#and even if he knows he'd perhaps only sigh and say forget it

[ddthebreadboy]

Someone said: "Everyone only know how WWX gave his golden core to chengcheng, but they don't know how JC sacrificed his life to lead the Wen away from WWX!"

This, however, ... The only ones who know the golden core transfer are only WangXian, Wen Ning, and perhaps the dead Jin Guangyao...?

Post-canon WangXian did not and would not make a conference, shed some tears, and tearfully announce the golden core transfer to get people's sympathy.

Neither did Wen Ning has the possibility, ability, or reason, to announce the golden core.

So, who is this "everyone knows"?

The readers?

But the readers also know about your chengcheng sacrifice. It is fair and square. Nobody ever got shaded.

So...?

Oh, you feel indignant because WWX didn't feel surprised and touched by chengcheng's sacrifice? Feeling indignant because WWX didn't feel grateful for chengcheng sacrifice?

But even if JC were to say this secret, the ending of MDZS will not change. Because the harm has been done. If anything, it would sound like a cold joke, an utter irony.

Even your chengcheng already know this in his heart:

Just like how the past Wei Wuxian couldn't tell him the truth about giving him the golden core, there's no way for the current Jiang Cheng to tell the truth either.

MDZS Ch 110

That was referring to WWX's reason:

In the beginning, it was precisely because he didn't want to see such a Jiang Cheng that he decided not to tell him.

(...)

Afterwards, it was because Jin ZiXuan and Jiang YanLi died for him that he had no face to let others know.

To tell Jiang Cheng after what happened then would be like shirking responsibility, hurrying to demonstrate that he'd contributed as well. It'd be like telling Jiang Cheng, don't hate me, look, I've also contributed to YunmengJiang Sect too.

MDZS Ch 102

Yup.

Telling WWX that he lost his golden core due to leading the Wen away would sound really ironic at this point, because not only he didn't save WWX at all, but instead causing a bigger trouble and misery to him.

If WWX didn't have the face to say, "don't hate me, I have also contributed to YMJ~" (Which is the truth, whether XuanLi died or alive.)

Does JC have the face to say, "don't be complacent, I lost my core because I wanted to save you!" ? (But WWX got a lot of trouble instead of being saved at all)

It's like how Su She wanted to shoot Xuanwu but due to his poor skill, shot WWX's arm instead.

Does Su She have the face to say, "don't hate me, I originally wanted to help you!" ?

"...." *speechless* I really thank you for your help!

Someone wanted to help a person, but forgot to measure his own ability, causing him to give more problem to the person he wanted to save....

What does it called?

Baby, it is called Heroic Disease :) yes, the exact thing JC often said to WWX.

***

JC (toxic ones) Stan: why didn't everyone know chengcheng sacrifice??

JC throughout MDZS: "It's me~! Hi~! I'm the problem, it's me~!

[pomefioredove]

Can we have more of snuggles for hire please?! > <

YES always. I need more cuddle content

part one (leona, tweels, vil)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire (encore)

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: blurbs characters: rook, idia, silver additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, rook is rook as usual

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

You were slouched over your desk, dozing off over an essay you hadn't even started yet, when your door flies open.

"Prefect!" Epel shouts, his eyes wide with panic. Immediately, dread sets in. Had someone else overblotted? Was Grim in trouble?

"I'm sorry! I was looking for Vil, but he found me first!"

Huh? "What do you mean b-"

"Oh, Trickster~!"

That question answers itself. In a blink, Epel is gone, bolting before he could get dragged into this. Rook lets himself in, smiling as if he'd just won a million thaumarks.

"Ah, there you are~! I have been waiting for your call!"

You blink. "...Hi, Rook. What?"

He slides his hands under your arms, and lifts you like a cat. You remind yourself that he's much stronger than he looks.

"How my heart ached, watching you suffer! But I had to be patient- I had to wait for your call, Trickster! And when I heard Monsieur Pommette was looking for someone to come to your aid... I knew it had to be me!"

Rook sits you in his lap, squeezing you as if you were a small, cute animal. Which, to him, you sort of were. "Now, rest. I will comfort you!"

"Rook," you say, smothered in his arms, "This really isn't necessary."

"For your health, it is," he boops your nose. "Bonne nuit, mon ange."

With the way he's cooing and cuddling you so closely to him, you know there's no getting out of this.

...Not that you're complaining. He's right, after all. And you're really just grateful that he decided to break in while you were awake.

You're still going to have to kick Epel's butt for it, anyway.

"I already told you, I don't have a problem,"

Ortho Shroud beeps at you. "Incorrect. Your hormonal levels and kinesics indicate you've been sleeping poorly," he says. "...And the other first years were talking about it."

Of course, you sigh. Ace and Deuce. "It's not that bad,"

"Then perhaps you would be interested in solving another problem?"

He brings you down a long, cold hallway, and stops at a door. You hadn't been inside Ignihyde before, but with all the tech stuff, you figure there's some kind of freaky sleep machine in there.

You raise an eyebrow. "I dunno. The technology here is pretty weird,"

"Not that kind of problem!" Ortho opens the door with a giggle. "Idia, look who's here!"

To your surprise (horror? delight?) there's no sleep machine. Just one wide-eyed, blushing, terrified Idia Shroud.

By the look on his face, you can tell he knows just as much about this as you do. He and Ortho exchange glances, having an entire silent conversation while you awkwardly stand in the doorway.

Finally, Ortho looks at you: "Idy has been having similar troubles with sleeping,"

"Ortho-"

"I thought you might be able to help each other!"

Idia looks about ready to crawl under his bed and hide. You look between the two.

"Is he okay?"

"Oh, don't worry! He always gets nervous around pretty people!"

He makes a noise like a deflating balloon. Ortho giggles. "I'll see you later!"

He leaves, and a whir and a thump follow him. You stare. "He took the door knob,"

Despite all the awkward staring and blushing and groaning, you end up in the same bed, anyway, lost in a tangle of limbs that is somehow both awkward and comfortable. Idia is a lot warmer than he looks. And a very, very clingy sleeper.

You'll both lament about how terrible it was to Ortho in the morning, and you'll both leave out the fact that if it really were so terrible, one of you could've just slept on the floor.

But... you didn't. And you won't tomorrow night, either.

When you told your friends you'd been summoned to Diasomnia, they looked at you as if you'd just said your exact time and place of death.

Ace and Deuce whisper-shouted something about "not telling him", but you didn't ask. You weren't worried about Malleus, after all.

...Except that the person waiting for you in the lounge isn't Malleus.

"Oh... hey, Silver. Did you...?"

You hold up the summons, and he nods. The way he's avoiding your eyes is almost... shy. Bashful.

"Sebek came back from class yesterday yelling about you... he made it sound like you were dying," Silver says, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"...But if it's just insomnia, I can help."

You blink. "Oh... I appreciate it, but..."

...You can't bring yourself to finish that sentence. He just looks... tense. This isn't exactly an offer he makes to most, after all.

You're just special.

And you need that.

You sit beside him in comfortable silence. The lights in the Diasomnia lounge are already dim, and it's as quiet and solemn as ever. Silver guides you into a soft position against him, your head on his shoulder, his head on yours, his arm around you, and he falls asleep.

Maybe it's just the exhaustion finally catching up to you, but it's surprisingly easy to follow his lead and fall asleep against him.

You dream of him that night.

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[darknight3904]

𝘐𝘴 𝘐𝘵 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘠𝘦𝘵?

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘺.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024).

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦.

𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘚𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.4 𝘬

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔�� 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Logan dislikes December. He always has. From the over priced gifts to the over played music, who could forget the biting cold. He hated it all. One of the things he hated most had to be some of the desserts people tried to pass off as edible.

"Get that out of my face." He growls as you try to feed him a forkful of something Al made

"One taste, Logan." You groan

"Don't like fruitcake. Makes me sick." He grumbles, "You eat it."

"But what if she screwed it up. Like those cookies she made that she used salt instead of sugar in?" You pout

"So I'm your guinea pig?" He asks with a sigh

"No! You're my loving boyfriend who will try Al's cooking for me."

"Nice try, bub." Logan takes the fork from your hands and set it back down on the plate, "I'm not dying of food poisoning."

You scoff, like food poisoning would be the thing to take him out.

"Hey, do we have any more lights? I think this strand is broken." Laura asks as she digs through boxes of decorations

"Uhh...I think we had a few more strands somewhere." You say, leaving Logan's side to help the girl with her decoration.

For whatever reason, you and Laura had insisted on not only buying an enormous tree but also that the entire apartment needed to look like an elf threw up in it. Odd little decorations had accumulated in every spare surface of the house. Even Logan's favorite coffee mug had been replaced by a Santa-shaped one that Wade had found at some store. He was pretty sure he was living in a nightmare.

"Do you think he's still scowling over the fruitcake?" You ask

"Probably. I bet his face is doing that dumb thing where it-"

"You two know I can hear you, right?" Logan asked, entering the living room and plopping down on the couch

"If you're not going to eat, can't you help?" You ask

"Help with what?" He sighs

You toss a big ball of tangled-up lights for the tree into his lap. Yes, this really was a nightmare he was stuck in.

Another issue Logan had was gift-giving. Not because he didn't think people deserved gifts, but he never knew what to buy. He'd been alive for nearly 200 Christmases and he still struggled with gift-giving. How's that for bad luck?

He already had something for nearly everyone in his life. Al was getting a container of that hair stuff she liked, Wade and Vanessa were getting matching Hello Kitty sweatshirts, hell he even found a toy for Mary sitting in a discount bin at the grocery store. Now, the two biggest struggles in his life, You and Laura.

Laura had asked for new games for her Switch but Logan had a suspicion you bought them already. So, here he was standing in a Macy's in the Young Women's section, hoping something would catch his eye for the teen in his life. Most of the clothes were either ugly or not her style.

Holy shit, there was no way that qualified as a top. Logan wouldn't let Laura two steps out the door in something like that. That had to be an undershirt or something...right?

An ugly sweater catches his eye. Perhaps he could get her a gag gift. There was a sweater with an overweight cow drinking beer. That seemed decent.

"Excuse me, son. I need to get by."

Logan glances down to see a little old lady pushing a shopping cart. He steps to the side and easily lets her slide past.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" He blurts out to her

"Of course!" She smiled

"I got this teen girl at home. I need gift ideas." He sighs, "She's not the girliest and I can't figure it out."

The woman stands there for a second and thinks it over. A small snap of her wrinkled fingers cut through the air.

"How about shoes? Girly girl or not, every young girl likes a new pair of shoes every once in a while."

Logan thought about it, what shoes did Laura even wear? Usually, she was in that black pair of boots. Surely this huge store had something like that.

"Sounds perfect." He nods, "Do you have any ideas for my girl?"

"Oh well, what does she like?" The woman asks

What do you like? He swears he knows yet his brain is empty right now. You like him, that's for sure, "She likes me. I think"

"You're a bit empty-headed, aren't you?" The woman chuckles

Logan slowly nodded in agreement, normally an insult like that would have him simmering but he couldn't fight this old woman. She looked like she was 90.

"Well, when I was young, I always liked receiving a nice pair of pajamas. Or, a candle that smells like cookies. Honestly, I still like getting those things. One of my favorite things though to get was a day of peace and quiet. I used to tell my husband Howard to clean the house and take the kids out in the snow so I could take a long bath and read a book."

Logan thanks the woman, who he learns her name is Darlene, and goes off to find a pair of boots for Laura. He guesses on the size and shoves the gift receipt in the box just in case. He feels a bit unsuccessful as he walks back to the apartment he shares with Laura and you. He had one day left. Christmas Eve was tomorrow and you had wanted to bake cookies and watch movies all day.

He stashed the gifts under the bed, making a mental note to wrap them tonight after you passed out in bed. He tossed the idea around his brain of just giving himself as a gift to you, he'd like that if you did that for him. Honestly, it was the perfect gift for him. Of course, it seemed lamer coming from him now since he had done that for your birthday. Sure, the sex had been great but he wanted to give you something better.

Darlene had suggested pajamas but all you ever wore were his t-shirts to bed, that or nothing. You already had a huge collection of candles, and Laura really wasn't that chaotic so he didn't see any need to keep her away from you.

Fuck, what was he going to do?

The loud slam of the front door has him groaning. You were back from work, and he was still empty-handed in the gift department.

"How was work?" Laura asks

"Good. I gave Matt his gift early since he is driving to his parent's house for the next few days. Oh! I also saw the cutest kitten in that Petshop's window. An itty bitty orange one, looked like he was a few weeks old." You sigh dreamily

Logan officially had an idea. Perhaps it was a bad one, cats never did like him. Oh, fuck it, it beats not having a gift.

The next day, he sets out early. Laura is still snoring in her bed and you've gone off to help Vanessa with something. It's the perfect time to sneak a cat into the apartment.

The pet store is just opening as he arrives. The single employee looks like he'd rather be anywhere else as he welcomes Logan to the store with a monotone voice. So much for the Christmas spirit.

"Hey, there was an orange kitten here. Where is it?" Logan asked looking around an empty cage that was labeled Cats

"What?" The guy asked, not listening

"The orange kitten." Logan huffs, "I want to buy him."

"Oh, he was sold last night. Some lady came in, said her kids wanted a cat for Christmas." The guy says

"What?" Logan asks

"He's gone, man." The guy snorts

"Well, when do you get more?" Logan asks he can feel his blood pressure rising but he took a deep breath.

"More what?" The guy asks dumbly

"Cats! When do you get more fucking cats?!" Logan angrily slams his hand on the counter, "I need one for my girl. Any color I don't give a shit!"

"Oh, not for a while. Probably after the new year. The holiday season, those kittens go fast." The guy shrugs, "The shelters don't really give us too many at a time anyway."

Logan wipes a hand over his face with a groan, "You're really unfuckinghelpful."

Back outside, Logan's legs carry him to the bar he always went to when he was stressed. Two glasses of whiskey deep he's still giftless. It was starting to look like he was going to be the gift. Maybe he could borrow that giant bow Wade had, wrap it around his waist, and surprise you. He was so fucking lame.

Logan stumbles back out onto the sidewalk. Thoroughly drunk, he thinks about hiding in Wade and Al's apartment until this Christmas is over. Seriously, is it New Year's yet? He was losing his damn mind over this entire month.

Down a back alleyway, he pukes into a dumpster. He might've overdone it this time. How long was he even at the bar? You were so going to chew into him about this. A loud crash behind him had him jumping. He spins around, ready for some fight. Instead, little pawprints in the snow catch his eye. They lead to the smallest drain pipe Logan's ever seen. He kneels down, feeling the snow soak into his pants as he peers into the pipe. A little black and white kitten with yellow eyes stares back at him.

Maybe he wasn't entirely fucked this Christmas after all.

"Hey, bub." He greets the kitten, "Wanna c'mon out?"

He sticks a finger into the drain pipe and recoils when the kitten slices it open with a claw.

"Motherfucker!" He curses at the sudden, unexpected pain. The cat hisses from inside the pipe and Logan groans.

He sticks his face closer to the pipe and the kitten backs up a few small steps.

"Listen here, you little shit stain. You're going to save my ass tomorrow morning, so get out here. Or so help me I'll- "

The animal mockingly meows in his face.

A can of tuna from the corner store, and multiple scratches later, Logan is victorious. The black and white kitten has been secured. Logan has it tightly bundled up in his jacket, in an effort to not only keep it warm but also keep it from scratching his eyes out.

When he reaches the apartment, he pushes the door open and calls your name. Lucky for him, you're still out with Vanessa. He enters the bathroom and shuts it behind him.

"Bath time you little monster. I can't have you stinking tomorrow up."

The kitten, despite it's size is elusively strong. It wiggles out of Logan's grasp multiple times and somehow manages to have his entire shirt soaked from the water that he's filled the sink with.

"It's warm water. Just gotta rinse the soap off." He reasons with the animal as it scratches at the door.

"Is someone in here?" Laura's voice calls

"Yeah, It's me. Bathroom!" He yells back

The bathroom door swings open just as he snatches the kitten back up and Laura stares at him in bewilderment.

"What are you doing? Is that a cat?"

"No, he's the devil. Help me rinse it." Logan huffs

To his dismay, Laura is able to get the cat to stay relatively still under the running water as she rinses the soap off.

"Where did you find a kitten? That local pet store is sold out." She says

"You know that bar a few blocks away?" He asks

"The one you go to when you stress drink?" Laura asks, her eyes narrowing in suspicion

Logan shoots her a look but nods, " I found him in a drain pipe nearby."

Laura coos down at the little animal as she wraps a big towel around it.

"What's its name?" She asks as she dries it off

"I dunno. Frank?" He shrugs sitting down on the edge of the tub

"Not everything can be named Frank," Laura judges him

"Alright, fine." He huffs, and a wreath that you hung on the bathroom door catches his eye. Jingle bells that gleam in the light are decorated with holly and berries adorn the wreath.

"Jingle. Or maybe Bell." He says staring at the wet kitten who seems hypnotized by Laura.

"Sounds good to me." She smiles at the kitten who meows back, "Hello, Jingle."

Logan sighs in relief and stands up, "Hide Jingle in your room."

"Where are you going?" Laura asks as he exits the bathroom

"Jingle needs a place to shit. We need cat stuff."

The next day, Logan is woken up by you gently kissing his neck.

"Morning." He mumbles

"Good morning." You smile, "It's Christmas."

He nods with a small grin.

"C'mon time to get up." You huff and stand up to pull at his arm

"What are you five?" He groans as you fail to move him

"Yes. Now get up."

