#...i wonder then what 'forgotten' people thought and felt and how they lived...

[d0llcuries]

ICE-CREAM FOR TWO

pairing(s): reiner braun x fem! reader

summary: you hated him for dragging you to marley, for every stolen chance at freedom. you expected the feeling to be mutual as you rented him for four long years but it wasn't. what better way to address this than ice-cream!

author's note: uh, i guess i write for aot now. blame my cousin and her insistence on getting me addicted to this stupid show for the possibility of inaccurate writing. i love reiner pls send requests for aot 🤲🏽

the market cradled you today in a way almost cruel, with its heat and grit pressing close, air thick with burnt coffee, iron on the breeze, syrupy traces of cotton candy and caramel inviting you into the hic et nunc, although you didn’t want to be. you hated this noise, this heat, the whole crowded mess of voices folding together like waves. you hated how it almost felt like home. you hated how you could almost trick yourself into calling it that if you tried hard enough. a mirror showing something soft, distant, something that could’ve been yours in some other life. no matter how warm the market held you, the truth settled somewhere beneath it all. this land is borrowed, marley is not home, and no amount of rose-tinted glass could change that.

under a washed-out sky, baskets burst with flowers like muted fireworks, children racing in loops, dogs tangled and nipping at their heels. you thought about reiner before you saw him. he was sitting across the square, shoulders hunched as if he were carrying every brick and stone of marley on his back, the same as he’d carried those in paradis. he looked like he was far away, somewhere only he knew how to reach. you still saw that ghost of the soldier you thought he was back then, before everything came apart.

you’d told yourself you wouldn’t go near him, wouldn’t let him know that, after all this time, you’d never quite stopped noticing him. you wonder why you think of him so much, why he takes up all this space in your mind even when he's not near. it was strange how close you were and weren’t, your lives spooled together and then split, moth-eaten like old twine.

but then gabi’s voice broke into your thoughts.

“hey, yn! can you buy us ice cream, please? come on, it’s not far! the ice-cream stand's like.. right around the corner, and i haven’t had any in soooooo long!” gabi stretched out the ‘so long’ ensuring that you felt every inch of the ache that came from a whole season without the taste of frozen sugar. she practically sang, her sticky hand finding yours and pulling before you’d had a chance to respond.

before you knew it, you were standing at the old ice-cream stand, faded to a dull blue, the wood bleached and splintering under too many hot days. the vendor, an older man with sunburned skin and tired eyes, barely lifted his gaze as he rattled off the list of flavors available.

while you hadn’t chosen this home, you chose these people, or maybe they chose you in some inexplciable way. the days of resentment, the times you’d longed to be anywhere but marley, softened over time. gabi, falco, and udo, each of them with their bright, trusting faces had managed to bring out a warmth in you that you’d forgotten was there. you hadn’t planned to love them, but they’d worked their way into the little cracks between loneliness and anger, without effort or warning. it felt like love. you loved them.

“please, please, please?” gabi’s voice tumbled out, each please more insistent than the last. you pressed your lips together, trying to chase away the smile that wanted to break free, but there was no stopping it. the vendor cleared his throat, glancing at the line of customers that was growing behind you, and that pressure paired with gabiʼs nagging commenced the immediate collapse of any resolve you’d held and any remaining choice you had.

“alright, alright,” you murmured. “three, please,” you said, “two caramel swirls… and a chocolate.”

you pull the coins from your purse, and slide them across the vendor’s counter, a quick glance past the crowd where you know reiner’s somewhere out there, not close but close enough. you dig back into your purse, pull out enough for an extra ice cream, and place it on the wood. “and one more, vanilla.”

the vendor didn't blink. he handed you the cones with a practiced indifference, the soft edges already drooping in the heat, melting faster than they should. gabi snatched hers right away, giving a quick “thanks!” but not really looking at you. she didn’t need to, her appreciation was in her wide-eyed grin and the way she immediately started devouring the cone as if she’d waited years for it. udo took his with a quiet “thank you,” glancing at the cone like it was the first good thing he’d seen all day. falco gave a small nod, not meeting your eyes, as if the simple gesture was too much kindness to take all at once.

you glance at the extra cone in your hand, and you think about the boy—no, man—you had brought it for.

your gaze flickered to the square, and there he was, his silhouette made of pale, ghostly gold and all the fragments that cling to it. the blond of his hair catches and curls like a match struck in silence as he rests on the bench with moss staining its feet in a green kiss. “stay close. don't wander off,” you murmur to gabi and the boys, a mother’s instinct in a stranger’s affection. the market seems to swell as faces blur into patches of color and shadow.

usually heʼd be the one buying them the sweets, trailing behind like he belonged to the children, not the other way around. he’d slip coins to the vendor, barely seen, to make sure the kids stayed kids, get them something sweet to carry home sticky on their fingers. his presence made the kids feel safe. that was his gift to them.

he didn’t see you, not at first, lost in whatever he’d wrapped around himself, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes focused on something far off, his expression pulled into that mask of solemnity that’s so familiar it hurts. there’s a ghost of a frown in his brow from spending too much time thinking about things he didn’t want to think about. it was only when you were close enough that he looked up, startled, it was clear he wasn't expecting to see you. there was a tension in him, he sort of resembled an animal caught between choices, wanting to flee but rooted to the spot.

“i thought you’d want one,” you said, holding the cone out. it wasn’t often that you spoke to him this way, or at all. not about something as simple as ice-cream.

he stared at it first, then up at you. for a heartbeat you thought he might actually refuse it, let the ice-cream coat your hand with melted stickiness just to spite you for they way you resented him for the past four years.

“they give that to you for free?” he said, his eyes drifted somewhere just beyond the market stalls, like he was only half-invested in the jab.

something in his tone snagged, left a thin, invisible cut. he had every reason to say it, you supposed, but it still bruised in a way it shouldn’t. “no,” you shot back, trying not to let his offhand remark knock too hard against the satisfaction you’d felt just moments ago. “i bought it for you.”

with a breath soft as surrender, he looked up at you, and you could feel it, the way he saw you, had always seen you, from the days you were both cadets stumbling through ranks and routines. he’d always thought you were pretty, even when thought you didn't interact often.

the word devil was supposed to define you. reiner was trained to see you that way, to let a thick wall of prejudice stand between you both, forged over years of lessons and oaths. in marley, they pressed that word into people like you, used it to shape you into something repulsive. it was easy to believe it as a child, to see you through the war-stained images they painted, to think of you as something marley’s soldiers had been trained to conquer and devastate. but somehow, that wall never felt as solid with you. he tried to keep it up, you could tell from the way his gaze would shift from warm to cold so quickly, his jaw setting hard as if he was gripping some old lesson, forcing himself to remember why he wasn’t supposed to care. and you hated him for it as much as you didn’t. it was like he had stolen every sense of belonging from you, yet kept a fragile piece of it alive in himself, offering it back in little moments you refused to trust.

he’d always figured he’d have to wait, maybe forever for that forgiveness, if it came at all. for four years, he’d held onto the hope that one day you might look at him without that burning hatred in your eyes. over time, he’d let that hope slip through his fingers, learning to live in the shadow of what he thought he’d ruined.

but now, standing here, he felt something he hadn’t dared to let himself feel in a long time. the way you looked at him was different—not hardened or distant, but softened, like there was warmth in you meant just for him. it was subtle, but it caught him completely off guard, a look that lingered a little too long, the edges softening just enough for him to see something he’d once believed was lost.

he wanted to say something, anything, to reach out, but he found himself rooted, afraid to break whatever delicate understanding hung between you. he’s always been so careful with you, so mindful of your boundaries. your gaze didn’t waver, and he felt it like a quiet ache, as if, finally, there was a chance your view of him had changed.

he took the cone with hands that were larger than you remembered, rough and scarred and cracked in places. in his grasp, the small offering looked absurdly delicate.

“thanks.”

you settle on the edge of the bench beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, but not quite touching.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he said, his voice subdued, as if he was suppressing emotions that he couldn’t articulate.

“i wanted to,” you reply simply, the words soft but steady, a quiet confession hidden in plain sight. it’s not much, just a simple act of kindness, but it feels like more than that, like a tentative step toward something new, something neither of you quite knows how to name.

“i’m not good at this,” he admits after a long pause, the unexpected confession falling between you. he doesn’t look at you, eyes locked on the melting drip tracing a path down his knuckle.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “good at what?”

he’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that the hum of the market seems louder, pressing in from all sides. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant. “being close. to anyone.”

you shift slightly, your knee brushing against his leg. it’s so slight it could be an accident, but it’s not. “well, you’re here now.”

he looks up at you then with an unconcealed reverence that makes your heart lurch in your chest, eyes softening around the edges, holding that mix of confusion and hope that makes him look almost boyish. “yeah, i am.”

the silence stretches, but this time it’s warm, inviting. you can see him wrestling with something, the way his jaw tightens, loosens, the way his thumb traces a line across the wood of the bench as if trying to ground himself.

“it’s strange,” he starts, eyes flickering to yours before darting away again, “this..” he nods to the space inbetween you, “feels like more than i deserve.”

your gaze lingers on him, and you swallow back the pool of savila resting on your tongue. “maybe we’re both not good at this,” you whisper, a shy honesty threading through your voice. “but i think we could be.”

he blinks. “you think so?”

“yeah,” you say, the word barely more than a breath but heavy with everything you mean. “i do.”

and for the first time in years, he lets himself believe it.

[uncanny-tranny]

There's something so insane to me about being able to create and recreate vintage or even ancient music, clothes, fabrics, building architecture, anything, really.

I watched this video about a lady who knit a WWII-era vest, and it was really unique, because the cable work would eat up yarn, when there were shortages of fibers. This pattern would have likely been used by people to send overseas to soldiers, and now it's being created in a time where this war has been over for generations. What were the people making this pattern thinking of? What about the people making the vest? Could they fathom a world where world wars didn't happen back to back? Could they imagine what peace felt like, or did it fade like a distant memory, a faint friend? All we have now are the remnants of their efforts, a "simple" vest that would warm the bodies of countless people the knitter would never have imagined were here on earth with them.

We're reaching across time to learn about other people - we're reaching our hands out just to grasp anything tangible. And when we've take hold of something, all we can do is say I love you I love you I love you

[arienotari]

Drowning

Summary: When your worst fear becomes a reality and all you have on the other side is a brown eyed boy.

Pairing: Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Death, Drowning, Bullying

Edit: I am terrible at editing, and I tried my best so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes. This is my first full story I am releasing out into the world.

Word Count: 3330

I’ve never liked swimming.

People say it makes them feel free, but I felt anything but free. Every chance I got I avoided water at all costs. It's suffocating. Something about floating in a body of endless water and possibilities always made my skin crawl. One major problem that contributes to my fear is the fact that I can’t swim. I don’t blame anyone for this setback because I've never asked how to or showed interest. My inability to swim didn’t become a problem for me until my senior year of high school. I’ve gotten out of swimming class every year up until now and I had no choice but to take it. I tried to tell the swimming coach and counselors privately that I couldn’t take the class. All they said was I could stay in the shallow end. That I’ll be fine. I believed them. 

Word spread quickly throughout my class that I couldn’t swim once they started noticing I wouldn’t leave the 4ft mark. I didn’t really care, all I cared about was getting through the year. I was never really popular which didn’t matter much to me but being in this class never made it more obvious how much I hated it here. I felt eyes on me at all times which only made being in the water worse. 

It was March 12, 2015. Only a couple months left of school and then I’d be off to NYU living my dream of being a writer. First I had to get through 4th period swim class of course. I walked into the girls changing room preparing for the next 50 minutes of anxiety as I put my swimsuit on. I folded my dark blue jeans, my gray sweater, and a white tank top with lace on the trim that I wore under the sweater. Making my way to the pool I started putting my hair up in place of a hair cap I seem to have forgotten. Staring at the water I can see the bottom but it doesn’t stop the feeling of wanting to crawl up from my throat. Half the girls were already in the water preparing for a game of volleyball. Step by step down the ladder my hands begin to shake and my mouth becomes dry like I just ate pancakes. I make my way to the back to avoid any confrontation or any chance of being involved in the game. The one thing good about this class is it has a perfect view of the sky. I always get lost staring out at it wondering who’s also looking back. It makes me forget the situation I’m in and my environment. That's until a ball lands in front of me and about 15 girls are looking back at me waiting for my next move. I pick it up with my now calmer hands from before and spike it. Thankfully I made it over to the other side and the girls immediately turned back to the game. Not without some dirty looks but quite frankly I don’t really care. I watch as Mrs. Withers gets a call which seems to be serious as she tells us that she needs to step outside and when the bell rings to just go ahead. It’s only 10 minutes later when the shower bell rings and I feel the crushing weight lift off my shoulders. The other girls split based on which ladder they are closest to heading to the locker room and I help one of the girls get the volleyballs together. Making my way back to solid ground I rush to put the balls away not wanting to be one of the last to leave. I grab a towel on the rack near the other end of the pool as I make my way back seeing the last of everyone leaving. At least that’s what I thought until I heard someone behind me scream “Wait up” before running past me tripping me in the process. Losing my balance I watch as the one who screamed leaves the room leaving me alone. I hit the water with a loud splash waiting to hit the bottom to kick back up only to never feel my feet hit the concrete. I try to reach for the surface but everything I try seems to pull me down further. I panic, feeling my lungs on fire from filling with water. I tried to scream but no one could hear me and no one ever would. Everything was starting to go black and everything was becoming numb. All I could think about was how much I would miss out on. Finally, everything goes dark and I feel like I’m floating but I’m not, I’m being pulled up. I grab onto whoever’s pulling me up as if my life depended on it. Once I reach the surface my lungs fill with air as I begin to cough unbearably with my eyes screwed shut. I feel myself being hoisted up on the ground and out of the water. I’m pulled into the person who saved me as I am unable to move from exhaustion. When the person holds my face to center it I finally open my eyes as I am met with wide brown ones. 

“Are you okay”, he’s breathing heavily as I study him blocking out his yell to someone to bring his jacket. 

I feel a warm weight on my shoulders seeing its a blue and white letterman jacket out of the corner of my eye. 

“Thank you for saving me” I give him a weak smile but all I get in return is an expression filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt. 

Still seated on the floor I hear a horrified scream from beside me causing me to whip my head towards the chaos. Suddenly time stops and everything goes silent as I choked out a sob watching as a student and Mrs. Withers pull my body out of the water. The whole class comes to watch as they try to resuscitate me but nothing is happening. I feel the stranger push my head into his chest and I begin to cry harder than before. He repeats “I know’s” and “I’m sorry’s” as my world comes crashing down on me. 

Hours later we are still in the same position my hair and clothes dry now along with a tear-dried face. It’s dark outside with only the poolside fluorescent lights to illuminate our two figures. I begin to shiver more and more as the stranger who pulled me out of the water rubs my back and arms. 

“We need to get up, you're getting too cold” he whispers, pulling his body to get a better look at me. 

I lift myself up getting a better look at him as well as I memorize his long structured face, beauty marks, and brown eyes. After a minute I nod and try to stand up realizing that I’m still exhausted, the position not helping adding to the pain. He helps me steady myself and fully extend as he holds my hands making sure I’m okay. 

“You should take a shower and change into your regular clothes, I’ll probably do the same and I will explain everything once we're done. Okay?”, he says softly with an uneasy half-smile waiting for my response.

“Okay,” I whisper back at him not wanting to raise my voice feeling it’ll be too much to handle. 

His smile fills out more as he nods and begins to turn away to do the same tasks as me. I begin to turn away as well before I realize I never got the guy's name who pulled me out of the pool and stayed with me for hours. 

“What’s your name?,” I said, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away. 

He looks down at my hand holding his arm which makes me see I’m still holding onto him causing me to let go. 

“Wally, Wally Clark”, he said with a wide smile that made me feel alive again for just a split second. 

After warming up from the shower I changed into my clothes from before that were neatly folded. As I begin to walk out of the locker room I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look back at the girl staring at me feeling disconnected from who she was or what she could’ve been. I take a heavy breath before opening the door to leave and face the reality of my situation. Stepping into the hall, the school looked unnatural to me with the lights off. I look over and see a less wet and cold Wally approach me with the same smile as before. 

“How was the shower? Do you feel better?”, he asked one right after the other. 

“The shower was good and I’m doing the best I can with the fact that I am already dead,” I said, peering up at him only noticing now how tall he really is. 

“I know it's hard and I’m sorry it happened this way but I will try to explain everything the best I can.”, he said, extending his elbow out for me to take it as we began to walk further down the halls.

And Just like he said Wally kept his word and explained everything to me that he could. Like how we’ll never be able to leave school grounds unless we pass on. He also showed me all the other kids stuck here just like us and told me how some passed. As well as the weird support group that the kids attend in the gym. Even though he’d joke he never sugar-coated anything, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I won’t lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I was plagued by the memory of what happened as well as the thoughts of the future I’ll never get. It definitely didn’t help that everyone at school was mentioning it and not in a sorrowful way. During those few weeks, Wally helped a lot with trying to be a distraction so I wouldn’t focus on others. I guess one of the perks of being dead is being able to duplicate belongings so I was able to get my phone and journal. I found the perfect spot on the football field to just listen to music and lie down. I’d close my eyes and imagine what life could’ve been but I knew I couldn’t do that forever, so I started to write more. It was easier to put my wishes and fantasies on pages without having to dwell on them. I usually kept my writing to myself so around 7:30 every day I’d go to my little bubble of solitude on the field and write. It was May now so the sun would start to set around 8 giving me enough light and a view. 

“What are you writing?'' I suddenly hear Wally's voice right next to my ear. 

“Jesus Christ Wally you scared me to death”, I said, jumping in reaction to the sudden deep voice, placing my hand on my heart and dropping my journal. 

“I mean it's a little too late for that someone must’ve beat me to it.”, he said smiling at me as he sat down next to me grabbing my journal to open it. 

