#I used those overnight curl things

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery: Christmas

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Cub

"We could get her another cat?"

"We're not getting her another cat!"

It's strangely difficult to find ideas for Christmas presents to give a little girl that's only obsessed with cats, the washing machine and baking.

Your mothers can't exactly buy you your own washing machine or an electric mixer or, god forbid, another massive cat for you to carry around and insist isn't fat, isn't a complete monster or isn't the absolutely worst enemy of your mothers.

One of those worst enemies, your incredibly fat tabby Garfield, sits on the kitchen counter attempting to bat open a box of cereal to feed his never ending hunger.

Mapi and Ingrid ignore him, knowing that sooner or later this burst of energy will leave and he will amble off to a sunspot so he can nap away the rest of the day.

"Mami!" A call comes from your bedroom. "I'm stuck again!"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "Just a minute, cub! I'm coming!" She turns back to Ingrid. "Definitely a no to the cat?"

Ingrid sighs. "No more cats."

"Just trying to make it easier on us!"

"Go and help our kid put on her t-shirt. I've got this."

But Ingrid very much doesn't have this. It shouldn't be this difficult to find a Christmas present for you but you're such a content kid. You've already got toys and the tv and the washing machine and the cats.

There's not really much else you want or need.

You're no help either, of course, because when Ingrid asks, you just reply with a simple:

"Er...I can get more time in yours and Mami's bed?"

So, it was very clear that you didn't quite know what you wanted for Christmas either apart from, clearly, curling up in Mapi and Ingrid's bed with them and probably kicking Mapi in her sleep.

Ingrid spends weeks stewing over what she and Mapi could get you. They'd gotten you a few throw away things like a new yellow digger after your last one fall off the balcony and smashed into the pavement below and a cute little necklace that doubled as identification with things like your name and had Mapi and Ingrid's numbers on them in case you ever went missing in a crowded area.

In the end, it's Frido that comes to her and Mapi's rescue, throwing out an idea at random during lunch when Aitana takes you up to the buffet to find some chicken.

It's a throwaway comment but with Mapi and Ingrid struggling to work out what else they could get you, they cling to it like a lifeline. They're fairly easy presents to source, something that Ingrid is glad for because she's cutting it abnormally close to Christmas day to get everything sorted.

"Mami..."

There's a crackle on the monitor that has Mapi stirring awake.

"Maaaami."

Mapi counts to ten in her mind before rolling out of bed, kissing a still sleeping Ingrid on the cheek and making her way out to your room.

"Merry Christmas, cub," She says as she pushes open your bedroom door," I see you've got company."

All of the cats seem to have migrated to your bed overnight.

Garfield, as usual, is laying on his back after (presumably) being used as a stuff animal for most of the night. Bagheera sits by your feet, grooming herself primly while the monstrous León-León stands nearby, tail flicking from side to side as he stares.

"We had Christmas cuddles," You say happily," And now we have the gingerbread?"

"We'll have to wait. Mama is still asleep."

"Why?"

"Huh? Why is Mama still asleep? She's tired."

"But why?"

"Because she was busy making sure everything was good for today."

"But why?"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "You know what, let's go eat that gingerbread. Then we'll go and get your Mama."

You wiggle happily all the way to the kitchen, where Mapi lifts you up onto the counter so you can have a breakfast of the gingerbread you and Ingrid made last night and so Mapi can stop you from running into their room before Ingrid is awake enough to function.

The cats come running in as soon as they hear the rattling of their dishes - though Garfield kind of lumbers in, far behind León-León and Bagheera but still manages to steal most of the food.

Mapi does a pretty good job of stopping you going for the presents until Ingrid finally gets up, a nice warm mug of coffee waiting for her and an overly excited child trying to shove some gingerbread into her mouth.

"Tha-Thanks, Cub," Ingrid laughs as she pushes away one of your sticky little hands from where it's trying to shove biscuit into her mouth," But I'm fine with my coffee."

"It's good," You say through your own full mouth and Ingrid laughs.

"I know because it was made by us, with lots of love." Ingrid kisses the tip of your nose. "But really you should eat it all yourself."

"Really?"

"Really-really," Ingrid insists and you giggle, kicking your feet happily as you finally settle on her lap, sprinkling gingerbread crumbs everywhere as you move.

Garfield, as he always does whenever there's food to spare, comes ambling over to eat them all up.

Usually, Ingrid would scold him but Mapi's coming over with presents and she decides that even the cats can get away with things they usually wouldn't today.

"Are you ready for presents?" Ingrid asks, bouncing her knee so you burst into a round of giggles.

"Presents!"

Mapi and Ingrid exchange triumphant looks as you tear open your presents.

Your new ID necklace is placed snugly around your neck immediately, ready for in case you get lost during the walk your mothers have planned later that day.

You take great delight in placing your new yellow digger with all of your other construction toys in the corner of the room next to your little wooden set of tools.

"Mama! Mami! It's CAT!"

It's truly a surprise how many CAT themed things the club has managed to make in such a short amount of time. It's even more surprising just how much stuff they can buy for so cheap a price with their team member discounts.

But, perhaps the most surprising of all is how much the club was willing to just straight up give to them in return for just a few pictures of you with CAT the mascot.

It's not shocking to the staff and fans alike who the biggest CAT fan is and, while you do regularly appear on Mapi and Ingrid's Instagrams, it's a rarer feat to see you featured on the team's.

But, with just three pictures of you with CAT and a very cute video of you nearly taking the mascot of their feet in an attempt to hug them, Mapi and Ingrid received a bundle of CAT merch in return.

"It is CAT," Mapi laughs," It's a t-shirt with CAT on it!"

"And a keyring! And a new mug!" Ingrid continues as you rip open your presents, getting more and more excited the more CAT things you see.

"CAT's my second best friend," You tell Mapi and Ingrid earnestly in the next hour as you all take a nice walk together through the park.

"Oh, yeah?" Mapi says," And who's your best friend?"

"You and Mama," You reply.

"Oh, cub," Ingrid coos," That's so swe-"

"And Bagheera and Garfield and León-León."

Mapi laughs. "There it is."

[mapis-putellas]

𝑹𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒕/𝑩.𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅

The day started off on a high note for you. It was one of those rare mornings where you woke up feeling genuinely light, like the world had shed some of its weight overnight. The hum of the fridge didn’t bother you. The texture of your favorite jumper felt soft and familiar instead of scratchy and overwhelming. Even the rain tapping against the windows sounded more like a rhythm than a distraction.

Beth, however, wasn’t her usual self. Normally, she’d greet you with a teasing grin, pulling you into a hug and pressing kisses to your cheek. But today, her posture was slouched and her usual sparkling blue eyes seemed dull.

“Morning,” you said brightly as you bounced on your toes near the kitchen counter, watching her sip her tea.

“Morning,” she replied, barely looking at you.

You tilted your head, studying her for a moment. You weren’t always great at picking up emotions, but even you could tell something wasn’t right. Still, you didn’t press. Beth wasn’t one to bottle things up for long, and if she needed to talk, she would.

Instead, you decided to focus on your rare good mood, hoping some of your energy might rub off on her.

“I was reading about leafcutter ants this morning,” you started, your voice bubbling with excitement. “Did you know they use the leaves to grow fungus? They can’t actually eat the leaves -they’re just farmers! Isn’t that amazing?”

Beth didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on her tea. You took her silence as an invitation to continue, bouncing slightly as you spoke.

“And their colonies are huge, Beth. Like, millions of ants! And they’re so organized. They’ve got these tiny highways, and they even have guards to protect them from predators.”

“Mm-hmm,” Beth muttered, her tone distracted.

You frowned slightly but pushed on, determined to cheer her up. “And there’s this one type of butterfly that’s evolved to mimic ant larvae so it can live in the nest. The ants actually take care of it, thinking it’s one of their own!”

“Can you stop?”

Her words were sharp and unexpected, slicing through your excitement like a knife. You froze, your hands halfway through a gesture to explain the butterfly’s mimicry.

Beth sighed, setting her tea down with more force than necessary. “I mean it. Just… shut up for a bit, yeah? I can’t deal with this right now.”

Her tone was clipped, her voice tinged with irritation, and it hit you like a physical blow. Your arms dropped to your sides, and the bouncing that had accompanied your words came to an abrupt halt.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t meet her eyes, your gaze fixed on the floor as your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Beth didn’t say anything else, her silence echoing louder than her words ever could. You turned quickly, retreating to the safety of your shared bedroom.

Once inside, you closed the door behind you and crawled under the duvet, pulling it tightly around yourself like a cocoon. The warmth was a small comfort, but it did little to stem the flood of emotions swirling in your chest. You felt silly, embarrassed, and most of all, ashamed.

The things you shared with Beth, the endless stream of facts and curiosities that made up so much of who you were, had always brought her joy. She’d tease you for your “insect obsession,” but her smile and laughter told you she loved it. Except for today.

You curled up tighter, the covers muffling the sound of your uneven breathing. Your fingers itched to graze over something soft -Beth’s skin, usually- but you didn’t dare go back to her now.

Time passed slowly, and you stayed hidden beneath the duvet, your mind replaying the moment over and over again. You barely heard the soft knock on the door.

“Love?” Beth’s voice was quiet, hesitant.

You didn’t respond, unsure if you even could.

The door creaked open, and you felt the mattress dip as Beth sat beside you. Her hand hesitated before resting gently on your shoulder, the touch tentative.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

You didn’t move, your face still buried in the pillow.

Beth sighed, shifting to lay beside you. She tugged the duvet back just enough to slip underneath, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You didn’t deserve that,” she continued, her voice soft but firm. “I’m having a bad day, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

You sniffled, finally turning your head to look at her. Her eyes were filled with regret, her brows knitted together in concern.

“I just wanted to make you happy,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

Beth’s face crumpled, and she pulled you closer, tucking your head under her chin. “You always make me happy,” she said fiercely. “I was just being an idiot. None of this is your fault.”

Her words were a balm, but the sting of the earlier moment still lingered. You stayed silent, letting her hold you as you tried to sort through your jumbled emotions.

Beth pressed a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering. “I love hearing about your ants and your butterflies and whatever else you’re excited about. Don’t stop telling me, okay?”

You nodded slowly, your fingers creeping up under her shirt to rest against the soft skin of her back. The familiar sensation grounded you, and you felt your breathing start to even out.

*

The rest of the day passed in a haze of uncertainty. Even as Beth’s arms stayed firmly wrapped around you on the couch, a warmth that should have comforted you, your body felt stiff and hesitant, your mind playing on a loop of her earlier words.

Shut up.

You replayed the moment in your head over and over again, analyzing every detail, every nuance of her tone, even as you knew it would only make your chest tighten further. It wasn’t just the words themselves. It was the way they had stripped away the small confidence you’d built in sharing your world with her.

Beth’s head rested against your shoulder, her fingers absently tracing patterns on your thigh. Normally, you would have responded in some way -leaned into her, placed a hand over hers, or even tucked her closer. But now, you just sat there, frozen, your eyes fixed on the muted television screen.

“You okay, love?” Beth’s voice was soft, cautious, but even that wasn’t enough to undo the knot in your stomach.

You nodded quickly, your gaze darting to her for only a moment before returning to the screen.

She shifted beside you, sitting up a little straighter. “Sure? You’ve gone quiet on me.”

Your hands instinctively pulled at the sleeves of her oversized hoodie, the fabric soft between your fingers as you bit down gently on the cuff. It was a habit Beth had seen countless times before, but the added bounce of your leg gave you away.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though the waver in your voice betrayed you.

Beth frowned, her hand moving to rest on your knee in an attempt to still its movement. You flinched ever so slightly at the contact, and her frown deepened.

“Talk to me,” she urged gently, her thumb stroking over the fabric of your leggings.

You shook your head, swallowing hard. Your chest felt too tight, your throat too constricted to form any proper words.

Beth sighed softly, leaning back into the couch. “You’re still upset, aren’t you?”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. You didn’t want to upset her further, didn’t want to say the wrong thing. But the silence stretched too long, and you felt her shift again, this time pulling away slightly.

“Hey,” she said, her voice firmer now. “Don’t do that thing where you go quiet on me. Please.”

“I’m not,” you replied quickly, though it was a lie and you both knew it.

Beth exhaled sharply, and though she didn’t say anything, the sound made your shoulders tense. You bit harder on your sleeve, your teeth sinking into the fabric as you fought to keep your emotions in check.

She didn’t push further, and the silence that followed felt unbearably heavy.

Dinner was equally strained. Beth had offered to cook, her way of making up for earlier, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept the gesture fully. Instead, you sat at the kitchen table, your hands tucked under your thighs as you watched her move about the space.

Normally, you’d be beside her, stealing bites of whatever she was making and asking a million questions about the recipe-or, more likely, telling her about a new book you’d read or an interesting fact you’d discovered. But now, you barely said a word, your focus entirely on the way her blonde hair fell over her shoulder as she worked.

Beth glanced at you a few times, her brows furrowed, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she slid a plate in front of you once everything was ready, her expression softening as she sat across from you.

“Eat up,” she said, her tone light but watchful.

You nodded, picking up your fork and poking at the food without much enthusiasm.

“You don’t like it?” she asked after a moment, her voice laced with worry.

“No, it’s good,” you replied quickly, though you didn’t take a bite to prove it.

Beth watched you for a long moment, her fork paused midway to her mouth. “You’re still biting your sleeve.”

Your hand froze, the fabric of her hoodie still pressed to your lips. You hadn’t even realized you were doing it.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, dropping your hand to your lap.

“Don’t apologize,” Beth said immediately, her voice soft. “I’m just… worried about you. I hate seeing you like this.”

You didn’t respond, focusing instead on your plate as you tried to will your leg to stop bouncing under the table.

Beth sighed, setting her fork down. “I know I upset you earlier, and I’m so sorry for that. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was in a mood, and I took it out on you, and that’s not fair.”

You nodded faintly, still not looking at her.

“Love, please.” Her voice cracked slightly, and it made your chest ache.

Finally, you glanced up, meeting her gaze for only a second before looking away again. “I’m fine,” you said quietly, though it was clear to both of you that you weren’t.

Beth reached across the table, her fingers brushing against yours. You flinched again, pulling your hand back instinctively.

The hurt in her eyes was immediate, and you felt a pang of guilt so sharp it made your stomach churn.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at her then, really looked at her, and saw the sincerity in her expression. She was trying. She always tried. But you couldn’t shake the lingering fear that had taken root in your chest.

“I don’t want to annoy you again,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Beth’s eyes widened, and she immediately stood, rounding the table settle on your lap. She cupped your face gently, her thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized had started to fall.

“You could never annoy me,” she said firmly, her blue eyes locking onto yours. “I was being a grumpy cow earlier, and I snapped, but that’s on me—not you. I love everything about you, okay? Especially the way you get excited about things and want to share them with me. That’s one of my favorite things about you.”

You searched her face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was love and regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for.

Beth shook her head, pulling you into a hug. “Don’t be. Just… don’t stop being you, yeah? I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold back around me.”

You clung to her, your arms wrapping tightly around her waist as you buried your face in her shoulder. Her fingers ran soothingly through your hair, and for the first time that day, you felt yourself start to relax.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[lale-txt]

❥ 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏? ↳ 𝐰/ 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮, 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚, 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢, 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚, 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢, 𝐔𝐤𝐚𝐢 & 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨

☆ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 & 𝐜𝐰: i would like to thank my insomnia for being useful for once. reader is gn! food mention in the Osamu & Ukai drabbles. the Iwaizumi one is a little bittersweet, otherwise mostly fluff.

☆ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :1.5k

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 is pretty sure he’s seeing an angel. Illuminated only by the light above the kitchen stove, your silhouette looks suspiciously like it’s wrapped in a full body halo. He doesn’t ask, just shuffles over and wraps his arms around you from behind, his face pressed into your neck and inhaling the scent of what is home to him. Only when you hold out a spoonful of leftover curry over your shoulder does he look up and let you feed him, followed by a low pleased rumble against your back. You tried to be quiet during your 3AM munchies, you really did, but if there’s one thing that wakes Osamu then it’s the sound of a pot lid being lifted and the scraping of a spoon against a ceramic bowl. He doesn’t mind though; he’d rather be up with you than reach for you in his sleep and find your side of the bed empty. The way to the heart is through the stomach or whatever that saying is–he can’t remember, but he knows for sure that he fell in love with you bite for bite, devouring you till his heart was full of you. 

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 is a light sleeper, always has been since he was a kid. If he doesn’t drown out every single sound and every glimpse of light with two pillows smushed against the sides of his face, it’s just not happening. That is until he met you. The first time you slept next to him, curled up against his back, Kuroo found himself confused how easily his body settled in next to yours. His weary head falling against your shoulder, your fingers threading through his messy hair, touching spots no one ever has–before he knew, he was melting into you, one arm snuck around your middle to keep you from moving away from him. Ever. It’s almost ridiculous how he has to fight to stay awake, not wanting the pillow talk to end just yet. Not because you bore him, hell no, it’s just that your presence is more soothing than anything else in this world to him. Your soft voice in his ear carries him into his dreams, allowing him to sleep soundly now that he knows he’ll never have to miss you in his life again. 

