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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years ago

Text

II ║ Threads

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part I: Seams | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: When Joel revisits Main Street Outfitters two weeks later, he finds you on your knees. Again.

Warnings: Very spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: This crept up on me and happened just as I was finishing up edits. I am so grateful, and I hope Threads is a fitting thank you gift to you all 😘 I’m thinking about doing a sleepover celebration, we shall see!

Joel and Pin are back ❤️ They're back because you guys have been so generous with your love, sending me so many ideas and hyping me up - I can't thank you all enough! This chapter is all thanks to Singer machine anon who bravely (affectionate 😉) shared their story of getting stuck under a sewing machine table. I hope you enjoy this one!

A treadle sewing machine is powered mechanically by a foot pedal that is pushed back and forth by the operator's foot.

If you're not familiar, here is a classic Singer treadle cabinet, which is no way big enough for the purposes of this story, so please exercise your imagination 😉

Joel hovers outside the Jackson Grocer’s, arms crossed, trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible in front of the leafy display of butter lettuce heads.

It’s been a few months since he’s settled in, but sometimes he can’t get over how fucking nuts this place is. Looking at the shelves brimming with fresh fruits and vegetables outside, canned food and home goods inside, he could easily be standing outside the 24/7 mart in his old neighbourhood. There are even shopping baskets, for crying out loud - stacked neatly one on top of the other by the door.

A voice pipes up from his left. ‘Didn’t know you ate greens.’

Joel scowls. ‘I don’t.’

‘Why are you loiterin’, then?’ asks Tommy, picking up a couple of apples and examining them with exaggerated care.

‘I’m not loiterin’,’ he spits out the last word as if he’s above it, turning his gaze to the high street.

Tommy tosses him a cocky grin, head tilted at a knowing angle. ‘Yeah, you are. And now you’re makin’ eyes at Bob. It’s disturbin’.’

Glancing across the main thoroughfare at the welder’s shop, where the said proprietor is cutting up wooden planks on the porch, Joel grumbles sarcastically, ‘That’s right. Bob is just my type.’

At that very moment, right next to Bob's, the door of Main Street Outfitters creaks open, and Joel recognises Lucy instantly as she sneaks out on tiptoes. She skips down the stairs and wanders up the street in what appears to be another impromptu work break.

Joel’s already taken two steps towards the shop before he remembers that he’s not alone. Braking abruptly and bringing up one hand to scratch the back of his neck, he feels Tommy’s eyes on him.

He half-turns, and snaps, ‘What?’

The younger Miller brother shrugs, pursing his lips thoughtfully. ‘Why are you going to the Outfitters again? Didn’t you just get those new jeans a couple of weeks ago?’

‘Thought I’d get a new shirt for your stupid baby shower.’

‘Joel -’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ He throws his hands up in capitulation. ‘Baby showers are not stupid. Especially in the middle of an apocalypse.’

Taking another two steps forward, a thought stops him dead in his tracks again. He can practically feel Tommy smiling smugly at his back.

For fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t turn around this time, jamming his hands into his pockets and asks, ‘Can I bring someone? To the party?’

‘We know Ellie’s comin’.’

Whipping around, he growls, ‘Tommy -’

He laughs. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. Joel Miller makin’ friends in town? Maria’s right - you’re fittin’ right in, big brother.’

Rolling his eyes, Joel flips him off and stomps his way across the street.

Tommy calls out at his retreating back. ‘Say hello to Pin and tell her we’d love to have her come over on Sunday!’

When he steps inside, the shop is as empty as it was a fortnight ago. Joel shuts the door firmly, making sure the bell jingles, so his entry doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your voice, though muffled, comes promptly. ‘Lucy! Is that you?’

He heads towards the doorway that leads to the workshop. ‘It’s Joel, actually.’

‘Oh, shit!’

His eyebrows reach for his hairline - you don’t seem to be the type to curse. Concerned, he asks, ‘You alright back there?’

There’s a touch of panic in your reply, ‘Don’t come back here. Did Lucy sneak out again?’

On your instruction, Joel hesitates in the middle of the room, talking to air. ‘Yeah, saw her leave a couple of minutes ago.’

‘Goddamnit, Lucy!’

He shuffles his feet awkwardly. ‘Uh, you sure you’re ok? Should I come back later?’

There’s a resigned sigh, then a pause. ‘Promise you won’t laugh.’

One end of his lips tugs upwards in a smile. ‘Why would I?’

‘Promise.’

At your insistence, he humours you, ‘Alright, I promise, sweetheart.’

‘Come on back.’

When he steps into the workshop, he doesn’t spot you immediately. The space is seemingly empty, everything standing still and in order. He sweeps his eyes across the room, starting with the shelving unit and the desk along the near wall, then trailing over the large timber work table in the middle, where a stack of folded shirts stands neatly.

His throat isn’t the only thing that tightens when he glances at the rug under the skylight -

‘Joel?’

Your voice draws his attention to the far corner of the room, where a sewing station is tucked into a little alcove.

Joel doesn’t know much about sewing machines, but he can recognise a vintage Singer anywhere even without the name blazoned across its elegant body. His grandmother had one in her drawing room by a sunny bay window, and he used to watch her work on it when he visited every other weekend. For a disorienting second, he can almost smell homemade cinnamon rolls and black tea.

Little did he know that things were about to get a lot more disorienting than a pleasant childhood memory.

As he steps around the work table, the rest of the sewing station comes into view, fronted by a big window, the light streaming through the glass glancing off the black sewing machine on top of a classic treadle cabinet. What looks like a half-finished dress lies on the wooden work surface, which stands on quintessential wrought metal legs, and between them - his throat constricts with a slow swallow when he realises what - or rather, who - he’s looking at.

The words barely come out, as if his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth, as he makes his presence known. ‘I’m here, sweetheart.’

To be fair, you’re not making things easy by any means. All he can see is your backside hovering in mid-air, the rest of you out of sight under the desk. It has built-in cabinets on each end, the right side of it backed up against the far wall, and a chair is pushed to the side.

Joel stops two measured paces away, staring down at the curve of your ass and the way your top rides up, baring the small of your back. His eyes linger on the soft skin between the shirt’s hem and the waistband of your very tight jeans.

Jesus Christ. Do you always have to be on your fucking knees in this workshop?

Your small voice jolts him from his daze. ‘Well, at least you’re not laughing.’

He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from scoffing. If only you knew how laughing is the furthest thing on his mind right now. ‘What happened?’

‘A spool rolled off and I went down to get it, but I fell on the treadle accidentally - I think my shirt is snagged in the band wheel. I can’t move at all, and this Singer is an antique - I can't risk breaking it.’

Unfamiliar with what you’re talking about, he probes, ‘And where’s the band wheel?’

‘Under the table, on my right.’

You wriggle your hips, perhaps to help him locate where you’re stuck, unaware that you’re not helping. At all.

He swallows thickly and implores you, ‘Stay still, sweetheart. I’ll take a look.’

It’s been two whole weeks since Joel Miller came into the shop. You’ve caught glimpses of him in between - Jackson is tiny, after all. He catches your eye as he ambles down the high street with Ellie, his gruff Southern accent carrying even in the mid-afternoon bustle, too preoccupied arguing with the teenager to notice you on the other side of the road. He’s in the cafeteria a couple of times when you arrive for a late dinner, nodding at you from a few tables over, while you work up the nerve to smile back.

Every time, he’s wearing the jeans you handpicked for him, which makes your chest swell and constrict at the same time with something like - pride.

You picked out the pair for him. You assured him that he looks good. And by the way he’s wearing his confidence on his sleeve, he’s certainly taken your words to heart.

Whenever you see other women eyeing him as he struts about town - which is entirely too often - it awakens an ugly possessiveness in you, one that twists your insides into grotesque balloon animals.

Fourteen damn days. Even in the privacy of your workshop, you can’t escape that man. The simple touch of denim provokes a visceral reaction from you, heat chases beneath your skin every time you pick up the tailor’s scissors. It doesn’t help that most of your daily tasks are not exactly cerebral, which gives this man all the more leeway to lay claim to your subconscious.

If you believed in magic, you would've thought you summoned him with the sheer energy you’ve spent thinking about him. But what kind of witchcraft conjured him up at the precise moment you get trapped like the bumbling idiot that you are?

One minute you’re reaching for the stupid thread, the next thing you know, you’re stuck, unable to move without the mechanisms of the antique Singer groaning ominously at your attempts to free yourself.

But maybe, it’s still better than Lucy finding you. She’d take a hammer to the sewing machine to get you out, no question - patience is not her strong suit - and she’d be laughing at you for days.

You hear the floorboards give behind you as Joel moves into the space, which isn’t much - when you’re sat down at the treadle cabinet, the wall is barely two steps behind.

The wooden table creaks above you as he braces one hand on the surface, and you startle at what sounds like the vicious crack of a vertebra.

‘Um - you okay?’

Joel grunts. ‘I’ll live.’

So you wait, thinking absent-mindedly how your elbows are starting to get numb. There’s a scruff of boots and what sounds like a brief struggle, before Joel sighs. ‘Back’s too stiff ‘mfraid. Gotta get on the floor to see underneath.’

Before you can squeak out a reply, there’s a boney click of what you presume is his knees as he crouches down, and an unexpected brush of denim on your left ankle surprises you. Forgetting where you are, you jump in reflex, hitting the underside of the table so hard that you screech in pain.

‘Shit!’ Joel cusses behind you, one warm hand landing on the side of your hip to steady you. ‘You ok?’

Up until this point, you’ve been too consumed with embarrassment by your predicament to even think about the position Joel found you in. But once the warm imprint of his palm registers through the denim, it hits you like one of those interstate trucks that you used to see out of your window.

You’re leaning on your forearms, ass in the air, and now - he’s behind you, getting onto his knees. You can’t decide if the back of your head or your pussy is throbbing harder as you stutter, ‘I’m fine, just - get me out, please.’

‘Alright, hang on, sweetheart.’

You swallow the childish urge to stamp your foot. He has no right going around dropping sweethearts all over the place.

There’s a throaty exhale as Joel lowers himself onto the floor, his knees bracketing yours to shift closer to you. You know he feels the shudder that chases down your spine when soft flannel grazes your bare back, heat spilling from his solid frame as he looms over you.

‘You say you’re stuck in the band wheel?’

Somehow, you manage to answer, ‘Yeah, to my right.’

He clears his throat. ‘I - uh - I’ll have to lean down pretty close to you to take a look, is that ok?’

You feel all the air leave your body, which is probably why your reply comes out far breathier than you intend it to. ‘Yes, Joel.’

And with those two words, Joel has a problem with his jeans. Again.

They’re too tight. Again.

There’s nothing he can do as his mouth goes dry and his cock hardens with a vengeance, his self-control slipping like sand between his fingers.

He was doing so good - well, he was more or less holding it together, as much as he could be expected to while kneeling behind you. And of course, his damn knees hurt, but so does his bottom lip which is caught in his teeth, trying to regulate his breathing when his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest.

He already has one hand on you, and goddamnit, it’s taking him all he’s got to hold back from gripping you with his other, to grasp the swell of your ass between his palms, to trace your curves up to the dip of your exposed waist, to bow his head and run his tongue along the arc of your spine -

And the jeans you’re wearing - fuck, they’re tight. He wonders idly if you wore them for him. His eyes follow the seam that runs down the cleft of your ass, the way the pockets stretch over your backside has his fingers twitching, thinking about how well you will fill his hands, and how the slow rub of denim will burn his skin.