I glare at him and snatch my journal back. 

“What too soon?”, he said with a stupid grin trying to get my journal back.

“Just a little,” I said, scrunching my nose. 

“No but seriously what are you writing? You come out here every day and write in that little journal.” He said leaning back on his arms a bit more to get my full face into view. 

I try to hide the blush that has crept up on my face when I realize that he’s been watching me come out here. After a moment I brush my hair out of my face and am met with those famous brown eyes. I take a deep breath before explaining to him my reasons. 

“I don’t want to stay stuck in the living because all it’ll do is bring harm. All I thought about for the past couple of months was what I’ll miss but I never stopped and processed my death. I’ve been hurting for all the things I couldn’t change and it caused me to push anything away, even you. So I thought why not write my wishes and wants down so they don’t stay on my mind. At least this way I can close the journal.” I said with a tiny smile looking up at him as he was staring back intently listening. 

“Before I died I wanted to be a writer and I had my whole life planned out, I was going to attend—“ 

“NYU, I know,” he said, finishing my sentence before I could. 

I watch as Wally sits up straighter and scooches closer to me before tilting his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say because he’s fidgeting with his necklace. I wait for him because there’s no point in rushing, I have all the time in the world. 

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he says with a breath held in waiting for my response. 

One of my eyebrows lifts as I tilt my head in response to the slightly weird statement. 

“Oh god, that came out creepier than I meant it to. What I meant to say was even when you were alive I knew who you were.” He said laying back fully down in the grass. 

I watched as he covered his eyes with his hands with a frustrated grunt like he was trying to revert into a hole. 

“What do you mean?”, I said moving towards his laid position to where I’m now bent over leaning towards him leaving my crisscross position to now on my knees. 

I grab his hands that are covering his eyes and pull them down to his chest as I hold them to keep him from covering his eyes again. How he’s looking at me I can tell he’s debating with himself. I wait and listen before I watch as he closes his eyes. 

“The first time I saw you was during your freshman year in the library. I was looking for something to watch for group movie night. I had Rhonda yelling at me in one ear and Charlie telling me something in the other. I was getting a little annoyed but then I looked between the bookshelves and there you were.” He takes a pause to look at me and I squeeze his hand in return to continue. 

“You were tucked into the corner where the bookshelves meet, where no one could see you. In your hands was The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea. I watched as you cried the further you got into the book. After that day I came back to the library every day to see you. I even started picking up some of the books you read, but I couldn't finish half of them though.” He said with a small smile on his face and in his voice.  

He sat up which caused him to become closer to me while he took my hands instead of me holding his. He was looking at the grass for a minute while rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. When he looked up I could see that he was tearing up making my heart ache. 

“I knew you had anxiety when it came to swim class because you couldn’t swim so I’d go to try and help. Even though you couldn’t see or feel me, I was always there.” He said lifting his hand up to tuck a loose strand of my hair that fell. 

His hand stayed in place as he cupped my cheek and I went to ask why he was tearing up because of this before he spoke. 

“I watched you die. I was there and I couldn’t do anything until it was too late, that’s why I was there. I had to watch you struggle knowing I couldn’t grab you or even scream for help.” He said with his voice croaking with the struggle of what he’s had to go through. 

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the walls I built up crumble down with one look at him. I never knew he’d been holding in something like this for so long. If I had known I would’ve never tried to shut him out. I was scared of what had happened and how my life had ended but I never thought about him. He was always there and whenever I needed help he was right by my side. I moved from my position pulling him into a soul-crushing hug. It took him a second to respond to the sudden gesture but after a couple seconds, I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Wally my death wasn’t your fault, I need you to know that.”, I softly spoke while hugging him harder, feeling him return it. 

We continued hugging for what felt like years but could never be enough for me to be satisfied. One of my arms is coming up from under his arm grappling his shoulder while the other is around his waist. His arms are wrapped around my waist and I can feel his hands rubbing small circles on my back. Looking up from being tucked away in his shoulder I notice the sun is beginning to set. I begin to pull away and when I make eye contact with him again he’s only a mere few inches away from my face. I raise my hand to brush his hair away from his face as it has flattened from the hug. My hand slips down as it trails from the side of his head to where it now rests on his neck. He’s staring at me the whole time while I do this and when I look up to meet his eyes my heart quickens. Well, I imagined it quickened. There’s something about those brown eyes I’ve grown fond of that makes me feel alive again. His eyes flash down to my lips and back up to my eyes like he’s silently pleading. I give into his wants that now become a need for me and all I can do is nod. His hand comes up to my face pulling me towards him as our lips meet. The kiss felt like everything in my little life led up to this moment. Nothing else seemed to matter to me but the boy in front of me right now who just confessed that he’d been watching me for years. Wally’s the one to pull away first. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him wanting to capture this moment forever. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek and giving me a quick peck. I can’t restrain my gleaming smile as he pulls away for the second time. 

“Well I’m glad we got that cleared up”, he laughed as he spoke. 

I glared at him while punching him in the arm causing him to fall back but not before dragging me down with him. I land on his chest relaxing in his touch like it’s something I've been craving but have been deprived of. We lay in comfortable silence as I felt Wally rub circles with his thumb on my hip. 

“I’m glad it was you who found me. I don't know what I would’ve done” I said, being the first one to disturb the still air. 

“I am too,” Wally said into my hair as he kissed the top of my head. 

We lay there all night even when the stadium lights came on we just talked about everything and anything. Maybe the afterlife won’t completely suck. 

[t-r99]

Bathtime

*

Listen right . . . Listen to me . . . I don't know who was simping for Nagi on the animation team but the fucking difference here,

Nagi Seishiro x reader

Just some Nagi fluff

wc 740

Nagi always thought that showering and washing was such a hassle, but bathing was nice and relaxing when he could get in a bath or a big enough tub. His showering routine was always quick and simple.

The Nagi Seishiro Style: Low Effort Body Washing Technique consisted of covering himself with soap then washing it all away in one go before finally getting in the bath and closing his eyes, relaxing after a long day.

That was back in the day when he was a teenager living in his little student apartment and later when he lived at the Blue Lock facility. Going pro let him get a nice, big apartment with a wonderful bathtub that he could lay in and float for as long as he wanted.

It did get lonely at times, though. Nagi had almost forgotten what loneliness felt like after meeting Reo and later everyone else at Blue Lock. Then you came along and a few things changed. Nagi was no longer lonely, to begin with, and his washing routine changed.

It started with you getting up one day not long after moving in, pushing his soft hair back and kissing his temple. Nagi only whined lazily now now that you were no longer in his presence and asked, "Where y'going?"

"Shower." You simply said.

Nagi pouted after you.

You stopped just before leaving the bedroom, turning around. "Do you . . ." Nagi blinked in question, no longer pouting. "want to join me?" You asked.

On one hand, yes of course. On the other, two people showering together sounded like torture. Nagi figured the two of you would take turns under the stream, wash and wait to rinse while standing there awkwardly, maybe be in each other's ways. "Sounds like a hassle." He mumbled.

No. That was not the answer you were looking for. You walked back to the bed and took both his hands. "Come ooon." You pulled gently, urging him to follow you.

"But I don't want to shower." Nagi let you pull him up and off the bed, lazily walking with you as you tugged on his hands.

That was the first time you two showered together, and now you are for what Nagi is guessing is the thousandth time, or maybe the ten thousandth time. Nagi has no idea how many times it has been, he just really loves getting in the shower with you. He loves sitting in the tub and let you run your fingers through his hair, working the shampoo in and massaging his scalp to the point where he almost starts to purr like a cat.

His eyes flutter closed as you work the shampoo in. He could sit like this for all of eternity and just let you massage his head and run your fingers through his hair.

"Rinse time." You say.

Uuuhn . . . He's so relaxed right now that your smooth voice threatens to put him to sleep. You're under the water stream. Nagi keeps his eyes closed and lets you pull him closer to you until the water washes over him and rinses the shampoo out.

He leans further against you, forehead touching yours. You smile at the way he sighs and groans, relaxing further under the warm water. "What are you, a cat?"

"Meow." Nagi mumbles tiredly.

You laugh at that.

He loves your laugh. Nagi loves your laugh almost as much as he loves the way you work conditioner into his hair until it's soft and smooth and perfect to run your fingers through.

A few minutes pass. The tub is now filled and Nagi is happy to lean back against the edge because he can pull you into his embrace and hold you close to his toned chest. The roles change this way and now he gets to be the one to play with your hair while you relax against him.

Nagi is more than happy to have met you. Not only does he not have to wash himself anymore, he also gets to cuddle you in the bathtub and kiss your soft lips as often as he likes.

Your skin is soft against his, your body warm and comforting. Your arms are around him and your hands are on his back, massaging his tense muscles after a long day of training while littering his shoulders and neck with soft kisses.

Shower time quickly became Nagi's favourite time of the day after you moved in.

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two.

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

[jjngkook7]

Choices (7)

Werewolf Au! Jungkook x Reader / Enemies to Lovers [Angst and mature content. Not smut but almost smut.]

Summary: Jungkook finally found her. His mate. His lifelong partner. But she’s a human. Does he have to stay with her or can he stick it to whatever and whoever binds mates together and make his own decision?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

You groaned as you finally shut off your alarm. After hitting the snooze button four times, you only had 30 minutes to get ready for work. As you dragged yourself out of bed and into your washroom, you thought about your dream last night. It was still a nightmare but not as gruesome as it usually was. Entering your washroom, you grimaced at the person staring back at you in the mirror. Your eyebags were heavy and your skin flat and colorless. Due to your inability to get up on time, you could only afford to wash your face and brush your hair if you wanted to at least have a coffee before work. Oh, the joys of Monday’s.

It seemed like your morning really set a precedent on how the rest of your day was going to be. You were 15 minutes late to work because of traffic, you forgot about a meeting that you set up and lunch was a bag of chips because you forgot your wallet at home. Needing to leave the chaos of the office, you decided to eat your sad lunch at a park. You ignored how cold your bottom was getting against the park bench as you watched the people around you go about their day.

“Rough day at the office?” an all too familiar voice asked.

You looked up and locked eyes with Jungkook. Great, now I'm hallucinating. If having visions of Jungkook wasn’t bad enough already, he looked better than you remembered. His hair was a little longer now and his eyes bright amber.

“Hello?” Jungkook waved his hand in front of you.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. A jolt of electricity shoots through you.

“Oh you are real…oh my god! You’re-what are you doing here?!” it felt like you had just went through all five stages of grief in a nanosecond.

Jungkook watched in real time as the sleep vanishes from your eyes. He waits for you to collect yourself before taking a seat next to you on the bench. His body shivered not from the cold but from the sudden energy radiating between both of you. After being away for so long, he forgot just how strong the pull of a mate was.

“Aren't you cold?” you asked bewildered by how he was only in a long sleeve and jeans.

Jungkook wanted to laugh. He knew you were probably freezing from how pale your fingers were. He also noticed the tiredness on your face and wondered if you had been sleeping at all.

“How long do you have left for your lunch break?” he asked, ignoring your question.

“20 minutes.” you replied.

Jungkook nods and quickly tried to figure out how to tell you that your life was in danger and that the only way to save you was to live with him for a bit and let him mark you.

“I think we’re going to need more than 20 minutes,” he says.

Jungkook was able to explain the situation to you within 20 minutes, leaving out the part where he had to mark you. The argument that happened afterwards lasted 30 minutes. You couldn’t just move to the mountains when you had a job to show up to and who was going to pay rent for the unit you were already living in? In the same breath, Jungkook explained that it was dangerous to live so close to civilization in case there was an attack and shared how much he didn’t want to live with you.

“Do you not hear the absurdity of what you’re asking me to do?” you argued.

“Do you think I want to do this?” Jungkook sneered.

“Then don’t!” you exclaimed.

“Fine!” he shouted, matching the volume of your voice.

“Fine!” you shouted back before marching back to your office, your bag of chips forgotten on the bench.

__________________________________

Jungkook adjusted his cap as he waited for you to leave your house. He rolled his eyes when he heard your alarm ring for the third time signifying that you had no intention of getting up. You’re going to be late again idiot.

After your guys’ encounter at the park, Namjoon reamed Jungkook out for being stubborn and doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do. They came up with a compromise that Jungkook hated even more than the original plan. Night and day, Jungkook would essentially watch you from afar in case a rogue decided to attack. He’d follow you to work, to the grocery store and home. At night, Jungkook would make rounds around your neighborhood until late and then head back to his own home before repeating it all again the next day. Before he knew it, Jungkook's life revolved around you now.

“One more snooze and you would’ve been screwed.” Jungkook grinned when you opened the door.

Biting your tongue, you locked the front door before making your way past him. You were already running on a couple hours of sleep and seeing Jungkook’s shit eating grin this early in the morning made you want to scream. Unbeknownst to Jungkook, your sleep schedule had gotten worse now that you knew your life was at risk. If you were lucky, you’d only wake up twice in the night. Despite the lack of privacy, knowing that Jungkook was around just in case anything happened did give you some sort of reassurance. You’d never admit it to anyone, but you kind of liked having him around. Sure, he’d make your anger spike anytime he spoke but his presence added some excitement to your daily mundane routine. When you were out and about, you’d try to spot him in a crowd like a game of “Where’s Waldo”. It was getting harder for Jungkook to hide his amusement anytime you would find him because when you did, you’d stick out your tongue at him. He did noticed that you continued to look more and more tired than before. He had wondered what was causing you so much stress but pushed the thought away because that wasn’t part of the job description.

As you stood in front of your office building, you turned your head to see where Jungkook was. Scanning through the crowd of people on their way to work, you finally locked eyes with him and inhaled sharply. It was always a sensation overload whenever you looked at him because his amber eyes would pierce right through you. After the initial shock, a smile crept onto your face. Jungkook was trying to keep a low profile with his all black outfit and baseball cap but he didn’t realize how much he stood out like a sore thumb. Everyone bustling through were clad in thick winter coats and layers upon layers just to keep warm yet there he was standing at the end of the block with nothing but a black flannel button up and jeans. With one more glance, you made your way into your building excited to see him again later. Once you were out of sight, Jungkook immediately made a quick dash back to your house. Last night, Jungkook picked up the faintest scent of a rogue, but this morning the smell strong and near.

As he approached your home, he slowed down and tried to process what he was smelling and sensing carefully. Fortunately, he only picked up the scent of one rogue but the claw marks on the side of your house and fresh tracks in the snow meant that Jungkook was a little too late.

Usually, Jungkook kept his distance when he would follow you around but something must’ve happened between the morning and now because he was walking right beside you. It wasn’t the brushing of your bodies when you bumped into each other that formed the butterflies in your stomach but his hand on your lower back leading you home that did it. Jungkook kept you almost right up against him and you felt embarrassed for relishing in both his touch and smell. It was concerning how much you didn’t care about your safety when being this close to him felt so good. On the flipside, Jungkook could not afford to have his attention waver for even a second. He had to somehow cut through all the sounds and smells of the city just to pick up a stray whiff of any rogues. Jungkook was glad to have his attention focused elsewhere than on how your body was reacting to him. If he thought about it too much, his ego would grow too large for him to handle. You were usually so difficult to deal with and so stubborn but all he had was one hand on your lower back and you were compliant to his every word. Would you still be such a pain in the ass if you were under him? Could you possibly talk back if you were writhing from his touch? And what could you possibly say when he’s shoved down your throat?

“Do not open the door unless it’s me.” Jungkook ordered before pushing you into your house and slamming the door shut.

You take a moment to calm your heart. All you could think about was how his hand eventually wrapped around your waist and how strong his grip was. Once the high wore off, you dragged yourself upstairs to get ready for your night feeling less scared than you should. If Jungkook could muster through his hatred for you to keep you safe on the way home, you knew that you were in good hands.

You stirred awake and checked the time on your phone. 2:05am. You plopped your head back onto your pillow and tried to get back to sleep. You tried to still your mind but the heavy pitter patter against your window made it hard to do. Guess I'm awake now. Luckily, you didn't have work tomorrow so you and your insomnia could be friends for a night. You sat up and ran a hand through your hair as you stared out the window. You wondered if Jungkook was still outside or if he went home. If he was still here, he'd be soaked to the bone. Do werewolves catch colds? Putting on your slippers, you made your way to the front door and opened it. You scanned the driveway and sidewalk but with how heavy the rain was falling, it was hard to see. You took a step outside to see if he was around the corner but before you could turn your head, Jungkook himself appeared from the other side of where you were looking.

"I thought I told you not to open this door." he sighed annoyingly.

You felt your throat go dry when you saw him. He was dripping from head to toe and you envied the way his shirt clung onto his body.

"It's raining really hard and I didn't know if you were still outside." you said after prying your eyes away from his body.

"I told you to keep the door closed unless it's for me." he argued.

"Yeah well it is for you because I wanted to check up on you, god." you bite back. Jungkook had such a sour attitude but he truly was such a sight for your sore tired eyes.

You look over his shoulder and see that the rain was pouring even harder with no plans to stop. Had he just been patrolling your place since you finished work? Supernatural or not, Jungkook shouldn't be standing around in this weather.

"You should come in and rest." you said, after much consideration.

Jungkook immediately shook his head and backed away from you, "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're soaking wet! And besides, you've been roaming around for hours and if my neighbours get suspicious they might call the cops." you challenged.

Jungkook falls silent and you see his eyes shift from side to side, trying to look for something that wasn't there.

"Jungkook you've been out here since I got home. Whatever's out there would've gotten you by now. Please, just come inside and dry off for a little bit," you plead, "I won't be able to sleep knowing you're just out in the rain for no reason."

