#SAY ‘HELLO‚ WHO ARE YOU?’ — ic ( echo )

[hughes-your-daddy]

baby #2

paring: quinn hughes x fem reader

summary: life 6 months along with baby number 2 at the lake house

the cold air of the rink seeped through the think layers of your coat, six months pregnant and bundled up in your favourite hoodie, obviosuly Quinns, sitting comfortably on the bench closest to the glass, one hand resting gently over the curve of your belly.

down on the rink, quinn smiles, skating backwards in loops as your 4 year old clumsily chases the puck. jack and luke werent far behind, skating around behind him, mahhming it up for thr giggles that echoed in the arena.

you giggle seeing him shoot the puck into the net doing a little celebration, the boys laughing too.

"ok mister, time for you to go with mommy now, its time for the big boy practice." quinn says, rallying him up and over to the door where you move to wait.

"mommy, did you see me? i scored" he celebrates hugging your legs.

"i did honey, you were amazing." you gush, gently taking off his helmet, and brushing his hair our his face, "im gonna take him to the market, do you need anything?" you ask, pulling quinns hat further onto his forehead.

"ooh, could you get some of that nice bread you bought last week?" he asks, pulling you in by your waist.

"bread, got it," you smile pressing a kiss to his lips, "ill see you later, love you." you smile before pulling away to motion to rowden, "say bye to daddy, uncle jack and uncle luke baby."you smiel seeing him wave his little hand at jack and luke before giving quinn a leg hug.

"bye buddy, be good for mommy." he smiles, before you grab your bag taking rowdens had and leading him to get changed. you quicky chnage him out of his hockey gear, leaving it next to quinns bag in the locker room before dressing him in some little sweats and a t-shirt.

"ready to go to te market honey?" you ask bending down to tie his laces, as he kicks his feet.

"can i get a cookie please?" he asks flashing his little smile, the same as quinns.

"sure baby." you smile kissing his forehead and heading out, passign a few players who are meeting the boys for their summer practice, saying a quick hello to grandpa jim before securing him in his carseat.

you take off your hoodie, leaving you in your overalls, a small tshirt underneath, feeling the heat of the summer sun compared to the chill of the ice rink and changing from your uggs to your birkins before getting in the car yourself and heading to the market.

you let the summer air drift in through the windows as you drive into town, the streets filled with little stalls and shops.

you park up, quickly unbuckling rowden from the back seat, making sure he’s holding your hand before you set off, checking out each of the stalls.

you go straight over to the small bakery stall and picking rowden up to rest on your hip so he can see the options.

“can i get that one mommy? please?” he asks pointing to m&m cookie, a little smile on his face.

“sure baby,” you smile before turning to the stall keeper, “could i just get one m&m cookie please?” you ask and quickly pay before heading off to get the necessities.

you pick up that bread quinn wanted as well as some ingredients for food tonight as they’re doing a bbq. starting to get a bit tired from walking and hungry you decide to head into a small cafe, ordering a decaf coffee and pastry for yourself, while ordering a small fruit juice and sandwich for rowden.

yous sit down in the small window seat, pushing your sun glasses into your head, letting the small boy ramble on about him in the ice. you smile seeing how excited he gets about hockey, happy that he’s not being pressured into it, he really just loves it.

you chuckle at his animated talking before jumping at a hand in your shoulder.

“oh my god quinn, you scared me.” you laugh, moving along the small bench so he can sit down.

“sorry baby, jack offered to drop me off here.” he smiles, kissing your temple before turning to rowden. his arm rests over your shoulders, gently tracing circles on your arm as he listens in to rowden as well.

“you know, uncle jack said you were so good today, he’s gonna take you out on the boat to the lake.” quinn says, seeing the boys face light up.

“today?” he asks, kneeling on the seat to look at quinn better.

“yeh baby, you uncle jack and uncle luke.” quinn nods pushing his wet curly hair off his forehead.

rowden squeals, clapping in excitement causing you and quinn to laugh before he’s back munching on his sandwich.

“did you ask jack to take him out?” you whisper, seeing a sheepish smile on quinn’s face.

“well, i thought it would be nice for you to have a break, we can sunbathe, maybe go in the hot tub without any distractions.” he smiles and you can’t help but kiss him out of gratefulness.

“thank you.” you whisper against his lips, him pressing another quick kiss to them before settling beside you.

“mommy, daddy, i’m done, can we go back now? i want to go boat,” he asks, kicking his legs on his chair.

“sure baby, let me quickly get this in a to go cup,” you smile before quinn stops you.

“i’ll do that,” he smiles, taking your coffee over to the counter where the barista puts it in a to go cup for you.

“ready buddy?” he asks coming back over, he hands the cup to you before rowden makes grabby hands at him, quinn picking him up to carry him.

you swing your tote bag over your shoulder, cup in the other hand, before walking out with quinn hand in hand, heading back to the car.

you get there fishing out your keys handing them to quinn.

“you mind driving?” you ask as he takes them.

“not at all, you ok?” he asks, settling rowden in his car seat before closing his door, turning to you.

“mmh, my feet just hurt a bit.” you smile before he kisses your forehead, taking the drives seat as you get in the passengers seat.

he starts driving back to the lake house, one hand on the wheel the other on your thigh, rowden quickly falling asleep with the engine of the car.

“how’s little bug doing?” quinn asks, thumb brushing your thigh.

“she’s fine,” you smile, rubbing the curve of your belly, “maybe still a little hungry though?” you say, hearing quinn chuckle.

“when we get back, you go and get changed into some swim wear and i’ll make you up something yeh?” he says and you nod, taking his hand in yours.

“deal.” you chuckle, the rest of the drive going quickly.

you jump out, moving to take rowden out his seat, resting him on your hip before quinn comes over brows furrowed.

“i told you, let me get him. your backs worse as it is.” he sighs, taking the sleeping boy from you, before heading inside.

you follow, dropping your bag at the kitchen island before taking rowden back without letting quinn stop you.

“i can do it ok? im just gonna get him changed.” you say pressing a kiss to his lips to stop him saying anything.

“ok,” he smiles taking a breath before moving to make you some food.

you head upstairs to your room, laying him down on your bed, moving to grab him some swimming trunks and a tshirt to swim in.

you quickly change him, letting him sleep while you get changed yourself, into a bikini, throwing one of quinn’s button up shirts on top as a cover up.

you smile seeing the small boy start to wriggle, waking up.

“mommy?” his little tired voice calls out, as you walk over, lifting him into your hip.

“hiya baby, you ready to go on the boat?” you ask, moving to grab his swim floaties and heading downstairs. you walk into the kitchen seeing quinn plating up some sandwiches ready to take outside.

“daddy!” rowden calls out, quinn taking him from you, as you pick up the sandwiches. you head outside into the decking, where luke and jack are waiting by the boat ready to head out.

“hey y/n, how you doing?” luke asks, taking the swim floaties from you and into the boat.

“alright, we’ll probably be a couple of hours, have a little swim stop of for some food at the country club, that all good?” he asks and you smile, giving him a hug.

“i’m good yeh, excited for a bit of pirate and quiet.” you smile, as quinn moves past you, setting rowden on the boat, jack securing a small life jacket around him, as he bounces in his seat.

“literally perfect.” you say, pulling away before pressing a kiss to rowdens head, “you be good ok?” you say the small boy nodding excitedly.

“bye bye mommy, daddy!” he smiles, waving his little hand as jack starts the boat, moving away into the lake.

you watch them leave, jack driving while luke entertains rowden next to him, smiling as quinn snakes his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder as his hands rest on the bump.

“hot tub?” he asks, you giggling, bring an hand up to play with his hair.

“yes please.” you giggle, turning around as he leads you back up the dock onto a small decking area, where the hot tub is.

you shrug off your shirt, quinn getting in first before holding out a hand to help you get in. you step in carefully, settling next to him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you hum in delight.

“i don’t think you realise how nice this is.” you hum, leaning your head onto his shoulder letting your eyes close.

“helping your back huh?” quinn asks and you nod, his hand brushing up and down your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i’m really grateful for your brothers you know.” you smile, looking up to quinn his own smile widening.

“yeh, they really love you, you know. they’re always asking me how you’re doing, if they can visit. i’m starting to think they prefer you over me.” he laughs and you sit up, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“obviously they do, why wouldn’t they?” you tease, him pressing a kiss to your lips, hand resting on your bump in the water.

yous stay in the hot tub for a little bit until you start to get hungry again to decide to get out, and sunbathe instead. he pushes two sun loungers together, laying some towels out while you grab the sandwiches and your book, finally taking a seat.

you sit cross legged, quinn turning to sit opposite you as his share the sandwiches, sunglasses perched on your noses.

you finish them quickly, quinn leaning over to put the plate down on the ground beside you, before you’s move to be more comfortable.

you lay on your bad, book in one hand while quinn lays on his stomach, arm draped across the bottom of you belly, gently tracing shapes on your skin, while your other hand falls in his hair, getting tangled in the curls.

it doesn’t take long for quinn to fall asleep, exhausted from practice, leaving you to get through quite a few chapters. you continue to read until you start to feel baby girl begin to kick which must wake quinn up as well.

“baby girl, stop kicking your mama.” quinn mumble, pressing a small kiss to the side of your stomach.

“she’s active, probably another hockey player.” you smile seeing quinn interact with your belly, fingers still scratching his scalp.

“hey, if we’re lucky we’ll end up with a little hockey team.” he smirks, causing you to push him away.

“hey, i’m not pushing out a whole team ok? three max.” you say, quinn laughing, leaning up to kiss you.

“i’d love three.” he smiles, before moving to sit, his back against the lounger, you laying back into his chest.

it’s soon enough you see them pulling back into the dock, rowden fast asleep on luke’s lap. you sit up, pushing your sunglasses onto your head as they approach, luke carrying rowden while jack has all their stuff.

“he’s knocked out huh?” you laugh, as luke lays him down on a sun loungers next to you.

“he absolutely loved it, thought it was so cool being out without his parents.” jack smiles, setting down his stuff before sitting on the end of quinn’s lounger.

“think he’s also got a bit of a crush on one of the country club girls.” luke jokes, both you and quinn laugh, “he was really happy each time she came over.” jack adds, as rowden begins to stir alrighty beside you.

he wakes up, immediately crawling into your lap, as you position him to sit just ontop of your bump, laying back so he can lay against your chest.

“you have fun baby?” you ask pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“it was so good, m’tired mommy.” he yawns against your chest, as you push his slightly damp hair out his face.

“go to sleep rowdy, mommy and daddy will still be here when you wake up.” you whisper, him nodding half asleep already.

you lay there gently rubbing circles on his back as yous talk, jack showing some pictures he took while out on the boat.

“i’m gonna lay him down inside, so he doesn’t overheat.” you smile, carefully lifting him up to stop him from waking and lay him down on the couch, laying a light blanket over him to stop him from getting too cool from the air con.

you make your way back outside, taking your spot back on the sun lounger, bringing a foot up to rest on your knee, gently massaging the bottom.

“come here,” quinn says patting his thigh, you smile turning sideways and leaning against the sun lounger, feet up on his lap as he begins massaging both of them as you all continue to chat.

“trevor and cole are coming over tonight for some food fyi.” jack smirks knowing how crazy rowden gets when they’re around.

“at least he’ll sleep tonight.” you sigh, letting your own eyes close just for a minute. time goes on, the sun beginning to set so yous all head inside to get changed, quinn and jack needing to prep some food.

you head up to your bedroom, deciding to shower off the sweatiness, washing your hair when the curtain is pulled back, quinn stepping in.

“hiya.” you smile, tipping your head back to let the water rinse out the suds.

“hiya baby.” quinn says softly, hands on either side of your bump as you shower together. he helps wash the bottom half of your body since you can’t reach very well before you switch, lathering shampoo onto your hands, massaging it into his scalp.

“your head massages are fucking incredible.” quinn mumbles, eyes closing at the feeling.

“mmh, you better repay me tonight.” you say one of his eyes popping open, with a smirk.

“oh yeh? with what?” he asks, moving back to let the water rinse through his hair.

“back massage, not a chance your getting any action tonight.” you put plainly, causing him to laugh.

“whatever you need baby.” he says before yous step out, towel wrapped around your curved belly, quinn following as you change into a pair of his sweats and a slightly cropped tank top so your belly’s on a bit of show. you slip on your uggs and sliding on quinn’s jacket before dropping down onto the bed with a sigh.

“tired baby?” he asks, sweats hung low around his waist as he slides a canucks hoodie on.

“no, just tired of this.” you sigh motioning to your protruding belly.

“3 more months sweetheart,” quinn says softly, coming over to the bed and kneeling over you, hand on your cheek, “although you always have looked very sexy when pregnant.” he smirks pressing a kiss to the lips before your pushing him away laughing after releasing what he said.

“creep.” you laugh before he pulls you and head back down, quinn heading to the kitchen while you head back out to the decking where luke is setting up the fire pit, a few chairs and blankets set around in a circle.

“lukey boy.” you chirp making you’re presence know before dropping down into a chair, wrapping a blanket around you.

“ah the one and only y/n making an appearance.” he smiles, finally getting the fire started and sitting back to relax.

“so, any further plans on the wedding?” luke asks, sitting opposite you over the fire.

“i wish,” you chuckles, tying your hair up in a pony tail, “we put an pause on everything for now. there’s just too much with the baby, and quinn being away.” you sigh, luke sending you a sad smile.

“i can’t wait for you to like officially be my sister. it’s gonna be insane, like seeing you whenever and that.” he says all excited making you laugh.

“hey, you know if you ever need anything you can call me already?” you say, seeing him shrug.

“i know but like when your a hughes it’s gonna be so different, but like in the best way possible.” he smiles, as quinn and jack come back out with plates of food ready to be cooked, trevor and cole behind them.

“hey guys,” you smile, waving as they come over each of them giving you a quick hug.

“you you feeling? how’s the baby?” trevor asks sitting beside you, your childhood best friend who introduced you to quinn in the first place.

“good, we went to the rink this morning so rowden could play then the maket which was nice,” you smile, “then we’ve just relaxed to be honest, jack and luke took rowden out on the boat so we just layed out back here.” you smile, seeing cole and trevor perk up at rowden.

“speaking of, where is my favourite hughes?” cole asks leaning forward to look, as luke smacks him over the head.

“he’s sleeping, absolutely worn out from today.” you say and on cue hear cries from inside the house, “speaking of, i’ll be back.” you chuckle before heading inside, walking through to the living room seeing quinn already with rowden in his arms, but his cries don’t seem to quieten.

“i don’t know what’s wrong?” quinn asks, concern writing all across his face. you walk over, gently brushing back his hair, from his head that’s leaning on quinn’s shoulder.

“baby, what’s wrong?” you ask, furrowing your own brows at his cries, which only seem to get worse, turning his head away from you.

“do you wanna head upstairs and i’ll make him some milk or something?” you ask, quinn nodding before quickly whisking him away upstairs.

you move into the kitchen, heating up some milk into his sippy cup, waiting for the microwave to beep.

“is he ok?” you hear someone ask, seeing jack poking his head in the door.

“i think he’s just tired, gets like this sometimes,” you smile, jack letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, “i think we’re just gonna stay upstairs for the rest of the night. i’ll send quinn down to grab some food. you think luke will be able to help you cook?” you ask, taking the sippy cup out and seducing the lid, checking the temp on your wrist.

“yeh definitely, if yous need anything just shout ok?” he says, moving to give you a quick hug goodnight before you head back upstairs. you quietly push your door open seeing quinn laying with rowden on his chest, his cries now died down to hiccups and sniffles. his head whips over to you, at the sound of the door, instantly making grabby hands.

“mommy!” he calls out, trying to escape quinn’s grasp, but he holds the boy tight until your sat on the bed, back against the bed rest.

he immediately snuggles into your side, happily taking the milk you made.

“what happened honey?” you ask, as he slumps against you, hand brushing though his little curls.

“bad dream,” he mumbles around the sippy cup. you notice his eyes start to droop, thanks to the milk, so you change position, laying down so he can rest his head on your chest, in between you and quinn.

very quickly he’s back asleep, cup falling from his grasp as quinn moves it to the bedside table, turning on his side to face you.

“your an incredible mom you know?” he asks, arm coming up to pull you and rowden closer to him, his hand gently running up and down the small ohs back.

“can’t be as good without an amazing dad.” you smile, quinn leaning down to brush his lips against yours.

[bxunyx]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

Pairing-ModernGangAU-Elijah*Smoke*Moore x Black reader

Summary-Smoke accidentally pocket dial his wife while out doing wrong

A/N- I’ve been putting this off for like days I’ve been super tired and not really feeling the writing/I was gonna make the shaderoom post but I need to find a picture

Part(2)-whatever it takes(2)

It started with a pocket call.

Not a bullet. Not a knife. Not a raid.

Just his damn phone — unlocked, deep in his jacket while he was leaned up too close to some girl at that bar on the South Side. She was laughing, whispering something into his ear, and Smoke? He wasn’t pushing her away.

[1 missed call from baby]

He froze

Then another call came

He ignored it, moving the women aside, he stood up, leaving the club, seeing the paparazzi.

“It started with a pocket call (Call, call, call)”

“Smartphones, dumb shit”

And now, as he stood in the dimly lit hallway of their high-rise penthouse, phone still buzzing in his hand with notifications from social media, his brother, and some messy post he’d been tagged in, Smoke’s heart hammered louder than any gunfight he’d ever been in. The words from the other end echoed in his head like a curse.

“Hello? Smoke? What the fuck is this?” He replayed the words in his head as he answered the phone while driving back to their penthouse.

He knew she had seen the post 

“Hello? Trey?”

“Oh, oh, oh, oh… She picks up the phone / In my head, I know I’m wrong.”

He paces outside the penthouse door like a man who knows he’s already lost but still shows up to fight. Inside, she’s probably packing. Or breaking shit. Or crying. Maybe all three.

Smoke ain’t scared of death. Ain’t scared of cops or feds or even the streets turning on him.

But losing her?

That’s a different kind of lost.

“I’m pacing back and forth / ‘Cause I know that I’ve been caught / Trying to think of the perfect words”

He opens the door carefully, because he knows he now have to face her.

“Baby.”

She doesn’t look at him. Her back is turned, bags half-packed, a shattered glass on the kitchen floor glinting like a warning.

He can see the Shadroom's post on her phone, a picture of him and the girl

Her on his lap 

Him smirking 

His hand on her waist 

Her looking smug

“I heard everything, Smoke.”

Her voice is ice, steady — but that’s how he knows she’s on the edge. Rage doesn’t shake. Silence does.

“So I can come to her and lie right to her face / I don’t know what I’m gonna say / But I know that I’m gonna say / Whatever it takes”

He steps forward, arms open like they’ll fix what’s already snapped between them.

“Listen… it wasn’t what it sounded like.”

She turns, and her eyes, usually so full of love for him, are hollow.

“Then what was it? A joke? Some gang bullshit? You're out here running an empire, but you can’t even keep your vows straight.”

“I’m here at home waiting on you while you out here playing in bitches face.”

His throat goes dry. Smoke, the man who’s taken down armed enemies, silenced traitors, stared judges in the eye without blinking, has no words for her.

So he lies. The same lie he used all the time, the same two words he’ll never mean

“I’ll change.”

“I could say it was a joke, but who am I kidding? She ain’t slow”

“Only way to make it right / Is if I come to her and lie right to her face”

Because that’s what the song said, right? “Whatever it takes.” hell, he’ll  even beg, get on his knees, praying she won't leave him 

“It was nothin’. Just some girl talkin’ slick. I ain’t touched her. I didn’t even want to be there. Someone called me out, and I got dragged into it. You know how this life is.”

He’s pleading now. Voice low, eyes locked on hers. Desperation disguised as sincerity.

“I messed up. I shoulda have walked away. I know I did wrong. But I didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

“I’ma run to her and lie right to her face / I don’t know what I’m gonna say / But I know that I’m gonna say / Whatever it takes”

She walks to the counter, picks up her phone, and plays the recording again. That stupid, accidental call. Laughter. Him telling another woman the same things he told her. Smoke’s voice — relaxed, playful, too familiar.

“That’s you, Smoke. Not drunk-you. Not ‘caught up’ you. That’s you being real. With her. Same shit you told me.”

He wants to tell her it meant nothing. That she’s the only one who knows the man behind the name. That he’d burn the world for her.

But he knows she won’t buy it. Because the truth had already hit her ears raw.

And still, he fights.

“Whatever it takes, baby. I’ll fix this. You want out? I’ll leave the streets. I’ll shut it down. No more runs. No more heat. No more blood. Just us. I swear.”

Oh, gonna tell you /Whatever it takes/Whatever it takes /Whatever it takes/Whatever it takes (Takes)/Whatever it takes

She stares.

Smoke never begged a day in his life. Not when he got shot. Not when Stack got locked up. Not when enemies knock’.

But he’s begging now.

“Please.”

Her hands tremble. Bag still unzipped. Eyes still wet.

She’s at the edge — half in the past where they were ride or die, half in the future where she walks away for good.

“You don’t get it, Smoke. I don’t want you to say whatever it takes. I wanted you to mean it before I had to find out like this.”

“Time is not on our side / ‘Cause she’s waving goodbye goodbye”

“So this is goodbye?”

She nodded, took off the ring, placed it in his hand, and said something about a divorce—but he wasn’t listening.

And with that, she walks out.

The door doesn’t slam. It clicks shut, quiet, final.

Smoke stands in the middle of the room, alone, surrounded by everything he built, but suddenly nothing that matters.

His phone buzzes again. Not her.

Just business.

He doesn’t answer.

This ain’t a war he can win with bullets.

This is the one that might kill him.

He looked at his phone. 

Stack had called twice.

Sammie sent one text: “you fucked up”

“Smartphones, dumb shit / Oh, no, ooh-oh-oh / Oh, man I got to think of something / I’m about to lose it all”

[amirasainz]

Hello, would it be alright if i requested an f1 x driver reader where the retired drivers like seb, kimi and jenson where they’re like grid dads for the reader

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

Always have her back

The paddock was unusually quiet for a Thursday, but Yn could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She kept her head low, sunglasses shielding her tired eyes from the prying lenses of photographers. The echoes of last weekend’s race still rang in her ears—screeching tires, the sudden thud, Lando’s voice crackling over the radio, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m fine. Just unlucky, huh?”

But the media didn’t care about accidents or bad luck. They cared about headlines, and Yn had become their favourite target.

“Too emotional.”

“Not cut out for F1.”

“This is what happens when you let a woman race with the big boys.”

The words burned in her mind, each headline another jab at her confidence. She tried to shrug it off, but every question in the press conference, every snide comment from pundits, was like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Hey,” a soft voice called from behind her. She turned to see Charles, his green eyes filled with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just… long day.”

He wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push. “We’re having dinner tonight. Come with us?”