Presents opened and a million pictures taken, Logan feels even more tired than when he went to bed last night.

To his glee, Laura loves the boots, and he's even managed to get the right size. Darlene as it turns out is full of good ideas.

"Last one." He says to you, "Put your hands out and close your eyes."

You give him a look like he's about to prank you.

"Wade put a cicada in your hands one time and now you distrust everyone?" He asks

"Yes. That was the scariest moment of my life." You affirm

"Just shut your eyes." Logan huffs

He has somehow gotten Jingle to stay in a little basket he found in the closet and he gingerly places it into your hands. The kitten shifts and nearly tips the basket over as you open your eyes.

"Logan!" You gasp, looking between him and the black-and-white fuzz ball.

"Like it? That orange one was gone when I got to the store. But I-"

You're jumping off the couch and tossing your arms around his broad shoulders. Jingle still sitting in his basket.

"I love him." You smile, leaning in for a kiss

"Good. You have no idea what I went through to get him for you." He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, aware that Laura is watching and just a sentence away from teasing him.

"What's his name?" You ask as he lets you go, "Or are you a girl?"

Logan hadn't bothered to check as he shrugs and you pick the kitten up, lifting it's little tail up.

"A boy...I think" You say

"We were going with Jingle." He says looking at Laura who nods, "But you can change it."

"I think that's perfect." You smile, petting the animal's head.

Luckily this cat likes you a lot more than it liked him yesterday. Logan's eyes narrow at the way the cat stares at him, what was this animal's deal?

"So how'd you get him?" You ask curiously

"Would you believe me if I said I nicely talked to him and then let him follow me home?"

"No, not in a thousand years."

Logan chuckles as you smile back at him. Alright, maybe the holidays aren't so bad. He still thinks New Years could come quicker though.

Next Extra

I was feeling like I needed Christmas when I wrote this. Fun fact, originally I was going to have Logan tell the reader he loved them with a kitten at Christmas. Scrapped that for the scene in the yard at the school. :)

Also, I've gotten a couple of anons sliding into my inbox asking if I'm doing kinktober or anything like that. I am not unfortunately as I have a busy college schedule that is somehow getting even busier... that being said I do still plan to write just not on a daily basis.

Comment to be added to the taglist:

Tags:

@kellyxo1 @mystiquesvendetta @gingerplague

@veru-boom @qardasngan @fandomsunited @reidsworld

@arrozconpepitoria @iamm3 @gigabitemyass @wordacadabra

@e-ak @khaylin27  @eternallyfrustratedwriter @chaimshelii

@badbishsblog @britttzy267 @lilly4639 @delicateholland

@cherrypieyourface @scrumptiousroadpalaceturkey

@one-of-castiels @littlemissoblivious @littledebbieinabigworld

@kbear8863 @one-of-castiels @jeysbae @moonixlity @spktrlvr

@chronicallybubbly @fearlessxlaurin @m1cky-y-y @loserbaby66

@commanderawkward  @mega-kittyglitter-1 @oidloid @mariaxman

@mariaxman @c3liaaaaa @midcenturymanhattan-blog @batrensworld

@fallout-girl219

@mrs-ephemeral @halepack2011 @insanesosciopath @venusindelusion @wolverines-tits @navs-bhat @tumharisakhi

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine you are the third head of the dragon.

Warnings: explicit smut, drama, angst—fluffy endings tho. We stand happy Aemond and happy Aegon; long post.

***

• (I)

You are the only princess of the four children of King Viserys and his second wife after the demise of Princess Helena before you were even born.

So at the time of your birth your grieving mother relied on you, giving you perhaps a different treatment that she conceded your brothers. The Queen is definitely more protective to you.

As you grow, robust and lively, you find yourself looking for a place between Aemond and Aegon.

To complicate things, your father neglects you and your mother starts to busy herself with queenship.

This is the background you find yourself for the moment. Overshadowed by an older sister you've never seen, ignored by two brothers who are constantly at each other, loneliness is your companion and you feed it with books, sharpening your mind as you grow.

It happens, however, that you find Aemond at the library this day. You'd quickly turn out had he not spoken to you first.

"Come here, Y/N. Why do I get the sensation that you are fleeing from me?"

You do as told.

"I do not think you appreciate my company for whenever I am nearby you disappear."

Leaving the book aside, he looks up and greets you with a small smile.

"So the princess speaks. Well, if it happens to be so it's because I have other tasks. Unfortunately our lessons are scheduled for different parts of a day."

Seeing you are still untrusting his words, Aemond sighs and moves to where you are.

"Come now, Y/N. What are you intending to read today?"

As one looks to the other, the initial distrust is overcome. Whatever Aemond sees in you finds home in how you let him in too.

*

Aegon sees you the moment he leaves Sunfyre.

The four and ten year boy watches as you, four years younger, pace lonely around the gardens.

He'd usually have no time to waste if the person in question was Aemond, but something about you changes his mind and he turns around.

"Is this a Targaryen trait to be able to read a book and walk at the same time?"

You raise your head and chuckle at his words.

Aegon has always been the unreachable elder brother, but for some reason you are like a sunbeam whenever he looks at you. And he is proud of himself for making you smile.

"I cannot say, but if this is the case then it is a gift I can at least claim."

Aware this hints at the fact you haven't reclaimed a dragon to yourself yet, the prince softens towards you.

"Dreamfyre is out there, you know."

"I cannot",

", and your smile falters. "It was hers."

Rarely the Queen spoke of Princess Helena to you. The sister whom you've never met was the eldest (she'd be joined by Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron before you came to this world) of the family, after Rhaenyra. She had claimed a dragon when she was two and ten, and had she lived today, she would be counting a second decade in this world.

But due to a sickness, two years after Helena delighted in riding Dreamfyre, she was no more. It did impact her family in many ways and you, born six years later, still feel daunted by her memory.

"Y/N", Aegon understands well what you left unsaid. "This is not how she would have liked to be remembered."

"You say it so because mother doesn't compare you to her like she does to me."

In pain, a bond rises. Aegon is surprised himself when he notices it.

"Oh, how mistaken you are, dear Y/N. I too wonder at times if it wasn't better for us all that the Gods spared her instead of me."

You take his hand in yours and you like how warm his skin is.

"Do not say so. You are good to me, Aegon. You can be good. Do not forget it."

That evening, Aegon could believe there is hope somewhere. About what? He cannot say.

***

• (II)

Tensions between Rhaenyra's offspring and the Queen's are growing slow, but intently. You have noticed how often Aemond has been mocked for not having a dragon to claim, a topic that is quite sensitive to you as well.

These are the moments where you come out of your cave.

"Leave him alone. It seems to me that neither of you are capable of understanding that it's to the Gods' decide whenever we bond with our dragons."

Lucerys laughs disdainfully at you, and Aemond sees you going red. A bad sign. He holds your hand as if he's trying to prevent you to get into a fight that is not yours.

But when Baela snaps back, the unexpected happens. You are brought to an unpredictable display of ire, pushed to the point where you knock her down.

"Shut up, won't you?!"

It doesn't get worse because Aemond interferes and, together with a very impressed Aegon, you are taken off the room. But the implications of the day only worsened your moods when Aemond himself loses an eye because of Lucerys.

"I am glad in you I can trust", says Aemond in a rare display of affection, of fragility.

You hold him tight.

"I cannot forgive myself for being absent this day. I failed to protect you, Aemond. For that I'm sorry."

He looks at you, partially amused.

"You are my younger sister. It's I who should say so, not you."

"Nevertheless..."

"Don't, Y/N. I'll be fine."

Neither speak for a moment. It's here where the lines are drawn out, where there is a subtle modification in the nature of the relationship between him and you. But what would you know?

***

• (III)

Here you are, watching Aegon flying with Aemond. Despite your pride, you took the opportunity to ride with your boys. The rarity of the occasion-where you, a rider unclaimed, had the chance to mount a very ancient dragon and another relatively younger-helps strengthening the bonds between you three.

But as you are tired, you are merely an observer.

Lying down in the green grass of the open field, a spot where you like to spend your time with your siblings, here is usually your safe haven, where no one troubles you —where the deranged concept of paradise can be traced in the back of your mind.

However, your flaws give you little time to rest upon. You are constantly reminded that everyone has a dragon but you. Though your father has shockingly observed Dreamfyre has no rider, you refuse to take the dragon of the sister whom everyone loved as yours.

Thus it is you start to recount in the back of your mind the dragons left yet to be tamed-if yet they can be claimed so. It's when your are reminded of a dragon as old as Vhagar... one of the kind that has long been left with no rider to claim as its own.

The arduous task emanates behind your eyes.

Ambition rises in your chest, but you are up to it.

When you observe Amond and Aegon up in the skies, you whisper to yourself:

"I am by no means lesser than any of them. I'll show them all I am the third head of the dragon."

A deadly promise that certainly has the eager ears of the divine.

*

The day chosen for this is, in fact, right after your lord father has died. Aegon has been chosen a king in opposition to Rhaenyra and as conspiracies roll to dethrone your elder sister in favour of a male heir, in similar parallels to the same council attended by King Jaehaerys many moons ago which determined that Prince Viserys would inherit the throne against Princess Rhaenys' rights, you follow your lead.

It happens to be a storming day, a bad omen to many-depending of the point of view. To a start, you are betrothed to Aegon.

"I have always assumed you'd have Lady Baela at your side", you are heard musing to your inexpressible elder brother.

Aegon limits himself giving you a long look.

"As if, my dear Y/N. As if!"

You chuckle quietly. And the sound of it makes the elder of the three to smile genuinely. Indeed, as you notice for the first time, it is a good sight to admire.

The now king who is styled as Aegon II seems to notice something different in you too. But this exchange of glances ends abruptly as businesses are conducted-and you notice that Aemond, a silent witness that is so easily mistaken to a shadow, doesn't like what he sees so he leaves.

You sigh and stand, going after him in spite of your mother's protests that you should stay so the betrothal is announced... But as you part nonetheless, Aegon's eyes refuse to follow you.

It appears I must learn to share.

The new king finds this concept a rather odd one, but his namesake did the same, so why not do the same? As he plays with his finger and hears the council planning his coronation day, Aegon realizes this may not be such a bad idea.

After all... there must be three heads of the dragon.

He shivers.

*

Aemond stands at the yard, his chest heavy, smashed by the weight of wishing everything he cannot possessed. He wishes they could see that it's Aemond, not Aegon, better suited for the crown, better suited for...

"Aem", like a whisper, like a prayer your voice comes to his ears.

Aemond slowly turns only to spot you dressed in dark green robes, hair split in two long braids.

You've turned to a woman, no longer the introspective child that feared his presence.

"Y/N", he whispers too.

"You left the council."

"So did you".

Silence. Aemond can tell you are irritated by his words. By how you breathe, he knows you are upset. And he wishes things are otherwise, but what can he do when you are out of reach?

"You should have stayed", you insist.

"What for? I have no use there", Aemond scoffs.

"This is not the true." When you slip towards him, the prince finds in your gaze a very obstinate trait that, however, is tempered by your gentleness.

Some you remind him of his ancestor, Queen Rhaenys. "We must stick together. The world out there is cruel, Aemond. We need each other."

His hands are now resting around your waist-an imperceptible gesture, done almost unconsciously—, drawing you closer, even though you need not so much encouragement to do it willingly.

When have these sentiments begun to change?

Or have they always been there? A question Aemond does not dare to pose even if they are detected in his good one eye, softened as you raise your right hand to stroke his cheek-and he does not push you away.

"I have never failed my duty, Y/Nickname", like the boy he was, he opens up to you. "But you are not mine to claim even though l'd be a better husband to you."

You smile and it is as if the clouds open up to let the light come in.

"I know you have not. Which is why I'm asking you to stay", you lean forward and Aemond detests the trap he's led into. "We need you. Perhaps not all is lost...”

You tilt your head, letting words be spoken.

Aemond knows that where you are concerned, there is no way to say otherwise. Haven't it always been like this?

Thus it is not entirely surprising that he cedes at your charms by wrapping his hands around your neck and looses the control of his impulses by locking his lips with yours.

You sigh in content, not fighting this urge nor repressing the sentiment that has always been there. You respond his kiss, gladly letting yourself be involved. For where darkness lies ahead, Aemond provides you some light.

"It seems better", says he when you both pull apart to catch some air, "to share you with him than with a stranger."

"I'm glad we have finally agreed", you smile like the silly thing you are.

Despite these merrier circumstances, you are very mindful of what's to be done. And you have no need to wait further for it... even though as you prepare to it, Aegon spots you.

"Never took you for sneaking, Y/N", the king comes at you, and you see in his eyes a mix of feelings that being tossed to such a high position brings him. "Is it me the cause of your elope?"

"I am not eloping, Aegon", you say calmly but firmly. "I have no reason to do so."

Aegon scoffs and an old wound is opened to bleed.

"I am not like Aemond. I understand that it is him you opt to be wedded to."

You sigh, aware of the task that awaits you.

Nevertheless, you are not someone known to be a quitter. You step forward, shortening the distance that for so long has been great.

"You are not unlovable, Aegon. In these peril times, we must not be apart of each other. Feelings do not make us kings. Duties do."

"Bards tend to claim that duties are the death of love", Aegon shoots you a long gaze, still distrustful of your intentions.

You let silence hang loose as you take his hand, moulding into yours as fingers are intertwined. It feels surprisingly good, warm and cozy. You stare at what this union means and you look up at him.

Aegon seems to share the surprise when observing how well your hands are. Little by little tension begins to fade.

"Duties should not be the death of duty. They can coexist." Your thumb rubs around his skin. "There must be three dragons, Aegon."

He sighs.

"I cannot protest against it."

"You can. I am not forcing you into anything for you are the king, after all."

Aegon snorts. It takes little time before he pulls you against him and lifts your chin so his lilac eyes reflect your ones.

"How grown and witter you've become, Y/N", and a sly smirk curls upon your lips when his eyes part to look down at your heavy breathing chest.

"Quite a woman indeed."

Experiencing this lust is to taste the fire of the dragon. Aegon smirks when reading these new sentiments that rise in you. But frustratingly.. he lets go of you.

"I shall best wait for our wedding feast. You'll not be disappointed. Have a good evening, my dear Y/ N."

How your name rolls out of his lips gives you shivers. You wish you could plead him to stay, you are tempted to follow your impulses... but as the king walks off, you let him think victory is with him. For this night you are expected elsewhere.

*

To cool off your womanly needs that have recently risen, you resignify your actions. There is a soft rain pouring this night and you are wearing your court gown. Guarded by two guards and a lady of your trust, you confide your life into the unknown.

You lead the way to the cave where a dragon as old as tale is left in his asleep. For years untroubled, no one dared to claim him. But you... you want more. You've always aimed higher. And we are not speaking of the game of thrones.

Wild as a beast, you are not the royal daughter of House Targaryen whose beauty has earned a rare comparison to Queen Rhaenys. Some bards dare to say you are her incarnation. You are you, Y/N of House Targaryen.

The third head of the dragon. The dragon they need.

Thus you venture inside the cave.

***

• (IV)

The moment you land Aegon's Hill with Vermithor is when every question about your apparent disappearance is answered. Aemond and Aegon are indeed surprised to find in the sweet and delicate sister they share a formidable ally in the upcoming war.

"Y/N, this is very bold of you", your mother tells you in between awe and annoyance. "To leave out in the dark without any explanation... do you realize how wrong this all could have gone to?"

"I'm sorry, mother, but I had to try."

"Wouldn't Dreamfyre be sufficient to you?"

"No. I am not here to supplant my deceased sister, but to be my own self."

The dowager queen doesn't like the answer she gets of you, but at the same time she sees herself in this precise response. She takes your hand into hers and you are more than pleased that you two come to terms about it.

Later that day, when you prefer not to be included in the green's council, Aemond comes at you. You are found at the backyard, reading under a tree.

"I pray I am not interrupting anything."

You lift up and the rogue prince smiles to himself when seeing how lighted up you are at his presence. You quick move to where he is and Aemond is drowned to your presence, burying his face in your neck.

"Gods, I missed you", you say, hands stroking his long hair. "I wish we were not part of this, Aemond."

"Neither did I, but we must protect Aegon at all costs" , says the prince, now stepping back to look at you. He sees through your beauty, aware that this is someone bold like him, rider of an ancient dragon. You are every inch of Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror's blood.

Hands intertwine as gazes are locked. Whatever path this conflict is leading all of you to, you are prepared to take part of it.

"We must and we will." You stroke his face. "We need each other, Aemond. We truly do."

"For we are the three heads of the dragon", muses Aemond, taking your free hand to his lips, upon which he presses a kiss. "I know it as much as you do."

You lean forward to kiss his lips. To feel him one more time is a must, but this is not a goodbye.

This should not feel so.

Specially because Aemond has other plans to weave.

*

Meanwhile, you opt to visit Aegon in his privy quarters. It has been some time since the two of you had a moment to yourselves...and you detest the anguishing possibility that he's been avoiding you.

Aegon is found sharing a drink with his mates when he sees you. Embellished in a mix of green and red, your hair is long lose in curls that match your delicate features.

Can he look away before this view? He cannot. What is more, you are naturally seductive and yet completely ignorant of the power you have in others.

Aegon thus finds reasonable to dismiss his friends and greet you properly.

"What a delighted surprise it is to find you here, Y/N."

"Should it be so?", you take a seat next to him. "I shall be your wife within days and even though it is an arranged marriage, I believe we must make the best out of it."

