#I still have so much to write why did I do this.

[mariasont]

hi pookie! <3

i loved loved loved the recent lipgloss fic! could you write smth about perfume? like bimbo! reader smells sweet asf and all of a sudden reid (or hotch) comes into the office smelling suspiciously sweet

tytyty!! <333

Suspiciously Sweet - S.R

a/n: hiiiiiii pookie!!!!!!! thank u so much for requesting i loved this lololol

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: fluffiest fluff, established relationship, spencer's relationship almost being exposed, hotch saving his ass, hotch hinting to having a secret girlfriend (aka my girl bimbo!assistant)

wc: 1.3k

You had a very distinct scent. This wasn't a bad thing, no, far from it. It was sweet and intoxicating, it reminded him of ripe peaches in the height of summer and cherries soaked in syrup, with a hint of something citrusy that reminded him of lazy afternoons in the sun. Was that too poetic? Spencer wasn't sure.

He noticed it everywhere. In the office, where it announced your arrival before you said a word. He noticed it at home. His pillows, his sheets, even the collar of the sweater you'd borrowed once—it was all steeped in the same honeyed scent that lingered after you left his bed, as if you were something he couldn't wash away—not that he wanted to.

This was why Spencer had started sleeping in on weekends when you stayed over. It wasn't laziness—not exactly—but how could he resist staying wrapped up in the thing that reminded him most of you?

Especially on those mornings when you were still half-asleep and clingy, burrowing into him with sleepy little hums, like you were trying to fuse yourselves together, and somehow, it worked. Your scent didn't just stick to his things, it stuck to him, sinking into his skin and leaving him a little dazed by the time you finally rolled out of bed.

Sure, he could rationalize it with some scientific explanation about heat transfer, molecules, or something equally clinical. But science (and he hated to admit this) didn’t account for how it made him feel.

Unfortunately, those feelings, didn't do him any good when one of those slow mornings he was becoming so fond of turned into an emergency call from Hotch about a case.

Now, he found himself here, hunched over the impossibly small sink in the jet's cramped bathroom, scrubbing his hands raw for what felt like fortieth time today. The scent wouldn't budge. It was as though it had soaked into his skin. He knew it was his fault—he couldn't seem to stop his hands from roaming across every inch of your body morning.

It wasn't that he minded smelling like you, but focusing on case details and running probability algorithms became infinitely harder when every breath reminded him of how tightly you had wrapped yourself around him just hours before.

He let out a bated breath, shutting off the sink before pushing his way into the main cabin of the jet. He found his way to his favorite seat, third back on the left side, which happened to be located far enough from the engines to minimize auditory distractions.

Morgan looked up, sniffing once as Spencer slid by. "Man, I don't know what it is, but something smells good in here."

Spencer tensed, his stomach dropping. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he fought the urge to whip around. Surely it wasn't that strong. It couldn't be.

Rossi glanced up from his crossword, brows furrowing.

“Huh. I was thinking the same thing. It’s faint, but it’s nice. Like fruit or… maybe something floral?” Rossi’s nose wrinkled as he added, “Certainly an improvement over Morgan’s cologne.”

Spencer ducked his head so fast it could've looked like a nod, his cheeks burning as he avoided everyone's gaze.

JJ came out of the coffee area moments later, glancing at the case file in her hand as she passed him. She stopped abruptly, sniffed the air, then frowned.

"Wow, Spence, you smell really good. Did you finally cave and buy cologne?"

Spencer blinked up at her, every ounce of blood in his body rushing to his face.

"Uh, no," he said flatly, trying to mask the embarrassment. "I suppose I woke up smelling like this."

Technically not a lie.

He was acutely aware of everyone's eyes on him. Emily tilted her head, brow furrowing before a wide grin spread across her face. Not a good sign, he concluded.

"Wait a second," she said, pointing at Spencer. "That smells exactly like outside of Cruz's office. I pass it all the time."

Spencer cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around the armrests as his mind scrambled for an explanation—any explanation—to divert their growing attention. He could practically feel the walls closing in on him. He was doomed. This was it.

Spencer’s pulse was thundering in his ears, his face still flushed, when Hotch finally set down his pen.

For a second, Spencer braced himself for the worst, the horrifying moment when even Hotch would add to his scrutiny.

"That smell? It's the same hand sanitizer Cruz keeps in his office. He offered it to me after a meeting—probably the same stuff Spencer borrowed when he spilled his coffee this morning."

Spencer looked to Hotch, mouth opening and closing before nodding as if in agreement. "Yeah, that's... probably it."

The rest of the ride passed, to Spencer’s immense relief, without further incident. Morgan gave him a few odd looks now and then, but Spencer was too preoccupied, his thoughts spinning as he tried to figure out why Hotch had saved his ass.

When the last of the team finally stepped off the plane, Spencer hung back, letting the others pass. Hotch did too, falling in step beside him. His pace was slower than usual, his gaze fixed forward, but when he spoke, his voice was loud enough for Spencer to hear.

"Word of advice, Reid—next time, carry mints and a travel sized bottle of something unscented. You'd be surprised how much that helps."

Spencer’s head whipped around, his face going a deep shade of red. Hotch, meanwhile, kept walking, his expression completely neutral, as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

—

"He said what?"

You were laughing uncontrollably, the kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake and left you gasping for air, your hands grabbing him for balance. Rollers filled your hair—a ritual you'd patiently explained to him before—and loose wisps curled around your face. And your smile, well, he was perfectly certain it was the prettiest he'd ever seen you.

"Yup," Spencer confirmed, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

You froze mid-giggle, eyes narrowing.

"Wait, wait, wait—how does he know that? Is Hotch speaking from experience or something?" You blinked, then gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh, what if Hotch has, like, a secret girlfriend? What if it's someone at the BAU? What if it's Garcia?"

"It's not Garcia, and it's definitely not a secret." Spencer raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as if the answer was obvious. "Hotch has been dating his assistant for years. He thinks it's some big secret, but it's... not. He picks her up lunch at least twice a week, and his closed-door meetings with her? Not as inconspicuous as he thinks."

You gasped, practically bouncing in place as you grabbed Spencer's sleeve. "Shut up! I didn't know that! I love her clothes. Do you think she'd tell me where she shops? That red skirt she wore the other day was everything."

“You don’t need any more skirts,” Spencer said, his fingers finding the sensitive spot between your hip and ribs, pinching just enough to make you squirm on the countertop. “If your closet gets any fuller, you’re going to have to rent out a second apartment just for storage.”

You giggled, tightening your legs around him and clinging to him like a koala, your arms looped snugly around his neck.

"That's why I have your apartment," you said, sticking out your tongue. "Plenty of space for my skirts, and you get to see me model them. Win-win."

"When you put in like that, it's kind of hard to say no."

He leaned in as he spoke, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, teasing and testing, like a flicker of fire before it catches. You giggled into the kiss, your laughter blending into his smile. The kiss deepened, honey-slow and sweet, golden warmth spreading through his chest as you pressed closer, closing every last bit of distance between you.

When you pulled back, his lips still tingling, you grinned. "Wow, you really do smell like me."

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[leafzu]

“Stop that!” panic rose in your chest as you held Zayne's head close to your chest. His body severely injured. Barely moving.

One pull at the trigger and the bullet will go straight through his head. Caleb kept the gun pointing at Zayne.

“Caleb please stop!,” you cried. “Why are you doing this?” “I want to build a world where it's just the two of us.” He stepped forward. “Why can't you see that?”

“Let him go.” Your cries fell on deaf ears. “Please.”

Still Caleb wasn't completely heartless when it came it you. He hated the fact that you were in so much pain because of him. No, it was because of Zayne. If he wasn't here, it would've been just you and Caleb, just like he always wanted.

He had to go.

Your grip on Zayne's body tightened as Caleb once again put his finger on the trigger and pointed it to Zayne.

“What is he to you?” Your tear stained face looked up at him. “Answer me.”

“He's all I have, please, Caleb.”

That answer was enough to make Caleb's heart full of rage. He was infuriated.

“And me? Don't you have me?” He stepped forward with his finger still on the trigger, pointed at Zayne.

“Am I not important to you at all?” His voice sounded hurt almost, pain laced with it. “All I ever thought about while being away from you, was you.”

Zayne could've get out of here with you. He could have but he did not. If he's evol got out of control, he could've ended up hurting you. That's when Caleb took advantage of him and pinned him down to his feet. But Zayne didn't care. He would die for you.

“Please Caleb,” you sobbed. “Let us go.” “I will let him go.” Caleb leaned down to you. “But you,” he inched his face closer to yours. “You stay with me.” “N-No don't.” Zayne's grip on one of your hands tightened.

“Hmph.” Your stomach was burning from fear and pain. “This isn't going to do.” Your grip on Zayne tightened. “N-No please Caleb.”

The next thing you knew Caleb grabbed you by the arm and pulled you to him, walking away from Zayne. The grip he had on your hands loosened letting you go. Zayne's vision got blurry, dark cold icicles covered his skin.

Your cries were the last thing he heard.

- I don't know how this turned out, I'm not good at writing plots and stories. This scenario just came to my mind and I quickly wrote it. Nothing against Caleb, I'm just at chap 1 of Caleb's return story. Hope you guys liked this.

Also, not proofread.

Dark divider credit - @/moonpascal | snow divider credit - @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[scarletwinterxx]

drowning in the deepest of truths, I think I'm falling for you - choi seungcheol scenario

hellooo ~ so it's been a while... few things to address😅 i saw svt recently and i can confirm i cried hahah and second thing, a certain mr. seungcheol choi bias wrecked me so we're here. say thank u to him🤣

THIS ISTG TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE. if you've been here for a long time, i think it's obvious i love a good friends-to-lovers storyline. i wanna give myself a pat on the back for writing this😅hope you like it too!!

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve been friends with Seungcheol for as long as you can remember. He’s the dependable guy, the one who shows up at your door with takeout when you’re upset, drives you to late-night emergencies, and threatens to "have a word" with anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s also the same guy who will call you at 2 AM to complain about Jeonghan stealing his food or Seungkwan roasting his playlist choices.

It’s all very platonic.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But here’s the thing—platonic friends don’t always behave the way Seungcheol does with you.

Like how he always walks closest to the road when you’re together. You thought he did that for everyone until Jeonghan once teased him about being your personal bodyguard. “What, I’m just making sure she’s safe,” he’d grumbled, cheeks faintly red. You’d laughed it off, but now every time he switches sides to keep you away from traffic, your brain unhelpfully replays Jeonghan’s teasing.

Then there’s his car. His precious car. The one you’ve seen him ban people from for spilling a drink or even breathing too close to the upholstery. Yet, somehow, you’re the only one allowed to eat fries in it without getting scolded. “Because you’re neat,” he’d explained once, though you distinctly remember dropping ketchup on the seat that one time. He cleaned it up himself and still handed you another fry.

And don’t even get started on the hand thing. He always has a hand on your back—guiding you through crowds, steadying you when you wobble on uneven ground, or just casually resting it there when you’re walking side by side.

It’s warm, reassuring, and totally not something friends think about when they’re lying in bed at night.

You tried asking him about it once. “You’re very handsy, you know.”

“Would you rather I let you trip and fall?” he’d retorted with a smirk.

“Not what I meant, but okay.”

The problem is, Seungcheol seems completely unaffected by all this. He treats you like you’re just another one of his friends, albeit one he’s particularly protective of. You’ve heard him swear up and down to Jeonghan and Seungkwan that you’re just his friend. Jeonghan, of course, doesn’t believe him.

“Right, because you hold all your ‘friends’ like they’re a national treasure,” Jeonghan had said, earning himself a withering glare.

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol had snapped, but his ears were noticeably pink.

Then there was Seungkwan, who once asked, “Why don’t you just marry her already? Save us all the suspense.”

“We’re friends,” Seungcheol had groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

It’s honestly infuriating. Not because you want him to admit something else (okay, maybe you do, but only a little), but because it leaves you constantly second-guessing everything.

Like when he shows up to your apartment with soup because you mentioned a scratchy throat, or when he lingers outside your building after dropping you off just to make sure you’re inside safely.

Or—your personal favorite—when he softens. That big, tough guy act he puts on with everyone else melts the second he looks at you.

His voice gets gentler, his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and he’s suddenly the kind of guy who brushes hair out of your face without a second thought.

It’s maddening.

And apparently, you’re not the only one who thinks so.

“I don’t get it,” Jeonghan says one day, while you’re all sitting at a café. “Why are you two still dancing around each other? Just confess already.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What?! There’s nothing to confess!”

“Exactly,” Seungcheol agrees, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Sure. And I’m the president.”

“Jeonghan, drop it,” Seungcheol warns.

“Fine, fine.” Jeonghan smirks but doesn’t look convinced.

By the time you’re walking home together later, the conversation keeps replaying in your head. Seungcheol is quiet beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you say, bumping your shoulder against his.

He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“...Nothing important.”

You don’t push, but as his hand finds its familiar place on your back when you cross the street, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Jeonghan was onto something.

You knew it was going to be a long day when your boss handed you that stack of papers at 4 PM. By the time you finally wrapped up, the office was practically empty, the night sky spilling across the windows.

A quick glance at your phone confirmed what you already dreaded—you’d missed the last bus. Groaning, you stuffed your things into your bag, resigning yourself to the long walk home.

It wasn’t that bad. Just… cold, dark, and slightly creepy. You’d be fine.

Totally fine.

But when you pushed through the lobby doors and stepped outside, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was.

Choi Seungcheol, leaning casually against his car, arms crossed over his chest like he’d been waiting all night. His head tilted up as soon as he heard the door open, and when he saw you, that familiar, infuriatingly soft smile spread across his face.

“Finally,” he said, pushing off the car. “I thought you were going to sleep in there.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed, “What… what are you doing here?”

“Picking you up,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

You frowned, confused. “How did you even know I was still here?”

“Your light was on when I drove by earlier.”

“You drove by?”

He had the audacity to look sheepish. “I figured you’d miss the bus. And I didn’t want you walking home alone.”

Your heart did an annoying little flip. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Sure you can,” he said, completely unfazed. “But humor me, okay? Get in the car.”

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to argue, but the cold wind nipping at your cheeks made the decision for you. “Fine,” you muttered, walking past him to the passenger door.

“Good choice,” he said, smirking as he opened the door for you.

The car was warm, smelling faintly of his cologne, and as you settled into the seat, you couldn’t help but notice the little things—how he’d adjusted the seat warmer on your side or how there was a blanket folded neatly in the backseat.

He climbed in and started the engine, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Hungry?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You barely eat when you’re working late,” he said. “We can grab something on the way home.”

You stared at him, baffled. “Do you do this for all your friends?”

He smirked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Do what?”

“Show up unannounced, wait in the cold, and then offer to feed them.”

“Only the ones who miss the last bus.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “So just me, then?”

“Just you,” he admitted, glancing at you again with a small smile.

The ride home was quiet, the hum of the engine and the city lights passing by making everything feel oddly intimate. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you turned to him, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“Thanks for… this,” you said awkwardly, gesturing vaguely.

“Anytime,” he said easily.

As you reached for the door handle, he stopped you. “Hey.”

You turned back, and his expression had softened, the playful smirk replaced with something quieter, more sincere.

“Text me next time, okay? So I don’t have to guess.”

Your chest tightened, and you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

You stepped out of the car, his eyes on you the entire time, and as you walked to your building, you couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn’t just a friend. Not to you, anyway. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t just a friend to him either.

It was supposed to be a quiet night for Seungcheol. He’d gone out with some friends, had a couple of drinks, and was planning to head home early. But somehow, he ended up back at Jeonghan’s place with Seungkwan sitting cross-legged on the couch, both of them looking far too smug for his liking.

They were up to something. They were always up to something.

“So,” Jeonghan started, drawing out the word like he had all the time in the world, “guess who’s out on a date right now?”

Seungcheol barely glanced up from his phone. “I don’t know. Who?”

“You,” Seungkwan deadpanned, then snorted. “Kidding. It’s her.”

Seungcheol’s fingers froze mid-scroll. “What?”

“You know who,” Jeonghan said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s on a date,” Seungkwan added, like he was explaining something to a toddler.

Seungcheol’s brain short-circuited for a second. “Wait. What?”

“Why are you so shocked?” Jeonghan leaned back, looking like the cat that got the cream. “She’s a grown woman. She deserves to have a little fun.”

“She’s—she’s on a date?” Seungcheol repeated, his voice louder this time

“Yes, and he’s so handsome,” Seungkwan said dramatically, clasping his hands together like he was narrating a fairytale. “Tall, charming, great hair—”

“Wait a minute. You set her up?” Seungcheol cut in, his voice sharp

“Of course,” Jeonghan said breezily. “You weren’t making a move, so we figured someone else should.”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol started, then stopped, his jaw clenching. “She doesn’t need you meddling in her life.”

“She seemed fine with it,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “Actually, she looked pretty excited.”

That sentence hit Seungcheol like a punch to the gut. You? Excited to go on a date with some random guy? The thought made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t want to think about.

“I don’t get why you care so much,” Seungkwan said, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, she’s just your friend, right?”

Seungcheol’s head snapped toward him, but he didn’t say anything, his jaw working furiously as he tried to come up with a response.

“Right?” Seungkwan pressed, leaning forward.

Jeonghan smirked. “You do seem awfully worked up for someone who’s ‘just a friend.’”

Seungcheol shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “She is my friend.”

“Hmm,” Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like you’re about to track down this guy and challenge him to a duel?”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m just… concerned.”

“About what?” Seungkwan asked innocently.

“About her,” Seungcheol snapped. “What if he’s some creep? What if he says something to upset her? What if—”

“Oh my God,” Jeonghan interrupted, laughing. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Seungcheol said through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you gripping the couch like it insulted your ancestors?” Seungkwan asked, gesturing to Seungcheol’s white-knuckled hands.

“I’m just protective,” he argued weakly.

“Right. Protective,” Jeonghan said, rolling his eyes. “Because that totally explains the vein popping out of your forehead right now.”

Seungcheol groaned again, sinking back into the couch. He hated how transparent he was, especially to these two.

“Look,” Jeonghan said, leaning forward, his tone suddenly serious. “If you don’t want her going on dates with other guys, then maybe you should finally admit how you feel.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try it,” Seungkwan cut in, holding up a hand. “We all know. She’s the only person you drop everything for. The only one you talk to with that stupid soft voice. You treat her like she’s your entire world, but you’re too stubborn to say it.”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because they were right. They were absolutely, infuriatingly right.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I feel something. But what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

Jeonghan snorted. “Are you kidding me? She’s just as bad as you. She talks about you all the time, and don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you. You’re both idiots.”

Seungkwan nodded solemnly. “Big, dumb idiots.”

Seungcheol stared at them, his mind racing. Maybe it was time to stop being an idiot.

“Where’s this date happening?” he asked suddenly.

Jeonghan and Seungkwan exchanged a glance, their smirks returning.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked, feigning innocence.

Seungcheol stood, grabbing his jacket. “Because I’m about to fix this.”

“Finally,” Seungkwan muttered, shaking his head.

Jeonghan grinned. “Go get her, tiger.”

And with that, Seungcheol stormed out, determined to set things right—even if it meant crashing your date.

Meanwhile you were having a perfectly peaceful evening. The kind where the air was crisp, the stars were starting to peek out, and the banana milk you’d picked up from the convenience store was hitting just right. Strolling through your neighborhood, you took another long sip, savoring the sweetness.

And then, like something out of a drama, Seungcheol’s sleek black car zipped past you.

You blinked, nearly choking on your drink.

Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. But then the brake lights lit up, and the car slowed before making a sharp U-turn.

You stopped walking, half-expecting someone else to step out of the car. But, of course, it was Seungcheol.

He parked haphazardly by the curb and got out, looking a little disheveled, which was unusual for him. His jacket was slightly askew, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

“Hey,” he said, jogging up to you, his voice slightly breathless.

��Uh, hi?” you said, thoroughly confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered, crossing his arms but not quite meeting your eyes.

“I’m just walking,” you replied, holding up your banana milk as if to prove your innocence. “What about you?”

He hesitated for a second too long. “I was… driving.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Driving? Around here?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was… in the area.”

“In the area?” you repeated, unconvinced.

“Yes,” he said firmly, but his eyes flickered to the drink in your hand, betraying his nerves.

You decided not to press him. Seungcheol acting weird wasn’t exactly new, but something about him tonight seemed different. Like he was on edge. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, and he kept shifting from foot to foot like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

He froze, then sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just… stressed,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Work?” you guessed.

“Something like that,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You frowned, feeling a pang of concern. Without thinking, you held out your banana milk to him, your fingers curling around the straw as you offered it up. “Here. This always makes me feel better.”

He blinked at you, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Drink it,” you said, blinking up at him innocently. “It’ll help.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression softening in that way that always made your heart skip a beat. “You’re sharing your banana milk with me?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you mumbled, cheeks warming.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours. He took a hesitant sip, his eyes never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world felt strangely quiet.

“Not bad,” he said, handing it back to you.

“See? Instant stress relief,” you said lightly, though your chest felt tight for reasons you didn’t want to examine too closely.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made you feel uncharacteristically shy. Finally, he reached out, ruffling your hair like he used to do when you were younger. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, brushing his hand away. “Someone’s gotta take care of you.”

His smile faltered just slightly, something unspoken passing between you before he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s just a short walk—”

“Let me drive you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t fight him on it. You weren’t sure why, but Seungcheol’s strange mood tugged at something deep inside you.

As you climbed into his car and he pulled onto the road, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his stress than he was letting on. And from the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened every time he glanced at you, you had a feeling he was thinking the exact same thing.

A few days later since that night. You're still wondering why Seungcheol was acting weird but you brush it off, thinking maybe he's just stressed because of work.

Now you're somewhere unfamiliar.

You sighed in frustration, staring at the unfamiliar street signs around you.

