#I end up on a tree-lined street | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellecdc · 1 month ago

Note

Heyyy! I’m usually a silent tumblr warrior but omg I keep coming up with so many different Au’s in my head. 🙈 Also I love your writing it’s godsent. 😏

Tonight I was thinking of Model!Reader x photographer!Remus 😖💔. Who are like totally obsessed with each other and are always supporting their careers. Remmy getting sooo many candid photos of reader and using them in his portfolio. Along with them both going to each others viewings/ runway shows. I just can’t omg so many possibilities ..🥲

~🪼

this is so. stinking. cute. the second I received this I had to send it to @maladaptiveescapism (my muggle AU queen who gifted us all the beautiful, beautiful man that is chef!sirius) and she came up with the SWEETEST meet cute. thank you for sharing this prompt, lovie!! I hope I did it justice <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who ends up being Remus' big break [2.6k words]

CW: fluff, swearing, reader has a dog and he's adorable, meet cute, fame

Remus needn’t look in a mirror (or one of the windows of the shops on the street) to know that his nose was pink; he had always been very sensitive to the cold, and it was only exacerbated by his love for it.

It was his favourite time of year; waking up in the morning when the ground was still covered in shimmery frost before turning into a misty fog as the sun poked its way through trees and buildings. The trees and grass were still grasping desperately at the shades of greens that it usually wore, but the leaves - determined in their journey - insisted on turning various shades of oranges, yellows, reds, and browns.

Remus loved them.

He also found that people were perhaps their most beautiful when cold - he hardly ever left for his morning walks without his camera, which also meant he left for his morning walks without a pair of mittens or gloves which might impede his ability to control the lens and shutter - and there was something about the cool air that brought out the most beautiful colours in not only the trees, but also of the people.

And Remus yearned to capture it.

He’d found a beautiful elderly man enjoying a mocha outside a small coffee shop who he chatted with for a while before he asked him if he’d be okay to take some pictures. Every crinkle near the corners of his eyes was evidence of laughter and joy, every wrinkle between his brow a testament to years of consideration and thought, every divot around his mouth was a story he shared, a kiss he gave, a meal he enjoyed.

Every deep line on the man’s face - Albus had been his name - told a story, and Remus was lucky enough to have captured even a fraction of it with his camera.

Remus’ fingers were struggling to thaw out in his pockets as he took the long way home - traversing through the quiet park in the centre of the city which was slowly becoming more lively as the morning wore on and the sun rose higher, though it was still quiet enough for Remus to enjoy.

Some days he had more luck than others, not because there was a lack of beautiful people - because there was surely no shortage of that - but rather nothing that inspired Remus to create.

Some days it frustrated him, and some days he was able to remind himself he was really doing this for fun and not being paid for his portraits save what small income he made through creator perks on various social media platforms.

How nice it would be to get paid for his portraits, though.

Remus had paused in his walk to bend over and pick up a disposable coffee cup from the sidewalk to put it in a rubbish bin when he spotted the perfect picture.

There was a wrought-iron and wooden slat park bench a few paces away from the footpath in the park sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops as if some deity had placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice it.

The patch of grass that the sun was kissing was melting into its usual green whilst the grass surrounding it was still its unique combination of dark sage, green, and silver courtesy of the autumn twilight.

A senior looking dog - a border collie, if Remus guessed correctly - attached to a simple red lead seemed to have found himself a good stick for chewing as he basked in the sun, the lead looped gently around the wrist of his person who sat on the bench with a ratty looking paperback in their hand.

You were ethereal.

You had one hand shoved into a knitted mitten whilst the other held your book, though a second mitten sat ready should you no doubt decide your free hand was too cold and needed to switch. You had multiple layers on and a comfy pair of shoes. Clearly out for a walk yet knowing that your dog did less walking now-a-days and spent more time in sunny spots with a nice stick, you came prepared with a novel to enjoy the transitionary season much the same way Remus did.

And you were stunning.

You looked like a sip of warm apple cider, like the trees had parted their branches just to give the sun somewhere to direct its warmth and light, like the sun came out only for the chance of seeing you.

Remus actually took a look around him to see if anyone else was seeing what he was - nothing short of a masterpiece - but the masses appeared wholly unaware that they were in the presence of something hallowed.

He lost his nerve more times than he could count as he tried to convince his boots to take him in your direction, to start up the conversation the same way he always did with every other stranger he stopped on the street to take their picture. But this felt different, you were different, you-

…were looking over at him; your dog ceasing to chew on his stick in favour of staring intently at Remus alerting you to the fact that you had an admirer (at best, or a stalker at worst).

To avoid looking like the latter, Remus forced his feet to bring him to you, smiling at you as you marked your place in your book and closed it before offering him a wary smile of your own.

“Pardon me, I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but, erm, well-” sodding son of a bitch, stick to the script, “my name is Remus and I’m a street photographer, I uhm, I take portraits of people I pass on the street and post them to my socials.” He offered awkwardly as he pulled out his phone - numb fingers nearly dropping it as he raced to try to prove to you he wasn’t some creep with a long-distance lens on his camera hanging around public parks - wincing as the end of his sentence lilted up in the form of a question.

“I couldn’t help but notice you and your dog, here,” he pushed on, said dog still watching him carefully and tilting his head at the end of every one of his sentences, “and you look beautiful- or, rather, it makes a beautiful picture! I, well, I guess I was wondering if you’d mind if…I took your picture?”

And by some absolute twist of fate, you had the good graces to simply smile at him like he wasn’t some awkward bumbling fool which only served to make you even more beautiful as you handed him his phone back.

“That’s really cool, Remus,” you offered, sounding as though you were testing how his name felt forming from your lips as you made eye contact with him, “thank you. I’d be happy to be your model.”

“Brilliant.” Remus let out with a breath of relief. “Now are you and…” he paused as he gestured toward your companion.

“Ziggy.”

“...Ziggy a package deal or should I ask him his rates?”

You let out a bubbly laugh which encouraged Ziggy to sit up - albeit slowly due to his age - and cock his head at you.

“What do you say, Ziggs?” You asked the canine who cocked its head the other way. “Do you want to model too?”

As if the dog knew you were waiting for a response, he let out a polite bark before laying back down.

“Well there you have it, Remus; we’re all yours.”

The picture returned to its previous perfection; between you returning to your novel sans one mitten and Ziggy’s focus back to his treasure, Remus was able to capture you exactly how he wanted. You were wearing a soft smile which only grew when Remus nearly bumped into a jogger in an attempt to get a different angle.

You held your book to your mouth to hide your laughing as he called a hasty apology to the girl who barely slowed down on his account, and he shot a cute picture of you like that, too; your eyes full of mirth and crinkling at the corners in a quiet laugh at his expense.

Remus was infatuated.

It felt blasphemous in some way, but Remus had to admit he was very chuffed to have an excuse to join you on your alter bench, pretending as though you leaning into him - for warmth or for a better view of his camera screen, he wasn’t sure - didn’t make him feel like his heart was trying to exit out of his throat as you sung your praises for the pictures.

“Remus.” You hissed as if you really couldn’t believe your eyes. “These are really good! Oh my god…”

Remus chuckled awkwardly as you brought the camera closer to you, ultimately forcing Remus to breathe your air as the camera strap pulled his body closer to yours.

“You’re very talented.” You added earnestly before looking up at him with something akin to awe. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“Erm, well,” he mumbled, suddenly very aware that he was nearly on top of a relative stranger in this public park at about 8:30 in the morning, “I…sort of? I mean, I have my socials.”

You nodded at him and looked back down at his camera before passing it back to him. “Are you going to post these?”

“I’d very much like to, if you’re okay with that?”

“Please do.” You agreed readily. “Do you tag people in your portraits?”

Remus nearly snickered as he thought of Albus this morning who seemed completely perplexed by the phone in Remus’ hand let alone by the concept of social media. “Sometimes; not everyone I photograph is online. Would you like to be tagged?”

“Yes please.” You beamed at him; Remus’ fingers itched to lift his camera back up to capture you like this, too. Fuck, you were beautiful. “My mum’s always saying she doesn’t have nearly enough pictures of me.”

“Well we can’t have that.” Remus chuckled as he pulled out his phone and opened the notes app so you could add your Instagram handle.

“It was very nice meeting you, Remus.” You offered, and Remus felt something close to shock at how truly sincere you sounded. “You should be charging people for that.” You added, gesturing to the camera hanging from his neck.

“I could always start now.” He offered in jest, and he was rewarded again by your bubbling laugh; Remus felt nearly torn at having to leave, every shift of your face and expression begging to be photographed, and every muscle in his body begging to do the photographing.

But when he offered you a smile and a slightly awkward wave as he walked away - the sound of your laugh still echoing in his mind - he wondered if maybe, in some universe out there, there was a version of him that got to commit every expression that crossed your face - to memory or film, either would suffice.

𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱

The following day, Remus couldn’t escape the office meeting quick enough; his phone buzzing incessantly the last twenty five minutes of the forty five minute planning session - that he was supposed to be taking dutiful notes throughout - burning a hole through his trouser pocket and into the muscle of his thigh.

35 missed calls from Sirius.

12 missed calls from James

Sirius: answer the fucking phone, you sod!!

Sirius: when the fuck did you take these!?!? (4 attachments)

Sirius: Lupin I STG

James: Lily is freaking out!!! Did you get an autograph??

James: who am I kidding. You had no idea, did you?

“What the fuck…” Remus murmured under his breath as he scrolled through the notifications on his lock screen, blushing something fierce when a coworker brushed past him reminding him he was supposed to be being professional which generally meant not swearing.

The second Remus stepped onto the pavement outside of his building, his phone started ringing again.

“What the fuck is going on?” He answered instead of saying ‘hello, Sirius; alright?’.

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sirius barked back. “How about you tell me when the fuck you met Y/N L/N!?”

Remus felt his eyebrows cinch as he pulled his phone from his face when another text came in.

Lily: I’m so fucking jealous right now!

Lily: also, I should probably say congrats; I’m sure this is going to be great for your career!

“Remus!”

“Christ, Sirius, I’m here.” Remus muttered as he brought the phone back to his ear. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Son of a bitch.” Sirius muttered on the other end of the line. “The pictures you posted yesterday!”

“Of the man? Or-”

“The bird! Remus! Y/N L/N!”

Remus suddenly realised why the name sounded familiar; it had been your instagram handle.

“Oh! Do you know her?”

“Do I know her? Mate, she’s fucking famous.”

“What?”

“She’s a sodding model! She’s been in Sports Illustrated, walked in New York Fashion Week and Paris Fashion Week, she was in a music video recently; fuck who was the artist…”

“Wha- what the fuck? How did I not know this?” Remus asked dumbly.

“God, you’re thick. Did you not notice the fucking blue checkmark next to her name on instagram when you tagged her?”

Remus was so glad Sirius couldn’t see him right now; he always felt properly chastised when it was Sirius handing his ass to him, but this felt bigger somehow.

“Well… I don’t know, I’m verified too but that doesn’t mean anyone knows me!” He argued half-heartedly; he really hadn’t noticed…

Sirius snorted. “Yeah well, everyone’s gonna know you now, mate.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked sternly.

“I mean” Sirius started theatrically “that she’s shared your original post to her story and posted your pictures to her page and tagged you as the photographer. She only posted it two hours ago and it already has almost 70,000 likes. Have you not looked at instagram?”

“Sirius, I work in a fucking corporate office, I can’t be on my phone all of the time.” He spat rather petulantly.

“Bully for you.” Sirius muttered in response. “Check now then.”

Remus stole himself as he closed the call screen that simply consisted of a terrible picture of Sirius before opening up instagram.

The notification tab simply read 100+, but when he moved to view his profile he realised he had gained nearly 10,000 followers just since leaving for work this morning.

“Jesus…” Remus breathed out slowly.

“You might want to put a portfolio together, mate.” Sirius offered, tone still slightly teasing, though the edges were softer and Sirius’ pride was nearly palpable even through the phone. “This might finally be your big break.”

All because Remus had noticed you - a beautiful girl - in the park with a book and a dog sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops… as if some deity placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice.

And of course he noticed you; how could he not?

I'd be happy to be your model. Do you have a portfolio? You should be charging people for that.

This might finally be your big break.

Little did either of you know that you would end up being Remus’ big break.

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letorip · 8 months ago

Text

somethin' stupid [ii]

"and though it's just a line to you, for me it's true and never felt so right before"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: it's all her fault, and wednesday can't help but feel it in her bones.

warnings: mentions of blood, the police (gross), hospitalisation, crying

word count: 4.8k

A/N: thank you all for the love and support you have given to this silly little story of mine. it is absolutely insane. red font denotes the thoughts of those around you. kind of worried i may have rushed the ending, but i hope you like it anyhow. right, anyways...

===+++===

It took an additional thirty four minutes and twenty eight seconds after the beast sunk its claws into your chest, for Wednesday to come wandering out of the line of trees stretching to the cloudy sky and onto the nearby mountain street, still wearing your bright yellow raincoat bunched around her wrists.

Finding the cave had not turned out to be entirely as difficult as she had expected, and she managed to find its charred remains just as Eugene had said. There was no evidence to gather, really, and there never had been to begin with.

In the far away distance, only lightly covered by the rain, it sounded as if a flock of birds were screaming at each other and fighting, and the noise rang throughout the forest before settling in Wednesday’s ears. She had already been annoyed and frustrated enough tonight. The extra noise just set her even more on edge than before.

It took another sixteen seconds and a few steps closer then, for Wednesday to realise the noise bleeding from around the bend in the road wasn’t in fact, a group of birds. Instead, it was the worst sound Wednesday could ever want to hear.

Within an instant, Wednesday took off running, every sickening realisation clicking at once. The vision that had been plaguing her nightmares and every interaction with you came back in full force. Her stomach began to churn as she went, heart burning and ears ringing. She knew.

When Wednesday rounded the curve, she saw the cars and their sirens.

The red and blue lights bounced off of the dirt and pavement even from far away, reflecting in the rain water as it pummelled to the ground. Five police cruisers sat strewn every which way along the shoulder of the road, headlights on and pointed into the underbrush. Officers wandered the clearing, pointing their flashlights into the dark and yelling loudly to each other in an attempt to overcome the rain.

As Wednesday rushed towards the vehicles, a man stepped out of the closest car to her, wearing a plastic blue poncho that did mostly nothing to stop the merciless pounding of the furious rain. He spoke into a little radio on his shoulder, staring out into woods at his men while they searched.

Wednesday’s loud steps from her thick shoes warned him of her nearing, and the man turned, hand dropping from his radio. She was immediately displeased, greatly so; the man was Sheriff Galpin. He looked just as unhappy to see her, frown drooping into a wry glower.

“Addams what are you doing out here??!” He shouted at her over the storm, hands placing themselves on his hips. “It’s sure as hell past your curfew, now go back to Nevermore, dammit!“

Wednesday walked right up to him then, tugging him roughly by the poncho and his collar, which she balled up dangerously in her fist. It was a warning, and she meant it. Potentially, she meant it more than any threat she had previously given. “Who did you find.”

Sheriff Galpin’s eyebrows lowered, a line appearing in his forehead as he stared her down. “That’s official Jericho Police Department business, missy. You need to-“

Her grip on his clothing tightened. “Now.” Her voice shook a little. “Who did you find.”

He looked at her for a moment in the flickering blue and red of the dark, examining the look on her face. Her eyes were shining, though she would never admit to it. The old sheriff sighed. “Some kid from Nevermore was attacked. You might have known ‘em. Name was like, (Y/n) or something.”

Wednesday’s hand went slack, dropping back down to her side. “Were…,” she swallowed, attempting to cool the heat rushing to her face. It felt as if the Earth had just broken away from its orbit, to float off directionless into space. “Were they killed?”

For the first time, Sheriff Galpin seemed almost soft. He bent down to her a bit, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly as if to say ‘there, there.’ He had never liked the Addams girl much, though that seemed highly irrelevant in the moment.

“Uh, luckily no, though the camper who found them said they were awful close. The EMTs got here just in time. They’re headed to the hospital.”

Wednesday pulled back, tensing at his hand. “Give me a ride to the hospital,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. The sheriff shook his head.

“Nuh uh, no way. You’re going back to school, kid. It’s too late for you to be out here anyways, and I’m sure Weems would like to know why the hell you were out past curfew in the first place.”

She glared. “I need to be at that hospital.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes at her, any moment of softness gone upon remembering why he disliked her and her family so much. “Like hell I’m going to take you there.”

Wednesday blinked at him.

===+++===

The night was still dark but no longer raining, when Sheriff Galpin speedily dropped Wednesday off with her bloody fist at the front step of the hospital.

Punching the tree again and again had hurt, the sharp bark slicing through the skin of her knuckles, but it also meant she needed a nurse and potentially stitches, and there was only one place capable of offering such services. Suffice to say, the sheriff wouldn’t become her fan any time soon.

The clock had slowly crawled to four in the morning, and though Wednesday was exhausted, and Enid and Thing were potentially freaking out back at the school as to where the hell either of you were, Wednesday was a bit more concerned with figuring out where in the hospital your room was. Oh, and maybe aiding her fist, which was now dripping blood onto the patterned green carpeting as she went.

Upon entering and striding right up to the front counter, Wednesday had gotten straight to business. She held up her bloody fist, placing it with a 'thud' on top of an infographic that sat on the reception desk. The previously sleepy-looking teenage receptionist stared at Wednesday with a look of wide awake, abject horror. “Tell me where the ER is,” she said.

"Uh...over there?” said the girl, raising a weak finger towards the doors in the far left and unable to pry her eyes away from Wednesday’s hand.

Wednesday nodded a single time before walking off, leaving the receptionist to lean over the counter and watch her go. The sign over the door was marked 'ER,' and Wednesday followed down the brightly lit hall until she arrived at a new waiting area. The people in there looked much worse for wear than the empty entrance at the front.

Nervous parents sat cradling their obviously sick children, a construction worker was repeatedly coughing in the corner with his head propped up, trying to stay awake, and a woman in a pantsuit was cradling her foot in a cast and wincing. If this was an omen to who was in your company, it was certainly a bad one.

Wednesday did just as she had before, walking right up to the desk with her hand and showing it to the nurse at the front. Only this time, the woman gave her a worried look, picking up the black phone to her right immediately and dialling a few numbers into the keypad.

“Uh, stay right there, ma’am,” the woman said. Wednesday nodded. She didn’t intend to go anywhere anyways.

The nurse who had come to find her was an older woman, with smile lines crinkling around her mouth and winging off the corners of her eyes. She looked almost like a grandmother, except the electric pink afro she had curled off of her head in coils that spoke of youth and vitality and fun. Enid would have liked her, and Wednesday knew you would have too, but she hated the colour pink just as she (mostly) disliked fun people.

The woman had gotten straight down to business, pulling Wednesday into a room with a metal tray of supplies already picked out and holding up her hand.

Even being someone who enjoyed pain as she did, the antiseptic stung when it was placed over the scratches on her fingers. She hissed a bit, and the nurse glanced up at her with pitying eyes, grabbing the supplies for her stitches off of a metal tray.

"You said you punched a tree?"

Wednesday was suspicious of the woman's sudden interest, but nodded. The nurse could probably tell her where you were anyhow. She didn't like making friends, but she could at least make allies. She had called you one of her allies when you had asked. Remembering that hurt now.

"Yes,” she replied, a bit annoyed with the question.

"Why'd you do that, then?"

"I needed to come here. It's important." The nurse began to stitch her up, and Wednesday flinched at the sudden contact.

"What’s important about here?"

Wednesday glanced down at her soaked, dirty shoes. "There's someone staying here I need to see." The nurse looked up at her then, studying her carefully.

"You're here for that kid that came in after being attacked." Wednesday swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. The nurse sighed, wrinkles filling her forehead as she finished up Wednesday's middle finger and moving to her ring finger, holding up the pad to the light. "They were rushed into emergency surgery about twenty minutes ago. You'll have to wait here a while, and just to warn you: it isn’t pretty." Wednesday sent a small glance to her, one that spoke of a timidness the situation had drawn out of her that wasn't previously there.

“Why don't you go home for the night? Get yourself cleaned off and dry."

She shook her head at the woman, frown deep and telling. "I need to be here when they wake up. They don't have anyone else. Both of their parents are deceased, and I need to be there for them."

"I'm sure they would appreciate you coming this far, honey. They're very lucky to have someone who cares for them as much as you do. I've been a nurse for a loooong time, and trust me when I say you've done plenty."