She shook her head. “Not in the mood, Charles. Sorry.”

Charles watched her walk away, jaw tightening. This wasn’t right. None of it was. Lando had defended her countless times since the crash, even standing up to reporters, but they wouldn’t let it go. And Yn, the fiery, determined driver they all admired, was beginning to crumble under the pressure.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. His finger hovered over a familiar name before pressing the call button.

“Hello?” a calm voice answered.

“Seb, I need your help.”

---

By Friday morning, the paddock was abuzz with whispers. Reporters glanced at each other in confusion as Sebastian walked through the gates, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. But it wasn’t just Seb. Kimi followed close behind, his signature stoic expression making the cameras shy away from approaching him.

“Seb! Kimi! What brings you here?” Carlos greeted them with his usual grin.

“Came to see a friend,” Seb replied simply, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Did Charles call you?” Lando asked quietly, already guessing the reason for their unexpected visit.

Seb nodded. “How bad is it?”

“She’s holding up, but barely,” Lando admitted, guilt flashing across his face. “I hate that this is happening because of me.”

“Hey,” Seb placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kimi, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “Where is she?”

“Probably in the motorhome,” Charles answered as he joined them. “She’s avoiding everyone.”

Seb nodded. “Let’s go.”

---

Yn sat in the Red Bull motorhome, staring blankly at the coffee cup in her hands. The door creaked open, and she sighed, expecting another teammate coming to check on her.

“I’m fine, Max, really—” She froze when she saw who it was.

“Seb?” she whispered, blinking in disbelief.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted with a soft smile.

Before she could say anything, Kimi stepped in behind him, nodding in acknowledgment.

“What are you—how—” she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Charles called,” Seb explained, sitting down beside her. “He was worried about you. We all are.”

Yn bit her lip, trying to hold back the emotions she had been burying all week. “I’m fine,” she insisted weakly.

“Bullshit,” Kimi said bluntly, leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

Seb chuckled softly. “He’s not wrong.”

Yn let out a shaky breath. “It’s just… they won’t stop. I’ve tried ignoring it, but it’s everywhere. They keep saying I don’t belong here.”

Seb’s face softened. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” she whispered. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“Yn,” Kimi’s voice cut through the room like ice. “You’re one of the best drivers here. The media are just… a bunch of idiots who don’t know shit.”

Seb nodded. “Exactly. They’re vultures. They need something to pick at, and right now, that’s you. But that doesn’t mean they’re right.”

“But what if—”

“No,” Seb interrupted gently. “No ‘what ifs.’ You belong here, Yn. You’ve worked just as hard as anyone else. Harder, even.”

Her voice trembled. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Kimi sighed, walking over to sit across from her. “Listen, I’ve dealt with the media my whole career. They’re going to say what they want, no matter what you do. Don’t let them win.”

Seb squeezed her hand. “You have to trust yourself. We do. Lando does. Every driver here knows you deserve that seat.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Kimi’s eyes hardened. “Then we’ll make them stop.”

---

The press conference room was packed on Saturday morning. The usual questions about strategy and car performance were quickly overshadowed when Kimi was handed a microphone.

“Kimi, it’s surprising to see you here this weekend. Any particular reason?”

Kimi leaned forward, expression unreadable. “Yeah. Here for Yn.”

The room went silent. The reporter cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. There’s been a lot of discussion about her performance—”

“Discussion?” Kimi interrupted with a dry chuckle. “More like harassment.”

Another reporter chimed in, “Many believe that after last weekend’s collision, she—”

“Did her best,” Kimi shot back, eyes narrowing. “It was an accident. Happens to everyone.”

“But don’t you think—”

“No,” Kimi interrupted sharply. “I don’t think. I know. She’s a damn good driver. Better than half of you could ever dream of being.”

Seb, seated beside him, nodded in agreement. “You keep talking about her emotions, her being ‘too soft.’ Funny. She’s stronger than any of you. She’s here, facing all this crap, and still getting in that car every weekend.”

Kimi, never one to mince words, leaned closer to the microphone. “You’re all a bunch of cunts who can’t leave an innocent girl alone.”

The room gasped, whispers erupting across the room. But Kimi wasn’t finished.

“She didn’t do anything wrong. You did. So maybe, shut up and let her race.”

Seb, smirking, added, “Well said.”

---

Back at the Red Bull garage, Yn sat glued to the screen, tears streaming down her face. Charles, Lando, and Max sat beside her, all smiling softly.

“You see that?” Lando whispered. “They’ve got your back. We all do.”

Yn wiped her eyes, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. I see that.”

Seb and Kimi returned shortly after, both looking smug.

“Feel better?” Seb asked.

Yn laughed through her tears. “A little. Kimi, you were a legend.”

“Counts,” Kimi corrected dryly.

Yn’s eyes widened. “You did not!”

Kimi shrugged. “They deserved it.”

Seb grinned. “Now, let’s get you back on track, yeah?”

Yn nodded, determination finally returning to her eyes. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

---

Race day arrived, and as Yn stepped into her car, the weight of the week’s pressure felt a little lighter. Because now, she knew—no matter what the media said, she wasn’t alone.

[invincibledc]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧.ᐟ

────୨ৎ────

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐒!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

── .✦ summary: what’s worse than the boogie man? A obsessed clown boy. All cause of grown man couldn’t keep his disgusting words to himself, Jack has some things to handle on his own.

── .✦ genre: oneshot/Yandere

── .✦ info: kidnapping, Yandere themes, OC work. this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. I got bored. Reader is the twin sister of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome.

── .✦ word count: 625

Vision blinded by some kind of sack on a man’s head. Jack ripped it off, showing his crooked smile and clown face with green hair. His hair slicked back as he chuckled at the scared look.

“Rise and shine!” he exclaimed in a cheery voice, moving back with a bounce. He couldn't help but stare at the wide-eyed man who tried to get up but couldn't due to the chains holding him down.

“Oh yeah. Don't even think about trying to get up silly.” the cheerful expression on his face then melted completely off as his eyes darkened. “You ain't going anywhere.” his scruffed voice lowered, turning his back to face the table of objects. It went from a crowbar, pliers, a drill, and a hammer.

The man seemed to notice as he screamed, but no sounds came out due to some cloth wrapped around his mouth. “Shut the hell up,” Jack says coldly, glancing at the man with emotionless eyes.

“You should’ve thought about your actions before catcalling teenage girls off the streets.” grabbed the crowbar, and a crazed smile spread across his face. “Especially my girl.” He taps the tip of the crowbar against his flat palm.

“Man… Ima have a fun time with you.” wide-eyed, the man screamed as Jack got ready to aim at his head. Soon a phone ring echoed in the air. Raising a brow, Jack pauses his mid swing and goes over to his phone. There he sees it says “Puddin`” with two red heart emojis and a picture of you and him in bed together making funny faces.

It seemed this made Jack immediately drop the crowbar and grab the phone with a sick love expression. He answers it with no reluctance.

“Yes my sugarplum!?” he exclaimed happily, jumping onto his table, and swinging his legs back and forth as he heard your sweet angelic voice from the other side.

“Hey, I was wondering if you can do an errand for me?” you asked, going downstairs of the Wayne manor to see your older brother arguing over who gets the last piece of food. You had already eaten so you didn't need to eat again.

“Of course my love, what pleasures do I owe you.” he purrs hearing you chuckle. “Okay, I just need you to get me some ice cream. I'm just craving it.”

“Of course love!” he says after listening to you, he hops off the table and walks over to the man. The man seemed to freeze and try to scream, Jack immediately muted himself, putting a gloved finger to his lips, his eyes narrowed as a dark look washed over his face.

“Be quiet. And I might be gentle on you.” Jack takes the man’s wallet and moves back, still looking at the man as if he were worth nothing. Which he is.

Unmuting himself, Jack smiles as he hears you. “Hello?” you questioned due to how unusual it was quiet.

“Yeah sorry about that hon, anyways yeah I'm going. [fav.flavor] ice cream right? Your favorite to just stuff your face in?” he says as he turns his back.

“Yeah! That's the one, thanks Jack. You’re the best. And of course, just try not to start a fight with Jason. You both were bruised and bloodied.”

“Of course, I always listen to you. I’ll be there.” as Jack hung up, he threw an ace card at the man, the man jolted as the card was sharp enough to stick to the wall beside him.

“You get to live approximately 35 minutes. And then it's show time for me.” a malicious laugh rang out from Jack’s mouth, sending dread all over the man who was still gagged and chained up.

“Cya later.” and with that, Jack left the man in that room.

Just to save him for later.

[sweetromanova]

Operation Obedience: Yelena's Home

Natasha Romanoff x Dog Handler!Reader

Summary: It starts with chaos in a pink harness and a trainer who makes obedience sound like a love language. It ends with Natasha finally understanding what it means to be chosen and choosing to stay.

It’s early afternoon when Yelena arrives at the compound. Armed with black sunglasses, platform combat boots, iced coffee in hand and an attitude like she never left.

She punches in the code to Natasha’s apartment door and steps inside with her usual lack of subtlety.

“Fanny! Mama’s home!”

Fanny, shockingly, is not wreaking havoc.

Instead, she’s sitting primly in the center of the living room rug, gently licking a treat stuffed lick mat shaped like a bone. Her tail wags once in greeting but she doesn’t move.

Yelena stares. “Are you… meditating?”

Fanny continues licking with intense focus, as if Yelena wasn’t stood there. She crouches beside her, inspecting the calm posture like it’s suspicious.

“Okay, what the hell did she do to you? Are you… fixed? Did Natasha fix you?”

No answer, just methodical licking.

Yelena narrows her eyes. “She doesn’t even like dogs. There is no way.”

She glances toward the hallway, looking for any sign of her sister. “You know what? I bet she forgot you were even here. Wouldn’t be the first time. I leave you with her for one month and suddenly you’re some kind of zombie. Disrespectful. Unbelievable.”

Muttering, she stands and heads down the hallway. “Natasha, I swear if you’ve been leaving her to rot while you go off doing your emotionally constipated lone wolf Avenger thing, I’m gonna-“ 

She pushes open the bedroom door and stops dead in her tracks.

For one, very long, very scarring second, the room is very obviously occupied. You are there. Natasha is there. There is skin. There is positioning. Then there is a very fast grab for sheets.

“-OH MY GOD?!” Yelena shrieks, spinning around so fast she nearly throws her drink. “MY EYES! MY EYES! MY SOUL!”

Inside the room, muffled chaos begins, scrambling, a thump, someone curses. Fanny barks helpfully from the living room.

“THIS IS WHERE MY DOG SLEEPS!” She wails. “HER CRATE IS IN THERE. SHE HAD A BONE IN THERE-“

Natasha’s voice echoes behind the hysterical rambling. “She doesn’t even use the crate!”

“I USED THAT BEDROOM IN 2019!”

“Oh my god, please stop talking-“ Yelena storms back into the living room, holding a pillow in front of her face like a shield.

“This is betrayal. I gave you my dog. My trust! And you- you-” She gags dramatically. “You’re rolling around with-“

Natasha emerges, now in a tank top and very rumpled sweatpants, looking unbothered but faintly flushed.

You trail behind, mortified but trying to smile politely.

“Yelena.” Natasha says, tone warning.

Yelena doesn’t even look at her.

She zeroes in on you. “You! You’re the one who fixed Fanny!” She says, squinting. “The dog whisperer. The one with the leash and the face and the- ugh- soft energy.”

You smile awkwardly. “Hi.”

Yelena blinks at you.

Then sighs dramatically. “Fine. You’re hot. I get it. But if you break her heart, I will steal Fanny back and set her loose in your sock drawer.”

“Understood.”

“Good.”

Fanny walks into the room, sits next to you and rests her head on your leg. Yelena watches it happen, throws her hands up, and mutters.

“Disgusting. I’m the third wheel to my own dog.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

It’s late when Natasha finally gets home.

She’s sore, annoyed and just slightly dusty from a sparring match that went longer and harder than planned. Some junior agents still think they can go toe-to-toe with a legend. She’s fine with that. What she’s not fine with is how much paperwork came afterward from the medical bay.

She keys into her apartment, drops her bag by the door and toes off her boots with a sigh.

Silence. Too much silence.

“Hello?” She calls out.

From the living room, she hears some faint muffled snickering.

Natasha freezes, her eyes narrow as she zones in on the area.

“What are you doing-“

She rounds the corner and sees you and Yelena crouched on the couch like co-conspirators, both red-faced and trying very hard not to burst into laughter. 

Fanny is in the middle of the room, sitting upright, wearing tiny pink goggles and what looks suspiciously like a baby-sized tactical harness.

Natasha blinks.

“No.”

Yelena grins. “Yes.”

You grin wider. “She’s operational.”

“Operational for what?”

Yelena claps her hands once. “Go time, Fanny!”

Fanny perks up, turns sharply and trots over to the fridge, opens it with a small handle tied to the bottom and retrieves a can of beer. She trots back, very proud and drops it directly in front of Natasha like she’s just defused a bomb.

Natasha stares down.

Then at you.

Then back at Fanny.

“You taught the dog to do fridge recon?”

“Technically. And she’s also trained in ‘emotional sabotage’.” Yelena adds, cheerfully.

“Explain.”

You cover your mouth, laughing. “Okay, you have to say ‘I’m sad’.”

Natasha raises a brow. “What?”

“Trust us!" Yelena says.

Natasha sighs. “Fine. I’m sad.”

Fanny immediately lets out the most theatrically tragic howl known to dogkind then flops to the ground, rolls over and dramatically places one paw over her snout.

Natasha blinks. Hard.

“What the actual-”

“It’s mutual emotional vulnerability conditioning.” Yelena explains, acting like she’s a K-9 expert herself. “Very advanced.”

You’re cackling now, halfway buried in a throw pillow. Fanny looks so pleased with herself.

Natasha exhales through her nose, pinches the bridge.

“I leave you two alone for one afternoon.”

“You’re welcome.” You and Yelena say in unison, sweet as pie.

Natasha glares at Yelena then at you before swiping the beer from the floor.

“She is kind of a genius.”

Yelena bows. “She learned from the best.”

Natasha walks over and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Not talking about the dog.”

Yelena lets out a theatrical gag. “I’m going to be sick. I want a new family.”

“You’re the one who invited yourself over for three nights.”

“For the dog!” Fanny barks happily and jumps on the couch between you both, a paw on each of your thighs. "Melina hates having Fanny in the house so it's easier to see her here."

You settle back into the cushions with Natasha settling beside you, beer in her hand, she offers you a sip as you both listen to Yelena threatening to move to the Middle East ‘where PDA is illegal’. She’s pacing near the kitchen like a madman.

“This is disgusting! You’ve gone soft! Domestic! Boring! Where’s the Natasha who used to threaten to cut my hair in my sleep?”

“She’s tired. She’s happy. She has her sister’s dog who brings her beer. Life’s good.”

Yelena narrows her eyes. “You used to hate beer.”

“Yeah but my girlfriend likes it so now I deal with it.”

The room goes still for one glorious second.

You blink.

She blinks.

Yelena freezes mid-sip of her iced coffee.

“…Girlfriend?” You turn to Natasha, eyes huge.

“You called me your girlfriend.” You whisper, stunned. “You- you said it first.”

Natasha’s mouth opens like she’s going to deny it, or roll it back, or make a joke. 

But then she meets your eyes and suddenly, she doesn’t want to take it back.

“Yeah.” She says, softly. “I did.”

You smile, full and wide and suddenly neither of you can pretend anymore.

You grab her collar and pull her in for a kiss, all soft grinning lips and gentle hands, months of tension dissolving into finally. Fanny’s yaps in excitement, shooting up off the couch so she doesn’t get squished.

“OH COME ON!” Yelena cries from the kitchen, throwing a pillow in your general direction. “I LIVE HERE! Kind of!”

You and Natasha don’t stop.

Fanny, in response, does exactly what she’s trained to do when she hears distress.

She lets out her most tragic howl of woe and flops dramatically at Yelena’s feet, whining and pawing at the floor like she’s in mourning.

“WHAT?! NO!” Yelena shouts. “Do not turn my own dog against me!”

Fanny continues whimpering. “This is emotional warfare.” Yelena mutters. “I hope you both choke on each other’s happiness... or tongue, whichever works.”

You finally break the kiss, laughing breathlessly into Natasha’s shoulder.

“We broke her.” You mumble, smiling into Natasha’s own.

“She’ll be fine.” Natasha says, tucking her nose against your cheek. “She loves being dramatic. It’s her cardio.”

You lean back, still curled beside her while Yelena slumps onto the couch across from you, defeated.

Fanny promptly climbs into her lap and she gives in, petting her once and sighs.

“She was never my dog.” Yelena mutters.

Natasha smirks. “No. She just loves being a drama queen. Like you.”

You glance at her, catching that smile, still warm from the kiss, the slip and the fact that she hasn’t corrected it once.

“So… girlfriend?”

She squeezes your hand.

“Yeah. If you want.”

“I really want.”

Yelena groans.

Fanny howls again.

[nanamincreampie]

Sukuna and the Stanley Cup

Sukuna Ryomen x Black plus size reader

Context: Sukuna mocked you for spending so much on that cup, but somehow, he’s always the one using it

Contains: just domestic fluff and Sukuna being in denial

It started with a grunt.

You’d just finished prepping for the day, your lunch packed in glass containers, keys clipped to your lanyard, edges laid smooth, and your pink Hello Kitty Stanley cup filled to the brim with ice water. You twisted the lid closed with one hand while reaching for your bag with the other, only to hear the telltale sound of disdain from across the room.

Sukuna, sprawled shirtless on your couch like he paid rent, arched an eyebrow.

“You really spent fifty dollars on a water bottle with a cartoon cat on it?”

You didn’t even flinch. “First of all, Hello Kitty is a lifestyle. Second, mind your broke business.”

His lip curled. “It’s hideous.”

“Mmhmm. And yet, you’re staring.”

He scoffed but said nothing else, returning to the game he’d been pretending to play. You grabbed your cup, blew him a kiss, and left for work.

That was seven days ago.

And somehow, today, you walked into the living room to see him sipping from your Hello Kitty Stanley cup like he hadn’t thrown shade at it just days earlier.

“...Excuse me?” you said, eyebrows shooting up.

Sukuna stiffened. He was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, legs spread like a man who thought he was invincible, with your giant pastel cup tipped toward his mouth. Your pink metal straw poked from the corner of his lips. His eyes flicked up toward you mid-sip.

Then he froze.

You stood in the doorway, arms folded over your chest, thick hips cocked to one side, and nothing but judgement in your gaze. Your natural curls puffed out in a halo, and you were dressed in your comfy house shorts and oversized tee, both of which made you look entirely too fine for him to focus.

He swallowed, hard.

“What?” he grumbled.

“What?” you echoed. “You told me last week that my cup was ‘hideous.’ Your words.”

“It is.”

“So why are you drinking from it?”

He paused, then, in true Sukuna fashion, glared. “It keeps the ice cold for hours. That’s it.”

You snorted, walking over to snatch it out of his hand. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, pink-cup-stealer.”

He growled but didn’t stop you. In fact, he looked a little pouty when you took it back.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t tell me you actually like it.”

He scoffed again, eyes pointedly looking anywhere but at you. “I didn’t say that.”

“Uh huh.”

That’s when you noticed it.

Tucked behind him on the table… was a Hello Kitty sticker sheet.

Your mouth fell open.

“Sukuna Ryomen.”

“What?” he barked defensively.

“Are these… did you order these?”

He turned red. Red. You’d seen him kill a cursed spirit with a smile, but the sight of a sheet of Hello Kitty decals had him damn near flustered.

“I was gonna put one on my protein shaker,” he muttered, like he hadn’t just admitted to Hello Kitty conversion. “For intimidation.”

You cackled.

“Intimidation?! What part of Hello Kitty says ‘fear me’?”

“The bow. It’s threatening.”

You collapsed onto the couch beside him, still giggling. The whole couch shook under the weight of your laughter and your body. He stared at you for a long second, clearly trying to act annoyed, but then his hand found your thigh, resting there like it belonged.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered.

He leaned in, kissed your shoulder, then took the cup from your hands and sipped again.

“It tastes better in this,” he admitted quietly.

Your smile softened.

“You mean my stanley ?”

“No,” he snapped, but then took another sip. “Shut up.”

That wasn’t the last time you caught him.

By day three, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. He’d walk around the apartment shirtless, hair tied up, abs out, drinking from the tumbler like it was part of his uniform. You didn’t even bother teasing him anymore just added more water to the filter and made sure to refill it before you left to run errands.

It became part of your morning routine:

You: “Keys, lunch, charger… Sukuna, where’s my cup?” Sukuna: [already sipping from it] “On your nightstand.” You: “Why?” Sukuna: “I got thirsty last night.”

Eventually, you gave up and bought a second one, identical, of course, but you added his name in glitter vinyl on the side. King Kitty, it read.

He rolled his eyes so hard when you gave it to him, you thought they might get stuck.

But he used it every day.

And when you caught him wiping it down at night with the same care you used on your makeup brushes, you didn’t say a word. Just smiled and kissed his temple.

On Sunday, you found him on the balcony, cup in hand, gazing at the sunset.

His hair was down, long strands swaying in the breeze. His tattoos glowed soft in the fading light, and his expression so often sharp and brash was oddly calm.

You slid the screen door open, stepping out quietly. The balcony creaked under your combined weight, and Sukuna shifted to make room for you on the bench.

The moment you sat, his hand found yours.

“Pretty out,” you murmured.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Your thigh pressed against his. You liked the contrast, the way his warmth met your softness, how solid he felt beside you, and how, somehow, this ridiculous Hello Kitty cup had become part of your shared love language.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly.

You turned to him, surprised.

“For what?”

He glanced at the cup, then at you. “For… letting me have this. You could’ve been an ass about it.”

You grinned. “You mean after you called it ugly and swore you’d never touch it?”

His mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

You leaned in, kissed his jaw.

“You’re annoying, Sukuna.”

“Mm.”

“But I love you.”

He smiled then. Just a little.

“I love you too,” he said, quietly.

And then, with the softest reverence, he offered you the first sip from his stanely.

[suliigwp]

Hello! How are you

Could i ask for one based on the song treat you better by shawn mendes with Max? With them ending together he thank you !

I would've chosen you

Max Verstappen x Reader | angst, heartbreak, missed chance

SULI: Hi thank you so much for requesting— kinda lost the plot but uhhh— hope you still enjoy!

Warnings: no comfort

You used to think that the most painful kind of heartbreak came at the end of something — a breakup, a door closing, a goodbye that echoes in your bones for weeks.

But with Max, it was different.

With Max, the heartbreak came from what never started.

From glances that lingered too long but never turned into confessions. From nights spent laughing until your cheeks hurt, shoulders brushing in dimly lit hotel lobbies, only for the moment to pass without a single word said. From knowing he looked at you like you meant something, and still waking up to find that he hadn’t fought for you. Not once.