He wants to hook his thumbs into the belt loops and pull you flush against the zipper of his jeans, where his cock is straining against - rub himself on you, grind on you, his thighs plastered to the back of yours -

‘Joel?’

Fuck.

He sways as he snaps out of his stupor, dangerously close to knocking into you, light-headed from the lack of blood to his brain. He chokes out, ‘Yeah, I got you, sweetheart.’

Get it together, you dirty bastard.

He’s careful to leave a couple of inches between his front and your ass when he bends his elbows and ducks so he can peer beneath the desk. His chest pressed flat against your lower back, he can see the bunched fabric of your shirt where it’s caught.

‘Yup, you’re right, your shirt is snagged tight in there.’

‘Can you untangle it?’

‘Think so, but I’ll need both hands.’ He pauses. ‘I’d better get on my back under you.’

You swear you’re going to black out.

‘Pin?’ he prompts when you’ve been quiet a beat too long.

‘I - um, what do you mean by going under me?’

‘If I’m on my back, I can use both my hands, like a mechanic under a car,’ he explains. ‘If you’re uncomfortable, I can find another way -’

‘No!’ you blurt out, wincing at the desperation in your tone. ‘I mean - whatever is easiest for you. You’re the one doing me a favour here.’

‘Alright,’ he says, placated by your reassurance. ‘On your hands and knees then, sweetheart.’

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. Oh, come on. Can he hear himself?

Scraping together your last vestiges of control, you push up on your palms to make space underneath you. You have to consciously lock your elbows - your joints suddenly feel like barely set pudding.

‘Move as far to your right as possible so I can slide in.’

Shuffling on your hands and knees until you’re pressed up against the band wheel, you hear the brush of fabric on wood - must be his back against the floorboards as he slides in. To say it’s a squeeze is an understatement. His broad shoulders brush the front of your thighs as he inches in, and then, his face appears under yours, head between your hands.

His lips quirk. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’

Your breath hitches at his proximity, your wrists brushing the soft red flannel he’s wearing today. ‘Hi.’

‘You ok?’ he asks.

You’re this close to pouting. What does he think? There’s a telltale stickiness between your legs that you’re frantically trying to push to the back of your mind while you mmhmm noncommittally, hoping that he doesn’t smell your want in the tiny, claustrophobic space you’re now both caught in.

You can only assume that he’s none the wiser, since the next thing that comes of his mouth is -

‘Climb on top of me so I can slide in closer to the band wheel.’

Someone might as well say your last rites. This is the end.

You’re taken aback when your limbs start to move on autopilot, because your faculties have well and truly abandoned ship. One trembling leg attempts to swing itself over the solid breadth of his body, but it wobbles like jelly, and your knee ends up connecting firmly with his stomach instead of landing clear on his other side.

At his grunted oomph, you panic and bang your head on the underside of the table again, which sends your whole weight sprawling onto his front with a yelp.

Joel cradles the back of your scalp with one hand. ‘Shit, you ok, sweetheart?’

The seams of your lashes sting, your head smarting with the impact, and you blink drily as your gaze focuses on Joel under you. He’s so close that you can see flecks of gold in his brown eyes, his breath hitting your face in warm puffs. Your glance at his lips, and with that one little motion, all goes quiet.

He watches you back, neither of you breathing, and in the stillness you realise that you’re fully straddling him, your palms pressing into the hard floor on either side of his ears. Your tits are crushed up against his ribs, his soft tummy warmly cushioned under you. Lower still, where your hips are nestled into the spread of his thick thighs, something stiff and long and insistent presses into you -

Your jaw goes slack when it dawns on you.

Oh god.

He’s hard.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Joel breaks the silence, a pained frown on his brow as he shakes his head. ‘This is embarrassin’. Couldn’t fuckin’ help it, seein’ you in those jeans -’

Tongue-tied, you can only stare at him, wishing you were brave enough to say something. Tell him that you pulled extra shifts to buy this particular pair of jeans, knowing that they flatter your figure. That you’ve worn them almost every day these two weeks, hoping that he’d swing by again.

But you can’t.

So you pray that he can see what you can’t say by the way you’re looking at him, by the way your heart races wildly in your ribcage against his chest.

His voice cracks. ‘I understand if you want me to go -’

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and cut in, ‘Don’t.’

His warm eyes widen, something like hopefulness in the way he looks up at you. ‘You don’t want me to go?’

You press your body closer into his, filling in the gaps. ‘No. Please don’t, Joel.’

He leans forward, so close that you can feel the phantom burn of his silvered beard, his palms finding the meat of your legs, blunt nails biting into the denim.

He really should be ashamed of himself, at the way his cock pulses unabashedly, nudged right between your thighs as you stare down at him, lips parted. He’s hard enough that he worries if there’s a wet spot of precum on the front of his jeans - he can feel himself leaking through his boxers.

The wicked tip of your tongue traces a wet trail on your bottom lip, and he almost chokes on a half-buried groan deep in his chest. He knows that you don’t even know you’re doing it - and in turn, what that does to him.

It would be easy to close the two-inch gap between you. To kiss you, taste you, lick into your sweet mouth. All he needs to do is to cup the back of your head and pull you down, or crane his neck and press his lips to yours -

And Joel is someone who always follows the path of least resistance.

But - he wants to do right by you. He knows you deserve more than a quick fumble under a table.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Joel steels himself and brushes a chaste thumb over your cheekbone. ‘Let’s get you out of here, and then we can talk, ok?’

It’s almost perverse the way his chest warms at the flicker of disappointment in your eyes as you give a reluctant nod, ‘Ok. Please be careful, the Singer’s really delicate.’

It’s hard to focus - his attention keeps drifting to how snugly you fit into his chest, between his arms, and it’s not a stretch to imagine a soft mattress underneath his back. It's funny how quickly his body has adjusted to creature comforts after months of sleeping on the cold winter ground.

Joel’s mindful that an antique sewing machine will be a pain in the ass to repair without the requisite parts, so he moves carefully, gently coaxing the band wheel back and forth to see how he can extract you. It doesn’t take long to loosen the grip of the metal teeth on your shirt, but he has to reach up and untangle the threads snagged into the mechanisms one by one.

He muses idly that this is not his method. These hands of his, with crooked knuckles that never healed right, where many a dagger, knife, gun, rifle have found a home - they break things, people.

When was the last time someone asked gentleness of him?

He wants to scoff. That’s not what he’s good for.

Despite himself, his throat rumbles with a hum of satisfaction when the band wheel finally lets go of your shirt, the Singer whirring to life as it spins freely. He gives you a lopsided smile. ‘There you go, sweetheart.’

You smile, but don’t seem to be in a hurry to move, which pleases him. He likes looking at you from this angle, relishing in your weight on him. He takes his time running his eyes over your face, his palms coming to rest on your knees.

You duck your head prettily. ‘Thank you, Joel.'

He gives you a playful shrug. ‘Well, I owed you one for these jeans.’

You roll your eyes in good humour. ‘Actually, I told you specifically that you didn’t.’

Joel basks in the lighthearted turn in the conversation, egging you on, ‘Well, in that case, you owe me one for this instead.’

‘That’s hardly fair -’ you chide him, punching him in the shoulder in a half-hearted rebuke.

Taking the opportunity, he grabs you by the wrist, the contact prompting a bodily shudder from you that he doesn’t miss. He smirks, ‘M’fraid I don’t play fair, sweetheart.’

You glare at him in mock sternness, bold enough to demand, ‘Fine - what do you want then, Joel Miller?’

For a split second, he hesitates, woefully out of practice at whatever it is that he’s about to do. Swallowing his self-doubt, he asks, ‘Tommy and Maria are throwing a baby shower on Sunday at their house - do you want to come?’

Your shoulders stiffen. Now, that you were not expecting. Your social anxiety bubbles between your ribs and looms over you like a spector. You sputter, ‘Um, I -’

You start when his fingers draw soothing circles on the top of your knees, as if seeing straight through the source of your apprehension. He reassures you, ‘Lucy is welcome to join too. The more the merrier.’

Your eyes soften. ‘Ok. I’d love to.’

The endearing way the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles has you swaying towards him, his nose just brushing the side of yours - when the doorbell rings, cutting through the loaded silence.

In your haste to sit up, you knock your head against the table for a third time.

‘Ow!’ you cry. Even Joel flinches at the hard hit.

Lucy calls out, sounding dangerously close. ‘Pin? You ok, hon?’

‘Shit!’ You start scrambling backwards, bent over awkwardly, convinced that you’re one more blow away from a concussion. You’ve barely scrambled onto your feet when Lucy steps into the workshop, the world tilting on its axis for a moment as blood rushes to your brain.

She watches in amusement as Joel drags himself from under the sewing station, head cocked to one side. ‘Hi again, stranger. You really like our shop, don’t you?’

His shirt is rumpled from where you sat on him, bits of his curls sticking up. He rubs the back of his neck, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘I just swung by to, uh, invite you and Pin to the baby shower. Tommy and Maria’s. This Sunday.’

Lucy crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow. ‘And it’s a tradition where you’re from to talk about weekend plans under a table?’

You narrow your eyes at her. ‘Luce -’

She winks. ‘You know what? I don’t need to know the gory details - but I’m in. See you Sunday, Miller!’

Joel huffs a chuckle as Lucy disappears into the front of the shop, leaving you two alone. You smile, suddenly shy for no reason, twining your fingers to stop from fidgeting. ‘Thanks again, Joel.’

He shrugs it off, a touch of boldness in the way he stands, hands in pockets, hips cocked. ‘Pleasure was all mine, sweetheart.’

Instead of heading in the direction of the door, he takes two long strides towards you, leaning down to murmur in your ear, ‘Wear those jeans for me again on Sunday?’

Stunned, you gape at him as he turns with a crooked grin and walks off, dispatching a two-fingered salute at Lucy as he goes. Pausing by the threshold, Joel gives you one last wink that has your breath stuttering - but you only allow yourself to sag against the wall when the door closes behind him, your knees giving.

Lucy wastes no time skipping back into the workshop, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. ‘Alright, time to raid the party clothes rack, girl!’

You laugh - Sunday can’t come fast enough.

Notes: I had the best time writing this chapter - it was fun to flip the tables on Pin, not that Joel comes out completely unscathed!

I definitely have ✨ideas✨ for these two, but I'm enjoying keeping things loose, so I have no plans to turn this into a full-blown series just yet. I hope you enjoyed this instalment, comments/reblogs/asks are so so appreciated as always ❤️

#fuckyeahseams #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader

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vaokses · 3 months ago

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A ghost to its haunt (Pirtir, Ch.2)

Series Masterlist

<< Previous Chapter

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: You set off ahead of your family towards King's Landing, attempting to escape the restlessness that overtook you as the day your betrothal is to be announced draws nearer. You find yourself a witness to what has become of the people you once knew as the King summons you all for dinner.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Viserys is a terrible father, but you knew that already. Helaena is a dragonrider and has a close bond with Dreamfyre, the show can fuck right off.

A/N: Very little of Aegon here, I'm sorry. I promise next chapter will be more exciting. I hope you enjoy!

Title is from a diary entry by Virginia Woolf, "I come home - and I have a feeling returning like a ghost to its haunt."