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 sees the small green dot next to your name at 3AM and knows you’re probably messaging your fictional husbands in that otome game of yours again. He doesn’t mind. If anything, it gives him an excuse to text you and not worry about waking you up from the sound of your phone going off. You’re so quick to reply to him, too, scolding him that he’s not allowed to pull an all-nighter again, as if you were any better. He laughs quietly to himself when he puts on his headset (the one with kitty ears you got him for his birthday) and starts the voice chat. You sound sleepy, and he knows you’re probably gonna pass out on him in the next couple of minutes, but he’d rather hear your sleepy babbling than not hear your voice at all. You’ll tell him all about your dreams tomorrow, when he lays down for a nap with his head in your lap and you tease him by tracing the dark circles under his eyes, only to run your fingers soothingly through his pudding hair until he falls asleep with a small smile on his lips.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 hates those overnight bus rides. It’s too crowded, everyone around him is snoring, it smells like a locker room after a match and he can’t bring his satin pillow with him because the risk of someone else snatching it would be too high. At least there’s you. It’s always you. Only you. He wordlessly slips into the seat next to you, knowing you never find sleep during those long hours on the road either, no matter how tired you are. The two of you have a routine down by now; first he shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, then you take out one of your earbuds and hold it out for him before shuffling through your playlist and showing him whatever song is currently stuck on your mind. It never takes long till your head sinks against his shoulder, your hand sliding into his, fitting so neatly like a puzzle piece. His thumb brushes over your knuckles when he kisses the top of your head softly. He can’t wait to be home again to fully indulge in you, but for now this will do. 

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 thinks it’s a bad idea. But when you knocked on his door, your pillow clutched to your chest and asking if you could sleep in his bed tonight, his rigidity crumbled in a heartbeat. He couldn’t possibly send you back to your room across the hallway, not when he saw your puffy eyes and the small wobble of your bottom lip. Now you’re lying in bed next to him, the blanket pulled up to the tip of your nose, and he can tell that you still feel like crying but you’re also relieved over not having to be alone anymore. So is he. More than you’ll ever know. Yeah, it’s a bad idea, but when he holds out an arm for you to crawl into and you inch closer to him, your hand coming to rest sprawled out across his ribcage, Iwaizumi promises himself to protect your heart, even if it meant breaking his own in return. His whole world shrinks down to just you and him, and for as long as he can keep his arms wrapped around you, your head tucked under his chin, maybe for as long he can keep on dreaming. 

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 is surprised to find you still up. Work has dragged on forever today, the crushing deadline looming over him, and then there was this after-work dinner and karaoke bar with his colleagues he couldn’t decline again, and the commute home took him forever, and… his trail of thoughts is interrupted when your gentle hand wraps around his wrists and pulls him down to sit on the edge of the mattress with you. He doesn’t even have it in him to protest anymore, all of his tension melting away under your soft caress. You take his glasses off and put them down on the bedside table for him before wrapping your arms around him from behind, small kisses pressed to the side of his neck. He tells you all the time that you shouldn’t wait for him, that it’s getting late. But if you’d ask him in secret he’d admit that coming home to you was his favorite thing in the entire world, that the dim glow of your nightstand lamp was like a lighthouse, guiding him back into your arms, right where he belonged.

𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐈 stubs out his cigarette before reaching for the thick blanket he draped around your shoulders, making sure it hugs you nicely. You’re slumped over the table in the back room of the Sakanoshita store, your arms folded underneath your head, snoring quietly without a single worry in the world. The time you spent too giddy to fall asleep last night–all because of the first snow of the year–is now catching up on you, it seems. He told you several times that you could sleep in, that you don’t have to get up during this ungodly hour with him to open up the store, but you insisted and who was he to refuse you anything? Somehow the morning rush of high schoolers and grannies was much more bearable, knowing you were snoozing only a few meters away from him. Your position couldn’t possibly be comfortable, and he takes a mental note to spoil you later tonight–get your favorite takeout, draw you a bath, rewatch your favorite movie while snuggled up on the couch. Loving you left a mark on him like your footsteps in the snow, when it was quiet in the night and just you dancing with your arms held high. 

𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 is restless. Technically he should be powered out by now, having won a big game earlier today and spending hours entertaining reporters, fans and the rest of his team. But it’s the first night you two get to spend together after weeks apart and there’s no way he can fall asleep just now, knowing he could use that time kissing and cuddling you instead. Fortunately, you feel the same. Your legs are tangled up under the covers, and you don’t get to finish a single sentence without him stealing a kiss from your lips. Bokuto looks at you like you’re the sun, the moon and all his stars, a whole universe just for him. He tries to focus on what you’re saying, he really does, but you gotta understand that it’s hard when he just can’t get enough of the sweet little sounds you make when your lips part for him or the way your body melts into him the moment his arms come around you. You’re his, and he missed you more than anything. And if sleep really dares to come over you both, he’ll find you in your dreams again, not letting you out of sight now that he has you again. 

support your writers! if you enjoyed these drabbles, maybe say something nice in the comments, tags or asks? ♡

[alchemistc]

Donato spots it first - Tommy's been fidgeting with the just-too-short sleeves of his shirt for the past ten minutes, fingers curling into the ends of the arms, thumb sliding along the hem like maybe he could make them long enough to fully cover his wrists just by thinking really hard about it. It's stretched tight across his shoulders, the neck hole feels too high, biting into his skin, and Tommy is absolutely certain it's been hemmed in at the fucking waist, because he can barely keep the damn thing tucked into his pants.

(The cost of having those fucking magnificent gazelle legs is apparently torso space.)

"You shrink your shirt in the wash again, Kinard?"

Tommy's been begging their vendor to switch to a jersey blend for years because 100% cotton undershirts are a goddamn bitch and a half to maintain.

Tommy thinks about ignoring the question entirely. They've been razzing him for weeks about the way every single smile line in his face has been putting in overtime lately.

And then she gets a closer look at it. The merch is usually the same cross-department, but every once in a while some probie will get stuck with the task of ordering a few extras to have as backups around the station and they'll go a little too hard on customization. Like, for example, the one he'd picked off the top of his clean laundry basket without looking in his rush out the door this morning.

Lucy's eyes narrow. She reaches forward, pinches the 118 emblem blazing across the breadth of his shoulder, takes in the color and sturdiness of a shirt he definitely can't play off as being old enough to have been from his own time at the One Eighteen.

Donato grimaces so mockingly Tommy nearly warns her that her face'll get stuck like that. "Christ, Kinard, how fucking domestic are you two?"

(Three days off together after a week of getting by with random texts, their schedules nearly opposite, and when Evan had stared at his overnight bag on day two and realized he didn't have any spare undershirts he'd pouted up a storm about the fact that if he had to go back to his place it didn't make a lick of sense to turn right back around to Tommy's, so Tommy had just thrown Evan's dirty undershirt in with the rest of his own laundry. And then prompted Evan to throw all his other stuff in the wash too. Halfway across the city, Evan is definitely rolling too-long sleeves over his palm with the tips of his fingers and Tommy does not have time to think about how much he likes the idea of that )

"He doesn't even know my how I take my coffee," Tommy snipes, like that avoids the question, and across the locker room Johnson slams his locker shut with a snort.

"Because you've been using his increasingly more desperate attempts to figure it out as some weird intricate mating ritual for three months now."

"It's about --."

"--the journey, not the destination," they both interrupt, eyes rolling, and Tommy doesn't bother to try to hide the grin in his face.

"He just wants to get it right so bad."

Donato's face is unimpressed. "Ugh. Can you please stop being so smitten right in front of me? I'm gonna throw up."

Tommy leans in for the kill. "Your wife ever buy you flowers, Johnson? Because I've been trying to decide how much thought went into the arrangement he brought me on Saturday, and I figure -." He dodges the palm Johnson extends towards his face with a bark of bright laughter.

---

Evan 2:15 PM

Boyfriend privileges are a SCAM

Evan 2:15 PM

Why is YOUR NAME on the back of this shirt? There's no way that's standard

Evan 2:16 PM

Chimney's being homophobic

Evan 2:19 PM

Nvm Gerrard saw it and now I'm just sad he didn't actually have a heart attack about it

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hello, requesting "sleeping in" thank you 🙏

Hello. I’m here, months later. Here’s something.

Buck sleeps in. Eddie’s not sure if that’s a surprise or not. He's long had the somewhat infuriating habit of not plugging his phone in overnight on his days off — theoretically to discourage scrolling on it all night and wasting the battery, but half the time it results in him sheepishly charging it up from fully dead on a page about deep sea ethernet cables or something around noon the next day. So, yeah, his phone is an expensive brick on the nightstand, alarm not even an option, and it's not like they haven't had an extremely eventful last couple of days, almost 24 hours of which Buck had spent in a car headed one way or another. Eddie understands the exhaustion. But, well- he's awake. He kind of feels like his limbs are vibrating with the feeling of- relief, or terror, or joy, or- the feeling of being home. Home, here. Los Angeles, South Bedford, the home he — and Chris — had spent years building, a home of course neither of them could leave behind for long. He lays here, in his own bed, Buck snoring next to him and Chris down the hall, and he wonders why he ever thought he’d belong anywhere else.

Buck shuffles a little and Eddie thinks for a moment maybe- but he just snorts a little and keeps dreaming. Eddie tries to tamp down on the kind of sleepover giddiness bubbling up in his chest — wake up wake up wake up — and takes the opportunity to watch his best friend. His- whatever. Whatever they are now that Eddie knows what kissing him is like, quickly and quietly in his parent’s backyard, now that Eddie has stumbled his way through a question — “Why are you- why did you- all of this- do you- do you-“ — and Buck had frowned a little, not in an unhappy way but in his serious way, and had heard the real thing Eddie had wanted to know, and said “Eddie- of course I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Eddie whispers now, because he hadn’t the other night. He thinks Buck knows, though. He hopes he does. He’ll figure out how to say it to him when he’s awake, he’ll make sure he can never forget it.

His best friend. Whatever else they are or will be, Eddie thinks this first thing will always be true. They’ll always know each other and like each other and want to hang out. With the dubious wisdom of time and age Eddie can admit the few times they’ve fought have mostly been because something had been frustrating one of those wants. Someone should make fun of him for this, probably. Maybe Chris will, Eddie thinks, smiling at the idea that they’re in a place where they can harmlessly tease each other again. “You can’t see Buck for like three days and you go crazy,” he’ll laugh. “I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic teenager here.”

He idly wonders if he really can somehow figure out how to never go more than three days without seeing Buck ever again, and then stifles his own laughter — you’re right, imaginary Chris — because the man is still sleeping — still! — and despite his internal complaining he doesn’t actually want to disturb the guy. He looks so peaceful, passed out hard and melted into his pillow. His pillow, in Eddie’s bed. In Buck’s bed? Who is legally attached to what leases where is a little up in the air at the moment. Maybe it could be their bed. Maybe it's not too soon to say Don’t look for someplace else to live. Just stay here with me, with us. Maybe he just doesn’t care if other people think he’s moving too fast. He doesn’t even think he is, really. The will was years ago. He’s thought more about this relationship, worked harder on it and for longer, than any other in his life. Seven years is long enough to know.

Stay with me, he thinks at Buck, looking at his curls that are flattened in some places and sticking out weird in others. Tonight and every other night we get. He thinks Buck will say yes. He’s pretty certain Buck will say yes. He moved in so Eddie could leave, he’s pretty certain Buck will stay for him, too.

“Do you have a secret kid somewhere I can do something financially irresponsible for to prove my devotion to you?” Eddie asks in a whisper. Buck snorts again, but doesn’t otherwise stir. “Okay. Well, I’ll figure something else out.”

Buck’s eyelashes are pale against his cheek. His skin is rougher than when they first met, older, aging. His birthmark isn't visible, pressed into the pillow, because Buck is turned towards Eddie in his sleep. He’s all stubbly — it had itched against his face, Eddie remembers — and Eddie will kind of miss it when he has to shave before work tomorrow. He can grow it back, though, and Eddie will be around to see it in this new life where they never spend more than three days apart. Two days, maybe. 48 hours in a row and they have to say sorry, gotta go, my-

Husband? My husband is waiting for me? Bobby will probably have a harder time arguing for them to stay on the same shift if they get married, and that will make the whole never-apart-for-long thing harder. So, not yet. Not yet. But Eddie watches Buck’s chest rise and fall and thinks: someday.

He gets so caught up in that thought, the two of them in suits and nice food and pretty lights and dancing and making promises, that he doesn’t register for a moment the blue eyes blinking back at him.

“Oh,” he says, sounding stupidly surprised.

“Hi,” Buck says, the word tripping out on a little huff of laughter. Eddie wants to- to taste it. He stays where he is.

“Good morning.”

Buck smiles, so big it seems to take him a moment to catch his breath. “Morning.” He yawns, stretching out like a cat for all his puppy-like tendencies. “Time is it?”

Eddie doesn’t actually know, having better things to look at than an alarm clock or phone screen, so he rolls slightly to check. “9:15.” When he rolls back Buck is right there, slinging an arm over Eddie all casual like they’ve done this a million times instead of never before, but Eddie thinks he’s right, it doesn’t feel new at all. He grabs a handful of Buck’s shirt and just holds on, feeling his body heat.

“Slept in,” Buck says, and he doesn't seem surprised or not surprised about it either. He leans forward and kisses Eddie’s cheek, quick, quiet. They have time for- for something else, now. Something longer. There’s no rush. But first, Eddie has to make sure, he has to make it clear, he has to ask:

“Will you sleep in tomorrow? Here? And- and every other day, if you want. Forever, Buck, if you want.”

Buck smiles, again so wide it takes a moment for him to speak. “We still gotta get up on work days, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs. It makes his body lean forward under Buck’s arm, closer to him. Their knees bump together. “Well- okay. I can compromise on that. I’m very reasonable. Every other day.”

“Every other day,” Buck agrees, easily, and leans in again for something else, something longer.

[heliosunny]

Hi, I enjoy reading your stories! For the request, can I please have yandere Robin x reader?

MYSTERY PLANT

Yandere!Robin x Reader

You never expected much from a simple sapling. The tiny Robin Pear tree had been left abandoned near a market stall, its leaves trembling in the wind as if pleading for someone to take it home. You had always been good at nurturing fragile things, so taking it in felt natural.

Days passed, then weeks. The tree flourished under your care, its thin branches stretching toward the sun, leaves unfurling in vibrant green. Then, one evening, beneath a moonlit sky, something impossible happened.

A petal drifted down from the tree's blossoms, shimmering as it landed in your palm. A sweet voice whispered through the room.

"You’ve taken such good care of me… Now, let me return the favor."

The branches trembled, then split apart with a shudder. A gust of wind filled the room, carrying a floral scent that made your head spin. And then, from the heart of the tree, she emerged.

She was breathtaking. Ethereal liliac-silver hair cascaded down her waist, curling slightly at the ends, a halo-like ornament resting atop her head. Pale wings, resembling those of a celestial songbird. Her teal eyes, brimming with warmth, met yours, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile.

"Robin." The name left your lips instinctively, as if you'd always known her.

Her smile widened. "Yes, and you, Y/n… you are mine."

From the moment she arrived, Robin has been following you around. She hummed melodies as she watched you sleep, brushed her fingers through your hair when she thought you wouldn’t notice.

"I bloomed for you" she whispered one evening, her arms wrapping around you in an embrace "You wouldn’t abandon me, would you?"

At first, you weren’t sure how to adjust. But she made it easy. Despite her otherworldly presence, she was warm, affectionate, and endlessly kind—to everyone.

In the marketplace, she became a sensation overnight. With a gentle smile and a soothing presence, she helped merchants arrange their goods, guided lost children back to their parents, and sang in the town square, her voice drawing in crowds like a spell.

"Miss Robin, your voice is truly a gift!" one elderly woman praised.

"A gift meant to be shared" Robin replied, bowing gracefully.

And share she did. Her singing eased tensions, made quarrels dissolve into laughter, and even though she didn’t say it outright—influenced dreams. She once mentioned it casually, over breakfast, as if it wasn’t an insanely terrifying ability.

"I see glimpses of their dreams sometimes" she admitted, twirling a spoon in her tea. "A little adjustment here, a comforting presence there… it helps people wake up happier."

You nearly choked. "Wait—you’re controlling dreams?!"

Robin giggled, tilting her head. "Control? No, no, of course not. That sounds so… forceful. I simply guide."

"You have nightmares sometimes, don’t you?" she asked, voice softer. "I could make them go away."

You hesitated. The idea of her wandering into your mind while you slept should have been unsettling. But… when she smiled at you like that, when her voice curled around your ears like a lullaby, it became harder and harder to think of anything other than her.

The incident happened at the market.

A local vendor, a kind, older man who sold fresh fruit, was being harassed by a group of thugs. They knocked over crates, laughing as apples and pears rolled across the dirt.

"Pay up, old man. Don’t think we forgot your debt."

Robin was too far away, speaking with a group of women who had begged for one more song. So you did what any decent person would do.

You stepped in.

"Hey! Leave him alone!"

The leader sneered. "Oh? And what are you gonna do about it?"

You weren’t exactly intimidating, but you held your ground. "Just walk away."

For a second, it seemed like they might. Then, one of them used a knife aimed towards you. You felt blood on your arm. The fruit vendor shouted in alarm.

But then—

A melody cut through the chaos.

"Oh dear," Robin’s voice floated through the air, lilting and amused. "It seems I’ve come at the perfect time."

The thugs froze. Their eyes glazed over as the sound of her song wrapped around them like vines, twisting through their minds, rooting itself deep into their thoughts.