I'm out here for you. You're the fucking reason. Jungkook chewed the inside of his cheeks in thought. The invitation was tempting. He was absolutely exhausted and after staring at the dark day in and day out, his mind was starting to play tricks on him. Protecting you was one thing but his pride was bruised. All he did for the past few hours was ruminate on how he didn't see or smell the rogue. He wanted to crush the thing and kill it with his bare hands to make up for his inattentiveness, but he was tired. You took his silence as compliance and stepped aside so he could come in. Before Jungkook could mentally brace himself, the overwhelming smell of you sent his senses into overdrive. He placed a hand against the wall and took deep breaths. Every time he inhaled, it felt like his brain was going to pop out of his skull. The lights were too bright, the sound of the rain too loud and your scent was so strong he could almost taste you.

"Are you okay...?" you asked as you slowly closed the door.

Jungkook's back and the tension throughout his body brought you back to when you found him in that abandoned shed. You mentally cursed wondering if tonight was going to be another repeat. To your surprise, Jungkook managed to compose himself and turned around to face you. From how his usual amber eyes were now maroon, you knew he still wasn't quite back.

"W-where is your washroom? I'm going to clean up." he asked, his voice strained.

You direct him to your washroom and watch as he staggered away. When you heard the sink turn on, you quickly ran to your room to grab what you could to prepare the sofa for him. As you searched through your closet for an extra blanket, it quickly dawned on you that Jungkook was in your house and was going to stay the night. Suddenly, you were hyper aware of all the embarrassing things you owned. When you finally found your extra blanket, you suppressed a groan at the Sanrio characters decorating the duvet. He's here to rest not judge your choice of home decor. You grab a pillow from your bed and made your way back to the living room. As you were setting up the couch, you noticed the mess of cups and candy wrappers on the coffee table. If you knew that you would house a werewolf that was supposedly your soulmate, you would've cleaned up a bit more. Pushing the thought away, you made your way towards the bathroom where Jungkook hadn't made a sound. He's not dead is he? You took a deep breath before bravely poking your head through the door to check on him. The sight before you literally stole the inhale you had just taken away. You had imagined Jungkook shirtless many times before but your imagination was truly nothing compared to what he looked like in real life. Jungkook was leaned over the sink, his wet shirt by his feet as he wiped his chest with your towel with one hand. Every time he brushed his hand against his body, the muscles in his arms flexed. The raindrops cascading down the curves of his shoulder blades and back polluted your mind with lewd scenarios.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Jungkook scoffed.

You mumbled a pathetic apology as your eyes continued trailing down his body. The deep gash on his arm reeled you out of your perverted psyche. Without thinking, you quickly approached him and inspected his wound.

"Jungkook, you need to go to the hospital." you gasp at how torn up his arm looked.

"Please." Jungkook almost laughed.

You shoot him a look and push him aside to grab the first aid kit under the sink. Jungkook watched in amusement as you rummaged through your kit to find something to treat his wound. You seemed to forget that he was not of this world. This injury would heal in a week and a bandaid was not going to help.

"Give me you arm." you demanded setting a tube of polysporin and bandage wraps on the counter.

Jungkook raised his brow, "Are you going to make me a bowl of chicken noodle soup and put on my favourite cartoon as well?"

How this asshole was your soulmate was beyond you by how quickly he was able to bring you to anger within seconds. Jungkook could hate you all he wanted, but he didn't have to make you feel useless while doing so. For the past week and a half, he was literally supervising you like you were a child and it made you feel so foolish.

"Can you just let me do something for once? Just let me-" you exhaled with closed eyes, "let me feel like I'm helping for once."

Jungkook let out a sarcastic "ok" and surrendered his arm to you. You unscrewed the cap from the polysporin and wanted to kick yourself for dropping it during the process. It was really hard to focus when he was staring at you in his shirtless glory. Ignoring the fallen cap, you pushed out the ointment onto your finger and reached for his arm. The jolt you usually received whenever you guys touched made you flinch.

"You're okay." Jungkook encouraged after feeling the power from the shock himself.

Biting your lower lip, you gently grabbed his arm again and waited a few seconds for the sensation to pass before rubbing the medicine onto his cut. Jungkook watched are you carefully tended to him. In his absorption of your actions, he couldn't feel the corner of his lip turning upwards and the silencing of his mind. All he could hear was your breathing and if he focused a little more, the fluttering of your eyelashes as you blinked. It was endearing watching you meticulously layer the bandage perfectly on his arm. The treatment you were giving Jungkook was going to do absolutely nothing for him besides make him itchy. His species didn't heal like humans. They were able to heal on their own and if they were mated, their healing time was even quicker. You released the bite you had on your lower lip once you successfully wrapped him up.

"I'll let you do your own thing now," you laughed awkwardly stepping away from him, "There are extra towels under the sink and the sofa is all set up for you."

Jungkook holds your eyes for a few seconds and you see that they're back to their usual amber colour.

"Goodnight," he nods.

"Goodnight," you repeat before retreating back to your room.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you slept through the night.

You woke up a lot earlier than you intended to but you felt refreshed. You didn't have any nightmares, in fact, you didn't dream at all. You graciously welcomed the daylight that usually disturbed your already horrible sleep shining through your window. As you put on your slippers, the butterflies in your stomach swarmed when you remembered that Jungkook had slept over. You sat on the edge of your bed and slapped your cheeks from how hard you were grinning. He was probably gone by now but you were going to spend the whole weekend replaying last night in privacy. You giddily swing your bedroom door open and immediately froze. You held your breath and didn't move a single muscle as to not wake the sleeping Jungkook on your couch. After an agonizing minute, you quietly approached him with pursed lips. He was sound asleep with his mouth slightly agape. When Jungkook wasn't speaking or awake in general, he sure looked like an angel. The skittish grin you had on earlier crept back at the sight of him all curled up in your Sanrio blanket. Jungkook rarely let his guard down yet here he was sleeping so peacefully in your home. He had to ability to hear a pin drop in a crowded room so judging by how he didn't wake up from the slight noises you made, poor guy was probably drained. You desperately fought the desire to brush his bangs away from his eyes and left to go wash up instead.

You rolled your eyes when you see the bandage you so caringly put on Jungkook last night in the garbage next to your toilet. You couldn't at least flush it down or hide it? Ass. Still, he let you tend to him and that was good enough for you. Jungkook was still asleep by the time you finished your morning routine. You crept back into your room and decided to clean up. You had completely ignored the state of your home with the little sleep you were getting every night. You looked over to your laundry basket by the window that had been taunting you for weeks and decided to finally tackle it. Sitting down in front of it, you began to sort your white and coloured clothes. As you thought about the things you wanted to get done today, you began to feel excited about the prospect of having a productive weekend when your bedroom door suddenly swung open, the hinges breaking in the process. A frantic looking Jungkook entered followed by a curse when he saw where you positioned.

"Get behind me right now!" he shouted.

Your body and brain freezes from the sudden shock, "W-what?"

"Can you fucking listen to me for once and just-"

Your bedroom window shatters and a black mass breaks through. A scream emits from you when the rogue snaps at your arms. You scramble backwards as the creature attempts to wedge its body through the fracture it created. If you were any closer, you would've been a goner. The absolute depravity of the monster fills your entire body up with fear as flashbacks from the first time you ever encountered a rogue replay in your mind. You couldn't feel your legs and all you could do was scramble back as far as you could go. Tears immediately flood your eyes when the creature snarls and breaks free of the glass that was holding it back. There was absolutely nothing you could do as the creature lunges towards you, the smile it has on it's face seared into your brain. Another scream escapes from you as Jungkook grabs its neck and slams it onto your bedroom floor. Your stomach turns when you see it squirm abnormally under his grasp. The rogue produces high pitched cackling as Jungkook delivers blow after blow to its face.

"Close your eyes." Jungkook orders and you do as you're told.

You choke out a sob when you hear the sick animal laugh as Jungkook tears its flesh apart and breaks its bones. Eventually, the room falls silent but you keep your eyes shut afraid of what you might see. You jump when Jungkook places his hands on your arms.

"Hey it's just me, it's me. It's okay, it's over now." he attempts to soothe you while grabbing your hands, halting your useless attempts to push him away.

When you finally come to, you grab onto him and push your face into his chest. Jungkook tells you to keep your eyes closed as he carries you into the living room, not wanting you to see the aftermath of what he did. He holds your trembling body as tightly as he can and waits for your sobbing to subside. Once he hears your sobs turn into sniffles, he lifts your face from your hands and through your teary vision, you see an apologetic expression plastered on his face.

"I'm packing a bag for you. Tell me what you need, we leave in 20 minutes." he says.

You try to fight against his hold, but he's much stronger than you.

"Jungkook! I can't leave-I can't-"

"We don't have a choice now," he says, his voice soft as ever, "this is the only way I can protect you."

[wholoveseggs]

Hello lovely! I was wondering if you could whip up a little something about the reader because self conscious and comparing herself to Hayley maybe she’s a little chubby and such so when Hayley comes back into their lives she’s a little worried. But Elijah always the gentleman comforts her with some good ol sex 🤪🤪 if not feel free to ignore 💕

Reminder

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your relationship with Elijah feels like its unravelling with the arrival of Hayley and a cutting nickname from Klaus. Fortunately, Elijah knows just what to do to make you feel loved.

♡♡ Thanks for the request, this one goes out to all my thick thighed brothers & sisters. May you all find an Elijah to suffocate between them. ♡♡

4.5k words - Warnings: smut, face sitting, Klaus being cruel, Elijah being sweet.

When you are a vampire time passes differently, things change around you, and sometimes you feel like the odd man out. When you first met Elijah everything was different. Culture, language, even the food and the music. He was captivated by you instantly, he whisked you away from your difficult life and kept you in his bed. Making sure you knew how much he loved every inch of your body. He was your first and only lover, the man who turned you and showed you a world you never thought was possible.

Centuries had passed with just the two of you, then Klaus returned to your lives and with him came the lovely Hayley Marshall. Pregnant, doe eyed and absolutely beautiful.

You weren't jealous at first, Elijah was devoted to you and only you. His heart was yours, that was all you cared about. But Klaus brought his chaos with him, and your noble lover had to keep Hayley safe. She needed to be protected, so Elijah spent more time with her and less with you.

You were alone, and it left a hollow feeling in your chest. You felt forgotten and unloved. Elijah did his best to spend time with you, but it wasn't enough.

Then your mind started playing cruel tricks on you, making you see Hayley and Elijah together. She was so pretty, her body was tall and thin, while yours was plump and soft. You had nightmares of Elijah touching her, kissing her, making her moan his name.

It made you want to throw up.

The whole thing made you feel irrational and insecure, Elijah loved you, he told you all the time, but still the thoughts lingered.

It wasn't until Klaus gave you a certain nickname, that it truly got under your skin.

Little wolf he would purr, calling Hayley to him, the words fell off his tongue like honey. It was such an affectionate term, one with many layers of meaning. It was beautiful and sweet, and Klaus seemed so proud to call her this.

But then there was his nickname for you, Elijah's little cherub. 

It was not meant as an endearment, but as an insult. Klaus was right, you did look a little like a cherub, soft, round cheeks, and a full, thick body. It hurt you, even if you tried not to let it get to you. You told yourself that Klaus wasn't important, his opinion didn't matter. But the words he spoke stuck in your mind.

Everything was going fine, you had mastered keeping your insecurities under wraps, until Klaus and Elijah announced that they were throwing a ball. 

It was Elijah's first time hosting one since the two of you moved to New Orleans. He was a natural at hosting parties, he knew just how to make everyone feel welcome. It was a trait you didn't have. You were too quiet and reserved, people would get bored with you and leave. Elijah was the life of the party, everyone wanted to be around him. You were afraid you would ruin it for him.

You never felt good in gowns, you felt big and bulky. The ones you tried on just made you look worse. You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked like an overstuffed pillow. There was no way you could go out in public like this. You even dug out an old corset to try and make yourself look smaller. It just made your breasts spill out over the top. You were mortified and threw the thing in the garbage. You were starting to wonder what Elijah saw in you.

When he entered your bedroom, you were sitting on the bed, resigning yourself to the dress that you knew didn't suit you. He had been busy with the ball, and hadn't noticed your sour mood. He was all smiles, telling you how beautiful you would look in your dress, and how proud he was to have you by his side. He was dressed impeccably as always, and you felt frumpy and out of place. How could you possibly look good next to him?

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied in a small voice, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

You walked downstairs and the guests began to arrive, all the while Elijah's hand rested on the small of your back. He left you to go greet some guests and you spotted Klaus. He grinned and you saw the flash of his dimples as he made his way over to you. You knew he was going to make a comment, you dreaded hearing what it was going to be.

"Hello, little cherub," he smirked, and your heart sank.

"Please don't call me that," you whispered, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

"Why ever not? You do look like one," he said, his eyes roaming your body.

"Klaus, stop it," you warned, not wanting to deal with his teasing.

"My brother certainly does seem fond of you, which is odd, considering his type usually looks more like..." he gestured to Hayley, who was across the room talking with Elijah.

You frowned, trying to swallow the insecurity bubbling up, but Klaus still noticed, "Did I hit a nerve?"

"No, why would you?" you lied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be too upset, cherub, you may not be his usual type, but he seems to enjoy the extra cushion."

His words hit like a punch to the gut. You couldn't believe he would say something like that. It was true that Elijah was quite fit and lean, while you were much softer and thicker. It made you insecure and now that he pointed it out, it felt even worse. You looked over at Elijah, who was talking to Hayley, they looked so good together, she was a perfect match for him.

"You really are an ass," you told him.

He chuckled and said, "I never said it was a bad thing, I think you are rather lovely,"

Elijah glanced up and saw the distress on your face. He immediately excused himself from his conversation and came to you. He could tell that something was bothering you.

"What did you do?" he asked Klaus.

"Me? Nothing," Klaus shrugged. "I was just complimenting your lovely companion," he continued, smirking at you.

Elijah's attention was on you now, he knew something was wrong. His brow furrowed, he could sense your anguish. But before he could say anything Hayley joined the group, her eyes moving from Klaus, to Elijah, and then settling on you.

"Oh, hello," she said, trying to sound friendly.

You nodded politely, not wanting to be impolite, despite the way her presence made you feel. It wasn't her fault, she had no idea you felt this way.

Elijah's hand brushed over the small of your back, trying to comfort you. He didn't realize it, but his touch was having the opposite effect, it was making you even more self conscious. Did he feel obligated to touch you like that? Did he do it for show? Was he just being polite? Your brain was coming up with every reason possible to feel terrible.

You didn't know how much longer you could stay here, watching them, surrounded by a sea of beautiful people, feeling more alone than ever.

You looked over at Elijah, and saw him gazing at you. His eyes were filled with adoration, but it was hard for you to believe it. The voice in your head kept repeating, that Klaus was right, he doesn't really love you, he's just too polite to say anything.

"I was hoping to get a proper tour of the house," Hayley said, interrupting your thoughts, "I've never seen the upstairs rooms, will you show me y/n?"

The question caught you off guard, you had no interest in spending time with her, and it felt like she was just being polite. You wanted to say no, but that would have been rude. So instead you smiled and nodded, following her out of the ballroom and into the hall.

You led her upstairs and she stopped, her eyes scanning the pictures on the wall. Her fingers gently brushed over the frames, and she pointed out an old portrait of the Mikaelson Family.

"God, they are all so beautiful," she sighed, and you knew she was right. Rebekah was stunning, Klaus had a wild, handsome charm, and Elijah was a classic, elegant beauty. They were all perfection, and you had no idea what they were doing with you.

"Is that Freya?" she asked, pointing at another portrait, "she's stunning,"

You nodded, feeling awkward. This was the last place you wanted to be.

Hayley smiled, turning her attention back to the wall, and continued walking. You trailed behind, feeling out of place, and unsure of what to say. Hayley stopped in front of a particular painting, a portrait of you and Elijah. She smiled, and you felt your heart skip, it was your favorite portrait of the two of you.

"You two look so in love," she said, and your stomach twisted.

"Yes, we are," you replied, trying to sound sincere, when really all you wanted to do was cry.

"How did the two of you meet?" she asked.

"He turned me in the 16th century, I was his seamstress," you explained, smiling a little.

Hayley looked at you with surprise, her eyebrows raised, "You fixed up his suits?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly wearing suits back then, but he's always been very fashionable. He liked the way I stitched his shirts," you told her.

"How fast did you two fall in love?"

You bit your lip, and answered, "Well, he persued me for quite a while before I agreed to be with him,"

"Why? Were you scared?" she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

"No, not exactly," you blushed, looking down at the floor.

"Well, what was it?" she asked, genuinely curious.

You gave Hayley a skeptical look, women that looked like her never thought about these kinds of things.

"I mean, he's so gorgeous, and I'm..."

You looked down at your body, your mind conjuring up a list of flaws. Hayley could see the change in your demeanor, she could sense your discomfort. She stepped closer, her hands coming to rest on your arms.

"There's nothing wrong with you, I think you're pretty," she smiled, her hands giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted to the floor, and you felt the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Thank you, Hayley," you murmured.

"And Elijah thinks the same thing, I've seen the way he looks at you," she added, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

You glanced up and saw the truth in her eyes, there was a softness, and a hint of jealousy.

"Thank you," you said, a blush rising on your cheeks.

"Of course," she smiled, "I hope I can find a man who looks at me the way Elijah looks at you,"

The words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "How does he look at me?"

"Like you are the most beautiful thing in the world," she replied, and her voice sounded wistful.

She turned her gaze to the portraits and continued her exploration. You followed, and as you got closer to the end, Hayley paused, her gaze lingering on the portrait of Klaus.

"I hope our child has his dimples," she sighed.

"And not his ego," you teased, and her face split into a grin.

"That's fair," she laughed, her hand falling on the slight bump of her belly.

You continued your tour of the house, showing her the rest of the rooms, and trying to keep the conversation light. Hayley was kind, and didn't seem to notice your discomfort. When you returned to the ballroom, Elijah was standing with his brother, their heads bowed together, discussing something. He looked up when he saw you and his lips curled into a smile.

