#I encourage you to just read and enjoy what's there and maybe let the author know if you liked it

[tkwrites]

Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out.  I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.  

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot 

1.

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind. 

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.” 

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

“So it’s okay?” 

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.”  She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!” 

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.” 

2.

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.  

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.  

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo. 

 The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books. 

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that. 

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her. 

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly. 

3. 

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked. 

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions. 

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced. 

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?” 

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned. 

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.  

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was. 

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.” 

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point. 

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording. 

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts. 

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right. 

4. 

The fourth time wasn’t planned. 

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him. 

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full. 

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.  

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment. 

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed. 

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down. 

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.” 

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.” 

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his. 

5. 

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship. 

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah. 

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt. 

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked. 

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.” 

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race. 

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts. 

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off. 

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy. 

Bonus scene: 

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk. 

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green. 

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person. 

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs. 

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change. 

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card. 

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it. 

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life. 

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you. 

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward. 

I love you. 

Love, 

Quinn 

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[lavenoon]

Lave-san i need help i desperately need fics where the DCA does not like you initially/straight up dislikes you and avoids you. Bonus ppints for mechanic y/n

So I'll lead with the disclaimer that I crowdfunded this reply because I am a pitifully slow reader, which translates to me actually reading only very few fanfics. However, I trust my sources (from the Sleepy Cove Server <3), so I'll wholeheartedly recommend these!

First the two I have actually read:

Our Orbit is Elliptical by @sycopomp and @madame-mongoose

The Daycare Attendant is very protective of his role in the Superstar Daycare; he was made for this job, after all, and he finds it insulting that management seems to think he needs help. They insist on saddling him with human assistants, over and over, no matter how many quit. Not that he does it intentionally, of course... but if they can't handle the stress, then perhaps they aren't fit to be working with children. Hmph.

You are the new Daycare Assistant at the Superstar Daycare! Despite some reservations, you're determined to do your best and prove-- mostly to yourself-- that you deserve to be here. You're inspired by Sun and the ease with which he gets along with the children, and you hope to impress him with your go-getter attitude and unflappable confidence! (Even if both of those things are about as flimsy as construction paper...)

aka: Sun is passive-aggressive to his new assistant, whom is so determined to do a good job that they're too oblivious to notice.

Almost Human by @vilz

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.” ― Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

---

You get a new job. It's a struggle.

And now the ones that make me wish I could read faster or simply have more time in the day:

Two Choices by @thelonereni

You chose this.

There was regret of course, but turning back wasn't an option anymore. You couldn't lose this new game you found yourself in, and somehow you managed to feel more and more alive the longer you played...

You have worked in sanitation since the pizzaplex opened, but that all changed when you had a bit of a mishap in the kitchen. With the only real option left being an assistant in the daycare, you decided it couldn't be worse that your previous position.

Between the surly daycare attendant, bosses breathing down your neck and the corporate overlords coming for a visit, your starting to think you make really shitty life choices.

What's The Moral Here? by @/siquieres on ao3

Your little brother is invited to a birthday party at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex, hosted inside the Superstar Daycare. The Daycare Attendant takes a disliking towards you, or at least, that's what you think it is. Despite this and the violent nightmares of a sun god that plague you, you keep letting your brother bring you back. You keep coming back.

A sort of mean-spirited take on the Sun/Reader dynamic. Reader is often injured, intentionally or not.

What's It Called When Light Hits A Prism? by @/TooManyPsuedonyms on ao3

The PizzaPlex has been running--and the Management needs a new operator for one of their salvaged animatronics.

You are just trying to live independently, so of course, you'll take the job.

You have no idea what you're in for. Granted, you never really know what you're in for, but this can't be much different than working with regular human people… right?

And perhaps one where the DCA doesn't outright dislike Y/N, but the premise still causes tension in their dynamic (and you get mechanic Y/N!):

It's Curtains For You! by @muzzlemouths

|| “You will be befriending, then dismantling the animatronic,” he gets right to the point, “and you’ll have about a month to do it.”

You're not here to make friends. You're here to earn what you can, smile and nod with simple Yes Sirs, and keep your head down low. An open position as the Daycare Attendant's newest 'mechanic' doesn't change any of that. You're on a tight schedule with the disassembly and you can't afford to be getting attached.

But what happens when you do?

[luvyeni]

MODERN DAY ROMEO AND JULIET ,, 이희승

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ you're becoming such a drug to heeseung ヾ

BADBOY!이희승・ FEM!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎4.1k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️content warning. corruption kink , oral sex ( male & female receiving ) , smoking , unprotected sex

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 after many many many MANY requests , here's part two to the sinner and the sin ... 「 read part one here 」

it was safe to say your parents weren't happy with your little escape — no upset wasn't the word to use; at some point you believed you parents were ready to send you an all girls boarding, you saw the pamphlets on the table; you almost ran away from home again that night.

they took away everything; not like you had much to begin with — but you did have the phone heeseung gave you, they didn't know about it so keeping it hidden was easy; at first , before the bedroom checks , then you resorted in hiding it in between your mattress and box spring.

seeing heeseung was even harder now , since your parents tracked your every move— his parents wouldn't even look at your parents , they were so ashamed of what they thought their son did; and your parents allowed them to believe such; they didn't want the church to find out and think differently of not only you but their parenting.

it was definitely a challenge, but you and heeseung made it work — it took a lot of sneaking around and you learning how to climb out of your bedroom window in ‘one of your cute little dresses’ heeseung liked to call them, just to make you blush.

you remembered the first time you snuck out of your bedroom window; it was after your sister caught heeseung in your room , and told your parents , which resulted in nightly check-ins. so there you were at 1 am in the morning , climbing out of your window , heeseung at the bottom “encouraging you” — more like looking up your dress as you trembled in fear. “baby you got this , just go slow.” he said, which made you scoff , a whimper following. “of course you want me to go slow , so you can see under my dress.”

that made him snicker; holding his arms up. “come on princess, you got this , just jump.” he said. “i'll catch you, i promise.” so you did, jumping off the roof , straight into his arms. “see , i caught you.” he whispered in your ear. “didn't i tell you i was going to.” he held you in his arms. “you sure your parents didn't catch you.” you nodded. “they're sleeping and my sister is sleeping over at a friend's house.” he held your cheek in his hands. “good , let's go!” he held you in his arms, running down the to his car. “heeseung slow down!” you shrieked , giggling as he lowered you on the hood of his car. “maybe we should just do it right here.”

you cheeks heated up at his straight forward and crude language. “we’re in public.” you bit your lip. “oh but princess , that's the best part.” he bit your cheek. “stop it.” you pushed him away, legs shivering from the cold. “im cold.” you said. “oh we definitely can't have that can we?” he helped you off the hood of the car , opening your door. “what a gentleman.” he tipped his head. “only for you.”

“so where are we going?” you asked once he got into the driver's seat. “somewhere safe don't worry.” his hands found your thigh. “just enjoy the ride like always.”

that night you didn't only learn how to jump off the roof of your house — you learned how to do something else , something that only heeseung could teach you. “do you like…” you started gaining the attention of your boyfriend. “like what baby?” the radio low , your window down so you don't inhale the smoke that he was smoking. “you know doing it with me?” you picked at your nails , the man in front of you. “you mean fucking you?”

“yo-you didn't have to say it like that.” he smirked, taking another puff. “that's what it's called, baby.” he said. “but he's , i love it so much , so fucking much that im risking your dad calling the sheriff every time im with you.” he said. “well i just feel like you do so much and i just lay there…” you frowned. “you lay there and take it like a good girl.” you blushed. “just how i want you to be , why are you asking me this?”

“well jake asked me something a few nights ago.” heeseung knew it was a bad idea to have jake pick up , but sunghoon was busy. “what did that dumbass say?” he said. “he asked had i gone down on you.” you said. “and i told him i didn't know what that meant.” you clutched his jacket around your arms. “he told me to ask you.” you looked at him with such confusion , he wanted to punch jake , but secretly buy him all the beer and weed the boy could ask for — because fuck he was waiting for you to ask him this. “so what does it mean?”

“it means when you take those sweet little lips you use to kiss me here.” he reached over , kissing your lips , you smiled as he pulled away , his eyes much darker. “and wrap them around my cock.” he smirked as you pulled away with wide eyes. “an-and that feels good?” he blew a puff of smoke , nodding. “the best feeling in the world , besides you know being inside you.” you slapped his arm , still a little sore from the recent tattoo he had gotten — a butterfly, your favorite. “don't say it like that.”

he laughed , you pouted. “baby you want to learn how to suck me off?” you gulped. “will you teach me?” he nodded , his already hard in his pants. “fuck of course i will baby.” he said. “as long as you don't go around using it for other dudes.” you gasped. “of course not.” you said. “never.” he smiled , throwing the butt of the cigarette out the window into a puddle. “good girl , you should only use anything i teach you for me only.”

you waited for his move. “pretty girl , let's move to back seat, don't want to hurt your pretty tummy.” you obey, quickly climbing in the back seat , flashing the boy. “fuck okay.” he followed behind you. “now you don't have to take all of it this time.” he said , lifting his hips up , pulling his pants down along with his underwear down. “i know it's probably a lot for you to take.” his cock standing tall , mushroom head red and leaking with pre-cum. “fuck you keep staring baby , you're drooling.” you looked at him with wide innocent eyes. “baby I'm gonna burst if you look at me like that.” he gave his cock a few tugs. “fu-fuck , you wanna learn how to please me princess?”

you nodded , your eyes trained on his cock , of course you've taken him before , but it was so much more intimidating knowing he was going into your mouth. “good girl , ready?” you whimpered. “wh-what do i do?’ he brought his free hand to your cheek , running his thumb across your bottom lip. “open up baby.” pushing his finger inside. “now suck.” he groaned , watching you suck his thumb , you've never sucked him off before , but if was anything like that he was sure he wasn't gonna last. “good fuckin girl , now all you have to do is do that to my cock.”

pulling his thumb out of your mouth. “touch it baby , with both hands.” your hands replacing his hand. “now.” he grabbed the back of your head. “follow my lead.” he lowered your head until you were face to face with his cock. “you look so pretty down there baby , open up that pretty mouth.” you obeyed , opening your mouth. “now wrap those sweet lips around the head of my cock.”

the moan he let out when he felt your velvety lips on his tip sent a shock wave of pleasure to your lower region. “suck it baby , like those lollipops you love so much.” groaning when you did exactly that. “oooh fuck , like that.” he hissed. “now try and take more inside.” he let you set the pace , slowly lowering yourself on his cock , he could already feel the back of your throat and he wasn't even fully inside you. “yeah , fuck , now move your head up and down.” he instructed. “don't use your teeth though , yeah good girl.”

his head thrown back in bliss as you got the hang of it , bobbing your head up and down on his length. “oh fuck you seriously haven't done this for anyone?” he was glad he was you first in anything , he could mold you into the perfect slut for him. “all this for me?” you moaned around his cock. “fuck you doing all this just to please me?” you tried to take more of him , only to gag , drooling around the base of his cock. “oh fuck baby , don't do that , gonna cum too soon.”

tears streaming down your face, his hand slowly guiding you. “fuck baby , gonna cum.” he groaned. “i need you to get off of you don't want me to cum down that tiny throat of yours.” you in fact didn't get off of him , you kept sucking him off. “sh-shit baby , you want to cum in your mouth , nasty girl , where's my innocent baby gone.” he hissed. “fuck im cumming.” you tried to take him but he was cumming too much , you pulled off of him with a pop! coughing and teary eyed. “you looks pretty.” he pushed the remnant of his cum off your lips into your mouth. “good girl , you took my cock like a pro.”

you smiled , lips swollen. “did you like it hee?” he tucked himself away , pulling you into his lap. “i fucking loved it baby.” he said. “i definitely can't let you go now.” he said. “can't let anyone know you have these skills , need to only be used for me okay?” you nodded. “okay.”

you looked at the clock. “i have to go back soon , my parents will wake up.” you frowned. “i don't know when the next time i’ll see you again.” he caressed your cheek. “we made a way tonight and before , we'll make a way again i promise.” he kissed you. “okay.” you said. “good girl , now lay down.” he said. “why?” you asked , he didn't say anything , just laying you down in the backseat. “did you really think i was gonna let you go like this , all dripping for me.” you whimpered out his name. “gonna eat then fuck this little pussy before sending you back home.”

safe to say you made it back home and back into your bedroom , and in bed right before your mother came in to check on you.

you pulled out your phone , a message for heeseung already waiting for you , to make you smile before you finally shut your eyes.

that was the last time you saw him; which was about 2 weeks ago , and it was killing you inside. “why are you so depressed?” you sat at the table, eating breakfast; it was sunday, church day. “your mother and father are ruining my life.” you picked at your food. “by not letting you hang around bad influences , sure we're ruining your life.” your mother said. “just be grateful we got you away from him before it was too late.” you rolled your eyes. “i can't wait until i move out of this hell hole.”

the drive to the church was boring and uneventful; that was until you pulled into the church house. “all we want is the best for you.” you dad said. “that lee boy is nothing but trouble , and will lead you down a dangerous path.” your father said. “whatever , im just counting down the days until im free.” you stepped out the car , making sure to slam the door to formally express your anger with your parents.

heeseung no longer came to church , his parents giving up on him , the church no longer welcoming him. “let's sit down.” your mother guided you to the front where you always sat , your parents greeting everyone else. “hey.” you heard a voice behind you , making you turn around. “jay?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “what are you doing here.” he pointed to your where your parents and his parents were talking. “you're not the only one that has to keep up with appearances.”

“have you talked to heeseung?” he asked. “only on the phone , i haven't been able to get out , my parents are really cracking down.” you frowned. “don't worry i got you.” he said. “what do you mean?” he smiled. “just follow my lead.” he sat down , your parents joining you soon after. “this is mrs. and mr. park.”

you bowed politely. “nice to meet you.” you smiled. “oh what a polite girl.” mrs. park complemented. “that is jay.” his mother pointed out. “mother we go to the same school.” he said. “i know who she is.” she chuckled. “i hope she is doing well in school.” your mother said. “she recently went through a rough patch a few weeks ago.” you rolled your eyes. “oh i heard it, so awful what that heeseung boy did to her , you must've been so scared.” you opened your mouth. “actually— we're just glad it's over , now she can focus on her studies.”

“speaking of studies, me and yn have a test coming up.” jay said , you turned to him. “we do?” he looked at you. “oh yeah , it was for history i think , super big test.” you never know how good you were at lying until you met heeseung; after that it seemed like that's all you were doing. “oh there's a nice cafe they can study at.” his mother said. “that's quite fine , just be home by midnight.” so quick to allow you to go with jay when she thought he was a nice church going kid…

you sat through the sermon , so ready for it to be over. “hey try and pay attention, you don't have that long.” jay whispered , you nodded , still unaware about what he was talking about.

soon the sermon was over; you stood up , stretching your stiff body. “yn.” jay came over to you. “you ready to go?” he held his hand out. “huh?” he looked at your parents who was talking to his parents once more. “you wanna go see your boyfriend right?” you smiled. “really?” he nodded, holding his hand out. “let's get you out of here.” he said , you grabbed his hand , making your way over to your parents. “well don't you two look adorable?” your mother said , you rolled your eyes. “we're gonna go now.” your parents nodding. “midnight yn.”

jay let your hand go as soon as you were out of your parents eyesight. “don't tell heeseung , he'll kill me.” he said, opening his car door for you. “where are we going?” you asked. “well my parents are home , so i can't have you two there , luckily sunghoons parents aren't home , his house is just as nice.” he got into the driver's seat. “it's only a few minutes away , your boyfriend is already there , he stays there when my parents are home and his parents are up his ass again.”

the ride to sunghoons was quiet , and short , but your hand shook with anticipation; it was only two weeks , but it felt like eternity to you. “we're here.” jay said. “that was fast.” he nodded, turning the car off. “you know , he really cares about you.” he said. “really?” you blushed. “i’ve never seen him climb into a window for a girl before.” you smiled , getting out of the car. “i really like him.” you said. “yeah i kinda figured that when you ran away from church , we've been going to the same school for years and i've never seen you do something even remotely as bold.” he said opening the door. “go ahead , they're all in there.”

“jay is on his way over.” heeseung sat slumped in his chair. “he had to do something with his parents.” heeseung looked at his phone. “bro she's probably in church , it is sunday.” jake said. “it's been two weeks since i saw her , her fucking parents are so strict.” he hissed. “i can't even see her in class , because her fucking friends keeping her away.” heeseung felt like he was losing his mind , he never felt this way before about someone — it was almost painful that he wasn't near you , you were his new drug and he was going through withdrawals.

“jesus i've never seen you so down bro , give it time , you'll see her real soon.” the door opening. “that must be jay now.” sunghoon said. “we're in here jay.” heeseung looked down at his phone. “oh isn't this a nice surprise?” heeseung looked up , swearing his eyes were deceiving him. “yn?”

you smiled seeing the boys face after two weeks. “heeseung.” he stood up from his chair , running over to you. “oh my god , you're here.” he hugged you. “jay helped me.” you said , heeseung gave the boy a handshake. “thanks bro.” jay nodded. “i have to get her home by midnight.” heeseung was squeezing yours. “that should be enough time to do whatever you want.” before jay could even heeseung was dragging you up the steps. “hey modern day romeo and juliet, the room to the left , please don't use my parents bedroom to fuck.” he yelled. “don't use mines either!” you giggled as heeseung dragged you up the steps. “heeseung slow down.”

he turned , grabbing the sides of your face , kissing you. “i missed you so much.” he said in between kisses. “fuck two weeks is too fucking long without seeing you.” he said. “never gonna let that shit happen again.” he was kicking the bedroom open , pulling you inside. “i-i missed you too.” you stuttered , he sat down on the bed , you standing in between them. “it was so hard not seeing you.” he smirked. “yeah baby , how hard?” you chewed your bottom lip. “come on, pretty talk to me , let me hear that voice.”

“so hard.” you sat down in his lap , wrapped your arms around your waist. “yeah?” he kissed your neck. “he-hee.” you moaned. “you missed me that much baby?” he sighed , his tattooed hand coming up to your boob, squeezing. “you're moaning so prettily for me , i barely even touched you precious.” he chuckled in your ear. “you've been waiting for the next time i fucked you?”

“ye-yes please.” you whimpered, subconsciously grinding against him. “oh fu-fuck baby , lay down.” he said. “need to taste you before i fuck you.” you climbed on the bed , eyes doe like and blown out as he hovered above you. “so cute baby , your little innocent eyes , i know you're not that innocent anymore.” he kissed your neck. “my little sinner aren't you?”

his hands lifting up your dress , revealing your panties. “so pretty baby.” he smiled. “so ready to be eaten , i bet you're real sweet for me.” he spread your legs. “it's so messy in between here baby , just a few touches got you so wet for me.” he pulled your panties down , laying on his stomach. “such a pretty pussy baby.” you gasp feeling his lips on your thighs. “you smell so nice.” your clit swollen. “pl-please heeseung.”

you moaned , feeling him licking up your folds. “so sweet , like candy.” he groaned , pressing his face against your mound , eating you like he had been starving. “oh my god , heeseung please!” you gasped , pulling at his locks. “fe-feels so good.” you moaned , his thumb coming up to your clit , rubbing the neglected bud. “so good baby , so fucking good.” you grinded against his face. “keep doing that baby.” his voice muffled. “keep fucking my face , make yourself cum.”

you gasped , yanking his hair as tight as you could , your legs closed around his head as you came. “oh my god!” he didn't even care about the lack of oxygen , just getting you to your climax. “oh fuck.” he pulled away breathlessly , giving your clit little kisses , watching you twitch. “good girl , good girl cumming so well for me.” he kissed the inside of your thighs. “fuck baby , im so hard right now.”

“bet you that pretty pussy missed me didn't it?” he freed himself from his pants , his cock in need to be touched. “thought about fucking you for two weeks.” he groaned , stroking his cock. “jerking off to the thought of your tiny little cunt wrapped around my cock just isn’t enough.” he pressed his tip against your hole. “need to feel it.” you moaned as he slowly slid himself inside you , both of you moaning. “fuck that's it baby , swallowing my cock like a good girl.”

he pulled out , his tip nestled inside you. “take it all for me.” he slammed back inside you. “hee!” you shrieked , clutching his arm as he began to pound into you. “fuck precious , tiny cunt is so good.” he grunted. “hee-heeseung you're so big.” you moaned out loudly , your hands lifting up his shirt , his toned stomach on display. “yeah baby? you can take it right , you always take my cock so well.”

it felt like he was consuming your every being , his scent sticking to you. “oh baby gonna take of you baby.” he groaned. “gonna take you away from here.” he whispered in your ear. “would you like that?” he said. “leaving this stupid city and going somewhere just me and you?” your brain fuzzy , you nodded to whatever he was saying. “pl-please heeseung , take me away from here.” you moaned. “please.”

his thrust became faster , his hair covering his face , sweat dripping from his body. “not much longer , fuck.” he cursed. “just after graduation,” he said. “gonna give you a good life.” he hit the spot inside you that had you seeing stars. “heeseung I'm gonna cum.” you screamed. “cum for me precious , cum all over my cock.” he howled out. “fucking cum.”

your back arched off the bed as you came. “oh my god!” you shrieked. “fuck baby im cumming!” he moaned. “gonna cum.” he thrusted a few more times. “shit!” he pulled out of you , just as he was cumming. “fuck we made such a mess.” he moaned , his white sticky substance , covering your cunt. “fuck this is what falling in love is…” you giggled. “is it?” he leaned in kissing you. “yeah it is.”

you guys spent those sacred few hours in bliss , holding each other , your fingers tracing his tattoos , all alone in your own world — until you had to once again face the inevitable , even then heeseung couldn't let you go. “once you graduate im gonna follow behind you.” he said. “or you could graduate with me.” jay laughed in the front seat. “it's a little too late for that , i have some money saved up , just for a place , i can get a job.” he said , you smiled. “you really thought about this?”

“since the day i saw your little pink bra at the church that day.” you slapped his chest. “stop bringing that up.” you smiled. “i love your plan.” of course it had a lot of kinks and needed a lot of work , but it was a plan. “of course it needs work , but we have time for that , just worry your pretty head about other things.” he said. “with what?” he smirked. “church.”

as you approached your house , he hid in the back seat so your mother wouldn't see him , you giggled. “you look ridiculous hee.” he smiled , you got out of the car , waving goodbye to jay. “bye heeseung.” you couldn't help but laugh at the man crouched down below , blowing him a kiss.

“my precious girl…”

©LUVYENI translations to other sites prohibited, reblogs are appreciated but not forced !

[stilesmieczyslaw]

Stubborn Longing

*****Minors DNI!! 18+ Only content. *****  Words: 8.5K Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female Velaryon/Strong reader  Summary: Aemond swore that one day you would be wed. When the time actually came you wanted nothing to do with him and his prejudices. Slowly you remember how close you used to be.  Warnings: Targcest, Sex (P in v), masturbation, grinding, enemies to lovers? Friends to enemies to lovers? Slightly OOC Aemond. Lots of background filler and time jumps before the smut, smut. Loss of Virginity. Slight mention of blood. Fingering One swear word. No use of Y/N (If I miss anything let me know) The author is dyslexic and apologises in advance.  AN: I'm a Daemon girlie. But somehow I've been sucked into Aemond girlie territory. I can't get enough of your beautiful writing and fics... And edits. You're all fantastic and I hope you enjoy. Read my other unrelated fics here

You were the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Your hair was brown and curly. Your complexion looked nothing like your father's. Yet still you thought nothing of it. You had fond memories of laughing in the gardens with your father. Chasing him around trees and getting dirty, sneaking extra pieces of cake from the dessert table. Your mother would sometimes scold you both but she also encouraged it. If the people at court saw you playing with Ser Laenor then maybe they wouldn't question it.

You also had fond memories of your mother. You didn't understand what was wrong but there were some days, when she thought she was alone where she anxiously played with her fingers, absentmindedly staring into the fire. Tears at her water line but never shed. You silently wandered over to her and put your head on her knee. The first few times shocked her but now she grew accustomed to it. She stroked your hair and you drifted off. You woke again in your room unknowing how you got there.

You don't remember your younger brother Jace being born. He was just always there. But some days he was boring. He just lay there in his bed - which was unfair. Why was he allowed to sleep in mother and father's room while you slept in the next one?

The only other children to play with were your Uncles and Aunt. They had white hair just like your mother, father and grandsire. Your eldest Uncle, Aegon, sometimes would play but sometimes would be dragged away for lessons as he was older than the rest of you. Helaena your Aunt always seemed to prefer the company of bugs. Always finding somehow the biggest. Although custom would say you would spend your time with her. You were of similar ages.

But secretly you'd always spend time with your uncle Aemond. It started off as games you'd play together. Although his mother disapproved of these games. Or more so you. She was worried her son would get too attached to the bastard children. She could not let this happen. But what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. As you got older you'd find yourself alone with Aemond reading books. Both of you wanted to learn. More than what was expected of you. You'd teach each other High Valyrian.

Aemond was your best friend. You'd spend all day with him if you could but he had to learn to fight while you had to learn to be a wife.

"You should be my wife," Aemond said out loud after you had returned from one of your lessons. "Us?" You scoffed. He looked at you offended. "I did not mean it like that." You waved him off. "Your mother hates us being friends. Never mind us being wed." "Well, I was taught a good wife should know her husband. Who knows me better than you." "That is a good point and I wouldn't have to leave Kings Landing." You nodded. "But I'm sure your mother would try to find you someone else anyway." "What if I could convince her?" "You won't." You almost sang looking down at your book.

After the birth of your third brother Joffrey, your mother announced you would not live in Kings Landing anymore. A third child who did not look like her husband. What did it matter? Their father was their father and they all looked like each other. Did white hair matter when inheriting the throne? Apparently, it did. Your mother gathered all of your belongings while you begged her to stay. 

You were to live on Dragonstone. To which you were the heir. You might as well get used to it now. When your mother becomes Queen it will be your home and when your brother becomes king it will remain your home. You went to find Aemond for one final goodbye. You sat in the woods with him, underneath your shared tree. "You'll be back." He said rather confidently. "Will I?" You looked up at the castle. "When we wed." "You are a fool Aemond. But I admire you for it."

With your absence, his mother spoke more freely about your heritage. You were not your father's daughter. Aegon heard the rumours of Ser Harwin Strong. Aegon passed this knowledge to his brother. Aemond wondered how you could be the product of something so wrong. The more he heard it the more he hated it. How dare a bastard be his friend? Poison words enter the heart of a child so easily. 

Your father's sister died and the whole family were called to Driftmark for her final send-off. While you were sad for your father you tried to contain your excitement to see Aemond again. He had stopped replying to your letters. Maybe he was deep into his studies. When you finally saw him after months of missing him you couldn't help but run to him and hug him. His hug was stiff but you ignored that. 

"How is your plan going Aemond? Our marriage." You asked. "I miss Kings Landing." Part of you was joking, the other secretly hoped. You had missed him terribly. "If that's all you miss then maybe we should not get wed." The words were filled with hate. "Oh." You frowned. "It was a childish dream. I see now it does not matter. When I marry it must be for duty." "For what end would our marriage be then?" "It does not matter." He turned away from you.

For the rest of the night, you tried to talk to him again but he avoided you. You searched the castle on Driftmark for him and you found him at the wrong moment. You could hear the shuffling of a fight. You saw your brothers, cousins and Aemond fighting.  "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did...Bastards!"  "Aemond." You gasped. He turned to look at you. Horror in his eyes. He didn't mean for you to hear that. 

Your younger brother Luke took Aemond's moment of distraction to swipe at Aemond with a knife, taking his eye. He did not mean for the injury to be that bad but the past could not be rewritten. You shouted for help while Aemond lay on the floor bleeding. You were pushed away by The King's guard. Aemond's eye was lost and with it your friendship. 

