#SOAR 1 - the Jump!

[ask-de-writer]

I would like to thank Delightfully EAGER BINGE READER

@furislupus​​ for READING and LIKING

The Science Fiction tales

SOAR 1, the Jump! and

CAPTURED BY THE CLANS (part 1 of 3)

CAPTURED BY THE CLANS (part 2 of 3)

[oakdll]

“who do you main in smash bros”

peter griffin except he has the best nair in the game and an up b where you can sd but it kills first

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

[limethefirst]

PART 2 OF VOID RUNNERS PLEASEE😭🙏

Void Runners Pt.2

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, crude humor, Deadpool

summary: After escaping Cassandra's lair you find yourself tagging along with Deadpool and Wolverine in hopes of saving their universe as well as getting out of the void

Part 1 / Part 3

a/n: Ask and you shall receive! This is a continuation of Void Runners since people seemed to really enjoy it! I hope it lives up to what you guys were expecting, I was thinking of ways to involve the reader a bit more! Request are open

You had no idea what was happening. One moment you were watching as Cassandra was about to let the giant monster known as Alioth eat you, the next you were being squished by Deadpool on some type of rocket soaring through the sky escaping the close clutches of death itself.

There wasn't much time to process anything because you were already about to crash, and were flung straight into the hard, dusty ground you've come to know as the Void.

A groan escaped you lips as you sat up, looking towards your new companion's, Deadpool and Wolverine; noticing how Deadpool was on top of him, your brows raised a bit.

"What cha' thinking 'bout?" Deadpool asked him, his voice laced with an innocent tone.

Logan wasn't fond of this at all, "Get the fuck off of me," he said, almost growling at the man.

"Shh shh, almost done"

"Almost done what?!" he look up at Deadpool, concerned about what he meant by that.

Deadpool now changed his tone to a more annoyed one, "Getting my knife out of your buttock, you pervert! Get your bind out of my pants!" Both men were now getting up, "I'm telling Blake!"

Deadpool looked over to you and grabbed your arm pulling you up next to him. Then he gave you a silly thumbs up, which you didn't understand why but just gave him a smile in return as a thank you for the gesture.

"New rule!" Logan began again, "I talk now" this time he looked at you as well.

"I haven't even said anything?!" You looked at him confused. Throwing your arms up a bit, and looking at Deadpool as well.

"Hush little one, Papa is talking right now" Deadpool looked over to you, holding up one finger to signal you to be quiet as he talked to Logan. You threw your arms up again now looking at Logan as he groaned at whatever was going on, obviously exhausted.

"Shut the fuck up!" Logan had now turned around, "Let me fucking think, we gotta get back to paradox right? Right?"

"Am I allowed to speak now?" Deadpool asked him sarcastically, you could tell he was smiling.

"Just nod asshole" Logan was fed up at this point.

Deadpool gave in and gave Logan a slight up and down, letting his buddy say what he needed to. Logan then looked at you as if something in his brain clicked.

"Johnny said something about others before you got him killed!"

"Poor kid? He was like fifty!" Deadpool shoots back, insulted by the comment.

Logan looked back at you, "You've been here longer then any of us have, do you know where we can find these guys?"

You hesitated before speaking to him, "I have an idea," you said, Logan looked back at Deadpool and nodded.

"You're gonna help us find them and get us out of here," Logan told you. He wasn't willing to listen to any protest, but you didn't care to argue, this was your chance at escape and by God you were gonna take it.

"Alright, I'll do my best then." You nodded at him, jumping on the bandwagon of opportunity.

"Oh I knew it was a good idea to bring you along sugar sprinkles!" Deadpool said as he patted your back, which honestly felt more like a hard slap, that lightly pushed you forward.

"You better fix my shit like you fucking promised," Logan pointed his finger at Deadpool's chest as you stepped to the side, look straight ahead noticing something in the distance.

"I smell a quest!"

"I smell food,"

This caused both men to look at what you were looking at.

A little restaurant not to far from here.

Logan was turning the place upside, you were unsure what he was looking for as he'd already found you guys some unopened spam to eat.

Deadpool finally had his mask off and you noticed what he looked like without it, you couldn't help but feel bad for him, even with the way he is, something tragic must have happened for his face to be all scarred the way it was.

"So what made you finally wear an honest to God costume?" He asked in between bites, "Mines red so they can't see me bleed." This time he turned to you and gave you a strange smile as he took yet another bite. "I can see how yellow can be useful too!"

Logan turned around and stared him down, "Have you been checked for ADHD?"

"Nu uh," Deadpool answered, mouth full with a big smile.

"You should," This time you answered as you finally tried the spam, it wasn't too bad for God knows how old it could've been.

You could hear a chuckle come from Logan as he continued his search.

"Though I've had several STD's, probably caused by ADHD" Deadpool told you guys.

You just rolled your eyes at him, wondering where he gets these ideas from. You guys both sat there longer watching Logan. Deadpool sat on one side of the booth, you sat on the edge of the table a bit, and Logan was still searching.

"What are you even looking for?" You asked the bigger man, curious what was making him more frustrated then the red masked fellow next to you.

All you heard was a mumble before you saw him grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"No no no no no, that's rubbing alcohol, you don't want to-" Before he could even finish his sentence Logan had already chugged most of it down, you turned a bit to him and sat yourself next to Deadpool watching Logan come towards the table, "Oh yup there you go, there you go, fuck that liver."

"Don't come to me when you need a liver transplant," Deadpool gave an amused snuff at your comment and turned back to the big fellow.

"What the fuck are those?" Logan was looking at, staples in Deadpool's head? You turned to look at it and you stared a little too hard that you could see the little strands of most likely fake hair pinched in between it.

"Oh, back in civilian life I wore a toupee, but nobody knows," Deadpool gave a little smile as he looked at you guys, touching his phantom hair.

Both you and Logan began to laugh a little at this, "They fucking know" you told him.

Logan joined in on the teasing, "Everybody knows," Logan gave you a smile, being glad someone else is there to help him tease the annoying red suited vigilante.

"Wanna talk about what's haunting you, or are we gonna wait for a third act flashback?"

"Ughh go fuck yourself," this was all it took for Logan to go back to the bar stools as he sat there, drinking his rubbing alcohol.

You gave Deadpool and annoyed look at elbowed him a bit, trying to get him to lay off the man a bit; it seemed to get through to him, as he rolled his eyes and began to talk again, "In my world, you're uh, well regarded."

"Not in mine," Logan didn't look back, he just took another sip.

"Well they don't like me much in my world," Deadpool said trying to lighten the mood.

"We couldn't tell.." You told him, as you stood up and threw away your empty spam cup.

"I wanted to be something, you know? Shit, I wanted to be an Avenger!"

"Fuck the Avengers,"

"I didn't make the cut though, same with the X-men," Deadpool paused, picking his next words wisely. "My girlfriend left me,"

"You had a girlfriend?" Logan asked, with genuine curiosity.

"Yea, Vanessa, when we met she was a dancer, made a whole life, it was good, but oh boy I just, uh"

You stood by the trash, leaning against the wall, not wanting to intrude on their moment.

"But fuck, you were an X-men, fuck that you were the X-man. You, uh the Wolverine, you were a hero in my world."

"Yea well, he ain't shit in mine." Logan finished his drink, if that's what you could even call it.

Deadpool turned to you, as if asking you to say something too. You let out a bit of a sigh before speaking.

"You saved me in my world."

Logan turned his head a little bit, and Deadpool gave you a somber look, unlike his normal self.

"I was in an accident, but I saw this man with metal claws, he helped me, he got me out." You closed your eyes and breathed.

"It inspired me to become who I am today, every Wolverine, is a hero in every universe, no matter what." You looked up at the both of them, "Well it's what I think at least. I didn't recognize you at first, but when I heard your name, I knew who you were, even if you aren't from my universe."

Logan looked back down at his empty hands, he began to think. The silence was killing you. Deadpool could tell and so he went back to his normal demeanor. "Alright sugar tits," Deadpool looks at Logan, "Time to go!"

It was time to continue your adventure in finding the people who would help you escape this place.

[imthebadguyyy]

Silverstone

pairing : lewis hamilton x reader

fandom : formula 1

synopsis : you celebrate lewis' win, and show him just how proud of him you are.

warnings : smut and references to 2021

a/n : CANT STOP CRYING BECAUSE LEWIS JUST WON SILVERSTONE SO HERE'S SOME FLUFFY GOODNESS with a side of smut 🙈

the sun shone brightly overhead as lewis soared past the chequered flag, and you screamed and jumped up and down in the mercedes garage.

the roar of the crowd was deafening in the best way possible, screams, shouts whoops and laughter filling the air as he soared by, fist pumped in victory as he let out a whoop himself. you couldn't help but sob into your hands as he waved the flag around in sheer joy, tears streaming down your face, watery laughs and cheers leaving your lips as you stuck to his dad, both of you feeling the same exhilaration that you were sure lewis was feeling too.

bono grabbed you blindly, running with you to parc ferme so you could both be there when lewis stepped out of his car. you couldn't help but sob harder as you saw him wipe away tears, shaking his head as the intensity of emotions sink into him.

you watched with a full heart and shaking hands as he walked to his dad, leaning into him as he allowed himself to cry, to really feel the depth of the moment. you cried, hands shaking against your mouth as you watched him, grinning widely as he turned to you, grabbing your waist as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, wet tears soaking your skin as you held him tight, arms wound around his neck as you squeezed him tight, a melody of "im so proud of you my love" poured into his ears from your sweet voice.

"im so so proud of you, you did so well baby!" you cried pulling away from the embrace to kiss his forehead, laughing as he scooped you up to spin you around. tears streamed freely down his face as he set you down, stroking your cheekbone, breathing harshly as he gripped you tight.

he pulled you back to him, bodies pressed against each other, not caring about the flashing cameras, saying loudly, "i love you!", before dipping you down to kiss you, hands gripping your hips.

his lips met yours in a fiercely passionate kiss, stained with tears of devotion and the three of hope you had both invested into him, into his pursuit of a win, and now he had finally done it with you by his side, at his home race.

it was a kiss that spoke of triumph and longing, of battles fought and won. your embrace was tight, your bodies pressed close as if trying to merge your shared exhilaration. the world around you blurred, and all that existed was the sheer happiness you felt at that very moment.

you gripped his wrist as he pulled away, getting ready to head to the podium, pressing a fleeting kiss to his pulse points as he mouthed "I love you" at you, walking away to prepare to take his rightful place on the podium.

you stood with anthony as you both looked up at your champion, a smile so wide your cheeks were starting to hurt. you cheered loudly, clapping and jumping when he was presented with the trophy, raising it up to the air and pointing to his team and bono, and then to you and his dad, a wide smile and teary eyes looking down at you.

anthony filmed you with a wide grin, before wrapping and arm around your shoulders as the anthem played and lewis' eyes filled with tears. "thats how much it means to him,huh?" you murmured, as you sniffled.

on your other side, susie wrapped you in a hug, nodding against you as you sunk into her embrace. "thats what it means" she said, her own voice breaking as she looked at you, melting at the devotion and adoration in your eyes as you looked up at lewis.

when the champagne was popped, lewis ran over to the edge, tipping some bubbly in your direction as you laughed, giggling as he blew you a kiss and you blew one back.

as the ceremony came to an end, you made your way back to the hospitality, shaking champagne out of your hair as members from the team came up to hug you. the atmosphere was joyous as the crowd sang and celebrated, and you took out your phone to capture the incredible atmosphere. carmen came over to congratulate you, giving you a tight hug before going to find george.

you went to sit down, still feeling from the emotional high as you took a big gulp of cold water. you knew how hard lewis had worked for this, all the highs and lows he had experienced on this long path. you knew of all the long nights he spent at the factory and in the sim, all the hard days and the bad days, all the nights he had come to you, weary and longing for your warmth.

all the moments he felt like he wasn't worth the trouble, and you reminded him fiercely of your love and how it didn't depend on his ability to race. all the nights you felt the despair he felt, tears and hugs keeping you from falling apart as he told you he felt he shouldn't stay on.

the desperate heartbreak you had felt in 2021 when he looked so defeated your own knees almost buckled, all the love it had taken to bring your lewis back to you.

it was all worth it in the moment. it was all worth it. it was all worth it. it was all worth it-

the recurring chain of thought was cut off by a warm pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders, and the smell of champagne filling your nostrils.

"lewis" you breathed, as he gently tugged you with him to his driver's room.

"im so proud of you, honey" you whispered, letting him sink into the couch, as you sat down in his lap, legs on either side of his waist as you pressed kisses to his nose and his cheeks and his forehead and temples, and finally his lips.

"thank you" he whispered back, head resting on your collarbone as he took deep breaths, steadying his racing heartbeat.

you could feel fresh tears soaking your skin as he clung to you, and you stroked his head gently, letting him take his time.

as he pulled back slightly, you saw the tears welling in his eyes. "it was all worth it," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "every challenge, every setback, every victory—it was all worth it."

"formula one is a part of my blood," he continued, his voice steadying as he spoke. "i understand that now more than ever. this sport, this life—it's who I am."

he paused, his eyes searching yours, filled with gratitude and love. "i wouldn't have made it here without you. you've been with me through it all, through the highs and the lows. i can't thank you enough for staying by my side." he continued stroking your chin as you smiled at him.

tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to touch his cheek, your heart swelling with pride and love for the man who had just made history. "im so proud of you, lewis," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "and I'll always be here, no matter what." you promised, pressing a kiss to his hand.

soon enough, your little bubble was broken when the door opened and his family filed in, his mum reaching for you to give you a tight hug and soon all of you and his entire family were heading for an early light dinner before what was a 100% going to be a wild night of partying.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

after an early dinner of pizza with his family, you had just about time for a quick shower and a change of clothes, feeling a giddy happiness you had sorely missed throbbing through your bones as you watched lewis step in for his own shower.

lando had sent a text to lewis, saying "club to get absolutely hammered (non alcoholically for you) on me" and you had laughed and made your way to your hotel to get dressed.

you changed into a particularly rivetingly sexy little dress you had bought especially for a moment like this, a body hugging little number that hugged every curve and fold on your body with straps all over. you paired it with your favourite perfume, painting your lips a dark cherry red, a colour you knew lewis loved on you. you added seductive black eyeliner and mascara, a rosy blush and a glittery highlight, and darkened your eyes with kajal. you looked every bit the temptress you felt and you knew you would be having the time of your life with lewis later in the night.

lewis got ready himself, dressing himself in a black tank and dark pants, pairing it with his favourite bracelets and necklaces to glitter softly. he looked ethereal himself, every bit a charming champion and you couldn't help the flutter of arousal you felt in your chest.

you smirked to yourself as lewis leaned against the cupboard, watching you spritz yourself with perfume, before stalking over to you to bite into the flesh of your neck.

the sudden contact had you gasping and shuddering as you tilted your head back, letting him suck on the skin till it bruised. he pulled away with a satisfied grin, before pulling you to your feet and sinking down on his knees.

you shuddered as he gently raised your foot, kissing you ankle before sliding your strappy heels onto your foot, kissing your shin and calves before moving to the other.

the act of sheer devotion had you melting even more for him, and you could feel yourself getting wet for the gorgeous hunk of a man before you. you shrieked when he suddenly kissed your thighs and licked up them, yanking your lacy panties to the side to lick a stripe into your pussy, making you moan loudly before he pulled away, smirking.

"later, baby" he promised, walking out the door, leaving you a panting mess.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the famous nightclub the guys had chosen pulsed with powerful beats as a sea of bodies moved in perfect harmony to the sultry rhythms on the dance floor, illuminated by vibrant electric blue and crimson lights. the atmosphere buzzed with an intoxicating blend of pounding music, exuberant laughter, and the mingling aromas of premium tequila, fruity cocktails, rich whiskeys, and hoppy beers. you cheered in excitement as the dj began to play usher, as you shouted over the noise, "I'm going to order some shots!" before weaving your way through the crowd to the bustling bar.

lewis watched you walk away, going to find charles and lando in the crowd, who were mingling with other friends.

he watched you lean over the bar, your breasts pushing against the material of your dress, bent at the waist as you ordered a Washington apple shot, giggling with lily, alex's girlfriend as you clinked a glass with her.

he felt his mouth go dry when you licked the apple slice in the shot, sucking it dry before downing the shot in one go, neck tilting back, all exposed for him. he licked his lips, feeling the groin region of his pants become uncomfortably tight. he made his way over to you, the thumping beat of usher's 'yeah' filling his eardrums.

thick arms wrapped around your waist, and the bristle of a familiar beard warmed your neck as lewis wrapped himself around you, pressing soft kisses to your skin as you giggled and swayed against him. earned it by the weeknd began to play in the background and your smirked.

you let your head droop onto his shoulder, walking backwards with him onto the dance floor, hands wrapped around his own thick arms as you softly ground your hips into him, wining your ass against his gardening cock.

you sang the words, letting your hands slide down to his chest to feel the hard outline of his pecs, eyes narrowed sultrily as you swayed against him. his eyes were a jet black as he took in your movements, one hand sliding down to grip your hips and squeeze.

"I need you to take me back to the hotel, lew" you moaned, as he ground up into you. your words had him growling softly, dragging you out of the club to his car, ignoring the hoots and hollers from the younger drivers.

the car ride back was charged and electric as you made our hungrily, teeth and tongues clashing as you both moaned lewdly enough for the driver to hear.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

in the hotel, you could hardly wait till you reached your room, and almost immediately, clothes were tossed in all corners of the room, and you were sinking to you knees on the soft carpet as lewis sank into the bed

"you did so well today baby, fighting to the win? getting what you really deserve?that's some pretty badass driving, and it was really fucking sexy to watch as well" you mumbled against his lips, feeling him smirk against yours as you did."you did so well, i think you deserve a reward. after everything you've fought through, you came out on top like the champion you are" you continued, walking backwards onto the bed, reaching up to caress his collarbone, leaning down to suck on the skin of his neck, gently running your hands down to his underwear, tracing his waist, gently squeezing the hardened muscle, fingers tracing his abs feeling him harden against you.

you pulled your hair into a ponytail, hands gently trailing down his stomach, feeling the goosebumps break out on his body, watching as you sunk down to your knees again, crawling forward, swaying your ass seductively behind you, and you felt his cock get visibly harder.

"you deserve to fuck my mouth. my winner" you whispered softly,running your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles clench as you did. nodding his approval to you, he cleared his throat, hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

lewis watched you lick your lips as you unbuttoned and unzipped, pulling down his pants and boxers until his hard dick bounced free, almost smacking against you. you looked up at him as you wet your lips.

"im going to give you the sloppiest blowjob ever" you grinned, glancing up at him before kissing his tip. "all for my 104 time race winner" you continued.

he smiled as he watched you grin, before opening your mouth wide and taking his cock on your waiting tongue. you licked and sucked on just the tip as you teased his balls and drew circles into his calf.

lewis knew he would have the time of his life. his one (of many about you) weakness was the feel of your mouth on his dick, and he bit back a gulp as he saw the lust in your eyes. eyes as you eased him deeper, inch by inch.

"fuck," he whispered softly, watching you start sucking, laving your tongue against him. his chest heaved as he groaned quietly, letting you ease your lips back to the tip before taking him again. he watched the way your cheek bulged with a twinge of pride.

he hit the back of your throat, feeling the sensation through his entire body, and he reached for the back of your head with both his big hands, holding you in place while you sucked on him.

you sucked and licked him with your mouth, the friction a delicious heat as you went faster with each stroke.

you moaned around him and lewis jerked himself deep inside until he was hitting the back of your throat again, making you choke a little.

"you're my everything" he grunted as you grabbed his hips with both hands and bobbrf your head, taking a little more of him with each stroke. the wet, lewd sounds as you hollowed your cheeks and took him had him bucking into your mouth

lewis ground his hips into you, hand pushing you onto his dick. you moaned and gagged s as you sucked on him

lewis felt the rising torrent in his body as he threw his head back.  he watched you open your mouth wide and take him inside, licking the underside of his cock and drooling all over his length.

the motion was enough to make him burst into your mouth, making you gasp as his cum filled your mouth. your mouth didn't relent, sucking harder as he cried out, cumming more as you swallowed all of him.

he dragged you swiftly up from the floor, pushing you on your back into the bed, lifting your dress, he bunched the material up so it rested on your waist; your ass that you were waving at him prior was on display. lewis' lips found your straining nipples as he licked them, sucking and biting till they were dripping in saliva and he had you whining and twisting above him, one hand pinching the nipple he wasn't able to suck, alternating.

he continued to suck as moved your panties to the side, stroking up your thighs, before bending down and softly licking at your pussy, making you moan.

“fuck, you're so wet. how long have you been like this?” he asked, licking your clit.

you groaned. “since we started getting ready to leave" you moaned, head falling against the pillow as his tongue shoved into your weeping hole, tasting your juices. "please…" you moaned as his finger rubbed your clit in slow circles, just the way you liked it, and you moaned loudly, biting your lip and shutting your eyes.

his fingers moved to your hole while his tongue turned to your clit, flicking the bean with his tongue, laving his tongue over it and sucking it in between his lips. his actions had your hips ricocheting off the bed as his nose swiped your pussy and you were bucking into his face with lewd moans as he devoured your pussy like a man starved.

"mm..wanna ride you!" you groaned, and lewis was pulling off your pussy with a wet kiss, rolling you both over so you were on top.

"take a ride love," he opened his arms, welcoming you in as he helped you get on top of him.

once you were situated on his thighs, you grabbed ahold of his cock, lining it up with your pussy before sinking down on him, planting your feet on the mattress to grind back and forth, before slowly transitioning too bouncing on his cock.

your clit was brushed against the small patch of hair on his pubic bone, and the friction felt absolutely amazing.

your hands moved up to his chest, as you began to move your hips. lewis' hands moved to your hips, as his own bucked up making you whimper.

"feel so good, baby. so good” he moaned, and you moaned as his huge dick spread you out. you began to bounce down, faster and harder.

lewis felt euphoric as he watched you move faster, his hands coming up your hair,

he was deep, deep inside you and his dick was hitting that place where you both felt incredibly good. you could feel him all the way up in your stomach.

"you deserve all the wins!" you whined and harry nodded, his mouth forming an O shape. "fuck!" lewis grunted, curls sticking to his forehead.

"i'm gonna cum" he said, gripping your hips and spearing you up and down in his cock, planting his own feet on the mattress as he started fucking up into you.

his hand wrapped around to your ass, smacking the jiggling flesh harshly, the other wrapping around your neck and hips periodically, spanking you and caressing your curves, mouth dipping to your nipples to suck them hard.

the overwhelming sensations had you squealing as you bounced faster, cries and squeals leaving your mouth as your tits bounced wildly and your pussy clenched on his big dick.

"wanna paint your pussy white" he groaned as he pounded your pussy, hips snapping into you like a jack hammer, hammering your sweet spot as you moaned incoherently on top of him.

"cum in my pussy baby" you babbled, nails digging into his chest as he smacked your ass again harshly, making your pussy squeeze. when he reached down and began to violently rub your clit, you came with a scream, your pussy clamping down on his dick like a vice.

the sensation had his stomach fluttering as you gushed over him, crying and groaning as he sucked your nipples, before emptying his load into you with a moan.

he spilled ropes of his cum into you, shuddering against you as he felt you milk his cock. "I love you" you painted, hands clinging to him for support as you went boneless. lewis' broad arms dragged you down on top of him, cock still inside you and twitching, keeping you stuffed full of his cum.

"i adore you and love you so much" lewis said, kissing your forehead as he cuddled into you.