She certainly had not. Wednesday was not immune to the morbid irony of the situation at hand. In reality, she had cared all too much, pretended that she cared not at all, and tricked you for the longest time into thinking she cared too little. Caring had gotten her nowhere- worse, it had gotten you into an ambulance.

"I'm...worried," she struggled to spit the word out at the nurse, who looked at her with soft eyes of encouragement. "I've said some things, that I don’t think I’ll be able to apologise for."

"Shhh," the nurse hummed, finishing Wednesday's final knuckle and taking out some bandages to wrap around the raw skin. "You'll get the chance."

“I’m not sure I will,” Wednesday's frowned deepened. Her lip threatened to quiver a bit, but it was true. She had been so foolish to bring you along- so selfish to allow you to push the bounds of your own safety. It sat lodged in her stomach like a tumour, growing and growing.

If this is what it meant to love you, Wednesday wasn't sure she was ready.

The older woman gave her a sad smile. "Look, there's no shame in making mistakes. The shame is in being too proud to ask for forgiveness for them," she said, standing up from her chair. "They'll be in room 304, I think. Should be out of surgery in a couple hours, in case you want to…”

“I’m not leaving,” Wednesday insisted. And she didn’t, for a while.

Very little could spook an Addams, especially one such as Wednesday, but she had decided it was all too much, seeing you after surgery. It was an utterly horrific sight. Had it been anyone else, Wednesday would be staring at the intricacies of the scars waiting patiently to form, marvelling at the magic of twisted skin and scabs. But no, it was you in that bed, wheeled right in, and she felt the rare urge to vomit.

You were hooked up to so many machines. Buzzing, whirring, and beeping were the only things keeping you alive, and it served as a painful reminder for everything that could have been lost.

A ventilator sat over your mouth, covering your soft lips and strapped to your jaw. Live, it said, as did the several needles and monitors that were hooked into the skin of your hands and arms. There was too much surface area covered. Wednesday, even if she had wanted to, couldn't have held your hand.

Blood was still very much crusted to the planes of your skin in parts, or at least what was visible of it behind your bandages. The white cotton sat in squares and rectangles, taped to your chest and along the stretch of your cheeks and face. You would never be the same, and Wednesday knew it then.

Always, you would bear the evidence of the attack when someone saw you for the first time and winced a bit, and Wednesday held herself as partially responsible. Her love was too thick to sit in. Wednesday Addams swallowed the tears she would deny crying.

She sat with you an hour, then she walked down to the payphone on the corner and called Enid as the sun finally settled for the morning sky.

===+++===

In the three weeks since your attack, you had yet to wake up. The doctors said it was a coma, and that they had no idea when you would wake, if at all, and that only made Wednesday feel worse. She had gone to visit you before, after, and sometimes even during class. Her own hand had healed nicely, though there would be a permanent scar over the knuckle of her index finger from a particularly nasty cut,

On one visit, Enid had said it was as if you "were sleeping," but Wednesday couldn't disagree more. When you slept, it was on your side with your mouth, open, snoring softly. No, instead, you looked like a dead body. Even after acquainted with the room, Wednesday still felt a great pain in her chest upon seeing you every day like that.

Principal Weems had been more than angry, discovering another student had been hospitalised as a result of Wednesday's actions. She was also worried, and annoyingly tried to sign Wednesday up for more sessions with Kinbott.

That wasn't what Wednesday needed, and she shrugged it off as such, every time Kinbott tried to bring up what happened to you, like she was waiting for her to burst into tears. An Addams didn’t cry. Instead Wednesday let the guilt eat her alive.

She also hungered for vengeance. Strewn across her floor was a giant mental map of everything involved in the case, from photos of the bodies (Enid had fainted twice) to crime scenes, and even potential suspects, all laid out accordingly.

As soon as visiting hours were over, she bid you adieu and threw on your yellow raincoat that still smelled like you, before heading out into the dark to solve the mystery. Maybe it was a way to say she was sorry, maybe it was a manifestation of you potentially never waking up- Wednesday didn't know.

What was even more frustrating was how she knew you held the final puzzle piece. She wasn't a fool- your ability to see into the thoughts of those around you was probably what had caused the attempt on your life in the first place. You had intentionally placed yourself in harms way, then, turning off your abilities for her.

You were incredibly powerful for one so laissez-faire about life- a fact that only offended Wednesday more, as you had been the target and not her, or someone else. You, who had just worn your heart on your sleeve to her, listened to her throw it away, and then immediately gotten attacked. You didn't deserve that, just as much as Wednesday didn't deserve you.

Then came the question of what you did deserve to hear when you awoke. If she was such an excellent writer, why couldn't she think of what to say to you if that ever happened? It still didn't feel good enough, no matter how many times she rewrote the letters or changed the order of the sentences. Nothing seemed to feel good enough.

===+++===

Around the fourth week, Wednesday began to leave you long thoughts, like diary entries. She didn't even know if you could hear her, from in there. You had been taken off a ventilator and it looked as if you were finally starting to level out a bit. Wednesday didn't know why, but she suspected you could hear her thoughts.

So she started thinking to you.

It had started small, at first. 'Today is the twenty-sixth day of you being asleep, you know. If you don't wake up, I swear I'll kill you.' She didn't even know if you could actually hear her, or if you'd want to, considering your last interaction. Wednesday itched to talk to you again, and her recounts grew longer and longer.

'Today is the twenty-eighth day of you still not waking up. Mayor Walker passed, yesterday. I have my suspicions of Xavier. He seems to meet with Dr. Kinbott frequently, and it's possible she's Laurel Gates. I'm not sure if I told you about this yesterday, but I summoned my ancestor a few days ago, Goody Addams, and she warned me of the Gates Mansion.'

'Today marks an official month, 31 days, of you not being awake yet. My Uncle Fester is in town. He sends his regards, by the way. He's the bald one I spoke of before, and he was eager to meet you... Enid and I visited the Gates' Mansion with Tyler. We were attacked and Tyler was injured. I know that may alarm you, but I assure you, I'm fine... If you don't wake up... I'll curse you forever.'

She didn't mean it.

‘Today is day thirty six and you’re still not awake. Enid will be waiting with you while I go confront Xavier and have him arrested. You must forget this when you wake, but I miss you… I’m not proud of it but I do. I said I wouldn’t care for you this way but look at me now. You didn’t spoil anything, (Y/n). If you said you loved me now, I would say it back. Give me the chance to say it then, or else.’

Wednesday waited patiently for another minute, hoping even a little bit that her mind would spark you to life. When nothing happened she sighed just as she had every previous day. Enid gave her a sad smile.

“Go get him, Wends. We’ll both be here when you get back,” she said. Wednesday glared at the use of the nickname, but grabbed your yellow raincoat off the back of her chair, shrugging the oversized jacket on and heading out the door. If there was one thing she thought would make amends, it would be catching your attacker and achieving revenge all on her own.

Of course, thirty seconds later, when Wednesday was long gone, you shot up right like a rocket, and Enid let out a scream.

===+++===

You were climbing, it felt like. You weren’t sure what, but you were pulling yourself up and out of something, pads of your fingers gripping the surface and lifting. It was one clutch after the other, and you had no idea how long or where you could possibly be climbing to.

Were you dead? That was entirely possible. You had blacked out with Tyler’s claws ripping and tearing at your chest and come-to in the back of the ambulance as it sped towards the hospital. A nervous-looking paramedic stood over you, casting a shadow over your eyes, and from there you had passed out again. Maybe you had died then.

Of course, it was a possibility. Not a welcome one, but it was still a possibility. Either way, you had to figure out a way to warn Wednesday about Tyler. Maybe if you just kept climbing. Time seemed to slow down, and it was one hand after another.

There was definitely sound coming from the outside world, and it wrapped around your head in mumbly nonsensical jargon. You recognised the voice, that was definitely Wednesday, and she was definitely close. Every now and again small words like 'Xavier,' or 'Kinbott,' would peek through the mist and you were left to wonder as to why they were relevant.

You climbed a bit harder. The voice would come in and then out again, and you were left wondering if days were passing or maybe it had just been an hour. All you knew was to keep climbing. Your fingers felt raw, your arms ached to stop, but you kept going to keep Wednesday safe, wether she wanted you to or not.

Before you knew it, a hand came forward for the last time, and it was like a button had been pressed. Suddenly, you weren't in any void, or any back of an ambulance, you were in a bland hospital room, sitting straight up and looking right at a mortified Enid.

"Oh my god!" She yelled out, pointing at you in surprise. "OH MY GOD!!!" 'WHAT THE FUCK!!!!'

"TYLER!" You yelled back.

"WHAT?!" Enid yelled.

"IT'S TYLER! And hi!"

Enid fainted again, just in time for a nurse to rush in upon noticing you were awake.

===+++===

One thing you had missed dearly whilst in a coma were fruit cups. You sat rather contentedly, eating a mango fruit cup in your soft hospital bedsheets and leaning back against a checkered pillow. From around you in the hospital, noise buzzed in your mind. It felt good to have your blinders off for once, even if it meant you had to focus in on Enid and the noise directly in the room with you.

"Thirty six days???" you asked. Enid nodded.

"Wednesday- I mean all of us 'But mostly Wednesday', were worried sick that you wouldn't wake up. Are you okay? What was it like in there?" 'How the hell are you still alive???'

You shrugged. "Not really sure. I just remember my arms hurt and I was in this void-thing, trying to pull myself out..." You grew serious. "I need to speak to Wednesday."

Enid leaned forward. "And you're sure it was Tyler? He doesn't seem like he could hurt a fly."

"I saw him, Enid. He was covered in blood and he was in his own head thinking about the attack and how pleased Laurel would be for him to succeed. It's him."

"Wednesday thinks it's Xavier," she said. You shook your head.

"She's wrong. I know she's sweet on Tyler, but-"

"-She's not sweet on Tyler, (Y/n). 'You CANNOT still believe that after all of this...though I guess you were comatose' I've said this since the beginning of the year, you bozo. She's sweet on you, and you two are such idiots running around and pretending like you don't know."

The painful memory of your final interaction before the attack came back in waves, pulling you under and tugging you into the deep. You cleared your scratchy throat, still sore from its lack of use. "Enid, Wednesday made it perfectly clear how she felt about me."

Enid rolled her eyes. "You two, I swear you're going give me grey hair. Oh! Speaking of appearances," she sat up. "You haven't seen how you look yet!"

You frowned, not entirely sure you wanted to. You knew you had facial scars- the sharp slashes to your nose and cheeks were enough to know that now, but you weren't sure how much you wanted to see them. Enid pulled out her phone camera, flipping it around to selfie mode.

It wasn't as bad as you thought- a giant twist of a scar curved around the apple of your cheek before reaching up through the lateral third of your eyebrow and stopping shortly after. Another crisscrossed over the bridge of your nose. Still bad, though. They were noticeable, and those were only the ones on your face. You frowned, and Enid seemed to regret asking to show you them. 'I just messed up, didn't I.'

'Oh my, cara mia' said someone's noise in the doorway. You looked up, hearing her arrive, and there she was. Wednesday stood looking almost nervous, hands crossed over her chest awkwardly, like she was uncertain if she was welcome. You tensed. "You're awake," she said.

You nodded. Then you did Wednesday a favour and turned your own noise off to give her the privacy she coveted. Wednesday sent a look over at Enid who just stared. When the werewolf didn't take the hint, Wednesday cleared her throat.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry," said Enid, standing sheepishly. "I guess I'll just go get some food from the cantina...even though I already ate and want to see how this happens," she muttered. Wednesday sent her a much sharper glare, and Enid scurried out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Wednesday spun to you. "If you died, I would have killed you."

"I know," you nodded. "Enid told me you were here all the time." She frowned.

"Never speak of that again," Wednesday said, seeming almost embarrassed. "Enid wasn't supposed to tell you that."

"She's not really good at keeping secrets. You probably shouldn't have told her anything if-"

"-Did you hear them, when you were in there?" She asked, cutting you off mid-sentence with what she had really been wondering the entire time, but too nervous to ask. You blinked.

"Hear what?" If she had been saying important things to you whilst you were under, you didn't know what she was referring to. The look on Wednesday's face was unintelligible.

"I said some important things, (Y/n)," she said, fidgeting with her fingers. "I sent them through my thoughts."

"You also said some important things before I was attacked, Wednesday. You called me a lost puppy."

"I know," she replied. "I was worried this very thing would happen if I didn't."

You snorted cynically. "Looks like it happened when you did, actually." She looked wounded by that, and now you felt bad. "I didn't mean it that way, Wends, I'm just trying to warn you-"

"I love you too," she said.

Any thoughts or words you potentially could have come back with were lost, slipping through your fingers and tumbling to the floor. Wednesday took a step closer, placing her hand on the bed next to you, flipping it over to show you her knuckles. A few small pink scars littered the skin there. You picked it up in your own, brushing over them with your thumb.

"I meant it. I love you too. Even with your scars- which are magnificent." Wednesday thought for a moment, then looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you with a love that is more than love."

"That's Edgar Allan Poe," you whispered. She nodded, then she swallowed, forcing the words out.

"I see now, that I was...wrong. I have been deceitful, and I have been unkind. I pushed you away when you deserve much more than that- likely much more than me. I cannot express how earnest my regret is, and just how much I want your forgiveness-"

"Yeah yeah, stop talking like an old English guy," you said with a laugh, pulling her scarred hand to your lips. You sat up a little bit more, and though it hurt, you pressed your lips to her palm. When you pulled away a moment later, she kissed you full-force. Her hand moved to your neck, playing with the hair there and delivering the perfect amount of gentle longing that made you fall back against the pillow.

She pulled away all too soon again, but the small smile that teased the corner of her mouth spoke of future ones to come. "You said you were going to warn me of something?" She said in between attempts to catch your breath. You raised your eyebrows, remembering the dire information at hand.

"Oh, yeah, Tyler attacked me," you said, leaning your neck back against the pillow.

"What?!" Wednesday said, pulling away with her eyes as angry as ever. "Why didn't you lead with that??" She didn't want to believe it, but she knew you wouldn't lie.

"I got there eventually, and you needed to apologise!"

Wednesday sighed, shaking her head. Though she would never admit it, she did truly miss your ridiculousness. "Anything else?"

"The master of the creature-"

"-It's called a Hyde," Wednesday corrected you.

"Yeah, that. The master of the creature wears red boots. I saw it in Tyler's vision."

The girl in black stood up, heading for the door. "Thank you, cara mia. I'll be back when this is over."

"Go get 'em tiger." She turned to you, unimpressed.

"Shut up."

"Yeah yeah, love you."

After a moment she sighed. "I love you too."

thank you all so much for your support on this story! i absolutely will be writing again, and am here to stay. i cannot thank you all enough, and as always, PLEASE tell me or message me about any typos as i will fix them ASAP. i'll definitely come back and change this later if i feel like it. i tried not to rush the ending but was also majorly conflicted as to where i should leave it off. so if it bugs me later down the line, i'll change it.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine

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dilf-rot · 2 months ago

Text

Roadkill

Old! Logan gets hit by a car right outside your apartment, and since his healing isn’t as fast as it use to be he begrudgingly agrees to let you take care of him for the time being

Word Count: 3009

Tags: Old!Logan x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Wolverine x Reader, Fem!Reader, age gap (obviously), kinda pervy logan, blood, description of injuries / mild gore, Car accident, wound dressing, alcohol consumption, bed sharing, P in V, Fingering, Some dirty talk, creampie

AN: Okay so I did a poll about what you guys would want next, and a "Funny Old Logan" fic won... so like the concept is the funny part (at least to me), But I tried to make it rather light hearted because I hope it wasn’t a misleading poll choice. Maybe the length of it will make you forgive me for my poor sense of humor

MDNI 18+

—--------------------------------------

It was rather late at night, your street barely illuminated by the poorly maintained street lamps. You sat by your window, watching the empty street. The autumn air wispy through the trees, dead leaves skittering across the concrete. You liked looking outside at this time of night, reminding yourself of how quiet and peaceful things can be.

An older man was walking along the edge of the sidewalk, his head hung down, his gait slow and particular. You were surprised to see someone out walking at this time, but thought it not too unusual. As he began to walk along the curve of the road, as if materializing from thin air, a black vehicle sped around the curve, colliding with the man and sending him falling over into the pavement, the screech of tires, the sound of impact. You could hardly think as you rushed down the stairs and out the door.

The vehicle had disappeared much like it had appeared, and the man lay unmoving on the cold concrete. There was a small puddle of blood forming beneath him.

“Are you alright? I’ll call 911.” You shouted as you approached him, holding out your hand.

“Don’t,” He groaned, pushing himself over so that he was laid on his back. The blood was seeping through his shirt around his abdomen, but it seemed not to bother him. “I’ll just be on my way.”

He breathed heavily, trying to stand from the ground. Cursing to himself. He couldn’t seem to sit up.

“Here, let me help you.” You leaned down and helped him to his feet. He winced in pain as he tried to stand up straight. Looking at you in a peculiar way, as if he had never expected kindness from a stranger. You were young, and bright, and despite the suddenness and seeming severity of his situation, came rushing in to help. Great contrast to his old, dark, and brooding disposition. “Are you sure you don’t want 911? If your worried about ambulance costs I could always drive you to the hospital.”

He tried to laugh, but ended up coughing and a splatter of blood spewed from his mouth. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Just need some rest.”

“Why don’t you come inside, I’ll help you,” You gestured towards your building, the window of your apartment the only one light up in the night.

“Really, it’s no big deal-” He started, only for a little more blood to dribble from his mouth, he wiped it away with his hand and before he could protest any further, you slowly led him up to your apartment. Careful not to take the stairs too fast, or pull too hard on his arms.

Despite his current state, he was rather well built. You could feel the lines and curves of muscle under his jacket as his arm rested across your shoulders. His face wasn’t all that bad either, minus the blood staining his graying beard, he was rather handsome and you suddenly felt rather embarrassed by your choice of bringing him into your home.

You brought him inside, and helped him sit down in the living room. Tossing the decorative pillow off of the chair so that he may lean back comfortably. He looked around your apartment, it was nicely decorated, a little girly, but not too extreme, and there were some pumpkin and mushroom themed items here and there for the fall season. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Listening to you frantically search your cabinets for first aid materials.

When the searching had stopped you managed to find a first aid kit, a washcloth, and some pain meds.

“Can we take off your shirt and jacket so I can see the damage?” You once again held out your hands to him. He grumbled and nodded, helping you remove them. The fabric luckily wasn't sticking to the wounds, despite being drenched in blood. “I’ll wash them for you.”

He watched your face as you took in the sight of him. He was much more in shape than you would expect for an older man, not that you could guess how old he was, but he seemed to be the active kind based on his physique. You shakily reached out with the washcloth, gently dapping away the drying blood, trying to get a better look at the wounds. They didn’t seem too deep, but the lacerations and road burn were rather gruesome. You decided it would be best to apply some antibacterial and wrap them in gauze. You were worried that you wouldn’t have enough, but as you wrapped the last bit around him, you were relieved to find it had been the perfect amount. He didn’t have the energy to argue with you, nor to explain that by the morning, or at least the late afternoon tomorrow, he would be mostly healed up and able to leave.

“Could I see your hands?” You took them in yours, looking at his palms, happy to find them not all that scrapped up. He huffed when you put them back down. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He perked up a bit, “You got any whiskey?”

You pull up a step stool and search through your liquor cabinet, you had a modest amount of choices for when friends came over. But your whiskey selection was rather poor. He watches you as you try to balance while you move bottles out of the way.

“I only have Screwball and Jack Daniel’s” you call out over your shoulder.

He groans and rolls his eyes, he should have expected that from a young girl like you. “Daniel’s.”

You get the bottle down from the cabinet and grab him a glass. As you go to pour it he stops your hand, “Just give me the bottle sweetheart.”

You oblige, and sit on the couch across from him. Watching as he takes a swig from the bottle, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing. You are almost entranced watching him, something about him draws you in. Admittedly it was strange for you to be ogling a complete stranger, whom you had just witnessed get fully hit by a car, but you couldn’t help yourself. You shift on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position.

“What’s your name?”

He sighs, placing the bottle down, “Logan.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the Doctor, Logan?”

“I’ll be alright.”

“No offense, but you just got knocked on your ass by a speeding car.”

“Been through worse.” He says, and you believe him. “I’ll be good to go tomorrow, don’t worry your pretty little head about me.”

You nod, and resign to not ask him any further. Instead just watching as he drinks, and wondering what someone like him was doing in the neighborhood anyway.