You were definitely lost.

The errand you thought would take twenty minutes had somehow turned into an hour-long disaster. To make matters worse, your phone signal had cut out just when you’d tried to pull up directions.

After wandering aimlessly for what felt like forever, your phone finally regained some service, and you immediately dialed Jeonghan’s number. He was your go-to for emergencies like this—always on his phone and annoyingly calm in situations where you were about ready to cry.

“Hello?” Jeonghan’s familiar voice answered on the first ring

“Jeonghan!” you practically wailed. “I’m lost.”

“Lost?” he echoed, sounding more amused than concerned. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, scanning the street for anything remotely familiar. “I think I took a wrong turn somewhere, and then my phone lost signal, and now I have no idea where I am.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Relax. Describe your surroundings.”

You rattled off a description of the nearby buildings and street signs, and Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. “Alright, I think I know where you are. Just stay put, and I’ll send someone to get you.”

“Wait—someone? Who?”

But before he could answer, the line disconnected.

Fifteen minutes later, as you sat on a bench scrolling through your now-working phone, your screen lit up with an incoming call from Seungcheol.

You hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”

“What the hell?” was the first thing out of his mouth, his voice a mix of irritation and concern.

“What?” you asked, confused

“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re lost, right? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I—” You paused, feeling slightly guilty. “I figured you’d be busy with work. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” he repeated incredulously. “You think calling me when you’re lost is a bother?”

“I mean… kind of?” you said hesitantly. “You’re always so busy, and I didn’t want to distract you.”

There was a brief pause, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost hurt. “You’re never a bother, you know that, right?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling small. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything important.”

“You’re important,” he shot back without missing a beat.

Your heart did a funny little flip at his words, but you tried to shake it off. “Jeonghan said he’d send someone to get me,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, and that someone is me,” Seungcheol said, his voice firm. “I’m on my way.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, and then the line went dead.

True to his word, Seungcheol’s car pulled up exactly ten minutes later. He got out and strode toward you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and relief.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for any signs of distress.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said sheepishly. “Sorry for making you come all the way out here.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “Just… next time, call me first, okay? No matter what. I don’t care how busy I am.”

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Okay. I will.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reaching out to flick your forehead gently. “Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his voice. “You scared me.”

You smiled up at him, clutching your phone tightly. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

And with that, he opened the car door for you, muttering something about making sure you had a proper map app installed while you slid into the passenger seat, feeling safer than you’d felt all day.

The car was quiet save for the low hum of the engine as Seungcheol drove. You sat in the passenger seat, sneaking glances at him every now and then. His brows were slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. You could tell he was still annoyed—though more at himself than at you—but the silence was starting to get to you.

“Are you really mad?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper

He didn’t answer right away, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. You shifted in your seat, feeling a small pang of guilt.

“Cheol?” you tried again, a little louder this time

Finally, he glanced at you, just for a second, and that’s when he saw it—the faint pout on your lips, your eyes wide and filled with worry.

Whatever lingering annoyance he felt melted away instantly.

How could he ever stay mad at you?

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

In that fleeting moment, something clicked. He’d always known he cared about you, but this was different.

This was deeper.

The way his chest ached at the thought of you being lost, the way he couldn’t focus on anything else until he knew you were safe—it all made sense now.

He was in deep. Really, truly in deep.

But he kept that realization buried, locking it away for now. Because what if you didn’t feel the same? What if he ruined what you already had?

So instead of saying what was really on his mind, he shook his head and let out a small sigh. “No, I’m not mad,” he said softly, his voice losing all the sharpness from earlier.

“Really?” you asked, your pout disappearing as a hopeful smile crept onto your face.

He glanced at you again, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Really. Just… call me next time, okay? No matter what.”

“Okay,” you said quickly, nodding.

“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. But the corner of his mouth quirked up, betraying his amusement at how eager you were to ease his worries.

And as you settled back into your seat, sipping the banana milk you’d insisted on bringing with you, Seungcheol kept driving, silently grappling with the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger—and you didn’t even know it.

It’s not something you consciously think about, but Seungcheol is the first person you instinctively search for in every situation.

Whether it’s at a gathering, in a crowded room, or even during simple moments like deciding where to sit, your eyes always find him first. And it’s always easy to spot him—because, without fail, he leaves a space open beside him, like he’s silently saving it just for you.

He never says anything about it, but you’ve come to notice how it’s always you in the passenger seat of his car, you who gets the last fry from his plate, and you who he lets get away with things no one else can.

One day, after an especially long week at work, you found yourself riding home with him again. The car was quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

“Cheol,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” he responded, glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the road.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Do you think I’m taking advantage of you being such a good friend?”

He frowned slightly, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “What?”

“I mean…” You trailed off, unsure how to explain yourself. “You do so much for me. I feel like I’m always leaning on you, and maybe—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, pulling the car to a gentle stop at a red light. He turned to look at you, his expression soft but serious. “You’re not taking advantage of me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he reached over, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear in that way that always made your breath catch.

“I wouldn’t do any of it if I didn’t want to,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. Then, with a small smile, he added, “Take advantage of me all you want.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the car had faded away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble.

There was something in the way he said it, something in his gaze that made your chest tighten. Like he wasn’t just saying you could rely on him, but something deeper—something more.

But you didn’t push it, didn’t ask him to elaborate.

Instead, you smiled softly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Cheol.”

He nodded, turning back to the road as the light turned green, but his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, as if he was trying to shake off whatever had just passed between you.

And though neither of you said it out loud, his words lingered in the air between you, unspoken but clear.

Take advantage of me all you want.

It sounded an awful lot like he was saying, I’m yours.

The music was loud, the kind that vibrated through your chest and made regular conversation impossible.

You were at yet another one of Seungkwan’s chaotic gatherings, where everyone was laughing, shouting, and dancing all at once. You were trying to tell Seungcheol something, but no matter how loud you spoke, your voice barely reached him over the noise.

Finally, with a little huff of frustration, you stepped closer to him. So close that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow at you, amused but curious, as if to ask, What’s up?

Without thinking, you stood on your tiptoes, your hand lightly gripping his arm for balance. Leaning in, you brought your lips close to his ear and whispered the words you’d been trying to say.

His reaction was immediate. You felt his hands gently rest on your waist, steadying you like it was second nature. His touch was warm, firm, and grounding in the chaos of the room.

“What?” he asked, turning his head slightly so his lips were near your ear now, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You repeated yourself, barely able to focus with how close the two of you were. You could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint, familiar scent of his cologne.

When you pulled back just enough to look at him, you caught the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he slid one of his hands down from your waist and took your hand in his.

Your breath hitched when his fingers laced with yours, his grip firm but gentle, like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and he gave your hand a little squeeze, as if to silently say, I hear you now.

The moment stretched between you, the noise of the room fading into the background as you stared up at him. His eyes were warm, his smile soft, and for a second, you felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room.

“Better?” he asked, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded, your cheeks warm as you managed a small smile. “Better.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

As the night wore on, you and Seungcheol gravitated toward each other like magnets. Even in the chaos of the party, you never strayed far, and he made no effort to hide how closely he kept you by his side.

At one point, you found yourself standing in front of him, tucked neatly into the protective circle of his arms. His broad frame loomed behind you, shielding your much smaller figure from the crowd. It was a natural thing, the way his arms rested lightly around your waist, his hands occasionally brushing against your sides.

You weren’t sure when you had become so glued to each other, but you didn’t mind. You felt safe there, cocooned in his warmth, the noise of the party fading into the background as you leaned into his steady presence.

Seungcheol leaned down slightly, his chin nearly brushing the top of your head as he murmured, “You okay?”

You turned your head slightly to glance back at him, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, and he gave your waist a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure himself. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I think I’m fine as long as I stay right here,” you replied without thinking, and you felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter behind you.

“Yeah?” he teased, his voice low and warm. “You planning to stick to me all night?”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Maybe.”

His laugh softened, and you felt his arms tighten around you ever so slightly. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost like he hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

From the other side of the room, Seungkwan and Jeonghan stood together, sipping their drinks and watching the scene unfold like it was a live drama.

Jeonghan leaned casually against the wall, a smirk dancing on his lips as his eyes flicked between you and Seungcheol. “You seeing this?” he murmured, just loud enough for Seungkwan to hear over the noise.

“Oh, I’m seeing it,” Seungkwan replied, trying his best to keep a straight face but failing miserably. His grin threatened to split his face in two as he watched Seungcheol pull you closer, his arms tightening protectively around you.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “Should we—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Seungkwan interrupted, though he looked like he was barely holding himself back. “You saw the look he gave us earlier. He’ll kill us if we say anything.”

Just then, Seungcheol’s eyes flicked toward them, sharp and warning. It was a look that screamed, Don’t. You. Dare.

Jeonghan, of course, couldn’t resist a bit of mischief. He raised his glass in a mock toast, tilting his head slightly as if to say, Oh, we’ll see about that.

Seungcheol’s glare darkened, and he subtly mouthed, Don’t.

Seungkwan elbowed Jeonghan, barely stifling his laughter. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Oh, come on,” Jeonghan whispered back, smirking. “It’s too good not to say something. Look at them. She’s practically in his arms, and he’s acting like she’s the only person in the room.”

“I know, but...” Seungkwan hesitated, glancing back at Seungcheol, who had now fully turned his body to shield you from the crowd. “He’s terrifying when it comes to her.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan said, his smirk widening. “Which makes this even more fun.”

Before either of them could act on their instincts, Seungcheol shot them another glare—this one so intense that even Jeonghan momentarily reconsidered his life choices.

Seungkwan cleared his throat, straightening up. “Yeah, nope. Not worth it. I like being alive.”

Jeonghan chuckled, but even he backed off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll let him have his moment. For now.”

But as they watched you and Seungcheol disappear into the night, Jeonghan leaned over to Seungkwan with a glint in his eye. “We’re never letting him live this down, though.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Seungkwan agreed, grinning. “We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.”

And with that, the two of them shared a conspiratorial laugh, already plotting how they’d tease Seungcheol later—if they lived to tell the tale.

The quiet of the car was a stark contrast to the laughter and energy of the night. It was just the two of you now, the hum of the engine and the soft rush of air outside the windows filling the space between your thoughts.

Seungcheol’s eyes were on the road, his focus steady, but there was something different in the air tonight. It felt like the perfect moment to finally ask the question that had been lingering on your mind.

"Cheol?" you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Mhm?" he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of your thoughts making your chest tighten just a little. "We're not just friends, are we?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

You had been wondering for a while now, but it felt like the right time to ask.

Seungcheol didn’t immediately respond. The car continued on its path, the sound of the engine filling the space. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was a quiet, almost amused undertone to it.

"Whatever you want me to be, I'll be that," he said simply, his eyes still on the road, but there was something in his tone that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, processing his words. "What does that mean?" you asked, voice quieter now, trying to decipher his meaning.

"It means," he began, "if you want me to be more than a friend, then that’s what I’ll be. If you want me to be something else, I’ll be that too."

You felt your chest tighten, the air between you both thick with unspoken things.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had shifted, that the line between just friends and something more was now more blurred than ever before.

"Thanks for the ride," you said softly, unable to hold back a small smile.

Seungcheol smiled back, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer. "Anytime,".

The boys had decided it was time for a beach day—a full day of sun, sand, and chaos. Naturally, Seungcheol insisted you join, claiming it wouldn’t be the same without you. So here you were, walking down the sandy shore with a tote bag slung over your shoulder while the boys argued over the best spot to set up.

Jeonghan, of course, found the shadiest area and claimed it before anyone could argue, while Seungkwan bickered about who had to blow up the inflatable. Meanwhile, Seungcheol carried your beach chair and umbrella, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were keeping up.

When everything was set up, you kicked off your sandals and ran toward the water, the cool waves splashing against your feet. The boys stayed back for a while, caught up in their own antics, until Jeonghan called out to Seungcheol.

“Hey, big guy! You’re really just going to let her wander off alone?”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but still got up, his protective instincts kicking in almost immediately. He strolled down the beach after you, arms crossed casually over his chest, his broad shoulders drawing attention from passersby.

You were completely oblivious, laughing as you dipped your toes into the waves. That is, until a couple of guys sidled up to you, grinning and trying to make small talk.

“Hey, you here alone?” one of them asked, his tone far too confident for his own good.

“No,” you replied politely but firmly, already taking a step back.

“Come on, just a little chat—”

“Is there a problem here?”

That voice. Low, firm, and unmistakably Seungcheol’s.

The guys froze, their smiles faltering as they turned to see him standing there. His towering frame, sharp jawline, and intense gaze were enough to make them instantly reconsider their life choices.

“N-no, man, we were just—”

“Leaving,” Seungcheol finished for them, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They didn’t need to be told twice, muttering apologies as they shuffled away.

You turned to Seungcheol, your eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t necessary. I could’ve handled it.”

“I know you could’ve,” he said, his tone softening as he looked at you. “But why should you have to?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “My knight in shining board shorts.”

Seungcheol chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently. “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

The two of you made your way back to the group, where Jeonghan and Seungkwan were snickering.

“Cheol scared off some beach bros, didn’t he?” Jeonghan guessed, smirking.

“Didn’t even have to try,” Seungkwan added. “He just exists, and they run for their lives.”

Seungcheol ignored them, guiding you to your chair and handing you a bottle of water. “Drink up,” he said, his hand brushing against yours briefly.

You didn’t miss the way his touch lingered or the way his gaze softened when he looked at you. And while the boys continued to tease him relentlessly, he just sat back with a satisfied smirk, his protective streak in full swing.

By the end of the day, no one even thought about approaching you again—not when Seungcheol made it very clear, without saying a word, that you weren’t alone.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The beach was quieter now, the once-loud waves now lapping gently at the shore. Seungcheol crouched down in front of you, his back turned as he gestured for you to hop on.

“Come on, before the sun sets,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a small grin.

“Why do I have to be the one on your back?” you teased, but you didn’t hesitate to climb on, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands secured your legs.

“Because I’d crush you if it were the other way around,” he shot back, standing effortlessly with you in tow.

He started walking along the shoreline, the sand soft beneath his feet. You leaned your cheek against his, your fingers lightly tapping against his chest as you spoke.

“Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart?”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s called a raft. Isn’t that cute?”

“Almost as cute as you randomly spitting out facts,” he said with a chuckle, glancing sideways at you.

You ignored him, continuing your stream of trivia. “Oh! And dolphins have names for each other. Like, they have a specific whistle for every dolphin in their pod.”

“Do they have a whistle for their favorite dolphin?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Obviously,” you said, squishing your cheek harder against his. “If I were a dolphin, you’d have a whistle just for me.”

“I already do,” he murmured, his words so soft that you almost didn’t catch them over the sound of the waves.

You paused for a moment, the warm breeze brushing past the two of you. Then, out of nowhere, you whispered, “I love you.”

Seungcheol froze mid-step, his breath hitching just enough for you to notice. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his cheek brushing against yours.

“I was hoping I’d say it first,” he said with a soft laugh, his dimples deepening as he smiled at you.

Your heart swelled at the sight, and you couldn’t help but grin back. “Guess you’re too slow, Cheol.”

“Guess so,” he replied, his voice warm and steady. Then, without putting you down, he turned to face the sunset.

“Say it again,” he said after a moment, his tone teasing but with a hint of something deeper beneath it.

“I love you,” you said, softer this time, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke.

He let out a content sigh, his hands tightening slightly on your legs as if grounding himself in the moment.

“I love you too,” he finally said, his voice carrying all the tenderness he’d been holding back for so long.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you stayed there, clinging to each other, both knowing you had everything you could ever need right in that moment.

[okwonyo]

PARTITION ꣑୧ 이희승

𝖲𝖢𝖤𝖭𝖠𝖱𝒾𝖮 ✴︎ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌.

【 備考 】 academic rival!heeseung & fem!rea 11OO high school au fluff ( ˵ˊᯅˋ˵ ) tension flirting

じや ⠀⦂⠀for hana banana bby @yeokii

reblogs ────── ㅤㅤ��︎ㅤㅤ ︎ㅤㅤ︎ㅤclick

this isn’t how you imagined your day to end. it wasn’t what you imagined when you woke up this morning. this isn’t how you planned your evening nor this definitely wasn’t what you thought would happen.

but, you admit that it is nice. well— from your point of view. spending some time with the boy you spent you entire year competing, fighting to get better grades, is nice. even if it’s because you both got told to clean the classroom as a punishment.

it might see weird. it would be weird, if it wasn’t for the fact that your heart flatter at the mention of his name alone.

being here with him makes you happy.

the sun shining behind the classroom’s windows makes the winter cold weather more bearable. it reflects on the tables in the room, the rays follow a precise trajectory— from the sky to the boy at the opposite of the room. you try to not stare too much, but you admit that you let yourself peek over at him from time to time.

the silence is quite deafening. you and him never talked much about anything that wasn’t school related. even then, you just tell each other who will top the other in the school’s ranks.

it’s during a time where you are not looking that his voice reaches you, making your blood stop in your veins, your heart jumps.

“why did you do that?” heeseung’s eyes don’t leave the floor he is cleaning as he asks. unlike you, he doesn’t stop in his frenetic movements.

your gape at him. saying that you are confused is an understatement, “what?”

this time, heeseung stops. taking a deep breath as he leans the sweep in his hand against the wall. watching him close his eyes and slide his hands in his pockets makes heat rise in your body.

his steps lead him to you when he opens his eyes again. how he presents himself in the decelis uniform distracts you so much, you don’t realize how close he is getting to you.

your eyes are fixated on the red and grey cravat. you wonder how he makes it seem so much more attractive that it looks on anyone else.

“the reason we are here in the first place,” you feel something in your stomach when he speaks again. he has gotten so close, you have to tilt your head up to see him properly.

the memory of what happened a few hours prior makes you look away in embarrassment. you bite your lip nervously as the image of him finding out about that appears in your brain.

still, you decide to feign pure ignorance, “i don’t know what you are talking about.”

you still don’t look at him as he gets closer, making you walk backwards. he doesn’t say anything for a while but you can feel his stare— although your gaze is fixated on the floor beside you.

he calls your name, still stepping closer. you look at the floor then at your other side, carefully avoiding any eye contact, “don’t lie to me, please.”

the way his body language contrasts with how pleading he sounds is utterly attractive.

“i know how smart you are,” he continues, praising you as his body oppresses your own. he corners you between a table and his tall frame as he continues, “so smart. i am sure you wouldn’t do bad on a question as simple as it was.”

your breath catches as he leans forward. he is obviously waiting for an answer but you can’t find enough strength in yourself to come up with one.

heeseung is so close. so much that his hands are on the furniture behind you, each one next to your hips. he is straight up jailing you with his body. you can’t breathe, you can’t escape.

“why did you write an wrong answer on purpose?” he explicit his question, even if he knows you understood it already. what you don’t really comprehend is how he expects you to say anything when he is so close. “c’mon, look at me.”

you take a moment before obliging. his eyes have never been this wide before. so lovely, so demanding. you want to melt.

and before you can stop yourself, your heart speaks for you, “i thought you would like it.”

it is like the world stops as soon as you talk. his eyes grow a tad wider— mirroring his surprise. it is definitely not what he was expecting, you can see it all over his face.

but heeseung is smart, not smarter than you are, but smarter than most. it takes him a few seconds to realize what you truly meant by that.

to be frank, you did think he’d prefer a girl that wasn’t like you. you still think the same, maybe if you weren’t always competing and winning against him, he’d see you for something else than a rival.

that’s the kind of girl he is usually seen with. girls that praise him.

heeseung for sure doesn’t think the same.

he leans back, finally letting you out of the jail he made. you can finally breathe properly, your chest heaves and relax— nervousness finally leaving your body.

it comes back like a boomerang. when you look at heeseung again. he is still close to you, way too close and the way he looks at you isn’t pleading anymore.

he doesn’t seem displeased by what he found out. not at all. he seems to like it a bit too much.

he tilts his head to the side, a grin growing on his face. it annoys a lot, how easy he can make you blush with his antics.

“it is what this is about?” he chuckles, now almost smirking down at you. he gets leans towards you again, his face a few inches away from yours. his breath is on your mouth and it makes you so warm all over. but you can’t look away from this beautiful sight.

“you are smart,” he praises again. butterflies in your stomach, you swear you might be doing heart eyes right now. “much smarter than i am and i find it hot,” you feel the need to lick your lips slightly when his gaze falls on them. “really hot, i don’t need you to make me feel smarter to like you.”

you can’t say anything back. your throat is well too dry to even think of it.

he keeps getting closer, his mouth brushes yours, “you are the only girl who challenges me and,” he is almost there. “i love it.”

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[arabellasleopardcoat]

You have no idea how your reblog made me cry. I had forgotten I had written this fic (It's the second I posted, and you can tell by the quality of it) and you caught me in an especially sensistive day. When I wrote it, the only thing I intended was to tackle consent issues in Westeros with a kind partner, and it was right after I watched the episode where Aemond went looking for Aegon in the brothels. The way my skin crawled! Of course men can suffer it too, and I was glad to see it on screen, but I knew they probably wouldn't do it justice, which prompted me to write this. The butchered treatment they gave it in S2 (One could argue the opposite point too, considering it may as well be him going back to his groomer, yet they didn't tell or show that, did they?) vindicated me.

I have never read the ASOIAF books, and I stopped watching the show after the first season, because it was that triggering to me. The amount of violence towards Dany, Brienne, the casual cruelty of men like Tywin and Joffrey, it was enough to kill me a little.