You waited for him. Silently, stubbornly. Through every race, every late-night message that ended with a hesitant “sleep well,” every morning where you wondered if today would be the day he’d finally say what you both felt.

But he didn’t.

And eventually, someone else did.

It wasn’t love — not yet — but it was easy, warm, real. And more importantly: he chose you.

Max never did.

And that, more than anything, was why you said yes.

...

The room is gold-drenched and glittering, alive with champagne and the hum of ego. Your boyfriend — kind, attentive, oblivious — stands at your side in a crisp tuxedo, one hand wrapped around your waist like you belong there. Like you’re his.

You keep pretending that it doesn’t feel like a borrowed role.

The air shifts the moment you spot him.

Max is across the room, flanked by Red Bull suits and a halo of cameras. His expression is unreadable, sharp in profile, jaw clenched. He laughs at something someone says, but the sound doesn’t reach his eyes.

He doesn’t look at you.

And maybe that’s worse than if he had.

You tell yourself you won’t pay attention when they call his name. That you’ll clap politely and stay calm. That your heart won’t try to claw its way out of your chest.

But then they say it.

“Driver of the Year: Max Verstappen.”

The applause is thunderous. He walks up with that cool, measured grace that always made you nervous. He takes the award — no fanfare, just a nod — and starts his speech in the same polished tone he's mastered.

“Thank you to the team. To everyone who made this season possible. I’m proud of what we built together.”

Brief. Professional. Expected.

And then, he falters.

It’s barely noticeable, a flicker of hesitation — the kind of silence only you would notice.

His grip tightens around the mic. His eyes scan the crowd. And then, slowly, inevitably, they land on you.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about timing,” he says. “And how sometimes, by the time you realize what someone meant to you… they’re already standing beside someone else.”

The crowd shifts, unsure.

Your blood turns to ice.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes this year,” he continues, his voice quieter now, each word more personal. “But the biggest one was thinking that staying silent would hurt less than losing something I never had the courage to fight for.”

The world tilts.

You feel your boyfriend glance at you, confused, a whisper of your name under his breath. But you can’t move. You can’t breathe.

Max holds your gaze for a moment too long.

“To the one person I never told the truth to: I see you. I always did. And if you ever wonder… I would’ve chosen you. Every time.”

He steps back.

The applause starts again, awkward and hesitant, but it sounds miles away. Like static.

Because he didn’t just say it.

He said it. Too late.

You’re not sure how you got there. The rooftop is quiet, cold, kissed with the scent of concrete and expensive perfume. The wind pulls at the hem of your dress. The city stretches below you in a blur of headlights and neon, and all you can hear is your own heartbeat, pounding like a warning.

The door creaks open behind you.

You don’t have to turn to know it’s him.

He walks slowly, carefully, as if every step might break the silence you’ve built between you these past few months. He doesn’t speak until he’s a few feet away, his voice rough like he’s chewed on the words too long.

“I wasn’t going to come up here.”

You stare out over the city. “Then why did you?”

He breathes out a laugh — dry, humorless. “Because I watched you walk away. Again. And I told myself I didn’t care anymore.”

“And?” you whisper.

His silence is an answer in itself.

Finally, you turn. The city lights catch on his features — the tired eyes, the tight jaw, the way his hands are clenched like he’s holding something back. You almost wish he wasn’t beautiful. You almost wish he didn’t look at you like this.

“You don’t get to say those things in front of everyone and then follow me up here like you’re owed a response,” you say, voice trembling despite your anger.

“I’m not owed anything,” he says quietly. “I just needed you to hear it.”

“Well, I did. And it doesn’t change anything.”

He nods, swallowing hard. “I know. I just couldn’t let the night end without saying what I should’ve said months ago.”

Your chest aches.

“Why didn’t you?” The question falls out, bare and broken. “Why did you wait until now? Why let me go?”

He looks away, jaw clenching. “Because I thought I had more time. I thought… if I stayed quiet, if I buried it, I could keep you in my life. I was scared that if I reached for more, I’d lose everything.”

“You lost me anyway.”

The words are soft, but they slice straight through him.

“I know,” he whispers.

You look at him for a long moment — at everything he didn’t say, everything he never gave. You see it all now, and maybe that’s what hurts most.

“You don’t get to be the tragic hero in this, Max,” you say, voice cracking. “You chose silence. You chose fear. And now I’ve chosen someone else.”

“I’m not asking you to leave him,” he says, stepping back. “I’m not asking you for anything. I just needed to stop pretending I never loved you.”

You close your eyes.

It would’ve been easier if he’d stayed quiet.

But he didn’t.

And now, it’s too late

Taglist, comment to be added;

@angstynasty @cryinghotmess @mits-vi @dramaticpiratellamas @mimisweetz @mrssaturday @chiara8104 @moonlight-girls-posts @linnygirl09 @rue-t @danielricroll @the-vex-archives @trees-are-books @blodwyn4u @yoruse @ccrickett-t @l-a-u-r-aaa

[camficdiner]

hello! could I order (1.2)(2.13)(bonus.7)(3.3)(4.3) thank you!! your writing is amazing omg. also could you give this a happy ending? anddd i think you should post that quinn fic 😉

☕️ Cams Fic Diner – Order 060

🍒 Thank you: thank you for giving me everything I’ve ever wanted ��� enemies to lovers, flowers as obsession, sex on a podcast desk, and a public reveal that breaks the internet. You have my heart.

💬 “Say That Again While I’m Inside You”

✨ description & prompts

• Character: Quinn Hughes

• Prompt: You’re a podcaster — sharp-tongued, loud, chaotic, too much in every way Quinn Hughes claims to hate. He’s quiet, reserved, and cold as hell — and you despise him for it. The two of you pretend to hate each other, but everyone sees through it. After a particularly viral roast on your show, flowers start arriving. No name. No note.

• Type: enemies to lovers • happy ending

• WC: ~1.6k

• type: smut

🛼✨🍒🧁

You knew the flowers weren’t random.

At first you played it off. A fan, maybe. PR stunt. Podcast listeners had been going feral over your recent episode — the one where you, very casually, very unapologetically, roasted the Vancouver Canucks’ captain for being:

“Quiet. Cardboard. Like, the hockey version of unseasoned rice.”

Jack and Luke had texted you cry-laughing emojis. Your comments were full of theories. But the flowers started showing up after that one.

No note.

No name.

Just different types every time. Clean, expensive. Bouquets with meaning, if you knew how to read them. And maybe you did know.

Which is why you started wearing shorter skirts in the studio. Louder lipstick. More smirks on camera when you said his name.

You don’t even flinch when the door opens behind you after your recording session one week later.

You just sip your iced coffee and say:

“You’re late, Hughes.”

The click of the door echoes in the empty studio. You’re the only one left. Everyone else has gone home. Except the camera still rolling, still capturing the tail end of the podcast — and the man now standing in front of you.

Quinn looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

His jaw is locked. His eyes are dark. His hair’s a mess like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. He’s wearing a hoodie and joggers, but it doesn’t make him look soft. Not today.

Today, he looks like a man about to snap.

“You’ve been sending flowers,” you say, leaning back on your desk. “Very poetic for someone who thinks I’m a fucking nuisance.”

“Shut up.”

Your brows shoot up.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He takes two steps closer. “You don’t shut up. That’s your thing, right? Loud. Brash. Always running your mouth.”

“And yet here you are,” you purr. “Standing in my studio like a good little fanboy.”

His breath catches. His hands curl into fists.

“You’re exhausting,” he says, voice low. “Every time you talk, I want to throw something through the wall.”

“Then why the flowers, Hughes?”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then?

“Because I didn’t know what else to do with myself.”

He closes the distance between you in two long strides. You’re caged between his arms before you can reply, his hands on either side of your desk.

“You get under my skin,” he growls. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I hate it.”

“You hate me?”

“I hate how much I want you.”

You smirk. “That’s not hate, baby. That’s obsession.”

Something snaps.

He grabs your face and kisses you like he’s been starving for weeks. It’s not sweet. It’s devouring. Tongue, teeth, breathless fury. He lifts you onto the desk and knocks your coffee to the floor with a crash that neither of you even notice.

“Camera’s still on,” you whisper against his mouth.

“Don’t care.”

He pushes your skirt up. Pulls your panties down. Doesn’t stop kissing you for even a second. You’re gasping into his mouth, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers clawing at his hoodie.

“This how you get off?” he mutters, dragging his fingers through your folds. “Talking shit on camera, teasing me until I snap?”

“Looks like it worked.”

He lets out a laugh — dark, filthy.

“Yeah? Still think I don’t have a personality, princess?”

You open your mouth, but he presses two fingers into you — deep, rough — and you whimper instead.

“Didn’t catch that,” he smirks. “You were saying?”

“You’re such an asshole—”

“And you’re dripping wet for me.”

Then he’s pulling himself free — thick, flushed, already leaking — and you don’t have time to snark back because he thrusts in one long, brutal stroke that makes your vision white out.

“Fuck—”

“Louder,” he hisses. “Since that’s what you’re best at.”

You moan — loud enough to echo off the walls. His hips slam into yours, your desk rocking under you. Every thrust is pure spite and obsession. He grips your throat, not choking, just holding — like he needs to anchor himself to something.

“Can’t believe I’m falling for your loud, messy bullshit,” he growls. “Can’t stand you, and I still wanna be inside you every fucking day.”

You bite his shoulder. He groans and thrusts harder.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Use me. Hate me. I don’t care. Just—fuck—don’t stop.”

Your orgasm hits like a train — all white-hot pressure and Quinn’s name falling off your lips. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep, forehead pressed to yours, hips stuttering.

“Say it again,” he breathes.

“Say what?”

“Call me a boring asshole while I’m still inside you.”

You laugh.

He kisses you again.

And the camera blinks red behind you.

Still rolling.

---------

It’s only a few seconds of footage.

No sound. No context. Just a single, lingering clip pulled from the raw podcast camera feed before it auto-saved to the cloud.

It shows you on your desk — fully dressed, legs parted just slightly.

Quinn standing between them.

His hand on your jaw.

His mouth on yours.

The kiss is slow. Devastating. Like it’s not the first, and definitely not the last.

He pulls back for a second — and the camera catches his face.

Not angry. Not cocky.

Just ruined.

Like he’s been in love with you for months and finally let it happen.

The clip hits Twitter 24 hours later.

It goes viral in twelve minutes.

“someone PLEASE tell me that’s not Quinn Hughes”

“I know that desk. I know that podcast. I KNOW THAT DESK.”

“The soft lighting? The hoodie? THE WAY HE’S LOOKING AT HER???”

“no sound but I still got pregnant from this”

“she WINS. I don’t know what she won but she WINS.”

PR spirals. Jack leaves a 3-minute voice note screaming. Your producer just texts you: “what if we sold the full footage as an NFT.”

And you?

You don’t say a word.

You just show up to Quinn’s next game wearing his Canucks hoodie — sleeves bunched over your hands, legs bare, hair up, a quiet smile on your lips as you sit behind the bench like you’ve been there forever.

You don’t flinch when the cameras pan to you.

You just sip your iced coffee and wink at him when he skates past.

That night, he pulls you into his lap the second you walk through the door. He holds your face like you’re something fragile. Kisses your shoulder. Kisses your smile.

“Still talking too much,” he murmurs.

“Still fucking obsessed,” you whisper back.

And he doesn’t deny it.

[rezitio]

"𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒" smut

billy loomis stu matcher. Prt 1

leak: after a failed escape, billy and stu hunt you down at your hiding place and punish you.

artist: billy loomis and. stu matcher [ghostface 1996]

genre: CNC/DUB-CON. phone sex?, pillow humping, gore and death (bystander), mentions of physical abuse (bruises from spanking), remote control vibrator, hide and seek, double p, SEE END FOR FULL WARNINGS

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You're nervously bouncing your feet. God you ran, you ran far.

It's been a month or two, you're not sure anymore. The days just pass on by. Billy got his revenge on Sydney. They blamed her dad who also got brutally killed by those two.

You three were the only survivors. As far as anyone knows you're just a poor soul. You, Billy and Stu.

Even if you wanted to tell anyone who would you tell? Stu has his eye on you whenever you're home so you can never tell your parents.

And Billy doesn't allow you out of the house. He doesn't even allow you to speak to anyone except him or Stu. If you do, Stu's always there to snitch.

You remember how the night started. You sat on Stu’s lap, at Billy’s house. “Come on, Billy.” Stu begs on your behalf “She's been a very good girl the past week, haven't ya’?” He bounced his leg curtly. In a way saying ‘you can speak now’

You nodded, looking at Billy with soft eyes. Pleading with the psycho to just let you get some fresh air.

Billy had a plan. He was going to take you two away from here. You were going to move states far away. Where they didn't have to be careful, they could do whatever they wanted carefree. And that scared you.

You'd be completely alone, though not far from the loneliness you're already experiencing. Nevertheless you couldn't let that happen. So you ran.

You ran far, my dear. And you made it. Well so you believe. You made it to the other Side of town ready to leave this place with no idea where you're going. But you do know no one could help you here.

“Hey-…” the voice startled you back into the present. It was the kind man Kenny, who practically forced you into his home after knocking you with his van. He said he'd call a taxi for you, the least he could do after leaving a bruise on your thigh.

Little did he know it wasn't from the car crash, but the last time you spoke to someone without permission and it extended to your butt.

“Sorry didn't mean to startle you- uhm…” He points at the handset “The taxi dispatch wants to know where you're going. I'd get another ice pack.” He hands you the phone and walks into the other room.

Last time you spoke into one of these you watched Sydney ran from a psycho killer while hiding in the closet like a coward. Life is funny right?

“Hello…” You echoed hiding a crack. There was a brief silence. You wished it stayed silent. “Hello..” The voice on the other line rang.

You stayed silent, frozen. You didn't even know how to react. In a burst of energy you rushed to hang up only for the voice to speak again. “Hang up and I'll slice your throat!” Such a vulgar threat could only steam from one person. Billy was the one on the line.

You stay frozen in your pursuit. “What do you want from me?” You cried, he could hear the despair in your voice. Wouldn't be surprised if he could see it in your Face too through whatever window he's looking through.

He chuckled into the receiver before speaking. “I want to play a game with you.” You didn't have time for his games, but you didn't have a choice. It was to face the consequences of your actions. You had to.

You also had the habit of mustering fake short-lived courage- delusions “Fine, I'll play your game.” You got up from your sorry position.

“Awh, what a good girl.” That was said by Stu no doubt, the voice sounded slightly different. And it had a subtle echo and static to it, almost like it was said from a telephone inside the house. “I knew you'd come around… It's called GUESS HOW YOU'LL BE PUNISHED.” Billy shouted.

He sounded angry. Why wouldn’t he be? But you're just as desperate to stay alive. You walked around the house twisting locks for every window and door you see. But you couldn’t help but wonder where the owner of the house was.

You came across the door to the backyard. A big glass door you could see the whole yard through. Something drew you to stare outside for a while. “Can you see me?” Billy taunted

“I am two seconds away from calling the police.” Your courage is waning.

“Theyd never make it in time” He chided. “You ran far. Were in the middle of nowhere” You were getting desperate to end all of this now.

“Looks like you didn't fucking look, I'm not The only person here.”

“What? You mean the camera boy Kenny?”

God no, you have to be kidding. “...How do you know his name?” You questioned. Brief silence now you were wishing he'd just say Something. It was so like him to use innocent people to get what he wants.

“Turn on the patio lights.” He instructed. Your hands shook. You looked around the door, when you found the switch your finger rested on it hesitated. It wouldn't move, your body won't listen almost like it was remembering how scared of them you really were.

You forced yourself to turn it on and the sight you saw reminded you why you stopped running, stop telling people. You instantly regretted everything.

Kenny was tied to a chair, no doubt already tortured. Your eyes met his, reaching for the lock to ran outside Billy’s voice rang in your head again. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

Salty tears streamed down your face. God you were so dumb for ever thinking you could leave. “I wanna play a game.” He insisted. You stayed silent contemplating Your life choices.

“Or he dies right now.” Billy barks. You let out a pleading ‘no’ before continuing “What kind of game.”

“Turn off the lights, you'll see what kind of game.” You did as he said, even going as far to unplug the light. You curled onto the floor, crying and holding the handset in tears.

“Go back into the other room, theres a surprise waiting for you there. Leave the door open this time so you can see patio”

“Don't do this please…” your voice was soft, but it wasn't enough to calm him down. “Come on it'll be fun” His voice also soft, insisting you play his fucked up game. “Please…” You continued to plead although you're still walking.

When you reached the same room you were supposedly safe in about ten Minutes ago, It had changed. The pillow arrangement on the couch seemed all too familiar.

“Remember when you used to grind yourself on your pillow, moaning my name? Thinking no one was watching you?” God, that was a long time ago. Even before you two dated, how the hell did he know. How long has this obsession been going on?

“Don't let me tell you what to do, [Name].” You knew what he wanted. He wanted you to reenact those days. You threaded closely. You did just like how you used to. You'd remove your shirt and bra, teasing your nipples, checking outside the window to see if anyone was watching you, but you'd never close them.

Just like then, there was no one there. But just like then he was still watching you. You slowly climbed out of all your clothes

You aligned the pillow ready to loose yourself. Only to see a new set of panties to your side. “It was Stu’s idea” He laughs over the line. “Come on… give them a try.” You could practically hear the smirk on his face

You're left stunned when you see the content inside those lacy briefs. These sick bastards. Though the dildo wasn’t as long and girth as the dick you knew well and dreaded, it had the same vein and curve as Billy’s. How do you know the curve and vein? How could you not when it pounds in you everyday countless hours at a time.

You did as expected wearing the dildo-panty. Fuck it felt like he was placing his tip inside you, like he was really here. He told you to continue your routine, first you’d play and stipulate your nipples while slowly grinding on the pillow.

You’d wait for that first shudder and your cunt to be wet enough. God did it feel just like old times. Then after the first song you’d shift your focus to the pillow, riding and grinding. You thought you were the one shaking for a minute till you realised– it wasnt just a dildo, it was a fucking vibrator.

Just as you realise the intensity shot up making you scream holding the pillow tighter. “Don’t stop, keep grinding my dick baby.. Awh thats a good girl.” His voice was shaky like yours.

The intensity went down but it was still on. Trying to get your rhythm you went slower. “Fuck faster.” Billy huffs in a breath. It vibrates faster making you ride faster. Almost like hitting a horse to prompt its speed.

The pleasure you were feeling was through the roof. Pillow humping already got you so high, now to add Billy’s dick in you and vibrator in you, your mind was overwhelmed by the pleasure and thought of incoming pleasure making your brain fog.

Now all that was needed to complete this would be “Mmmhm… touch play with your tits baby. Just like I taught you to do.” Stu commands. God now Stu’s sweet talk everything was complete.

Your fingers squeezed your breast out, massaging them. Teasing them by running digits past the soft side of your nipple. You’d finally reach for your nipples pulling them out. It wasn’t like how he did it, but it still worked just enough to get them hard and tingling.

With Billy in you, riding him and him playing with the speed, and Stu in you ear whispering dirty nothings, guiding you on how to worship your breasts. It wasn’t long before you had to come

And surprisingly they allowed you to. “Please- I’ so close…” you’d beg. Billy had gone quiet and Stu was a moaning mess in you left ear. “Trust me, we do too.”

You’d admit sometimes you’d hear Billy say ‘look at our princess, Stu” or Stu say “Oh shit, Billy”. It wasn’t very loud more like background noise the phone picked up.

A tiny part of you felt a pang of jealousy that they were somewhere in this house sucking each other and fucking without you. “Come on baby… cum for us” Billy voice spoke for the first time in a while.

The single command was enough to gush a mess out of you. You also heard a groan from Stu, and an orgasm growl. They were no doubt reliving themself to the sight of you. “Thats a good girl.” Billy praised you.

At least it was all over– you thought. Out of nowhere the patio lights turned on, your heart sank seeing Kenny on a bloody chair no doubt having heard everything. A shadowy figure, it moved like a ghost, reached out to his neck.

The knife glisten in the moonlight, so did his blood when the knife slit open his throat. “NO! NO! STOP I- I DID WHAT YOU ASKED!” YOu rush to the door but you don't open it, you dont have the guts to.

“Yes you did, and thats why your parents aren’t dead and you aren’t in a van to New Jersey Right now.” No, no, he cant do this. “But poor kenny… he has to go”

“No… fuck you.” You say through a sob, were you sobbing over his death or fear? “I wouldn’t worry about Kenny, if i were you. I’d be thinking about myself.”

Could your heart sink any further? “No- stop it! You listen, I played your games-”

“No you listen to me you fucking slut. I gave you a simple taste of freedom, I was NICE. Then whores like you who can’t appreciate what their masters do for them had to fuck it up! Poor little naive girls who disobey daddy like you, need punishment.” You slide down like and egg thrown at a windshield on the glass.

“No- I…I” You cry your breath heavy, after all this you don’t even get a break. “You know what how about we play another game” he calms down

“I-... I cant-”

“You do what I tell you or all that was for nothing. I’ll tie you up and stuff you in the back of a car for days, no food, no water till we reach the other side of the country”

That shut you up. “See you can be a good girl when you learn… now how about we play a fun game of hide and seek. Im counting…”

Your heart beats he can’t actually be serious right? “1.”

But you did everything like he said “2.”

No, no you were being selfish “3.”

You were a stupid and selfish not thinking of others “4.”

At five you dropped the phone and ran looking for somewhere to hide. You ran up the stairs even tripping on few steps, this chase felt all too familiar.

You ran up to a closet, Typical yes but you couldn't get under the bed. You played this game as a kid.

The closet is where you always hid, and the closet Is where Stu always found you.

You counted the remaining seconds yourself- if only your perception of time was still accurate. 9… 10.

You heard a thud, like a ghost coming out of his hiding place at night. Footsteps, coming up the stairs. It's getting closer and closer. Your heart beating in your ears with each step. Gasps and heaves of air with each creek of the floor board. Then silence.

Had he left? Had he given up? Oh you wished. CREEEEEEK! The door hissed. He was in the room. You could feel his presence. “Found you…” Stu’s voice cooed. You stopped breathing, he stood in front of the closet, his chest heaving out his laughter that filled the room. But your body was paralysed, still and stiff.

Your body wouldn’t move, Your eyes wouldn't shut, you couldn’t breath. “What do I have to pull you out?” He ticks “1..”

Your fingers start shaking, voice cracking tiny sounds, tiny crys. “2.. Last chance”

You accept your fate, but don't embrace it. He doesn't even say the last number, he grabs you out of the closet pinning you against it. His eminent boner presses on your ass. He reaped pleasure from you squirming in his grip– grinding his dick.

The closer and tighter he gripped, the more you’d squirm. “I trusted you… you wouldn't betray me baby…right?” You tried to climb out of the grip instead, hitting his tip repeatedly making him weak, but not weak enough to let go.