Your hand caresses bronze scales as you come to stand on solid ground, and you find yourself fighting the instinct to command Vermithor to take you to the skies again as you face the awaiting party.

You had hoped that if you were to arrive days before you were set to do so with the rest of your family, they wouldn’t have enough time to make a spectacle out of your arrival.

Then again, a century-old dragon is perhaps not the best means of transport if you intend to catch them off guard.

And so there they stand, the Lord Hand, his daughter the Queen, and the three of her children that still live in King’s Landing.

You aren’t sure what it is you were expecting, but it certainly was not this. You seem to remember them wrong. All of them.

The spirited even if demure Queen of your memories, of angry eyes and fingers gripping a knife and demanding retribution; has left in her place a shadow of herself, a woman of tired eyes that offers an almost sorrowful smile as she greets you. The anger though, the anger remains.

The boy you last saw fighting back tears and putting on a brave face as the maesters treated his wound, stands tall as a man of his own right, wound hidden away behind an eyepatch and any of the humanity of your youth absent in his piecing stare.

Aegon is no less a stranger. Though a mask of him remains, much like the casts of corpses the families of Old Valyria used to make to keep in their homes, the boy you knew once, capricious and uncaring about the legacy or future of any of it; seems to have died since you last saw him, leaving behind something you don’t entirely recognize. Gone is the heedlessness and imprudence of your shared youth, leaving in place something like wariness, like resignation.

He seemed more spirited, livelier, when you were younger. You suppose you didn’t see then that he has his mother’s eyes -the anger, yes, but also the sorrow-, you didn’t notice then that he too shares in what seems a trait of his family of being uneasy in their own skin.

Your eyes meet, and though you find yourself with so much to say, you were taught better than to speak your mind, you know better by now than to let your heart get ahead of yourself. And neither the reproaches of it being his fault that you are to once again lose your home, nor anything else, something perhaps more foolish and far more careless, leave your lips.

Aegon looks back at you, eyes slightly wide in uncertainty and something else, something like expectation, and though for a moment you think he is to say something, lips parted forming for a moment in what you swear is the beginning of your name; he adjusts in his place, and looks away from you.

Finally, in a sea of strangers, there is a familiar face. Helaena looks familiar, feels familiar. Big eyes are fixed on you, though when your own gaze finds hers, she looks away. A smile, kind and warm and exactly as you remember, curves at her lips, and it gives you the impulse -the courage, the strength- you needed to approach them.

The pleasantries leave your lips with ease after you exchange your greetings, “Such a welcome was not necessary, though I am grateful for your kindness.”

“What was possible considering the…short notice of your arrival. It is essential for the people of King’s Landing to see you are welcome here, Princess.” The Hand states, each word chosen carefully. They can’t afford for the people and the Great Houses to think you a hostage, is what he means.

It is Aemond who steps forward then, before you can even utter an answer, hands joined behind his back, head held high even if for a moment it faintly bows in greeting. It seems he gauges you for a moment, as who plans his next step on a board game, eye narrowing before he adds,

“So as not to let them confuse your standing with your brothers’.”

You swear you can hear Otto Hightower heave a sigh at his grandson’s words.

Resigned, but with practiced familiarity after over a year spent in hostile territory, you fix your stance and return his words in kind.

“Surely my brothers are as welcome here as I am.”

“Hm. It just happens it is not a fair comparison, between my…dear nephews and you.”

You are as much of a bastard as your brothers, and you are certain he knows, for his mother is no idiot, and must have put together the coincidence of your conception happening during Daemon’s short stay in King’s Landing after your mother and Laenor’s wedding. And anything Alicent knows, she feeds to her sons, or so has Lady Mysaria warned you.

You would rather believe it is the slights your brothers committed against him, and the fraught nature of their relations, what leads him to see them as lesser than you, and not the thinness of their blood. You’d rather deal with vindictiveness than hypocrisy.

“In your eyes, and the eyes of your family, perhaps,” You remind him. “Not the eyes of the people of the Seven Kingdoms. That I can assure you.”

And it is no lie. You didn’t spend twenty months in foreign lands and sleeping in unfamiliar beds, drinking watered-down wine and eating overcooked duck, for your brothers’ legitimacy to be as challenged as it was before.

“It was not the people of the Seven Kingdoms who built this dynasty, niece. Our family did.” He argues, now in your native Valyrian. It pulls at an old part of your heart when Aemond speaks confidently High Valyrian, it makes proud the girl that would let the candles burn until they died out sitting by him and practicing the intricacies of your native tongue.

There’s a hint of a smile playing at your lips, for at his threat that it is the will and power of the men of your bloodline that can set the future of the inheritance, yours or your brothers’, you can answer with a threat of your own,

“No, dragons did.”

As if another part of this conversation, as if to serve as a reminder, Vermithor rumbles a low call, diverting your uncle’s attention to him. A clipped little hm leaves Aemond’s lips as he gazes upon the Bronze Fury, for the first time since you last saw each other in Driftmark years ago.

You feel the slow breath of warm air leaving the old dragon’s nose, it warms your hands, carefully joined behind your back. From the corner of your eye, you see Helaena’s smile at the sight of him, so alike the smile you saw brightening her face the few times you took to the skies together in your youth.

You know, though you dread to, that you are to command Vermithor to leave you behind, to occupy his place in the Dragonpit, but you hesitate.

You first stepped into the Dragonpit many years ago, long before you claimed Vermithor, to meet Dreamfyre, and then Sunfyre, which Aegon insisted you did after hearing his sister had taken you to see her own dragon. You were but children, and the Pit seemed another world entirely, cavernous and strong and other, but now you look upon them and see nothing but stone, carved by men, for men, to soothe themselves thinking they control fire made flesh.

You say nothing, instead turning around and looking into familiar bronze eyes. Vermithor’s answering rumble for a moment seems to imitate the shrill song Silverwing often directs at their eggs, and without another wasted moment he takes to the skies and towards the outskirts of the city, away from the Pit and towards the Kingswood.

“Dreamfyre knows he is here. She has missed them,” Helaena mutters quietly, watching him fly away and shifting in her place, as if the she-dragon’s restlessness is her own. “They were one, once. They should have remained so.”

You hum in agreement, watching the bronze dragon force the clouds to part for him.

“Much like you and I, they were side by side almost since they hatched, no?”

You turn to her with a smile, but the sharp gaze of the Queen keeps you from saying anything else or from deviating your attention from her.

“Princess. You flew here.” Queen Alicent points out, something like accusation lacing her tone.

You refuse to let your smile falter as you look upon the Queen and answer, “Any journey is made more entertaining, not to mention shorter, on dragonback, Your Grace.”

“Eager, then?”

“Restless.”

“Ah,” She nods, dark eyes trailing over your body from head to toe. “Must be why you come dressed for battle, then.”

You wear nothing too different from what any dragonrider would, and of course in your mother’s colors, but you won’t deny the dark chainmail over your sleeves, or the metal corset clinging to the red and black fabric, though subtle, are meant to resemble armor. It was a gift from your half-sister, readied for when your tour had meant to include King’s Landing.

“Dressed for a long flight, nothing more. I’m sure any of your children, all experienced dragonriders, would understand.” You answer, ready to force them into the conversation in order to avoid an ambush.

“A dress does make flying uncomfortable,” Helaena provides, as kind as you remember. Her gaze flickers to you, and she murmurs, so quietly it is almost silent, “A cloak for war, lies for battle.”

___

Merely an hour after your arrival -barely giving you any time to reach the Keep in the carriage, much less settle in what you are told are to be your apartments-they send your handmaidens a message, instructing them to ready you for dinner, for the King is awake and well, and wishes to welcome you as the pain from his illness prevented him from doing this morning.

The two handmaidens assigned to you -as yours must be somewhere in Blackwater Bay by now, making the trip here with the rest of your family- busy themselves without even a prompt from you, one tending to you in your bath and the other setting to straightening and readying the dress you brought with you on Vermithor’s saddle, along with a few other essentials.

You count on your family to bring what else you might need, along with the rest of your clothes and jewels, with them when they arrive on their boats. It is a practiced routine by now, after so long travelling on Vermithor, to take with you only what is most important while a day or two later the rest of the servants bring the rest.

“Is this…common? For my grandsire to attend dinner with all of them?” You ask one of the handmaidens as she brushes a conditioning cream onto your hair.

You do not care about the routines in the Keep, that isn’t why you are asking. You want to know the kind of women they have assigned to serve you, as you did whenever you traveled ahead of your own handmaidens during your tour.

“As any family meets as one for supper, Princess, so does the King’s.”

These girls are terrible liars.

You are surprised to find Princess Helaena waiting outside your apartments when you are leaving them to join supper. She stands tall, expression carefully void of any tells, and greets you with a murmur of your name.

Not your title, not niece, your name. Strange, that you cannot recall the last time your name was preferred, or the last time it was not uttered as a call to heel.

You accept her strange offer and let her walk you to the dining room, handmaidens and Kingsguards in tow.

“You are wearing red.”

“It is our family’s color. We are blood and fire.”

“Mother never makes me wear green.” She comments instead of offering an answer, and it is only at her words that you notice this morning, while her brothers wore dark green -almost black, but you know better-, and her mother vibrant emerald, she wore a soft blue dress with silver details.

“This dress is beautiful, Helaena.” You tell her, admiring the greys and blues of its silk, the various designs embroidered in its sleeves.

She lifts a loose sleeve to show you. Your eyes trail over ling insects of many legs and of odd antennas, before stopping to linger on a spider of red and black.

“I made these.”

“Oh, they are quite impressive,” You admit, reaching for her sleeve but stopping yourself a moment before when the Princess stiffens up at the threat of contact. Lifting your gaze, you await permission, or an explanation perhaps, but Helaena merely looks away. Even if a tad thrown off balance by her reaction, you grant her distance and continue, “Are these…real creatures? I have seen nothing like them before.”

“I copy them from drawings, or descriptions. Grandsire gifts me books that the maesters write about the animals and insects they find in their travels,” She tells you, and for a moment you are sitting with her on the stone steps of Driftmark’s castle on that last night, that last reunion, watching the spider crawling over your hands as she tells you about its origins, about the strings her grandfather pulled to gift her this creature, both of you unaware that your brothers were fighting in the tunnels below. The memory, the unexpected nostalgia that comes with it, catch you off guard long enough that the conversation dies out. After a few beats of silence, your aunt offers, “I’ll teach you, if you want.”

“Oh.”

“To embroider. Not spin.”

“I-I would love to learn, I-…”

“He is my brother,” She interrupts you, big eyes unwavering in their intensity. She speaks with certainty, with purpose, as if these scattered sentences hold just one meaning, “Despite the rest, b-before the rest. He is my brother.”

“I was sent here as a bride, not an assassin. Is this a warning?” You try to jest, but she loses none of the intensity, none of the…anger.

“Yes.” Helaena promises, surprising even herself at the statement, it seems.

Seeming to hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do or how to move, she finally decides to stride into the dining room that awaits you, leaving you behind.

___

Your mother was right. By the Gods, you hate to admit it, but your mother was right. You should have never ridden ahead of them.

The painfully small gathering has arranged you all around a small table, sitting you by the King’s side with Helaena at your other side, while your uncles and the Lord Hand sit across from you in the small table.