The start of HOTD wasn't promising either. While it depicts sexual violence in a subtler manner, it is still there. Aemma and the horrible opening scene, Alicent and even Helaena and Aemond at some points have made me cry. I have also cried reading fics from these fandoms (Fem!Jon Snow has so fiercely disgusted me sometimes by the things they do to her I have not stopped thinking of it for days) and I found I didn't have the heart to write violence that aligned so much with what I myself suffered. For some readers it can be interesting or freeing, the same for the writers, and I am not here to judge. But it is not for me. And it will never be. I am aware that my writing might not be for everyone either, it's why you will see my fics always properly tagged, and exageratedly so. It is also why I have left other fandoms, which are centered around violence even more than this one.

I just wanted to write what I needed to read at the time. It is also why I will always hold some degree of empathy for show Aemond, despite knowing he is a war criminal. I am interested to see how his relationship with Alys will develop.

To hear that my fic has touched your heart for its themes, and that you didn't think me silly or something for not portraying him as some sort of insensitive, evil person who is absolutely unfeeling means more than you know.

Anyway, sorry for traumadumping (More like ranting) on you. Thank you for reading and for feeling so touched by my words you decided to let me know.

Death in four moves (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Queen Alicent is starting to notice your lack of pregnancy. You discuss it with your husband, and come out a stronger marriage because of it.

A/N: No one dies in this one, guys. Just quoting Tyrion. For a more detailed warning, click read more and scroll until after the dots.

Warnings: Fluff. Discussions of SA, sex, erotic novels, infertility, miscarriages, and pregnancies (None actually happen in the fic)

Catapult /ˈkatəpʌlt/

noun

a forked stick with an elastic band fastened to the two prongs, used by children for shooting small stones.

In Cyvasse, a catapult can take out a dragon.

“It’s the third month you bleed.” Queen Alicent said, with a hint of disapproval. She had perfected just the right amount of passive aggressiveness when being nosy. Your eye twitched slightly. You understood now the resentment Princess Rhaenyra held for her, with your sheets being examined by the Queen daily, your moon’s blood carefully tracked and advised on when the best moment was to conceive. “When will you make me a grandmother?”

You sipped at your tea, buying yourself a few seconds to answer. You were having tea in Haelena’s chambers, a family meeting, if you will. More like an intervention, truly. Alicent sat next to Aegon, who was in his cups already and seemed uncaring about the discussion.

“Mother, you are already a grandmother.” Aemond pointed at the hostess herself, who was on her hands and knees showing a bug to her children. The twins blabbered to her, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the scene. Seated next to Aemond, you gently squeezed his forearm in silent thanks. His lips barely curved up into a smile. Despite his kindness in helping you out, you knew what the Queen’s response would be. It was like you were actors in a well-rehearsed play, one that had been repeating for the past six weeks.

“Yes, but those are your brother’s children. I want you two to make me a grandmother, too.” The Queen explained, smiling at him. The first month, there had been relative peace. Aemond couldn’t have knocked you up that fast, everyone reasoned. Not while still attending to his duties in the way he did. But when the second month came, and the sheets were stained red once more, Alicent had been disappointed.

Being Aemond’s wife was not an easy task. At the rate it was going, you were starting to think it would have been easier, inheritance disputes aside, to be married to Aegon. It was not that Aemond was unkind. On the contrary, he was most amenable. He cared about you, treating you with respect and even making efforts to be friendly. His mother was the problem.

You see, when the time came for Aemond to be married, Queen Alicent had handpicked you, from all the eligible ladies in the realm. The bride for his favorite children had to be perfect. She had had, I kid you not, a list. The girl Aemond married had to be smart, to be able to match him and converse about the topics that interested him, but not too educated, less she had ideas about her role in society. Devout to the Seven, but not superstitious. Brave, but not brazen. Kind, but not overly so, less she was too familiar with those beneath her. Pretty, but not one of those intimidating beauties or too aware of it. A maiden, pure and sweet, but not innocent. And so on, the list went. You weren’t too sure what she had seen in you, but she had decided you were perfect for him.

Aemond, mother’s boy as he was, had been willing to try. And he was pleasantly surprised with you. Yours wasn’t the most passionate of marriages, but you were good friends. He enjoyed your sense of humor, and you two liked the same books. Marriages were built on less. But there was the issue of consummation. Or well. There was no issue, since it hadn’t happened yet.

Neither of you dared tell Alicent that the first night, when you had come to him in your wedding gown, shaking with fear, he had done you the kindness of sitting on the bed with a goblet of wine and pulling out a deck of cards. You remembered clearly the way he had drawled, so effortlessly self-assured “I was uncertain whether you knew how to play Cyvasse, but guessed this was a safe bet.” You had nearly laughed in relief, sitting next to him and explaining you didn’t know how to play it, but cards you could do.

It had gone like that, for three long months. Aemond came to your chambers once a week, and you two played cards or just sat down talking for the whole night. He had even started teaching you Cyvasse. You didn’t mind it. He was an attractive man, your Prince, but you two had been strangers before the wedding. It was sweet, and you were a practical woman. You had all the perks of marrying a prince, and none of the hardships. If this were what your entire life would be like, you could handle it. And you would have, were it not for your mother-in-law.

A knock on the heavy wooden doors jolted you out of your thoughts. The guards announced the Grand Maester.

“Just on time.” Queen Alicent muttered, and became him over with an imperious hand. The old man stepped closer, holding a jar with some dirt? At least to you, it looked like that. The Queen took it from his hands, and opened it, grabbing your tea cup and stirring it into the drink before you could protest.

“Hare liver, pulverized with salmon. I had the maester prepare it for you, dear girl! You will have it at every meal.” Alicent beamed. Your grip on Aemond’s forearm became deathly. Aegon started laughing, before flinching suddenly. You weren’t able to tell if the one who had kicked him under the table had been your husband or your mother-in-law.

“I truly think there is no…” Aemond started to say, before getting interrupted.

“It is said to aid conception.” The Grand Maester bowed. His tone showed he wanted to be anywhere else but here, trapped between Alicent’s hopeful look, Aegon’s amusement and your indignant glare. His urge to leave was evident, not even flinching at the glare Aemond directed him for interrupting.

“Thank you, my Queen.” You answered, graciously. “Thank you as well, Grand Maester.” The man bowed again and exited the room. You eyed your now ruined tea, and Alicent. Her smile didn’t waver. You could tell she was waiting for you to drink it, and so, you smiled back and brought it to your lips.

It had to be the most foul concoction you had ever tasted. It was fishy and oily and oh so salty. You nearly spat it out, but controlled yourself, digging your nails into Aemond’s arm until he squirmed in pain. Aegon laughed again, before nearly choking in his haste to speak.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” While he laughed, you quickly took his cup and intended to drink his wine to get the taste out of your mouth. He made a grab for the wine, but so did Alicent.

“I read wine could harm conception.” She explained, passing it back to Aegon, who gave you a superior smirk.

“Mother, please. She looks like she is about to throw up.” Aemond pleaded and took the cup again. Aegon protested, but he brought the cup to your lips, urging you to drink from it. “Let her have it.”

“Aemond, I’m trying to help you both.” Alicent huffed. You quickly drank, less she tried grabbing the cup again. “We should do all that the books said. I have been reading on the topic, and I assure you…”

“I read…” Aegon interrupted loudly, giving you a wink. You knew he was about to do something disruptive, and that he would hold it over both yours and Aemond’s head for letting you escape. “Female pleasure is of the utmost importance for the woman to fall pregnant. So tell me, brother. Have you been pleasuring our dear…”

“Aegon!” Alicent yelled, slamming a hand over his mouth. “How can you say such things, with your children in the room? By the Seven, what will your brother’s wife think? That we are a family of…”

Aemond grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room.

“You have to tell her.” You said, as soon as you were outside. He was gently pulling you along towards the gardens. “I’m not drinking anymore of that stuff. And careful, or else I will ask her to give you some too.” It had been the last straw. Your sheets being checked, you could take. Her not so subtle nudges towards laying with your husband on certain days, you could too. But being prohibited wine, and forced to take the concoction with every meal, was not something you were willing to do. Not when it was not an issue of fertility, but of the lack of… Intimate relations between you two.

“I don’t want to disappoint her.” It was said quietly, but it broke your heart. You took his hand and squeezed. One of the things you disliked about your new life was the amount of pressure Aemond was under. He had quickly become your best friend, and you liked to think you were his too. It hurt you, to see how much he pushed himself and how the nerves and worries ate him away. You knew perhaps he didn’t return your feelings, which had been steadily growing since the chaste kiss you had shared in the Sept, and all the sleepless nights spent playing games and talking, but you loved him. And it always hurt, when those you loved were in pain.

“I doubt you will. She loves you. Just because you would rather not be a father yet…” You smiled at him, trying to sound sure of yourself. In truth, you knew the Queen would be disappointed. She so wanted Aemond to be a father. He was her favorite. A baby from him would be a dream come true.

“I do want to be a father.” It was said very quietly, almost a confession. You turned towards him, unable to believe your ears. Aemond was pointedly looking towards a bush of roses, not making eye contact. His posture, normally so perfect, was a bit slouched, as if trying to curl into himself. Ashamed. He was no fool, to not be aware of your feelings, so that meant…

“Oh.” You blinked. It felt like something shattered inside you. It was not children he disliked, but you. A few tears sprang to your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined. You wanted him to be happy, even if not with you. Lowering your eyes, so he didn’t see your heartbroken expression, you answered.“Oh. Well. I’m still a maiden. We could ask the High Septon for an annulment.”

Aemond turned to look at you, bewildered. Then, a scowl took over his face, purple eye narrowing in anger.

“Annulment? Why would I want that? Is that what you want, an annulment?” His voice was starting to raise, slightly. You shushed him, frantically. But he kept going, stepping closer, hands grasping roughly at your shoulders. Aemond forced you to look him in the eyes. “You dislike me that much?”

“No. No. But if you are not attracted to me…” A few tears fell down your cheeks. You hated it. You didn’t want him to think you were manipulating him. It was distasteful, your mother had always said. Crying for a man to stay, it was not behavior befitting of you. “A lady should never beg for any man to stay. Not even a Prince.” She had always said, and you tried to live by it. But she had clearly never met Aemond.

Aemond’s lips pursed in the way they did when he was thinking about something deeply. Was he actually considering your offer? The thought made more tears spring to your eyes. He looked torn. So, this was it, you were going back home. Annulment and ruin. No one would believe you a maiden with Alicent’s efforts, with how often Aemond visited your rooms. Who in their right mind would think two young newlyweds were spending their nights playing cards and board games? It stung, to think you had had one job, and you had failed. Bed your husband. Produce children. Any child, not even a boy. It was meant to be easy. You were a failure.

Before your thoughts could spiral even further, towards becoming a Septa and watching the man you loved marry another, Aemond surprised you. With a shaking hand, he brushed your tears away.

“It’s not that, either. I like you. I might even love you.” Aemond’s eye doesn’t meet yours, and it’s only that what halts your heart from roaring in happiness. You frown, rubbing at your temples. A headache is starting. Why must everything be so difficult? He is saying the words you have longed to hear for weeks, yet… Something is off.

“You can say that you don’t like me. It’s alright.” Perhaps it is dishonesty. Perhaps he is only saying it, so you don’t feel bad. Aemond is considerate like that, never wanting to upset your feelings.

Aemond glares, giving you a stern look, as if daring you to try to explain his own feelings to himself. You shrink slightly.

“No. I like you, truly. It’s just that….” He trails off, and you want to scream out in frustration. Your temper is starting to rise, too.

“What? If you are so attracted to me, you should find it easy to bed me.” You spit out, almost daring him to contradict you.

“Nothing is that simple.” Aemond says, rolling his eye. You feel the urge to shake him, but you don’t. You are a Princess now. A Princess would not shake her Prince husband, no matter how foolish he acts. You breathe in, then out. Your response comes out, tersely.

“Love is a simple thing. It’s us who insist on complicating everything.”

“It is not my love for you, what makes me hesitate. First times can be…” And at that, you almost laugh in relief. So, that is what makes him hesitate? Fear of hurting you?

“Painful? I know, but I trust you.” You grab his hands in yours and look up at him, trying to showcase your sincerity. Your eyes are wide and earnest. But Aemond pulls out of your grasp, frustrated.

“'Tis I, who doesn’t trust you.”

You recoil, immediately pulling back. Your mother had always said you were a kind girl if a bit self-centered. And it was showing. You had never thought yourself the source of his worries, or had you ever thought he could think you're capable of hurting him.

“Aemond…” It comes out in a broken little sob. You knew people said things in fits of anger they didn’t mean, but you could tell he meant this. He didn’t trust you with his body.

Aemond tangles his hands in his hair, messing it up.

“Not like that. Just… You come to me pure, but I’m not. I have laid with a woman before.” It only makes you more confused. You are trying not to make assumptions, but it is a strange thing to say. It’s expected, especially for a man of his station. You wouldn’t have dared demand purity from him, in the way men demanded it from their wives. It was natural, even. Your positions in life were different. No one, not even the Queen herself, chided a man for his lack of chastity.

“Alright. I don’t mind it.” You answer, tentatively. You really hope, this time, you get it right. But the silence that follows is defeating.

Aemond’s hands ball into fists by his side. He loosens them, before balling them again. He is trying to hide their trembling from you, you realize. A pit forms in your stomach, knowing that whatever he is about to tell you, it’s bad. Something so terrible it might be better to not even speak it aloud. You have seen this man get into fights with his nephews, spitting out the worst slurs. You have seen him defeated by Ser Criston, beaten up, bruised badly. You have seen him hurt by his father's lack of care, cast aside in favor of others. But never once, never once, shaking in the way he is now. It terrifies you.

You don’t dare touch him, or comfort him in any way, when he is trying to calm down so hard. His breath is shallow, posture hunched, as if trying to fight the instinct to flight.

“It was not a good experience. I… I fear it would be like that, between us, and taint our marriage.” Aemond says, very quietly. His eye looks watery, his mouth set into a grim line. As if about to cry. You can tell, that whatever happened, it was much worse than what he says.

“Oh.” It’s all you can say. It had not crossed your mind, that it wasn’t you what repelled him, but the act itself. You long to hug him, but can tell touch is not what he wants, right now. You remember then, all the times he evaded touches from others, so skillfully. The ducking of an arm when Aegon tries to hug him, turning it into play fighting and roughhousing. How he never initiates affection with the Queen or Haelena. How he has never touched you, apart from a pat on the arm or holding your hand. Or how his palms get so sweaty when he has to do it. How he has not kissed you since your wedding. Perhaps, even the fact that he is always dressed in clothes that cover him completely.

Never having thought about it before, his quirks start to make sense in a way you don’t want them to. It hurts, to think of him being hurt in such a way. It is not something you had thought could happen to a man, but it makes too much sense to ignore. Whatever cloud appears in your eyes, it’s too much for Aemond to handle.

“Oh.” He mocks you, chucking your chin. It’s a gesture meant to put your mind at ease, show you that this is not an unsavable obstacle. You are thankful to him for it, even if it comes at the cost of being the butt of the joke that’s not even funny, much less with the topic you are discussing. But you can pretend for him. You smile, softly.

“Do you wish to speak about it?”

“Perhaps some other day."

Dragon /ˈdraɡ(ə)n/

noun

a mythical monster resembling a giant reptile, sometimes shown as having wings. In European tradition, the dragon is typically fire-breathing and tends to symbolize chaos or evil, whereas in East Asia it is usually a beneficent symbol of fertility, associated with water and the heavens.

In Cyvasse, a dragon can remove elephants from the board.

Aemond pulls down the screen dividing the board. He gives you a smug little look, laying down on the bed only in his sleep shirt. You try hard not to stare, focusing instead on the pieces on the board.

Your catapults are gone, and only your elephants remain. He has captured your King with a Dragon. It’s an odd move. You either are not remembering right or he is cheating.

“That’s cheating! You said the dragon could only move…” You start to complain, frowning at him.

“Diagonally, which is right.” He answers very calmly, looking at you in expectation. You examine the board from all angles, noting that he is right, and he has not cheated. Unless playing with a greatly disadvantaged player is cheating because in that case, Aemond most definitely is.

You take a deep breath and lay down next to him, forgetting the board. Oh, you can feel his pride at having bested you, even without looking at him. And of course, he keeps shifting on the bed, jostling you, lest you forget what you have to do. It’s the customary price, after all. A way to encourage to actually pay attention to his instructions about how the game is played, but also a way for a young couple to start getting to know each other. Your cheeks heat up immediately, when you decide what you will say. You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly and mumble so low, it can barely be heard over the crackling fire that lights up the room.

“Fine. As a young girl, I used to steal my father’s dagger and make other children knights with it. I loved playing Queen.”

Aemond laughs, a deep, sincere laugh. His eye crinkles at the corner, a pair of tiny dimples making themselves known. You like how true laughter lights up his face, you decide. It’s cute, but not something that often happens.

“That must have been adorable, wife.” Aemond smiles at you, boyishly. He is about to tease you, you know it. Your heart melts just a little more. “I apologize for being but a lowly Prince.” You start to laugh, but the laughter dies in your throat with his next words. “Perhaps I can indulge you.”

You rush to correct the treasonous words, scared. Aemond is an ambitious man, you have known that from the start. Just as ambitious as he is dutiful, your husband. But you can’t help but wonder if in this case, ambition outweighs the duty he feels towards his family. You don’t know him enough to make a judgment yet. So very gently, with your pulse ringing loud in your ears, you speak.

“I like Aegon. No matter if he is a drunk fool, sometimes. And your father is pretty boring, but alright. And Princess Rhaenyra." You don't say anything positive about her, not when you had learned through this same technique she had demanded Aemond was punished after losing his eye. If you had a chance, you would strangle her. But only a little. Otherwise, it would be treason, and it would be setting the wrong example. Queen Alicent always told you it was best to lead with your actions, and not only your words.

Aemond smiles, pushing your shoulder lightly.

"Not like that.” He complains, but gives you a long look regardless. You know he has noticed your slip, referring to Rhaenyra as an afterthought and only after Aegon. He knows now, without you having told him, what your thoughts on succession are. He is perceptive like that. “I was thinking more along the lines of crowning you my Queen of Love and Beauty.”

“You never compete in tourneys, husband.”

“For you, I would. If you wished to be Queen, for you, I would.” And it feels like Aemond is promising something else, something more than just being the one to get a crown of pretty flowers. It scares you a little, to be the focus of such devotion. Such honeyed words, too, which you know are unusual for him. The urge to kiss him is strong, but his confession, a few days backs, still weighs heavily between you too. He has definitely noticed you are more careful with your touches now. Still playful, but giving ample time to pull away. Yet, you can’t leave him hanging either. Not when Aemond is trying so hard for you two to work.

“I would, too. You would look handsome, with a flower’s crown.” And thinking yourself so sly, you slide your hand underneath his, laughing. Aemond laughs too, and pulls you towards him, trying to get you to put your head on his chest. You do so eagerly, listening to his heartbeat. At first, it is rushed, and he remains stiff, despite being the one to initiate the embrace. But slowly, Aemond relaxes and starts carding a hand through your hair. You think it feels much like what heaven must feel like.

The motion lulls you to that state between sleep and consciousness, where your head feels fuzzy and full of cotton, and your movements are sluggish. It feels like a dream, the way the shadows dance on the wall, and how his heart pounds steadily under you. You wish you could sink into him, fuse the two of you, as the Maesters of old said soulmates were. Nestle close to his heart, curl around it with greedy little hands, protect him from the world. Your eyelids drop, despite your fight to stay awake. Aemond smiles down at you, amused, and runs his hand over the slope of your nose, tracing the contours of your face. You scrunch your face at him, about to scold him for disturbing you, when he speaks. At first, it doesn’t make sense to you. And then, you realize.

“I was thirteen. Aegon took me to a brothel. I…” It feels like being stabbed, over and over again, tiny sparks of pain in your chest. In your mind’s eye, you can see him. A slightly younger version of Daeron, perhaps with longer hair. A big, purple eye, the other side of his face freshly scarred. Tiny. Terrified. And that you know because you know his growth spurt didn’t hit until he was fifteen, courtesy of your cyvasse games. You also know he was painfully shy and quiet, the product of a childhood filled with mockery and neglect. That, too, he had shared, after a game you knew Aemond had lost deliberately, feeling you were losing more embarrassing stories than he was sharing. Still, you hadn’t minded.

It hurts to think of your awfully kind husband being taken against his will. You doubt, had you been him, you could have survived it. Being violated so… It aches so bad, tears start filling your eyes. But you do not speak, less you break the spell and Aemond clams back up.

“I… I didn't want you to think I was weak. You are one of the loveliest things I have had, in a long time.” He says, voice breaking slightly. You shift in his grip, and look him right in the eye.

“You are not weak.” You enunciate, clearly and slowly. And you hope your sincerity shines through your eyes because you do believe it. Unable to speak a word, silenced as he was by shame, you think you would have broken much earlier. That Aemond stands, whole, before you and speaks the words aloud after so much time, says leagues about his character.

“I was meant to come out of it a man. It went…wrong.” He tries explaining, but you shake your head.

“You were not in the wrong.” You make a mental note to try to strangle Aegon later. You had known he was a… Interesting character, to say it kindly. But this… This took the cake on reckless, thoughtless behavior. He was at least three years older than Aemond, yet he had not half the sense his brother posses. Perhaps, your husband is better suited to be king. After living three months with the Targaryens, you were starting to doubt their closeness to gods. You stomp down your personal grievances, knowing Aemond needs love, not rage.

“May I hug you?” You ask, softly. Aemond laughs, a little watery, and pulls you on top of him. He hides his face in your hair, sobbing softly. You fantasize of killing half the whores of Flea Bottom, Aegon, Viserys and perhaps Alicent, too. You fall asleep like that, limbs entangled with each other and forgoing your ritual of messing up the room and your appearances. Despite it, the next morning, the maids who find you are more convinced than ever before of your closeness.

Elephant /ˈɛlɪf(ə)nt/

noun

a very large plant-eating mammal with a prehensile trunk, long curved ivory tusks, and large ears, native to Africa and southern Asia. It is the largest living land animal.