The Queen wanted your brother's eye in return but your mother would never let that happen. But the Queen was determined. Her son lost something, so something must be taken in return. The King had a brilliant idea - Only in his mind. He proclaimed once you came of age. You and Aemond were to be wed. Something which this morning you would have taken with glee. But now you looked at the boy and glared. You hated him and by the look in his remaining eye. He felt the same. 

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"Mother." You tried to get her attention. She was rushing around in a panic. "Mother please." "We must prepare for the journey. You are to be wed tomorrow and nothing is ready." "If we do not go then we do not need to be ready." You tried. "Your King demands it, my love." She sighed. "The King... Does not know me. Not anymore." You held your tongue. You had more choice words that you would not utter in front of your mother.

"Your Grandsire was there the moment you were born. The look of happiness in his eyes as he held you for the first time."  "And yet he strives to take my happiness."  "You and Aemond used to be so close. Maybe you can be again." She tried to remain positive. You shook your head.  "No. Not after what he called me. The disrespect to my father. Who won't even be here to see his daughter sold like a..." You bit your tongue again. 

"Sweet girl." Your mother played with your hair. She was nervous. Something was eating at her mind. "You may be husband and wife to the outside walls but you can control what happens behind closed doors. If you do not wish to be with Aemond in private you do not have to be." She didn't say it but you knew what she was saying. You nodded in understanding. 

The flight to Kings Landing wasn't a long one. You were on your dragon silently crying. This would be the last flight you would take with your family for a very long time. Your brothers flew in circles trying to make you laugh. You closed your eyes and listened to their laughter trying to keep it in your memory forever. 

Once landed and your dragon seen to, you looked up at the Castle. It did not look how you remembered. Nor did the people inside. Your Grandsire looked more tired and old than you last saw him. Helaena was the mother of two small children. Aegon looked like he was fighting back a smirk and Aemond... Aemond had grown so tall. His eye patch suited him and he looked at you with distaste. You tried to meet his gaze of fire with your own but you couldn't hold it. You hated it. You hated him. 

The day came and your Mother and Step Father officially gave you to Aemond. Your hands were tied and you uttered words that had no meaning to you. You sealed your marriage with a kiss. You kept your face neutral no matter how much you wanted to scream. The crowd cheered as you walked through them with your husband. 

There was a giant feast in your name. Food from all corners of the seven kingdoms was presented and music played. You found yourself dancing with your brothers. Your new sister Helaena. Even your Stepfather danced with you. Your mother stayed to the side. Her pregnant belly was only a reminder of the life you were going to leave behind. Were you to have a new brother? A sister? Would you know their laughter? Would they know your face? 

The music slowed and the King announced that it was time for you and Aemond to dance before retiring to your marital bed. Aegon laughed loudly. You danced the dance your mother taught you. Move after move. You felt numb. This was the worst night of your life. Whispers filled the room. You ignored them. You knew now why your mother sat and looked into the fire looking sad. But unlike your mother, you would not receive comfort. Not here. 

When you reached Aemond's, no, your chambers... Your blood which was supposed to be made of fire, turned to ice. You did not wish to lay with your now husband. It might have been your duty but you did not wish it. The torment he brought you and your brothers. Calling you Bastards. Your mother said you did not have to, but what if Aemond expected it of you? 

Aemond stood behind you. His beautiful wife. He had wanted this for so long. He knew he had wanted you as his Lady Wife since he was a child. He let his mother's hatred into his head and he had regretted it every day. Not just because he had lost his eye over it but he lost you too. He would never forget the look on your face when he called you a Bastard. The last thing he saw with both eyes. He lost you. 

When he saw you arrive on Dragon back his breath was taken away. You had become a beautiful woman in the years you had spent apart. How he longed to write to you but he knew his letters would go unanswered, just as yours had done those years ago. When he saw you again it only reaffirmed his want of you. But he could tell by the tears running down your face this is not what you wanted. So he hid behind his cold demeanour. One that he was used to, one that people expected of him. 

As much as he desired you, he knew you did not feel the same. His own family did not want him so why would his now wife be any different? He could not remember the last time someone touched him with kindness. Not even a hug. His mind flashed back to when his brother forced a whore onto him and he vowed to never do the same.

He spoke finally, knowing you wouldn't. "I won't touch you. Not unless you ask." "I will not ask. Ever." You replied coldly. You walked off behind the divider to put on your night clothes which had been brought over by the handmaidens. It was difficult to get out of your marital gown but you refused to ask for help. Not from a man who would call you a bastard. Not from a man who claimed you like property. 

Once in your night clothes, you walked straight to the bed. It was freshly made but you could tell by the items surrounding the bed which side Aemond would sleep on and you chose to climb into the opposite side. Not long after Aemond joined you.

It was strange seeing a woman in his bed. He didn't hate you. He remembers only fond memories of your childhood. Times he was bullied by his own brother and yours. You would be there to console him. Make him laugh again. It was foolish to think after all these years you could pick up where you left off. As friends.

He climbed into his side. The both of you almost hung onto the side to ensure neither of you touched the other. You both did not sleep out of fear of doing such. You both were angry and you both were saddened. The following morning continued in silence. Your handmaidens helped you dress. They ignored the lack of maiden's blood on the bedsheets. You trusted them not to gossip but you couldn't be certain of that.

You made your way to break your fast with your family. It was almost like a mini feast again. How any of you still had room after last night you would never know. But you filled your plate with grapes, strawberries and other sweet fruits. Your mother greeted you with a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Aemond watched with jealousy. His mother would never treat any of her children like that. Not even when he lost his eye did she offer comfort. She only wanted revenge. He sat down and loaded his plate with whatever.

"I see the tiredness in your eyes brother. Did you remember where to put it? It has been a long time since you last used it. Surprised it hasn't fallen off with neglect." Aegon very loudly teased. "Aegon!" His mother scolded, looking around with embarrassment. You scooted your chair closer to your mother.

Soon midday came and it was time for your family to leave. Their dragons were saddled and their things packed. Your own dragon looked at them with confusion. Why was she being left behind? It did not help that she could also feel your own emotions of abandonment.

"Mother please." You tried one last time. Tears filling your eyes. Kings Landing had not been your home in years. The last time you lived here your father was still alive. How could you walk the gardens knowing he wasn't here, waiting for you to find him?  "I'm sorry my dear." She shook her head. "It is too late. Your vows were before Gods and King. I can not part you as much as I wish to. Your souls are bound." She gave you one last hug before tending to your brothers making sure they were ready. 

Your Stepfather watched with a frown. Knowing what it was like to be in a forced and unloved marriage. He took your hand. A very rare form of affection from him.  "Say the word and I shall end this marriage for you." He looked into your eyes looking for understanding. You had heard rumours of his first marriage. It was said among court he had killed her.  "Thank you, Uncle." You gave a concerned smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

You watched with tears in your eyes as your family flew away on their dragons. Your dragon roared after them. You patted her neck and hugged her. She is what was left. You did not go to your lord husband for comfort. You did not go to anyone for comfort. You stayed alone. 

Your handmaidens would fetch you food. You didn't want to leave your chambers. Were you acting like a child? Maybe but it felt like your only option. Rumours spread amongst the small folk that the high towers had imprisoned you with shackles.

The King, your Grandsire, would call you to his chambers. You sat in silence. You no longer knew the man in front of you. "I remember." He said very laboured. "You'd sit on my lap and help me build my masterpiece." He gestured to his miniature stone version of Old Valyria. A place neither of you had been. "You'd laugh at my jokes. Tell me Princess, what happened to your smile?"

"I have no reason to smile My King. I miss my family." "Am I not family?" The way he looked at you. An old man trying his hardest to keep his family together. He, just like you missed his family. His daughter, his brother and his grandchildren. He was bound to this place just as much as you were.

"Of course you are... Grandsire." You gave him an honest as possible smile. Far from the sparkle of happiness, he was used to. But better than nothing. "This was once your home, we, your closest friends, allies, confidants. We can be again if you leave your chambers. Walk the castle. Eat with us. Read with the maesters." "Yes, My King." You bowed.

You started off small. You would venture to Helaena's chambers. Eat with her and her children. You played with them and told them stories. They didn't understand your words. But they brought you much comfort in this time. Helaena also seemed to enjoy your company. Or more so did not despise it. Sometimes she would listen to your stories too. You loved the three of them. "Third draw. Left dresser." Helaena would mumble. The first time she said it you thought she was asking for something. But when you showed her everything in the drawer she would shake her head.

Then you would venture to the books and scrolls. Another place of your childhood. Piece by piece you were learning to smile again. At least in public. You still hung onto the edge of your marital bed. Trying to escape without falling.

One particular hot day you realised you could not stay inside. It was time to venture outside. Feel the wind blowing on your face. Picking up your book you followed your feet to your favourite tree. How you would spend hours reading underneath it. How your feet remembered the way while your mind did not, you did not know.

You followed them and gasped when you saw him. Of course. It was his favourite place to read too. While you had left this place he had not. He rolled his eye when he heard someone coming towards him. Normally it was some handmaiden telling him his mother required his attention. He just wished to read in peace.

He looked up and saw you. Book nestled on your hip like it was a babe. His mouth went dry. You remembered the tree?  "I'm sorry my Lord." You gave him a practised bow. "I did not realise someone else would be here. I did not intend to disturb you. I shall take my leave."  "Wait." He called to your quickly retreating back. "You need not leave." You turned to look at him. "The tree is big enough for us both to sit." He gestured to the floor. 

You hesitated. You really did love that tree. The tree never hurt you. In the wind, you could hear Aemond's laughter. His face was void of emotion but you could hear his childhood laughter.  "Yes, My Lord." You finally agreed sitting down. The tree separating you. Neither of you reading but thinking of the other person sitting on the other side. 

You both continued this new tradition for days. Maybe after the second week silence was broken. A squirrel ran past you. You gasped with delight at the tiny creature. You stayed as still as possible to not startle it.  "Aemond." You couldn't help but whisper. It was so quiet he almost didn't hear you. He turned to see what you needed. It must have been dire for you to talk to him after two weeks. He followed your gaze and saw the creature that brought so much light to your eyes. 

He remembered how much you loved the squirrels of the gardens. For one of your name days, he vowed to catch you one but failed to do so. But he enjoyed the laughter he got out of you in the process.  "Shall I catch it for you Princess?" He offered.  "No. I think he shall miss his family if you do. Leave him be." He didn't fail to catch the double meaning of your words. How was he living his dream when you hated him so? 

As more time passed you both found yourselves not sitting on opposite sides of the tree but closer to each other. Even in your bed, you felt more relaxed. You were starting to get used to life again but you still missed your family.

A raven came telling you the news of your new baby brother. Your heart almost burst with happiness and sadness in equal measure. You wished to go to Dragonstone to meet him but you couldn't. You must remain here with your Lord Husband... who must have a quill somewhere in these chambers!

You scrambled around looking for anything to write back to your mother with. Words of congratulations and excitement. But, you could not find anything. You went to his personal bedside dressers. It felt wrong to go in them. These were his personal effects. You would go mad with rage if he looked at your things. But you really needed to write to your mother.

You looked at the two dressers. Left dresser, the third drawer down. You opened the drawer and there was writing equipment but also old pieces of parchment. Curiosity got the better of you. They were your old letters. From when you first moved to Dragonstone. Letters you never got replies to. You laughed at things you once thought so important you needed to tell Aemond.

Beneath your letters, there was one you didn't recognise. You knew the writing, it was Aemonds. The letter was addressed to you but you never got it. He speaks of regret of his words to you on Driftmark. How he wishes to become friends again before you are wed. So many words are scribbled out. If he felt this way why not send it? Maybe you could have worked on something rather than marry in hate. Who knows where your relationship could have been if he had sent this? You borrowed an empty piece of parchment and wrote your letter to your mother. 

"Hello, Aemond." You greeted sitting down beneath the tree. He looked at you puzzled. You never greeted him.  "Princess." He gave a nod of acknowledgement. You almost felt giddy. Even if Aemond wrote that apology letter years ago part of you hoped he still meant it now. You sat in your usual silence but you could not wipe the smile from your face. Aemond opened his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. "What has gotten your spirits up?" You looked at him with a smile. You meant this one. He could see it in your eyes. 

"Mother has given birth to a son. I have another brother. I feel much happiness for her." That and his unsent letter but to tell him that would be admitting you went through his belongings.  "Oh yes. I heard." He nodded. At least this one wasn't likely to be a... He stopped his own thoughts. No. You were his wife. Your parentage did not matter. You had gone back to your reading but he could not get back to his. He couldn't take his eye off your smile. He hoped he could make you smile like that again. 

Another week had passed and you felt yourself become restless again. You had now been in Kings Landing for a handful of months. The Queen still did not speak to you unless she absolutely had to. The King was growing ever weaker. Aegon was a drunken fool. Helaena was sweet but you wanted to do something else. Not sit inside. Not sit and read a book. You thought of your poor dragon. It had been too long since you had seen her. Your one memory of your home on Dragonstone and you had been neglecting her out of selfishness. Today you would take her out. 

But you could not leave the keep without permission. They say it is for your safety but you knew it was to stop you from running away. With a deep breath, you went to find your husband. This time every day he would be training in the courtyard with the knights. You walked to the courtyard where he had amassed a group of people. People always wanted to watch him but you never understood. What was the point in watching the same people fake fight every day at the same time? 

You watched him fight off the knights with ease. Despite only having one eye it did not stop him from having reflexes that could rival 20 knights. His fighting was almost like a dance. Every step calculated. His footwork working side by side with his arms. Sword going exactly where it needed to go. He was sweating and you could see his muscles working. Maybe you could see the point in people watching him fight. 

The fight ended and Aemond fought to catch his breath. In the crowd of people, he saw you. You would only be here if you needed something. He sheathed his sword and made his way over to you. There was something about him breathless and sweaty with his gaze focused on you. It made you feel some strange way. Nothing you had felt before.

"Aemond." You were almost breathless yourself when he was finally in front of you. "I would like to go for a ride." He pulled almost an amused face which was lost on you. "The Dragon keepers say my dragon has grown restless. I need to go for a ride."  "She grows restless. Or yourself?" He mused. "Both. So may I?" "As you wish Princess. But allow me to accompany you."  "Oh no. I wouldn't want to take you from your schedule." You tried to wave him off. 

"A good husband always makes time for his wife. Especially if that request is a ride." He almost smirked again.  "What is so funny?"  "Nothing."  "It's something. I'll get it out of you Aemond Targaryen." You pointed a finger at him like old times. "I'm sure you will." He let out a small chuckle. He went to link his arm with yours to walk you to the Dragon Pit, but remembered his vow. Do not touch. One playful conversation in weeks does not mean that changed.

You got yourself ready for your ride. Making sure that everything was fastened tightly. You hugged your dragon apologising it had been so long. When she put her head on top of yours you couldn't help but think of your mother. She would always be with you.

"Are you ready Princess?" Aemond's voice called out. You looked over and saw him ready to climb onto Vaghar. How he managed to claim her as a boy you would never know. You nodded. You got on your own dragon and urged her forward. She almost ran for the door. Once in the air, you felt free. Freer than you had in a long time. There was nothing but you, your dragon and the air.

Well... and your husband but he was flying lower. You could see for miles. You turned your head in the direction you knew to be Dragonstone. What were they doing? How were Joffrey's lessons going? How faired your mother and the babe? How easy it would be to fly back to them. But you could not. You would bring shame to yourself and your family. 

Aemond watched you. He always found himself thinking back to his childhood with you. How you had a dragon and he did not. How you'd promise him that you could fly together one day. And here you were flying together now. But again it was not how he imagined.

You looked down and almost laughed at how small Aemond looked compared to his dragon. His legs straddling the saddle. The way he used his legs to steer the direction he wanted to go. An image flashed in your mind of him straddling you. You shook your head. Where did that come from? The same feeling from the courtyard entered your mind. That strange feeling. You felt yourself move uncomfortably.

"Are you alright Princess?" Aemond called out to you. "Yes quite well. I must have not ridden in so long my legs grow tired." "Shall we retire?" He suggested. "Yes, I think so." You agreed before returning to the Dragon pit.

"Thank you for today Aemond. I appreciated it. If I ever require your services and a ride." You paused waiting for his reaction. "I'll let you know." You don't know why you did it, but it felt so right. Walking away you made sure to sway your hips more than you usually would.

More days passed and you found yourself watching your husband train from a balcony. Always that feeling came to you. What was it? You changed your posture, your thighs rubbing together and something felt good. You did it again and you had to bite your lip. You excused yourself to your chambers. You lay on your bed rubbing your thighs together and it felt amazing. A knock on the door pulled you from your playing and you felt embarrassed. Whatever that was, it was not fit of a lady.

But still, you could not help yourself. From those days on you would excuse yourself while Aemond trained. He would be gone for a few hours every day and in those hours you explored your body. You found all sorts of spots that made you feel good. One day while touching yourself an image of Aemond popped into your head. You imagined your hands were his and your pleasure doubled. You looked at the door longingly hoping he would come in and find you like this but he never did.

After that, everything he did drove you crazy. Even he slouched on a chair drinking from a goblet you wanted to climb onto his lap. You wanted a ride. You wanted one so badly.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You woke first. All night you had dreams of Aemond touching you. There was an ache between your legs that wouldn't go away. You tried pressing your legs together in hopes of something eliminating the feeling but you couldn't. You couldn't touch yourself with him just there. You wanted him to touch you. All you had to do was ask. But what if he didn't want to anymore? What if he had grown accustomed to your mental absence that he did not wish to be with you? You wouldn't blame him. 

Images of him fighting in the courtyard filled your mind. His skill and passion. How sweaty he sometimes got. The way his hair would stick to his forehead. This wasn't helping you. It was making it worse. He was still sleeping soundly next to you. Maybe if you got a bit closer.

You remained on your side facing away from him. For if he woke up you could claim you moved in your sleep. You backed up slowly. You could still hear his deep breathing meaning he was still asleep. You backed up until you could feel his breath on your neck. It sent shivers down your spine. You still did not touch him, however. Now you waited.

It felt like an eternity but eventually, his deep breaths stopped. You obviously had no idea when he opened his eyes as you were facing away from him and also pretending to sleep. But you did hear his involuntary gasp when he noticed how close you were. He did not make a move to touch you but he also did not shy away.

He looked at your sleeping form. You were so close to him. He looked down and saw each of your curves beneath the sheets. He wanted so badly to run his hand down you. Starting from your shoulders, past your stomach, around your hips and your legs. That is when he noticed. It wasn't even his first thought when he saw you this close but now it was his only thought.

How close your ass was to his crotch. His trousers were already tight with it being morning but even more so now. If only you were a small bit closer then he could feel you pressed against him. He could rub himself on you. Your night shift let his imagination run wild. He clenched his fists to his sides. He promised he wouldn't touch you. Maybe he could sneak away. Deal with himself before you wake up. If you noticed and questioned his absence then maybe he could claim early morning training.

Before he could move you grew bored of this position. He had been awake for several minutes and had not made a move. You commended him for keeping his word but his word was not what you wanted right now. You wanted anything but his word. Keeping up the pretence of sleep you turned so now you were facing him. You wished you could have seen the look of shock on his face. If the view from your behind was anything the front was better.

Your hair was a mess. Soft brown curls were on your pillow and over your face. He remembered others calling you names because of your hair but he now knows it is perfect. It is a part of you. His eye travelled further south and landed on your breasts. The position you were in was pressing them together. His fists were almost shaking with how tightly he kept them to his sides.

He closed his eye and began to talk to himself in his own mind. 'She does not want you. She made that clear. She does not want to be touched by you. She wanted a different husband. A different husband who she would have let touch her. A husband who wasn't you. A husband who would know what she felt like... what she tasted like. Does she know? Does she touch herself when I'm not around? Who does she think of? Some lord? Some stable boy who smiles at her every day?' He grew jealous of his own thoughts and opened his eye to be free of them.

When he did he saw your eyes were open. You were looking at him. You had spotted how close you were and you did not recoil. He could see a hint of anger in your eyes. He should have moved away the moment he got the chance but he couldn't. He was so transfixed on looking at you and now you were angry.

He went to back up from you and you moved closer. This puzzled him. "Aemond." Your voice called to him. Far too awake for someone who woke up less than a minute ago. Unless you weren't asleep. "Yes." He answered like a million thoughts were not running around his head. "Touch me. Please Aemond." You almost begged. He was in shock for a moment. Maybe he was still dreaming. The look in your eyes, wasn't anger, not anymore. Your pupils were dilated. He noticed you rubbing your legs together. This was happening.

"What?" He knew exactly what you had said but he wanted to hear you say it again. "Aemond I would like you to touch me. Please. Touch me." You lifted your hand and ran it down his face. He slowly lifted his own hand and placed it on your waist. His eye closed. He had waited so long for this moment.

You sat up from laying down. His hand fell from your waist. His eye shot open. Surely that couldn't have been what you wanted? For him to touch your waist once and be done. He hadn't upset you, had he? His worrying thoughts were gone the moment you swung your leg around him so now you were straddling him. Your bed shift scrupled around your hips. Your legs bare to the side of you. He was reminded that there was nothing under your shift. The only thing separating the two of you were his own clothes.

You both looked at each other frozen in that moment. You had no experience in this field but something drew you to sit in his lap like this and you were glad you did. You could feel every inch of his outline against you and it felt good. But what now? Aemond saw the look of innocence on your face and almost came right there. With both hands, he held onto your hips and dragged you forward. The noise you made would stick with him forever.

It was a mixture of shock and pleasure. You felt a little embarrassed at it. A lady should not make that noise. Before you could say anything Aemond did it again earning the same noise. It felt so good. Maybe if you just... you dragged your own hips forward without his direction and it felt just as good. "Aemond." You said suddenly not knowing any other words. Any you did know were gone.

He sat up changing the position you were in. His chest was pressed against yours. You looked at him under partially closed eyes. You rocked your hips again and your eyes closed fully at the new sensation. Who knew him just sitting up would feel so different to him lying down?

He called out your name and you looked at him. He pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you want this?" He tried to confirm. "Truly." You nodded. He let out a laugh. "I want to hear you say it." "I want you. I want you so bad Aemond." You almost sounded like you were whining. "I have for a while now. I need you." He smiled at you wickedly before his grip on your waist became like iron before it travelled to cup your ass. From this new position, he ground you against him faster and more forcefully. Your eyes rolled backwards as your jaw dropped open.

He placed kisses on your neck enjoying the sounds you were making. He had dreamt of these sounds but they sounded so much better in real life. He nipped and pulled at your flesh with his teeth. His lips went lower but to his dismay, you were still wearing clothes. While your shift had fallen slightly to reveal your shoulders he wanted more than that.

He lifted his hands from your behind and held the edges of your clothes. He looked at you almost asking for permission. You nodded and he pulled it over your head. Now you were in front of him completely exposed. Your nipples hard and the mess you made on his trousers. Wet from where you had been grinding against him. He was in awe of your beauty. You almost hid yourself away from him but before you could he latched his mouth onto one of your nipples which earned him a brand new sound.

He placed one of his hands back into position getting you to grind on him again while the other played with your other breast. You were his. His wife. And the sounds you were making were his too. "Aemond." You called out to get his attention. He looked at you. His own spit coated his lips. He looked so good right now. Although his hair wasn't stuck to his forehead yet. That is what you wanted.

You took his hand from your breast and guided it between your legs. He had seen women at the brothel do this but he didn't know why. You lead his fingers to a sensitive spot and with your guide, he began to rub that spot. "Fuck." You moaned out arching your back. He watched your face crumple up. "How did you know to do that?" He teased going faster. "Have you been touching yourself? Not very ladylike." You nodded. "Tell me. What were you thinking of?"

Your cheeks immediately flooded red. Him. Always him. "Hmmm." He probed for an answer getting faster and faster. "You." You couldn't catch your breath. "You Aemond." You practically shouted. You could feel the familiar feeling in your lower stomach. But there was also something different about it.

"You should have told me. I could have helped you out." He teased more. How long had you been thinking about him? Was it as long as he had thought of you? "I did say all you had to do was ask." You nodded. "Yes, I should have." You agreed. Almost there. "I wanted you so badly. I... I..." your words got caught in your throat. "You what?" "I" was all you managed to get out before your climax washed over you. It was different from usual. Normally your hand would be caught up in your orgasm that you would stop rubbing your clit meaning you would only feel it for a few fleeting moments. But Aemond did not stop. He kept going watching you come undone on top of him. Your whole body shook.

You looked so beautiful in that moment for him. He needed to do this again to you. Now he knew what it was, he needed it again. Once your body stopped shaking and your eyes closed with tiredness he removed his hand. You felt like you might wobble off the top of him. "Ready for my turn Princess?" Whether or not he meant that as a pet name or your official title, you would never figure it out. You gave a nod.

He flipped you over so now you were on the bottom. You were still in a daze. "Look at what you've done to my trousers." He scolded. You looked down and tried to ignore the bulge and only focus on the giant wet patch. Maybe you might have felt embarrassed but you didn't care. "You felt so good." You sounded like you were drunk. Aemond looked down at his wife, delirious and wanting more and he was more than happy to oblige.

He undid the strings that were trying their best to hold his waistband together. His dick sprung free causing him to wince at the sensitivity. He kicked his trousers away and you shot a sneaky look. Obviously, you had already felt it but you didn't imagine it would look like that. All stiff and leaking slightly. "Enjoying the view?" You were caught. Clearly not as sneaky as you thought you were. You nodded and licked your lips.

"I'll go as slow as I can." His voice suddenly went soft. "It might hurt." You nodded at him. He ran his dick up and down your folds a few times to gather your wetness. It sent small shocks down your spine. Was he teasing you? "Aemond?" You questioned. "Just enjoying my wife. The one who said she'd never ask." You bucked your hips up trying to meet him but he held you down easily. You began to squirm underneath him. You felt so empty. You needed him inside you.

"Don't make me beg again. I was wrong. I do want you to touch me. I do." He didn't move. "Aemond." You tried to sound annoyed but you couldn't. He leant his face forward and kissed your lips. It was then you realised that in all of this, you hadn't kissed him yet. This was your first kiss since the wedding and it made you want more. Why had you been missing out on all of this again? His tongue glided against your lips and you knew immediately what he wanted. You opened your mouth and let him in. For a moment you wondered what his tongue would feel like elsewhere. Maybe another time.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. You didn't miss the smile he had as he slipped himself inside you. You gasped into his mouth and pulled your face away. "I've got you." He reassured. "You're okay." You nodded speechless. He slowly moved while kissing you again. Your sounds of discomfort slowly turned back into moans. It was a strange feeling. He was reaching places your fingers could never could. "Faster." You breathed into his ear. He did as asked. 

Your extra sensitivity meant you couldn't last much longer. The sensation in your stomach coming back. When Aemond started making noises you knew he wouldn't last much longer either.  "Aemond." You couldn't help but shout. He began to nod.  "I know. I know." He began to repeat over and over. He kept one hand by your head while his hand went back to the spot you had shown him earlier. The shock of pleasure had your body jolt forward clamping your muscles. Aemond let out his own moan which sent you over the edge for the second time. Your muscles pulsated around him and he finished inside of you. 

He stayed inside of you for a few moments catching his breath before rolling over beside you. You shuffled over to him and put your head on his shoulder. You looked up at him and saw what you wanted. His hair was a mess. You raised your hand and brushed it out of his face. He looked down at you puzzled. You moved your hand.  "What?" You asked suddenly worried that you had done something wrong. He took your hand and held it against his face. He leant into your touch. "What is it Aemond?" You were suddenly concerned. 

He took a deep breath in.  "Nothing." He brushed it off. Letting go of your hand.  "Don't do this Aemond. I'm your wife, as much as I have not acted like it. Please share your thoughts with me."  "I just fear now that you have gotten what you wanted from me, you will leave me."  "Aemond." You sat up brushing your own hair out of your face. You gathered the sheets to cover yourself. "I know what you think of yourself. I see it. You might think you hide it but I've known you my entire life." You turned back around to look at him. "I won't leave you." He didn't look at you, not believing you. 