Granted, in your travels you scarcely found yourself dining with a family lacking tension, it is almost a condition of noble blood to hate those you share it with, but there is something else to whatever haunts the family that resides in the Keep. Errant, a thought crosses your mind, a gratefulness to your mother to have taken you from here if this was to be the outcome for you as well.

There lingers a lifelessness that reminds you of the marble model your grandsire keeps of Old Valyria, that makes you think of them all as beasts desperately trapped in the brittle stiffness of marble figurines.

The Queen sits as tightly coiled as a spring, jarring tiny movements, almost spasms, as she as she takes her seat next to the King; though her eyes, big and anxious, trail over you all, jumping from person to person like an anxious deer’s. Yet, neither she nor anyone else comments on any of this strangeness. Perhaps this is what is normal for her, for them.

Helaena has made it her mission to fold her napkin into some form or another, hunched over the table to focus on her task, and refuses to deviate her attention from it; while Aegon seems to have made his mission to discover how quickly he can sight the bottom of his cup, and appears to be making faster progress to his goal with each refill from the servants.

And Aemond is making quick progress to losing his other eye, by your hand this time, if he doesn’t cease in repeating this maddening little trick with his knife. He throws it a tiny distance so it embeds on the table, then pulls it out. Repeats this once more. Then spins the round-handled knife on his finger, one, two, three times. Back to the table, and the cycle starts again. Thud, thud, swish, swish, swish.

“I hear you came here on your dragon. How was your journey here, Princess?” Otto Hightower asks, and whether he intended to or not he has thrown you a rope to pull yourself out of the waters. After more than a year of travel and ceaseless talks with nobles, of endless dinners and constant lies and embellishments, an exchange like this is as natural to you as it is for Daemon to wield Dark Sister.

Thud, thud, swish, swish, swish.

“Quite wet, I’m afraid, my Lord Hand,” You answer, accepting a small pork tart a servant offers you. Nodding your thanks, you continue, “Vermithor enjoys the rain, and cares not for my opinion on it. If he sees a storm nearby, he’ll take us to fly right through it.”

Thud, thud, swish, swish, swish. By all the Gods, what use have Lord Confessors for instruments of torture when Aemond and his Gods-damned knife trick exist?

“I told you before, my girl,” King Viserys muses with a wry chuckle. “The idea that we control them is…is an illusion.”

“We control them no more than we control our own children,” You tell your grandsire, agreeable smile, as is expected, on your lips. “Or our parents.”

He seems to gather a deeper meaning from your words, and where you merely meant to compare the veteran dragon that claimed you as his rider and your parents’ own protectiveness, your grandsire takes it as a reproach of sorts, based on his downturned mouth, on his furrowed brow.

“I…I know you must still resent my decisions. I myself have come to regret them, with the years,” You are certain your confusion must be clear in your face, but he pushes forward with a grimace of pain as he leans closer. “But you are mine own, Rhaenyra. In my eyes, know that none of them could even compare, you must kn-…”

Queen Alicent interrupts him with a quiet whisper of his name and her hand resting on his shoulder, but you hear the unspoken words as if a dragon had roared them, as does everyone in the room, you are certain.

You venture to look to your right and find Helaena hunched over the table, both elbows resting besides her plate, and fiddling with her napkin, still attempting to fold it into some shape or another, and unaware of or unwilling to react to her father’s words. But you notice the way she has made herself smaller, the way her shoulders are hunched up almost to her ears, and you feel your heart break a little.

Prince Aemond is still relentlessly toying with the knife, but where the movements were practiced now they have a certain jitteriness to them, as if the repetitive motions are no longer the result of idleness, but of restlessness. It reminds you of the anxious flicks of Vermithor’s tail when he grows agitated.

The only one immobile is Aegon.

He is as still as a stone statue, arms extended and gripping the edges of the table as if catching himself from standing up -from fleeing? Or fighting?-. His eyes -by the Gods, he truly has his mother’s eyes-, wide in shock and shame and something older than himself, remain trained on the table before him.

A breath, stuttered and shallow, and his gaze lifts to his father. Pain, disgust, and somewhere in them you could swear there is also rage. You’ve seen trapped wolves with that look, you’ve seen cornered snakes with that look.

“Rhaenyra isn’t here, my love,” Alicent tells the King, “She will join us in a day’s time, to announce her daughter’s betrothal to Aegon. Remember?”

At the reminder, as quick as a soldier standing to attention, as instinctively as if a command had been issued, Aegon’s eyes flicker to you, only to find you already looking at him. The minuscule smile he offers you is one of lips pressed into a thin line, it is bitter, it is defiant in the face of humiliation, and it is terribly sad.

Cravenly, foolishly, you find yourself looking away. You turn to the King instead.

“Yes, of…of course,” There’s clarity in Viserys’ eyes and his mind for a moment before the pain or the remedy for it seems to dull it once more. “Forgive me, child. You do look a mirror of your mother.”

Your smile is a grimace but still sweet enough for your grandsire to answer with one in kind, but you find yourself stuck with no path forward, with no idea on what to make of this. What you know for certain however, is that you will forbid your handmaidens from ever again braiding your hair in the same manner your mother wears it.

“When she came of age, I was drowning in an ever-growing sea of letters and gifts, proposals and requests for her hand,” He reminisces, nostalgia as intoxicating to his senses as the strongest of wines. “I’m sure it was no different when you did.”

By the Gods, you want this conversation to be over, you have wanted for few things more fervently than an end to this uncomfortable and dreadful affair.

Stiffly, carelessly, you answer, “I wouldn’t know, I refused to hear of it.”

“Ah.” The King concedes, leaning back, disappointment and something impossibly close to grief clouding his gaze.

With a deep breath, through gritted teeth, you force yourself to add, “W-Which she tells me she often also did, when she was my age.”

“She resisted my every attempt to find her a match, as I’m sure she has told you,” He says, not wasting a moment to return to the bittersweet draw of memories. He lifts his cane to aim the ivory dragon your way with a smile on his lips that almost makes him have the healthier and rounder face of the grandsire you remember from your youth. Almost. “And I hear you resisted as well, and set off in your tour to make your own choice. You inherited her beauty and her temperament.”

But you didn’t inherit her temperament, and you don’t look like her. And though you love her, you aren’t like her, in your faults and in your virtues.

You understand, however, that it is yet another mask, another face. Some will wish to see your mother’s daughter and nothing more, and so you know that if you aim to win -and you do- that is the face you ought to show.

“I can only hope, grandsire.”

“It does warm this old man’s heart to know you walk willingly into this union, child,” Willingly? Your nails dig like claws onto your thighs, and from the corner of your eye you notice Helaena stop in her folding of the damn napkin and turn her gaze to you. “Despite the sacrifice it demands from you, despite the kind of man you must marry.”

He hasn’t said his son’s name. Hasn’t even looked at him since dinner started.

Now that you think about it, you doubt he has looked upon any of his children at all tonight.

And he hasn’t looked at you, not really. Not without seeing the face of the daughter he lost, the daughter he failed.

And though you ache to tell the King that were the odds to be even slightly more in your favor you would feed Aegon to Vermithor without hesitation, not in virtue of who he is but instead who he must become; and though you know what you must answer with is gratefulness for the recognition of your sacrifice, agreeable demeanor and a sweet smile; it is an old instinct, older than the one learned during your family’s self-imposed exile to Dragonstone, what decides your next words.

“It is no sacrifice,” You tell him, lie coming naturally to you, a skill in no small part Aegon helped you develop, with all the times in your youth that you lied to cover for him. “As you might remember, we were quite close, all of us. I am glad to return here, and I could ask for no better match.”

He knows you are lying. He is old and dying but he knows you are lying.

At least your grandsire remains as you remember him, and will take the comfort of an empty lie over the difficult reality of truth. He smiles, a sentencing.

“That is good to hear, sweet girl. It gives me hope that our House will remain united, able to withstand what tribulations are to come.”

“As it should. Only a dragon can kill another. Our House is invulnerable as long as it remains one,” You agree, as is expected, as is demanded. It is unbefitting, untoward, unthinkable, to have you admit you have often thought about it all burning, breaking, crumbling. To admit you have often wished for it. “I am honored to do as expected from me, and uphold the family, the crown.”

“You possess an admirable sense of duty, of sacrifice, Princess,” The Queen compliments, to which you know you must answer with a smile. Elbows leaning on the table, Alicent rests her chin on the back of her joined hands and asks, “Did you inherit that from your mother also?”

The smile, as false as a vow made in wine, falls from your lips instantly.

The Hand clears his throat, straightening in his chair, and at her direct attack there is not the calculating, almost proud look in his eye that was there the night she wielded a knife against your mother. He looks tired, disappointed and irked, but mostly tired. The look in his eyes reminds you of the Dragonkeepers in charge of herding the hatchlings.

“We will cease with these…these quarrels at once. Otherwise, our dinners, and our lives, will feel entirely too long,” It steals the ground from under your feet, the breath from your lungs, to hear him say such a thing. A lifetime. “Prince Daeron sent word that you were able to meet with him in Oldtown during your travels, Princess.”

Once again, The Hand saves you all, and thankfully diverts your attention from your own spiraling thoughts.

“Yes, my Lord. He and Ser Gwayne were kind enough to take me on a few outings and show me around. As beautiful a city as I ever saw.” You tell him, and though the answer is practiced and instinctual, it is no lie. The most innocuous street a thousand years old, every stone that makes up its castle witness to a hundred battles.

“It is a wonder.” Otto agrees.

You should bite your tongue, until it bleeds if you must, you know you should. But you didn’t inherit your mother’s temperament, and you want to remind them. Foolishly, recklessly, you want to remind them that you do not run when cornered.

So you add, “One must thank the Gods that your ancestor had the good sense to bend the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. It would have been a shame for such a wonder, such a House, to burn.”

“How fortunate the Hightowers are, then,” Aemond drums a short little beat with his fingers on the table, drawing the attention to himself. “That of the dragons capable of such destruction, only Vhagar remains.”

“Yes, marvelous creature that she is. Yet long past her prime,” You retort. “In all her might, Vhagar is a relic of days sadly gone from us.”

“Hm.” Another drum of his fingers on the table, and though he is still a stranger, you notice the clear tell of anger on him, a twitch on his lip, the slightest widening of his eye. You’ve seen Dragonkeepers with decades of experience burned to ash for the simple mistake of not heeding the creature’s warnings.

You will gain nothing from antagonizing him, and while you may amuse yourself by prodding to see what it is that makes him tick, you are aware Aemond remains a weapon you ought to be careful not to see turned at you.

In your months travelling through Westeros, entertaining conversations with Lords and Ladies from the most brilliant to the dullest, from the most hostile to the meekest, you have learned almost everyone has exposed nerves. Most are aware of them, and attempt to guard them, as you yourself have attempted to guard your own over the years.

Others, in arrogance or desperation, find themselves unable to. And while your grandsire’s need for peace -perhaps not peace, but merely the absence of conflict, not an extinguished forest fire, but a land devoid of air, where not even embers might linger alive- was something you expected would be easy to learn was his weakness, you are surprised by how swiftly you understand pride is Aemond’s.

“I have not seen you ride her in years, I fear neither my memories nor the stories I have heard must do either of you justice now, after so long bonded,” You admit, false sweetness twining with honest admiration. “Once I am settled here, would you take me to see her, uncle? We could fly together.”