You watched in stunned silence as their expressions slackened. The one who had cut you dropped his knife, eyes unfocused, lips trembling like he was on the verge of tears.

Robin stepped between you and them.

"Now," she purred, tilting her head, "I could tell you to leave, but where would the fun be in that?"

The melody shifted.

The men shuddered.

Without another word, they turned and ran.

"What…?" You blinked at their retreating figures, confused. "How did you—?"

"Are you alright?" Robin cut in as she turned to you. Her gaze flickered to your injured arm, tears are about to fall from her eyes.

"That was reckless of you..." she murmured, stepping closer.

You gave a sheepish laugh, wincing as you pressed a hand to your wound. "I just… I couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

"You’re too kind for your own good."

Her other hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek in a slow motion.

"You should leave these things to me," she whispered. "I’ll always keep you safe."

You smiled at her, relieved. "Thanks, Robin. I don’t know what you did, but… I’m glad you were here."

"Of course. I’ll always be here."

By the time you returned home, the sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky in dusky purples and oranges. The weight of the day clung to your limbs, but somehow, having Robin beside you made everything feel lighter.

"You’re still bleeding, you know" she murmured, glancing at your arm as you stepped inside.

"I’ll clean it up in a bit" you reassured her.

Robin frowned, but didn’t push further. Instead, she turned toward the bathroom, stretching her arms above her head. "Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to freshen up."

You chuckled, watching as she disappeared behind the door.

The sound of water filled the quiet house as Robin bathed. You took the time to bandage your wound, then unpacked the things you had bought earlier—some vegetables, spices, and a small box of decorative hairpins. You had grabbed them on a whim, thinking they’d suit her.

By the time she emerged, steam curling from behind her, Robin looked more ethereal than ever. A towel was draped around her shoulders, her damp silver-blue hair cascading down in loose strands.

"Come here" you gestured, patting the seat in front of you.

Robin raised a brow but complied, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "What are you up to?"

"Your hair. It’s still wet." You reached for a cloth, gently running it through her locks, soaking up the moisture.

At first, she said nothing, only closed her eyes, letting you take care of her. The room was silent except for the soft sound of the towel brushing against her hair. You moved with careful fingers, untangling knots, smoothing out each strand.

"You’re so gentle" she murmured.

You huffed a laugh. "Is that surprising?"

"No. Just… nice."

When her hair was dry, you reached for the brush and slowly ran it through the silken strands, watching the way the light caught in them.

"You have really pretty hair, Robin."

Robin’s eyes fluttered open, tilting her head slightly to glance at you. "You think so?"

"Mhm." You set the brush down, reaching for the box of hairpins. "I, uh… got you these earlier. Thought they’d look nice on you."

Robin blinked in surprise as you opened the box, revealing delicate pins shaped like tiny birds and flowers. For a moment, she simply stared at them, then she let out a soft laughter.

"You’re too sweet, Y/n" she hummed, tilting her head. "Go on, then. Decorate me as you please."

You rolled your eyes at her playful tone but got to work. Carefully, you gathered sections of her hair, twisting them into an elegant half-up style, securing them with the pins. When you were done, you sat back, admiring your work.

"Beautiful."

Robin turned to you, smiling. "Why, thank you."

After taking care of her hair, you moved to the kitchen, determined to cook something nice for her. Robin sat nearby, watching with quiet amusement as you chopped ingredients and stirred the pot.

"You don’t have to do all this for me, you know" she mused, resting her chin on her palm.

"I want to," you replied simply. "You’re always helping others. Let me take care of you for once."

Dinner was warm, filling, and cozy. You ate together, sharing small stories and laughter between bites. But the real fun came afterward.

Robin had been humming absentmindedly, some melody she had sung in the market earlier, when you decided—for some reason—that you wanted to return the favor.

"I should sing for you too" you declared.

Robin perked up immediately, teal eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh? Please, go on. I’d love to hear it."

You hesitated. Bad idea.

But it was too late. Robin was already watching, waiting, anticipation clear on her face.

So, you took a deep breath and started singing.

And—it was bad.

Off-key. Wobbly. Nowhere near the enchanting, ethereal quality of Robin’s voice. But you kept going, determined.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Robin burst into laughter.

"Oh, Y/n.." she gasped between giggles, clutching her stomach. "That was… truly something."

"Hey!" You huffed, throwing a napkin at her.

She caught it easily. "Don’t pout, don’t pout. It was adorable."

Despite her teasing, Robin’s laughter was light, happy. And as embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through your chest at the sound.

As the night stretched on, the two of you stayed like that—talking, laughing, simply existing in each other’s presence.

Morning came. You stretched with a yawn, blinking sleepily as the scent of fresh flowers filled the air. Robin had already woken before you—unsurprising, given her boundless energy.

"Good morning, Y/n" her voice drifted in softly from the other room.

You followed the sound, finding her standing by the small greenhouse extension you had built—just a tiny, sunlit space where you kept the plants you’d been tending for years.

Robin looked ethereal, dressed in soft pastels, her hair still pinned up the way you had styled it the night before. A teacup rested in her delicate hands as she gazed at the plants.

"You take such good care of them"

You chuckled, stepping beside her. "Of course. I’ve had them for a while. Some of these I even grew from seedlings."

Robin’s teal eyes flickered toward you, a small smile gracing her lips. "I see… so they are very dear to you."

"Well, yeah." You knelt down, checking the soil of a small potted rosemary plant. "It’s rewarding, watching them grow. But I guess you’d understand that better than anyone."

Robin hummed, sipping her tea. "Yes… though, unlike them, I can love you back."

You blinked, glancing up at her.

Robin smiled, serene and elegant as always, tilting her head slightly. "Plants do not think. They do not feel. They merely exist, waiting for your touch, your care. But me…"

"I can cherish you properly."

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "They’re just plants, Robin. I don’t love them like I love people."

Robin exhaled, her smile deepening as she reached out and plucked a small petal from one of the flowers. She twirled it between her fingers, watching it spin before it fluttered to the floor.

"Good" she whispered, almost to herself.

The rest of the day passed in quiet, domestic bliss. Robin helped you prepare lunch, her hands moving with practiced grace as she plated the dishes with an elegance that made even simple meals look like fine dining. She never ate much, but she always insisted on tasting anything you made.

"If you’ve prepared it, then it must be worth savoring" she would say, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Afterward, you found yourself lying on the couch, exhausted from the morning’s errands. Robin sat beside you, fingers combing gently through your hair.

"You should rest more" she murmured, her voice a delicate melody. "It’s no wonder you sleep so deeply."

"Mhm… guess I’m just used to staying busy" you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

"Then allow me to lull you."

The familiar hum of her voice. It wrapped around you like silk, smooth and sweet, threading through your consciousness, urging you into the embrace of sleep. You barely resisted. Robin continued stroking your hair, her touch light, careful.

"That’s right," she whispered, almost inaudible. "Just stay close to me. Only me."

You didn’t hear it. You had already slipped into dreams.

That evening, as you stepped back into the greenhouse to water the plants, something felt… off.

A few of the smaller plants were gone.

Not withered. Not rotting. Simply… missing, as if they had never been there at all. The soil remained undisturbed, no signs of pests or animals. The pots that once held their stems sat empty, eerily clean.

"Robin?" you called.

She stepped in behind you, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "Yes?"

You gestured toward the empty pots. "Did you move some of the plants?"

Robin tilted her head, eyes wide with soft curiosity.

"Oh? Were they important?"

"It’s fine. Maybe I forgot I repotted them or something."

Robin smiled, reaching up to adjust one of the hairpins you had given her.

"Yes," she murmured, "perhaps that’s it."

The moment passed. The warmth returned.

And yet, as you continued through the night, laughing with her, cooking for her, letting her tease you over your terrible singing…

The missing plants lingered in the back of your mind.

Like something unseen, waiting in the dark.

That night, you saw her in your dream, you assumed it was simply coincidence.

You stood in a vast garden bathed in moonlight, flowers blooming in unfamiliar yet impossibly beautiful shapes. The air was thick with a gentle fragrance. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of a melody drifted through the stillness.

She stood under a tree heavy with pale blossoms, her hair cascading down while the same hairpins you had gifted her glinting faintly in the glow.

"Oh," she smiled softly, folding her hands in front of her. "You’re here."

Her voice was as delicate as the night breeze, carrying a warmth that made your chest feel light.

"Robin?" you asked, blinking. "Why are you…?"

"It seems your mind has called for me."

"I don’t remember—"

"It does not matter. We are here now, and that is enough, is it not?"

Something about the way she said it made you nod, despite the lingering confusion.

She reached out then, brushing her fingers along your wrist. "You are tired. Let me grant you peace, my dear."

And before you could say anything else, the world melted into warmth.

You awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, heart pounding faintly in your chest. The dream had been so vivid. You could still feel the cool night air, the scent of flowers, the softness of Robin’s voice lingering at the edge of your senses.

"Good morning"

Robin was there, standing by the open window, bathed in morning light. She turned to you with a soft smile, as if she had been waiting for you to wake.

"You seemed to sleep quite deeply," she mused, approaching with measured grace. "I do hope you found rest."

You sat up, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah… I had a strange dream."

Robin tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her teal eyes. "Oh? Do tell."

You hesitated. The memory of the dream was still fresh, yet the more you thought about it, the more distant it seemed—like mist slipping through your fingers.

"It was just… a garden," you muttered. "And you were there."

"How lovely," she murmured. "Perhaps your heart simply longs for me, even in sleep."

She said it so lightly, so effortlessly, that you almost didn’t catch the weight of her words.

You laughed, brushing it off. "You make it sound so dramatic."

Robin chuckled, shaking her head. "I merely speak the truth."

"Regardless," she continued, "I am pleased. You should always rest knowing I am near."

The day passed with a familiar rhythm. Robin accompanied you to the market again, her presence as radiant as ever. She spoke with people kindly, helped an elderly woman carry her wares, and even hummed a tune that made a crying child calm almost instantly.

You watched as stall owners greeted her with warmth, their expressions softening the moment she smiled. It was as if she brought ease wherever she went—like a breeze that smoothed out the rough edges of the world.

But when you glanced at her, you noticed the way her gaze lingered on you.

Not just fond. Something darker.

"Is something the matter?"

You shook your head. "No. Just… watching."

Robin’s lips curled slightly.

"Then please," she murmured, "watch only me."

[yungistiny]

camgirl ═ chapter seven

[ S. Mingi ]

chapter seven: the L word

╚═════════

summary: mingi just really needs some cash and he was told all he had to do was hold a camera. simple enough. he just didn’t anticipate the type of content he’d be helping to create

warning: emo mingi, stoner mingi, switch mingi, switch reader, mingi is hung, creampie, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, masturbation, rough sex, degradation, size kink, spitting, deep throating, possessive mingi/reader, public sex

pairing: mingi x afab/reader

genre: smut, angst, drama, romance

word count: 2.9k

chapter six

chapter eight

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

“That’s like your fourth one.”

San watched Mingi, slowly and clumsily roll another blunt. Gladiolus , the big black cat, was curled up in Mingi’s lap, his girlfriend’s cat being left in his care while y/n was gone out of the country, visiting her real mother in the US for the last two weeks.

And San’s best friend was moping.

Mingi had been fine those first few days, kept himself occupied, stayed high. By the fifth day, he was getting agitated. It’s been over a month since he met y/n and he had grown a little clingy, a little possessive. He needed her. He missed her.

They tried phone sex but it just wasn’t the same. It was nothing like the real thing. Y/N fingers just weren’t long enough, not thick enough like Mingi’s own.

Mingi’s hand just wasn’t warm enough, not wet enough, like being buried inside his girlfriend’s tight cunt. He even rewatched their old streams and it wasn’t enough, no matter how hot it was for Mingi to watch himself fuck her.

“She’s supposed to be back in a couple of days, stop being dramatic.” San teased him, going to finish getting ready, dragging Mingi with him who was protesting. “Come with me and Wooyoung to this Halloween party, you need a distraction.”

Mingi was too stoned to care, allowing San to push him into his room, digging through his closet and pulling out an all black outfit, the baggy jeans were dark washed, rips all over them, a black tank top and and a long sleeved black fishnet top. “Put this on, I have to finish getting ready.”

San paused in the hallway, noticing Gladiolus preening while Byeol rubbed her head against him. “I think our cats are dating.”

Mingi peaked his head out his bedroom door, snorting. “You glad you got Byeol fixed now?” He teased, San had been terrified the time he let his precious cat get surgery, he had kept Mingi up all night panicking when the vet had insisted they keep Byeol overnight.

“Oh!” San seemed to remember something, bolting into his room and returning with a black choker, a metal ring hooked on it. He held it up to Mingi. “This was made for that look. And put some eyeliner on, I know you still have some.”

“Why do you have this?” Mingi eyed the choker, slipping a finger through the metal loop on it. It wasn’t exactly his best friend’s style. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” San told him before disappearing back into his room to finish getting ready.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The “party” was a massive rave in a club in Itaewon. Flashes of colorful strobe lights danced across the club, bodies in various costumes were crowded together and the music based, so low, so deep, Mingi could feel it like a pulse.

“Wooyoung texted, he’s almost here.” San shoved his phone back into his pocket of the Slytherin costume he had on. Wooyoung was running late, said he had to pick something up.

Mingi groaned when a girl in a blue costume, he really didn’t care what she was supposed to be, tried to dance on him. “I need a drink.” He pushed his way through the crowd towards the neon green lit bar, San right behind him, his apologies towards others going unheard against the loud music.

Mingi was already on his fourth shot of soju, San only having one, when Wooyoung finally showed up. He was dressed like Harry Potter, Gryffindor outfit, glasses and all. “Oh, look at you…” he slipped a finger through the metal loop dangling on the choker, tugging it.

Wooyoung had this teasing, knowing smirk. If only Mingi knew what that choker was used for. He took in his best friend’s boyfriend. The thick black eyeliner, the black painted nails, everything about his look at the moment was gonna send y/n spiraling.

Mingi swatted at Wooyoung’s wondering hand, grabbing another shot of soju as Wooyoung whispered something to San, his lips grazing his ear.

“Have fun.” San patted Mingi on the back, following Wooyoung into the crowd of costumed people. Of course they’d leave him to his own while they go do whatever the hell it is those two do. Mingi rolled his eyes, a buzz finally hitting him, it took a lot to get him drunk. He was a big guy.

“I know you…”

Mingi side eyed the guy that leaned against the bar beside him. “Jeno, no you don’t.” The guy’s friend shoved him as Jeno protested, clearly drunk. “Yes I do! Jaemin, I know him….”

Mingi stared right at him, him and his friend, Jaemin, were dressed like two Squid Games guards, mask pushed atop their heads, eyebrow raised, waiting to hear how this Jeno guy knew him. “SPIKE! MINGI!” Jeno clapped his hands together as if a lightbulb went off in his head.

Oh! Jeno was a viewer of their stream. It seemed Jaemin had no idea what the hell his friend was talking about. “Sorry, he’s wasted.” He pulled Jeno away, Jeno drunkenly protesting the entire time.

Mingi tossed his head back, downing another shot. He had no idea where the hell San and Wooyoung were and he wasn’t exactly getting the distraction he needed.

He just needed y/n.

“Mingi?”

Seriously! How many people were gonna recognize him? He rolled his eyes, ready to tell the person to fuck off….

“Shit.” He was moving from the bar, creating a distance. “Oh, so you’re just going to avoid me? That’s childish, Song Mingi!” Nari was following him.

“Just leave me alone, Nari.” Mingi turned around, towering over her and glaring his eyes at her, the dark charcoal black eyeliner accentuating them, making him much more intimidating.

“What is your deal? Just because my mom has it in her head that I’m gonna fucking marry you or something, it’s not going to happen.” He was harsh, his voice was laced with disdain. Mingi turned around again, ready to just leave.

“I wonder what your parents would say if they knew what you and her do?”

Mingi froze, jaw clenched as he turned back around. Nari had a snide look, shaking her head at him in mock disappointment. “What would your mother say if she knew her son was practically sleeping with a pornstar?”

It took a lot to make Mingi really mad. To push him. It seemed Nari knew just exactly how to do it. “What are you gonna tell them?” He hid the shock he had that Nari knew about the stream behind a mask of unconcern. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of being nervous at his parents finding out the truth.

“That I fuck my girlfriend on livestream? Or,” Mingi smirked darkly at her, his next words leaving him before he could think, before he could truly process what he had just admitted. “that I’m in love with someone that isn’t you?”

Love. That fucking L word! It had been fighting with him for weeks, since he met y/n. Nari gaped at him, scoffing. “As if you even know how to be in love!” She mocked him, clearly hurt at his rejection and words. “You’re only with her because she’s easy and I’m sure it puts cash in your pocket.”

Mingi wished he had more girl friends, he’d let them punch that smug look right off of Nari’s face. “Tell them.” What was the worst that could happen? His dad would scold him but not really give a shit. His mom would probably give him the cold shoulder for a while and certainly never approve of y/n.

He didn’t care. Mingi didn’t need anyone’s approval of who he decided to love. He left Nari standing there in the middle of the crowd, his tall frame leaning against the wall towards the back of the club, eyes closed as he tried to take a minute to calm his nerves.

A hand was touching him, his eyes snapping open, his own hand darting out to wrap around the wrist of the stranger’s wondering one. “Well,” the familiar teasing voice of y/n was like a hit of the best drug. Mingi’s nerves vanished, demeanor instantly relaxing. “that was rude.”