Aegon looks at you as if he's trying to read your true intentions, but you are being as genuine as your nature permits you to be. He chills then.

"I've always considered Aemond to be a better match for you."

"We cannot be apart of each other, Aegon. Not in these perilous times", and here you take his hand, gently holding it. "You are not by yourself."

Aegon doesn't answer at first. You stand and move to where he is, daring to involve him in an embrace. His head is now against your chest, and you stroke his hair as he holds you against him.

His breath against your skin gives you shivers. But you know what you are doing.

Little by little, right at the throne chamber, where only the fireplace is the witness, Aegon starts to unlace your gown and his lips are suddenly over the swell of your breasts going up to your neck.

You smile, very inclined to it-you move your hip to sit right over his, letting him do whatever he wants with you. Because you are not so innocent, hardly a lamb-you are just as passionate as he is.

And his lips going to your neck so hungrily, makes you wipe out reason of your mind. You moan softly, pleased to be introduced to this matter.

Aegon's left hand moves to your hips and legs, lifting your skirt, his teeth claiming your neck all the while.

And you throw your head back, eyes barely closed when his eager flingers find his ways to your aching womanhood.

"Has he touched you?", Aegon whispers in your ear, biting down your earlobe and smirking pleasantly when seeing you shiver.

"No. It is my husband's merit to do so", you tell him, feeling his aroused member pump against your womanhood.

You'd gladly move against it, rubbing yourself in the process, but his finger suddenly finds the way to your core.

"Oh Gods!", you cry out.

Aegon smiles pleasantly. His smile, burning bright like the sun, is so captivating. And yet here you are, subdued to him as he touches you in such an indecent manner.

"Mm." He buries his head in your neck, holding you close, always tender, always considerate to you. "Yes, my dear Y/N. Come to me, will you?"

You are experiencing a new kind of bliss, so indescribable, that you cannot help yourself being so loud. You cling onto him, your lips desperately looking for his to clash.

It’s a different sensation to kiss your betrothed, and him, likewise. A new bond is forged from fire and blood. The result of it… Aegon feels right in his hand.

“I told you”, you cup his face as you rest your forehead against his, “that you are not unlovable nor undesired, Aegon.”

You are breathless by the time you pursuit him. For the first time in a while, Aegon grants you permission to let you in. As he cuddles you, hands wrapped around your waist, the king says:

“Gods be good for sending you, my darling.”

“Anything for my king, my love.”

And you mean every word of it.

***

• (V)

Right before the marriage is officially celebrated in the common rites of Westeros, another is on its way under the rites of Old Valyria. For both brothers espouse you as their wife.

“Who’d see this day coming?”, says Aegon in a jest. “Like the good old days.”

Aemond shoots him a meaningless look.

“Better it keep in the family than out of it.”

“The dragons must be three”, you say, rather moved by a strange intuition that occurs you every now and then. “Three. Not two. Never two.”

“The old should hardly have been replaced by the new”, says Aemond. “Tradition is something very few valued these days.”

“Quite the opposite, brother”, says Aegon in good mood. “We are prevailing, can you not see it?”

So the ceremony proceeds after all of the tree has come to an agreement that this is a secret with few to share…

*

Later that evening, you try not to look so nervous as the bedding feast begins. You spot a discreet Aemond retiring and you partly fear that he will not join you and Aegon. The mere idea, though, gives you shivers and begins to shake your nerves.

Aegon, seeing how you struggle to conceal your true sentiments, takes your hand under the table and gives a light squeeze. Then he leans discreetly to whisper in your ear:

“All in your time, my dear. If you do not wish to partake it, I can…”

“No”, you tell him firmly. “I shall perform my duties accordingly. Besides…”, and here you flash him a mischievous smirk, “…this is something I’ve been looking forward to do.”

Aegon smirks at you, but when he reclines back to his chair to down another glass, his eyes remain glued in you. He knows you more than you’d have judged.

And yet when he comes to take your hand into his, you dare to look at him again and now… as you two share a look, you feel at ease for the very first time.

*

When you get to the privy quarters, you are putting up with a confidence you lack. You dress only one line robe over your nude frame and your silver hair hangs loose on your back.

The door opens and to your surprise you find Aegon and Aemond, both waiting for you. They are talking as if nothing different is about to happen, as if this is a regular day to them both.

You are rather relieved to see them getting along like they have always been—partners, brothers and friends. Aegon doesn’t look troubled like he often is whenever he’s at the council or nearby his Hightower relatives, your mother being one of them.

His hair is slightly shorter, hanging it at his neck, a complete mess of curls. He is wearing his me nightgown, which shows his bare legs and… You blush at the sight of his manhood, something you’ve never had a glimpse before.

It is a struggle to look at Aemond, though, who is dressed similar. You think you are about to faint, but the subtle warmth you experience in your womanhood certainly prevents you to shy away of consuming this union you’ve longed to arrange.

As you step forward silently so, all eyes are now on you. Aegon and Aemond share a look as if there’s a silent agreement about something. It feels as if they have already discussed how this is going to be.

“Our wife looks stunning this evening”, says Aegon, coming forward to greet you. He takes your wrist and there presses a linger kiss, and something about how you react to this simple gesture makes him smirk. “Do you not think so, brother?”

“Ever the charming”, and here comes Aegon, standing by your right, his slander hand gently touching your curls. “She, whose beauty is unmatched, has come to love us both.”

“Equally”, Aegon sublimes it, very pleased to detect a blush on your paled cheeks. Standing by your left, he gently strokes your face, before slipping a hand to your chest, thus starting to unlace your robes.

“Equally”, Aemond agrees, gently touching your jawline and neck. “And so do we.”

“For there must be”, Aegon whispers in your ear the moment your robes drop to the floor, “three heads of the dragon.”

You shiver. Speechless, all you can do is appreciate their handsomeness. You touch their faces, letting your gaze transmit all your tongue cannot.

The connection is indeed strong, for neither feels the need to translate to words what has always been understood, accepted and taken into the respective hearts.

As Aemond takes his time in exploring your body, his lips slowly going to your cheek to your neck, it’s Aegon who takes the initiative in showing you the ways of… a marital activity.

“Oh Lords”, it’s all you eventually manage to speak out when Aemond kisses your neck and you start to caress Aegon’s manhood all the whilst you are told so many naughty things that make your womanhood ache.

“Mm”, Aegon groans lightly as he takes your hand and leads the way, teaching you how to caress his erect manhood, pumping all the way. “You are natural in this, Y/N.”

You purr the moment he kisses your lips and Aemond starts to caress your already painfully hardened nipple. You throw your head back, about to lose your balance—but thankfully Aemond has a hand to rest on your lower back.

It is a very promising night. Your innocence is certainly no more as you start to enjoy doing it so. Your lips are now going fervent from one to another, a victim of their prey—for though you believed to have had this all along, when Aegon takes your breasts with his skillful hands only to let Aemond slide to his knees and do wonderfulness in your womanhood… you see this has been woven by them for a long time.

“Ah!”, you throw your head back, already a puddle of mess as Aemond takes you all with his tongue.

“Cry out, Y/N. Scream if you dare”, Aegon smirks, pleased to have you the way he wanted you to be: completely corrupted.

“I cannot…”

“Holding back is only worse, and we haven’t even begun yet.”

When your eyes meet, you realize this is their doing and you are their creature. Thus you explode in orgasms, but Aemond doesn’t shy away from drinking all of it.

*

It is Aegon who has the privilege to bed you first. Aemond is very patient—in fact, he likes to watch and make eye contact with you as the elder of you penetrates you nice and slow. It’s delightfully painful to be in this manner, and you never felt so good nor desired, less so to be loved and admired.

As you are close to get your climax, Aemond takes his part in it. Aegon leaves it him to finish the task, but you want more of it—don’t waste the seed, you ask him.

And you engulf it, when Aegon does as requested.

“Indeed, the three of us are nothing but a great piece of art”, muses Aemond as he throbbes inside you.

In this mix of bodies and pleasures and pain, it is only fair that synchrony does its work and pays it well the effort that is to love two men at the same time.

*

Yet, not all is about bedding activities and indecent leisures. War is still being carried out and news have been bad enough to shake the confidence of the Green Cause.

For it is said that Rhaenyra has accomplished a number of bastards to ride some wild dragons. It means to say Aegon is outnumbered.

Hopeless as it may, neither Aegon nor Aemond are willing to quit a fight. What they must do is put in practice the good old strategy: to divide is to conquer. This means they start to ponder how to do so… when they remember that you are the rider of a dragon as old and powerful as Vhagar is.

“Do not think”, your mother, who’s part of the council, is informed before you do of their intentions, “that Y/N should take part of this. She is too innocent for this matter and has no taste to wage wars.”

Aemond clenches his jaw but Aegon dares to snap back:

“To think we are this low morally, mother, gives the light upon which you see us. Well, let me remind you that Y/N loves to ride and is every bit a Targaryen. To hid her away will not change the fragility that you put me through!”

“I intend to keep your throne by all means I can”, says Alicent just as firm. “But this does not require that I must test all of my offspring.”

“This is war”, says Aemond. “What else do you expect? Innocent and guilt are not spared, nor noble or lowborn folk. If you intend to fight for our cause, well then, light the way.”

Otto Hightower, so far watching the discussion with interesting eyes, decides this is the proper time to interfere.

“I was not expecting a wise remark of Aegon, but there it is. He is right, Alicent. War does not spare anyone and hasn’t Y/N claimed Vermithor? Vantage is in our side and we must use it. Next to Vhagar, no one will stand for us. However… We must reason how to do so.”

“I see how little my own perspective here is considered”, and yet Alicent adds: “Be this if it may. Let us fight with the claws we have. We will indeed light the way to the throne and burn all of those who dare to stand in our path.”

Finally, Aegon smiles. Finally a queen who fights for the rights of her children. It seems the greens have finally been tied in one knot.

*

You are found pacing around the gardens with two ladies a few feet behind in order to grant you some privacy. Having just landed after riding with Vermithor, you need to settle before going back to court.

The court, an ideal world where illusions are played in order to entertain courtiers and put a rein to the noble houses’ ambitions. Ruling it is like ruling a realm. One misstep and diplomatic relations can break.

To keep a certain distance between nobility and the royal household you must dress as significant as possible—for fashion is every princess’s weapon, a form to express power through rich cloth that no one can purchase. This exclusivity has always been part of House Targaryen, the only one to exhibit purple cloth amidst its traditional colours to reinforce its royalty.

Not only you dress fancifully to show your power as Queen, but your manners too are regal and carefully pondered. Always the diplomatic, you are impeccable whenever you entertain men and women who could possibly be working for Rhaenyra right now.

Since you do not like the attention, you appreciate the role that most might judge—your enemies, overall—as superficial. But to work beneath the table always works better.

So here you are resting when he finds you.

“Of all the changes I’ve seen, it is good to see one thing remains the same”.

You turn around to see Aegon in his traditional green robes. The tenderness in his face when seeing you warms your heart and distracts you of this recent exhaustion that has been plaguing your heart. But this perception you do not share with anyone.

“What is that, I wonder?”, you smile warmly as you motion towards him.

Aegon takes your hand before pulling you closer to him.

“That your tastes have not been affected by the transition of age.”

You blush. Who could have foreseen that a bold as this would grow to a deeper sentiment, far more than lust and affection could conceive?

“You know more than you show.”

Aegon takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“How can I not know my lady? My wife and queen, my greatest support.”

“You, as my king and blood of my blood, are more than I deserve.” And here you move boldly to press your lips against his, not minding the protocols.

A serene kiss that, both of you know, not only comes so naturally to physically reinforce this tenderness that involves each, but that tempers the bad news you sense that may come.

“You have something to tell me.”

It is not a question. Aegon sighs, but since Aemond has parted with Vhagar, he is left with the discomfort decision of giving you the resolution of the council.

“How’d you know? Has my discomfort played its card?”

You smile benignly, always the patient.

“When I made you and Aemond the solace of my heart was not only moved by this strange intuition that a dragon must have three heads. It was more than inclination to old prophecies that anyone would understand.” You shrug your shoulders, but none of this surprises your husband, already familiar with the topic.

“This means that when I claimed Vermithor, I was prepared for the day we would be challenged. Your cause is uncontested, my love.”

“I only wish I had not involved you in this.”

You kiss your cheek.

“Not even Rhaenys contented herself with entertaining court for so long. When her Aegon required, she attended her duties. So, mine own liege Aegon, what is it you request of me, your humble wife?”

Aegon swallows, but when he raises his eyes, you see resignation behind them.

So he tells you the plan.

***

• (VI)

The day before the three of you would fly with your dragons and lead your armies to war, you find yourself feeling slightly nauseous. Thankfully a maid came to succor you before you succumbed to your strange new moods.

“Thank you”, you smile at her. “But I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Early this morning you have found yourself in a strange twist of humour since you’ve been without either of your husbands and bed has been cold. You struggle to be in a good mood when war leaves you anxious and the company of your mother irritates you every now and then.

There is always a great price to pay to keep my emotions in check.

Thankfully though, Aemond is the first to return and you rush to greet him. Today, it’s raining and you do not mind to get wet when you welcome him in your arms.

“Looks like I was missed”, muses the prince with a smirk when being engulfed by you. His hands caress your sides before lifting you and spinning you around.

“You took some time, Aemond. It is unjust to leave me waiting.”

“My apologies, wife, but you know I cannot flee my duties”, and here he takes your hands and kisses each before doing the same to your lips. “I have missed you more than it is sensible to conceive.”

Resting his forehead against yours, Aemond is at peace again, a rarity ever since the war has started—specially after what happened to Lucerys, which had ran out of his control and he never forgave himself for that.

Sensing his troubled soul, you take him inside the castle, trying to distract of his mind. He appreciates the effort, and you two have your privacy at the library, running away of this plagued world for a few moments.

“This is where it all begun”, says Aemond, amused as he scans the shelves where heavy and dusted books are kept. “I recollect you feared me a bit.”

You smile at the memory.

“I thought you were unreachable and that was because you didn’t like me.”

Aemond snorts at you.

“Dislike you?”, he lifts your chin and draws you closer to him, imposing his taller presence in a way that makes you weak in your knees. “How could you nurture such thought?”

You feel like you’ve been dancing with him towards the wall, for you hit your back against it and he presses you in it. It doesn’t help your state that he pulls his knee right in between your legs, rubbing it against your womanhood.

And your reaction is precisely what he expects.

“You… you were often so out of my reach”, you tell in short curt breath. “Aemond, darling, we are not in our privacy.”

He smirks, leaning to peck your lips as he lifts the skirts of your gown. It occurs to him that something about your body looks different, but not knowing what this is, he doesn’t pay attention to it yet.

“Is that so?”, and his hand makes the path he’s so familiar with. “You’ve been lonely, I know.”

You are barely short breathed as you feel it going to your womanhood. Your eye flashes are barely open and the moment his finger starts to do wonderfulness in you, every protocol dies in mute resistance.

“How could you tell?”, you moan, desperately holding onto his shoulders, pulling his hair back before kissing his jawline and burying your lips to his neck.

“Because”, Aemond’s breath hitches for a moment before he whispers, “I know your apetites well.”

“You are the blood of my blood”, and now your hand is quick to find its way to where you want it to be. “It could not be otherwise.”

But Aemond holds your wrists above your head, pinning you further against the wall as he quickly slides his manhood in you just as you are about to reach climax in his skillful hand.

“Aemond!”, you cry out.

“Mine that you are, my queen”, and he shushes you with a fervent kiss all the whilst he bangs you against the wall intently.

*

You are standing outside the castle in your own armor suit. Vermithor has left the dragon’s pit and it seems to feel your anxiety. The old winged beast looks eager to go back to war, to be useful again and you cannot blame him for it. It only mirrors your sense of duty.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N”, you hear your mother’s plead and when feeling her pain, you are moved by it. When you turn at her, you see her struggling between encouragement and fear for her only daughter… and considering the premature death of Princess Helaena, you realize you should have been kinder.

“I know where my duties lay, mother. Let me do this for my house like Queen Rhaenys did for hers.”

“And look what it befell her!”

You side smirk at your mother before pressing a kiss over her forehead.

“We are not fighting the Dornish, mother.”

But as you move to your dragon, Aegon and Aemond seem to reconsider your part in this. When hearing their hesitance, you scoff at them.

“We are in this together whether you like it or not. There is much to be done. I am not merely your wife, but a queen also, a queen who fights for her kings.”

The three of you stay silent for a few seconds. It falls to Aemond the task to give each a charge to put an end to this bloody war. But little do you know what’s yet to roll…

When it is about to each follow the path and mount each dragon respectively, you are taken by a bad feeling that makes you rush to Aegon.

“Wife”, he greets you with that sunny smile that has always been a weakness of yours. The king is adjusting the armor before getting to Sunfyre. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to Y/C?”

“I should, but I came to wish you my luck”, you say, strangely emotional. You come to realize you’ve been very weird lately, but so far you’ve managed to successfully kept a show. “Aegon, do not be imprudent.”

“Well, if anything falls on me, you have Aemond.”

To his surprise, you burst in tears. Aegon softens, having clearly underestimated the degree of affection you have for him. All his life he felt he’s been overshadowed whether by his younger brother or his elder sister, so he struggled to find his own place.

And yet… to see how you love him, even if he’s always agreed to share you with Aemond, aware that you and him had so far more affinities that with him—which he accepted well—, makes him somewhat emotional.