-sit watching him, as he starts to get sleepy, you offer to bring him to your bed to sleep

“You invite a lot of strange men into your bed?”

“No.”

“I’m the first?”

You don’t answer, helping him lay down and get comfortable. Taking his shoes off for him and asking if he needs anything else.

“I’m alright.”

“Ok, I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.” As you walk away, he can sense how you sigh. Knowing you probably can’t sleep on that couch, he gets a little smirk on his face.

“Why don’t you stay with me, Princess?” He can hear your breath catch in your throat and your little kind heart starts to race. “Make sure I stay breathing, ya know?”

You nod, feeling silly for how quickly you want this attention from him. But you can’t help yourself and you crawl into bed with him. Trying not to bump him as you get under the blankets. You face away from him and close your eyes, trying to fall asleep as fast as possible, the adrenaline of the whole situation quickly fading. He shifts in the bed, you can feel his warmth radiating from him. He places his hand on your waist and pulls you closer to him. His mouth against the back of your head, your back pressed against his chest. He whispers something to you, but you can barely hear it over the sound of your heart hammering away.

You aren’t sure how but you were able to fall asleep like that, Logan holding you against him, and you hiding your face in your pillow hoping you could get through this without any more strange feelings bubbling up in your stomach.

When you woke up, Logan’s mouth was pressed to your neck, softly mumbling against you. The scruff of his beard scratching against your skin. When you shifted he pulled away, but his arm remained around your waist. You patted him and tried to squirm out of bed.

“Mmm...” he groaned. “Morning.”

He stayed in bed as you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He watched you, your pj shorts riding up, and the tank you wore hugging tightly to you. You felt a little sweaty, probably due to having something so warm in your bed for once. You lean in the doorway to the bedroom watching as he slowly sits up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Could use a shower,” He groans as he stands from the bed, stretching and feeling all the aches slowly coming back.

You lead him to the bathroom, bringing him a towel and washcloth. You help him unwrap his bandages, and as you do you are surprised to see them mostly scabbed and scarred over, only a few of the deeper ones were still periodically dripping with blood.

“That’s quite impressive,” you remark, tracing your finger lightly over one of the scars.

“Not as good as it used to be,” He shrugs. You turn your back to him as he gets into the shower. Once the curtain is closed you grab his clothes and as he showers you wash his clothes and your bed sheets, grateful to have the luxury of in unit laundry.

You hear him drop some stuff in the shower and check on him, he says he's okay and that his shoulder is just stiff. You return to your spot on the couch, wondering how he managed to heal so well overnight, maybe he just had good genetics. His muscles and features already seemed unfair to be on a man of his presumed age, so perhaps he just had quicker blood clotting than your average person.

You hear the shower shut off, and a few moments later he steps out. Wrapped in only a towel, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. You couldn’t help but imagine being pressed up against him, much like last night, but without the barrier of injury or clothing. The way the towel clung to his waist, droplets of water stuck to his skin, his hair wet and dripping. You shook the thoughts out of your head and offer him the biggest bathrobe you have while his clothes are drying.

You make a pot of coffee and sit next to him on the couch. He seems much more relaxed this morning, and maybe even a bit more interested in your company. He reaches his hand out to you, placing it right above your knee, “I appreciate you going through all this effort for an old man.”

“Of course, I couldn’t just leave you on the street.” You squirm a bit as he rubs his hand gently back and forth.

“Anything I can do for ya, you know return the favor?” You could see a bit of a smile spreading as he looked towards you. God he was much more attractive in the light of day.

“Oh-” You feel heat rising to your face and you look away towards the window. “No. No, it’s no big deal.”

He smirks, he can hear your heart racing. Hell, he can even smell your desire pooling between your thighs. Sweet girls like you always seem to be affected by him. He drops his hand from your knee, leaning back into the couch, “Come on, be honest with me Sweetheart,”

You scoot a little closer to him, your thigh pressing into his.

“That's it, I don’t bite.” But deep down he would, if you begged him too. He’d rip those pjs off you and treat you like a doll. Make you squirm and scream until your mind goes hazy and your eyes water.

You lean closer against him, your shoulder pressing up against his, trying to build the courage to ask him for what you really want. Before you can find the words he brings his hand up to your jaw and turns you to face him. He searches your eyes for a moment, giving you space to protest, and when you don’t he closes the gap and kisses you. Gentle and soft, you can taste the coffee on his breath but you don’t even care. He pulls away and you whine involuntarily.

“Needy, are we?” You nod and push yourself closer to him, he kisses you again, dropping his hand down to trace along your arm, until he reaches your waist. He pulls you in, his hand against the small of your back. He kisses you deeply and passionately, savoring the taste of your mouth as he slips his tongue inside. Feeling pleased by the soft whines and moans you’re making against him.

He slips his free hand down between your thighs, groaning when he feels how wet you are through the fabric of your pajama shorts. Practically smiling into the kiss when he slips his hand under the waistband and realizes you weren’t wearing panties this entire time.

“Bringing me into your house, and you didn’t even have panties on?” He brings his fingertips to rub your clit in little circles. You whine, knowing that you could never expect your night to unfold the way it did. His hand is so rough and calloused but his movements are so gentle, teasing you so softly. You press your head into the side of his arm wanting him to be rougher, wanting to get there faster.

He pulls his hand away and you groan at the loss of contact. He pulls you into his lap and removes your shorts. With you resting on his thighs he leans you back against him and brings his hand back to toy with you. His touch is electrifying and you rock your hips up against him trying to get more, but he keeps the same languid pace with just a small bit of pressure.

He uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and hold you in place. You can feel him pressed up against your back, the soft fabric of the bathrobe you gave him gliding along your skin. As you shift and whine he keeps you steady, not giving you enough to make you cum, but just enough to make you feel dizzy as the frustration starts to build.

“Logan… please,” You plead with him and he kisses your neck.

“What do you need, baby?”

“More…” He laughs against your skin as you try to press yourself up against his hand again, but he just keeps you in place, his grip tightening.

“I’ll give you more.” And he does. Finally speeding up the motion of his hand and adding more force. You’re so happy that you hardly notice as your orgasm quickly washes over you. Your thighs trembling against him. You don’t even register it as he flips you around to face him, using both his hands to hold your hips and lower you down onto his cock.

When you come back to earth, you’re met with the feeling of being utterly full. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his dick before, but just based on the feeling of it, you knew you were in trouble. It was thick and stretched you open, making you shiver as he bounced you slowly up and down. The way it dragged along your walls, the way the tip of it brushed against that sweet spot inside. You were reduced to moans and whines, and hardly any thoughts could form in your brain that weren’t regarding Logan fucking you. He kissed you while he continued to fuck into you. His pace picking up and making you see stars.

“Fuck… that pretty little pussy of yours feels so good.” He groaned into your ear and you shivered around him. “Were you gonna hide this from me?”

You shake your head, and try to say no but all that escapes your mouth is another choked whine. He grins as he admires your fucked out expression. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to release, as he pounds into you, hitting that spot and pressing against you. You’re breathing becomes ragged and your whines and moans blend into nothing but noise as you clench around his cock and come undone.

“That’s it, Doll. Cum all over this cock.” He fucks you through your orgasm and you drop your head onto his shoulder. Whining and moaning and cursing under your breath as he doesn’t stop. He’s getting closer too, his thrusts start to falter and his composure starts to slip. You feel him twitch and in moments warm, thick cum floods your insides. He holds you there, and kisses the top of your head. Murmuring about how good you feel, how you’re such a good girl for taking all of him. Your fuzzy little head can’t even reply.

When your brain finds its way back to you, and you can breathe in a regular manner, you feel his cock slide out of you, and his cum seeps from you, coating your thighs and his. He shifts under you and you stiffen.

“Do you have to leave?” You aren’t sure why, but you don’t want to let go of this strange man just yet.

“I can stay a little longer for you, Princess.”

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #Old Logan x Reader

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sunrenity · 4 months ago

Text

BITTER AND SWEET 、SJY

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ after fake dating you for a few months, sim jake thinks he's actually fallen for you, that maybe his small crush is not so small anymore.

sim jakeㅤ✶ㅤfemale readerㅤ ｡｡｡ ㅤfake dating, enemies(?) to lovers, fluff, college auㅤⓘㅤkissing, skinship, angst(?), ends on a cliffhanger i thinkㅤwcㅤ2847ㅤℬookshelfㅤzehra's note.ㅤthis jake has me giggling and kicking my feet…

you never thought you'd find yourself in a situation like this, and certainly not with someone like jake sim. the whole idea of fake dating was ludicrous, but desperate times called for desperate measures. your clingy ex had become a problem, and apparently, so had jake’s. you two couldn't stand each other on most days, but this scheme seemed mutually beneficial enough to warrant a temporary truce.

"are you seriously suggesting this?" jake asked, leaning back against the library table and crossing his arms. his tone was incredulous, almost mocking, as if he couldn't believe he was even entertaining the idea.

"yes, i am," you replied firmly, not breaking eye contact. the library was quiet except for the occasional rustle of paper or click of a keyboard. "it's the only way to get our exes off our backs. pretend to date, make it look convincing, and they'll eventually give up."

jake scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair, the strands falling perfectly back into place. "and what happens when they find out it's all a sham?"

you shrugged. "by then, it won’t matter. they’ll have moved on."

he stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. finally, he sighed. "alright. let's do it. but we set some ground rules."

"obviously," you agreed. "rule one: we keep this strictly business. no real feelings involved."

"agreed. rule two: we make sure we’re seen together in public, but no over-the-top pda. it needs to look natural."

"fine with me. rule three: we communicate. if something isn’t working, we discuss it."

jake nodded. "deal."

the first few weeks were awkward, to say the least. you had to learn each other’s habits, preferences, and little quirks. it was like an accelerated crash course in getting to know someone you supposedly hated.

one afternoon, you were seated at a picnic table on campus, pretending to enjoy a lazy afternoon together. jake handed you a coffee, the familiar scent wafting up from the cup. “i noticed you always get it with two sugars and a splash of milk,” he said, his tone almost nonchalant.

you blinked, surprised. “thanks. i didn’t realize you paid attention.”

he shrugged, sitting down next to you. “i figure if we’re going to pull this off, we need to know these things.”

the campus was bustling with activity: students chatting, bikes whizzing by, and groups studying on the lawn. you and jake needed to blend in, so you leaned into him slightly, your shoulder brushing against his. he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, putting an arm around your shoulders. to anyone else, you looked like a perfectly happy couple, but to your friends, it was a carefully crafted illusion.

weeks turned into months, and you both fell into a routine that felt oddly comfortable. your exes had seemingly taken the bait, backing off as they saw you and jake together more often. the initial awkwardness began to fade, replaced by a strange kind of camaraderie.

"how was your day?" jake asked one evening as you walked together down a tree-lined street. the sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. it was one of those rare moments when you felt at ease around him.

you glanced at him, noting the genuine curiosity in his eyes. "not bad. busy, but manageable. what about you?"

he shrugged. "same old. classes, practice, more classes." he paused, looking at you with a small smile. "but hey, at least we’re fooling everyone, right?"

you laughed softly. "yeah, we are."

jake's hand brushed against yours as you walked, and without thinking, you entwined your fingers with his. it was supposed to be just another part of the act, but something about it felt different this time. the touch lingered, warm and reassuring, sending a shiver down your spine.

a few days later, jake suggested a movie night at his place, a plan that you quickly agreed to. you arrived at his dorm to find it unexpectedly cozy. he had dimmed the lights, set up a stack of your favorite movies, and even had snacks laid out.

"wow, you went all out," you remarked, genuinely impressed by the effort he had put in.

jake chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, a hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. "well, i figured if we’re going to do this, we might as well enjoy it, right?"

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. as the evening wore on, you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time. you and jake settled into the couch, the distance between you shrinking until you were practically leaning on him.

midway through the second movie, you felt jake’s gaze on you. you turned to find him looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. the flickering light from the tv cast shadows across his face, highlighting the seriousness in his eyes.

"what?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart racing.

he shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "nothing. just… you’re not as bad as i thought."

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide your smile. "gee, thanks. you’re not so terrible yourself."

the moment stretched on, the air thick with unspoken words. without realizing it, you had moved closer, your faces inches apart. you could feel the warmth of his breath, see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

before you could think better of it, you closed the gap, pressing your lips to his. for a heartbeat, everything stopped. then jake responded, his kiss gentle but filled with a surprising amount of emotion. his hand came up to cradle your face, his touch tender and careful, as if he was afraid you might disappear.

you melted into the kiss, the sensation of his lips against yours sending a thrill through your entire body. time seemed to stand still, the world outside fading into oblivion. all that mattered was the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, and the unspoken connection that seemed to blossom between you.

when you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your hearts pounding in sync. jake’s thumb traced your cheek, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

"is this still part of the act?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

the realization fully sank in as you looked into his eyes, your own emotions swirling within you. you had kissed jake sim, and it had felt more real than anything you had experienced before. but why did it also feel so wrong? panic gripped you, a surge of confusion and fear making your chest tighten. you weren't ready to confront these feelings, not yet.

without thinking again, you blurted out, "yes," the word escaping your lips like a lifeline to sanity. you stood up abruptly, almost knocking over the bowl of popcorn on the table, and began gathering your things. your movements were frantic, desperate to escape the suffocating tension that had settled between you.

jake's expression shifted from vulnerable to hurt, his eyes widening in shock. "wait, what? why?" he stammered, standing up as well. "i thought we were—"

"i need to go," you cut him off, your voice trembling. "i… i can't do this right now, jake. i'm sorry."

you grabbed your bag and rushed to the door, your heart hammering in your chest. jake reached out, his fingers grazing your arm. "please, just talk to me," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "don't just leave like this."

you paused, your hand on the doorknob, torn between the urge to run and the need to explain. taking a deep breath, you turned to face him, your eyes filled with turmoil. "i… i need time to think," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "this wasn't supposed to happen. i wasn't supposed to feel like this."

jake's shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "feel like what?" he asked, his voice raw with emotion.

"like i care about you," you admitted, the words heavy with truth. "this was supposed to be fake, remember? just an act. but now… i don't know what's real anymore."

jake took a step closer, his gaze intense. "and that scares you?"

you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "yes. because if this is real, then everything changes. and i'm not ready for that."

he reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "we can figure this out together," he said softly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. "but you don't have to run. not from me."

the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his eyes, it all made you want to believe him. but the fear of getting hurt, of losing control, was overwhelming. you stepped back, breaking the contact. "i just need some time," you whispered. "please, jake."

he let his hands fall to his sides, his expression one of resigned understanding. "okay," he said quietly. "take all the time you need. i'll be here."

you gave him a grateful, albeit shaky, smile before turning and walking out the door. the night air was cool against your flushed skin as you made your way down the street, your mind a chaotic swirl of emotions. the kiss had been a catalyst, forcing you to confront feelings you had buried deep down. and now, you needed to sort through them, figure out what was real and what was just the remnants of your fake relationship.

days slowly turned into a week, and you found yourself constantly replaying that night in your mind. every touch, every word, every emotion. it was maddening. you avoided jake on campus, not ready to face him or your own feelings. but everywhere you went, you saw reminders of him. the coffee shop where you had shared quiet mornings, the library where your plan had first taken shape, the park bench where you had laughed and talked like real friends. the line between pretense and reality had become so blurred that it was impossible to distinguish one from the other.

for jake, the transition back to his usual routine was almost seamless. on the surface, it was as if nothing had changed. he went to classes, attended practice, and hung out with his friends. yet, there was a persistent undercurrent of something new and unsettling — thoughts of you and the kiss you shared haunted him.

he couldn't get the kiss out of his head. the way your lips moved perfectly in sync with his, creating a rhythm that felt both natural and electrifying. the soft, delicate texture of your lips was like a whisper against his own, sending shivers down his spine. he remembered the warmth that radiated from you, a gentle heat that seeped into his skin and settled in his chest. the faint taste of your lip balm lingered on his tongue, a subtle hint of vanilla mixed with something uniquely you.

he couldn't forget the way his heart had raced as he felt your breath mingle with his, the soft exhale between kisses like a shared secret. every touch, every brush of your lips, had sent a thrill through him, igniting a spark that refused to die down even after you pulled away.

despite his attempts to focus on his usual activities, the memory of that kiss was a constant distraction, a nagging thought that refused to fade.

"whatcha thinking about?" jay asked, breaking jake out of his reverie. they were sitting in the campus coffee shop, the familiar scent of brewing coffee mingling with the chatter of students.

jake blinked, trying to act casual. "nothing much," he muttered, stirring his drink absentmindedly.

jay leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "come on, jake. we all know the real reason you agreed to this fake dating thing wasn't just to get your ex off your back."

sunghoon nodded, his smirk widening. "yeah, you've had a crush on her for ages. this was your chance to get closer to her."

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. he had confided in jay and sunghoon about his feelings for you a long time ago, back when you two couldn't stand each other — which, admittedly, wasn't all that long ago, he thinks. being with his ex had complicated things, but the crush never went away. agreeing to the fake dating scheme had seemed like a golden opportunity, despite the initial tension.

"okay, fine," jake admitted, his voice low. "i did want to get closer to her. but now… everything's so messed up."

jay's expression softened. "what happened? you guys seemed to be getting along really well."

jake hesitated, then relented. "we kissed. i don't even remember who initiated it. but it felt real, and now she's avoiding me. i don't know what to do."

sunghoon's teasing demeanor faded, replaced by genuine concern. "have you tried talking to her?"

jake nodded. "i did, but she said she needed time to think. i get it, this whole thing is confusing, but i can't stop thinking about her."

jay leaned back in his chair, thinking. "maybe she just needs some space to sort through her feelings. this whole fake dating thing probably stirred up a lot for both of you."

sunghoon nodded in agreement. "yeah, just give her some time. in the meantime, don't overthink it. sometimes people just need a little distance to figure things out."

jake sighed again, feeling a bit more reassured by his friends' advice but still uncertain about the future. "i hope you're right. i don't want to lose her, even as just a friend."

the space jake had given you made you think he had forgotten about you, that the act was, in fact, just an act. a month had passed without speaking to each other, and it felt like an eternity. you couldn't help but wonder if everything you had felt was one-sided.

jake had been on your mind constantly, every moment replaying in your head like an unending loop. the way he laughed, the way he looked at you, the way his presence alone could make your heart race. yet, the silence between you both was deafening, and it made you doubt everything.

the days seemed to drag on, each one blending into the next. you threw yourself into your studies, hoping the distraction would help, but it was no use.

you sighed as you grabbed your suitcase, preparing to head home for summer break. the hallway of your dorm was nearly empty, the usual bustling energy replaced with an eerie stillness. as you struggled with the heavy suitcase, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"need some help with that?"

turning around, you saw jake standing there, a tank top clinging to his toned frame. the sight of him took your breath away for a moment, his tan skin glistening slightly in the summer heat.

"jake," you said, a mixture of surprise and confusion in your voice. "what are you doing here?"

he stepped closer, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "i was hoping to catch you before you left. can we talk?"

you nodded, still feeling a bit stunned by his sudden appearance. "sure. what’s up?"

jake ran a hand through his hair, looking a little uncertain. "my parents are in australia, i mean obviously they are, and well, i don't have enough money to buy myself a plane ticket. god, i should've planned better… anyway, i was thinking… maybe i could stay with you for a while? just until i figure something out. i know it's a lot to ask, and it's totally okay if it's not possible, i can find another solution, but i just thought—"

"jake, slow down," you interrupted gently, trying to suppress a smile at his nervous rambling. "it's okay."

he looked relieved but still a bit anxious. "i just… i really miss you, you know? this past month has been hell, and i keep thinking about that night, about everything, and i hate how we left things. i want to fix it, to talk, to see if we can… i don't know, figure things out. together."

your heart softened at his honesty, and seeing him here, hearing him say he missed you, was like a balm to your aching heart. "you can stay with me, jake. we'll figure things out together."

jake’s face lit up with relief and happiness. he took your suitcase from you, easily lifting it as if it weighed nothing. "thanks. you have no idea how much this means to me."

as you walked out of the dorm together, the summer sun beating down on you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. this summer break, which you had dreaded just moments ago, now held the promise of something new and wonderful.

PERM TLㅤ ✦ㅤ @en-gelic @nishislcve @jakesprincess1 @ivsjake4evr @flwrstqr

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red-archivist · 4 months ago

Text

TMAGP 23 SPOILERS!

i heard those lines and was immediately inspired to make something sad lol

Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.

Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.

Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.

It’s not enough to just stop, the shakes and the headaches nip at him constantly, and he reluctantly concludes that bad habits need to replaced by better ones.