You leant down to kiss him. You tried to put all of your feelings into the kiss. At first, he did not kiss you back but he got caught up in it.  "You don't need to believe me, at least not at first." You said pulling away. "But I will make sure you know. I will make it up to you. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you." You curled back up into his side. He moved slightly but only to hold you closer. You were in his arms as much as he was in yours. You both drifted off to sleep again. 

You both were woken by knocks at your doors.  "Prince? Princess?" It was your handmaidens.  "Go away," Aemond shouted at them. You giggled at his childishness. You heard the shuffling of feet.  "We should get up." You sighed. "Although I do not wish to." Closing your eyes again.  "We are needed for royal duties." Aemond agreed.  "Do any of your duties include training? I like it when you train." Aemond chuckled.  "Is that so?" You nodded at his question. "Watching you made me realise how badly I wanted you. Watching you sweat and be out of breath. I wanted to do that to you." "I can make it part of my duties. I do need to be ready to always protect the realm. And once I'm done I can find my Lady Wife." 

You pulled away from his arms and tried to get out of bed only to find yourself collapsing under your own weight and back onto the bed.  "It's like I'm on one of grandsire's ships." You giggled. "I might have to stay here all day." You beamed.  "Then how will you watch me train?" Aemond pointed out. You pouted. He kissed you. As he pulled away you pulled him back in for a second one. "I fear I have created a monster." 

"I'd like to say. In the future please feel free to touch me whenever you like. Well... Not whenever. We might cause quite a stir if we do that in court."  "Hmmmm." He traced circles on your side. "I like the idea of us sitting at the presiding table with my hand up your skirt." You shivered.  "Sounds like you've already thought about it." It was your turn to tease. He sat forward, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear.  "Oh, I have Princess. I've thought about many things."  "You should have let me know. I would have helped you." You mirrored his words from earlier. 

The both of you got dressed and Aemond led you by arm to see his sister Helaena and her children. You sat down and smiled at the children. Helaena looked at you once you were alone.  "Hot baths." She said. "Hot baths help with the pain." She went back to sowing while you felt yourself blushing. How she knew, you didn't want to know but you hoped nobody else did. 

You and she walked around the red keep taking the children for a walk. You heard grunting. You looked down into the courtyard and saw your husband and Ser Cole practising with swords. His grunts and breathlessness taking you back to this morning. Almost like he could feel your presence he looked up. He grinned knowing your thoughts. 

He told you, you'd end up married.

[fa1ry03]

could you do a joe fic where the reader is a ballerina?? i’m one myself so i just thought it’d be cute :,)

Dancing Into Love

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting this piece! I absolutely loved writing it, especially since I used to do ballet myself and even danced on pointe for a while. Your idea brought back so many wonderful memories, and it was a joy to weave that experience into the story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it! 😊

Word Count - 729

Joe wasn’t one to frequent theaters, much less ballet performances, but his best friend had practically dragged him along, insisting he needed a "cultural experience." Sitting stiffly in the velvet seat, he’d expected to be bored out of his mind. That was until you stepped onto the stage.

From the moment you appeared, Joe couldn’t look away. Your movements were captivating, each twirl and leap filled with such precision and emotion that he found himself leaning forward in his seat. You seemed untouchable, almost otherworldly, and Joe couldn’t help but wonder who you were beyond the shimmering costume and pointed shoes.

After the performance, his friend convinced him to stick around for the meet-and-greet with the performers. Joe stood awkwardly at the back of the line, clutching the program he’d been handed at the door. When it was finally his turn, he felt a jolt of nervous energy as you looked up at him, your stage makeup still intact but softened under the lobby lights.

"Hi," you greeted warmly, your smile as graceful as your performance.

"Hi," he replied, suddenly forgetting every word in the English language. He handed you the program for an autograph, but before you could sign, he blurted, "You were incredible out there."

You looked up, a hint of surprise in your eyes. "Thank you. That means a lot."

And just like that, Joe’s fumbling attempts at conversation turned into a fifteen-minute chat about your passion for dance and his awkward but earnest appreciation for the arts. By the end, he’d mustered the courage to ask if you’d like to grab coffee sometime. To his astonishment, you said yes.

------------------------------------

Dating a ballerina turned out to be a unique experience, one that Joe cherished more than he ever thought he would. Your schedules were hectic—his with work and yours with rehearsals and performances—but you both made it work.

Joe quickly became your biggest supporter, attending every performance he could and cheering the loudest at the curtain call. He even started to learn the names of different ballet positions and techniques, surprising you one day when he correctly identified an arabesque.

"Someone’s been doing their homework," you teased, stretching your legs after a particularly grueling rehearsal.

"What can I say? I’m dating a pro," he said, handing you a water bottle with a grin.

Joe also loved watching you practice, though he was careful not to distract you. He’d sit quietly in the corner of the studio, mesmerized by the way you moved, as if your body spoke a language all its own. Occasionally, he’d offer his unique brand of encouragement.

"You’re amazing, babe, but maybe add a little... Joe flair to it," he’d joke, waving his arms in an exaggerated imitation of your elegant movements.

"Joe flair, huh?" you’d reply with a laugh, pulling him onto the studio floor to teach him a basic plié.

"This is harder than it looks!" he’d protest, wobbling as he tried to hold the position.

"Welcome to my world," you’d say, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.

Joe was also incredibly supportive during the tougher moments. On nights when you came home exhausted and doubting yourself, he’d sit beside you, rubbing your feet and reminding you just how talented you were.

"You’re not just good; you’re breathtaking," he’d say, his voice full of sincerity. "Don’t let one bad day make you forget that."

His encouragement always lifted your spirits, and you often told him how much you appreciated having someone who believed in you so completely.

One evening, after a particularly stunning performance, Joe surprised you with a bouquet of flowers and a small, wrapped box. As you opened it, your eyes widened to see a delicate necklace shaped like a pair of ballet slippers.

"For my favorite ballerina," he said, his cheeks turning pink.

You threw your arms around him, whispering a soft, "Thank you, Joe. I love it."

Joe’s life with you might not have been what he’d imagined, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Being with you taught him to appreciate the beauty of dedication, the art of storytelling through movement, and the joy of sharing his life with someone so passionate and full of grace.

And as he watched you twirl across the stage night after night, Joe knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to call you his.

Thank You so much for this request! <3 Send in more please!

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 3

Authors Note: Hello friends!! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this so far, I appreciate the kind DMs I’ve gotten :) I’m excited for this series a lot so I hope you enjoy, and oh boy am I only getting started. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the next chapter!!

ALSO I have been getting some requests, I am super sick right now so I will get to them asap but I LOVE the ideas y’all are giving me!! THANK YOU!

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : Tensions rise as Gojo and the first-years return from their mission, only to find y/n grappling with the growing mystery of her cursed energy. After a fateful encounter with Maki, and an accidental release of power, the higher-ups demand answers. Gojo decides to bring y/n along on their next mission, but when her cursed energy flares uncontrollably during a high-level curse battle, questions of who—or what—she truly is become impossible to ignore.

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : Some general violence, suggestive themes

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The mission at the community college had been tedious but successful. Gojo, Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji walked back onto school grounds, a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction hanging in the air. The sun was already sinking, casting the campus in a soft, warm glow. Despite the day’s events, Gojo’s stride remained as casual as ever, hands resting behind his head, as though he hadn’t just helped exorcise multiple curses.

Megumi was the first to notice you, pacing anxiously near the common area, your movements restless. He nudged Yuji, who caught on immediately and called out, “Y/n! We’re back!”

You stopped mid-step, eyes lighting up with excitement as you walked over to the group. “You guys! You’re back! I’ve been waiting to tell you something!”

Gojo quirked a brow, his usual playful smile stretching across his face, watching you cheerfully walk towards him. “Oh? Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes, though a grin tugged at your lips, your heart produced an extra beat. But, you ignored his comment. “I ran into Maki earlier, and…” You paused for dramatic effect, looking between Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara. “I accidentally released cursed energy. Actual cursed energy!”

There was a moment of silence as your words sunk in. Yuji’s face lit up like a firework, excitement practically bubbling out of him. “No way! That’s awesome, y/n!”

Nobara, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “Accidentally? Or are you secretly getting good at this?” She teased with a smile.

You gave a sheepish shrug, the memory of Maki’s provocation still fresh in your mind. “I wasn’t really trying. It just… happened. Maki kind of…well to sum it up I guess I just got frustrated.”

Gojo stepped closer, his curiosity piqued. “Frustration, huh? Strong emotions are usually a pretty good trigger for cursed energy.”

Megumi regarded you with his typical calm, analytical stare. “Was it controlled, or was it just a flare?”

“I think it was more of a flare,” you admitted. “But it was something. Everyone here has been waiting for me to do something.”

Yuji clapped you on the back with an encouraging grin. “Hey, progress is progress! You’re on your way.”

“Mm, a fluke maybe,” Nobara teased, though there was a hint of approval in her voice. “But if you’re already producing cursed energy by accident, imagine what you could do on purpose!”

You couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride swell in your chest. For the first time since being found in the forest, you felt like you had a tiny bit of control over the strange circumstances you found yourself in. 

Gojo’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his tone light but with a strange undercurrent that you couldn’t quite place. “Well, fluke or not, it’s a good sign. Guess I’m doing a pretty decent job with your training after all.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, leaning a little too close, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “You know I’m the best you’ve ever had.” He let out a loud chuckle. “Best teacher, that is.”

You opened your mouth to retort but thought better of it, deciding not to feed into his usual antics. Instead, you took a step back, straightening up. “Yeah, well, I still don’t know how to use the cursed energy.”

Gojo’s grin softened just a bit, “Well then, that’s your focus for the next few days.” You nodded quietly, feeling the weight of the task settling on your shoulders. Without another word, you turned away, heading back to the couches to gather your things. The others had already started heading to their rooms, leaving you in the common area with only the faint echoes of their retreating footsteps.

As you bent down to collect your jacket, you felt eyes on you. Glancing up, you realized Gojo hadn’t left with the others. He stood there, casually leaning against the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Is there something else, Gojo?” you asked, unsure why he was lingering.

“Not really,” he said shortly. His usual cocky grin had faded, replaced by a gentle smile that seemed strangely out of place—content, almost peaceful—nothing like the Gojo you were used to. “You know, y/n, most of the students around here call me ‘sensei,’” he added with a teasing lilt as you approached.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not doing that. Besides, we’re practically the same age. And I didn’t ask for you to be my teacher, so I think it’s fair I just call you by your name.”

As you tried to step past him, he moved quickly, his arm extending across the doorway, blocking your path. You froze, blinking up at him in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden proximity.

“So, that means we have a more casual relationship, then…” he said, his voice low, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. There was no way he was serious. Gojo was a notorious tease, always testing boundaries with his playful charm. You told yourself this was just another one of his games—something to fluster you, to keep you on your toes. He didn’t mean anything by it… right?

With a shrug, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, hoping your smirk looked as confident as you wanted it to. “I guess so,” you replied, the words coming out more smug than you intended.

Before he could say anything else, you ducked swiftly under his arm, slipping past him and into the hallway. You kept your pace steady, resisting the urge to glance back, but you could feel his eyes on you the whole way.

Gojo watched you as you walked away, his thoughts lingering on the way you spoke to him, the way you moved, the way you handled yourself. There was something about you—something different, something he couldn’t quite put into words. You weren’t intimidated by him. Not in the way most people were. You challenged him in a way that made him feel… unsettled. Intrigued.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself, shaking his head as he pushed off from the doorway and followed in the direction you had gone. There was a lot he didn’t understand about you yet. But one thing was certain—you were far more interesting than he had expected.

—

Later that evening, after everyone had settled back into their routines, you found yourself alone in the common area, curled up on the couch with a book that Inumaki had lent you about the inner workings of cursed energy. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet that you had grown to appreciate after the chaos of training and missions. You absentmindedly flipped through the pages, your mind wandering back to the encounter with Maki.

It had been such a small moment—an accident, really. But the cursed energy that flared from your hands had felt real, like something buried deep within you–something that wasn’t there before–had been awakened, however briefly. You had no memory of your life before being found in that forest, but for the first time, you wondered if this power had always been inside you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. You glanced up to see Gojo sauntering into the room, his hands in his pockets and his signature grin plastered on his face. He plopped down beside you on the couch without so much as a greeting, stretching out his long legs and letting out a content sigh.

“Enjoying the quiet?” he asked, his voice calm as he leaned closer to you to see what you were reading.

You shrugged, closing your book. “It’s nice… for a change.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something Gojo wasn’t saying. His usually playful demeanor seemed… muted. And it wasn’t like him to sit still for this long.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything? From the forest?”

Your stomach flipped at the question. You had gone over this a hundred times with Shoko, but every time he brought it up, his voice had a new edge—like he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity anymore.

“I’ve told you,” you said, a little more defensively than you intended. “I don’t remember anything. It’s all a blur. I’m not some enemy trying to infiltrate the ‘jujutsu world’ or whatever.”

Gojo tilted his head, his smile softening into something that almost looked like concern. “No strange dreams? No flashes of memory? Nothing?”

“No,” you replied firmly, though his questions had begun to unsettle you. “Why? Do you think there’s something I should remember?”

Gojo leaned his head back and let his gaze drift to the ceiling. You noticed his jaw clench as he did so. "Nah, I just thought that maybe something might come back eventually."

You narrowed your eyes at him, not quite believing his casual tone. “Is that really why you’re asking?”

Gojo chuckled, though it was a bit more forced than usual. “Maybe I’m just worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you become a big worrier?”

“Since I found you half-conscious in a forest with no memory,” he replied smoothly, though there was a new tension in his voice. 

There it was—the shift you had been sensing in him lately. He was always teasing, always playing around, but in the past few weeks, there had been moments like this where something in his tone changed. Like he was watching you more closely, paying attention in a way that made your skin tingle and your heart flutter. But just as quickly as it came, it disappeared. His usual smirk returned, and the moment passed.

“Don’t overthink it,” Gojo said, standing up abruptly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m a curious guy, and you’re a mystery to us all right now.” He paused, patting down his pockets as if searching for something. “That means you really are just my type, y/n.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, but before you could say anything, he casually pulled a small white pastry box from his pocket and placed it on the couch cushion where he had just been sitting. “Picked this up today in Tokyo while heading back from the mission,” he added with a nonchalant shrug before strolling toward the door.

You stared at the box, trying to process the whirlwind that was Gojo Satoru. One moment he was making cryptic comments, the next he was leaving you sweets. ‘What a strange guy,’ you thought to yourself, shaking your head at his unpredictability. There was always something about him that kept you guessing, that made it impossible to fully figure him out. He was an enigma, equal parts charm and mystery, with a habit of leaving you just as intrigued as you were confused.

Curiosity finally got the best of you, and you reached for the box, unfolding it to reveal a freshly baked, delicious-smelling chocolate chunk cookie. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you stared down at the treat, warmth spreading in your chest. For all his teasing and unpredictability, Gojo had a way of surprising you in the most unexpected ways.

Taking a bite, you practically melted at the taste—it was perfect, like everything else he seemed to do effortlessly. As you savoured the sweetness, you glanced at the door where Gojo had disappeared.

‘Maybe he’s not as impossible as I thought,’ you mused, biting back a grin. Even if he was a strange guy, maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than he let on. And with that, you enjoyed your treat and returned to your studies.

—

Meanwhile, in the administrative wing of the school, Nanami, Principal Yaga, and a few other higher-ranking sorcerers had gathered for a private meeting. The topic of conversation was you—and the growing concern surrounding your mysterious past.

Nanami sat at the table, his brow furrowed as he listened to the others discuss the situation. He had always been one to trust his instincts, and something about you didn’t sit right with him. He wasn’t suspicious of you, per se, but the circumstances surrounding your discovery were troubling.

“We still have no idea where she came from,” one of the sorcerers said, shaking his head. “No family, no records. It’s like she just appeared out of nowhere.”

Principal Yaga nodded thoughtfully, his hands clasped in front of him. “And she has no memory of anything before we found her?”

“None,” Nanami confirmed. “Shoko has done multiple tests. Everything comes up clean. But that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous.”

Nanami’s words hung in the air, the unspoken implications clear. While you hadn’t shown any signs of malicious intent, the lack of information made everyone uneasy. In the world of jujutsu sorcery, too many unknowns could lead to disaster.

“What about her cursed energy?” Yaga asked.

“She’s shown some potential,” Nanami replied. “But it’s raw. Uncontrolled.”

“And Gojo?” another sorcerer chimed in. “He’s the one working with her most closely.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Gojo’s name. “Gojo believes she’s harmless. But he also has a tendency to take risks.”

Principal Yaga’s eyes narrowed, clearly weighing the situation carefully. “We can’t afford to ignore this. If there’s even a chance she could become a threat…”

“We should monitor her more closely,” Nanami suggested. “Let her accompany Gojo and his students on missions. That way, we can observe how her cursed energy reacts in different situations.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table, though the atmosphere remained tense. No one wanted to treat you as an enemy, but the unpredictability of your situation was too great to ignore.

Principal Yaga leaned back in his chair, his expression grim. “Keep an eye on her. But if anything changes—if she shows any sign of being a threat—we’ll have to eliminate her.”

Nanami nodded, though there was a heaviness in his chest. He didn’t want to think the worst of you, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to your story than anyone realized.

—

It was two days later when Gojo approached you with the news.

“You’re coming with us on the next mission,” he said casually, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked, looking up from where you were seated on the outdoor training grounds, a faint breeze rustling through the trees as you practiced your breathing exercises. “Wait, what? I’m going with you?”

Gojo strolled over, hands stuffed in his pockets, before plopping down on the grass beside you, stretching out in his usual relaxed manner. “Yep. Nanami and the higher-ups want to see how you handle real-life situations with curses, so you’ll be tagging along. It’s mostly for observation, though. Don’t worry, I won’t throw you into the fire.”

You frowned, setting aside the faint energy you had been trying to summon. Your fingers trailed over the grass absentmindedly as you narrowed your eyes at him. “And you’re okay with that? Letting them spy on me?”

Gojo’s expression didn’t shift much, but his eyes—those usually carefree, playful eyes—darkened just a little. “They’re just being cautious. No need to take it personally.”

“Right,” you muttered, sarcasm lacing your tone. “Because being treated like a ticking time bomb is totally not personal.”

Gojo sighed, leaning back on his arms and staring up at the blue sky. “It’s not that simple. You’re still a puzzle to everyone, including yourself. Until we know more about where you came from and what you’re capable of, there’s going to be some hesitation. You get that, don’t you?”

You hated to admit it, but he was right. You had no idea who you really were or what had happened to you before Gojo and the first-years found you in that forest. As much as you wanted to believe you were harmless, the unknowns surrounding your situation were hard to ignore.

Still, it stung to be treated like an experiment.

“So, what exactly am I supposed to do on this mission?” you asked, shifting the topic slightly, your voice quieter now.

Gojo’s grin returned, though there was still a hint of seriousness beneath it. “Observe, mostly. Keep an eye on how curses react around you and try to get a feel for controlling your cursed energy in a real situation. I’ll be there to guide you, so no need to panic.”

You shot him a skeptical look, brushing stray grass off your pants. “That’s reassuring.”

He chuckled, leaning in a little closer, his voice lowering just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

For a brief moment, his playful mask seemed to slip, and you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes—something protective. It was fleeting, though, and before you could dwell on it, Gojo was back to his usual self, standing up and stretching his arms over his head.

“Anyway, get some rest tonight. We leave early tomorrow.”

He gave you one last lazy wave before turning to head back toward the school, leaving you to sit in the growing twilight, the weight of his words settling in. Trust him… Easier said than done.

—

The next morning, you found yourself standing alongside Gojo, Megumi, and Yuji at the gates of the school. The atmosphere was unusually tense, likely due to the nature of the mission. Gojo had explained that the team had been called to investigate a cemetery that had been plagued by a high-level curse, and while it was supposed to be routine, there was always the possibility that things could go sideways.

You weren’t sure how you felt about being thrown into the mix so soon, especially after the incident with Maki. But Gojo had insisted that it would be fine, and as much as you hated to admit it, you trusted him. His carefree attitude aside, Gojo had proven time and time again that he was more than capable of handling dangerous situations.

“Ready for your first mission?” Yuji asked, bouncing on his heels with excitement.

You offered a small smile, though your stomach was doing flips. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got your back,” He said, giving you a reassuring nod. “Just stick close to us.”

Megumi, standing a little further back, glanced at you with his usual unreadable expression. “If anything happens, don’t hesitate to use your cursed energy, even if it’s just a flare. These curses are quick.”

You nodded, appreciating his calm presence. Even though you hadn’t known Megumi for long, there was something about him that put you at ease. Maybe it was his no-nonsense attitude or the way he always seemed to have things under control. Either way, it helped.

Gojo led the way as the group set off toward the cemetery. It wasn’t too far from the school grounds, but the oppressive energy that seemed to hang over the area was enough to send a chill down your spine. As you approached the iron gates, you could feel the cursed energy in the air—thick, heavy, and familiar...

“This is it,” Gojo said, his tone more serious than you were used to. “Stay close, and don’t wander off. We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with yet.”

The cemetery was eerily quiet as you all stepped inside. The overgrown grass rustled faintly in the wind, and the gravestones seemed to loom larger than they should have. You could feel the cursed energy pulsing beneath your feet, like the ground itself was alive with something dark and dangerous.

Gojo motioned for the group to spread out slightly, keeping a cautious distance from each other as they scanned the area for any signs of the curse. You stayed close to Yuji, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to keep your own cursed energy in check. It was difficult—the atmosphere here made your skin prickle, and you could feel your cursed energy stirring just beneath the surface. 

“Stay calm,” Gojo’s voice rang out softly, his eyes sharp as they scanned the cemetery. “We’ll handle whatever comes our way.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to focus on keeping your energy under control. But something about this place was getting to you. The air felt thick, suffocating, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you.

Suddenly, Megumi stopped, his eyes narrowing as he pointed ahead. “There.”

At first, you didn’t see it, but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of movement. A shadow, slipping between the gravestones, too fast to track. Your heart skipped a beat as the cursed energy in the air spiked, the oppressive force nearly knocking you off balance.

“It’s moving,” Yuji said, tensing as he prepared for a fight.

Gojo’s grin returned, though there was a sharpness in his eyes that told you he was ready for whatever was coming. “Alright, team. Let’s make this quick!” 

The curse made itself known then, rising from the shadows, a grotesque figure with six twisted limbs and three hollow eyes. It moved with unnatural speed, lunging toward Megumi with a snarl, but he was quick to summon his shikigami, meeting the attack head-on.

The battle erupted around you, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do. Your cursed energy was still pulsing wildly inside you, but you didn’t know how to control it. You could only watch as Yuji and Megumi moved with practiced precision, their cursed techniques flowing effortlessly as they fought off the creature. And that is when you noticed a lack of Gojo’s presence. You were just stood there watching, frozen in place.

Suddenly, you felt a surge of cursed energy within yourself—stronger than anything you’d felt before. It came out of nowhere, like a dam breaking, and you gasped as the energy flared to life around you. The sensation was overwhelming, electric, as it crackled along your skin, raw and untamed. Your breath hitched, memories of your accidental release in front of Maki flashing in your mind. But this time, there was something different—this time, you could feel it building in your palms, swirling with more intensity than ever before.

“Y/n!” Gojo’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with concern. You blinked, trying to regain your focus, but everything around you seemed to blur. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure moving jaggedly toward you—a curse, creeping closer.

Your heartbeat quickened, panic rising. Your mind screamed at you to move, to act, but your body felt frozen in place, the cursed energy continuing to surge uncontrollably within you. The adrenaline hit you like a wave, along with an undeniable frustration—an anger, even—at feeling so powerless. Your body reacted on instinct.

Without thinking, your hands glowed a bright blue, cursed energy pouring into your palms. It was hot, too hot, burning as it built up, and before you could process what was happening, you let it go. The blast of raw power shot forward, aimed directly at the curse.

The energy struck the creature with a force that staggered it, causing it to shriek in pain. The cursed form writhed as it absorbed the blow, disoriented and vulnerable. It gave Yuji the opening he needed. He didn’t waste a second, leaping forward with a yell and delivering a final blow laced with a streak of red cursed energy. The curse crumbled into ash, dissolving into the wind.

For a moment, everything was still.

You stood there, breathless, the remnants of cursed energy buzzing faintly across your skin. Your hands tingled, shaking slightly as if they hadn’t quite registered the release of power. The cemetery, once filled with the sounds of battle, was now eerily silent. And then, you noticed it—all eyes were on you. Yuji, Megumi, even Gojo. Everyone was staring, as though they had just witnessed something… different, something they hadn’t expected from you.

The weight of their gazes made your chest tighten. You felt exposed, vulnerable, like a secret part of you had just been revealed—one that you didn’t fully understand yourself.

Gojo was the first to speak, stepping closer. His usual playful demeanor had dimmed, replaced with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Concern? Pride? Maybe both. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, yet carried a strange intensity. “Well, that was impressive, but a close one, y/n.”

His words hit you like a cold splash of water, pulling you out of your daze. You looked down at your hands, still trembling. “I… I didn’t mean to do that,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Yuji came up behind you, his hand landing on your back in a reassuring pat. His smile was warm, but his eyes reflected a hint of worry. “Accidental or not, you helped. That’s what matters.”

Even Megumi, who was always so stoic, nodded at you, his gaze steady. “You did well.”

Despite their reassurances, a sinking feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. That power you had unleashed—it didn’t feel like it was entirely yours. The cursed energy felt foreign, almost as though it had been pulled from somewhere deep inside, a place you hadn’t known existed. The sensation unsettled you.

As you stood there, still trying to process what had just happened, you could feel Gojo’s eyes on you. Unlike the others, his expression wasn’t one of relief or approval—it was far more unreadable. His gaze lingered longer than usual, as if he were trying to unravel something, some mystery that only he could sense.

It was the same question that had hung silently between you since the day he found you.

What are you?

His silence carried that question now, as did the way he watched you with a mix of curiosity and concern. He didn’t say it, but you knew. You could feel it. And what scared you most was the nagging fear that you might not want to know the answer.

“You two go see if there are any other low level curses lingering, meet us back here.” Gojo instructed to Yuji and Megumi, who quickly went to secure the area.

Gojo’s voice broke through your thoughts once more, this time quieter, more subdued. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said, his tone laced with an unspoken concern. He took a quick step toward you. “You’re still new to this. You shouldn’t be able to summon cursed energy that strong… not yet.”

You looked up at him, the faint tremor still lingering in your hands, tears welling in your eyes, threatening to spill over. It took you a second to fully realize just how close he was—closer than he usually stood. Your breath caught in your throat as you noticed his blindfold, usually obscuring his gaze, now hung loosely around his neck. It was startling, seeing his ocean-blue eyes for the first time without any barrier, and they were locked onto yours, as if searching for something beneath your surface.

His gaze was intense, almost too much to bear, like a storm brewing just behind the calm sea of his eyes. The way he looked at you, so deeply, so fully—it felt like he could see right through you, down to the very core of your being. Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, it was as though the world had shrunk down to just the two of you standing there, in the aftermath of whatever it was that had just happened.

“I don’t know what happened,” your voice was barely a whisper, shaky, raw with emotion. “It just… came out. Like I couldn’t stop it. I-I’m sorry.”

His frown deepened, the sharp edges of his usual confidence dulling as his expression softened in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes, so clear and unguarded now, reflected something you hadn’t expected to see in him: worry. For the briefest moment, the mask he wore, the one that shielded him from the world, slipped. His vulnerability was laid bare, just for you to see.

“That’s exactly what worries me,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice a low, hushed tone that sent a shiver down your spine. His words lingered in the air, heavy with a meaning that neither of you fully understood yet.

For a second, his hand twitched, like he was about to reach out, to touch you, but he stopped himself. The space between you felt charged, a tension hanging in the air that was as palpable as the energy crackling through your fingertips earlier. His closeness, the warmth of his presence, the way his gaze softened as it held yours—it all felt too much, and yet, not enough. You could feel the pull between you, something unspoken, lingering in the narrow distance that separated you.