Hayley's eyes flicked to Elijah and then back to you, "See, there it is, that look,"

You blushed, and turned your head away. Elijah looked at you with love and affection, but your doubts still lingered.

"Did you enjoy the tour with the little cherub?" Klaus asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

Hayley gave him a warning look, her voice laced with an unspoken threat, "Don't call her that,"

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, but the damage was done, you felt so humilated and embarrassed, you had enough of Klaus and his cruel comments. You had enough of him constantly making you feel bad about yourself. He made it impossible for you to feel secure in your relationship. You felt uncomfortable in your dress, in your own skin, surrounded by people who were objectively better than you in every possible way.

"I'm going to bed," you announced, your voice quiet.

Elijah's brow furrowed, and he reached out to grasp your hand but you pulled away.

"I'm tired," you said, turning on your heel and marching out of the ballroom.

Elijah's eyes were locked on your retreating form, a frown on his face.

"Why did you call her that?" Elijah asked his brother.

"It's nothing," Klaus shrugged, a grin spreading across his face, "she's just a little sensitive,"

Elijah's frown deepened, and he glanced over at Hayley.

"She's a sweet girl, just a little insecure," Hayley sighed.

"Insecure about what?" Elijah asked.

Hayley glanced at Klaus, and he shrugged.

"She's just not really comfortable with herself," Hayley finally said, giving Klaus a pointed look.

He had no shame, his grin only grew wider, and he said, "Come on, she is rather plump, isn't she?"

"But she's so sweet and adorable," Hayley added, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

Elijah's jaw tightened, and his expression darkened, he looked back and forth between both of them.

"You had no right to say those things to her," he told Klaus, his voice laced with anger. "She has a difficult time when it comes to seeing her own worth, you know that, she's been struggling with these issues since the day we met," Elijah continued.

"It's nothing, Elijah," Klaus shrugged, "she'll get over it, she's probably crying into her pillow right now."

The image of you, curled up in bed, sobbing, broke Elijah's heart. He clenched his fists and his eyes narrowed. Klaus really did go too far this time, he really upset you. Elijah would make sure it never happened again.

"Excuse me," he muttered, glaring at his brother before turning around and storming out of the ballroom.

Once you were safely locked away in your bedroom, you sobbed, and the tears wouldn't stop. You had done your best not to show anyone your jealousy and anger, but now everyone knew how pathetic and insecure you really were.

You didn't hear the door open or close, you didn't know Elijah was in the room until his arms were around you, holding you tight against his chest. He didn't speak, and he didn't make you look at him. He simply held you and let you cry until you had no tears left.

Once your sobs had subsided he tilted your head up and kissed your cheeks, catching every stray tear with his lips. He wiped the rest away with his thumb, his dark eyes were filled with worry.

"What happened, love?" he asked. "Tell me what's wrong."

You looked at him, feeling foolish and embarrassed. He had no idea you had been feeling this way. No one did, but now it was too late. You took a deep breath and forced the words out.

"What is it that you see in me?" you blurted out, your face red.

Elijah frowned, looking completely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

You sighed, frustrated with his cluelessness. "I mean, look at me! I'm not exactly a supermodel."

Elijah chuckled and cupped your cheek, his hand was so warm and soft. "I'm looking," he said, his gaze raked over you and it made you blush.

"I don't understand," he continued, looking into your eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

You huffed and tried to look away, but he held your chin. "I am serious. Why would you ever doubt my attraction to you?"

You bit your lip, still not sure if you should tell him the truth. "It's just...Hayley is so gorgeous, and tall and thin. Then Klaus just calls me your cherub, like I'm some stupid child."

Elijah's gaze softened and he shook his head. "Darling, Klaus was trying to get a rise out of you, don't let him get in your head."

"But he's right... Look at me, compared to her, and Klaus, and the rest of your family. I'm not even that attractive," you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

Elijah frowned and took your hand, placing it on his chest. "Can you feel that?"

You nodded, your hand could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart.

"It's yours," he said softly.

He kissed you, and your heart fluttered, feeling lighter already. His hands slid down your back and gripped your ass, he pulled you closer and you gasped. His tongue slipped into your mouth and teased yours, tasting you.

His hand moved lower and he pulled your dress up, his fingers trailed over the lace of your panties, feeling the warmth and wetness.

"I will tell you this once," he whispered, his teeth grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You are perfect."

His hand dipped into your panties and stroked you, making you moan. "So wet, all for me."

You gasped and pressed your face against his shoulder.

"Tell me who this belongs to," he demanded.

"You, Elijah, it's yours," you whimpered, grinding against his fingers.

"Yes, that's right," he purred. "This sweet, little cunt is mine. Only mine."

He pushed you onto the bed and pulled your dress over your head. He groaned when he saw you wearing the matching set of black, lacy bra and panties. 

He started kissing and marking his way down your body, starting at your neck and moving lower, biting and sucking as he went. You gasped and moaned as he reached your breasts. He undid the front clasp and licked a stripe up the middle, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and teasing the other with his fingers.

"These are so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, sucking until they were hard peaks. "So big and soft," he hummed.

You ran your fingers through his hair, needing something to hold onto. You whimpered and arched up against him, the feeling of his hot mouth was driving you insane.

You squealed and tugged on his hair a little harder when you felt him bite down. He chuckled and sucked hard, letting your breasts go with a loud pop. They were covered in rapidly healing hickeys, and he looked very pleased with himself.

He kissed down your stomach, admiring your soft belly. He cupped it, and squeezed your thighs, making you gasp.

"My perfect girl," he mumbled against your hips.

He hooked his thumbs into your panties and slid them down your legs, you sat up on your elbows to see what he was doing.

He slid them off and leaned down, kissing and sucking on your inner thighs.

"These perfect thighs, squeezing my head when you cum on my tongue," he said, his stubble scratched and tickled you. You let out a breathy giggle as his hands roamed your body, gripping your waist and thighs. He growled with satisfaction, biting the flesh and sucking marks into your soft skin.

"Elijah, stop teasing," you groaned, becoming impatient.

He chuckled and suddenly pulled you into his lap. He held you close and looked into your eyes.

"I love every bit of your body," he hummed, holding you firmly against him. "Every perfect curve, and every soft inch.”

He gave your tummy a small squeeze and kissed your pouting lips. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

You blushed and avoided his gaze. He cupped your cheek and tilted your head up, his fingers traced your features, his gaze was filled with adoration.

"Those beautiful lips, those gorgeous eyes, these perfect cheeks, your soft, little nose," he cooed, kissing your face between each word.

You giggled and tried to hide your face in your hands, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"And this ass," he said as he kneaded the flesh, he lifted you up and smacked it, making you yelp. "It should be in the Louvre."

He kissed you again and slowly grinded against you, his hands explored your body, caressing and squeezing. 

He scooted down the bed and laid back down, looking up at you with a wicked grin. He kept his gaze locked with yours as he pushed your ass forward, signaling he wanted you to sit on his face.

"Elijah, no, I-," you gasped, completely embarrassed. You felt so shy and nervous, not wanting him to look at you up close like that.

Elijah sat up and kissed you. "Do you think you will hurt me?" He asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you breathed.

"Then what's the problem?" He asked, brushing his knuckles over your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his neck. "I don't know."

Elijah looked into your eyes, a kind smile on his lips. "If it kills me, you have discovered quite a loophole when it comes to killing an original," he said, gesturing to his face and grinning.

You giggled and pecked his lips. You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself, it was hard to explain your nerves. You'd been intimate with Elijah before, more times than you could count, but you couldn't shake your insecurities.

Elijah sensed your hesitation, he kissed your neck softly and leaned up to whisper in your ear. "Please sit on my face, I want to eat your sweet pussy until you scream."

His filthy words made you shudder and you knew you wouldn't be able to say no, so you bit your lip and took a deep breath.

"Okay," you whispered.

Elijah laid back down and gave your hips a gentle tug, pulling you into position.

Your entire body went hot when he spread your thighs apart. He kissed the insides, making you moan.

"There's a good girl," he hummed as his lips danced across your hot skin. He positioned you over his face and you could feel his breath ghosting over your most sensitive area.

He looked up at you and gave you an encouraging smile. "Sit,"

You bit your lip, but slowly lowered yourself down, inch by inch. He grabbed your ass and pulled you down fast, making you let out a squeak of surprise.

The heat pooled between your thighs as Elijah nosed at your center, teasing the soft skin. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair, rocking against him.

You felt a sudden sting as he nipped your thigh. "Stay still, let me do the work."

He licked a stripe up your core, groaning as he tasted you. He spread you open with his fingers, pressing his tongue flat against you, he licked long and slow. He buried his face deeper, lapping and sucking at your clit.

He licked and sucked and kissed, moaning against your soaked cunt. Your eyes rolled back, you tightened your grip on his hair and cried out. The noises he made were obscene, you could hear his mouth sucking at you, and it only made you wetter.

He looked up at you, his dark hair was a mess and his lips were covered in your slick.

"You taste divine, my love," he groaned. "So sweet, just for me."

He sucked hard on your clit, his hand reaching around and grabbing your ass roughly, squeezing and slapping the soft flesh. He growled and began fucking you with his tongue. His hands spreading you open and pressing his face as deep as possible. He buried himself in your pussy, licking, and sucking like it was his last meal. You came hard on his tongue, your thighs squeezing his head tight as you fell apart.

He soothed your flushed skin with his tongue, sucking on your clit once more, making you twitch. You tugged on his hair, gently pulling him away, not able to take the overstimulation.

You moved back and sat on his chest, trying to catch your breath. Elijah caught your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. He was covered in your wetness, and his chin was glistening. He grinned at you, completely satisfied with himself.

You snorted and leaned down, kissing him softly. You hummed, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Elijah rolled you onto your back and pinned your wrists above your head. He pressed his forehead against yours, smiling as you stared at him with a blissful, dazed expression.

"You are so perfect," he breathed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

He kissed down the side of your face and nibbled on your ear, his free hand trailing down your body, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts, your hips, your thighs.

"Every inch of you," he whispered.

"Elijah," you sighed, blushing from the attention.

Elijah hummed and reached down to his pants, undoing his belt and pushing them down his legs. You reached up and helped him undress, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor.

You pulled him close and kissed him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. You could feel him pressed against you, his thick cock hot and heavy against your thigh.

"Look at what you do to me," he purred, kissing down your neck.

He reached down and guided himself to your entrance, rubbing the head against you. He slid inside easily, your body opening up for him.

He rocked his hips slowly, grinding his pelvis against yours, making you moan and grip his shoulders tight.

His eyes locked with yours as he fucked you slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails leaving marks on his skin.

"You see how perfectly we fit?" He groaned, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. "Look at us,"

You both looked down, watching as he thrusted in and out of you, his slick cock disappearing into your body.

"My love, my beautiful girl," he moaned, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you to understand, no one else will ever come close to comparing. You are everything to me."

He buried his face in your neck and kissed and nipped the soft skin. "This perfect body, your heart, your soul, I will never find anyone like you."

You whined and clawed at his back, you could feel the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, you were overwhelmed and so grateful.

"I love you," you choked out, burying your face in his shoulder.

"And I love you," he breathed.

He held you close and fucked you until you were trembling, tears streaming down your cheeks, clinging to him as you climaxed, shaking and crying his name.

He finished not long after, groaning and gasping as he spilled his release inside you, holding you tight.

You both laid there, panting and covered in sweat. You felt light and dizzy, your muscles felt like jelly and it took all your strength to not fall asleep right then and there.

"I want you to know, I mean every word I say to you," Elijah said quietly, kissing your temple.

"I know, Elijah," you hummed, smiling up at him. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Always."

"And Elijah?" You smiled and nuzzled his neck.

"Yes, my love?"

"I think your ass is the one that should be in the Louvre."

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[petday]

your art is so so so so inspiring to me which is strange bc my style isnt very similar to yours at all. but it makes me happy to see your art, especially when you make art from things from childhood id forgotten about💫💫💫💫💫🩷🩷🩷🩷

Thanks. Your message and similar messages from others over the years inspired me to try to put into words why I draw 'nostalgic things'. I ended up writing a lot.

There was a period of time when I became cynical about being seen as an 'artist who reminds people of childhood' or a 'nostalgic artist'. I no longer feel that way but I will explain why. Some artists, who I like and respect, will sometimes mention 'nostalgia holding artist's growth back' and 'nostalgia causes learned helplessness.' But I feel differently.

Maybe I perceive time differently. I have lived long enough to witness cycles of 'what is valued, and what is not valued' repeated. For example, I loved what is now called 'Y2K' style, but during mid 2000s, for whatever reason it was derided as something to be left in the past, something embarrassing. "Aren't we glad we optimized things now, and they are 'sleeker' and less complex? Old things were childish, an embarrassing weakness for humans, we must advance and reach our ideal evolution." That became the common attitude. I felt pressure to have the same thoughts. I just couldn't make myself feel that way no matter what, though. Even with the increasing threats about, 'keep up with others or you won't ever develop positive social relationships!' I couldn't change my mind.

(If what is currently valued becomes devalued and then it becomes valuable after that… that's an odd cycle to me. For example, if we like bananas, even when bananas cannot be harvested, we still like them even though they occupy a smaller space in our minds but we don't deride them. Going even further, though, I sometimes wonder if it is possible for humans to eventually remove the 'devaluation' stage, particularly in art 'trends' as I am an artist. Whatever is considered valuable remains valuable. A counter arguement would be, 'no, the devaluation of the previous thing is exactly what causes the next thing to be valued, and then the cycle flows beautifully: X was valued -> Y is valued, X is devalued -> Y is devalued, X becomes valuable again. If you want X to always remain valuable, just develop better patience. Like we cannot pick fruit we like all year, we cannot simply keep adding onto the pile of things we like, something has to be seen as inferior by the majority of humans.' I disagree. I might explain my thoughts against this argument more in the future.)

Anyway, what people call 'Y2K style' or 'art that emulates how things commonly appeared in early years of 2000s' is popular nowadays. Even someone who did not grow up with it can become attracted to it. That 'desire' itself is a communication between past and present. Something can make someone feel 'lighter' [in sense of, "wow, the crushing weight of my circumstance feels not so crushing when I look at this'] -- a similar 'light' to how someone in the past was perceiving it when it was the present and not the past. So, even though two people were born in different eras and may not become friends or even meet, they're still connected by that 'lighthearted' feeling they both like. I know it will be seen as 'lower value' soon, but I truly cannot care because as I mentioned earlier, I might perceive 'time' weirdly.

When I started playing video games, a family member would point out, 'those games were made before you were born, interesting!' but that statement confused me at the time since my perception was, 'well, if these games are from before I was born, I don't understand why she is bringing attention to it. Why is it interesting? It's just regular. They're alive in the present now, because I'm in the present and so are they.' That was when I was a very young child. I subconsciously kept the same feeling even as I was reaching teenage and adult years. The feeling echoed when people liked to ask the question 'why are you still playing games from long ago?' as I got older but still played the same 'old' games. The answer: they are beautiful and will remain beautiful, and something made in the past is still communicating in the present, so are they really truly 'outdated inferior games'...? Just because the cycle of valued and devalued happened to be in a different position and those old things were seen as an embarrassment? (Now there are popular games inspired by the era of games many people ridiculed me for consistently enjoying, lol. Similarly, I was using 'crappy' old versions of programs even through 2017. Now people from wealthy upbringing and background use 'crappy' programs willingly. lol)

The present talks to the past all the time, nostalgia is not a dead end. In that sense I cannot see nostalgia as a death trap but rather a connection made from past to present. A string between the past and present that feelings can crawl across and communicate. Feelings such as 'I wish my life took a different direction. I can't make things like how they were back then, it won't ever be the same again, so I'll do nothing.' The criticism of 'nostalgia' is towards that last sentence. But there are things you can do with those feelings. 'Doing nothing is boring. And I keep thinking of that fun drawing I saw... I kinda wanna try to make something.' Making something while thinking of the past and present at the same time, so there is a communication between past self and present self. Pure bitterness communicating with slightly light-hearted view, the 'end result' is artwork/creation.

*I used light-hearted feeling as example, but nostalgia can exist for any feeling, and not just for people who were nice when they were younger. If someone was cruel as a child/teenager, after the person has been an adult for a while, they can communicate with their younger self about what was it about the cruelty that was enjoyable, and then extract a small part from the cruelty that they wish to bring back into the present -- example, the attraction to 'high speed activities, playful mischievousness' can be extracted from 'hurting people on purpose so they will acknowledge/react to you'. The dialogue could be something like, "'honestly, you and I both know spamming people with bad things felt pretty fun at the time, so let's just keep the 'high energy mischievousness' feeling and leave behind the crap that hurt people deeply, and let's make an animation while thinking of that high energy feeling.

^ I don't answer questions or reply to messages often because of giving answers that aren't too long or too short is tough for me. lol. Thanks for liking my art. I like a lot of art that doesn't resemble mine as well. It's fun! Like appreciating different flavours in the same meal even if you cannot make the meal yourself.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Against the wall

05/24/2024

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,917

Warnings: rpf, alcohol, pining, naughty thoughts, fluff

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a room full of people to figure out you want nothing more than to be alone with that one person.

A/N: Guys, this was written in a fevered frenzy. Haven't felt the muse in months and don't know whether she did a good job, but I am so happy she is not dead.

Picture is a screen cap from this video

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you enjoy my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

She had forgotten how much she loathed being in a room full of people. Maybe it was a condition that came with age, to appreciate silence and solitude, or maybe, just maybe, it was entirely his fault. 

Her back leaning against the wall, his hand was splayed out right next to her head, supporting the weight of his body as he leant in slightly so he could focus on her voice above the noise of the bustling room. He had never been this close to her, so close she could smell the intoxication scent of his body, and in an instant the chatter was drowned out by the wild drum of her heart, which in turn made it one of the most challenging tasks she had ever had to face to string her words together into meaningful sentences. 