In Cyvasse, each player has multiple elephants.

It takes you a few sleepless nights to try to find a solution to your problem. Despite being praised often for how learned and bright you were, you couldn’t find an answer to your questions. You see, you have always been a planner. You tackled your concerns by doing research about them and then coming up with an action plan. But there was no research to be done here. You had to work with the facts.

You knew Aemond was not willing to confess to his mother. Nor were you about to betray his trust. But she would keep pressuring, for you to fall pregnant. You could buy time, faking an illness or perhaps even a pregnancy followed with a miscarriage. Yet, you had been chosen not only as Aemond’s companion, but to bring the next generation of Targaryens to the world. And both of you wanted children. He was too proud for letting you get pregnant and pass the baby as his own. Not with the situation with his nephews.

So. You were back to square one. You had to find a way for both of you to have children, and not traumatize Aemond about it. And get Alicent off your back. Research. You could do research about how a lady ended up with a child.

You poured long hours over medicine treaties and concluded this: It was not his member that had to go inside you, but his seed. It would also be useful if you broke your maidenhead in some way, less you ended up trying to give birth still a virgin. So, in theory, Aemond didn’t need to enter you. Just collect his seed, and perhaps you could pour it inside you with a jar or something. Still, you put that thought on the back burner, as a plan b. Oftentimes, the best solution was not the most complex one, and so, you had to at least try to perform intimacy with you. But you didn’t want him to suffer, and so, you decided to approach one of your maids about it.

“Dyana.” You said, as the girls were unlacing your gown and unpinning your hair for bed. “Stay.”

It was low, what you were about to do. But you knew of none else who had gone through something similar. Dyana had been appointed as your maid after having the unwelcome attentions of Aegon on her. There was nothing that could be done, not when the King was so ill, Alicent had told you. She wouldn’t subject him to having to pass judgment on his own son, not in his state. And besides, there had been no harm done, with the girl not falling pregnant. At the time, you hadn’t questioned it. Now, it made you sick to think your brother-in-law, who was always supportive of you in front of his mother, could have hurt her in such a way.

Dyana stayed behind, brushing your hair in front of the vanity. The other maids scurried out in a flock of dresses and chatter. You met her eyes through the mirror, in low candlelight. She was the Targaryen kind of pretty, with hair so blonde it almost looked like theirs. Perhaps that had attracted Aegon.

“I understand you were forcefully subjected to Prince Aegon’s… Advances.” You said, once you were alone. Dyana was very tense, obviously reminding the last time she had been alone with a member of the royal family. You decided to spare her the anxiety over what you wanted, if any, to make this shameful act you were committing a bit less traumatizing. “I have questions about it, from woman to woman.”

The brush clattered to the floor. Dyana’s eyes turned from anxious to terrified. She was frozen, unable to bend down and pick it up. You turned in your stool, to reassure her.

“I'm not going to punish you. I don’t want to know about the act, or reprimand you or blame you.”

Dyana bent down to pick up the brush. Her shoulders remained tense.

“I only want to ask a question. And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to… But if you do, I will reward you handsomely.” You tried putting her at ease, using a soft voice. Much like with Aemond, you stuck to not sudden moves and no touching. To show her that you were serious, you pulled a handful of gold dragons, letting them clatter on your vanity’s table, next to the bottles of expensive lotions and perfumes Aemond had bought you. “But my husband can never know. No one can ever know.”

Dyana raised her head at the sound. She looked at the gold, and stood, anxiously wringing her hands together.

“Milady… That’s a lot of gold for a question.” Dayna’s eyes were fixed on the ground.

“It’s an important question. It requires utmost secrecy.” You answered, handing her half. “For keeping this conversation private, even if you would rather not answer me.”

Dyana took the gold, quickly hiding it inside her pocket. She seemed to fear you were playing a joke on her and would take the gold away at any time. You didn’t blame her, with how badly she had been treated so far. Keeping her waiting would be even more cruel than what you had already done, and so, you asked.

“How do you trust again, after it?” It was a clumsily worded questions, asked in a rush and in a single breath. It came out more like “Howdoyoutrustagain, after… It.” Not the most dignified wording, either. You were supposed to be eloquent, smart. Yet, you were floundering as an overzealous child.

“I…” She had clearly understood, by the look on her face, but didn’t know what to say. How to approach it. Dayna stepped closer, scrutinizing your face. Searching. But for what?

“How can you lay with a man again?” You repeated, trying to sound a bit more self-assured and narrowing down your line of questioning. You knew she was currently in a relationship with a stable boy. He always picked her up on the nights you and Aemond were supposed to bed each other.

Dayna looked at you, expression doing a full one eighty. Her eyes stopped being frightened and turned sad. One of her hands went again to brush your hair, almost in comfort.

“It is not the same man. And. Um. Never in the same way, my lady. He asks. All the time. And not like…” She trailed off, concerned. You didn’t notice, too busy committing her advice to memory. “My lady, you should really speak to the Queen….”

At those words, your head jerked up. Why did she bring up Alicent? Did she really think you could ask her about intimate relationships? Unless… She thought Aemond was… Oh, by the Seven, that was even worse.

“Aemond is not mistreating me. But my cousin’s husband is. I just don’t know what to tell her, having been so lucky.” You lied, trying to sound as convincing as you could. But you knew she wasn’t believing a word out of your mouth.

“Can they mend things?” Dyana asked, and it was obvious she didn’t buy that you were asking for a friend.

“From what I gather.” You answered, tersely. Of that, you were certain. Aemond liked you enough to at least try. You would consult him first, making sure he was not uncomfortable with the idea, but you knew he felt the grains of sand on both your clocks draining, as you did. Time was something you didn’t have. But Dyana didn’t know any of that. She was asking you, even if covertly, if you thought your husband could not be a brute. It showed, in the way her eyes filled with pity.

“Tell her to ask him to be soft. And… Not that, right away.” Dyana blushed, lowering her eyes in embarrassment. You gave her a puzzled glance, confused. If not intimacy, right away, what did she mean? Kissing? “Go slow, do something else….”

“Like?” You tilted your head to the side, hoping for a clarification.

“Mouth. Fingers.” The girl looked like she was about to hide under the table from embarrassment. And truly, it was a bit strange. An unmarried maid teaching a lady about intimacy.

“Oh.” You frowned. Dayna squeezed your shoulder, with very soft hands. “Thank you.”

King /kɪŋ/

noun

the male ruler of an independent state, especially one who inherits the position by right of birth.

In Cyvasse, the goal is to kill the King.

Your research had led you to A Caution For Young Girls. A popular novel between the common folk and that had costed you great effort to acquire. The plan had included a horse, a chicken, Aegon, and a copy of the Seven Pointed Star you had had to defile. You prayed that the Seven forgave you, both for reading such dirty tales and for destroying a copy of their sacred book to hide the book you were really reading. That day, even Queen Alicent had mistaken your newfound devotion for the Seven for a lady praying for a child and had pointed to you as an example for Aegon. In truth, you had been on your knees before the effigy of the Mother begging for forgiveness, and not a child.

It had been for a better cause, you told yourself. If truly were the gods who gave the Targaryens their right to rule, it meant they were favored among the rest of the men. Surely, finding a way to procure a child to one of the most pious, gentle Princes the realm had to offer justified your actions. Surely, Aemond’s devotion made up for your sins, or at least, the seven prayers you had recited under each of their effigies did. Surely, right?

Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing something bad. Literature is meant to open the mind. That’s why yours and Aemond’s studies had been encouraged from a young age. And the novel had certainly opened your mind to new ways of being intimate. You had no clue there were so many ways one could use their mouth, fingers, and openings. And if you had felt aroused by reading it… Literature was meant to be enjoyed, too.

So, the next time you and Aemond were alone, you said there was something you needed to talk to him about. You brought out your notes, and took the Cyvasse board away from the table, placing your research there instead. Aemond’s eyebrows raised at seeing you pull out such an amount of parchment, yet he said nothing.

“You want to be a father. I want to be a mother. We are married. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I have researched for two possible ways of achieving it. Watch…” You pulled out a diagram, crudely drawn. You grabbed a stick, much like the one your Septa used to teach you when you were a child, and were about to start explaining, when Aemond interrupted.

“Is that supposed to be…” Aemond had the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “A… Um… Is that…?”

“Yes, now shut up. I’m trying to explain my plan.” You answered, not even the slightest bit ashamed. Couldn’t he see you were explaining your research? “You see, we don’t actually need to have any kind of sexual contact for me to fall pregnant. We just need to insert your seed…” It was said in a very clinical manner, but Aemond interrupted, again.

“Wife, I know how conception works.” Now he was fully blushing, and you frowned. It was not your intention to make him uncomfortable, so you decided to go straight to the point.

“Alright, so we will skip that part. Fine. We have two options. You either pleasure yourself and spill in a jar, or we build up to intimacy. I researched the way to make that the least traumatizing for you as possible, too.”

Aemond looked at you, for one long second. The silence stretched, and you worried this was going to end up with losing him in the most painful way you could imagine. Your blooming relationship, dead by your tactless hand. Aemond stared some more, his eye narrowed. Then, he burst out laughing. You felt so embarrassed you hoped the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

The both of you stayed like that. Aemond laughing so hard tears sprang from his eyes, and you, diagram still in hand, with what Aemond would later swear was the cutest pout he had ever seen.

“This has to be both the sweetest and strangest thing someone has ever done for me.” He finally said, drying his tears.

“You are not mad? Or hurt?” You asked, eyeing him a bit suspiciously, but with a smile of your own.

“Come here.” Aemond widened his stance, and you stepped closer, giving in to his unspoken request for you to stand between his parted legs. With a touch so light, it might not even be there, Aemond tilted your head down and kissed you. You felt as if the world stopped, for a minute. The kiss was clumsy, with him sitting and you standing but you could swear it was the kind of kiss the poets wrote about. You let him lead you, reminding Dyana’s advice, and you could feel the way he smiled against your mouth for it.

“I made my decision.” Aemond said, as you pulled away to take some well-needed breaths of air. Your mind felt like mush, with how dizzying the kiss had been. You had not a single clue what he was talking about.

“Huh?”

“We will try to have the children the normal way. I can learn to trust you enough for it.” And it felt like your heart was singing, with how happy you were. You smiled brightly at him. It was an honor that he was willing to trust you that much, that he was willing to try. You knew, were you him, you would have hesitated more. Aemond was a brave man, you had to give it to him.

You wanted to kiss him silly. But you had promised yourself to keep things at his pace, were he to choose this path. And so, you asked.

“Hug?”

Aemond laughed, and pulled you closer, burying his face on your chest. You hugged back, holding him.

“So, what did your research say? About building up intimacy?” Aemond shifted, looking up at you, purple eye shining with mirth. You spluttered, slapping his shoulder. He laughed again. “You know, in all seriousness… The Seven have given me a strange woman. But I wouldn’t change you for anything.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

Detailed warning: Aemond confesses to the reader that the reason they haven’t had sex yet is not a lack of desire but a bit of fear, and describes what happened to him when he was thirteen. The reader does her research and presents it to him, crudely, but he is touched by her gesture.

As a fellow SA survivor, I hope I have managed to portray the struggle to trust a partner again in a manner that is both tasteful and fluffy, with an adequate dose of humor and awkwardness. Writing Honesty raised a few thoughts on the matter of consent in Westeros. I never got to finish GOT because of the same issue. My heart ached for Aemond during the brothel scene, and I wondered about it a lot. I have yet to see it portrayed in any fanfiction. I apologize in advance if it made anyone uncomfortable.

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader and how they life in manor started

Author's note 1: This part is huge, and it was a huge struggle for me to write (and rewrite), so I apologize if it feels crumpled T^T and there will be other author's notes

Warnings: long read, grammar mistakes (English is not my first language), mental issues, abuse

Bruce knew that eventually you will leave the madbay, you were there long enough to heal, but he had no idea how to bring you to the manor and he can't predict your reaction, seeing your reaction of everything in medbay, your confusion and fear that you showed looking at the simplest things. But other things concerned him even more.

Firstly, he knew that taking you to manor would include revealing of his identity to you, and identities of rest of the family. Secondly, the family.... he was worried about how they would react on you being there. So far, non of the kids interacted with you, and only Dick visited you while you were in the medbay, but he never saw you awake, thanks for the side effects of medicine that made you incredibly sleepy. And thirdly, you were a child of a villain, who knows what you are capable of? So what if you seemed harmless in the madbay? Plus, Bruce knew Tim and Jay expected only bad for you and Damians opinion of you was as bad if not worse somehow. Bruce knows it's going to be tough and he is not sure he can deal with it

Today was the day he would let you see his face and lead you up to the mansion. So, why did the world greatest detective was feeling icky? Was he afraid of you? No, you are just a kid, yes Joker's kid, but still a kid. Was he afraid your potential reaction? Not really, but he was troubled that he could predict it.

Maybe you didn't really show emotions, which was concerning, but also was made him feel more at ease, since you didn't show any signs of acting like your father.

You were sitting at your bed in medaby staring at your blurred reflection in the mirror. You couldn't clearly see yourself, but you were sure you looked a bit different and the clothes you were wearing now, simple t-shirt and pants, were much more comy and much more suited for a child, unlike that horrible suit.

- Hey, little one, how are you feeling? - he asked with strained gentleness

- I'm okay - you answered simply

- Since you are mostly recovered you will have to leave the medbay - he started saying. You were expecting something like that to happend, because why would he let you stick around? He alredy done much for you. As you were staying in the medbay you remember that Batman had a rule - a rule of not killing. Maybe that's why he helped you and healed you up, he probably just didn't want to let you die. You knew your father wouldn't really care of something happened to you, and he wouldn't even avange you, because why would he? You are just a pawn and he has bigger cards to cards to care about.

- So you will bring me back? -you asked, simply, which shoked Batman. You just now simply and dully asked him if he will bring you back to the crime alley ? How? Why? He felt his heart stinging at your emotionless reaction.

- No, I want to give you your new home

- New home? - you asked, confused. What did he meant by that?

- Yes. You will live with me, Alfred, and my sons. - he said calmly, looking at you, studying your reaction, he moved his hands closer to his mask. - that means you will know who I'm, and who are my allies are, which brings me to the point, before we could go to your new home, you must learn few rules, you understand right? - you only nodded in response. You were really confused. Why he wants you to live with you? Why is he okay with it? What was his reasoning?

The rules included: do not reveal our dentities to anyone, no wepons, no sharp object, no violence, no disobedience, mandatory emotional check-ins, mandatory seek of help when you need it, respect of boundaries and few other. You listened carefully when he explained every rule, trying to remember every detail, but you couldn't really understand that all. And you didn't really understood what will happened if you break the rule, but you didn't wanted to take chances.

After he explained the rules and you nodded to confirm you got the idea, he finally took his mask, and his face seemed to be familiar, and after few sections of thinking you said

- Oh, you are a man from newspapers - you remember seeing his face on some of the newspapers you used as blankets back in the crime alley.

- So I guess you know me? And you know my name - he asked, a bit confused by your reaction and use of wording

- uh.. I saw you, I don't really who you are - and it was true, you may saw him on newspapers, but you didn't really read them, there was too much words you didn't understand

- My name is Bruce Wayne, you can just call me Bruce. And since I introduced myself, it's time for you to introduce yourself too - he gave you a slight, gentle smile, encouraging you to speak up

- my name is (your name)

- Follow me, (your name)

So now you were following Bat...uh Bruce into various corridors of ... giant house? Castle? You didn't really know, but it was. You looked around, trying to take in at least some of the surroundings, but it was too much for you to remember. All you could say, the place was really luxurious... really like a castle, like one you saw in story book you manage to found one day.

Finally you arrived at the corridors there you assumed lived residents of the place. If you understood correctly while listening to Bruce, here manor two of his sons lived permanent: Tim and Damian, and two others, Richard and Jason, occasionally payed a visit. As you looked around corridor, you suddenly heard unfamiliar voice

- Father, you really decided to let them live here? - that voice sounded annoyed and angry

- Damian, we've talked about it - answered Bruce. You looked to father and son, who started conversation, taking in the appearance of short boy with spiky hair, and bright green eyes. So this is Damian.... as you looked at him, you noticed that his angry gaze never leaving you. His cold anger mixed with with annoyance made you visibly flinched.

- and I still stand my words, they are dangerous - young boy said, walking past his father, stopping in front of you - I was raised by assassins, don't think I won't see through your games - he said closing walking in his room and closing his door. You looked at him go, you expected this kind of greeting.

- Damian can be a little hostile at first- Bruce tried to soften up the atmosphere Damian created

- oh, it's fine, I understand -you answered calmly.

- so, most of those rooms are free so, feel free to chose one.

You walked through the corridor, checking if the room was taken or not, and you stopped at the far away room in the end for the corridor. Knowing that you would probably annoy others with your existence in the manor, you decided to choose exactly this room. You understood that your life here depended on how Batman, or how he told to call him Bruce, and his sons, and if you wanted to live peacefully you needed to try hard and not make him angry.

Bruce wanted to encourage you to take a room closer to others, but decided not to, so he would not discourage you

As you and and him walked in, you couldnt stop looking around. You would be living here now, and it felt like a dream.

- if you need anything call Alfred, and if you need me, just say so to him. - said Bruce as he left you to settle down. You looked around, taking in a surroundings by a bit empty previous guest room that just became yours. You sat down on the bed, feeling it's softness. You were still a confused, you felt fear as always, but also there was something else in the mix of your feelings, something much more lighter.

--------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ -----------------------

In the morning you was woken up by the rays of sun. You didn't figured out how to close the curtains. Previously you didn't feel like going to dinner, so Alfred brought you sandwiches in your room so you at least could have a bite.

You looked out if the window, seeing beautiful geen garden. The sight was new to you, who grew up in the surroundings of dirty bricks and broken concrete. You watched sky, which looked more clear than in crime alley, clouds, birds, trees. It felt surreal, and it made this light feeling in your chest become stronger.

Alfred knocked soon after, he reminded you to wash your face and brush your teeth (something old butler had to explain you how to do) and said that he would lead you to the dining room.

Damian was already there, he tensed up once he saw you. You sat far away from him, sinking in your chair under his gaze.

Soon after you heard yawning coming form the way you've just walked in.

-Morning, Dams, morning Alfred - you heard the sleepy voice say - B left already?

- yes, master Tim - said the old butler putting coffee on place on the table near Damian's one.

- Drake - Damian said through teeth

- oh, look someon in a bad mood since morning, how - the boy sat down, suddenly stopping when he noticed you. He looked at you, not a word leaving him as he quietly staredat you for a few seconds with unreadable expression. Not knowing you decided at least to try to make the situation more strange

- hello? - you mumbled. And he just nodded. His gaze lingered a bit longer on your hair, before he looked away, looking visible uncomfortable. Alfred served the food soon after. It was one of the most tasty things you've ever ate, even if you could feel tension in the air that could be cut with the knife.

After Alfred was lead you back to your room and Bruce made a quick check up on you few hours latter you were left alone. You didn't really had anything to do: the books that were in the room were a bit difficult for you, and you didn't really had an idea what to do with crayons, because all the paintings that came in your mind were ones that were present on your father's "show scene". As you were loking at the window, you heard a sudden knock on your room's door. You turned around, awaiting too see an old butler, but was greeted with the sight of tall young man with wavy black hair, blue eyes, and slightly akward but nonetheless friendly simile.

- Hey, little one - he greeted - what are you up to.

- Hello - you mumbled rather shyly, looking at the window, when back at him.

- Oh, good-old window watching huh - you nodded, soon after adding

- You are?

- Right, I'm Dick, and what's your name?

- (your name)

- Nice to meat you. So, how are you here so far - he tried to striked up the conversation, before you heard familiar annoyed voice of Damian

- Grayson, I require your presence, now!

- Dami, just a minute - he answered

- now! - Damian repeated

Richard gave you an apologetic look - sorry, gotta go, but I would like to hang around you next time, if you Don't mind.

-I do not mind - you mumbled as you watched him left. The way he talked to you was unusual for you. It reminded the way how Bruce or Alfred talked with you, but it was warmer. It made that light feeling in your chest stronger for a bit, until it was taken away. It was strange to be talked with like that, but it was nice. Suddenly, you couldn't help but wish but to be talked with like that more.

--------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ -----------------------

As day went by, you started slowly getting used to the life in here and rutine. You mostly spend your time around Alfred, following him as if you were a little ducking. He helped you around, explained how to do one or other things, helped you to find books you could read through, also old butler introduced to tw, but you quickly found out that cartoons were a bit much to you, so insted you settled on nature documentaries.

So here you were in the living room watching about life of animals in tropical jungle, when you heard heavy footsteps behind door, after that you hears how doors were heavily pushed open, you turned around, and saw tall and built tall and muscular guy, with short black hair with few white strands on them and book in his hands. Judging by his looks and what Alfeed told you so far you guessed it was Jason. Though, he seemed somehow familiar to you, yet you couldn't understand why...

- hello - you mumbled, looking at him.

He instantly frowned, you could see the same expression of anger on his face, the one you noticed on Damian constantly.

- what, old man really had his sanity kicked out? - he grumbled.

You were unsure of how to react, what to do. On one hand you could clearly see that Jason was mad at you the same way Damin were, so the plan was ether to hide in your room, or to stay quiet. On the other hand, even if you really didn't understand how to interact with others, in a short time you've been in the manor Alfred told you some basics of social interactions and politeness, one of which was to iniciate conversions, which made you want to give it a go.

- I just found out that some animals pretend to be dead so they wouldn't become a prey - you mumbled quietly, you really just learned that fact so you decided to share it. But it.your words seemed to make Jason even more mad.

- tsk, I see you, little psycho, are not so different from your crazy Dad - he spat out angrily, leaving you feeling down. You weren't like your dad, were you?