But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, that moment of vulnerability was gone. Gojo stepped back, the mask of his usual calm, collected self sliding back into place like a practiced routine. His playful smirk returned, though there was still something different about it, like the echoes of his concern hadn’t fully faded yet.

“Don’t think too much about it for now,” he said, his tone light but his gaze still serious. “Just… rest. We’ll figure this out. You’re okay.” And with two fingers he lifted his blindfold back into place.

You nodded, though your mind was far from calm. Your hands still shook slightly, your heart still raced from the intensity of the moment. But more than anything, it was the memory of his eyes, his bare, unfiltered gaze, that lingered long after he turned to walk away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

As Gojo turned to walk away, his usual swagger in each step, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting—that this wasn’t just about you anymore. All of the mystery surrounding you was concerning.

And in that moment, you realized he wasn’t just concerned about your situation—he was concerned for you.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Ive been imagining this and ik its weird BUT ot8 skz being perv and so obsessed to fem 9th member.. Like they get super jealous and the fem readed being a people pleaser like she cant say no to her friends and cant stand seeing them sad so when the members started to became sexually touchy w her they used that against her and be like "dont u want to see us happy? We've been tired and we just want to relieve some stress.. I thought u can help us.. I guess not" and they pretend to be sad abt it and the reader just felt guilty for not helping her friends so she lets them touch her which led to smut KDNDJFKDJ its weird but idk i die for these kinds of fics

Hands on me?

Warning: Angst, sexual activity, manipulation?

Pairing: polyOT8 x reader.

Summary: Don’t you wanna see us happy baby? They said as they slowly peeled her clothes off.

AUTHORS NOTE: this has been in my requests for a while and I write this when I first started off SO it’s not good at all BUT I’m going to write another one using this same request cause I have another idea AND this was in my drafts for a while so I’m dropping it to clear it.

I hope whoever requested this, enjoys it 🥰

**

"Baby?!" She heard someone call for her from the living room. 

"I'm in here!" She replied. Her hair was up in a pony tail and she was currently wearing shorts and a croptop with no bra on making her look yummy.

She heard a bunch of voices start piling up in the living room meaning that the boys were back home.

A small smile creeped up on her face as she continued to wash up the dishes she had used to cook dinner. She made a big dinner because at the end of the day she was feeding 8 of her boyfriends who were also MEN. 

"Hey love," Han walked into the kitchen. His hair was in a hat and he had his normal hoodie and cargo pants on. "Are you feelings better?" He asked while taking a few steps towards her until he towering her. His breathing was heavy probably from the flight of stairs.

"Mmm, yeah. Just been a long day that's all." She sighed and looked up at him. He had a pout on his face making her coo at how adorable the boy was.

"I missed you," he said in between kisses. 

"Missed you too momo," he rested his head on her shoulder she continued to finish the dishes.Han was always clingy, not more than Felix but it was more than the other boys, that was for sure.

As she finished up she felt His hands slowly wondering around her body then slowly landing on her ass. oh, makes sense. He was horny.

She did love every interaction with her boys, she really did but today she wasn't in the mood at all. She was tired and she had a horrible headache from work. having sex was not on her to-do list but a nap was.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" He whispered in her ear causing shivers to run down her spine. She was sad because she was going to turn him down and she knew how stressed all the boys were, he just wanted have fun.

"Maybe not right now momo, I'm not in the mood," She told him while finishing the last of the dishes and drying her hands. He pouts and lets out a small whimper.

"Have you eaten yet?" She asked him changing the subject.

"Not yet no," he frowned.

"Okay then sit, let me call the other guys to come eat too," She encourage him, "and don't forget to put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket," She tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss before going to the living room to find only Changbin sat while scrolling through his phone.

He was wearing all black and he had his glasses on. His hair was fluffy and curly meaning today he was in the studio all day.

"Binnie?" She walked and sat by him, "what are you doing?"

"Hey baby," he kisses her temple and then her lips, "I was just lacing up my shoes, what about you? How was your day?"

"I'm tired that's all," she pouted, "and my period is coming soon so I'm breaking out!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms causing him to chuckle.

"I mean atleast you look nice," he dropped his shoe and pulled her close to his body, "you look beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, amazing-"

"Okay, okay I get the point," she roll my eyes playfully.

"Hey? Am I not allowed to praise my beautiful girlfriend?" He playfully frowns.

"You are I geuss," she giggled and he couldnt help but pull her onto his lap.

"Then let me praise you huh?" He kisses her cheek and slowly starts moving down her neck. A small moan leaves her mouth.

"B-Binnie, I'm not in the mood, please," she told him.

"Why not? You're always in the mood," he looks confused.

"Not today, just come have lunch yeah?" she give him a peck on the lips and got off him so he could stand up.

"Fine," he huffs. He makes his way to the dining area as she depart6ed and headed to Felix's room

"Felix?" she called while knocking on his door.

"It's open!"

"Hey sunshine, dinner is ready-"

"Hey! no kisses? No hugs?" He frowned and turned around from his desk.

"Oh-" she giggled when she realized and then walked over to him, "Hey lix," she repeated and  gave him a kiss as he automatically pulled her on his lap.

"How's my baby doing?" He asked as his hands wrapped around her waist and he cuddled her body.

"Mm just tired," she sighed.

"Oh my poor baby, should we watch a movie later?" He was craving her. he wanted to spend more time with her because he felt like he had spent so much time with the boys that he was neglecting her.

"Yeah that would be nice but first go get lunch," she forced herself out of his grip but he let out a soft whine due to the lack of touch and well...the bulge that was now very visible through his pants.

"Look what you've done to me," he whined again causing her to laugh at his distraught state.

"Oh oh, you better fix that before you go down,"

"Help me please!" He frowned.

"I'm not in the mood Felix, please."

"Come on pleaseee, it's been a long day. Don't you want to see me happy?"

His eyes were shiny and hungry, it was obvious.

"Fine after dinner," she lied to him so he could get up and he actually believed it.

"Okay okay, I'm running there now!"

He got up from his sit and rushed out the room.

She followed behind him and checked the dining room to see everyone now sitting down including Chan, I.N, Seungmin and leeknow.

She went around to give them quick kisses before returning to her room and changed into just a  huge shirt (that was probably for one of the boys) and underwear.

She turned off all her room lights and entered bed now being able to have a peaceful sleep. A nice, nice qui-

She felt the bed dip and hands wrap around her body. Her eyes open quickly and she saw familiar hands. Chan.

"Channie?"

"Hey babe, I wanted to cuddles," he pouted.

"Fine but no disturbing my sleep," she scolded him and turned so it was easier for him to wrap his arms around her waist.

Her eyes slowly closed once again and she finally thought she was to get some sleep until the door swung wide open and closed quickly, two more people walking in and making themselves comfortable in her bed. Han and I.N. At this point she was so used to it that she just let them stay as they both argued on who was sleeping where.

"Guys if you're going to be in here, you have to be quiet and sleep," She told all of them off. Even if she was getting a little frustrated she scooted up a little so they could all enter the bed.

Not even a few minutes later all the boys were now in her room on her bed piling onto one another under her fluffy blankets. She knew exactly what they wanted when she felt one of their hands massaging her leg.

She let out a sigh, "Such horny dogs!" she groaned.

"Common baby, it's been a long day. Don't you care about us?" Hyunjin teased her in a manipulative manner.

"Just a little fun. Come on please," Han rubbed her leg once more back and forth causing shivered to run down her spine.

"You look good too," Felix complimented her while tugging at her bra strap, "really good." They were basically already peeling her clothes off with their cold ass hands.

She let out a sigh and finally gave in, "F-fine I geuss so," her eyes wonder to Chan who gives her an assuring nod.

//please idk how to write a smut but just imagine the nastiest thing ever happens//

When they were done and the boys were satisfied as Y/n sat on the bed. Her heart was racing from all the action but she was in her own space. Spaced out.

The constant thoughts of the boys using her for their sexual desires made her enter a depressive episode. Yes she enjoyed the sex and the attention but so many emotions were running through her tiny body that she couldn't handle it anymore.

She felt used like a sex toy and the tears in her eyes slowly started to build as she started to breath rapidly. The air in the room getting suddenly thick. Seungmin was in the bathroom running her bath for her after care. The sound of the water falling was the only sort of noise she could hear.

She held her knees against her chest as she tried to calm down. Han's hand wrapped around her waist. As he kissed her temple. "you did so good for us, you know that right babygirl?" he praised but she didnt even notice him in the first place. Her eyes were hazy and completely black and when Han noticed, he gave chan a look. 

"Hey, are you with us?" Chan asked immediately as he pulled up his sweatpants. "Y/n?"

No response.

She was staring at the wall right in-front of her. She felt unloved. She felt tired. She was in pain.

The boys (some of them were still dressing up) all turned to look at her. Her body was still bare and the bruises on her arms were visible.

"Is she going into a trance?" I.N asked panicked. "Chan do something, please,"

"Hey Y/n? Babygirl? It me. Can you hear me?" He walked over to her and grabbed her tiny hands.

"C-channie?" She chocked as She looked up at him. The tears slowly starting to fall.

"Yes my love, it's me. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm alone, I'm all alone," she sobbed. "Why am I like this? Why am I so disgusting?" She cried.

"What do you mean Y/n?" He asked shocked.

"I-I want Binnie, I want Binnie now," she said reaching out for him. Changbin did not hesitate. He was right by her side pulling her onto his lap. The rest of the boys understanding what was going on and quickly taking action.

"I'm here princesses, tell me what's wrong," he had no shirt on and the skin to skin was slowly giving her comfort as his body heat was radiating warmth.

"I-do you love me?" She asked. The panic in her voice was clear. She was soon going to get a panic attack. it was building up.

"Ofcourse I love you babydoll, why would you think otherwise?" He questioned while kissing her forehead.

"i- i dont know, please dont be mad at me," She sobbed in his chest. The view was heartbreaking and the boys knew that if they didnt find a way to cheer her up soon it would end up into a full blown panic attack.

"I'm going to make some brownies for her," Felix said because he knew this was the only way he could comfort her on his part. He quickly leaves the room after hesitating for a bit not wanting to leave her.

"I- are you guys using me? For sex?" She cried harder. Her hands held Changbins chest as She struggled to breathe. Their faces were in absolute shock. was this what they made her think? was this all she thought she was to them? 

"Ofcourse not," leeknow knelt down infront of her. He slowly rubbed her thigh. "Jagi, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?" He asked her. Her body was shaking still. she tried to gasp for air but failed. 

"Listen to me beuatiful, you need to breathe like me....see," he took a deep breathe to demonstrate to her but it was no use. 

"i- i cant breathe," she gasped and let go of changbin to grab her neck. it felt like it was closing up. Her vision was blurry now and the lack of oxygen was getting to her. 

"C-chan?" she gasped as she slowly she started to pass out. Her body giving up on her due to the many emotions.

"come on baby, stay with me," she heard in the distance.

"Guys! call 119,"

***

This is just a fic no one come for me 😔

[zepskies]

What Does "Supporting Writers" Mean? ✍️

Apparently it's Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! To all my fellow writers, I truly appreciate you for bringing me joy, making me smile on rough days, and giving me my weekly/daily dose of escapism and warm fuzzies. (Shoutouts to you personally below.) 💓💓

But what does it mean "practically" to appreciate your favorite writers, especially on Tumblr?

For example, I know some fanfic authors are starting to block "serial likers": people who'll go through someone's entire masterlist and hit the "like" button on 20-something stories without commenting or basic reblogging.

While I think blocking them is extreme, I understand the authors' frustrations. I've actually been asked if I'll ever leave Tumblr, since many of them have dropped off over the past few months, or even the past few years.

I'm still here for two very important reasons:

I love to write about my favorite characters. I write primarily because I love it, not just for the kudos.

I'm friggin' blessed to have a lot of friends and lovely readers on here and Ao3 who support me immensely on my writing and on this blog in general. I love and appreciate each and every one of you! Which is why I do my best to reply to your comments and reblogs. 💖💖

Of course, there are many reasons why a writer might take a break or stop writing entirely, but one of those reasons is also why the #supportwriters tag exists...

And why you'll see us include banners like this on our posts:

(Credits: cafekitsune, me, inklore)

That being said, here's my own rule of thumb on how I try to support my fellow writers when I read something I enjoy:

If I "liked" something, it means I had the time to read a story all the way through and I enjoyed it! (Or I'm bookmarking it for later in the day lol)

If I have the time to read it, I have the time to leave a comment on what I liked the most about it.

If I have the time to write out a comment (anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes), I typically put that comment in a reblog -- maybe even add a gif or two for ✨razzle dazzle.✨ That way I can share it with the rest of my followers, so they can see it and hopefully enjoy it too...

Why? Because Tumblr isn't TikTok or IG. Reblogging is the best way to help a post gain traction on Tumblr. The algorithm doesn't care much about likes.

But on a more human level, supporting writers is just the basic thing of -- if you enjoyed something you read (that a writer shared for free), just let them know what you liked about it.

Remember that there's a person behind the content you enjoy. They might have been working on that story for weeks or months, or even years before they got the courage to post it.

They might really be putting themselves out there, writing about a topic or subject matter that they're not sure people will even like or engage with.

Maybe they're exploring something new, like a character or trope they've never written before.

Maybe they're expressing part of themselves that they haven't even told another living soul.

Maybe they just wanted to write something fun and smutty or angsty or fluffy and want to share the escapism with you.

Whether they've been writing for years or are just starting out, any and all is valid.

For me, as a writer and a reader, supporting my fellow writers often means supporting my friends. And 9 times out of 10, the way we became friends was by leaving feedback on their work and asking them questions, or responding to their awesome feedback on mine.

If you want a little jumpstart on how to leave feedback, whether encouraging or constructive, here's an awesome post about it (not mine).

Shoutout to some of my favorite writers 💞:

(In no particular order)

@waynes-multiverse @luci-in-trenchcoats @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @thatonewriter15 @rizlowwritessortof

@waywardxwords @tofics @kaleldobrev @deanbrainrotwritings @deanwritings

@jawritter @deanwinchesterswitch @justagirlinafandomworld @ravengirl94 @waywardxwords

@spnbabe67 @deanwanddamons @ejlovespie @kittenofdoomage @venus-haze

@talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @jacklesbrainworms @artyandink @princessmisery666 (I just starting reading your stories, but I'm continuing with Samnesia soon!) -- and I'm sure many more! 💋

[sports-on-sundays]

and I can change / CL16 / Part 2

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - Charles would do anything to convince you to forgive him. He'd do anything to revive his family.

Warnings: Again, Y/s/n is 'your son's name'. And again, his age is unspecified- you decide what you think. crying (LOTS of crying), mention of drunkenness, mention of sex, mention of cheating, broken relationships, broken family, censored cussing

Requested?: Yeah! Requested by some sweet souls who read part 1! @barcelonaloverf1life @architect-2015 @emz2092 @cilliansgirl @lunamelona @lightdragonrayne @leclercgirl16

Author's Note: You guys asked for it, so I gave it! I hope you enjoy! Same song as inspiration. Also I'm thinking after this part I'll write a part 3, and then after that maybe a little epilogue, to wrap this up. Tell me what you think. Also, this is the link to part 1 / and the link to part 3

"Y/n, people change.

"And I can change, too."

You lay on your bed, engulfed in the darkness of the room surrounding you. The darkness seems to go deeper than just your surroundings- deeper, and into you.

Over and over the scene plays through your mind. Those words that Charles had uttered. The way he had clutched your hand in both of his, as if it were his only lifeline. In that moment, the desperation his eyes had denoted was incredible.

Charles, why? Why couldn't you let go? You're making it all so much more complicated.

But you know what he would say. Why? Why, Y/n? Because this isn't just about myself. Don't you see the brokenness in our son? Don't you see it?

Guilt washes over you, and then rage.

I shouldn't be the one feeling guilt. He should. He's the one who messed up our family. He's the one who's fault it is!

The way he cried, though.

The desperation.

The thing is that he is feeling guilty. Or at least so it seemed.

But does he really deserve a second chance? Do you?

Your phone rings at 12:00 A.M. On the dot. Charles has always been on the dot. Unless he's drunk, that is.

Why is he calling?

Right when I'm thinking about him, too.

Although this really isn't too surprising, when you consider it. For the past week and a half or so, you've stayed up until roughly 2:00 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, thinking, unable to convince yourself into peace and slumber.

And now a call comes.

Charles, why?

It feels terrible as you answer. "Charles. Don't call me."

"Y/n," he says in a calm voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you snap, trying to keep it down. Your son is sleeping (hopefully) in the next room.

"For reacting so emotionally. I'm sorry. For years this has weighed on me, but crying and begging won't get us anywhere."

"We're not going anywhere, whether you cry and beg or not." You hang up.

A month after that call where you rejected Charles for what you hoped would be the last time, there's a knock on the door on a Saturday. You walk to it, and freeze when you look through the peephole.

Why is Charles Leclerc here?

Anxiety hits you. The house is a mess, you've got no food to give him, you look like a mess in your pajamas and unbrushed hair-

How can he just show up at your door like this?

It's obnoxious.

You honestly are about to pretend you aren't home, but then Y/s/n suddenly runs in, squealing, "Mama, who is it?! Is it the mailman?"

You sigh at your son's strange fascination for the mailman. You're not completely sure why he enjoys the young, dry, monotone mailman, and for years just assumed because he was generally a nice bloke, and little kids are weird, until you realized with an ounce of dread that the mailman resembles Charles, in a way. After that, you've never encouraged his enthusiasm for the mailman, just in case that was the reason, whether conscious or not.

"No, no," you sigh, unlocking the door. "It's not the mailman, love."

"Who is it, Mama?"

As you swing the door open, you murmur, "Well, love, none other but your father."

"Daddy!" the little boy, still in his Lightning McQueen pajamas, squeals, running to hug his father. You glance away, staring at the floor.

Charles hugs your son, kissing him, and exclaims, "Aw, there's my little buddy! How are you, man?"

"I'm good, Daddy! Are you coming to live here now, Daddy?!"

"Ugh- Not quite..." He picks up your son, and looks to you, immediately saying, "Sorry it's such short notice."

You grit your teeth, murmuring, "You mean no notice?"

"Right," he nods with a quick exhale.

While the presence of your son is a burden for you, preventing you from showing your true feelings, it may be an advantage for Charles, to get across what he needs to get across. Whatever that may be.

Because this is all just a game. Everyone with their own different motives. Y/s/n wants Mama and Daddy to love each other because he wants one place to live. Charles' motives are unknown, but probably are just manipulative and selfish- about making himself feel better. And your motive? You don't want to relive the past, so will avoid Charles at all costs.

Charles' and Y/s/n's motives align more with each other than your's.

You look at your son. Who you love so much. He looks at you with hope. Charles looks at you with... a very similar expression.

These two.

How can you love one and hate the other?

They're both family, as much as you hate to admit it. Because one of them, you wish you could erase.

No. But you don't. Because if you'd never met Charles, Y/s/n would never have been born. And you can't even begin to imagine your life without him.

You hold the door open, and gesture to the couch. "Sit down, Charles. I'm going to get dressed, and then put the kettle on." You say all this through gritted teeth.

How can he just walk in as if he owns the place?

He nods. "Thank you, Y/n." You watch in the doorway to the hall as Charles sits down on the couch with his son on his lap. You watch as he says softly, picking up a toy car from off the rug, "This car is awesome, Y/s/n. Where'd you get it?"

"Mama got it for me! For my birthday!" Y/s/n takes it from his father's hand with much pride, and starts driving it across Charles' chest, up onto his neck, and eventually onto his cheeks. The whole time, Charles laughs, his hand on his son's back to keep him from tipping off his lap.

"That's a super cool car. Does it have a name?"

"Uhhh," Y/s/n frowns. "Zoom! Because he goes zooooom!"

"Oh, it's a he?"

"Of course," Y/s/n says, as if this fact should be obvious. Then he giggles, "Because girls smell."

"They smell?! No way. Girls don't smell."

"Yeah, they do," he crosses his arms, frowning at his father. "You don't know any girls. You only know... Uh, Cah-los."

Charles laughs out loud. "The only person I know is 'Cah-los'?"

"Yep! And Uncle Arthur and Uncle Lorenzo, but that's it!" your son claims in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Their conversation continues, but you finally turn to leave and get yourself fixed up. You quickly shower, brush your teeth and hair, put on moisturizing cream, perfume, and deodorant, and put on a beige hoodie, grey sweatpants, and slides, before going to make tea. The whole time, you mind swirls.

Why is he here? Why is he here on a Saturday? Why is he here, without even asking to come? It's so... obnoxious.

You finish making two cups of tea, finding with awe as you make them that you remember exactly the way Charles likes his tea, and you're doing it automatically.

Because I used to do this so much.

You walk back in with the tea and see the two boys sitting on the rug now. Charles is tickling Y/s/n's tummy, and both of them are laughing- Charles with more of a chuckle and Y/s/n with more of a squealing giggle. When Charles sees you, he slowly stops, saying with a little sigh, "Alright, bud. Mama's back with my tea, and I mean to drink it."

"But Daddyyy!"

"Nope!" he grins, standing up, ruffling his son's messy hair. He then walks to you, and you hand him his tea. He lights up when he tastes the tea and looks at you, muttering softly, "My God, you remembered how I like my tea...?"

"Don't jump to sh*t, Charles," you murmur, soft enough for Y/s/n not to hear.

"Right," he sighs, sitting down again on the couch.

You set your tea down, walking to your son. "Alright, love. I want you to go in your room now, okay? Remember the Lego plane you were building? Why don't you work on that? I want to see it once it's finished, okay? And if you need anything, call, okay? Don't come in here. Just call, and one of us will come."

He looks questioningly. "Why, Mama?"

"Me and your father have important things to talk about. And if you don't listen, there will be consequences."

He blinks, pouting.

"I'll turn on your storybook audio for you. Come on." You bring him to his room and get him set up, until you're sure he's completely distracted with the Legos and the storybook. Only then do you come back to the living room and sit down awkwardly next to Charles.

He's still wearing his red windbreaker from when he was outside, and a black scarf hangs loose around his neck. His hair is a bit messed up, but he looks perfect, like always.

Too perfect.

"Let me take your scarf and jacket. And your shoes."

"Right," he says with a swift nod, handing you his scarf, coat, and sleek black boots. You put them by the door, and sit down, viewing the cozy grey sweater adorning his frame. You have a passing thought, considering how much unnecessary money he might have spent on such a garment.

"So?" you ask in a tense voice. "What is this all about, Charles?"

"There are some things we need to work out. You're right- one of the many things I've done wrong to you is always being a f*cking coward. You're right. I didn't say what was on my mind, and I faked it, and I kept quiet, because I didn't want to upset you. But now I see that the only thing I can do now is speak up, be honest, and be a man. You rightfully left me because I wasn't being a proper man. I wasn't being your proper man. I was being a terrible husband and a terrible father. But now we need to uncover what's true- we both have different views, both of which are likely exaggerated or incorrect in different ways."

"I don't care, Charles," you say quickly, flat out trying to ignore his admittance to wrong. Perhaps because you don't want it to be true. Because if he's sorry, that means you have to forgive him.

"So you're telling me you'd rather believe lies, just because it makes you feel better? What kind of thinking is that?"

You hate to admit that he's right. So you say nothing.

There's silence. But then he says, "So tell me what happened."

"You know what happen-"

"Tell me, Y/n." His voice isn't rude, but definitely firm.

You swallow, shaking your head. You don't want to work this out. You want to forget Charles. But clearly, that's impossible. "You were irresponsible. You'd get drunk, never be home, never help me. I'd be all on my own... You... You'd use me for your own pleasure but never show true, selfless love... Then you came home drunk saying stuff about a pretty woman and sex and getting pregnant... So you cheated... And I divorced you because I couldn't take it any more." You can't believe it, but you're trying not to choke up as you whisper, "Charles, what we had seemed perfect. Until you messed it up." Your mouth tastes like poison.

Charles stares down, his eyes swirling with everything but empty, at the same time. "Y/n," he whispers. "I was terrible. You're right. I was never around because I was immature and scared. I didn't understand. To get away from it, I drank and had fun with friends."

Your lip curls. "You're not the victim."

"And I never said I was! I was scared of being a father. I was scared of messing up. I wasn't ready and I let everything happen too quickly. I was a coward and I left you. Even though you divorced me, I was the one who left you. That's what happened. I was stupid. I was a terrible person. It's all my fault."

"Why would you be any different now? There's no way for you to prove that. Before the marriage you were fine. It was when we married that you went downhill. It was like... you couldn't stand me."

He looks torn apart. "I loved you. I... I... I still do. I knew I wasn't being a good husband or father and to forget about it, I drank."

"And why wouldn't you still do it now?!"

"Because I don't. I feel more guilt now than I did then! I feel more responsibility now than I did then! And that was my greatest fear! Responsibility! But now I don't drink excessively! Now I don't avoid reality! Because I need you... Our son needs us. Together. Don't you need me?"

"Not the you I know."

"You don't know me anymore. I'm not the same person I was." His voice is so uncommonly firm, it slightly shocks you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

He goes on, "That night, I didn't cheat. I was intoxicated. A young woman was trying to seduce me, but I refused because I had you. You, my beautiful wife, both inside and out. I wanted to convey to you that I said no because you were my wife. However, I failed to communicate this properly, and the next morning, I had completely forgotten the conversation. I chose not to tell you because I thought it would be better if you didn't know. I was afraid you would be angrier with me for being in that situation. I was a coward, and I didn't want you to be upset with me. I didn't realize for years that you believed I had cheated. If I had known, I would have assured you that I didn't cheat, just like I am doing now, and that I never would. Because I didn't. Despite all the mistakes I made, cheating on you is something I would never, ever do. I have always loved you, and only you, far too much for that."

Your hands tremble in your lap as you stare at him, listening.

Now you're the one getting emotional.

Charles leans in close to you- too close for comfort- and whispers, "I've changed... Please. I just want a second chance... To right my wrongs and give you and our son the lives you deserve. I need to give my all to you... I need to make it up to you... It's... It's crushing me."

"Why do you need a second chance?" Your voice, for once, isn't aggressive. It's gentle. Softer. Your voice cracks as you say, "You should have done it right the first time."

You see him swallow. "And you know what? I didn't. I f*cked up. I f*cked up everything. I f*cked up your life and I know it. I'm sorry. I wish I could go back in time and fix it and make it all better. I was stupid, Y/n. I was terrible. I hurt the most beautiful woman and her baby in the world. I'm the least." He takes your hand again in both his, but this time it's a gentler grasp.

"But you're not. You're famous. You have so many fans."

"Do you know how many times I've thought I don't deserve all this? If only I could share it all with you."

"Charles," your voice cracks again, and an unexpected, terrible longing fills you. "I want to believe you, but I can't. I'm broken, Charles, because of you. I can't afford to let you break me again..."

A tear rolls down your cheeks, and immediately he reaches up with his thumb, gently wiping your cheek, "No, Y/n, please don't cry... I don't want you to cry because of me any longer... Please..."

"Charles, I can't do this..." more tears fall.

There's hurt and confusion, but mostly longing and guilt in his eyes. "Please... If you'd only trust me, then we could make this right. I could make this right, after all I did wrong."

You can hardly believe yourself as you let your broken, silently crying self fall into Charles. You allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder, and you allow his arms to wrap around you, giving you his warmth. "Charles..."

"Yes...?" There's a painful hope in his voice.

"I don't know if I can do this..." you cry into his shoulder now.

He whispers right in your ear, "Just give me a chance. Let me be there for you... Let me prove to you... Let me..."

You can't give him a yes or a no. Two sides war inside you- the mask and the face. You feel him stroke your hair as you cry, at the same time as remembering stroking his hair when he was drunk and needed comfort.

This is some sort of paradox, isn't it?

"Charles," you murmur, leaning away after you've gained control of yourself. "The answer is 'I don't know' right now, okay... Consider it... better than hating your guts with an adamant 'no.'"