But it seemed she had somehow succeeded, against all odds, as he turned his head to look at her, his face so close now that she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. And as if that had not been enough to clear every coherent thought from her head, he chose to turn his lips up into the most dazzling smile upon her silly joke. 

It made her dizzy, combined with the sparkle in his eyes it was an almost deadly combination, impossible to resist. It had captured her completely. He had captured her completely, occupied her every thought in a way that was bordering on concerning, for her sanity, maybe even for the idea of feminism she lived by, but even more so for the very essence of her existence. 

She had seen it all so clearly, a happy future, no one to bother her, especially no man to cause her even more worries than she already had. Just her, the path in front of her clearly mapped out. And then he had crossed her way, and it had dawned on her that what she had deemed the perfect life would seem like nothing but a cheap substitute next to a life with him. Certainly, she could still be happy without him—if she needed to. 

The problem was, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to live a life without the sound of his laughter, without his twisted sense of humour and the way he looked at her when they were engaged in a conversation, as if there was no one else in this world, as if it was only him and her. He made her feel secure in a way no one ever had. When he entered the room, she could feel her shoulders relax, her breath going more easily and the galloping of her heart slowing in pace. And when she talked to him, it was as if she had never done anything else in her entire life. There was nothing of the usual unease or urge to appeal between them that might, under different circumstances or with a different man, lead her to a point at which she had either moulded herself into a completely different person or where everything meaningful she had wanted to say and that had been phrased so clearly in her head became lost somewhere on the way from her brain to her mouth. With him though, she could just be herself, safe in the knowledge that he would not judge or tire of her at some point. 

If only she knew with the same certainty if he felt the same. Obviously he did enjoy talking to her as well, or he wouldn’t be standing here right now, choosing to talk to her when he had a room full of people to choose from. But did he also hang on her lips like she did on his? Did he also wonder if they were just as soft as he imagined them to be? And would he like her to step closer, or pull him closer to her instead? And when her hand rested against his chest then, would she feel the same thunderous beat that drummed behind her own ribs? Would it start to flutter as soon as their lips met and refuse to fall back into its regular rhythm until their bodies lay sweaty and spent, their desire finally sated? And in their blissed out state, would he hold her? Would he pull her that impossible inch closer and press the softest of kisses to her forehead, telling her all she needed to know without uttering a single word? Would he still be there in the morning to see her tousled hair and sleep-wrinkled face and look at her with the same affection she thought to find in his gaze right now? Would he—

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His back still turned on the intruder, he gave her the most dramatic roll of his eyes she had ever seen, making it very hard for her to hide a snicker. “Come, there is someone I need you to meet.”

She wanted to protest, wanted to do whatever it took to keep him close, but before her brain had even been able to form a protest, he was being dragged away from her, his lips forming a silent apology. 

This social engagement was tedious. The thought came as somewhat of a surprise to him. There had been a time when he had truly enjoyed this kind of event, but tonight something just was not right about this party. Well, not ‘something’ as in an unknown factor that made this party different from other parties. It was not unknown to him at all. In fact, this evening had been perfectly enjoyable up until that moment he had been so rudely separated from her. 

She was still leaning casually against that wall, the only difference being that he was too far away from her now. To be fair, any distance that exceeded an arm’s length was too far for his taste. She on the other hand did not seem to mind his absence much, as someone else had already taken his place by her side to engage her in what appeared to be a most entertaining conversation. Not one glance did she spare him, while all he could focus on was the ludicrous attempt to will himself back into his old position, close to her. So close that her breath would waft across his neck again as she spoke, the heat of her body crawling over his skin. Maybe her hand would find him by accident—or intentionally, which would be all the better. After a moment he would return the favour, finally giving in to his longing to feel the smoothness of her skin against his fingertips.

Instead all he could feel was his mouth opening as she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of champagne. Would he be able to taste it on her tongue if she allowed him to kiss her? He almost hoped he would not be, because what he really desired to taste was her, the exquisite, singular flavour only she possessed. 

And still, that would not nearly be enough to sate his hunger. He wanted to taste all of her. Her lips, her skin, the moist heat at the apex of her thighs. He wanted her so much he could feel his mouth drying up upon the ardor of his wish, no, need for her.

What would it be like to have her? He had imagined it a thousand times over and yet there were so many questions still left unanswered. Would she voice her pleasure or enjoy in silence? Was it her wish to be the director of their passion play or did she want him to lead the way? Would his name glide over her lips in a soft moan or would she scream in ecstasy when they had finally reached the peak? Would she stay serious, caught up in desire, all the way through or would there be giggles and laughter? And what then, after they had given themselves to each other completely? Would she leave, seeing this as an experience best enjoyed once only? Or would she stay, her naked body resting against his in peaceful slumber, and allow real intimacy to begin? 

If it were his choice to make, he would know exactly what to choose. But he could not blame her if she opted for something different. Commitment was tough, and there had been times when he had thought that he, like so many others, was simply not built for it. But watching her now, he could not recall how he had ever been this blind about himself in the first place. 

It had been strange at first, that sense of belonging that always befell him when she was around, completely unexpected. But ever since he had felt it for the first time and realised its true meaning, it was as if he had discovered a law of nature, complex and yet so easy to understand, as if it had always been an inherent part of him.

Once again, the dryness he had felt earlier returned to his mouth, more demanding this time, until it had managed to push every other thought aside for a moment. Instinctively he set the glass to his lips, his eyes not once leaving her until he had lifted the bottom high enough to block his view. It had only been for the blink of an eye, but now he found himself almost choking on his final gulp when his eyes returned to find her spot against the wall empty all of a sudden.

Leaving without a goodbye was childish, she knew, but she just could not shake this nagging feeling that had befallen her out of the blue, that being in the same room with him without talking  to him or being able to at least be near him without looking as if she was running after him like a duckling was far worse than not being here at all. 

With a sigh she set down the glass on an empty table she passed on her way to the exit. What a waste, as it was almost half-full, but somehow it did not taste quite right, and so she left the rest of her drink behind, like the dream that she would ever be to him what he was to her. 

It was dark as she entered the hallway and the air felt uncomfortably cool in contrast to the air inside that had been heated by all those bodies. Their chatter was still following her now, echoing from the walls left and right. 

It must have obscured the noise of his steps, or maybe they had not made any sound at all. Otherwise she would have recognised their rhythm from a mile away. But instead, she only realised that he was there as his warm hand closed around her wrist and gently brought her to a stop. And despite the fact that she had halted her steps almost instantly, she had not expected him to be this close now as she turned, so close that she could see the startled expression of her eyes reflected in his own. So dark, so green. 

He did not utter a single word. He did not have to. She knew when his grip on her loosened and his fingers softly glided between hers. She smiled, and so did he. And then, slowly, they began to walk.

taglist:

@rosecentury

@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

[starshipsofstarlord]

Modern!Nat Being Your Dealer

summary - natasha romanoff is your dealer, and you go to collect your order, however you seem to have forgotten something important… though there is another way that you can pay for your addiction (2.1k)

warnings - 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, drug dealing, sex in place of payment, swearing

natasha romanoff works other mcu works masterlist

Everyone struggled in life, and once in a while they needed a little help. There were many ways people went about that, some people went to therapy, others enjoyed a good book, others listened to waves that had been recorded for that specific purpose. But none of those spectacles of aid made you feel any better.

And thus you had turned to substances instead of white noise, specifically one that was more common and less harmful - weed. A large majority of the population did it, and it was nothing to be ashamed about, it just made you unwind from the trauma that skulked in the darkest parts of your mind and coaxed you into a resting state of sleep.

Unbuckling your seat belt, you climbed out of your beat convertible, locking the vehicle behind yourself as you strode towards the locked hinges of your e of dealer's door. It felt suspenseful every time that you came here, knowing that it could be your last if your supplier was overturned by the forces for her illegal actions actions, and you wouldn't exactly be ignored pu so for purchasing from her.

But everything looked crisp and normal, just the way you liked it. Quickly as to not avert any attention you shot Natalia, the Russian importer a text letting her know that you had arrived to the destination where she handled business. It felt like a lifetime as you awaited for her to open the door and usher you inside, and once she unlocked the barricade of privacy you felt like you were hit by a brick.

It didn't matter how many times that you had seen the astoundingly attractive redhead, you always felt as though you were experiencing whiplash from being greeted with her appearance. It was an unruly kind of magnetism that she styled herself with, her lipstick was blurred subtly past the lines of her actual lips, her short bob was twisted with curls that she had no doubt patiently toyed with as she sat there, looming behind the frosted windows for her buyers.

And you were no more than another one of them, you had to remind yourself, even as slithered past her, both of your breasts briefly brushing as she allowed you entry before she followed your footsteps to the main room after bolting the door shut to as it had been. As usual you took a seat in the dusty and quaint living area as usual, her taking place opposite you as she disgustedly brushed specks off the fabric arm of the chair.

"I don't live here if that's what you're wondering." She smirked, making it undoubtedly clear that her tastes were too clean to permanently reside in a place like this. "So I'll take it you're picking up the usual?" It was the safe assumption on her part, there was no kindness in coaxing you to spend more on the grams of freedom that she rationed out for a price. Not to mention, with spare product there would no doubt be another soul that was prepared to take it off her hands.

"Yeah, please." A curt nod had the woman lounging her body to stretch so that she could pick up the complimentary medicine that she had self prescribed you for. The normal amount was visible through the small and clear baggy that carried the goods, and you immediately rushed to find the notes that would allow you to proceed in your pockets. But they were gone. Shit. This was the last thing that you needed after the day that you had endured with the whispers of thought that clouded your brain.

Panic settled over you, and thus with a dry mouth it was with wise decision that you chose to speak up. There was no point beating around the bush, after all this was your first slip up when it came to this, and you prayed to every ethereal being that it would be the last. "I seemed to have forgotten to put the cash in this jacket, would it be okay if i were to come by later to collect again?" It was embarrassing really, there was nothing that screamed being newer to the scene of all this mutual transaction than forgetting the payment.

"Trial and error one would say." Nat slouched back, dropping the bag mockingly in her lap so that you could see. "The problem is I'm not available for business later." So stupid, you thought to yourself, insulting yourself because she wouldn't for your blatant and misconducted dumb foolery. It certainly may have ben a mistake, but you were no doubt paying for it because you could not pay for what you had really wanted. With a gulp of apologetic waver of disregard, you stood on your two feet, eyeing the door as your escape.

You were just about to begin walking when the red headed conductor silenced all movement your body was ready to perform. "Uh, uh, uh." The noise of scolding that she proclaimed towards you made your heart beat a little faster, afraid that she was going to refuse future service to you altogether. However much you dreaded what she was going to say, you politely listened, intending to remain on her good side. "If you have time to spare, I don't mind being paid in other ways..."

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you mean." Maybe it was plain obliviousness to Nat's ultimatum of a suggestion, or perhaps you didn't quite believe your body's instinct to the prowess in her eyes that made your spine coil in a retrograde of quivering arousal, but you avertedly decided to play it dumb. She stood, and strode towards you like a vixen, her wide eyes scorning every inch of your vessel, humming contentedly to herself.

"Don't be so naive little y/n," her tongue peeked out from her mouth, swiping languidly across her plump bottom lip. "You'll still be a respectable woman, you'll just have to respect me too... in an intimate way." Thinking to yourself, the hunger that ran through your veins which yearned for the intoxicating compulsion of the confident redhead was strivingly eager, and the addictive stock that sold, was endless.

"W-what did you have in m-mind?" You wanted some clarification before you drowned yourself in an action that could exempt you from her clientele, even if she had been explicit, only leaving the details of prolific actions out from her spoken equation. The thumping of your heart beat within your ears, running through your bloodstream that was declining from a subsidised high, as you ogled curiously at the the woman with priceless leverage.

"We all have things we want y/n," she admitted vaguely before going into detail, "and I, in exchange want you to give me an orgasm." Her hands rubbed soothingly up your arms, her skin surprisingly cold upon your flesh. She could sense your nervousness, it was openly apparent as you shivered for both her touch and the calming rush that would absorb itself into your form.

"Okay." You spoke meekly, withholding how eager you were to persevere provocatively towards the mysterious woman. A coy smile weaved its route upon her defining features, causing your walls to flutter obscenely below where they were dressed. You'd always thought that you would be above soliciting yourself in exchange for anything, but it proved to show that you could never be certain on an agenda until you came to the crossroads of it.

Your tongue poked outside of your mouth, nervously grooming the indents and crevices at the corner of your lips, preparing yourself for what Natasha was expecting. It made you realise how little you truly knew about the woman before you, the name that she had given you to address her by may have all been a hoax, to conceal her identity from any enforcers whom bought the stronger stuff from ratting her out to the feds.

But in the predicament that you had stumbled obliviously into, you needed to be nothing more than acquainted, it wasn't love, it was just business derived from the figments of pleasure, and whilst you were allured by the pros and cons that weighed argumentatively in your mind, you couldn't help but give this instance a block from your overthinking mindset. "I'm glad to hear," she conveyed, causing a deep laughter within her chest to be released as she noticed how tense that you had become.

She liked to see you squirm, she had decided. And perhaps next time you would forget payment again, of course she wouldn't mind if your skills were up to her standards of course, and if they weren't, she would unshackle the bedroom nerves that you were enduring with her own set of amorous control. The air hung thick between the both of you as she strolled casually back towards the seat that she had already claimed prior to your arrival, sitting down and spreading her clothed legs wide.

"Come here, and make me cum." Her instructions were far too persuasive, and you couldn't refrain from doing as you were told, willingly you fell to your denim clad jeans, watching intently as Nat unbuttoned her own trousers. "I don't even need to tell you what to do." She verbally observed, pushing down the layers covering her bottom half, including her lace designed panties. Her actions served you with the view of her core, and the sight made you salivate.

A part of you felt dirty, but you procured it in an encouraging way, as this was exactly how she wanted to see you. The position that you were in made warmth flush between your legs, even more so when her drug dealing hand swept into your hair, pulling your face closer to her cunt with the harsh grip that she had. You glanced up to watch her lust drowning eyes, before you entangled your lips with her lower ones, tasting her juices on your tongue.

You ran your tongue up her slit a few times, testing the waters before you suctioned your lips around your clit, sucking on the nerve filled bud, her body being devoured by heavenly sensations. "Fuck me." Her breath cast the words out as her emerald irises became obliterated by the bleakness of her pupils, and in a way you were, and to fuck her further into the pleasure that was flooding her veins, you raised your dominant hand, tracing your fingers around her slick entrance.

With integral driven lust, you pushed one of your digits inside of her, her hand weaving tighter within your locks, and forcing your face further into her cunt. You were amidst in an overwhelming sense of reality, as you hollowed your cheeks so that you could put more pressure around her clit. Her mouth gaped open as she leant sporadically in her seat, her hips bucking into your jawline as her legs wrapped around the back of your head.

Pumping your fingers at a quicker pace, you could feel her walls contracting around you tighter, and her moans evoking to a higher pitch. Her sounds echoed around the room that was in need of more furniture, and you knew that she was getting close, and so you continued on with your actions, daring to enter another finger inside of her, which made her reach her breaking point. Her lips floundered in a silent scream, as she came around the fingers that you had stuffed inside of her.

You continued slowly with drawing out her orgasm, before you pulled back and allowed breath to be inhaled through your mouth, removing your fingers so that you had the opportunity to lick them clean. After a few minutes passed, she unravelled her legs from how they had been pressed around your skull, deciding to sit up straighter, as she glowered at you, returning to her formal confirmation.

Silently she slid her underwear and bottoms back up her legs, leaving her fly open as she watched you stand before her, almost desperately. She was almost convinced to return the favour, but that wasn't what it was, instead it was payment, and she had the professionalism to an extent to make that clear. "Pleasure doing business with you again. Here's what you wanted." She threw the baggy at you, and surprisingly to yourself, you had caught the clear packaging that was filled with your goods.

In all honesty you had forgotten all about the weed, you had fallen into a spiral of delightful passion, and you could still taste her on your lips. Now it felt awkward, she was awaiting for your departure without a doubt as she expectedly nodded towards the door. "Uh, thanks." You fumbled with the bag, finding yourself to forget your money again, with purpose, the next time that you visited her to collect.

[alicesivory]

Old Habits Die Hard [4/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond

WC: 3370

Summary: Aemond ventures beyond the Wall.

“Your hair looks nicer when it’s braided now.”

It seemed that the she-wildling could not keep her mouth shut. Rolling his eyes, Aemond changed the subject quickly, “How long ‘til we reach your people’s camp?” Aemond asked. “Just keep the horse in a steady pace up ahead and we’ll reach them in no time,” she answered him whilst comfortably sitting in front of him, between his arms that held the reins of the stallion. The reins were relaxed, and the stallion responded effortlessly to his light guidance through the cold and dark forest. The forest stands in eerie silence, its dense canopy casting a perpetual twilight over the twisted, gnarled trees. Shadows dance menacingly across the forest floor, where fallen leaves and branches lie in disarray, as if disturbed by some unseen force. The trees themselves seem alive, their bark scarred and contorted into grotesque shapes, carrying with it the faintest whisper of forgotten secrets, and the occasional creak or groan of the wood echoes through the stillness, adding to the sense of foreboding. 

No wonder they call this the haunted forest. 

“What lies in these woods?” Aemond asked once again. “Wild animals, mostly. But we don’t really hunt at night. It's a bad omen,” she replied. “Sometimes we see them at night, that’s where they emerge.” Her words made Aemond wonder, “Who do you speak of?”

“What do you think the walls were made for?”

Aemond thought for a moment. 