That’s where the cycling comes in, to start with.

It’s exercise, it’s eco-friendly, and he can pretend he is literally leaving his cravings behind him as he pushes hard on the pedals.

He does his homework first, researching what is the best option for city cycling, for his budget, for someone that hasn’t ridden a bike since they were nine.

He plots out his paths to the office, the shops, and the nearest puncture repair centre, just in case. He even makes a spreadsheet to keep track of them.

He is sure Tim would poke fun at him for it, if they were still talking, but the organisation keeps his twitching fingers busy and his roaming mind away from the half-finished box of cigarettes in his desk drawer that he promises he will throw away any day now.

What all that planning fails to account for, as soon as he actually gets onto the road, is the rest of the world moving around him.

Every stereotype he has heard about antagonistic drivers is proven ten-fold as he dodges swerving cars and gets sworn at for whizzing past stalled traffic. He soon learns to sneer through tinted windows.

Pedestrians are almost worse. They seem blind to him, stepping out directly in front of his wheels and making him wobble as he overcorrects. As if a bike can’t still do some damage if he were to actually hit someone. Once, he clips the edge of a pram and stops in the street to shout some sense into the careless father pushing it.

He bitches openly about this during his lunches and his coworkers only roll their eyes at him sometimes.

The cycling becomes a bit of running joke in the office when they spot him coming in with his bike shorts and change of outfit, but he ignores them. The shorts are practical. For some reason, telling them that only makes them laugh harder.

He takes the fastest route into the office and a scenic one home. It winds through quiet well-off estates, before opening out to one of the less well-known urban parks. It’s calming, almost meditative, to roll through the cool shade the cluttered trees offer after another meaningless day of data entry.

In those times, he doesn’t think of his empty flat or his dead-end job, he forgets his sniggering coworkers and his ever-dwindling contact list. It’s just him and the wind.

The only thing that could make those moments better, he admits to himself, is a smoke.

The problem with this particular path is how hard it is to see around corners in the park. There is some national re-wilding initiative in the works and the foliage looms over the roads in a way that block his line of sight.

He checks every turn, even though it is rare to encounter a car in this area. Better safe than sorry.

The night he dies is warm but overcast.

He follows his usual route and cranes his neck to see around the overgrown corner he is approaching. A drooping branch grazes his head and something falls from the tree onto his neck.

It could be a leaf, or a twig, or a ladybird, but Jon feels the whisper-touch of something small at his throat and his only thought is: spider.

He has been afraid of them since he was very young and terrified instinct immediately beats any reason. One hand flies up from the handlebars to bat away at his collar. He swerves. Fear makes him pedal faster and the bike speeds onto the junction.

He is so scared of the potential at his throat that he never even sees the delivery truck.

The bike is sent flying from the impact, Jon falls under the wheels.

The driver, to his credit, calls emergency services immediately, distraught.

The ambulance is there within five minutes, but they needn’t have bothered. Jon is declared dead at the scene with a broken neck.

What few friends he has left comfort each other with that fact.

At least it was quick.

Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.

This is a good thing, Martin reminds himself, more than once. It is Good that his mother is alive.

It doesn’t matter that the nurses need to attend to her around-the-clock now. It doesn’t matter that the care home bills have skyrocketed. He is grateful that she is still with him.

He starts looking for a third job. The admin work during the day and the shelf-stocking at night barely covered his previous bills. He’ll have to look for some flexible positions to cram into his schedule.

In the meantime, he cuts back. Eats cheaply, eats less. Cancels overdue check-ups and doesn’t touch the heating.

His days are a current of constant worry, occasionally breached by a wave of panic that he tries to quell by hiding in the office bathroom and digging his nails into his legs.

Panic won’t pay the rent or keep the lights on or remember to call Mum every Sunday. He smothers it deep in his chest and ignores the spasm of pain he gets whenever he forces it down.

He has been getting those more often; sharp, sudden chest pains, numb fingers, dizzy spells, an aching back, shortness of breath.

He had been going to ask the doctor about it all before he cancelled the appointment but. Well. Needs must.

He has his first heart attack on the evening shift.

Pulling a box of washing up tablets from the top shelf in Aisle 4 causes such a rush of agony in his chest that he dares to ask the manager to take his 15-minute break early.

He doesn’t make it to the back room before he collapses.

In the hospital, after he wakes, the doctors ask if there is a family history of heart problems.

If he didn’t feel so weak he would laugh.

He has more in common with his mother then he likes to admit. Of course they share a bad heart.

Or maybe it came from his father. Mum always said he was heartless. Maybe there’s a hole where Dad’s DNA should be.

When the medical team leaves him to rest, all he can think is how much this will cost him.

The NHS is no charity no matter what their marketing says, not to mention how much money he will lose by recovering. He can’t afford six weeks of not working. His first job doesn’t have that much sick leave and his second doesn’t have any.

He runs the numbers in his head, tries to find what else he can hack out of his life to keep his head above water. Occasionally his thoughts swerve, self-recriminating and barbed. He is so stupid for letting this happen at all.

It’s all his fault.

Mum is going to be so angry with him.

His heart pulses in keen pain, bitter and broken.

Somehow, he drifts off, counting figures instead of sheep.

The second heart attack kills him in his sleep.

They die on the same day, at nearly the same time (Jon rushes ahead, always too eager, Martin follows inevitably after him).

Their death certificates are filed away alphabetically by a bored clerk in the dusty management system of the General Register Office.

Twenty years later, Samama Khalid exhumes them and examines them, with more curiosity than sense, only to be disappointed by the mundanity of their ends.

He returns them together, heedless of any organisation.

Jon and Martin meet, in the quiet and the dark.

The filing cabinet is a shared headstone, their names rest side-by-side.

Also on AO3

#the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 23 #tmagp #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #is a ship a ship if its posthumous? im saying yes #tmagp fanfic #red-archivist scribbles

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saaturrn4 · 1 month ago

Text

. MDNI !

| “Good girl, yeah keep going” ── .✦ modern AU

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!reader ᥫ᭡

⭑

➤ Warnings; smut 18+, age gap, best friends single dad, dom!toji, sub!femreader, use of names (daddy, baby girl, good girl), cunnilingus, edging, breeding, nipple play, fingering, reverse cowgirl, tummy bulge, after care at the end.

➤ Summary; you go over Megumi’s house to greet him after being away for college, expecting to see Megumi, you see his dad instead, and things take a turn.

• 3.4k+ words

.✦

! not proofread.

It was a nice day today, considering it was a Monday. But it was finally the holidays, so it meant you could finally get away from campus and the assignments. It felt nice to get some fresh air, especially to be back in your home town. It felt like forever since you’ve been here, the place still looking the same from a year ago.

You also thought it would be a great idea to visit your friend, Megumi. He had arrived in town about a week ago from college also, so you knew it would be a good time to see him after being away from each other for so long. Especially since you two weren’t in the same college, which absolutely sucked.

You walk down the familiar street, houses you remember so well as you walk past each one. You walk up the driveway of the house that you had so many memories in, from being caught trying to get ice cream from the fridge, to breaking your arm from falling off the tree in the backyard, to playing hide and seek in complete darkness.

It was such great times, you were happy to be back at home.

You walk up to the front door, knocking on it twice before dropping your arm to your side. You bite on your bottom lip as you wait for the door to open, hearing footsteps from the other side about a minute later.

The door swings open, your eyes darting up to see Toji, Megumi’s dad. Your face goes red as you see his broad chest, as well as his v line. “H-hey! Mr Fushiguro long time no see” you say with a stutter, cursing to yourself in your head.

“Y/n! It’s nice to see you again! And for the last time, call me Toji you should know I don’t like that formal shit” he says with a laugh, in response you laugh as well, blushing a little as he combs through his hair.

“Come in, Megumi is out getting groceries” he says while stepping to the side, you nod before stepping inside, taking off your shoes shortly after as Toji closes the door.

You look around the house, seeing all the pictures the Fushiguro family, mostly it being just Toji and Megumi. You smile softly at all of them as you walk down the hall, with Toji walking right behind you.

You both walk into the living room, both taking a seat on the comfortable couches. You cross your leg over the other as Toji takes a seat across from you, his legs in a manspread. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so the house is a little messy” he grumbled, combing through his hair. You shake your head “it’s fine mr- Toji I don’t mind at all” you say with a reassuring smile, in which he nods in response.

“So how’s college going?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, you shrug in response. “It’s doing good right now, a pain in the ass though” you say with a giggle, he chuckles with a head shake. “It gets better trust me” he says, giving you a smile. You dart your eyes from his, looking at the coffee table in front of you. “You’ve been out partying? Don’t tell me you’ve been at those stupid frat parties” he leans forward, waiting for your answer.

You shake your head “only to clubs” you reply in which he nods in response. “Good, those frat parties are nothing but trouble” he says, crossing his arms across his naked chest. You gulp as you see his abs, before darting your eyes away before you got caught.

He had obviously caught you which he frowned from thinking he had made you uncomfortable. “I’ll put on a shirt if you feel uncomfortable” he says, standing up. You look up quickly, your mouth slightly opened.

“No no no it’s fine! I’m not uncomfortable at all!” You say, shaking your head. He looks at you, eyes narrowed before sitting back down. “Are you sure? I can quickly go and get a shirt” you shake your head in response “like I said Toji, it’s fine no need to worry” you say with a smile, making him nod.

“Okay then” he murmurs, giving you a raised eyebrow. The sound of a phone buzzing echo’s, in which Toji pulls out his phone from his pocket. He answers the phone, putting it to his ear to talk to the person on the other side.

He says a quick bye before hanging up, placing his phone on his lap before letting out a sigh. “Who was it?” You ask “Megumi, he’s at Itadori’s house and won’t be back till later” he says before standing up, you frown at the answer before standing up also.

“I thought he was getting groceries?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you follow Toji closely. He shrugs, which you can’t help but look at his back muscles flexing as he did it. “Itadori probably begged him to come to his place, Y’know how those two are” he murmured, shaking his head as you both walk into the kitchen. “Boys will be boys” you joke, in which he snickers. “I got left over pasta from last night if you want some? Or it was just gonna go to waste” he suggests, pulling out a small container of pasta from the fridge.

You grab it from his hands, a small ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you open the container. Toji hands you a fork before taking a seat at the kitchen counter, putting his chin on his hands as he stares into space. You start to eat the pasta, a few moans leaving you as the taste melts in your mouth. You know Megumi’s cooking anywhere.

You hadn’t realised that Toji was watching you, until you were finished with the food. You lick the corner of your mouth before looking up, blushing hard as you make eye contact with Toji. He chuckles softly “no need to get shy, I was like that last night when I ate it too” he says, before standing up.

“You have a little bit of sauce” he says, pointing towards the spot where it was. You blush even more as you try to wipe it away, before looking back at Toji. He shakes his head “here let me” he says before walking over to you, his hand reaching out to your face.

He places his fingers underneath your chin as his thumb swipes the corner of your mouth, making you open your mouth a little. He looks down at you as you sat there whilst his hand held onto your chin softly, his thumb resting against the side of your mouth as he stared at you. You couldn’t help but stare back, your face red like a tomato.

I mean, you couldn’t help but blush. You can’t lie, but Toji is a good looking man, and the scar at the corner of his lip just made him even hotter. But you couldn’t say that out loud, because 1. He’s your best friends dad, 2. He is like 20 years older than you, and 3. Is well because your scared Megumi would never talk to you again if he found out about your little crush on his dad. Actually scratch that, it’s a BIG crush. Fuck, you can’t go a day without thinking about him. You know it’s wrong but you can’t help it, I mean you’ve moaned his name while you were fucking yourself with your dildo for crying out loud!!! But nobody needs to know that. And you mean Nobody.

The sound of Toji chuckling makes you snap out of your trance, his hand dropping from your chin as he stands straight. “You get distracted easily, y/n” he teases before patting the top of your head, he grabs the container and fork, walking to the sink and putting the container and fork in it.

Silence took over as Toji cleaned the dishes while you took glances at his back, watching as his muscles flexed as he moved. It was definitely a good sight to look at, oblivious to the fact that Toji knew you were looking, a small smirk plastered across his face as he cleaned the dishes.

You couldn’t help but think of nasty thoughts of Toji, the thoughts so nasty that it made you squeeze your thighs together, the ache in between them growing. Toji turned around after doing the dishes, his eyes narrowed at the look on your face. “Are you okay?” He asks, drying his hands on his pants before making his way over to you.

With a nod, you give him a smile “I’m fine” you say, but Toji didn’t seem pleased with your answer. He shakes his head as he stands beside you, his hand going underneath your chin, lifting your head up.

He studies your face “are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. You nod with a little ‘mhm”, not trusting yourself to speak as you felt your panties soak. His eyes glance down at your crossed legs before looking back up at you, tilting his head to the side. He soon takes a seat next to you, his hand dropping from your chin to your thigh.

You jump at the feeling of his hand on your thigh, his fingers sliding down to your inner thigh, pushing the leg down. “You look frustrated… are you frustrated y/n?” He asks, his eyes darting up to look into yours. Your name rolls off his tongue so smooth, it sounded so good.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding as he hums in response. “Do you want me to help with your frustration?” He asks, tilting his head. You bite on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say as the ache in between your thighs grew. It only took a nod for Toji to lift you up from the stool, his hands around your waist whilst your legs wrapped around his body.

He kisses you hungrily, your mouth moving with his in seconds. Your tongues slid with each other, teeth clashing against each other as Toji took you into his room, locking the door behind you two before walking to the bed.

He places you down on the bed before climbing on top of you, your lips never leaving. Small whimpers escaped you, only for it to be muffled by Toji’s mouth, his tongue skilfully darting in your mouth.

This felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

In seconds you both had your clothes ripped off, thrown away somewhere in the room. Toji’s head was in between your thighs, raspy moans leaving you as his mouth sucked and kiss on your clit. Your fingers raked through his soft, black hair as he pleased you.

Incoherent words left your mouth, eyes rolled back of your head as he slid two of his fingers in your entrance. Your toes curled, back slightly arched off the bed as he curled the digits, wanting to find your weak spot. You moaned his name so cutely, your voice filling Toji’s ears. He swirled his tongue around the swollen bud, smothering his face with your wetness. Small gasps kept leaving you as you felt your orgasm reaching, your legs spreading out as Toji slid his fingers in and out of you at a quick pace.

Another gasp left you before the feeling of Toji leaving you, your chest going up and down as you opened your eyes. “T-Toji?!” You say his name frustratedly, making him chuckle at your little confused face.

The sexual frustration he had left you with was unbearable, your body felt like it was on fire as he stood in front of you, his cock pressed up against his lower abdomen. “What?” He teased with a stupid smirk on his face, making you even more frustrated.

“Why did you stop?!” You ask angrily, in which he chuckled again. “Shhh baby girl, you can cum soon” he says, before crawling onto you. He hovers over you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before one of his hands slide down, pushing your legs apart. “So wet for me” he murmurs to himself, looking at the glistening of your pussy.

“P-please” you whisper, biting on your bottom lip as he looks up at you. “Please what? I need words baby” he smirks, his hand brushing out hair from your face. “Please- p-please d-daddy I need you” you were a stuttering mess, almost fumbling up a little sentence. You were a fucking mess, mascara smudged down your eyes, lips swollen and your face bright red. And it was because of Toji.

He groans at your response, giving you a sloppy kiss on the lips before lifting you up. He flips you over, making you cradle his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed. His hands gripped onto you as your arms wrapped around his neck, the feeling of his cock pushed up against your thigh. “Ride me baby” he says as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking on the flesh.

You whimper at his words before nodding, biting on your bottom lip as he guides his tip to your entrance, sliding the tip up and down your slippery folds, covering it in your slick. A small gasp leaves your lips as he pushed the tip inside of you, inch by inch slowly. He was stretching you out, so slowly it felt painful. But it felt heavenly.

He grunts at the tightness of your cunt, your walls squeezing around him tightly. Your back arches, a loud moan escaping your pretty little swollen lips.

It had felt like you were being ripped apart, the size of his cock too much to handle. But he didn’t stop, he wanted you to feel every inch of him, he wanted you to think of him and only him. He could tell you hadn’t had a fuck in a while, just by the way your walls was clenching around him, swallowing him whole as he slid inside of you slowly.

“You’re so tight baby girl” he hisses, sinking his teeth into your neck. His hands held onto you tightly, pushing you down onto his cock slowly.

Soon enough, he was fully in, the tip brushing against your g-spot. You both sat there, breathing heavily as you both waited for you to get used to him. He kissed up and down your neck, leaving dark hickeys along it.

His hands slid up your body, going straight to your breasts. A small gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers squeeze your nipples, twisting and rubbing them. He fondled them so perfectly, one of his hands leaving your tits, his mouth now replacing it. Your mouth opens, raspy breaths exiting you as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, the same way he was doing to your clit.

He was very skilled with his mouth, so skilled it left you drooling. You slowly started to bounce at a slow pace, a low groan leaving Toji as he continued to suck and lick at your nipple.

You bite on your bottom lip as you bounce up and down, the slight sound of skin slapping against each other echoed through the room, as well as a squelching sound. He smothered his face in your breasts, groans leaving him. “Daddy…” you moan, your hands gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

He lays down on the bed, his hands gripping onto your hips as you continued to bounce on his cock. “Good girl, yeah keep going” The sight that was in front of him was fucking beautiful, the way your tits bounced around as you rode him so perfectly, the way drool slid down your chin and onto your chest. It was a beautiful sight, Toji loved everything about it.

His eyes scanned your body, sweat and bite marks covered your skin, his eyes slowly going down to your stomach. His eyes widened, seeing the faint outline of his cock poking through.

The sight of it was enough for him to cum on the spot, but he waited, he waited till you were a complete mess. He wanted to fill you up with his cum, cover your insides white. He wanted you to be his.

And he always gets what he wants.

His hand reaches out, pressing it against your stomach, feeling the bulge. You gasp loudly, your toes curling from the feeling as he presses on your stomach again.

“Take my hand baby” he says, in which you obey, his hand grabbing yours. He guides it down to your stomach, pressing it against your stomach. You felt a lump, making you confused to what it is. “T-Toji what is t-that?” You stuttered, which he chuckled at before letting go of your hand.

“That’s me baby that’s my cock right there” he says so casually, which made you dart your eyes down to your stomach.

Your eyes widen as you see the bulge in your stomach, the shape of his cock slightly visible to you. His hands land back on your hips, guiding you through your movements. You look up at Toji, sweat covering his forehead, as well has strands of hair sticking to it.

Your hands land back on his chest, flipping your hair to the side. Hickeys covered every inch of your neck, as well as your tits, making Toji smirk from how proud he was of his artwork. Your stomach did flips as you reached your high, the familiar knot forming in your stomach. He hissed as your pussy clenched around his cock, his nails digging into your skin as you bounced up and down at a fast pace.

He was close too, his chest rising up and down fast as he lets out groans. “O-ohhhh I-I’m gonna cum!” You moan loudly, the feeling of his tip pushing up against your cervix making you come closer to your high.

“Fffuckk me too baby, me too” he groans, helping you with your movements. Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself starting to cum, a loud scream leaving your glossy mouth.

You gushed all over Toji’s cock, covering him in your wetness. Breathless moans left you as you began to shake, your toes curled to the point it started to cramp up.

“Fuck I’m coming baby” he whimpered out, hissing before pushing up into you, a loud groan leaving his lips as he began to shoot rows of cum inside of you. You whimpered, the feeling of your insides being filled to the brim felt amazing. He kept filling you up till cum started oozing out of your overflowed cunt, dripping down on Toji’s dick.

He lets out a sigh, watching as your chest moves up and down quickly. You open your eyes, letting out a sigh also. You lean down, connecting your lips with his in a slow and gentle kiss. His arms wrap around you , flipping you two around. He hovers over you as you kissed slowly, no tongue, no teeth clashing. It was just a sweet normal kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

He smiles against your lips before pulling away, a string of saliva attached to you two. His hand comes up, brushing hair away from your face. “Beautiful” he whispers, making you blush hard as he chuckles at your reaction.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He suggests, pulling away. You nod as he stands up, lifting you up bridal style before making his way to the connected bathroom.

————

It had felt like forever since you two hopped in the shower, both of your bodies covered in soap. The both of you didn’t say much, just letting the water run down your bodies.

You both shared a messy kiss before hopping out, towels wrapped around your bodies before walking back into his bedroom.