- I uh - you struggled to say, but you couldn't form your thought. What to answer to that? You weren't sure.

- don't even try, I don't like clowns -he spat out. Before you could say anything or he could continue saying things that left you sad, Alfred walked in.

- Master Jason, master Bruce awaits you in a batcave

- thanks - he said as he walked out, leaning you alone with your confusion and sadness, or so it was until you heard Alfred's cautious voice

- Master (your name)? Are you feeling alright? You seem to be a in your thoughts.

- I'm okay - you answered immediately, not wanting to worry old butler

- I see. - he answered, a bit thoughtfully, before speaking again - would you like to have some tea with cookies? - you nodded eagerly, remembering their sweet taste -when follow me to the kitchen

While you were enjoying tea with cookies, and looking how Alfred was busy preparing lunch, cutting greens with cooking scissors and chopping vegetables. He done this all fast and gracefully, leaving you amazed by his skills. In the middle of him cutting yet another green leaf, Alfeed was asked to go down to the cave by Jason, who walked away immediately after. Old butler put scissors near the edge of counter, and asked you if you knew how to get back to your room, before leaving. You just finished eating last cookie, when you heard metallic ring of fallen scissors. You walked to pick them up, but seeing your blurred reflection in them gave you an idea difference of original idea. Now you were on the way in your room.

Honestly speaking, you understood why your father was hated in this house, and you could understand why they hated you too, Joker is your dad after all, but you didn't like him to. In fact, he only brought you suffering. And you knew there wasn't a way to undone it,

But there is one thing you could do.

You walked in your room, I'm your bathroom, and in mirror you saw that one thing that reminded you of your father's the most. Your damaged green hair. Although while you were staying here, your hair grew longer and you could see your original color of hair, but green was still there and you hated longer green parts of your hair, his parts of your hair. Damian, Jason and Tim probably hated them too.

Chop.

You started cutting the green parts, leaving only strands of YOUR hair. It took awhile, it was hard. But few minutes after you were without them, and with fluffy uneven mess of a haircut on your head.

Putting all your green hair in a trash, you hurried back to kitchen. To your surprise, Alfred wasn't there yet. You put scissors in the sink, and returned to your tea, happy thay now you didn't had reminder of your dad on your head.

------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ -----------------------

After your sudden haircut, scolding, and another, but more professional haircut latter, Alfred decided to keep an eye on you. He had to admit that your desire to show difference form your dad finally made him warm up to you. But he was even more surprised when you said that you wanted to help him with tasks around the house and managing requests of boys and Bruce. Bruce found it a welcome change, but not all boys agreed with him

Which leads you to the present moment, you were cautiously carrying tray with coffee and snacks for Tim, since he skipped lunch yet again making Alfred worried yet again, when you were walking past Damian.To avoid him, you took a little to the other side, almost kicking off some sort of sculpture, which he caught, stopping in front of you, glaring at you

- Tt... use your eyes when you are going anywhere, pay attention - he grunted.

- I'm sorry - you said calmly, - cool move by the way - you said in attempt to soften the move

- I wasn't asking for your opinion. - he said, glaring at you one more time and saying - One false move and you'll find yourself dismantled faster than these figurines could hit the ground. Touch anything else in Father's collection, and you'll be practice dummy for my katana.

You tried not to flinch at Damian words, but did so anyways. It took you few minutes to calm down and continue your way towards Tim's room. You prepared to knock, but door was slightly agape.

- Tim? - you called, imitating Alfreds tone of voice. You saw how his hand gestured you to come in, so you did. You placed tray with coffee and snacks on his table. He glanced at you only for a second, before his eyes returned to the screen of his laptop, in that moment some sort of text appeared there, making him jolt, put laptop down and run away. You just stood there, not knowing what to do, you looked between door from which he left, and screen of his computer device, when another text appeared on it, and this time you could read it - "low battery. connect the charger"

Thanks to Alfred, you already knew what charger is, you just have to find it! You looked around, seeing too many wires around the room. You looked at the laptop, and saw too many ports. As you were unsuccessfully trying to find the right wire and right port, laptop's screen went dark. In that moment Tim walked in.

- What did you do?! - he asked almost yelling. Immediately going to the laptop

Nothing! - you panicked, and stepped away. He raised a hand and wave it. Not noticing yor flinch.

- just go, go away! You are messing all up!

If you thought you were shaky after encounter with Damian, this one definitely did.

Judging by Tim's reaction, you broke his computer. You didn't mean to, and you didn't knew if anyone will believe you that you didn't mean to do so. Maybe you'll need to apologize later, but right now, all you wanted is to talk with Alfred or to use up Bruces offer and talk with him if you needed it. In the state of panick you must have took the wrong turn, and bot seeing clearly before yourself, you bumped into Jason, after what you was pushed back and fell down in the process.

- you, little psycho! Don't you dare to touch me! - he yelled, making you flinch. For a second you felt like you was back with your father, pushed around, beaten and yelled at. As you were processing what happened, you didn't hear soft footsteps,

Jay, it was an accident. They just didn't not you - said Richard, trying to calm Jason down -yes, little one? - he said turning to you, but you were already running back to your room.

You cruled up in your blanket, hiding from the world and trying to calm down. You felt like crying. You probably did cry. It was all your fault. You almost broke figurine from Bruces collection, you probably broke Tim's computer, and you made Jason angry, so , Dick too was probably angry at you. Why had you just break thing, make everything worse. Maybe you should talk to Bruce.

--------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ ---------------------

You didn't even notice how you feel asleep for a short time, but when you woke up, you decided to see Bruce, if anyone, he should know how to get allong with boys. And that's what you really wanted, to get along with them, just to feel safe.

The problem however was to find Bruce. You remember Bruce showing you where his cabinet and room was, however, you don't remember where exactly they are. You managed to find Alfred, who gave you a concerned look, but explained you where he was. He also said that all of them were having a movie night - Richard decided that everyone needed at least one bounding day a month, where all of them would gather and do something together. That got you a bit worried, because what if you ruin their movie night just like how you ruined everything today. But maybe you could apologize in front of everyone for being inconvenience and making them angry? You'll have to brace yourself . While thinking about it, you walked through various corridors, until you reached movie room.

There they were: While movie were playing on a big screen they sat on cozy sofa and armchairs. Bruce sat in the armchair, occasionally looking on the boys. You could see smile on his face. Dick sat in the middle of the sofa, watching with enthusiasm and actively commenting on the plot, eating popcorn. On one side if him, putting his head on Dick's shoulder, sat Tim, who was lazily laying on sofa. He sometimes corrected Dick or commented on CGI, whatever it is. On the other side of the Dick sat Damian, who tried to make an impression that he didn't like being here, yet even you could see through his act, and who tried to keep Tim's and Jason's hands away from popcorn. And near Tim, in the corner of sofa sat Jason, who teased Damian and Tim most of the time, argued with Dick on which character is better and successfully stole Dick's popcorn.

You've never seen a sight, that was as warm as this. It felt so warm, so cozy, so homy

It felt like family.

And here you were: in the shadow, not daring to make a step, to come in to join them, to afraid to ruin this perfect moment

You've never had a family in that sense of word, and what you had as a family, you wouldn't dare to call as such. In your family was no warmth, no care. There weren't a moment like this. But you needed them.

After you were taken in my Bruce you found out what care was, but even so it felt like it still was too far away from you, so far that you couldn't reach it. Maybe you didn't deserve it, but you wanted care you wanted love. You wished you could be a part of family you see right now. You want to come in. But you know you can't, you know you will ruin the moment if you will walk in now. You know that Damian will add another threat to a previous one, Jason will yell, Tim will shoosh away, and probably Dick and Bruce will silently agree with them and will say to you to come another time.

Your father is Joker, that's instantly makes you undeserving of care and attention. Well, whay to say if your own mother left you. And as for the batfamily, it's only natural to hate a child of their main enemy.

But what if you can prove you are not like your father? What if love and care are earned, and that's exactly why you didn't get them. When you will have to try and earn it. But for now, all you could do now, is to hide behind the door in another room, listen intently on every sound they make, cry silently, afraid of making any noise so you couldn't ruin the moment and wish you could be with them. Wish you was loved at least once in your life. Wish you were a part of their family.

--------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ ----------------------

Thank you for reading and feel free to share your opinion 💖 have a good day

Author's note 2: I really badly wanna draw Joker's kid. I'd you are interested in my artworks , please let me know

Author's note 3: (1) In one of anonymous asks (here) one user had similar idea of what I had in mind. I hope I've done it good > - < (2) And I wanted to fit this idea from another ask (here) in the plot to, but I couldn't done it fully, I'm sorry T^T

Author's note 4 : to be honest, I have no idea what is tag list and how it works (I'm really sorry, but I'm not active social-media user), but few amazing people asked to tag them, and i hope I'm doing it right: @socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr

[dollfacefantasy]

Ooh how about vibrator play w frank castle? Maybe sitting w your back to his chest as he just gets you off over n over bc you got all needy/bratty?

Absolutly love the way you write btw 🫶🫶

frank castle x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, vibrator use, overstimulation, age gap (20s/40s) a/n: thank you so much! i think i saw heaven when i read this request <3

"hold still, baby," his deep voice rumbled against your jaw, "gotta hold still for me. can't make you feel good if you're running away."

your entire body shuddered in his lap. you almost missed the words. they ran together when your mind felt soft and hazy with pleasure like this. they also sounded distant when the buzz of the toy whirred down below. that strong, consistent vibration made everything else fade away.

it wouldn't have really mattered if you spaced what he said anyways. the words were empty. meant to tease you more than anything else. you couldn't get away right now if you wanted to. not with the way he had your thighs pinned open. one of his thick arms wrapped around your waist while his free hand held the small, thrumming cylinder between your legs.

he kept it still for the most part, letting the toy do its job. every so often he would move it. he'd draw small circles on your bundle of nerves or slide it downward like he planned on stuffing it inside your dripping hole.

the sensation caused your hips to buck. your heels dug into his thighs, sliding on the denim covering them as you fruitlessly tried to squirm to nowhere. your back pressed against his chest while raucous whines erupted from you.

but despite the signs of you getting overwhelmed, he didn't take the toy off. he kept your little vibrator buzzing right up against you and planted a few kisses along your jawline.

"you gettin' close? that why you're all squirmy? cause you're gonna cum again?" he murmured.

your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you nodded wildly.

he smirked, though your eyes were too droopy to see that.

"so needy. you weren't lying about how bad you wanted me, huh?" he crooned.

your head shook back and forth now.

"well let it happen, honey. stop trying to run from it. let yourself feel good. that's what you were after," he said, subtly taunting towards the end.

his mocking tone did nothing to deter you. your release crashed into you with enough force to black out your vision. every muscle in your body quivered, contracting and relaxing as you hit the high for the third time in a row.

a moan seeped from your lips so loud that his hand flew up from your waist to clamp over your mouth.

"shh, shh, shh, sweet girl. can't have you waking up the whole floor, yeah?" he mumbled in your ear.

you didn't respond. your body continued to roll into the bliss before settling. there was a brief moment of reprieve following that - probably because your nerves were approaching numbness down there - but before you could catch your breath, that small toy was back on the most delicate part of your cunt. your eyes rolled back, your mind blanking in response to yet another round of white hot bliss starting up.

"no- mmph- no more, frank," you whined as his hand fell from your mouth to grope at one of your breasts.

"no, you're not done yet. i know you. i turn this thing off now, and in fifteen minutes you'll be pawing at my shorts," he teased.

"i won't," you begged, lip wobbling, "i won't. promise. it's too much."

"too much? you gettin' tired? that cute little pussy ready to tap out for me?" he cooed.

"uh huh," you moaned.

"yeah? s'funny cause when i came home and told you i was tired, you didn't wanna stop, did you?" he said.

you groaned already knowing where this was going. "frankie-" you started to plead, but he cut your cry short.

"yeah. told you my muscles were aching, my back's all stiff-"

"thought you were just being an old man," you pouted, cutting him off right back.

as soon as the words exited your mouth, his thumb on the vibe tapped the button to crank up the speed. the buzzing grew louder and the tiny rod shook in his grasp with more force. you yelped, your body jerking and then melting on top of him.

"don't be a smartass or we'll be here for a while," he muttered, kissing your cheekbone, "you knew what you were doing, begging like that even when i told you to quit it. this is exactly what you wanted."

you turned your head, nuzzling your face against his throat as if the crook of his neck could provide you some form of escape. your body trembled on his lap, though it was totally motionless otherwise. your limbs felt like jelly, and your mind didn't fare much better. whimpers oozed from your lips without restraint.

"that's better," he praised, "just cum again for me, baby. one more time. give me a good one and it might be the last."

ragged breaths puffed from your lips. your chest heaved with the exertion. you knew your next release was coming whether you wanted it or not. it bordered on painful, but the all-consuming sensation overtook you just the same.

this time you reacted with less intensity. you weren't as loud, most of your noises remaining breathy and drawn out. your body didn't jerk. instead you spasmed with the euphoria flooding your senses.

he worked you through it, swiveling the point of the vibrator over your clit with precision. his hand guided it through your slick. it stayed on you until the last of your tremors melted into bursts in the aftershock.

finally then, when you were wriggling and whining, grabbing at his wrist without any semblance of a coherent word coming from you, he pulled it away. that same button he used to up the speed, he hit again and turned it off.

he dropped it to the side. it could be cleaned up later. right now, his attention stayed on you. his strong arms squeezed you before shifting your body around to sit more comfortably against his chest.

a couple kisses landed on your forehead. his fingers massaged the nape of your neck, coaxing your mind out from the slush of post-release and back to lucidity with him. you blinked slowly while gazing up at him with your glazed eyes.

"you gonna be able to walk to bed, or do i gotta help you?" he mocked.

you pouted with annoyance this time, lightly jabbing him with your elbow. "i got it," you whimpered before slowly rising and taking a few uncertain steps.

he huffed out a laugh at the display, patting your ass as he stood up to follow your lead.

[starglitterz]

♡ YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME!

what was meant to be a simple heist goes awry when you're interrupted by a shockingly cute security guard & a couple of rival art thieves. did you mention that one of them is kind of your ex?

✧ feat ; ayato, childe, diluc, scaramouche x gn!reader (3.6k words)

✧ warnings ; highly suggestive, thief + cop au, robbery, weapons, reader is a tease, one (1) ginger insult, reader loves bullying men (as they should)

✧ a/n ; be gay do crime that's all i have to say! jk HJSDSJD this has been rotting in my drafts for almost THREE years. i reread it and the writing style was so unserious that i suddenly got motivated to continue it and then i finished it in a night. Yeah. anyways this is my #grandcomeback and also first post of 2025! i really hope you all enjoy this :> if it flops i will cry myself to sleep /j btw this was proofread by the loml @musings-of-miss-j who has a SUPERB harbingers series that u should totally check out 🙂‍↕️😋

please reblog with comments ! it helps a lot :)

"hey! you there!" a baritone voice behind you yells, shattering the midnight peace of the museum and jolting you out of your reverie. tightening your grip around the gleaming purple gnosis you came here for, you slip it into your pocket quickly before turning around with a smile that would assure anybody of your innocence. "who? little old me?" you bat your eyes, blinking slowly at the man. your eyes have long adjusted to the darkness, so even with his similarly coloured outfit you're able to pick out the faded gold badge at his chest reading 'diluc'. "what are you doing back here?" his tone doesn't change in the slightest as he flicks his flashlight over to you, the beam practically blinding against the dark surroundings. 

"it appears that i've gotten lost," you laugh awkwardly, doing your best to feign being a naive tourist, "i was told that there were late tours offered at the teyvat museum." diluc still looks exceedingly suspicious, and as his gaze travels behind you your mind snaps into overdrive so he doesn't notice the missing artifact. suddenly bursting into tears, you run forward and bury your face in his shirt, "i! was! so! scared!" you punctuate each word with an even louder wail and he freezes beneath you, the close contact entirely unexpected. "there, there…" he pats your back with the enthusiasm and warmth of a polar ice cap, and with your face hidden in the fabric you permit yourself a triumphant smile - you've managed to divert his attention for now, at least.

"i am so terribly sorry about this," you begin to apologise profusely before looking up at him with teary eyes, "but would you mind walking me to the exit? i'm afraid i'll get lost again." at his hesitant expression you sniffle loudly, exaggerating it as much as possible until he caves, "fine. but stay close, there's been rumours floating around about artifact thieves lately." when he starts marching away, you hurry to catch up and ask curiously as if you aren't one of them, "artifact thieves?!" "yes. the type to steal priceless elements of history and sell them on the black market," he spits with disgust in his eyes. "oh, how terrible! i can't understand why anyone would do that instead of leaving them here for the public to enjoy," you gush, "surely there are other ways to make money." 

yeah, you could become an art thief instead. not that you haven't tried that; you just found it too tedious to craft a believable enough fake and ensure the painting wasn't damaged while sneaking it out. diluc doesn't deign to reply besides a single nod of his head, and you try to start up another conversation, "i suppose you're not the type to befriend random visitors, huh?" the corner of his lips tug up into a barely perceptible smile, "only the ones who appear after closing hours." "can't you make an exception for me?" you wink, though you doubt he can even see it through the darkness blanketing the museum. "hmph," is the only answer you receive, and your chit-chat ends with a dramatic sigh from your end.

to be frank, you couldn't care less whether this ‘diluc’ likes you or not. it's just in your best interests for him to remember you as some flirty ditz who'd leave their head at home if it wasn't screwed on and not a calculating, manipulative burglar. this heist is one to remember for sure though, you don't think you've ever escaped with the goods in your pocket while talking to the security guard on duty. you've knocked them out beforehand and slept with them after, but never during the job, so tonight marks a first for you. 

through your eyelashes, you glance at diluc, absorbing every detail about him in a split second; it's a trick you've learned from years of living on the street where figuring out who's going to hurt you and who won't is crucial for survival. he's pretty enough that you wouldn't mind spending the night with him, with fiery red locks tied neatly into a high ponytail and crimson eyes which sparkle like rubies. perhaps you could make this a double heist and steal his heart too!

your train of thought is interrupted as diluc comes to a halt without warning and you bump into his back (which you note is surprisingly toned). "what-" you start to complain, but he holds a hand up which silences you immediately. "i heard something," he whispers, practically inaudible, and you instantly start to babble, "what?! are they artifact thieves?! are we going to die?!" diluc groans before grabbing you and hiding behind a wall, pulling you flush against his torso as one of his gloved hands covers your mouth, "shut up." 

now this is close contact; you can feel the quick rise and fall of his chest, his racing heartbeat, and his every muscle tensing in preparation for a fight. if you weren't so preoccupied with the fact that this is delaying your getaway, you'd probably make a stupid quip. actually scratch that, you're going to do it anyway, "at least take me on a date first," you mumble as you shrug away his hand, and he looks at you with the most disbelieving expression, "you can still make idiotic comments in a situation like this? you've either got nerves of steel or you're a total dumbass." "depends on your type," you smile, and he drags a palm down his face exasperatedly, "i- you know what, never mind."

"ow!" "shut the fuck up, idiot. it's bad enough that i had to get paired with you, but if you get us caught i'm going to kill you." "rude. you could just ask nicely." "i have no interest in talking to you." "yet here we are." "can you seriously keep quiet? i'm telling the tsaritsa never to put me in a team with you again." "aw, stop, you'll hurt my feelings." "do you even have any of those left?" "hey! i'll have you know i am a very emotional person." "that's like me saying i'm an upstanding member of society."

you freeze in diluc's arms, running through every curse word in every language you know in your mind. you'd recognise those two voices anywhere. out of all the nights the fatui could have been planning a robbery, it had to be tonight?! archons, your luck is awful. "okay, this has been fun and all, but i've got to go," you start wriggling out of his embrace, planning to smash a window and escape because you'd honestly risk getting caught by the cops instead of the fatui. "what?! are you insane?! there are obviously two robbers there," diluc whisper-shouts, brows furrowing in a peculiar mix of confusion and worry. "and i'd prefer not to die, so i'm going to leave before they come here!" you retort, continuing to slide out of his arms. however, he doesn't relax his grip and you roll your eyes before elbowing him in the stomach. the sudden attack surprises him and he lets go with a groan, which is more than enough time for you to make a break for it.

unfortunately, diluc delayed you long enough that you end up running right into the two fatui members' line of vision. "wait, who are you?!" one of them asks, and the other one continues, "turn around, or i'll shoot you right now." fuck, is all you can think as you slowly rotate to face them with a sheepish smile, perhaps they wouldn't recognise you. "hey, aren't you y/n?!" well, there goes that plan. "no…? who's that?" "nah, you definitely are," the ginger walks towards you slowly before tilting your chin up to face him with his index finger. the game's up, so you sigh, "hey, childe... it's been a while." 

"i knew it was you! i'd know that pretty face of yours anywhere," he beams gleefully, and you smirk, "you still find me pretty? never knew you had a thing for criminals." "i do, it's my fatal flaw," he frowns before continuing, "except when they steal my money, in which case they become my enemies instead." double fuck. he still remembers that. "it wasn't that much! just about ten million mora or so, i know you've got tons left where that came from," you hurry to defend yourself. "that's not the point! the point is that you stole my money after i oh-so-kindly let you stay in my house!" childe says, and you're not taking this one lying down, "liar! you invited me over after you saw me at the bar!"