“Billy was pretty angry.” He says between moans, at this point he's getting tired of being kicked in the knee and shins but he continues. “But I told him, if we can only show you how to behave, you’d be good for him. So don’t worry… I’d teach you how to use you mouth not for talking but sucking, and legs not for walking but being rendered useless after we’ve destroyed you ability to walk.”

You know most of the time you talk about Billy. The controlling scary dom, but you know whats even scarier, an unchecked switch. God from all the true crime stories you've e watched you know how terrifying they could be.

Stu was normally not that,he was laid back even pleading for you in some cases but tonight Billy had left him unchecked, he felt betrayed and would do anything to keep you around. ‘Teach you a lesson.’ God if an unchecked switch didn’t scare you, you didn't know what did.

He pulled you to the bed pushing you abruptly face down. A creek of the door opening and you sigh in relief. You’d never thought you’d be so happy to see Billy after being so disobedient.

But when he walks in he doesn’t say a word. He strip from the mask and robe sitting quietly in a dark corner. “Fucking ravish her.” That was the final command to open the gates of hell. Like letting loose of a dog's leash and trust he did not go easy on you

What time was it? It was still dark outside… or just this room… or maybe just your eyes. Fuck your eyes hurt from all the water and sobs. Our voice is gone. Your hole was gaping at an empty space waiting to be filled to the absolute limit like it has been for the past few minutes.

Your cervix is in the same state as the berlin wall. No it doesn’t feel good. Just hurts. But you do feel pleasure from your clit. Yes long after he stopped paying with it

Cum was all around, but none yours. They made you clean up every last bit of your arousal with your tongue. Whether it's on the floor or wall, doesn’t matter. They expect a hot steamy exchange of saliva when you were done just to taste you

You now remained motionless in-between Them. Billy came back inside your cunt while Stu took a tighter approach to your asshole.

You could feel the friction in your ass and cunt, but you gained pleasure from your clit. Which was just poking out as Stu had made it.

You didn't know how long this will go, how long it had already been going or If it will ever stop. All you know is you're going to pass out.

rezitio ©. Yeah I'm sorry I took so long that one is on me, kinda rushed so mb! 😞

CNC/DUB-CON. being called good girl mltp times, phone sex?, pillow humping, moaning in ear, sweet talk, mentions of Billy and stu getting it on watching you masturbate, gore and death (bystander), mentions of physical abuse (bruises from spanking), gory threats, remote control vibrator, hide and seek, double p, passing out, switch! Stu, forced sub!r, dom!Billy, grinding stu, pinned against a closet, fear play

[arc-misadventures]

Friends AU:

It's been 6 months since jaune join the ace ops and ironwood has been giving jaune more responsibility after seeing the work his done and even gaining the trust of the poeple

His even been opening up to winter and she's happy to see jaune smile

Wait, What Happened?

Jaune's finger ran across his breastplate, he remember distinctly where precisely, Tryian had stabbed him with his stinger, and yet he couldn't find so much as a scratch on his armour from his stinger.

: Looking for something, Jaune?

Jaune looked over to see, Winter walking across the locker room towards him.

Jaune: Hello, Winter. I'm just checking my armour.

Winter walked over, and stood next to, Jaune running her hand along his chest piece feeling the smooth mental under her gloved fingers.

Jaune: I'm impressed; Atlas's armour's are quite skilled. If it wasn't for the fact that it was me who got stabbed, I dare say I was never stabbed in the first place.

Jaune finished speaking as he put on his armour, and fastened its straps. After, Jaune checked the snugness of his armour, he grabbed a small black box, and pulled out a silver falcon badge, and placed it on his left coat collar. Winter watched as, Jaune put the badge on, eyeing it with extreme suspicion.

Winter: What... What is that?

Jaune: Hmm, oh this?

Jaune turned to look at, Winter as he pointed to the silver falcon badge.

Winter: Yes, that...!

Jaune: Yeah, I got this from, Robyn Hill.

Winter: Robyn Hill gave you that...?

Jaune: Yeah.

Winter: And, why did she give you this... thing...?

Jaune: Uhh...? It's a token of affection...

Winter: A token of what now...?

Jaune: I-It was a thank you! I saved her from, Tyrian, she gave me this as a gift!

Winter: Then why are you calling it a, 'token of affection...?!"

Jaune: W-W-Well, I'm a knight... a k-knight in shining white armour, and I saved the maiden from a monster... S-so she gave me this badge as a 'token of affection!'

Winter: So, you two were just playing on your knightly stereotype...?

Winter was walking ever closer to, Jaune leading to be place his back against the locker as her ice cold gaze stared him down.

Jaune: Y-Yes...?

Winter gave him a look before grabbing his sash, and tightening it, Before using it to pull him closer to her.

Winter: Then this is my token of affection. That I gave to my knight. Remember that!

Jaune: O-O-Okay!

Winter: Good... I'll see you in the meeting room, Jaune.

Jaune: O-Okay...

Winter then let go of, Jaune and started walking away, a noticeable sway in her hips as she left. Jaune slowly slide down the locker doors until his butt slumped on the ground as he exhaled a deep breath as he calmed his nerves.

Jaune: Bloody hell...

: Well, that was something?

Jaune: What?

: Who knew that, Winter could be so jealous. But, for you, Jaune, I can understand why~!

Jaune: Ohhh... shut it, Pyrrha...

Pyrrha: Ah-hahaha~!

~~~

Ironwood: Ahh, Specialist Arc. Glad you could make it.

Jaune: Sorry, I'm late, Sir.

Ironwood: It's alright, Mr. Arc. It makes sense that you are a little groggy since it hasn't even been a day since you were in the hospital.

Yang: Wait, Jaune was in the hospital?

Ruby: What was he in for?

Ironwood: Honestly, Mr. Arc, I'm tempted to order you to some, R and R. The last reports I read did said that you're still fighting off the last of the poison in your body.

Nora: Jaune was poisoned?!

Blake: How did that happen?!

Jaune: Only if you do the same, Sir.

Ironwood: That's not happening.

A small chortle of laughter echoed through the meeting hall, but it stopped as, General Ironwood started the briefing.

Ironwood: Now then, two days ago we were alerted to the fact that, Tyrian Callows was in, Mantle...

The presentation started, showing a photo of, Tyrian's insane expression,

Qrow: Ugh, not that deranged fucker...

Ren: This isn't going to be good.

Ironwood: Luckily, thanks to, Specialist Arc's recent actions, we will not need to worry about him causing any chaos.

The next photo of the presentation displayed a photo showing another picture of, Tyrian his mouth, and eyes closed, and a purple ring ran along his neck as it was bent at an odd angle.

Qrow: He's dead?!

Ruby: Jaune killed him?!

Weiss: The hell...?!

Ironwood: And, because of, Specialist Arc actions we've were able to acquire several useful items of information's...

The presentation changed to show a photo, and a diagnostic of, Tyrian's prosthetic tail.

Nora: He got a new tail?

Ruby: Well yeah, he had too after I cut it off.

Nora: Oh yeah, I forgot about that.

Weiss: You did what?!

Ironwood: Thanks to the efforts of the, Atlas Corp of Engineers as well as help from, Dr. Polendina we were able to find a... stylistic signature.

Nora: What's that?

Penny: A set of distinctive stylistic choices, be they patterns, methods, or overall designs that renders someone work identifiable from a glance.

Nora: Wha?

Ironwood: This 'signature' was identified to be from someone we thought dead. This man here...

The slide turned to show a photo of a lanky, scarecrow of a man in a white lab coat.

Ironwood: This man is, Arthur Watts, we assumed he died ten years ago in a lab explosion. Since we never found the body, we can now assume that he faked his death. Now, Arthur Watts is highly skilled with cybernetics, and biomechanics. He is not a skilled fighter, but he makes up with his skills in computers. So, while you are out in the field, keep an eye out for, Watts. Watts, and anyone else you may see with him. Any questions?

Several hands among the, Specialist rose up, Ironwood nodded his head in silent pride of his, Specialist incitive to ask questions about their missions.

Ironwood: Clover?

Clover: Since we've identified this man, and we know his specialties, what countermeasures are we implementing to counter him?

Ironwood: We've been beefing up the cybersecurity, and fire walls around, Atlas to prevent him from exploiting our systems.

Jaune: Are you also upgrading the cybersecurity for, Mantle, Sir?

Ironwood: Yes, after the implantations of the fortifications are done, we need to beef up the severally unreliable security systems in, Mantle.

Jaune: Good. May, I ask another question, Sir?

Ironwood: Of course.

Jaune: During the, Fall, the, Atlas's Knights turned on us. Do you think that this, Arthur Watts fellow had anything to do with that?

Ironwood: Hmmm... That is a good question... It is likely theory that it was him who hacked our, Knights during the, Fall. I best order that the, Knight be given an upgrade as well. Excellent observation, Specialist Arc.

Jaune: Thank you, Sir.

Harriet: Wait, if this man hacked, and hijacked our, Knights... Then what's the chance of him doing the same to, Penny? I mean... she may look human, but she is an android.

Silence enveloped the room as everyone turned to look at, Penny as she nervous looked about. Ruby took her hand as she tried to reassure her friend at the sudden realization that she could be hack, and turned to attack her friends.

Ironwood: Hmm... Penny?

Penny: Y-Y-Yes, Sir?

Ironwood: Call your father, I wish to have a meeting with him at his lab, and I will require your presence as well for this meeting. We have... much to discuss about.

Penny: Yes, Sir...

Ironwood: Now, then... Specialist Arc?

Jaune: Yes, Sir?

Ironwood: Based on the fact, Tyrian tried to attack, Robyn Hill, it is evident she has become a target. I want you to go down to, Mantle, and inform her of the situation. Since you saved her from, Tyrian she will no doubt trust you.

Yang: Wait, Jaune saved, Robyn Hill?

Nora: When did that happen?!

Penny: The same day he killed, Tyrian Tallows.

Weiss: When did that happen?

Penny: Three days ago.

RWBYNR: What?!

Nora: Did you know this, Penny?

Penny: Yes, I was there when we extracted, Tyrian's dead body.

Ruby: Why didn't you tell us any of this?!

Penny: ...

Penny: Error...

RWBYNR: WHAT?!

The Specialists, as well as, General Ironwood all stared at the members of, Team RWBY as well as, Penny, Nora, and Ren. waiting for them to stop their impromptu conversation.

Ruby: Eh-hehe... Sorry...

The group finished staring at them before returning to face, General Ironwood, and his presentation.

Jaune: Understood. How much information am I allowed to share with her, Sir?

Ironwood: Only what she needs to know, Specialist.

Jaune: Understood.

Ironwood: Now then, go down to, Mantle, and inform her of what is happening.

Jaune: Yes, Sir! Permission to leave, Sir?

Ironwood: Permission granted.

Jaune got up, and grabbed, Crocea Mors, attaching it to his waist as he made to leave, but was stopped as, Winter made an impromptu request.

Winter: Sir! Permission to accompany, Specialist Arc.

Ironwood: Denied.

Winter: May I ask why, Sir?

Ironwood: You are needed here for information about, Tyrian's prosthetic tail.

Winter: But, shouldn't, Specialist Arc be accompanied by his fellow, Specialist's? After all, it hasn't been a day yet since he was discharged from the hospital.

Ironwood: No, Specialist Arc, has proved himself more than capable of handling himself with, Tyrian; He should be fine.

Winter: But, shouldn't he have someone with him when it comes to dealing with that bitch...?! I mean, Robyn Hill?

Vine: Did she just call, Robyn Hill a, 'bitch?'

Elm: I-Is she jealous...?

Harriet: Wait, does that mean, Winter likes...?!

Clover: Oh, he's totally going to have to explain that to me later.

Marrow: Wait... what's going on?

Ironwood: No, your reputation as my second, and as, Jacques Schnee's daughter will no doubt sour her willingness to discuss anything with you present.

Winter: Shit!

Ironwood: You're dismissed, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Uhh... Yes, Sir.

Winter soon took her seat, her arms crossed as she silently grumbled to herself. But, as she grumbled to herself, Harriet leaned over to ask her the important question that was on everyone's mind.

Harriet: So... You, and Jaune~?

Winter: Fuck off!

Harriet: Okay?!

All the while this was happening, Weiss was a few rows behind her sister losing her mind at the sudden realization.

Weiss: Winter... likes, Jaune?!

Yang: Looks like he did steal your sister away...

Weiss: What the fuck?!

Ruby: Guys the meetings over, we need to ask, Jaune what happened before he leaves!

Yang: Oh, shit you're right!

Nora: Let's go! He's got a lot of questions to answer us!

Weiss: Many questions!

~~~

Ruby: Jaune wait!

Jaune was walking towards the landing pads, and was about to reach one of the bullheads when his named was called out from behind him. When he turned around he saw seven individuals he wasn't looking forward to see. A tired sigh escaped his lips, as he stood before them with his hand resting on his swords pommel.

Jaune: Can I help you?

Ruby: You were in the hospital?!

Blake: You killed, Tyrian?!

Ren: They said you were poisoned, were you poisoned because of, Tyrian's stinger?

Nora: Why didn't you tell us any of this?!

Weiss: Did you fuck my sister?!

Jaune was going to answer their string of questions, but was stopped when, Weiss asked her very deliberate, 'important' question. In fact, her question derailed everyone's train of thought. They all shared a stare at, Weiss who looked back at them all in indignation.

Weiss: What?

Jaune just shook his head, before answering everyone's question, deciding to answer, Weiss's first. She looked like she was about to blow a gasket if he didn't answer her first.

Jaune: Okay, Weiss... Winter, and I... Well... we're not in a relationship... there is something there... but... we're... yeah...

Yang: You have no idea what's going on between the two of you, do you?

Jaune: I have as much as an idea as, Winter does. I mean, I like her, she likes me... She kissed me when I was in the hospital. Other than...?!

Weiss: YOU KISSED HER?!

A flash of steel flew through the air as, Weiss drew her rapier, and pointed it at, Jaune's face. He stared at the tip of the blade, resting mere inches from his face. Jaune watched as, Weiss, was being restrained by, Yang, and Ruby. While, Jaune just nonchalantly pushed the blade away from his face with his finger.

Jaune: Weiss, if you want to know anything about this... situation, then ask, Winter. I'm still not sure what to do with her, and... yeah...

Weiss: Fine... but, if I heard you did anything to my sister, I will gut you like a fish!

Jaune: Noted...

Weiss then sheathed her blade, but was still staring daggers at, Jaune.

Jaune: Haa... Okay...

Jaune: I went to the walls of, Mantle to check on the progress of the fortifications. I learned that members of the, Happy Huntresses caused a small disruption at the wall. I learned about a rally that, Robyn Hill was holding, so I went down to ask her what happened.

Jaune: It turns out that only a few of her followers went down to the wall, they were simply demanding why it was taking so long, Luckily members of the, Happy Huntresses dispersed the crowds. After, Robyn Hill explained this to me, I decided to stick around so nothing happened. Good thing that I did...

Jaune: While I was watching the crowd at the rally I noticed a suspicious individual making their way to the stage. I moved to cut them off, and low, and behold it's, Tyrian.

Jaune: So, we fought, I was mostly stalling for time for help to arrive, and to buy time for the civilians to get out. Robyn stayed behind to help me fight, Tyrian. I learned that, Robyn was, Tyrian's target, so to make sure he didn't kill her I threw my sword at him. This left me exposed, and then he jumped me, stabbed my in the shoulder with his shoulder. He then pinned, Robyn down, and was about to kill her. When I then got up, and snapped his neck, killing him. Then fainted, no doubt from a combination of, Tyrian's poison, and an adrenaline rush. Then I woke up in the hospital a day later. Annnnd, that's it.

As, Jaune finished speaking everyone stopped, and stared at, Jaune in stunned amazement. Several of them, Yang, and Blake wanted to call bullshit, but since had, Tyrian's dead body in a morgue somewhere, it was pretty difficult to deny it.

Yang: Okay... that's a lot to take in...

Ren: All of that happened in a day... half a day at that?!

Jaune: A little less than that, but yeah, pretty much.

Blake: You got stabbed by, Tyrian's stinger, and got poisoned?

Jaune: Yeah, his prosthetic stinger was strong enough to pierce my armour. Not to mention his semblance made a hole in my aura to pierce through it. So, I got poisoned. Least I killed, Tyrian, and saved, Robyn Hill.

Nora: Jaune... W-Why didn't you tell us any of this happened?

Jaune could hear the sorrow, and the pain upon, Nora's face. He looked at her, and gave a tired sigh. But, as he thought of his answer, an interesting question came to mind.

Jaune: I was in a coma for over a day, and when I woke up I was going through medical tests to check for poison in my veins. But, if you want to be upset with anyone for not telling you I was in the hospital, they you should ask her, and ask why she didn't tell anyone I was in the hospital.

Jaune looked past, Nora, and looked towards, Penny who walked back in shock.

Penny: M-Me? Why me?

Jaune: You were there when the, Specialists took me to the hospital, and you were there with me, and General Ironwood when I was giving him a debriefing at the hospital. Why didn't you tell them anything about happened?

Penny: Well I...?

Jaune: Now that I think about it... You've been asked multiple times to contact, and find me, and you didn't, couldn't. You were supposed to invite people to my birthday, but you didn't invited anyone. You forgot about me during the game of hide 'an go seek. And, you've lost my contact data several times when you wanted to talk to me. Penny, do you hate me?

Penny: No, I don't hate you. Hiccup!

Everyone froze as they all turned to look at, Penny as a stunning realization slowly came in.

Yang: She hiccupped...?

Weiss: She's lying, why is she lying...?

Jaune: Do you hate me, Penny?

Penny: No, I'm don't. Hiccup!

Jaune: What did I do to make you hate me, Penny?

Penny: Nothing. I don't... Hiccup! I don't hate you. Hiccup!

Jaune: You know hiccupping is your tell, Penny. We all know you're lying. Why are you lying?

Penny: I'm not! Hiccup!

Jaune felt like, Penny was hiding something, not from him, no she was hiding something from herself. And, whatever it was involved him, but how was the question.

Jaune: You're not angry at me for something I did?

Penny: No, no I'm not!

Nora: She didn't hiccup?

Ren: But, why is she hiccupping?

Jaune: You're not angry at me for something I did... Then... Are angry at me because of something someone else did to you?

Penny: No. Hiccup!

Ruby: Why is she angry at him for something someone else did to her?

Yang: Good question...

Jaune: You're angry at me because of something someone else did to you. Yet, you're taking out your anger on me, and not the other person. You're using me as a proxy because you can't let that person know that you hate them...

Penny: N-No I'm not! Hiccup!

Jaune: Not because you don't want them to know you hate them, but because you can't hate them because... because they're dead...

A silence hung in the air as the realization struck them. Penny didn't hate, Jaune because it was, Jaune. She hated him because he was close to someone who hurt, Penny, and Jaune was the only person she could hurt in retribution.

But, this hate had been shoved away by, Penny's subconscious mind. Deep away that she could no longer remember what, or who it was she hated. But, the memory was not shoved deep enough that she didn't remember the raw emotions of this hate. No, she remembered the pain, the sorrow, and her hatred of the one who wronged her.

As, Jaune's mind struggled to put the pieces together he came to a sudden, and startling realization. The fact that there was only one person who had wrong, Penny, and was close to, Jaune that she could direct her hatred towards him.

Jaune: Pyrrha... You're angry at me, because, Pyrrha, my partner, killed you. And, because she's is dead, you cannot direct that hatred towards her, so you've been subconsciously directing it towards me. So, the reason you've been forgetting about me... Is because you've been substituting me for, Pyrrha, and you don't remember that you hate, Pyrrha. So you forget me?

Jaune smiled as he came to this stunning realization. It was a mad, and an absolutely bonkers idea. But, the worst part about, Jaune's mad theory was that it made sense, too much sense. And, they all knew that it was exactly what, Penny was subconsciously thinking when she started hiccupping like a storm.

Penny: That's not...! Hiccup! That's...! Hiccup! I don't...! Hiccup! Pyrrha, didn't...! Hiccup! I-I-I-I...! Hiccup! Hiccup! Hiccup!

Ruby: Penny? Penny, Penny, Penny!

Ruby, and Weiss rushed forward and, caught, Penny she was stumbling about in a fit of hiccups.

Weiss: She's having a panic attack!

Jaune: Ren, use your semblance!

Ren: On it!

Ren reached over, and placed his hand on, Penny's shoulder as a black wave flooded over, Penny as he breathing calmed down, and became more steadied. As they were all watching these things, Jaune gave them a look before walking back to the bullhead.

Ruby: J-Jaune?! Where are you going?

Jaune: I'm sorry, but I have a job to do. I don't have the time, or the training to deal with, Penny's hidden trauma. And, since I seem to be part of the cause of her trauma, I think it'd be for the best that I leave.

Jaune walked onto the bullhead and grabbed the handle bars on top.

Jaune: I'll leave this... situation to you. Till later then.

As the bullhead started to lift away, Jaune spared one last glance at the group as they all comforted their friend. Jaune couldn't help but feel envious that they showed such compassion to their friend.

But, it anger him, because they never showed such compassion to him. Never.

~~~

Jaune was walking down the auditorium as civilians walked around resetting things, some stopped him, and thanks them for saving them, Jaune just told them to thinking nothing of it, he was just doing his job.

But, as, Jaune moved closer, he looked up, and saw, Robyn, and some of her fellow, Happy Huntresses upon the stage. When, Robyn saw him, a wide smile erupted across her face as she came down to greet him.

Robyn: Jaune! You're here!

Jaune: Miss Hill, It is a pleasure to see you are doing well.

Jaune held out his hand as, Robyn came closer to him. Robyn looked at his hand for a moment before remembering to adopt her mask as, Ironwood's political enemy, thus, Specialist Jaune Arc's enemy.

A small smile still spread across her face as she shook, Jaune's hand before adopting a neutral mask once more.

Robyn: It is a pleasure to see you as well, Specialist Arc. How are you doing? I heard you were in the hospital for a while dealing with that scorpion faunas's poison.

Robyn knew fully well what happened to him at the hospital. She went there, and kissed... Checked up on him! No doubt this was just all a political game for the audience to enjoy.

Jaune: Luckily I was able to get to the hospital quickly, and was administered antivenom. I was unconscious for about a day as my body fought it, but bar being a little groggy I am fine. I'm on light duty while I fight threw the last of the poison.

Robyn: I see...

Jaune: Tell me, Miss Hill, how are you doing? Dealing with a near death experience from a psychotic faunas who wanted you dead because your platform wasn't pro-faunas enough must have been pretty straining.

Robyn quirked an eye brow at, Jaune's statement. She quickly caught on to the story he was trying to spread so the citizens present could better understand why, Robyn was attacked by, Tyrian Callows.

Robyn: Ahh yes... Well, you try, and give people something to make their lives easier, yet they still want the world...

Jaune: Did you expect someone like the late, Jacques Schnee to be happy with a just one slice of the cake?

Robyn: No he wouldn't. The greedy bastard would want the whole bakery.

The duo of a politician, and a Specialist as well as several of the people surrounding them shared a laugh. There are many things that divided the people of, Atlas, and Mantle, but shitting on, Jacques Schnee was something that would unite them all.

Jaune: Now then, I need to have a word with you, Miss Hill. It has to do with your recent attack. Alone.

Robyn: Very well. Will you come with me?

Jaune: Lead the way, Miss Hill.