You stood beside the bed as Toji changed the sheets, throwing the messy ones in a basket. Soon you both crawled on the now clean bed, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as your leg wrapped around his waist. Soon enough your eyes dropped like flies as you fell asleep.

Toji soon fell asleep shortly after, his arms wrapped around you perfectly.

But the thing is, you both didn’t know that Megumi and Yuji were in the living room, who were both traumatised by what they had just heard 20 minutes ago.

It was something they will never forget nor will they ever bring it up. Ever. And Megumi is for sure not talking to the either of you again for quite some time.

•••

Heyyyy guys, this is my first post on here, so don’t mind if it’s kinda shitty!! 😭 I’m still working out how to use tumblr as well:(

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x y/n #oneshot #jjk x reader #jujutsu toji #smut

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highvern · 9 months ago

Text

Burnt Coffee

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x gn! Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Running a cafe hadn’t been as glamorous as you initially believed. You loved your job; the cozy aroma of the different roasts, the hum of the espresso machine, the foam art you tediously practiced until a cute bear face stared back from the surface of a cappuccino. But any new shop comes with quirks, like the fire alarm that goes off almost every morning. Luckily, the fire station is just across the street and you unknowingly have one of the fireman wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: coffee shop owner reader, firefighter Hoshi, pockets of angst, crying, lots of mentions of food and coffee, firefighter jihoon and his baker gf, crying, kissing

Length: ~4.6k

Note: second valentine's fic! surprise! written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's @idyllic-ghost / @bee-buzzez !!! i hope its the cafe au of your dreams

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“I’ve got an iced dirty chai with oat milk at the end of the bar!”

A sour-faced woman scoffs, “That isn’t what I ordered.”

“Well, is your name Samantha?”

“No.”

“Then it isn’t your order.”

The exchange between Seungkwan and the woman rings familiar. Sundays bring out the best in everyone it seems. But you're too busy handling the never ending line of drink tickets to scold him for poor customer service. Focusing on the machine, you pull shot after shot; inadvertently covering yourself in errant splashes of milk and coffee. The rush of the morning is still going strong but you hone into the rhythm and let your mind fall away from anything beyond the cups resting atop the counter next to you.

But as always, the steam from the milk frother continues to heat the space above; right where the over sensitive fire alarm was installed.

The shrill blaring freezes everyone in place. A few children scream in shock, making the vein on your temple throb. Your ears ring with each pulse as your head falls into your hands.

Every single morning since you opened Fika two months ago the alarm went off without fail.

And then he would show up like clockwork.

The bell attached to the wooden door chimes as Soonyoung breaks through the threshold of the cafe. Grimaced faces greet him. The shrill fire alarm with flash lights blares into the industrial space, bouncing off the walls to echo inanely.

“Earlier than usual.” Soonyoung chirps as he saunters past the line, easily rounding the bar to access the screeching piece of junk inconveniently placed above the espresso machine.

You step out of the way, face flat and mouth tense. “Busy day.” You explain.

The alarm cuts off as swift as it started, Soonyoung stepping back to smile down at you.

“I can hang around in case. Seems like that line isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink?” You offer stepping back to the line of cups littering the metal counter.

“Ooo, buying me drinks already? Aren’t you presumptuous?”

The wiggle of his eyebrows is meant to be suggestive but they only make him look like he ate a mouthful of sour candy.

“Nevermind.” You huff, stepping around the man as you grab the next cup in line and start working. “Go save a cat in a tree or something.”

Sensing your waning mood, Soonyoung cuts the act. “I’ll just have my regular.”

“You know where the cups are.”

A full cup of brewed coffee joins him on the opposite side of the counter. Soonyoung plants himself in his usual chair, chin resting on his curled fist as he watches you work your magic.

On slow days he’ll chat your ear off until the fire station calls him back. But on days like today, he’s content to in silence; obsessed with the sureness of your hands, the strong pout of your lips, and the way everything seems pulled into your gravity.

Maybe he has a crush on you.

Scratch that; Soonyoung definitely has a crush on you.

And everyone knows. His supervisor, Jihoon, knows. It’s why Soonyoung is always the one to come and fix the faulty alarm in the shop. His best friend, Seokmin, knows. It’s why Seokmin and his fiancee constantly batter him with texts about when he’ll ask you on a date. If someone went to space and looked down they could see how much he likes you without even trying.

You hit a lull and Soonyoung takes his chance. “Got any special plans this week?”

“We’re doing themed baked goods on Wednesday.” You call over your shoulder.

It’s not what Soonyoung was asking about but he takes it in stride.

Your employees also know about the fireman’s feelings. It’s why Seungkwan throws a pitying look his way along with a deformed muffin. Subtle rejection tastes like blueberries and brown sugar.

“Will you save me one?” Soonyoung asks.

“Is free coffee not enough?”

“Who said I wouldn’t pay for it?”

You never let Soonyoung pay for anything at the cafe. Despite how much he enjoys free food, it always makes him feel a bit guilty. It’s why you think he only drinks black coffee with a lethal amount of sugar when in reality he’d take some fancy espresso drink any day.

You laugh as you continue to work through the next batch of orders. “We’ll see if there are any left.”

“I’m a civil servant!”

“Serve in silence please!” Seungkwan barks, earning a few chuckles from the other customers sitting at the bar.

The back and forth continues and eventually the line dwindles to nothing as the morning lulls on. Soonyoung downs two more cups and manages to haggle Seungkwan for an overly toasted slice of banana bread with a singed corner he planned to throw out anyway.

The entire time Soonyoung watches you. Even covered in splashes of milk and coffee stains, he’s still enamored with you as you lean over the bar and jot notes in the ever expanding list of repairs and updates the shop needs.

And just when Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, anything, the shrill beep of his phone cuts him off.

“Damn, I gotta head back.” He curses. “Just call if you need me again, okay?”

“Will do.”

You don’t even look up as he walks towards the door.

“Satan is one the phone for you.”

“Please be less specific.” You beg Seungkwan, grabbing the receiver still on hold.

“Bakery lady.”

Steeling yourself, you unmute the phone and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I was reviewing orders for Valentine’s. You're only doing the usual? I thought we talked about special items. I already bought the ingredients so if you changed your mind it’s putting me out of money.”

“No, we need at least two dozen of the cupcakes and two dozen of the cookies on top of our usual order.”

“That’s not what the order form says!” The old crone hawks through the line.

You ask her for a moment while pulling out your laptop and settling into a seat far away from the clusters of customers still strung throughout the cafe.

Wiping your face, you stare at the illuminated screen of your computer with the order form pulled up. “I have the form on my screen right now and it clearly says—”

“I don’t care what you’re looking at, it’s not what I have on my end!”

“Are you sure you’re looking at the form for Fika on Second street?”

“I’m telling you I’m—oh.”

The deflation in her tone pulls a smirk across your lips. “Hm?”

“Alright so two dozen red velvet cupcakes and two dozen heart sugar cookies?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll have it on Wednesday.”

“Thanks.”

Click.

The table shakes with the impact of your forehead. The clatter of your mug draws attention from the few customers around but none pay much attention.

“Everything okay?” A voice asks from above.

“Great. Wonderful.” You say into the wood.

“Good. Because the espresso machine is broken…again.”

You rise from your seat, face indecipherable as you walk past the counter, through the back storage area and into the alley behind the building.

Several seconds pass before you release a guttural scream. It's gritty, ripping apart your throat as all bubbling exhaustion breaches your lips. The noise echos between the brick walls before escaping to the sky above. Several pigeons flee to the rooftops for safety while mice and other vermin scuffle along the walls in terror.

Seungkwan watches from the door, eyes wide as you continue to belt for the trash bags and city rats witnessing your meltdown.

Your voice fizzles as you run out of air. Closing your eyes, you take two deep breaths. Inhaling the scent of stale storm water and whatever else perfumes the back alley until the stretch of your lungs burns from the inside out.

And then you turn and walk back inside as if the entire thing never happened.

The block is only illuminated by streetlights at this hour. Not even the earliest of early birds litter the narrow sidewalk as you push into the empty cafe and begin prepping for the Monday morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, the whir of the grinder harmonizing with the jazz playlist curling down from the speakers.

The calm before the storm.

Slowly the first shift employees trickle in just before opening; relieving you to commandeer the office slash storage room in the back, intent on knocking out the mountain of paperwork and following up with the repair man about the alarm he said he would be back to fix last week. But first, the phone blinking with unread messages.

“This is Megan. We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warr—”

Message deleted.

The next message is a young man reporting his credit card missing and visiting your shop. You call and let his voicemail know no one has seen anything but you hope he figures it out.

“Hi Y/N. This is Cheryl with Harmony Bakers. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to get that special order for Valentine’s Day. Or your regular order for tomorrow. We’ve decided to close up shop. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

The words don’t hit at first. But your brain slowly catches up to what Cheryl is saying. Canceling. She’s canceling two days before Valentine’s.

Your attempts to return her call fall flat. Six tries and all ring once before dropping into an automated message reporting her voicemail is full, no doubt from the other shops she’s also shafted with the impulsive decision.

No holiday treats. No regular food items. No back up. No plan B.

Failure, failure, failu—

The pad of paper littered with notes sails into the not so far wall only to slap against the plaster and slip to the ground.

You can only focus on one problem at a time. Or at least the problem whose solution won’t send you to jail. And that means heading to the front where the day is starting to pick up.

The boys have things under control but the line is lengthening and you’re a great way to relieve the pressure. Immediately an invisible song pulls you into the rhythm of their work; drinks and food hit the end of the bar almost as fast as the orders came in.

Soonyoung comes in and waits at the counter as usual. The alarm seems to be granting mercy given the horrible state of affairs from this morning.

The customers not so much.

“God, how stupid are you that you messed up a simple order? It’s a fucking americano and you made it taste like ass.”

The man standing at the end of the bar, hands flat on the counter in an attempt to physically dominate the space, always complains. His iced drinks are too cold, his hot drinks are too hot, the weather is bad, taxes are too high, the list continues on and on. And somehow it's always your fault.

Usually its little barbs under his breath but today he’s out for blood and you’ve already had enough.

Your teeth grit together so hard it feels like the forced smile plastered on your face might crack them into dusk. “Like I said, I can remake it for you if you’d lik—”

“Why would I want you to remake it? You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Get someone else.”

“I got it.” Seungcheol steps forward.

The older man gives him an apprehensive look. Seungcheol is harmless but he knows how to be scary when he wants to be.

“I’m gonna go…restock something…” you warble, all but sprinting to the back.

Plastic sleeves of cups and boxes of straws bear witness to your breakdown. The six am tantrum clouds in and your carefully built dam of control explodes. Hot tears streak your cheeks, dripping off the jut of your chin with every gasping breath from the knot in your throat tangling tighter and tighter. All you can hear are ugly gasping breaths as you rock back and forth in the dark.

The sliver of light spilling in from the cracked door doesn’t register given the way your face is buried in your hands. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend he never entered the cramped space. He’s never seen you so… small.

A shrill squeak of the hinge alert you to the new presence. Bloodshot eyes find his wide ones and you swipe at your face to hide the evidence of your distress. You go to speak but barely manage a croak before the tears come again.

“Shit,” Soonyoung whispers. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

The warmth of his chest makes you cry harder, tears spilling onto his neck as you hide from the world. He smooths the flat of his palm across your back.

It's anyone’s guess how long you stay there. Soonyoung’s cheek rests on the top of your head, arms firm around your shoulders. The faint smell of smoke tickles your nose. Smoke and pine from his cologne. It tethers your mind, lulling the frantic breakdown and giving you something to focus on other than how horrible the day has become in the span of a few hours.

No baked goods. Horrible customers. And now you’re being held by the handsome fighter from next door with snot dripping from your nose.

Soonyoung hesitates when you shift in his hold, arms tightening for a second in case another bout of tears crops up. But you pull far enough away to send an embarrassed grimace his way before looking anywhere else.

“Sorry.” You say, turning to snatch napkins from the shelf next to you.

His hand continues to rub your shoulders as you dab your eyes and blow your nose.

“It’s okay. That guy was a jerk.”

“I don’t care what he said.”

Soonyoung stares in disbelief, waiting for you to continue.

“My baker canceled on me, and the espresso machine is held together with duct tape, and there's a million other things going wrong, not to mention the fire alarm. And I just…”

Squeezing your eyes tight to prevent the moisture swelling in the corners proves unhelpful. To Soonyoung’s credit he stays silent, allowing you all the time you need to get your thoughts in order. But the hand on your back continuing to trace abstract shapes between your shoulder blades lets you know he’s there when you’re ready.

“It’s just been a rough week.” You say to the floor.

The admission lifts the ten pound weight off your chest. Soonyoung isn’t an employee you need to guarantee everything is okay to or a customer requiring a mask. He’s a…friend? It feels generous but if he was anything less you doubt he’d be where he is now.

“Is there any way I can help?”

You blow your nose into the tissue before laughing wetly. “I don’t suppose you have a magic wand, do you?”

“Just broke mine actually.” He winces sarcastically.

What’s another thing on your never ending to-do list? Along with the desperate need to buy more supplies for tomorrow, how difficult can it be to conjure artisan baked goods out of thin air?

“Actually,” Soonyoung perks. “Jihoon’s girlfriend works at a bakery. Pete’s? No, wait. Penny’s?”

“Petunia’s?”

“That’s the one! Maybe I can ask her if she can help?”

“Good luck.” You snort. “They couldn’t even fit me into their normal rotation.”

“We won’t know until we ask!” He chips, thrilled he can help.

Soonyoung jumps up, a cruel chill invading the space he once occupied. Like the sun moving behind a cloud and leaving you at the mercy of a cool breeze; there and gone before you can delve into what it means.

You hand him the order form you usually give your baker to relay to Jihoon’s girlfriend. While he steps out to ask for a miracle you focus on tallying how many cups, napkins, lids, and other miscellaneous items you need from the supply store across town. A few lone tears appear, falling without much preamble but the worst is out and stained on Soonyoung’s shoulder. You’ll get through it. With Soonyoung’s help you’ll get past everything, even if his efforts fall flat.

Seungcheol and Seungkwan confirm they’ve got things under control as you take your leave. Soonyoung is just visible in the dissipating morning fog hanging in the street. He paces the sidewalk, speaking into his phone animatedly before spotting you trying to sneak past him to your car.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” He cheers before hanging up and pocketing his phone.

“So?”

“They’ll do it! One of the other shops dropped out last minute and they have a lot of extras. Maybe not all the usual stuff but Rita said she can pull together most of the stuff on the form.”

Body frozen, you stare at Soonyoung with an open mouth and eyes wide. There’s no way he solved half your workload with one phone call.

“She also said they can try and work you into their usual orders. If that’s something you’re interested in…” Soonyoung trails off, glancing at you nervously.

In a blink your back in his arms, squeezing him so hard your arms hurt.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You chant into his chest.

“Of course.”

Stepping back, you blush at your own impulsiveness.

“Um, well…” you fumble, clearing your throat you get back to the task at hand. “I need to run to the store so I’ll see you later.”

“I can come!”

“No! I mean, you’ve already helped so much. I’d feel bad dragging you along.”

“Don’t worry about me, I'm just trying to make sure you don’t start crying again and cause an accident.”

“Okay, rude.”

Soonyoung ignores you, already strutting down the street.

“Your cars this way, right?”

“No.”

“Listen, I wanna come with you. I have nothing else to do today.”

“Cool,” You laugh, continuing the opposite direction Soonyoung headed. “but my car is still this way.”

The drive is pleasant. You learn more about Soonyoung in the thirty minutes it takes to get across town than you’ve learned in the weeks he’s been coming to the cafe. He has an older sister, he likes to volunteer at the youth center down the street in his time off, and he cannot work a computer if his life depends on it. You also learn more about his coworker turned best friend who also happens to be the boyfriend of your new god.

“Yeah Jihoon and I started the same day. He comes off kinda cold but it's all an act.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh, pulling into a cramped parking spot.

“One hundred percent. You should see him with Rita. I never saw him blush that much until they started dating.”

“How’d they meet?”

“Funny story.” Soonyoung shares, climbing out of the passenger seat. “So the bakery she worked at before had a fire. No one was hurt and they put it out before we even got there! But we went to make sure everything was clear. Well, Rita was there and I swear it was love at first sight for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

You both make your way inside the sliding doors; Soonyoung pushing a flat cart behind you through the aisles.

“He’s definitely mellowed out since he met her. Doesn’t work as much, thank god.”

“What about your girlfriend? Do you guys have the same Hallmark meet cute?”

“Oh! I don’t have a girlfriend.” Soonyoung mumbles, ears turning scarlett.

Your face heats as well. Whatever force compelled you to ask such a prying question revels in satisfaction to hear Soonyoung is in fact single. A tidbit of information you’ve never wondered about before.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything for today.” Rita says as she helps unpack everything onto the counter.

The cafe is scarce of customers, far past closing time but Rita said they’d be too busy delivering to their other customers in the morning to spare a trip to you. What's another Tuesday at the shop? It isn't like you have time for much of a social life given the million things you need to do.

“Really don’t worry about it. You're saving my life by getting me this stuff for tomorrow.”

“Well Soonyoung made a bargain I couldn’t refuse.”

You pause for a moment. Soonyoung didn't mention anything beyond the payment Rita quoted and later sent via email. Did he promise something from the shop on your behalf?

Swallowing the budding annoyance, you continue to work like nothing is wrong. “Oh?”

“I mean an entire month of covering Jihoon’s shifts? What kind of person passes that up?”

What?

Soonyoung offered to sacrifice all his free time to help you. Soonyoung who you barely know beyond the fact that he pretends to like black coffee. The man chews with his mouth open. Soonyoung who let you ruin his sweater with tears and snot from a horrible day.

“You didn’t know?” Rita asks, face full of mirth.

“Ugh, no,” you cough. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“I was shocked when he offered. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

But he did it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N?”

You find Rita smiling like she knows some big secret. If you had to guess, it's probably the same thing you're realizing now.

“Soonyoung’s a great guy.”

Words fail you because you know Soonyoung is a great guy. He held you when you cried, he comes in everyday without fail to turn off the alarm, and he just sacrificed a month of his life because it would help you.

Once you and Rita unpack the remaining cookies and cakes, she takes her leave but not before dropping another wink when she spots Soonyoung approaching from the direction of the fire house.

“Rita.” he greets at the door, holding it open for her exit.

“Hosh.”

And she’s gone without another word.

“How’s it going?” Soonyoung asks, rounding the counter to join you.

“Great!” You blurt with too much enthusiasm. “Rita ended up making everything we needed.”

A second set of hands assists in packing the glass display case in preparation for tomorrow's chaos. Soonyoung listens well. Patient to a T as you direct him to tweak things just so from the opposite side of the bar.

“Thank you for all your help this week. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to help.”

He continues to unpack the few remaining goods beneath the counter as he responds. “It’s not a big deal. What are friends for?”

“Hmm and you agree to cover all of Jihoon’s shifts for your friends?”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, you watch Soonyoung’s shoulder tense and his ears erupt into bright red. He’s so still he doesn’t even seem to be breathing at the shock of being caught. Each passing second heightens the smirk curling your lips.

“Oh, you heard about that?” He asks into the counter.

You saddle up beside him, dropping your head until his eyes meet your own. Each inch of space you claim next to him sends him away like an opposing magnet; until your sandwich between him and the hardwood.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Soonyoung backs away nervously but not before you catch the way his eyes cut to your mouth. Who knew all it took is a smile and batting your eyelashes to make chatty Soonyoung clam up? The shyness bubbling on the edge of your conscious fizzles with the new knowledge; instead, curiosity takes its place. How much more can you make him blush? What would he do if you grabbed his hand? Or if you took a chance and kissed him?

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” You smile around each word.

He opens his mouth to argue but it's moot with the way you gaze at him, eyes shining with mirth. Like you're laughing at some shared joke. Soonyoung will tell you whatever truths you want to hear if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Good.”

You step into his space with finality, chests brushing with each breath.

“Good?”

The edge of your teeth pinning your lip down is the only thing preventing a smile from ripping across your face as you answer. “Because I have a crush on you too.”

“Oh…” He nods, head dropping dejectedly and then it hits him and whips back up so fast his eyeballs rattle. “OH. You do?”

He watches you nod, slowly angling himself to connect your lips. When Soonyoung realizes you aren’t going to push him away, evident by the hand fisted in his sweater, he goes for it.

The curve of your lip, the breathy sigh you release into his mouth, the way you seem to go boneless with each pass are all committed to his memory. Soonyoung reminds himself to be good. That this is the first time he’s kissing you and he should be a gentleman; gentle, chaste, respectful.