"i love you more. i hope you liked your present" you grinned, giggling when he swiped his fingers in your pussy and licked up your juices.

a night fit for a winner.

your winner.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : i shall go bathe in holy water. enjoy my lovelies! ♥️

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[novaursa]

The Veil of Fire (2/3)

- Summary: Your twin sister, Helaena, had her dreams, but you were gifted with something else. Something akin to a terrible purpose.

- Paring: aunt!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: Keep in mind there is an unspoken time jump at the beginning. For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. This was requested by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️☺️

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The dream begins as it always does: a rush of cold air against your skin, the sensation of soaring high above the world. But this time, it's different. You are not merely flying. You are the one flying. The sensation is more intense, more visceral. The air is no longer just cold—it’s frigid, biting at your scales. Your scales. You feel them shift and ripple across your massive form as your wings beat powerfully against the wind.

You are not in your own body anymore. You are Morgoth, the great black beast, the Cannibal. Every breath you take is a storm, every movement a tremor through the sky. The power surging through your veins is intoxicating, more so than any wine. It is raw, untamed strength, and you revel in it as your sharp eyes scan the land below.

The world is a patchwork of greens and browns, interspersed with the blue of rivers snaking through the land. The familiar coastlines and rocky shores of Dragonstone fade behind you as you soar southward, your massive wings cutting through the clouds like a knife through flesh.

You feel hungry—an overwhelming, primal hunger that gnaws at your insides. It is a need that cannot be ignored, a relentless force driving you to find something, someone, to satiate it. You spot movement below—a flash of color among the drab hues of the earth. Your vision narrows, focusing with deadly precision.

It’s a child.

The thought, the recognition, flickers at the edge of your consciousness, but Morgoth doesn’t care. Morgoth doesn’t know guilt or mercy. The boy is small, alone, wandering too far from the safety of his village, and that makes him prey.

You swoop down with a terrifying speed, your wings folding in, the wind howling around you as the ground rushes up to meet you. The child looks up, and for a brief, agonizing moment, you see his face clearly—wide eyes filled with fear, mouth open in a scream that will never be heard.

And then your jaws close around him.

The crunch of bones breaking, the hot rush of blood flooding your mouth—it is all so vivid, so real. You can taste the metallic tang on your tongue, feel the flesh tearing as your teeth rip through it. The child’s body is small, fragile, and it is gone within moments, reduced to nothing more than a memory of a meal.

But the hunger remains. It is insatiable, a constant demand that drives you to keep hunting, to keep killing. You feel the blood dripping from your jaws, the pieces of torn flesh stuck between your teeth. There is a satisfaction in it, a primal contentment that you know is not your own. It is Morgoth’s. But it is also yours.

The realization hits you like a blow to the chest. You are Morgoth. No, not just Morgoth. You are something more, something different. A warg. The word comes to you from the depths of your memory, a whisper of knowledge shared by your brother Aemond. He would know, of course. He is rarely wrong in matters of scholarship.

You are a warg—the first in Valyrian history, if Aemond’s ancient texts are to be believed. The thought should terrify you, and yet, it does not. There is a certain exhilaration in it, a sense of destiny fulfilled. The Old Gods of the North are said to gift such powers, but never had you imagined that it would be you—a daughter of Viserys Targaryen, twin sister to Helaena, bonded to the Cannibal—who would carry this curse, or gift.

Morgoth's form begins to fade, the sensations dimming as you feel yourself being pulled back, back into your own body. The taste of blood lingers on your tongue, even as the sight of the mutilated child haunts the edges of your vision. It is a part of you now, forever etched into your soul.

You wake with a start, gasping for air as if you had been submerged in water. Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic beat that echoes the flight of the dragon. The darkness of your chamber feels suffocating, the air thick with the remnants of the dream. You can still feel the echo of Morgoth’s power coursing through you, the raw, untamed energy that had once been his.

But it was not just his. It was yours.

The room is silent, save for the sound of your ragged breathing. Your hands shake as you clutch the sheets, trying to ground yourself in the reality of your chamber. Yet, the memory of the dream, of Morgoth’s hunt, is too fresh, too real to dismiss.

The door creaks open, and you turn sharply, still on edge. Aegon stands in the doorway, his usually languid expression tight with concern. “I heard you,” he murmurs, stepping into the room without hesitation. He is the only one you have ever allowed to see you like this—vulnerable, afraid.

“I had another dream,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it was more than a dream. I think I—” You falter, the words sticking in your throat. How do you even begin to explain what you have become?

Aegon approaches, his brow furrowing as he listens. “What did you see?” he asks, his tone softer, more careful.

You swallow hard, trying to push back the rising nausea. “I was Morgoth again,” you say slowly. “I was him, Aegon. I felt everything he felt—saw through his eyes, tasted…tasted blood.”

He goes still, his eyes searching your face for any sign of jest. But there is none. “You’re serious,” he breathes, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You nod, unable to speak. The memory of the child’s body, the way it was torn apart, flashes before your eyes again. You shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could somehow protect you from the horrors you’ve witnessed.

Aegon’s hand is warm as he reaches out, pulling you close. He holds you tightly, offering what comfort he can. “You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispers into your hair. “Whatever this is…you’ll face it. We’ll face it.”

You cling to him, your heart still racing, as you try to find solace in his words. But deep down, you know that this is only the beginning. The bond you share with Morgoth is growing stronger, and with it, the darkness that comes with being a warg. You are not just a Targaryen anymore. You are something more, something ancient and terrifying.

And as you close your eyes, you can still feel the echo of wings beating against the wind, the hunger that will never be sated.

The halls of the royal quarters are eerily silent, save for the soft padding of your footsteps on the cold stone floor. Hours have passed since Aegon left your chambers, his presence a fleeting comfort in the wake of the nightmare that still clings to your consciousness like a shroud. You cannot find peace, no matter how hard you try. The burden of this terrible purpose—this dark gift that has revealed itself to you—weighs heavily on your mind.

You feel Morgoth's presence within you, a shadow that has taken root in your very soul. The power, the hunger—it lingers, a constant reminder of what you have become. Every breath you take is filled with the taste of blood, every shadow in the corridor seems to whisper your name. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the cold that seeps into your bones, but it is no use. There is no warmth to be found in these halls tonight.

As you turn a corner, the distant sound of muffled voices reaches your ears. You stop, your heart quickening as you recognize the direction—toward the nursery. A sense of dread washes over you, and without a second thought, you quicken your pace, your feet moving faster and faster until you are nearly running. The voices grow louder, more frantic, and you can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

When you reach the door to the nursery, it is ajar, just enough for you to see inside. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the scene before you.

Two men are standing over the cradle where your sister Helaena's twins—Jaehaerys and Jaehaera—lie sleeping. One is a large, brutish figure with a butcher’s cleaver in his hand, the other smaller, wiry, with the sharp, feral look of a rat catcher. They move with purpose, their intent clear. The larger man lifts the cleaver, poised to strike.

Rage explodes within you, hot and blinding. Without thinking, without hesitation, you burst into the room, a fierce cry tearing from your throat.

“No!” you scream, launching yourself at the butcher with a force that surprises even you. Your body slams into his, and the two of you crash to the floor in a tangled heap. The cleaver skitters across the stone, out of his reach, and you feel a momentary surge of triumph.

But the butcher is strong, far stronger than you anticipated. He grapples with you, trying to throw you off, his thick hands closing around your throat. You struggle beneath him, your vision darkening as he squeezes tighter, but the fear, the desperation, only fuels your anger.

And then, something primal takes over.

Morgoth’s presence surges within you, filling you with a savage strength. You snap your head forward, your teeth sinking into the flesh of the butcher’s neck. The taste of blood floods your mouth, but you do not stop. You bite down harder, feeling the skin tear, the muscle give way. His grip on your throat loosens as he lets out a gurgling scream, but you do not relent. You rip at his throat, tearing through flesh and artery until the blood sprays across your face, hot and metallic.

The butcher's body goes limp, collapsing onto the floor beside you. You release him, panting, your mouth and chin drenched in his blood. The rage, the bloodlust—it thrums through you, and you feel more alive than you ever have before.

The rat catcher, the smaller of the two men, watches you with wide, terrified eyes. His hand shakes as he raises a knife, but he is no match for you. You stand, the taste of blood still on your tongue, and he hesitates, his fear palpable. He slashes at you wildly, the blade catching your cheek and lips, splitting the skin open and sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through you. Blood drips down your face, mingling with the butcher’s, but you barely feel it.

He turns and runs, fleeing in terror, leaving you standing over the lifeless body of his accomplice. You can hear the soft whimpering of the twins behind you, but you do not turn to look at them. Not yet. The taste of blood is still in your mouth, the memory of your teeth ripping through flesh still fresh in your mind. You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, to calm the storm that rages inside you.

“Where were the guards?” you ask aloud, your voice hoarse and trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

At that moment, the door to the nursery opens wider, and Helaena steps inside. Her face is pale, her eyes wide with horror as she takes in the sight before her—the blood, the body, the terror written across your face. “What…what happened?” she whispers, her voice shaking as she rushes to the cradle, checking on her children. They are safe, unharmed, but their frightened cries tug at your heart, pulling you back from the brink.

You swallow hard, trying to push the words past the lump in your throat. “I—someone sent them. Assassins. They tried to kill the children.” Your voice breaks, and you can see the tears welling in Helaena’s eyes as she clutches her twins to her chest.

“Where were the guards?” you ask again, more insistent this time. Your voice is a raw, angry rasp, filled with the same fury that drove you to kill the butcher.

Helaena shakes her head, her expression one of dazed confusion. “I don’t know,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I don’t know…”

You feel a surge of frustration, of helplessness. How could this have happened? How could they have gotten so close to the royal children without anyone stopping them? The questions burn in your mind, but there is no time to dwell on them now. You need to find your mother.

You rush from the nursery, your blood-stained hands clenched into fists, your mouth still aching from where the rat catcher’s blade cut you. You make your way through the winding corridors, ignoring the startled looks from the few servants you pass. They shrink back, their eyes widening as they take in the blood on your face, but you do not stop. Your heart pounds in your chest, a drumbeat of urgency, driving you forward.

When you reach your mother’s chambers, you do not bother to knock. You shove the door open, your breath coming in harsh gasps as you take in the scene before you.

Alicent is in bed, her hair loose around her shoulders, her face flushed with the afterglow of pleasure. And beside her, just beginning to rise from the sheets, is Ser Criston Cole. The sight stops you in your tracks, a cold fury settling in the pit of your stomach.

They both freeze, their eyes locking onto you. Alicent’s expression shifts from surprise to horror as she takes in your appearance—the blood, the cut on your cheek and lips, the wild look in your eyes. “What happened?” she demands, her voice rising in panic as she scrambles out of bed, clutching a sheet to her chest.

“I killed one of the men who tried to murder Helaena’s children,” you say, your voice cold and detached. “I tore his flesh with my teeth like a morsel.”

Ser Criston recoils, his face paling at your words. His disgust is clear, but you do not care. He is nothing to you, less than nothing.

Alicent gasps, her hands flying to her mouth as she takes a step toward you. “Gods, what has happened to you? What have you done?” she whispers, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and concern.

You take a step closer, your eyes locking onto Ser Criston’s. “He could be next if he touches you again,” you say, your voice low and dangerous. “Do you understand me, Mother? I will not allow him to sully our family any further.”

Ser Criston’s hand instinctively moves to his sword, but you do not flinch. If anything, your gaze hardens, a silent challenge that makes him pause.

“Go,” you command, your voice filled with the authority of a queen. “Leave us. Now.”

He hesitates, his eyes flicking to Alicent for guidance, but she says nothing, her face ashen. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he turns and leaves the room, casting one last wary glance over his shoulder as he goes.

As the door closes behind him, Alicent sinks onto the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she looks at you. “What are you becoming?” she asks, her voice breaking with the weight of her sorrow.

You do not answer her. You do not know the answer yourself. All you know is that something inside you has changed, something dark and fierce, and it will not be easily tamed.

The usual murmur of voices is absent today in the small council chamber, replaced by a grim silence as they await the arrival of King Aegon. Every face is drawn with worry, every pair of eyes darkened by the implications of the previous night’s events. The attempted murder of the royal children has shaken the Red Keep to its core.

The door swings open with a force that startles everyone in the room. Aegon strides in, his expression thunderous, the weight of his fury visible in every step. His usually languid demeanor is gone, replaced by something fierce, something primal. He looks every inch the dragon he was born to be, and it is clear that the rage burning in his chest will not be easily quelled.

Following close behind him is Ser Criston Cole, his face a mask of stone, and Dowager Queen Alicent, her expression one of anxious concern. But it is the sight of you, being carefully led by the Grand Maester Orwyle, that makes the entire room go still. Your face is pale, and the fresh bandage covering your cheek cannot hide the dark bloodstain that has soaked through. The scar will be a permanent reminder of the violence you endured, a testament to the ferocity with which you defended your sister’s children.

Aegon’s gaze hardens as he looks at you, and a muscle in his jaw tics with the effort to control his emotions. He cannot allow himself to lose control, not here, not now. The council must see him as strong, unyielding in the face of this treachery.

“My children,” Aegon begins, his voice low and trembling with restrained anger, “were almost butchered in their beds last night. My sister”—his eyes flick to you, softening for just a moment—“bears the proof of her courage on her face, yet the threat lingers. Who dares to strike at the heart of the royal family?”

He slams his hand down on the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber. The council members flinch, but none dare to speak first. They have never seen Aegon like this—so utterly consumed by wrath.

It is Larys Strong who breaks the silence, his voice measured and calm, as if speaking of the weather. “Your Grace,” he says, leaning forward slightly, “all traces of this foul deed lead to one conclusion. It was your uncle, Daemon, and his wife, Rhaenyra. They are the only ones who would dare such a brazen act against you.”

There is a murmur of agreement around the table, but Aegon’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Daemon,” he repeats, the name dripping with venom. “Is this about Luke?”

“There can be no other explanation, Your Grace,” Larys continues, his gaze flicking to you momentarily. “The men who were sent to do this terrible thing—they were no common cutthroats. They were professionals, well-trained and well-paid. Such men would only be employed by someone with the means and the motive to strike at the heart of the Targaryen line.”

Aegon clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white. “And yet, despite all of their planning, they were thwarted by my sister.” His voice rises, filled with pride and fury in equal measure. “She fought them off, saved my children from certain death. And she has been rewarded with a scar that she will bear for the rest of her life!”

He turns his gaze to the Grand Maester, who is busy tending to you, his wrinkled hands gentle as they adjust the bandage on your cheek. “Tell them, Orwyle,” Aegon demands. “Tell them what they’ve done to her.”

Orwyle looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and regret. “The wound is deep, Your Grace. It will heal, but the scar… The scar will remain. It is a mark of great courage, but also of great pain.”

Aegon’s expression darkens further, and he seems on the verge of losing control. “They have maimed my sister,” he growls. “They have tried to take my children from me. And you all stand here, debating who might be responsible, as if there is any doubt!”

Lord Larys remains calm, though there is a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Your Grace, if we are to respond to this attack, we must be certain of our enemy. Daemon and Rhaenyra have been gathering forces, preparing for war. They believe the Iron Throne rightfully belongs to Rhaenyra. This is a move to weaken you, to destabilize your reign.”

Aegon’s eyes flash with something dark and dangerous. “Then we will give them war,” he says, his voice cold and resolute. “We will hunt them down like the traitors they are. But know this—my sister, the Princess, is under my protection. Any harm that befalls her will be met with a wrath that will make the Seven Kingdoms tremble.”

He looks at you again, his expression softening just a fraction. “I will not let them touch you again,” he vows. “Not while I still draw breath.”

The council members exchange uneasy glances, but none dare to oppose the king’s decree. They know that Aegon’s rage is like a wildfire, and any who stand in its path will be consumed.

Ser Criston Cole steps forward, his voice steady and reassuring. “Your Grace, I will see to it that the palace is secured. We will not allow another breach like this. The guards will be doubled, and I will personally oversee their training.”

Aegon nods, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface. “See that you do, Ser Criston. If there is another attempt on my family, I will hold you personally responsible.”

Ser Criston bows his head, accepting the king’s command without protest. He knows that Aegon’s fury is justified, and he will do whatever it takes to protect the royal family.

Aegon turns to you once more, his expression softening even further as he reaches out to take your hand. “You saved them,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a rare tenderness. “You saved my children, and I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

You look up at him, your eyes still filled with the pain and fear of the previous night. “I would do it again, Aegon,” you say softly. “They are my blood as much as yours.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze filled with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. “And I will make sure that no one ever harms you again, sister,” he promises. “This, I swear.”

The small council remains silent, the weight of the king’s words hanging heavily in the air. The room is filled with the promise of retribution, and as Aegon looks around the table, each member knows that the events of the previous night have changed everything.

War is coming, and the blood that has been spilled will be avenged.

The flickering light of the hearth casts warm, dancing shadows across the stone walls of your chamber. The air is drenched with the scent of burning wood and the faint aroma of lavender from the candles you’ve lit. It is a rare moment of solitude in the Red Keep, a brief respite from the constant watchful eyes and the burden of your newfound abilities. You cherish these moments, where the weight of your responsibilities can be set aside, if only for a short while.

You sit by the fire, your fingers tracing the thin, silvery scar that now mars your cheek and lips—a permanent reminder of the night you fought to save your sister’s children. It is a small price to pay, you tell yourself, though the sting of that night lingers, not just in your flesh but in your heart.

Before you, on the small table beside your chair, lie two letters, each carefully unfolded and read multiple times. The first is from Daeron, your youngest brother, currently stationed in Oldtown. His words are full of affection and concern, the kind of letter that reminds you of simpler days when you were just his beloved sister, not the fierce protector or the silent warg you’ve become. You smile faintly as you reread his words, feeling a swell of love for him.

My dear sister, the letter begins, I think of you often, and I miss our days together in the gardens, where we spoke of nothing and everything. I long for the day when we are all reunited, and the shadow that looms over our family is lifted. Please take care, and know that my thoughts are with you always.

The innocence and sincerity in his words warm your heart, but they also remind you of the distance between you now—not just in miles, but in the paths your lives have taken. He still sees you as the sister who read to him and played with him in the courtyard, not as the woman you’ve become—marked by blood and fire, burdened with secrets you cannot share.

You set Daeron’s letter aside and reach for the second one, your heart beating a little faster as your fingers brush the familiar seal. Jace’s letter is more worn, the edges slightly crumpled from being unfolded and read countless times. His words, penned in his bold, confident hand, ignite a different fire within you—a longing that has been your constant companion ever since your secret affair began.

My dearest heart, the letter reads, it feels like an eternity since I last held you, since I last saw your face and felt the warmth of your smile. The days are cold and empty without you. I can think of nothing else but our next meeting. There is an island, a place we both know well. Come to me, my love. Let us forget the world, if only for a night.

The passion in his words makes your heart swell, your thoughts immediately drifting to the secluded island where you and Jace have met so many times before. It is a place of solace, of stolen moments that belong only to the two of you. The thought of seeing him again, of feeling his arms around you, is enough to make your breath catch.

But as you sit there, with the two letters before you, you are reminded of the dangerous path you walk. The love you share with Jace is forbidden, a fire that could consume you both if discovered. And yet, you cannot deny the pull, the need to be with him, to feel alive in a way that only he can make you feel.

Your eyes drift to the flames in the hearth, their warm glow reflecting in your eyes as you contemplate what must be done. With a heavy heart, you reach for the letters and hold them over the fire. The parchment catches quickly, curling and blackening as the flames consume the words written with such care and affection.

As the letters turn to ash, you feel a pang of regret, but also a sense of resolve. These letters were too dangerous to keep, too risky to let fall into the wrong hands. Your love for Jace and your affection for Daeron are now secrets you must carry in your heart alone.

You stand, brushing the ash from your fingers as you move to the window. The cool night air brushes against your scarred cheek, a contrast to the warmth of the fire. You close your eyes, letting your thoughts drift to Jace, to the feel of his hands on yours, the sound of his voice whispering your name. The thought of seeing him again fills you with a mix of excitement and fear. The danger, the secrecy, it only makes your love burn brighter, more fiercely.

But there is something else as well, something darker. The abilities that have manifested within you, the connection with Morgoth, the warg abilities you have struggled to control—they are always there, lurking in the background of your mind. You’ve been practicing, trying to understand and master them, but they are wild, untamed, much like the dragon within. The more you use them, the more you feel them growing stronger, more insistent.

The thought of what you could become, of what you might be capable of, both terrifies and excites you. You wonder if Jace would still love you if he knew the full extent of your abilities, if he knew the darkness that now shadows your every step.

But these thoughts, too, are set aside as you prepare for what comes next. There is no turning back now. You will go to the island, you will see him again. And you will face whatever comes, with the same fire that has carried you through every trial.

For now, you are content to let the night air soothe your worries, even if only for a moment. Tomorrow, you will return to the role you must play—daughter, sister, protector, and secret lover. But tonight, you allow yourself to imagine what it will feel like to be in Jace’s arms again, if only for a few stolen hours.

And as the flames in the hearth die down, leaving nothing but embers, you find yourself whispering into the darkness, a promise meant for no one but yourself: “I will see you soon, my love. And may the gods help anyone who tries to stop me.”

The island looms on the horizon, a solitary speck of land amidst the endless expanse of sea. The wind rushes past you as Morgoth’s powerful wings beat rhythmically against the air, the dragon’s massive form casting a long shadow over the water below. The island is a place of memories, of secrets shared in the moonlight and promises whispered in the dark. It is the only place where you and Jace can truly be yourselves, away from the prying eyes and the heavy weight of duty.

Morgoth lands with a graceful thud, the ground trembling beneath the weight of his massive claws. The familiar scent of salt and sand fills your senses as you slide from his back, your boots sinking into the soft, sun-warmed sand. You take a deep breath, the tension that has coiled in your chest since you last saw Jace beginning to unwind. Here, on this island, you can forget the world and simply be.

As you look around, your eyes find him almost immediately. Jace is just ahead, dismounting Vermax with practiced ease. His dark hair is tousled by the wind, and even from a distance, you can see the familiar warmth in his eyes, tempered by a hint of something darker—anger, perhaps, or worry. It doesn’t matter. The moment you see him, your heart leaps, and before you know it, you’re running toward him.

“Jace!” you call out, your voice filled with the joy and relief of finally being near him again. He turns at the sound of your voice, his expression softening as he sees you rushing toward him.

You reach him in moments, throwing yourself into his arms with a force that nearly knocks the breath out of you both. He catches you easily, holding you tight against him as if he never wants to let you go. The warmth of his body, the familiar scent of him—it’s like coming home.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper against his neck, your arms wrapping around him as you press yourself closer, as if trying to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart.

“And I you,” he murmurs back, his voice rough with emotion. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. But then his gaze catches on the scar that mars your cheek and lips, a reminder of the night that nearly tore your family apart.

His hand comes up to gently trace the line of the scar, his touch featherlight. “They did this to you,” he says, his voice hardening with barely restrained anger. “Daemon and my mother—they’re responsible for this.”

“Jace,” you begin, trying to soothe him, but the fire in his eyes only burns brighter.

“They sent those men,” he continues, his jaw clenching as he speaks. “They tried to kill your family, and you—” His voice breaks, and he closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “They tried to take you from me. Like Aemond took Luke.”

You can see the storm of emotions raging within him—anger, guilt, fear—but you cannot let him carry this burden alone. You reach up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones in a tender caress. “I’m here, Jace,” you whisper, your voice filled with the love and reassurance you know he needs. “I’m alive. They didn’t take me. I’m right here with you.”

His eyes open, meeting yours, and you can see the flicker of uncertainty in them. But before he can say anything more, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is both fierce and gentle, a silent promise that nothing and no one will come between you.