Mingi could only assume she was what Wooyoung had to get before getting there. The grip on y/n wrist loosened but he didn’t let go as he pulled her to him, spinning her around to cage her against the wall. “Are you really here or am I drunk?”

Y/N giggled at him, the hand that wasn’t in the grasp of his own, reaching up to grip two of her fingers in the metal loop on his choker. “I missed you…” she tugged him down with the choker, their lips brushing. She had, really, really missed him.

Mingi wasted no more time kissing her, melting into her, fingers interlocking together as y/n pulled at the choker with her other hand. Mingi’s arm reached for her waist in the very short dark red dress she had on, his touch scorching through the fabric.

“Nice costume.” Mingi grinned, tugging at one of the black cat ears atop her head. Y/N tugged at his choker again much like he had once done to her. “You gonna make me purr?”

Y/N had come home early because….. maybe she was having some….. attachment issues, her mother’s words not hers. Her mother had teased her about Mingi, wanting to know everything about her daughter’s new boyfriend. Telling her mother about him only made y/n miss him more.

“The ears stay on.” Mingi smirked, a crooked smirk that fell into that crooked smile of his. “So does the choker.” Y/N tugged it again.

Fuck.

Mingi missed her.

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“Shut the door!” Y/N mumbled against Mingi’s lips as he carried her into his room. They didn’t need either of the cats trailing inside with them. Mingi closed it with his shoulder, lips trailing down to y/n neck.

“That phone sex shit has nothing on actually feeling you….” Mingi practically growled against the cleavage of her breast, tongue darting out to lick his way back up to her throat, giving him one of those beautiful moans he loved hearing from her.

“No teasing…” y/n was impatient tonight, she needed him. Two weeks was way too long going without him. Mingi smiled against her neck, kissing it before placing a kiss back on her lips.

Y/N looped a finger into his choker, holding him close, her other hand grabbing at his short hair, tugging his head back so she could look down at him from her spot still in his arms, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, prominent bulge hard and pressing against her ass.

“You look so fucking hot.” And he did. Y/N couldn’t wait to see his eyeliner smudge from sweat and exertion. Couldn’t wait to see what beautiful fucking mess he’ll look like when he’s done with her.

Mingi loved the praise, a moan leaving him. He sat her down on his bed, both of them making quick work of their clothes, Mingi pulling one of the fake fluffy black cat ears still atop y/n head.

Y/N reached a hand out, wrapping it around Mingi’s length, his dick twitching in her grasp. “No teasing…” he repeated her words from before, crawling atop her, y/n back hitting his mattress with a little gasp, hand still stroking him.

Mingi felt like a fucking virgin again, her touch against him so sensitive, a whimper left him. Her hand definitely felt better than his own. He kissed her to muffle his moans, thrusting into her touch. “Fuck…. I need to taste you…”

“I thought we said no teasing?” Y/N nipped at his adams apple. “I lied.” Mingi flipped them, y/n squealing losing her hold on him. She made a moment of contact with his dick before Mingi was grabbing her, moving her up his body until he was holding her right above him, his gaze locked on her soaked cunt.

“You better hold on.”

“Fuck..” y/n leaned forward, hands gripping at Mingi’s headboard as his tongue plunged inside her, his nose angled just right, rubbing her clit with every movement. His grip on her was tight, probably bruising, but she didn’t care.

Mingi moaned at the taste of her, licking his lips as he pulled back just enough so he could speak, voice deeper and much raspier. “Don’t just sit there, I haven’t fucked you dumb yet, baby, ride my race.” He was almost begging her to.

Y/N could barely hold herself up without suffocating him due to how touch deprived and sensitive she was after not having him for what felt like forever to her. How was she gonna ride him?

Mingi pulled her down completely flushed against his face, sucking her clit. She was moving now, moans that sounded much more like cries as she began to grind against him, Mingi growling into her causing a whimper to catch in y/n throat as she came.

Mingi gripped her waist, working her against his tongue as she shook from the crash of her orgasm, making a mess all over his face. “Mingi…. enough…” she was spasming from the little aftershocks his mouth would give her while still trying to catch her breath after coming.

Mingi eased her off him, letting y/n collapse to her knees on the bed. Y/N almost wished they were streaming, that way she could rewatch this moment. He looked like the most beautiful mess she’d ever seen, his eyeliner smudged, face completely covered in her juices and still looked like he could stay drowning in her.

Y/N had come to a conclusion while visiting her mother. A realization hitting her so hard she was afraid to admit it out loud. She was finding it difficult however, keeping her emotions in check. Biting her tongue to keep from saying anything.

Mingi reached for her, pulling the little fake cat ears off her head, easy to not pull her hair with them. Everything about him was suddenly gentle even when at the moment, the choker, the messy eyeliner, made him look anything but.

Mingi could blame it on the alcohol or all the weed he smoked for letting his emotions take control of him. It wasn’t the truth though, he just….. loves her. He’s never been in love before so all these new feelings were new to him and kind of scared the shit out of him.

“I really fucking missed you…” He had her pinned beneath him, both his hands interlaced with her own, arms stretched, held above y/n head. He had to let one of her hands go to be able to reach down and guide himself into her.

They were both moaning in unison as Mingi pushed his entire length into her, the stretch almost as tight as the first time he had her after not being together for the last two weeks. It felt like the most comforting fucking hug Mingi had ever had, like he belonged there, was meant to be here with her.

He’d have to genuinely thank Wooyoung eventually for sending him to her.

Y/N reached up with her free hand, gripping the choker still around Mingi’s neck as he started moving, thrusting deep, slow, taking his time as if he were trying to feel every inch of her as he could.

Mingi was squeezing her hand gently, his other moving to fit his arm under her head so he could wrap himself around her as much as he could, y/n legs holding him snugly wrapped around his waist. He had never made love before but he’s sure it felt something like this.

He brought her up with him, kneeling on his knees on the bed, dick still buried inside her as y/n wrapped her arms around him, both hands gripping at his hair, straddling him.

Mingi’s arms wrapped around her, moving her to ride against him, lips catching the loud whimpering moan leaving her as he kissed her, mumbling against her lips. “You were fucking made for me.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to press her forehead against his own, sweat dampening their skin, her eyes were closed as she felt her orgasm approaching as Mingi’s dick repeatedly hit her wonderful spot deep in her cunt that she was sure her boyfriend made a mission to find every time.

Mingi was watching her through half lidded eyes, wanting to see all of it, all of her. “Look at me.” His voice was soft yet commanding at the same time. Y/N lifted her head back, her legs tightening around him, thighs starting to tremble as she opened her eyes.

“Cum for me.”

And she did, a sobbing mess, shaking against her orgasm so intense, washing over her like a hurricane. Mingi splayed her back down onto the bed as her walls convulsed and clenched around him, his thrusts faster now, harder, as he chased his own approaching high.

“Mingi….” Y/N had just finished gaining her breath back from her second orgasm but she could feel another one already edging, ready to erupt as Mingi buried his face into the crook of her neck, his own breath panting against her damp skin as he pounded, thrusts sloppy as he came, filling y/n cunt full as she too was hit by another orgasm.

His own orgasm coursing through him, heart beating so fast he had no idea how he was still breathing, the words escaping him so fast, so lost in the moment, in her, that Mingi couldn’t stop himself.

“I love you.”

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tag list: @straycat420 @dejatiny @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @hannahlilibet411 @dawn-iscozy @winxmia @milkfromacow @pearltinyy @wooyoungsbrat @seonghwasslytherin @vsereniasstuff @chicksmoothie @maddycline

[saoirseyun]

NOW PLAYING — luther, kendrick lamar.

in which, chuuya has gone a little too overboard with early christmas gifts.

—Alright so you haven't have this in mind during the week before Christmas and thus that's on you to blame. Just thinking how it'd be no problem to stay up longer to watch one of those cheesy romcoms overnight pass 12:00 after a hassle in unwrapping the presents your boyfriend Chuuya bought you. (And all you did in return was gift him his favorite brand of wine imported all the way from its native country. How embarrassing, one would think, but Chuuya pretty much disagrees with your self-doubt and shame.) Only to end up being not far from drifting into a sudden sleep once the one hour mark hits. Chuuya was used to staying awake late at night, and now unexpectedly watching you struggle to keep your eyes open for long; irises dubiously focusing on the ceiling above as you remain lied down on his lap. "Y'know ya look like you're 'bout to faint..." Sounded closely to slurs as your ears couldn't pick up most of what Chuuya pointed out. Your head was practically intertwined with spinning itself! With deft fingers snake to the curls and loose strands of your hair—him stroking you—your body stirs lazily in its wake... An awkward yawn.

"...So?"

"So what? Y'er gonna pass out, angel." Which is the unfortunate truth, to put it bluntly. Just how stubborn could you be?

"...'s it my fault that your thighs 'so comfy?"

You cheeky thing, "C'mon! Seriously going to blame me?!"

Well, not having Chuuya right now means you'd probably end up staying awake until he has returned back.

"Uuh, yeah, you bought too- yawn- many gifts to count... It took an hour."

"Hah, 'don't act like ya don't appreciate it."

But of course you do. You'd be absolutely ashamed if you didn't, no? Spent so much only to keep you happy, it's the least that you could do in return other than gifting back—and Chuuya states that it's not necessary to spend on him in return and just let the mafioso spoil you rotten. He frowns, a knowing look as he studies your conflicted state.

"...Doll, look. 'f anything, 'm still grateful that I have ya. Swear, if it were up to me... 'f the world was mine, gonna take those dreams of yours and make 'em multiply. Got that?"

a/n; happy birthday... to me! I wanted to portray more of chuu's dedication this time of round for my birthday bc my s/o hates me rn and I hope I die (not proofread)

[latenightdaydreams]

Oh my goodness!! I absolutely loved your doll-sized! reader x König so so much. Could you perhaps make a part 2 where she tries to escape, but König puts her in the jar 😵‍💫 or maybe he punishes her by overstimulating her with his tongue…

Yes🤭😮‍💨

König x Doll Sized!Reader PT2(fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, masturbation, oral, cum play, captive, non-con

2.6k word count

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That night, you didn't sleep. You spend all night trying to escape from this closet. Breaking off the small plastic bar in your closet to see if you can break a small part of the door, looking for holes in the wall, nothing. You find yourself completely trapped within. With a feeling of defeat, you drop to the floor and curl into a ball. Tears fall from your eyes until you slowly fall asleep.

König wakes up early the next morning with a new found pep in his step. The fact he has you here, so close, gives him a rush he hasn’t felt in a long time. He enters his kitchen, going into the refrigerator and grabbing eggs to prepare for the both of you. On one plate, he loads it up with scrambled eggs, toast with jam, and sausage for you both to share.

He climbs back upstairs, opening his bedroom door, and locking it behind him. Sitting the plate of food down on his nightstand, he opens the closet door. There you are, in your purple dress, asleep on the floor. It’s obvious that you were trying to escape; he knew you would, but had hoped you would have come to terms with things overnight. Your closet is a mess and pieces of wood chippings are on the floor from the door.

König’s eyes trail over your body as he kneels down. Your eyes flutter open as you feel yourself being picked up. Panic sets in as you realize König has grabbed you in your sleep. He watches as you wake up in his hands. A look of dread crosses your face, upsetting König. He’s so used to you being happy to see him, now you’re acting as if you don’t even like him.

“I made breakfast for both the of us.” He says, sitting on the bed and placing you next to him.

The large plate of food is placed in front of you, the bread and sausage cut smaller for you to take bites. König’s eyes study your expression as you look at everything before you. He reaches out with the backs of his middle and pointer fingers, caressing the side of your face. You flinch slightly, but don’t make any sudden movements.

“Eat, kleine Maus.” König’s eyes follow the outline of your body in that dress. “It’s good, I promise. Those are chicken eggs with beef and pork sausage.”

You lean forward and grab a piece of the bread, taking a bite and smiling when you taste the sweet apricot jam. König lets out a breath he had been holding in, wondering if you’d eat. He loves to watch your mouth wrap around the pieces of bread. The way a bit of jam sticks to your upper lip.

Despite everything, you seem to have been able to maintain your cheery disposition. Not making any attempts to flee and actually eating peacefully with him. Of course, König is going to maintain a close eye on you, but he’s happy to see that you’re not freaking out.

Once you’re done eating you sit back with your arms behind you to prop you up. “Thank you for the food, König.”

“Of course. I’m happy you enjoyed it all.” His eyes study your face before speaking again. “You’re so beautiful. I’m so happy that you’re mine.”

You notice his other arm moving, your eyes falling on it and notice that he is rubbing his boner as he looks at you. An uncomfortable look crosses your face, remembering how he acted with you yesterday. König watches you as you fidget, he’s aware of your feelings but he doesn’t care. He’s horny and he wants to know what he can do with you.

“Undress, Maus.” He more so demands of you as he moves the plate of food.

“König, please don’t make me.”

“I don’t want to hear any back-talk. Take. It. Off.” His voice is almost a low growl.

You stand to your feet and begin to undo your dress, letting it drop onto the bed sheets. Avoiding his gaze, you look down at the blue comforter. The bed moves as König stands and fully undresses before you. Your eyes scan over every inch of his body, landing on his erection.

König reaches forward and grasps you in his fist, holding you as he lets himself get comfortable on the bed. As he settles down on his abdomen, he uses his hands to gently open your legs. He slowly rubs up and down your small thighs, enjoying how delicate your flesh feels. One of his fingers runs down your thigh lower and lower…until he’s slowly moving his finger up and down your tiny cunt. Your legs jerk in reaction to his massive finger rubbing your clit. An arrogant smirk crosses his lips as he watches you struggle to control yourself.

He adjusts his body to rest on his side so his free hand can reach down and stroke his cock. The finger that is slowly rubbing your clit moves to the side to hold your leg open for him. At first, he takes a deep breath, smelling what your natural musk smells like. With one deep inhale, he’s hooked. You smell better than any human he’s ever smelt before.

“Mein Gott, you smell wie eine Blume.” His German and English get mixed as his excitement grows.

You try to close your other leg to take away access to yourself. His hand moves from his cock to your other leg and holds it down. “Don’t be a nuisance.”

König lowers his head and swipes the very tip of his tongue over your sweet cunt, his eyes closing instantly. It was as if he had just eaten the sweetest cake he’s ever tasted in his entire life. The tip of his tongue is big enough to cover every inch of your pussy. He simply wiggles his tongue back and forth pulling precious whimpers from your lips.

“König, too much!” You moan loudly as your back arches.

“Mhm.” He grunts back to you.

The way your body moves as you become overwhelmed with pleasure is spectacular. His lips wrap around you and sucks lightly. In response, the muscles in your abdomen tense up and you lean forward. Your small hands press against his face trying to push him away from overstimulating you. He’s simply too big to move. With all of your might you try to close your legs, causing König to chuckle.

“I want you to cum in my mouth.” He says, pulling back slightly before diving back in.

Your breathing is heavy as you pant from his mouth consuming you. As you writhe beneath him, his cock twitches with excitement. All his mind can think of is slipping his cock into you, but logically he knows that he can’t. You’re so small he would rip you apart if he tried.

Electric waves of euphoria pleasure pulse throughout your whole body. Every little suck or swirl of his tongue pushes you to the point the pleasure is almost painful. There is no break, just constant ecstasy. You begin to shake your head side to side as primal moans escape you.

As you orgasm, König loosens his grip on your legs. He moves one arm back down to jerk himself off. His eyes watch you as your eyes flutter and roll back in your head. What a beautiful sight you are.

“Gott, you taste so good.”

While you pant, trying to recover, he grabs your body and moves how he’s positioned in the bed. He leans back against his pillows and holds you, bringing you to his cock. It’s almost the full length of your body and wider than you are. Seeing the comparison of you in one hand next to his cock in the other makes his mind run wild.

“I wish I could fuck you.” His voice drips with hunger.

König jerks himself off as he holds you close to him. The musk coming off of him consuming your nostrils. He brings you closer to him, his hand moving off of himself as he presses you against him.

“Lick it.”

With hesitation, you slowly stick your tongue out and swipe a quick lick over his foreskin. König pulls it back to expose his pink tip.

“Again.”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to see as you lick your flat tongue along the head of his cock. It tastes salty from all of the precum that has leaked down it. König lets out a moan as he feels you. It’s small, but the visual of you doing it is stimulating enough for him to cum.

“Use that fucking tongue.” He groans.

As disgusted as you are, you don’t want the giant to be upset with you so you rest one hand on his cock as you slick with passion, sucking lightly. König watches down at you with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way you’re eagerly trying to please him.

Right when he feels as if he is ready to cum, his doorbell rings. König lets out an annoyed sigh as he puts you down on the bed. He quickly stands, grabbing his pants before peaking out the window to see who it is. Once he notices the mail truck, he puts his pants on.

“I’ll be right back. I just have to sign for a package.” He leaves, closing the bedroom door behind him.

For a moment you freeze, your heart beating quickly in your chest. Now is the time. You walk to the edge of the bed, looking down at the distance to the floor. It’s at least a two-foot drop that could hurt you. In a rush your eyes scan the bed, noticing how the night stand has a safe next to it, causing a small stair effect.

Without giving it a second thought you rush to jump the small gap between the bed and the night stand. You steady yourself on the cold wood, walking over the remote and ash tray that rest on it. Getting closer to the edge, you look down at the black metal safe. The drop is big, but you know you can do it without getting hurt.