As he gazes into your eyes, he leans closer. Softly, he places a tender kiss on your cheek and whispers, "I'll be ready whenever you are. And I'll never, ever stop waiting for you."

Weeks pass, and Charles can't understand why, after all that happened that day, still you insist on avoiding him like the plague.

Well, the reason is just that- avoidance. You're avoiding Charles because you don't want to face the possible truth. You're avoiding him because you don't want to make big decisions. You don't want to try again. You don't want to...

Well, you don't want to fall in love again.

And on that day, the way he treated you...

It reminded you of the man you married, and not the man you divorced.

And that scares you. Because you'll never forget the man you divorced.

So you're stubborn and resistent, and you're avoiding him.

So you sit, staring at the screen of your cell phone. Rereading the text on it. Over and over.

Charles Leclerc: I'm sorry for such a long text Y/n but you probably won't read it anyway, so what does it matter? I need to talk with you and you're doing exactly what I've done, what I'm apologizing for. For years I avoided this stuff and one of the reasons we split was that i couldn't stand up and address and tell you my problems. I was being a f*cking coward. And I've said sorry more times than I can count. I thought you might be on the road to forgiveness, to giving me a second chance. I know you felt the same way as me when you leaned into me and let me hold you when you cried- there's something more here, and I don't want you to ignore this. Can't we just try this? Please Y/n? I'm finally willing to step up, be a man, work through all this sh*t with you. Talk about it. I'm finally willing to be brave, and as soon as I am, you're doing the same thing you've yelled at me for years for doing- staying silent.

Charles Leclerc: I love you, Y/n, and this is a problem I desperately want to fix, but the truth of the matter is that you're being a f*cking hypocrite.

Me: How does it feel to be in the position you put me in for years?

You feel mean for typing that, and you're not sure how much you mean it. Maybe you meant to be kinder.

But the anger took over and your thumbs did the talking.

Charles leaves that message on read.

You sit in the cold metal chair, surrounded by pudgy, middle-aged parents and their gross kids all around you as a lone young mother sitting by herself. You're only here to see your son, and none of the other aspects of this situation bring you an ounce of joy.

All of a sudden, a shiver runs down your spine as a firm hand gently lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps up, meeting the gaze of Charles Leclerc. A look of disdain crosses your face, causing your heart to ache as you bluntly ask, "Why are you here?"

Charles takes a seat beside you in the vacant chair and casually remarks, "I've come to attend my son's school concert. And you?" A glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes.

Your jaw tightens in pure irritation, and you manage through gritted teeth in a tense, quiet tone, "Why did you choose to sit next to me?"

Charles hesitates, his expression softening, as he makes an effort to hold your gaze. "Well... Because I..." He swallows and says, "I'm not going to give up on you. That's why. So I figured I'd sit down next to you to watch my- our- son's concert. So..." Abruptly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The veins in his hand are visible as he clasps yours tightly.

Your muscles tense, yet for some reason, you don't pull your hand away.

So throughout the whole school concert, Charles sits, gripping your hand, and seems to refuse to let it go.

And the moment the teacher is done on stage after the little production, thanking people for helping and the kids for doing such a great job and other stuff you don't listen to, Charles turns to you and says, "So, we have some minutes to spare."

Your eyebrows scrunch together. "Come again?"

He chuckles, but it doesn't feel called for. "You weren't listening to her? She said the students can be picked up from their classrooms by their parents in fifteen minutes."

Your jaw clenches again. "Charles, why?"

"Because I know you want it," he says incredibly earnestly. The inside of your heart melts as the outside hardens.

"But I don't think I do."

"But I know you do. Now come on." Your ex-husband stand up, pulling you up with him.

"Where are we going?" you ask. "And please let go of my hand. You've been holding it so long, it's starting to get sweaty."

He clicks his tongue and doesn't respond to either of these, then guides you down various hallways until you reach the school's exit. Finally, he sits down with you on a bench outside the school, and releases your hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's just hang out here for the next ten minutes, okay? We should talk," he says awkwardly, facing you.

"I don't get it. Charles, there's nothing you can do to-"

Charles interrupts, holding your face gently, gazing into your eyes. "Please, don't. Don't say that," he pleads, his thumb brushing your cheek. "There's something we can do. We can make this work... Please..."

His desperation, his begging, makes you want to cry. "Please just let it go... Let me go..."

"No, I don't want you to be trapped... Don't you see you'll be more free with me? You won't have to work as hard.. I'll take care of you and our son... I'll take half the work in the house you have to deal with... I'll... We'll... I just want you to believe that we'll be happier... I'm not saying we need to jump to anything today. I'm just saying, let's be kind to each other... Let's go out to eat sometimes, or go to our son's events together. Let's act just a little bit more like a family, even if we aren't yet. I just want to- I need to- I- I- I..." He trails off. His hands fall off your cheeks, and his shoulders slack. His head goes down.

It's like just the hard look in your eyes alone crushed him.

Like that alone is the huge weight he's bearing.

"F*** me, Y/n... F*** me," he whispers, his hands in his lap trembling. "I don't deserve you. I hurt you. Doesn't matter how much I changed. I still have to live through the consequences of my actions, don't I?" He seems to be talking more to himself, but you have no idea at this point. "Just f*** me." He exhales shakily, before suddenly standing up. He stares you right in your eyes, and your heart breaks when you see the hurt, the destroyed desperation. "It's fine, Y/n." He's trying to keep a level face. But his voice cracks. "I'll leave you alone. I'll let you go. I can see all this is just hurting you more. I never meant to hurt you more. I never meant to bring up the past to hurt you. I wanted to help you... I wanted to help you heal..." He drags a hand over his face. "But clearly I f***ing didn't. Clearly I messed it up again. I f***ing messed up again." He swallows. His eyes glimmer with wetness as he practically whispers, "The last thing I want is to hurt you. So I'll drop it. I'm just being selfish again, aren't I? I think this would be better, but you don't. And that's hurting you. And I never wanted to..." He swallows, his nose crunching up. Suddenly he yells, "I never wanted to hurt you ever again, because I love you, for f***'s sake! I love you, but I did hurt you, because, in the end, no matter what, I'm going to f*** it up anyway! So bye, Y/n!" Suddenly he turns on his feet. Like he doesn't want you to see him cry again. But you can hear the tears in his voice when the last thing he calls back is, "It will go back to normal, and we can pretend none of this ever happened! Pretend I'm a stranger! It's the best for you, anyway, apparently, and all I wanted was the best for you!"

You stare in shock as you watch him get in his car and drive away. You remain seated, gaze straight ahead. Tears well up in your eyes, and your body quivers, yet you manage to compose yourself, rise on unsteady legs, and compel yourself to return to the school to pick up your son.

But that just wasn't right.

I should have stopped him. I should have called him back. I should've.

How far can revenge go before it's gone too far?

For days, the guilt, the hurt, the rue- they weigh on you. Every moment of your days, it consumes your thoughts. Regret and confusion and anger fill you in every step, engulfing your every move. And if you thought you weren't getting any sleep before, now it's even worse.

You long to fix it, but you are unsure of how. Despite everything... You can't see how Charles isn't being honest. You want to have faith in him. A small part of you may even want to love him, just a little bit.

You're also fearful. Fearful of reaching out to him, because you don't know what you'd do. You have no idea.

But now you're dropping your son off at Charles's house. You swallow, and suddenly, on a whim, when you see Charles walking outside, waiting for Y/s/n, you get out of the car, too.

"Mama?" your son asks with a confused expression, still maintaining a little smile on his face.

You smile back down at him and say, "I'm walking you up to your daddy's house today, is all."

He shrug and nods, apparently accepting this.

He's such a good kid.

As you approach Charles, your smile twitches while you study him, but you say softly, "Hey, um... I... We..." Your tone sounds weak.

"Yes?" Charles asks, looking up. He looks perfect. As always.

Your eyes lock.

Please, Charles. I don't know how to say this. Please just understand.

His eyes remain blank. You let out a sigh.

And suddenly, you hug him.

Charles seems taken aback for only a moment, before he immediately hugs you back and says softly, "Hey... Want to come inside with me and Y/s/n?"

You nod. "Yes... Yes, please."

So Charles leads the two of you up to his flat. You sit down together on the couch, once again.

Last time you did this was the moment Charles cried out to you.

"Y/n, people change."

You swallow at the memory.

Is this another paradox? This time, will I be the one crying out to him?

Y/s/n is about to hop on the couch between you, but suddenly Charles scoops him up and says, "Hey, hey! I didn't get my hug from you yet, did I?!"

Your son giggles, getting comfortable on his father's lap, before giving him a big hug. "I scored a goal, Daddy..."

"You scored a goal?!" he grins. "Seriously?"

"Yeah! Mama cheered me on! I scored a goal when I played football!"

Charles looks so bright. Happy with his son. So proud. He doesn't get to see him as often as you do. "No way. You've got to be joking. Was it the winning goal?"

"Yep!" your son says proudly.

You find yourself smiling.

"Oh yeah, what was the score?"

Your son shrugs. "Dunno! But we won!"

You smile and mutter softly, "I think it was 4-1." Y/s/n plays in the little league team affiliated with his school.

"Yeah, but my goal made it 2-1, so I won it," he brags to his father.

Charles grins. "Oh, I'm sure it did. You know, I don't know where you got that talent for football from. Do you think Mama is good at football?"

Your son just shrugs with a grin, enjoying the affirmation from his father. "Dunno! But Mama is good at cuddling and playing with me."

Charles laughs. "Yeah, your mama takes good care of you." He glances at you with sparkling eyes, before looking back down at his son.

The two continue babbling on about sports and football and what not, until Charles finally ruffles his son's hair and says, "Well, buddy, I reckon it's time for me and Mama to have some alone time."

Y/s/n frowns. "Aw, why?"

"Because I want to talk with Mama about things that you won't care about. Boring grown-up stuff. Doesn't sound very fun, does it?"

Y/s/n shrugs, still looking uncertain.

"Hey, don't look so down. How about this? I'll go put on Cars for you. How's that sound?"

Your son grins at this, immediately jumping up, his demeanor changing abruptly. "Yeah, yeah!" he squeals, and you watch as Charles leaves with him to go set him up with that in another room.

But soon Charles is back. He gently shuts the door behind him as he enters the room, and immediately sits down next to you, facing you once more. "Hey, Y/n..." he says in a tentative but gentle tone.

You swallow. "Hey, Charles..." You feel yourself getting nervous again. "You're so... You're so good with Y/s/n."

He smiles. "You are, too."

There's no, And I'm sure we'd be even better with him together.

Charles meant it when he said he'd give up on it.

But you move closer to him. You take his hands. "This is a lot for me, Charles. I'm scared. I'm having issues with trust."

He nods slowly. "I know... I know..."

You swallow, and hug him again.

He holds you, hugging you back. He kisses your cheek. He whispers, "I understand if you're afraid. I understand if you're scared, or if you're having issues with trust. I'm so deeply sorry I've broken you like that."

Y/n, people change. And I can change.

The words come crashing into your mind like a ton of bricks, emerging from the depths of your memory.

"Charles-" you break in, your voice cracking. "Those words have haunted me."

"What words...?" he mutters softly.

You swallow. Breathe slowly. And you whisper, "You said to me 'Y/n, people change. And I can change.'"

"I have changed," he whispers.

"But," your voice cracks. "You said a lot of other s***, too. I remember, during our honeymoon..." A tear rolls down your face as Charles continues to hold you. "You said I'm yours and you're mine. You said we'd be forever. You said you'd do anything for me. You said we'd have three kids together, and you'd never stop loving me, and we would be a happy family. You said we'd grow old together, Charles. That's what you said. But all those promises- they were broken... They were broken."

"You didn't want them to be," he whispers calmly. "But don't you realize? Perhaps those promises were not broken, but rather, they have just not yet been fulfilled."

You look up at him, blinking. More tears roll down your cheeks. Charles gently wipes them away.

"I want to be able to fix what I did wrong. I want to be able to fulfill those promises I made to you. That's what I want, Y/n."

"Charles..." you breathe.

He looks so perfect.

"Yes?" he asks gently.

Your lip quivers, and you lean into his shoulder, and you sob.

And he lets you.

For however long, he holds you there, rubbing your back, letting you weep. Finally, you get a hold of yourself, and slowly pull away. You wipe your wet eyes with the backs of your hands, before sighing. "Charles, if we were to do this... If I were to give in..." You sniff. Your voice cracks again as you utter, "Please, don't hurt me again. I can't survive it again. I can't let you put me through that again..."

He pulls you to him again and whispers in your ear, "I won't. I won't. I won't let you down this time. Please don't be afraid of me... I want to love you... Let me love you... If you'll just let me, we can fix this... We have have a relationship in which we communicate more. Oh, Y/n..." he sighs. "Don't you realize how much I care? I- I would give my life for you."

You blink, staring at him.

Everything looks so promising. That's why you're scared.

It almost looks too promising.

"You say you would give your life for me. But would you really? Maybe you would you give your life for me if it meant losing it. But would you give your life to me while you're still alive? Would you clean the dishes? Would you help me when I'm sick? Would you grab an extra ingredient from the store if I needed it? Would you drive Y/s/n to school when you could? Would you really? You're gone half the year, as it is."

His jaw clenches, then un-clenches. "I would do anything and everything I could do for you. I want to share my life for you. Until death. And I'm one hundred percent sure on that. I've had years of thinking about this." There's hope in his lovely eyes.

So much hope.

You sigh, staring down at your lap.

"Y/n. I'm sorry. Please. Not only do I need your forgiveness. But your son does, too." He hesitates. "And I hope you know no matter what happens, the guilt of what I've done to you will weigh on me my whole life. That's why I want to fix it."

You gently slip your hand in his and whisper, "Please don't hurt me."

He wraps his fingers around your hand, holding it. "I won't."

You nod slowly, another tear rolls down your cheek, and it feels like all the molecules in your body are being ripped apart as you barely whisper, "Okay, Charles. We can try this again."

[accio-victuuri]

read a book for me. 📚

inspired by people who were curious about the books featured in xz’s video, let’s take a look at what they are. i’d like to think these were pre approved by XZ and are related to his interests. i’m not removing tge possibility that one of these were chosen by someone from xzs or the director himself. i’m tagging this as cpn because there will be some cpn. if you don’t wanna go that route and just enjoy learning about the titles featured, then go ahead. 😉

1. Restoration House by Kennesha Bucks

You don't have to live in your dream house to make your living spaces feel more like home. Home is meant to be a place to belong. A place to gather and connect. A place of beauty. A place to restore your soul. In Restoration House, author and designer Kennesha Buycks will encourage you to embrace your home and your story so you can create mindful spaces that give life to you, your loved ones, and all who enter.

2. LORI WILDE

that red book just says the author’s name and no actual title but if you look her up, she’s all about that romance novel. here is her website if you wanna know what i mean. if you move a bit, the spine of it says “boy” so i think it maybe one of those books that has the cowboys in it!

3. Next is LIT UP, which is a black book. I’m not so sure if it’s a real book and when you search it, there are a couple of contenders. Tho i personally gravitate towards p2 since it’s black and the plot of the story is something i think XZ will enjoy!

it says out of the cubicle and into the real world, it’s like him getting out of his work cubicle years ago and discovering the world.

book overview:

Eddy Gilmore found himself on society’s fringe after being exiled from Corporate America. Despite years of higher education and exemplary service inside a cubicle’s pixelated world, he had no tangible or transferable skills to offer his community. Amazingly, failure was the door into tapping dreams and gifts that had long been ignored as impractical.

This true to life adventure is a pilgrimage into the real world, a place where neighbors make and produce things that sustain life and bring joy. When their eyes were opened to the talents all around them, Eddy and his wife discovered how to produce value themselves, and sank roots into the community. By working together, they are building a life they might never need to retire from.

4. The Interior Design Handbook

Frida Ramstedt believes in thinking about how we decorate, rather than focusing on what we decorate with. We know more today than ever before about design trends, furniture, and knickknacks, and now Frida familiarizes readers with the basic principles behind interior and styling—what looks good and, most of all, why it looks good.

The Interior Design Handbook teaches you general rules of thumb—like what the golden ratio and the golden spiral are, the proper size for a coffee table in relation to your sofa, the optimal height to hang lighting fixtures, and the best ways to use a mood board—complete with helpful illustrations. Use The Interior Design Handbook to achieve a balanced, beautiful home no matter where you live or what your style is.

5. Limits of the Known

A celebrated mountaineer and author searches for meaning in great adventures and explorations, past and present.

David Roberts, "veteran mountain climber and chronicler of adventures" (Washington Post), has spent his career documenting voyages to the most extreme landscapes on earth. In Limits of the Known, he reflects on humanity’s—and his own—relationship to extreme risk. Part memoir and part history, this book tries to make sense of why so many have committed their lives to the desperate pursuit of adventure.

In the wake of his diagnosis with throat cancer, Roberts seeks answers with sharp new urgency. He explores his own lifelong commitment to adventuring, as well as the cultural contributions of explorers throughout history: What specific forms of courage and commitment did it take for Fridtjof Nansen to survive an eighteen-month journey from a record "farthest north" with no supplies and a single rifle during his polar expedition of 1893–96? What compelled Eric Shipton to return, five times, to the ridges of Mt. Everest, plotting the mountain’s most treacherous territory years before Hillary and Tenzing’s famous ascent? What drove Bill Stone to dive 3,000 feet underground into North America’s deepest cave?

What motivates the explorers we most admire, who are willing to embark on perilous journeys and push the limits of the human body? And what is the future of adventure in a world we have mapped and trodden from end to end?

6. Eat, Drink, Nap: Bringing the House Home

The quintessential style, cooking, and home interior book from Soho House, the world's leading members' club.

Since the first Soho House opened its doors over 25 years ago, we've learnt a bit about what works. Contemporary, global yet with something quintessentially English and homely at its heart, this is Soho House style explained by its experts:

- From planning a room to vintage finds: bringing the Soho House look home.

- Our House curator's advice on how to buy, collect and hang art.

- The art of a great night's sleep: how to design the perfect bedroom.

- No-fuss recipes and chef's tips: here's how to make your favourite House dishes.

- Inside Babington: our take on country-house living. Wellies optional.

- Flip-flop glamour and poolside style from Soho House Miami Beach.

- All the secrets of cocktail hour: House tonics and barman's tips.

- Spa treatment at home, DIY facials and chocolate brownies.

Eat Drink Nap, a 300-page highly illustrated book, with a foreword from founder Nick Jones, and photography from leading food and interiors photographers Mark Seelen and Jean Cazals, shares the Soho House blueprint for stylish, modern living, the Soho House way.

7. Styled

It’s easy to find your own style confidence once you know this secret: While decorating can take months and tons of money, styling often takes just minutes. Even a few little tweaks can transform the way your room feels.

At the heart of Styled are Emily Henderson’s ten easy steps to styling any space. From editing out what you don’t love to repurposing what you can’t live without to arranging the most eye-catching vignettes on any surface, you’ll learn how to make your own style magic.

With Emily’s style diagnostic, insider tips, and more than 1,000 unique ideas from 75 envy-inducing rooms, you’ll soon be styling like you were born to do it.

8. The other book i’m seeing is WINTER TID then it cuts off so again it’s tricky to confirm what it is! My best guess is WINTER TIDE but if you google that — i can’t connect how XZ will read that lol.

EDIT: adding this one seen from the alternate MV,

The Tale of the Body Thief by Anne Rice

is a vampire novel by American writer Anne Rice, the fourth in her The Vampire Chronicles series, following The Queen of the Damned (1988). Published in 1992, it continues the adventures of Lestat, specifically his efforts to regain his lost humanity during the late 20th century.

=========

now let’s look at the CPN.

i see fans saying the style related books could be because of his work before. but he is more of a digital and design artist right? he does logos and stuff that can help their brand identity. i don’t remember him being an interior designer. there is also the eat, drink, nap which has topics on cooking and being a good host. these books are making me clown so hard! my head canon is xz is keeping himself busy ( as if he is not busy enough already ) with designing their home. his and wyb’s — if that wasn’t clear enough, that’s what i’m insinuating. if he isn’t traveling, i would imagine he is the type who just wants to spend time at home in between jobs. it is their home. their sanctuary. so xz would make sure that it is according to what they both want and that it’s stylish.

and when he is at home sipping wine, while waiting for Bobo, is he reading a LORI WILDE BOOK? lol. sexy millionaire cowboy you say? 👀👀👀👀

😂😂😂😂😂

or reading something like the LIT UP book which is more up his alley ( but again i’m not sure if this is the exact title )

what is out of place is limits of the known. out of place compared to the theme of the other books, but xz is someone who is into nature and climbing of sorts. but i haven’t seen him climb the way yibo did in ETU. the most popular cpn is that this is yibo’s contribution to the selection. or maybe he read it after yibo and liked it. OR he is also becoming interested in rock climbing — which is not a far off possibility.

-END.

[tkwrites]

Congratulations - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Congratulations

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Warnings: smut (18+ only), Oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), protected p in v

Summary: Sarah congratulates Quinn on clinching into the playoffs.

Word count: 4,200

Comments: Mostly just some good old fashioned Smut.

The opportunity to set up for another portion of their story presented itself, and I had to take it, so this continued in a bit of a different direction at the end than I originally intended. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Congratulations 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

After dropping his parents off at the airport, Quinn was looking forward to taking a nap. Maybe he’d even get some reading in before he and Sarah were going out for an early dinner to celebrate clinching the playoffs before he had to leave on a flight that evening.

“Hey,” someone said as he stepped onto the second floor landing.

“Jesus,” he cursed, grasping the railing to keep from falling back. His eyes found Sarah sitting on the suede couch, wearing black jeans and the blue top she’d had on at her first game.

She giggled. 

“I thought you had work.” 

“I called in.” 

“Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?” he hated to think it, but it really wasn’t the best time for him to get sick. 

“I’m fine. I just wanted some extra time with you.”

“Yeah?” 

“I need to congratulate you,” she said, getting to her feet. The usual warmth he saw in her eyes was still there, but there was something more - something passionate and vibrant shining in them. 

Feeling the air in the room shift and thicken, he gulped. His mind was running itself in circles. “Oh,” he said, because of course he did. 

She crooked a finger to invite him closer. “If your parents weren’t here last night, I would have done it after the game,” she said.

He nearly stumbled over his own feet in his haste to get to her side.

Both of her hands came to rest on his chest. “Do you want to sit or stand?” 

“I — What?”

“Do you want to sit or stand?” she repeated. 

“For what?”

“For when I congratulate you,” she said, giggling a little despite her attempts to be sultry. 

“I don’t know,” he said, truthfully. “What do you think?”

She gave him a coy little smile that made his skin suddenly hot. 

“It doesn’t really matter to me. I’m going to be in the same position either way. I think you might like sitting more, though.”

Wondering if this was actually happening, he felt his heart begin to pound as he moved in front of the seat she’d just vacated. Was this what he thought it was? Maybe his imagination was running away with him.

“Sit,” she ordered, pressing lightly on his chest. 

He flopped into the cushions and tilted his head back to look into her face — at her beautiful blue eyes and perfect, plump mouth.

She immediately climbed into his lap, knees bracketing his hips. 

“Congratulations,” she said quietly, her mouth centimeters from his. Her hands slid into his hair.

He held himself back from pulling her down into a kiss, anxious to see what she had planned.

When she finally did catch his mouth, there was no stopping the moan that filtered up his throat. Her tongue brushed over his before fleeting back. 

She was teasing, and it made his whole body weak.

Her hands flitted under his t-shirt and started lifting it up. He obeyed the silent request and raised his arms. 

After the garment was discarded, Sarah kissed a slow trail to his ear, loving the panting breathing it resulted in. 

“Can I congratulate you?” she asked so quietly he felt her words as much as he heard them.

His hands, which were gripping her waist, tightened. “Okay.” 

Her mouth dipped to his neck. His head tipped almost at once to give her more access. She left a trail of wet kisses down his throat before licking into the divot of his collar bone.  

Before he really even knew how it happened, she was on her knees between his legs.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

He certainly would not. 

Knowing she wouldn’t continue without his consent, he nodded anyway. 

Every muscle in his stomach twitched when her fingers wrapped into the waist of his joggers.

“Hips up,” she instructed, and he jumped to obey. 

After pulling his pants down his legs, she ate up Quinn’s wide eyed wonderment as she gathered her hair and secured it with the scrunchie she had around her wrist.

Her head dipped down, and he let out a stuttered little breath when her mouth connected with his navel. 

“Sarah,” he breathed, “I —” he broke off when she lifted her head.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

He shook his head — probably too hard. 

Not breaking eye contact, she brought her hand to her mouth before licking her palm, tongue soft and wet as she showed off for him. 

His mind was frantic, trying to remember everything about this moment. What had he ever done to get so lucky?

Her hand wrapped around his length and tugged, her saliva providing just enough slip as she pulled him to fully hard.

Lashes fluttering as he struggled to keep his eyes open, his chest rose and fell in thick, quick breaths.

Sarah gave him a cocky little smile, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him, and twisted her hand. His hips jumped, and a keening noise rolled off his tongue.

“You did so good,” she purred, leaning in to brush her lips over his. 

He tried to catch her mouth, but she pulled away before the kiss could ignite. He felt himself pout. It wasn’t enough.

“I think my mouth can be put to better use, don’t you?” 

“Shit Sarah,” he managed to say as the air rushed from his lungs. He knew this snarky, cocky side of her from the golf course but never imagined it directed at him like this. 

Settling back on her haunches, Sarah glanced up at his face. His mouth was open, that prominent bottom lip of his loose and kissable. Visions of leaning up to bite it flooded her thoughts. She tucked that desire away for later. He deserved this. He’d earned it, and she wanted to give him something else to remember the moment by. 

She ran her tongue over her lips before leaning down to take him in her mouth. He grunted, and his hips thrust up of their own volition. 

She pulled off so he wouldn’t hit the back of her throat. 

“Can you try not to thrust that far into my mouth?” she asked, her hand still working.

He nodded, desperate to feel her again.

Through her thankful smile, her tongue came out to play again, wetting her lips before she swirled it around his tip. She stopped to tease the soft, sensitive spot under the head, exploring it with the length of her tongue. When he whimpered, she kept pressing against it, even as she wrapped her lips around him. 

Quinn was in paradise. She felt so good. He felt so alive. Everything was made better by the fact that she'd done this only once before. It was a real reward, not something she did because she thought he wanted her to. 

She pulled him deeper into her hot mouth. Her name came out a broken moan.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he panted, fingers digging into the cushions in an attempt to keep himself still. 

Before too long, she felt the muscles of his left leg twitch under her hand and she eased back to suck the head of his cock. The first time she’d blown him, he’d responded so animatedly to that, she just couldn’t not do it again. 

Glancing into his face, Sarah found him watching her through hooded eyes. Mouth open and panting, his lips were shiny with saliva, and she could clearly see his tongue resting on the inside his bottom jaw. Pausing, she took a moment to memorize how good he looked so she could recall the image on the long, lonely nights when she was missing him. 

He nearly lost it when he realized she was watching him, too. Seductively looking through her lashes, she was seemingly as entranced with him as he was with her. That, along with the way her tongue fluttered over the tip, had him hurling toward climax. 

His hitched breathing and the slow flex of his left leg told Sarah he was close. 

She pulled back even more, lips sucking on the sensitive tip. He gasped before she parted from him with a slow, wet kiss.

Her hand kept moving, sending a wave of pleasure through him with each stroke. 

“I’m so proud of you.”

Something about her words, coupled with the way she was looking at him — full of love, adoration, and pride — sent him right over the edge. He didn’t even have time to warn her. One second he was rushing to the precipice, and the next, he was so mesmerized by her words and her beautiful face, he fell right over it, streaking her nice blue shirt with a messy, white stripe. 

His mouth dropped open with a low nonsensical grunt.  

God, he was hot when he came.  She gently pulled her hand away, letting his softening member slip through her fingers. 