The kiss deepens quickly, the passion that has been building since your last meeting igniting like fire. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other, in the heat of your desire. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you gasp against his lips as the intensity of your connection overwhelms you.

The sand beneath your feet is soft and warm as Jace lowers you both to the ground, his body pressing down against yours. The feel of him, the weight and the warmth of him, is both comforting and exhilarating. His hands are sure and familiar as they begin to undo the laces of your clothing, and you help him, your fingers trembling slightly with the urgency of your need.

There is no hesitation, no shyness between you. You’ve done this before, so many times, yet every time feels like the first—new and exhilarating, filled with the thrill of discovery and the comfort of familiarity. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is a distant hum, drowned out by the beating of your heart and the ragged breaths you share as you finally, finally, come together.

When he enters you, it’s with a practiced ease that sends a shiver of pleasure through your entire body. You both gasp, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity, as if every nerve ending has been set alight. You move together, a rhythm as old as time itself, each movement a silent declaration of your love, your longing, your need.

“Jace,” you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips as he buries his face in the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’m here,” he murmurs in response, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m here, my love.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding him close as the passion between you builds, becoming wilder, more desperate. There is nothing gentle about it now, only the raw need to be as close as possible, to feel every inch of each other, to lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

The world narrows down to the two of you—two souls entwined, lost in each other, as the fire between you blazes hotter, brighter. And when you finally reach that peak together, it is with a shared cry of pleasure, your bodies tensing and trembling as the waves of ecstasy wash over you.

Afterward, you lie there together on the sand, your bodies still entwined, your breathing slowly returning to normal. The warmth of the sun, the gentle breeze, the sound of the sea—it all feels distant, secondary, to the presence of Jace beside you.

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with the kind of tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way possible.

“And I love you,” you reply, your voice soft but filled with conviction. You reach up to cup his face again, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

The warmth of the aftermath lingers in the air, the sound of the waves gently lapping against the shore as you lie entwined with Jace on the soft sand. His arm is draped around you, holding you close, as your head rests against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm that contrasts with the turmoil in your own. For a while, you both simply breathe, savoring the peace of this stolen moment. But the silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, and you can feel the weight of your fears pressing down on you, threatening to shatter the fragile tranquility you've found.

It’s Jace who finally breaks the silence, his voice soft and filled with concern. “You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. “I can feel something is troubling you.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you know you must say. You’ve carried this burden alone for too long, and if there’s anyone you can trust, it’s Jace. He deserves to know the truth, no matter how dark it may be.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. You feel his body tense slightly beneath you, but he doesn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for you to continue. “Something…something I’ve been struggling with for years now. And I’m afraid of what it means.”

Jace’s hand stills on your back, his attention fully focused on you. “You can tell me anything,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance that makes your heart ache. “Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

You sit up slightly, turning to face him as you gather the courage to speak. The look in his eyes—so full of love and concern—gives you the strength to continue. “I can…warg,” you say, the word feeling foreign and heavy on your tongue. “I can warg into Morgoth.”

Jace’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he reaches up to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing against the scar on your cheek. “Into your dragon?” he asks, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “It started a few years ago, in my dreams. I thought it was just that—dreams. But then it became more in recent months. I can feel him, see through his eyes, control him. I feel his hunger, his anger, and it terrifies me, Jace. I’m afraid I’m losing myself to him.”

Jace listens intently, his expression one of deep concern, but there is no judgment in his eyes—only understanding. “When…when the assassins came for Helaena’s children,” you continue, your voice breaking as the memories flood back, “I used that power. I was fighting one of the men, and I… I bit him. I tore out his throat with my teeth, just like Morgoth would. It wasn’t just instinct—it was something darker, something…unnatural.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you confess this, the horror of what you’ve done finally spilling out. “I’m afraid, Jace,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “I’m afraid I’m becoming a monster.”

For a moment, Jace says nothing, and you fear that he’ll pull away, that he’ll see you for the monster you believe yourself to be. But then, to your surprise, he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. His hand cradles the back of your head, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You’re not a monster,” he whispers fiercely, his voice filled with conviction. “You’re the bravest, most selfless person I know. You saved your sister’s children and you’ve done nothing but protect those you love. Whatever this power is, whatever it means, it doesn’t change who you are.”

You bury your face in his chest, letting his words wash over you, trying to believe them. But the fear still lingers, the doubt that you can’t quite shake. “But what if I can’t control it?” you ask, your voice muffled against him. “What if I hurt someone I love?”

Jace pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious but gentle. “Then we’ll figure it out,” he says firmly. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll learn to control it, to understand it. You’re stronger than you think, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

His words bring a sense of relief you didn’t know you needed. For so long, you’ve carried this burden alone, but now, with Jace by your side, it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. You nod, trying to smile through your tears, but Jace catches the flicker of doubt still lingering in your eyes.

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips—a kiss filled with all the love and reassurance he can give. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not alone,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I will love you, no matter what.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself believe in his words, letting his love and warmth seep into the cold, dark places within you. For the first time in months, you feel a glimmer of hope—hope that you are more than the darkness, more than the power that threatens to consume you.

“I love you, Jace,” you whisper, your voice steady for the first time since you began speaking. “And I trust you.”

In that moment, as you lie in his arms with the sea gently lapping at the shore, you feel a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. 

And together, you will find a way forward.

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 7

James Potter x Reader

Summary: Your secret admirer finally gets the girl…

Warnings: HARD LAUNCH! Use of flashbacks, extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, idiots in love, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, OC!friends, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, quiet!reader, NOT EDITED!

Word Count: 1.2K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

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Platform 9¾ was bursting with energy as the new group of first years clambered onto the Hogwarts Express. James had tucked himself in between Remus, Sirius, and Peter, practically jumping in his seat as he introduced himself to his new friends.

The four boys had excitedly rambled back and forth about their prospects at the exciting school of witchcraft and wizardry, only settling down when the train finally began to move as they waved goodbye to their families through the window.

The door slid open with an awkward creak, alerting the young Marauders to a small girl standing in the doorway. “Hi, um- can I sit here? The other cabins are full…” you spoke softly, twisting your feet in an anxious habit and biting your bottom lip.

James’ breath hitched, innocent eyes growing wide as he took you in. He nervously pushed up his glasses as his friends ushered you inside, moving food wrappers off of a seat to make room for your form.

You introduced yourself with a shy smile, promising not to bother them as you shoved your nose in a book for the rest of the journey.

James couldn’t help but ogle at your soft expressions, reacting to the exciting fantasy unfolding in between the pages of your novel. He gulped as his face grew visibly warmer, pushing up his glasses once more before turning back to his new entourage of mischief makers, already planning what would be their first of many pranks.

The Great Hall swarmed with chaos as students filtered in through gaping doors. The Sorting Hat had played in James’ favour, allowing all of his new friends into the house of brave hearted heroes.

He laughed with his friends as they stumbled to the Gryffindor Table, only distracted once again by the girl with the hat on her head. “Gryffindor!” The hat exclaimed, your eyes thrown wide with surprise as you tediously moved towards the four boys.

James grinned at you as you nodded in his direction, choosing to sit on the far end of the table with two girls who shared that stunned expression. When his attention returned to his three friends, he was met with a round of teasing coos and knowing smirks, causing him to sink down in his chair with a blush painted across his cheeks. The Sorting Hat really had answered all of his prayers.

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You stood tentatively in the crowd of red and gold, etched between Charlie and Hope in the stands as your eyes curiously followed Gryffindor’s seeker.

The Quidditch pitch was filled with adrenaline as Slytherin rocked and tumbled against the force of the lion. James Potter was speeding through the mass of players, a joyful laugh permanently plastered on his face as he wove through the commotion.

Your red sweater was proudly on display in the stands, disguised as your warmest clothing when asked why you were in house colours. You didn’t dare tell your roommates about your newfound support for the team after the introduction of their newest fourth year seeker, but they slowly caught on as your blush began to match your clothing every time the boy flew purposefully close.

His laugh faltered with a gasp when he caught your eye in the stands, glancing at your attire that you failed to cover with your hands. Your eyes met for another brief moment before Gryffindor’s golden boy was soaring once again with newfound vigour.

Your gaze followed his figure in the air, a soft smile evident on your lips. Charlie and Hope leaned forward slightly to pass a knowing smile across your stiff form, only returning their gaze to the field as their house won the match.

The walk back to the common room was quiet, a soft hum of nature surrounding the three of you as you marched along the path. That was until Charlie’s curiosity got the better of her.

“So…Potter looked quite dashing up there, don’t you think, Hope?” She pretended to ponder, gaze to the night sky. “Why, he was really something! That speed made his hair quite an endearing mess, right, love?” Hope turned to you with a teasing smirk, patiently awaiting your flustered answer.

“Uh- yeah! Yeah, he was good, you know, for an egomaniac…” you kept your eyes fixed on the path ahead of you, praying to Merlin that your blush wasn’t visible in the darkness.

“Mhmm…he seemed quite taken by this little number of yours,” Hope gestured up and down your body, “maybe you want to fuel that pretty little ego of his, hmm?” You were surrounded by a chorus of amused chuckles from your friends as your face burned under the interrogation.

“No! Well, maybe…he looked cute in the uniform, that’s all! Nothing to write home about…” You pouted with furrowed brows, kicking a pebble in your path as your friends broke out in teasing cheers.

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The Gryffindor table was filtered with soft morning light as your group eagerly grasped at any food they could get their hands on. James tucked himself securely into your side, a smug grin plastered on his face as you grumbled words of frustration, brows dipped and lips pouting at the lack of opportunity to serve yourself.

Sirius cheerfully loaded food onto his plate before passing the bowl to James, dodging your outstretched hands. Your look of frustration was about to shift to anger before the sweet boy beside you began scraping the leftovers in his grasp onto your empty plate. You turned to him with a grateful smile that he could stare at for hours, squeezing him around his middle in thanks before diving into your meal.

James continued to pile food in front of you, planting kisses across your cheeks between servings and spoonfuls before draping an arm across your shoulders. “Not so grumpy anymore, are you love?” James chuckled, “Maybe a certain boyfriend has lifted your spirits?”

You swallowed your mouthful as you nodded eagerly, looking up at him with wide eyes that melted his heart. “I think I’m finally getting this Gryffindor pride thing,” you mumbled as you reached for another spoonful of food, “Dating the captain of the Quidditch team is certainly an ego boost.”

James grinned at you, brushing his nose against your cheek with a mischievous expression. He was finally beginning to fall into a comforting routine with you, brushing aside any nerves your soft smile might ignite in him.

The others looked at the sweet pair with satisfaction, sharing looks of relief after you announced yourselves as an official couple.

“Merlin, it’s about time!” Sirius exclaimed, hitting the table hard enough to lift plates in the air at contact. The group laughed with amusement as James leant into your warmth, arms enclosed around your torso as he sighed into your skin.

The overbearing dread of unrequited, terrifying love that clouded his logic had melted away with your simple touch. This will be his year. The year he shares with you.

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A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this little series! While this is the official end to the story, feel free to request some blurbs based on these two characters in my asks! Thank you to everyone who patiently stuck with me while I worked on this, I’m eternally grateful for all your support <3

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Taglist: @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @caspiankingofnarnia @thesuitelifeofafangirl @moonydoodlez @fionnalopez @kawaiiarbitervoid @kc2sstuff @rafeyswrd @mads12043 @spicybearnaise @ch3rry-vine @probabydeadbynow @ilovejamespottersomuch @mqg125 @sofiacblair @valenftcrush @revesephemeres @louweenier @the-lavender-girl @empath-bunny @bmyva1entine

[stars-tonight]

hiii can i request for some fluff & crack imagines on suna who has the biggest fattest crush on you and decided to wait no longer and confess 🫣🫣 if ur comfortable with it of course 🫂🫶🏻

IN HIS DREAMS (FT. SUNA RINTARŌ)

synopsis: the four times suna rintarō attempts to confess to you and the one time he finally does. 4+1, fluff, pre-timeskip, suna is a bit of a lovestruck fool

word count: 2620

the first time suna rintarō nearly confesses to you, it’s at a party in front of just about everyone. a game of truth or dare was under way, and some of the kids were already getting tipsy off the alcohol someone had snuck in. suna didn’t drink--coach would kill him if word got out--and he noticed that you didn’t either.

“suna, truth or dare!” atsumu exclaims, slinging an arm around his shoulders. atsumu didn’t drink anything either, probably for the same reason as suna. he had to admit he respected the guy a little because of it.

he sighs, contemplating his choices. he knows atsumu would ask him something super embarrassing, but he’s not about to strip naked and run through the neighborhood. besides, he could always lie if the truth really was that bad. “truth,” he says finally.

atsumu rolls his eyes. “you’re no fun,” he complains. “fine. who do you like?”

suna blinks. [y/n], his brain thinks immediately, and his eyes dart over to you only to find that you’re already looking at him, an amused, curious little gleam in your eye. you look absolutely heavenly tonight; you’re not dressed super fancy, but you look put-together enough that he’s noticed multiple other people checking you out tonight (not like you need to dress up to be hot, you could probably show up in pajamas and he’d still be heads over heels). you’re looking at him with a little smile on your face, almost like you really want to know the answer too. he opens his mouth, closes it. he can just hear your name slipping past his lips. that would be an absolute disaster.

“what are you, twelve?” he forces himself to say, blinking hard and averting his eyes. “that’s a stupid question.”

“you’re avoiding it!” atsumu chides him. “c’mon, who is it?”

suna rolls his eyes and pushes his friend away. “your mom.” he pulls his knees to his chest as atsumu shouts and complains, his eyes still occasionally finding themselves fixed on your figure. his face felt hot. damn, he was down bad, wasn’t he?

the second time suna rintarō nearly confesses to you, it’s after a brilliant idea strikes. he wakes up at five in the morning and practically jumps out of bed, scrambling around his house to get ready before dashing to school. he’s never this energetic in the morning, but something about the thought of you makes his adrenaline soar. he gets to school as soon as it opens; he’s the first one in the classroom and takes this time to carefully arrange his present on your desk. he had poured his whole heart out in that letter, he had gone to too many convenience stores to count to buy that special brand of yogurt he knew you liked, and he had spent hours trying to perfect his drawing of you that would hopefully charm its way into your heart. suna is by no means an artist, and he had nearly torn up the piece of paper in frustration last night because he couldn’t get the sparkle in your eyes quite right. to avoid suspicion, he heads off to the library after he finishes, planning to return to the classroom a few minutes before class officially starts.

at seven twenty, suna returns to the classroom. as he gets closer, his heart starts beating faster. soon he’d see your reaction to the gifts. he’d been too scared to leave his name in letter, only a mysterious message telling you to meet him on the rooftop at sunset today. if everything works out, it would be absolutely perfect. so romantic, how could you say no?

he turns into the room and stops short in the doorway.

the letter is opened. the yogurt is half empty. the picture is nowhere in sight. his eyes land on the open window, and as the strong wind messes up his hair, the awful truth dawns on him. the drawing must have been blown away. and as for the letter. . .

he spends half his time in this classroom staring at you. he knows everything there is to know. he knows how you chew on your pencil when you’re concentrating, how you shake your hair out of your eyes before writing down an answer, how you twirl your pencil when you’re bored. he knows everything about you. except, apparently, where you sit.

suna nearly face palms, right then and there. oh my god. . . how stupid was he? all that work and he had messed up the very last step. now his--your--letter and yogurt are in someone else’s hands. he’s numb as he makes his way to his seat and plops down. running a hand through his hair, he fights back an urge to yell in frustration. this is the one time he’s actually tried for anything.

he puffs out his cheeks as he lets out a deep sigh. that was his whole heart, poured out to you. he suddenly feels so intensely grateful that he hadn’t given any clues in the letter as to who he was. maybe a written confession wasn’t the best idea. like what had just happened, it could easily fall into the wrong hands, and it could become terrifying blackmail material later on for the twins.

he would have to try again some other time, he decides. and it would probably have to be face to face.

the third time suna rintarō nearly confesses to you, it’s after nationals. at least, it’s supposed to be after nationals.

inarizaki were practically the favorite to win nationals. suna rintarō, a national champion? how could you say no?

you text suna the day before the big match to wish him luck. i’ll be watching! you add, with a little smiley face.

suna fights back the urge to tell you to pay extra close attention to him and all the kills he’s going to get tomorrow. instead he just thanks you. he’d confess to you at the end of the tournament, he promises himself. after he wins. you’ll see the photos of him and his medal and the trophy in the newspaper, on social media, everywhere. and when he comes back a national champion and proclaims his love for you, how would you be able to resist? it’s a perfect plan.

then inarizaki loses to karasuno. and suna goes home with his head hung low. how could he confess to you now? he’s not cool. he’s not a winner. he’s just about the biggest loser around.

the winner is ichibayashi. of course it is. suna’s on the subway, riding home from school, when he sees the news. he sighs deeply, tipping his head back against the cold train window. if anyone on the ichibayashi team had a crush they were wanting to confess to, they’d be able to do it now. him, on the other hand? he can’t go to you and confess to you as a loser. he’d have to find some other time. actually, maybe at this point it's better just to not confess to you at all. both of his plans so far had gone wrong. was it even worth trying again? maybe if he stopped thinking about you and tried to avoid you, he could just forget about your existence.

ha, says the little voice in his head that he knows is right. in your dreams.

the fourth time suna rintarō nearly confesses to you, it’s not by choice and after quite possibly the worst choice of his life: asking atsumu for love advice.

“you like [y/n]?” atsumu shrieks the second suna mutters your name. he jumps out of his chair and throws himself at his setter, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“not so loud!” he hisses. “do you want the whole world to hear?”

atsumu licks his hand, and suna jumps off him, wiping his hand on atsumu’s bed in disgust. “we’re in my house, suna,” atsumu says, waving a hand dismissively. “no one else will hear. but come on! you like [y/n]? have you told them yet? you need help confessing, is that it?”

“shut it!” suna shouts, and he finally quiets down. suna slides a glance sideways at osamu, who’s sitting at his desk playing video games. osamu is wearing headphones, so suna continues. “yes, okay? yes to everything. except the confession part, i-i haven’t told them yet. and--fine--maybe i need a bit of help."

“ooh!” atsumu makes a little face at him. “so here’s what you gotta do, suna, and listen up close. you catch them when they’re alone, and then you press them against the wall and you ki--”

“miya!” suna roars, face beet red. “this isn’t fun--”

“what’s the party about?” osamu yells, throwing off his headphones. “i have them on noise cancelling and i’m blasting music! and i can still hear you! jesus, it’s almost as loud as ‘tsumu’s snoring!”

“shut your trap, ‘samu!” atsumu retorts, and the two start bickering loudly. suna sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. why did he even think this was a good idea? what in atsumu’s love life--or lack thereof--led him to think he’d be a good person to go to for crush advice?

“[y/n]?” osamu says, and suna perks up immediately. his friend is staring at him with arms crossed, an eyebrow raised and a wholly unimpressed look on his face. “you like [y/n].”

suna groans, throwing himself backward onto his bed. “would you just shut up about it already?” he mutters. “i don’t want anyone to know.”

“you don’t want anyone to know?” osamu’s other eyebrow raises too. “suna, i think everyone knows. you’re not slick.”

suna stares at him, gaping. what was he talking about, everyone knows? he had been doing a great job of hiding his crush! how would anyone get that idea?

“come on, suna! you’ve gotta tell her! gimme your phone, i’ll do it for you!”

“whoa--wait, what?” suna misses the frantic grab for his phone as atsumu swipes it out of his lap. “give me that back--you don’t know my password--hey!”

face id does its job too well as atsumu easily gets into his phone, jumping up and running around as suna leaps up after him and starts chasing him around the room. “i’m doing you a favor!” he yelps, as suna finally catches up to him and tackles him to the floor. “you’ve gotta tell them, how else would you know how they feel?”

“i’ve been trying to tell them!” suna complains. “and i’d prefer to do it on my own terms, thank you very much!” and he grabs his phone back from atsumu.

it takes a few hits and threats for atsumu to finally drop it. suna sinks down onto the floor. what has he done? he’s revealed his deepest secret to the worst secret keeper alive. he runs a hand over his face, contemplating his life decisions. never would he have thought that miya atsumu would know about his crush on you sooner than you yourself.

i’ve got to do it now, he realizes. before atsumu ruins it. i’ve got to tell [y/n] first.

and the time suna rintarō actually confesses to you, he’s secretly stalking you in the library.

he didn’t even realize he had memorized your daily schedule until he found himself walking into the library. what is he doing here? he doesn’t like books. but that question is quickly answered as he spots you turn the corner, a little smile on your face as you admire all the books on the shelf.

he tries to be inconspicuous as he shuffles into the section opposite you, ears and eyes on alert for your every movement. he takes in a little breath--he knows what he wants to say, he’s been practicing after all. and this is a prime time to say it. besides, if he doesn’t say it soon he thinks he’ll burst from holding everything in.

you turn the corner, and he quickly follows to not let you out of his sight. only to run straight into you. your books tumble out of your hands as you stumble backward, a small gasp falling from your lips.

“shit, sorry,” he mutters, reaching down to help you pick up your book. you reach down at the same time, and the two of you hit your heads together.

“ah, sh--” he starts again, before remembering some advice that atsumu had given him on being a gentleman--how could he curse in front of his crush? so ungentlemanlike. he stares at you, squinting a little, rubbing the sore spot on his head. you look up at him, eyes wide, and hastily straighten up after picking up your books.

“rin! i’m so sorry, are you okay?” you reach up and brush his hair out of his eyes.

“yeah, ‘m fine,” he mumbles, his eyes still a little glazed. you bite your lip, setting your books down on the table next to you. then you hastily reach up and take his face into your hands, turning his head this way and that as you examine the damage.

suna blinks, freezing as he feels your hands cup his face. his face heats up almost immediately, and he quickly averts his gaze. “[y/n],” he mumbles.

“hm?”

“can we go somewhere? i gotta talk to you.”

you frown, grabbing your books and hugging them to your chest. “sure, i just gotta check these out first. would the courtyard work?”

he nods.

the walk to the courtyard is one of the most awkward things ever. suna leads you to a quiet, slightly shady location, before clearing his throat. “uh. . .”

he then makes the mistake of looking at you. you’re looking up at him with a little smile on your face, your eyes and hair shining in the sunlight. suna’s heart quickens, then practically stops. all his practiced words fly out of his mouth.

no. wait. he’s wanted this for so long. he takes a deep breath. “i like you,” he blurts out, face heating up.

your eyebrows crease a little. “sorry?” you tilt your head. “wh-what did you say?”

he risks a glance at you and is surprised to see you’re blushing. he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “i-i like you,” he manages again.

your face breaks out into a huge smile. you throw your arms around him, and he staggers back for a second, stunned. “i was waiting for that,” you tell him cheekily. “sure took you a while to finally say it.”

his face goes bright red. “you knew?” he sputters, awkwardly putting his arms around you too.

you look at him, grinning, a pink blush still dusting your cheeks. “everyone’s been teasing me about it for so long now,” you admit.

suna’s heart fills to the brim. he’s so happy he just may burst.

and he doesn’t know who makes the first move, but all of a sudden your lips are on his and he’s nearly fainted from happiness. kissing you is everything he’s dreamed of and more. he melts into your touch, pulling you tight against him. your hands creep up to cup his face, and his rest comfortably on your waist. everything is perfect.

and then--

“ooh! get it, suna!”

he pulls away sharply, eyes darting to the culprit. “i’ll get you, miya!” he threatens, pushing past you to lunge at the snickering twin. atsumu leaps out from behind the bush and starts running, dangling his phone in front of suna and taunting him openly.

as suna chases atsumu around the courtyard, you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand. “oy, atsumu,” you call out as they run past you. “send that photo to me, will you?”