With a deep breath, you turn and drop yourself down slowly. Once your feet touch the metal a wave of relief comes over you. Not even looking this time, you turn and lower yourself down to the floor the same way. Now with feet on the floor, you run to the door, trying to fit underneath the gap in between the door and the floor. As much as you try, it’s not use, you don’t fit.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you rub your face with your hands. König closes the front door with the package in his hand and begins to walk up the stairs. He goes to his office and places the package on his desk in the office to work on later tonight. You can hear his footsteps approaching so you decide to hide up against the wall and just make a run for it once he opens the door.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait. It’s as if things move in slow motion when you see the door opening. Once one of his feet is past the threshold, you run. König isn’t stupid, he quickly sees that you’re missing from the bed. His eyes dart everywhere around the room when he hears you behind him.

“Stop!” he shouts at you as you turn into one of the open doors, hoping to use your size to be able to hide from him.

The room you ran into is his office, where he spends his time making things for you. König is hot on your trail. He isn’t going to let you go this easily. As he enters the room, he closes the door behind him.

“Kleine Maus, you’ve only made this worse for yourself.” He taunts as he slowly steps forward. “Now you get to sit in a jar instead of your comfortable bed.”

The way he speaks sends a chill down your spine; you know he means it. The jar isn’t something you plan on experiencing. You look around for a place to conceal yourself until he moves on, looking at a stack of files. You slowly try to get behind the stack, but one accidental slip of your hand sends them all crashing down.

König turns in that direction and rushes to you quickly. “You’re not getting away.” He growls as he pulls the files over more to see you.

You run but before you can make any distance, König’s massive hand squeezes around you. This time his grip hurts. With all of your might you kick and hit him with your hands but nothing works. He doesn’t even look at you as he stalks over to his desk with urgent speed. You see a large mason jar and panic sets in.

“Please don’t put me in there König, I’ll suffocate.” You plead desperately.

“I drilled holes in the lid, I’m not a fucking idiot.” He says with irritation in his voice.

König lifts the lid up and drops you into the jar, your body hitting the glass with a ding. You look up as he closes you inside. He picks up the jar and holds you face level with himself, his gaze holding a lot of anger.

“Why did you try to run?!” He yells at you.

“I just want to go home.” You cry out and hit the side of the jar.

“No! You are home!” His shouts vibrate the glass jar.

He slams you down on the desk, once again rattling you. Your body falls hard against the glass as you look up. The rage you’ve feared is showing its ugly head. As you stand up and steady yourself, you watch König pull his pants back down, whipping his cock back out.

König stands and unleashes his anger out on his cock. His eyes travel all over your body, still tasting your sweet pussy on his tongue. You’re such a naughty fucking woman, a sweet little whore…his whore.

“Say you want my cum.”

“I want your cum.” You say quickly, this isn’t a time to try and anger him. Instead, you fawn instantly.

“Ja, du kleine Hure.” König moans out as he steps closer to the jar.

He stops to open the lid, bringing himself closer to the desk. His fist moving quickly up and down his cock as he aims it into the jar. Pathetic moans leave König as thick globs of his cum fall down into the jar, some falling on to you and covering your hair and face. You gag from the smell and sticky feeling as it covers you. His jizz fills the jar up to your ankles.

König looks down and sees you covered, disgusted with what he just did. A chuckle leaves his lips as he watches your reaction. “What? You don’t like my cum?”

You don’t respond, trying to remain calm so he will let you out. He isn’t going to though. You’re staying in that cum filled jar for the whole day, maybe even days. Maybe he will just keep filling the jar up, covering you until you’re consumed by his seed.

The warm cum sticks to your hair, slowly falling down your naked body. There is nowhere for you to sit or relax without having to sit in his cum. The small space traps the smell inside with you. It is absolutely disgusting.

König closes the lid again, tightly, trapping you within. He sits down in his desk chair and looks at you for a moment. Wondering how he can fuck you. What can he shove inside of you without hurting you? His eyes drift from you to the desk full of craft supplies. He notices a dried drop from his hot glue gun, picking it up and bending it. Just then an idea enters his mind, his gaze meeting yours with a mischievous smirk on his face.

[platinumink]

Headcanon Vol.2: Odysseus had unruly hair in his youth but grew out of it but Telemachus now has to deal with it and Ody helps his son and it all ends in a beautiful hurt/comfort moment

Not as good as my other headcanons for this fandom but I really do think about situations where Telemachus is just struggling to tidy his hair which is just going crazy all of the time and is about to give up when Odysseus strolls into the bathing area and notices his sons struggles.

Not wanting to embarrass him any further after the whole clothes stealing shenanigans, he simply nods in hello and does his thing with cleaning himself. When he's done, he notices that Telemachus is still not any closer to figuring out his hair so he comes over and mentions how he also had impossible-to-deal-with hair and age and growing it out (the added weight) helped with it's upkeep but he did have some tricks he learned to aid the issue.

So he tells his son about it who becomes completely enraptured in the story, not wanting to miss a single word his dad tells him. Telemachus asks for tips and Ody asks if it would be okay to show him and his son agrees.

Ody spends the next hour ir so explaining hair care for curly hair to his son, going over herb tinctures and oils he can use to make his hair submit to his will without damaging it as well as special brushes and movements that help with detangling and finally braids that help with the right curl forming overnight. It becomes a whole thing with them and even though Telemachus gets the hang of it very quickly, he keeps on asking his dad to do it for him and Ody is bever going to decline because quality time with his dearly missed son is everything to him.

So during their hair care moments, they talk about each others days, what they were going to do the day after and eventually, Ody feels confortable enough to confide in his son as well about his Odyssey (hehe) and they things he went through and had to do and Telemachus is then there for him, reassuring him and comforting him as well.

Eventually Telemachus does his dads hair as well so they can spend even more time together.

Penelope does know about this because of course Ody had to tell her all about how much he loves his son and how much he enjoys their new father son bonding moments, but one day, when she enters the bathing area earlier than usual, she sees the two of them and observes their little time together. She does not intervene because while she also loves her son deeply, she will allow her husband to have this time for himself to catch up on all of the lost time.

I also imagine their time together always ends with them touching foreheads (because I am a sucker for those between parents and their kids), hugging and Ody kissing his sons hair. They then always leave the baths together before Telemachus artives at his room first where they hug again and wish each other a restful night and then Ody leaves fir his own room and lies down beside his wife, talks with her just as long about their days and then they fall asleep in each others arms thoigh Odys head is 100% on Penelopes chest to hear her heartbeat because he has still trauma from Calypsos bullshit and needs it to convince himself that he is home.

He then sleeps, thinking about his family.

And now i've brough myself to tears yet again. 😭🩵

Also if anyone wants to write or draw something with this, you of course have my full permission. Just tag me please, I want to say thank you and admire your work 😭🙏🏻🩵

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

A Snowy Wolf Pup

Paring: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 5.2k

Warnings: mild angst, reference to past abusive relationship, implied stalking, lots of fluff

Notes: Just a little flash forward holiday drabble for the modern!au, I'm sorry it's so short. Previous Main Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Catelyn wrapped her cardigan around her tighter as she descended the stairs. The morning was cold, and it seemed overnight as if a very light sprinkle of snow had turned into a heavy snowfall that now covered the property. As she had passed down the second floor, she knew her children would all still be fast asleep this early. It was rare southern holidays and northern holidays matched up, but there was one week in the peak of approaching winter that did it. And for a house which followed both faiths, it was a busy week with many late nights for her children.

Only noticing one specific bedroom door left slightly open and empty looking, she narrowed her brows as she realized now four people in the house were awake and yet there wasn’t a sound to indicate where they were. Though, already finding the kitchen having been in use, it was clear despite the early hour those four had been awake for some time. Not bothering to search far yet, she only begun preparing coffee when the front door opened.

Her eyes trailing over only to be greeted by Ned as he put something on the smaller table off to the side of the kitchen. A fond smile coming over her as she shook her head, “Every year I believe more and more you can sense when it snows in your sleep.” A deep chuckle left him, passing her by but not before leaving a kiss to the back of her head to grab a mug of his own. Bringing up your name she only asked in a casual manner, “Was she and the others already awake at whatever hour you woke up?”

Ned had a fond smile as he gestured his head somewhat to the other side of the house for her to take a look. Outside passed the glass door leading to the porch was even more heavy snow, but this one unlike the view from her bedroom window of the clear front year, the back was not so left pristine.

Four figures were outside, and from the looks of it, you all had been for some time now.

Kneeling down, your face was twisted into a playful frustration as you were in a fight of your life to keep the toy rope. Ghost was braced in front of you with a deep growl as he tried to pull back on the toy as you did the same against him. It had turned into a game of who would pull the other into the snow, and Ghost was happy to indulge. His fur made him look almost blending into the snow around you even as it continued to fall, save for his red eyes. You amusingly knew any else would feel fear at a direwolf growling as it tried to tear something from your grip, but you knew if you simply let go and gave up now, Ghost would stop and whine for you to keep playing.

It wasn’t the only sounds though. If you looked further down the backyard, you could see two mops of inky black curls, only one much shorter to the ground, as both attempted to make a snow castle.

Even now it never failed to astound you how quickly little Eddard had started to look exactly like his father. He had your green eyes, but everything else around him was so distinctly Jon and watching them side by side now was only ever more prominent. His hair was growing very quickly, quicker then you could recall Shireens hair at just a little over one year old. Just another thing he got from Jon, luckily. All of the best genes coming from his father.

Little Eddard had seen snow before, but only light flakes and sprinklings that typically covered thin across the grass in the morning and melted by the evening. This was the first time a true snowfall happened since he was born, and the moment he saw it as he woke up he wanted to go outside, and neither of you could bear to deny him that.

Jon had jested that he was only behaving long enough to eat breakfast because you were there, but even then the little one fidgeted in his highchair as his wide, bright eyes kept looking to the kitchen window where he could still see fat snowflakes falling down in droves.

Still barley able to walk, Jon had stayed close with him the moment you put him down onto the ground as he begun to excitedly crawl through the snow. Father and son now building a snow castle, you could somewhat hear Jons deep rasp even from here explaining that their home used to be a castle. Asking his son ideas on what it looked like. Never getting even slightly impatient as he got too excited and knocked down some of the towers trying to help. Jon could get him to giggle each time instead of little Eddard wanting to say sorry, “I don’t think that looked right either.” He would say whenever the wide look came on Eddards face as if to say sorry.

They hadn’t make significant progress for how long you both had been out here, but you were fine with that. Before now, you had just been sitting back and watching them as you ran your gloved hand over Ghosts fur before he too got rowdy. Running to the other side of the yard only to come back with rope in his mouth and you read his intent clearly. Not noticing the sound of the glass door sliding open and shut, or spotting as Ned leaned against the banister along the porch steps watching with a fondness at the sight.

Sensing Ghost gaining the upper hand, you tried to lean back a bit more better leverage. Only, a grand mistake was made, guessing incorrectly at how stable of a position you already were in and the moment Ghost tugged the rope once more, did it slide from your gloves grasp. The direwolf celebrating in victory didn’t even keep it, barking loudly and playfully before all but tackling you to the ground trying to lick your face. A laugh came over you, making breathing a struggle let alone getting the large, heavy canine off of you.

The commotion had grabbed Jon and little Eddards attention, Jon knowing Ghost was only playing grinned at the sight, but his son was one, and didn’t quite understand. His voice high pitched and worried sounding did your head turn to the side as did Ghosts at the sound of little Eddard shouting “Mama,”

Flopping more onto the ground, he immediately tried to crawl over as if to push the direwolf off you himself, but Jon had a better idea it seemed. Calling over, “Ghost, ease up.” Did the direwolf give you space again as you pushed up to pet him, muttering what a trouble maker he was. Only for little Eddard to shout again, frustrated at crawling was going to make it so far away. Quickly kneeling over to the not so far his son had gotten, Jon gently grabbed him and helped stand him up, Eddards face twisted upset as he pointed at you. His eyes screaming the message that said you needed help.

But Jon held him gently on his two feet, a warmth in his voice as he muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “How about you show your mother how much we’ve been practising, yeah?” Looking over at him with wide eyes, Jon pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling back. “You’ll make her so proud if you walk over to save her life.”

That did little Eddard in. Jon knew possibly more then you did, how much your son wanted to do things like a grown up to make you proud. You were proud no matter what, but he always wanted to do things for you much like Jon. His hand coming up to his mouth almost in a nervous habit as he looked between you and Jon at the distance he’d have to walk on those waddling little legs. But Jon nodded, not yet taking his hands away so he felt the support. You pushed up, not standing but more laying half way across the ground so you could stand up easily at any time, but upright that your son understood you wanted him to come to you.

Jon learned he was more eager to learn to walk if Jon was there to do the encouraging, and the prize for walking a certain distance was to walk over into your arms, but this was the longest he’d have to try yet to make it. Nodding at Jon, it was all up to him now to start walking. Jons eyes gazed up passed you, spotting his father watching from the porch before letting his gaze turn back to his son. One last whisper for now only him to hear, “Don’t be scared if you can’t walk the whole way, your mother will be proud that you even tried.”

Nodding back at him, did he finally start to move. He took his time, waddling along and the snow didn’t help much with quickness. But perhaps it did his balance, having to focus a lot more to wade through it then walk without obstacle. Pushing now more up to sit on your heels with your hands waiting on your thighs, you watched little Eddard as intently as he watched you. Not wanting to look at his feet but make it to you no matter what.

If you were to ask him, this was the most perilous adventure, the highest of stakes he had ever faced in his short life. It was perhaps a little over five feet of a distance, but he was so small it looked double that in distance. Jon stayed crouched as he watched you both, his eyes flickering up once more to glance at his own father watching. He could read the signs that he wanted to speak to Jon about something but was waiting until this moment played out. Sometimes it intimidated him, wondering if his father was judging his own skills as a father, but if he only focused back on you both then he could ignore it for if only right now.

Closer and closer little Eddard waddled over, clearly growing tired and your own view could tell he was getting upset that he might not make it. Looking up at Jon, he read you as if you had asked him outloud. A smile and a nod, you leaned forward a little bit, prompting him to speed up as you let your arms hold out to entice him. “Come on, sweet boy, just a few steps more.”

A sound came from him, both you and Jon knew it too well. If he fell now and didn’t get to you, he might cry. Your poor son, only twelve months old put so much pressure on himself to do things for you and make you proud even though all he really wanted was to cuddle in your arms. Watching him speed up, your eyes trailed how much his feet were dragging.

Moving the second you knew he was going to trip, you pushed yourself forward just enough so that little Eddard fell into your own arms. A loud gasp coming from you, and truly, barley having to exaggerate in the slightest as you picked him up. Standing upright, you held him in the air a bit from you in a celebration, giggling right away as his hands tried wacking at you wanting to be held closer. Pulling him into your arms, close, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he cuddled close right away. Shifting so you held him more by your side so you could run a free hand over his thick curls he asked with bright eyes, “Mama?” He never said many words at once, but you could read him perfectly, his bright eyes were actually asking you if he did it.

A soft smile came over you, pulling him back to kiss the top of his head again before pulling back, “Yes you did, sweet boy.” Spotting as Jon came over, a hand running over little Eddards curls he muttered that he would be right back, nodding behind you. Half turning to see Ned standing and watching, before turning back. “Take your time.”

Instantly you carried little Eddard over to the snow castle, sitting him down as Ghost came up to his other side while you knelt there, asking him questions about his work so far, which he happily babbled some words, and mostly nonsense about what was what.

Jon approaching the steps gave his father a look to ask what was it, only to feel a concern rise in him as he only nodded towards the house. “I’ll show you.” Both kicking snow off their boots before taking them off, as if sensing Catelyn ready to round the corner telling them not to get the floor dirty and wet again. It sat on the couch nearby, a small wrapped gift with a card on top. Unopened, as Ned specified it came that way. “I haven’t opened it yet, I thought it was best if you were here to see it too.”

That feeling increased, first picking up the card he read in silence. Knowing his face gave it away when Jon put it together, who had sent this. An anger rose in his body, warming his blood as he felt himself, muscles and jaw tense up. “How?” Looking over to Ned, “How can he be allowed to send this when-”

Cutting him off, Ned already knew what Jon was going to ask. “All the information was sent through his father, so on paper it doesn’t appear as if he sent it. And there was no restriction for him not being allowed to speak to her.”

Low and cutting an edge, Jon felt no need to hide how he felt about this. His father knew too well that anger. “So he cheats, and finds a way to send something to her. Why?” If Jon looked more to the side he’d be able to see you and his son with bright smiles as you guided his hands around working on the castle yourselves. Out of all the time, his son had just reached his first nameday too. If his jaw could break from the force which he was clenching it tightly, it would’ve.

Helped no further by his fathers answer. “I don’t think it’s meant for her. He knows she lives here now with us, and we wouldn’t let her get a gift from him this way. I think he meant it for you.” The unspoken was understood between them, it was meant as a mock, whatever this was in the gift. The card already was barley anything, a lament about missing you and how much you’ve changed since you last saw each other since there was no chance he had not heard the news a year after you gave birth.