You would think a praise as plain as those extended to some Lord or another during your travels, a request as simple as this, would not so easily disarm him, but it seems to.

A twitch of his mouth, as if he stops himself from giving a quicker answer, and Aemond leans back in his seat. A retreat.

Another drum of his fingers on the table, but there’s a nervousness to the movement now, and you fight for control to keep the smug smile off your lips.

“Of course, Princess.”

You bow your head and mutter a quick kirimvose, and catch yourself slipping, offering an honest smile. A part of you, still the child that would linger long after the candles had started to die out practicing Valyrian with a book recounting the Conquest, is still filled with awe at the mere thought of Visenya’s dragon.

And the part of you that felt her blood sing when Daemon made you take flight with him on Caraxes and Vermithor and taught you all he could of how to lead a dragon during war, during a true dance, wants more than little else for a chance to prove yourself against the Queen of All Dragons and her rider.

“A most excellent suggestion, sweet girl,” The King praises. “Two of the oldest living dragons, the two branches of our House, flying as one again. It will remind the Realm we stand as one.”

Must everything be for the good of the Realm, to send a message? Must everything be for appearances’ sake? You merely wanted Aemond and his hoary dragon to be reminded you and the Bronze Fury remain faster, better.

Reminding yourself to play, and desperate to close any openings these people might find, you search for a shield.

“I have dearly missed the musicians from King’s Landing. Many fond memories of my youth involve their melodies,” You announce, entirely more chipper than you have ever been naturally. Turning to the King, you prompt, “If you please, grandsire?”

He acquiesces, and orders the music start with a slight cough at the end of his words. He reaches with a clammy, cold hand and squeezes your fingers once before letting go.

Strangely, perhaps in the most bizarre interaction you’ve had since arriving, you find the Lord Hand regard you quietly and offer you a nod when your eyes meet, as if approving.

With your future betrothed seemingly intent on ignoring you and Aemond back to his maddening little game with his knife -it is strange, that even in such distinct actions and attitudes, the brothers remind you in the same way of the lions the Lannisters of Casterly Rock presented to you when you arrived, and the incessant circles the poor beasts would pace, forsaking food and water to keep up the mad repetition their time in captivity had impressed in them-; you find yourself with no remaining choice but to bother sweet Helaena.

“Are dinners in the Keep usually…like this?”

Like a castle a stone away from crumbling to dust, like a barrel leaking oil next to an open flame. Like an open wound, dug into by uncaring, rotten fingers.

“No. The pain makes father sleep a lot, so he doesn’t join us. Grandsire is always too busy to attend,” She tells you, intent on achieving on the folded napkin the perfect angle for what you know is a dragon. “And usually no one talks to me.”

“Oh.”

She taps the dragon’s snout once, twice, to further correct its position. Looks at it for a few beats of silence, studying it.

“I hope that changes with you here again. I haven’t had a sister before.”

Though her wording is strange, it is no different from the way the girl you remember from your childhood used to speak. You allow yourself a smile, honest for once, “Neither have I.”

“You have Baela and Rhaena,” She argues without thinking, before her eyes widen and rise to meet yours. “I’m sorry.”

“No use in lying to you, is there?”

She breathes a warm little laugh, but ducks her head, even as she admits, “Everyone still tries.”

“I can assure you it is not meant as a personal offense, Helaena,” You promise her, “To many it becomes an instinct. It is no longer a choice they can make.”

Her brow twitches, as if something bothers her, and she does a miniscule shake of her head as if to rid it of something. Instead of sharing thoughts you are certain are itching to be voiced, Helaena presents the napkin dragon to you.

You take it with careful hands, and bow your head with murmured, yet heartfelt, thanks.

___

Dismissed from what you are certain has been the longest dinner of your entire existence, you walk with Helaena to your room, your handmaidens having gone ahead of you to ready each of your rooms.

In your hand the cloth dragon is carefully cradled, and you muse aloud about where it is you will place it.

“Rhaenyra taught me to make these. I used to make them daily for father, for him to put next to his marble ones,” Helaena reminisces, “He discarded every one of them. Aemond found them one day, tried to hide them so I wouldn’t know.”

“I take it he didn’t succeed.”

“My brothers are terrible at hiding things, both of them.”

“I know, and so are mine. Remember when Aegon and Jace agreed to steal Sunfyre and Vermax from the Pits to have them race? Days before they were giddy, couldn’t for the lives of them hide they were up to something.”

“You cursed at them in Valyrian and in Common when you found out what they were planning.”

And yet you still went with them, as did Helaena. Even Aemond, grumbling the whole way, joined you and watched the dragons fly overhead with you all.

Foolishly, you find that you remember that day fondly, even though Jace refused to talk to you for a week after finding out you had bet on Sunfyre winning.

Instead of admitting that memories of a shared youth linger fresher in your mind, closer to your heart, that you would like, you argue,

“It was an objectively stupid idea. If our mothers had found out they would have had their hides. And ours.”

“They found out.”

“They did?” Your smile falters. Even to this day Jace boasts about the time he stole his own dragon from the Pits. “My mother never said anything.”

“Mine did. She-…” She stops, startles at a thud from within your room as the servants move about. She shakes her head again, though you gather it is memories and not something relating to her dreams that she aims to clear from her head now. “They found out.”

“I’ll be sure to tell that to my brother, he still believes himself some masterful thief for pulling it off.” You tell her, attempting to bring levity back into the conversation. It feels like yet another mask, for no one’s benefit, and you aren’t sure what to make of both the realization that you wear it even now, and the fact that you refuse to drop it.

You both come to a stop in the door to your apartments -what used to be your mother’s apartments, instead of the rooms you occupied when you were last here-, and Helaena speaks again,

“You couldn’t know, but I…I…” Her hands spasm, open and close, one, two times. Like dying spiders. “You hurt me, by leaving.”

“I never meant to.”

“I know. You didn’t have a choice,” She concedes, but the stiffness remains. Helaena lifts her head a little higher, hands joined together before her. “It doesn’t change that it hurt, however.”

“I…”

“Goodnight.”

She bows her head as a goodbye and doesn’t wait for an answer before she takes her leave.

Thank you for reading! Some chapters of this series will skip in time a bit, so if there's anything that wasn't clear or that you'd like to know about the time in between, or any skipped scenes, or stuff from the past, feel free to ask!

Taglist: @21-princess

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

Text

Uh oh, I'm falling in love (Lando Norris)

Y/N and Lando both have jobs that require good sight and attention to detail and yet they're oblivious to their feelings for eachother

Note: english is not my first language. I'm in a very fluffy mood, so I got really excited when I got this request! This also makes my expectations even higher and calls me single in about seventeen different languages at once...

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a needle (for sewing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey guys! How's everyone?", Max said to the camera as you made sure the set up was right, the screen showing his and Lando's faces on one screen and the table on the other like it was supposed to.

"As per your many, many requests, we have brought our graphic designer at Quadrant, Y/N", Lando announced as you appeared on camera, sending a very awkward first wave to the camera, "today's stream is little different than our usual programming, but it was the only way she agreed to be in one! You guys really wanted to see her, so we had to be creative!", Max said as he moved the friendship bracelets making kit into view on the table.

"Hey, Queen Taylor said we should make the friendship bracelets, so we're just following her!", you chuckled, looking at all the coloured threads and colourful beads, sorting them out and grabbing a pen and paper so you could draw your ideas.

"Since you guys wanted to get to know Y/N, can I tell them to send in questions?", Lando questioned you, "sure, I'll answer them to the best of mu ability", you smiled.

You were picking the letters you needed for the bracelet you were making when Max spoke up, "first one: how did you start working with Quadrant? I'd love to work on the team when I finish my degree!".

"I saw the job offer, and I must admit at first I didn't really know much about the company. I looked it up, looked cool enough and I sent my CV and portfolio in. So keep your eyes peeled for any offers, I guess? We have them now on the website, which was my doing, so you can check them out there if you want to be part of the team", you offered.

"I need help, guys", Lando said as he fiddled with his bracelet, the orange and grey beads with his initials sliding on the elasticated material, I can't do the closing knot on my own", he pouted as you placed your bracelet down.

"You have to flip it like this, here. Just put it on your wrist and I'll do the rest", you ushered him, your fingertips gingerly touching his hand and wrist as you quietly laced it, "this way we don't get frilly bits out and it looks pretty, see? Pretty!", you smiled, modelling his wrist for the camera.

Pretty, that's what he often thought about you. Not only pretty, but it was one of the first physical traits that came to mind.

"We should all have matching ones!", Max said as he completed his bracelet, impressively on his own, revealing the colourful beads with Quadrant spelled in white round beads with black letters, "I'll make one for each of you", he said as he watched you show your own, pink beads and a lyric he assumed was from a Taylor Swift song.

"I'll make Y/N's, she helped me after all", Lando said as one brave fan sent a comment into the chat.

He's so giddy to make Y/N a bracelet, it's a shame it will snap because of his lack of skills

Am I delusional if I say that they'd make a great couple?

If you're delusional, then what do I call myself? I still think they're making heart eyes at eachother whenever they catch the slightest glimpse!

We're joining forces, I think it's a noble pursuit!

He's a dork, Y/N, but you should give him a chance

Have you always known you wanted to be a graphic designer?

"I thought about different careers before I settled on this one, for now at least", you explained, "engineering was in the running up, but then I figured out that I was curious about how things worked, but that didn't mean that I wanted to be the one working on it. And this was a way to express my creativity, my strategy planning as well, and at the moment it's been quite good", you smiled as Lando grabbed your wrist softly, "I need to make sure this fits", he interrupted, "and it won't snap because I've learnt how to do it, thank you very much", he blushed. So he, too, was reading the comments, choosing not to dwell in them.

"Look, this way you always have a lucky charm with you everywhere you go, even if we're not together. We're eachothers lucky charms!", Lando announced as Max mafe a fake gagging noise.

"Are you all ready?", you said as you and Tara walked inside the room, clasping your watch on your wrist and hoping to find the boys ready.

Quadrant had been invited to a gala dinner that celebrated the companies in the same line of business, inviting five people to take part in the meal. After some team members politely declining the invitation since they had things booked already, the group ended up being Lando, Max, Callum, Tara and yourself.

The dress required everyone to up their usual style, hence the long dress you were wearing. Even though it was far from your usual everyday attire, you felt beautiful in the dress you ended up with after browsing the online shops for a while. The cut was simple, the skirt widening from your waist down and complimenting your curves as the sheen from the midnight blue fabric looked soft and sweet against your skin.

Lando seemed to think the same, trying his best to not let his mouth hang open when you and Tara walked inside their room, heels clicking on the wooden floor as you hurried them, "does it really take that long to put on a suit? I had to help Tara with the laces on her back and we still got ready faster than the three of you?", you asked, shaking your wrist to check if the dainty watch wasn't going to fall and that it wasn't too tight either.

Looking up to meet Lando's eyes, you were sure you physically and audibly gulped. No one should look that good in a plain white shirt. The cuffs were still unbuttoned, but the shirt itself was tucked in his black pants. He didn't have any jewellery, so his tanned skin caught your eye as it contrasted with his clothes.

"Lando has a problem with his shirt and we are trying to solve it", Max said, a little bit too antsy given that, at the naked eye, there didn't seem to be a big issue with the piece of clothing you had been inspecting quite closely.