And he would succeed but you’re acting like you have no interest in any of those things. You whisper another heavenly sigh into his mouth, trailing a hand in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull forcing Soonyoung to focus on batting away the demons at the edge of his mind rather than giving into temptation.

But when you tug to angle his head better the delicious sting drowns Soonyoung so quickly he has you pinned to the counter before he realizes what's happening.

Sometime later, when your lips are swollen and the floor sways beneath you from the flood of giddiness coursing through your veins, you and Soonyoung part. The crisp air of the late night tries in vain to nip at your face but you’re too distracted by the calluses on the side of Soonyoung’s thumb and the way they rasp against your knuckles as he walks you to your car.

The cafe is in full swing by the time Soonyoung comes in Wednesday morning.

All morning he paced across the cramped common room of the fire station. Sure you let him kiss you but what did it all mean? He knows you like him but did you like like him or just like him? Should he have asked you on a date? Would that be too forward? Did he mess things up by not immediately asking you out despite the fact he was so love drunk he ran into a pole after watching you drive off?

He fights the idea of running across the street and demanding answers. You’re definitely too busy to spare a second and tame the butterflies in his stomach. And how pathetic would he look if he asked you to explicitly dictate how you feel so no wires end up cross? And on Valentine’s day no less?

Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Or rather the fire alarm.

He watches you work like a tornado, pausing only to smile at him the same way you did last night when he did not so safe for work things against the very counter lined with coffee cups and steaming mugs. Flashes of memory heat across his face.

You thank him with his usual coffee and one of the cupcakes you set aside just for him. Except this time his paper cup is scribbled with a heart and something else.

Be my Valentine? _Yes _ Also Yes _ YES BUT LOUD

At some point he should tell you about the sensitivity setting on the alarm and how all you need to do is nudge the tiny lever to the right if you don't want it going off every time the steam builds up. But the way you beam at him when he steals the sharpie from behind your ear and checks all three boxes on the cup makes Soonyoung decide it’s a secret he’ll keep for now.

@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe

#svthub #svthub.collab #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung fluff #hoshi fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #🫡 highvern

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lixies-favorite-cookie · 1 month ago

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Pink lemonade

— Felix had always dreamed of the day he could finally gather enough courage to kiss you. Even in his wildest dreams, he never imagined it would be mid-sip of your pink lemonade.

@velvetmoonlght I'm so sorry this took so long to get out 😖 I tried to make it as amazing as possible but I kept finding faults in the telling and eventually just said fuck it and posted it soooo if this isn't particularly what you wanted feel free to let me know and ill try and redo it!!

xxoxo

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・felix x best freind!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, a sprinkle of angst if you squint, best friends to lovers, first kiss, unrequited requited pining, one silly little old couple, request.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・literally nothing honestly

Felix is early.

Twenty minutes early to be exact, arriving on your front steps with a soft knock and a jingle of his car keys. He peaks his head into the sidelights, his freckled skin streaked by the incipient hues of the sunset he stood beside.

He flashes you a smile in greeting, and the one you return is sincere but muted, as if it pains you to move, to exist. You're sliding your shoes on when he lets himself in, announcing his presence with a palm clasping over your shoulder, drawing your tilted gaze up. There's a certain tightness to your lips, a labored rise and fall of your chest that lingers in his vision long after you slip into the leather seat, your head leaning against the car window, his worry trails him far into the arbitrary drive to nowhere.

"Which way?" he asks, laying a finger on his turn signal.

Slowly, weakly you manage to mutter "Left."

This is what you do when your hectic schedules have kept you apart for far too long: drive down random streets until the gas tank runs empty. You could end up anywhere—and maybe that was the thrill for you—but to Felix, it didn’t matter where the roads led; all that mattered was that you were there. And for him, that was enough.

"Bad day?" Felix finally asks, flicking his eyes to you.

"The worst," You return with a weak smile, lifting your head off the window.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really"

And with that, the silence returned. Setting your cheek against the car door, you watched as the sun kissed the trees, its lips settling upon the horizon's line. Your mind was in a relentless state of chaos—so loud, so distracting—that you almost didn't notice the road becoming bumpy beneath you, violently rocking your seat back and forth. Felix pressed his palm onto the steering wheel, swerving onto a familiar dirt road, slightly your shoulders softened.

Many moons ago, during one of the same late-night drives, you stumbled upon this very cafe, stopping mid-conversation to sprint out of the car at the sight of the words "fresh pretzels" posted in bold letters at the front window. It was on that day you discovered Felix's left cheek twitched when he tasted something he enjoyed—and that you were completely, irrevocably in love with him.

Your heart does backflips when he jogs to your side of the vehicle, pulling open the door to guide you out. You don’t see how his cheeks warm when your pinkies interlock, footsteps in tandem as you stroll into the café. The lounge is deserted, save for a single old couple whose wrinkled hands hold each other's on the table beside the window, sipping a large coffee from two straws. It is so sickeningly sweet that you almost forget about your horrendous day. Felix traces your line of sight, chuckling when he realizes what has you getting so teary-eyed.

Felix bows when he reaches the counter, ordering two pretzels and one large pink lemonade with two straws. The barista nods before slipping her pen between the cuff of her ear and walking into the back room. No sooner does she waltz in than she is waltzing right back out, this time with her hands full of food. Felix thanks the woman before gently taking your snacks to the booth right across from the couple, who are currently too lost in each other’s eyes to acknowledge that you’ve sat down. You don’t know if you want to form heart pupils and collapse in a heap of “awws,” or cry and throw up—hey, maybe you could do all three.

Felix's grin is lopsided and silly as he punctures the lid with two straws, simultaneously sliding your pretzel across the table. You gladly take it, sinking your teeth into the soft bread with a delighted moan. It’s truly unbelievable how quickly your mood changes from wanting to jump out of the car going 100 miles on the interstate to wanting to hop up and start dancing. You don’t, obviously, but the excited jitters are still there.

"Oh my gosh, Felix, this is the best thing I've tasted in my entire life! I don't know how to thank you!" you squeal around the pretzel half-stuffed in your mouth.

He smiles, bowing his head to take a sip of the lemonade. It is only through the barrier of the straw that he doesn't blurt—A kiss would do—though as the fruity liquid splashes across his tongue, all he can say is,

"Holy shit, this is delicious!" Felix gasps, the straw falling from his mouth. "Here, try it!" He urges, shoving the cup in your face. You blink, swallowing the remainder of your food. It can't be that good. Your lips wrap around the straw, and oh my gosh, how the hell have you gone your entire life without ever trying this?!

"Holy crap, you are so right! This is incredible!!" You take a greedy gulp of the lemonade. "Ooooh, Lix, you're the best—"

Nothing could prepare him for what you said next.

"I could kiss you right now!!" In your peripheral vision, you notice Felix's lips separate, emitting a soft gasp. Confused, you lift your gaze, and it takes you exactly one blink's worth of time to understand his bewilderment.

Somewhere between pressing his mouth to his straw and the present moment, you have drifted dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can feel the heat of his lips, that you can watch the warmth rise to his freckled cheeks—so incredibly close that you’re mere breaths away from erasing the line between friendship completely.

His heartbeat lodges itself firmly in his throat, and his eyes go so wide that they're all you can see. Felix couldn't count how many restless nights he spent imagining this moment—I could kiss you right now—it replays in his head like a broken record, over and over and over, and you're just sitting there, looking so effortlessly breathtaking; and he can't take it—he just can't take it anymore.

Mid-sip of your pink lemonade, Felix does what he's spent years aching to do. With trembling hands, he cups your cheeks, and with the intensity of a starved, desperate man, he leans in—finally, finally pressing his lips to yours.

First, you gasp. Then, you melt—oh, how you melt, melt like the drops of water slipping down your cup of lemonade, melt like thawing snow. For a minute, as the world reduces to liquid in your vision, you feel yourself sliding in and out of time, but you seek out his forearms, then his biceps, and then you settle upon his cheeks. Felix kisses you like you were his only outlet to breathe—you were. You so, so were.

He planned on savoring your lips until the sun arose, until the owner kicked you out for inappropriate behavior. But instead of the disgruntled grumbles of an annoyed manager yanking him out of the moment, it was the sound of... clapping?

Puzzled, you pull away, much to Felix's dismay, and it takes you about three seconds to find the two pairs of hands loudly applauding was the old couple from earlier?! They wear matching toothless grins, giggling about "young love" and the reminiscence of when "they used to kiss like that in diners." Felix turns his head, eyes wide and awkward, catching yours; his cheeks are flushed red, lips rolled firmly in between his teeth. Despite the heat that flares up your neck, you laugh—laugh with so much lighthearted carelessness that your freedom feels alien even in your own ears. Felix blinks once, twice, before eventually giving in and laughing with you—laughing like nobody's watching.

Even with the old couple in the back, the staff staring at you like you’re insane, and your lone pretzel sitting cold and half-eaten in front of you, he still hooks his finger underneath your chin, drawing you impossibly closer. His smile curves against your lips as he presses them to yours again and again and again.

Lifetimes—that is how long he has spent longing for you; and as you share one final shuddering breath, he can't help but notice you taste like lemonade. It was then that he knew he would spend a million more loving you.

cookie owns this don't steal my stuff, please. thank you.

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queenimmadolla · 7 months ago

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Could you do a blurb where reader rolls a joint for Eddie for the first time with all her cute papers and stuff and he loves it?

Happy Stoner Christmas!

happy 4/20! 😶‍🌫️💚

“Well, if it isn’t for my favorite customer.”

You hear him before you see him, and sit up straighter as you look up, torso twisting around to face Eddie.

He’s walking through the tree line that acts as the ‘fence’ to your backyard. Not exactly born into wealth, your home is on the edge of Hawkins and lacks the white picket fence and concrete driveway, with nature and gravel filling in. Just down the street is Jonathan Byers’ home.

Confidence radiates off of Eddie as he approaches the picnic bench you were waiting on, his curls sway a little. He’s rocking a band shirt today—long sleeves rolled up his forearms—and some dark jeans. You try not to squirm under his stare, the wild grin on his face stirring something in your tummy.

You knew you’d end up crushing on him after the first time you went to him for weed instead of Rick. He was cute.

Eddie was so freaking cute and charming and funny. You probably would have been fine if he had just been cute and charming, but the humorous trait was your weakness. You loved funny guys.

Sure enough, by the fourth time he dealt to you—his tongue was in your mouth. And the fifth time, you’d gone to third base. Now, whatever happened when he came around just happened. You accepted it, even if it makes you a little nervous because you know very well you’re interested in more than just the benefits that come with your encounters.

You want him. Like, boyfriend him. It’s kind of tragic, actually, because you don’t even know if you’re the only one of his clientele he treats this way. Eddie can be fucking the rest of them for all you know and it drives you insane because you want to ask—you’re just too chicken shit.

“You say that as if this wasn’t prearranged.” You laugh out and Eddie snorts, dumping his black lunch pail on the leaf riddled bench top next to your scooby-doo lunch box with a metal clang.

“I’m trying to be cute and you’re ruining it.” When you laugh again, Eddie’s eyes squint in triumph, “And I’ll have you know I have been waiting—no, yearning for you to call upon me. Moved my bed over to the phone and everything. Thought you forgot allllllll about me.”

“Me forget about you? Impossible.” You declare in a joking manner, though you truly mean the sentiment. Your mental health might be better if you could forget him. Then you wouldn’t be able to make yourself sick over the idea of him kissing other people.

“You better mean that.” He jabs an accusatory finger, silver ring glinting, in your direction as he settles in across from you, “The usual, my sweet?”

UGH! SEE?! Too damn cute.

“Please?” You’re too busy opening up your own lunch box full of supplies to notice the heated look he fixes you with right then.

Eddie clears his throat, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip as he pops the lid of his lunch pail open, pulling out a little baggie with your favorite strain of buds. He eyes it with a glint in his eye before it’s held out to you, dangling from his fingertips.

You look up once you realize it’s being offered, and pinch the top of the baggie as your other hand holds out the folded bills. Eddie flicks them out of your loose grip, and it goes flying to land in your lap while you jump in surprise.

“My bad,” he snickers, his pretty teeth gleaming, “it’s on the house.”

You pick up exactly where he wants you to, “In that case, please accept my offer to smoke you out with my newly acquired goods.”

That feeling in your belly—butterflies—intensifies at the slow and large smile that spreads on his face, forcing his little dimple to make an appearance.

It always goes like this now.

Eddie comes over (or you go to him), weed is exchanged and when you try to pay him for it, he refuses. Then, you invite him to smoke weed with you (and he’ll always pull from the extra inventory he carries around—never from what he’s just given you), the two of you get high and you finally feel brave enough to make a move because you know he always waits for you to do it. Gives you the power to start things, your own comfort, though he takes full control once you get going. He’s always so keen on taking care of you. You’d once thought that maybe he didn’t want you as much as you wanted him, since it was always you initiating things, but the way he’d beg for you, ramble about how much he wanted you, how desperate he was for you and his ‘finally, I thought I was gonna die’s on just your kisses alone, soothed that insecurity.

“I’d be delighted to! But─”

“Nope.” You interrupt, having seen his hand reaching into his pail. “My weed—not yours.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise and when you don’t back down, both of his hands are lifted in surrender before one is extended to you out on the bench, palm up. Eddie’s waiting for you to give him your grinder and the weed so he can start rolling but you low five his palm instead and he chuckles, skin tingling from the contact.

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I know, but I’m also rolling today, too.”

Eddie scoffs and smirks, fixing you with that heated stare again and you quickly divert your gaze, pulling out your pretty purple grinder and getting to work. You are not gonna let him make you nervous and fumble around, “Baby…”

Oh, god. The way he coos it out, nice and low—you’re instantly taken back to other times you’d heard him say it like that. You’d been bent into all kinds of positions as it was rasped into your ear, the sweat from both of your bodies plastering Eddie to you. Your hand twists the top of the grinder on autopilot as you stare at nothing, gaze vacant.

Eddie knows exactly where your mind has taken you and his smirk widens.

“You can’t roll for shit.”

That snaps you out of your stupor, mouth dropping.

“I can, too! You’ve never seen me put in the work.”

“I have, that’s why I roll.”

And you cringe as you recall the first time you’d try to roll a joint. It had been the second time Eddie sold to you, having only used pre-rolled cones prior. Those only meant you had to pack the wrap in with weed, kind of like a funnel and then twist the end closed before partaking.

Rolling from start to finish was a whole other endeavor and you’d failed so badly, Eddie had rolled around on the floor laughing. You didn’t take any offense, too busy jumping up and down inside at having made the cute, charming funny guy you liked laugh.

“I’ve been practicing,” You pout, placing the grinder down after you’re sure the nug of the bud you’d placed in it was now almost powder-like.

“You tryna impress me, hm?” He hums out, and you refuse to look up, knowing those pretty brown eyes of his are gonna be lidded and it’ll do you in early. You’ll have to jump him right there, “Been practicing to show me what you can do?”

You ignore him, focusing instead on the rolling papers you had.

Eddie places his chin in his hand, watching you intently as you frown in concentration before it breaks when you select a rolling paper, cherries decorating the white sheets. You pull your small rolling tray out and some part of Eddie throbs. You hadn’t had that before.

You quickly scrunch a filter together, folding the rolling paper and placing the filter at the edge of the fold before you unscrew the grinder and begin pinching the green within to sprinkle on the paper. Once it was full, and Eddie notices with wide eyes that you’ve packed it with a significant amount, you use dexterous fingers to carefully roll it together, tongue poking out as you take diligent care to ensure no fall out. Once the green flower is properly contained, you lick the free edge and fold it over the rest of the joint before you pinch and twist the end.

After a few moments of intense scrutiny, you hold it out victoriously, “Taduh!!! For you.”

Eddie takes the joint, turning it this way and that as he marvels. You really had been practicing, it was beautiful. He feels an intense amount of pride bloom in his chest and something else. Always for you, only ever for you.

“Did I do good?” You ask, voice shy as you bite your lip and this time you don’t look away when that heavy stare focuses on you. You wanna faint, but you don’t. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you know where tonight is gonna lead.

“Baby,” There’s that rasp again that makes you want to drop dead and smash your mouth to his at the same time, “I’m gonna need you to come over here now. Don’t think I can wait.”

#I got this request before i made the prompt post shhhhh #Queenimmadolla’s smokesesh #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson fanfic

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

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Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til Death Do Us Part

SUMMARY: You and Aemond had been married for years, but he was not the man you thought he was. Discovering his affair with his secretary Alys Rivers, you had decided that enough was enough. You packed up your things in secret and left, leaving divorce papers on the table, and booked a one way ticket out of the country.

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. She/her pronouns, stalking, abuse, toxic relationships, infidelity, divorce, NONCON, manipulation, gaslighting, marriage, rough sex, choking, hitting, punching, yandere, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, forced orgasm, violence, daddy kink, dacryphilia, head injury.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

Word count: 10.2k

NOTES: Well, well, well.... Here we are. You have all been so feral waiting for this to drop and I am honestly so excited to see you all crawling about in my walls after. Probably shouldn't have to say this by now but will for new folks, READ THE TAGS, this is a DARK!FIC. There is no fluff or happiness lmao. This has been so fucking fun to write hehehe.... Anyway.... Without further adieu... Enjoy ;) <3

The soft hissing of the kettle took you away from the book you had been reading, nestled against one of the many windows in the small cottage you now owned.

Taking the kettle from the stove, you poured the boiled water over your tea leaves, watching the herbal mix swirl in the strainer.

The soft aroma of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the cup and you inhaled deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench as you waited for it to steep, no use going back to your book nook until the tea was ready to take with you.

The leaves from the pine trees in the forest outside had turned a deep green, the cold chill of winter having rolled through the valley of the quaint village you lived in early this year. Condensation rose from earth as the sun heated the mildew on the grass, the smokey illusion seeping from the forest floor.

It was different to the city. No more were the days of craning your head up to look at the crawling skyline of buildings, the sound of traffic, or yelling of people on the street. No more did you hear cars blare their horns or music, or the melodic sounds of people chattering in the late hours of the night or fights between lovers from apartments surrounding.

Now, the most noise you heard was the occasional storm that rolled through the valley, or the deer that wondered the pasture at the back of your property.

You could remember the first night you heard them, such a different and unfamiliar screeching that had set your hair on edge, eyes darting about to each window and front door as you raced around the house to make sure they were locked.

They always were.

You were meticulous that way. Always vigilant, always ready.

But in reality, you shouldn’t still be on edge.

It had been months since you left.

Almost an entire year since you packed your things and left the papers and your ring on the table for him to find. And what’s more, there would be no way for him to find you out here.

Not that he would even try.

You hoped.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t love him, or loved him; the lines were still blurred there. But Aemond had broken you in ways you never knew he could.

The lies, the secrecy, and then, her.

You remembered when you had first met Alys; a work event Aemond brought you along to. The pretty wife and happy family image did wonders for his company and the press, so he often brought you along on his arm, smiles and grins for the cameras, whispers of starting a family or trying for one, until you were out of view.

But that time had been different.

That time, something had changed.

You had known about Alys Rivers for a while, a new hire going months back. A woman from no notable name, nor background, a start up of her own, worked hard to get where she was, or at least, that’s what you had first thought when Aemond had described her to you; his new secretary hire.

An older woman, not one a wife would usually find as a threat.

It’s almost always the younger ones. Older men seeking out their youth between the thighs of a barely twenty-something, whilst their wives are none the wiser, or perhaps knowing and too resigned to care, birthing them children at home as their marriage dissolves into nothing but a loveless legal contract.

But this was different.

She hadn’t come to introduce herself at first, not at all, and that’s what you found the strangest.

Alys Rivers, a few inches taller than you, with pale skin and bright green eyes, had stood in the far end of the hired venue, sipping a glass of red wine, perfectly manicured maroon nails tapping on the glass, whilst she tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear.

You had felt the heat of her gaze immediately, your eyes meeting hers, and yet, she didn’t look away, didn’t smile softly, walk over and introduce herself as any other woman would have. She just stared. Right into your very soul. It had sent shivers down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that something was wrong.

Off.

Aemond had done his rounds with his private investors, higher employees, friends, if you could call them that, and press alike, all whilst you stuck by his side, smiling pretty and responding with shallow answers that didn’t give too much or too little for them to talk about later.

You hated those stuffy events, men and women alike always trying to get closer to you in order to get to Aemond, who was a fortress to begin with. Some people often commented or made joking remarks at how surprised they were that you had married him. That you had managed to thaw the Ice Man himself, that he was even capable of such things, and you would always laugh and make jokes back in good nature, smile never reaching your eyes.