“You are not unlovable, Aegon”, you sob as he breaks in and holds you against him. “Do not dare to say such a thing. You are irreplaceable.”

So this is what it feels like, a thought occurs him. To feel loved.

“I do not deserve you. And you deserve someone better.”

“Shush, you fool. You are not only the king and blood of my blood, but the solace to my poor desolate heart.”

Aegon smiles to himself before lifting your chin and looking right into your eyes.

“My sweet Y/N, this is not the day I plan to die.”

“Do not dare to leave me in this world.”

He kisses you thus and you mewl under his embrace.

“Never.”

Reluctantly, though, Aegon parts of you. Very chivalrous, he takes your hand to his lips and there presses a kiss. The sight of you, not as a regal queen, but a devouted wife transports him to the old songs he used to love as a young man.

Oh but they will sing about us. The song of the three head dragons. The song about the queen who loved her brothers.

The idea encourages him to move forward. But even when he does so, you cannot wipe away the cascade of tears that expose you to an unknown cruciate misery.

*

Moved by strange sentiments, you think wise to follow them. What a sight by many to see you mounting Vermithor.

“There goes my sweet child. My only daughter”, the queen sighs in melancholy as she watches you fly.

“She is very brave, sister”, her brother, Ser Gwayne, says with a hint of pride. “There is a reason why Vermithor chose her and not the other way around.”

His words are very prophetic. And the Black party would be the first to feel its weight.

*

Aegon meets Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was. But it is a rather unmatched fight: Meleys is older and experienced in battle all the whilst this is the first time poor Sunfyre is put to war.

The king holds the reins of his angst, but he tries his best even when the scenario is at his worst. The inevitable seems to occur, the circumstances do not favour him at all.

“I know we can do this”, Aegon mumbles to Sunfyre.

It is when so suddenly a grunting howl breaks through the air. It gives shivers to anyone who hears it. Soldiers down the field interrupt their fighting to see, fearful, who is coming to bring desolation to their cause.

If it is Caraxes, the Greens shake. But this is a dragon older perhaps than Prince Daemon’s winged creature.

Mounting for war, you ride Vermithor well prepared for the fight.

“This is my husband. This is my king and you will not take him of me.”

Vermithor senses the weight of his words. He does not wait for the order, he attacks. Aegon is surprised by how bold you are in battle. And what is more, you came to aid him.

He smiles in relief when seeing Vermithor out power Meleys, even though this is not an easy fight for the Red Dragon has her own experiences.

But Vermithor is deadly, dangerous and… mad. The dragons dance and it is no ordinary dance. One bite in the other’s belly, stretching out until…

“DRACARYS, VERMITHOR!”

A victory for the green cause, but this hasn’t finished yet. Not too far from it comes Baela in her dragon. She flies in complete outrage, but when your gaze meets Aegon’s, well… the princess must be prepared for a double wave of equal display of rage.

***

• (VII)

As war carries on, victories and losses have their prices. Despite the green’s evident advance, you are troubled by the dreams of a battle between your husband Aemond and your uncle Daemon.

To worse matters, Rhaenyra has summoned Targaryen bastards to ride wild dragons. You have been in advanced stages of pregnancy when it all seemed to lead for her upcoming victory—she’s been planting spies in the capital to stand for her cause, which means it is a matter of time before she takes King’s Landing.

“You are staying with our mother at Hightower, should the worse happen”, decides Aegon. “Do not give me this look, Y/N. You might as well as be carrying our heir, so I cannot stress—nor should I—enough the importance of your safety.”

These arguments are reasonable enough to convince you to stay. But to leave Vermithor behind? This is a risk you are unwilling to take.

“You must be out of your senses to suggest flying with your dragon in this state!”, Aemond hears your suggestion completely baffled. “What part of the safety of our unborn child do you not comprehend?”

You gritted your teeth and hiss away, storming off to your chambers. Not a very mature more when you know they are correct in worrying over you—your pregnancy has been giving you some concerns too, since you’ve been feeling exhausted for no reason. But such is the way of a pregnant woman.

“She will come to her senses”, says the Queen dowager. “Y/N has gotten used to be very active in her role, whether as wife, whether as queen, so it is understandable she’s not been taking well to be frustratingly… quiet.”

A sensation that Lady Alicent has been familiar with, but it is only vague since, in truth, she’s been plotting behind the scenes to impede Rhaenyra’s advance.

“Just… make sure the baby comes out well”, says Aemond, concealing the distress that is to go to war and leaving you behind for the first time.

“And make sure she’s safe”, adds Aegon, concerned likewise.

Alicent nods. She smiles at them. Once she found…unusual that the three of her children had linked so deeply in many levels, but now she is proud of the family they’ve become. Otto’s plans, her plans, succeeded and she wished Viserys saw that.

Now they part under grey clouds and mysterious scenes that lay ahead to be fought.

*

To the dowager queen’s surprise your labour is difficult. Perhaps due to your emotional state, it is more complicated that it would be assumed.

The men fight their battles and here you are, fighting yours in your own battlefield: the childbed.

Hours pass and no relief is found. Your screams can be heard in the corridors as you try to follow the midwife’s commands to push.

It really does not help that in this moment you have a sort of dream, a vision of a green battlefield painted in red. The blood of innocent spills in it, screams of terror follow the sound of blades.

Above skies, dragons dance. To your atonement, it is blurred. You cannot spot even the colors of the beasts, but their sounds scratch your ears and you begin to breath anxiously.

“Aegon…. Aemond…”

The sounds turn into cries and eventually… one of the dragons collapses. You shake before the view. Regardless of sides, dragons represent the power of the house Targaryen.

But there must be always three. Three heads of the dragons.

You know not where this certainty has come from. Like your sister Helaena you have dreams, but in your own way. They are not always clear and often come blurred. But this certainty…

Well, what does it matter now? You want to put an end to this misery. So you cry out with all the strength you have.

*

“Daemon Targaryen is dead”, Otto announces proudly and in evident display of emotion. “Gods be good, we are so close to victory.”

“Our plans have finally come to fruition”, Alicent cheers to it, downing another glass of wine. “Once my girl is recovered, I can tell she will give a fantastic ball.”

“Sometimes I am reminded of your mother whenever I look at Y/N”, says he, contemplative. “She has such a merry and firm spirit within that is hard not to be captivated. Helaena would have liked her.”

Sadness flashes behind Alicent’s eyes. Two children she lost in these years—first, Helaena; second, Daeron—and these losses a mother can hardly be fully recovered of.

“Yes, I like to think so. Had Helaena lived, though, this madness wouldn’t go forward.”

“Madness?”, Otto chuckles. “Aegon the Conqueror was not seen as mad when he took his two sisters as his wife. Regardless whether he did for duty or passion, it was wise to keep blood within the family. A trend the House you married to kept.”

“But not like this. Two husbands…”.

Alicent is baffled by the lack of atonement on her father’s part, but his stare leaves her disconcerted.

“Tell me you wouldn’t have done yourself if you had the opportunity. To be wedded to two Targaryens. And you know whom I speak of.”

The dowager queen chooses the silence. It suddenly appears reasonable not to question your matters of heart so openly…

*

You are just recovering when the door opens and you see Aegon and Aemond breaking through. You blush when seen in this state: dressing in a line nightgown, looking tired and paled after a day breastfeeding your twins.

“Oh! You have returned so soon!”, you’d quickly try to throw your robes over your frame, but Aegon promptly stops you to do so.

“Don’t, Y/N. You must rest. It isn’t as if we haven’t seen you undressed before”, says he with a smug smirk that makes you warm. He strokes your hair before being embraced by you. And Aegon is surprised when you start to weep. “Y/Nickname… what are these tears for?”

Aemond is reclined against your bed’s support watching the scene with the same puzzled expression.

“Have you even been churched?”

“I apologize for my overly emotional react. May be motherhood, but whatever it is… I am overjoyed in seeing you both so well! Does this mean we have won?”

Both brothers look at each other and had not been the glimpse of mischief you spot in their gaze, you’d have been despaired.

“Well?”, you insist in not the best of the moods.

“I am uncontestedly the king of Westeros”, says Aegon, very pleased in delivering the news and more so for seeing you smile so brightly. “You’ll know the details later, but first… how have you been?”

It’s when they are told of the children you gave birth to. Jaehaerys and Visenya, very Targaryen names who remit to two of the most powerful Westerosi sovereigns you descend of.

“I like to think Jaehaerys is yours”, says Aemond to Aegon, quite amused before the fact you birthed two children when you married two different men. “And Visenya is mine.”

In this late evening, once everyone is comfortable, you are found in between your husbands.

“Really?”, Aegon chuckles. “Why’s that?”

“Just a feeling I have. But it doesn’t matter this much, does it?”

But you do not take part of the conversation, for exhausted you are, you fall asleep… and for the first time in a long while, it has no green dreams to daunt you…

[bedoballoons]

Could I request Wriothesley, Diluc, Childe and Neuvillette feeling sad so their s/o hugs them and pats their head?

This. Is. Perfect.

Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy it! Apologies it took so long to write!!

─⊰💕𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤💕⊰─

{༻~Hugs and pets~༺}

CW: GN! Reader, a little angsty at first but turns fluffy fast!

(Included: Diluc, Childe, Neuvillette, and Wriothesley!)

𑁍༄Diluc:

Diluc rested his head in his hand, staring at the sheets of paper that littered his desk. He'd done this for years and even as thorough as he was, he still made mistakes, this one having affected his workers more then himself...and that was by far the worst kind of mistake. If only his father were here, he could ask him for help..

He perked up when he noticed you walking towards him, a small comforting smile on your face, "Diluc? You know everyone makes mistakes right, no one's upset with you and it truly wasn't as bad as you think.." You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him in attempt to make him feel better. If only he knew how much everyone looked up to him..including yourself.

"I just wish I could do better, be like my father was.." His words sunk in for a moment, it wasn't often he mentioned his father or his feelings so you had to tread lightly on this. "I'm sure he had times like this...and if he were here right now, he'd be proud of how far you've come, how well you're doing. I know it." You placed a reassuring kiss on his cheek and what you said seemed to help as he leaned back to kiss your lips.

"Thank you my love"

𑁍༄Childe:

You smiled down at Childe, your hands slowly running through his soft ginger hair. He wouldn't give you any details about what happened, all he said was he'd gotten himself into a bind and that he needed some time to recover...and he truly did. He had multiple injuries all over his body and even as he rested his head in your lap, eyes closed like he'd fallen asleep, you could tell he was still trying not to think about it.

You wanted to ask him about it, see if you could help, if there was more your could do...but for all you knew...he was just trying to keep you safe, or maybe whatever it was, was to terrible for you to know. For now, you'd just keep petting his head and humming the songs you knew he loved, doing your best to help him forget it all.

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

You wrapped your arms around Neuvillettes waist, a gentle rain now turned into a downpour as he told you about the things he'd seen...to think someone as kind as him had suffered through so many hardships and never once let it out...

"I apologize my dear, you're getting soaked all because of me and my troubles. Perhaps I should-"

"No. I can handle the rain, Fontaine can handle the rain...but you, you cant handle the hurt anymore and you don't have to, you shouldn't have to." You hugged him tighter, feeling like your voice was going to be drowned out by the storm. You were scared, but you loved him and you had to show him you weren't going anywhere.

"I...you're right." You felt his chin rest on your head, his arms moving to embrace you just as tight in return. It was still raining...still soaking through your clothes, but he was feeling better and that's all that mattered.

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

You kissed Wrios cheek before sitting down next to him on his bed, he'd been laying there for a half a hour now, staring at the ceiling without ever saying a word...and it was really worrying you. Of course you'd seen him angry, you'd seen him happy and you'd even seen him utterly confused...but sad or upset? He almost always kept those emotions to himself, never wanting to trouble you with them or upset you in the process.

So how were you supposed to help? Eventually you let out a sigh and laid down on top of him, wrapping your arms losely around his neck as your head rested on his chest. He wasn't really one to use his words so asking him about it wouldn't have got you anywhere, so this was the best option, "I love you Wrio...and I'm here okay."

He sighed in content and finally moved so he could hold you. He didn't respond with words, but you knew he appreciated it nonetheless.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 07 TAEHYUN FROM 3RD GRADE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, some more anti daegal agenda from haechan, jaemin is still a bitch but trust that will change shortly

NOTES | written cut ahead!! also just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's reading and interacting, I love reading all the comments 🫶🏼🫶🏼 +++ just a warning to be careful and stay safe for everyone in the uk with the ongoing violence :( please take care of yourselves!

Jaemin sighs.

Luck hadn't been on his side today, not when he woke up 20 minutes after his alarm, with the worst bedhead of his life and his hungry kittens practically hissing at him to be fed, not when he was late to school and the first class of the day and certainly not now.

Now as campus feels suspiciously empty, almost too empty, considering practise had ended only 5 minutes ago, jaemin stares up at the sky, thunder clashing, grey clouds looming overhead.

It doesn't take much longer for the rain to come, not a light drizzle but a full blown storm, the wind making the rain splash in his face, his pink hair matted to his forehead. A frown lines his lips.

And as if luck hadn't fucked him over enough, the bus service was cancelled all week.

If it wasn't for your slow, cautious footsteps, jaemin would've found himself trudging through the rain for the next half an hour to get back home.

He sighs in relief, convincing himself he'll ask the student approaching for a ride home, and like most students, who he was pretty popular with, he'd get a positive answer.

Jaemin's relief is short lived when he realises, that student is in fact you making your way over.

The way the concern paints your features and you rush over in the rain, not too bothered about getting yourself wet but still offering an umbrella out to him, the way you feign selflessness, the way you seem so innocent, it all convinces jaemin that maybe walking back home in the rain isn't too bad. He's already turned around before you can say anything.

He doesn't know why he stops when he hears your voice call out for him

"Jaemin" he doesn't know even more why he turns around to face you, holding perhaps the most eye contact he has with you in years.

"Do you need a ride home?" you ask, smiling as you wait for him to take the umbrella from you. He only shoves it back into your hands

All jaemin can focus on is that one word, did he need a ride, need?

Jaemin had never and would never need anything from you. He'd like to make that clear, but it's a lot less validating when he knows you won't respond the way he'd like. His bitter remarks were always met with silence on your end.

"I don't need anything from you" he spits the words out anyways.

You nod, but you don't let up, and apparently neither does the rain, it's speed doubling by the second and the size of each falling droplet growing.

"Would you like a ride?" you try again, despite the fact that you could barely make out jaemin in front of you and all you can hope is that he'll say yes.

His facial expressions telling you otherwise.

"Fine" he says, walking past you and towards your car, you can't help but smile, even if you had gotten completely soaked in the process of convincing him.

For a moment, you're close enough to blowing your cover, forgetting to ask for directions, but jaemin seems a step ahead, taking the initiative to put his apartment address into your satnav. Now you couldn't pretend that being next to him was easy, even if you tried to, jaemins presence left you in a constant state of uneasiness, like you were hyper aware of every sound you made, every word you spoke, worried you were breathing too loud or something completely out of your control would tick him off. It wasn't that jaemin was a horrible guy, he wasn't— you knew that better than anyone else, you just never knew why he had decided to be so horrible to you.

You choose to sit in silence, phone connected to the aux but no music playing as you drove. For just a second, you remember how comforting the silence between you both had once been, how there was never an awkward moment or thoughts of self doubt in jaemin's presence. Now it felt heavy, unspoken words and underlying emotions lingering in the space between you.

"Don't think we're friends just because I accepted your ride" he says, his tone sour.

"I know we're not friends jaemin, just doesn't hurt to be cordial"

You're not sure if he even hears what you said, but if he had, jaemin chooses to ignore your words. You don't say anything of it either.

He turns to face you, concentrated on driving through the heavy rain with a heavy grip on the wheel. You seem stiff for some reason, though he can't figure out why.

This is the first time, jaemin realises, that he's let himself look at you completely.

Your hands grip the steering wheel, some fresh red scratches on them, he wonders where they came from but moves on from the thought quickly, supposing you were just as clumsy as you once were. It's the only similarity he can notice, everything else seems painfully different to the old you.

Your hair is tied back in a ponytail and seems longer than he'd last remembered, perhaps a couple shades darker too, your facial features seem more mature and your eyes seem more tired.

For some reason each change, large or small, still manages to suit you well.

"Good game out there" you say and jaemin notices the changes that came to your voice, you've developed some confidence but speak in a softer tone than before, the smile on your face seems permanent, a realisation that makes his eyes roll.

"Can't say the same for you"

You nod, this really hadn't been your best game and the lack of sleep last night really hadn't helped.

"I hope you're not going to continue the rest of the season with the weak shots and shitty playing" he clicks his tongue, "it's not exactly best player of the year material is it?"

Most days you'd let jaemin take these shots at you, the wordless ones, the bold ones, and the quite frankly unnecessary ones, but today something urges you to defend yourself just a little.

"We all have our moments jaemin" you sigh, and despite wanting to say more, you decide against it, besides you were almost home anyway.

"Too many of those moments and we're in the same situation we were last year, wouldn't want to let the team down more than you already do would you?"

You don't respond, the car coming to a stop outside the front entrance to your apartment complex. You're glad it does, tears pricking your eyes as a smug jaemin steps out of the car.

"Thanks"

When the door shuts behind jaemin you can't help but let the tears roll down your face.