"can you both shut up? i'm losing braincells just listening to this shit," scaramouche cuts in, rolling his eyes so far back you swear they're going to get stuck that way. "really? because when you opened your mouth i think my iq just dropped by 10 points," you retort. scaramouche gapes at you for a second, clearly not used to someone talking back to him. "take a picture, it'll last longer," you wink, feeling the situation slide itself back into your grasp once more; you aren't planning on going down without a fight. "i don't have a kamera, and anyway who wants photos of dead people?" he fumbles for a reply and childe snickers, "cat got your tongue, scara?" "more like y/n's got your wallet," the balladeer jabs back, a smug grin curving his lips at the witty reply. childe's eyes widen at the insult, "hey! i'll have you know that i gave it to them willingly-"

taking advantage of the argument between the two of them, you unhook a rope from your waist and toss it up to the skylight. you're in the common center area of the museum, which has a square gap up to the roof and offers you a perfect shot for your hook to sail upwards and catch at the ledge. the instant you press a button the cord retracts, pulling you up with it. "and now y/n's getting away! so long, suckers!" you cheer as you zip upwards. "isn't that my line?!" you hear scaramouche yell as they scramble to find a way after you. seconds before you slam into the window like an unfortunate bug, you pull out a gun and shoot the glass, watching with glee as a spiderweb of cracks forms across it. thanks to the momentum of you gliding through the air, your boots easily smash through it when you kick harshly as you reach it, and you land with a loud thud on the roof. "ouch," you groan, "that's going to leave a bruise tomorrow." glancing at your surroundings, you inhale the fresh night air stained with the smog from all the polluting factories and listen to the buzz of the highways, busy even past midnight, "nothing like the city."

just then, you hear a thump behind you, and then a deep voice that sounds strangely familiar, "you'll be admiring it from a prison window after this." you spin around sharply, and the sight nearly makes you fall off the edge of the building with surprise, "diluc?!" at this, he freezes, and it's evident that he thought his disguise would be more than enough to conceal his identity. with a cough, he says, "no, i'm the darknight hero." "no, you're clearly diluc. i just met you like fifteen minutes ago and even i can recognise your hair in that stupid suit, it practically glows," you fold your arms over your chest, making idle conversation while your mind races to come up with an idea to save yourself. "my suit isn't stupid," diluc can't stop himself from defending his outfit, just because he had barely any sewing skills did not give you the right to insult the piece of clothing. "it's literally a mask and a black coat." 

"back to the matter at hand," diluc- sorry, the darknight hero, clears his throat loudly, clearly eager to change the topic, "you're under arrest." "oh yeah? since when are you a cop?" "i'm not." "then you obviously don't have the power to arrest me, idiot." smarting from yet another insult, diluc tries his best to maintain his composure, "i meant that i'm going to take you in to the police station and then you'll be under arrest." "should have just said that," you shrug, and you can almost see diluc fighting to rein his temper in - this is too easy.

"okay, well, this actually hasn't been fun at all, so i'm leaving," you turn around again and stroll away, hoping that there'll be a ladder on the edge of the roof. you don't really see a diluc as a threat, because to be honest he seems more like a kid playing dress-up. what kind of self-respecting adult who cared as much for the law as he did would choose to be a vigilante? maybe if he got a better costume you could take him seriously. and that turned out to be a huge mistake on your part, because the next moment, a lasso whizzes through the air and loops around your ankles, quickly pulling into a deadknot that would take you ages to untie. 

you want to throw a tantrum, crying and stomping your feet at diluc, but what good would that do when this issue sprung from your own cockiness? "listen, how much do you want? i'll give it to you, any amount. i know how much security guards make, and trust me, it'll be nothing compared to what i could give you," the words spill out of your mouth in a jumble, and you seem to take on the role of a confident salesman selling a product you know is worthless. it's embarrassing how much this sounds like a plea. "i don't want money. i want the streets and artifacts of teyvat to be safe from people like you," diluc ignores your further attempts at bribing him, although he does give you a strange look when you offer up a kiss, as if he's genuinely considering it. does this man actually get no bitches?

“ah, a kiss, hm? is that what you want?” you lean forward almost desperately, grinning at him like a maniac, “c’mon, mr darknight hero! i promise i’m a really good kisser~” you lick your lips as if to prove your point, and your smirk deepens when his ruby gaze follows the motion. “just give me a second to touch up my lipstick, ‘kay?” while he’s still stunned from your offer, you fumble in your pocket and pull out a taser. diluc only snaps back into action when he sees the weapon clutched in your hands, and though he dodges, you manage to stumble forward without your bound ankles and ram the buzzing probes into his chest. 

a strange noise, a mixture of a whimper and a groan escapes his throat as he falls to his knees in front of you, body twitching like a dying bug. rummaging in his pockets, you find a knife and giggle as you slice through the ties on your legs, “see? this is why it’s always great to have men on their knees for you. i forgot my knife today, so i hope you’ll be okay with me borrowing this.” as he glares at you through blurry vision, a mockingly pitiful smile curves your lips and you pat his head like you’re petting an overzealous guard dog, “now be a good boy and stay here, okay, diluc? ah, sorry, i mean mr darknight hero!” dipping your head, you press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, relishing in his flustered gasp, “i’ll give you a proper kiss next time~” you burst into laughter and skip off, leaving him tied up and blushing with the same restraints he had used on you. 

“why is this stupid place so big?!” you mutter to yourself as you whiz across the rooftop. the museum is under renovation, so a lot of the walls of the rear wing are covered in scaffolding and tarp that only serve to slow you down as you try to escape. you’re seriously regretting being a cheapskate earlier and not parking at the official parking lot, instead you had hid your getaway car almost a kilometre away from the location just to avoid a parking fee. don’t judge! things like this are how rich people stay rich. but just as you’re skidding across the glass-roofed observatory, you hear a familiar voice behind you. 

“not so fast, thief.”

you groan as exaggeratedly as you can, making a big show of how troublesome it is for you to turn around, “hello again, childe. hat guy.” “my name is scaramouche!” he seethes, scowling at you with a glare furious enough to thaw antarctica. “listen, y/n,” childe steps forward, raising both hands in magnanimous surrender, “let’s make a deal.” “not interested.” you stick your tongue out, slowly backing away. childe continues as if he didn’t hear you, but the twitch in his brow is enough to give away his act, “you give us the gnosis, and i’ll forget all about the money you owe me.” “i don’t owe you, genius,” you scoff, “i stole it. i’m obviously not going to repay it.” “you really are an idiot,” scaramouche massages his temples, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth than here at this moment.

“well!” childe puffs himself up, pretending that his ego isn’t hurt, “i thought you and i had chemistry, y’know? we could hang out again if you just give me the gnosis.” his voice drops an octave lower to emphasise his last few words, and you feel a familiar shiver up your spine. “childe, we slept together once, and sleeping with a ginger was not one of my proudest moments,” you retort, though you feel a twinge of guilt as childe fusses with his hair, “hey! uncalled for!” to be honest, he’s not wrong. the two of you did have chemistry, and the night you spent together was… well, let’s just say you could barely walk the next day. but dating isn’t your style, especially not when it’s someone who belongs to a rival group in the world of art theft. you  prefer one night stands – it’s easier to keep things simple with no strings attached. 

“just give us the gnosis, and we won’t kill you. is that a better deal?” scaramouche interrupts, evidently tired of childe beating around the bush. “scara! i was this close to getting them to crack!” childe pouts, and scaramouche rolls his eyes heavenward – if there was ever a time for him to believe in the gods, it would be now as he prays for mercy from his partner’s stupidity. “you’re cracked in the head if you think so,” scaramouche drags a palm down his face and sighs, “you only think with your dick.” “what?!” childe’s aghast at this accusation, “that’s not true!” “i think it is.” you helpfully supply, and that draws both men’s attention back to you.

“whatever! just hand us the gnosis, and things won’t get messy.” childe withdraws his blades, and you realise he’s finally getting serious. scaramouche steps closer as well, and you can’t move backwards anymore, you’re already teetering on the ledge. a fall from this height definitely wouldn’t leave you in the best condition. it’s too early for you to die, you haven’t even seen your favourite artist live yet! “fine. you want it?” you pull the gnosis out from your pocket and a wicked smirk graces your features, “then come and get it~!” you toss the item up in the air, letting the way it sparkles in the moonlight speak for itself as you lean backwards and salute, “see you on the other side, losers!” 

with that, you fall off the roof while scaramouche and childe fumble to catch the gnosis.

“hey! that dumbass!” childe rushes to the edge to check on you, only to realise that… you aren’t there?! contrary to what he expected, your bloody corpse isn’t lying there. you’re climbing down the scaffolding like a monkey, weaving in and out of the metal bars until you reach the ground. looking back up at him, childe thinks he can make out a final playful wink before you hop into a black car that’s just pulled up at the back. behind him, scaramouche yells, “childe!” “what is it now, balladeer- what?!” the gnosis is shattered on the stone roof, shards of purple and silver gleaming in a manner that almost seems taunting. “it was a fucking fake!” scaramouche yells, kicking the broken pieces furiously, and childe can’t stop the lovestruck expression that plays across his face, “y/n really is a master thief…” “snap out of it, idiot! what are we going to tell the boss?!”

meanwhile, you’re in the passenger seat of an inconspicuous black car, chuckling to yourself as you toy with the real gnosis. “you’re lucky i told you to bring more than one imitation,” a suave voice sounds from the driver’s seat, “and that i was there to save you.” “thank you, oh great master ayato,” you giggle, pretending to bow, “you’re a lifesaver. literally.” he smirks, gloved fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel, “you could have been in and out. you just like playing too much.” “hey!” you whine dramatically, “it’s not my fault the security guard was so cute!” “hmm…” he reaches out and tilts your chin to face his piercing blue eyes, “don’t say stuff like that or i’ll get jealous, you know?” “s-shut up.” you pout, folding your arms across your chest and turning away to look out the window, “just drive, you blue-haired weirdo.” “that’s no way to talk to your boss now, is it?” he laughs goodnaturedly as the two of you speed away, “i just wish i could be there to see the look on captain wriothesley’s face when he realises it was us again.” 

© starglitterz 2025. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !

[butternutt613]

PSA!!! IT IS OKAY TO CHANGE YOUR STORY HALFWAY THROUGH OR TO NOT HAVE IT BE PERFECT!!!

Fanfic writers (myself included) are way too hard on ourselves sometimes. I was chatting with a few amazing creators on Discord about this, and I realized just how much pressure we put on ourselves to make everything perfect.

Let me remind you: it’s completely okay if your story isn’t flawless right out of the gate.

The way I see it, fanfics, and most things posted on AO3 or Wattpad are like first drafts. ESPECIALLY!!!!! when you’re still actively writing your story. You’re still figuring things out, shaping the narrative, and building the world. It’s not set in stone, and it’s okay to make changes as you go. Hell, completely rewrite it!

So many of us get caught up in trying to make our stories perfect from chapter one because we’re scared that if it’s not, no one will read it. I experience imposter syndrome so hard lol

But NEWSFLASH!!! Even published authors don’t create flawless stories from the start. Their first drafts are messy, full of edits, rewrites, and changes. Entire chapters get cut, characters get reworked, and sometimes entire backstories get scrapped. AND THEN!!! EVEN WHEN THEY THINK THEY ARE DONE!!! THEIR EDITORS GIVE THEM 39 THINGS TO CHANGE!!!

If that’s how the ‘pros’ do it, why are we holding ourselves to an impossible standard?

And I’m going to be so real with you right now… 99.99% of the time, the characters we write about aren’t even canon or have never even interacted in canon or only had 2.3 lines of dialog (I'm looking at you, Jegulus….)

That’s the magic of fanfiction. You get to create something ENTIRELY NEW. You get to take these characters and give them experiences and a life the og author never did or never could. Fanfiction is about imagination and creation, not about rigid rules.

There will always, ALWAYS, be someone who says "you're doing it wrong” or “that character wouldn't do that” and I'm sorry to break it to them but idk if you know this but… THEY AREN’T REAL!

If I want these two guy best friends to kiss, I will! If I want my MC to save Anne by perfecting Isadora’s magic, I will! If you want Ominis to say “fuck you” to his family or Sebastian to become a healer or an auror or a potions master, then GODDAMMIT YOU DO THAT!

BECAUSE YOU ARE WRITING YOUR STORY!! It is YOURS, not anyone else's. You’re the author. Your creative process is valid and so is your work, even if you decide to change direction halfway through. (Elsa was originally going to be evil…)

There will always be haters. Even when something is canon, there are people who’ll criticize it (seriously like look at flat earthers….) That’s why you can’t let the fear of criticism hold you back. Write what YOU love. Create what brings YOU joy. The right people will find your work and appreciate it for what it is.

At the end of the day, fanfiction is about expression and connection. Whether you’re writing for an audience of hundreds or just for yourself, it’s yours. You’re building a world, shaping characters, and sharing something that came from your heart. And that’s what makes it meaningful. So stop being so hard on yourself. Keep WRITING. Keep CREATING. KEEP COMING UP WITH FUN HEADCANONS!!!

Your story deserves to be told. And you deserve to have fun and love doing it.

*mic drop* *peace sign*

[secret-moonstruck]

STUCK ON ME | Y.JW | PART 2

— Pairing: Jungwon x fem!reader | Part 01 | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: When Y/N was with her friend, Jungwon became jealous and possessive. He decided to show who Y/N belonged to. .

— Genre: smut, Horror, bloody

— Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, praising, cum inside, making out, clit play, begging, hickeys, cum eating, overstimulation, gore, death, blood, torture, kidnapping, more. .

Warning: The content may be dangerous. Read at your own discretion.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

A few weeks have passed since Y/N met Jungwon, at first it was a bit difficult, but now she was getting used to the situation.

She had gone out for drinks with some people from the publishing house to celebrate the sales of her book, among them was Hyun, he was the cute guy who worked there and he always showed interest in Y/N, whenever she went to the publishing house he tried to please her.

When they left the bar, they decided to walk a bit. He was a little drunk and started confessing to Y/N again.

- Why don't you go out with me? - He said, stopping suddenly and turning her towards him.

Before Y/N could say anything, he disappeared. She saw him a short distance away in the alley next door, pinned against the wall with a furious Jungwon choking him.

- What the hell is this? What the hell are you doing? - She ran towards them. - Let him go now, Jungwon.

She ordered, she knew he couldn't disobey an order from her, she had already witnessed how it caused some kind of horrible pain.

However, he didn't let him go; he suffocated him until his body fell to the ground unconscious.

Y/N thought he had killed him, and out of fear, she ended up fainting.

Upon waking up, she still felt a bit dazed, looked around, and saw that she was in some kind of abandoned warehouse. She saw Jungwon sitting on a table reading a book calmly, but when he lowered the book and smiled at her, his face and clothes were covered in blood.

She looked around desperately and saw Hyun unconscious, bloodied, and tied up in a corner of the room.

- Did you kill him? - She asked in despair.

Jungwon rolled his eyes before putting down the book and getting off the table.

- Not yet, my dear. Maybe, if you are very nice, I'll let him live.

He approached Hyun and kicked him to wake him up.

- Where is Y/N? Please, let us go. - Hyun said as soon as he woke up, further irritating Jungwon.

- Who or what do you think you are to try to steal something that is mine? - He lifted him up before throwing him back to the ground.

- Please stop. He is innocent, he didn't do anything. I am yours, okay, you know, you always remind me of that. He has nothing to do with us, let him go. - Y/N pleaded.

A horrible pain coursed through Jungwon's entire body for disobeying her, but it only enraged him even more; she was causing him pain to protect that worm.

Jungwon approached her, lowering himself to her level with a smile that frightened her.

- I know you are mine, but it seems he doesn't know yet, and you seem to have forgotten. - He squeezed her neck, making her stand up. - Maybe I should remind you who you belong to, and show this nothing that you only have one owner.

Still with his hands on her neck, he pulled her face for a kiss full of anger.

- Now, how about you being a good girl? - He pushed her away, and as if it were nothing, dragged the table to where she was.

- Don't touch her, or I'll kill you. - Hyun shouted.

Jungwon went up to him and gagged him, he wanted to kill him, but not before displaying her, not before showing who she belongs to.

Leaning against the table, he ordered her to come closer, she obeyed out of fear.

- Suck me, like the good slut you are, show him what he'll never have.

Trembling, Y/N did as he commanded, kneeling in front of him. She tried to open his pants, but she was trembling too much. He got irritated and took off his clothes by himself, his cock already hard, waiting to be sucked.

Y/N looked at Hyun, who was struggling to break free, before turning their attention back to Jungwon.

With tears in her eyes, she touched him, pumping it before running her tongue over the tip covered with pre-cum, eliciting a moan from him. She licked his length a few times before putting it in her mouth, starting to suck it, but he needed more, he pushed everything in, making her gag.

Jungwon held her by the hair while pushing deep into her throat. The sight of her crying, choking on his cock, excited him even more; he pulled out of her lips and came all over her face.

- Come here dear. - He said, helping her to stand up and bringing her closer to Hyun. He pushed her in front of him, holding her face firmly to confront Hyun.

- Isn't she beautiful covered in my cum? - He smiled frighteningly as he said that.

- Do you know how she becomes more beautiful? When she's moaning desperately for me to fuck her. - Upon saying this, he bit Y/N's neck.

Y/N shuddered at the initial pain of the bite, but soon it was exactly as he wanted, moans escaping her lips mixed with her heavy breathing. Her legs tightening as she began to feel aroused.

Hyun looked horrified as Jungwon drank Y/N's blood. Jungwon easily tore her dress, and did the same with her underwear, before running his fingers over Y/N's pussy.

- You really are a slut, how can you already be so wet? You really get turned on by having your blood sucked, don't you?

Desperate moans escaped Y/N's lips as Jungwon's fingers worked on her pussy. She no longer cared about anything else, she just wanted more.

- Yes, yes, please, Jungwon, I love this, more, please.

Despite being scared, Hyun was starting to get excited seeing Y/N in that state. It was wrong, everything there was wrong, but he couldn't help it.

- Look Y/N, he likes what he sees. - Jungwon continued his movements while rubbing her clitoris with his other hand. - Come on, darling, cum for me already, let's go.

She shuddered, Jungwon's voice both sweet and venomous pushing her to orgasm, she came on his fingers, just as he wanted.

He raised his hand, displaying it with a smile before licking his fingers, while moaning in pleasure.

Y/N knew it wasn't over yet, Jungwon picked her up, she was still trembling when he set her down on the table.

He saw her tired face, her eyes red from crying. He wiped her face, which was still covered in his cum.

- You don't know how beautiful you look like this, all messed up. - He said, caressing her face. His fingers running over her face and neck. - It just makes me want you even more.

He said before biting her again, while pushing his painful cock into her wet pussy.

Y/N gasped in surprise when she felt him enter her so suddenly. If it weren't for him holding her, she would have already collapsed on the table while he mercilessly pounded inside her, the sound echoing through the room.

- J... Jungwon, please! I want, I need. - Y/N was begging for their liberation.

Hearing Y/N's pleas, Jungwon couldn't hold back and came, painting the inside of Y/N, who not long after also reached their orgasm.

Jungwon pulled away from Y/N, watched for a few seconds as her pussy leaked before starting to lick it, holding her thighs firmly. While sucking every drop, his claws tore into Y/N's thighs, who screamed with a mix of pain and pleasure, still very sensitive from the previous orgasm. She buckled, trembling, when she came again, this time more intensely than the others, covering Jungwon's face, who savored every drop before releasing her with an arrogant smile, while Y/N collapsed on the table, her breath still uneven.

She had already forgotten about Hyun, but when she remembered and looked in his direction, her eyes widened in panic.

Jungwon, already dressed, was holding Hyun by the neck with his hand inside his chest.

- No! - Y/N shouted, a desperate scream, a scream that caused an unbearable pain in Jungwon, he had already endured too much pain disobeying her that night.

With a quick movement, Jungwon pulled his hand back, covered in blood, with Hyun's heart in it. Blood splattering across his face, while the most terrifying smile Y/N could imagine was on his face.

He threw Hyun's body to the ground and went to Y/N. The pain of disobedience was torturous, but the anger was greater.

- This is so you never forget that you belong solely to me. - He held her by the shoulders. - And remember that I will never allow you to get close to any man again. I am the only one for whom you should exist. You are mine, and you must never forget that.

The panic that was etched on Y/N's face was replaced by a dark smile, which left Jungwon confused.

- What? Why are you smiling? - He said, releasing her.

Y/N pulled Jungwon close, tilting their head while still smiling.

- You look so sexy like this. - She pushed him away while assessing how he was covered in blood, eyes shining, his expression full of rage. She loved it.

- Y/N said while getting dressed. - Just thinking about having to put up with him every time I entered that building. Aaaah, so annoying.

Jungwon was confused, why was she acting like this when just a moment ago she was crying for him to spare Hyun?

- You know, Jungwon, I was kind of missing the feeling from when we first met, how you seemed so cruel that night. I wanted to see that side of you again, so I decided to combine two useful things. I could have fun and also get rid of something annoying.

- You are a psychopath. - Jungwon didn't know if he found her scary or amazing.

- Oh, no, of course not. I'm just a defenseless woman trapped by a sadistic vampire. - She said with a false fear on her face before approaching him with a smile and kissing him.

— Note2: Sorry if it's not good, I'll try to improve it.

[basilthesnakingthing]

Yeah, I saw that definition on plurlpedia and it didn’t make much sense to me.

But . . thinking of myself like what I described might solve everything that’s wrong with me, actually.

Cause before I would think “I can’t control when I’m able to be productive, I just have to take advantage of it when doing something feels doable. But even then, I can’t control what sort of things I can be productive about. Art? Better than nothing, but it does ultimately feel selfish and self destructive of me at once when I haven’t seemed to be able to do almost any homework this whole semester and that job application is still blank. Why am I so helpless about what I can do, when? Even other ADHD people manage, like. There are things they can do to make it work. But there aren’t for me, not besides someone being in the room, interested in what I’m doing. And that’s not practical enough to be a real solution, nobody who cares has time to do that with me.”

But now that I’ve realized what I did in my last reblog, it’s more like “there are different versions of me, and each one has things they’re really good at, and things they want and some things they just can’t do. One of them can do art! And write, and work on ideas I thought of! It really likes explaining things and theoretical stuff and talking to friends. But in order to work on anything out of obligation, anything that I would be doing because I know I should, like cleaning my room or taking care of myself physically, doing nice things for other people or my homework, I have to switch and become this other version of me who doesn’t seem to suffer from executive dysfunction for some reason, and can do any of those tasks happily. That version finds that sort of thing very satisfying. But it’s the only version who can do things like that.”