Letting his head thunk onto the back of the couch, Quinn moaned, “fuck, Sarah. I don’t —” he didn’t even have words, “that was — you’re so —” 

The ghost of his blissed out, pleasured expression still lingered on his face, even when the flush of his orgasm started receding.

“You deserve it,” she whispered, rising onto her knees and guiding his chin down so she could kiss him. 

Some of his friends hated kissing their girlfriends after they gave head. Quinn didn’t mind; he was clean. Plus, it was kind of hot, knowing she’d just sucked him off with these same lips, with this same tongue now brushing his. Her mouth brought pleasure everywhere it went. 

“God, I love your mouth,” he breathed against her and felt her smile. 

“She loves you too,” she said, tipping to intensify their kiss again. 

Hands coming up to cradle her jaw, he moaned, “you’re so fucking hot,” before nipping at her bottom lip, smiling when the shudder he hoped it would pull from her materialized. “So fucking good,” he continued, catching her mouth again in earnest, trying to express how he felt physically when his words were so jumbled.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Sarah wanted to smack herself in the forehead. She loves you, too? What was wrong with her? There were about a million other things she could have said that wouldn’t be nearly so corny or embarrassing. 

Feeling her mouth on him and kissing her stirred up visions of going down on her. He’d thought about it, but his first time had been so awful, he couldn’t bare the thought of letting Sarah down, especially not after she just gave him a blowjob that rocked him to his core. A few nights before, he’d tasted her release on his fingers and wanted to try it again. From what he remembered, the first girl he went down on didn’t taste nearly as good. 

Instead of letting himself spiral down that rabbit hole, he scooped her butt into his hands and hauled her onto his lap. 

She was wearing entirely too much clothing. He ripped the ruined shirt over her head and snapped her bra undone as their mouths frantically found each other again. Even the first time they made out wasn’t nearly as needy and frenetic as this. 

Her hips rutted into his, and he winced. He was still overly sensitive, and the denim of her jeans didn’t help at all.

“What’s wrong?”

“Either the jeans come off, or you need to stop doing that.”

She was quick to stand, popping the button before shoving the offending garment down her legs along with her underwear. She kicked them off before settling back in his lap. 

“Better?” she asked. 

His response was to cup her ass and haul her hips against his, guiding her grinding. 

Melting against him, skin alight with so much contact to his, she choked out, “touch me, Quinn.” 

Just like that, he was on fire again. 

He slid his hand between her legs so he could stroke her smooth, slick folds.  

Head tipping back, she moaned, “inside.”

It took longer than he’d like to admit to realize what she was talking about. She wanted his fingers inside her. He eased one in, and she groaned, hips rising and falling in wave after steady wave. 

“More.”

He was quick to obey. 

Her face was so serene and beautiful - soft with bliss. He was watching, mesmerized, when one of her hands drifted up to cup her breast. Her chest hitched, nose scrunching a little with the pleasure that was brought on when she tweaked her nipple.

“God, I could watch you do this all day.”

Her other hand gripped his shoulder, seeking more leverage. “Do what? Ride your fingers?”

“My fingers, my cock,” he groaned just thinking about it, “touching yourself. Doesn’t matter. Just like watching you come.” 

Her hand abandoned her breast to seek her clit, rubbing soft circles around the swollen nub to bring his words to fruition. 

Something about watching her touch herself made him feel hot all over. “Fuck Sarah,” he groaned.

A cocky smile ghosted over her lips, and her eyes found his. “Make me come, Quinn.” 

Curling his fingers, he tried to find the spot he knew would send her over the edge. 

“Down, down,” she winced. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, adjusting. 

“Higher, now.” It wasn’t hurting anymore, but he still wasn’t where she needed him.

Quinn felt his face flame, “sorry.”

“Don��t apologize,” she said, “just follow my lead.” 

Taking a deep breath to reset himself, he slipped a little higher.

“There,” she moaned as he found her g spot, and pleasure shivered through her body. “Right there.” 

The electricity between them crackled back to life. 

Leaning in to catch her mouth, he kissed her and kissed her. Continuing on, even when he felt her nails dig into the skin on his shoulder and she clenched around his fingers. She moaned and moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed them all.

Pleasure rippled through her, and she stilled her hand, riding the waves of Quinn’s fingers until the pleasure melted away.

Hips slowing, Sarah settled back to sit on his thighs, pulling her mouth from his in the process. “Goddamn,” she whispered. “I wasn’t even planning on that.” 

“Planning on what?” he asked, withdrawing his fingers. He almost put them in his mouth.

“I was just planning on sucking you off,” she said, still panting. "I didn't expect you to get so worked up after."

“You can’t say something like ‘she loves you too’ and expect me to just be normal about it,” he said, giving her an incredulous look. 

A hand fluttered up to cover her eyes, “oh, God. That was such a ridiculous line.” 

Hand sliding from her bum to her shoulder, he eased her forward so he could kiss her again, “It was the hottest thing a woman has ever said to me.” 

Pulling back, she raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. 

“I’m serious. You just told me your mouth loves getting me off. You think I’m not going to like that?”

“I don’t…." It was mostly just something to say, but she wasn’t about to ruin his fantasy by telling him that. "I didn’t think about it that way,” she admitted

Laughing, he pulled her closer so her sweat sheened skin was flush to his. Were they further along in their relationship, this would be a time he would tell her he loved her. He felt it so clearly, more clearly than he ever had before. But it didn’t feel right for the first time. Wasn’t the first time supposed to be special? The unsaid words tumbled from his mind to his stomach. 

“Do you have a condom in your wallet?” she asked, hand wandering down to stroke his renewed erection, standing proud between them. 

“I…” He bit his lip to gain control of himself, the thoughts of confessing his love rushing out of his mind. “I don’t think so,” he managed to say. Truth be told, he rarely even carried a wallet. Everything he needed was on his phone. And why would he need condoms to drive his parents to the airport? If Sarah had been with them, maybe. But that was still a huge maybe. They didn’t have sex outside of the house, so he didn’t worry about carrying them with him. 

“I’ll go get one,” she said, moving to slip off his lap. 

His hands tightened at her waist, desperate to keep her close, “do we need to?” 

“I don’t know about you, but I really don't want to have a baby right now.” 

“No, I don’t either, but I can pull out.” 

“In my experience, when guys say they'll pull out, they only manage it about 40% of the time, and I've had one pregnancy scare too many to leave that up to chance.” 

He tried not to be offended at that. Sure, maybe some other dude wouldn't pull out, but he had plenty of experience. 

Sarah giggled at the determined annoyance on his face and peppered kisses over his cheeks and nose, ending with a peck to his lips. Truth be told, she’d been thinking about ditching the condoms with him, too. She’d even had an IUD put in, but her doctor said it wouldn’t be fully effective for a while. 

“I’ll be right back. You won’t even notice I’m gone.” 

Like hell he wouldn’t. 

He did enjoy the sight of her running, naked, into his bedroom in the middle of the day, though.

She reappeared, triumphantly holding one of the foil wrapped squares from his nightstand. He’d had to order more when he'd reached into the box the week before and felt only two. It’d been a long time since he’d had to replenish, and he felt oddly proud when he’d placed the order the next day. It was nice knowing he wouldn’t be spending any of the coming months celibate. 

“Do you want me to?” she asked, bringing the package up to her mouth so she could rip the foil with her teeth. It was an outrageously arousing sight, something he’d never thought of before, like her desire was so feral she couldn’t even bother to fumble with her fingers. 

Plus, anything that brought attention to her mouth sent him back in time 15 minutes. He was going to dream about that blowjob for the rest of his life. 

“You can.” 

She rolled the latex on, and his breath stuttered at the feeling. 

“Do you wanna do this here?” he panted, even as she raised her hips so she could sink on to him. 

Pausing, she asked, “do you want to move?” 

He thought briefly about having to clean the couch afterward, then decided it didn’t matter. Sandra, his cleaning lady, could get out any stain they left behind, and if she couldn’t, well, he’d buy another. 

Shaking his head, he nudged her hips down, groaning when she sunk onto him. It didn’t matter how many times they did this — though it did seem fitting that this was lucky number sixty nine —  he would never get used to the feel of her around his cock. 

“I love this couch,” she said against his neck. 

He laughed, sharp and loud. “You’ve got me balls deep, and you want to talk about my couch?” 

“It’s a nice couch,” she defended, finding a steady pace, slipping up and down. “Much easier on the knees than anything else I’ve done this on.” 

That was not something he wanted to think about. Conveniently, she swiveled her hips and, it and every other thought fell right out of his brain. 

Her breath was in his ear when she asked, “can you hold me?” 

“What?” he was already holding her. Her question snapped into place as she leaned back, relying on his hands to keep her from falling. He splayed his fingers to get a better grip. 

Her thrusts shortened as she ground against his stomach. 

One of her hands shot back to grasp his knee for better balance. The other slid to his shoulder, her fingers curling to get a surer grip. Her nails pricked at his skin, causing a pleasant sort of pain.  He was going to have marks on that shoulder, he was sure of it.

Her grinding increased, and he tried to follow her lead. Moving with her, he matched her rocking with his own. 

“Quinn,” she breathed as ecstasy raced through her veins. “You feel so good.” Managing to pull herself out of her lust addled thoughts, she asked, “feels good for you?”

“Feels fucking fantastic,” he groaned, mesmerized by the sight of her. Watching her take pleasure from his body was something he hadn’t realize he wanted. His fuse shortened centimeter by precious centimeter.

“I’m almost there.” 

He said the first thing that came to mind, “yeah, take what you need.”

She moaned happily, keeping a steady pace, as the swell of emotion and energy gathered like a whirlpool in her belly. She’d never felt so comfortable seeking her own pleasure before. It was freeing in a way she’d never expected. 

When the pressure finally burst and her muscles constricted around him, Quinn let out a primal grunt. Lights popped in his vision with each successive pulse.

Sarah collapsed and went a little boneless in his hold. His broad hands and flexing arms were the only things keeping her from falling off his lap altogether. 

“Come here,” he whispered, pulling her into him, so her chest, sheened with sweat, pressed against his. She tucked her face into his neck. 

Finally coming back to her mind, she blinked a few times, surprised to find him still rigid and throbbing inside her. Her stomach fluttered as she realized, and breath rushed from his mouth. 

Slouching back into the couch, he flexed his hips and thighs to thrust up into her. 

She squeaked, and he slowed immediately, “okay?”

She nodded into his shoulder, “yeah. Just a little surprised.” 

He began again, and it only took a few thrusts before he was unknotting, spilling into the condom. He collapsed into the couch, breathing heavily. 

Mouth on his neck, she licked and kissed before sucking hard. She wasn’t usually one to mark him so visibly, but she was proud, and part of her wanted the world to know she was, even if they didn’t know her. 

He let out a little whine when she pulled away.

A few nights later, while watching the game with her roommates, a camera passed over Quinn as he argued with an official over a penalty that Sarah agreed was undeserved. 

The hickey had faded, but the oval shaped bruise was still starkly visible against the pale skin of his throat. 

Quinn had laughed when he saw it and mumbled something about the guys giving him hell, but he was still smiling, so she knew he wasn’t that upset. 

“Marking your territory, eh, Sarah?” Eunice asked, quirking her eyebrows.

“Eunice, gross,” Jane said, picking up the stuffy of Fin and throwing it at the other woman.

Sarah blushed, feeling caught. 

“Oh my god,” Jane said, her voice laced with disbelief, “you did.” 

“I was proud of him. And in my defense, I didn’t mean for it to be that dark.” 

Eunice howled with laughter. “The fangirls are going to go nuts over this.” 

“The fangirls?” Sarah repeated. 

“You're all over Tumblr.”

“What?”

“They showed you on TV talking with Jim and Ellen a few nights ago.”

She had no idea they’d shown her on TV. Her stomach flipped over. “What does that have to do with Tumblr?”

Eunice walked into her room to get her laptop. When she came back, she pulled up a post of several gifs of Sarah animatedly talking with Jim. Ellen was in the shot, too, listening to their conversation. Sarah was gesturing from one end of the rink to the other.

It was impossibly weird seeing herself in looped animation. She wondered if this was when she’d been asking about forecheck.

The post was tagged: #Quinn Hughes #Jim Hughes #Ellen Wenburg Hughes #is she a cousin? #is this the girl he's dating? #WHO IS SHE?

Eunice pulled up another post, a screenshot of Sarah’s Instagram profile, thankfully already set to private. “Some girl looked through everyone Quinn follows on Insta and found you that way.” 

Though her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest, Sarah’s voice stayed cool as she asked, “why do they care?” 

Internally, she was incredibly thankful the only information on her profile was her name and NV -> BC. Ask me about the ocean. with an octopus emoji.

“They’re just puck bunnies.” 

“What the hell is a puck bunny?” 

“Girls who want to marry an NHL player just because he plays hockey.” 

Sarah gave her a look that was less than impressed. 

“I don’t tell them to do it,” Eunice defended. “That’s just what they do.”

“Anyway, they’re all trying to figure out who you are.” 

Sarah clicked on the notes of the instagram profile post. The person who had reblogged most recently added the tags: #i’m pretty sure she goes to my school #i swear i’ve seen her before #can’t believe he left june for her #june is so much prettier

Anxiety bubbled in her stomach, and Sarah felt a little like she might be sick. 

Eunice shut her laptop before she could read any more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[thethiefandtheairbender]

Had a good chat with my partner about it today that maybe let me put a finger on what's always bugged me about "we're here to fix canon" attitudes being so prevalent in fandom (especially in the past 10ish years) throughout my life. This is not to say there's never a time or place for that (I've written fix its myself, or the occasional meta on how something could be fixed/improved) or that people are wrong to (we're anti fandom policing). It's also not an issue to me on the basis of "I love my blorbo in canon and fandom mischaracterizes them in the name of 'fixing' them" etc as it is just... coming from a fundamentally different perspective for story analysis / interaction than most (not all) people in fandom, I think.

One of the reasons I enjoyed getting my English degree was because I was finally being encouraged to and taught in alignment with what my brain had always be inclined to do: you always assume that there's a reason, and a good reason, for the story to do whatever it's doing. It assumes that the story is already exactly what it is supposed to be as it is supposed to be, and it's up to you to find the reasons Why.

The story was boring, or made you feel uncomfortable/bad, or you couldn't root for a character or relationship? All of that, at least at the beginning, doesn't really Matter. You assume that the story is paced fine, you assume the discomfort was intentional or part of something broader (historical shit that hasn't aged well) or that the dichotomy of "I feel invested or not invested" isn't useful. And in doing so, you replace all that with asking why.

An example I'll use is 1984 by George Orwell. I read that book in high school and I fucking hated it. Normally, I like the protagonist the most in anything I watch/read, but in that book, I loathed both the two leads and were actively rooting for them to be captured and tortured so the book could end faster; it was an actively miserable affair. I don't think that was necessarily the author's intention (certain amount of death of the author is baked in, but for a lot of the texts I was reading, we didn't even know the author or anything substantial about them, i.e. Beowulf) but, more importantly, I don't think any of those things are Flaws or downsides in the text.

Part of this is because 1984 is a dystopian novel (if a romcom book breaks genre convention that badly where you're miserable reading it, yeah, maybe something went wrong, but more on that in a minute) but even then it doesn't really matter on the basis of genre; I'm sure some people read 1984 and felt fascinated/excited while reading.

Rather, the focus becomes: what do I find so unlikeable about the protagonists? Why would they be written that way (on purpose)? What does it say about the society they live in? What does it say about their characterization, social stratification, etc etc? If a character does something that I think is non-sensical, why? Have I missed something? Should I watch retrospectively for clues? Is there another way to engage and to understand? Is what I label as confusion potentially a, or the, Point?

It is only after finding the reasons, and/or finding them unsuitable, that I let my subjective feelings into play. While a story can have great merit on the basis of relatability, relatability or "this aligns with my worldview / expectations / desires / etc." is not the be-all end-all of discerning quality

For example, I'm never going to be a fan of Jane and Rochester (she's 18, he's her 40 year old employer who routinely lies to her) but there are reasons, Good reasons, they get together in Jane Eyre (a book so subjectively boring I struggled through it twice) in response to both when the book was written and with the book's themes / symbols / their characterization. If they didn't end up together, it would be a fundamentally different story; it would not be Jane Eyre. So objectively, it's fine and an understandably massive influence on the western literary canon; subjectively, it's so fucking bad and I'm so glad I never have to read it again. But if I stopped there with my lack of interest or dislike of the main romance, I'd be missing out on what the text has to offer as well, the text.

This applies to more modern day stuff as well. I don't like Double Trouble from SheRa as nonbinary representation, and I'm nonbinary myself; however, I can acknowledge that the things I don't like about them were probably simultaneously empowering and exactly what the author (who is also nonbinary) wanted to be per his own experience of gender. Having a "I assume the text is right" mindset means that I can hold space for my own feelings/analysis (i.e. I also did not like Catra's arc, as I think she needed to learn other things / be written under a different lens) while holding space for the text as is (under the canonical lens of Catra learning it's never too late to be saved, I think her arc is conclusive and well done). And these two viewpoints aren't fundamentally opposed, but can coexist as analytical soup, being equally true / having equal value under the subjective (my view) and more 'objective' (the canon text's construction, or what I / the scholarly consensus, if it exists, believes it to be, anyway) at the same time.

Again, none of this is to say that you can't take issue with a canon text, or want to change something. I remember one time I was watching a show where their refusal to explore a romantic relationship between the female lead and her guy best friend was actively making the show worse; I understood their reasonings of wanting to put them with other people to explore their relationships, and wanting to emphasize a male-female friendship at the core of the story, and I still wanted them to put the two together as a Ship instead for various reasons. But that doesn't mean my line of thinking would've been Objectively Better—assuming if they had been paired together would've been executed in the manner I'd enjoy, or that them being paired with other people couldn't have been executed in ways I would've enjoyed more—merely that I likely would've enjoyed the series more per my own subjective preferences.

What I see in fandom sometimes is that people, understandably, aren't approaching at the start from a "the story always has a good reason" as much as they are speed-running from a "this didn't make sense to me or felt bad/off" and maybe examining why (which is supremely useful!) but not going back to examine the other side of the coin as to why the story would do it anyway.

Because sometimes the story—or a part of a story—is still 'bad' to us. It's just worthwhile to look at why it's 'good,' too.

[frvnkcastles]

hey i hope ur okay❤️ can you do Frank x Reader where she has an alcoholic and abusive father who has been in prison for two years and one day he is released and shows up at her house and she is very scared so Frank protects and comforts her

FIND MY PEACE OF MIND ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When your abusive father turns up on your doorstep, Frank takes care of it.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse (not specified), alcoholism, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: I know what it’s like to have alcoholism in the family (parents especially) and how dire the consequences of it can be, so you have my absolute sympathy, anon! I’m sending you so much love, and I hope you’re doing alright <3 I added a little detail of Frank offering to make it a completely alcohol-free home because that’s something I’ve thought about a lot, I personally don’t drink at all because of my family and I don’t think I’d be able to share a space with someone who drinks regularly. We see Frank drink occasionally on the show but I don’t think it’s ever implied he has a problem? So I 100% feel like he’d give it up if you asked. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Upon meeting Frank for the first time and subsequently learning he had been in prison, you were understandably sceptical about getting involved with him. You already had a man in your life who had deep-seated anger and hatred within him, manifesting in violent tendencies, and that had scarred you for life. So, you hesitated, and he had immediately seen the doubt and even fear on your face, and although he couldn’t explain why he wanted your approval so badly, he did.

”Hey, if you don’t wanna see me again, I ain’t gonna hold it against you. But you, uh… maybe you should read about me first. Judge for yourself”, he had suggested before parting ways with you, and you had promised to do just that. You had a napkin with his phone number scribbled on it, and against your first instinct, you didn’t throw it away. His words stuck with you, and when you got home that night, you searched up his name and were smacked in the face with a flood of news articles about him.

Most of them were negative, and you had quickly questioned why he would encourage you to read them. Journalists hadn’t hesitated to write horrendous things about him, but they had also dug up his past and spread it all over the internet for everyone to learn about. And it was those tidbits that soon opened your eyes to the enigma that was Frank Castle. He wasn’t a senseless killer and he wasn’t an abuser or a tormentor of innocent people — he was seeking justice for his brutally gunned down family and cleaning up the streets from evil.

You had been wary because of your past with your father, but the more you read about Frank, the easier it became to see that he was nothing like him. In fact, your father was a man who would sicken Frank, a man that Frank wouldn’t think twice about hurting, and that realization welcomed an odd feeling of safety into your heart.

You called Frank the next day, and it was the beginning of him always hanging around you. Before you knew it, your life had turned from bleak loneliness and anxiety about your father’s eventual return to endless kisses, late-night dates on the rooftop of your apartment building and sitting on your boyfriend’s lap while icing the newest bruise on the corner of his eyes. He was a whirlwind but in the best way, and you found yourself completely enamored with him.

He felt the same way, certainly not having expected falling in love with someone, and especially as hard as he had with you. He had tried so hard to stay guarded and deny himself the truth, but it had been impossible to resist you, and so, inevitably, he let his heart be in the driver’s seat for a change and admitted to himself that he adored you.

With your new relationship came opening up to each other about everything you had been through. You had already learned so much about Frank on the news that it felt like an invasion of his privacy, so you had asked him to tell you in his own words when he was ready, and in return, he was all ears when you shared the story about your father and his issues with alcohol. Frank had been more than understanding, immediately insisting that cutting out drinking entirely was something he was willing to do for you — whatever it took to create a safe environment for you. On top of that, he had assured you that he’d do his everything to keep you safe from everyone, but especially your father, and you fully trusted him to keep that promise.

Still, you didn’t expect that hypothetical situation would come to life. You were used to worrying about your father and the eventual time when he’d get out of prison, but when Frank began spending more and more time at your apartment, you lost track of that nervousness and it became an afterthought. You felt safe for the first time in years, but it all came crashing down on one otherwise regular Sunday.

There was a knock on your door and it caught both your and Frank’s attention in the kitchen where you were cooking dinner together. ”I’ll get it”, you smiled at him before he could jump at the opportunity, gently squeezing his arm before you left him with the chopped vegetables and headed for the front door.

You swung it open, and at the sight of your father, your face lost all vitality and your heart sank all the way down to the floor. ”There you are! At least you had the decency to open the door”, he slurred, clearly already intoxicated, and panic emerged in your chest. He had to have been only just released from prison, and here he was, already drunk and tracked you down.

”You’re not welcome here. Leave, okay?” you stuttered, far less demanding as you wanted to be, and the attempt made your father snort. He tried to step inside, but you quickly narrowed the doorway, not letting him invade your home. He reacted with a mean stare, calling you an ungrateful brat under his breath, and you tried your best to fight off tears.

”Sweetheart, who is it?” Frank called to you from the kitchen when you didn’t return, and with a shaky exhale, you realized you didn’t have to face your father alone. You had the city’s greatest weapon right there with you.

”It’s my father”, you declared loud enough for him to hear, and you instantly heard him drop the knife in his hands. Not more than two seconds later, Frank was stomping from the kitchen, fueled by his concern for you but his face twisted into something furious.

”And who’s this?” your father chortled, swaying back and forth in the hallway, barely able to stand up. Frank assessed the situation, and he swiftly understood that there was no talking sense into a drunk man. That was fine with him — he wasn’t really in the mood for polite conversation, anyway.

”Get the fuck outta here. This is your only warning”, Frank grunted, leaving nothing up to debate. He stood in front of you, shielding you from your father who was hardly impacted by Frank’s thinly veiled threat, and you quietly cried from the sheer terror.

”Hey, you can’t tell me—”, your father began, but Frank was having none of it. He shoved your father into the hallway and closed the door behind him, not wanting you to witness their bickering and get upset even more. You were scared for him, but realistically you knew that Frank could take care of himself, especially against someone absolutely wasted and delirious.

Frank dragged your father outside by his arm, his grip enough to leave bruises in the shape of angry fingers, and he wasn’t stopping despite the drunk man’s feeble protests. He was fuming, absolutely livid that your father had had the audacity to show up and put your life in shambles all over again, and he couldn’t stop thinking about all the abuse you had endured. The man under his grip deserved nothing but the worst, and he would have been honored to be the one to give it to him.

Once outside, Frank pushed your father forward, causing him to stumble down onto the pavement. ”You’re a pathetic asshole, y’know that? You don’t deserve someone like her. You don’t deserve to call yourself a father. And if you come here again, I’mma make sure you regret even thinkin’ about it”, Frank seethed, standing above your father menacingly. He didn’t get up or argue back, so Frank considered his job done for now — but he was going to stay true to his word if he’d ever show his face again. The only reason he hadn’t killed him yet was knowing that you struggled with the idea, and he didn’t want to hurt you by hurting him.

He made his way back inside where you were a trembling mess, and instantly softer, Frank closed the door behind him and pulled you into his arms. ”It’s aight, darlin’. He’s gone”, he soothed you, his heart breaking when you burst into sobs against his firm chest. He felt sickened by the thought of what you had suffered through. As a father himself, he could not imagine ever doing that to his children, and he couldn’t fathom how broken a person had to be to resort to abuse the way your father had. It was the lowest of the low in his opinion, and he was almost hoping your father would give him further excuse to royally beat him up.

”I was so scared”, you confessed through cries, and with an understanding nod, Frank kissed your forehead and caressed your hair. He didn’t consider himself to be an expert at giving comfort, but for you, he would always pull out all the stops.

”I know, baby. It’s over now. He ain’t comin’ back, I promise, I’ll make sure of it. He can’t hurt you no more”, he swore, swallowing down his rage before withdrawing from you enough to look down into your eyes. ”I’mma help you file for a restraining order, yeah? And if he still won’t listen, I’ll break his fucking legs”, he guaranteed, entirely serious, but it still got a little laugh out of you.

”I’d like to see that”, you pointed out, and with a small smile, Frank swiped his thumb across your cheek in a comforting motion.

”There’s my girl. Hey, I’ll always keep you safe, you know that, right?” he reminded you, and slowly, you gave him a nod to confirm you trusted him.

”Thank you, Frankie. I’d be lost without you”, you sighed, hugging him again, and he enveloped you into his strong arms while resting his chin on the top of your head.

”You know I feel the same way about you, sweetheart”, he whispered, always so grateful to have you in his life. He found you so utterly perfect and beautiful inside out, he couldn’t believe anyone would ever hurt you. And even though your father had done exactly that, you were still so strong and kind, something he didn’t think he always was himself.

He admired the hell out of you, and he was going to do whatever it took to help you keep your peace of mind.

[xotaemintol]

SHINee KINKS (ot5) edited

*Quick disclaimer! I know there will be some who are upset or uncomfortable with me or anyone writing smut for Jonghyun or including him in anything smut related or maybe anything fan-fiction relation and I understand and hear you, but not only have I done a poll asking what people would think with the majority saying that they’d want it, but I also think that as long as I or anyone else isn’t disrespecting him or anyone else, and is aware that it is all fiction and is making sure to be mindful of everyone, that it can be done right. If you are uncomfortable or upset by it, then feel free to block me, not in a “I don’t care way”, you can also send feedback. But I’m saying this to let everyone know that I do plan to continue writing about him, he’s one of my ults and I think that continuing to write about him as anyone does another idol is also remembering. I will be deleting anything hateful or triggering in anyway shape or form. Let’s all be mindful of each other and be kind, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy.*

Pronouns used: NONE (good girl/fem reader implied a few times)

TWS: Breeding, hair pulling, impact play/spanking, dirty talk, choking/breath play, sensory deprivation/blindfolding, BDSM, bondage, praise, degradation, feather play, ice play, biting, cock warming, authority play, sub/dom dynamics, exhibitionism, pet play, and dumbification.