You wonder why you even make an effort.

prev | masterlist | next

TAGLIST (open): @jenobubbles @nanawrlds @justalildumpling @222brainrot @sungookie @pepperedthot @jiawji @dinonuguaegi @haechansbbg @90s-belladonna @bath1lda @jeongintwt @daegalfangirl @ahnneyong @jammingjaem @paper-boats-rose @iraa567 @errrrrat @kyusqult @suzayaaa @jising-jisang-jisung @soonyoonswoo @nctrawberries @wonbin-truther @sunghoonsgfreal @lotties-readings @onlyhyunjin @swee7dream @girlz4jaem @beomgyusonlywife @nanaxwi @nosungluv @tommina @sinisxtea @20sdiary @otblous @p-d1ddy @lostinneocity @soobs-things @odxrilove @buns-inhiding @busy-daydreaming02 @starfilledgaze @papichulomacy @grassbutneo @iwilleatyourgod @jeeluv @soheendo @mystverse @meowtella

[intojaeyun]

BIRTHDAY GIFT; PJS

18+ contains heavy smut

ONESHOT

Jay x reader (husb jay × wife reader)

Contains: nudity, kink, handcuff, nicknames, creampie and more..

Word count: 1.8k+

Sypnosis: Jay hasn't been home on time for weeks, it is the eve of your birthday and you've never felt this angry and deprived of your husband's attention.

[Author's note] this is my first work after years of break, English is not my first language and I haven't proof read this. I hope you guys enjoy :) Let me know if yall wanna be added to my taglist

11:15pm. It read.

45 mins before your birthday, yet your husband was nowhere to be seen. You felt sad, angry. And disappointed.

It was nothing new, this has been a routine for the last few weeks and you were frustrated. Sexually. Frustrated.

You wanted your husband for yourself, and yourself only. Tonight will be exactly this.

You could hear the front door opening, he was here. Finally. He enters the living room, where he finds you staring at him with those very same disappointed and glaring eyes.

“Babe, I thought you were asl-” the door of your shared bedroom slammed right across his face before he could even finish his sentence.

Oh he knows he fucked up.

He just sighed in defeat, this wasn't the first time. He just hopes you aren't asleep by the time, he freshens up. He has to fix this tonight.

Little did he know, you wanted to fix things too. Just not the way he'd imagine..

By the time he'd finished washing up, he'd hope that perhaps you didn't sleep already. Jay was shirtless, his lower body wrapped around a thin layer of towel. And his mind, thinking of how to pacify his angry wife.

11.30 pm

30 mins before the clock hits midnight, and you hear the door opening. You know, this was a terrible idea. But you don't think you'll ever regret it. You stood in front of the door, awaiting him impatiently in a red silk night dress, with the straps dangerously loose with nothing underneath you. Your natural curls let loose, looking irresistible.

He enters the room, with his eyes interlocking yours in an intense eye contact. His gaze darkened seeing you in all red, he wanted to just drop anything to touch you. feel you under him.

Before he could even proceed with his thoughts, you pushed him on the bed and hovered over with your brown eyes filled with wrath, anger and filth.

“Someone has been forgetting he has a wife” you remarked sarcastically, while maintaining the very intense eye contact, until he broke it, staring at your almost bare tits while you were all over him and the dress revealing your cleavage a lil too well, just like you wanted.

Sorry was what he wanted to say, however his mouth felt dry, unable to voice out anything. All he wanted was you and he shouldn't be feeling like that before he properly apologized for neglecting you. However the blood running down there stated otherwise, the more silent he remained the harder he got.

His hands involuntarily ran down your body, until you slapped his hands off you and smirked.

“Who said you could touch me?” You scoffed sitting right on his lap, totally feeling his bulge. He groaned in frustration, totally feeling you rub against his boner, intensifying his feeling. Then, you stopped abruptly and got off his lap. To grab something.

He sat on the bed in confusion, while he saw you searching for something in the closet and came back to him. You sat on his lap and smirked.

“You've angered me so bad, Park. So bad, but I need you,” you whispered to him while straddling on his lap, leaving hungry wet kisses on his earlobes and neck. Your hands reach for his hands behind.. and.. click. He hissed at the cold sensation on his hands and his eyes widened realising what you did. You handcuffed him.

He was frustrated. He was angry. You could totally see it on his face and laughed.

“Y-y/n, please. You'll fucking regret this,�� he groaned. He tried fiddling with his hands, in hopes he could break free of the handcuffs, but alas.

He has to give in, as much as he enjoys being controlled by you, he wanted to touch you. Badly. Show you his love, show he's sorry.

“Today, only this mouth of yours will be at work baby. I'll be in charge of touching,” you said as your finger teased his lips before you hungrily kissed him, pulling him closer. Your groans getting louder as the kiss intensified as he bit your bottom lip. The more you kissed, the needier you became.

“Fuckfuckfuck y/n, you have no idea how insane you're making me right now,” he says, feeling your lips roaming around his collarbone as you sucked his neck, intentionally leaving marks, marking your territory.

He couldn't take it anymore, between your hands roaming dangerously down there and your lips leaving wet all around his body, he had reached his limits. And you knew it all a little too well.

“You know if you want something, you gotta ask for it, babyboy,” you said as your hands teased his body, playing just around the hem of his towel. He whimpered.

“I need you.. I need you to touch me ma'am.”

“Please touch me,” and so you did. Your hands went slower than usual, untying his towel leaving him totally naked with his visibly large penis. Your hands circled around his tip, causing him to moan.

Your fingers circled around his aroused penis, moving so so slow leaving him groaning in frustration the slower you go. God, this was torture to him.

“Use words baby, what do you want me to do next?” “Go faster please,” he begged. You could already feel the pre cum leaking while you stroked his penis faster and faster, while his moans became louder and louder. “I am so- so fucking close y/n fuckk, I want to cum,” he pleaded. You could feel he was so close and so, you stopped.

“What the fuck y/n,” he grunted, tightening his teeth. He was so fucking close.

“Who said you could cum just yet?” You said as you sucked your wet fingers seductively as he bit his lips. If only he could break the handcuffs he would, just to teach you a lesson.

You took a few steps back, as he looked at you with the same hungry eyes. Eyeing the silhouette of your hard nipples through the red silk.

“That's your punishment for making me so deprived for the last weeks,” you said as you slowly stripped off your dress, exposing your hard nipples and wet cunt.

Your eyes never left his as your fingers roamed around your body as you sat right in front of him. Oh you were so loving the control over him and the way he reacted to you. You took your tit in your hand, massaging it softly while you mean, “Jay.. fuck” your other hand playing with the opening of your cunt.

“You wish that was you baby.. finger fucking me until i cum huh??” You said while moaning his name as you touched yourself.

“Y/n please let me free, fuck you're making this so hard,” and you just laughed “my baby wants to touch himself while i pretend my fingers are him.”

You inserted your fingers inside your pussy, pleasuring yourself to tears while moaning his name like it was a chant. You closed your eyes while you felt you were so close, so fucking close to cum.

That's when you heard the metals falling down while you were sent back to reality.

He broke the handcuffs. Fuck.

0:00 am

“Happy birthday darling”, his raspy voice echoed across the room as he walked dangerously close to you.

What were you going to do? Fuck.

He could have been disrespectful, he could have punished you but right now he just wanted to understand your perspective, you were his priority. Always would be.

His lips met yours in a needy way, so hungrily. Tongues playing against each other so the point the saliva got mixed together. He was the first to pull away, gasping for air.

“Allow me to touch you. Please. Allow me to treat you, allow me to make it up to you honey.” His voice melted you and you gave in to him.

“Touch me Jay, make me feel so fucking good. I want the world to know how fucking good you make me feel.”

With that, he buried his face in your tits while he sucked mercilessly on your left nipple, while his fingers found his way down your dripping pussy.

“Fuck baby, your pussy is so wet,” he said, circling his two fingers around your hole, ”I missed this so much, missed your pussy so bad baby fuck.” He groaned as he inserted his fingers in you, leaving both of you a moaning mess.

You felt a knot in your stomach. You were so close. Jay inserted a third finger, increasing his pace while you dug your nails onto his arms, screaming. “You're doing so great baby, let it all out. Cum on my fingers, let me have a taste of you,” he said while your hot liquid poured all over his hands.

You heaved a sigh of relief then bit your lips as you see him sucking his fingers clean. He was so fucking fine taking your liquid into his mouth.

God, you could have orgasmed again just at this sight.

Hungrily, you pulled him in a desperate kiss, biting his lip to gain access inside. Deepening the kiss. You missed him badly. You knew you wouldn't leave him this soon.

“Jay, I need you in me. Now. I wanna feel you inside. I wanna carry your seeds,” you breathed out, as you played with his tip right across the entrance of your vagina.

“God, it feels so good feelin you in me. I missed it,” you gasped and you inserted his penis inside you, adjusting to his size.

“Your cock is so mine, fuckfuckk,” you cried out loud, this felt so good. “All yours baby,” he said as he kissed your forehead while thrusting deeper in you, “ I fucking love you so much y/n. You take me so well baby,” he moaned, never wanting to stop. This felt so good.

“I am so close darling,” he cried out in pleasure, ready to pull out. “Cum inside me baby, fill me with your seeds,” you breathed out while holding him close for support, “I wanna feel you, wanna carry your baby,” tears streamed down your cheeks in pleasure. You were getting close too.

“Ugh baby I love you, you'd be such a good momma. Fuckk,” Jay said while he released it all inside you. You smiled at the hot sensation, “I fucking missed this,” you pulled him in for a kiss while he pulled himself out, as the cum dripped down your legs.

“Let's have you cleaned up darling, I love you,” Jay said as he carried you bridal style in the bathroom, cleaning both you and him up.

Whispering sweet words, apologizing endlessly for his temporary negligence, this man cleaned you up and tugged you to bed, while you hugged him tight to bed.

“I love you Jay, this gotta be the best birthday gift ever,” you said while you drifted to dreamland with your husband near you.

Gotta need me a man as down bad as he is 🤭

©intojaeyun 2024

[pearlzier]

it was incredibly hard for matt to focus on painting your nails when you were staring at him like that. it's not even your fault! you're just looking at him, since what else are you to look at, and he's making such a big deal out of it. your brow furrows a tiny bit, playfully, as he grumbles under his breath about ‘your pretty face’, and you can't help but mumble a response—“what was that?”

his blue eyes lift to yours and his brow cocks upward, like he didn't say anything. “huh? nothing, sit still for me,” he said that under the guise that you'd forget hearing what he'd said.

well, you didn't. “something about my pretty face, perhaps?” you flicker your eyes over his face as a giggle slips past your lips, and the eyeroll that comes from matt only tells you everything you needed to know. “do you have something you need to tell the class, mister sturniolo?”

a childish scoff escaped him and he gave you a little cheeky grin, rolling his shoulders in a shrug soon after. “you keep starin’ at me,” he starts, “s'a lot.”

“a lot?” your tone is so incredulous it makes him giggle. so he nods, biting back another giggle at your raised brows that meet his gaze. “how is me looking at you a lot?”

matt feels the need to correct you, “staring, not lookin’. fuckin’ thousand yard stare,” he smiles a little more at the way you laugh at his words. “m'bein’ honest! don't laugh at me. when you laugh, you move your hands. how m'i supposed to paint ‘em like this?” he huffs at your giggling, although it's very clearly playful.

“fine, fine, sorry,” you offer your hand out, watching as he applied the polish gently but skillfully. he was probably one of the only people you trusted to paint your nails, besides the nail techs at your local salon. first of all, matt was good eye candy. and he was committed to the job. “never seen you so focused,” he looks at you through his lashes for a faint moment, before he returns to looking at your nails.

“i'd be even more focused if you kept your mouth shut,” he retorted almost instantly, giggling at his own words. your mouth falls open, comically wide, and you splutter for a response which doesn't actually come, which results in matt bursting into laughter. and a bit of stray nail polish coating your finger. “oh, motherfucker.”

“if i die—”

“it's because i'd have killed you,” matt presses a kiss to your forehead, making his way past to go grab a wipe, and perhaps also a tissue in case he needs to use nail polish remover. as he passes back over, you impulsively give him a pat on the ass like you're a car salesman; he glances over at you for a moment, expression unamused. “you're not funny.”

“i so am,” you hum, giggling as he sits back down in front of you with an exaggerated sigh. he brings your finger closer to him so he can wipe it down. your eyes focus on him once more, and this time, he lifts his gaze to meet yours gently.

he smiles once more, sighing when he comes to the realisation you won't actually stop staring. “think you got a staring issue, babe,” matt's voice is warm, and he gives you a little nudge with his shoulder. “oh, finished by the way.”

you were a little preoccupied with responding to the accusations, when you in fact did realise he was finished. a gasp escaped you, and your gaze lifted back to his again—“since when?”

“were too busy starin’ to realise,” matt sat back in his chair, popping the lid back onto the nail polish. until he saw that look in your eyes and he scooted his chair back instantly. “absolutely not.”

“matt,” the moment your hand reached for the nail polish, and then his, he practically ran. “come back!” you whine, and he's literally gone to hide from you doing his nails.

“i don't trust you with nail polish!” knowing you, you'd end up snorting it and getting high. or getting him high.

[gloomuri671]

Under the Influence

Sae Itoshi x Reader

Warning: drinking, make out session, suggestive, sa, grinding

A/N: Oh sevens, have mercy on me. Do not tell my brothers.

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Dear Diary,

Something I learned while living with my grandparents, after my parents divorced, was to always reject overbearing gifts three times before accepting. That's gives the human brain enough time to really consider their options - their choices. At least with my grandparents. It's always stuck with me even until now.

Now, I can hold my liquor quite well. Better than most people some people might say.. At least I hold it better than Sae Itoshi.

Not long ago, Sae is officially eighteen years old. Now we're here celebrating his birthday ina club against his wishes. His team dragged him here to celebrate, so he dragged me with him. Sae is a more respectful man, he doesn't drink, and doesn't even glance at drugs. He studies, practices soccer, and goes to the gym. "A model student," some would call him. Bringing him here was just another excuse for them to drink.. Plus it's a twenty percent discount. It's a pretty good deal!

Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it, dolled myself a bit more than usual. Every girl deserves and should feel pretty. Just a tough up here and there. It's my best friend's birthday too! A part of me hopes he'd call me pretty too. He hasn't said it, but... Oh forget it.

"Lil' mama, over here!"

It goes to show, I was attracting the wrong men, sadly. I just walked in and was immediately approached by a group of middle aged men. "I'm here with my friends, sir," I said. He grabbed my waist and let be too the bar. "Oh, I'm sure they'd understand," he waved off. I looked back at the table where Sae and his teammates were waiting for me. They didn't see me yet, but I hoped they'd catch wind and save me. I'm definitely in the wrong shoes for this.

"I'll have a whiskey," he ordered. He looked at me and nodded to the bartender, "Go ahead, doll." You looked over the menu and chose a pricey little drink while giving the bartender a look. He nodded and stared shaking up your drink. "You know how to pick 'em," the man next to you said, "I'm a more old fashioned man myself."

Oh diary, I was so scared. When our drinks came, I took a sip of mine and sighed in relief when I realized the bartender mixed more juice than alcohol, little to none - just enough to calm me down. "What brings you here?" The bartender asked. One by one the men around me answered his question, but by the look on his face, he wanted my answer the most. "My best friend turns eighteen today," I said, "Him and his team are over there waiting for me." They recognized their country's junior soccer team from the counter. "Oh, so go for men in high places?" Another man next to me pondered. He touched my knee and I jolted slightly. I was afraid. "No need to be so eager, sweetheart," he chuckled. I gave a silent plea for the man behind the counter, whom nodded his head, and disappeared from my sight. What was he doing?

"I own one of the more infitely successful companies in Spain," he told me, "I could shower you in diamonds. Jewels that you stare at while window shopping." His slid up to my thigh slowly, stopping at the helm of my dress. The man on my other side played with the stap of my dress. "Would you be my little sugar baby, doll?" What the hell am I supposed to do?! Somebody! I looked around the club and not one person looked sober enough to help me. Anyone! I looked towards Sae's table, my table, and everyone at that table looked completely out of it.

Get me out of here!

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stop touching my lady."

Huh?

Stopping my search for any help, Sae and Jordan stood a few steps from me. Jordan, the only other Real Madrid junior player that I could call "my friend." "You her boy toy, shrimp?" Jordan scrunched up his nose, but Saw didn't even flinch. "Yeah, so hand her over," he said nonchalantly, "I don't like you holding her up." Oh. My. God! With the way Jordan was trying not to snicker, I knew my face was red.

It wasn't long before one of the men threw a punch at Jordan. Now a browl broke out between Real Madrid and the middle aged men that flocked around me. "You want another drink, ma'am?" The bartender asked me. I looked at him and scanned over the menu before ordering a drink of my choice. "On the house, sweetie," he told me. "Thank you." I sipped in my drink slowly while the brawl was happening. Sooner or later, the staff would have to break up the fight, but for now.. I'll just watch.

When the fight died down, those men were kicked out and the team stayed for more drinks. This is how I found out that Saw is a lightweight. Best Mid Fielder in the world and he can't hold his alcohol? I'm a little buzzed too, but.. Since when did he become so.. Clingy?

The party died down and I, the designated driver, took everyone home with the van we rented out for road trip games. Oh, if coach ever found out what we were using it for... He'd wonder why we didn't bring him! Oh, but if Sae is a lightweight then coach is the complete opposite of that. The tab would've been doubled.