"There was a loose button, and I tried to fix it, but I made it worse", Lando said as he pointed to the button on his hand, the slight movement showing you the place where it was supposed to he holding the piece together and closed.

"Three people in this room and no one thought about grabbing the sewing kit from the amenities?", Tara suggested, looking for it in the box that was the same as it was in your room, "see? Simple as that! Can you sew it, Y/N? My hand isn't fully healed yet, I can't quite grasp something that small yet".

Tara had injured herself earlier on in the week, prompting her to ask to tag out of the gala until you pleaded her to go so you wouldn't be alone, so she couldn't do it. None of the other guys seemed to even know how to pull the thread through the needle, so you grabbed the kit from Tara's hand, "sure, I'll do it", you said, "if that's okay with you, that is", you looked over at Lando.

"Sure, anything to solve this. Do I keep it on or should I take it off?", he questioned, wanting to slap himself straight after at his offer. Why would he volunteer to be shirtless in front of you? It certainly wasn't the way to go, shoving himself like that.

"On should be fine", you muttered, missing the snickers going on behind you as you wet the thread with your tongue, careful to not transfer any of the lipstick on it and ruining the piece without point of return for good, easily looping it through and adjusting the size of the ends.

"Button", you put your hand out so Lando could place it in your fingers, "I will do my best not to poke you, let me know if I do so accidentally", you mumbled at the closeness to him you found yourself in. It was the third button from the top, and as much as you loved the sight of the shirt slightly undone, the dinner required his shirt to be done up. Looping the thread on the button a few times, you moved to pierce the crisp white fabric so it would be secure, your hands dangerously close to his skin as you could hear his laboured breath. Lando still remembered and thought constantly about your fingers touching his hand and wrist when you did the friendship bracelets video for the YouTube channel, and right now, it only added to his predicament.

"It's done, all good!", you exclaimed, looking up as you cut the thread and seeing Lando's eyes on you. The intensity nearly threw you off of your balance as you stood the tiniest bit crouched down on your high heels.

Scrambling to further the distance between your bodies, you smoothed out the non existent wrinkles on your dress, storing the supplies back in the kit as Lando managed to utter out a thank you, too stunned and intoxicated by your scent to say anything else.

"I sewed a button as neither of you look any more ready that you were when we got here? We're going to be late!", you hurried, sitting next to Tara and ignoring her smirk as you scrolled through your phone.

"That shoot will have to wait since Lando won't be back here soon, then", you said, moving things around in the online shared calendar, "when did you say you could again? I'm sorry", you asked, rubbing your forehead and squeezing your eyes, adjusting your glasses and looking at him through the screen.

"The first weekend of the next month", Lando assured, "are you okay, Y/N?", he asked. The bags under your eyes didn't fool anyone and you looked tired. And sick, he guessed by the layers of clothing you had on.

"I had a pretty shit day, actually", you admitted, "I had to go with the guys from storage because there was an issue. The supplier sent the samples and we wanted to get things moving so I could have some ideas for the description and the social media team also wanted to prep the draft for the whole story telling, but it all went under. I also think I caught some bug, so it's been a fun day", you exaggeratingly smiled, mocking your own misery.

"You look like you need a hug, Y/N. Do you need a hug?", Lando asked as you nodded, "Actually, that would be pretty good, but I live alone. The neighbours would think I'm pretty weird if I went around like this asking for one, too", you reasoned.

Even though he wasn't next to you, Lando still managed to pull a smile out of you as he got up from the chair he was sitting in, hugging his laptop, "did you feel that hug?", he loudly wondered, "it's full of Get well soon fairy dust!", he smiled charmingly.

"Fairy dust, mate?", Callum wondered, reminding you of his presence in the videocall, "you try and spend more than a few hours with a little girl and you let me know. Mila has taught me all about fairy dust and princess magic", Lando added.

"How will we get out of here?", you wondered, starting to regret joining Lando, Max and Pietra when they said they were going to watch a football game. You loved the sport and you figured it would be a nice distraction after a work loaded week, but now, things were looking less than a distraction.

"We will let them space out once the game finishes, free up the roads as well because getting out of here will be a pain, too", Lando suggested.

The game granted your team a win and three points in the championship, the crowd going wild as they clapped, whistled and waved their scarfs, slowly leaving the stadium.

"Should we make a run for it now?", Pietra said, holding her boyfriend's hand as she allowed him to pull her away.

You followed Lando, thanking his choice of a colourful hoodie to wear today as it made it easier for you to spot him, "go in front of me, I'll back you up", he switched positions. You weren't having too much trouble until you were met with a ramp, people carelessly shoving others as they tried to leave as quick as they could, all with the same intent of avoiding traffic and crowded roads.

"Here, Y/N", you heard Lando as he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers in his and pulling you along, excusing you two as you approached Max and Pietra again, "we're here", you tapped the blonde woman's shoulder with your free hand.

"Goodness, that was and adventure", she said once you reached the stadium car park, the crowd clearing up significantly as there was maybe another ten people headed the same way as you were now, "is everyone alright? I think someone stepped on my foot quite a few times, or many people stepped on it at various different times", you reasoned, walking alongside Lando still.

"Don't we need to hand the bracelets back?", Max said as he looked at the sign, taking his bracelet off and depositing it in the box in the booth, Pietra doing the same as you seemed distracted.

"Are you okay, Y/N?", Max asked, seeing you and Lando were still holding hands and, because of that, not taking off your bracelets.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?", you scrunched your eyebrows, "we need to hand the bracelets back in, so I kind of need to have yours, too", he teased, looking at your hand still entwined with Lando's.

Removing your hand from Lando's as if it har started burning all of a sudden, you removed the bracelet, apologising quietly to the stadium employee as you thanked him, "shall we go now?".

"Dinner out?", Lando gulped, getting into the driver's seat, "Good idea, yes", Max added, sitting in the passenger's seat as you and Pietra sat in the back, your hand rubbing your other hand that had been laced with Lando's own one for a long time. Uh oh, you were falling in love.

The launch was finally over after an amazing response from the fans, leaving your heart happy and warm with a sense of mission accomplished.

"Is everything packed into the van?", you asked Tara, "yes, it's just this box. It has fragile things, so do you think you guys can take it in the car with you? It probably only fits at the front, so you'll have to squeeze in with the boys on the back", she smiled apologetically, "it's fine, we'll keep eachother warm like penguins do", you chuckled, holding the door open as she set the box safely.

Saying goodbye to her and the rest of the team, Max and Lando joined you, "You sit in the middle seat", Max pointed at you, opening the door ao you could scoot closer to Lando and he could get in.

"Could you tell me how long we have until get back?", Lando asked the driver, "with traffic at this hour, I'd say around 90 minutes", he smiled, turning on the blinker so he could leave the car park.

"Plenty of time for me to catch up on sleep, then!", you cheered, making yourself comfortable in the space you had, folding your scarf into an impromptu travel pillow, closing your eyes.

"Are you a snorer?", Max asked, making you blindly swat his thigh, "only when I'm sick, and lucky for you, I'm in presteen health, no blocked nose", you grumbled.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. In the last week, all of the nights combined, you probably slept less than thirty hours, so your body was indeed in need of rest.

"And there it goes", Max said as your pillow undid itself, Lando lifting his shoulder in reflex so your head wouldn't drop drastically, landing on top of him, "Good thing she isn't our engineer, hm?", he chuckled, looking at how his bestfriend was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

"I think I'm in love with Y/N", Lando whispered after he took your appearance in. You had forgone wearing make-up today, so he could see all your moles and scars, your pouty lips and the darkened skin under your eyes. It took everything in him to not bend down and kiss your forehead.

"Congrats on being the last one to find out, mate", Max added, shaking his head, "I genuinely thought you had some issue processing information, I'm glad to find out you don't.

"Now you just have to act on it, which is going to take you, what? Two, three more months?".

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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genderlessdude92 · 7 months ago

Text

PRECIOUS

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Alastor get into a fight because you’re just worried he got hurt after a fight with Vox. He snaps at you and…well, you isolate yourself. whoopsies!

WARNINGS: Emotional abuse, Toxic relationship dynamics (but they both love each other dw), Intense emotional distress, Language, Potential Triggers, Donestic conflict. (MAJOR FLUFF AT THE END THOUGH!!! ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP!!!) They were a couple alive too if you don’t mind idk i suck at writing- USAGE OF Y/N I ALMOST FORGOT AHHH- Lmk if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

WORDS: 1.7k

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

“Alastor, are you serious?!” You yelled as Alastor started to walk away from you, mid conversation.

Alastor had just gotten into a big fight with Vox, luckily survived, though. The frustrating part is, he won’t even let you heal him. Or know what the battle was even about?!

Which made you really, really paranoid.

“Alastor, don’t walk away from me, that’s rude.” You caught up with him and began to match his pace and he walked to the halls of the hotel to lucifer knows where. “We need to talk about this.” You say firmly. “I’m going to find out one way or another.” You add, raising your voice slightly.

Alastor stopped walking and turned around to face you. He was looking down at you, which always made you feel so small. Even if he wasn’t actually looking at you, you could still feel it.

“Well, then.” His voice was calm, but a hint of annoyance was there. “Aren’t you just invested in my little public hiccup.”He crossed his arms, waiting for your response.

“Yes I am. And I think we should talk about it, instead of you getting defensive.” You looked him dead in the eye and kept talking. “And why you didn’t tell me.” Your voice went quieter again.

Alastor hid a chuckle, “I thought you would care more about me surviving, than knowing how many lives I took today.” He raised his eyebrow, mocking you. “Or maybe, I don’t want to share this kind of information with someone who will judge me for it.” He was now fully annoyed by you.

You stepped closer to him, trying to keep him from leaving again. “Alastor, please stop. I’m just trying to help. I don’t…” You trailed off nervously. “I don’t want us fighting.”

Alastor smirked at you, “Oh, don’t worry love. We aren’t fighting. Yet.” His tone was harsh and he leaned down to look you in the eyes. “But I will if you continue to harass me about this.”

You felt yourself start to panic, but tried your best to hide it. “I’m sorry Alastor, I just…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, as he interrupted you.

“No. Don’t ‘just’ anything. You know I hate that word.” He said with a cold smile. “Now leave me alone before I get upset with you.”

“…You know,” You began, standing in your place as Alastor walked away, “You should at least act like you care about my opinion, maybe act like a husband, as well.” You snapped back, but in a more calm, collected tone. (minus the shakiness in your voice.)

“That’s rich coming from you.” Alastor snapped back, turning around to face you again. “What did I ever do to deserve such a self-righteous wife?” He raised his voice a bit, but not enough for others to hear. “How dare you assume things about me without even asking. How dare you come here and make demands of me. How dare you try to control me.” He continued yelling, walking towards you. “You have no right to tell me what to do! I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“I’m not trying to control you. I’m just saying, maybe you could at least consider what I have to say sometimes…” You tried to say bravely, but failed at the end. You felt so small. So insignificant.

You felt like nothing.

Alastor was now right in front of you, towering above you. His height and stature were intimidating, but his voice was worse. It was rough and demanding, making you feel like you weren’t worth anything. “You are nothing, nothing compared to me.” He sneered. “I don’t give a damn about what you think. What you say. What you do. You’re just a pathetic little sinner who has no idea what real power feels like. You’re not worthy of my time. You’re not worthy of my attention. You’re not worthy of my love.” He spat out the last word like it tasted sour in his mouth.