Slowly putting the card down, his eyes darkening did Jon pull at the ribbon keeping the modestly wrapped gift sealed. Every step as he did so felt it took ages, trying to contain whatever it was he’d find only to not be impressed. In fact, Jon could feel himself shake at his audacity. Ned leaned over and he could hear his father exhale roughly, knowing he matched in emotion. The rage in Jon made him want to drive to the Dreadfort now and do what he should’ve done the day they all saw you with a black eye.

A tiny pair of shoes. That’s all it was. A card for you, a gift for your son and all of the audacity of Ramsay Bolton to mock Jon by reaching out to you this time of year. He didn’t touch nor pick them up in any way, staring at them before all but roughly slamming the lid back onto the box. Looking at his father, a darker look shining in his own, both quiet wolves understood that this better be Ramsay’s only trick otherwise it would get very difficult to hold Jon back. “Don’t show this to her.” Both knew he meant you. “I don’t care what you do with it, but I don’t want her knowing he sent this, any of this. It’ll only upset her.”

Picking it up, the timing was lucky beyond belief as Ned just walked out of sight when he heard it. A hand running over his mouth trying to bring himself back down, did Jon hear the sliding door open and close. He loved how you looked. Snow still fresh in your hair as you held your son in your arms, snow in his curls that matched Jons. Only little Eddard was snuggled close to you with an adoring look he was fully aware Jon gave you all the time. Clearing his throat, he hoped you wouldn’t pick up on any of the tension he tried to now shake off.

Forcing himself to move to you as you carefully stepped out of your own boots Jon approached looking at his son. “Too cold, pup?” His son shook his head adamantly with a more serious, stern look on his face. “No?”

Little Eddard looked over at you, “Mama cold.” Your eyes closed for a moment as you huffed out a bemused sigh. Looking back with a playfully narrow eyed look, you muttered that you were fine staying out there as long as he wished, but little Eddard was not having it. “No.” Turning to look at Jon, and you must have known your word would lose against both of you. “Daddy. Mama cold.”

Looking you over, there was a shiver about you that begged to warm up, running a hand along your neck to cup your cheek, his hand inside from the warmth seeped into your cold skin as you leaned somewhat into his touch. Stepping close, Jon tilted your head better to look up at him, watching your eyes yet flutter closed as he leaned in. Letting his nose gently trace down the bridge of yours as he rasped, “You feel cold.” Opening your mouth to protest, Jon grinned. Sliding the hand on your cheek around to behind your neck, he pulled you forward more to press his lips to your forehead before resting his against yours. “Sorry, darling. You’ve been outvoted.”

Sighing deeply, you looked between them. “Honestly you two baby me,” turning specifically to little Eddard with a grin, “More then I baby you.” Leaning in very close it made him try to back away with a giggle before you matched Jons actions to you but to the baby, kissing his forehead. “Come on, let’s get you changed to something warm instead of this.”

Sometimes Jon had an urge to tell you that you should put him down and let him crawl when at least you both were here on the carpeted part of the house, but he struggled too. Telling you to put him down felt mean, it felt controlling even though he had heard Ned and Catelyn tell you that. But little Eddard snuggling into your arms, it felt unfair to deprive him of being so close to his mother, something Jon knew he never had. But too, it was the sight for him. The love of his life carrying the son you created together in your arms, it was something Jon would never get tired of, and he knew it.

You has gotten little Eddard changed into warmer clothes by the time he joined you both upstairs. Kneeling in front of the bed where you had him sitting, you were running a towel over his curls to dry them. “You can say you enjoy the cold all you like, until the day you get sick being out there for so long.”

Little Eddard shook his head, you simply working around him moving on you without bothering to gently tell him to sit still for you. Hearing his footsteps approach, you half turned to look up at him in time for Jon to sit gently on the bed beside his son, picking him up and sitting him cozy in his lap now as he looked down at him. Your own position not having changed, Jons eyes narrowed at you playfully. “What?”

Glancing to his hair and back, you knew the snow had much like in his sons curls, had begun to melt. Instead of saying a word, you pushed yourself upward, sighing as you climb behind both of them on the bed, kneeling being Jon as you didn’t bother saying a word as you gently ran the towel over him as well before water dripped all over the sheets.

A small giggle could be heard from in front of Jon, as well as is voice low and playful, “Whats so funny?” Little Eddard didn’t respond from what you could hear, but a giggle did get let out and almost a sort of yell to make him stop, Jon no doubt tickling him for laughing at him. As you leaned back on your heels, folding the towel before you bothered moving to get up, Jon turned halfway to look at you. “He gets this from you.”

About to gently place it on the side table, you turned back with your mouth partially open. Half blindly tossing it now as you moved back, your voice slightly raised as he could surely detect. “From me? If I’m not mistaken, I’m the one who when we were children, you kept referring to as a goody two shoes.” Only muttering with a smirk that he changed his mind, you mockingly huffed. Attempting to move up off the bed, only for Jon to move quicker.

Picking up the baby in one hand, holding him high on his chest as his other snatched at the edge of your sweater and yanked. Pulling you back into his lap with you giving out a small yelp, before landing in his warmth, and your son giggling endlessly. Instead of addressing Jon, you turned to the little one. Cupping both his cheeks gently you kissed his forehead and nose, muttering lowly but with a playful smile, “I think this is proof where you get being so silly from after all.” Pressing one more kiss to each of his cheeks as he giggled. Grabbing gently at your hair so you wouldn’t back away.

Jon didn’t bother trying to stop him, instead he only shifted on the bed enough so that you could rest against him more comfortably as he moved little Eddard to be more carried by you. The baby’s very small hand now clutching your loose hair as he held it close to his mouth, something he had done since nearly the first few days we was born. A sort of soothing act Maester Luwin had said it was, like one would clutch a stuffed animal or toy, but with something much closer to his mother.

Holding him closer, Eddard snuggled more into your shoulder. Jon ran his hand gentle through inky black locks that so closely resembled his, as the thought turned to words slipping from your mouth quietly before you could stop him. “At least he looks like you.” Jon hummed a question, your own head leaning back slightly into his, feeling Jon almost nuzzle into your hair as his son snuggled his face more into your neck and shoulder, all the action of the morning catching up to his small stature. “Eddard. At least if he’s like me, he looks just like you.”

Sighing into your hair, Jon pressed his lips to where they merely sat, as his other hand ran up and down your waist. “What does that mean? At least he looks like me?”

You didn’t say it with malice, nor insecurity or judgment, but perhaps to Jon you should’ve known he’d have taken it as such. “I’m glad. I’d rather he look like you any day then me.” Holding your waist a bit tighter, Jons voice was low, and a bit on edge as if needing to jump to your own defence as he muttered that there was nothing wrong with the baby looking like you.

It wasn’t easy, still shaking off those feelings that you’ve changed since giving birth to him. The feeling as if Jon just may look at others and wonder when you’d start looking more like then again. He never expressed the thought, but it permeated for weeks when you first came home from the hospital what a mess you must look in comparison. Sometimes now it flared up, and Jon was always on the defence whenever you might even trickle into such a train of thought again.

But, you knew he wouldn’t suspect what you meant, nor did you want to explain it plainly for his own ego. You simply said it, because looking down at your son, it was so clear. “It’s like a part of you is still here, even when you have to be away for so long.” Jon went quiet, and you knew him having to still work so many days away at a time in some instances was difficult on him. “He looks just like you, and no matter what you claim, he acts just like you. Even if you’re away, he still has me and I still have him, and in a way it’s like you never really left.”

He said nothing, nor did you expect him too. He wasn’t a man of easy words when emotions ran deep and by the long, shaking exhale he let out, there was some rawness in how he felt about that. Not that you meant anything specific by it, but when you had spent the better part of the morning looking at both of them together, it was hard to keep your mind off of how you may have gifted him a child he always wanted, but he gifted you something too. A way to never truly feel alone without him anymore.

You weren’t sure how long you both sat there. Eddard not quite asleep, but his eyes drooping and drifting off as if relaxed too much to care about anything else. And with Jons warmth behind you, it made the urge to get up no faster. But, eventually one by one doors opened and voices filled the hallway outside Jons room before directing downstairs.

Leaning back into him, Jon pressed a kiss down to your neck, almost hiding against you on the other side of your neck and shoulder as Eddard, without even realizing. The sounds of breakfast downstairs starting, as meal times always made the echo in the Stark house loud, Jon muttered, “Do you want to join them? You didn’t have much earlier.”

You thought about it, and if he was suggesting it you knew Jon also could likely be hungry but you instead pulled back to run your hand over little Eddards curls. “What about you, sweet boy? Do you want to join everyone for breakfast?” Shaking his head no, you heard and felt Jon chuckle. A smile came over you, pushing your sons curls from out of his face more. “How about we get you something to eat in the kitchen, just the three of us?” He nodded at that.

You both knew why. When at proper meals, he hated being in the highchair. Only one of you could pay attention to him at a time, and you’d take turns so the other could eat and it never felt like a meal between you three that way. Whereas in the kitchen, you and Jon were much more liberal about where he could eat, and many times, he’d sit on your lap and eat as you would reach around his food to pick at yours.

Jons grip dropped to your waist, prompting you to stand up as he helped you so your hold on the baby didn’t jostle. Pausing, he looked at his son still grasping your hair. “Your mother won’t be able to eat if you’re holding onto her the whole time?” Shaking his head, as if your son was saying no he didn’t want to let go, but Jon knew. Walking to the other side of the room where his crib was, you turned to watch with a smile.

You knew exactly what he picked, and no matter how much he had now, toys or otherwise, it was still little Eddards favourite. His first toy. Jon gently cupped the side of his sons head, running a thumb over his cheek as he leaned to meet his eyes, holding up the small toy wolf plush in his other hand. “What about if your mother carries you, and you carry him? Will you let go of her hair then?”

Eddard slowly nodded, and even more slowly let your hair free as he grabbed at the wolf plush and pulled it very close to his chest, almost hiding his face in it comfortingly. Jon kissed the top of his head, before tilting your chin up to him. His thumb lightly brushed over your bottom lip before he met your lips in a kiss.

Sighing out right away, Jon captured the breath and didn’t release your kiss just yet. Instead, until you held no more breath to give, did he let go. Nothing but a slow, and chaste kiss that yet somehow left your lips tingling a bit, your eyes fluttered open far after Jons eyes opened to watch you. The words slipping from your lips without any hesitation. “I love you.”

Jon kissed you once more, muttering against them as his hot breath traced over your skin. “I love you too, darling.” Not another word was needed as he guided you both out of the hall and down the stairs.

Guiding you to the kitchen, Jon just barley could see the table everyone was sat around. Only catching Robbs curious eyes with a shake of his head to answer the silent question if he was joining. Only when Robb noticed little Eddard snuggled into your front did he nod with a smile. He knew too well not to interrupt his nephew when he was this warm and snuggling against you.

You stood in the back out of Jons way for a bit, his insistence to let him handle it as you muttered to the baby. “You did so well this morning, how far you walked? I’m so proud of you.” Snuggling closer, you pressed a kiss to the curls atop his head. Your eyes closed as you rested your head a little more comfortingly against him. He had come so far even at just a little over one.

Looking back to Jon, your own gaze softened. You had mulled over what gift to get him for the holidays for months, but in that moment you were fairly certain what you’d get him. What Jon would truly want more then anything else. You didn’t have it here and now, but you knew it would be a gift enough tonight after the baby was long asleep if you suggested it.

The question of whether or not it was too soon to start trying for a little girl.

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Aftersun Art Donaldson and Lily

Art didn't want things to be this awkward, the entire ordeal was tragic. 

He remembers the day she was born, the entire 9 months leading to her birth and dreams of what she would be like before Tashi ever got pregnant. He always wanted a girl he was made to raise, one being the only man in a predominantly woman centered family he adored the familiarity of it all.

The excitement of finding out she was a girl, his little girl. Nights preparing her nursery, reading and annotating parenting books, joining birthing classes and following daddy and me facebook pages for any help he could find. Reality kicked in when he was able to pick her name. Lily, his grandmother's favorite flowers.

Tashi had the choice for her middle name and allowed Art to decide her first, he wanted to do something in homage to his grandmother and she respected that. He treasured helping Tashi during those 9 months dropping tennis entirely focusing on her well being and the little life inside her was the happiest he'd been in years.

the best day of his life was the day she was born, 9AM her healthy wails ringing through the room after a torturous overnight stay at the hospital Tashi spitting curses that she wouldn't ever do this again crescent indents in the skin of his hand while he was on the verge of passing out barely able to breathe when he watched her come into the world

He’s so fond of the memory, whisking her from Tashi’s arms once she falls asleep. He sobbed silently, rocking her back and forth in his arms “I love you so much” he cried tears of joy slipping down his cheeks grazing his fingers through her curls "I'm always going to take care of you sweet heart” a watery laugh leaving his lips cooing as she sneezed. Tashi woke to his shirt unbuttoned Lily sound asleep against his bare chest 

“Art, why?” she squinted curiously

“I just want to be close.. Want her to know it’s me.” 

she smiled fondly “you’re both going to be perfect for one another.” 

He was on the court faster than he wanted to be, it led to missing dance recitals and spelling bee’s having to leave mid-day tea parties needing to make up hours practicing.

the idea popped up after looking through his old photos on the beach visiting Santa Barbara with his parents and Patrick, the memory bringing a smile to his face but sadness followed, could he make his daughter happy?

family trips weren’t out of the ordinary and she's seen most of the world majority of the time trapped in locked hotel rooms, or watching her dad on tv screens at home with babysitters sat beside her 

she always cringed at their statements and gossip through hushed phone calls when they thought she wasn’t listening, “her dad’s really fucking hot, wonder what it’d be like to fuck both of them” they’d snicker sifting through family photos and picture frames, it made her nauseous and angry. 

her meltdowns were bad at first gripping onto her fathers torso for dear life begging not to go, asking why he’s leaving her for so long, that this isn’t fair and insisting that he doesn’t love her 

“no” he replied sternly “this is my job baby.. I need to do this, it makes me happy,” he’d lie knowing Tashi was lingering nearby not wanting to disappoint her too. 

So she got used to always watching her parents from a distance, happily accepting nicknacks given to her from their trips but resenting them after a while, stuffing snow globes, key chains and stuffed animals in drawers going as far as breaking them. It was all a reminder of loss too much for her little heart to bare. She adored Art and Tashi but with time the loneliness got to her and he could tell, the notion killed him. 

Here they were now cruising the Bahamas both spread on lounge chairs sipping virgin pina coladas

"Lily, are you having fun?" He asks and she nods silently observing the perusing guests ice cream dripping down her cone coating her hand. 

“Can we go to the pool later?” She glanced over at her father “of course bug need to clean up though” he sits up wiping her vanilla coated cheeks she shooed him away avoiding his touch.

“I can do it” she grumbles, snatching the rest of the napkins out of his hand wiping herself down. Her obvious disdain stung. “Just wanna help you..” he frowns 

“I know dad you don’t need to for some stuff though” she huffs through clenched teeth the sticky residue not subsiding her frustration.

She could be so mean, her scorn towards him cut like a knife, he wanted to chastise her, spite her but he bit back any insult he came up with racking his brain through so many memories wondering where he went wrong hell maybe he made her this way. 

He bleakly sat back “We haven’t talked about school, I heard how well you did at your piano recital grandma said you got a standing ovation I believe it” He pried hoping some sort of fond reaction from her “didn’t you get an award too-?”

“you weren’t there so you wouldn’t know” she interrupts bitterly slightly shaking her head at his ignorance

Art shrinks, slumping his shoulders watching her shrug off his advances “well you know I love you bug” she nods rolling her eyes completely unconvinced.

“Sure” she sighs, staring off at the other kids her age. “I’m gonna go” she stomps off, dumping the custom made booklet he made about their trip in the trash.

He pursed his lips turning away unshed tears blurring his vision hidden behind shaded sunglasses.

The week passed and the hollowness slowly stripped away from her, he observed from a distance watching her flip through excursion magazines, snorkeling, swimming with dolphins, karaoke bars and hiking through jungles and coves all slowly amounting onto a little list she created late at night when he was asleep. He checked every box accomplishing everything just like she wanted. 

The last night of their holiday Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House blared through the speakers after dinner 

“dad no..” she hissed embarrassed by all the prying eyes staring at them.

“Come on” he insisted on gripping her hands, shimming her body. She caved when he began singing the words as they swayed back and forths slowly shuffling into his open arms.  

“you’re so important to me Lily,” he whispers through trembling lips, voice cracking from her acceptance.

“I love you too” she grins, melting in his tender embrace.

@diyasgarden and the rest of chat during her watch party spoke about this theme with art and lily and I had to write something about it <3

[violettwritess]

Two people can change m.s

Summary: Y/n and Matt promised they’d always be friends, but as time passes and distance grows, the bond they once had starts to feel like a memory.

Warnings: none

Wc: 1.7k

English is not my first language

6 years ago

“We’ll always be friends right Matt?”

A 15 year old y/n was lying on the couch of the triplets house, it was a chilly night and they were both watching a movie when the question came up to her mind, Matt turned his head to look at her, a bit taken aback by the question.

“Of course we will, silly, I’m never gonna leave you”

Y/n felt those same butterflies in her stomach as he said that.

“Even if we go to college and we go our separate ways?”

“Even then, our friendship is stronger than any distance”

Matt wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer to his side.

“Promise?” She looks up at him expectant

“I promise”

3 years later

It’s been almost a year since Matt and his triplet brothers started their YouTube channel, and it has been an absolute blast, they got really famous overnight and y/n couldn’t be more proud of them, they’ve been dreaming about it for a long time and she was there with them every step of the way.