Pulling up to the school, me and Sae switched cars so that I found drop him off then head straight home. One thing is for sure, I'm never letting Sae drink again. "You can put the seat back, Sae," I said. He complied, but now he was staring at me. "Can you hold my hand?" He asked me. I glanced at him then focused back on the road. Wordlessly, I gently held his hand and relaxed feeling his warm hands - slightly warmer because of the alcohol.

One hand on the wheel, I parallel parked my car in front of his drive way. Turning off my engine, I said, "Okay, we're here." I looked to my little passenger prince and into those dangerously teal eyes. Was he watching me this whole time? "Hard not to," he said, "Your pretty when you concentrate on something. Did I ever tell you that?" Did I say that out loud? Shit. He fixed up his chair to sit up right. Never once did he look away from me though.

He let go of my hand and used it to trace my jaw instead. I shivered under his feather like touch. Eye contact is a dangerous thing with Sae: It's like he was Jafar and could hypnotize me into submission - not too far off actually. Still... He's never looked at me this way before.

Looking at him more closely, I'm reminded that my best friend is drunk and has no idea what he's doing. I cleared my throat and gently pushed his hand down. "You're drunk, Sae," I told him. As much as this hurts, rejecting his touch, I couldn't let him do this to himself - to me.

I open my car door and get out as fast as I could. Once I close the door, I take deep breaths to calm myself down. "What the hell was that?" I whispered. This wouldn't be good for my conscience. Whatever it was - whatever I was feeling - whatever he was feeling.. "I'm blaming it on the booze," I muttered.

I took the keys and unlocked his house door, only now realizing that the birthday boy isn't with me. I'm reminded that my passenger prince can't open his door on the inside and came back. I looked through the window to see him nodding off slightly and giggled. I opened up the door and peeked my head in. "Sorry about that," I said, "C'mon, I'll help you to bed."

I reached out my hand and yelped when I was suddenly pulling into the car. Landing face first into his chest, the door was pulled shut, and the recliner pushed back. I gasped and scrambled to get up. "Where you going?" Saw asked. There was something different about his tone. I froze and looked down at him. His legs were open as far apart as the car would let him. "Come here," he beckoned, patting his lap expectingly. I gulped, but complied.

"Sae, bestie, you're drunk," I told him. He nodded and nuzzled his head into my neck. I'm sure he can feel my pulse, the shiver I felt when I felt his breath on my neck, the goosebumps I felt when his arms trapped me to him. "I know," he assured.

One

"It's me, Sae," I told him, "It's me, Y/n, your best friend." His breath became shakey and he kissed the pulse on my neck. "I know, Y/n," he answered back.

Two

"You're gonna regret this in the morning," I warned him. He shook his head and trailed kisses up my neck, to my cheek and kissed the tip of my nose. "I won't," he said. My breath shook, before I wrapped my arms around his neck.

Three

I let it escape me like broken dam that's been slowly coming down after so long. I finally kiss him. I could taste the Hennessey on his tongue, just as sure he could taste the Rum off of mine. His lips were soft, everything I imagined. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned. Oh, shit.

My last bit of restraint left me and mounted his lap like I would a horse. I kissed him with ever bit of desire I held for him. I opened my eyes, but his were closed. I sighed in disappointment. I would've loved to look into his eyes right now too. Closing them again, I instead focused on the hands that started to roam my body. I returned the favor.

Reluctantly, I broke the kiss to come up for air. I would've loved to drown in him longer, but I didn't want to overwhelm him. No, not when I finally get to kiss him after all this time. I precked his lips, then his cheek, his jaw, all the way down to his collar bone. His breath was heavy, and I reveled in ever second. Searching his neck for that one spot, once he let out a moan, I attacked it desperately. "Make that sound again," I whispered. He called for me among his curses. Oh, fuck I'm a goner.

When his hands made their way to my ass, I knew it was over for me. Giving a squeeze, my breath shallowed and I suppressed a moan. Noticing this, he did it again until he was playing with it as if it was play doh. My dress hiked up a bit, but I could care less. Especially when the tormentor of my dreams is right under me.

What other sounds could he make? His lustful gaze filled me with determination. I fully sat down on his growing buldge and circled my hips slightly. His breath hitched, a loud moan came from him, eyes blown wide. "There's those pretty eyes," I muttered. I grinded down on him, my hand cupping his face as if he was fine China. "So handsome," I whispered. Perhaps he heard me the first time, because now be fought to keep his eyes open. Never once looking away from me. Oh if only he knew what he did to me. Or maybe he did?

One hand on my ass and the other on my hip, he helped guide my hips on him, grinding up to meet me half way too. A shakey moan leaves my lips before I could stop it. Hes kissing me again, only this time, he's looking me in the eyes while doing so. A man could offer me millions of diamonds, but all I'd care about are the ones watching me right now. Looking at me with a hunger I'd only ever fantasize about. Such precious jewels and right now they were all mine. "All yours," he whispered to me. "Oh my god." I said that out loud too!? "All fucking yours," he said again, planting kisses on my neck. There would most likely be marks in the morning, what a hassle. "Always been," he whispered in my ear, grinding us closer together. I moaned at the sensation.

Maybe the Vodka hit me harder than I thought. Because now I'm most likely soaked down there. Sae would never say that to any girl who showed interest. I've seen it may times before: The love struck fan confesses her love, but Sae doesn't even spare them a glance. Now I'm imagining he'd declare himself all for myself? But I wish that was so. So I'll believe he ment to say that for now.

"F-fuck, right there," I whimpered. My hips feverishly grinding down where his buldge hit the spot just right. Over and over and over again. "S-Sae," I whimpered. He finally left my neck alone, helping me reach my high, kissing my lips like he would in my dreams. "C'mon, babe," he told me, "私のために兼. (Watashi no tame ni ken.)" Oh, f-u-uck. That's it.

Riding out the high of the moment, Sae let out a loud groan. Looking down at his lap, I gasped when I saw the mess we made. I saw the creamy white slowly trying to escape from his pants. I let out a shakey moan and tried to get off him. He held me in place, though.

"Thank you," he whispered into my hair, "I love you." My heart skipped a beat. "I love you," I said without thinking. It was only when his arms tightened around me did I realize what I had done. "Oh no," I thought out loud, "Oh no no no no no." I got up, rolled the window down, reached my hand out and opened the door from the outside. Was he fucking serious.

Getting out of the car, I fixed my dress and helped Sae out of the car. He looked confused and I wouldn't blame him: I was too. Locking my car, I helped into his house and to his room.

I took off his shoes and changed him out of his dirty sweaty clothes. He'll thank me later. Since it's his first time drinking, he'll know the horrors of waking up and smelling like shit, but at least he'll be in fresh clothes and not in the ones that already probably smell like shit and would get worse the longer he waits til the morning. My breath hitched when I saw his cum soaked underwear. It didn't help that Sae looked like he was studying my reactions.

Once he closed his eyes I finally let myself sober up and pace his room. "Why the fuck did you do that!? Bad, Y/n. Don't you know how much he trusts you?" I quietly scolded myself, "I'm such a bitch. I couldn't even keep my hands to myself! Taking advantage of your crush when he's drunk is the dumbest and shitiest thing I could've ever done." I ran my fingers through my hair and looked down at Sae, who was sleeping peacefully in his bed.

"Look at you," I whispered, "Sleeping peacefully while I'm left to ponder what the fuck I'm supposed to do now." I looked at the blanket over him and fixed it better so that he could feel more comfortable. I looked at the AC and turned it down a bit, making it colder, so that I would be less sweaty in the morning. "Why must you torture me so much? Don't you know how much I love you, soccer genius?" I laughed slightly, "Pfft- "I love you" my ass... Wish you were sober though." I sighed softly. Took his shoes and left the room.

He'd forget it all in the morning.

I'm never letting him drink again. It's bad for my heart.

Oh my.. What have I done? Anyways, that's progress.. Maybe. Now this is getting interesting.

What do you think will happen?

-Levi

[bosbas]

Chapter 9: I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, colin being incredibly down bad it's insane, Penelope DOES NOT have feelings for colin in this, the bridgertons being tapped in as fuck

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: this one wrote itself basically. so enjoy! happy weekend and a big smooch

June 6, 1816 – It seems that one Mr. Nigel Berbrooke has returned after an extended unexplained absence. He was spotted at the gentleman's club last night, though only for a very short time. This author heard that Mr. Berbrooke was asked to leave only an hour into his appearance due to a particularly aggressive threat he made toward Simon Basset. It’s safe to say that he has been uninvited from the Duke’s ball this evening, and perhaps from the rest of the social season’s events as well, depending on how lenient the Duke and Duchess of Hastings decide to be. 

However, information regarding his whereabouts for the past month is scarce, and this author lacks any reputable sources about what the man has been up to while away from London. But rest assured, dear readers, that any information I receive will be relayed through this very column.

Colin looked nervously at his reflection for what seemed like the hundredth time, adjusting his cravat ever so slightly. He sighed in frustration, accepting the fact that his appearance wouldn’t look quite right no matter what he did. 

Tonight was Daphne’s ball, and he knew for a fact that you would be in attendance. As much as he was trying to convince himself that this ball was no different, he knew it wasn’t going to be the same. Not after his talk with Anthony. There were some concerningly similar aspects between Kate and Anthony and his friendship– could he even call it a friendship? –with you, and Colin was not too hard-headed to be able to admit that. 

But he didn’t want to scare you off. As much as he liked you, he knew you were skittish after everything that happened with Lord Barlow. Besides, Colin didn’t even know if you liked him, too, or if you considered all of this as just an attempt to make you look desirable to other candidates. 

Frankly, Colin wasn’t even sure he could convince you to ever marry him. Maybe just being friends, or whatever it was the two of you had now, would suffice. Truthfully, he would take anything. 

Tonight, he just wanted a dance. And perhaps a chat, too. 

Based on the past few times Colin had spoken with you, he had concluded that you might be his favorite person in the ton to talk to. The mere thought of speaking with you tonight stirred excitement in his stomach. Every time you engaged in conversation, he found himself utterly captivated, forgetting everything else around him. What's more, you seemed genuinely interested in his what he had to say, a rarity among the ton. For the first time, he felt truly understood, and he hoped desperately that you reciprocated his sentiment. 

“You look fine,” assured Eloise. “Now can we please go? We’ll never hear the end of it from Daphne if we’re late!” 

Colin grumbled in annoyance but begrudgingly made his way to the carriage. In truth, he'd do just about anything to be near you. Even if he didn’t immediately dance with you– knowing full well you would be flocked by hordes of gentlemen wanting your hand in marriage– he still liked to simply… observe you. How your eyes crinkled shut when you laughed, the way you nervously bit your lip when someone you didn’t particularly like asked you to dance, the way you fiddled with your gloves when you were itching to get out of a conversation.

Bloody hell, Colin thought, maybe he did have feelings for you. Well, not love, that would be absurd. But certainly something more than the petty rivalry that had consumed your interactions for weeks on end. It was a sobering realization, especially after relentlessly antagonizing you for the better part of seven weeks.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about you that Colin barely noticed once the carriage had arrived at Daphne and Simon’s residence.

“Colin, darling, is anything the matter?” his mother inquired, tapping him on the arm and gently leading him toward his sister’s home.

“No, no, sorry. Everything’s alright, just got a bit distracted there,” he smiled back. 

Christ, he had to get a grip. You’d be put off immediately if you saw how he was acting now. He smoothed his coat down as he entered the ballroom, eyes immediately searching for you in the crowd.

He quickly spotted you speaking to a man he’d never seen before with Isabelle and Carlos by your side. Damn, thought. He’d have to wait to ask you to dance. 

But it was no bother. In the meantime, he attended to his duties as the most beloved Bridgerton. He sought out his sister and Simon to thank them for hosting the ball, of course, and danced with Penelope Featherington. 

Yet his focus stayed on you. He found himself glancing over to where you were every few minutes, just needing reassurance that you were still there. And also because he quite liked looking at you in general.  

Colin shook his head, bringing his attention back to Penelope. He had to remind himself to pull himself together. Even though Colin had spoken to Anthony, you had no reason to believe anything was different between you two. And it wasn’t. Everything was the same. It was only Colin who had changed. Who wanted something different, something more. 

“What’s on your mind?” asked Penelope after she noticed Colin’s drifting attention.

“Ah, nothing,” he responded dismissively. “Does Lady Montclair look particularly… subdued tonight, do you think?”

“Y/N?” Penelope clarified, looking over at where you were standing next to Louis. 

“Oh heavens, don’t look now!” Colin whispered, panicked. “She’ll see us both looking and know we were talking about her.”

Penelope laughed in disbelief. “Could it be? That my dear friend Colin Bridgerton is finally falling for someone? Have you truly found roots in England? Is that why you’ve stayed for so long this season?”

Colin could only smile bashfully. She had never seen him quite like this. And though it was unusual, it was fairly endearing to see him so flustered over a girl.

“Well, go talk to her, then. What are you doing dancing with me?”

“Penelope, I dance with you at every ball. I can go speak with her after. And don’t tell anyone! I’m not even sure if she likes me.”

“Very well then,” relented Penelope, but Colin did not miss the knowing smile she sent him.

After the dance concluded, Colin chatted with his brothers for a few minutes before making his way over to you and Louis, wanting to avoid seeming overly eager. But once he started walking toward you, your head shot up, as if you could tell that he was getting nearer. 

Your eyes met for a split second, but you immediately turned your head away, choosing instead to look at your gloved hands, which were fidgeting nervously. Colin frowned in confusion at your reaction, but continued walking, thinking that perhaps you had seen someone else behind him. 

As he reached your side, he saw you chewing anxiously on your lip and his frown deepened. But he pushed through. This was what he wanted, after all. You were what he wanted. 

“Lady Montclair,” he bowed. “Would you care for a dance tonight?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his lips as he reached for the dance card on your wrist.

But you pulled your hand away abruptly, refusing to meet his eyes. “No, thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” was your curt response. 

Colin’s confusion morphed into frustration. What was the matter with you?

“That’s alright, I understand if you want to save space on your dance card for more…serious suitors,” he cringed as he heard himself speak. But at the end of the day, he was well aware that you were looking for a titled gentleman to be your husband. “We could take a turn about the ballroom and chat for a bit,” he offered, looking at you hopefully once again.

You finally met his eyes, and he could tell you were searching for something as you looked at him, a pained look on your face.

“No, thank you,” you repeated firmly, an edge to your voice. 

Colin rolled his eyes. This was so typical of you. You let him in for about three seconds and then went back to keeping him at arm’s length for whatever unknown reason.

“Are we really back to doing this?” asked Colin, exasperated. “I thought we were friends, at the very least.”

Your spine was suddenly rigid, and a fury ignited in your eyes. “We were never friends, Mr. Bridgerton,” you ground out. “You were simply doing Eloise a favor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone else I must dance with.”

Your voice was cold and uncaring, and Colin was slapped with a reminder of how things used to be as you sidestepped him to go toward the other side of the ballroom. 

Three steps into your journey, it was clear that there wasn’t actually anyone waiting to dance with you, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why you were so desperate to get away. Even at the peak of your hatred toward him, you were always open to verbally sparring. 

Colin turned around to Louis, shooting him a questioning look. But your brother could only shrug. Who knew what went on in the depths of your brain? Louis had noticed you had been slightly on edge ever since you returned from Hyde Park with your sisters yesterday afternoon, but he wasn’t expecting you to be this hostile, especially after getting along so well with Colin.

Feeling his desire to speak with you outweigh his pride, Colin turned back and grabbed your hand, turning you to face him. “If what you want is to go back to arguing, I’m happy to do that,” he said, heart sinking to his stomach at the thought of going back to how things were.

He sounded positively pathetic. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was keeping this fragile dynamic alive, keeping you near him. If Anthony and Kate could do it, couldn’t the two of you?

You seemed on the brink of tears, but your voice held an unspeakable fury. “What I want is for you to leave. Me. Alone,” you emphasized each word with a pointed jab at his chest. “Please,” you whispered, your voice faltering. “I do not wish to dance with you, or to chat with you, or even to be near you at all. Good night.”

With that, you pivoted away, heading towards the refreshment table, tears welling in your eyes. And Colin was left standing there, hand lingering over the spot on his chest you had prodded.

He felt a familiar anger rising through him. It didn’t matter that you were the only person in the world who understood him. It didn’t matter that you were completely beautiful and incredibly smart, either. And it certainly didn’t matter that he’d fallen for you. Because you still hated him. And he was a fool to ever think things could be different.

Colin was rooted to the spot, unable to move as he watched you smile and greet some gentleman or other. He flinched as he saw the man kiss the back of your hand, and watched, seething, as he led you to the dance floor. 

Deciding he needed something stronger than lemonade, Colin turned around and grabbed a glass of champagne, downing it in one go. He couldn’t believe you didn’t think he was your friend. What the hell else could you call it?

He spotted Eloise and Penelope chatting close by and stomped over to them. He was sure he looked like Gregory after a fight with Hyacinth, pouting with his arms crossed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“I thought you were going to talk to Y/N,” said Penelope, confused to see him back so soon. 

Colin shot her a murderous look. “She wants nothing to do with me, apparently. She said the only reason I talked to her was out of a favor to Eloise.”

Eloise coughed awkwardly. “Well, didn’t you?”

“No!” shot back Colin defensively. “Not entirely, at least. I don’t know. I need to leave.” 

You were still dancing with the unnamed man, and Colin was very much still seething as he watched the pair of you twirl around and smile at one another. 

Usually, it was frustrating to watch you dance with other people because you were never like that with him. But this well and truly hurt. It hurt to see you like this when he knew, now for a fact, that he could never have that with you again. 