MINHO

•Hair pulling

It's pretty straightforward, he likes pulling your hair (doesn't mind having his pulled if he's eating you out), and seeing the way you react turns him on so much

-Doesn't do it often but when he does he's more of a "grab and hold tight" type than a "yank and pull type" (that's more of Jonghyun and Kibum hehe)

-Will pull your hair if he's fucking you from behind, or if you're sucking his dick, he'll grab a handful of your hair and make you go slower or he'll fuck your face and guide your head with your hair

•Warming

-He likes when you sit on his lap anyways, he loves how you’ll wrap around him and nuzzle your body against his, despite him being muscular he’s very soft and loves it when you treat him as such. So even if you aren’t warming he loves it anyways, but it just adds another layer when he’s inside of you and you’re just sitting there on top of him.

-Sometimes he’ll sit and read a book (when he’s not out and being the active man he is) and you’ll be sitting on top of him with nothing but a loose dress on and him inside of you, occasionally “readjusting” himself and pulling you down just a little more. Sometimes he gets a little carried away and instead of it just being peaceful he’ll start moving his hips and hint for you to move too (which you always do) it’ll quickly go from you clinging to him while he does some relaxing mundane task, to him slowly fucking you while you both hold each other and softly moan into each other's ear.

•Impact Play (specifically spanking)

-Sometimes he'll role-play with you and will have you lay across his lap while he spanks you, he's more of a hand guy than a belt guy because he likes to feel your soft skin against his hands

-He'll spank you if he's (once again) fucking you from behind, walking past him, bending over, in public, changing, in the shower, it doesn't matter. Minho will smack your ass no matter where you are or what you're doing

•Authority Play

-He likes to take charge and you love seeing him do it, he'll get his military uniform from the closet (because of course he kept it) and will be like "Get on your knees" and will have you hump his leg

-He sometimes handcuffs you and will pretend to be an officer, he'll be all rough with you and grope you, grind against you and give you a "pat down" That's just him groping your entire body and bending you over then fucking you.

JINKI

•Daddy Kink

-He loves it when you sit on his lap and call him daddy, he encourages you to do it in public especially (surprisingly), and will have you ride him and call him daddy

-Even if you aren't having sex, he still wants you to call him daddy, especially since he loves taking care of you, he loves how you say it too when you get whiny and call him from another room or complain and get all bratty he gets so excited

•Ice or feathers

-He likes them because they usually call for slow and careful movements, at first he thought that it would make you a little uncomfortable but after seeing your reaction he decided to add feathers into the mix. It could be included in kissing, him eating you out, teasing, and just about anything possible.

-He’ll slowly drag an ice cube down your body, sitting it on your stomach for just a second until the heat radiating off your skin melts it just enough for him to lick up the drips of water, or hold it in his mouth while he’s between your legs and since he doesn’t want it to be too cold he makes sure to keep his hands warm and switch between his tongue and his fingers. With the feathers he’ll brush them against your thighs, slowly going up to your hips, stomach, nipples, then sides of your neck, every breath, gasp, and shiver makes him feel more and more pleased.

•Choking/breath play

-He's super careful when it comes to choking you and made sure to do plenty of research on it before trying it on you because even though it's exciting it can be dangerous

-He'll wrap his arm around your throat while fucking you from behind, choke you while you're underneath him, cover your mouth and nose while he's fingering you, and even force you to hold your breath while you're cumming

•Breeding

-He looooovveesssss breeding, although he's said plenty of times that he's not ready for kids (and you have said the same) he can't get enough of cumming inside of you and the thought of you being marked as his

-He puts you in mating presses so often that you're surprised when he doesn't, he'll have you walk around with a vibrator inside of you to keep his cum in all day and when you get home he'll take it out and clean you up while calling you a good girl for holding it in all-day

KIBUM

•Degradation

-Loves calling you things like "dirty whore", "My pretty slut", "Fuck toy", "pretty bitch", "dumb whore" and more, and loves it when you call him things like "stupid boy", "dumb slut", "Man whore", and especially "Sexy bitch"

-If he's in charge for the night he'll fuck you while he's degrading you, he talks dirty to you and talk about how he's going to fuck you dumb and how good you feel, how you're such a pretty whore while he's deep inside of you

•Pillow talk or you talking about your day

-He doesn’t mean to but hearing you talk about your day and rant or ramble turns him on so much, he loves to watch the way you explain things, the way you talk and your mannerisms make him want to sweep you off your feet, kiss you, and explore every inch of your body. He especially loves it because he thinks your voice is so beautiful, he always asks you about your day but not because he wants to be all horny and stuff, just because he wants to know but every time he’s so hard that it’s impossible to hide.

-He’ll ask you if he can eat you out or finger you while you talk about your day, he won’t go super fast because he still wants you to talk but he will put his all into pleasing you, he loves it when your voice gets all shaky and you can’t help but let out small moans in between words. You can always tell when he’s getting turned on from listening to you talk because his face gets all red and he won’t stop smiling and will avoid your gaze, he’ll get so cute and shy when he listens to you talk. Sometimes he even asks you to ride him while you talk about your day or ramble about random things.

•Dumbification

-He loves fucking you till you can't speak, the sound of you babbling nonsense and shouting out random strings of pleas, curses, and jumbled messes of praise, it turns him on so much to see you so thoughtless

-He loves to see your face when he's fucking you because he can see that switch in your brain turn off and watch you go dumb off the pleasure, he is so obsessed with you looking so lewd and smiling, crying, begging, moaning, and rolling your eyes back as you cum, you look so pretty when you can't think to him

•Latex

-No matter who's in it, he loves the feeling and the sight of it, it's a healthy mixture of you both wearing it and he especially loves it when you wear it, latex books, thigh highs, gloves, pants, whatever. It turns him into an animal

-You have a pair of latex pants that hug your legs and waist perfectly, when he's subbing he'll grind against you and let you overstimulate him. But when he's domming he'll wear a pair of latex gloves and spank you with them on, or wear a pair of latex boots and make you grind against them until you get overstimulated

TAEMIN

•Pet Play

-He bought you an adorable collar, cute cat ears, a tail, and your very own cat bowl, he loves seeing you crawl to him and drink water out of the bowl, and he loves when you climb up on his lap and nuzzle into him while poking your butt out like you're in heat

-He'll fuck you on the kitchen floor while you're on your hands and knees, or he'll put a leash on you and pull it while he's fucking you and yank your collar, he'll lean in really close while he's fucking you and whisper in your ear calling you a 'naughty kitty' and a 'bad girl (I wish I could go on omg)

•Blind folding/ sight deprivation

-He likes it when you blindfold him, but he likes to blindfold you just as much. He thinks that it’s romantic that you are trusting him with your body and that he’s trusting you with his, he also likes the idea of just feeling. Following each other's touch and being so excited for the next touch, when he first told you about him wanting to be the one wearing the blindfold he was a little shy to admit that he wanted to try it too, but you were more than happy to try it.

-The blindfolds are only used for foreplay, you both like it more since foreplay is all about building excitement and anticipation. You’ll be kissing him and will suddenly pull away for a few seconds, he gets all pouty and will whine and ask you to come back but instead, you kiss him on his shoulder or his chest, he loves it when you pick random spots to kiss or run your fingers along. When you are the one being teased he likes to worship your body, he’ll kiss you from head to toe, his fingers dancing across your skin, and his hair tickling the inside of your thighs ever so slightly. He’ll pull away a few times, but you can never guess when he’ll do it or for how long he’ll do it, he thinks it’s more exciting like that.

•Exhibition

-Those giant windows in his living room come in handy when he's feeling extra risky, since he knows that’s the closet he can get to doing anything anywhere really public he always limits it to in front of those giant windows, in his car in an empty parking lot (with probably his own music playing...Move most likely lol), one of the dance practice rooms, the recording studio, an empty dressing room, and one of the bathrooms in the sm building

-Presses you against the glass while telling you to look out the window at all of the people he'll be fucking you and will be like "Does it feel good? Do you like being watched?" Loves it when you play into it and mention how it makes you excited to think about someone catching him fucking you. He especially likes it when you can't keep your voice down and will whimper and bite him to stay quiet.

•Kissing

-He has a rule about kissing him in front of other people because he knows how you both get and even though he's into public play, he'd rather not fuck you in front of his manager (in front of SHINee is a different story though but I'll save that for another day) the minute he kisses you he's itching for more

-Kisses you while fucking you, he likes to see your face when he's fucking you because he wants to be able to kiss you. Pillowy lips + A1 stroke game + Pretty moans = Lee Taemin. He'd even make out with you while grinding against you, he'll even pull you off your knees when you're giving him head and kiss you right after

JONGHYUN

•Hair pulling

-Isn't the "Pull and hold type" he's the "pull and keep pulling" type, he'll pull your hair while you kissing and yank your head back by your hair, and sometimes he'll be playing in your hair, and will randomly pull it because he just loves the way you react

-He won't pull your hair if you're on your knees but he will while he's fucking you, your scalp will get sore from the pulling but he feels so good inside of you that you don't even care

•Biting

-Sometimes you'll playfully bite him while you're out and nibble on his shoulder or his bicep and he'll give you that bedroom look to warn you, or he'll bite you and it'll start as a joke but then he'll bite even harder and will go from biting you on your shoulder or arm and then will move up to your neck and game over when he gets there, no turning back when he finally gets excited

-He fucks you in whatever position gets his mouth the closet to your shoulders, neck, and lips, he loves the feeling of your skin in his mouth, the way you sound, it makes him so excited (he's a vampire like frl) and he loves the way your teeth feel against his skin, he doesn't like it when you try to hold back and will bite him softly, he wants you to bite him to the point that he leaves a mark. He'll have you sit on his lap while he fingers you and he'll let you bite him, in short, he loves biting

•Eye Contact

-The softer sweeter side of him loves eye contact the last and lingers. He loves how pretty your eyes are, and he always makes sure to look you in the eyes before kissing you, he’ll sit in front of you and just stare for a second then lean in a kiss you, eye contact with you gives him butterflies and because he has the prettiest eyes to ever exist you love it just as much.

-During sex, he’ll go slow, caress your face, smile a little, and look you in the eyes while telling you that you look so pretty, he’d be glistening in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, his lips slightly red with your kisses scattered over his skin (soon to be covered by the makeup artists lol) and breathing heavily as he tries his best to hold himself together and keep the romantic atmosphere.

•Praise

-He's always complimenting you, no matter what, but you know when that switch goes off in his head and it goes from compliments to praise from the way his tone will change. He'll go from "You look so nice today." To "You're so pretty baby, who's my pretty girl? Huh?" And "Wow, this is so good baby." To "Such a good girl, you like being a good girl for me baby?"

-He'll be fucking you and will hold you against his chest from behind while whispering in your ear that you take him so well, he'll tell you that you're doing such a good job and will encourage you to be louder, he'll call you pretty, kiss your entire body, tell you that you look so beautiful when you cum for him and will praise when he's done and shower you in love and kisses.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Are You There, Wolf? (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Synopsis: Minho had always deemed himself a bit of a weirdo. In his humble opinion, he’d only become even weirder with time, especially after he acquired his supernatural… condition. He’d never cared much about it, not when you’d always been there for him, and hopefully you would always be. [This is an instalment of my WereRoomies series. You don’t particularly need to read the other instalments related to Minho to understand this, but it’ll add more depth to the story if you do, so I highly recommend it~]. Warnings: Minho’s POV · mentions of shooting guns [it’s an off-handed comment made by Minho, nothing serious, but figured i’d put a warning] · mentions of gambling · mentions of cheating [but no one cheated] · mentions of blood, injuries, and violence · near death experiences · Minho was dumb and in denial for a long while · mentions and depictions of monster fucking shenanigans · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: this originally started as a smutty drabble inspired by an ask from an anon… somehow it grew hands and beat me up and made me black out and now we’ve got a full instalment. a chunk of it is just stuff that happened in other instalments, but with Minho’s input. hope you enjoy ! special thanks to @notastraykid for reading this and letting me know it wasn’t the worst piece of literature she’s ever read.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Minho's previous WereRoomies instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

Smut Warnings: mentions of oral · somnophilia [all acts related to it are consensual] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Minho always believed himself to be a rational man. He was also an animal, yes. But his animal instincts were, essentially, stunted. 

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was born human and turned into a werewolf when he was very young, or if there was something wrong with him in general–he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Jisung–who’d been the first other werewolf Minho ever befriended–believed it to be the first option. He had encouraged Minho to go to a specialist and ask, but Minho never really paid much attention to it.

He figured that, as long as he didn’t feel ill or that he didn’t hurt anyone around him, it didn’t really matter.

However, just how many psychologists and therapists by trade seemed to choose that career path in order to understand their own brains and behaviours, sometimes he wondered if his own inability to understand his animal needs was what fully drove him into becoming a vet.

Sure, he had always cared for animal’s safety, he always knew one too many facts about many different critters, and with all the injured animals that seemed to come his way when he was a kid, he had spent more time at the vet’s office than he did in his own home. He supposed all things combined played a role in his career choice, and that had certainly helped him understand himself a little better… kind of.

Minho was a simple man. A man that, in a sick twist of fate, ended up becoming the dictionary definition of a monster.

He’d admit that for a long time, he blamed himself for what had happened to him. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t taken that detour through the woods that time I wouldn’t have been turned’, ‘Maybe if I had been paying attention to my surroundings I wouldn’t have been bit’, ‘Maybe I did something horrible in a past life or this one to warrant such an event’, he’d always think about these things whenever the pains and aches caused by his condition were a bit too strong to bear.

It took him an even longer time to accept the fact that it hadn’t been his fault at all. Nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the situation. He would’ve never been able to predict that a giant wolf would come out of nowhere and bite him completely unprompted. 

To this day, over ten years later, Minho still couldn’t remember what the wolf looked like.

It all happened so fast… All he could remember was the fuzzy canine shape, the sound of growls and snarls and of his own bones cracking inside his body, along with the searing pain that spread from the gash that the creature had left on his side.

He couldn’t remember the bleeding, or the amount of time he spent laying on the forest ground, or even the moment he was eventually found. One second he was in an immense amount of pain, and the next he was completely fine, as if nothing had happened, laying on a hospital bed with his best friend hugging him and sobbing against his chest.

Minho could’ve never imagined that that event in the woods would change the way he interacted with the world forever.

One seemingly normal evening after what he thought had been ‘an accident’, while he was hanging out in his best friend’s home, doing their weekly watch of Kamen Rider, it was like something suddenly started rattling inside of him. Like an itch one can’t seem to scratch satisfactorily.

He couldn’t breathe, his joints hurt, all his muscles seemed to burn, and before he knew it, he was feeling parts of his body he had never felt before. His vision felt different, his sense of smell was overwhelmed, and although his surroundings were familiar, it was almost like he was seeing them from someone else’s perspective.

Needless to say, he was having a full on meltdown right then and there. Especially when he caught what he thought would be a glimpse of himself on a reflective surface, and what he saw instead was a dog… Well, more accurately, a wolf.

To this day, he was very grateful that it all happened while you, his best friend, were there with him. Minho honestly wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted had he been on his own. He could still remember the panic he felt, how much he was crying, how much you were crying. Things would’ve probably been very different if you hadn’t hugged him tight and reassured him time and time again that you’d be there for him… That you wanted to figure this out together.

When he had finally understood what had happened to him in the woods, and after many trips to the local library to do some digging on the internet, you both came to the conclusion that the most logical explanation to his newfound condition was that he was now afflicted with lycanthropy… And it wasn’t the psychological kind.

Which was crazy. 

Completely absurd.

But what seemed to be sourced in fantasy and myths was literally the only thing that matched his symptoms perfectly.

Everything was confusing for a long time after that. Everything was too loud, too bright, too intense… His already sensitive senses seemed to be overstimulated all day, every day–even worse than before–and he could hardly cope.

He could hear conversations that were happening metres away from him, he could hear people’s breathing and their heartbeats and sometimes other internal organs as well… It was honestly driving him a little bit insane.

Minho realised very quickly that having a supernaturally enhanced sense of smell when he was starting high school was quite possibly one of the worst things to ever happen to him. Having been turned into a werewolf was hard enough on its own, now he had to deal with teenagers that seemed to hold a grudge against soap.

When it all got too overwhelming, he simply got close to you. As close as he could. He was sure he had memorised the rhythm of your heartbeat at this point, and the constant, familiar sound always seemed to help ease his sour mood.

‘Have you gotten a new perfume? Or a new fabric softener?’ He couldn’t help but ask one day. He’d noticed recently that there seemed to be a scent of lavender lingering around him whenever you were close. He didn’t mind. In fact, it actually comforted him quite a bit.

‘You know I don’t use fabric softener, dummy. And no, I haven’t gotten a new perfume’, your answer puzzled him a bit, but it wasn’t until a handful of months later, when he finally met Jisung, that he understood what that lavender scent was.

When Minho first met Jisung, he was honestly a bit surprised. Mostly because the second Jisung was within his radius, it was almost like he could tell the younger boy was a werewolf, too. There was something about the smell of roses and cotton radiating from Jisung that just gave it away, although Minho didn’t know how, or why.

Jisung quickly became an integral part of his friend group–although, to be fair,  ‘group’ was a big word to use, considering you were the only real friend Minho had, and the one he consistently hung out with. What used to be a simple pair of weirdos became a trio of weirdos, and Minho was genuinely happy about that.

He immediately felt like he could trust Jisung, and in the long run, Minho was grateful for his presence. Not only because Jisung was funny and eloquent and he also enjoyed watching niche TV shows, but also because Jisung helped him understand this unexplored side of him.

‘You’re an alpha, clearly’, Jisung told Minho once. As if that meant something important. ‘Your scent is kind of… Like, you smell of vanilla and a recently lit bonfire. Somehow very alpha-like, but milder than what I’m used to, I suppose…’

Jisung explained to him all these werewolf designations of alphas, betas, and omegas that were based on a werewolf’s inherent nature… He explained what scents were, how to tell what status a wolf had based on their scent, and when he confirmed that humans did, in fact, also have a scent, Minho just knew then that that lavender scent he always smelt when you were close was simply your natural scent. Just like cotton and roses was Jisung’s.

Meeting Jisung–aside from meeting you–was possibly one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to Minho. Not only did Jisung become one of his best friends in this whole wide world, not only did he help Minho understand his newfound nature, but also, thanks to him, Minho was finally able to find a family of his own.

Being honest, in his hometown, Minho didn’t have anyone but you. His mother barely even gave him the time of day–mostly because she was busy working two or three jobs to support them both.

When his now step-dad came into the picture, money was no longer a problem, but by that point Minho had already been turned, and that, coupled with the fact that his step-dad wasn’t really that good of a man, was enough for him to distance himself from his relatives.

Minho also had Jisung for a while, but he eventually left town because his entire pack was moving out. That was fine, he was sure they would meet again eventually. Besides, technology around that time made it so it was hardly possible to not be in contact with someone.

After high school, when Minho finally decided to pursue higher education–to pursue his dream of becoming a vet–the university he wanted to study in was, coincidentally, in the same area where Jisung was living then. And not only was Jisung living there, he was in a pack. A different one from his childhood one.

Back in the early stages of his friendship with Jisung, he had explained to Minho that werewolves usually lived in packs, just like regular wolves did. Jisung’s childhood pack didn’t treat omegas that well, from what Minho could recall. So, being an omega himself, Jisung always felt like a bit of an outcast. The fact that he had found a pack where he was actually comfortable was a big deal, and Minho was genuinely happy for his friend.

Even though the pack was essentially only three young wolves, Jisung always spoke highly of his two other packmates. ‘Chris and Changbin are amazing people, dude. Never met wolves like them aside from, like… you. I think you’d be a great addition to our pack, and Chris agrees! Come meet them, you won’t regret it’.

And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit. If anything, joining Chris’ pack, becoming close to him and Changbin to help them lead it, was the third best thing that could’ve ever happened to Minho.

‘Changbin’s my right hand. Although it doesn’t make much sense to have a second in command when we’re, like, three dudes only, I feel like at any point more people could join us, so I like to be prepared’, Chris, the leader–the alpha–of that pack of Jisung’s wasn’t that much older than Minho, but there was something about him that exuded leadership and comfort. It was so obvious even someone like Minho, who wasn’t that in touch with his wolf instincts, was able to tell this man was a real alpha. 

‘It’s very customary for the alpha of the pack to have at least two other people next to them to deal with all possible pack matters, and Jisung believes you might be suitable for that. He said, and I quote, that you have a heart of gold. He vouches for you, and I trust him, so if you want to join and help me out, you’re more than welcome to. Hell, you’re welcome even if you don’t want to help me lead specifically, but it’s important you know that as a pack, we must always look out for each other’, Chris’ proposal was straight forward. No matter what role Minho would fill in, he was welcome to join them.

Being honest with himself, Minho wasn’t really that much of a leader–not in his opinion, at least–but the prospect of joining a pack seemed to tickle something on the back of his mind. He supposed it was one of those instinctual things he didn’t understand well, but, in a way, Chris made him feel reassured, so he told him he’d be happy to join and help him out however he could. With one condition, though.

‘You see, I’ve got my best friend… Not sure if Jisung has told you about her. She’s human, and she’s very important to me. If joining your pack of werewolves means I can’t see her anymore then I’m not doing it’, Minho loved Jisung, and he had a good impression of Chris and Changbin, but, truly, if joining them meant he had to leave you behind, he’d much rather stay on his own.

He knew from Jisung that the moment you moved into a werewolf den, a lot of decisions had to involve the alpha’s approval, and considering you were human, Minho had a genuine fear of Chris telling him that humans simply weren’t allowed. He’d honestly much rather shoot himself in the leg than have to cut ties with you. You’d been the only constant in his life, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford. You meant too much to him. Maybe more than he would’ve liked to admit back then.

Thankfully, Chris didn’t seem to have major issues with that. If anything, all he did was ask to meet you before you could stay at his den, and as long as you were someone that could be trusted, he wouldn’t have any problems with your presence at the den. That was fine, there was no doubt in Minho’s mind that Chris would like you and see just how nice you were.

He had obviously been right. Your first time meeting Chris couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Not even fifteen minutes passed and he was already dragging Minho to the side and telling him it was all good. 

‘I think she’s nice. It’s fine by me if your kitten drops by or stays over whenever you guys want’, Chris had patted him on the back, with a teasing grin on his face, taking special care to stress the word kitten–which was a nickname Minho had given you randomly one day years ago while trying to cheer you up.

Giving you that nickname had been a moment of weakness, a moment in which he also had been sad and his inhibitions had lowered a bit. The pet name just fell out of his mouth, it had practically been a perfect textbook definition of a Freudian slip, considering Minho had, quite stupidly, developed a crush on you by then.

Chris was a good person, but he also seemed to enjoy teasing Minho whenever his more than obvious crush presented itself, even when Minho himself was in denial about it.

Minho was convinced you didn’t feel anything other than platonic love towards him, so he always tried to delude himself into thinking he absolutely didn’t have a crush on you. You were his best friend, one of the most important people in his life, and he would never risk losing you over what he believed to be unrequited feelings.

Sometimes, though, it was almost impossible not to think about you in ways that would definitely be considered inappropriate. It was easy in his day to day life, but, twice a year, he had to face the fact that his feelings for you went beyond your friendship…

Minho was well aware that he was a weird guy. Throughout his life, he had only ever cared about animals, Kamen Rider, and you and Jisung. He could hardly hold a normal, civil conversation if it didn’t involve any of those things, he said things and had odd habits that could potentially put off people around him, and that was only on his human side. His wolf side was a whole other can of worms.

He already had a hard time understanding his basic human needs, and that seemed to triple when it came to his animal needs. For a long time he couldn’t tell when he needed to go on a run, or when he was in a bad mood because of a weird scent around him, and no need to even get started on whatever the hell was happening with his ruts…

Figuring out that he now had to go through days of unbearable horniness was by far one of the weirdest experiences Minho ever had to deal with during this whole ‘being turned into a half animal’ thing. After he reached sexual maturity, twice a year, he had a time period of around four to five days when every single one of his instincts and senses pulled him into a trance-like state in which all he wanted to do was fuck.

But not only did he want to fuck… He specifically wanted to breed someone. And even more specifically, he wanted to breed you.

It was awful. The whole ordeal was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting.

The first time he went into rut, he was sure the pain he was feeling came close to the one he briefly felt back when he had been bit and turned. His body was increasingly warm, he was sweating buckets, his cock was hard for an almost criminal amount of time, and nothing he did made it better. 

Even if he managed to make himself come, it barely helped him feel relieved. If anything, it got him more frustrated, to the point where he would start breaking things around him–both intentionally and unintentionally.

The worst part of going into rut, though, was the thoughts he had throughout those days. He could only think of you. Of kissing you, of tasting those utmost sensitive areas of your body, of bending you over and ramming himself into you until he got tied to you and got to fill you to the brim with his cum…

Logic was something that didn’t exist for him in this time period, so those thoughts ran freely in his mind for the duration of his rut… thoughts that he had to come face to face once his rut subsided and he could think like a human again instead of a horny dog.

Needless to say, Minho couldn’t look at your face for a whole month after he went through his first rut. He was haunted by the images his imagination had produced at the time, and he was convinced you didn’t deserve that, that he had somehow broken your trust. It was something he never spoke about with anyone. Not even Jisung. He made a vow to keep this a secret in order to protect your friendship.

Little did Minho know that his friendship with you didn’t need to be protected from anything…

Many years after his first rut, sharing a bed with you during one fateful trip to the woods with the whole pack, was all it took for the line of your friendship to blur completely. Minho had been in denial about his feelings for so long, he had been completely blind to your feelings.

That night, with his senses enhanced by the moon, with his animal instincts bubbling to the forefront of his human mind, that need for you seemed to be impossible to ignore. While he laid with you on that bed, under the covers, being your big spoon, he couldn’t help but get lost in how fast your heart was beating the tighter he hugged you, he was drowning in your lavender scent, and he genuinely didn’t want to be rescued.

You staring at his mouth for a moment too long while he hovered over you had suddenly ignited a spark of hope deep within him. That, added to your increased heart rate, and what he couldn’t mistake for anything other than arousal lingering in your scent, was quickly making him delirious.

‘Kitten… Why are you… Why are you looking at my mouth?’

‘Just thinking…’

‘About?’

‘Things I should not be thinking about’. 

After the words came out of your mouth, and with all the sensory inputs around him, Minho suddenly felt so incredibly stupid.

How had he never noticed that your body seemed to react to him in the same ways his did to you? How long had it been doing that? He had been blindsided by his own desperate attempts to not drive you away from him with his feelings, he had never noticed you looking at him in the same way he looked at you.

He wasn’t sure if it had been the moon reinforcing his stunted instincts just enough to enhance his questionable sense of awareness, but as he looked at you, as he saw just how blown your pupils were, as he watched you stare at his mouth, all caution flew out the window. For once, he decided to take a chance, and the moment his lips made contact with yours, the moment the tiniest of moans left your mouth with the contact, he just knew he had made the right choice.

Kissing you, after so many years of trying not to think of what it would feel like, was even better than he could’ve ever imagined. Minho was ravenous, desperate to feel as much of you as he possibly could, and you, very clearly, were in a similar state.

You both agreed–while still kissing, if he might add–that you needed to discuss the situation, but, admittedly, neither of you wanted to stop. So you didn’t, but only after reaching a compromise to talk about it later.

Minho honestly couldn’t even tell how many times you both had sex that night. It seemed like he’d entered a time pocket in which the only thing that mattered was indulging in each other’s body as many times as you possibly could.

By the time you were both thoroughly satisfied, he simply hugged you close under the covers, relishing the feel of your bare skin against his, relishing the feel of your head on his chest and his arms around your frame. Hugging you to sleep, especially this intimately, was everything he could’ve ever hoped for.

It wasn’t like he’d never hugged you to sleep. He’d shared a bed with you many times in the past, but doing it after having your lips on his, after knowing how it felt like to be inside you, and the mere idea that you reciprocated his feelings, was enough to make him fall asleep smiling to himself like a fool.

Even the next morning, when Minho woke up, still very much naked, when he turned around to find you already awake and looking at him, he couldn’t help but smile like a fool once again. Especially not when you were smiling so bright yourself.

“Morning”, you mumbled, immediately shuffling closer so you could tuck your head under his chin and hug his waist.