His words were cutting through your heart, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You dashed away to the nearest staircase, needing to get to your office. Your only safe space.

***

It has been about a week now since the fight you and Alastor had.

It had also been a week since you came out of your office.

You didn’t really leave your office because, one, it had a fridge of food and other things. Two, you had a makeshift bed with the couch. And three, why would you even go out there?

Only problem is, you’ve cried everyday, and that made you feel like complete imp-shit.

You really wanted to see Alastor, but you knew it wouldn’t end well.

You also didn’t want to be around anyone else, either.

***

Alastor was a gentleman to all women who deserved so.

An example he would give you is Rosie. He’s a gentleman to her because she’s nice to him and has manners. She deserves it.

But, if he was near Velvette, he would call her cruel names and shred all her ‘designer masterpieces’.

But, now he was confused.

What happened with Y/N?

He had never fought like that with her before no, usually she would be next to him in bed right now.

He was starting to miss her.

…he needed to give her an apology.

But he knew he wasn’t good with words.

So, he brainstormed.

“I could probably give her a heart…” He thought, stepping out of bed and pondering for a moment, “…no, no….maybe…some flowers?…” he looked over to his bayou. “…Allergies.”

He slumped onto his armchair and looked around his room for any ideas at all.

“…maybe some candy? No.” He thought, “She doesn’t eat much sweets.”

He sat there for a while longer, thinking.

Then it hit him.

***

You heard footsteps outside your door, and immediately froze. You looked around your room for any escape route, and found none. You decided to sit back down on your couch, and began to wait for whoever was there to leave.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and a knock sounded out. “Y/N, open the door.” Alastor’s voice was stern and commanding. “I know you’re in there.” He added.

You opened the door slowly, and peeked out to see who it was.

“Hello, darling.” Alastor said with a warm smile. “Can I come in?”

You just stared at him, saying nothing

‘fuck’, he thought, ‘i caused this.”

“Y/N, I just want to apologize.” He finally said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was wrong.”

“…you don’t mean that.” You replied, still not moving.

“I do mean it, darling. Please jsut…let me in.” Alastor said sincerely, taking a step forward.

You hesitated for a moment, then moved aside to let him in. He closed the door behind him and stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of what to do or say next.

Then, your eyes wandered to the large picture album he was holding to his side.

“Alastor…what’s that?” You asked, taking a step back cautiously.

“…it’s our picture album.” He looked at you, remaining calm. “…from…when we were alive. You know, with all those crappy photos.” He smiled softly.

You looked up at him, “…I’m scared.”

Alastor knew exactly why, as well.

He sighed, “I promise…I will keep myself contained if i ever, ever lash out like that… ever again.” He claimed, tears building up in his eyes.

“What i said back there was not true at all. You are everything to me, you are worth so much, and most of all, I love you.” He dropped the book to the floor and held out his arms to hug you.

You didn’t move, “…I don’t want to be here…” You said, letting a tear fall.

He nodded, “That’s okay, dear, let’s go to our room, okay?” He reassured, picking the book back up and holding you tight to his waist as the shadows consumed you both, talking you to his room.

***

You and Alastor missed this.

Limbs tangled together in bed, holding each other close, breathing in each other’s scents, you wish you had this sooner.

Alastor flipped a page of the album, “Oh look,” He noticed, pointing his claws to the first picture in the album, “It’s our cat, oh, what was his name again?” He asked, looking at you.

You were still crying.

He took a deep breath, “Y/n,” he exhaled, “It’s okay, dear…please don’t think about it.”

You looked at him, “w-what?” you said, wiping your cheek.

He ran a claw through your hair, “Nothing.” He said, smiling softly.

You put your head on his shoulder, “Okay,” you mumbled into his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying his scent.

He stroked your hair, “Do you remember our wedding day?” He asked.

You shook your head, “…no, I don’t…it was too long ago…” you said, sniffling.

He kissed the top of your head, “That’s alright, sweetheart, we have plenty of time to talk about it.” He assured you, pulling you closer to him.

You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. You felt safe in his arms. Safe and loved.

Alastor flipped the pages until he found the wedding pictures, “Oh, here we are. Look, see how my mother walked you through the aisle?” He rubbed the picture with his thumb, rethinking back the memory.

“…yeah…I remember now…” You snuggled closer into him, trying to control your ragged breathing.

“…just breathe daring.” He reminded you, “Look here, you see how much you’ve changed?” He laughed softly, flipping another page, “See here? Here you are at our anniversary dinner, you wore that beautiful dress that made your legs look amazing.” He blushed lightly, “I remember you told me I was the only one allowed to see it.”

You giggled, “…that was a joke, silly.” You said, opening your eyes and smiling up at him.

“Ah, yes, I know.” He smiled back,

“…You’re so precious to me, y’know that?” He said, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: Idk what i was thinking when i made this fic erm…! Idk I’ve been going thru some shit rn but I’ve gotta impress the community because the notes/likes/comments/reblogs on my posts aren’t doing to good rn!! Oh no!!! (that is a sign from my greedy ass) And i just started a multi-chapter fic so like idk why i’m typing this- support is appreciated. BAI!!![![![11!

-Lynn ¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩ Masterlist Link

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you

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space-matt · 8 months ago

Text

right person, wro- ight time

matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: lifelong best friends, but with hidden feelings.

Can one night change everything?

request: yes -> anon

cw: use of y/n, angst, fluff (?), mention of sex

author’s note: hello everyone!!! Here I am back after a long time, but I wanted to take a break from writing.

At the moment some of my stories like ''Breaking promises'' are archived because I'm revising them and changing some things, if you want you can take a look here -> masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

As you watch Matt and his girlfriend engage in a passionate display of affection on the couch, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions. Jealousy and anger course through your veins as you long to be the one in his arms. The scene before you seems like a cruel reminder of what you can't have.

You have known Matt, and his brothers Nick and Chris, for as long as you can remember. Your mom's close friendship brought the four of you together, and you've been inseparable ever since.

You've shared countless memories together, from taking warm baths as toddlers to navigating the ups and downs of adolescence.

Your feelings for Matt first emerged when you were just eight years old. While his siblings ran around and teased each other, he was the only one who pushed you on the swing, making you feel safe and cared for.

Or how that time in middle school he was next to you when coming out of the bathroom, he noticed a red spot on your butt and promptly gave you his sweatshirt to cover you up.

Over the years, your attachment to him only grew stronger, even as you had flings with other boys. You never acted on your feelings, though, afraid of ruining the strong bond you had built with him over the years.

Now, as you watch him with his girlfriend, you can't help but wonder what could have been if you had been brave enough to take a chance on love.

As you sit on a cushioned chair in the cozy kitchen, you turn towards the stove and place your phone on the wooden table, emitting a snort of frustration. Chris, who is equally exhausted by the ongoing show, rises from the couch and comes to hug you from behind, enveloping you in his strong arms.

"God, I can't stand them anymore," he whispers softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

"Don't tell me" you reply, your eyes still fixated on the screen of your phone, as you use one hand to scroll through social media and the other to caress Chris's hand, which is resting on your chest.

At times, you find yourself wondering why your heart chose Matt over Chris, especially given that Nick is off-limits. Chris is so caring, kind, and affectionate with you that you have thought several times that he actually has feelings for you.

However, you try to suppress this thought because if it were true, you would disappoint his heart by telling him that the person you love is his brother.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

As you lay on Nick's bed, you stare up at the ceiling, taking in the intricate patterns of the plasterwork. The guy sitting beside you is completely absorbed in editing the video that they plan to post later on that evening, with their headphones on and their eyes fixed on the computer screen.

Suddenly, a loud and jarring sound reverberates throughout the house, causing you to raise your eyebrows in confusion. You listen carefully, and a few seconds later, another door slams shut, confirming your suspicions that something is definitely wrong.

Your heart racing, you get up from the bed and begin to move cautiously towards the stairs, your senses heightened and your mind racing. As you make your way down to the living room, you can feel the tension in the air, and you can see that Chris is lying on the couch, his face contorted with concern.

You approach him and ask in a hushed voice, "Was that Matt making all that noise?"

He nods his head, his eyes meeting yours with surprise. "Yeah...apparently Perrie dumped him" he replies.

Your voice drops to a whisper as you consider this news, and you say, "Uhm...I'll go check on him..." You walk towards his room, feeling a sense of trepidation in the pit of your stomach. As you approach the door, you can hear the sound of muffled sobs coming from within, and you know that you need to go in and try to help him through this.

You stand outside Matt's door, knocking a few times, but receive no response. You call out to him, "Matt...it's me, please open up" and lean your forehead against the door. Only when you hear the lock click do you lower the handle and enter the darkened room.

As you step inside, the scene before you breaks your heart. Matt is lying on his stomach on the bed, his sobs echoing throughout the room. Without a second thought, you move to his side and embrace him, whispering "Shh...don't cry please, she doesn't deserve you" while gently caressing his back.

Through his tears, Matt manages to speak, "She...she's everything to me." A beam of moonlight enters the room, illuminating the bed you are sitting on, and you can't help but notice how red his otherwise clear eyes have become.

A spontaneous gesture starts from you as you take your sweatshirt sleeve to wipe away his tears. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and taking his hand, offering your support and patience.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain as you saw your close friend Matt in such a vulnerable state. His head was bowed, and his eyes were shut tight as he let out a deep sigh. You knew that he was going through a tough time in his relationship, and your heart went out to him.

Despite your sympathy for his situation, you found yourself thinking selfishly at that moment. Perhaps, you could finally have a chance with him. You pushed that thought aside, knowing that your emotions were taking over your rational side.

Matt looked up at you, and you could see the sadness in his eyes. He began to speak, but his words trailed off as he struggled to find the right ones. You squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.

"She says she wants to take some time to think, and... she doesn't know if she loves me like before" he finally managed to say, his voice trailing off again.

‘’Ow Matt.. I’m sorry’’ you reached out to him, stroking his cheek as he rested his head against yours. At that moment, time seemed to stand still as you gazed into each other's eyes. You could see the pain etched on his face, and it broke your heart.

As you sat together on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, your mind began to race with a million different scenarios. You wondered what the future held for you and him. As if in response to your thoughts, you saw Matt's figure approaching you, his gaze fixed on your lips.

''Matt what are you doing?’’ You ask when you find yourself an inch from his lips feeling your breaths grow heavier;

With a gesture, his lips rest on yours and you can't help but think how soft they are and how long you've been waiting for that moment.

The rest comes on its own: removed all distance remains you, lying on his bed sharing what to you was perfection, Love. To him, it was pure distraction, Sex.

At least that was what he thought at that particular instant.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and a few rays of sunshine coming in through the window, casting a warm glow on the room. As you turn your head to the other side of the bed, you notice that the mattress beside you is empty, and a sense of loneliness washes over you. Wrapped naked in the brown sheets, you feel a deep longing for the person who was lying next to you just a few hours ago.

You look around the room and see your clothes scattered on the floor, which reminds you of the events that took place the night before. You recall how you finally confessed your feelings for him, and you think he reciprocated them. It was like a turning point in your relationship, and you couldn't be more thrilled.

However, you don't want to arouse suspicion, so you quickly put on your clothes and quietly walk out the door. As you step into the open space, you notice his figure sitting with his head in his hands. You wonder if he's feeling the same as you.