A/N: hi! i’m so sorry about the long wait lol but i finally got around to writing some more as i’m starting to recover from my concussion. i’m not that great at writing in present tense especially when there’s elements in the past in the story, so my apologies if there are some tense or grammar mistakes

[hoe4sports]

Antarctica

Leah Williamson x reader

A/N: Mentions of throwing up and nausea.

Your eyes flutter when you feel your body start to wake up. The season changing from summer to fall makes you feel relieved. You consider it a clean sheet, a desperately needed fresh start for instance. When the season changes, it marks how the world still moves forwards. It’s a blunt reminder that, everything still has to go on. It’s not summer anymore, but the light outside is the kind of light that blinds you in the fall. It takes you some adjusting to get used to the light pouring in from outside. The light peeks through the slit of your curtains revealing your apartment’s desperate need for a clean with dust particles roaming through the air.

The fall has made its appearance. Colouring the landscape into a golden shade of brown and yellow blended into a perfect combination. Before you wrap yourself in the big comforter again, you run your eyes across the window. You live fairly high up, the kind of high that makes the building sway with the wind’s despair. The pillow calls for you and you happily oblige, putting your head on the soft square.

“07:33” you parrot to yourself before obliging to your body’s call for sleep. Sleep is weighing heavily on your eyelids before you feel a startle. Moments before you feel yourself soar into to your most holy happiest place: Your body does a startle that frightens you beyond your own knowledge leaving your back feeling cold.

“07:33?? Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You yell out in frustration in the shell of an apartment that once was filled with love. The instant panic causes you to go diving off the bed and become familiar with the carpet, naturally face first. That’s when the inner chaos erupts . Your keys are nowhere to be found, but ultimately you find them on the shoe rack. Then realisation hits you; all your training bra’s are dirty. As a compromise you end up with the next best thing; A bright pink Nike swim top.

As you flee out the door, you instantly have to run back in for your phone and when you eventually get to the car feeling lightheaded from the running; you are wearing two different shoes.

The feeling of letting someone down is so painful that you’d rather be let down yourself. You hurry back into the apartment at the speed of a lightning practically jumping on one leg out into the hallway with one sneaker on your right food and the other in your hand desperately trying to get it on. You do a spin as soon as your shoes are physically on to your feet before you run out of the hallway, fly down all 16 floor and jumps into the car. By grace, you end up making it somewhat safely to your destination. The wheels of the car stops turning at 07.44, just 1 minute shy of the obligatory first breakfast with your te

Your frame moves in a rapid speed outside making a beeline for the player’s entrance across the parking lot. A few swears escapes your lips in frustration as you pass car after car. Before it happened, you were always early. The chaos of oversleeping leads to your hair being everywhere. ThTs also knew. Everyone knows that you don’t oversleep, ever. When you enter the cafeteria with your hands busy tying your hair up, Jonas gives you an apologetic look. He dosent look mad or disappointed in you, his eyes are giving you grace. The whole team is giving you grace because they all know. Even though you tried to camouflage it, hide it in the deepest of closets and put on the bravest face you could; they still all knew.

“Welcome back, girls. We are delighted to have you all back and I trust that you have all had immensely with rest. This fall, there are some changes moving into action..” The team’s coordinator announces as you attempt finding your spot. The attempt is rather unsuccessful, and it makes you sound like an elephant in a porcelain store.

You slide down next to Guro and Jessie. Sitting between the two girls makes you feel safe and seen. Guro is a natural leader. Her leadership will push you to your physical limits, but she will be the first to notice any kind of change in behaviour. She was a good choice as the Norwegian captain.

The girls share a look before Jessie pats your back which sends you into a pre spiral. Whenever people showed you kindness, your radars immediately went off, making it feel like something was wrong. You try to shake the thought, but the attempt remains unsuccessful.

“It’s okay, I’m so happy you showed up, Y/N. I’m here for you.” Guro whispered to you. The act was meant as a good deed, but it left you feeling even further confused. Guro was there when it happened, she was the first and only person you told. Your eyes move to Jessie who sends you yet another apologetic look. The look is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“..and with that, our newest signing will be coming in for practice in a few hours. Let’s all enjoy the fantastic breakfast that our amazing workers has prepared for us. Here is to a good season of growth and training!” the coordinator ends her speech. The speech stretched out for what seemed like forever, leaving you with a very obnoxious yawn. You thought that the group would be annoyed on the seemingly disrespectful motion, but instead the apologetic looks flooded like flowers at a funeral. All of the words from the coordinator had gone above and beyond your head. The anxiety was building up like a boiling kettle in your gut. It felt like your body had set off an alarm to active your entire nervoussystem. You rub your hands together for comfort, not getting any kind of relief.

The anixety gathers up in your gut, throat and eventually your headspace. Guro is the first to notice. It was obvious when everyone at your table had stood up to explore the breakfast buffet, but you got left behind. Guro looks at you with empathy in her eyes.

"Y/N? Lets get something to eat before you decide to panic"

"Huh?"

Your visibly confused gaze shifts towards Guro.

"I just can't shake the feeling that something bad is about to happen..

" You say as you get up and Guro grabs your hand. The walk to the desk is so silent that you swear people could hear your thougts. The dishes are lined up. The first breakfast after breaks are always a big deal in the Chealsea household. Your stomach is growling for food, but all you feel is nausea. The feeling stings in you when your eyes meet the older lady. Her smile is so big and she looks so proud of her pancakes. You offer her a small smile. Reluctantly, you grab pancakes, some berries and a smoothie before you head back to the table.

At the table, the conversation is going like a whirlwind. Lucy is going on about how much she hates the cold while Sam is blabbering about the latest ring she got her partner. You stand out from the crowd, just quietly munching on the strawberries that you grabbed. The only thing you want to, is to go home and curl up in a small ball and die.

Jessie suddenly looks at Guro with a slight fright in her eyes. You look at both the girls moving your head from one side to the other. Jessie gulps. Guro gives Jessie an annoyed look. The annoyance and frustration is rapidly bulding up. You drop your fork down on your plate when your spot a familiar pair of eyes moving towards your table. Your heartrate skyrockets and you feel an instant need to throw up. Your hands go cold and you face goes red.

"Hey, im Leah and im excited to be your new teammate" she says with a stupid excited smirk on her face while reaching out her hand at you. You stare at her hand. If eyes could cut, she would be without hands.

Everyone goes silent. The whole room goes silent. Everyone saw what happend to your earlier. All of them saw the damage that was done. Everyones eyes are at you. You panic. Its a fight, freeze, flee moment. You want to yell at the top of your lungs. Cuss her out. Scream and cry and yell.

You stand up with your heart going crazy. You look Leah in her eyes. The rage is building up further. Jessie taps your hand. Your gaze meets hers. Then you look up at Leah again. You give her a stern look before you turn around and walk away. If she could walk away, why couldnt you?

[19calicos]

i know where to look – kuroo tetsurō ˎˊ˗

✶⋆.˚ chapter 1: call an ambulance! ( 𖦹 )

now playing: humility by gorillaz ft. george benson

cw: weed, skate injuries, 1 blood mention, a bit of overthinking

deep breaths: in, and out. the first lesson anyone learns in skateboarding is that the board can smell fear. hesitate and you'll eat shit, and they've eaten shit loads of times in the past couple days – the bruises and aches in their joints speak for themselves.

they blinked and two hours already passed, but they could live in this moment forever. everything was just right; suna was on aux with some mellow tunes at a relaxed volume, the night breeze was gentle and cool on their cheeks, and the lights of the library cast a peaceful glow on their friends watching from below. the staircase was their runway, and the library courtyard was their oyster.

“you got this yn!” noya called out, jumping up and down and pumping his board in the air. atsumu and suna were sat on their own boards while osamu held his phone up, recording them. yn insisted this would be their last try for the night and that this was gonna be the one that they land, and begged him to record this attempt.

“i’m gonna be honest, i don’t know how the fuck yn hasn’t broken their ankles yet. they’ve taken some crazy falls,” atsumu commented, cheek rested in his right palm while his left hand toyed with his shoelaces.

osamu shrugged in response. “it’s funny, they’re terrified of talking to people they don’t know but not of landing boneless from that high up.”

another deep breath and yn backed up a couple more steps. the world was crystal clear before them, from the way the tape of their board felt in their hands, all rough on the tips of their fingers, to the way their feet dug into their shoes, stinging ever so lightly from all the times they landed that night. they were floating on cloud 9, and now they were about to fly.

one, two, and they’re in a running start.

three, four, and they’re rolling on their board.

five, six, and they’re in the air, hand holding onto the middle of their deck.

seven, eight, nine, ten, and they’re soaring. the world is still for a moment, and they can see all of the library and the courtyard before them. they catch sight of their friends below, eyes alight at the sight because they know that this is the one they're going to land.

they landed with a solid clatter on two feet, the immense momentum rolling them quickly across the courtyard with their hands raised triumphantly in the air. they looked back at their friends cheering for them and mirrored their smiles – until they were interrupted by a crash that knocked them off their board and turned the world sideways. 

“ow, what the fuck!” someone yelled, followed by the sound of yn’s board crashing somewhere. they wouldn’t be surprised if their board broke with how much force it flew with, but for now they focused on sitting upright and blinking back the sting of their fall.

oh, they crashed into a bench. at least they landed the trick and got it on video too. they helped themselves onto their feet and jogged towards the direction of the yell and the crash.

before them were three guys around their age, two with weird hair and another with glasses. the tall one with black hair was on the ground, holding his head while the other two’s jaws were dropped. yn’s own eyes widened and they ran over, panic rising in their chest.

oh, fuck. it’s the guy from section that they saw from their peripherals and thought was kinda cute. and he is cute up close, with his dark messy hair, but this wasn’t the time to get nervous over their proximity to him.

“fuck, oh my god, fuck are you okay? i’m so sorry! oh my god, we have to call an ambulance or something what the fuck,” they immediately spilled, kneeling to his level to check the damage. there was no blood thankfully, but his chances of a concussion were high.

the voice of suna reached them from a few feet away. “yn, are you okay–oh, kuroo? bokuto?”

weird hair guy #2’s eyebrows rose with recognition. “suna! and tsumu! hey hey hey! could you give akaashi and i a hand here with kuroo?”

with yn’s now badly chipped board in hand, noya jogged up to the group and knelt where yn and kuroo were. “jeez, usually i’d say you’re fine but your head is bleeding a bit yn. c’mon, let’s get you two to urgent care.”

yn let noya pull them to their feet. he put their arm around his shoulders for support and watched bokuto support the cute guy the same way. glasses – or akaashi – didn't seem very phased and already had directions pulled up for urgent care. yn’s fingers grazed the side of their head, and when they took a look they saw bright red. yeah, noya was right about urgent care.

atsumu nodded to suna and osamu, car keys in hand. “i can drive us. ‘samu, suna, we’ll see you guys at home?”

“sure, text us if you need anything,” osamu replied. it’s not like they were strangers to late night urgent care visits, not when he skated with yn so much and lived with two walking tornadoes named atsumu and noya.

once in atsumu’s car, yn slumped against the window, with noya crawling into the middle seat and akaashi coming in after. the ache in yn’s head worsened, and their shoulders were tense from their fall, the guilt and fear of giving this cute guy (kuroo, they now know) a concussion or worse, and the presence of people they didn’t know. did kuroo recognize them? should they just drop the class and jump off a cliff now so they don’t have to face him ever again after this?

noya’s elbow nudged them, and he offered them a kind grin. “hey, don’t worry too hard. he seems tough ‘cause if that was anyone else who took your board to the head, they’d probably be knocked out,” he spoke, voice low so that no one could hear him over atsumu’s radio, bokuto’s lively chatter about volleyball from the trunk, and kuroo’s grunts of response.

yn exhaled and let their head fall on noya’s shoulder, their own shoulders relaxing after being so tense. he was right — from the way kuroo’s friends acted, they seemed confident he would be fine after all.

“thanks, noya,” yn breathed with a small smile of their own as they pulled into the urgent care parking lot. yeah, as long as kuroo didn’t recognize them from class, they could get through this without dying of embarrassment.

masterlist | next

more:

⟢ everyone got home close to 3:30am. kuroo did have a concussion and yn had a nasty scratch on the side of their head, but it wasn’t that serious so they were in and out of urgent care pretty quick. usually they just take care of their own injuries tho

⟢ normally it takes yn a while to warm up to people, but because they had atsumu and noya with them they fed off their energy and are now well acquainted with bokuto, akaashi, and kuroo. they all played a lot of crazy 8 on game pigeon while waiting for kuroo's and yn's turns to get checked out

⟢ here’s a video of what the trick yn was practicing looks like ! imagine a couple less stairs but yeah, yn’s body is mostly made of steel since they’ve been skating forever. do not try this at home lmfao yn is just lowk crazy and has like no sense of danger when they skate they just see a trick and go like "yo lemme do that too" and they're still alive so it works for them

⟢ thankfully kuroo did not recognize yn! they sit on opposite sides of the classroom (kuroo by the window, yn by the door) and they both weren't paying attention to anyone's icebreakers. yn didnt plan on showing up to section anymore unless required anyway so this just gave them another reason to not show up

⟢ suna did end up rolling the cross joint while yn, atsumu, and noya were at urgent care. everyone smoked it together but not without forcing yn to debrief about kuroo and convincing them to text him

⟢ might upload what everyone's boards look like soon hmmmm

⟢ also im rusty and this isn't proofread please don't look too hard into my grammar ... hoping the time skips (afternoon to 2am) make sense and that i didnt leave any crazy plot holes alr LOLLLL please ignore timestamps

taglist: @eggyrocks @whorefornoodles @sereniteav @bedeater @itsdragonius @spicana @localgaytrainwreck @sunafc

[sinsirellaxx]

The one time the Rogue Prince tried to get you back

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warning: Darkish Daemon. Not proofread.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2

It was right after he had read the letter, which was soon after crumbled up with trembling hands and thrown into the fireplace. Daemon was angry. He was livid – how dare you leave him? And take his daughter with you?

Taking a minute to himself to calm his heart he hurried out of your chambers without wasting another moment. How far did you come? How did you leave Dragonstone? Who had helped you? He’d have to deal with all those questions later. First, he had to find you any his child.

Caraxes soared through the sky, Daemon gripping the dragon's scales tightly. His heart pounded with each beat of the dragon's wings; his mind consumed by thoughts of you – of the betrayal he felt. He wouldn't let you slip away.

He searched every corner of the realm, leaving no stone unturned in his quest to find you. And when he finally caught a glimpse of you in a crowded market square, his eyes lit up – he couldn’t allow any mistakes.

He swooped down from the sky, as soon as he found a clearing, jumping down from Caraxes and pulling his hood over his head as he stomped towards the city, his steps heavy as he did not waste any time.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he pushed his way through the crowd, thanking whatever gods as he saw you with your little daughter in your arms. He swiftly followed you as you made your way through the crowd, his little girl staring dreamily at her mother. The sight would have warmed his heart on any other occasion but instead, it clouded his mind with more darkness as he hardened his gaze. He’d have to be more careful with his little wife now.

He followed you into an inn – you hadn’t turned once to look at your surroundings before walking in and your carelessness worried him deeply. It was further proof that you needed to be taken care of.

As soon as you opened the door to your room, he carefully pushed you into the room, his hand clasped on your lips as he closed the door behind him.

You started screaming into his palm, trying to twist and turn your body to free yourself from his arms, while tightening your grip on your child.

“Shhh, riñītsos. Calm down.” He whispered against your ear as he pressed a harsh kiss onto sensitive kiss underneath his, taking in your scent as he closed his eyes briefly. He felt your body freeze in his arms, his hand slowly falling from your parted lips. It was silent. Until it wasn’t. Your daughter started crying, her little wail ripping through the silence.

Daemon immediately removing his hood before lifting his daughter into his arms, shushing her silently as he softly hummed her favorite lullaby.

“Don’t cry, tala. Kepa is here, you are safe now.” He paced around the room as he swayed the upset little girl in his arms. “You’ll be back home soon – your muña was just a little confused.” Daemon mumbled as he lifted his gaze to glare at your still frozen form. You slowly shook your head when he mentioned home.

“I-I’m not … we’re not comin back.” You finally managed to stutter. Your tongue darting out to moisten your suddenly dry lips. Your husband’s eyes followed the movement, the corner of his lips stretching up into a smirk.

“It is funny you think you have a choice, dear wife.” He looked back down at the little infant, his smirk turning into a soft smile as he noticed his little girl falling asleep in his arms. She must have missed him. His little dragon.

“I will take my daughter home and you will come with – if you don’t, you’ll never see her again.” The prince said, his voice eerily calm as his eyes were still glued to the now sleeping babe.

“You – you can’t do that–“

“I can and I will.” He spat out, his glare back on you. “You dare run away from me with my child?” Daemon had to grit his teeth – it took everything in him to keep the fury boiling in him a bay. You were lucky he was holding your daughter – the only thing that was keeping him from being in your face. But he’ll have his moment with you. He will. “And have the gall to talk back? You will come back with me. You can't run from me, Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You and my daughter are mine. There is no place in this world that you can hide in. I won't let you go again."

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

sugar, spice and everything nice!

↖ navigation: ateez masterlist || main masterlist 

pairing: pining! barista wooyoung x gn! customer reader

tags: when i was writing this i was thinking to myself, "hear me out -wooyoung as the local cafe barista who has a massive crush on you, him being so so delusional about it", and then i decided to roll with because i can write about that so please enjoy! <3

summary: wooyoung's a barista, you're a (his) regular and he thinks this is his chance at a cafe slow-burn romance.

word count: 1.6k words

+ 1

"what can i get started for you today?" wooyoung monotonously greets like clockwork, fingers hovered over the touchscreen.

"what would you recommend?" he lifts his eyes to meet your inquisitive ones. pointing to the chalkboard, wooyoung replied flippantly, "these are our cafe's specialties." your eyebrows furrowed, repeating, "i know. what would you recommend?"

he paused in his tracks, much like a dear in headlights, "uh..." his face burns from the focused stare you had pinned on him. unsure, he rambles, "everything's...delicious! my favorite is the latte paired with the apple crumble pie." this time round, wooyoung takes a proper look at you.

you're pretty cute, he observed, hands idly fiddling with the cloth tucked in the pocket of his apron.

"okay. i'll have that." he enters your (his) order, and hands you a receipt, directing you to the pickup counter as he prepares your items.

when he finally hands over your items, you sheepishly apologized, "sorry if i had troubled you earlier. i didn't know what to get since it is my first time here." wooyoung found it difficult to be mad, "oh...it's no problem at all. i can assure you that everything here is good."

"thanks so much, uhm...wooyoung." you glanced down at his nametag and then back up to express your gratitude. as you picked up your items, he nods and responds out of habit, "come by again!"

+ 2

wooyoung leans his weight against the counter, phone in his hand as he goes on about his day, "—yeah and i was saying...oh! wait."

his voice dies down when he hears the bell ring, thinking it was another customer. but as soon as his gaze lands on you, a confident smile replaces the nonchalant expression he once had.

"catch you in a bit, my favorite person is here." he ends the call, not bothering to hear his friend's complaint. you were one of his frequent customers, and also someone he's taken interest in. a little bit too much interest in though, ever since his first chance meeting with you. you have been coming in at least once or twice a week, and each time his heart soars when you're around.

"hey sweetheart, anything i can get for ya?" he props his head up with his hand, eyes never leaving you as you scrutinize the chalkboard menu, "sweetheart...is that a new nickname? i bet you call everyone sweetheart, right wooyoung?"

"nah, only for you." he assures, and he jumps when he sees the sides of your mouth twitch upwards—no doubt holding back a grin. you rattle off your order, something he also knew by heart. this special order wasn't written on the menu, but something he had went out of his way to make for you, lying about a "secret" menu that only a few people (read: only you) knew.

"do you want anything else to go with that order? for you, it's on the house!" he gestured to the pastries at the display shelf and you teased, "are you sure about that? you're going to make a loss at this rate."

true, he was always offering to gift you a free pastry with your drink. not that it mattered because he'd gladly cover the cost with his salary just to see you smile.

"of course not. there wasn't much business today." a lie.

"and also, who else is going to taste my efforts?" partly the truth.

"i want to give one to you to cheer you on." absolute truth.

you relented, shaking your head, "okay, okay. you can pick one for me." he nearly swoons at the sight of you beaming at him, "of course." wooyoung prepares your order—making small talk with you—his silly smile never once disappeared in your presence.

"here you go." he hands them over to you, nearly dropping the items when your fingers brushed over his to collect your order. "thanks a bunch! i'll get going."

"bye...see you again!" he precariously leans over the counter, neck craning as you walked off. he sighs dreamily before having a "reality check" when another customer not-so-subtly coughs a distance away from him.

"sorry, what can i get for you today?"

+ 3

wooyoung checks his appearance against the reflection of the fridge by the back of the store, donning his apron on before stepping out. almost immediately, butterflies erupted in his chest when he spots you typing away on your laptop.

"hey." he smoothly greets you. you were seated at your usual space near the counter, a cup of tea beside you.

seems like today was a "no-procrastination day", judging from how your teapot was completely close to empty.

you raised your eyes to meet his, "hello! did you just start work?" he excitedly nods, then schools his expression not a second later, "yeah. need a refill?" he juts out his chin and you sighed, "yeah. your colleague had boiled the water a couple of times for me already."

so you've been here for a while now, wooyoung chews the inside of his cheeks to hide a triumphant smile. moving automatically, he grabs the hot kettle, "don't worry, i'll reheat your teabag as many times as you request me to." you beamed at him, "that would be nice."

"anything for you."

the next few hours passed by in a flash, yet the constant reminder that you were still sat there a great encouragement for wooyoung as he pushes through the dinner rush. as the last bit of the dinner crowd titters away, wooyoung makes his way to stand behind the counter to rest, standing opposite you. the empty dinner plate on your left made him smile knowing you were being fed well by him.

"how's it going?"

you hummed, "not bad! i think i'll go home and rest for a bit before i pull an all-nighter to complete this manuscript." wooyoung makes a face, "again?" you hid your chuckles behind your palm, "what do you mean 'again'? i swear i don't stay up late often."

"everytime you come here and stay here for nearly the whole day, you're most definitely pulling an all-nighter." he holds up a finger, as if to prove a point. "and secondly, you're drinking tea. because if you chugged coffee the whole day you'd be holed up in the toilet instead of doing your work." flabbergast at his statement, you reached over to playfully whack him, "wooyoung! how could you!"

he laughs, shoulders shaking and hands clutched over his stomach, "it's the truth!" you pouted, "you're too much...you didn't have to announce it to the world!"

wooyoung easily balances your plate and teapot on one hand, "i'm gonna be closing up soon, in about 30 minutes. will you be...making a move?"

your eyes comically widened, "it's that late?" a flick of your wrist shows the time on your watch, an amused wooyoung watching you.

"yeah, it is. you might as well wait till i finish clearing up and i'll send you to a bus stop or subway station," he offered, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "oh! that would be nice of you actually. is it alright?" you clasped your hands in front of you, a sparkle lighting up your eyes.

"of course."

+ 4

"are you closing?"

wooyoung had his back facing the door and he holds back a groan from the question. of course we're closing, he grumbles, the neon sign is already switched off and...

his thoughts trailed off when he spots you sheepishly standing by the door.

"what are you doing here this late?" wooyoung blurts out and you rubbed your neck nervously, "i was...craving an ice americano and also a..."