I what feels like “me” is the sum of all four versions and their behaviors. But if I only think of it like that, my abilities are priorities seem so inconsistent and broken. I wonder if cultivating more separation would help. If it’s different entities with different abilities and priorities, than it won’t be inconsistent, and know I just have to be deliberate about switching. (Which, intuitively, seems like it would be easier to do if there was more separation)

Made a plural version of that one meme

[yapihapi]

You’ve been the perfect student ever since kindergarten. The school has been blessed to have you—student leader, consistent top achiever, and the school’s pride in academic competitions. Medals, awards—you’ve brought home so many. You’ve always been outstanding.

But then Nagi transferred to your school. Suddenly, everything changed.

It felt like you were perpetually in second place, and no matter what you achieved, there was always this gnawing feeling of inadequacy.

Even when the list came out, showing that you scored higher than him, it didn’t feel like a win. He always did it so effortlessly.

You sat in the front row, dedicated, writing notes and reviewing endlessly. But when you glanced at Nagi in the back, you’d always catch him sleeping at his desk, oblivious to the world. It frustrated you to no end.

During quizzes and exams, he’d still get high marks, but his carefree attitude made it seem unfair. While you sacrificed sleep and poured every ounce of energy into studying, he simply coasted. Yet he remained unbothered, like he wasn’t trying at all.

You were jealous.

Nagi noticed your furrowed brows whenever your eyes met, but he didn’t understand why. You’d never even spoken to each other. To him, you were the model student—perfect, composed, and untouchable. But he was just that guy in the back of the class, minding his own business.

When midterms came, the pressure was unbearable. You spent endless hours reviewing and juggling your responsibilities. The weight of expectations, the relentless need to prove yourself—it consumed you.

Then came the exam day. You answered the test quickly, confident in your preparation. But as you handed in your paper, you noticed Nagi did the same, just minutes after you. You glanced at him in disbelief. Was he really that gifted, or was it luck?

As the class emptied, you stayed behind to pack your things. Nagi lingered too, his feet propped up on a chair, phone in hand, looking as relaxed as ever.

Then it happened—a sudden, warm sensation in your nose.

“Huh?” you muttered as you touched your upper lip. Blood.

Nagi furrowed his brows when he glanced at you. He put down his phone, grabbed tissues from his bag, and rushed to your side.

“Here,” he said softly, handing you the tissues.

You stared at him, startled by his uncharacteristic concern. He didn’t stop there. Gently, he guided you to the clinic, one hand lightly supporting your arm.

At the clinic, the nurse tended to you, cleaning you up and ensuring you were fine. Once everything was settled, you stepped out, adjusting your bag and ready to head home.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw him. Nagi was leaning against the wall just outside the clinic, a lollipop in his mouth. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze lost somewhere on the ceiling, deep in thought.

You tried to walk past him, hoping to avoid an awkward interaction, but after a few steps, he spoke.

“Why do you despise me so much?”

You froze, his question hanging in the air. Slowly, you turned around, meeting his confused gaze.

“I don’t hate you,” you said coldly, though your voice wavered. “I’m… jealous of you.”

His confusion deepened. “Jealous?”

You sighed, the weight of your feelings spilling out. “You’re so good at academics, but you barely try. I work myself to exhaustion, and I still feel like it’s not enough. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat—I have to push myself because of the standards I’ve set. Then you come along, doing the bare minimum, and it makes me feel… small. Like I’m stupid.”

He blinked, stunned into silence.

“I just wanted to feel like I was enough,” you continued, voice trembling. “But when you showed up, it felt like I had to work even harder just to keep up. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Nagi scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. “I… I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” you replied quickly. “This is childish. I shouldn’t even feel this way.”

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Honestly, I kind of disliked you too at first. I thought you were just a spoiled rich girl who had everything handed to her. But I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, exhaling deeply. “You really do deserve the top spot. I don’t even care about ranks—” He paused, muttering to himself. “Why am I even explaining this?”

You gave a small nod, avoiding his gaze. “I see,” you said quietly, the bitterness still lingering in your voice as you turned away.

The rest of the school year didn’t go as you expected. Somehow, you and Nagi became close. He wasn’t as infuriating as you’d thought—laid-back, yes, but also oddly insightful in his own way. The tension between you hadn’t completely disappeared, but it had softened into something more tolerable, almost unspoken.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside him on a bridge, both of your feet dangling over the edge.

“Do you always come here?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at the horizon. “It helps me clear my mind.”

The golden sunlight bathed your face, softening your usually sharp features. For the first time, Nagi saw you relaxed—genuinely at peace.

He watched you, noticing details he’d overlooked before. The way your hair caught the sunlight, the faint curve of your lips when you smiled. It struck him.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “I think you’re amazing. Not because of your grades or your accomplishments. Just… you.” He hesitated, his gaze softening. “But you should take care of yourself more. You push yourself so hard, and you don’t deserve to burn out trying to meet everyone else’s expectations.”

You turned to him, startled by his sincerity. His words lingered in the air, disarming you. For once, the competition didn’t matter. Sitting there with him, bathed in the warmth of the setting sun, you felt a sense of calm settle over you—a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was strange, but for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to prove anything.

And maybe, just maybe, the one-sided rivalry had finally come to an end. It wasn’t about winning or losing anymore, but about understanding. You realized that chasing perfection wasn’t the only way to prove your worth, and perhaps Nagi wasn’t the antagonist you made him out to be. Instead, he was someone who challenged the way you saw yourself—someone who, without meaning to, helped you see things differently.

[myrrusstuff]

A winters night.

. . . Caitlyn x Reader.

CW: SFW, a bit suggestive & references to sex briefly, but it’s mainly fluff. A bit of comfort (r!receiving). Caitlyn walks in on you baking her a surprise on your anniversary. :^)

WC: 1.06K | CC: 5.7K | Proofread: No.. | Notes: this is my first time writing a reader x character fic. One of my first times writing romance at all, actually. I normally write warrior cats. But I wanna branch out to my other interests, one of which is arcane. I hope you like it! | MEN DNI.

It’s starting to get late out, the sun setting. The kitchen’s dim candles are the only things leaving the room barley visible, although, you don’t go to turn the main light on. You’re much too busy for that. You’re working hard making a pie for your girlfriend, Caitlyn. It’s Apple and cinnamon, her favourite. It also happens to be the same dish you made her on your first date. You had worried you’d come onto her too hard, but much to your surprise, she was impressed.

While sprinkling the cinnamon onto the apple mixture, your mind can’t help but drift to Caitlyn. "I wonder what she’s doing right now?" you ask yourself. She’s still at work, you’re positive of that. At least you think you are. You shake your head slightly, as if it’d help you clear your mind. You have to finish the pie before she gets home, even if it’s the last thing you do.

You slowly mix the pie filling, folding it. As you do, you notice the time. "7:30.." you murmur, gulping. Caitlyn finishes work at 7:00 on Tuesdays, she’d be home soon. "Shit, shit, shit." you think to yourself, your breath strained. You try to press on, working harder, faster.

15 minuets later, as you’re beginning to plat the top-crust of the pie, you hear the front door creek open. Is Cait home already? She can’t be, you’re not ready. This isn’t how you had planned it. You were meant to present her with a slice of her favourite pie as she came home from work, snuggling up to her on the couch as you play a movie you both enjoy. This is not what was meant to happen, she wasn’t meant to be home yet. Had it been a Monday, Thursday, or even Friday, she’d be home at 9:00. You’d have more than enough time to finish your plan. But on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, you’re not so lucky.

Before you can start to panic, Caitlyn drops her bag off on the couch. She begins to slide off her uniform, and your gaze immediately begins to take in her curves. Her under-shirt rides up slightly, revealing the soft skin of her stomach. You feel almost sad as she pulls it back down, folding her uniform neatly as she hangs it up to wash later. You gulp, caught off-guard.

"Y/N, you home?" Caitlyn calls out, due to you not greeting her. Suddenly, you realise you hadn’t even said hello. You yell out quickly, almost shakily "I’m in the kitchen! Welcome home, honey!". How hadn’t you done that when she first walked in? You always do. Well.. you know why. You remember the sight seeing you did earlier. How could you not? The way her shirt clung to her body..

Your thoughts are cut off as she walks into the kitchen, she reaches for her ponytail, undoing it. Her eyebrow tilts as she realises you’re baking, a soft grin forming on her face. "What’re you making?" She asks, walking up to you. Her arm wraps around your waist, her hair brushing against your neck. "What do you think it is?" You tease, looking down at the pie. Caitlyn scoffs slightly, before tugging your waist slightly, pulling you against her. "Is it really the pie?". Her phrasing makes you giggle slightly, your hand reaching to cover your mouth. As you do so, her hand meets yours, moving it away from your lips. "Now, don’t go covering such a pretty sight."

The air practically became thicker, a slight blush creeping up your neck. She breaks the silence with a quick peck on the lips, as you lean into it you feel it deepen. Suddenly, you break away from the kiss. "I have to finish baking. How about we.. continue this after?" You explain to her about wanting the pie to be done earlier, but forgot to makeup for her early finish from work. She reaches to cup your cheek, turning you to face her. Her thumb strokes close to your lips. "It’s a sweet gesture, don’t upset yourself."

You smile softly, noticing the sincerity in her eyes. She’s really not mad. You start to think about it, why would you assume she’d be mad in the first place? Caitlyn has always been sweet to you, always patient. You kiss her softly, before quickly turning back around, hiding the stunned look on your face. She lets out a small laugh, her hand still resting on your waist. She watches with awe as you bake, "I’m so glad you can cook, because I sure as hell can’t. Thank you for this, by the way."

You don’t turn to face her while replying, clearly still engrossed in baking, "I was planning to make something, it’s our anniversary after all. And the thought of pie reminded me of you." you admit with a smile. "Well isn’t that cute," she nudges your hip, before releasing it. "Let me help you with that." she moves to the side of you, gently taking the pie out of your hands. She bends down by the oven, putting it in with a smile before turning to you, "there, now I can have your full attention."

As the night wares on, you watch a movie with Caitlyn. It’s Scream, a shared favourite. You still flinch every time at the jumpscares, your nails digging into Caitlyn’s shirt. Her arms drape around you before pulling you closer. "Scaredy-cat, huh?", she teases. It causes you to smile slightly, amused by her tone. For the rest of the movie, you cling to her tighter. She mocks you for it, but you can tell she secretly loves having you in her arms. She plants a kiss on your forehead, holding you closer than ever. You start to wonder, would tonight be the night? The night you two finally.. you know. You shake your head, burying it in her neck as the next jumpscare hits. As time passes, your eyes begin to feel droopy, and you can’t help but think you could stay like this forever. Your body begins to relax into Caitlyn’s touch, her hand stroking your hair. She smiles softly at you as you begin to fall asleep, your eyes fluttering to a close.

Maybe another time. Tonight, you just want to be held, and she just wants to show you how much she cares for you.

© myrrusstuff

This is reposted from my old blog: @myrruwrites. This was my first fanfic I’ve like, ever written about people. Before this I mainly wrote warrior cats and stuff like that. This fanfic is also pretty old,, but I’m re posting all my writing onto this blog

[iamsebastiansstan]

like one of your girls - NAC x fem!reader

summary - “Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in.

wc - 6k - MINORS DNI !

warnings - lots of dirty talk as always, crying during sex, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f), creampie, aftercare 🥹

A/N - I dedicate this chapter to @hoffmansgirl because he's literally doing it rn girl like literally !!! anyways, this update was fast but I probably won't be writing much for the next few weeks, I GOTTA STUDY lmao come tell me what you thought of this, any and all feedback is appreciated <3 enjoy!

taglist - @blackynsupremacy / @lalavenderangel / @nicholaschavezbby /

PART 1

Waking up next to him is like a dream she never wants to wake up from. She’s watching him as his eyelids flutter open, his nose scrunches up, as he stretches his strong arms above his head and groans adorably while looking at her through squinted eyes. 

“You been awake long?” he asks her, and she shakes her head no. 

He’d spooned her last night, she remembers, they both needed that closeness without crossing too many lines, and already she’s feeling withdrawals, missing having his body heat along her back. It isn’t awkward now, but the tension can definitely be felt in the air.

“Good. When do you need to get back to New York?”

She thinks about it for a minute, heart beating fast. Is he asking to be polite or is he asking so they can make plans to see each other? She hopes to God it’s the latter.

“On Wednesday. I made plans with some friends to hang out while I’m still here.”

He hums, scratches the back of his shoulder. 

“Wanna give me your number? I’d quite like to see you again.”

Trying hard to keep her screaming internal, she reaches over to the bedside table and hands him her phone, watching as his nimble fingers type in his digits before pressing the call button. 

“Think my phone’s dead but the call should’ve gone through. Now we can text each other.”

She smiles warmly. “I’d like that.” 

They don’t keep their eyes off each other as they get dressed, him slipping into last night’s clothes and her into some fresh ones, and she can feel the want for him pool deep in her stomach, bitter at everything they didn’t get to experience yesterday, glad about what they did get to do.

“Hey, just one second, (Y/N),” he stops her as she’s about to leave the room and she turns, looks up at him when he steps close. “I’m gonna take the advice you gave me yesterday, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re a second option, a rebound, anything like that. I enjoyed yesterday immensely.” 

Her heart flutters at his consideration, but she only smiles and puts a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin softly. 

“I’m not here to make your life more complicated than it needs to be, Nicholas,” she assures and means it. “I enjoyed it too, and I’d love to see you again if possible. If not, then no hard feelings. We can be honest with each other. Friends get to do that, no?”

His nod is slow, the relief basically radiating off of him as he grabs her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles before opening the door for her, following her out.

Nicholas doesn’t stay for breakfast, but he kisses Cooper’s cheek and thanks him, hugs her with a quiet promise to text her, and soon enough she’s perched on a bar stool at Cooper’s kitchen island, spooning cereal into her mouth and doing her best to dodge his suspicious looks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says through a mouthful.

“Not looking at you like anything.” 

She levels him with a look, unimpressed.

“Ask what you want to ask or shut up entirely, Coop.” 

A slow smile spreads across his face, seemingly shy but his blazing eyes betray him as he asks, “Did you fuck him?”

She expected this, so she answers calmly. 

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The question makes her stop for a moment, unsure how much she’s allowed to say.

“I think you know why. Are you mad?” 

He rolls his eyes, takes her hand in his.

“No, of course not. I’d be happy for both of you. But I know that you’re both,” he shoots her a meaningful look that she expertly ignores, “in a rough place in life right now, and I’d hate to see you take it out on each other.” 

She nods, understanding where he’s coming from.

“Is Nick going to get the same speech?” she asks, only half joking.

“A much stricter one, I can tell ya that!” 

She laughs as she gets up along with him to clean the mess from their breakfast up before she goes to meet with her aforementioned friends, heart fluttering the entire time at the prospect of Nick messaging her. 

*** 

She’s sitting in the park and sipping on her smoothie when she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. Tuning out her friends’ laughter for a minute, she takes it out to see that it’s from Nick, making excitement bubble up in her chest. She opens it immediately, not expecting anything, when suddenly the words make her want to choke on her own spit.

not to be too forward but I just made myself come to the thought of how tight your throat would be around me. I’ll be thinking about that for a long while.

Two seconds later:

hope you’re having a wonderful day. 

Trying not to seem like the mess he’s turned her into within seconds, she does her best to fight off the mental image his message is creating in her mind and reply somewhat coherently. 

You’re a fucking dickhead, do you know that? I’m out and about and now I’m dripping. Thanks for nothing.

His reply doesn’t take long, has her taste blood from where she’s gnawing her bottom lip open. 

that’s how I want you baby, all the time. see you soon. 

She’s distracted for the rest of the day but when her friends ask her about it, she chalks it up to her stressful college courses and tight deadlines. Despite the butterflies dancing in her belly, she’s had a nice time, and when she walks into Cooper’s house later, she’s got a beaming smile on her face. 

“Honey, I’m home!” she shouts, taking off her shoes and hanging up her handbag by the door. 

“Honeys, please!” comes Stuart’s voice from the living room and she grins as she walks in, presses a kiss to the tops of their heads. 

“Missed ya at the party yesterday,” she says and plops down on the loveseat across from where they’re cuddled up on the couch. 

Friends is on. She hates that show.

“Yeah, I was sad I couldn’t make it, but Cooper is throwing a pool party tomorrow, so I’ll still get some fun in.” 

She’s surprised at hearing about yet another event, but she’s not complaining. 

“And drinks,” Cooper reminds him helpfully. “Lots of drinks as well.” 

They chat a little, watch a small part of some movie that’s on when Stuart switches the channel, stay up until it’s hard for her to suppress the yawning. Bidding them goodnight, she stands up to go into the guest room when Cooper calls out her name.

“He’ll be there tomorrow,” he lets her know, a kind little smile on his face, and she nods gratefully before ascending the stairs, ready for sleep.

The next morning, she doesn’t overthink it, mainly because she refuses to give up so much power so soon.

It’s just her usual routine; the shaving, the skincare, the comfy bikini, a midi dress over it. No make-up, just her necklace, she refuses to get dolled up for a pool party. From what she knows, it’ll be a much smaller affair than Friday’s party was, and she’s looking forward to it.

“I’ll handle the BBQ, could you just make the salad dressing and carry these out to the patio, (Y/N)?” Cooper asks her, and she obliges gladly.  

They set everything up rather quickly, the guests start arriving soon, and she tries her hardest not to stop in her tracks when she sees Nicholas walk out through the glass doors of the living room, hugging everyone he knows before he spots her. The way he rakes his eyes over her body before settling on her face makes heat creep up her neck, and she knows that it’s got nothing to do with today’s temperature. 

“Hey, stranger,” he greets her, wraps his arms around her to give her a good squeeze.

“Hey, you,” she smiles, inhales his fresh scent, enjoys having him in her arms again. “How have you been?” 

The breath he exhales as he pulls away is deep, it lets her know that things have gone down, but the private smile he gives her makes the oncoming worry in her mind disappear. 

“I’ve been alright so far, I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

She nods, cheeks warming. “Okay. Come find me.”

She allows herself to be open, truthful in her wants, and he chuckles at that, squeezes her shoulder.

“Always.” 

They don’t sit next to each other during lunch, but they keep glancing over the table and finding each other’s eyes, and every single time it happens, it makes the heat coil tighter in her stomach. He looks fucking good today, ruffled hair and a loose button-down that he keeps open, muscular chest flashing at every turn. At some point he puts his sunglasses on and turns his head straight in her direction, but she can’t tell if she’s being stared at or not, faltering during the conversation she’s trying to have with one of the girls at the party. 

When they’re all full and satiated, they go and find their own things to do: some go to swim a few laps or just cool off in the pool, some go to lounge by the grass and read, some stay at the table and keep drinking and chatting. She decides to walk over to the big tree at the back of the garden, finding a comfortable spot on the outdoor sofa under it and laying down, head comfortably resting on a small pillow. It’s not like she’s hoping he’ll find her there; she knows he is going to come and join her eventually. She just needs a little breather yet again, getting easily overwhelmed in big groups of people.

“And here you are, sneaking off again,” she hears his voice after Lord knows how much time has passed, and she can’t help the slow smile that spreads across her face. 

“My social battery empties quickly,” she starts to explain as she watches him sit down at the end of the outdoor couch, but what she doesn’t expect is for him to grab her legs and drape them over his lap, rubbing up and down one foot lightly.

“D’you mind?” he asks, eyebrow raised. 

“No, ‘s comfortable.” 

They sit in silence like that for a little, just looking at each other, and she can feel a lump grow in her throat. Never has she wanted somebody as badly as him, and the restraint she has to show is otherworldly at this point. 

“What happened, Nicholas?” she dives straight in, direct as always, watches him exhale deeply.

“Well,” he laughs, no humor behind it. “I had that conversation with her yesterday.” 

“Yeah? How’d it go?” she asks, heart in her throat. 

She thinks back on what he told her, that he’s scared to give in to his ex, that he might let her convince him to try one more time, one more moment, one more fuck, and she feels pathetic for how scared she is that he’ll tell her that this is it, it’s over between them before it even started. 

“She took it well. I hate hurting her, I really struggled, but she… she didn’t put up a fight,” he explains, and a wave of relief mixed with guilt washes over her, has her breathe easier. “She knows, I think. We both do.” 

“You still love her, though, don’t you?” she presses, winces when he grabs her foot and digs in, massages at a sore spot.

His smirk tells her he isn’t sorry.

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t mine to have anymore, and I am so okay with that.” 

“Do you feel bad about Friday night?”

He scoffs, pulls her foot up to his mouth and presses a kiss against it, has her gut clenching from the motion, so intimate, so familiar. 

“There’s nothing I’ve felt better about in a while, I’ll be honest.” 

She nods, at a loss for words. Wanting to jump him right here, but cautious considering their surroundings. Wanting to have him but wanting to keep building the tension to see what happens when he snaps. 

It’s hard having a filter in his presence, so she blurts out, “How many more times have you thought about me having you down my throat since you texted me yesterday?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Nicholas chokes and throws his head back, eyes shut as if it’s hurting him to think about it.

“I need to know, Nick.” 

“Last night again… then this morning, as I was getting ready to come here.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Last night before or after you went to see her?” 

His brown eyes are wide when she looks into them, they’re honest and sincere, which is why it hits so much harder when he tells her, “Both.”

“Fuck,” she breathes, sits up and pulls her legs to her chest, needing to collect herself. “You’re a bastard, Nicholas.” 

“I can’t help it,” he smirks, reaches out to lay a hand on her knee but not moving closer. “What about you? Did you have to help yourself out at all?”

