing this in here?” she asked, her lips curling into a faint smile despite her breathlessness.

“Why not?” Aemond murmured, his voice gravelly and thick with longing.

His hand reached between them, fumbling with the ties of his breeches.

Valaena laughed softly, her cheeks flushed, as her fingers tangled in his long silver hair, tugging lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he retorted, capturing her lips again with fervent intensity, his body pressed hard against hers, the tension between them crackling like wildfire.

Aemond’s hand then moved beneath her dress and with a sharp tug, he tore her smallclothes away, the fabric ripping with a sound that echoed in the room.

Valaena gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Oh gods, Aemond,” she breathed.

Aemond growled low in his throat, his hand moving to guide himself.

Without hesitation, he thrust into her in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. Both of them cried out, their voices mingling in the air between them.

Aemond wasn’t gentle. His movements were raw, driven by an all-consuming need.

Each thrust was powerful, stealing her breath and leaving her clinging to him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her hips moving in time with his as they chased the same desperate rhythm.

“Valaena-fuck-” he murmured against her neck, his voice rough and low.

The sound of her name, spoken with such intensity, sent a shiver through her.

Her hands moved to his back, her fingers pressing hard.

“Aemond, don’t stop-oh gods” Moaned Valaena, her head falling back against the wall.

The tension coiling between them threatened to snap, the sheer intensity of their passion overwhelming.

He kissed her again, his lips bruising and fierce, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

“You’re mine,” growled Aemond against her mouth, his hips driving into hers with a possessive fervour that left no doubt of his claim.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking as her body tightened around him. “Always.”

“Tell me how it feels” demands Aemond.

“It’s good, so good-yes-yes, don’t stop-oh god. Please-please-”

Valaena praises sets something off inside Aemond as he continues to pound into her.

“Aemond, please, I’m close, so close” whimpers Valaena.

Aemond moves a hand down to where the two of them are joined, and rubs her pearl in slow circles, dragging her closer the edge of the precipice.

“I never want to leave this sweet cunt–fuck,” groans Aemond as he marks each of his words in tandem with a rough snap of his hips.

Valaena peaks with a loud, scream, her body shuddering.

Aemond then shifts his hold on Valaena, pulling her away from the wall without breaking their connection.

He carried her to Aegon’s bed, laying her down against the dishevelled sheets.

His hips snapping against hers with unrelenting force.

Valaena’s hands roamed over his back, her fingers clutching at his tunic as she arched into him.

Her lips curved into a mischievous smile, her voice teasing as she gasped, “Fucking your wife in your brother’s bed, Aemond? Really?”

Aemond chuckled, his laughter low and rough. “Oh well,” he said, smirking as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, driving deeper. “I’ll send him new sheets as a gift.”

The humour in the moment only heightened the passion between them, but then Aemond’s eye caught on something sitting on the bedside table—a smooth, carved wooden object.

Aemond’s rhythm faltered for the briefest moment as he frowned. “What the hell is that?”

Valaena followed his gaze, her cheeks flushing faintly as she realized what he’d seen.

She quickly tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his face back down to hers. “Best not think about it,” she whispered, her voice sultry as she claimed his lips in a searing kiss.

Aemond resumed his relentless pace, his hips slamming into hers.

“Are you close my sweet?” asked Valaena, her teeth nibbling Aemond’s neck.

“Gods yes. I’m close. Fuck-Valaena” groaned Aemond.

“That’s it. Let go”

“J-Just a little longer-fuck I’m going to-” groans Aemond as he slams into Valaena before reaching his own peak, spilling rope after rope of seed inside her.

After a few moments, Aemond gently moved Valaena’s legs from his shoulders, his chest heaving with every breath he takes, his cock still twitching.

“I-I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” asked Aemond.

“No. Gods, I-It was so wonderful” exclaimed Valaena, her body shaking slightly.

Aemond smirks as he slowly removes his softened cock from her slick cunt, his singular eye fixated on the drops of seed that spill out.

He takes a finger to Valaena’s opening and pushes his seed back inside, delighting in her moan of surprise.

Aemond then leans over to press a gentle kiss to her lips, before bringing his finger to his own mouth and sucking it clean.