~~~

Robyn, had taken, Jaune on a walk to the head quarters of the, Happy Huntresses. Wasn't much of a place really, just a abandoned warehouse with beddings, and what not put into it to make it live able.

Jaune: And, this is your 'secret base?' It's nice... A little spartan for my liking.

Robyn: You don't like it?

Jaune: Nope. It's has about as much life, and personality as your wanted posters do.

Robyn: Wanted posters? HAS, General Ironwood made wanted posters for...?

Jaune: Your political posters.

Robyn: My campaign posters? What are you...?

Robyn turned to look at one of her campaign posters. She gazed at the strong, and proud visage as it presented in her in a...

Robyn: Oh shit... It does look like a wanted poster...

Robyn's body slumped over as she realized the blunder she had just made. Jaune walked by her, patting her should in a comforting gesture.

Jaune: Don't worry, you're worth at least, ten thousand lien.

Robyn: T-Ten thousand?! I'm at least worth fifteen thousand!

Jaune: Yeah, keep dreaming big, Robyn. Keep dreaming.

Robyn: Ass...

Jaune: Haha.

Jaune then walked past, Robyn as he rubbed his head with his hand letting loose a tired, and pained groan.

Robyn: Are you okay?

Robyn walked over to, Jaune, and place her hand on his shoulder.

Jaune: I'm fine... just a little dizzy. Poison is still being purged from my system.

Jaune shook his head as a deep breath left his lungs.

Jaune: Okay, let's get down to business...

Jaune: Your would be assassin, as I mentioned before, his name was, Tyrian Callows. He was sent here to kill you in order to destabilize the relationship between, Atlas, and Mantle.

Robyn: I suppose that line about me not being pro-faunas enough for his liking was for the common folk?

Jaune: A lie yes, but a believable one nonetheless. The White Fang may have been weakened in the rest of, Remnant, but based on the reports I've read there is still a sizeable force here in, Mantle.

Robyn: Really? I thought after what happened at, Beacon, and at Haven Academy they would have been disbanded.

Jaune: Technically they did, that is if you can call a rebranding a disbanding.

Robyn: They rebranded?

Jaune: Yep, the Atlas faction of the, White Fang is now calling themselves the, Ice Fangs.

Robyn: Ice Fang? Not a bad name...

Jaune: Better than the 'Happy Huntresses.' Who came up with that dumb name?

Robyn: Hey!

Robyn lightly punched, Jaune's arm as he laughed at her expense. The smile on her face was radiant as she laughed with him. But, her smile slowly fell as serious face crossed her face.

Robyn: Will he be the last, or the first among many that seeks to take my life?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: It's hard to tell... They might come after you again, so I suggest you keep your guard up. But, they might not come after you; General Ironwood is their main target, there's no doubt about that. Tyrian may have just been exploring, Mantle, learned that you were holding a rally, and that you happened to be there. You could have just been nothing more than a target of opportunity.

Robyn: That's somewhat comforting...

Robyn: You promise you'll save me, from these... shadows in the dark?

Jaune: I swore that I would, Robyn. Arc's don't break their word.

Robyn walked over to, Jaune and gently grabbed his collar as she looked at him.

Robyn: You know... It really is nice to have a knight in shinning armour watching over me...

As she was playing with his collar, she noticed he was wearing the badge she gave him.

Robyn: You're wearing the badge I gave you! It's crooked, may I...?

Jaune: Go ahead. I just put it on today. I think it got moved around when, Winter interrogated me about it.

Robyn froze as she was readjusting the badge.

Robyn: She did what...?

Jaune: Yeah, she saw it, and I explained it how I got it, and why I called it a token of affection, she lost it when I said that...

Robyn: Lost it...?

Jaune: Yeah. She gave me this sash when I join the, Specialist as a present. Then after she learned about the badge you gave me being a token of affection, me being a knight and all of that. She decided that this sash was her token of affection, to her knight. It was really scary actually...

Robyn: A token of affection...? Winter's token of affection... for you...?

Jaune: Yeah... her token of affection for her knight. That's what she said.

Robyn: 'Her' knight...? Jaune...?

Jaune: Y-Yes, Robyn...?

Jaune felt a chill run up his spine, a chill that only intensified as she stared at him with those cool lilac eyes of hers. She gripped the collars of his coat in her hands as she gave him a cold smile.

Robyn: Jaune~! Please tell me what your relationship with, Winter Schnee is~?

Jaune: S-S-She's my superior officer! Nothing more!

Robyn: It's red!

Jaune: What?! You're using your semblance on me, not cool, Robyn!

Robyn: Tell me the truth, Jaune!

Jaune: Okay okay okay! I have a crush on her, she somehow has a crush on me of all people! She's given me a token of affection! That's it!

Robyn: Its red again!

Jaune: Okay, okay! We've kissed, that's it!

Robyn: When did you two kiss?!

Jaune: At the hospital! B-Before you kissed me!

Robyn: What?! She kissed you before me, dammit! Alright then, Jaune... you tell, Specialist Winter Schnee this! We are at war!

Jaune: War? What are you talking abou... MMPH?!

Robyn pulled, Jaune in by the collar for a hungry, and thirsty kiss. As the kiss ended, she bit his lips, dragging her teeth across his lips as she pulled away, as she let out a deep, hungry gasp of air, as she stared at him with hearts in her eyes.

Robyn: We're at war, for you~!

Jaune: F-F-For me...?!

Robyn: For you~!