“To keep your kind away from entering the realm,” he said, hesitantly. Not quite confident with his answer. For he knew that the wall’s purpose was more than just keeping a few wildlings out of Westeros but, he does not know what. “It wasn’t even built because of us. My people were separated from yours because we were unlucky enough to live beyond the wall when it was built,” she explained. “It was the others that they were afraid of.”

“Others? Other tribes?”

“No. The undead.”

Chills ran down from Aemond’s spine.

The White Walkers. 

He has read countless books about the white walkers and the long night. How the battle for the dawn unfolded, yet all he knew was that it was all a myth. A fairytale. Stories to scare your child so they would sleep for the night. He recalled how the White Walkers were first written and mentioned during the Age of Heroes. Born of powerful and untested magic, they were created to protect the Children of the Forest during their war with the First Men. What once used to be puppets and soldiers for the Children of the Forest, the magic within the white walkers took a turn and rebelled against their creators and brought nothing but destruction to the realm. 

“But they were nothing but old stories. Fiction, even,” Aemond protested. 

“They are far from fiction, snow-hair.” 

The wildling looked back to him, surprisingly close since they were cramped at horseback. 

“What did they call you back there? I couldn’t recall. Was it Almond?”

“Aemond,” he grunts. 

She chuckled, “I like snow-hair better.”

“And what of you?” Slowly speaking her name which seemed foreign to his tongue. 

“Close enough,” she shrugged with a smirk, looking back into the road. Aemond wondered once again of the undead she mentioned. Were they lurking behind the old trees of this very forest? Were their lives at stake when they stepped their foot to this forest. “They took my brother,” she said, capturing Aemond’s attention. “The undead?” She nodded at his question. “He seemed to forget about time that day. But what kind of child remembers time, really? They wanted to play all day. So he did, running inside the woods without me or my mother’s attention, wanting to become a great hunter who enters the forest with no fear like my father. And he never came back.” 

He felt sorry for the girl, for he himself had felt the same kind of grief when he heard of Aegon’s death. Especially when they could’ve done something to prevent their deaths. “Sometimes I wonder if they buried him at all. If they did, I wonder where they buried him,” she said, spacing off into the distance. “There is no sympathy from the dead. Nor do they care for the living,” he said to her. “I know. But I’d like to think they did. He was just a child.” 

The whole ride quickly became gloomy and sour as the pair battled their grief as bad memories and remorse overcome their thoughts. “Does that stop you from hunting in the forest?” Aemond asked, trying to bring peace to her. “No, not really. I think I became eager to hunt here. Maybe one day I can find him well and just…cleverly hiding between trees,” she said with a bitter chuckle, sensing her denial of her brother’s disappearance. A sense of protectiveness washed over Aemond, knowing what it felt like to see light in the midst of darkness. Denying the truth to comfort yourself. He knew of that feeling. 

“Maybe one day you would. One day.”

Crack. Swish. 

“What was that?” 

Crack. Crack. Crack. 

“A wild beast?” Aemond asked. 

A figure emerging slowly behind the tree as they pass. “That is no beast,” the wildling alarmingly said, taking over the reins and snapped it making their horse gallop through the dark forest. “I would’ve preferred it to be a wild beast so we can take it home, yet you and I know that is no beast, snow hair,” she spoke as the harsh winds of the north hits their faces. Aemond looked back, seeing two..three...four figures catching up onto them. 

“How do we escape them?” He asked. 

“Hold on tight.” 

She took a turn in a swift motion, galloping off the road going between trees. In hopes for them to stop gaining on them. The wildling kept snapping the reins ordering the horse to go faster with only the moon being their source of light. “C’mon…c’mon…,” he heard her grunting as she took a glance behind and saw some still following their tracks. Galloping between trees, their horse finally took them to safety at the edge of the forest, to a clear opening. 

Making Aemond have a clear vision of the undead. 

Their skins were pale, almost blue. 

They look like humans yet they were not at the same time. 

The creatures frightened him more than anything else, but as they neared the edge of the forest, the White Walkers ceased their pursuit and vanished behind the trees. Aemond exhaled deeply, relieved that they had escaped the forest unharmed. Suddenly the horse neighed, abruptly stopping. Making both of them grunt in pain when they nearly fell. “What’s wrong?” The wildling asked the horse before an arrow striked a tree behind them. They looked around, trying to find any signs of life. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond hissed when she stepped down from the horse. “Where’s my dagger?” She whispered, ignoring his previous question. Aemond sighed, tossing her the dagger beneath his black cloak. Catching it with ease, she spoke into the air,

“It’s only me! Gruff? Yuri?” Aemond was curious about those people she called out. Were they one of her people? Who were they?

“Blimey kid, you scared the shit out of us!” 

A loud booming voice suddenly said, emerging from the snowy ecosystem. Their thick fur coats also seemed to be efficient for camouflage. Aemond saw how his peculiar she wildling smiled brightly when she spotted her friend, running towards the tall red haired man giving him a tight hug making them both laugh as he picked her up in his arms. 

Aemond rolled his eye.

“Thought you were gone for! We saw those creepy dead people- thank the gods!” The red haired wildling said, ruffling her hair. “Oww! No! Do you think that low of me, old man?!” She asked with a laugh, shoving the man away from her. “Oi, I'm not that old, young lady.” Locking her head once again with his arm. “Yuri! Look who just came back from the dead!” The red haired shouted, now another wildling emerged from the opening. His hair was blonde, almost as light as the hair of the Lannisters. “We really thought you were dead, kid,” Yuri said, patting her shoulder. 

Who were they? Why were they awfully close with her? 

From what he witnessed, a young woman could only interact like this with the opposite gender if they were siblings or wedded. Even he never saw any of his wedded acquaintances interacting this way. Were they her siblings? They don’t seem to resemble one another, were they bastards? Did they came from different mothers?

Aemond cleared his throat, stepping down from his horse, interrupting their reunion. 

“Ah yes- Gruff, Yuri, this is ehm..Aemond Targaryen. The man that I spoke of to the both of you,” she said. The red haired, who was named Gruff looked Aemond from head to toe. “Gruff and Yuri are my hunting friends. We’ve been hunting together since we were children and fun fact, we have the same grandsire.”

Gruff slowly approached the one eyed prine, keeping an eye on him. Aemond straightened his back to appear taller, gripping the handle of his sword, preparing himself. Once Gruff stopped in front of him, their noses bumping into each other, he spoke, 

“Did your mum fucked a snowman?”

“I beg your pardon–,” Aemond stepped closer, ready to draw his sword out.

“–Alright that’s enough!” She quickly stepped between the two men. “What Gruff was trying to say was, how is your hair silver?” She asked. "My father, my grandsire, my great-grandsire—all of them had silver hair," Aemond hissed, his gaze fixed on the red-haired wildling. "How did they end up with silver hair?" the red-haired wildling asked, crossing his arms. Aemond couldn't believe how absurd this conversation had become. Frustrated, he let his hands drop. "We're from old Valyria," Aemond explained with resignation. "It's simply a trait we have—silver hair is just part of who we are."

“Valyria? What’s that?” The blonde wildling asked curiously. “It's a place far from the north, Yuri– Now come on! We must bring him to the Chief.” Walking past them, she held the horse’s reins and started walking ahead. Gruff purposely bumped Aemond’s shoulder as he passed through the one eyed prince. Aemond rolled his eyes again, resigned to the childish behavior of these people, before catching up and walking alongside her. Compared to the two wildlings, he found her more tolerable. At least she didn’t ask pointless questions.s. “I have told our Chief about you,” she said. “I am sure he will take it easy on you,” she said.

 “Does he takes it easy with anyone else?”

“No, not really. He’s quite rude if you ask me.”

“As rude as your friend there?” Aemond chuckled bitterly.

“You’re in for a ride,” she chuckled, patting Aemond’s shoulder. 

As much as Aemond would like to worry, he could not as he knew that she was the one who brought him to her people. For her people needed him, not the other way around. He hoped that this agreement would be the means for her to fulfill her promise and return him to Westeros once and for all. Additionally, he couldn’t help but notice her diminutive stature compared to his own—she barely reached his shoulder, smaller than any lady from Westeros yet possessing a fierceness and demeanor that defied conventional femininity. A smirk tugged at his lips.. 

And there he saw it. In the vast expanse of snow-covered terrain, a tribe lives a nomadic life, their existence marked by resilience and adaptability. Their tents, typically made of sturdy animal hides or woven materials, scattered across the field. The tents are insulated with layers of fur and cloth, designed to withstand the biting cold. The camp itself is a lively hub of activity despite the harsh environment. Smoke curls up from several central hearths, where fires are kept burning to provide warmth and to cook meals. The scent of roasting meat and simmering stews mingled with the crisp, cold air when he stepped closer to them.

Like when he first entered Winterfell, all eyes fell upon him, following him as he walked side by side with her. “It seems you have captured the people’s attention,” she teased with a cocky smile. “Why is it because of my hair or my eye?” He asked. “Neither. It’s your attire.” Aemond looked down to his clothing. Of course, he’s still dressed like a member of the night’s watch.

“We hate the crows in here, so it’s better for you to strip those clothes after you meet our Chief,” she said, giving him a wink. Before he could protest, a snow hit his cloak, making him flinch. Turning around, he saw a couple of children running around, even snickering at his presence. “Careful now boys!” She chuckled, greeting some of those children. “Never seen a crow, huh?” She crouched down, talking to the children surrounding her. 

“He only has one eye!” One of the children tried to whisper to her. “Scary, isn’t he? Tell you what, I’ll let you pick on him when I’m not around,” she said to the kids, making them snicker and giggle in excitement. 

She was really good with children. 

Throughout his life, he rarely sees his mother or even his sister being this natural with children. It makes him wonder if she has one. 

“For the meantime, can all of you keep an eye on our horse?” Offering the rein to the children, in which they eagerly accepted before taking the horse away. Aemond curiously kept his eye on the horse as the children led it away. “Don’t worry, they are very gentle with horses. They know their purpose,” she reassured him before she started to walk once more. 

Approaching one of the biggest tents in the area, the spearwife stops beside him, “If the Chief likes you, you’ll live another day.” Before smiling mischievously stepping inside the tent. Slightly on edge, he hesitated to follow them inside. But he would not cower in fear and enter anyways. Reminding himself to keep himself in check if he wants to go home. He stepped inside, his eye falling onto a man sitting in his chair as his companions surrounded him, whispering to each other. 

“Chief, I would like you to meet the crow I spoke of. This is Aemond Targaryen,” she introduced him. Aemond nodded with respect to their chief, an older wildling who carefully inspected Aemond, standing up from his seat. “Targaryen,” he said. “A peculiar tribe. Was it true that your family had power over dragons?” The Chief asked in which Aemond instantly nodded, “Yes, my Lord.”

All of them chuckled humorously. 

“Lord? I’m flattered to be called a Lord,” the chief said in humour. 

“So, where is your dragon now?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Aemond spoke. 

“She was killed at war.” A sense of bitterness, trying to mask his grief and sadness for Vhagar’s death. 

“A shame,” the Chief said. 

A pregnant pause.

“I want everybody out of this tent.” Aemond’s eyes widened. Was he going to be murdered? Did he not fulfil the Chief’s expectations? 

“But Chief–,” 

“–Especially you, girl. I shall talk to you when I’m done with this crow.”

Aemond instantly locked his eye with hers. Even her expression was unreadable as she hesitantly turned around to exit the tent. She gave him a nod, giving him support before leaving him alone with the Chief. Aemond turned his gaze back to the Chief who was crossing his arms inspecting Aemond from head to toe. 

“The girl likes you,” the Chief chuckles. “If it wasn’t for her you’d probably be dead by now. Killed by those crows.” Aemond kept his expression stoic as he brushed off the Chief’s words. “Speaking of crows, she told me you were forced to be one. Was that true?”

Aemond nodded.

“Yes, Chief.”

“What was your crime?”

“I was called a traitor to the Starks. Yet I beg to differ, for it was them who were traitors,” Aemond bravely said. 

“Traitors to whom?”

“The Throne. My brother.”

“Your brother? Your brother sat on a throne?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“That makes you a prince, then.”

A title he deeply missed. Aemond stood proudly, straightened his back as he kept his chin up high. 

“I am–,”

“You were.” 

“For you are currently not in Westeros, my boy. You are beyond the wall. Everyone beyond the wall fights for survival. For nature does not care if you’re a king or a criminal. And so far as I know, you stand before me,” the Chief said, telling Aemond to abandon his title as prince. “Where does your loyalty lie, boy?” The Chief asked, stepping closer to the one eyed prince. “To the crows?–”

“–No,” Aemond spoke with no hesitation. 

“The Starks?”

“Never.”

The Chief hummed in agreement. “The girl told me you wished to be rewarded. To go back to your family.” Aemond nodded, wishing nothing more than that. “So you’re loyal to your family,” he pointed out.

Aemond nodded. 

“Good. A man should always stay loyal to his family.”

He poured his drink onto his cup, “But will you stay loyal to us as you serve my tribe? And lead us to victory?” Aemond looked down, seeing the cup lent to him. Offering a friendship– an alliance– trust. Trusting a wildling. It seemed impossible for him, but he recalled simple questions by those wildlings about his hair. They were a simple tribe, living out of the complicated politics of Westeros. He could outsmart them easily and they’re offering him friendship. 

She paced back and forth in front of the Chief’s tent, waiting for the Targaryen to exit the tent unharmed. “You seemed stressed, kid,” Gruffed snickered, crossing his arms as he took notice on worried expression. “Of course, I am,” she said, stopping her steps abruptly. “May I know why?” He chuckled.

 “Is it because of the crow?–”

“–He is not a crow. He loathes the crows as much as we do.”

Gruff chuckled amusingly. 

“And? I bet Chief will tolerate him–,”

“–What if he doesn't? What if he beheaded that man and puts him on a spike?!–”

“–So what? What if he were beheaded? You should not care for that outsider—,”

“–I don’t care about him! I-I-I just want what’s best for our people–,”

“–You like him,” Gruff points at her with a mocking laugh. “I don’t! You pig!” She shouted defensively, quickly slapping Gruff’s arm repeatedly. “You do! You like that snow haired boy!” Gruff kept pointing at her as he teased her. The young she wildling grunts in frustration as he denies her feelings for the Targaryen. “If you speak of this one more time, I will kill you in your sleep, Gruff.” 

“Oooh you’ll kill me in my sleep, eh? Right, sure you don’t like that boy, surely if he one day betrays us will you kill him in his sleep?”

“I will. And I’ll cut off his cock and hang it in front of your tent,” she speaks bluntly. 

“Right, you sure you won’t use that for anything else?”

Her face turned red before she threw a hard punch across the red haired’s face. Groaning in pain, Gruff still laughed at her being so flustered with his words. “Why do you like him anyways? Is it because of his hair? His eye? Ooh his other eye, the sapphire?” Gruff asked, sitting up curiously looking at his friend. “For the last time, I do not like our new comer,” she repeated herself. “Keep telling that to yourself, kid. If I see silver haired babies one day–.”

The tent opened, Aemond stepping out of the tent.

Unharmed. 

“Ah, so he gave you a chance to live another day,” she said quickly, changing her once worried demeanour into the confident young wildling she is. Aemond could only nod, towering over her. “I shall, and I will.” 

His purple eye fixed on hers, “Where can I find new clothes?”

a/n: stay tuned for the next chapter and I apologize if this is not my best work but😊✨

[chibsandchill]

It all starts with a smile

Fandom: HOTD (House of the dragon)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x AFAB!reader (no use of Y/N or pronouns)

Summary: Aemond must learn how to move on from the past and lead his people into a time of peace. Only, he has forgotten how to live without war.

Warnings: Grammar and spelling errors (english is not my native language), short (1322 words), some angst if you squint

Masterlist

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

The smell of lavender fills the room as you fuss with his hair. It is shorter than it has ever been – reaching just above his shoulders. It feels freeing, in a strange way. His long hair had been a shield, but he is done hiding. It is only right that you be the one to cut it for you had been there to witness his victory. 

“And what do you want?” 

“A smile, Aemond, ‘tis all I ask for.”

His lips quirk ever so slightly. He hasn't smiled in what felt like centuries – hasn't had a reason to. It doesn't fit him anymore (he doesn't know how). 

A mere twitch is all he can manage. 

“Perhaps my lady should wish for something more… attainable. A king has as much need for a smile as a-” 

A frown appears on your face and he wonders where he misstepped. His father had smiled. Plenty. Though not at him or his siblings. And he had almost led their house to ruin. A smile did little when faced with dragonfire. 

“It is time for peace now. And a king of peace has as much use of a kind smile as he does his right hand. The people need soothing – reassurance that all will be well again. That they will not have to send their sons to die or their daughters to pillow houses.” You move closer and Aemond holds his breath. He does not fear your touch, but his skin crawls at the thought of it. He can almost feel the water of that damned lake filling his throat again. 

“Your grandfather taught you much, Aemond, but this? The art of keeping the power he took and pleasing the smallfolk, that evaded him. In the end he was too much like the dragons he surrounded himself with.”

He wants to defend Otto, the words burn in his throat. “He was a great man.”

“Yes, he was.” You nod. “But not a good one.”

“No, but few men are.”

His eyes glance at the door, almost expecting his grandsire to storm through it shouting at him. His body prepares for a strike, but it never comes, just as the door remains shut. Otto is dead, but his mind still screams at him to defend his blood. His skin crawls at the neglect, at the words of weakness he let slip. 

Your hand cups his face. You’re on his weak side. He refuses to turn. 

“A soft touch.” You say. “The realm has been ruled by an iron fist for so long that even the ground has forgotten what it is like.” 

So you had noticed him stiffening. Another crack in his crumbling mask. Vulnerability seeps out like blood from a wound. Somewhere under it lay a scared boy, Aemond is sure. He still feels like he’s in the halls of Driftmark sometimes, with his eye in his hand and his father with his back turned. All alone. Scared. Scarred. 