“I need to leave,” he repeated. He couldn’t bear to watch you do this all night.

Snatching another glass of champagne and downing that one, too, he bid his goodbyes to Penelope and Eloise and made his way across the ballroom to the exit.

“Are you leaving already, darling? You’ve barely been here an hour,” Colin heard next to him as a hand reached out for his elbow. 

Turning around, he faced his mother, who looked like she was in the middle of a conversation with Anthony and Benedict. 

Colin nodded. “I’m sorry, mother. I just can’t. I can’t stay,” he responded, voice breaking as he glanced back toward you again. 

Seeing you lean to whisper something in your suitor’s ear, he slumped forward, practically feeling physical pain at the sight. 

“I must go,” Colin said firmly, giving his mother a quick squeeze and rushing to the door. 

Violet nodded, bewildered, and followed where Colin’s gaze had been. Finding you dancing with Lord Norcliffe, Violet sent a knowing look to Benedict and Anthony. 

“I suppose Hyacinth was right,” she said sympathetically.

“And don’t you dare tell her! It’ll get to her head,” responded Benedict. 

---

“The Bridgertons will be in attendance tonight,” your mother informed you carefully as you sat in the carriage on the way to yet another ball. 

“And by the Bridgertons you mean…”

“She means Colin, yes,” answered Jacques, earning a stifled laugh from his wife, Chiara. 

Ever since they’d been back and learned of your intense hatred for Colin, Jacques had not been able to stop making a mockery of it. Usually, you were quite agreeable, and it was rare that you found yourself at odds with someone who wasn’t your sibling, so this seemingly unprompted hatred was quite amusing to your brother. 

You groaned and glared at him. “No one asked you to come tonight, you know. In fact, no one asked you to come to England at all! You could have stayed in Tuscany, and I would have been much happier.”

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to tease you about this,” answered Jacques, completely unbothered by your biting tone. 

“Whatever,” you grumbled in response, only slightly comforted by Chiara’s apologetic smile as she softly scolded her husband.

It had been four days since your run-in with Nigel, and three since you saw Colin at Daphne’s ball, and the thought of seeing him again made you feel sick. It was already bad enough that he was disgusting and had no respect for you, but it was made infinitely worse by the fact that you had let yourself grow to care for him. In a friendly way, of course. You could never have married him, anyway. But it was still embarrassing that you fell into his charming trap and thought that you could become something more than a conquest for him.

“Be nice,” your mother whispered in warning as you approached the Bridgertons. 

You shrugged her off, not needing a reminder. You had been brought up to be the perfect lady. You weren’t about to forget yourself now. You refused to give Colin that power. 

You greeted the family warmly until you got to Colin. “Mr. Bridgerton,” you said, giving him a curt nod.

Not waiting for a response, you moved to stand away from him as you looked out at the crowd. Perhaps you would find a gentleman who was actually enjoyable to talk to, though your chances seemed slim. 

Colin shifted uncomfortably on his feet, watching you intently. It seemed that your behavior at Daphne’s ball hadn’t been a fluke, after all. He ground his teeth in annoyance, growing increasingly irritated by the fact that you were just standing there.

Why weren’t you doing anything? It was infuriating. Perhaps it would have been less infuriating if it were anyone else, but it seemed like anything you did was particularly vexing to him.

Making his way over to you, he stopped beside you. Wanting to slip back into the comfort of your tumultuous dynamic, Colin took a shot at your attire. “I see the modiste-”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice shaking, barely above a whisper, and your gaze locked ahead of you. 

Colin was taken aback. You had never, in all the time that he had known you, backed down from an argument. It seemed that you just… didn’t want him around at all. You hated him enough that you didn’t want to be near him. And in any way that mattered, it was worse than when you were antagonizing him.

“I’m sorry,” Colin said desperately. “I didn’t mean- Look, can we please talk? Just quickly, I just want-”

But you didn’t even let him finish. “There’s nothing to say.”

Colin scoffed, a futile attempt to hide how hurt he was really feeling. “What do you mean there isn’t anything to say? I have things to say, at least. Just talk to me.”

You finally turned to face him, feeling your stomach drop as you looked at his desperate eyes searching yours for an answer. 

“Let me rephrase. I do not wish to speak with you, in any capacity, now or any time in the future. I do not care to hear what you have to say, Mr. Bridgerton, and I would appreciate it if you could respect that, though I know that’s not usually in your nature.”

Colin could only sputter, staring at you in disbelief as you walked away. He felt his stomach turn uncomfortably as you reached a man he didn’t know, but whom you’d danced with at Daphne’s Ball. 

He had to have done something wrong. Colin hadn’t the slightest clue what, but you obviously had something against him, and it clearly wasn’t just you being silly. 

He swore under his breath. You were impossible. Not even Eloise knew why you hated him! How on earth was he supposed to know how to fix this when you refused to speak with him? It was almost easier when all you did was hurl insults at him and step on his feet as he poured lemonade down your dress.

Over on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Colin, mentally scolding yourself every time you did. This was not how you were supposed to be acting toward the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you.

The only reason you were dancing with Lord Norcliffe now was because he had not arrived in London until after your whole debacle with Lord Barlow. You supposed he could have heard what happened from someone else, but he was safer than the rest of the men of the ton, you thought grimly. It would’ve helped if he was interesting to talk to, or even nice to look at, but you supposed you couldn’t be very selective.

Curtsying and thanking Lord Norcliffe for the dance, you made a beeline toward Carlos and Philippe across the room. 

“You look like you don’t want to be here,” commented your brother, amused. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Astute observation, Philippe.”

Carlos laughed and gave you a comforting pat on the head. “But what happened to your season in England? I thought you were excited to be here?”

“My mother and father were certainly excited,” you mused, taking Philippe’s lemonade and drinking from it. 

Seeing their confused looks, you briefly explained your encounter with Nigel Berbrooke, and they suddenly became very concerned. 

“Ce connard! Il est où? Je vai le tuer,” growled Philippe under his breath, not wanting the rest of the ton to hear his threat (That asshole! Where is he? I’m going to kill him).

“Philippe, it’s alright,” you assured him, glancing over at Carlos and seeing that he, too, had understood your brother’s words despite not speaking French. “I believe Simon Basset took care of him at White’s a few days ago.”

“That’s just as well, or I’d have done it myself,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You can just come to Spain next year, cariño,” Carlos said warmly.

You smiled up at your brother-in-law, silently thanking him for the offer even though you knew your parents would never allow it. 

Colin watched enviously as you had a conversation with your older brother and your older sister’s husband. He wished he could talk to you again. Even if nothing got resolved between you, he liked to hear your voice. He loved how stubborn you were and how frustrated you got when you forgot the English word for something. He just missed you, he supposed. 

Which is why, as Colin watched yet another man approach you and write their name on your dance card, he decided he couldn’t do this anymore. The watching, the waiting, the wanting. He couldn’t do any of it anymore. 

“I need to leave,” he said firmly.

Daphne, who had been standing beside him, turned to face him, startled. “Leave where?”

“India, Egypt, Morocco, back to Greece. I don’t care. I just need to get out of here.”

“What? Why?” asked Daphne, still confused. 

“You know why,” Colin responded flatly, giving her an unimpressed look. 

Daphne instinctively turned to look at you, laughing as the man you were dancing with whispered something to you. She turned to look back at her brother with a disappointed look.

“I can’t imagine leaving would be the best option.” 

“Why not?” Colin shot back. “What good can my presence possibly do?”

Daphne put a hand on her brother’s elbow, giving him a sympathetic look. However, her voice was firm. “You always leave when it gets hard, you know? You’re always the first out the door and onto a different continent. Why are you so scared of staying?”

Colin was stunned. He didn’t know his motives were that obvious. But he supposed it made sense for Daphne to know since she knew him better than most people.  

“I’m not scared of staying,” Colin insisted defensively. “I just think it’ll be better for everyone if I go.”

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. “And do what? What could you possibly be doing that is so important that you would abandon the woman you love?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Colin argued, his voice growing strained as he felt his chest getting tighter. “None of it matters. She doesn’t love me back. I could be down the street or in Brazil and she wouldn’t even notice. She clearly hates me and wants nothing to do with me, so why should I stay?”

Daphne crossed her arms, looking more than a little disappointed. “Well, I won’t be the one to stop you if you decide to go. But really think about whether you want to be the person who leaves time and again. Things could change. It's only been a few days since she's been like this.”

She had a point, but Colin was too upset to admit it. Daphne was right. He couldn’t just leave now. If anything, it would hurt him more than being near you with you not speaking to him. It was the strangest feeling, knowing you loved someone but feeling powerless to do anything about it. 

Colin knew he couldn’t continue like this. Perhaps he couldn’t leave, but he could certainly stay as far away as possible. 

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Get added to the taglist!

[frickingnerd]

truth or dare?

pairing: leo valdez x gn!reader

summary: after a kiss during a game of truth and dare, leo starts to avoid you. when you confront him about his reasons, he reveals to you that he's been worried you don't reciprocate his feelings...

tags: angst with a happy ending, wholesome fluff, confession, idiots to lovers, leo & reader are both dense, worries about unrequited feelings, leo & reader share a kiss

leo had been avoiding you like the plague, ever since the two of you had shared a kiss during a game of truth or dare. your friends all knew that you had been crushing on him for quite a while and were attempting to help you. 

and for a moment, it did seem like it was helping. kissing leo was one of the best things that had happened to you in the last few months. he seemed so into the kiss, yet ever since that night, he had been avoiding you. he didn't reply to your messages, he turned around when he saw you outside and he barely even looked at you anymore! 

it really seemed like all hope was lost. like you had ruined things between the two of you by kissing him. but you still hadn't given up! you were determined to go all in and confront him! either he gave in and told you what was going on or he'd tell you to leave him alone and you could at least draw the line there and move on. 

"leo!"

you spotted the boy outside on a bench, calling out for him. when he heard your voice, he jumped up, ready to turn around and leave, but you had already grabbed his hand by then and stopped him from leaving. 

"please, stop ignoring me…"

you sighed and looked down at your hands, before letting him go and taking a step back. 

"stop ignoring what's going on between us…"

you could swear you could see leo's face go red as he quickly turned away from you. 

"there… there's nothing going on between us, y/n. we just kissed once at a party, we really don't have to pretend like there's anything between us now!"

you stood there quietly, looking at him. the bold and flirty leo you knew seemed gone. the boy in front of you seemed rather timid. this wasn't the leo you knew! 

you took a deep breath. 

"there is something between us. at least… something that i feel" you were making things sound so complicated. "what i mean is… i like you! a lot… and i really liked the kiss. if you liked it too, then please don't hide it from me, leo…"

leo stared at you, the surprise being written on his face. he hesitated, opening his mouth multiple times to say something, but always just closing it again and staring at you. 

"then, at least tell me you aren't interested in me… if i know you don't like me that way, then at least i can move on…"

"no–!"

finally, leo had opened his mouth. and all it took was to threaten him to move on. seems like he really did not like hearing that…

"i– fuck!"

leo ruffled his hand through his hair, seemingly frustrated with himself. perhaps because he couldn't find the right words. or maybe something else entirely. 

"i do like you that way! i really do, y/n! seriously, i've liked you that way for a really long time!"

you couldn't help but smile as leo admitted his feelings to you. finally, he had said it! 

"i'm just… i'm an idiot. i didn't think someone like you would go out with someone like me. you're way out of my league and when we kissed that night i just– i felt stupid for getting my hopes up and tried to just ignore you until my feelings for you would go away again…"

you gently took leo's hands again, intertwining your fingers. he looked up at you surprised, not expecting such a soft gesture from you. 

"you weren't the only one getting their hopes up that night. i was really hoping something more could happen between us, but then you ran away and i never got to tell you how i feel about you… until now"

you tilted your head, softly smiling as you began to close the distance between leo and you. 

"but… maybe we can start over? forget what lies in the past and try again. perhaps… with another kiss?"

leo stared at you, unable to believe his luck. you were so close now that your lips almost brushed against his, yet you had stopped moving. if he wanted you, he'd have to make the next move.

"this time i'll do things right, i swear!"

and finally, leo closed the gap between the two of you and your lips met again. only this time you knew that he'd stay after the kiss and that there were many more kisses that would follow…

[aangelinakii]

PERSONAL CHEF.

— who knew he was such a great cook ?

summary : after a naff day at work, you call up your boyfriend. he's quick to arrive, and quick to make you a comforting meal.

note : just a lil short fic whilst i try to get motivated to write some longer ones 😭😭😭

TRIGGER WARNING : mention of food, and brief mention of not wanting to eat.

from the moment you'd hung up the phone, jason todd had hopped on his red motorcycle and floored it to your apartment.

needless to say, you hadn't had a good day. almost anything and everything that could've gone wrong did go wrong, and the dejection had followed you all the way home. you didn't feel like cooking, and, quite frankly, part of you didn't even feel like eating, but every part of you knew jason would never happen.

when the knock came at your door, you'd been sprawled out on the couch, covered in a warm blanket, and when you opened it, jason engulfed you in a great hug. his hugs were immediately calming, with the way his massive arms acted as barriers to the outside world, and the way his head perched against yours extracted the negative thoughts from your brain.

everything he did for you was totally out of kindness and warmth and love.

he gave you a tighter squeeze and pressed a feather-light kiss to your temple, before pulling away from you and shutting the door behind him.

jason was quick to get to work — "just sit there and look pretty for me, okay?" he'd said as he pulled your apron over his head and tied it at the back. and you did so.

he'd picked you up and perched you on the counter beside the hob, so you could do just what you wanted him to. he filled a pot with water and placed it on the hob to boil, plopping in long stiff strands of spaghetti.

one thing you'd learnt about jason early on was that he loved food; adored it, even. he loved grocery shop trips with you, where the two of you overfilled the cart or basket, and he'd have to pay for it anyway. he loved stopping on the way home on his bike, you sitting behind him, arms around his waist, to grab some burgers or chicken strips – it only depended on how hungry you were to decide whether you made a pitstop overlooking the city to eat, or if you were able to keep the food untouched before reaching your apartment.

his favourite thing, however – and perhaps yours, too, on days like today – had to be cooking for you. either at his place or yours, he loved just being able to wind down and speak to you whilst preparing a great meal, and then getting to eat said meal. nothing calmed him more, made him more happy.

"so," he hummed a metre away from you as he chopped a red onion. "want to talk about what happened, or is that a no-go tonight?"

a great sigh huffed from your chest, and you brought your hand to your face as you shook your head from side to side, eyes closing. "nope, not today." with an exhale through your nose, you looked back up at him, where he glanced at you with sympathetic eyes. "i just want to relax with you tonight, forget about it."

"well, that, i can do." and jason scraped the diced onion into the pan of work-in-progress sauce, and took another smaller step to you to press a soft kiss to the side of your head.

he was such a rugged thing on the outside, littered with scars and years of trauma. after getting to know him, you were glad to have learnt more about what he had on the inside: kindness, humility, a bigger heart than anyone you'd met.

[copinghex]

Delirium | T.S

Summary: Thomas pays a last visit to the woman he always had a thing for | dark!AU and 🔞

A/N: This makes me feel like a nasty hoe, I just wanted to write smut with a Tommy who's obsessed but not violent, if that makes sense 🥴

Warning: Tommy being delusional 

The kitchen felt warmer than it probably was, Tommy's presence scared her, especially in moments they were alone.

Of course, her husband's presence wouldn't make a huge difference, he was a humble civilian and Tommy could pull out a gun on him at any moment. She preferred to meet in public spaces, where she'd be able to call for help.

He sat at the table, sipping on his tea with disturbing peace, as if he was the man of the house.

“Tommy,” she gulped, leaning on the counter far from him, “my husband will be home soon, so if you don't have anything to say-”

‘I thought I gave this house to you,” he interrupted.

“Y-yes, but he lives here too,” 

“Lucky, ain't he?” he nodded, the glassy look in his eyes scared her, “I gave you this place in consideration for you and the baby and he gets to decide who visits,”

“We know how lucky we are for having your sympathy,” 

“Sympathy,” he scoffed.

Lowering her head, she got ready for what seemed to be another one of his episodes. After every single one, she regretted the day she stepped into his family's betting shop looking for a job. After that, she never had peace.

People said after the war Thomas chose to be alone, she saw it differently, he was always surrounded by whores and flirting with the newcomer barmaid. Every now and then, he invited her to dates. Surely he wasn't a man she'd call lonely.

By then, his behavior didn't bother her, Small Heath was full of perverts and womanizers. He was just another one of them until he started to chase her. 

Even with his aunt's insistence for her to give him a chance, she paid him no mind, thinking Polly only favored her so he'd forget the barmaid who was later revealed to be a cop. Also, she heard he had an affair with his secretary and wooed his horse trainer, all while flirting with her and promising the world if she gave in. 

When Thomas got married, she swore things would get better, he'd leave her alone and wouldn't be in the betting shop as often. What an awful prevision. In a matter of weeks, he forbade his employees from dating, although she liked to think it was only because of business, she thought the order was way too strict.

Then the worst phase came, widowed Thomas was clingy, forceful, controlling and manipulative. His sad blue eyes would convince her of anything - or almost anything, the bedroom's part, she left for Lizzie - it was when she realized that for him to forget about her, she had to leave him. A new job should be enough.

One day after she resigned, he knocked on her door, asking all the reasons why she wasn't part of the company anymore and promising he'd stop chasing her. What a fool she was for believing. Thomas didn't stop flirting. He only changed his methods. Every week, she'd find a small - or a huge - gift by her desk.