Jaune: Uh oh...

~~~

Jaune entered the locker room for the, Specialist. He hadn't done much today, mostly talking with people, but good gods he felt exhausted.

As he entered the room, he saw, Winter at her locker. She turned, and smile when she heard him enter.

Jaune: Hey, Winter.

Winter: Oh, hello... Jaune...?

Jaune: Something wrong, Winter?

Winter walked over to, Jaune grabbing his cheeks as she looked at his face.

Winter: Is that lipstick on your face?

Jaune: Oh shit! I forgot to... Ahhh?!

Winter fiercely grabbed, Jaune by his collar, a common theme of the day so it seemed.

Winter: Who kissed you?!

Considering this was the third time he had been roughly grabbed by his collars by a feisty. Huntress, Jaune decided it was best to just answer her, less he gets killed, but a jealous woman.

Jaune: Robyn, Robyn Hill did it! S-She likes me, just like you do!

Winter: SHE WHAT?!

Jaune: A-And, she kissed me as her declaration of war to you!

Winter: A declaration of war? For what?

Jaune: M-Me...

Winter: Okay... then the next time you see her, Jaune, tell her this!

Jaune: Tell her wha... MPHH?!

For the second time today, Jaune had been pulled in by the collar for a fierce kiss. Instead of teeth biting his lips, Jaune felt, Winter's tongue invade his mouth leaving a trail of saliva as she broke the kiss.

Winter: I accept~!

Winter lightly tapped his cheeks as she left, leaving a stunned, and very confused, Jaune behind. He panted heavily as he whipped his lips clean of the make up, and saliva from, Winter's tongue. With nothing but, one thought upon his mind.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Well, I'm fucked...

[yuriosakawa]

The mansion was eerily quiet. Jazz had expected guards, traps, alarms—something. But as she stepped past the threshold of Vlad Masters’ lair, she found only silence.

She tightened her grip on the ecto-blaster holstered at her hip. This was it. The moment she had spent the last ten years preparing for.

Danny had been sixteen when Vlad ripped him from the world. It should have been a normal battle, another of their usual clashes. But this time, Vlad didn’t hold back. This time, he wasn’t playing games.

And Danny… Danny was gone.

Jazz had held their parents as they sobbed. She had stood over an empty grave, knowing no body remained to bury. She had watched Amity Park slowly forget its hero, even as ghosts ran rampant with no Phantom to stop them.

And she had sworn that she wouldn’t let Vlad win.

She had spent years tracking him, learning everything she could about ghost hunting, about combat, about infiltration. And now, at twenty-seven years old, she was finally here. Finally ready.

A slow clap echoed through the dimly lit hall. Jazz’s heart pounded, and she jerked her weapon up, only to see the man she hated most step into view.

Vlad Masters hadn’t aged a day.

“Jasmine,” he drawled, as if greeting an old friend. “How delightful. I was wondering when you’d come knocking.”

Jazz didn’t hesitate. She raised the blaster and fired.

The ectoplasmic shot was dead-on, but Vlad flickered intangible, letting the energy pass harmlessly through him. He tsked. “Come now, is that any way to say hello? I was hoping for a real conversation.”

“Spare me the theatrics, Masters.” Jazz’s voice was ice. “You know why I’m here.”

Vlad smiled, slow and knowing. “Oh, I do. And I’ve been looking forward to this moment for quite some time. But before you decide to pull that trigger again, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

He stepped aside, revealing a shadowed doorway.

Jazz barely had time to process the movement before a child stepped forward.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The boy was Danny.

Not just similar—not like Dani, the imperfect clone Vlad had once created. No, this was Danny in every way. Same dark hair, same build, same face. But then he looked up at her, and she felt the world tilt on its axis.

His eyes weren’t blue.

They were green.

A ghost’s glow flickered within them, and Jazz’s stomach churned with nausea and disbelief.

“This,” Vlad said, stepping behind the boy and placing a hand on his shoulder, “is Damian. My son.”

Jazz felt like she’d been punched in the gut.

“What—” Her voice cracked. “What did you do?”

Vlad smirked. “Did you really think I’d let Daniel’s legacy die so easily? No, Jasmine. I made sure he lived on… in a way.”

The boy—Damian—tilted his head, watching her with curiosity, but there was something detached about his expression.

Like he didn’t know her.

Like he didn’t remember.

A fresh wave of horror crashed over Jazz.

“You cloned him.” Her voice shook. “Again.”

“Perfected him,” Vlad corrected. “No instability, no imperfections. My dear Damian is everything Daniel could have been and more.”

Jazz could barely breathe.

This wasn’t just another attempt at recreating Danny.

This was Vlad replacing him.

She forced herself to move, stepping forward, looking Damian in the eyes, searching for something—anything—of her brother inside them.

“Damian,” she said carefully, “do you know who I am?”

The boy blinked.

Then, after a moment, he shook his head.

Jazz felt her heart shatter all over again.

Vlad chuckled. “He’s never met you, I’m afraid. But that can change. You see, Jasmine, you’ve always been intelligent. Practical. You must know by now that revenge is… pointless.”

Her hands curled into fists.

“Join us,” Vlad continued, voice silk-smooth. “Be part of Damian’s life. Help me raise him. He’s still young—impressionable. Wouldn’t you rather have a hand in shaping the man he’ll become?”

Jazz stared at him, mind whirling. She had spent ten years hunting Vlad, planning for this moment. She had been prepared for every possible scenario.

Except this.

Except Danny’s face staring back at her with no recognition.

Except the possibility that, maybe, she hadn’t lost her brother forever.

And maybe, just maybe, she could save what was left.

Her grip on the blaster loosened.

For the first time in years, she hesitated.

And Vlad smiled.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

WHY HER?

Another angst/fluffy oneshot required by one of you. I swear, the ones who are following me, most of you have a thing for angst :0 But it is okay my babies, as I am nothing different from you guys :) this will be a bit shorter than my usual oneshot lengths but hope it is just as enjoyable for you guys :)))

Warnings: Angst but don't worry my lovelies, there shall be comfort for this round. Reader is not main character in game.

Please note all artworks are credited to the artist @chimmyming on Twitter, please do go and support the artist! Click onto the pictures and there shall be a link on it that brings you straight to their artwork!

Rafayel

You sat at the beach, looking far out into the ocean as you waited for Rafayel. He had agreed to meet you today for a nice evening walk but it was VERY UNLIKE HIM to be late for any meetings with you. Furthermore, you had only came back from your business trip recently, and the last thing you had expected was for your lover to be late to this long-awaited meet up.

Taking out your phone, you decided to give your boyfriend a call. "Hello, Rafayel?" You spoke once the call was picked up. "Where are you mister?"

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the call caught you off guard. It was the voice you had heard Rafayel mentioned through his video calls with you for a couple of times. "Rafayel will be there in a bit." You heard a slither of your boyfriend's voice echoing in the background, shouting out something and the girl repeated his message. "He told you to---"

You hung up the call. Not even bothering for an apology nor an answer. Just hearing her voice made your blood boil. It does not help either when Rafayel would mention about her during your business trip. He would say, "Oh she helped me with the drawings today, as she said purple would fit better than orange." or "We went and got some paint today by the shop that was at the corner of the Bloom Street. She asked me to buy the conch shells too."

The recollection of him telling you all about their activities brought tears to your eyes, pulling your knees up to your chest and you stopped fighting the tears coming out of your eyes. When did she took your place? Helping him with his artworks? Accompanying him to buy painting materials and buying seashells together? That is, and has always been the activity reserved for you. But maybe, your absence made him feel empty inside.

Standing up, you dusted the sand off of your pants and decided to head home. Your phone had rung for a couple of times but it had fallen on deaf ears. Unlocking your phone and rejecting the call, you decided to block him. What happen to Lemurians only having one mate for the rest of their life? A question raised in your head, but it goes unanswered.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Loud music filled the entirety of the darkness of the bar. Your hand held onto a cocktail glass, swivelling the Long Island Iced Tea in it. But here is the catch, none of the contents in the glass contained anything that has to do with its name. But it is surely going to get you wasted in no time.

You took another hit, feeling the burn go down your throat when you downed the whole glass in one go. The laser lights, light bars below the bar table and holograms of women dancing being the only source of lighting found within the bar, a good way for you to hide away from anyone you know.

You just wanted to drown out your thoughts, but forgetting the point that you had never been the type to handle alcohol well. Hence earning the title of you being the teetotal in every party and event you attend with Rafayel. Speaking of the man, your eyes wandered down to your cocktail glass, the empty contents a direct reflection of your mind right now, empty.

When your mind started to get hazy further, you knew it was the right time to leave. You slowly maneuvered your way through the club till you were nearing the exit. A guy came in front of you to block your exit. "Where are you going, pretty lady? Do you need a ride home?"" His hand reached for your arm and you winced, his hold tight.

"Leave me alone. I am not interested." You pushed him with your hands and the guy barely budged. His tight grip on you still unfaltering. Instead, he started leading you out of the club, and into the alleyway.

"Bad girls don't deserve a good treatment. And seeing how wasted you are, I doubt you could stop me. So just be a good girl and take it." His words made you teared up, hand still coming up to push him with all of your might, sobs started surfacing from your breath.

"Help me!" You shouted out, head aching and eyes widening when you caught sight of the guy undoing his belt. He is planning to rape you isn't he?

"Nobody can hear you don't worry, so save your breath for me when I take you baby girl." He chuckled darkly but a spark caught your eye and the guy immediately got lit up in flames. Bright red colour lighting up the dark alleyway.

"Y/N!" The familiar voice called out to you, your sobs not stopping till someone grabbed you and you pushed with all of your drunken might, traumatised by how you were nearly raped by a stranger. The strong arms circled around your small body to pull you in close and your face hit against a taut chest. "Are you okay?!" And you passed out.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You woke up, eyes slowly fluttering opened and you winced at the throbbing of your head. Looking down at yourself, you realised your clothes had a change, you were wearing an oversized button up and you gasped, your memory piecing the fact that you almost got raped yesterday night. Thinking you were still entrapped in a stranger's home, you turned your head and you caught sight of your boyfriend fast asleep next to you.

His purple hair sat on his head like a bird’s nest, a vibrant colour against his white pillow and bed sheets. Feeling movement on the bed, you watched when he slowly opened his eyes, lapis-lilac shades caught yours. "Good morning..." He spoke groggily and slowly sat up, the blanket sliding down to reveal his chiselled abs. It was rare for him to not wear clothes to sleep.

"I should go..." You said quickly, eyes avoiding his when you pulled the blanket aside and you realised, you were half naked, the oversized shirt covering your naked upper half and you were only dressed in your underwear underneath the clothing. You probably had sex with him, you thought to yourself as tears came to your eyes again. That was the last thing you wanted to do as you did not want anything to do with him anymore. "This...this mistake... It won't happen again. I'm sorry for being an inconvenience."

"Wait..." Rafayel was shocked at your response, his face contorted in disbelief. "Y/N, wait..." He quickly got out of bed, butt naked and nimbly searched for his pants and putting them on, as he quickly chased after you. You were already putting on your shirt, his button up strewn across the floor. You being in a hurry to leave him made his heart ached. "No, y/n wait." His hand clasped your arms when you were heading towards the door with your phone in hand.

He turned you around and was met with your bare face, red painted across your nose and eyes. "Just leave me alone. I wish you all the best with her." A silent tear fell and you pushed his hand away. But he grabbed your arm again, reluctant to let you leave.

"Nothing happened." Rafayel's tone was calm. "Trust me. Nothing happened between me and her." His hand came up to your face to wipe the tear but you looked away, not wanting him to touch you any further. "She only helped me with this. Come..." Holding onto your arm still, he guided you towards the backyard. A canvas placed in the middle of the yard. "She was helping me to create this for you." He turned the easel to reveal an artwork, featuring you by the beach, on the shore with a mermaid tail. Your tail. The artwork had hints of purple in it and the seashells they had gotten previously.

Amazed at the artwork, you turned towards your lover, eyes still bloodshot. "This explains why you had been cutting our calls short and with her picking up the call yesterday and you being late for our date?" Your hesitant tone was evident.

He pointed to the pile of pot paints on the floor next to the painting. "I was in a hurry to create this piece since you were only out for your business trip for 4 days. I wanted it to be perfect so I took a longer time than usual. I was trying to clean up the mess before I go and find you." He held your other hand in his when you turned to fully face him. "I wanted to show you this yesterday." He sighed and looked down. "I am sorry that I hurt you, you nearly got hurt because of me. But, I will never choose anyone else other than my lifetime mate. I will not choose anyone over you." His eyes looked deeply into yours.

"Rafayel..." Your eyes softened when you looked up at your lover. "Thank you." You took a small pause and smiled warmly. "Thank you for always choosing me." And you hugged him.

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

Xavier

"Y/N," Your name was called when your boyfriend approaches your desk, handing you some documents for you to upload into the computer. "I will be going out for my mission soon, so I will see you back at home later?" His gentle voice made you smiled and nodded. He leaned down to give you a peck on your cheek when he realised nobody was watching and you watched as he walked off, the blond hair of his forming a halo under the radiant sunlight.

"So you are paired with Xavier again?" You heard a few girls squealed beside you and you just sat at your desk, continue inputting information into your computer, but you cannot help eavesdropping. "How lucky are you to be paired with him. How many times have you been paired with him for combat?"

"Oh, uhm....Almost everytime I think." The brunette replied, her hair tied in a low ponytail. None of the people in the headquarters know of the fact that both of you are actually in a relationship as there was no need for anyone to know about your private lives. And staying undercover just makes things less complicated when it comes to work.

"But, do you think he would make a move on you?" The short haired brunette asked and Xavier's combat partner shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, a sign of not sure but there is a possibility of it happening as well.

"He did kind of brushed my hair out of my face and patted my head yesterday." Her response stopped you from typing any further as you felt your blood drained from your system. The girl-friend however, cheers and squeals for her friend's answer. You stood up, adjusting your outfit before you headed off to the washroom to take a break.

Washing your hands, you stare blankly at the mirror, studying your own reflection. Why would Xavier do this to you? You knew that your combat skills are non-existent, so that's why you kept yourself occupied with the information department, filing in documents for the deepspace hunters. They are more like the hands and feet while your department acts like the brain, collecting and providing information.

Maybe he likes girls with combat skills. Your mind jumped to that conclusion and you were snapped back to reality when the door opened up and you turned off the faucet, stepping past the same girl that was bragging about being close with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend no doubt is one of the popular males among the whole headquarters but all this while he had never made you worried. But why does her words affect you so greatly?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After work had ended, you took your time to walk instead of taking the subway, wanting to give yourself some time to walk after you had spent the whole day sitting in the office. You walked past a grocery store and remembered that you are running low on food at home so you decided to head into the grocery store to pick up some items.

Staring at the snacks isle, you were debating on whether to get popcorn or potato chips, since Xavier would like to munch on them whenever he is bored at home. So without much thought you just get both of it. You paid at the counter and held onto the plastic bags, resuming your walk back home.

Walking the streets during the evening is a sight to catch. The skies displaying orange and yellow, dashes of pink over the linings of the cloud that hung high above. It looks like a light show in the skies, but only that it is a natural phenomenon. Taking out your phone, you took a snapshot of the skies and checked the result. A frown coming upon your face when you know that cameras would never be able to fully capture nature’s beauty.

You turned a corner and you came across the sight of your boyfriend standing outside of the claw machine store that you would visit with him sometimes. Your eyes lit up, wanting to go up to him but you stopped in your tracks when you saw his combat partner appeared from the stores, her grin tugged from ear to ear, and her face clearly blushing.

Your hands tightened on your grocery bags when you noticed your boyfriend, who has his back facing you looking down at the girl. Oh, how you wished you could eavesdrop on their conversation right now. You would have wanted to know desperately what their conversation is about. A part of you is telling you to straight walk up there to claim your man while the other part of you is held back, heart heavy as you watched the girl's face lit up when she was conversing with your boyfriend.

And that was when you noticed she tip toed to lean up towards your boyfriend. That's it. You had seen enough. You turned away, and stomped the other way. Tears caught you off guard when you decided it is the best for you to step away. You do not want to cause a scene in the middle of the streets.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Finally found you." A voice broke the whispers of the wind. You stayed silent when you heard shuffling, someone taking a seat next to you. "Why are you out here, in the cold?"

You refused to face your boyfriend, eyes narrowed, lashes combatting against the cold harsh wind. Another shuffle could be heard again and you felt his hands on your shoulders, a heavy material wrapped over your shoulder. It was cold, but it could be a good excuse; to hide the actual fact of what caused your nose and eyes to take on a reddish colour. "Can you give me some time alone?"

"Why?" He asked, the puppy eyes he is known for stapled on his face when he tilted his head, trying to get a better look at your face. "Have you been crying?" His question made you turned your head to face him, cheeks still pressed against your knee.

"No." You blatantly lied and avoided his gaze again. "I don't have anything to talk to you about. You can go home first and wait for me at home."

"Are you sure?" His concern made you hid your face further into your knees and you nodded. Your reluctance to meet his eyes already confirmed his suspicion of something happening. So he asked further. "Were you happening to be watching me just now? When I was at the claw machine store?" Your silence gave him a sense of comfort. "So my senses are not wrong. That was you peeking out of the corner just now. And let me guess, you saw me with the hunter didn't you?"

How did he knew? You swear he probably has eyes on the back of his head. That thought sent a shiver down your spine. You adjusted your seating and he sat closer to you. "And...you probably saw how she wanted to kiss me, with her on her tip toes." It was crazy on how accurate he was on this.

He unwrapped your arms around your knees and slowly pulled you into his side, placing his arms around you and letting your head lay on his shoulder. Xavier's scent enveloped you, talcum powder and vanilla. There is no need for him to use any sorts of perfume when he himself is a walking perfume that nobody could remake. That is how he always smelled like and a part of you wondered if she managed to smell it from him as well.

"I would have teased you further, and enjoy the way you would have reacted when you are jealous. But," His hands smoothed over your hair, tucking some strands behind your ear gently. "I pushed her away before she could even come close enough. I even told her about us." You looked up at him, his cerulean orbs now light grey under the stars. "I don't think it would be a good idea to hide our relationship anymore." His free hand came up to rub his chin. "Because I want people to know that you are the only one that I want."

"What about your missions with her? She was bragging about you patting her head and tucking her hair." You asked frantically, thinking he might still end up spending time with her.

"I had contacted the captain about this and requested for a change of partners. This time, it will be a HE and no, he is not GAY." He smiled, finger tucked under your chin to pull your face up to meet his lingering gaze. His soft laughter rolling out of his mouth. “Moreover, I never touched her, not even once, she needs to get her head checked out. Whenever she falls during combat, I just stood aside and watch.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cold cheeks, in an attempt to warm them with his lips. “After we reveal our relationship in the office, you don't have to worry anymore, because no matter what happens, I will protect you to the ends of this world."

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

Zayne

<I will be home late tonight. I have to cover two emergency shifts. I will call you at 10P.M. before you head off to bed. I have a gap in between.>

Your phone beeped when you were nearly done at work. You read the message, knowing that he has to work late again for tonight, same as yesterday, the day before, and practically 4 days before. But, you cannot blame him for being one of best cardiac surgeons in Linkon City. It should be something you are proud of.

But it does not help when you went to pay him a short visit two days ago, his door does not open even after you had knocked twice on the wooden door. His usual patient, the deepspace hunter, came out of his room, face as red as a tomato. Your eyes followed her as she walked down the hallway and you made your step into your lover's room.

Zayne was near the bed, readjusting his shirt and coat. He did not realise you had walked in until you cleared your throat. "You are here." He said calmly, turning over to face you, his tie a little bit crooked. "I thought you were going to wait for me downstairs."

The deepspace hunter's red face, and him readjusting his shirt, anyone with two sense of mind could easily tell what had just went on in the room. "I just wanted to stop by your office as well." You replied, taking a seat on the couch in his office. "So, what did you do with the girl?"

"You mean the deepspace hunter?" He questioned, taking long strides to close the door. He did not seemed like he was anxious nor scared of your question. Probably a mask to his own guilt, you thought to yourself.

"Yeah, your childhood best friend." You clicked your tongue, arms crossed over your chest. "She seemed flustered when she left your office just now."

"I just conducted a normal check up on her, as usual." He said, dismissing your question easily. He reached his hand out to you, beckoning you to take his hand. "Let's go and get dinner together."

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙

Your hesitation of his loyalty to you was one of the things that kept on bugging your mind, other than your work of course. You looked at the amount of work you have on your desk and started arranging it. Doing whatever you can now to keep your mind busy. What does that deepspace hunter have that you do not have?

A fleeting childhood with Zayne maybe? There have been theories that men would fall for their childhood friends due to the familiarity they have and how comfortable they could get with their childhood buddies. But this theory sucks. You tell yourself and stacked the files neatly and placed them at the shelves behind you.

You are just as capable as Zayne, but just in a different field. You are known to be one of the best lawyers in Linkon City. A highly respected one in fact. When news of you and Zayne went out, people claimed it was meant to be because both of you are aces within your own field and that you are both compatible to one another.

But what if he wanted someone more normal? Someone who would not constantly be under the watchful eye of the common public? The voice came about again. Almost every month, both of you would have your own array of social meets, and both of you making time to acquaint one another to those social events. Every single move, every single action you and Zayne do, it would be booming news. Maybe he is tired of us constantly being under the spotlight.

Mighty or not, you could be the best within your field, but you could also have equally damaging insecurities. This is the exact moment that you start crushing your own walls, walls of confidence that you had taken years to build up, to earn for respect from others. And perhaps, to earn Zayne's love.

<Okay.> You texted back and tossed your phone into your bag. Grabbing your car keys on your way out of your office. You locked your room on the way out and you were shocked to see some of your interns are still working in their cubicles. "Guys, I think you should all take a rest. How about we head to the coffee shop downstairs to have a drink hmm?"

Your interns' eyes lit up at your offer and they quickly gathered their stuffs before following you out of the office like a bunch of ducklings. On the elevator ride, you asked them of their work progresses and whether they needed any additional help with their current tasks. Your interns however, were more than surprised that you are willing to communicate with them.

Their first take on your image is that you are professional and strict. A woman of high standards and it was a common theme for people to link your working attitude to you being arrogant and ignorant. You had never once fell back on any datelines and your clients always leave your room satisfied, regardless of the outcome of the court case. You are on a whole other league as compared to anyone else within your department.

All of you decided to choose the seat outside because of the cooling night wind. It serves to refresh everyone, to step out of the tight cubicles for a bit and having to stretch comfortably. You sat next to two of the female interns, with them asking you about brands that you could recommend them to buy formal outfits. It was nice to see how fast the interns had opened up to you once they found out that you are not as scary as what was portrayed by others.

Your eyes caught sight of a black car pulling up just a few shops down the street. Not many people within the city owns that car, especially the black version. And one of those 'lucky few' happens to be your boyfriend as well. Your eyes slightly widened when you noticed the familiar figure coming out of the car.

His hair the colour of his full outfit, with a lanky but muscular build. The man standing next to the limited edition car is no doubt your boyfriend, Zayne. The sounds of your interns talking around you had turned into a constant white noise. Your eyes watched carefully, thank goodness the spot he had parked at was right below a street lamp.

The passenger side of the door opened, and out came the same girl. The one that you had suspicions about. At that exact moment, you felt your walls started breaking. Your eyes continued watching, your heart strapped in the back seat, limbs unable to move when you sat there in shock. The girl went up and gave Zayne a hug, you can tell that it was a tight hug, based on the way she literally planted her face into Zayne's torso. The sight of it made your heart crumbled and you stood up, your chair creaking against the cement pathway. Your interns stopped abruptly and turned to look at you in sync.

Clearing your throat, you held back tears as you spoke. "I remembered I have something to tend to, I have to get going." You bid them goodnight and you turned immediately, car keys dug out of your bag and you rushed to get into your car before you drove off quickly.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙

The clock at your bedside table flashed 9.55pm. It was a good idea to head off to bed earlier than usual. Although Zayne said that he would call you at 10pm, you had made your decision not to pick up. Telling him that you were too exhausted and fell asleep sounded like a viable excuse.

You closed your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, used to the other side of your bed being empty for the past few nights. After a while, you heard your room door opened, the slither of light from the living room seeping in.

Zayne was home early. You assumed he would have went back to the hospital after dropping her off. Your back was facing him so he would not be able to tell that you were upset. But your plan was short lived when his shadow loomed over you.

"Y/N." His voice soft, and you heard a thud, the warmth of a hand on your face. "My love." He called for you again, running his big palms across your cheeks, him noticing that there were some tear streaks. "Are you awake?"

Your eyes then opened, and you are face-to-face with your handsome boyfriend, his hazel green orbs fixated on your face. "I thought you were at work." You slowly sat up, rubbing your eyes and feigning a yawn, as if you had just woken up. Your heart felt heavy, and before you could stop yourself, your mouth blurted out. "Am I not good enough?"

Zayne was clearly taken aback, turning on the switch to the lamp on your nightstand, the soft glow of the light bouncing off of your silhouette, your white satin night dress a sheen of orange. "Why would you think so?" His hand comes up, touching your arm but you flinched away. "Y/N, what's going on?"

"You know what, it's nothing." Your hands came up to hide your face from him, desperately trying to hold back your tears. Zayne has never seen you cry many times, only when you were drunk and watching some sad rom-coms or when work gets too stressful and you were pushed too hard. Yes, a strong woman like you have her own small, vulnerable moments too. And Zayne, acknowledges all of it. To him, he never treats your crying moments as to be small matters. When you cry, it is a natural human emotion yes, but it is not normal within your books, for you to cry over something miniscule.

"Y/n, you are sad. And being sad is---" He stopped himself before he continued spitting out medical facts. Knowing at this moment if he were to do that, he would not be doing her a favour in consoling her. "You had always been strong in my eyes. So, what is going on through your head? Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Is the deepspace hunter better than me?" You sniffled, face still covered, your voice slightly muffled. "I saw you...today...with her...near my office...you hugged her." You choked out your words, accompanied with tears and snot. This will mark one of the first times Zayne would witness you cry like an adult baby. But you could care less as you anticipate for the heart break.

"No." He replied. "I did not hug her back. She hugged me and I pulled away after 2 seconds. She was thanking me for saving her life. And she will no longer need to come for checkups again in the future." He clarified and sat on the bed beside her and he slowly peeled her hands away from her face. "I fetched her back, because she had had her surgery a day ago, and she could not get a cab on time during her discharge timing. So I offered a ride for her, and thought maybe I could surprise you at your office. But your interns told me you left in a hurry so I came home."

"What about your surgery that was scheduled for tonight?" You asked.

"I cancelled them and rescheduled them to tomorrow. I just wanted to come home and spend time with you." He placed a kiss onto your forehead, calming your sobs. "You don't look happy for the past few days. Perhaps you want to enlighten me on anything else I had done that could have made you so upset?"

"What about that day, when she left your office, did you guys do something? She looked embarassed, and when I came in, you were adjusting your clothings. And the way you just dismissed me, it hurts me." Your eyes looked exhausted to him, with you patiently waiting for him to explain the situation to you.