"let me guess. an apple crumble pie?" he teases, pretending to think hard about it. "exactly that." you levelled your gaze to meet his, eyes twinkling. but not a moment later you shook your head, "but if you're closing i'll go—"

"how about i see what i can do for you?" the moment the sparkle in your eyes seemed to light up brighter, wooyoung thinks he'd better remember this moment for the rest of his life. he ushers you in, "you know, i realized you haven't been passing by here lately. i'm going to have to extend my working hours if you only appear at this time of the day. it's not good for my business."

"hey...! i've been busy, okay?" you huffed and wooyoung just laughs, "i'm kidding. business has been great too, since it's the holiday season more people have been coming in to try our limited time menu." he bustles around the counters, making your request all while you peered over to state at him.

you mused, "you don't sound happy about this good news." he smirked, playful tone lacing his words, "clearly, because i haven't been seeing you around." the oven dings behind him and he pulls out the tray.

"that doesn't look like an apple crumble." setting down the tray before you, he slides your drink up next to it as your confusion settled in.

"ice americano this late isn't good for your stomach. and we also ran out of apple pies so, i made you hot cocoa and reheated some of the milk bread i made just now."

a second passed and wooyoung was afraid he did something wrong. "is...it not to your liking? i should have—" "—no! no, i'm just touched that you'd go out of your way to do something like that."

wooyoung's triumphant smile stretched wide on his face, "then, please enjoy while i clean up the store."

in comfortable silence, you had your supper while he tidied up like clockwork: mopping the floors, putting away utensils, straightening tables and chairs and not to forget, glancing at you as you happily ate.

"how much is this?" you fished out your wallet and wooyoung was quick to grab it from you, "nuh uh. this one's on me. you don't owe me anything." arms coming to cross in front of you, you pouted, "fine, then how can i repay you?"

"let's go on a date. you can pay me back then."

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (3.1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sensitive Boy, part I (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve surprises you with help at the perfect time.

Warnings for light smut (I have to split this chapter or it's just suddenly twice as long as the last, but really there's just massage and an implied orgasm in this half. You know me: too many feels and too much development...) MINORS DNI. This series is 18+ only. If you are underage or simply enjoy lighter content, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this post is not for you! WC 3.2k

With so much on your mind, scaring the crap out of you is not difficult, so his strong hands hold you upright.

“Don’t do that,” you shriek, barely glancing at Steve’s face. You startled so suddenly your housekeeping cart is left rolling away at a snail’s pace.

“Sorry, I—“ long arms abandon you and reach to stop the bin “—it said on your website you were closed for renovations, and…”

You look him up and down. You were sure after he left two months ago that you’d never see him again. You’d gone too far. You’d pushed him too hard. He wasn’t ready.

Steve adjusts the strap over his shoulder. “I thought maybe I could help out…if you want?”

The last guests checked out a half-hour ago, and you readied to spend the whole week meticulously refreshing each room with your parents. The list of what needs done, however, doesn’t only include the motel. There’s a bunch you all had let slide up at the house. Help would…be extremely helpful actually.

Steve pulls a paper bag out of his knapsack. “Or I brought you some lunch if you just want a break or something.”

“It’s okay,” you rush out. “More than okay. Thank you, yes. We’d love—I’d love that.”

No one else can know it’s him-him there though. You’ll have to think of a way to keep your parents and St-‘Grant’ as far apart as possible, and how long you can manage that is…questionable.

If Steve’s not worried though, you’re okay.

Turns out, keeping your family up at the house is easy. Your mom shouts down the phone with relief that she can tackle the fridge, and you hear your dad mumble something about ��the garage in daylight.’ You can enjoy a sandwich in the office with Steve in peace, explaining what all needs done before the electricians show up Friday afternoon.

The closure hasn’t been planned for a long time—not even before Steve and ‘Tom’s’ last visit—hence why you just painted Room 8, 5, 2, and 1 since March, but doing all those is how you and your parents really noticed that the light fixtures from the ‘90s were not only dated but very worn and that the same color layered over and over again for twenty years was, well, getting old.

Warmer months are better for the work. Pipes won’t freeze while you air out paint fumes, etc. The week after the gigantic, city festivities of Independence Day is notoriously dead. Since there were no reservations this stretch as of April, the family jumped at the chance to fix it all in one big, daunting go.

Saying you’d looked forward to this is a wild overstatement. You’ll be glad when it’s finished, and that’s the bulk of your excitement.

With his assistance though? Hope soars.

Steve will help you take down the sconces, the hanging lamps, and the panels above the vanities, then you both can—

“Where’s the paint?”

He’s very intense with the gameplan. Three guesses why.

“Dad’s gonna pick it up today. Probably. I’ll text him.” You whip out your cell again. “We didn’t think we’d get that far by evening.”

Steve nods.

“We also need to move all the furniture away from the walls and drape plastic to protect the carpet. Oh, and put tape along the trim and doorframes, ya know.”

Steve nods again. He wads up the wrapping from his sandwich and casually asks, “are all the doors open?”

You only just get your finger in the air to point at the desk.

“Master key is—“

But Steve is observant and has clocked everything about his surroundings each time he’s stayed, apparently. He stretches over to the wall beyond the counter, snatches the (correct) unmarked key, and heads out the door.

The service bell rings gently to emphasize the conversation is over.

All furniture in every room is pulled away by the time you finish sanitizing the one guest room he interrupted.

He asks where you keep the ladder, not that he’ll need it, but you will for reaching some of the lights.

You don’t know whether to be in awe of or exhausted by his efficiency.

He’s rigid and militant—go figure—until these few moments he suddenly can’t be.

As you toss plastic over the last bed to move, Steve yanks that sucker across the floor so fast, you roll off. His eyes are saucers as he apologizes, but you get the giggles and pick yourself up.

His fingers can’t separate thin layers of the plastic at one point, and he throws a minor fit until three rip apart together. Steve frowns at you and grumbles that he’s only ever used cloth for this before. It seems to take everything in his power not to say “back in my day,” but you can read between the lines.

Years of crusted paint makes the removal of some fixtures tricky.

Steve rips out one stripped screw with needle nose pliers, squeaks in alarm at the hole left behind, and then quietly asks if you have patch paste.

You call your dad before he’s left to buy paint. He adds spackling to the list.

The closest Steve comes to telling you anything specifically about himself is when you struggle with a stuck bolt.

“Just a little trick I learned when I was—“ Steve wraps his big hand around yours to pull the wrench instead of push from the other direction “—smaller.” He huffs out a laugh, adding, “when I couldn’t, ya know, ‘put my weight into it’ because a feather could’a knocked me over.”

As you relish the simple contact of his fingers, you smile, too.

“Hmm. I heard you got into back alley scrapes.”

“If you heard that I won any of those, you were lied to.” He patiently waits for you to finish removing the bolt before he pries the aged metal and glass away from the old paint it’s stuck in. Steve sighs dramatically.

“Shoddy education these days…”

“I…” You tap his bicep with the claws of the wrench. “I can’t argue with that. We hear only what they tell us about…heroes.”

You should have known he’d shut down at that word, but it’s the truth. Even with him right in front of you, the only things you know about Steve Rogers are from books, newspapers, and the internet. At face value—looking directly into the face of this man—all of what you’ve been told is hogwash. It’s insufficient. It barely covers 1% of who this man is.

He teaches you tricks of the weak man’s trade because it helped him once, too. Today, he’s friendly. Not that he was unfriendly before, but Steve is so reserved he never reference the past, in general, i.e. that there was a past existence of like the planet much less him.

It’s the number one rule of Fight Club: you don’t talk about Fight Club.

If there was ever a real fight club, it’s the Avengers.

You have no official rules for what this is between you. You don’t have to to know that is the most important one. You do not talk about Fight Club. Steve isn’t afraid of silence, that much is clear, but he isn’t a fan. He tries—he is trying—to connect and relate. He can’t be a man of the people, however, if he can’t talk to the people. 

It’s important: connection. You know with every fiber of your being that Steve deserves it, but even with unlimited, super-human strength, he cannot get himself out from between this rock and that hard place.

You do not talk about Fight Club, especially when you’ve been kicked out of Fight Club.

Today, though, he’s a little different, a little softer. Perhaps it’s knowing there are no other people in the building, perhaps he is truly more comfortable with you, but either way, Steve is not flat or off-putting.

His organized persona, his focus on the work, his indirect interactions and practical touch; they all fit here while he has a project. It’s the closest he can be to his old self, maybe even his real self, without mentioning the past—the fighting past—at all.

“You’re really good company,” you tell Steve, “even when you make holes in the walls.”

He tilts his head down and blushes. He shrugs as he takes the sconce out to the dumpster. Although he didn’t say it, you hope this is okay.

Either way, you relish it. The help. The touch. The silence. All of it.

You relish Steve.

Your dad brings by the paint, spackling, and a surprise of pizza for dinner while Steve is taping the baseboards in a corner. You introduce ‘Grant’ from afar and haul the cans and boxes from the car to the room, cataloguing all you two have finished to this point and what you’ll do before stopping for the night.

Dad is impressed. He’d suspected the three of you—you, he, and Mom, that is—might settle for slapping some paint up around where the electrician would install the new lights. No one planned on getting this far in one evening.

He won’t stand in the way of progress, so your dad simply calls out, “bit of an artist, are ya?”

Steve looks up, confident with only the side table lamps plugged in, he can barely be seen. “Just want to be useful,” he mutters.

You wink at your dad as he heads back to the still-running car. “Grant is a jack of all trades.”

You’re sure to thank him for the food and let him know all the motel stuff is completely covered for tomorrow, too. You’ll work as late as you can and start as early as possible.

Dad says your friend has gone ‘above and beyond.’ You agree wholeheartedly.

‘Grant’ would more aptly be described as a machine.

All the furniture moved, all the lights taken down, all bordering taped, and now all blemishes in the walls smoothed, your impromptu contractor finally calls it quits when he’s forced to watch stuff dry.

You’ve kept the air conditioning going in one room.

Steve tentatively asks if he should walk you up to the house, but you counter with “it’s not any less dangerous for an average guy alone to return” and a cheeky smirk. Besides, it is very late. You let Captain OCD keep going; you tapped out a while ago.

He puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, thinking of a comeback that never manifests. After giving up, Steve takes his tiny bag into the bathroom and brushes his teeth.

You can faintly hear it over the murmur of the TV.

You aren’t really watching. It’s background noise to your general exhaustion.

With only a side lamp and the screen as light, Steve’s bare feet crumple over the discarded plastic sheet on the floor. He falls into one side of the bed, fully-clothed and (finally) tired.

Though productive, the day has been a distant one, working in different rooms for most of it and tiptoeing around real conversation. You want him to feel appreciated, not pressured, so you ask if he’d like the TV on for a while or would rather quiet.

Steve just grunts with his eyes closed.

Gently, you place a hand on his chest to steady you, leaning to kiss his bearded cheek.

“Thank you, Steve,” you say softly. “Good night.”

He hums when you say his name, and before you can lift your hand away, he captures it under his, holding you in place.

His eyes aren’t open. He can’t see you smile wider.

“Okay.” You tuck yourself into his chest as he raises his other arm out of the way. “Okay.”

Your ear sits in the dip beneath his collarbone, listening to his steady heart, his thumb sweeping back and forth over you knuckles.

He smushes you closer to his side. You toss your leg over his.

You forget to turn off the TV.

He’s sanding the spackled spots by the time you wake, so you rub across his back and dismiss yourself to get breakfast up at the house.

Steve makes no effort to go with, which is fine. You assumed as much.

Your dad calls Grant a ‘magician’ over the pop of oil in the skillet and insists you give your friend whatever he needs to keep working so fast. You are only half-joking when you admit the key is staying out of his way.

Bonus: the exchange reinforces your parents simply leaving the two of you alone down the hill, and you proudly tell Steve that when delivering him an enormous plate of scrambled eggs.

He jumps right back into planning-mode and orders you to roll the first coat of paint onto large areas. He’ll follow, completing the edges and corners.

It’s such a domestic thing to do. There is no one in danger, there are no bodies piling up if he makes a wrong move, and he can go faster or take his sweet time. Steve breaks when he wants or needs to. He sits outside and listens to the birds in the sunshine. No one is around to question him, not even you. You are only there to encourage.

You realize he was looking for a project. He’s used to—and likes—being busy, getting his hands dirty, producing results.

It’s a long, messy day where he becomes more serene in spirit the more intensely he works. You reward him with gentle sweeps of your hand down his arms, pats on his shoulders, and brushes at the small of his back.

Despite the almost constant movement, the day is over before you know it, earlier than yesterday, but it’s too hot to go on.

All the windows stay open to air out the fumes.

Though it won’t stop you from sweating, you both shower off as many splatters and flecks of paint as you can. You insist he goes first so there’s plenty of hot water.

He’s sitting on the bed, shirtless, checking his phone when you come out of the bathroom, but he immediately squirrel the device away in his small bag. Not much to carry around. Not much to leave behind. Steve can’t leave a trace of himself anywhere.

Hunched over and fatigued, he flashes a polite smile your way and blinks heavily.

He deserves the world.

You grab the small bottle of lotion from the countertop and playfully jump onto the bed behind him.

“How about a massage, yeah? You much be aching.”

Honestly, you don’t mean for it to sound sexual, but the phrase comes out downright dirty, making Steve awkwardly chuckle.

“You don’t have to,” he placates.

“Nonsense, I want to. It’ll make the air feel cooler.” That’s as good of an excuse as any. Who cares when the rippled expanse of his back flexes wildly in your touch?

His breathes are audible from the beginning.

You dig at his traps, his leg bouncing as he tries to relax. You use your thumbs, the flats of your hands, and your knuckles.

He shoves his fist in his mouth when he starts to moan, covering the move with a cough, but muffling the noise is abandoned in favor of clasping over his lap. He’s intent on hiding his hardness this time. There’s nothing you can say to truly lessen the sting of needing more. You can’t simply tell him he’s allowed to desire this; you have to ignore his misplaced shame.

But you can take pity on him.

“If you lie flat—“ you step off the bed to give him privacy “—I’ll have more leverage.”

You hear him crawl and adjust on the sheets. “Unlike the torque on a wrench,” you add, just to show you’ve been listening to him.

More lotion is needed for the surface area.

You turn up the TV, feining interest in the late night show so any noise he makes is not as obvious. What the speakers can’t cover, however, is Steve’s involuntary thrusts when you rub the heels of you palms up and down the sides of his spine. If you prop up on your knees, he has more range of motion and doesn’t obviously rock you while mindlessly humping the bed.

His sweats are slung low on his hips, two darts of muscle prominent above his ass.

They are irresistible, the perfect grooves to target and roll into, and he immediately mewls long and deep into the mattress, fingers curling and relaxing while his body seizes.

He hasn’t even finished coming, you think, before he taps at your leg and races to the bathroom.

You hope you didn’t push too far. You hope he’d tell you to stop if he needs more space, more time. Mostly, you hope he knows you’d give him every conceivable pleasure, just because he is him.

The water runs a long time, continuous splashing in the sink, and then nothing.

He didn’t bring much because he doesn’t have much. Your heart sinks, realizing you’ve made him soil one of only two pairs of pants he has here.

He cracks open the door, muttering, but you can’t make out the words.

You turn the volume back down. “What?”

“It pretty hot.” He clears his throat. “Would you mind if I sleep…without…?”

“Naked?” you squeak before composing yourself. “That’s fine. Whatever’s comfortable.”

You shuffle up the bed to click off the lamps. This man isn’t the type to strut around in the nude—yet, anyway—so in the faint and ever-shifting glow of the screen across the room very little can be seen.

‘Little,’ however, can’t describe anything that is visible about the man emerging from the bathroom.

You have to make a point not to stare, but no skit or commercial on the channel promises the same level of entertainment.

Steve slides himself beneath the sheet, sitting near the headboard.

You hold up the remote. “On or off?”

“Off,” he says, “please.”

You’ve certainly done enough for one day. You won’t push your luck, so you hit the power button, toss it on table, and snuggle into your half of the bed, facing away.

“If it’s too hot for any covers, that’s okay, too.”

A rustling interrupts the rhythmic whir of crickets in the night until you feel a warm hand lightly mold to your waist.

This should be encouraged. This should be rewarded.

“Hey, Stevie,” you whisper, waiting for his hum, “happy belated birthday.”

At most you expect a grip of notice, but instead, the big hand snakes across you and hauls you into his chest, his long legs bending to match the crook of yours, his nose and forehead tucked against your occipital.

“We did okay today,” Steve mumbles into your shirt.

You walk your hand over your stomach to find his, lacing the fingers together. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

Steve got to be useful today. He had a partner today. He will tomorrow and the day after, for as long as he stays, for as long as you’re alive. Nothing can change that.

Maybe he can’t talk about Fight Club, but he connects with you anyway.

A/N: Whoopsy. Didn't want to make y'all wait for a 6k+ chapter, so here's the first half! I am DEEP in the feels of this one. So, so many notes have been taken. The brainrot is real, and I fucking love it!!!!

[Next: Sensitive Boy, part II]

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[mllemarianne]

Deserving

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: When you are betrothed to another, Aemond doesn’t want to address it strangely. Annoyed by his reaction, you reminisce about your whole relationship and everything that led to this very night, during the storm, in a tiny inn room with only one bed…

Word count: 11.5k 

Warnings: Angst and tension (so much), fluff and smut (4.5k words of it!) Slow burn, forced proximity, mutual pinning, friends to lovers. English is my second language.

N/A: The way Aemond was portrayed on the show broke my heart. I felt like writing an angsty, emotional and smutty little story about how Aemond’s childhood trauma would affect his relationship with the love of his life. House Strong is alive and no war is afoot in this story. Hope you like it! Masterlist | AO3

“Won’t you say anything at all, my prince?” you asked, your head on his shoulder, looking in his deep violet eye to gauge his reaction.

He opened his mouth hesitantly but avoided your stare. He pressed his lips in a hard line, exhaled loudly through his nose and looked back ahead, concentrating on getting the both of you through this raging storm with Vhagar.

He kept to himself what he was about to say. Again.

You knew you spoke harshly, and you knew how he hated it when you used a formal title to address him. But after all these years, after everything, you thought he was simply aggravating.

You grew up together. You were Aemond’s only real friend, even, so he knew of your short temper and your sharp tongue. He was the same. Yet you could not help but feel heartbroken at the silence he served you this very moment. One thing was certain: you were leaving and it did not please him.

You thought telling him the news after a nice day of flying around and visiting the Stormlands was a good idea. If you were honest with yourself, you hoped he would finally snap and do something. Anything. 

It became a nightmare instead.

The storm was terrible and getting worse by the minute. Drenched from head to toe, your whole body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. It seemed like you would never be warm again, even if you were on top of a gigantic fiery beast like Vhagar, even as your whole front was pressed against Aemond’s back with your arms circling his waist.

Soaring in the sky on your way back to the Red Keep, you yelpt as the dragon nearly hit a mountain hidden in the dark clouds.

“We have to stop, it is too dangerous.” Aemond warned you before the dragon instantly dived for a clearing near a small village. Holding onto him even tighter, you were absolutely terrified of being thrown off the beast’s back when you landed harshly in some meadow.

He grabbed you by the waist to ease your landing as you jumped down the large net fixed to Vhagar’s side. He went near the dragon’s head, pressed a hand to her scales and softly spoke some words in high valyrian to her. 

Brilliant. His dragon got more words out of him than you did. 

Vhagar seemed to cover herself with one of her large wings as she laid down on the wet grass. When Aemond walked back to you, you raised one hand and adjusted his hood over his head in order to hide his distinctive long silvery hair.

He looked at you with softness in his eye and you heard the faintest of "hm" escape from his chest before he turned around.

You walked fast in the downpour. The silence getting unbearable, you decided to tell him more about your father’s plans.

“The Reach has nice weather, I suppose.” he said, after a long pause.

“...Not as nice as King’s Landing’s don’t you think?” “Maybe you're right…” he replied.

You spoke of never seeing him again and he wanted to discuss the weather?

Tears started to pool in your eyes and you knew your voice would soon start trembling. You stopped talking altogether and walked silently in the heavy rain until you reached what could only be an inn.

“Only one room left, I’m ’fraid. You want it anyway?” asked the innkeeper. Seeing you shivering, he poured ale in two cups and handed you one. Aemond refused. You accepted.

“We’ll take it. And some wine, if you have it.” Aemond answered, dropping a few coins on the counter.

The old man then turned to you.

“How ‘bout you, girl?” he inquired, looking straight down at your soaked dress clinging to your body. "You’re not bad lookin. D’you have time for me later? How much? Love me self some curly hair—.”

“She’s mine,” Aemond growled before you could answer. He moved to shield you from the innkeeper’s wandering eyes and put a hand on his sheathed knife. “And you will not address her in this manner ever again, do you understand?”

He sounded calm. You could not see his face but you knew he looked anything but. Your hand reached for his arm, the one grasping the knife. There was no need for bloodshed, what if there were no other place you could go to in this damn storm? He did not budge, eye fixed on the innkeeper.

“The room, please. Now.” He insisted.

The tension was high, and other patrons began to look your way. The innkeeper seemed to chew on his cheek, definitely not liking the way his customer had threatened him. After what felt like an eternity, the old man grabbed a jug full of wine and handed it to Aemond.

"Upstairs, follow me."

Down a small corridor, you stopped in front of a wooden door. The innkeeper gave Aemond the key and left without a word. Not even looking at you.

The room surely was not as spacious as the one you had in the Red Keep. It was clean, at least, which was a relief in itself as you felt grubby from all the rain and mud. There were two armchairs and a table in front of a large hearth where a fire burned brightly. Gods be good, you thought.

Aemond put down the wine jug on the table and looked around. Then he saw it too.

There was only one bed. The smallest bed your both very privileged selves had ever seen, in fact.

“Take it,” he said under his breath. You see him peeling his hood from his leather clad tunic, leaving it carelessly on the floor. He put down his knife on the table before he slouched in an armchair, throwing his head back and closing his eye.

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s enough space for the both of us. We used to nap together in the gardens all the time when we were younger, what’s the difference?” you replied.

“It wouldn’t be proper.” he mumbled, to which you chuckled slightly.

You just spent the day clinging to his whole body while flying around on Vhagar’s back. How proper was it when he would let you feel every muscle he had on his chest while you held onto him. How proper was it when you buried your nose in his neck and he sighed. You felt his heart beating faster every time your hands changed spots, trying to warm them. He could not possibly be serious with his talk of propriety.

“It’s only me, Aemond.”

“You are betrothed.” he said in a cold tone he never used with you before.

Now you were the silent one.

You looked at him for a while, frozen in place. In all these years, had he never thought of marrying you?

You were betrothed to another, and he acted as if it was a matter of no importance. You were leaving King’s Landing and he would not address it. All he had to do was say the words you longed to hear. “Stay”, for one... 

“You are staring” he taunted, startling you with his mixed signals.

You turned around but still glanced at him from the corner of your eye. Truthfully, you could not stop looking at him. His neck… his jawline… the rain gave curls to his long hair cascading down the backrest of his armchair… You were particularly fond of his hair like that. It was a rare sight. 

“Sorry if I was expecting you to be civilized and have a conversation with me.” you sneered. “You know, while we still can. ”

How could he be so calm? Nobody knew where you were. A prince, his dragon and the daughter of the Hand were missing. You imagined your father would be absolutely mortified. Then again, he knew you. You were not one to follow the rules and getting stuck in a storm was exactly the kind of tomfoolery he would expect from you. Somehow, this time, it seemed worse.

Both of you were drenched; confined to one small room; completely alone, in the middle of nowhere.

But as bad as it was, you thought it was the perfect situation. You could both have what you always wanted. So why was he holding back?

She’s mine, he said. His words kept echoing in your head.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Still shivering, you knew the only way to ever feel warm again was to let your dress dry. Only, of all the scenarios you built in your head about your adventures in the Stormlands, undressing in front of him was not what you imagined— No. No, that was a lie.