“Morning, kitten”, Minho pressed a kiss to the top of your head and hugged you even closer, slotting one of his legs between yours to further tangle your limbs together.

You just hummed, nuzzling his neck before you started to press kisses on it. Your soft lips on his skin sent a shiver down his spine, which certainly didn’t help ease the effects of morning wood.

Minho was drowsy, maybe even still horny, but he needed to have this conversation with you, or he was sure he’d explode. “Can we talk about it now?”

You pulled yourself away from his neck to look him in the eyes. Reaching forward with your hand, you pushed his hair out of his eyes, and the movement made them fall shut. “What do you wanna talk about?”

You kept playing with his hair for a bit, then traced the features of his face with the pad of one of your fingers, until his eyes opened again.

“I need to know where we go from here”.

You took a deep breath, mulling his words. Finally, you retracted your hand from his face to hold his hand instead. “Minho, I let you do things to me last night that I’ve never let anyone else do. I don’t know about you, but I hope where we go from here is a relationship”.

Minho couldn’t help but wonder then if he would ever stop smiling like a fool after all this. “So you’re my girlfriend now? Is this what we’re doing?”

“Only if you’re my boyfriend”, you chuckled, leaning in to press a brief kiss on his cheek.

Minho hugged your waist, and he pulled you closer into him. “Mmm… Your ex is gonna have a field day if he ever finds out”.

Your ex had spent the last leg of your relationship with him convinced you had cheated on him with Minho. During the big fight that led to your breakup, he had told you how obvious it was that Minho had feelings for you. At the time you just dumped his ass, and Minho, Jisung, and you spent a whole evening just dragging his name through the mud.

That relationship didn’t last long anyway. He was probably, in Minho’s opinion, the worst partner you had ever had. He was insecure, misogynistic, and manipulative. You hadn’t cheated on him, but Minho supposed there was one thing he had been right about… he did have feelings for you back then.

You scoffed at the mention of your ex, rolling your eyes. “Just like your ex probably will, too”.

Ah, Minho’s ex… It had been a long time since Minho had been in a relationship, but how could he forget the ex that made him choose between him and you?

He could admit it was an asshole move to be involved romantically with someone while having feelings for someone else, but back then he was so deep in denial he couldn’t even acknowledge what he felt for you. Regardless, you were still his friend, and he’d never choose anyone else over one of his friends. In his opinion, someone that cared about him would never make him choose in the first place.

“I guess we’ll have to let them froth at the mouth with rage and believe whatever they want to believe. That is, if they still care”, Minho chuckled, rolling you on your back to start pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

That seemingly innocent act of smothering your face with kisses turned into a much less innocent mess of lips and tongues. Minho came to find out that making out with you was absolutely exhilarating, especially when it ended with his mouth between your legs.

Fucking you that morning might’ve not been the smartest move to make when you both were about to walk into a kitchen full of people with enhanced senses, but Minho figured that if anyone commented on it, he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was going to keep it a secret, anyway.

Although, he’d admit that having Jisung scream it to everyone in the room caught him off guard. Just like learning that everyone had placed bets on whether Minho and you would get together last night also caught him off guard.

He figured he deserved that last one, considering he himself had also gotten the rest of the pack to place bets on whether Chris and his girlfriend would fuck last night or not…

In any case, other than the bet, the whole pack seemed to seamlessly embrace this new dynamic between you and Minho. After all, starting a relationship with you didn’t change things much.

You still lived almost an hour away from him, you still encouraged him to indulge in his interests, you still talked every day… If anything, the only major difference was that you met more frequently now. Seeing you weekly instead of monthly was certainly an improvement.

It was kind of amusing to Minho how everything was almost the same. He still took you places, still held your hand and hugged you and brushed your hair out of your face whenever he felt like it, but now he could let his fingers linger on your skin for longer, he could lean in and press a kiss wherever he wanted on your face, and, at the end of the day, he could take you home and fuck you dumb for as long as you’d let him.

There was only one thing, though, that seemed to be a problem… It was something he didn’t really want to acknowledge, but he knew would explode on his face at some point.

Minho was an animal.

Eventually, he’d go into rut, and knowing you, he was sure you’d want to help him go through it.

Minho had never spoken to you about his ruts, but he knew you’d learnt a great deal about it from the other girls at the den as well as Jisung. You’d never brought it up to him before, and he was sure it was because you simply knew he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Now that you were his girlfriend, it was only a matter of time before he’d have to face this problem head on. Because that was what this whole thing was to Minho… a problem. 

Even if during his rut all he could think about was you, he usually got violent. Very violent.

He’d punch walls and break numerous pieces of furniture and appliances, and having you there with him could put you at risk of getting caught in the cross-fire. If he ever hurt you, Minho would never, ever forgive himself. Especially when he just knew you would. You would make excuses for him, you’d enable him and his animal ways like you always did, and he just didn’t want to put you in that position.

Granted, he should’ve probably told you all this, and he had been hyping himself up to do it, but you had been faster than him. The night you finally asked him about his rut he had been severely unprepared to handle the situation.

Minho told you he wouldn’t spend his rut with you. He could’ve probably worded it better, but before he knew it the situation escalated and you were having an argument and he had unintentionally made you feel unwanted, which was just so far from reality…

He wanted to tell you just how much he wanted you, but before he could you’d put space between yourselves and left him there on his own. It was late at night when it happened, but he wasn’t necessarily worried for your safety when you left, because he just knew you’d either go to one of the girls’ flats or to Jisung’s.

Forty minutes after the whole ordeal, he received a text from Jisung confirming his suspicions. The younger wolf told him you were at his place and that he’d take care of you for the night, which Minho was immensely grateful for.

He spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering how to best word his predicament so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt you and make you feel unwanted again. Essentially, his reservations when it came to spending his rut with you had nothing to do with you, and all to do with him.

So, the next morning, he made his way to Jisung’s and waited patiently for you to wake up. Jisung had given him a rundown of what had happened the night before, without revealing too much of what you’d told him since he usually liked to keep your conversations as private as possible–just like he kept the conversations he had with Minho as private as possible whenever he spoke to you.

So, when you woke up, Minho immediately explained the situation. He confessed to you how he’d always wanted you, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you whenever he went into rut, and how he got incredibly violent during that time period, so violent he feared he would harm you in any way.

You understood, of course. You always did.

You apologised for jumping to conclusions, and for forcing him to talk about something when he was clearly not ready to do it, which he appreciated. He also apologised for not communicating properly, an apology that you also seemed to accept. At the end of the day, he understood why the whole thing happened in the first place, and he made a mental note to try and not keep things like these from you ever again. 

Funny thing, how the universe always seems to play with people like they were little pieces in a funky little game.

When Minho did go into rut, he was so out of it he completely forgot to let you or anyone else know. You had a tendency to drop by his place unannounced, which he didn’t mind, but that day, it was far from ideal, to say the least.

He was sweating, frustrated, in pain, and the second he heard the beeps of the front door’s lock and the smell of your scent hit him, he just lost it.

It was all a blur after that. He tried to hold back, to tell you to leave, but you didn’t. Of course you wouldn’t leave…

To his surprise, that violence that seemed to seep out of him whenever he went into rut wasn’t there. His thoughts were plagued with only you and your lavender scent and the need to pleasure you and to pump you full of his pups.

When he finally managed to do all that, he quickly realised that he’d only ever been violent because he couldn’t have you. In retrospect, he should’ve known. But he’d proven to be tone deaf enough to not understand what his needs were, and this clearly wasn’t an exception.

Nothing had felt quite as fulfilling as spending that rut with you. It was all he’d ever wanted and more. His almost endless supply of cum, his knot, his insatiable need to fuck and fuck and fuck… You’d taken it all like a champ, and even when he wasn’t that in tune with his inner wolf, he could still feel just how proud it was, how proud he was of you.

The word mate kept repeating over and over in his mind the entire time, and he supposed you were his mate, all things considered.

Forever was a big word, but Minho figured that, at least at that point in time, he couldn’t ever imagine his life with anyone else. Especially not now that you were finally sharing your feelings with each other after years and years of pining.

For all he knew, anything that could have potentially been a problem in his relationship with you had been addressed after that. Minho was happy, you were happy, and it all seemed to have taken its natural course.

Except for one maybe not so small thing…

Minho wanted you to move in with him. He’d honestly wanted it since before you got together. He missed you often, and he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

The distance during the week was starting to stress him out way more than he’d like to admit, and even if he’d been slowly making space in his flat for you, he knew he’d ask you sooner or later. He hadn’t brought the topic up after you got together because he knew your job was important to you, and moving in with him would probably mean you’d have to quit and find something else closer to where the den was.

He could offer to support you financially, but he just knew you wouldn’t have wanted that. The second you’d started working and being financially independent, you couldn’t imagine ever having to rely on someone else–that was what you had told him all those years ago, at least…

You moving in with him made so much sense, though. Some weekends, Minho would go over to your place, but you’d told him several times that you preferred his home over yours. You’d told him it was more lively, that you enjoyed the presence of the other pack members, and that the only thing you genuinely liked about your flat was that Sir Percival was in it.

Sir Percival was your elderly cat that you adopted when you were a child. He was one of the many cats Minho had rescued, and he was probably the reason you ever spoke to Minho in the first place. Back then, the day you met, you approached him only because he was trying to save Sir Percival’s entire litter that had been abandoned by the side of the road.

So, yes. You moving in with him to Chris’ den just made all the sense in the world to him. Especially at moments like these.

Whenever Minho got to lay on your bed like he was doing now, he could certainly understand why you felt that his flat was more homely. You hardly had any decor in your room, and the whole flat was in a similar state. You never particularly liked this place in the first place, but you stayed because it was close to work and rent was relatively cheap.

‘I’ll probably move out soon, so no need to go all in on the decoration’, you’d told Minho years ago when you moved in. You kept putting it off, and now here this place was, void of anything that would highlight your wonderful personality other than the cat toys littering the floor, and the cat tower in the corner of your living room.

Whenever Minho came over, Sir Percival always avoided coming to your room unless it was absolutely necessary. The cat had told Minho that if he ever walked in on them having sex again he’d purposefully ruin the mood by throwing up a hairball, so he preferred to stay in the living room, even if it meant he couldn’t sleep by your feet like he loved to do.

That was fair, Minho supposed. He didn’t feel comfortable having Sir Percival in the room when you were getting intimate, either, so he appreciated the privacy. 

Right now, though, since he had woken up in the middle of the night and hadn’t been able to fall asleep again, he was wondering if he should go out and bring Sir Percival to bed. Maybe his warmth and his purring could help him fall asleep again…

Unlike Minho, you were sleeping soundly next to him, with your back turned to him. If he stood up from this bed he might wake you up, and he didn’t want you to be in his situation… So he settled on focusing on your steady breathing while he waited for sleep to claim him again.

It was just as he was almost asleep again that a minute sound made his body jerk awake. 

It came from you. It was a whimper, barely even audible. But how could he not hear it with his enhanced senses? When you were so close?

It would’ve worried him, had the smell of your arousal not knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

Minho would’ve never imagined his sleepless night would’ve taken him to this intersection, but here he was. He realised he could do one of three things… One, he could ignore the fact that you were right there next to him, presumably having a wet dream… Two, he could wake you up to reenact whatever it was you were dreaming about… Or three, he could use this as an opportunity to indulge in something he hardly ever did…

Since he started a relationship with you, Minho and you had many opportunities to try new things. You were quite open to try any and every seemingly odd activity in the bedroom–be it anal, or role-play, or some light bondage, you were always down to try it. And when Minho brought up his little fantasy of touching you while you were asleep, you’d been more than ecstatic to try it out… To the point where he was sure if he hadn’t brought it up, you would’ve done so eventually.

There was something about the fact that you trusted him enough to let him do things to you while you were unconscious that excited him. Maybe it was a projection of all those nights back then that he’d spent trying not to fantasise about you when you slept together, or maybe it was simply the act itself that he inexplicably enjoyed… Regardless of what it was, your little whimpers had his mind clouding a bit.

Sometimes, before you fell asleep next to each other, you’d turn to him and tell him ‘Maybe I’ll wake up to a surprise tomorrow…’ with that lilt in your voice that just let him know exactly in which way you wanted him to wake you up. That had been the case last night, and Minho had considered doing it a bit later, when the sun was starting to rise at least. But he figured, since you were already having a bit of fun in your dreams, maybe a midnight treat wouldn’t hurt.

Scooting closer to you, his hand found your waist. He held you tight while he pressed his nose to your pulsepoint, right under your jaw. He could hear your blood flowing, your heart rate increasing, and the scent of your excitement had him almost salivating.

Dragging his hand from your waist to your hip, he carefully caressed your body over the fabric of your sleeping gown, just as he pressed his growing erection against your ass. A tiny moan escaped your mouth, but your steady heartbeat let him know you were still pretty much asleep.

Whatever it was you were dreaming about had you shuffling the tiniest bit, enough for your ass to rub against his crotch, and he could already feel a bit of wetness soiling the material of his sleeping shorts. His own fluids, to be precise. It was one of those things that shocked him after he turned, just how much fluid his body could produce. Be it saliva, or sweat, or cum… It was slightly inconvenient, but at the very least, you always seemed to enjoy it, so he supposed it wasn’t so bad.

Minho dragged his hand from where it’d been caressing your hip up your torso, stopping only when he was finally able to cup one of your breasts. He generously fondled and squeezed the flesh, not holding back one bit. If you woke up, you woke up, and if you didn’t, you didn’t. Simple as that.

Dragging the pad of one of his fingers over your stiffening nipple, he relished the way your heartbeat picked up, as well as the way you started to writhe a bit in his hold.

“You’re so soft, baby…” Minho couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck, and you whined, almost like you were reacting to him. And maybe you were. He liked to believe that to be the case.

He pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers, pressing kisses on your neck and grinding his now fully hardened length against your ass. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about, my kitten… Is it me? I hope it’s me…”

Minho was very quiet, but he hoped you could hear him even in your dreams. He figured you might’ve, considering how fast your heart was beating now.

He was genuinely planning on dragging this out for as long as possible, but when you mumbled something akin to his name, he simply couldn’t hold back any longer. He removed his hand from your breast after one final hefty squeeze, only to bring that same hand between your bodies. His digits made contact with your entrance, and he couldn’t help but take in a deep breath at just how wet you were.

He wondered how much of it was your own arousal, and how much of it was his own cum that might’ve remained there from when you had sex last night before going to bed. He didn’t come inside often, but when he did, the thought of you having a part of him within your warmth did things to him, it tickled a secluded area of his brain, and it certainly excited him. He supposed it was instinctual. One of those wolf things he hardly ever paid attention to.

Delaying no further, he freed himself out of his sleeping shorts, just enough to drag the tip of his cock up and down your drenched folds. Minho almost got winded when he heard the moan that came out of your mouth in response to his motions. Your lavender scent wrapping around every single one of his nerve-endings enticed him, and he just couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He usually preferred to make sure you were well stretched enough to take him in, but considering you’d been stretched plenty last night, he figured you’d be just fine. And he was proven correct when he finally pushed himself fully within your warmth, when the wetness between yours legs let him slide in with ease.

Minho couldn’t help but groan at the feeling, just as a moan of your own escaped your mouth.

“You’re so warm, baby…”

He pulled his hips back, only to push them forward to start a slow, pleasant rhythm. His hold was tight on your hip, your heart sounded like it was close to leaping out of your chest, and the second your walls clenched on his length, he just knew you’d wake up soon… You’d wake up exactly to what you had wanted.

“Oh–oh, Minho…”

There was no mistaking it anymore, your barely audible moans had slightly increased in tone, and you’d started to push your hips back a bit.

Minho just hummed in response, dragging his hand from your hip to your lower belly. You placed your own hand on top of his, lacing your fingers together and sighing contently.

The kisses he left on your neck and the exposed skin of your shoulder seemed to spur you on, the movement of your hips increased in pace, and he just increased his in return. He was mumbling nonsense against your skin, tightening his hold on your interlocked fingers, getting completely lost in the feel of your tight warmth around him.

Before he knew it, you had turned your body a bit, and he had pushed your legs apart to get better access to your heat.

With an arm below you for his hand to hold yours, he took advantage of this position by using his other hand to pull one of your legs over his hip and for his fingers to find their rightful place between your legs.

You just kissed him. You kissed him like you’d die if you didn’t, mumbling words of appreciation of your own between each kiss, broken up by moans and sighs and whimpers with every thrust of his hips and every circle drawn on your clit.

“You’re so good to me”, you mumbled, tightening your hold on his hand, moaning so prettily he almost blew then and there.

“And you to me”, he replied simply, picking up his pace, relishing your scent and your warmth and just… you.

Time always seemed to slow down whenever you had sex, especially at these hours of the night, to the point where he could never tell how long it’d been since that first thrust. All Minho could register was how incredibly good he felt, how your heart was thumping fast in your chest, and how hard you were clamping around his cock.

The sounds you made whenever you came undone under his touch and his motions were like music to his ears, they spurred him on, borderline urged him to come himself. And there was certainly hardly anything he would’ve enjoyed more right now than to blow his load while you were still spasming around him, while all you could mumble was his name, while all he could mumble was yours.

Your chest rose and fell with your deep breaths, and while the after effects of his orgasm still clung to every single one of his senses, you pulled him in for a slow, tender kiss. Minho immediately melted, holding you tighter and still enjoying the comfort of your inner walls.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he brushed his nose against yours, making you smile and giggle, and you sounded incredibly sleepy even after all that had transpired just minutes ago. He pulled you into his arms, entangling his legs with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Everything was calm around you. The room was barely illuminated by the lampposts outside your windows, and Minho suddenly felt like humming a random song you’d been listening to earlier in the evening… So he did, all as he caressed your hair.

You nuzzled your face further into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tight. Right then, Minho figured that every choice he had ever made, that everything that had happened to him, had taken him to this moment, and if that were truly the case, then he honestly wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“Babe?” You mumbled, the sound slightly muffled against the fabric of his vest top.

“Hm?” Minho kept caressing your hair, your back, holding you close and keeping you there.

“I love you”.

He honestly couldn’t help but smile. Of course he knew you loved him. You’d shown him just how much countless times before. Not only throughout your relationship, but way before that… He’d honestly known since that time you hugged him when he had shapeshifted into a wolf the very first time.

“I love you, kitten, baby… So much”.

You pulled away from his chest and looked at him, with a blinding smile on your face. Granted, he could hardly see it in the dark room, but he saw enough. Enough to know just how much you cared. 

But alas, Minho was first and foremost your best friend, and even if he was melting on the inside with your confession, he just had to be annoying about it. “I can’t believe you beat me to say it first, though. I won’t ever forgive you”.

You gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to your mouth for emphasis. “Here I am? Baring my heart to you? And this is what I get? Fine, I won’t ever forgive you for never forgiving me”.

You were just about to turn away from him, he just knew. So he held you tighter, keeping you in place while he laughed. Your façade crumbled immediately, and you laughed with him, all while he kept pressing kisses on your cheeks.

“Guess I’ll just have to say it as much as possible to get the upper hand”, Minho mumbled against your cheek, just before he started leaving behind an ‘I love you’ after every kiss he pressed on your heated skin.

When your chuckles died down, and he was satisfied with the amount of times he had professed his love, silence enveloped you both once again. Minho simply laid on his back, hugging you close as you laid your head on his chest, right over his heart.

He wasn’t sure if it was the admittance of his feelings, or the hormonal rush of a good fuck, or your lavender scent that seemed to make him delirious sometimes, but, before he knew it, the words were coming out of his mouth with no way to stop them.

“Would you like to move in with me?”

No take-backsies now, he supposed.

You took in a deep breath, but remained silent for a moment.

It was just as Minho was about to panic that you finally spoke. “Do you think Chris would accept Sir Percival into the pack as well? I’m not leaving him behind”.

Minho couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’ll have to. Otherwise I’ll threaten him until he does”.

It was all a bluff… mostly.

Minho would respect any decision Chris took, but if it came to it, he kind of knew that if he laid out why it was important to him to take in both you and Sir Percival, Chris would agree, so he wasn’t particularly worried. Sir Percival already respected Chris, from what Minho knew, so he was almost ninety percent sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

You took in another deep breath, pulling yourself away from Minho’s hug so you could straddle him instead. With your full weight on his body and your hands on his chest, you looked down at him, taking in his features.

“I guess I’ll need to start applying for jobs, then”, you just smiled brightly at him.

Minho held your waist, smiling at you in return right before he pulled you down for a kiss. With you and Sir Percival there at the den, his family would finally be complete, and he felt as if his heart was about to burst at the thought.

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General Masterlist Minho's WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

[fairysluna]

unrequited.

Aegon was unable to keep his love for you as a secret, but he did not expect for you to shatter his heart into pieces after realizing you do not feel the same way.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — angst, unrequited love, inspired by THAT scene from little women, hurt/no comfort, a bit of miscommunication, one sided love, a lot of crying, guilt, cursing, aegon was named heir. If something is missing, let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — i was sad, i was watching little women, and then i remembered that i haven't written angst in a very long time. It's short, but well, it is what it is. I'm trying to escape the writer's block so bear with me if this isn't perfect, hope you all like it!🤍

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

There was something in the way his eyes looked at you that should have warned you about what was going to happen. Maybe the way his company felt slightly different, or the way he purposely brushed his hand as he walked beside you along the shore of Dragonstone.

A peaceful silence reigned between you two, where only the sound of the sea and seagulls were heard. There was never a need to be talkative whenever you were with him, you two did not need words to express to one another, just a single glance at him and you would be able to read him as if he was a book. It had always been that way. Aegon had never attempted to hide how much he enjoyed your company; no matter how many duties and responsibilities his position might have, he would always find some time during the day to make you company. The mere sound of your cheerful laughter was enough for him to feel whole. Happy.

Your friendship with Aegon began unexpectedly; you were a Lady of a small house, bannermen of the Tyrells. Not even in a million years you would have thought you were going to be one of the heir's closest friends. But you were, and Aegon loved it. You were not like other maidens, you always saw beyond his royal title, beyond the power he would once hold. You saw him as Aegon, Egg as you would sometimes prefer to call him. He loved that you were a breeze of fresh air that would wake him up from his torment every time he felt too overwhelmed.

You were everything for him, an escape of the four wall prison that would often be disguised as a castle. You set him free.

Aegon, inevitably, fell for you in the most beautiful of ways; slowly and unexpectedly. One day he woke up and felt the urge to hold you in his arms each morning; he could not stand another minute without you by his side - it felt almost unnatural to be without your company. His heart found a reason to beat with your presence, his brain would often overshadow his thoughts with silly daydreams about you.

You, you, you. It's always you. It has always been you.

Now, as you were complaining about your Septa scolding you that same morning, Aegon was in awe, mesmerized by you doing such a mundane thing like talking. And, bewitched by the way your lips moved, he stopped his pace. Salty air filling his lungs as he encouraged himself to say what he has been dying to say to you.

You did not realize about it until you were a few steps further than him, and you turned around. He was just looking at you; his puppy, lilac eyes staring at your face almost without blinking. You chuckled nervously, confused about what was happening. You smiled awkwardly, feeling a bit too exposed all of the sudden.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, frowning.

He did not reply, but you saw it in his eyes.

Your smile slowly faded away once the realization hit you, and the atmosphere changed immediately.

“Aegon…” You mentioned his name so differently, it felt almost foreign due to the way it left your lips. It was a plea, you were begging him to not say the words that were about to be pronounced.

He took a step closer; the dreamy glow in his eyes was still there, as if he had not seen the look on your face yet.

“Please, don't,” you managed to say, breathlessly. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt tired. Exhausted, even. You desperately tried to stop it before it was too late.

But you failed.

The weight in your chest became heavier, almost unbearable. Your lower lip was shaking, your legs trembling. You were heartbroken because you knew what you would have to do. Shaking your head, you refused to let him speak, both of you interrupted your words as a desperate attempt to silence each other.

“You need to hear me-”

“-stop this, Aegon-”

“-there’s no use to keep hiding it-”

“-don’t do this-”

“-you know what I'm about to say-”

“-Aegon, please-”

“-I love you.”

The heat of the burning sun was not enough to vanish the coldness that suddenly grew between you two. You closed your eyes, defeated. The silence became painfully awkward, and in that moment Aegon knew the truth.

His heart shattered.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes; they were covered by a layer of tears that were reluctant to escape. He was trying so hard not to fall apart, almost shaking as he stood as stiff as a rock.

“I love you,” he repeated in a whisper, thinking you might have not heard it the first time. “Please… please say it back.”

“Aegon-”

“Please,” he pleaded. His voice was broken and weak, trembling as he choked on a sob. “Please, say it.”

“You cannot do this to me-”

“I have loved you since the first day,” he confessed. “I’ve been trying to deny my feelings, trying to convince myself that it was nothing more, but it is. I need you, I love you more than words could tell, and my heart cannot bear another day without you being mine.”

“Aegon, I don't- I can't-”

“I want you to be my queen, my life companion,” he continued, watching you as you kept shaking your head. “My love, I want everything with you. I want to rule this fucking kingdom with you by my side. Please…”

“Aegon, I'm not fit to rule-”

“Me neither, but we can be a great team, I- I know that-”

“I can't be a queen, I can't marry you,” you interrupted him, trying to make understand your point.

You hated the prohibitions of a title. You see how Aegon was trapped in an invisible cage without escape, and you did not want that for yourself. You wanted freedom, you wanted to travel, to cross the Narrow Sea and meet foreign lands. As a queen, you would be caged; and as a wife to a king, you would be forced to provide him with heirs you do not wish to have yet.

It was selfish, you thought, but it was the thing that would make you happy.

“Aegon, this would never work,” she murmured as she grabbed his hands. He took a sharp breath when he felt your touch. “We're too different, we do not wish for the same things.”

“I know you love me too…. I know you do,” he told you. Some part of himself knew that it was a desperate attempt to try and convince himself that his words were true. But, deep inside, he knew it was not the case; one single glance at you would tell him what he's too afraid to accept.

“You are my best friend, you are the person that I trust the most, you-”

“Because you love me!” he raised his voice.

“I don't, Aegon…” you stopped him before he could say more. His nostrils twitched once he felt the itch on his nose, his lips trembling. “I don't love you like that.”

There was another silence. It was torturous. Aegon pulled his hands away from you. You quickly wiped the rebel tear that fell down your cheek.

“I know you think I'm the one, but I'm not. We would never work, this would only make you miserable-”

“You're the one for me,” he murmured, his eyes lost in the ground.

“I'm not,” you said, trying to reach him, but he just took another step back. “You'll find someone who will love you, who truly deserves you-”

“Am I not worthy of your love?” He suddenly asked, your heart aching at his broken voice.

Gods, you were about to explode.

“You're much more than what I truly deserve, Aegon, you're way better than-”

“I want you, I don't want another. I love you, I could never love anyone else the way I love you!”

“But you will!” you raised your voice to match his. “You will love someone else, and you will forget about me.”

“I can't ever forget about you,” he muttered. He remained quiet for a while before he looked down at you, noticing your teary eyes; a part of him hated himself for making you cry. After a few seconds he said, “I figured you would love me too… After everything we've lived and felt together. I thought we were gonna be happy-”

“You will be happy, Aegon. You'll find a fine young maiden who will give your life a purpose, but that is not me. It cannot be me.”

“You were my purpose,” he murmured, his face covered in tears as his puppy eyes would not look at you.

He felt embarrassed for how broken he was. For how naive he had been to even dare to believe you could possibly love him back. He wondered how he could be so foolish.

“I wish I could be the woman you want, I wish I didn't have to say these things- Aegon!”

He walked away, not wanting to hear any other of your excuses. It hurted enough as it is, your words would only wound him even more.

You tried to stop him, to grab his arm, yelling his name, and try to make him understand you, but he just walked away leaving his footprint on the wet sand as you stood there.

Tears were streaming down your face as you watched him go, one of your hands pressed against your chest as if you were trying to take the pain away. It hurted you to see him so broken, especially when you know it was you the one who caused it.

You had just lost your best friend, and there was no returning point from that.

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