But really, he was amazing when you were first married. Doting, loving, loyal, and always there, though that was sometimes overbearing. There was of course the little things, the teeny red flags that you ignored more often than not, rose tinted glasses and all that, but you had been young and in love and crazy about him, and he had been the same about you.

But as the years rolled by, and the two of you grew, you also both changed. The business expanded rapidly with the death of his father Viserys, and Aemond became more preoccupied with that legacy, most of the empire being passed along to him, and not his older brother Aegon, who had no desire to work and would rather live off his inherited wealth with drugs and weekend benders surrounded by lusty women. Occasionally men too.

And then when Alys came into the picture, it was like a switch had been flicked.

As though the Aemond you had thought you knew, never existed at all.

Alys had sauntered her way over half way through the event to introduce herself, all saccharine smile with razor sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into your flesh. She was polite, pleasant, overly pleasant, too sweet, too complimentary, and it felt off. Like an overripe peach, or wine that had been left open for a week too long.

Your husband had been stiff at your side, hand flexing around the tumbler of whiskey the entire time she stood beside him, too close to be friendly, and most certainly far too close for a boss and his secretary. And really, you should have listened to your instincts then and there, for they screamed that something was amiss.

But Aemond had a way of getting into your head, making you believe every word he said, push away your own instincts, and question yourself over, and over.

And that’s what you had done.

Questioned yourself, over and over.

Yet one day, something in the back of your head nagged at you too loudly. Aemond had not answering his personal number, calls you could understand, but usually he responded to his texts. But that day he hadn't. And so you called the office, where he spent most of his time these days, which had become a frustrating new normal, as was the depletion of your small weekends away, romantic dinners, spontaneous days out together.

The marriage felt stagnant, stale, and you knew in your gut the true reason for it. His desk had rang for too many rings too long. And when Alys had finally answered, she sounded rushed, caught unawares, awkward.

That was all it had took.

You had asked if he had his lunch yet, that you were nearby in the city and wondering if you should drop by, knowing that he had been spending later evenings in the office ‘working’, or weekend trips away to Harrenhal for business there, his secretary tagging along.

Alys informed you that he had just ate, but the way she said it was with that same overly sweetness that set your brain afire.

It was almost smug.

And so, without even hesitating, like you had for months on end, you picked up your keys and left, heading straight to his office.

Your heart had raced the entire time you drove there, weaving through traffic, just knowing, knowing, something, deep in your gut was not right.

And you were right.

Because there they were, caught like two deers in the headlights as you had swung the door open, Alys, seated on his desk, skirt pushed up to her hips, one shoe lost to the floor as Aemond thrusted into her parted legs.

They hadn’t even heard you at first.

But she saw you.

And she had smiled.

You will always remember his face.

He had turned and looked at you with shock at first, but then it turned to anger, as though you were at fault for this, as though you had ruined his fun, as though you should have known better, scar on his cheek crinkling with the sneer he threw your way.

You left in a flurry of hot tears, immediately calling your lawyer.

You drove straight to your best friend Sara’s house, and crashed at hers for the week, ignoring the constant buzz of calls and texts, and yes, even emails from your husband. Aemond in his desperation to reach out to you, even drove to Sara’s house, demanding if you were there. You had hid in the bathroom, holding your breath in the tub, shaking with anger and heartbreak and fighting the urge to go out there, to yell at him, scream at him, or more dangerous still, forgive him.

Then you were gone, speaking to your solicitor to get everything set into motion, friends loyally supporting your decision. You left the divorce papers on the dining room table, packed your bags and left whilst he was at the office, giving him no chance to manipulate you into staying, no chance for argument, and no chance for your heart to win over, taking your essentials and sentimental possessions with you.

You stood in your home, looking at everything inside, at all the memories that you shared in there. From when you had first looked at the house, to buying it, to Aemond's insistence on christening every single surface in the house to make it yours, all giggles and smiles, pleasure and joy.

But gone were those days, gone was the joy and the giggles, the pleasure and the smiles, and so with shaky fingers, you ripped off your wedding ring, finger feeling bare in its absence as you left it atop the pages.

At first you were just hoping to get some space to clear your head and not be manipulated by your husbands lies and very convincing words again. You knew that if you gave him a chance, you would be stuck. You knew that if he pleaded, if he begged, if he smiled with his signature smirk, it would be your downfall. He knew you far too intimately now. He knew how to get you to bend to his will. So you booked the nearest ticket you could and raced to the airport, not once looking back.

You had just landed in Paris when you turned your phone back on, watching the screen as it lit up, where you were immediately bombarded with multiple missed calls from him and a barrage of texts that became more, and more aggressive as time went on.

It was your fault really, to poke the dragon the way you had.

And yet you still did it, answering one of his frantic calls to hear the cool and icy tone of Aemond, barely keeping it together on the other end.

“Where are you?” He had asked, voice deep and quiet, small growl on the end; a tell tale sign that he was furious.

The airport was loud around you, people moving to their next gates, or stopping to move to the small cafes to eat, others continuing onwards towards the baggage claim to collect their luggage.

“It's none of your business.” You had responded, tone clipped, irritation and anger surging through you at his audacity to even be mad.

“I think it’s plenty my business. You’re my wife.”

“Not anymore. Have your solicitor talk to mine. Sign the papers, Aemond.”

You heard him breathe heavily into the speaker, “If you think for one fucking second that I’m going to-“

You pressed the red button on your phone and hung up on him, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you moved lazily through the queue to get through customs.

By the time you had gotten out the other end, you checked your phone again.

There was only one text on the screen that had sent panic blaring through your mind.

‘See you soon.’

You hadn’t planned to run, you hadn’t even planned to leave the country indefinitely, you just needed an out, but Aemond’s aggression had extended it, triggering your flight instincts. You didn’t believe that he would hurt you, but this new anger had frightened you. This new Aemond frightened you.

But Aemond Targaryen’s anger was not new to you either, his possessiveness was not new, and at one point you had even found it endearing. But after years of being married to what you thought was the man of your dreams, the other shoe dropped, and the true man was revealed.

So you made quick work of it, going to an international bank, taking every single cent out of your combined account.

You knew he wouldn’t struggle financially from such a loss, having another seperate offshore account, or two, or five if you were really counting. Not to mention his inheritance which sat in a vault in Budapest.

Comes with being descended from royalty.

But in the end, you knew you needed every dollar if you were going to get away from him and make it stick.

So you got a new passport, ID, and hitchhiked your way across several countries until you finally settled, finding a cottage, nestled in the woods, a solid thirty minute drive from town, buying it from the local farmer in cash. No contract. No deed. Just cash and his silence.

And that’s where you had been ever since.

You took your tea to the window, settling against the nook, pillows and blankets strewn all over as you curled inside. You looked out at the trees, the sun slowly setting for the day.

It was cold in your cottage, not too cold, but cold enough. Winter had come early that year, and you had used more logs of wood for the fire than you had thought you would have needed.

It was strange, to be so far away from the life you used to live. To be so removed from the world. But in some ways it was good. You had no social media, having deactivated every single one you had, and you also had barely any use of your phone unless you turned on the broadband, which was shaky at best and if it was windy, the reception would cut out.

The only people you really spoke to anymore was the people who lived in the town just a ways away, and Sara, who called every Sunday like clockwork, well actually like clockwork, you needed to turn the broadband on for Skype to work on the laptop you had taken with you.

In the almost year you had been gone, you had taught yourself how to make your own clothes, pickle and preserve foods, and even became quite handy at baking the odd loaf of bread here and there. The farmers whose cottage it was previously had left his belongings behind, taking only his clothes and things of memory with him.

There were books almost everywhere, the old man having been an avid reader, and amongst the books had been one on horticulture, and so slowly but surely, you had grown your own self sustaining vegetable patch. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented you from going into town too often, and also allowed you to not seek employment just yet.

That would come later when Sara would tell you that Aemond would sign the papers.

But every Sunday was the same.

“Any news?” You asked her that morning, Sara had frowned, pixelated to hell, but the frown still evident on your screen.

“Nope. Nothing. The asshole won’t sign them still. Solicitor can’t even find him to talk.”

You sighed, wiping hands down your face angrily.

Why was he doing this?

Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

Something about it made your skin crawl.

Those messages, those calls.

The ‘See you soon’ text.

Something had snapped in Aemond, and you didn’t like it one bit.

Your only consolation was that you were far away with a new name, new life, hidden amongst rolling green hills and large forests.

“How’s Cregan?” You changed the subject, and Sara had given you an update on everyones lives, her brothers first, and his new girlfriend. Then to all your other friends who you longed to see again.

But not yet, you just needed a little more time and for your husband to agree to the divorce.

When the sun had lowered in the sky, you moved to turn the lights in the house on, throwing some logs into the fire and lighting them with a match. You made sure to thank the Gods for solar panels.

The warmth of the fire heated up the small cottage quickly, and you made quick work of reheating a lamb soup you made a few days earlier, crisp homemade bread on the side with butter from a nearby dairy farmer.

It was hearty and warm, and filled you up, having a soporific affect on you. You had a glass of red wine as a treat afterwards, bought from the local markets and found yourself sinking deeper into fatigue.

It was a routine of sort, wake, eat, read, work on the garden or house, eat, drink, sleep. It was comfortable, and it eased much of your worries, always keeping busy. You didn’t realise how stressed and anxious the life you used to live made you.

The week went by, much the same.

The same routine.

The same walls, and floors, and rooms.

Same window nook, and cups of tea, and warming your hands by the fire.

By the time Saturday rolled by, you had been elated, excited even, to get out and look at the homemade wares and farm grown produce. To see the people you had grown to care about and make as your quiet friends. Still at arms length of course with your fake new life, but you let them in more than you had intended to.

It was never a large market, merely the other people who lived in or around the tiny town. But it was cozy, sweet, and some faces were more familiar than others. You looked forward to seeing them all and catching up on their weeks, especially an older lady named Lucy, who crocheted and knitted some of the most wonderful things. She had kind grey eyes, and would always insist on you taking something from her for free.

Today was no different.

“You make this most difficult, hen.” The grey haired woman frowned, coming round the side of her small stall to shove a large, grey knitted jumper into your arms, the same colour as her eyes.

You shook your head, “Lucy, please, at least let me give you some money for it.” Grabbing the soft wool that was pressed against your chest.

The older lady smirked, hands up in the air in submission, “It’s too late,” Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent, “You best be taking that, girly. It’ll be a cold winter that comes round this year, I feel it in my bones already.”

You sighed, “Then let me give you some money for it, and you can buy some more wool to make yourself some warm socks.” Fishing around in your bag to find some cash to give her.

Lucy crossed her arms across her chest, “Gonny no dae that. If you give me any money I’ll be right offended by you, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug. It’s a gift, you dafty.”

You shook your head and chuckled, there was no point in fighting.

You would never win anyway.

“Fine.” You acquiesced, “But I’m coming to drop you some muffins and scones when I make them next week.”

The older lady sat down heavily in her chair behind the stall, “I expect nothing less. Will you bring some strawberries from yer plot? Dang caterpillars got into mine and tore them to shreds.”

“I’ll bring you a mix of goodies from my wonderful garden that has no caterpillars.” You teased, rubbing the woollen jumper between your fingers, “Thanks again, Lucy, but you’re a menace.”

“Got to be when yer married to my husband.” Lucy joked, but it made your heart race instead.

You swallowed thickly and smiled shakily at the woman, nodding before bidding her a goodbye.

You walked through the rest of the market for a while, getting some fresh honey from a local farmer, some potatoes for a stew later on, and even buying yourself a new handmade mug.

It was a bustling affair, small children giggling with their parents, and older members of town who had been born and raised there walking about and stopping to talk with their life long companions.

Bright bunches of flowers caught your attention, and you moved over to look at them all.

Native flowers of all kinds were bunched together; roses, petunias, anything that could survive the chillier climate. And as you looked at a peculiar shaped purple flower, hooded like a bell, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and instinctually you turned, eyes darting around the rest of the market, looking at the sea of people, young and old, walking with their wares, chatting amongst each other or smiling.

Not one had that familiar head of silver hair.

You breathed out a sigh, shaking your head.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

It’s just your anxiety. It was probably just Lucy’s comment that set you on edge.

Not even Sara truly knew where you were.

You looked back at the flowers again, eyes on the purple ones that were nestled amongst pea flowers and other pinks and yellows.

“Devils Helmut.” The man told you, noting your interest in its peculiar shape, “Monkshood to others, or Wolfsbane to those witchy ones.” His eyes looked at you intently, “You ok? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.”

He was tall, older, but not by much, with deep brown eyes and wavy brunette hair that came to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. His jaw was sharp, a nice shadow across the skin from his stubble, with lips that were full and pulled upwards slightly. He had broad shoulders and large hands, tiny freckles dusting the pale skin as he watched you.

He was relatively new to town like you, but not really. Duncan, you remembered, had moved back to the little town after his father had passed away, inheriting the plot of land that was next to yours. Lucy had spilled the tea, over a cup of tea, about him with you a few months before, telling you that he was an eligible bachelor with a wink, trying to set the two of you up.

And although he was undeniably attractive, you worried for the implications of getting to know him, and eventually having to tell him about your marriage, and why you were truly where you were. You doubted the man would want anything to do with your baggage.

“I’m okay, just a bit cold. How have you been?” You asked him, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of your head.

“Fairly good.” Duncan rolled his r deeply, same low Scottish timbre as Lucy, distracting you from the rancid feeling that curled in your gut, “The winter’s come early this year.”

Duncan leant a hand against the table, and you noted that there was no ring on his finger.

Stop that.

“That’s what Lucy said too. Can definitely feel it.”

Duncan looked pointedly at the jumper still in your hands, “And what’s she given you this time?”

Unfolding the jumper in your arms you held it up, holding it against yourself to show him, “A new jumper. Will be perfect when it gets colder. Wish she’d stop throwing things at me and not letting me pay though.”

Duncan laughed, a deep chortle that rumbled his chest and warmed your cheeks, “That’s Lucy for you. She does the same to me too, the auld blether.”

You laughed heartily, “We should go in doubles to the markets when you’re not selling. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

Oh gods. Why did you say that?

A soft smile pulled on his lips, “You don’t know Lucy well enough if you think we’d stand a chance against her. She’d bowl us over without even blinking.”

Another laugh, and a shrug, "Worth the try.”

Duncan’s eyes scanned your face softly before he stepped forward, grabbing the bunch of flowers you had been looking at from their little vase, holding them out towards you, “Here.”

You looked at the flowers in his hands and frowned, “What?”

“Take them.” He insisted, “You looked right keen on the Monkshood, mean bloody flower that one. Be careful you don’t touch it too much.”

You shook your head, tucking your jumper into your bag, “I can’t possibly-“

“-Please. I insist.”

You reached forward to take the flowers from him hesitantly, feeling guilt bubble inside of you. What was with all these people and their generosity? It was going to give you an aneurism.

Your fingers brushed against his, and the warmth carried up your arm and straight into your chest. Duncan must have felt it too, because a soft blush creeped across his freckled cheeks.

Holding the bunch of flowers to your chest you smiled.

“You don’t have any pets at home? Any cats that might try and make a snack of the flowers?” Duncan pointed to the Monkshood.

You shook your head, “No it’s just me.”

His eyes danced as he nodded, and you felt as if you had answered his second question without him even having to ask.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

A large hand waved the thanks away, “Dinnae worry about it. Though, I have heard good things about yer baking.”

“Have you now? Has Lucy spilt all my secrets?”

A smirk, “Not yer secrets no. But yer baking, yes.”

Feeling bold, you smirked back, “I could make you something, if you’d like." You held up the flowers in show, "As a thanks, of course.”

“What can you make?”

“Anything you want.” You said quieter, swallowing the anticipation that rose in your throat.

“Can you make a good scone?”

You scoffed, “Easiest of things to bake.”

Duncan mirrored your stance, pursing his lips, “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that then. Do you have enough wood for yer fire? Snow will be falling soon, and we dinnae want you chittering in the cold.”

“I’ve got some left, but I know I’ll probably have to go over to Douglas and Lucy’s to get some more.”

The brown haired man paused in thought, tongue in cheek before he spun around, crouching down to rifle through a bag beneath his table, pulling out a pen and paper.

Duncan placed the small notebook in front of you.

“How about this, you give me yer number, and I’ll come round and bring you some more wood, maybe chop some for the fire as well, and you can thank me by making some scones. I can bring some of Elsie’s jam with me.” Duncan looked up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

And although he had spoken with confidence, it was clear that he was just as nervous as you.

It was hard to fight the heat that creeped up your neck. Excitement and anticipation coursing through you, the feeling of being desired making you giddy.

It had been so long.

You bit your bottom lip softly nodding, leaning down to write your home phone number, making a note to plug the old thing in, praying that it still works, as well as your address into the notebook.

Duncan smiled softly, taking it back and looked at the note, “You didn’t have to write down yer address, I know you bought Macnair’s property a while back, we're practically neighbours. Not accounting for the acres between us.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly, “Sorry, I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Hard to not know everyone here, especially when you grew up around them all. Plus, hard to not notice the bonnie lass who moved here. Quite the stir you created.”

You shook your head and blushed again, Gods damn him, “Not my intention.”

You both stood shyly for a moment, staring at each other, a warm pleasant tension building around the two of you.

Duncan cleared his throat, and clapped his hands together softly, “Right. Well, It’s a dreich day, so you best be off before the rain comes again.” He held the notebook up in his hand and shook it lightly, “You’ll be seeing me soon then. I’ll be coming to collect some of those scones.”

You grinned, and held the flowers gently in show again, “I hope they’re up to your standards. Thanks again for the flowers. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

The blaring ring of the Skype call filled your cottage. You raced from the kitchen to the desk, answering Sara’s call with a bright smile.

“Sar!” You smiled, pulling out your chair to sit in it, looking at your best friends face. But her excitement did not match yours, and instead, her face filled you with dread.

“Sar, what’s wrong?”

You watched as Sara visibly swallowed, leaning towards her computer, “Aemond’s left the country.”

Chills ran over your body.

“Oh, he must have a conference in Rome or Budapest. He always used to-“

“-No.” Sara interrupted you, and her voice instilled a rising sense of fear that you had been battling with for months, “Y/n, I don’t think that’s it. He’s already been gone over a week. That’s why the solicitor couldn’t talk to him him.”

Your heart raced in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Sara continued as you felt the walls around you move closer, “That’s why the solicitor couldn’t get in contact with him. They went to his office. Apparently he’s on leave, not even Alys was there.”

You licked your lips, swallowing dryly, “What do I do? Fuck, Sara, what do I do?”

“Don’t panic. He doesn’t know where you are! Hell, I don’t even know where you are.”

“I know, I know. But still…” You paused, breathing shallowly, “Sara, I went to the markets yesterday, and it was… Off. Something was off… And I just couldn’t shake this feeling that I was being watched.” You felt like you were going to be sick.

Sara’s face fell, head turning to talk to someone else quietly in the room.

“Who’s that?”

“Just Cregan. He’s talking to Helaena.”

You scoffed sadly, “Helaena won’t know anything. She didn’t even know about Alys.”

Sara shrugged, image becoming pixelated, “I-…-ow…-bu-….-o….-harm…-“

“Sar, you’re cutting up.”

You swore, swatting the computer lightly as her image froze.

Fucking broadband. Gods, maybe you should invest in getting a satellite dish here. At least you could get some cable tv if you did.

“-come to you.” Sara unfroze, the pixels evening out to an almost smooth image.

You groaned, “I didn’t catch any of that. Fucking internet cut out.”

“Can you get a satellite or something like a normal person and not be such a hermit? I said, why don’t I come to you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Sar. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt me, not that he’d ever find me. He’s just an asshole. Probably curse me out and tell me I’m making it all up.”

Sara’s face dropped again, and you wished she was pixelated so you couldn’t see it, the image making your skin crawl, “Y/n. Theres something you don’t know.”

You straightened in your chair, “Is Alys pregnant?”

“No. She’s too old for that. Something else. Something Jacaerys told Cregan one night years ago. I didn’t want to tell you then, you guys were so in love, and I had never seen you so happy. I just,” She sighed, “I didn’t even really believe it until recently.”

“Sar, you’re scaring me.”

She shook her head, “I know, I know. But as you said, he doesn’t know where you are, and he won’t find you. But Y/n, Aemond isn’t who we think he is.”