They were now filming a YouTube video, they were trying to guess each other by zoomed in pictures and they invited y/n to join them, she has already been in some of their videos and stuff but just in the background, it was the first video she was going to appear officially

She was nervous at first but the three of them reassured her that there was nothing to worry about, once they finished filming, her and Matt went to his room to watch a movie

“What’s the pick for today?”

She plops on the bed, getting comfy wrapping herself on the sheets

“I kinda wanna take a nap”

He smiles and lays on the bed next to her

“A nap it is then”

5 months later

“Do you really have to go?”

The triplets just signed a contract and they were moving to L.A, it wasn’t sudden, they’ve thought about it for a while, but it still made her sad since she’s gonna stay in Boston and they won’t be able to see each other so often

“I know, but it’s a good thing y/n, this will be the next step of our career, and still, I’ll make an effort to come to Boston whenever I can, I promise”

She flashes him a sad smile, he catches it and opens his arms, she understands quickly and goes to hug him tightly, she felt like he was leaving and never coming back, he wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace, rubbing her back slightly

“I’m gonna miss you” she says muffled on his hoodie

“I’m gonna miss you even more”

2 months later (2023)

At first everything was normal, texts everyday, a few calls now and then, but as the weeks passed, their texts went from long, late-night conversations to short, polite check-ins, their FaceTime calls became less frequent, then nonexistent, she understood, it was a whole new space, they were gaining more followers so they had to film more, they even launched their own clothing brand and that made them even more drowned in things to do

She told herself it was just life, that things would settle, that he’d come back to her in the way he always did… right?.

But then, one night, she saw him on Instagram, laughing, surrounded by new friends, looking happier than he had in months. And it hit her. He’s leaving her behind

3 months later

Y/N hadn’t seen Matt in person since the day he left for L.A, but now, he was back in Boston for a few days, and they had finally found time to meet.

She should’ve been excited, but as she walked into the café they used to go to all the time, all she felt was nervous.

He was already there, sitting in the corner, phone in hand, he looked different, same face, same curls, but something in his eyes had changed.

“Hey” he said, standing up with a small smile.

“Hey”

She sat down across from him, suddenly unsure of what to say, the last time they were here, they had talked for hours. Now, the silence stretched between them, unfamiliar and heavy. Matt glanced down at the table, drumming his fingers against the wood.

“So, how have you been?”

Y/N let out a small breathy laugh, shaking her head.

“That’s such a weird question”

He furrowed his brows.

“Why?”

“Because you should already know” she admitted.

“We used to know everything about each other, Matt”

His expression softened, and for a second, she thought she saw the boy she used to know, the one who promised they’d always be friends, but then, just as quickly, he looked away.

“I know” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry”

Sorry. That was all? Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat.

“What happened to us?”

Matt exhaled, leaning back in his seat.

“You know I’m busy y/n”

“I know you are but, we were supposed to be friends forever and now… now you kinda feel like a stranger”

She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, he looked at her then, and something in his expression shifted, like he was realizing it too.

“I don’t want that” he said. “I don’t want us to be strangers”

But Y/n just gave him a sad smile, because deep down, she knew.

They already were.

November 2024

Y/n used to think about this moment a lot.

For months, she had imagined what she would say if she ever saw Matt again, sometimes, in the quiet of her room, she’d draft the perfect speech in her head, telling him how much it hurt, how unfair it was, how she felt like she had spent the past few years running after a friendship that had already slipped through her fingers, she never actually thought the moment would come. But then, there he was.

She had been walking through downtown Boston when she saw him outside a coffee shop, sitting at a table with Chris and Nick. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

He looked different, but it wasn’t just the hair, or the new clothes, or the way he carried himself now more confident, more put together, it was the way he moved through the world, like he wasn’t the same Matt she had once known.

Like he wasn’t hers anymore. Like he never had been.

She thought about walking past, pretending she hadn’t seen him, maybe that was the right thing to do, but before she could make a decision, his eyes met hers.

He froze.

And just like that, everything came rushing back, the sleepovers on the couch, the late-night drives, the way he used to be the first person she’d text when something good or bad happened, the way he used to promise, over and over again, that they’d never drift apart.

“Y/n?”

Chris and Nick looked between them, tension settling over the table, she swallowed, forcing a small smile.

“Hey, Matt”

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’m gonna- uh- get a drink”

Chris cleared his throat.

“Yeah, me too, you guys should- uh- catch up”

And then, just like that, the twins were gone, leaving them alone. Matt stood, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Hey” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey” she basically whispered.

Silence.

He gestured to the chair across from him.

“You wanna sit?”

She hesitated, but then, despite herself, she nodded and took a seat. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the sounds of the coffee shop filled the space between them, murmured conversations, the soft hum of an espresso machine, the distant sound of a barista calling out an order, and then, at the same time-

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Don’t”

He looked at her confused

“What?”

She studied him carefully, noting the way his gaze flickered down toward his hands, the way he kept fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

“Why does it feel like you don’t even know me anymore?”

Matt exhaled.

“Y/n-”

“Like I’m a stranger?”

She interrupted.

“Because that’s what this feels like, I feel like a stranger in your life, and you- you’re looking at me like I am”

His jaw tensed. “You know this wasn’t on purpose”

“Yeah” she nodded, blinking quickly to keep the tears from spilling over. “I know”

He leaned forward, like he was going to reach for her hand, but she pulled away, he just exhaled sharply shaking his head. She stared down at her hands, gripping them together in her lap as if that could somehow hold her together.

“You take people for granted when you think they’ll always be there”

She said softly, Matt’s breath hitched.

“Y/n…”

She shook her head, blinking away the sting in her eyes.

“No, Matt, I… for a long time, I let you, because I thought… I thought eventually, you’d remember me, remember us, I loved you so hard since forever and you just…”

The tears were threatening to come out, her body was begging her to let go, to crumble, but she wouldn’t do that

“I don’t even know why I keep clawing at you to be like before, but, I guess people can change”

His expression crumbled, she sense how he was feeling but, why now? She had spent so much time waiting, waiting for a text, a call, a sign that she still meant something to him, but standing here now, she realized she didn’t want to wait anymore. Y/n took a deep breath and stood up, tucking her chair in, Matt looked up at her, eyes searching.

“You’re leaving?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, I think I should”

His mouth opened, like he wanted to say something, wanted to ask her to stay. But he didn’t, because maybe, deep down, he knew too, knew that whatever they had, whatever they used to be, was already gone. She sent him a small, sad smile.

“Take care, Matt”

He swallowed, fingers clenching into fists, and he just nods

“You too”

And with that, she turned and walked away, the other two brothers watched as she left and came back to sit with Matt, Nick spoke first.

“What was that”

Matt swallowed hard. His body felt like it was burning. His palms ached, nails digging into his skin from how tightly he was clenching his fists.

“I lost her”

[lisbeth-kk]

Easter Egg Prompts (2025) Day 8

This is the last one, lovelies. Time flies when one's having fun, right? Thanks again to the sweet @helloliriels for making the prompts. It's been a joy sharing this story with you all.

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

Rosie is acting like the teenager she's become, which rattles Sherlock to the core.

Marshmallows

Sherlock is not prepared when his darling girl turns into a stranger overnight. Luckily for them all, John takes it all in his stride. He has after all grown up with a sister, not to mention invaded Afghanistan. Disassembling Moriarty’s network is like a bumpy ride in comparison.

“Why do you have to be so strict? Everyone else is allowed!” Rosie roars at her Daddy.

“Names, please,” John replies calmly.

“You just want me to live with you forever, never letting me unfold my wings,” she yells dramatically.

Sherlock is quite impressed by her drama queen appearance, but he can't shake the unease of witnessing the two people he loves most in the world having a dispute of this proportion.

“Of course, we don’t. It’s not healthy for a child to live with their parents when they’ve grown up. I’m afraid our rule still applies; you are not allowed to attend an all-night disco. You are barely fifteen.”

“You’re a coward!”

Before John gets in a word, Sherlock rises from his chair, filled with a terrifying fury.

“Do not speak to your father like that, Rosamund Watson-Holmes!”

His tone is as cold as an arctic wind. A tone he’s never used on either his daughter or husband. Not even on Mycroft. Well, perhaps on one or two occasions…

For a moment Rosie blushes and looks utterly devastated, but soon enough, she turns on her heel and stomps up to her room, slamming the door for emphasis.

Sherlock’s knees give way, and he falls back into his chair. John rubs his face, and sighs.

“What is happening to her, John?” Sherlock whispers.

“She’s a teenager, Sherlock. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. She’s testing our boundaries, and trying to find her place in the world, and desperately wanting her independence.”

“But she’s become a…monster! How can she say those things about you?”

“I’ve had far worse, and I’m pretty sure she’s already regretting saying them, but she’s too stubborn to admit it. Yet.”

“How can you be so calm? We are losing her!”

Sherlock’s voice is on the verge of panic.

“Look at me, love,” John says softly, crouching down in front of Sherlock’s chair. “We are notlosing her.”

Running feet down the stairs, all the stairs, and then the slamming of the front door, doesn’t exactly support John’s reassurance. He groans, Sherlock leaps to his feet, determined to follow his girl, but John stops him.

“Here.”

John shows Sherlock his phone. A text from Harry lights up the screen.

Having a domestic, John? Ro is on her way over. Just wanted you to know. We’re free to take her this weekend if it’s alright with you and Sherlock. I think you all need some space, and she needs some female advice. We’ll keep you informed.

Sherlock collapses in John’s arms, his body trembles, and he feels like he’s run around for hours. The sudden fatigue is unnerving.

John guides him to the sofa and lets him curl up in his lap.

“She’ll be alright, love. At least we avoided the disco. There’s no way my sister and Clara will let her out of their sight.”

A vibration from Sherlock’s phone seconds later, discloses that the surveillance works impeccably.

What is wrong? Where is she going? Have you thrown her out? Do you acquire assistance? Answer immediately! MH

John chuckles while Sherlock sends his brother a reassuring text.

***

“So, what’s got your knickers in a twist?” Harry asks when she’s welcomed her niece with a warm hug.

“Who, more like,” the teenage girl mutters.

Harry laughs heartily, soon joined by Clara, who embraces Rosie and holds her for a long time. When the girl starts to cry, Harry steps in an makes it into a group hug.

“Tell us, love,” she coaxes. 

“It was Papa,” Rosie whispers. “I’ve never seen him like that. Ever.”

Harry looks at her with a frown.

“Sherlock? Are we talking about the softest father I’ve ever met? I thought it’d be my brother who – “

“Oh, he did his too, you know, stayed calm and captain-like. But then…”

“Out with it,” Harry demands, not unlike the forementioned captain behaviour of her brother.

“I called him a coward.”

Rosie’s voice cracks at the last word and she hides her face in the crook of Clara’s neck.

“Uh-oh,” Harry murmurs. “Calling John that in front of Sherlock. Courageous of you.”

“He was…I…if he ever looks at me like that again…”

Rosie starts to cry in earnest now and clings to them both. They say nothing, because there’s really no words that will suffice. Everyone knows that Sherlock was in his full right to react like he did.

***

Before she goes to make them hot cocoa, Harry sends her brother a text.

Ro is fine. Well, almost. Broken-hearted. Regrets what she called you. Is terrified of your detective. We don’t blame him. The nerve of that girl, calling my brother a coward! Will keep you posted. Take care of him. I reckon he’s beside himself.

Thanks, Harry! You’re a lifesaver, and quite right about Sherlock. Tell Rosie to text him when she feels up for it, will you.

I might have to frame this text. Are you going soft on me, old man? Making cocoa now. Speak later.

“Do you want whipped cream or marshmallows in your cocoa, Ro?” Harry asks.

The girl has calmed down, but she looks a right mess with red rimmed eyes and a puffy face.

“Marshmallows, please. I’ll just go to clean myself up a bit first.”

When she returns to the kitchen, the rich scent of hot milk and dark chocolate welcome her like a warm hug. Clara hands her a large mug topped with multi-coloured marshmallows.

“Nothing like hot cocoa to mend broken hearts,” she says matter-of-factly.

They seat themselves around the circular kitchen table. Rosie braces herself for heaps of questions but to her surprise, gets none.

“In your own time,” Harry says softly and takes a sip of her brew.

The synthetic taste of the soft sweets paired with the rich cocoa, feel calming on the teenager’s frayed nerves. She closes her eyes and wallows in it for a few moments. 

“I’ve been an idiot,” she says before opening her eyes. “They just want to protect me. I didn’t really want to go to that stupid disco, but…”

She opens her eyes and sets down her mug and runs her fingers through her hair in a sherlockian way.

“Brian and his mates made a bet. Said that I’d never get permission to go. Told me my parents are overprotective, wanting to lock me up inside 221B until I’m thirty.”

A chuckle from Harry, quite reminiscent of John’s, coaxes a smile from Rosie.

“Alright, I know it was stupid, okay! I wanted to prove to myself that I could stand up to Captain John Hamish Watson and the world’s only consulting detective. Dunno what I was thinking.“

“Believe me, love, I’ve been at the receiving end of my brother’s calm and infuriating reasoning all my life. That said, I think Sherlock’s reaction scared you more than a hissy fit from my brother could ever do, am I right?”

“Yes,” Rosie admitted with a whisper. “You should have seen him, Harry. It was like witnessing a blizzard in the Arctic. His eyes were icy blue, and almost stung me. He hates me, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, darling,” Clara murmurs. “Sherlock Holmes will never stop loving you. You are the light of his life together with John. According to the text your father sent his sister earlier, your Papa is a mess. Send him a text later to ease his mind, yeah?”

This sends the girl into another heart-breaking crying spell, and it takes another cup of cocoa to calm her down.

When she’s drained her cup and grabbed a handful of marshmallows to chew on, Rosie picks up her phone and composes a text to Sherlock and then one to John.

Hi. I’m sorry I called Daddy a coward. I didn’t mean it, and it isn’t true. Your reaction was sound. You are scary when you’re defending him, you know. Forgive me? xx

Hi. You’re not a coward, Daddy. My outburst was totally uncalled for. I’m sorry. You’re the bravest man I know. Thanks for letting me stay with H & C. xx

***

They’re both a bit blurry-eyed after they’ve read their respective texts, though John is not as easily induced as his husband. 

Sherlock types out his reply first; he is after all able to compose a text with his hands behind his back.

My darling girl. Of course, I forgive you. I am sorry if I scared you; I scared myself even more. Never doubt how much I adore you. Papa.

We will have a talk about this later. Love you.

Sherlock has his chin on John’s shoulder and frowns at the rather clipped tone in the text.

“That’s a little harsh,” he remarks.

John hums in agreement. All of him radiates frustration and rigidness.

“I’ve earned the nickname Stubborn Until Death for a reason,” he huffs.

“Good lord. How many nicknames do you have? I thought the continents name was more than sufficient.”

This loosens something in John, and he wraps his arms around his husband.

“One would think so, yeah,” he agrees. “It’s not pertinent anymore, though.”

“I hope not,” Sherlock replies dryly.

“I’m only devoted to one lover these days. If you’re amenable, I can show you just howdevoted I am to my chosen one.”

John’s voice is husky and full of promise, leaving Sherlock breathless, and he willingly agrees to his husband’s suggestion.

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[wisteriasymphony]

"Yes, Claire left in a huff this morning. Apparently she can dish it out but can't take it," Gabriel grumbled, the telephone tucked between his collarbone and his ear. "You work as a model and yet the reality that broads like you are a dime a dozen is some sort of shock? ..No, Audrey, not you, them. They're- Fucking forget it. I need a cigar. Talk to you later." Gabriel slapped the phone back into its receiver, standing up from his office chair. Claire leaving was for the best—The minute she'd started to run her mouth, her worth as a muse had all but flown the coop. And he meant that literally: His desk was a mess of unfinished, malformed designs, nothing he could even sell as that avant-garde social critique couture crap. Not even working with her sat on his lap did anything after a while.

But the good thing about fashion was that women were plentiful. If he was a stock broker or movie executive he'd need to be choosy about he treated the next tight-bloused intern. But he wasn't any of those chumps, he was Gabriel fucking Agreste. And if Audrey was right, he was only going to keep rising to the top, become a god among men. The broads would flock to him.

There was a knock on the door to his office.

"What is it?"

Gabriel was in the middle of lighting his cigar, letting it stick out of the side of his mouth and practically hang off his lip. He had been expecting either his secretary or one of the other men to be at the door—perhaps Alphonse had another client for Gabriel to see or Charles was in the middle of holding off another press hound—but what walked through the door was instead a young girl with perfectly curled blonde hair, all swept in a ponytail over her right side.

“Mr. Agreste?”

Emilie Graham de Vanily, if he had remembered correctly, had been traded through a few hands as a model over the past few months. She’d been working through that Elite Model Management that had just started up maybe 7 or so years prior, and she easily had that sort of ‘Model of The Year’ image about her: Bright green eyes, good jaw, and a body that filled out her clothes just enough without it being too egregious. Gabriel would’ve been a sucker to let her slip past his fingers with the 1979 Spring/Summer Paris Fashion Week steadily approaching, and if he wanted to keep her he’d have to pull all the stops.

Gabriel’s shoulders softened, and he took the cigar out of his mouth. “Emilie, just Gabi is fine,” he smiled. “Come on, we’re friends, aren’t we? Sit down, sit down.”