You imagined it. You imagined it almost every night lately, in fact.

At the hour of owl, while you laid naked on the large bed in your chambers, you imagined his hands roaming free on your body. You would pretend he caressed your hardening breasts, pressed his curled lips on the most intimate part of you… you would even whisper his name ever so faintly when reaching your peak with your fingers…

All of a sudden, you felt like you were burning. You poured yourself a cup of wine and gulped half of it, for confidence if anything.

If he would not say a thing, then you would take charge. You waited long enough for this.

You remembered when it began, when you were 13 years of age...

Both of you felt left out when all the children went to the dragon pit. Not having a dragon was particularly hard for Aemond. His older brother and nephews were bullying him incessantly for it. It made him hopeless, like he was not a real Targaryen. However, the time he did not spend on dragonback, he spent with you.

Every evening, you would be in the library, trading books you enjoyed. Your father was a scholar and knew the importance of giving an adequate education to both his sons and daughters. It also meant you could train in the yard with the other boys.

You were good. Aemond was better.

Sometimes, the both of you would sneak into the kitchens at night to steal pastries and enjoy them secretly in the gardens. 

One night in particular, while you laid in the tall grass and looked at the starry sky with bellies full of lemon cakes and candied plums, he propped up on one arm, grabbed your neck and swiftly kissed you.

Stunned, you giggled. He shrugged, embarrassed.

Filled with remorse, you grabbed his tunic, pulled him closer and kissed him back. He seemed shocked, but you found a glimpse of relief in his gaze.

Then you licked half his face in retaliation.

Laughing loudly, you almost woke the entire castle as you chased each other through the echoing stone hallways. You were both so young, but you never forgot that moment. How it had been strange to have him press his lips on yours but also how you secretly enjoyed it. 

Or not so secretly. After that, he liked teasing you. Sometimes, when you would least expect it, and in the most inconvenient of places, he planted a kiss on your lips. Everytime, he stepped back to enjoy your reaction; the flush on your cheeks, your surprised stare and most of all, he waited to see if you would kiss him back. Once, Ser Criston almost caught you playing that little game when you were training with daggers. You had the upper hand, but as you were about to say “yield”, he distracted you with his kiss and the next thing you knew, you hit the ground, bested by your opponent.

Then came that night.

You were not there when it happened. While he did something extraordinary and claimed the largest dragon in the world, his nephews and nieces saw it as arrogance and resented him bitterly. The siblings argued that the lady Rhaena should have been the one to claim her mother’s dragon.

But “Dragons are no slaves. A bond can not be forged purely out of legacy,” you remember reading in a book once.

Fists balled up, knives came out and blood was drawn. Everybody gathered in the hall, including you and your father the Hand. Now the adults were fighting too.

You learned that Aemond called his nephews bastards. But that was not all. He also claimed they were your older brother’s bastards.

Even though it pained you to hear such slander, you were more concerned about your friend. You knew something bad happened. You could see blood all over his tunic. Unfortunately, every time you tried to approach him, he turned his head around so you could not see.

Then Queen Alicent attacked Princess Rhaenyra, asking for her son’s eye in retribution. It dawned on you that Aemond lost an eye that night.

He scurried out of the hall with his mother and Ser Criston in tow before you could speak to him. You tried to go to his room but he would not let you in.

Claiming Vhagar was a big deal. He had a dragon now. His most ardent wish came true. You knew he would want to tell you all about it. You even imagined traveling to King's Landing on dragonback with him.

To your dismay, Driftmark slowly disappeared in the fog as you stood on the ship deck. Alone.

You saw Vhagar rise from Driftmark’s sandy beach dunes and fly way up above you. The beast was so large, its shadow made it seemed like it was night for a moment. You watched as the dragon disappeared in the horizon with your friend as well. Then and there, you almost felt like he was stolen from you.

You only saw him again when you got to King’s Landing two days later. He wore a bandage on half his head and you wondered why he had to cover such a large portion of his face.

With hindsight, you realized he did not wish for you to see him at his worst. You knew about the eye, but not the long scar that now marred his face.

His wound eventually healed but some insensitive comments took their toll on him, you assumed.

“They saw me without the bandage. They are scared of me,” he once said to his mother, not knowing you heard from across the room.

“You are not scary, my sweet boy.” replied Queen Alicent, embracing her precious son in her arms. “Ask y/n. If your own mother can’t convince you, then maybe she will. Just be mindful of your words. They can be harsh sometimes. Despite the many rumors surrounding her brother and Princess Rhaenyra, don’t slander her house. She will grow to resent you.”

He nodded. And he showed you his face that day.

First, you noticed the eyepatch. But then you saw the long scar that went from his forehead to his jaw. Oh how he looked at you intensely, searching for any glimpse of disgust on your face. 

All he found was sorrow.

You could not even begin to imagine the pain he went through. You almost felt it yourself.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you… does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It’s numb, mostly. I did try to do something with… you know–” he said, pointing at the leather eyepatch. “– but a few servants saw me and they looked terrified…I’ll have to get used to wearing it.” When you asked what he meant, he reluctantly took off the eyepatch and showed you. Where his right eye should have been was now a gemstone. The biggest you had ever seen, in fact.

“It’s beautiful, Aemond,” you admitted, genuinely. Truth be told, you were mesmerized. It looked nice, stylish even. “It’s a sapphire, isn’t it? I like it, it matches the colors of my house.”

Sadly, your kind words of reassurance did not appease him. Thereafter, you only ever saw him with the eyepatch. Your words did have an impact on him, however.

As you got to the library one night, you found a velvet pouch on the desk you usually sat at.

“You said it was the color of your house.” he spoke, shy.

In the pouch was a silver necklace with dangling pearls and a beautiful blue sapphire in the middle. Seeing how you loved it, Aemond gave you the most genuine smile you had seen him do since the accident.

You tried to kiss him as you so often did, but you stopped the moment you saw the look in his eye. He seemed uneasy. You held his hand instead and thanked him. You never wore anything else.

Then, things started to change.

Soon enough, you both were 18 years of age...

Aemond’s whole demeanor changed, in fact.

You saw how people were looking at him. How they stared at the eyepatch instead of his eye when talking to him. The fake compliments he received and the snickers when they walked away from him. 

You knew it affected him greatly but he never let it show. He became calm and collected. He kept his sharp tongue for his nephews and nieces though. You knew he still held a grudge after all these years and frankly, you could not blame him. But for someone so clever and calculating, sometimes he did not think.

“Come. Let us drain our cups to these three Strong Boys,” he said once, in front of the whole Targaryen family, including you, during dinner.

It started a brawl. Again.

Wounded by the harshness of his words thrown about your family, you stood up and left.

Resenting the people responsible for his missing eye was one thing, but did he have to bring your older brother into this once more? If that is what he thought of your house, what could he be thinking of you then?

Realizing all too late he hurt you in the process, Aemond followed you to your chambers and begged for your forgiveness.

You did, for he was your dearest friend and seeing him beg was a sight in itself. You knew he did not mean to cause you pain, but you warned him that you would not have any more of it. 

After that, he was very careful with his words around you. Sometimes, he was awfully silent even. Words against House Strong cost him an eye once and resentment from you that night at dinner, afterall. So often he would answer with a simple “hm” now. It was infuriating, sometimes.

You felt his struggle. You hoped you could blow the cobwebs away by planning various adventures with him. You would leave on dragonback and visit neighboring regions. You drank dornish wine in fields of flowers; climbed mountains to enjoy the view; bathed in springs definitely too cold to be bathed in. He seemed more at ease when you were alone. He smiled, he jested. Ah you loved having him all to yourself.

Claiming Vhagar gave him so much confidence. Even Prince Aegon would not dare bully him now that Aemond was taller and stronger than him. He was an even better fighter too.

You still trained with the sword together in the morning. If you were honest with yourself, you liked training in the yard because you got to see Aemond in his training gear. He indeed grew taller. His shoulders were broader. His voice got deeper. He kept his hair long now too. He looked ethereal. You loved watching him practice his knife tricks, particularly how he spinned the handle between his now long and slender fingers.

You also loved to train with daggers because you would get closer to him. Swords kept you away but fighting with daggers and knives was so much more intimate. Sometimes you would let him beat you only to be held in his arms. Something about him pressing his body to yours while commanding you to yield made you feel all sorts of ways. 

Your septa told you time and time again that it was unladylike, especially at your age, to spend so much time fighting with boys.

You never listened.

There were also rumors that the princes were frequenting brothels in the street of silk. You believed it of Prince Aegon, but you knew Aemond was not for he spent his days in your company. He did have princely duties from time to time, but otherwise, even his evenings remained yours, in the library or in the gardens for a midnight stroll.

The only thing he never did again was kissing you.

You always acted surprised when he did that but in reality, you thoroughly enjoyed it. As the years went on, you began to think it was only a children's game.

Still, you would catch him staring at you quite often now. Once, you caught him glancing at your bosom while you were both reading in the library. He blushed so hard, you thought he stopped breathing all together.

It was you teasing him now.

Deep down, you knew how he felt about you. You felt the same way too. Maybe he just needed some encouragement.

You started with new dresses. They were tighter, low-cut and showed much more of your now adult body. You also decided that, from time to time, you would show up to your evening reading sessions in the library in nothing but your best nightgown and the necklace he gave you now resting in the valley between your plump breasts.

The first time he saw you so inappropriately dressed, you were delighted by his reaction. He did not blink once. He looked you up and down, greeted you and then never averted his eye from his book. He was holding onto the binding with such force his knuckles turned white. Even as you looked in his eye, there was no movement.

“Whatever is the matter, your grace?” you teased, using a formal title.

The prince was so shocked he could no longer read the wise words of Maester Octavis on warfare during Maegor The Cruel’s reign. He cooled down after a while…

…but it was your turn to burn now.

You pretended to be absorbed in your readings on the free cities of Essos, but you were only looking at his hands. The way his veins popped when he flexed his fingers; how he pinched the corners to turn a page; the slight stimming…

You were grateful your father never pressed the matter of marriage with you. As it happened, you reminded him so much of your late mother that he loved having you around in the Red Keep. He told you once he would wait for the perfect match and nothing else. Part of you hoped Aemond would eventually step up and ask for your hand.

Suddenly, the lords of the realm wanted to dance with you at balls and asked for your favor at tourneys. The attention you got overwhelmed you quite a bit. You tried dancing with potential suitors, but you weren’t remotely interested in any of them. Only your prince.

Aemond often swept in to make sure you were okay and that no lords were bothering you. Every time, he dared dance so close to you, you did not know how proper it was.

But did you care? Not really.

You could smell his hair. He smelled of amber and sandalwood. Each time, his scent would drive you mad with lust. The things you imagined him doing to you… and you to him. Not that you were well versed in the art. You had only ever touched yourself… thinking of him.

Thinking of his fingers trailing on your skin; his lips leaving burning kisses on your neck; his hands everywhere on your body but especially between your legs; you holding him close, so close you could feel every part of him, get lost in his scent, in his heat…

Despite your blatant inexperience… you had seen things.

One day, Aemond let you sit in front of him on Vaghar while you got back from one of your adventures near Gulltown. Riding Vhagar was an exhilarating experience in itself, but your mind was focused on the dragon behind you.

While you held the reins, Aemond held you. Tight.

You felt his breath on your neck. He nuzzled your shoulder. His warm hands sometimes caressed your sides, so close to your breasts… you could be wrong, but you swore he sighed at some point.

When you got back, Aemond had princely duties and could not join you in the library that evening.

You were rarely left to your own devices, it was unusual. The castle being so large, you decided to explore the wings you never go to to pass the time. 

The east tower was barely lit. It was late and its corridors were deserted even though you were close to the ever so busy servants quarters.

Then you heard noises. Voices, maybe? It kept echoing on the stone walls and vaulted ceilings.

You walked quietly to locate where it came from and happened upon two servants entwined in the throes of passion. Or at least, that is what you thought it was for you could barely see them in the dark. You were so curious, you could not help but peek.

Well hidden in a corner, the woman leaned against a wall, bunching her skirt up to her waist while the man seemed to devour her cunt. One leg over his shoulder, she was shuddering and mewling under his ministrations, completely lost in her pleasure. It was only after she moaned even loudly that the man let go of her shaking thighs, stood up, cupped her face with both hands and kissed her longingly.

Your whole body froze when you recognized the man’s long silvery white hair.

He turned her around and snaked his arms around her waist while he left searing kisses on her neck and shoulder. She bent over as he hurriedly unlaced his pants, kicking her feet so she spread her legs more.

You could not see from your angle but from the sounds that escaped her mouth, he took her.

Hard.

And she loved it.

You heard the lewd sound of flesh slapping while he pounded into her. He grunted as his fingers dug in her waist. His hair was untied and messy like you had never seen.

When you started panting yourself, you looked away. You knew you were witnessing something you should not. You made sure they could not hear the sound of your steps as you left the scene.

You did hear one more thing, though. Something that left you in quite a state.

He moaned your name.

You felt such a heat in your belly that you thought you were on fire. You never looked at him the same after that. You knew he burned for you as well. But why was he seeking pleasure in the arms of others when you were right there.

That night in your bedchambers, even as you gripped your sheets, writhing, moaning and coming for the third time… you thought your fingers would not do anymore.

You wanted more.

And you wanted him.

A little before your twentieth name day- yesterday, in fact...

Your father told you about your betrothal. The eldest son of Lord Martyn Tyrell of Highgarden was young, handsome, kind, educated, great with the sword and heir to his father’s title and castle. Your father had finally found you a match he deemed worthy of you. You were also to leave King’s Landing in a moon turn to meet your future lord husband and acquaint yourself with your new home. You felt your world shattering under your feet.

“Aemond is the man I wish to marry,” you declared.

“It’s Prince Aemond, to you. Don’t forget your place,” he corrected you. “And you know I can’t abuse the power the king conferred on me as Hand to arrange a match like that. My sweet girl, I know the prince is dear to you… but it is he who should ask the king for permission to marry you. Not me.”

That evening, you did not go to the library.

You cried in your bed until your head hurt, clutching the sapphire and pearl necklace Aemond gave you. When you heard him knocking on your door later, you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you said through the door, trying to calm your shaky voice. “I was simply tired. Goodnight, Aemond.”

“Goodnight, y/n… see you in the training yard then.”

You did not go to train with him the next morning either.

You dreaded the moment when you would have no choice but to tell him. The sun was not high in the sky when he knocked on your door again. This time you answered. He looked you up and down, surprised to see you in a riding dress. “I missed you at training,” he confessed. “Going somewhere?” “Let’s leave the city for the day.” You said. “Do you think Vhagar would like to visit the Stormlands? I hear the water is so clear in Tarth they call it the sapphire isle.” “With all due respect, ‘tis I who decides where I fly my dragon, my lady,” he replied playfully, but you still felt a little ashamed of your boldness. “But yes, as you wish.”

And here you were. Struck in an inn, somewhere in the Stormlands, with a silent prince...

He almost seemed asleep in his armchair in front of the fire. You could not bear the silence anymore. If he had feelings for you, then you would make him speak plainly.

You downed the last half of your cup before you started undressing. First, your cloak.

As you hung it on a hook on the wall, you peeked at your prince. To your surprise, he did not move an inch. You can only see one of his hands stimming slightly on the armrest.

Your boots were next— a real agony considering how soggy they were and how painfully long it took to unlace them. Leaving wet footprints on the floor, you walked to the hearth and let them fall loudly in front of the fire. Your eyes flutter again to Aemond. 

No reaction.

At this point, you did not know if you were annoyed or downright infuriated. You looked at the small bed again and you could only think about him taking you like he did that maid.

You shook your head. You had to focus.

Tugging at the strings at your waist, your skirt pooled at your feet, thus revealing your legs. Thankfully, you had a small linen shift underneath, barely covering you down to your knees. You were putting down the skirt on the wooden table when you noticed it. Finally.

Even if the room was dark, only lit by the fire and the moonlight, you spied one violet eye gazing at you intently.

For a moment, you feared he could hear your heart beating frantically. His silence affected you greatly, but you found comfort in the fact that he could not resist looking at you undressing. Men seemed to be simple creatures, afterall.

You tried to unbutton the bodice of your dress but the stiff fabric made it hard for you to reach back. Why did clothes have to be so complicated to put on and take off. It dawned on you that you would need his help to get out of this wet mess of a dress.

Turning around quickly, thinking you would catch him staring, you saw his head facing the other way. You approached and stood between him and the fire. The shadow you casted made him look at you. 

"I need your help. Would you unbutton my bodice please." you managed to say calmly.

His stare was hard to decipher but he seemed conflicted. First he looked into your eyes… then his gaze fell down to your bodice… next it wandered to the silhouette of your legs. He could see every curve of your body, the fire behind you glowing through your white shift. You felt naked under his stare.

He looked serious. So serious his left hand stopped stimming. Slowly, he rose from the armchair and waited for you to turn around.

And you did. You were waiting for him to make a snarky comment or jest about what a proper lady you were, but again, you were cursed with silence. 

There were at least 15 buttons that went all the way down to your lower back. You felt his calloused hands brushing against your neck as he parted your long hair. A small sigh escaped your lips.

He went through each button at an excruciatingly slow pace. You hoped he felt the goosebumps appearing where his fingers touched you. The frisson was almost unbearable.

When he got to the last button, he froze momentarily. You could not take it anymore.

You turned around quickly, got up on your toes, reached for his neck and crashed your lips onto his. Just as he used to do when you were younger. His lips were unexpectedly soft. Not what you remembered, but better. You wished the kiss lasted longer, but now you waited for his reaction.

He only ever looked at you without blinking. He exhaled loudly, looking down at your bodice dangling off your shoulders, revealing the rest of your shift. His eye darkened and you were now worried you angered him.

“Y/n, please,” he pleaded. He sounded desperate and vexed all at once.

The dam burst.

"I am sorry Aemond. I know I spoke harshly when we were on Vhagar but this is ridiculous. I need to know how you feel about me leaving King’s Landing. I’m to leave for The Reach in a moon turn. I’m leaving, Aemond.” You said over and over to make sure he heard you loud and clear. “I understand if you hate me right now but I can’t stand the silence. I won’t have it. We will discuss this."

“I could never– hm– hate you.” he replied, startled mid sentence as you snatched the bodice off of you and threw it on the table behind him. Only wearing the shift and the necklace he gave you, you stood tall even if he towered over you.

“I’M LEAVING.” You repeated, losing patience.

“I KNOW.” He growled, losing his legendary calm and jolting you.

“Then say something!” you pressed, grabbing his tunic with both hands. “I don’t want to go to The Reach, Aemond. I want to stay in King’s Landing with you. I want you.”

There, you said it. Eye wide open, he looked down at you, then at your hands tugging at his clothes.

“Your days are mine already,” you said, pulling him to you, pressing your whole body to his. “I wish to claim your nights too.”

He seemed hesitant but mostly, he looked panicked. He clenched his jaw and his lips twitched as though he was about to say something so incriminating he feared putting it into words. 

His hands found your waist, rumpling the fabric of your shift. You slowly melted into his warm embrace. His breath was ragged. You waited for his answer. Your heart was about to burst from the anticipation.

“Say it. Say you want me too.”

And you waited some more. You could not draw breath. He tensed, opening his mouth to speak but not a single word coming out. Feeling the tears coming, you bit your lip to stop your chin from quivering.

Just like you knew he would, he stayed silent.

“Fine,” you abdicated. “Then I bid you goodnight, my prince ”.

You let go of his tunic but he held on to your arms. You angrily twisted yourself to get out. You held each other's gaze while you unceremoniously took off the necklace he gifted you and threw it on top of your discarded dress. You climbed in the bed, pulled the covers and turned to face the wall. 

It is said that silence is louder than words, sometimes. Well this time, it was deafening. 

From his shadow on the wall, you saw he did not move an inch. With cheeks wet from fresh tears, you curled up, desperately looking for warmth but the damn stone wall was so cold. It made you even more angry. In all your life, you had never felt so exasperated.

The silence stopped when you heard him pour wine in a cup. He drank it all. Then he started to undress.

You heard the thudding of his boots hitting the floor, one after the other… then the clinging of metal clasps… the creaking of his leather tunic… the clattering of his belt and pants hitting the floor…then silence again.

Unexpectedly, the sheets moved, sending cold air on your shivering body. You felt him hastily lying down on the bed next to you. You don’t know what came over you, but you said it anyway.

“I thought it would be improper”, your sharp tongue throwing his own words back at him.

“You are freezing,” he muttered.

He pressed his whole front to your back and rubbed your arm with his hand. When he buried his face in your neck, some of his long hair fell in front of you and you got overwhelmed by his amber and sandalwood scent. His breath on your shoulder sent shivers down your spine and almost made you arched your back into him. You were awfully confused, tears on your cheeks but desire brewing inside you.

You wished you had the will to pull away but you craved his touch. His hands were on you. Touching you, rubbing you, caressing you, now down your side.

For a daughter of House Strong, you sure were weak this instant.

He chose this moment to finally speak.

“You don’t want me, y/n.”

These few words gave you the strength to turn around and look him in the eye. His mixed signals were simply baffling. It almost drove you mad.

Though, when your gaze fell upon his face, you thought he looked defeated. You noticed he kept his undershirt and his eyepatch but wore nothing else.

“Is that an order, my prince?” you asked defiantly, tears still in your eyes.

“Just look at me.” He said harshly.

“That’s all I’ve been doing for years, Aemond.” 

“You can’t possibly want this.” he said, making a gesture at his head.

You cupped his face with your dainty fingers. Distressed as he was, he still welcomed your gentle touch. Then your hand traveled upwards and you hooked a finger beneath the leather band of his eyepatch. You waited for him to give you permission. “Let me see all of you.”

After a few seconds, he nodded. Uncovering his sapphire eye, it glinted with the light from the creaking fire. He closed his good eye when the pads of your fingers grazed his marred cheek. And when he felt your lips on the bottom of his scar, his breath caught in his throat.

“Why do you think I’d wear a damn nightgown to the library when it’s in the coldest part of the castle?” you asked in his ear, your cheek resting on the scarred side of his face. He sighed. One of his hands found your waist, pulling you slightly to him.

“Why do you think I was kissing you back when you teased me?” you added, reaching for his hair tie. His long silvery-white hair fell around his face.

“Aemond, I’ve been throwing myself at you for years now.”

“I know… I’m missing an eye, I’m not blind.”

Then you get it.

“Is that why you grew so distant? Do you think me so feeble that I would begrudge you for missing an eye?”

“Everybody does,” he admitted with a bitterness that crushed your heart. “Why do you think I train with the sword, study history and philosophy, and ride a huge fucking dragon daily? I have to be all of those things so people can see me as a man.”

“I don’t care about all that. Two eyes, one or even none, I don’t care. I just want you.”

“I don’t want that for you, don’t you understand?” he snapped, cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him straight in his eye. “You want to be married to the court’s freak? Is that what you want? To be the lady wife of the scary one-eyed prince? Hearing people snickering behind your back? See them turn around when you are coming their way with me at your arm? The nosy court ladies asking if I keep the eyepatch on all the time, even when I fuck you? You want that?”

At the sound of his harsh words, you circled your arms around him and held him close to you. Your words failed, but maybe your actions would prevail.

Your face buried in his neck and hair, you knew he needed the embrace more than you did. You felt his arms caging you in, even a leg wrapping around yours.

You knew it was bad, but you had no knowledge of how bad it really was. He never spoke about these things.

“There will come a day when you will resent me for casting this burden upon you and I could not bear to see you grieve a life free from relentless mockery.” He said in your ear. “I didn’t encourage you… because I knew you couldn’t possibly be happy with a cripple for a husband.”