“Are you about to tell me he’s some sort of international spy, or politician in hiding?” You tried to joke, but the joke fell flat.

Sara’s head looked to the side before back at the screen, “When Aemond was young, he had a temper. A real bad one. Never got along with his nephews.” She took a steadying breath, “When Lucerys was thirteen and Aemond was nineteen, he attacked him. It was probably years of pent up anger after the accident, a fight had been brewing, but he didn’t stop. No-one could stop him, Y/n. It was bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach roiled.

“Y/n, Lucerys nearly died.”

Your mouth gaped open as you could scarcely get air into your lungs.

Oh gods.

“Breathe.” Sara cooed through the computer, “Girl, you need to breathe.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hand rubbing your chest, “What the fuck?”

“I know. I know. But they were young, I mean, Aemond was a lot older, but still. They were boys. And Aemond would never do anything like that to you. Not that he will ever find you.”

You counted your breaths as Sara spoke to you, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Y/n, y-….I-…t wi-…ll be fine-…. I-… ca-…n…-“

You growled at your screen, standing up in anger and frustration, anxiety pulling cruelly at your gut. You paced in front of the desk as you waited for your friend to come back into view.

When she de-pixelated and came back, you leant heavily against the table.

“You got your phone with you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Yea.” Sara lifted her phone to the screen.

“Okay, I’m going to give you my address. When do you think you can come?”

A cry flew from your lips.

The cottage was bathed in complete darkness, generator slowing to halt outside, the soft hum of electricity disappearing. Your heart lurched into your throat as you stood in the darkness. Skype screen blaring a ‘Lost Connection’ notification at you.

You took shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself.

This wasn’t unusual.

Just last month a squirrel had been trying to burrow into the electrical box for warmth and chewed through a cable. Luckily for you, Douglas had come over to fix up the wiring and helped you on your way. But with all that had been happening, it gave you a right scare.

Your heart did not slow in your chest, nor did you calm with the way your ears pricked at any noise inside or out. You stumbled through the darkness of the cottage to the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for your emergency torch.

Grasping it in your hand, you clicked it on, lone beam of light shining a path for you through the house to the front door. You crept slowly forward, the sound of your loud breathing in your ear as you got to the door.

You would have to go out and flip the switches manually, and make sure the damned squirrel wasn’t back.

Throwing on your wellies, you unlocked the four deadlocks you had installed on your door one by one until you opened it wide, the valley blanketed in the darkness of the night, clouds shrouding the moon and stars. The shadows of the forest around your house made you more on edge, every trunk or branch causing your eyes to linger that moment longer to decipher what it was.

But they were just that.

Trees.

You trudged around the side of the cottage, shoes crunching on the ground below as you made your way to the back. The icy air nipped at your skin, and you tugged the jumper that Lucy had knitted tightly around you.

They were right, winter had come early this year.

You would have to thank her later.

When you reached the electrical box, you tugged it open, shining the torch on all the different switches inside.

The main switch was flicked off.

For fucks sake.

The broadband must have blown it out.

The cottage was old, and the electricals likely older. But the solar panel were new, and you had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps the different generations of technology were clashing. You briefly wondered how costly it would be to have someone come to rewire the house for you.

As you looked at all the other switches, making sure they all looked in order, and the wires coming from out the back were all in tact, you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

You never liked coming out here in the dark.

It was scary, and although there was nothing out here to hurt you, unless there was a miracle lone pack of wolves that came strolling by, which you knew could never happen, since Lucy had told you wolves were hunted to extinction there. So it was just you, the trees and the moon.

The sound of a twig snapping in the woods made you spin on your heel, shining the torch out at the trees in vain. The light didn’t reach very far, illuminating just the front row of trunks, leaving the rest to be bathed in its dense darkness. Your heart thumped in your chest as your eyes scanned the woods.

It’s fine.

It’s nothing.

I’ve just worked myself up.

Gods.

It was probably just a deer or something.

You remembered the day you woke up to a whole herd of deer outside your cottage one morning, quietly munching on the grass outside. You had nearly screamed with joy, but kept the excitement inside, tiptoeing to sit in your window nook and watch them graze.

Holding the box open with one hand, you popped the small torch in your mouth with the other, holding it in your teeth as you flicked all the switches off, and then back on again.

You looked to the house.

Still dark.

You groaned, and did it again.

Again, nothing.

No hum of the motor kicking back on.

“Third times a charm.” You mumbled with the torch in your teeth, flicking the power back on.

The steady buzz of electricity came back, and the lights from the house illuminated a path for you back inside. You all but slammed the box shut and sped back inside to the safety of your cottage, spinning quickly to shut the door behind you, rapidly locking it tight with the deadlocks.

One, two, three, four.

You sighed a breath of relief.

See? Nothing. Just country electricals and wild deer.

You toed off your gumboots, hanging your keys on the hook beside the door.

You needed a glass of wine.

That would do it, a glass of wine and maybe some baking.

“Took me a while to find you.”

Ice ran down your back. Your heart leapt out of your throat as you spun on your feet, fear crashing over you.

You blinked.

And there he was.

Standing in your lounge room.

He had found you.

Aemond’s jaw ticked.

You were so in shock, so terrified that you couldn’t move, entirely rooted to the floor in place as your breath was caught in your throat. Your mouth opened as you tried to suck in air, head feeling light, but you couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t even let the scream out that clawed at the back of your throat.

He had found you.

Aemond took a step towards you, dressed in all black, his long silver hair pulled away from his face in a braid, “I told you, I would see you soon.”

Instincts kicked in, and like a startled deer, you ran. Tearing down the short hallway to get to your room, where you knew the old shot gun Macnair had left behind was hiding beneath the bed. But Aemond was quicker, and you heard his loud steps before you felt him, grabbing you from behind as you kicked your legs back and screamed, trying to get out of his grip.

“Did you really fucking think you could get away from me?” He grunted, holding you impossibly tight, “That I’d ever let you go? It was just by chance that I saw you today, I didn’t even think to go to the markets.” He explained, and tears prickled in your eyes.

You were right, you were being watched.

“But there you were. The Gods brought us back together again, Y/n. I was about to give up. But it was fate that our paths crossed again. It was meant to be.”

You thrashed against him, his arm locking around your chest and neck tightly. You turned your head and bit down on his arm, hard, tasting blood fill your mouth. Aemond hissed, tearing himself from your teeth as he dropped you to the ground, knees collapsing beneath you as you scrambled along the floor to get away.

“Fucking bitch.”

Pain rippled up your scalp as Aemond gripped you by your hair, throwing you back against the floor. Your head hit the wooden boards, eyes sluggishly blinking as the room spun and nausea curled in your stomach.

Your husband stood over you, sneering.

“You’ve been hiding out here for months whilst I’ve been looking for you. Having an affair with that other man who gave you the flowers.” Duncan, “Almost paid him a visit, but that can be done later. Spent all this time searching for my ungrateful cunt of a wife, but you didn’t hide well enough.”

His lone eye narrowed as he looked down at you, lips pulled back in a sneer. Strands of his silver hair had fallen from his braid and puffed with each breath as he stared down at you, chest rising and falling roughly.

You scrambled backwards, nails digging into the wood as he stalked forward, hunting you like prey.

“Money talks. And I have a lot of money. Which you would know, since you cleared out our joined account. Very naughty, Y/n.”

“Fuck you. Get out!” You screamed, kicking a leg at him.

Aemond laughed, dodging your kick, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my wife.”

“I’m not your fucking wife, you psycho.”

“No?” Aemond paused, cocking his head, “Then why are we still on the marriage register? Hm?”

Your back hit the side of the bed, hands swiping underneath desperately in search as you kicked at him again. Aemond swatted your legs away with ease, smirking down at you meanly. But he couldn’t block your kicks forever, and your foot hit him squarely in his groin.

Aemond grunted, doubling over in pain.

You took your chance, desperate to escape as you crawled forward, away from the bed, dizzy and horrified, all instincts telling you to run, not fight.

Besides, you didn’t even know how to use the gun, let alone if it was even loaded.

You stood, side stepping him as you moved to run out the bedroom door.

Your head hit the wooden frame with a crack, smashed into it by Aemond’s large hand. Stars bloomed behind your eyes, pain shooting through your skull. You tried to catch yourself on the door, your nails digging painfully into the wood as you cried, the hand gripping your hair, pulling you back into the room.

Aemond threw you onto the bed, looming over you, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? To see you again? How hard it was to find you? And you’re acting like such an ungrateful little bitch.”

You grunted and cried, trying to get away, desperate to get yourself off the bed as he pushed you back on it.

“Get off me!”

“But a husband needs his wife,” He leered down at you, pupil wide, “I’ve been dying without you, Y/n. I’ve been bereft ever since you left me. Abandoning me like a coward.” Aemond shook his head, “You could never really leave me. You’re mine.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at him.

Aemond smiled down at you softly, stilling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at him, “No you don’t.”

His smile dropped from his face in an instant, shadow cast over his scarred cheek as he looked at you blankly, “And if you do, I’ll make you love me again.”

His hands slid down your body, and began to tear at your pants, busting the button from your jeans, sending it flying across the room, then ripping the zipper apart.

Sobs flew from your lips as you pushed up at him, desperate to make him stop, fear escalating within you, “Stop! Aemond. Stop!”

Your fingers tangled in the bed sheets as you kicked at him, knuckles going white as you tried to drag yourself up and away from him on the bed, nails pulling sharply as you used every ounce of strength you had left. The room still spun as your head throbbed with every movement or jolt of your body.

Long fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your jeans and tugged them and your underwear down your legs as you struggled and cried and clawed at him.

“Been a while since you played this game with me.” Aemond chuckled darkly, “Do you remember when you used to pretend you didn’t want it? When you’d say ‘Stop! Please, no!’ and cum around my cock all coy?”

You blinked, memories erupting inside your brain. But those days were consensual, that was fun, something he had even introduced you to. But now? This? This was different. This was not a game. This was not play.

You kicked at his chest, heel clipping his shoulder sharply, a grunt falling from his lips. Aemond slapped a leg away, other hand gripping your thigh tightly. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin meanly, pain rippling up it.

Your hands tried to pry his fingers away, but the glinting of his wedding ring caught your attention.

He was still wearing it.

He ripped open his belt, and terror struck inside of you.

“Aemond, no. Please. Stop! Aemond stop, please!”

But all the man did was smile down at you crudely, “Gods, I’ve missed your begging. So sweet and small when you’d get on your knees and beg for my cock.” He pulled his length from his slacks, hard and angry, a drop of arousal smeared across his tip, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re mine. My wife.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, thrashing beneath him as he crawled atop of you.

You dug your nails into his arms, trying to swipe at his face and neck, your teeth bared, ready to bite down onto whatever limb came into their collision course.

“Stop.” He growled, slotting himself between your thighs, overpowering you completely.

You sobbed beneath him, begging him to stop, screaming at him to get off, grunting as you twisted beneath the sheets, your head still spinning with small stars that continued to multiply in front of your eyes, the corners of your vision shrouded in black.

In one final attempt, you went for what you knew would hurt him, what you knew would stop him, slow him down.

Give you time.

And so with the heel of your hand, you thrust it upwards into his face, connecting with his prosthetic eye, clipping the painful scar tissue that would sometimes wake him in the middle of the night in tears.

Aemond’s head withdrew with a sharp and pained cry, one palm pushing into his eye socket as he tried to calm the agony. You pushed against his shoulders, trying to move out from underneath, but Aemond was quicker, and his enraged gaze landed on you. The hand that had been pushing into his face, curled into a tight fist.

Your head whipped to the side, and a cool blanket of darkness washed over you.

You laid in it for a while, with no thoughts, no terror, no fear, just that darkness that curled around you quietly.

It was nice for a moment, almost comforting.

Just the feeling of not being there.

But then the blanket faded away, and pain bloomed in your face, iron on your tongue as you blinked in confusion.

There was movement and a weight atop you. Something sliding against your core.

And then, pain.

You whined, hands shoving against the chest above you as Aemond speared you on his length, thrusting sharply and dryly into you as he reached his hilt, the tip of his cock pushing painfully against your cervix.

You gagged quietly, head throbbing as the room spun, your arms weakly pushing at him, feeling as though they were made out of lead. Each movement of your body sent pain rippling through your skull, and bile into your mouth.

“Take it like a good wife.” Aemond growled, pulling his length out of you before thrusting it back in sharply.

You cried loudly, pain spreading through your core as you felt him tear at your walls.

He was always larger, much larger than anyone you had had before, and when you were together, he would have to spend ample time to prepare you, but you would always be wet to help.

The only wetness you felt now, was from your own blood.

Aemond began a harsh and rough pace, with long sharp thrusts that jolted you up the bed on his length, cries of pain bleeding from your lips as you cried, turning your head away from him.

You still tried to push at his chest weakly, nails scratching at him through the dark shirt he wore, but it was no use.

He grunted above you, picking up his pace, wrapping his hands around your neck for leverage. He squeezed, not tightly, but as a warning, and your eyes shot open to look up at him, hands clawing at his to try and get him to release you. The more you dug your nails into his skin, the more he tightened his hands until you were wheezing beneath him.

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, you just need to give in, baby. Come on. Be a good girl for me. Be a good girl for daddy.” He groaned, one hand leaving your neck to pull up the soft woollen jumper to reveal your breasts to the room.

Your nipples stiffened in the chill of the air, fireplace not having been lit yet and the cool of the early winter air seeping into the cabin.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hand coming to squeeze your breast roughly, pinching a stiffened peak between his fingers, rolling it through forefinger and thumb.

You whined in protest, hand trying to move his away.

Aemond lightly slapped your face, “Behave.” He accentuated with a hard thrust, another warning, sending pain shooting through your gut, “I’ll even let you cum. Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you cum, hm? Is that what my pretty wife wants?”

You shook your head weakly, tears overspilling from your eyes and down your cheeks, a sob working its way through your lips.

Aemond bent down and licked the trail of tears from your cheek, “Fuck.” He moaned, thrusting into you faster, “Forgot how fucking tight you were. Gods. Gonna have to make up for time lost aren’t we? You’ve been such” Thrust, “A naughty” Thrust “Girl.” Thrust.

Your core clenched around him instinctually, Aemond adjusting his hips upwards so that his length would brush against the soft spongey spot within. His pace faltered, and a smirk pulled at his lips. Warmth spread through your gut.

“There she is.”

“No. Please, stop. Aemond, please. I’m begging you.” You wailed, hands gripping his arms as your nails clawed into him.

Your husband smirked down at you, “Not so cocky now that you’re mine again, huh? Where’s that bratty attitude from on the phone?”

Aemond continued to fuck at you from the new angle, one hand on your neck in a promise, the other pulling a limp leg up his hip, revulsion barreling through you as you found yourself growing wet from the angle, your body betraying you.

The sound of your slick was loud in the room, adding to your shame.

Aemond only tutted at you, “See? Only I can make you feel like this. Duncan would never be able to make you cum the way I do. No-one can. You’re mine. This pussy, is mine. And what I do with it is for me alone.”

The light in the room was too bright above you, making your head spin even more, the clapping of his hips against yours loud in your ears as his thrusts rocked your head and body backwards, a familiar coil beginning to wind in your stomach.

It was all too much.

Even the smell of him overwhelmed you.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna cum for me, baby?” He cooed, mocking you.

“P-Please st-op, Aemond. It h-hurts.” You sobbed.

“Oh it hurts does it?” The sneer was back, Aemond’s head leant down beside your ear as he pushed to his limit, your walls gripping him tightly, and whispered, “Now you know how it felt when you left me.”

You weeped.

“I hope it fucking hurts.” Aemond leant back, fucking into you with new found vigour, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled your hips onto him, the coil getting tighter and tighter.

It was horrifying, to find your body finding pleasure from his assault, but you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. He knew you too well. Knew your body too intimately. Knew everything that made you tick, twitch, or moan. He had spent hours, years, learning how to expertly map out your body, and he knew your body better than you did.

A slick thumb pressed down on your bud.

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on me. If you cum for me, I’ll forgive you, okay? You cum for me and I’ll know you love me back. Come on, be a good girl, cum for me.”

His thumb swirled roughly against your bud, your hands tightening around him, unsure if you were pulling him toward you or pushing him away. Your mind hazy and confused, the world having been turned upside down.

You came with a cry, back arching off the bed as Aemond praised you through it, fucking into you harder and faster. Warmth spread through your limbs, your eyes scrunched tightly shut, bright lights behind them as your skull throbbed.

Aemond fucked your limp body, thumb leaving your clit as he held your hips with both hands, drilling into your wetness with a painful force, pulling agonising pleasure from you.

You weeped below him, keeping your eyes shut as you just wished for it to be over. For him to just finish.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my pretty wife up so we can have a baby. Hm, doesn’t that sound nice? Start a family.”

You sobbed loudly, hiding your face in your hands as you turned your head away from him, the taste of blood still thick on your tongue from where he had struck you.

His pace became sloppy, thrusts uneven as he began to lose himself to pleasure.

“Fuck!” He hissed, thrusting into you sharply as he came, hot ropes of cum coating your walls as he thrusted weakly through his climax.

You chest stuttered with sobs, head spinning, but exhaustion taking over.

You were so tired.

So tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

Wanted to fade away back to that darkness again. Back to nothing.

“Shh,” Aemond hushed you from above, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss against your wet cheek and forehead, “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You sobbed even harder.

Aemond pulled out of you with a hiss, a small whimper falling from your own lips as you felt pain strum through your brutalised walls. He flopped back onto the bed, dragging your body up beside him as though you weighed nothing, black blooming before your eyes as you knocked your head against the pillow, a wave of sickness rising inside.

But you didn't fight it.

There was no point.

No escape.

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide.

You couldn’t run, even if you wanted to.

And so you laid in his arms as he held you whilst you cried, curling into him as the tears kept coming. He cooed at you softly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your arm in a way he always used to.

It was so stomach turning, the different sides of Aemond, and if it wasn’t for the concussion that you certainly had, his actions alone would send your head spinning.

Because this Aemond, the soft Aemond, was the one you had known. The one who used to hold you to him, and whisper words of praise. But that was a long time ago, and the Aemond who held you now was a different man.

Someone you didn’t even know.

This Aemond was not the man you married.

Aemond pressed another kiss to the top of your head again, “It’s okay, cry it out. I know you’re sorry. And it’s okay. I'll forgive you. Alys was a mistake, but she’s gone now. She won’t be a problem anymore, okay? It’s just you and me.”

You sobbed louder, and he pulled you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours.

“I know, baby." He cooed sweetly, but it was insincere, hollow, cold, "I’ve missed you too. I love you so much, Y/n." Aemond exhaled hotly at the top. ofyour head before his voice fell to barely a whisper, "So much, you don’t know what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

A chill rolled down your spine.

You knew now what he was willing to do.

And with the added news of what he did to Lucerys, you wouldn’t put it past him to harm anyone that came between you again.

A wave of mourning crashed over you.

Mourning your past.

Mourning your future.

And mourning the person that you would become with him. There was no escaping this.

Him.

You inhaled his scent deeply.

He still smelt as he always did, but there was a lingering smell of pine in his clothes. The pines from the woods surrounding your home.

How long had he been out there?

How long had he been waiting?

“You’ll love me again, I know it. I’ll never leave you again. We will be happy together. Here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide against his chest.

“You’ve chosen the best spot, baby. You always were clever, we can start our family here. Somewhere quiet, no-one around. Just you and me, and eventually the children. Like it was meant to be.”

A shiver rolled through you.

“Marrying you was the best decision I made in my life.” He kissed the top of your head again, smoothing your hair down with his hand lovingly, “I’ll make you see.”

You laid there as you cried, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. Having no real power over the situation, having no real way to escape or get out. If not for Aemond's sheer will, the four dead locks on the door assured it as well. He hummed softly as he let you cry, pain crashing through you in waves.

Aemond paused in thought, his thumb coming beneath your chin as he tilted your head to look up at him.

Your vision was fuzzy from the tears, and the edges were seeped in black, but you could see it. The crazed look in his eye as he gazed down at you with a hungry possessiveness.

“Do you remember our vows?” He asked, watching as you blinked at him, your lip wobbling as you tried to stop the endless stream of sobs that worked their way up your throat.

His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a sharp sting sparking in it as his finger brushed over the split.

And then he smiled at you, in the same way that he had the day of your wedding, lips pulled wide, teeth revealed.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him.

The man you had loved, the man you had married and planned a future with.

The man you had been on the run from.

His mouth parted again, smile becoming softer.

“Til death do us part.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know on the general taglist post here :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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