The girl practically beamed from his words, skipping over to take a seat on one of Gabriel’s large leather armchairs and practically being swallowed whole by it. She crossed her legs, both hands together and placed in her lap.

“You wanted to see me, right? About your next designs?”

“Yes, yes. I was hoping to have you look over them with me,” he said almost flippantly, watching as her eyes lit up. “But– But but but. I just got the unfortunate news that Claire Freeman won’t be working with us for Fashion Week.” Emilie tilted her head, a furrow in her blond brows. “She wasn’t very nice to you anyways, Mr. Agreste. Maybe it’s for the best.”

“An astute observation—One I entirely agree with.” Gabriel twirled his cigar in his fingers, adding “But that leaves me without a crown jewel to show off my collection. I was hoping you’d fill that role for me.” It was almost comical how easy it was to make Emilie smile, a sort of sparkle emanating off of her every time Gabriel said the littlest thing. It was a refreshing change of pace from Claire, a woman with a permanent scowl and a face that he could tell was beginning to wrinkle. Nobody would’ve wanted to watch her up on the catwalks anyway, not when a hot young dish like Emilie Graham de Vanily could take her place. He’d change some things over, tweak the proportions, take a few overnights to fix things to fit the new girl, and it would pay him handsomely. In hindsight, it might’ve been worth it to throw Claire out himself if she hadn’t done the dirty work for him. “I’d love to!” “Good. Now that includes filling in for the dinner reservations I had for La Scène. I always take my main girls out the first night." He tapped the end of his cigar on his desk's ashtray as he spoke. "How old are you again?" "Seventeen." Gabriel laughed so hard tears pricked his eyes. "No, you're not," he smiled. "Not if anyone asks, that is."

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Five

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Angst. Word count: ~3.5k

Chapter summary: Aemond dwells upon the past while trying to live without her.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The flat door clicks closed behind Aemond and he lingers in the corridor for a moment. This was for the best, he was sparing her, so why does his heart feel so heavy? Every step towards his car feels as though he’s walking through quicksand.

He loads Vhagar into the boot, throwing his overnight bag onto the backseat and sits wearily behind the wheel, gripping it with enough force to turn his knuckles white. He screws his eye shut, attempting to will away the prickling sensation around the rim, alongside the lump in his throat.

I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the right thing. 

**15 YEARS PRIOR**

Aemond looks up at her from where he’s seated on the edge of the hotel bed, brows arched in pain and disbelief, as tears slip down his cheeks. “So that’s just it, you’re ending things?”

Alys purses her crimson stained lips, perfectly manicured nails of the same shade brush against his cheek as she stands over him. “Oh sweetheart,” she coos, “You had to know that our little arrangement wasn’t forever.”

His heart twinges at this, what could she possibly mean? They are made for each other, two halves of the same whole. He stares at her, confused. “But I love you…”

She laughs, green eyes crinkling with mirth and the sight and sound is a dagger to his chest.

“You don’t love me,” she says, her tone condescending, “You’re barely twenty, you don’t know what love is. You just like the idea of an older woman.”

He shakes his head, feeling himself become angry at her cold dismissal of his feelings. “Then why? Why bother with me?”

Alys sighs. “Look, we both got something we wanted out of this arrangement. You got to have a little fun, and I made sure I got the Harrenhal contract.”

Bile rises in Aemond’s throat, his eye narrowing hatefully as he stares at her, acrid warmth spreading throughout his chest.

She’d used him.

**PRESENT DAY**

Aemond’s own flat feels too big, too empty, too quiet, when he returns to it. The pitter patter of Vhagar’s claws against the hardwood floor as she potters towards her bed is the only audible sound.

He’s never stopped to consider his own living space much before, preferring functionality over comfort. He is out most of the time anyway, so what does it matter as long as things do what he needs them to do? 

It’s only as he leans against the spotless granite of the kitchen counter that he is struck by how lifeless and sterile it is here. He’s grown used to the warmth and cosiness of being at her place; the smell of jasmine that wafts delicately in the air from the incense sticks that her and Mysaria always seem to be burning, being pressed against her on the tiny sofa, her feet in his lap as trashy TV plays just a little too loudly, the tiny space is filled with laughter, comfort and love. Dropped back into his own space he feels as though he’s been set adrift, empty and hollow, yet he has no one to blame but himself.

The bed is too big, he has too much room, he misses the feel of springs digging into his back as he curls himself around her on her tiny mattress. This bed doesn’t feel like home, not anymore, not since he’d laid her down upon it all those nights ago, put her legs over his shoulders and…fucked it all up by leaving without saying anything the next day, just like he fucks up everything. She’d given him a second chance and he’d squandered it.

No, he did what he needed to.

I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the right thing. 

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face and throws the covers off, walking to the bathroom. Rifling through the medicine cabinet in search of painkillers to dull the throbbing ache in his left eye socket, his fingers close around something cool and metallic.

He plucks it out, studying it carefully. It’s a bracelet of hers, probably left there accidentally from one of the few times she’s stayed over. He turns the silver bangle over in his fingers, remembering the first time he’d seen her wear it. He’d thought to himself it looked cheap, but now as he holds it it feels like the most precious treasure in the world. It’s all he has left of her.

How had he allowed things to go this far? It was only ever supposed to be transactional but he’d allowed it to evolve, letting her occupy a space in his heart and mind that left them both vulnerable. He ended things, not wanting to cause her unnecessary pain and yet in doing so has devastated them both.

Aemond doesn’t do love or relationships. Not even his own family can stand him, so how can he expect another person to feel that way about him, or open himself up to the possibility of having those feelings for someone else? It’s a path he’s trodden before and it doesn’t end well.

**5 YEARS PRIOR**

Aemond leans in to kiss Floris, she turns her head and he catches her cheek instead.

“I’ve just put on lipgloss, Aem,” she says, her voice saccharine, “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

“Mm. Was just about to leave, love,” He tells her, grabbing his keys.

“Forgetting something?” She says with a slight pout and tilt of her head.

“Ah, of course,” he fishes his credit card out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hands it over to her, smirking as the diamond of her engagement ring glitters with the movement of her fingers, “I’ll see you later. I love you.”

“You too!” She calls over her shoulder, already walking back towards the bedroom.

It’s not until Aemond is almost at his car that he realises he’s left his phone in the flat and heads back upstairs to retrieve it. As he opens the front door he can hear Floris on the phone, only able to pick up on her side of the conversation, he pauses to listen in.

“...I can only put him off for so long. I have to do it occasionally, otherwise he’d get suspicious. It’s that horrible prosthetic eye, it gives me the creeps–”

“...only a few months until the wedding, then I can get a quickie divorce and take half of everything–”

“...no, he hasn’t made me sign a pre-nup, he’s too obsessed with me for that–”

Aemond’s breath catches in his throat as a dull ache spreads its way through his chest. He slams the front door hard enough to alert Floris that he’s home and strides towards the bedroom.

**PRESENT DAY**

The next few weeks are a miserable dirge for Aemond. He buries himself in paperwork at work, in an attempt to push away thoughts of her, yet finds his mind wandering to how she might be spending the working day, whether she’s finally managed to get the museum to commission the exhibit she’s been pushing for or not. He considers dropping by the museum, just to see if he can watch her from a distance, but decides against it. It was his decision to end things, it was for the best, the least he owed her was to stay away.

Aemond sits on his couch in the evenings, the cold, hard leather unwelcoming against his back, the space too expansive as he attempts to watch the same trashy TV on his widescreen that he’d watched with her on her TV. He finds he couldn’t give less of a shit about which couples are voted off of Love Island or who scored the lowest on Come Dine With Me, for him the experience was about being snuggled up next to her on the sofa, feeling her warmth, hearing her laugh. Now she’s gone, and none of the things that accompanied that seem to matter.

Family functions are unbearable without her. He misses the way she’d smile up at him when he placed his hand at the small of her back, misses how effortlessly she converses with his family, even the members he struggles to get along with.

Without her to keep him grounded, he bickers with Aegon, is aloof with his mother and Helaena and actively goes out of his way to antagonise his nephews. He hasn’t just reverted back to old habits, he’s worse, and it’s obvious his family have begun to notice too. He elects just to stay away entirely when invitations are extended.

That is until the night of Helaena’s birthday party. His only sister would never forgive him if he didn’t show up, so grudgingly he goes to the gathering his mother is having for her at her place. 

He stands out on the decking, the same decking where he’d shared his first kiss with her, the memory plays on a loop in his head, he can still taste the red wine on her lips. 

The cherry red tip of his cigarette as he takes a drag provides further illumination alongside the soft glow of the lights through the windows of the house, and the moon that shines bright in the night sky. 

It’s quiet, save for the muffled bass of the music coming from inside. It gets louder as the French doors slide open for a moment, quieting once more as they slide closed.

Aemond rolls his eye, blowing out a tight line of smoke, his shoulders tensing. He wants to be left alone, he had hoped that escaping to the garden would have made that perfectly clear to everyone.

“It’s just me,” Helaena says softly, coming to stand beside him.

Aemond softens, glancing down at her, his gaze drawn to the bubbles that rise to the top of the glass in the gin and tonic that she’s taking delicate sips from.

“Happy birthday, Hel,” he says, facing forward again and taking another drag.

“It’d be happier if you’d actually come inside,” She nudges him gently with her elbow.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be,”

“What’s going on with you? You’re miserable lately.”

“I’ve always been miserable,” He throws his cigarette butt down onto the decking and crushes it under foot.

“You were less miserable when you had your girlfriend. I liked the guy that you were when you were with her,”

“She’s not my girlfriend, never was,” Aemond’s tone is clipped, he purses his lips as he feels irritation prickle at his skin.

“Why not?” Helaena taps the rings on her fingers gently against her glass.

“She deserves better than me. I’ve spared her the inevitable hurt I’d cause her,”

“Hm. You know, there’s only so many times you can use that excuse before it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy,”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve ended things because you don’t want to hurt her, but I bet doing that has hurt her, and you,”

Aemond scoffs, “I don’t do relationships, Hel,”

She huffs a quiet laugh, “No, I don’t do relationships because I’m aroace. You do do relationships, Aemond, you’ve just made crappy choices in the past and you’re allowing fear to dictate your future,”

He narrows his eye, glancing towards her again, “And how do you know so much?”

“I’m incredibly fussy about the insects I choose for pin-mounting, and those just go on my wall. I’m even more particular when it comes to people. I’ve seen how you two look at each other, don’t chuck this away,”

“Hel–”

“I mean it, Aemond. She’s your…your atlas moth! Pin mount her before somebody else does,”

“A truly horrifying metaphor, but thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles warmly, “You gonna come inside now?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go. Do you mind?”

“Gonna go get your girl?” She asks with a grin.

“Perhaps,” he says with a bow of his head.

Helaena deposits her drink on the railing and claps her hands together excitedly. “Then of course I don’t mind, go!”

Aemond pulls out his phone as he gets into his car, seeing the Instagram notification pop up on his lockscreen.

mysaria_ww has started a live video

Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he clicks on the notification and startles slightly as pounding music blares from his phone’s speaker. The camera sweeps shakily over a couple of obnoxiously lurid drinks before it lands on her.

Aemond feels his breath catch in his throat, his heart seems to skip a beat at the sight of her and he holds his phone in trembling hands as he makes a note of the location sticker. A cocktail bar not far from here.

He locks his phone and is starting the car before he has time to properly think about it.

The bar is dimly lit, the music not to Aemond’s taste and far louder than he’s comfortable with. It’s the type of place that has seemingly endless happy hours and serves drinks that are mostly ice. He bristiles uncomfortably as he descends the steps, but refuses to be deterred. He needs to speak to her.

He freezes when he sees her. Her elbow is propped against the edge of the table, her chin resting on her hand, an easy smile graces her lips as she listens intently to whatever Mysaria is whispering to her.

They’ve been apart for so long that he’s forgotten just how beautiful she really is. It’s like the first night he met her all over again, when he’d gotten out of the car to greet her and she’d stolen his breath away. He hadn’t let her kiss him that night, afraid she’d just be doing it for the money. He won’t make that mistake again tonight.

He walks slowly over to her table and the way her face falls when she notices him makes it feel as though his stomach is in free fall. She looks so shocked and unhappy, she’s never not been pleased to see him. He hates this.

“Can we talk?” He raises his voice to be heard above the music as he reaches their table.

She shakes her head, climbing unsteadily from her bar stool and grabbing her bag. “Oh, I am too drunk for this…”

He watches in dismay as she staggers away, flanked by Mysaria, before deciding to follow them both outside.

“Hey, wait–” He says, reaching for her, and she whips around, eyes wide and mouth tightened in anger.

“I’ll be right here,” Mysaria says softly to her, stepping to the side and pulling up the Uber app on her phone.

“No, you wait!” She shouts at him, “I have spent weeks trying to get over you. You don’t get to make someone fall in love with you and then act like that’s nothing!”

She’s in love with him?! 

He feels his chest tighten at the admission, standing there dumbfounded, he allows her to continue.

“I let you go,” She sobs, streaks of black mascara track their way down her cheeks alongside her tears, “I respected your decision, I didn’t reach out, even though I wanted to. I left you alone, so what gives you the right to ruin girls’ night?! You broke my heart and acted like you were doing me a favour, so why the fuck should I listen to anything you have to say?!”

Because I love you too.

He can’t say anything, as much as he wants to, his throat has run dry. His fingers flex uselessly by his sides, longing to reach out and wipe away the tears and make up that have run down her face.

She’s pulled away by Mysaria as an Uber pulls up to the curb and he can do nothing but watch helplessly as they drive away.

You’re losing her. Do something.

Sleep does not come for Aemond. The image of her tears plays over and over in his mind as he tosses and turns, tears from hurt that he’d caused her. 

He has experienced crying in relationships before; he’d cried when Alys ended things, but he was young and stupid and thought he was in love with a woman twice his age. Floris had bawled when he’d confronted her about what he’d overheard, but they were the crocodile tears of a desperate woman caught out for being a gold digger.

Aemond has never seen the real anguish of heartbreak before, at least not on another person, and he never wants to see it again. He has to make this right. It’s not until he feels the drip from his jaw onto his collarbone that he realises that after weeks of holding them in, his own tears have begun to fall.

It is almost midday the next day when Aemond has everything he needs prepared. The big white van he parks outside of her block of flats is cumbersome to drive in comparison to his sleek, black sports car, but he hopes the inconvenience will be worth it.

Come outside.

He texts her, relieved when the bubble displays as delivered, at least she hasn’t blocked his number.

He climbs out of the van, leaning against it, heart pounding as he looks up to see the curtains of her living room window twitch.

A few moments later she’s stepping outside, a look of confusion on her face. “What’s this?”

“An apology,” Aemond says, “Letting you go was a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I fucked it up, it’s what I do, I fuck things up. But I’m sorry, and I want to be with you, whatever that looks like for you. I want to do this properly.”

“Why are you doing all of this now?” She asks, folding her arms defensively.

“Because I’ve tried to live without you, and I can’t. What we had was good, so fucking good, and I threw it away because I’m a coward. Just let me make this right, please?”

She sighs, “What’s in the van?”

He motions for her to follow him, and opens up the back, revealing a brand new mattress, still in its plastic wrap.

“A replacement, so I can stay over without feeling like someone has spent all night attempting to make balloon animals with my spine.”

“Presumptuous of you,” She says with a raise of her eyebrows.

Aemond shrugs, “I’m all in,”

She runs her hands through her hair, eyes flitting between him and the mattress. “How the fuck are we supposed to get this upstairs?”

He smirks. “There are removal people coming in an hour, they’ll take your old one away and bring this one up,”

“And what happens if I say no?”

“Well, that’s why I told them to leave it an hour, so I’d have time to cancel in case you did,”

He can see her fighting against the smile that tugs against the corners of her mouth. “I’m not letting you off that easily,”

“I know,” He says, taking a step towards her.

“So what do we do for the next hour?”

“We could give that old, lumpy thing on your bed upstairs a final send off,” he reaches for her and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re pushing it,” she whispers.

“Hmm,” he runs the tip of his nose against her cheek, “I’ve missed you,” he presses a soft kiss to her cheek, “none of it matters,” he kisses her other cheek, “not the money, not anything,” he kisses the corner of her mouth, “not without you,”

When their lips finally meet it is slow and soft, and a contented sound rumbles within Aemond’s chest. It feels like he’s taking his first breath of air in weeks.

They waste no time in helping each other out of their clothes as they hurry upstairs. He smirks to himself as he lays back against the bed, feeling the familiar springs dig into his back, he pulls her to straddle him, allowing her to set a pace she’s comfortable with.

He moans low as she sinks slowly down onto him, the tight wet heat of her enveloping him causing his balls to tighten in a way that builds steady pressure at the base of his spine.

Gazing up at her with reverence, fingers digging into the plushness of her hips, he watches transfixed as her breasts bounce softly with each undulation, committing to memory every breathy moan and gasp. She feels like home, and it has never felt better to return.

When she eventually collapses against his chest, tightening and spasming around him as she falls apart, she takes him with her and he grunts as he feels himself pulsate and spill deep inside of her.

He strokes her hair as he holds tightly, gratitude and love overwhelming him. “You forgive me?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.

“I’m working on it,” she whispers back.

“I can wait,” he reassures her, “I’m all in.”

Chapter four || Epilogue || Series masterlist