He then lays down on the bed, pulling Valaena close to him.

After a few minutes, Aemond’s curiosity got the better of him as his eye returned to the offending wooden object. His brow furrowed in obvious confusion.

“Valaena, what is that thing?” he asked, his voice tinged with equal parts irritation and intrigue.

Valaena groaned, dropping her head back onto the pillow in exasperation. “Aemond, you really don’t want to know-”

Aemond then had an inclination of what it was and wrinkled his nose, glancing back at it with a grimace.

“Gods, my brother is such a deviant,” he muttered, his expression twisting between disgust and begrudging amusement.

Valaena burst into laughter, grabbing Aemond’s face and pulling him in for a kiss. “Forget about it, my love,” she murmured against his lips, her tone soothing but with a playful edge.

With a small sigh of resignation and a shake of his head, Aemond kissed her deeply. “Fine. But I’m having that thing burned later.”

Valaena bit her lip to stifle her laughter. “Good luck explaining that to your brother and Lirri-”

TBC.

[incandescent-creativity]

Can I interest you in a shapeshifter OC on a pirate ship? I turned her into a guard dog to defend her captain girlfriend :)

Context: Aspen’s POV, she just told her crew about the secret she’s been keeping for over a year. Her first mate is attacking her! 🩷

“I knew you had found something!” Venus yells, shaking me as her nails dig into my neck.

My fingers can’t get in between her hands and I’m too busy catching up to throw her off. The pain doesn’t help sharpen any focus I could have, and her words

“I knew it when we sailed north twice in a row, and I knew it when we never sailed north again, and you never told me!”

Her thumbs are pressing into the front of my throat with enough pressure that I couldn’t respond even if I had something to say. It’s difficult enough just to try and take gasping breaths. I’m losing the ability to breathe at all when the weight of my best friend’s assault suddenly disappears. I roll over to take in great heaving gulps of air as soon as the weight disappears. Venus yells as she is knocked off of me, and a guttural growl answers her.

It’s not the type of noise any human could make. The sound seems to burrow straight through me and wrap itself around my heart, speeding it up even beyond the adrenaline of Venus’s attack. Years of muscle memory try to make me move and protect whoever is facing that sound, but I’m still trying to catch my breath. The most I succeed at is pushing up onto an elbow to see what happened.

River stands a few feet from me, back leg planted and front leg extended far forward to cross over Venus, who is laying on the deck where she fell. My girlfriend has added a few feet to her height, and lengthened her hands into claws. I don’t know what else she’s changed, but it’s scary enough that everybody around us has backed away to create this ring of space. I only see the claws because River has raised up a hand in preparation to swipe down and strike Venus.

When I yell out “No,” it doesn’t sound like a captain giving an order. The scream comes out, scratched and panicked, like someone witnessing their best friend in mortal danger.

I’m just lucky enough that the danger will listen to me. River drops her arm and turns back towards me. She’s grown so many extra teeth that her face has had to shift to accommodate a snout, but she still recognizably herself.

“River, come here,“ I plead. Every word is a painful whisper, but I’ve got to get her away from Venus.

That same fear clutches at my heart when River turns away from me and back to Venus, leaning down over her. But she just opens her mouth as wide as it will go, showing off sharply pointed canines as she screams an inhuman roar in Vee’s face.

Venus doesn’t flinch. Even when a silver strand of slobber lands across her face, she just lies there. Just as I’ve always known her to, she faces the reprimand with stubborn courage.

Once she empties her lungs, River stands up a little bit more and starts moving back over towards me. She must have done something to her muscle mass, too, because she is hunched over with broader shoulders than I remember. I don’t think this form hurts her too much; when she crouches down near me, she seems more concerned about me than with any of her own pain.

Being careful of her new claws, River helps me sit up. She stays by my side while I cough and recover from the attack. And she’s my only clue that Venus has also recovered—she snaps her head around from checking on me and lets out another low, threatening growl.

Xena’s Share Day

this one’s for me :) do me a favor, open up your document, search for the word “teeth” and post whatever you find here !! anything to do with teeth. indulge a bitey creature like me :)