“Stop it.” you whispered in his ear, silent tears streaming down your cheeks again.

You stayed like this for a long time. He nuzzled your shoulder, breathed in your scent, clinged to your whole body with his fingers stroking your hair and back. He craved your touch. He needed comfort. He spoke of sparing you, yet he undoubtedly desired naught but you. 

You fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was far from what you imagined it would be like, but at last, you claimed one of his nights.

It was almost morning...

When you woke up, the sky was light but the sun had yet to rise. The storm passed and warm fresh air flowed in from the open window. It seemed like a beautiful summer day was about to begin.

All warmed up in Aemond’s embrace, you realized he never let go of you throughout the night. Now facing away from him, your legs were tangled, his arm laid limply around your waist and his face rested in your neck. His breath fanned your shoulder soothingly.

You felt at peace, a smile curling your lips. But despite his comforting heat appeasing you, your mind could only focus on one thing: his manhood.

Long, hard… and keenly digging in your backside.

You wiggled a bit. He only grunted and you felt his hand coming up to hold one of your breasts. Arching into him instinctually, you pressed yourself against him even more. You could not help yourself, you began to rock your hips slightly.

Sleep could never be found again, not while you were so intimately entwined.

“Stop doing that,” huffed a husky voice behind you. “Doing what?” you probed, your hand now gently rubbing his hip though his undershirt.

He let go of your breast and went for your neck instead, squeezing it lightly with his slender fingers.

You were definitely awake now. Awake and burning. 

“I’m trying to stay proper, but you make it really hard,” he said gruffly.

“That I know” you answered with a chuckle, ignoring his warning and still rocking your backside against his stiff cock. “What a poor choice of words.”

The hand gripping at your throat went to your hip instead to stop your sweet torture.

But with your skin so soft, your scent so enticing and your nearly naked body obviously craving his touch, he started grinding into you too. 

“Yes, very proper of you.” you taunted him. 

You felt every inch of his through your linen shift. He seems big, you thought. The prospect of finally having him left you in such a state. You desired him so ardently you clenched your thighs together to prevent your slick from dripping down your leg. He nuzzled your neck, bit it too, making a mewling mess out of you.

It took all your will to stop him. As much as you were enjoying this, you felt like things were not settled yet. You sat in the bed and gazed upon him, a questioning look lingering on his face. 

“Let me say it again, so you will believe me this time. You feel like you have to spare me somehow, but I won’t even entertain the idea. I’m a strong lady, am I not?”

He looked at you attentively.

“You are the only man I have ever desired. I want you. ” It took a moment, but from his lips came your salvation.

“I was always yours,” he confessed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers.

You felt it through your bones. His intense gaze went to your mouth, fixed on the plump of your lips. His hand reached for your face and cupped it gently, his thumb brushing your cheek lovingly.

He knew you would not accept any more arguments from him. The fact that you wanted him in spite of everything was baffling, but he lacked the strength to fight it anymore. He surrendered himself to you, for he was undeniably yours and you were inexplicably his.

“Then claim me.” you pleaded, yearning for his touch.

“I’ll make my demand to the King the minute we get back. I’ll speak to your father as well. The Tyrell boy can go fuck himself.” he said, brushing away your hair from your face. “You will be mine. You have my word.”

You were overcome with relief. King’s Landing was your home. It was where you read books, trained with the sword and where your prince was. And now, Aemond Targaryen wanted you to wife. Gods be good, it was everything you had ever wanted… but…

“The gods know I waited a long time for this… but I wasn’t talking about that…” you confessed, looking at him seriously. Holding his gaze, you moved to straddle him..

“Y/n!” he yelped, astonished yet incredibly aroused by your audacity. His hands went straight to your hips to stabilize you. You felt his cock brushing against your folds and you almost lost it.

“I-I saw you once,” you confessed, looking down at him. “...with a maid… In the east tower.”

He froze at your statement, but that did not stop you. You grabbed the bottom of his undershirt.

“I heard you scream my name.” you said, pulling on the fabric to tease him. He clenched his jaw. 

His hands fisted your white shift as well. He looked at you with fire in his eye, and not one you can easily extinguish. His composure hung by a thread. Lips parted, he looked at you like you were a goddess. You almost had him. He throbbed against your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

You bent down and your hardened nipples brushed against his chest though your linen shifts. Your mouth ghosting his, you inched up every time he tried to close the gap. You went to kiss the underside of his jaw instead. He growled, snaking his scorching hot hands on your back, under your shift.

“Don’t you want to know what I feel like?” you said in his ear, gnawing at his lobe. “Hear me scream your name.”

He exhaled loudly. You were most impressed at how good you were at making him unravel. He always loved your feistiness and how strong you were (with no trace of irony). You gave him back the same fiery energy. It was irritating and entrancing in equal measure.

And if you needed to be crass to finally get what you wanted, then so be it.

“I touch myself every night thinking only of you,” you hushed without any shame, tormenting him with a sudden rolling of your hips. “I want to know what you feel like too.”

He cursed under his breath. You could feel his walls crumbling around him. You pressed your forehead against his, keeping your lips awfully close to his. And now, the coup de grace…

“Kiss me… see what I do in return, this time.”

And you had him.

He sank into your touch, grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his lips on yours in a bruising kiss. He devoured you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. You hummed into it, feeling the heat flood your whole body. His lips were insistent, desperate to taste you as much as he craved your touch.

You felt his hunger, his despair and his desire all at once. You gave him unreservedly what he denied himself for so long. And he could not get enough of you.

You were his. His to take. His to touch. His to love. And he was yours. Yours to keep. Yours to feel. Yours to cherish.

You attempted to sit back up to rid yourself of your shift but he stopped you.

“Hmm, no. You’ve done enough now.” He muttered.

Without warning, he shifted you– manhandled you, more like– so you were under him. Kneeling between your spreaded legs, he took off his undershirt while you watched eagerly. You bit your lip as you admired his delicate ivory skin, his large shoulders, his toned chest, the V shape of his hip bones…He was divine. His manhood was also revealed to you and your doubts were confirmed. He was well-endowed indeed. Precum leaked from the tip of his long cock and ran down your thigh already. For the first time, nervousness got to you but you did not let it show.

Then he grabbed your shift and proceeded to rip it in half with his bare hands. “Seven hells, was that really necessary?” you asked, knowing full well you woke the dragon.

“I believe so, yes. You’ve been insufferable, my lady.” he reproached you, throwing what was left of the garments across the room. He looked down and took in the view of your naked body laying under him without touching you. 

“Insufferable, really?” you smirked, extending your fingers to touch his abdomen but he slapped your hand.

He came down and crushed you under his weight. He kissed your neck, licked it, bit it, sucked at it, anything to leave behind bruises you could hardly hide with your low-cut dresses now. You felt your own wetness leaking down to your backside.

He made known what roused his ire.

“Insufferable, yes,” he said in a low voice, pulling your hair to expose your neck even more. “Missing the morning sparring practice, for instance. Your absence was so distracting, Aegon almost skewered me.”

You chuckled, poking a finger in his side. He slapped your hand again.

Oh he’s actually angry, you thought.

“Dressing inappropriately in the library so I can’t read a damn word of my book,” his tongue flicked your erect nipple while his hand caressed your other breast. “Every time, I went back to my chambers with damp trousers, a hard cock and only my hand to see to it.”

Never had you heard him speak so vulgarly. He grinded into you to show how hard he was for you, brushing against your clit with every thrust. His breath fanned over you and goosebumps popped all over your chest.

“And just now? Coaxing your prince into marriage? Grinding all over him while he tries to stay proper? Very unladylike, but then again… you don’t want to be treated like a lady, don't you?”

His teeth grazed against the column of your neck and he came up to bite your bottom lip.

“I have always liked your insolence, y/n, but I think you are in serious need of discipline.”

“You are no better,” you said, smirking in his kiss, your hips meeting his movements, your bare cunt brushing against his hard cock. “You let my hands roam all over you when we fly on Vhagar. I always end up in your arms when we train with daggers. You glance at my bosom every chance you get, and not so subtly might I add. Don’t you dare claim the moral high ground, my princ— ”

You could not finish your sentence, for his lips captured yours again. He kissed you with an angry passion you did not know he had inside of him. Gone was the calm and quiet prince you knew him to be. You were his, now. And he intended to take everything you would gladly give him.

He reached down and slid a hand between your bodies. You grabbed onto the edge of the bed, gripping it firmly when you felt his thumb parting your wet folds. You moaned into his mouth when he found your clit. He broke the kiss and clicked his tongue.

“Still wet from the storm or is it all because of me?” he inquired, his lips curling in a wicked smile as he made circles around your clit.

“Oh just fuck me, will you.” you cried back, losing your mind under his ministrations.

“Such strong language, I don’t recognize you,” he teased again, loving the way he made you lose your composure with only one finger. “But I need to prepare you for me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, his thumb showing no mercy and your legs quivering. You felt that coil in your stomach. That itch that needed to be scratched so badly. He wanted to take his time. Honorable, but…

“…I-I lost my maidenhead years ago,” you admitted.

He stopped his assault on your lips and your mound all at once to look at you incredulously.

“No, it’s not like that. When Vhagar landed roughly in the rocky valley near Riverrun. These things happen. It’s why I insisted on bathing in the springs, I wanted to get the blood stains off my dress.”

He recalled the both of you bathing fully clothed in a very cold spring somewhere in the Riverlands.

“Still, I want to make sure that you... Enjoy. Every. Second. Of. It.” He said, pushing a finger past your folds, going in and out with each word he said.

You tried to kiss him again but he denied you. You had teased him so much that he wanted nothing more than to punish you with the same torturous treatment. He took pleasure in watching you go insane under him. Just as you drove him mad with desire. 

“I like the desperation on you” he said, picking up the pace.

His hands. His damn hands were on and in you. He added a second finger and curled them inside you, the heel of his hand pressing on your clit. You teetered on the brink of madness. He was relentless.

Your thighs started to shake as the pressure built in you. He knew you could take more so he slipped a third finger through your cunt and pumped into you in a steady rhythm. You whined as he tore your walls apart with fingers much larger than yours. You were getting close to your release under his expert hands, for not having control rendered things much more intense.

But as you were close, so close, he pulled out his fingers, your needy cunt clenching around nothing, desperation clear on your face.

“No, no!” you scowled.

He got off the bed and, for a second, you thought he was going to leave you like that. You were no dragon by any means, but you sure felt the rage of one.

“Patience”

He kneeled on the creaky wooden floor and pulled you to the edge of the bed in one swift tug. You watched him hook your legs on his shoulders and lock his arms around your hips. You blushed slightly at the sight of his face so close to your cunt, feeling so exposed as you could not get out of his embrace.

“I wanted to feast on you for years.”

And he carried on his exquisite torment. You threw your head back, lips parted in an O shape as Aemond’s mouth ravaged you eagerly. His nose teased your bundle of nerves while his tongue entered you. Heavy breaths escaped your mouth as you weaved your fingers into his silver hair and pulled his face in closer, not wanting him to stop.

He moaned into your soaked warmth and the vibrations made you arch your back instantly. Pleasure came back to you at great speed, back to where he left off. His tongue went to your clit while he fucked you with his fingers again. You fisted the sheets and writhed violently as you felt yourself going over the edge. Immeasurable pleasure washed over you as you reached your peak, screaming his name for all the inn to hear.

He held you down tightly as your legs shook uncontrollably on either side of his head. Unable to move, you had no choice but to take it. Waves of pleasure hit you one after the other, his fingers still moving in you, allowing you to ride your high till the end. He licked your juices for his own pleasure until you whined and tried to squirm away. 

He looked so proud of himself. He loved this power he had over you, to make goosebumps appear all over your skin while ravishing you, to have you jerking your hips as you unraveled on his fingers.

“Fuck. You are… so good.” you told him between pants, heat rising in your cheeks at the mere thought of what he could make you feel with is cock.

He proceeded to leave kisses everywhere on your inner thighs.

“Aemond, I beg you.” you said, pulling on his shoulder. You knew he enjoyed himself immensely, but you were desperate for him to take you.

“Begging? You?” He gasped, not recognizing his Strong Lady, always in control, now wanton and desperate as he laid on top of you again.

Your hand slithered between your bodies and you wrapped your fingers around his weeping cock. You had no idea what you were doing but it had its effect on him. He growled, astounded by your sudden touch. He looked fired up and ready to fuck you through the mattress and the floor.

He grabbed your wrist, indicating you to let go of his manhood. You grabbed his arse instead. He dragged the head of his cock between your folds to spread your slick along his length.

“There is no going back if I take you.” He said, your clit pulsing every time he brushed against your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your heels dug in his backside while your hands held onto his broad shoulders. His long hair fell all over you in a whirlwind of amber and sandalwood. “You will be mine, foreve—”

“I said claim me ”

And he did.

He sheathed himself slowly, gritting his teeth as he sank down, holding himself back from slamming into you all at once. Your eyes widened as he stretched your walls to a point you did not know was possible. You looked down to see he was only halfway in you. He cupped your chin with his rough hand, forcing you to look upon his face instead.

He watched you intently as you took all of him. He slid himself in your cunt inch by inch until he was deeply inside you. Pressing his lips to yours, he muffled your cries.

“I know, I’m sorry. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He stopped moving to let you adjust to his sheer size and he deeply sighed against your cheek. Even with your fingers, you had never reached so deep within you. It did not hurt as much as you thought it would but you felt overwhelmed at the sensation nonetheless. 

He cursed under his breath.

“You’re so tight. You clench too hard, I won’t last”, he confessed as you panted in his ear. You felt him pulling back but you locked him in place with your legs and arms.

He gently rubbed your thigh with one hand. He kissed you passionately like the starved man he was, and you eventually relaxed. The pain faded and anticipation took place. You know what must have been minutes felt like hours for him by now.

“Move, I’m fine”

He went slow at first. He searched for your hand and interlocked his fingers with yours. He was so patient with you. After a few thrusts, you started to rock your hips to meet his pace, the familiar feeling of pleasure getting back to your core once more.

“You are so big” was the only thing you could say as your whole mind could not concentrate on anything else.

“But you are taking me so well, my love.”

My love. My love. My love.

He was everywhere all at once. His praise in your ears, his hands on you, his scent all around you, his hair falling on you, his cock in you. Everything was him and you loved every second of it.

When he heard you panting in his ear, he picked up the pace. You whined loudly and he almost lost control of himself. He groaned against your chest, biting one of your nipples for purchase.

You felt yourself quickening already as he rubbed against that one spot that made the fire inside you burn more brightly each time.

You felt self-conscious about the ungodly sounds you were making and bit your lip to muffle your screams. He hit you with one hard thrust in retaliation, hitting so deep you cried out and went numb for a second.

“Don’t you go quiet on me, you said I’d hear you scream my name.” 

Gods, what have I done?, you thought. You never imagined him saying these kinds of things to you. He was right. You had been insufferable. You teased a dragon and now, you were paying the price. He liked having control over you for once, holding you down as he fucked you senseless. He claimed your body relentlessly with strong strokes that had your heart racing, his balls hitting your cunt hard each time.

And you loved it.

Your core was tightening with each of his powerful thrust. You were close. So close…when he suddenly left your embrace.

“Don’t you dare stop again!” you yelled at him, your arms desperately reaching for him.

But he only sat on his heels, grabbed one of your legs and hoisted it high against his chest. He wrapped his arm around your ankle and hammered his cock into you, hitting an even deeper angle.

“Fuck,” you wailed, eye widening and tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. You clawed at his hip, overwhelmed by the searing heat growing in you while he filled you to the hilt. 

He reached so deep within you, you thought he was in your stomach. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, even. You moaned his name incessantly, the only thing your fuzzy brain seemed to remember this very moment. A veil of sweat appeared on his skin, he was glowing in the morning light now flooding the room.

“You're mine.” he said possessively, his fingers just shy of bruising your skin as they dug in your thigh.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Say you are mine, y/n”.

Head thrown back, eyes closed, you barely registered what he asked of you. His hand went to your lower stomach and he pressed down, making you squirm and cry out.

“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.” you repeated over and over, trashing under him, overcomed by pleasure.

He worried he was too rough with you but when he heard a pleading “Harder!” escaping from your lips, he forfeited the last thread of sanity he was barely holding onto already.

You held on for dear life while he lost himself completely and slammed into you at a wild pace. He pulled out almost entirely before sliding back in again. His cock reached your cervix. Every. Single. Time.

He growled loudly as your nails left marks on his hip. His breath was erratic, he was close as well. You clenched around him and he cursed loudly.

“Look at me. I want to see your face as I make you come.”

“Come closer.” you managed to say between pants.

He let go of your leg and was over you again, your nipples brushing against his chest. One of his arms was on the side of your head, the other finding your clit to draw circles around it again. Your nails scratched his back, you pulled on his long silvery hair and rocked your hips to meet his unrelenting pace.

“Co-come for me, my love.” he stammered.

And you felt it deep inside you, from your womb to the base of your spine all the way through your whole back, legs, arms and head. Pleasure spreading like dragon fire within you, you reached your peak and it was not like anything you had felt before. Jaw hanging open in pure ecstasy, you could not even draw a breath. Your eyes rolled, your back arched and your whole body shaked.

“Aemond!” you screamed, tears down your cheeks as your orgasm did not stop. His dark eye watched you as you fell apart, praising him.

As you promised him, he heard you scream his name.

He continued with his merciless pace, letting you ride your high. Clutching his shoulders, you pressed your face to his chest and groaned against him.

You barely had any energy left to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. Your whole body went numb and your mind almost blanked.

“I’m close” he said, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. “Do you want me to—”

“I said claim me,” you reminded him, completely overstimulated but feeling pleasure creeping upon you again.

He let out the most tantalizing growl you had ever heard him make. He buried his face in your neck and he came roaring your name. His thrusts got sloppy but he did not stop. He breathed the faintest of “I love you” as you felt his muscles spasming and his cock throbbing.

He filled you with his seed with a few erratic thrust. Combined with the sudden heat deep within you, it was enough to make you see stars one more time.

Heavily panting in your ear, Aemond’s movements slowly came to a halt. He left kisses on your forehead… your cheek… your lips…

“You were perfect,” he murmured.

“So were you, my love.”

You stayed like that for a while. Him still buried in you, crushing you under his weight, and you loving the fullness, mindlessly stroking his hair and back.

You could hear birds outside, the wind in the trees as well. You embraced the peacefulness of it all. Now that was a silence you did not mind.

You slowly caught your breath, observing the pearly sweat on Aemond’s porcelain skin. You felt both his cum and your slick leaking down your cunt. What a mess you made, you could feel how damp that mattress was.

You noticed a low rumble coming from downstairs, a sign that the village was waking up and you needed to return to the Red Keep. Still, you both indulged a little more, not ready for this moment to end.

He left small kisses on your shoulder, listening to your quiet groans. He drew shapes on your arms with his fingers and observed the goosebumps erupting. He frowned when he noticed little scars scattered everywhere from years of sword training with him. You too had scars. A lot of them even. He never knew. You never said.

“Are you ok?” he asked, raising his head to look you in the eyes.

His sapphire eye caught the morning sun flooding the room and made hundreds of small specks of blue light dance all around you. The sight of him like this, all of him, was spellbinding. You answered him with a blissful smile. 

“I’m fine, my prince. ” “Stop it with the formal titles.” “It wouldn’t be proper, or so I’ve been told.” You tugged at a strand of his hair.

“Propriety has always been lost on you, I’m afraid.”

He laced his fingers to yours again and brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“So… No regrets?” He asked, not sure if he would like your answer.

“Only that you robbed me of this pleasure for years.” You said playfully, kissing the bottom of his scar. “You?”

He chuckled.

“I didn’t expect you to swear like a bravosi sealord.” he said, leaving a lazy kiss on your lips.

“Only because of how aggravating you were.” you quip. 

He surprised you with a thrust to shut you up and, maybe, tempt you into a second round.

The bed itself was also surprised as its legs gave out and you both fell with the mattress on the creaking wooden floor in a loud bang and small clouds of dust engulfing the room.

“Ooh the innkeeper is going to kill you,” you giggled.

“He liked you, maybe you should tell him about it.”

Back in King's Landing...

Your father and Queen Alicent were mortified at the sight of you walking through the doors of the Red Keep nearly a day after you were supposed to come back. Clothes still wet, messy hair and a strong smell of dragon to top it all off. They had spent the night looking for you everywhere.

Queen Alicent seemed oblivious of what transpired during your little adventure in the Stormlands, but your father was no fool. He knew you. He saw you holding hands before you went through the Mud Gate from the beach. The look you exchanged before parting all but confirmed his suspicions. Not to mention your bare arms sticking out from underneath your hood indicated that you were missing a white shift under your dress.

Your prince asked the King, the Queen and your father for an audience immediately. He insisted your betrothal to him was not a request, for he would not take no for an answer.

Your father could not refuse a proposition from a Prince of the crown. Especially when he knew how dear he was to you… and whatever you were up to in the Stormlands.

You married before the moon turned.

At long last… you claimed his nights. 

NEXT: Part 2 (Indulging) or see my masterlist.

Thank you for reading!

Leave comments if you wish, I’d love to have feedback. English is my second language. 

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (11 Part 1) - Just a Staff Member

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 11 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 11,511 

Work count for Story: 77,023

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, Alpha/Luna vibes, possessiveness, and self-doubt.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Ring Ring Ring

Ring Ring Ring

Stirring from your sleep because of a phone ringing, you look around groggily. Momentarily forgetting where you are, you sit up quickly, and that is when you see– the dress. 

The night before comes flooding back to you. It starts with the letters and conversations, the outfit and pampering, and ends with his smiles and warmth. 

It was a date you will never forget. The only problem is… it wasn’t a date.

Your heart wants to soar, but you must remind yourself it’s just a job. 

Remembering that Jin had made it clear that it wasn’t something he would do for a fan. Even though he said you were special, you couldn’t believe it. 

Bangtan Pack would do this for any playmate.

Ring Ring Ring

Oh shit! That’s right, the phone. Scrambling over your pillow wall, you find your plugged-in phone and answer it.

“Hello, hello! Sorry, this is Y/n. Who is this?” you ask as you try to untangle yourself from your blanket fort. It isn’t easy with a broken hand. 

“Hey Y/n, it’s Derek! Umm, did I wake you up?” 

“Oh hey, ah yeah, and now I am wrapped in my blankets. I'm going to put you on speakerphone so I can untangle,” you growl in frustration, placing the phone near your head while you wrestle your way out. 

“Did you just growl? You know what, never mind. You are gonna have to hurry.” Derek says with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yes, I did growl,” huff “These damn blankets. Wait… Why?” I huffed, finally freeing one leg, “I don’t have any plans for today.”

“Well, now you do, and you have about two hours to be at PMS to go over the final contract.”

“No way… what? Two hours! But I thought we were going to sign it tomorrow or Monday. Why now? Did they get everything back in time?” I say, pushing the blankets down my leg and wiggling backward. 

Thud.

Groan

“Y/n! What was that?”  calls Derek, who hears you fall while on speakerphone because of his hybrid hearing.

“Ah… I slid off the bed,” I said with a slight giggle. Standing up, I lean over my phone. “The duvet is made of satin, so it's slippery, and I got a little bit too close to the edge.”

A rapid knock on your door startles you as you hear your name called from the other side: “Y/n, are you okay? What happened? Princess? Princess!”

Quickly making my way to the door with the phone in hand, you open it to be engulfed by a warm body, then pushed away with Yoongi’s eyes, scanning your form to ensure nothing is wrong. His eyes flashed between their usual deep brown and his Alpha’s golden yellow.