Zayne took a few seconds to recall. "I was doing last minute checkups for her, before her surgery. But when she tried to stand, she nearly fell and she grabbed onto my tie for support but still ended up on the floor, which explains why I had to readjust my clothing. She was probably embarrassed at the situation, which explains the red face." He added on. "Her condition got worse after our dinner, that was why I had to rush back to do the surgery immediately."

His explanation gave you nothing but a rush of relief through your heart. "I see." You said, wiping your tears and Zayne took the opportunity to pull you into his arms, seated on his lap and your chest against his. "I am sorry for being so ridiculous."

"I don't see any issues with that. You care for me, that is why you feel this way. And with you crying over this, it means it matters a lot to you." He hugged you and you relaxed in his arms. "I don't blame you for getting upset over this as it is equally my fault for making you doubt my loyalty. But I treat that deepspace hunter just like how I would treat every other patient of mine." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft and tender. "Just know that even when I am very busy, I will always make time for you."

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

I KNOW I LIED AGAIN, MY MIND JUST STARTED BEING IN OVERDRIVE BECAUSE CREATIVITY WAS FLOWING SO I WROTE IT LONGER AND LONGER AND ENDED UP WITH THIS. I AM SORRY!

But hope this read is just as good as the others!

Lots of Love! <3

[heliosunny]

Hello, can I request a yandere gojo x reader who is celebrating their birthday?

(I know it may be an absurd request but today is my birthday baby🎉🥳🎁🎂)

That's all folks (⁠⌐⁠■⁠-⁠■⁠)🎉

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊HPBD! HPBD! HPBD!!!

Yandere!Gojo x Reader

The party was in full swing. Music thrummed through the air, laughter echoed in the small, dimly lit room, and the scent of cake and alcohol mixed with the faintest trace of sweat from dancing bodies. You sat among your friends, enjoying the warmth of the celebration despite the bittersweet reason behind it—Haru, your closest friend, was flying back to his home country tomorrow.

"Happy early birthday, Y/N!" someone called out, and another cheer erupted.

You laughed, taking a sip of your drink, but a strange sensation prickled at the back of your neck—like someone was watching you. You brushed it off. Probably just your imagination.

Then, the door creaked open.

A tall figure stepped inside, dressed in casual yet strangely elegant clothes. Silvery-white hair glowed under the soft lighting and ice-blue eyes that locked onto you.

"Oh? Wrong room—" he started, but then tilted his head, a smirk curling on his lips. "Oh wait… I’m in the right room."

At that moment, you didn't know he was the one whose presence you had felt for weeks—watching, lingering in the shadows, leaving small, unsettling "gifts" near your doorstep with a card always signed under the name Gojo Satoru.

Haru stood up sharply, stepping between you and him. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped, glaring. "Get lost."

"Oh? And who might you be?" he asked, stepping forward, hands casually in his pockets.

"None of your damn business." Haru shot back.

Your friends looked between each other, unsure of what was happening. The tension was suffocating.

Then, in a blink— Haru’s body hit the floor.

A collective scream ripped through the air as blood pooled beneath him, his eyes wide and empty.

"Oops." Gojo feigned surprise, bringing a bloodstained hand to his lips as if he had merely spilled a drink. "Ahh, I really didn’t like how he was talking to me." His gaze flickered to you, and his smile widened. "You don’t need him, do you, sweetheart? After all, I went through so much trouble to make today special for you."

He stepped closer, his fingers grazing your cheek, smearing a streak of red across your skin.

"Happy birthday, Y/N."

Your hands trembled as you pushed against Gojo’s chest, trying to shove him away, but it was like pressing against an immovable force.

"Get away from me!"

"Oh? But I just got here, sweetheart."

A few of your friends snapped out of their shock. One of them—a guy named Kenji—grabbed a half-full wine bottle from the table and swung it hard at Gojo’s head. The glass shattered on impact, spraying shards and red liquid everywhere.

Kenji staggered back in horror. "What the hell…"

No blood. No wound. Not even a scratch.

Gojo’s gaze flickered toward the others. "That’s not very polite" he murmured, taking a step forward. "Should I teach you some manners?"

His fingers twitched, and a sudden, suffocating pressure filled the air.

"STOP!"

Your voice cracked as you screamed, stepping between Gojo and your terrified friends.

"I’ll do whatever you say—just don’t hurt them."

"Now that’s more like it."

Before you could continue, his fingers curled around your wrist. In an instant, the entire world blurred. Your vision warped, colors streaking past like paint smeared across a canvas.

The scent of blood was gone. The sound of panicked screams had vanished.

A luxurious apartment stretched before you—elegant, modern, and eerily quiet. The furniture was pristine, as if no one truly lived here. The city skyline sparkled beyond massive glass windows, the view breathtakingly high.

Gojo let go of your wrist, stretching lazily. "There. Much better, right?"

Your body refused to move, still trapped in shock. "Where… where are we?"

"My place," he said simply, then smirked. "Well, your place too now."

"Why are you doing this?"

Gojo turned to face you fully.

"Because," he said, stepping closer, "I’ve been watching you for a while now, Y/N."

"And I decided…" His voice dipped into something softer, "You belong to me."

The air felt suffocating, heavy with an unsettling sweetness. You sat at an extravagant dining table, its surface decorated with candles, balloons, and an elegantly crafted birthday cake—one that you knew you hadn’t ordered.

Gojo sat across from you, grinning ear to ear, holding a golden paper crown between his fingers.

"Can’t have a birthday party without the birthday royalty, right?" he mused. Before you could avoid his presence, he reached forward and placed the crown on your head.

You forced a tight-lipped smile, though every fiber of your being was screaming.

Haru’s lifeless eyes flashed in your mind. The shattered wine bottle. The suffocating power that pressed down on your friends like they were nothing.

You had no choice.

Gojo clapped his hands together, eyes practically sparkling. "Alright! Time for the best part." He struck a match, lighting the candles one by one, the small flames flickering in the dimly lit room.

"Happy birthday to you~"

His voice was smooth, playful, but the way his eyes never left yours made the simple song feel like a curse.

"Happy birthday, dear Y/N~"

You swallowed hard, fingers clenching in your lap.

"Happy birthday to you."

Gojo leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "Go on, sweetheart. Make a wish."

A wish? The only thing you wanted right now was to get out of here—to be anywhere but in this suffocating, twisted version of a celebration.

But you knew better.

Taking a slow breath, you shut your eyes and pretended to make a wish before blowing out the candles. The flames flickered before vanishing, leaving behind only the scent of melting wax.

"Perfect!" He picked up a knife, effortlessly cutting into the cake. "You know, I really went all out for this," he rambled, carefully placing a slice onto a pristine plate. "I mean, it’s not easy planning a party when your special someone decides to have their own little get-together without you."

The knife pressed down harder, the blade sinking too deep into the cake, almost as if he was imagining something—or someone—else beneath it.

"But that’s okay," he continued, "I mean, misunderstandings happen, right? We just need to communicate more. Spend time together."

He set the plate in front of you, tilting his head with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Don’t you think so, Y/N?"

There was only one right answer.

"...Yes."

"That’s what I love about you," he said, sliding his own slice onto a plate before handing you a fork. "You’re so understanding."

As you forced yourself to take a bite, the sweetness of the cake felt like poison on your tongue.

The cake was soft, fluffy, and undoubtedly made with the finest ingredients. And yet, each bite felt like swallowing sand.

You forced yourself to chew, to keep your face neutral as Gojo continued to ramble—his words a mix of delusion and genuine adoration.

"See? Isn’t this nice?" he mused, twirling his fork between his fingers. "Just the two of us. No unnecessary distractions. No one getting in the way."

He was talking about Haru. About your friends. About anyone who dared to stand between you and him.

You had to try.

"You know," you started, carefully setting your fork down, "this… isn’t normal."

His brows lifted in amusement. "Oh?"

"You can’t just… take people like this. Kill people..." you said, your voice shaking slightly despite trying to stay calm. "This isn’t love. It’s obsession."

Gojo hummed, "Obsession… love… aren’t they kind of the same thing?"

"No," you said firmly. "They’re not."

For a moment, he said nothing, simply tilting his head as if pondering your words. Then, he chuckled. "You’re adorable when you try to sound logical, you know that?"

"But sweetheart…" His fingers brushed against yours, making you flinch. "If you really thought I was a monster, you wouldn’t still be sitting here with me."

"W-Well, what choice do I have?"

Gojo grinned, tapping a finger against his temple. "See? You do get it."

Carefully, you pushed your chair back, giving him an apologetic look. "I need to use the restroom."

Gojo pouted but waved you off. "Don’t take too long, okay?"

You nodded, making your way to the hallway. The moment you were out of sight, your mind raced.

Where even were you?

You had no idea what building this was, what floor you were on, or if there was even a way out. The windows had looked thick, possibly reinforced. Your phone was gone. No one knew where you were.

You needed to buy yourself time. If he suspected you were planning to escape, he’d make sure you never had the chance again.

Your eyes darted around the room—then landed on the mirror.

Desperate, you grabbed the edge of a small glass perfume bottle sitting on the counter and smashed it against the sink. A sharp shard clattered into your palm, and before you could second-guess yourself, you dragged it across your fingers.

Pain seared through your hand, crimson dripping onto the sink.

You clenched your teeth, steadying your breath.

Footsteps.

He was coming.

Quickly, you dropped the glass and stumbled against the counter just as the door creaked open.

Gojo stood in the doorway, "You sure took your time," he said, stepping closer. Then, his sharp gaze flickered to your hand.

"Y/N…"

"I-It was an accident. I—there was a glass bottle, and I—"

He grabbed your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the way his fingers trembled. He stared at the wound, his gaze flickering between suspicion and something… else that terrified you more than ever.

Silently, he pulled out a small first-aid kit from a drawer and began wrapping your fingers with careful precision.

"You're so clumsy"

When he finished, he lifted your bandaged hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your fingertips.

His gaze lifted, piercing blue eyes locking onto yours.

"...You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, sweetheart?"

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as Gojo’s lips lingered against your bandaged fingers. His question hung heavy in the air.

"O-Of course not. It was just an accident."

Gojo hummed, tilting his head slightly, as if deciding whether to believe you. Then, he smiled—a lazy, lopsided grin, but something about it felt sharper than before.

"Good." He finally released your hand and straightened up. "You should be more careful. I’d hate to see you hurt… At least, by anything other than me."

How do you escape?

You swallowed hard, keeping your face neutral as you followed him back into the main room. If you made one wrong move, one hint that you were planning something… you wouldn’t even get the chance to try.

You played along for the next hour, letting him talk, laughing softly at his jokes—even pretending to eat more cake. But as he kept talking, you subtly observed the apartment, noting every possible exit.

Your eyes flickered to the balcony.

It was high up—probably way too high to jump—but maybe there was a way down. A ledge, a fire escape, anything.

You just had to get to it.

The opportunity came when Gojo stretched his arms with a lazy yawn. "Man, all this talking is making me thirsty." He glanced toward the kitchen. "Want something to drink?"

You hesitated, then nodded. "Water, please."

Gojo smirked, ruffling your hair. "So polite~" He disappeared into the kitchen.

The moment he was out of sight, you darted toward the balcony, your heartbeat slamming against your ribs. Your fingers fumbled with the lock before finally yanking the door open. Cold air rushed against your skin as you stepped out.

No fire escape. No ledge. Just a sheer drop.

No. No, there had to be something—

"Sweetheart."

Slowly, you turned your head.

Gojo stood in the doorway, a glass of water in one hand. His blindfold was back on, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze.

For the first time since you met him, his smile was gone.

"…What exactly do you think you’re doing?"

Your mouth went dry.

Your body screamed at you to run, but where? There was nowhere to go. If you stepped off this balcony, you'd fall to your death. But if you stayed—

Gojo sighed, stepping closer, setting the glass down on a table. "You know, I really thought we were making progress"

In a blink, he was in front of you.

"Are you scared of me, Y/N?" he asked softly.

Your throat tightened. "Shouldn’t I be?"

Gojo was silent for a moment. Then, he exhaled, pulling you closer until your forehead almost touched his chest.

"That hurts."

"But it’s okay," he continued, stroking your hair as if to soothe you. "I can be patient. You’ll learn to love me eventually."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Let’s go back inside," he whispered. "You must be cold."

No.

If you went back in, you knew you’d never get another chance.

Your body moved before your mind could catch up.

With every ounce of strength you had, you jerked out of his grip and threw yourself over the balcony railing.

The wind roared in your ears.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you were falling.

And then—

Everything stopped.

You didn’t hit the ground.

You didn’t even get the chance to scream.

Because the moment gravity tried to take you, he took you back.

You were back on the balcony, your body hanging limply in his arms.

Gojo sighed, pressing your trembling form against him. "Wow," he mused, voice eerily light. "You really were gonna do it, huh?"

You couldn’t speak.

Your entire body shook violently, still trapped in the lingering horror of the fall that never happened.

"That wasn’t very nice, sweetheart," he murmured. "You scared me."

You knew he wasn’t scared. If anything, he seemed amused—disappointed, even, like a parent watching their child throw a tantrum.

His arms tightened around you. "Guess I’ll have to be a little stricter now, huh?"

The last thing you remembered from that night was his line

"I’ll fix this, don’t worry."

A dull ache throbbed at the back of your head as you crouched up from your position.

You blinked slowly, your vision swimming as the ceiling above you came into focus.

You tried to move—only to hear the unmistakable clank of metal.

The door soon opened and Gojo stepped inside.

"Good morning, sweetheart." His tone was too bright—too cheerful for someone who had just chained you up like an animal.

You trembled, trying to pull at the restraints. "Let me go—"

"Let you go?" he repeated. Then, in a heartbeat, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand gripping your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, "After what you just pulled?"

His thumb brushed against your lower lip.

"You belong to me now."

Gojo smiled, "And don’t worry~" His lips brushed against your forehead, making you freeze.

"I have all the time in the world to make sure you understand that."

[stevie-petey]

could we see what a valentine’s day between bug and steve would look like? love your writing sm!!

anon i need u to know that for some reason it never clicked in my brain that steve and bug were happy and together during valentines day ,,, like i gasped when i read this i cannot believe i didnt think about their silly lil first valentines day together </3

enjoy !

"steve?" you set your keys on his banister, the clatter of metal against granite echoes in the empty house.

all the lights are off and you frown. steve had invited you over earlier, calling you while you were catching up on some readings at home. the lazy saturday had been enjoyable and needed, but the ring of your landline always warms your chest with the knowledge of who will be on the other side.

"come over, angel."

and you did.

but steve doesnt greet you at the door like he always does. there isnt anyone to pepper kisses across your nose and cheeks and grab you with warm hands. the house is empty and you call out for steve again.

"hello?"

you saw steves car in the driveway, so you know hes home, but still the house remains quiet. frown deepening, you wander through the hall, confused as to where your boyfriend has gone.

the kitchen is a mess when you walk through it. the counter is streaked with the white powder of flour and the sink is practically overflowing with dishes stained with what you can only imagine is muddy dough.

theres a faint scent of something sweet and familiar that surrounds you. the tension in your face lessens and your lips turn up into a smile when you see a trail of scattered chocolate chips.

the oven is still warm from use and you shake your head fondly when you see globs of glitter and icing smeared all over the appliances knobs.

"oh, honey," a small laugh, fond and loving. "whatd you do to this poor kitchen?"

though steve doesnt answer, and though you dont know where he is and you cant see his face you love so effortlessly, you can feel the shift in the air when he smiles at your honey coated words.

you make your way into the living room and its there that you find a nest of pillows and blankets strewn against the floor. the long leather couch is pressed upon the wall, clearing the way for the excess of soft material and feathered pillows, and in the middle of it all is steve.

he sits on the blankets, wearing an old sweater that he stole from your closet months ago, looking soft and inviting and endearing as he holds up a tray of what you can only imagine are cookies. theyre misshapen and inconsistent in size and covered in glitter and too much icing and youre so infatuatedly in love.

"hi, angel." steves face is red from the heat of the oven and from the heat of your love and his honeyed eyes watch as you slowly sit in front of him.

"and what are these?" you giggle slightly, pointing at the tray he holds.

"world famous y/n henderson cookies, obviously." steve grabs one, brings it to your lips and presses against them gently. "want a bite?"

your lips open and the sweet tart of chocolate and raisins coat your tongue. the cookie is still warm, soft and gooey and tasting of home.

"im impressed, harrington." you say between bites. steve continues to feed you, gazing at you lovingly as he does so, tender and soft and lovely. "i can hardly taste the pound of icing youve drenched my recipe in."

the deep chuckle that arises from his chest sets your skin on fire.

"why dont you take a look at the icing, dummy."

you look at steve curiously, and he nods his head down at the cookies. his eyes are eager, anticipating something from you. taking a final bite, you look down.

be my valentine?

the writing is hard to read and the icing drips obscenely down the sides of the cookies each letter is written on and theres so much glitter that you almost cant see the words before you.

but you do.

and a startled, love sick laugh tumbles from your throat and into the air. "oh my god."

"a work of art, dont you think?" steve is smiling so wide that his cheeks are tinged pink. "i mean, i really think i outdid myself with this one."

"youre-" you have to bite your lip, smiling too much to even speak.

"im...?" steve leans close, tongue poking his cheek as his own excessive smile overtakes his body. "really hoping you say 'valentine' here."

you hiccup a laugh, tears in your eyes and body saturated and in love. "of course youre my valentine, honey."

"thank god," steve pops a cookie into his mouth, chewing loud and crudely like a teenage boy. "otherwise i bought all this glitter for nothing-"

he only has mere seconds to put down the tray of cookies before your lips are on his. sugar laces the kiss. hands clutch steves sweater as you pull him in closer and closer and closer.

"i love you," he sighs against your mouth, and youre drowning again.

"i love you too," and still he isnt close enough, but you have all night.

“COME HOME” BLURB MASTERLIST

if you’d like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

[goodeapple]

blue snowflakes (modern hotd, xmas edition ... daddy!aemond x oc)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC) but there's no overt incest in this one, you're welcome, normies

warnings : MDNI. ngl, this one is fluffy and tender as FUCK (too much christmas cheer me thinks). however, unprotected sex, sexual use of the word "daddy", Aemond's usual breeding kink, and way too many bad dad jokes lie ahead.

word count : 6,000+

note : merry christmas and happy holidays to all you lovely people. ty for such an amazing year. here's a little thank you from me to you. xx

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7:10. He finishes up a report that isn't expected until the first, the tap of his fingers anxiously loud on the keyboard. 7:15. He stokes the wood in the fireplace, warming his hands in front of the flames, his leg bouncing with restless energy. 7:28. He drains his whiskey glass and the burn licks down his throat before raging into his belly.

They should be here by now. Aemond does not freak out. That's not who he is- the grip he holds on his emotions never waivers. But as the time ticks and tocks on and he remains alone in his flat, his nerves start to sizzle until they singe. 

At 7:48, a frenzied knock on the door has Aemond moving across the floor in four long strides. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, the roads were God awful, took us an hour to get down Main." Ysilla stands shivering as he rips it open. She stomps her Uggs for almost dramatic effect, the ice sticking to the boots melting in the warmth of the hallway. Aemond releases a slow and steady breath, the tight fist of anxiety in his chest loosening. The little thing holding strong to Ysilla's gloved hand is a marshmallow puff of bubblegum pink goosefeather down, her jacket done up to her muff covered ears. 

"Daddy, Daddy!" Dany shrieks, uncaring of the obvious chill that polishes the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose into a cherry red glow. She releases her mother's hand, dashing forward before almost immediately tumbling over her own feet and eating it in the foyer. 

Aemond catches his daughter without blinking, hauling her onto his hip and pressing a strong kiss into her temple. "Hello, my little dragon." A piece of him notches into place and suddenly, his eyes are brighter and his posture less stiff, his head clear and heart beating fonder. His beautiful Daenerys. 

He gestures Ysilla in and she nods her thanks, unravelling her spun scarf from her neck and toeing off her soaked shoes. Her own cheeks are burnt from the cold, her fine, fawn skin accepting the rosiness like an expensive blush. 

"You drove?" He asks his ex, his tone sharper than he wishes but he still means it. It's fucking gnarly outside and she decided tonight of all nights was the one to take a joyride?

Ysilla rolls her eyes, moving down the hall to the front room, speaking to him over her shoulder. "Yes, Aemond, we drove. I know how to do that."

He thought he fucked that attitude out of her a long time ago, but they haven't been together in awhile. Things change. 

"Where the hell is Erryk?" He sets Dany onto her feet, half listening and humming as his daughter rattles off every thought that pops into her head, leaving behind her a trail of winter wear she peels off that is every color of the pastel rainbow. 

Ysilla sniffs, her eyes roaming critically over his decorations. His assistant picked them out, and it's like she can smell it.

"It's Christmas, Aemond, I gave him the week off." 

Aemond doesn't growl but it's quite close. "I don't pay him to take a week off, Ysilla, I pay him to make sure my girls get to where they need to be safely." 

The glare she pins him with is colder than the wind howling outside. Aemond winces. He knows better than to let that shit slip. Ysilla will take a chunk out of him for saying things like that in front of Daenerys. It gives her false hope that Mummy and Daddy are getting back together, Aemond. She'd said. That had fucking stung. That was right after they separated, the echo of her loss (in their bed, in their flat, in his life) still disorienting him. His days blurred into one long line of droll goings until he at last got to see Dany again. 

"What's done is done, Aemond. I apologized for being late. Now drop it." 

She uses her mum tone and it's effective as all hell. Aemond bites his tongue and waves his metaphorical white flag, rubbing at the back of his neck briskly. Ysilla exhales deeply and lets the defensive line of her shoulders drop. She rummages through her bag, a Birkin he bought her for their first anniversary, and pulls out a long white envelope. 

"She wrote a note to Santa that neither you or I are to read, alright? We're supposed to leave it by the fireplace, next to Santa's cookies, and not peek. Right, Dany love?" Ysilla recites, tossing the sealed note onto the kitchen counter. Dany nods, bobblehead like, and smiles her big missmatched grin, baby teeth missing like blacked out windows in a building. Aemond chuckles, nodding seriously when his daughter shoots him a barbed look. 

"Daddy, it's important! We can't forget, okay?!" 

"Of course, Princess, don't fret. Daddy will make sure all goes well." Aemond ducks down to lock gazes with his daughter, wanting to ensure that she knows her feelings are heard. Ysilla laughs, so softly he almost misses it. She claps her hands once and father and daughter's eyes lock onto her intently. 

"Okay my love, are you all set? You have Frostfire and your letter is safe. Your Angelina Ballerina jammies are in your pack and so is blankie. Are we missing anything?" Ysilla picks at nonexistent lint at the cuff of her cashmere sweater, her fingers twitching along the fine fabric. Aemond gets it- this part is the worst, without fail. 

"Mumma, stay." Dany whispers, moving forward to clutch at Ysilla's sleeve with tiny, pleading fingers. His ex sighs and the sound rattles from her throat as it moves past the dense ball of emotion there. 

"Baby girl, come now, I'll see you next week. We'll go to Nana and Grandpa's and ring in the new year together. All of your cousins will be there too. Doesn't that sound like fun?" 

Dany keeps quiet, her chin drooping down to her chest, her midnight sprigs of bouncing curls curtaining her face from her parents. Ysilla settles on her knees, shrinking down in order to keep her daughter's focus. 

"And you're spending Christmas with Daddy. And Auntie Helaena told me she'll be here with you tomorrow. And so will- oh rūs, don't cry, it's okay." She coos, swiping away her daughter's tears with gentle thumbs. 

Aemond swallows thickly, squatting behind Dany and shrugging her out of her Bluey backpack. He bought it for her last month, going against the agreement he'd made with Silla to not buy her any presents so close to the holiday but shit, he couldn't help himself. She's his only baby- and it's not like he's expecting to have another with anyone any time soon. 

Dany sniffles, her voice gentler than a baby bird's chirp. "But but Mummy, you'll be alone." 

Between Ysilla's eyebrows crease and she blinks rapidly, the whites of her eyes illuminating with tears. Aemond wants to reach out, squeeze her hand, her knee, cup her cheek… but he doesn't do any of that. He isn't allowed to anymore. 

"I'll be okay, sweet pea. Mummy promises." Ysilla presses their foreheads together, dusting butterfly kisses all over her girl's face. Within seconds, Dany's weeping turns to giggles, to full belly laughter after Ysilla starts to press obnoxious wet smooches anywhere she can reach. The sunshine smile that bursts over Ysilla's face steals Aemond's breath away. 

"Bye baby."

"Bye baby." Dany parrots back, smothering herself into her mother's neck, her tiny arms lassoing around her tightly. Ysilla squeezes her back just as fiercely, refusing to be the first to break away. Dany finally relents, fists rubbing at her eyes, before shuffling to the couch to sit. Ysilla's legs shake as she stands and Aemond ghosts a hand over the small of her back in a quiet comfort. 

The parents take their cue to give their daughter some space and start to work their way out of the room. 

"You know I don't mind if you stay. Not going to be doing much but lounging around and eating too much sugary shit. You can have your old bedroom back. I'll even clear out a drawer for you." He can be funny when he wants to be, all earlier unpleasantries forgiven and forgotten. Ysilla lets him lift her spirits, her wobbly grin the best Christmas gift he could ask for. 

"The sock drawer was never the issue, Aem… it was the hair care drawer." He snorts as she giggles, tickled pink by her own joke. They reach the front door and he imagines the feeling he gets here is similar to greeting the edge of the plank. 

"Anyways, I have a hot date with a bubble bath and a bottle of Myrish rum- I can't cancel that again." It's not the best excuse, especially because her eyes are still glassy with emotion, but Aemond won't take a mile from his given inch. 

Ysilla turns to face him after throwing one last look down the hall. An eyelash has drifted to freckle her cheekbone, the bat of her lashes no doubt stirring it loose and Aemond doesn't think before he cradles her cheek, his thumb sweeping it away. He drops his hand as quickly as he'd raised it, the warmth flowing from her skin too enticing to trust himself with. 

She hesitates then, for a moment, before tiptoeing up and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. She braces her palm on the curve of his bicep and she squeezes at the muscle, and he presses into her as close as she'll allow. Her voice is softer than snowfall at his ear. "Merry Christmas, Aemond." 

He turns his head just so, and he brushes his lips at her temple, the same way he'd greeted Dany. His words from before echo like the groaning ghost of Christmas past. His girls. "Merry Christmas, Sill."

He holds the door for her, watching her walk out of his life yet again and definitely doesn't get an eyeful of her ass as she goes.

He shuts and bolts it, and how pathetic is it that he has to dig his nails into the doorframe to stop from chasing after her and giving his best Love, Actually airport reunion kiss in the elevator. He thumps his forehead against the wood. He wonders if he'll stop loving her sometime soon, because three years apart has done fuck all for healing his broken heart and it sucks. Aemond stops feeling sorry for himself long enough to look back into the flat. Dany stands alone at the end of the hallway, Frostfire, her ratty stuffed dragon she's had since birth, clutched by the wing in her fist and swinging by her side. Her giant ice blue eyes pierce through him, and the sad small frown on her lips matches his. God, this never gets any easier.

"Come on, baby girl." His daughter tucks her hand into his as he leads them to the sterling white marble kitchen. 

He makes it good, special he hopes. They press shapes into the sugar cookie dough, and then frost the somewhat recognizable snowflakes once they've baked and cooled. He makes her cocoa, begrudgingly adding more marshmallows after being suckered by her pouting face, but he doesn't truly mind. There's not one memory he has of doing any of this with his dad, and he'll be damned if Daenerys ever thinks for even one moment that he wouldn't want to be anywhere rather than right here, with her. He'd give her a cereal bowl of marshmallows if he didn't know that she'd puke them back up after her sugar rush would fizzle out. 

They crash onto the couch eventually, the sun long since set, the view from this high up making all of the far and distant lights twinkle like gleaming stars. 

They're watching a movie, the one with the bratty kid who gets left behind by his family when they leave for Paris. It makes Aemond's mind hit the snooze button but Dany giggles every time one of the Wet Bandits gets hurt, so he relents and just enjoys having her here with him. 

 A tepid knock at the door is nearly lost to him, a particularly gusty wind shaking the triple pane windows something awful, but it sounds again and Aemond frowns. He's not expecting anyone, certainly not on Christmas Eve. He wraps the throw blanket tighter around Dany as he leaves their nest, and jogs down the hall. 

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming." He says, loud enough to quiet the knocker from sounding again. He doesn't bother with the peephole, unlatching the deadbolt and pulling the door open with more than a little annoyance. 

Ysilla stands stockstill, doing her best to place first in a snowman lookalike contest, so many white specks of snow littering her dark strands that she nearly matches Aemond's icy coloring. 

"I tried, there's no way I can drive back home in that. Had to leave my car on the street, snow's too thick to get through."

"Jesus, Sill, you're like a fuckin' ice cube." Aemond all but yanks her inside, wincing at the freezing sting of her skin.