Years went by and she moved on, Thomas became a permanent hurdle she chose to ignore. Nowadays, they were both married and with children, though sometimes he'd still remind her that if she wanted him, he'd be there.

“...do you want to talk?” she asked, perhaps with the death of his daughter he wanted consolation.

“Do I scare you?”

“No, hm,” she lied, his question surprised her, “a bit, sometimes, but mostly no,” 

“It came to me last night, perhaps I scared you, that's why you never wanted me,” 

“Tommy-”

“Y’know, some nights- many nights,” he wasn't looking at her, with his distant eyes and head low, she knew it'd be better to let him finish his monolog, “you were all I thought about, no shovels, no curses, just you, my wife,” 

“What?” she was shocked, but it didn't matter, he wasn't listening.

“We'd make love every night before going to sleep and I'd find out everything, what you like, what you don't,” he sighed, “and the rest wouldn't fucking matter, it'd be just you and me,” 

Finally, he looked at her waiting for an answer. She, on the other hand, didn't know what to say.

“Tommy, perhaps-” she started, “you know I have much respect for you, but also for Mrs. Shelby and my husband, so perhaps it's time you let go of this infatuation for me,” 

“Is this what you think it is? Infatuation?” 

“I-”

“Sometimes I thought of forcing you,” he confessed, “after everything I gave you it'd be fair, wouldn't it? To take something back, but that was the problem, I never wanted to fuck you, I wanted you to want me, sounds stupid now, eh?” 

“Why did you come here tonight?” after his speech, she was desperate for him to leave. 

“To tell you you'll finally have what you wanted, I won't bother you anymore,” he explained, “I'm sick,”

“With what?” 

“Tuberculoma,” 

All she did was stare, Thomas Shelby, the man who survived poverty, war and a dangerous career choice was killing himself from inside out. The worst part of her was relieved, the best felt bad for him.

“What about your son?” she mumbled.

“He's in good hands,” 

“Well, hm, I'm sorry,”

“Are you?”

Tommy finished his tea in a big gulp. His posture told her his objective wasn't done yet. Of course not, he always had an A on his sleeve.

“There's another reason why I came here tonight,” he admitted, “I'm gonna ask you something in good faith,” 

“Yes?”

“Grant me a last wish, all I ever wanted,” 

“What is it?” she tensed up.

“Sleep with me, as if we were husband and wife,” he pleaded, blown out eyes fixed on her.

“What?! I can't!” 

“Why not?”

“Because I'm married! We both are!” 

“Me? I'm not anymore,” 

“We can't, Tommy,”

“Please, not one has to know,” never in her life, she thought she'd see him beg, “first and last time,”

Again, she was speechless, guilty for considering giving in to him, but wouldn't it be merciful? Before she decided, he walked to her, cupping her face between his hands.

His lips met her cheek, gently kissing her, she barely believed when he started to smell her. For him, it was the best scent he ever felt.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she allowed him to keep going only to see how far he'd go. His palm was warm and easily covered half her face, his kisses went down her neck, different from what she was used to, her husband was sweet, Tommy was intense, drinking her in like a starving man.

He brought her closer, holding her waist with a strong grip. From that distance, she smelled the lingering cologne underneath the cigarette scent. The warmth from his skin gave her unwanted shivers.

Naively, she rested her hands on his back, it was all he needed to lift her to the counter, sitting her down and standing between her legs. As if she got out of trance, she pushed him away.

“Tommy,” she used a leg to create distance, foot well positioned on his chest, “we can't,” 

She expected him to retaliate, his fast breath and dilated eyes made her feel like a prey, he was the predator about to pounce. Instead, he took her foot into his hands, slowly kissing the way up her legs. She had all the time in the world to stop him, but her body froze with his affections.

Once he reached her thigh, Tommy put his head under her skirt, she felt his rough fingers undo her stockings and obliged, lifting her hips for him to pull her panties down. 

With his breath against her cunt, she held tightly to the counter, the surface was cold in her warm hands. He parted her inner lips with his tongue, making her jump slightly.

The foreign feeling brought excitement to her core, weak moans poured from her lips as Tommy sucked her clit.

Lifting her skirt, she ran a hand through his hair, he lowly hummed, burying his face further between her legs before standing up, starting a greedy kiss.

Through the desperate yearning, he was gentle, cupping her face and giving her little pecks every time she ran out of breath. She took his coat off and held onto him, from his waistcoat texture it must've been extremely expensive. 

Touching his thin body, few ribs could be counted even if she'd still consider him strong. Tommy started unbuttoning her dress and she stopped him.

“Like man and wife, you said?”

Excitement built in Tommy's chest, she'd be finally his, the idea got him hard as a rock. With a last peck on his lips, she guided him upstairs, avoiding looking at her family pictures. They made her feel bad.

Through the hallway, he stopped and stared at her daughter's bedroom's door, highlighted by the lilac color contrasting with the rest of white ones, “What's her name again?” 

“Agatha,” 

He sighed, picturing a little girl with her eyes, who'd play near the canal with Ruby, Charlie and Duke. She'd watch them from far, the three sweetest girls he ever met, that sounded like heaven, a heaven he'd never reach.

Pulling him to the guest room, she sat him on the bed, the spare, impersonal mattress that'd be ruined by her infidelity. As she straddled his lap, Tommy spread kisses on her chest, her head fell back from pleasure, body warming up to him.

As tempting as melting into his arms was, she wanted to give him an experience, something slow and intimate, between those four walls there was no unreciprocated love or unfaithfulness, only the two of them. 

She cupped his face and touched their foreheads together, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his waistcoat, “Tell me about your day,” 

“I'm glad it's already over,” he drawled, hands traveling through her back.

“Did you miss me?” she held a giggle at his unnecessary tie clip, he probably urged to show the world he could afford one. 

“I-” he gulped when she put the small golden clip between her lips, “did,” 

Fully undressing wasn't sexy like in books she'd read before, she had to stand up and got particularly shy while Tommy watched. However, she managed to get a few chuckles while taking the boots off his feet.

“I can tell,” with him brushing on her thigh, she got rid of his clothing and pushed him down the mattress. His eyes shone at the view of her on top of him, hands gripping on her dress as a silent request to take it off.

Playfully, she threw her last piece of clothing at him, a wool stocking far from being sexy. With a small smile, he pulled her back to bed, climbing on top of her in a swift move. His hands grabbed her waist while his face was buried on her neck, between kisses and bites, she could tell he was overwhelmed.

Wrapping her legs around him, she called his name in a whisper, Tommy lifted his head getting face to face with her and for a moment, it'd be foolish to deny he looked beautiful, lips swollen, hazed eyes and blushy cheeks fitting perfectly into his features.

The gray hair growing on his shaved sides caught her attention, a sign of how long he'd been pinning for her. She had seen him go from bookmaker to member of parliament, from a man who always wore the same three fancy suits to a man who could gift a house and yet, to her, Thomas Shelby was nothing but a pretty painting, something to admire, but never to hold dear.  

“What?” he noticed he was being observed.

“Nothing, can't I just look at you?” 

He squinted, lightly squeezing her cheeks together. She tensed up, realizing how vulnerable she was lying naked under him.

“Tom?” she feared some sudden change of demeanor.

His previous kindness suddenly vanished, Tommy kissed her hungrily and her body betrayed her, surrendering completely, urging to become one with him.

A tiny moan was all to be heard when he slid into her, then the bed started to crackle and the impact of his thrusts mixed with their heavy breaths. 

She tried to pull his head to her shoulder in an intimate embrace, he didn't let her, holding her hands above her head, “Want to look at you,”

The admission put a smile on her face, besides everything Tommy was sweet, certainly not like she imagined a gangster would be in bed. 

Between sloppy kisses, he freed one of her hands that she took to his back, his skin was soft, the only bumps were the scars he got in war and business, still, it was nothing she'd consider imperfections, it all added deepness to the artwork he was.

Freeing her other hand, she hugged him closer, the sudden pull disturbed his steady pace and she giggled at the surprised huff he let out.

Tommy Shelby wasn't a man to be vulnerable often, to see him make such noises or show desperate desire was more intimate than all the years she spent with her own husband. She wanted to see more.

The question crossed her lips before she could consider any further consequences, “Do you love me, Tommy?” 

He swallowed, gripping on her legs and pounding into her harder, “I do, fuck, I do, I love you,” 

Squeezing her eyes shut, her back arched from a consuming orgasm. Tommy's name filled the room in loud moans as her nails sank in his back.

After few more thrusts, he poured inside her. Tommy rested his forehead on hers and they breathed heavily. With mind foggy and his gentle caresses on her head, she didn’t hear steps on the other side of the door.

Hard knocks on the door made her freeze inside, Tommy had a tiny smirk on his face while her husband called from outside, “What the fuck is going on in there?!” 

[cal-writes]

read some of my wips for the zolu conflic story and figured id share

-

"Ignorance is a bliss is it not?" Brook offers, his skull crooked as she glares down at him. He plucks a single string on his guitar.

"It's not." Nami tells him.

Brook sighs - as much as he can. "Ah, that's unfortunate." And strums an idle melody.

It's late in the evening, just before dinner so there is commotion by the kitchen as Sanji tries to keep Luffy out of it and Usopp and Franky have been hammering away at something all day, perhaps only to fill the silence.

"Brook." Nami says with a sigh, letting her hands fall to her sides. "What did Zoro do?"

Brook's next note is off key as he pretends not to be startled by the question. "What gave you the idea he did anything?"

"I'm not stupid." She wraps her arms around her middle, feeling the cold chill of Thriller Bark seep back into her bones. "What happened between him and Kuma? It can't have been a fight or Luffy wouldn't be so mad."

He plucks his strings, discordant melodies filling the room in between their silent standoff. "Isn't the important thing that we are all still here?" He asks and his voice sounds far away. It stifles the instinctual reaction that bubbles in her throat. The urge to make her frustration known. Brook shakes his head a little to return to the here and now and tilts his head towards her. If he still had eyes, she imagines he would be blinking.

She takes a shaky breath. "I'll just imagine worse."

"Ah." Brook says softly, chin falling. His hands shift on the instrument and he adjusts his finger bones. "A deal was made." He says in tune to the new song he starts.

"What kind of deal?"

"An exchange, of sorts. Kuma had been ordered to bring our dear captain in."

Nami closes her eyes, lets the music wash over her. "Zoro offered himself." She concludes. It seems so simple in hindsight. Brook hums his affirmation in harmony. "But he was still there when we came to."

Brook looks off into the distance, fingers dancing over the saites. "I didn't quite understand it myself at the time. The man, Kuma. His devil fruit ability is truly something else." He shakes his head a little as if to dislodge the memory. "Perhaps Kuma meant it as a test. Trying to discourage Zoro from his resolve." Brook says and Nami almost scoffs. As if anything would be able to stop Zoro once he'd set his mind to something. "He took away all of Luffy's pain and told Zoro to bear it in his stead."

The notes of Brook's song fall heavy in the aftermath.

She swallows hard against the lump in her throat. "What?"

"I mostly heard the screams." Brook says idly, detached and Nami shudders. She can't remember the last time she heard Zoro scream in pain. "Kuma was certain he would perish."

"But he didn't."

"He did not, no." Brook says, inclining his head.

Nami's breath leaves her in a shudder. She'd tried to forget Thriller Bark ever since it happened. The creepy castle, getting kidnapped and nearly married against her will - Brook and Lola were the only good things to come out of that dreadful place. Zoro, so near the brink they weren't sure he was ever going to wake up, much less recover from it all. After Sabaody she had worried, during some lonely nights, if he really was okay. If wherever he had been sent would give him time to heal.

When they had seen each other again he had seemed as good as new if not better and it felt best not to bring up old ghosts.

"Please do keep it to yourself." Brook urges her quietly and with a start she realizes his guitar has fallen silent. "I don't think he ever wanted us to know."

She blows out a breath. Remembers that foolish young man that cut open his own wound before facing down Buggy's crew mate. Who jumped into a pit of water, surrounded by fishmen and rope with Mihawk's wound carved onto his chest. Who found her in Alabasta, wearing more of his blood on his body that could still be inside it and still carried her.

"Of course he doesn't." It comes out more bitter than she means it to.

[deathbxnny]

☆《Returning home to you.》☆

-----♡

A/N: I've been in such a writing mood today, so don't mind me~

Summary: HSR characters return to you after a long mission/trip/day of work.

Characters featured: Kafka, Blade, Welt, Jing Yuan, Gepard

Content: Fluff and nothing else really(?), sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not really proofread, so I apologise for any mistakes.))

-----♡

》Kafka

The work of a Stellaron hunter is difficult and time consuming. And so, whenever Kafka comes back home to you, after a month long trip into far away galaxies, she hardly ever leaves your side after. She clinges to you, teasing you with sweet words, asking you if you've missed her. And she knows you have, as she also missed you dearly.

She sighs in satisfaction, when she finally gets to hold you in her arms in bed, her face burried in your hair, arms wrapped tightly around you. She whispers soft apologies in your ears, swearing that she had done everything she could to come back to you as soon as possible. Her voice is slow and gentle as ever, so soft and loving just for you.

She hands you gifts and trinkets as an apology, smiling with an amused and content in glint in her eyes, as you happily thank her for them. She spoils you rotten and enjoys every moment of it.

Coming home to you is by far Kafka's favourite thing, even if she sometimes wishes, that she'd never have to leave you in the first place. But seeing the excitement and happiness in your face, after a long time of absence, makes it nearly worth it.

-----♡

》Blade

Blade tries to seem unaffected, indifferent. But it's hard to keep up, when he finally sees you again after so long. He says nothing of how much he missed you, how much he yearned for you. He doesn't know he'd even begin to phrase this deep passion and love he had for you.

And so, he shows it by gifting you trinkets, pretty clothes or just gifts that reminded him of you. It's his way of apologising in a way. To silently show you, that he did think of you, whilst he was away. He always thought of you, one way or another.

The way he holds you also tells you more than enough. His hands on your waist or his arms around your body are tight and desperate, a quiet confirmation that he did miss you. Horribly so.

He tells you about small details from his missions, people that bothered him, perhaps even a mention of Kafka's shenanigans or the capture of a Stellaron. You listen with interest, even if most of it is vague for your safety. He doesn't want to speak about the gory details with you.

When you were about to fall asleep, safely tucked away in his arms, you could've sworn that you heard him tell you that he missed you. But you can't be for certain, especially not if he denies it so stubbornly as he always does.

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

He demands kisses and hugs from you the moment he steps through the door. He's exhausted, yet saved the last of his energy just for you. After such an seemingly endless day at work, he wants nothing more than to be doted on by his dear S/O. Which you ofcourse don't mind doing.

You help him out of his armour and help him get into something comfortable, before he asks for you to cuddle him. He just wants to hold you close and forget all his troubles and duties for just a moment. Being a general demands so much from him and you are one of the few things that bring him solace.

He nearly dramatically tells you about his day, his hands absently trailing along your curves in comfort. Eventually he just falls asleep mid sentence, his head burried in your hair, the familiar scent lulling him into a peaceful slumber only you could provide him with. His grip is tight and secure even in his sleep, that's for sure.

Sometimes he enjoys cooking for the both of you, even if you insist that he should rest and that you can do it for him. He just finds it relaxing to do mundane and domestic things with you. It was his way of resting and you eventually just learn to go with it. You don't mind anyways, ofcourse. Spending time with him is something you love doing the most.

-----♡

》Welt Yang

After a long mission that kept him away from the Astral Express for a while, he practically fell into your welcoming and gentle embrace. His hands find your hips, holding you close, as he whispers of how much he missed you into your hair.

He tells you many stories of his travels, about the things he experienced when he was away. And you listen to him with curious eyes, your body curled up into his, as you both of you sip on some warm tea.

He in turn listens to you talk about what you've done in his absence. No matter what it is, he'll always listen intently, never missing a single detail, no matter how mundane it is. He keeps everything stored in his mind an heart, your voice enough to bring him joy.

It fills him with warmth and happiness to know, that he always has someone to come home to now. A person he'd protect with his life. He sometimes just stops mid sentence just to tell you how happy he is. How glad he is to have you.

He'll keep you close to him, your head resting against his chest, as you both relax and watch the stars together. You don't need to say anything, basking in eachothers presence at last is more than enough. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

-----♡

》Gepard Landau

He never comes home without something to give to you. He knows, that his work and duties as the captain of the Silvermaneguards can be alot of strain on a relationship, which is why he makes sure to put a smile on your face everytime he comes back. He gets you flowers most of the time, one's that remind him of you. Once you smile, he can finally allow himself to also relax.

He's not the best with words, often times getting too flustered to actually tell you how much he missed you. Not that he needs to say much with how tightly he hugged you. He's just glad to be home with you.

He's used to being busy all the time, so expect him to still clean or cook with or for you. You're probably going to have to restrain him to the couch to make him stop or just join him in bed for a well-deserved cuddle session. You can always just do your chores tomorrow, once he's well rested.

Gepard tells you about some things that happened out on the front lines, yet nothing disturbing or worrying. The last thing he wants is for you to feel worried or scared about anything. He'll always protect you after all. He listens to you ramble about your day, about how you visited Serval or how you saw a cute dress in a shop. He listens to everything you say.

He falls asleep pretty fast in your warm embrace. He doesn't try to, but he can't help it, when you're so comforting to him after such a long day.

-----♡

A/N: Thank you for reading! Requests are also open!<33