“I am fine, Kisa,” you say with a smile and a giggle as you spin around to show him that you are, indeed, intact and not bleeding. 

“Kisa, who is there with you, one of their staff?” Derek, who is still on speakerphone, asks. 

“Oh no, it’s Yoongi. Sorry, in my head, I have been calling him ‘my Kisa’ for a bit now. Guess I have never said it out loud,” you say, moving back into your room to sit on your bed with the jaguar in tow.

“Why are you calling me a Japanese woman’s name, Princess?” the jaguar asks. Inside, he is jumping for joy because you not only gave him a nickname but also said– my.

You are starting to claim him, and he is over the moon.

“It’s a Japanese woman’s name? Shit, I will stop. I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you say with wide eyes while waiting for an adverse reaction from the very non-girly, totally male predator hybrid. 

Yoongi shakes his head, his face holding curiosity rather than disgust. “If you didn’t know, then why were you calling me that?”

“For me, it's an acronym: K—Knight, I—In, S—Shining, A—Armour, Kisa.” You say this with a slight blush tinting your cheeks, which is mirrored by the hybrid. 

“Oh, you have pet names now? For all of them? First is Thumper, and now Kisa? Who else have you claimed with a famous Y/n’s pet name?” Derek teasingly inquires. 

“Ah, Derek, why are you on the phone with me now? Something about two hours?” trying to redirect the conversation away from the new nickname and avoid Yoongi’s gaze. 

“Yes, you now have an hour and forty-five to get to PMS. The Pack Alpha is being notified as well. We are aware that you, your Kisa, the Prime Alpha, and anyone who wants to come must be here by then.”

Glancing at Yoongi, he still has dusted cheeks but a silly smile. “Okay. One you can’t use that name and two we will be there. See you soon, yeah?”

“Yep, see you soon, Y/n, Mr. Min!” 

Click

You hear a deep but soft chuckle beside you, “So I’m your knight in shining armor?”

Hiding your face in your hands, you nod, “Well, think about it. You saved me from hurting myself worse than a banged-up wrist the first day you met me, you saved me from panicking with the offer from Namjoon, and you sounded like you were ready to break down the door because I fell off the bed.”

You feel fur wrapping around your wrists, pulling down softly, effectively removing you from your hiding place. You keep your eyes on your hands and watch the black fur tail wiggle around your wrists. 

Once Yoongi realizes you are avoiding his gaze, he grasps your chin and turns to face him. Your eyes automatically lock. 

“I will always come to rescue you. I am honored to be your Kisa, for as long as you have me, Princess.” Yoongi tells you. 

His emotions are so thick with happiness that you find him your safe place. His Alpha was filled with pride, and his scent was like waves of fresh spring rain. 

Your face lights up with a kind smile, and your vanilla mate scent grows more potent. It mixes beautifully with your sweetpea and is becoming one of Yoongi’s favorite scents.

A gummy smile grows on his face. The vanilla strengthening could only mean you are falling into the mate bond more with him. He is so happy that it is building naturally with you, even if your meeting wasn’t a pleasant experience.

He sees the nervousness, the longing, and something else in your eyes, which gives him hope that the changes in your scent aren’t just happening subconsciously. 

Pulling away from his hand and tail, you walk toward the door. Your eyes look more distant, your posture no longer relaxed, and your scent turns slightly perfumed. 

With a controlled smile, you say, “We should start getting ready for the meeting. Can you please make sure the rest of your pack knows? Please.”

“Sure thing, Princess. I will let them know,” agrees Yoongi as he leaves the room. 

Yoongi feels torn now. You claimed him as yours, but you are still not claiming the pack. He is going upstairs to do what you ask, but his mind wants to talk to the pack about something other than the meeting. 

You close the door behind you and huff. You must find a way to stop doing this. You can’t feel like you are anything more than a playmate or an employee to them, even though they make it so hard.

First, their declarations before you agreed to be their playmate. Then Jin asked you to give them all a chance. Now, Yoongi is pledging fealty to you like it’s going to last a lifetime. 

Shaking your head, you glance at the clock. Whelp, time sure does fly when you contemplate professionalism struggles, attempting to hide mental instabilities and licentious thoughts of bonded mates. 

Leaving your room, Yoongi goes to find Jin and Namjoon, wanting to tell them about the mate scent growing and how you cut it off. Kind of. 

Climbing the stairs, Yoongi finds one of the two, “Namjoon-ah, we need to talk. Where is Jin-hyung?”

“Oh, ah, Jin left about five minutes ago. I was just coming to find you and Y/n. Is everything okay?” he asks with concern. 

“Yes and no,” he says, continuing up the stairs, “If you were going to tell Princess about the meeting being moved, Derek beat you to it. She knows and wants me to make sure my pack knows.”

It doesn’t get past the Prime Alpha at the emphasis in Yoongi’s words, even if he looks like nothing is amiss. 

“Oh, that is nice of Derek. Then again, she is his Luna, so that only makes sense. So what is wrong?” Namjoon asks again, following Yoongi into his den.

Yoongi rummaged through his drawers, looking for something presentable to wear to the meeting, instinctually wanting to make a good impression with your Beta. 

“Y/n. The mate scent is getting stronger. I think,” Yoongi says, still looking for anything to wear.

“Isn’t that a good thing, hyung?” Namjoon questions as he sits on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, watching the jaguar scampering around.

“Well, it would be if not, but a few moments later, her scent turned into that fake flower perfume scent she gets when she is worried about something, and it caused our mate scent to almost disappear.”

“What were you two doing?” Namjoon asks as he tries to determine what caused the shift. 

“Well, I think I may have reacted too much to the “pet” name, as her Beta called it, that she gave me. Ah, I found it!” Yoongi exclaims as he pulls out one of his few button-up shirts in a cream color to go with dark sandy-colored pants and brown loafers. 

“Pet name?” questions Namjoon.

“Yeah, she accidentally called me her Kisa while speaking with the Beta. It stands for a knight in shining armor because I keep saving her from getting hurt or unpleasant situations,” he says, changing his sleepwear and dress for the meeting.

“Kisa?” giggles Taehyung from the doorway. “Oh my, how appropriate for you. Bet she doesn’t even realize it. I don’t think you do either.”

Both Alphas in the room look at the newcomer, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s Japanese and typically used for females, but it originated in Old Greek as an endearing term,” says Taehyung as he saunters into the room. 

With his voice dropping into his deeper register, he says, “It means kitty.”

Yoongi is coughing as he chokes on the air and turns bright red with embarrassment. His ears twitched every which way but what, and his tail almost wagged like a dog. 

“It looks like your Princess fell onto one of your kinks,” says Namjoon with a smirk.

“Hush you, both of you.  Am I the only one here who is worried about the meeting we must prepare for?” Yoongi challenges while pulling Namjoon up to push him out the door while he deals with embarrassment. 

“Nope, I am dressed and ready,” Namjoon says, smirkingly, pointing out that he is in a suit.

“I was the one who requested the meeting. I have been on the phone since early morning trying to get things to move along faster,” the Prime Alpha proudly states. 

“Possessive much, hyung?” Tae teases the pack leader. “I thought that was my job.”

Namjoon may be the Prime Alpha of the Bangtan Pack, but Taehyung is known for being the possessive one. The whole world knew how possessive Taehyung was, especially with his only younger mate. 

“Hey! I can be possessive of my mates, even if she is unaware of being one,” complained the wolf hybrid.

“Jin-hyung came home last night, and we had a good conversation about their date. I just knew I wanted to settle this now. I don’t want her going anywhere,” justifies Namjoon. 

“Oh yeah, the date went well, I take it?” asks Yoongi as he finishes getting ready in the bathroom. 

“Yes, very much so, but he wouldn’t tell me much. He said he didn’t want to spoil anything for me when we finally go on our date… if she even agrees,” Namjoon says as his scent gets duller.

“Are you worried that Y/n will reject you?” Taehyung asks as he hugs the older Alpha around the waist. Namjoon nods his head. 

“I don’t see Y/n doing that. She may end up acting a bit more professionally with you, but that's when you have to use those dimples to your advantage.” says the younger one while poking those same dimples.

“Getting back to the current issue, we need to talk to Jin about the mate scent. See if he got any hints of changes. Maybe try to find out why she is so nervous about things. I guess your meeting with her family pack will be a good thing,” says Yoongi on his way out of the bathroom, ready to go. 

“Looking good there, kitty,” Taehyung teases.

“Ah, no. Don’t you start that now, Taehyung-ah, please. We have a meeting to go to. Are you coming with?” Yoongi asks, trying to avoid blushing further. 

“Yeah, Jimin and Jungkook are coming, too. Hobi-hyung and Jin-hyung couldn’t come because of some vlog and video-clip  requirements that Bang PD came up with since we left two weeks early.” 

“I think they are doing it close to the Playmate Services. They both want to try to make it before the meeting. It would be nice to show support and acceptance as a mate-bonded pack,” laments Namjoon. 

“HYUNGS LET’S GO!” Jungkook yells from downstairs. 

“Guess that means everyone else is ready,” snickers Taehyung.

After everyone puts on their coats and hats, the six of you head out to the vans. Everyone is having small conversations like Jungkook worrying about being late when, in reality, you will still be early to the meeting and what to do after the contract signing. 

The boys look handsome today, so much so that you have decided they only exist from the neck up so you won't end up with wandering eyes. 

Yoongi is wearing a light tan look, which is different from what you would ever think he would wear—the duality of a man.

Jungkook and Taehyung are in their typical but stylish black-on-black with– that's right, black. 

Namjoon looks like a lawyer in a three-piece suit of dark blue with light blue pinstripes. 

Then there is Jimin in classy-looking beachwear. With this look, he could attend a meeting, a dance class, or Malibu.

You, however, are in something very professional. A dark blue pantsuit with a light blue blouse goes well with the pedicure and manicure you got from Mare Salon. Every time you look at the nail polish, a smile blooms as you remember how perfect last night was.

The boys had all expressed how beautiful you looked. Taehyung let out a low growl as his eyes roamed over your features. Yoongi mentioned how you would be the most attractive in the room, leading you to blush. 

It took every ounce of willpower for the Prime Alpha to drag you next to him because the two of you matched. Easily, the two of you looked like you could be the power couple of Bangtan, especially with how you dressed without trying to match. 

As you exit the packhouse, you are still caught up in the conversation with Jimin about where you got your suit. You weren’t surprised that he didn’t know what Torrid and Ross were. While you tried to find a way to explain it without sounding like a cheapskate, you missed the lowered volumes around you. 

Taehyung stops talking with Yoongi and Namjoon and glares off into the distance.

“What is it, Tae Tae?” asks Namjoon, but before he can answer, the smell of male arousal gets stronger the closer they get to the vans. 

Glancing at each other, Jimin over his shoulder briefly with a slight twitch of his brow, they all conclude… 

They are not the only ones who love how well your suit fits your figure, but the question is which of the two drivers was attracted to their mate.

When you get closer to the cars, the boys huddle together like last time. You start to think this must be a regular thing since Bangtan is a large bonded pack, and you understand that you will have to split between the vans since there are too many of you to fit in the luxury 5-passenger vans.

Looking back to the vans, you wonder who will go with whom. Seeing that you are not needed in or understanding whatever they are discussing in rapid-fire Korean, you head to the van with the driver you have seen before and greet him.

Watching your step, you miss his eyes as they roam over your figure. 

You turn again to see if the boys have moved forward but are still huddled. Taehyung and Yoogni are facing your way but are looking between the two vans. Neither one of them seems happy at the moment, but you keep to yourself and keep heading to the rest of the way.

“Hello, James. It is nice to see you again. Am I going in your van today?” You smile as you approach the driver you met on the faithful day this all started. In doing so, you ended up drawing the Alphas' attention.

“Y/n, having you in my van would be a pleasure,” says the driver, his eyes, again, roaming your figure while stepping forward with his hand out to help you down the last step. 

You go to take his hand, a smile growing at his kind words and gentlemanly qualities, but a deep growl sounds behind you.  The sound induces a fear that can only come from a predatory animal. 

Logically, you know it has to be one of the Alphas behind you, but your heart and instincts are causing you to freeze. The driver, James, is having a similar reaction, with wide eyes.

“Mr. Green,” says Taehyung, placing an arm around your waist. “You will show her respect by calling her Miss Y/l/n when she speaks to you.”

“Yes, Sir. My apologies, Mr. Kim. I mean you and Miss Y/l/n, no disrespect,” James says as he bows in respect for offending the tiger hybrid. 

While Taehyung’s touch brings you out of your unwarranted fear, you roll your eyes at his notion that James was being rude. It isn’t that big of a deal, and you go to explain why James was so bold as to use your first name, but Taehyung continues.

“You also will never have the pleasure of doing anything with her if you wish to keep your job. Keep your eyes off her,” growls the Alpha while still holding you, his grip tightening on your hip.

“Taehyung-ssi! What are you doing?” you said, stepping out of his hold and facing him. 

Blocking the view of the now trembling man behind you, you add, “You cannot just growl at someone like that. It’s rude, for one. Besides, I asked James to call me by my first name. He was kind to me the day I got injured.”

Taehyung looks at you with a gaping mouth, his scent burning at feeling your reprimand. “I was… he was ogling and flirting with you. He isn’t supposed to call you by your first name. He has to remember his place. He is just a staff member.”

By this point, the other Alphas are focused on this little interaction and look at the group of you with anger, confusion, and other emotions. Your scent clashes with Taehyung’s. His burning wood mixes with your sour lemon, putting everyone on edge. 

“Staff,” you say as you look past Taehyung at the rest of the pack that has gathered along his side. 

Jungkook’s eyes are round with worry, and he is nibbling on his lower lip and holding onto Jimin, who has the decency of looking somewhat ashamed of what has happened. 

Yoongi and Namjoon are the calmest looking of the bunch as they take everything in. Neither one of them knows what to do. They understand Taehyung’s reaction, especially with you being a new mate that hasn’t been marked. 

“Alpha Kim Taehyung-ssi, I will also be on your pack’s payroll, which makes me– just a staff member,” you say. 

Yoongi and Jungkook move to take a step forward but stop when you level them with a glare. Shaking your head, you walk backward to stand next to the driver. 

Then, as you bow to a full 90 degrees, you continue, “My apologies, Alpha Kim Taehyung-ssi, for overstepping my position. It won’t happen again.”

A chorus of voiced concerns comes from all the Alphas. You take a beat before you stand as tall as you can, your face straight and unyielding, and your scent morphing to lemon with a hint of mold.

Only three of them understand that you have gone into your Luna mode. Yoongi places a hand on the offending Alpha to signal him to keep his mouth shut. At the same time, a soft but unmistakable growl from the Prime Alpha is loud enough to be heard within the Alpha group.

“Since I am not a member of your staff currently, which grants me no regulations or benefits… I will find my way to Playmate Services. Prime Alpha, Alphas.”  

Spinning around, you give James a sympathetic smile and walk away. Pulling out your phone, you request an Uber.  You can hear scuffling, growling, and loud whispers. 

It’s not loud enough for your human ears to hear what is being said. At this point, you do not care (you do, but you don’t), and it slowly fades away as you reach the main gate.

Approaching the gate, you nod to the guard, asking to be let out the side door, when you notice he stops and looks behind you. 

Great, someone followed you. 

You are 100% sure it’s someone coming to force you to get into the van with them or apologize to Taehyung. Maybe even worse, having you get into the van with Taehyung so you are forced to be near him and apologize. 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Reading yourself for whatever you need to do to hold your position and remain as far as possible from Mr. High-and-Mighty-I-am-an-Alpha-Tiger Kim Taehyung.

“Prin… Y/n… Miss Y/n,” says Yoongi with insecurity bleeding into his words.

You turn around and glare at him, waiting for him to tell you what he wants. Hands-on your hips, tapping your foot with a look of sternness but a hint of frustration, “What?”

“I understand you are upset at Taehyung-ah.” Your face glowers at the mention of the Alpha, but he continues, “Would you be okay if I went with you to the office?”

You continue to stand there and stare at him. You want time alone, to be away from them all, because it has been a lot. Even with how amazing it was last night with Seokjin and the compliments from this morning, Teahyung's actions knocked you off the cloud you were sitting on. 

“You… I want…My Alpha is screaming in my head that you are hurt and need to be with one of us,” Yoogi says firmly, but his eyes show he is actually concerned. 

You shift your weight to tell him to leave you alone. While you understand that his Alpha has instinctual needs, you are a big girl and can handle yourself. 

Before you can say anything, he adds, “More so, I would like to be by your side right now.” 

“Princess, I know you are mad at him, and not only do I understand, but so does the pack. Trust me, he is getting his own punishment from the pack right now.”

He takes a step forward. His tail is low, his hands grip the bottom of his shirt, and his ears are flat. “Please, Y/n-ah. My princess, allow me to come with you. I won’t say anything the whole way there.”

Hearing a car pull up near the gate, your phone dings at the arrival of your Uber. You turn around and step toward the gate; speaking over your shoulder, you say, “Not a word. Let’s go.”

Previous / PART TWO - bc Tumblr won't do it in one post.

Taglist - Closed

@braveangel777 @bethanysnow @danielle143 @nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @staytinyville @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop @m00njinnie @drenix004 @singukieee @avadakadabra93 @dazzlingjade @sehun096rainbow @sunshinecallie @seoullove96 @reallysparklychaos @tired7o7 @channiespup @cryingpages @kittycatkrissa @captain-joongz @roseidol @hecateslittlewitchling @ayoo-bangtan @someshinesomedont @cerulean1riz @butterfliesinthenightsky @kayways

[kpopsexstories]

Hey !! Do you think you can do a male reader version of that one Jeno Missionary fic/story please?

Hey! 😄👋 You must be referring to this straight Jeno story. I was surprised to see how quickly it soared in popularity. It's not even two weeks old and already my most popular post!

So it makes perfect sense to do a gay version of it 😉 The result is largely copy/paste, but with details changed and a second dick added which makes it slightly longer. I hope you enjoy! 😘

QUICK FIX GAY #1: NCT Muscle Hunk Jeno fucks you missionary style (male reader)

Content Warning! This is a 100% gay story. Check out this post for my straight smut and this post for more gay smut. The original straight story on which this one is based can be found here.

Pairing: Top NCT Jeno x Bottom male reader

Content: Missionary

Type of Sex: MEDIUM

Word Count: 1,196

Jeno's narrow waist and big body always turns you on. There's something about his proportions that drives you wild. Now, when you see him through the mirror standing naked in the bathroom door – watching you intently with a seductive smile – you quickly turn around and let your towel fall to the floor.

“Wanna go again?” he asks and smirks.

You don't even reply. Naked and happy, you drop your toothbrush, rush toward the man and jump him like the horny boyfriend that you are.

With his strong arms and your legs tightly wrapped around him, Jeno carries you back to the bed. You plant your lips on his and feel his flexing muscles, as he gently lays you down and climbs on top. You can't wait to feel his powerful dick in your ass again.

With passionate thrusts and arms stretched out on the mattress, he rubs his cock against your stomach. You make out, full of lust, for the third time this morning.

He lifts his body and reaches down between your legs. You bend your knees toward your chest, feet and legs raised in the air, and feel the dick as it plays between your cheeks.

Jeno sits up on his shins. You observe him while he looks down, hand around his cock, and guides the head into position. Despite his impressive size he doesn't even need to expand you. He knows you can take it.

Slowly, with a big smirk on his face, he puses the head forward. “Mm, babe,” he moans when he penetrates you.

Towering above you he begins to rock his body back and forth. He leans toward you and puts his hand on your chest, and the other on the mattress beside you.

The dick goes deeper and deeper inside your hole. The big man and throbbing cock quickly fills you up, giving you enormous pleasure the way he – and it – always does.

With his legs slightly bent and the hand on your chest pressing down a little harder, Jeno begins to thrust repeatedly inside you. You smile at each other as you let your hand glide down his toned muscles and narrow waist.

When he leans down to kiss you, you reach for his ass cheek and squeeze it. You push him deeper still, while he breathes heavily into your mouth.

“Mm, babe,” he repeats. “Mm, your ass feels fucking good.”

“Ahh, Jeno,” you whisper and close your eyes. The last thing you see is his chest moving above yours.

He comes back down to kiss your neck. While his hand explores your side, he licks your skin and brushes his nose against your ear. His large palm gently caresses your face while he lovingly thrusts into you repeatedly.

His knees dig into the bed just below your ass cheeks. He picks up the pace, and you raise your legs to squeeze his hips. The muscles in his ass cheeks tighten with each loving jolt of passion and desire.

Slowly, he pulls the shaft half way out only to abruptly thrust it back in again. He repeats the erotic motion again and again, each time filling you with even greater pleasure.

Your hands are all over his strong arms and back. You occasionally kiss, only to bury your heads in each other's necks again. Your ass slides up his thighs, as he pulls you closer and bends his body to penetrate you at the perfect angle.

His touch is warm and gentle, but firm and confident. He wants you so bad, all day every day, and the love you feel when he caresses your skin is unrivaled. That's why you know the third time definitely won't be the last.

As his thrusts grow more intense, they balance out until he's fucking you fast at a steady rhythm. He pulls your hair gently while his chest brushes against yours repeatedly.

He suddenly raises his upper body, a clear sign that you've brought him to the edge and he’s ready to come. Your hands enjoy his broad shoulders until they slip out of reach, and you love the sight of his groin slamming against the insides of your thighs.

When he's ready to go all the way, he straightens his arms and towers high above you. He sits on both knees and firmly holds you around the waist. You grab your dick and stroke it, eager to align your orgasm with his.

You lift your head to glance at Jeno’s v-line while his cock slides in and out below you. “Mm, yeah!” you exclaim and stroke your dick faster. You sense Jeno’s body changing and his orgasm approaching. “Yes, fuck me, give me that cock!”

You catch his eyes taking in the full view of you. “Oh yeah, you're so hot babe!” he groans.

He suddenly closes his eyes and the hands around your waist feel stronger. He pulls you harder onto his shaft while his buff chest stretches out.

When he comes, he grimaces and lets out an audible groan. You too close your eyes while squeezing his thigh, and envision the throbbing cock inside you as you jerk off.

“Ahh, fuuck,” he exclaims. “Yeah, fuuck!”

He jolts his body hard, pushing inside you with force as he erupts. He slowly pulls out, then thrusts hard back in, emptying his load in several hot waves.

“Mm, yes!” you say just before you release your own load. “Yes, fuuck!”

Your cum shoots out across your stomach. Jeno is watching the display with great interest. “Babe, you drive me so wild. Your ass always makes me bust so hard.”

When you’re done and your body begins to relax, Jeno slowly pulls out one last time. You feel your rim grip around the shaft, then the release as the head falls out of your body.

“Mm, yeah, you're so sexy babe,” you say while panting softly.

Jeno sits down and you admire his figure. He smiles wide at you and gets out of bed. “Wanna shower with me?” he asks. He still has a hard-on between his legs.

You let out a satisfied laugh. “Damn, I just got out of the shower though! Get me a tissue.”

“Yeah, but we’ve soiled you again,” he grins. ”Your ass is full of cum.”

“I know,” you say and smile. “Just let me catch my breath.”

Jeno turns around and walks toward the bathroom. You can't take your eyes off his hourglass figure and tight butt. Without turning around, he says: “If you join me I'll wash you off. If you get horny again I’ll suck you the way you love.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. “I’m spent,” you say and giggle. You sit up and slide yourself toward the foot of the bed, moving carefully as not to spill on the sheets.

Jeno turns in the door to face you. “I’ll let you wash me off,” he says seductively.

You glance at his abs and quickly leap up from the bed. “Now that I want to do.”

You put your arms around each other when you catch up with your boyfriend. The day has only just begun.