"Want me to call you an Uber?" That's the last fucking thing he wants, but he'd move mountains for her, even if it's in the direction opposite of him.

Ysilla shakes her head in the negative, her teeth chattering so hard that the clinking sounds like it hurts. "I tried- nothing's available. Not even with surge pricing, fuck's sake."

Aemond falls silent, grabbing a towel from the linen closet and pressing it into her trembling hands. She gives him an appreciative look and starts to dry her damp hair. 

"Mummy stay?" Tink tink tink, like a bell, Daenerys' voice floats down the hall, her head hanging over the edge of the couch to stare at her parents with a marvelously mischievous smile. 

Ysilla glances up at him, apprehension bright in her lavender eyes. He's still so close, he can smell the jasmine misted over her skin. Their sheets used to be soaked in it, a calling card she'd leave him with anytime she had to travel. He misses her so much, it makes his teeth ache, so who is he to question a Christmas miracle?

"Mummy stay." Aemond declares, stepping behind Ysilla to tug her coat off. He's selfish in his chivalry and he lets his thumbs trail down her arms as he undresses her, and he'd pay good money to know if her shiver is from the cold or his touch. 

Dany jumps to her feet, bouncing on the couch and screaming at the top of her lungs, "Yay! Mummy stays, Mummy stays!" 

.

Aemond pulls the glass doors shut on the fireplace, watching drowsily as the glowing embers snuff out to a chilly charcoal grey. It's late, close to midnight, time lost somewhere between Elf and The Polar Express. He stands, wincing as his knees crack and pop and goes to sit on the arm of the couch. 

Enjoying the quiet, he gazes upon his girls. Wrapped up in each other, Ysilla and Dany are passed out and have been for at least an hour. After he'd gotten some food in Sill, he'd all but tucked the girls in together, listening to Dany happy chitter until she finally knocked out, sprawled on her mother's chest and nestled into her father's side. 

Not wanting to wake her but knowing her back will thank him for it later, Aemond shakes Ysilla's ankle gently. She stirs, blinking slow and heavy before she spots him, and Aemond has to swallow past the lump in his throat. That look had gotten them into trouble many times before- in the back of a limo on the way to an art gala, on a beach lounger while they holidayed on the Orange Shore, when they first toured this flat and he decided they should christen the kitchen island. Good times. 

Let's put her to bed. He mouths, not ready to break the stillness of the moment. Ysilla nods, flexing her arms around their sleeping child and starts to untangle their legs. 

Aemond rises, hovering over them and tucking his hands into Dany's armpits to lift her into his chest. She's getting too big. She's got to stop growing before Aemond has a mental breakdown over dating and prom dresses while she's still in nursery school. 

"Mumma, Daddy…" She's still asleep, her lashes fanning over her rosy cheeks and hair a moppy mess. Aemond rubs her back and Ysilla trails along next to him, brushing their daughter's curls out of her face. 

"Sleep now, my angel. It's almost Christmas. And when you wake up, Santa will have visited and left you something special."

"And read my letter?"

"And read your letter." Ysilla promises, pressing a lovely kiss to her forehead. She stays behind in the doorway, letting Aemond clear the pink frilly bed of a million stuffed animals before sliding Dany beneath the sheets. He clicks on her firefly nightlight and tucks Frostfire in beside her. 

"Sweet dreams, dōna hāedar." He's not a crier but he feels the salty sting in his nose. She's his one constant, his daughter, his heir. He'll never be more thankful for Ysilla than when she ignored her lawyer's advice and decided to split 50/50 custody. Losing her nearly killed him, if his daughter would've been lost to him too? Aemond's not sure he could've survived. He departs after a few more peaceful moments, clicking her door shut softly behind him. 

He stretches, a pleased groan escaping him as he heads back to the living room. The couch is empty and in a brief moment of dumbstruck panic, he wonders if Ysilla seized her opportunity and left. He knows she's happy to be here with Dany, but he also accepts that she's not happy to be here with him. 

The faucet flipping on in the kitchen snuffs out his dread and he follows the sound like it's a siren song. Ysilla washes their mugs methodically, her too long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. He'd given her one of his hoodies to dethaw in, and the emerald tone against her complexion makes him hungry. She finishes, turning the cups upside down on the drying rack before she towels off her hands. The smile she wears when she catches sight of him may be small, but it's genuine. 

"Hey."

Aemond grins, a puppy given attention, his metaphorical tail wagging wildly. "Hey. Sad you missed out on your rum soaked bubble bath?" 

Ysilla snorts, rolling her eyes at him good naturedly. "No, not at all. This was… nice. This was all very nice." She swallows hard, rolling down her sleeves so that they dip past her fingers again. "I enjoyed every second of it." 

"So did I. It was like old times." 

Ysilla grins, leaning her elbows on the counter. The only light in the whole flat is from the Christmas tree, the soft gold gleam painting the room alive with merriment. 

"We practically lived on that couch when Dany was born, you remember?"

Aemond smirks, relishing in the memory. He treads into the kitchen, closing the distance between them as naturally as he can. 

"It was closer to the food. And more spacious than the bedroom. It was an easy choice." 

Ysilla laughs at his recollection, an easy laugh that he always celebrated getting out of her. He hopes Dany will laugh like her, be joyous like her. Aemond doesn't have much of that gene to pass on.  

"You look good, Aemond." She gives him an up/down, and there's not enough light in here to tell if she's blushing. He gives her one back, taking his time on her legs and the curve of her thighs before the rest of her frame is swallowed up by his clothes.

"You do too, Sill."

She huffs, pinning him with a faux annoyed glare. "Are you going to agree with everything I say?" 

"Oh absolutely." Aemond deadpans, leaning in closer before giving her his cheekiest grin. 

Ysilla cranes her head back so she can keep their eyes connected, but she ends up breaking first, staring at something above him with a somewhat startled look. 

"Mistletoe…" She trails off, almost too quiet to catch. Aemond looks above him and sighs. 

"New assistant decorated. She has a thing for the doorman that lets her in here. Maybe she was trying to get lucky." 

He dismisses the hovering green foliage as quick as he'd noticed it but when he looks back to Ysilla, she's still staring. Transfixed, eyes twinkling. 

"Isn't it bad luck? To not…" He wonders if she can't bring herself to voice it aloud. To not kiss? Before tonight, they've barely been in the same room for more than thirty minutes in the last three years. Slipping each other the tongue is most likely a step way past their invisible boundary. 

Aemond steps closer and they're toe to toe. Ysilla's eyes snap to his and the gulp she takes is damn near audible. He wraps a stray curl behind her ear, hand drifting over to cup the soft edge of her cheek. He presses his thumb under her chin, making her raise her lips to nearly brush against his. He stares into her eyes, the drip of the faucet thunderous, and bends down. He kisses her forehead, eyes closed and his nose burrowing into her fringe, committing her floral pheromone to his memory. He stays there, listening to the labored breaths rise and fall in her chest, and soaks in the moment. 

He has to leave because if he doesn't, he'll start something he's not sure Ysilla will be able to stomach in the bright light of day. Like pulling teeth, he steps back, purposefully (shamefully) avoiding her beseeching eyes. He mumbles a goodnight, lips burning and craving another taste as he turns to exit.

He's spun back around by a firm hand twisting him by his sweater. Ysilla yanks him down to her level, his back pressing into the counter, and she slides her lips over his. A puppet on a string for her and her alone, Aemond's arms circle round her waist and he crushes her to him. It's as good as their first- no, better. He knows every spot that makes her sigh, she can find each nerve to set him off. It's as easy as breathing, when they're together and he lets himself enjoy it all.

Ysilla breaks away and she's breathing much harder than she was before. "Now that's a proper kiss." She whispers and he feels her lips perk up in a silly little grin that he doesn't see, because his mouth finds hers again and he loses himself in her.

He lifts her and she goes gracefully into his arms, winding her legs around his waist. He needs to get them somewhere they could go horizontal, wishful thinking and all that. He guides them to the couch, throwing himself down on it and pulling her in as close as space will permit. She settles on his lap, her leggings and his joggers doing nothing to conceal the massive hard-on that spells out her name. 

"And what do you want for Christmas this year, little girl?" Swiss, gouda, cheddar. The line is so cheesy but Aemond feels inspired by the holiday fair. That, and he's been bricked since she put on his clothes. He wants to get her naked as soon as possible and if he can fast track that by way of a stupid joke that's right up her alley, he can live with that. 

She nibbles at his earlobe before slithering her tongue up the shell of his ear. Her lips tickle the cartilage as she whispers and it makes him shiver. "I really want to make a joke about Santa's sack right now." 

"Christ, Ysilla." Aemond groans, letting an exasperated laugh bubble out of his chest. This is so his fault. 

"You know I'm funny." She cradles his face, angling his head to the side so that she can lick and bite at his neck. 

"Maybe. But what I do know for sure… is that you're the most stunning woman I've ever been blessed to see. And you are a magnificent mother to our daughter. And you were a phenomenal partner to me…" Aemond braces himself, a glutton for punishment. "And I fucked that up royally, didn't I?" 

He feels Ysilla frown and she straightens, sliding back to sit on his knees rather than on his dick. "Aemond, you know that's not what happened." 

He hmms noncommittally, mourning the route that they both steered away from. Sex over feelings is usually a no brainer for any man but this is a conversation that he needs to have. And from the way Ysilla's eyes dim down to a sad hue, it's one she needs to have too. 

"We're not together right now because I couldn't, how did you phrase it? 'Get my head out of my ass and straighten out my priorities'? Yeah, you hit the nail on the head there, baby. It was my fault." 

"That wasn't fair to you. I could've tried harder. I was so stressed after Dany was born, I didn't feel like myself. Didn't start feeling like myself again until nearly a year ago." She picks up his hand and she cradles it between both of her own, stroking at the rough rise of his knuckles. 

"If you're feeling like yourself again, does that mean you're seeing someone?" 

Ysilla looks like she wants to hit him and Aemond thinks he should let her. 

"Of course not, why would you even ask that?" 

"You seem happier as of late- or, at least that's what Dany says. Couldn't help but think it might be because of someone new." The thought makes him want to chew glass but he has to ask. He's got to prepare himself for another year of the only girl in his life being a pint-sized princess that demands he plays pony anytime they go to the park. 

"We're separated, Aem. Not divorced." She rolls her eyes and the expression she aims at him spells out duh.

"You're a catch, Sill. Any fucker would be lucky to have you. Plus, it's been three years. I wouldn't be angry if you explored something new." Liar, liar. 

"Yeah, three years where I was focusing on what was best for me and Dany. And that certainly wasn't a new lover." 

Aemond wants to dance a fucking jig in absolute glee but he suppresses it. "So… no one?"

"No one." Ysilla looks at him like she's afraid to ask the next question. "You?"

"There's no one but you. Never has been." The words flow out of him as if they'd lived on the tip of his tongue his whole life. 

She exhales, a long, heavy breath of relief before the most brilliant smile blooms on her mouth. Aemond feels lighter than a fucking feather, his own smile pulling tightly at his lips before they find their way back to one another, licking and lapping into each others' mouths. 

He rolls his hips up, selfish in his desire, and rubs his entire shaft up the hot line of her clothed snatch.

Ysilla tsks, biting his lip and wagging her finger in his face. "Un-uh, wrap it up, big boy."

"Thought you liked it when I go raw." He squeezes her hips, his thumbs tugging at the edge of her waistband. He dips below the elastic, stroking the hot, smooth skin over her hip bones. She rocks forward, a gasp slipping from her mouth as her covered center brushes at his tented cock. "You always came harder when I didn't wear a rubber."

She doesn't deny it, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him back to her mouth. Between kisses, she whispers, "Proof of that is dreaming of sugar plum fairies as we speak." 

Aemond hums around her tongue, pulling away to kiss across her jaw. "Y'know, only children always end up weird." 

Ysilla scoffs, leaning away and raising a fine dark brow at him. 

"I'm kidding." Aemond smiles, brash and bright, pressing an apologetic peck to her chin. 

"No you're not." She groans, widening her thighs as he starts to pull her leggings down. His heart is beating so fast, he can feel his pulse jumping in his neck. His hands worship the skin he bares, stroking her fine, supple softness. He gets her pants past her knees before he loses his patience and decides that's good enough. 

He shoves past his waistband, palming at his stiff shaft before pulling himself free. His cock springs up, weeping head finding her silk covered hole like a dart to a bullseye. His clever fingers hook around the crotch of her panties, pulling them to the side, his knuckles dragging across her wet lips like a ghost of a kiss. He will be eating out at some point tonight, lord willing. 

"You're right, I'm not… I want a boy." He slips the tip inside of her, just enough to get a taste of the warmth of her pussy. 

Their eyes lock and they don't break as Ysilla sinks down onto every rigid inch of his prick. Aemond's jaw drops, stupid to the pleasure of her steaming, slick cunt wrapping around him in such an embrace. It takes her a minute, wincing and whimpering as she goes until finally they're flush, thigh to thigh. 

"That's my girl, takin' it all." Aemond croons, palm finding the back of her neck and thumb stroking just under her hairline. That lights her fire, Ysilla gyrating in smooth figure eights, finding a rhythm that has both of them biting their lips to keep from shouting. 

"Fucckkkk, I missed this." Ysilla pants, head thrown back in absolute ecstasy. She doesn't skip a beat, riding his cock like she'd never left it. "I missed you. You feel so good, holy hell." 

Aemond spreads his knees further apart, letting her spread herself out, reaching deeper in her than before as a result. Ysilla bounces in his lap, the lights on the tree behind her haloing her into something festively angelic. She's some divine dream and Aemond will kill any man who dares to wake him. 

A sharp, high whine brays from Ysilla's throat and Aemond's hand slaps over her mouth roughly. 

"Easy sweetheart, you can't wake Dany up."

Ysilla moves her head back, Aemond's hand slipping away until she ducks forward and swallows two of his fingers. The wet, wiggly muscle of her tongue slides over his digits sloppily, soaking them in her saliva and reminding him exactly how she used to win every fight they would have. She sucks once more, letting him feel the strong flex of her mouth before she pulls off.  

"Then put something in my mouth to shut me up."

He kisses her, long and hard, before retreating and whispering at her swelling lips. "I'm not pulling out of this pussy, Silli girl." 

Ysilla's breath stutters, hips hitching as he shifts just right, her channel fluttering around him in tempo with her heartbeat. 

"Mmmmm, then shove my face into a pillow so I can scream for you."

The way Aemond maneuvers her without pulling out is honestly impressive. Face down, ass up, he manages to rid her of her leggings and knickers, baring all of her silky skin for him to gaze upon. She's got a phenomenal ass, backshots with her used to drive him mad. 

Taking full advantage of their new position, he sets a brutal pace, sliding in harsh and deep, his grip on her hips unyielding. When he pulls out, he lets himself miss the mark, gliding his cock between her puffy folds, his slit slithering up to kiss her clit. 

Ysilla gasps for air, pushing away the pillow she'd been smothering herself with. "That's it, that's it, yeah. Pound my pussy, Daddy." 

It's been a long time since they've played this game but without fail, Aemond's cock jerks in interest and his mouth floods with saliva. He's famished, he's fucking starving, and they only thing that can satiate him is the woman he made a mother. 

"Mmmm, this all for daddy? Makin' a mess on my lap, leavin' a puddle on my couch?" His voice has dropped, the rumble of it pulsing from his chest. His thrusts hit harder, punishing in a way that's similar to a spank on the rear.

"Yes, fuck, I've been wet since I put your hoodie on." Speaking of, she's still wearing it, the Oldtown High logo on the back faded and peeling. Aemond pushes it up to her shoulders until it bunches at the back of her neck. His big hands span the curve of her ribs until he finds himself a handful of her tits and kneads the heavy flesh. 

He can't fuck her like he wants to when their baby is sleeping in the next room, but he gets as close as he can. 

"Your body wants me, love. Couldn't pull out even if I fuckin' wanted to." He strokes at her belly, caressing the place she'd grown their girl. "I think she wants one more." He plants a kiss between her shoulder blades, her skin fucking blistering with heat. 

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!" She throws her ass back on him, fucking him in earnest until she can't abuse that spongy spot inside of her any longer. She freezes, muscles trembling and fists clenching, the poor throw pillow being shredded by her teeth, until her body goes lax, and the vice grip around Aemond's cock loosens. 

His balls draw up, the edge of his spine burning in need, and he curses with gritted teeth. "Christ, Sill, tell me to pull out. Tell me baby, make me." She's the only one that gets to see him like this- unraveled at the seams and flying apart, unable to control himself when presented with the object of all of his fantasies.

"Mmmm no, so warm," she slurs, her cheek smushed against the couch cushion. She wiggles back against him, a sinful invitation to grab hold and let go. "Fill me up, Aem. Give me your load, come on." 

"Fuck yesss." He hisses, obeying as commanded, pistoning in and out of her pretty cunt before he's a goner, grunting as he cums deep in her greedy womb. 

He slouches on top of her bonelessly, the aftershocks stinging through his entire lower half, his breaths choppy and uneven until the wave retreats, and the feeling comes back to his toes. He slumps to his side, rolling off of her, yanking up his joggers and tossing a throw over Ysilla's alluring backside. 

His wife props her head up on her hand, staring at him with a sated, sleepy expression. 

"Santa came early this year." 

Aemond doesn't react except to say, "If that's a cum joke, I'm kicking you out." 

She breathes out a laugh, shoving at his shoulder. "No you perv, I meant my Christmas wish. It came true."

Aemond smiles, every bit of him happy to sink into the couch while watching her talk. 

"Care to share?" 

Ysilla blushes, as if she didn't just get creampied. 

"I wished for a really good orgasm, preferably with my baby daddy." She plays footsie with him, looping her ankle around his calf and ushering him closer. "Also, I wished for multiple. As many as he's willing to give me. Just so you know."

He kisses her because he can and because he missed doing so. He lurches forward until she's underneath him, their hands going to the other's shirts and ridding them of the suffocating material. 

"Ho ho ho, baby mama."

.

They both keep their word and don't read the letter, tossing it into the lit fire the next morning before Dany stumbles out and screeches Happy Christmas! to her poor, sleep deprived parents. 

The flames eat the careful, crooked scrawl in seconds but the words seem to have manifested to life as Dany watches her mother and father blush every time they bump into one another. 

Dear Mr. Claus,

I know I wrote you a letter last week but I have changed my mind. Please tell your elves to forget the dolly. What I truly want is for my Mummy and Daddy to be back together. They smile more when they're together, and I do too. This is my one Christmas wish and I will be very very very sad if it does not come true, so please try real hard, okay? Okay. Thanks alot alot. I wish you the best of luck with everything! 

PS: If you happen to have a spare dolly in your bag, I won't say no to it. 

Love, 

Daenerys Aemma Targaryen

.

.

.

rūs . baby

dōna hāedar . sweet girl

[mysteria157]

Unsteady Ground

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light angst, just fluffy but scarred Post-Shibuya Nanami

WC: ~2.1k

Summary: 

Nanami gets more than what he bargained for with the kind receptionist who checks him in for his weekly appointments.

Notes: Hello! Been thinking about Nanami if he was still injured but survived the Shibuya Incident and this is just one of many little thoughts I've had. Hoping to write more soon!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @awenise

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Come Say Hi!

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

What was he thinking?

Nanami Kento prides himself on his self-awareness—a man who can map out his strengths and weaknesses like well-worn territories on a battle-scarred map. He’s the epitome of controlled courage, a figure who could march into dank, shadow-filled alleys and pungent sewage tunnels, his fear compressed into a hard knot beneath his ribs, as he methodically tracked and exorcised curses with cold efficiency. 

So this is new. It has to be.

What was he thinking?

He was thinking about you.

You, who he first saw through a haze of discomfort at the reception desk during his initial therapy appointment. His eye patch itched against his brow, a constant reminder of Dagon’s domain and the razor-sharp fish-like teeth that sunk into his flesh. The burns on his left side stretched tight beneath layers of Mederma a constant, throbbing presence. He felt raw, exposed, his mind a blender of pain and misery, haunted by the taunting echoes of a patchwork curse that still clawed at the edges of his dreams.

But then, there was you.

You, whose voice flowed like silk when you asked for his name and date of birth to check him in. Your words, a gentle current, seemed to wash away the stark clinical atmosphere. With each subtle movement, a hint of vanilla across your desk, wrapping him in its warmth, coaxing his tense shoulders away from his ears.

You, who lingered in his mind long after each encounter. Your daily ask about how he was doing, though met with the same stoic response, became a small ritual he found himself anticipating. Your presence had become a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, somehow making the hard recovery of his life a little more bearable.

You, whose eyes lit up many weeks later as you spoke of the Christmas market in town, your voice brimming with excitement about the newly opened rink.

In that moment, driven by an unfamiliar, overwhelming desire—no, need—to simply fan the flames of whatever was licking to life in his chest, he spoke without thinking. The words tumbled out, clumsy and hopeful. His face flushed, his usually composed demeanor cracking.

“We could go together this weekend if you would like?”

Stupid. Absolutely, unequivocally stupid. 

Nanami Kento, what were you thinking?

A soft smile played at the corners of your mouth, your head tilted ever so slightly, curls dancing in a nonexistent wind as you regarded him with warmth and a lifted brow that made his breath catch.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nanami Kento?” Playful and tinged with an essence of hope that made his heart race even faster.

“I—“ He was thinking of you. Only you. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

The cool air of the ice rink slaps Nanami’s face with every person that skates past him, his heart racing with a mix of dread and shame that pulses through his veins. A group of teenagers glides by effortlessly, their showboating twirls and spins threatening to pull his mouth into a sneer. They’re no doubt mocking him as he stands stock still against the glass wall, gloved hands pressed flat as if he could suction himself in place.

He’s endured years of Gojo's incessant, annoying taunts and needless provocations. He’s faced cursed spirits without flinching, coolly efficient even as his watch ticked down the final minutes before six. But now, the prospect of revealing his complete and utter lack of skating ability to you terrifies him more than any supernatural threat.

He had every opportunity to reveal his incompetence. He did nothing as you both laced up your skates. Smiled softly as he listened to you chat animatedly about your favorite winter activities. Kept his spine taut as you adjusted his eye patch, fingers trailing feather light along his jaw. Even as you pulled him by the hand towards the rink, his legs wobbling like a newly born doe on the thin blades, he could only clench his jaw and follow.

He encouraged you to go without him, to warm up while he adjusted to the weight of strangers’ gaze when they saw him for the first time. Even with so much practice, the discomfort, even after all this time, burns more fiercely than Jogo's searing touch ever did. 

But he knows he can’t delay the inevitable. Soon, you’ll return, expectant and eager, and he’ll be exposed. The memory of asking you on this date flashes through his mind—a moment of uncharacteristic impulsivity born from longing and evolutionary competition. He’d watched the parade of men filing in for their appointments, each one a potential rival. The brunette who shows up at 3 PM, with his easy smile and effortless charm, was particularly concerning. So Nanami can’t fail now.

Steeling himself, he takes a tentative step. The blades slide across the ice, taking him further than what he intended. His knees lock, his back sways unsteadily, and his arms flail as he tries to find balance.

Somehow, he can hear Haibara laughing from the grave. He can almost see his old friend, red-faced and doubled over, teasing him without shame for never accepting that impromptu hockey game invitation their first year.

“I can do this,” he whispers to himself, desperately praying to whoever will listen for sudden knowledge. He takes another step, a short glide up with his left foot and it’s no good. His legs wobble dangerously, arms windmilling as he grasps for the wall and throws every curse known to heaven and hell, fogging the glass with his acidic words.

The teenagers zoom by again, and he swears one of them snickers, skating backward with infuriating ease as they disappear from view.

“Kento?” Your voice, honeyed with concern, reaches him from behind. It’s too sweet, too kind to quell the embarrassment that runs in rivulets down his back. You appear in the peripheral of his right eye, your lips pinched behind your teeth as you stop in front to take him in. “You’ve never skated before, have you?”

For a fleeting moment, Nanami considers trying again, hoping to slip and knock himself unconscious to escape this mortifying situation.

He feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I may have overestimated my abilities,” he admits, his dry tone a thin cover over his embarrassment as he clings to the rink’s walls like a lifeline.

To his relief, your face softens with understanding rather than judgment. You skate backward with effortless grace, hands outstretched towards him. “Trust me?”

He hesitates, eyeing your hands. Part of him wants to refuse, to flail his way off the rink so he can take off these atrocious skates and maintain some semblance of dignity. But a larger part, the part that has been drawn to you from the start, longs to brush his hands against yours.

Your cream-colored gloves intertwine with his. “Just glide. Follow my feet,” you encourage, slowly skating backward and guiding him forward.

You flow like water on the ice, fluid and sure as if you’re a professional, without a hint of hesitation. He’s mildly green with envy because he’s a stark contrast. Legs stubbornly locked, feet shuffling rather than gliding. He tries to focus on the mechanics of skating, on keeping his balance, but he finds his attention irresistibly drawn to you. 

You’ve taken off your winter coat, and a soft navy sweater hugs your curves, accentuating your form. He’s seen it beneath crisp blouses and pencil skirts. Your leggings outline powerful thighs that bunch with your movements, yielding strength and practice. The overhead lights catch the small puffs of air that ghost from your mouth as you guide him patiently across the ice, no sound reaching his ears because he’s not paying attention.

Your hair, a glorious bundle of curls, cascades from beneath a navy beanie, framing your warm face and kissing your cheeks. Small gold hoops in your ears catch the light with each graceful motion, their gentle swaying hypnotizing Nanami, drawing him further into your orbit and away from reality.

He’s lost in admiring you—the kindness in your eyes, the way your presence makes him feel both vulnerable and safe even as his life has been so tragically altered.

It’s in this moment of distraction, his heart full and unguarded, that his skates and your teachings betray him. As you attempt a gentle turn, his feet slip, zipping awkwardly to the side.

“Kento!”

You grip his hands tightly, urging him to regain his footing, but he’s caught in a comical dance, legs churning in place as he fights to stay upright.

“Wait! Kento just—okay, just try to come to a stop. A stop, Kento, don’t—” He attempts to halt, overcompensating with force. 

“For fucks sake—!” He grunts, feet flying out from under him, launching up as if he’s a cartoon villain slipping on a banana peel, bucking him off the ice and taking you with him as you both come crashing down onto the unforgiving cold ground.

Somehow, he doesn’t hit his head, but his back and ass scream from the impact. At least you were able to use him to cushion your blow, and you lay across his chest, face buried in his wool coat.

Seconds stretch into eternity as you both lie there, panting. Nanami fixes his gaze on the ceiling, half-hoping the harsh glare of the overhead lights will burn the cornea of his remaining eye and blind him completely from this whole ordeal.

“Well,” you murmur, voice muffled against his coat, “should we get up?”

“No…no, I quite like it down here,” Nanami responds, deadpan delivery masking the absolute sincerity of his words.

You pull your head from his chest to look down at him. Nanami’s eyes meet yours, staring, unblinking, mortified, and wishing the ground could liquefy and then freeze over, trapping him underneath.

With impeccable timing and bone-dry delivery, you quip, “I guess for a first date, this was a good way to break the ice.”

Nanami blinks, processing your words. The absurdity of the situation—the terrible pun, your matter-of-fact delivery, the undignified sprawl of limbs—hits Nanami all at once. A laugh bubbles from deep in his chest, croaking through years of cobwebs as it grows into a full-bodied guffaw.

The sound of his laughter surprises him as much as it does you. Your eyes and his one widen in delight at this rare display of uninhibited joy and soon you’re both laughing, the sound echoing across the rink.

The scarred side of his mouth twinges uncomfortably, but he doesn’t care, he can’t. His laughter, rich and unbridled, hiccups from slightly chapped and upturned lips.

As your laughter subsides, Nanami realizes he can’t remember the last time he laughed like this—free, unguarded, genuinely happy. He takes in the sight of you: your beanie askew, a cascade of messy curls tumbling over one shoulder; ice shavings glistening as they melt on your cheek; your lip gloss slightly smeared, yet still inviting. 

Your eyes meet his, and for the millionth time in only a few short weeks of knowing you, his heart skips a beat. With a gentleness, you reach up to adjust his eye patch—a gesture so intimate, so accepting of all that he is, that Nanami hopes it becomes a habit. 

He watches, breath hitching, as you shift, sliding yourself up his chest with a soft grunt of effort. For a moment, you hover there, your faces inches apart. Nanami can feel the warmth of your breath, senses the unasked question of what you want to do. And whatever his face conveys, must be enough for a smile that outshines the gleam of the ice around you to blossom on your face as you close the distance.

The press of your glossy lips against his still catches Nanami by surprise. For a heartbeat, he’s frozen, overwhelmed by the sensation. But only a second later, he melts and softens into you. One hand finds the small of your back, the other sliding against your cheek, drawing you closer as he returns the kiss and opens something within him that he knows you’ve found the key to.

For a second, it washes away the pain of his past, the destruction that he took part in, the friends he’s lost along the way, and he feels okay. If only for a moment, and maybe being with you can help the wounds in his chest and along his left side heal over time.

The ice is cold beneath him, his dignity is probably bruised along with his back and ass, but in this moment, given a second chance at life, hopefully with you, he feels wonderfully, perfectly alive.

Thanks for reading!!