He has no more allies. None bound by blood. And blood was all one could trust, Aemond had learnt that the hard way. And even then it is not guaranteed. His family cut him deeper than any. 

“A smile. A soft touch,” he repeats. Aemond grasps your hand in his and gently pulls it off his skin, “will not bring stability to a realm of chaos. A smile will not sway the hands of the thieves, or the rapists lurking in the dark. A soft touch will not bring back the sons or husbands of the thousands of widows. It will not bring back sisters, brothers, dragons.”

“No.” You agree. A frown pulls at your lips. Aemond almost puts your hand back on his face. “But it will not take any more. You cannot be a man of war in a time of peace, Aemond. Your life did not end in the battle above the Gods Eye.”

But Vhagar’s did. Vhagar fell. He is one half of a broken whole cursed to sit a throne that mocks him at every turn. His brother’s laughter haunts him when he sits on it, his grandfather’s leers scrutinizing his every decision from the place of the Hand, the smell of his mother’s blood followed by phantom pain when he misstepped. 

“No. It did not.” 

Your hand is back on his face, grasping at his jaw to guide him to you, to force him to meet your eyes. He allows it. Aemond doesn’t like the sharpness to your eyes as you look at him. What in him do you see that displeases you so? 

“You were shaped by bitter hands and hatred, but you are free of it now. We are free. Free to make mistakes. Free to… love.” 

Your eyes soften. 

“It is okay to grieve them just as it is okay to love them despite their faults, but you cannot let the memory of them keep you chained to the past. The future is yours for the taking, you need only grasp it.”

“I do not know how.” He confesses. The words were heavy on his tongue, and yet they are even heavier between you.

“A smile, My King. It begins with a smile.”

Again he tries, and again he fails. His lips twitch but it is more like a grimace than a smile. He knows anger, he knows sadness and he knows disgust. He doesn’t know this – doesn’t know the softness you spoke of, doesn’t understand the peace in your heart or the lightness to your steps. Rhaenyra never forgot. She smiled even in the end as Sunfyre devoured her whole. 

“Do you remember the night you claimed Vhagar?”

His scar itches. 

“Of course I do.”

You move closer again, though you do not reach for him. You kneel by his feet, your hands flat on your thighs. Your voice is as soft as the Maiden’s when you speak again. “What did you feel when you took to the skies as one for the first time?”

The words tumble from him before he can stop them. “Whole. Worthy. Happy.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

Aemond inclines his head, confused by the request. Unable to deny you, he thinks back on that night, before it all went wrong. And so he tells you of how he met Vhagar. Of how his legs shook terribly when he walked across the sand, how his heart stopped beating when her eyes met his and the bond was formed. Of how her scales felt against his calloused hands, her warmth against his skin, and her breath on his face. He tells you the color of her eyes, the scars on her legs, chest, the horns on her head, the shape of her scales and the stories her body carried. Aemond describes the climb up to her saddle and how he had to tie the heavy chains several times around his waist, barely managing to finish the last knot before Vhagar started moving. Vhagar was so large and heavy that each step shook the earth and he had never felt as small and yet so large as when he sat upon her. 

Somewhere in the story, Aemond loses himself, and the words keep coming but he no longer hears what he is saying. He’s back there – back on Vhagar. He feels her muscles moving under thick skin, feels her every inhale, every exhale and every grumble as she moves. Hears the thundering crack of her wings in the air, the wind through his hair. His heart feels full again, whole. 

The story ends, but the feeling stays. His chest feels lighter than it has in years.

“See, Aemond,” you say, “it – healing – starts with a smile.”

His fingers tremble as he raises them to his face. 

And there, 

stretching his lips in a motion so wholly unfamiliar that his face begins to ache, 

is a smile. 

Maybe there is hope for him after all. 

[unoislazy]

Spar With Me

(Part 2)

Mizu x Reader

Summary: Not much sparring actually happens this time. But you still somehow wind up in an embarrassing position.

Disclaimers: light language, has not been proofread, shorter and way more embarrassing than the last chapter

Part One

Part Three

————————————————————

Some time had passed since the incident between you and Mizu. Neither of you had really said more than two words about it to each other or to anyone else. You said what you needed to and that was that in your eyes.

Although it remained awkward for a while, you two continued to get to know each other despite Mizu’s initial reluctance. He didn’t seem all that interested in talking to you at first, but after a while he eventually started answering back and making conversation.

“So… where did you grow up?” You asked, trying to start up a conversation as you all sat around the campfire that Ringo had set up. The small flames gave you a slight bit of comfort and warmth to counter the freezing cold that almost fully engulfed you. Your eyes shifted from the fire to look at Mizu, who yet again was simply staring ahead.

What was he thinking about? You wondered.

“Kohama.” He answered, then looked towards you. You smiled at the answer before replying,

“I’ve never been there before. What’s it like?” You asked. Normally you wouldn’t ask about people’s past, especially not someone who clearly had a rough one. But alas, there’s only so much you can get from a person without knowing what happened to make them who they are today.

Mizu’s eyes looked towards the fire, his chest moving heavily as he took a deep breath in and released a quiet sigh.

“It’s a nice place, especially this time of year. The people there are…” He hesitated to finish his sentence, luckily he didn’t have to because he had been interrupted by Ringo who came running back with a bunch of ingredients in hand.

“I have enough to make food for all of us!” He cheered loudly despite Mizu’s countless warnings for him to be quiet. You smiled at Ringo before looking back to Mizu who seemed to be lost in thought yet again.

For a man so serious about not getting distracted, he sure did get lost in thought quite a bit.

“Where did you learn to fight?” You asked pretty out of the blue, you didn’t know what compelled you to ask but you did. The man couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle at your persistent questions. You were probably the most curious person he knew, well second to none other than Ringo of course. You constantly asked him questions, which sometimes he had to admit got a bit annoying, but he couldn’t help but enjoy having someone to actually talk to.

Mizu had gone so long living his life in solidarity that he had almost forgotten what having someone who cared by his side felt like. Last time he had that was well…

He didn’t want to remember.

“I was taken in by a blind man when I was very young. He taught me over the years.” He answered simply. You couldn’t help but absentmindedly scoot closer to Mizu, extremely interested in the fact that he had actually begun sharing parts of his life.

He noticed but didn’t think much of it.

“He made swords for the samurai who came to him but not every man who came left with a sword. He was very particular about who was worthy enough to wield a sword, and there was a reason for it. He even taught me how to make a sword of my own.” He shared, you glanced over to his katana that lay next to him on the fluffy snow. He gently picked it up, his long fingers caressing the outside of the sheath before ever so slightly showing the blade.

It shone a magnificent color, even in the shallow light of the fire, the design on the sword was more than enough to cause you to flat out gawk at it.

Sure you had seen him use the sword, and sure you had used swords of your own but there was a clear difference. None of the swords you used were yours, you were simply being a resourceful fighter when it came to it. Mizu’s sword however, it was clear that this was his sword.

You gently reached out your hand towards the sword, to which Mizu had cautiously pushed it towards you. Your fingertips gently glided atop the unsharpened edge of the blade. The metal was smooth and very cold. It nearly sent a shiver down your spine just by touching it. It didn’t take you too long before you took your hand off and looked back up at Mizu.

“Would you… teach me how to use one?” You asked. He turned to you with what you could almost make out as a surprised expression.

“I thought you already knew how to?”

“I know the basics… but I don’t know how to truly wield one.” You explained, earning a slight nod of acknowledgement from him. However, before he could just get up and offer to spar with you, he looked down and realized he was still drenched in blood. He had gotten into a massive fight not too long before you made camp and you supposed he had just forgotten given everything else going on.

To be fair, you too had stopped noticing after a while.

Without really another word, Mizu stood up and began walking away. He stopped just by some trees before stating , “I’ll be back.” And then off he went into the forest.

You had to admit he was quite an odd man, well other than his eye color and lack of stories to tell. He may have been odd but you couldn’t help but find him even the slightest bit attractive. When fighting, you couldn’t help yourself but to stare and watch as Mizu would masterfully take down several people at a time, all while making it look almost effortless. He seldom laughed or smiled but when he did it was like the gates of heaven had opened upon you just to shine a single beam of light through the form of his smile.

And his eyes. The one part that many people hated about him, yet you found them the most intriguing. His eyes were such a rare and striking blue, sure they came about due to a very upsetting reason, but they were beautiful nonetheless. They complimented his features in a way you couldn’t describe and it was upsetting to you that he couldn’t see just how beautiful you thought they looked.

Oh who were you kidding, you were in real deep when it came to feelings about him.

Ever since the last time you had sparred, you began to feel very different about Mizu. Ever since you had been held down underneath him.

It was such a simple thing really and it very quickly became less important than the true outcome of that exchange. But you still remembered it. The embarrassing yet… warm feeling you got as you stared up at him that fraction of a second before noticing his eyes. And even then that feeling didn’t go away.

He had only pinned you down for at most forty seconds, and yet that was the part that stuck with you the most. It was…

Not important.

None of that was important. You need to snap out of it, he’s not interested remember? He doesn’t need distractions, and you need to stop thinking about him.

You continued to argue with yourself, struggling to take your mind off the man before deciding, maybe you should just take a walk to clear your mind. How harmful could that be? A nice walk through the snow covered forest bathed in moonlight. Sounds relaxing just thinking about it.

You stood up quite abruptly which might’ve startled Ringo had he not already been preoccupied with cooking the food.

“I’m going to go take a walk really quickly to clear my head.” You explained earning a quick nod of approval from Ringo. With that you began to make your way through the forest.

It was just as peaceful as you had assumed it would be. You could still faintly hear the crackling of the fire as you walked in a random direction. You looked up, glancing at the snow covered trees which glittered in the moonlight. A light breeze made its way through the forest, rustling some of the trees and ever so slightly causing some of the snow to fall off of some of them.

You continued on, listening to the crunch of the fluffy snow beneath your feet as there was not much noise happening elsewhere. That was, until you heard the faintest noise of running water.

A waterfall would be a pleasant sight to sit at would it not?

Without thinking, you began to make your way towards the running water, your hands rubbing together to keep yourself warm as you neared the sound. The water sounded closer and closer until you had heard what you thought could be something in the water?

“It’s probably just an animal.” You thought to yourself as you continued to pass by many trees with not even a sense of fear of who or what could be in the water currently. You confidently made your way towards the pool of water, not realizing that you were also making a bunch of noise on your way, you haphazardly stepped on sticks and snow without another care or thought in the world. The only thing on your mind was relaxing by the water.

And there it was, a wide open pool of water with a waterfall. Just like the snow, the water glittered and glistened in the moonlight, giving it a dark blue hue as it rippled from the waterfall. You approached the edge of the water, wanting to merely lightly glide your fingers across the surface but as you had begun to walk towards it you had noticed something not too far from the edge. It was hard to tell what it was from the distance you were at so you walked a bit closer to it so you could possibly get a better look.

Once you had gotten close enough to it, you carefully picked up one of the pieces and that’s when you realized…

These were Mizu’s clothes.

Oh god.

You quickly dropped the piece of clothing right back where you found it, standing up and spinning around and very quickly being met face to face with Mizu himself.

Or… herself?

You tried not to look but your eyes acted before your mind could stop them and you had already seen parts of their body that maybe you shouldn’t have.

What is more important here is the fact that they were holding their sword right up to your face.

“Holy shit Mizu! I'm sorry!” You exclaimed, quickly slapping a hand over your eyes and turning back around to give them even the slightest sense of privacy.

“I just heard a waterfall and wanted to check it out, I didn’t even think about the fact that you could’ve been here and-“

“It’s fine.” You heard them answer from behind you. The sound of their sword being sheathed also gave you a new sense of relief but you continued to face away. “I heard you coming from a mile away and thought you were someone else.” They explained. You nodded, acknowledging that as a valid answer as you continued to face away from them.

“You are just full of surprises.” You said with a laugh, thinking that the situation was quite silly despite being absolutely mortified that you had accidentally breached someone’s privacy so heavily by accident.

Mizu didn’t really make a move or say anything before you continued,

“Your secret is safe with me. And next time I’ll wait for you to be done bathing before I go on my walks.” You joked trying to lighten the situation. You heard a lighthearted huff from behind you, recognizing it as a quiet laugh before hearing Mizu near you from behind.

“My clothes.” She stated pretty bluntly before you finally looked down in front of you, realizing you were pretty much blocking the very narrow path from Mizu to her clothes.

“My bad, I’ll just… get out of your way.” You said, absentmindedly backing up. Unfortunately because you couldn’t see where you were going you had bumped into Mizu as you walked back, causing you to practically leap forward in response.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m just… bye.” Was all you could manage to say before you very quickly made your way back to camp.

How the hell were you supposed to face her now? This entire time the guy you had a crush on turned out to be a girl, which you didn’t mind in the slightest, but within the same time as that realization you also saw her naked, and then also bumped into her?

Why did you always end up in embarrassing situations, especially with her!

You finally made your way back to the camp, Ringo had just finished up his food as he looked up at you.

“Oh you’re back! How did your walk go?” He asked cheerfully, handing you a bowl of food.

“Kill me.”

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt 58 Part 7

The long dining room that held the ornate old dining table that seated way too many people already held  most of the family. Bruce was missing and Damian informed them he was at work, the only other person missing was Jason but it was typical for him to skip out as he didn’t live there and didn’t have the best track record with the rest of the family. That left Damian, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Dick seated.

Damian sat next to the chair that Bruce normally sat in at the head of the table. Tim sat across from Damian followed by Dick, Duke, and Cass. Danny sat next to Damian and Jazz sat next to Danny. 

“So, how was school?” Dick asked his elbows on the table with his head on his hands and a smile. He was the only adult in their life besides Bruce that actually cared about their schooling. 

Danny had actually forgotten that all of this had happened in just one day. The thought was a little jarring if Danny was being honest with himself. He wasn’t sure what to tell Dick, on one hand he was just asking about school on the other… no he wasn’t going to think about what happened right now. Just the thought caused phantom volts to go through his body like he was reliving the accident. He felt a nudge to his foot from the right and looked up to see Damian giving him a quizzical look. He cleared his throat and looked back over to Dick who was giving him the same kind of look. 

“I-I’m, uh… school was fine, didn’t learn much since school just started,” He eventually decided to say after stumbling on his words a little. 

“Dash isn’t picking on you again this year is he?” Dick asked with a concerned look on his face. 

Danny wished it was just Dash, the pain he felt from the portal was a thousand times worse than anything the bullying blond could pull. If it was just Dash, Danny could have just laughed it off and forgotten it probably, but it wasn’t just Dash and Danny couldn’t help but take a deep breath trying to gather his thoughts and calm himself.

He startled as he felt a hand on his knee, he looked to his left to see Jazz giving him a look of sympathy as she rubs her thumb comfortingly on his knee. She then spoke, “Danny you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Okay?”

Danny gave her a small nod, a small smile on his face. 

Before a new topic could be discussed Alfred arrived with their food and began serving them. Danny loved the food the old butler cooked especially since he was able to do so in a kitchen that wasn’t contaminated. Alfred did his best to make sure everyone was served food to their liking, as long as it was a balanced meal at the end of the day the elderly butler would serve just about anything you’d request.

Danny picked up his fork to begin on his salad, however when he tried to push the fork into the lettuce his hand felt a cooling sensation with pins and needles and his fork went through his hand. He stared at his hand for a moment wondering what just happened. He then picked up his fork to try again and was able to get a mouth full, but when he went for a second bite it happened again, his fork clanging against the bowl again.

“Something wrong Danny? You're staring at your hand weird,” Danny heard Dick speaking and looked up to see Dick staring at him giving him an odd look. 

Danny couldn’t help but rub his neck nervously with his other hand, he hoped to get ahold of whatever this was so no one noticed. Though knowing his luck everyone probably did notice, over the years he and Jazz both noticed that the Wayne family was much more observant than their media persona’s showed. 

Dinner continued and Danny struggled to eat anything as anything he tried to hold fell through his hand frustratingly and Danny couldn’t help but get agitated. 

Eventually his glass he was holding slipped through his hand and tumbled onto the floor shattering into a thousand pieces. Danny let out a frustrated sigh as he stared at the mess he made. 

Before he could stand to clean up Alfred appeared by his side with a dustpan and broom and began cleaning it up, “are you still feeling unwell Master Daniel? Perhaps you should retire for the evening, I will attend to this mess.” Danny begrudgingly nodded his head and made his way out of the room.

He wasn’t alone for long as Damian and Jazz tailed him out of the room. 

“What was that? It looked like your spoon was going through your hand,” Jazz asked after they were a ways from the dinning room.

“Jazz, honestly I don’t know, it felt cold and then anything I tried holding fell through my hand.” Danny brushed his bangs away from his forehead and they dropped back into his face as he dropped his hands back down to his side.

The walk went silent after that, although it didn’t stay for long as Danny felt the cooling sensation again but this time through his whole body, he let out a yelp as he felt his body sink into the floor.

Damian and Jazz looked at him with panic but as they grabbed at his arms or his hands to pull him back up they went through him just as the spoon and apparently the ground now. 

He let out a panicked yell as the floor swallowed him whole, so now he was sinking further down further into the earth. What was going to happen to him? Would he ever find his way back up?

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long as the cooling sensation left and as gravity took hold of him again he fell. Apparently there was a cave under the manor and he was able to turn back into solid as he felt air again. There was no way he was surviving this, even with new weird powers now was when he’d get impaled by spikes right?

The cave was too dark to make out much but Danny thought he might have seen a computer with several monitors. That didn’t matter now as he finally landed, and he grunted as he landed on a person who also grunted as having a teen land on you couldn’t be the most comfortable.

He knew he was in big trouble when he realized who he landed on, “Batman??”