She nods dumbly, unable to look away from his face.

“Last night, as well. Three times. I couldn’t sleep without it.” 

A bite to his lips tells her he’s imagining it, thinking about it.

“Did you give yourself any fingers? Or did you only play with your clit?”

“M-my clit, didn’t put anything inside of me.” 

She feels the increase of her pulse, feels the tingle in her core at the way he looks at her, devours her with his gaze.

“Why not, little girl?”

“I want the next thing to fill me to be you, Nicholas,” she confesses, lays herself bare and relishes in the devastation her words cause him, the way his jaw drops, his brows raise. 

It’s safe, she reminds herself, he’s safe. She can be vulnerable with him, can let him throw her against the wall and trust that he’ll pick up the shattered pieces to put her back together. 

“You’re killing me, do you know that? The things I wanna do to you…” he trails off, stares into the distance for a moment. “I’ve never wanted to do them to another person. I don’t even fucking know you.”

“No, but you see me. And I don’t need to know what those things are, Nicholas. I feel them. And I want them, too.” 

A harsh puff of air leaves his nose before he’s leaning back, gazing at her, face resolute.

“Go to the room upstairs and wait for me there, will you?” 

She nods, mind and heart racing, does as she’s told as she gets up on shaky legs, knees nearly buckling. Making sure her walk isn’t too fast as not to rouse suspicion but fast enough to show him that she wants this, so he can see- and he certainly is watching her ass as she’s leaving- that she’s on board with what he’s trying to do.

She meant what she said: she doesn’t need to know, she feels it. 

Arriving in the guest room, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, nerves getting the best of her and leaving her nearly dizzy. She splashes some cold water on her face before cupping her hands and letting the water from the tap fill them, bringing them to her mouth and swallowing mouthfuls before she turns it off. The image that greets her in the mirror is one she hasn’t seen often: a woman delirious with lust, eyes glazed over and cheeks blotchy. 

A sound from the outside makes her dry her face off quickly before stepping out, seeing Nicholas shut and lock the door, eyes dark.

They say nothing as he stands across from her and puts a hand on her cheek, runs his thumb across her lips, smiles when she takes the very tip of it between her teeth and bites down gently.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” he asks, and she nods as he pushes his finger deeper into her mouth, presses down on her tongue and leaves it there. Her hands find his torso, his chiseled muscles to hold on to lest she loses balance, and she sucks his digit into her mouth deeply, hollows her cheeks as they keep staring at each other. “You’re a good cocksucker as well, though, hm?”

She shrugs cheekily, smiles around his finger when he chuckles. She pulls away, then, kisses the tip of his thumb. 

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” 

The way he rolls his eyes playfully is so sexy, takes away some of the suffocating seriousness that has crept into their dynamic without breaking the tension, without diminishing the spark they have. 

Large palms frame her face as he looks at her deeply, anticipation forcing her mouth to open in a gasp, and that’s when he takes his chance, claims her mouth in a kiss so sensual that it has her moaning into his lips. It doesn’t take long for his tongue to find hers and he licks at her muscle, lets her in and deepens the kiss, makes it dirty but so full of lust and devotion that she can’t help but stand on her tippy toes to chase after that sensation. 

His hand finds her throat, grips it lightly yet makes her feel breathless, a dirty chuckle against her lips breaking their moment.

“You’ll let me in there, won’t you, baby?” he rasps, drives his finger down the front of her throat. “All the way inside?” 

She nods, stupid with want. “Yes, please let me. I need to taste you, Nicholas, fuck.” 

He kisses her again, then, toying with her mouth as his hands unzip her dress, pull it off her body, leaving her in only her bikini.

“Kneel in front of the bed, with your back facing it,” he instructs, burying his head in her neck and nibbling lightly, grinning at her gasp.

She does as she’s told, has little control over it, kneels obediently and looks up at him with a wet pout on her lips. Remembering what he told her last time, that no woman could ever take his cock down here throat, believing him. Despite its length, what probably causes trouble is the veiny thickness of it, the very thing that makes cunts drip for him being the reason for locked jaws and hurting lips.

The walk over to her is deliberately slow, he’s letting her stew in her desire for him, but she can’t even complain, not when she gets to observe even his most miniscule movements uninterrupted. The first thing she does when he’s right there is fall forward and bury her face in his crotch, over the material of his linen shorts, inhaling deeply. His clothes smell clean but there’s a musky undertone, something so distinctly man that it has her mouth watering.

“Shhh, there you go, get your fill,” he whispers, drives his hands through her hair and she’s so grateful he’s letting her express her desperation how she needs to. 

The balance of her body barely allows her to get up on her knees, but she manages, presses open mouthed kisses along his torso, as far up as she can reach. She licks into his navel, kisses down his happy trail, moans as she traces her tongue along the waistband of his briefs.

“Fuck, I’m so hungry for it,” she breathes, “please give it to me, I need it so bad.” 

Nicholas chuckles, a sound that hits her right in the chest, and untangles the strings of his pants. She’s glad he’s decided to take his shorts off completely, wrapping her hands around his thighs as soon as he’s stepped out of them and mouthing at his hard cock through his briefs, tongue tasting a salty wet spot and groaning into it.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re like a woman possessed,” he growls, all pride and no disgust, and it spurs her on to reach up and pull his cock out, get his underwear out of the way so she can really revel in everything his manhood has to give.

He discards his shirt as well, then, and there he is: her personal Greek God in all his glory, naked flesh for her to devour. 

A tear makes its way down her cheek and she’s done with waiting, needs for him to own her. 

“Please,” she breathes and smiles wickedly as he grabs his cock, pumps it once, twice before holding it by the base and- 

And slapping it across her face, the hit harder than she anticipated, making her cry out with nasty hunger.

“Again,” she begs, and he obeys with a wide-eyed stare, slaps her one more time, two more times before hooking his thumb in her mouth and pulling it open, praising her when she automatically sticks her tongue out.

Nick traces the leaking head of his cock over her tongue, and she could cry when the salt hits her tastebuds, the warmth of his flesh mixing with the wetness on her muscle.

“This is what you were made for, baby,” he says, praises her, talks as if he’s far away. “You’re so fucking beautiful, just waiting for me to ruin you, huh?” She nods her head before shaking it, making sure his precome coats all of her tongue, moans when he orders, “Suck this cock, sweetheart.” 

Not needing to be told twice, she engulfs the thick tip in her mouth, sucks on it as she moves her tongue down to coat his length in spit, to ease the way, to make it easier for him to claim the depths of her throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses above her, hands not ceasing their movement in her hair, and she sees it as motivation to keep going. The louder he is, the louder she wants him.

Some men like a mix between a willing mouth and two skilled hands, she knows, but today she wants to show him just how hungry she’s been for his cock since she met him, so she works her lips around him, determined to not need her hands for this. She sinks deeper and deeper, lets the accumulated spit from her mouth coat him, doesn’t mind the strings of it escaping and dripping down her chin, makes sure she keeps her eyes wide and on him as he’s struggling not to squeeze his shut.

“Halfway there, baby, you’re so fucking good f’me,” he moans, “Messy little girl, just like that.”

She lays her tongue out and takes a deep breath before pushing down stubbornly, eyes screwing up as he goes deeper and deeper, watching his slack jaw and wide eyes marveling at something he’s always wished to experience but never could, not with the women he’d been with before. Relaxing her throat and feeling him push through that last bit of resistance as she fights against her gag reflex, fights to keep it deep within her chest, fights through the pain it brings her not to openly cough at the intrusion in her body. She can’t stand it, not for long, and she has to pull away with a chest-wracking cough, trying to collect herself but delirious with the need to prove her devotion to him.

“Baby, that was amazing, just-“

“Fuck my throat, Nicholas,” she rasps through the tears, gets in position again and takes his cock in hand this time, jerks him a little until she gets herself under control again.

“(Y/N), are you sure? Once I start, I won’t be stopping until you give me a signal, no matter how much you cry, okay?”

Jesus Christ. She nods, determined. 

“I’ll tap your thigh twice if I need you to really stop, okay?” 

He bends down and kisses her deeply, wipes at the tears on her cheeks.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers before straightening back up, gripping her by the hair and growling, “now open that fuckin’ throat for me.”

It’s animalistic, the way he takes her mouth, pushes his cock deep and keeps snapping his hips up, moaning loudly as she chokes, as she holds onto her own thighs just to have something to grip while he uses her. Inch by inch he fucks himself deep, groans her name, “My good girl, that’s right, show ‘em how it’s done,” knowing exactly how to spur her on, how to give her the strength to fight through her body’s struggles.

She’s gargling out spit, face wet and messy, when he finally, fucking finally manages to bottom out, bury her nose in his trimmed pubic hair, almost doubling over when she then sticks her tongue out until the back of her throat starts burning to lap at his balls with the tip of it, just to show him that there’s nothing stopping her from satisfying the hunger she has for him. 

“Ho- oh my fucking- ugh,” he moans, the tightness of her sending him into overdrive, the way her choking and swallowing around his cock stimulates his sensitive head making tears spring to his eyes. 

He grabs her by the hair and rips her back roughly, letting her breathe heavy for a minute before diving down to claim her lips in a bruising kiss, in awe at this woman kneeling in front of him.

“Fuck, that felt good,” she laughs manically against his mouth, tears and snot dripping from her face, but they don’t care, they’re reveling in the way they can mess each other up.

“You okay, baby? Your voice is fucked,” he smiles as she nods eagerly, clearing her throat.

“More, please, fuck my face just a little more,” she begs, watching his eyes widen at her request, but she doesn’t care. Now that she’s gotten a taste, she wants more. 

One hand in her hair and the other one on her jaw, he pushes between her lips again, keeps pushing until he’s in all the way and pulls her off again, watching her splutter and cough for a second before reeling her in again. Nicholas seems to enjoy that, watching her struggle with her throat full, struggle to catch her breath after, but whenever her eyes meet his in a silent plea, she sees the fire in his gaze burn that much brighter before he goes in to fuck her face again.

“No more,” he pants, grabs her by the arms and pulls her into a standing position, steadying her as her legs give out from having knelt for so long. “Fuck, I almost came down your throat.”

“Why didn’t you?” she pouts, face a total mess but causing him to smile at her warmly regardless.

“Don’ wanna, wanna shoot my load inside of you,” he mutters, makes her cheeks heat up.

“Next time, though?”

He laughs, kisses her swollen mouth.

“Promise, baby.”

Nick makes quick work of her bikini and gets her naked and sprawled across the bed in record time, writhing under his heated gaze as he just stands here, cock hard and dripping with her spit, watching her.

“Spread your legs for me,” he instructs, eyes raking over her form, and with a shy bite to her lip she obliges, parts her legs and lets him look at where she’s sloppy wet for him. 

“Need you so bad, I’m all swollen,” she whines, watches as he positions himself between her legs, kisses along her stomach up to her tits.

The first nipple he takes into his hot mouth gets a quick bite shortly after, making her hiss, before he moves over to the second, giving it attention while she rakes her hands through his hair, lost in sensation.

It’s all she’s ever wanted and more, the fucked-out state of arousal that has her mind feeling honey sticky and slow, completely out of her own body. She focuses on his weight on top of her, the way his spit on her nipples paired with the cool air in the room gives her gooseflesh, and soon enough she’s whimpering as he trails his kisses in the direction of her center.

“Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in, licks her in broad stripes and has her throwing her head back in ecstasy.

All the blood rushes to her center and despite not even having been touched properly, the tension burns, makes her clit tingle where it’s being loved on by his clever tongue, and she can’t help but bury her hands in his hair and push her hips up into his awaiting mouth. Nicholas eats pussy like it’s the most decadent thing he’s ever had, like it melts on his tongue, the way he pushes between her inner lips and slurps at the very source of her arousal. By now he knows how much she loves the attention on her little nub, so he sucks it into his mouth, taps his tongue against it until she’s arching off the bed, only being held down by his bulging arms. 

“N-Nick, fuck, fuck no-,“ she’s trying to push him off, the buildup of her climax making every limb tingle, but he holds on, holds her steady until she’s crying, begging, “please, let me come for you, please, please, pl- fuck-“

A hum of confirmation, the vibration of it hitting her core, is all it takes before she’s coming hard, pulling his head closer and trying to bat him away at the same time, and the minute her high decreases and her muscles relax he’s on her, kissing her lax mouth, pushing his tongue deep and letting her taste her pussy on his sinful lips. 

“Y’taste sweeter than I could’ve imagined,” he’s breathing hard against her mouth, “sweetest pussy just for me to take, ain’t it? Fuck, I need to be inside of you.”

The “Please,” punches out of her, already wrapping her legs around his torso so he’d slip in easier, giving him all the access and shouting into his shoulder as he slides his cock into her in one go, fills her up until she can feel him in her lungs. She pushes at his chest so he’d pull away, look at her, grabs him by the face and hisses “What the fuck are you, who the fuck- what are you doing t- to me?”

Nicholas’ laugh is amazed, top lip curled over his perfect teeth as he focuses on drilling into her hard, watching her lose her mind under him, watching her give herself over to him without a care in the world. He angles his hips just so, pelvic bone brushing against her clit with every thrust, making her see stars.

“You’ll come for me like this,” he promises, voice shot, “you’re so gorgeous, fuck. Look at you, can’t believe you’ll come for me again, I’ve got you-“

“Nick, please,” she cries, terrified of what her mind is making her body do, “I can’t-“

“You can and you will,” he snaps, grabs her by the face and pulls her close, kisses her pouting mouth. “Come for me, (Y/N), I wanna see you lose it.” 

She doesn’t pass out this time but she kind of wishes she did, because the groans and moans and pathetic whimpers that rip out of deep within her are sounds she’s never going to unhear now. If it were with anyone else, she’d be mortified, but he just talks her through it with pride in his voice as if she were his girl, his to coach and use and fuck and lo-

But isn’t she? She sure feels like it. 

“Atta fuckin’ girl, that’s right, oh I’m gonna come, baby-“

“Fill me up,” she whispers, lax now, letting herself be used and moved like a rag doll, “I wanna feel you dripping out of my pussy for days.”

“Oh shit, (Y/N)-“ and that does it for him, apparently, as he pushes in impossibly deep and spills inside of her, moaning into her neck and holding her close, filling her body and mind and heart, and dear God, she’s a fucking goner. 

The room smells like their sex, like musk, heady and dazed, makes her head spin where she’s laying under him and wondering what the actual fuck just happened. Nicholas’ breathing is labored but he’s still pressing lazy kisses against her temple, arms still around her spent body.

After a moment, he peers down at her. 

“You okay, baby?” he whispers, like the atmosphere is something fragile.

She doesn’t trust her voice, so she just nods.

“Was it too much? Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head no.

He chuckles deeply, leans down to kiss her mouth and she can’t do much more than to let herself be kissed, can’t reciprocate.

“Talk to me, love, c’mon,” he requests gently, and when she hears that little nickname, hears the care in his voice, her lip starts wobbling and her tears start running freely down her cheeks. “Oh, baby,” he soothes, lets her cry in his arms, holds her through it.

She’s heard of people crying after sex, especially after intense sex, but it has never happened to her. Laying here, though, on these ruined sheets, face and body and her fucking insides sticky with him, after having been used so mercilessly and still having him hold her like she’s something precious, talk to her like she’s something to be cherished? She can’t take it, the turmoil of the last few days, the last few weeks, paired with the experience of his mere existence sending her into overdrive. 

“Let it out, I’m here f’you,” he whispers, shushes her, kisses her head, and soon enough she runs out of tears, only sniffles where she’s hiding in his neck. 

Nicholas pulls away, props himself up on one elbow as his other hand keeps stroking her hair, her face, anything he can reach. He’s got a small smile playing on his full lips as he looks at her, and she smiles back, exhausted but satiated.

“’m sorry for this,” she croaks, voice barely there.

Before she can say anything else, he interrupts her, shushes her with his thumb on her lips. “Please don’t,” he says, eyes kind, “I’m so honored that you trust me enough to fall apart like this. Seriously, (Y/N), this is not a small deal.” 

She clicks her tongue, eyes welling up with tears again.

“I know,” she whimpers, takes his hand in hers and kisses it. “I know it isn’t, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with this. I- Nicholas… What the fuck?” 

He brings her to his chest, holds her close, kisses the crown of her head.

“None of that now, baby,” he whispers, “Now I gotta give you some good aftercare and then we’ll clean up, okay? We can talk later, when we’re both in our right minds. That sound good?”

She nods, says, “I don’t wanna go back to the party,” but it’s muffled against his full chest. 

He hears her anyways.

“We don’t have to; we’ll just stay here." 

Cleaning up is a quiet affair, they keep each other close at all times, standing under the shower together and just washing each other, hands trailing across the other with no intent to take it further. It’s intimate, it’s connecting, and it’s exactly what she needs to come down from the rollercoaster he’s put her through. Nicholas rummages through the closets on that floor until he finds clean sheets and changes them while she stands next to the bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, watching with a small smile as he wrestles with the fitted sheet.

“Too many workouts today,” he grumbles as he pulls it over the corners of the bed, “I haven’t consumed enough calories today for this level of exercise.” 

She giggles at his silliness before she lets herself fall onto the bed, holding her arms open for him to crawl in, settling his head on her boobs.

“Naked cuddling is my favorite,” she whispers to him conspiratorially and he nods eagerly, agreeing.

“Same, don’t nearly do it often enough.”

She’s ready for a nap, she realizes as she lets her eyes fall shut, and soon enough she’s slipping away softly, clutching him tightly.  

Unsure if she's dreaming or not, she hears a soft, "I've got you, my sweet. Always got you."

[wellofdean]

got these tags today from prev: #i think it's beautiful bc it didn't set out to be queer#life uh finds a way#it's not the best television ever#like not legit among the greats#but it had some incredible moments

And like... I have made a LOT of posts, at great length saying why I think Dean was always imagined as a queer character, and where the queerness was baked into the DNA of the show from episode one, and which I will not reprise here, but as much as I disagree that the queer glory of Supernatural is something it tripped and fell into by accident somehow, and without everyone involved knowing that queerness was part of what they were making, I do agree with something here: it's beautiful because it was a fucking journey.

Supernatural was not like today's prestige television with a tight 8-10 episodes and a fully planned narrative from day one, it was old-timey TV that arose out of things like Twin Peaks and The X-Files, falling somewhere between a weekly procedural and a serial. It had broad plot arcs sketched out, but the day-to-day grind of writing and making it was driven by characters that took on depth and meaning as it went along; network television long seasons with lots of filler that did nothing to further the serial plot, but let us get to know the characters, who became more and more lovable and real the more time we spent with them, in an organic way.

Maybe my Gen-X is showing here, but there's something beautiful about something that feels open-ended, isn't there? I mean, Supernatural STILL feels open-ended. Like, any moment now patient zero Jensen is going to suit up and tell us more of Dean's story, and we won't know where it's going and it will be fucking GREAT just to spend any time whatsoever with Dean? Television nowadays feels so PLANNED and yeah, there's some great stuff out there, but Supernatural had something special and fucking great that doesn't really exist anymore.

Like, what does it mean "one of the best" or "legit among the greats"? Supernatural was 15 years of storytelling, and for all the fucking kvetching on this, the Supernatural website, about its vagaries, it was pretty consistently well written. Jensen Ackles is a legit great actor who is seriously underrated for his sheer fucking craft, and as much as it is undeniable that Supernatural has some genuinely silly episodes, taken as a whole, when all of it is in your mind, the themes and threads in it are unironically epic in scope, and it has legitimately interesting things to say about those themes. AND it has incredible moments. AND the most devastaingly romantic love story I can think of.

Like, fellas, it's one of the best TO ME. It's legit among MY greats, and I would argue it deserves a place up there.

I got this one hobby horse, and god knows I'm gonna saddle up and ride it: Supernatural was a legitimately good show and it was queer as hell in its very bones.

[swordscleric]

I'm only halfway through the second phase of Predathos (which, to be clear is an incredible vibe for a bossfight, love a good head & hands/multitarget-same-entity boss) but I cannot shake the feeling of disappointment and just dissatisfaction I have had with this campaign that definitely started with Dusk/Yu, got followed up handily with the first Delilah/Sun Tree fight and then has been unfortunately reinforced with every discussion surrounding the Prime Deities since Hearthdell. This campaign is fascinating to pick apart, I have been really enjoying pulling apart why it isn't working compared to C1 or C2. But as much as I'm having fun dissecting where the worldbuilding has led to the current weaknesses in the gods' argument or reading other people's incisive commentary on the lack of personalities on the Ruby Vanguard's end, the "girlfailure" nonsense, etc etc, man do I wish this campaign was better than it is.

There are so many avenues of improvement -

Matt telling everyone to prep and write characters for this campaign instead of a C2-esque character-focused campaign.

Matt working religious organisations into the world properly.

The cast engaging with Marquet as a genuine location rather than set-dressing.

Otohan, Ozo and the rest of the Vanguard having more than "*insert snappy line here*" for their personalities.

No Delilah.

Bell's Hells having an iota of curiosity for anything outside of their own selves, including but not limited to: the gods, religious worship, the Elemental Titans and why they were sundered, how the people of Exandria feel about the gods, Vasselheim and its role in suppressing information about Predathos, Ludinus Da'Leth's plan and how it would still break the world if they did it in his place

I don't know why all of this fell into place in the way that it did, but it did. We can endlessly speculate why - the cast resting on their laurels after C2, not having enough time between the animated shows and Daggerheart and Candela Obscura and, and, and - but at the end of the day I really do hope that whatever form the final campaign wrap-up takes, they burn the damn questions asking the cast "what if the world was made of pudding and this character and this character kissed?" and instead pick questions that get them to introspect for a potential Campaign 4. Otherwise I don't know what will happen, but it sure as hell won't be Mighty Nein part 2: Issylra Boogaloo.