[yan-lorkai]

I’m not really used to requesting so here goes. Can I please request a platonic yandere hades Idia x kid reader who can see spirits? Where the reader just randomly approaches him when he is visiting the mortal plane (on his way to a mortal arcade. This man cannot live without his games Istg) and starts complimenting his hair and asking if he would be their friend, since all the other children avoided them, thinking they were weird because they always talked to their-self. Idia not comprehending how they could see him, stood there dumbstruck. The cherry on top, was when they mentioned they enjoyed video games and offered him a controller. Idia who never really had a real friend before, who was incredibly lonely, got to thinking. Of course, you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to. Thank you for your time ^^

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: stopppp, this is so cute 🥺💗💗. I love writing platonic stuff for Idia bcs my dude don't know how to act in these situations lololol

Idia doesn't know how to interact with children. Rather, he hadn't talked with many in his life - only dead ones, even then, they never stayed long enough for him to learn how to behave around them. He knew, because of his younger brother, that they were curious and talkative and sometimes throwed a tantrum for... Whatever reason.

Point is; as the God of Underworld, nobody is supposed to see him. Yet, as he wondered the living world, wearing nothing but his black as coal coat, there's you, sweet you, very much alive, very much capable of seeing him. And your mouth is moving, and your eyes are sparkling and he doesn't know how to navigate around this strange situation.

That was not supposed to happen.

Humans doesn't usually see him. There's this old saying that children and animals can see and interact with the supernatural, but this was a first for him. He always thought that this saying was just that: a saying. Apparently he was wrong.

Deeply wrong.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He is a God, he can't panic just because a kid is talking to him.

"- And then, that's what happened." You finished your story, voice trembling as you held onto his silky blue hair - he was half listening to what you were saying, something about how the other children wouldn't play with you just because you could see thing they didn't- which, he realized. You were not supposed to see him, either!

You seemed fascinated by his hair, twirling and braiding it between your little fingers as you looked at him with great expectation. "Will you be my friend, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"L-look, listen, kid..." Your eyes were sparkling at his voice. For him, his voice was just normal, there was no reason for you to look so giddy. It was quite sad that you got happy just because someone was talking to you, he almost felt sad. "I have to go."

He nodded to himself mentally. He wasn't awkward at all. He didn't stuttered and he maintained eye contact. But... something he didn't predict happened; your eyes started to well up, and your lips were trembling.

"Oh... I see... That's fine." You conceded, not trying to force him. You wiped your eyes roughly and took a deep breath, turning around. "I just... wish I had a friend to play games with."

Idia hastened his steps. He was going to let you run away and all that, he felt bad for making you cry, of course, but a living child shouldn't associate themselves with someone like him. Yet... Your tone and atitude made his heart waver.

And he stopped you.

His hand on your shoulder was cold, almost as cold as the dead, you suppose, and you looked at him with curiosity.

"Perhaps..." He started, changing the weight from one leg to the other. He looked around; the stores were starting to open and people were starting to look at you in a weird way - not that you noticed. "We could play together at the arcade?"

You nodded immediately, sorrow and sadness forgotten as you took his hand in yours and started to run to the nearest arcade you knew. Your energy, your laughter, it was so precious, so unique. Unlike other laughters he'd heard before.

There, in that moment, Idia knew that you would become his lil game friend. You went on and on about how you'd win in every game and he could only smile, not wanting to disappoint you. But there was no way you would win.

Not now, not ever.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 6

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: Today is the day! You are riding with Tyler and Boone directly into a tornado. Get ready for an experience you'll never forget. Word Count: 3303 TW: Flirting, Kissing, Developing Feelings, Storm Danger, Scott Sucks, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Series Masterlist

After breakfast, you helped Dexter and Lily clean up and prepare to leave for the first chase of the day. You gathered up the trash bags, jogged the short distance to the dumpsters, and tossed them in. When you turned around, you jumped as you found Tyler standing in front of you.

Clutching your chest, you swore, “Damn it! Why does everyone have to keep popping up and scaring me!”

He grinned, swaggering forward as he said, “I saw that little show you put on with Boone. It seems like you might not be over that revengeful streak of yours after all.” He stopped a few feet from you.

You lifted one shoulder as you tilted your head down so you could look up at him from under your lashes. “What can I say, some habits are hard to break.” Stepping closer until your chest almost grazed his, you lifted your head and stared unwaveringly into his eyes. “And sometimes people need to be reminded they aren’t the only ones who can tease or play games. Or that maybe they aren’t as smooth as they think they are and others can see through their bullshit deflections.”

Tilting his head, almost in a sign of deference, he murmured, “Good to know. Maybe you should take your own advice.” 

He leaned his head closer to yours…then pivoted and walked back towards his truck, once again leaving you flustered and your cheeks burning. As you silently cursed him, he yelled over his shoulder, “Oh, you might wanna have a talk with Boone about that little act before he shows up at your room with flowers and a box of chocolates.” 

You rolled your eyes and trudged after him.

It turned out, Tyler may not have been exaggerating. When you made it back to the camper van, Boone was there waiting for you, asking if you needed any help or if he could carry something for you or if you wanted something to drink or—

You couldn’t see Tyler, but you swore you heard him snickering somewhere nearby. 

As politely as possible, you explained to Boone that while you appreciated his offers, you were fine and that you hoped he didn’t get the wrong impression from your hug earlier. Boone’s face flushed as he stammered out a few “‘course not”s and “we’re cool”s before excusing himself and slinking away. You felt really bad at essentially using him, especially after he had been nothing but kind to you. Once again, you kicked yourself for allowing the old you to come to the surface and not having the self-control to stop playing games. 

Luckily, everything seemed to be forgotten by the time you joined Tyler and Boone at the red pickup a few minutes later. Boone was back to his usual excitable self as he prepared his camera and showed you how everything worked. Between his handheld with the live stream and the several other cameras mounted in the truck capturing video to be edited later, it was actually more complex than you had imagined. It seemed as if you really had underestimated Boone, and that made you feel even worse for involving him in your scheme earlier.

Then suddenly, it was time to roll out. You had been so focused on your behavior that morning that you hadn’t thought about what was about to happen next. As the last of the bags were stowed away in one of the vans and Dexter did one last run down of the current weather patterns, a knot began to form in the pit of your stomach. Telling yourself you would be driving into the middle of a tornado today had been one thing. Now facing the very real fact it was about to happen, you wondered if you should have skipped breakfast. 

On trembling legs, you walked over to Tyler’s truck and reached to open the back door. But just as your fingers closed around the handle, an arm draped itself across your shoulders. “Nuh uh, sweetheart. You’ve got shotgun.” 

You turned to face Tyler, the knot that had been forming in your stomach tightening. “But I thought Boone—”

“Boone can get plenty of footage from the back. But this being your first time wrangling a storm, we want to make sure you have a front-row seat to the action.” Tyler opened the passenger door for you. When you hesitated, he raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re having second thoughts about riding with us? There’s always room for you in one of the other vans.”

Swallowing hard, you said, “No. I-I can do this.” 

You started to climb in, but Tyler grabbed your arm. Positioning himself so no one else could see you between his body and his truck, he softly murmured, “Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do this to try and prove something to anyone, even to yourself. Just coming with us after the storm like you did yesterday already puts you on the list of the bravest people I’ve ever met. And no one—not me, not your brother—no one can ever take that away from you. But—” he leaned over so the brim of his hat brushed against the top of your head and his thumb caressed your arm “—if you do want to go, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. It’s your choice.”

The sincerity in his tone left no doubt that he meant what he said. If you decided to ride with Lily or Dani and Dexter instead, there would be no judgment. Tyler wouldn’t look down on you or think less of you for it, and that was all you needed to make up your mind.

Shooting him a grateful smile, you said, “Thanks, but I really do want to do this. And I always feel safe with you, Tyler, so I know this time won’t be any different.”

He grinned. “Alright then. Let’s go wrangle us a tornado.” 

He squeezed your arm one last time before helping you climb into the truck. Then he shut your door and hurried over to the driver’s side. Boone hopped in the back seat with an excited whoop just as Tyler’s door slammed shut.

You quickly buckled your seatbelt—trying to not think about the thick harness you hadn’t noticed the last time you rode up here—and settled back into your seat. But you froze as you looked out the windshield and saw Javi and Scott standing the Storm PAR vehicles still parked next to the main office. They were both staring right at you: Javi’s expression somewhat concerned yet accepting while Scott’s was nothing but pure apathy. 

You wondered if Javi told Scott the two of you had talked last night, though you hoped he kept it to himself. Not for your sake (you doubted it would have changed Scott’s opinion of you) but you didn’t want Javi to put himself into an uncomfortable position playing mediator for his business partner and said business partner’s sister. 

Tyler noticed who you were staring at and asked, “We good to go?”

You sighed. “Let’s do this.”

He nodded and started the engine. Easing the truck forward slowly, he rolled down his window and when he pulled alongside the group from Storm PAR, Tyler shouted, “Hey, Scotty! Make sure you watch the stream today so you don’t miss out on your sister’s first time driving headfirst into a tornado!”

You maintained eye contact with Scott, waiting for him to demand you get out of the truck or refuse to let you do something this dangerous. But instead, he just scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. She was scared of thunder until she was a teenager. Trust me, she’ll be begging you to turn the truck around before you get a hundred feet from a storm.”

Lowering your eyes, you sunk further into your seat. Not only had he shaken the little confidence Tyler had helped build up in you, but Scott had just revealed something utterly embarrassing to your new friends. It was true that you had cowered under your covers or hidden from all windows in the middle of bad thunderstorms well into your teenage years, but you had gotten past it. However, you didn’t want the people who faced some of nature’s most dangerous weather on a daily basis to know that!

For a long moment, Tyler just stared at your brother. Then, shaking his head, he asked, “What is wrong with you?” before pulling out onto the road. 

Once the motel had disappeared in the rearview mirror, Tyler reached over and rested his hand on your knee. “Hey, don’t listen to him, okay? He’s just trying to get under your skin. You got this.”

You nodded and tried to smile at him, but you could tell it didn’t look as confident as you hoped. 

From behind you, Boone let out a low whistle. “That dude’s really your brother?” You nodded. “Dang, no wonder you decided to hang out with us instead. He sucks.”

The unexpectedness of that assessment caused a burst of laughter to escape your lips. Tyler glanced over, grinning and squeezing your knee. Your smile widened, feeling less forced and more genuine. Looking at the other storm chaser in the visor mirror, you chuckled. “Yeah, Boone. He really does suck.”

Tyler had mentioned he was looking for a smaller EF1 or EF2 for your first time out. However, the storm the Wranglers ame across looked much bigger than that. It was at least twice as wide as the tornado you saw yesterday, yet Tyler and Boone didn’t seem the least bit concerned. If anything, they seemed more excited than you had ever seen them before.

As the sky grew darker and the truck began to sway slightly in the increasing winds, you dug your fingers into the interior of the truck so tightly that your knuckles cracked. Scott was right. You weren’t brave enough for this. What the hell were you thinking wanting to go on a chase? It wasn’t a game. Thousands of people were injured or killed in tornados every year and now you were going to just drive up next to one? Possibly even into one? This was insane!

Seemingly sensing your mounting fear, Boone leaned forward, his head poking between you and Tyler, as he looked at his friend. “You sure she’s ready for this, T? I mean, no offense, but this one might be a little much for someone who's never done this before.”

But Tyler just grinned. “Nah, she’ll be fine. Won’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, your eyes wide in terror as you stared at the approaching storm. “Y-yeah. I’ll be fine.” 

Your voice betrayed the anxiety that was flooding every cell of your body, but Tyler reached over and took your hand, prying it carefully off the center console and giving it a tight squeeze. The small gesture instantly caused the panic rising within you to mellow slightly. The idea of what you were about to do still terrified you, but knowing Tyler was behind the wheel made it somewhat bearable. 

He nodded to the harness hanging limply on the sides of the seat. “We won’t need those for a bit, but you might feel a little more comfortable if you strap in now. You know, just in case.”

Immediately, you slipped your hand from his and began fumbling with the harness. It seemed pretty straightforward but seeing how your hands were shaking, it’s more difficult than you initially thought. Without taking his eyes off the road, Tyler reached over and straightened the strap that was twisted across your chest. Then he helped you click it into place before taking your hand once more. However, this time, he raised it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back. It was more demure than the kiss he had placed there last night, but it still sent the same thrill through you all the way down to your toes. You quickly glanced in the visor mirror, but luckily it seemed Boone was too preoccupied with getting his camera set up to see what had just occurred. 

Tyler continued holding your hand until rain began pelting the windshield, the storm now looming so large in front of the truck that it seemed to block out everything else. You heard Boone starting his video introduction in the backseat but you didn’t register anything he said as you sat frozen in your seat staring at the approaching storm. It wasn’t until Boone nudged your shoulder rather forcefully that you realized he had been speaking to you. 

Shaking your head, you asked, “What?”

Boone chuckled nervously, glancing from the camera to you. “I said introduce yourself to the chat.”

“Oh, sorry.” You quickly said your name then continued to stare into the lens like a deer caught in the headlights as Boone left it focused on you, unsure of what else he wanted.

Luckily, Tyler came to your rescue. Grabbing Boone’s hand and swinging the camera to focus on him, he said, “Y’all probably remember me mentioning our newest Wrangler in yesterday’s stream. Well, she handled that storm like the pro she is so we thought we’d give her a shot at the main attraction today. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” 

Tyler winked at you before turning the lens back in your direction. You smiled and nodded. “Yep! We’re gonna…wrangle us a tornado!”

It felt a bit stilted, but the pride and warmth radiating from Tyler as he looked at you made you feel like you had just given an Oscar Award-winning performance. You bit your lip and looked away as you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks. But then you remember what Tyler had said about you hiding your face when someone compliments you so you turn back and look him dead in the eye. The warm look on his face only intensified before he turned his attention back to the road ahead.

A few minutes later as he pulled the truck into the path of the storm, Tyler slowed to a stop. He flipped a few switches on the center console and pressed the red button on top of the joystick positioned there. You heard a whirring sound and the truck seemed to sink into the ground slightly. Tyler must have deployed the augers to lock the truck in place. Dani mentioned yesterday that they had never failed since they were installed and you prayed today wasn’t the day that changed.

But as the edge of the storm grew closer and closer, you felt a fresh wave of terror grip you. Placing both of your feet on your seat, you wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into yourself as much as the safety harness would allow. You focused all of your energy on your breathing, trying your hardest not to start hyperventilating. But as the tornado finally hit the front of the truck, you let out a small squeal and buried your head in your knees.

However…nothing happened. The truck didn’t flip wildly out of control. The windows didn’t shatter into a million pieces. The augers didn’t give out. 

Slowly, you raised your head. The entire truck shook and vibrated around you, the sensation sending tremors throughout your body. Outside, random bits of debris struck the truck but nothing seemed to be able to break through its upgraded structure. As the initial wall of wind passed by the truck and you found yourself deeper into the storm, you actually found yourself relaxing slightly, unfurling yourself where you had tucked into a tight ball. If something bad was going to happen, it would have been when the tornado first hit the truck. Right?

Tyler leaned over until his lips brushed the curve of your ear and he whispered. “Look up.”

You could just make out the words over the howl of the storm but you did what he said. Tilting forward, trembling as your face neared the windshield, you squinted up into the wind. For a moment, all you saw was dirt and debris swirling around. But then you noticed a smaller, tighter vortex dancing through the center almost as if there was a tornado within the tornado. And as you followed this swirl up, you gasped as you caught just a glimpse of the sky peaking through the opening of the funnel. It was one of the brightest blues you had ever seen and it was utterly magical. 

You looked over at Tyler. His face was beaming as he watched you and, in that moment, he was even more breathtaking than the storm. Time seemed to stop and nothing else existed besides the two of you. Not the storm, not Boone, not the camera, nothing.

Your eyes met…then so did your lips. You weren't even really sure who initiated it and you didn’t care. His lips molded against yours perfectly, his tongue dancing across the entrance of your mouth as he tested his boundaries. But when you parted your lips further, he slipped inside as he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and drew you closer. He tasted like coffee with just the hint of peppermint. And as his stubble scraped across your skin, you hummed at the shiver it sent racing down your spine. 

The kiss was everything you had been imagining and so much more. 

Needing more, you tried crawling across the center console to straddle his lap but something hugging you tightly across your chest stopped you. It was only then that you remembered the harness holding you into your seat. Your fingers scrambled against the buckle, finally unhooking it—

“And they say there ain’t no love in Oklahoma! Well, if that ain’t love, I don’t know what is!”

You and Tyler both jumped apart, startled by Boone’s joyful exclamation from the backseat. Horrified, you realized he had just filmed your kiss and broadcasted it live on the Wranglers’ YouTube channel. You buried your face in your hands, only peeking through the smallest crack to see Tyler’s reaction. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing the fallen strands off his face as he muttered, “Boone–”

But his fellow storm chaser paid him no mind. “You saw it here first! The tornado wrangler himself has been wrangled by a new beau.”

“Boone.”

“And if any of you out there has ever wondered if two people could kiss in the middle of a tornado, I guess we have our answer!”

“Boone!” Tyler shot you an exasperated look and you lowered your hands, chuckling softly at the silliness of the whole situation. It was only then that you also noticed the storm had passed and everything outside the truck was now calm. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for inside the truck.

Tyler reached into the backseat and wrestled the camera out of Boone’s hands. Then, he took a breath and aimed the camera at himself as he plastered on a smile. “Well, I guess that’s it for today, folks. Things took a bit of an unexpected turn but in the middle of a storm, you never know what might happen! Thanks for watching and as always, if you feel it—” he leaned across the center console until his face was next to yours in the shot “—chase it.” And he pressed his lips against yours once again.

You could feel Tyler grinning against your mouth as you returned his kiss. Without pulling away, you reached out and covered the lens of the camera with your hand. The world had seen enough of you and Tyler for one day. However, if you had your way, the two of you were just getting started. 

Part 7 coming 9/23!