You glance around and realize that the other two boys are still sleeping in their rooms, completely unaware of what happened between you and him last night.

As he senses someone's presence, he turns to see who it is. It's you, and you’re standing there motionless. You ask him what's going on, but he remains silent and instead, keeps looking at you. You remain in your position, unsure of what to do next.

Finally, he breaks the silence, "Y/n, we need to talk," his voice is low and serious. You understand that this is not going to be a simple conversation, and you head towards the sofa to sit down. He follows suit.

He stares at you for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. Finally, he says, "What happened between us can never happen again... it was a mistake." His words hit you hard and you feel like someone has just stabbed you in the heart.

The words < It was a mistake > echo in your head, and you can't believe what you're hearing. Your mind is racing with all sorts of thoughts and feelings.

Mistake

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, your nose burning, and your mouth becoming dry. It's as if a flood of emotions has suddenly been unleashed, and you can't control it. You try to hold yourself together, but it's too late, and you break down in tears.

You look at him with a mix of confusion and hope as you try to decipher what he is trying to say. "I thought that...I thought that you finally reciprocated my feelings and that...we were making love" you stammer, your heart sinking as you realize the truth.

He looks down, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, y/n. I was confused, and you were there to comfort me. I didn't understand anything anymore" he says, his words heavy with regret. "I'm not in love with you, y/n, but with Perrie"

You feel like the ground has opened up beneath you. It's like the world has stopped spinning and you are trapped in an endless moment of pain. You want to disappear, to run away from this unbearable situation, but you are frozen in place.

You sit there on his couch, tears streaming down your face, as the anger slowly grows more and more. How could he lead you on like this? How could he use you like that?

"How can you say that to me now? Tonight, you didn't think that way when you were inside me, huh?" you say with all the hatred your body could muster at that moment. You get up without waiting for his answer, your mind racing with a million thoughts.

You go towards the front door, slipping on your shoes, and taking your jacket from the coat hanger. The spring breeze kicks in, causing you to clench the fabric covering your shoulders. You slip your hand into your pocket, pulling out your car keys, which you shortly use to lead you toward your home, pulling up with your nose.

You feel lost and confused, your heart shattered into a million pieces. All you can do is cry and wonder how you will ever be able to trust anyone again.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Since that fateful night, two weeks have passed and that feeling of having been just an afterthought only invades your body, and it becomes even heavier when sitting on the couch eating ice cream, you get a notification after days of silence

| Chris: | Wassup ‘ma!! Where have you been? Nick and I miss you :(

As you read his message, it felt like the weight of the world had come crashing down on you. You were slowly sinking into an almost hysterical cry. It was because you had decided to completely cut off all relations with Matt. And, as a result, you had also cut off your two best friends since they lived with him.

You had thought about meeting them outside, but your appearance would have aroused several questions, and declaring that you had sex with their brother would have definitely not been the response you wanted to give.

You lowered your gaze to your belly and started caressing it while tears streamed down your face. The worst thing was when you realized that you were five days late for your period. You panicked and ran to the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test, and it came back positive.

| You: | Hi, sorry I've been busy with several things... I miss you too <3

A few minutes later your phone lights up again

| Chris: | Did you hear?

A confused expression appears on your face at his question

| You: | Heard what?

Those seconds seem to last minutes, those minutes hours as your anxiety surges.

| Chris: | That moron of Matt got back together with Perrie

Crack

That's what your heart does for the umpteenth time as more tears are released from your eyes that have now turned red.

Out of frustration, you throw the phone across the couch, but it bounces causing it to fall to the floor.

C r a c k

''Fuck'' you pronounce as you stand up to see the distasteful accomplishment. You pick up the phone and see that the screen is half shattered but still working ''Fuck'' you whisper thinking how life is so unfair to you.

| Chris: | Are you still there?

You try to recover by taking a deep breath

| You: | Yeah... sorry but I'm tired, I'm going to go to sleep. I love you.

You cut the conversation short not wanting to know further details

| Chris: | goodnight Love yaa 2

You sit on the couch, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. You close your eyes, trying to control the tears that are forming in your eyes. You take a deep breath, but the feeling in your chest only intensifies. You can't take it anymore, and you know what you have to do. It's something you've done before and something that comes naturally to you - you leave.

You get up from the couch, with a heavy heart, and head to your room. You grab your computer, returning to your comfortable seat, and immediately type into the search engine < flight from LAX to Boston >. You skim through the options, and click on the first website you see, noting that the earliest flight is the next morning. Without thinking about it, you buy a one-way ticket and book the cab that would pick you up.

Immediately after making the transition, you get up and return to your room. You take a deep breath and look around. You know you have a lot to do before you leave. You walk towards your closet and take out your huge suitcase. You begin to stuff all your clothes inside, carefully folding them and making sure everything fits.

You know that this is not going to be easy, but you're determined to leave everything behind and start fresh.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Over the past two months, you have received numerous messages and phone calls that you haven't responded to. Even Matt has tried to get in touch with you, but you decided to change your phone number to avoid any contact.

When you arrived your parents were somewhat surprised but very happy to see you. You always had a beautiful relationship with them, especially with your mom, your best friend. Although with some fear, you explained the whole situation to her including that you were pregnant with Matt.

The decision to keep him/her is not yet final but you know you have two shoulders to count on and that no matter what, they are there for you.

Slowly your belly begins to become more noticeable, and with the arrival of summer, it is almost inevitable to miss it.

''Darling are you ready? MaryLou and Jimmy are waiting for us'' you hear your mother calling you from downstairs.

You look at yourself in the mirror trying to fix your shirt as best as you can, and to hide the small bump ''Yeah I'm coming'' you reply picking up your bag and then going down the stairs and closing the door behind you heading for the car ''Here I am'' you announce to your parents sitting in the front seats.

The Fourth of July has always been celebrated with the Sturniolo family, between barbeques, swimming in the pool, laughter, and the company of little dog Trevor you have only good memories in your mind.

This year you accepted only because you heard that the three boys would not be there due to several setbacks.

The drive between your homes is fortunately short because nausea begins to set in, and even more so when after stepping out of the car you are invaded by a very strong smell of barbeque.

Immediately having hugged MaryLou and Jimmy, you notice how the house is decorated from top to bottom ''Wow MaryLou you did a great job this year'' you tell her smiling ''Oh don't thank me but those three in the garden, rather go to them, we'll take care of this'' she replies pointing outside

< Are they here? All three of them? Weren't they supposed to be on the other side of the United States? What do I do? Do I run away? Do I stay here? What the fuck do I do? >

Your conscience does nothing but have question after question. You look at your mother for help but she is so busy helping her friend that you see yourself forced to give a big sigh and head for the garden followed by Trev.

''Oh my gosh y/n where the fuck have you been?'' Nick exclaims as he gets up from his chair coming toward you wrapping his arms around you ''Why did you fucking disappear? Literally no fucking messages or fucking calls'' he pulls away looking you in the eye concerned but all you do is stand silent.

Matt and Chris are also standing but neither of them seems to have any idea of moving from their position. Matt still regrets how he behaved while Chris is disappointed and angry at you.

He still doesn't understand how out of all the people you could erase from your life you chose to add him;

And it is true, in the last few years a wonderful friendship has grown between you where Chris sees you as a reference point when his brothers become too annoying, you were and, despite everything, you are his rock.

''Sorry'' is the only thing you can utter looking away so as not to meet their gazes.

''Only sorry can you say? You are so selfish! You thought only of yourself abandoning everyone, you abandoned me'' Chris pronounces in a harsh tone approaching you, doing nothing but bringing tears to your eyes

''Say something, speak the fuck up. What do you have to say for yourself?'' Chris continues waving his arms in different directions leading you to take a step back ''Chris please you're scaring her'' Nick says hitting him on the arm ''I don't fucking care, I want to know why'' the smaller one replies to him always looking at you.

The tension in the air is palpable, and you feel a sense of helplessness wash over you as you try to explain your actions.

At that point Matt couldn't stand that situation anymore ''It's me'' he exclaims making everyone turn their gazes in his direction ''What you?'' Chris asks confused ''I'm the reason she ran away'' he says lowering his gaze ''And what about you? What the fuck happened?’’ Nick asks as he sits waiting for someone to speak, but silence reigns among you as you hear your parents' voices in the distance.

''Me and y/n had sex the day Perrie dumped me'' Matt pronounces in a whisper, almost not making himself heard ''Speak up motherfucker'' Chris says putting even more agitation on you ''Oh Jesus Christ me and Matt had sex, but it was just a one-night stand for him, which it wasn't for me since I'm madly in love with him. I thought by getting away from him and consequently from you, I wouldn't suffer but I feel like shit about it and even more since I found out I'm preg- '' you say all in one breath freezing as you realize you've told your little secret.

The silence between you and your friends seems to last forever, as you try to process what just came out of your mouth. "Are you pregnant?" Matt asks, approaching you. You nod, almost instinctively, bringing your hand to your belly.

"Why did you keep it to yourself, y/n? You know we'll always be there for you" Chris says, his tone softening, almost as if your revelation made him forget the months that passed without any interaction from you.

You try to explain, "I don't know...I was scared and I still am now. Besides, knowing that Matt was back with Perrie made me feel bad, so I did the only thing I could do: go back home." You sit down next to Nick, feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable.

Matt then reveals that he and Perrie are no longer together, and Nick and Chris decide to leave the two of you alone. Matt takes a chair and places it in front of you, his tone calm but agitated at the same time. "I know what I told you that morning and what I'm about to tell you sounds like nonsense, but..." He takes a deep breath before continuing, "After you left that morning, I felt like shit. I shouldn't have treated you that way and I shouldn't have made you feel like just a spare tire."

He pauses for a moment before continuing, "That night kept resonating in my mind, and I thought that getting back with Perrie would make me my old self again, but I couldn't. And I can't get your name out of my mind. I feel that these feelings I've always had I tried to bury and deny myself...but fuck y/n, I'm in love with you." His words enter your brain like a hypnotic spell, leaving you stunned and speechless.

''I was really hurt about it Matt...all these years hoping that one day you would look at me with different eyes but you only had them for other girls, to you I was just your best friend...'' you confess looking into his eyes

‘' I'm really sorry, if I could go back I would tell the me of 14 years to go to you and not to be afraid to say how I feel'' he says taking your hand in his while with the other he caresses your cheek

''I hate myself for making you feel this way all these years'' Matt says in a whisper, shifting his gaze from your eyes to your mouth.

''A little bit too but I love you so much'' you say making your lips meet in a passionate embrace, a rush of emotions floods over both of you. The weight of past regrets and missed opportunities seems to dissipate in that single moment. The tenderness in Matt's touch and the sincerity in his words have touched a deep part of your heart.

With your hands still intertwined, you take a deep breath, ready to embrace the future together, knowing that your love is strong enough to overcome any obstacles that may come your way.

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

Taglist: @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @blackhorses-posts

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #romantic #romance #space matt #one shot

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blueparadis · 1 year ago

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꒰ U LOST ME ꒱ ⋮ GOJO SATORU → [ CONTENT & TAGS ]: sorcerer!fem!reader x ex-boyfriend!satoru gojo ( powers not described ), hints of virgin!gojo, relationship talks, angst, undertones of smut, fluff, hurt and comfort, canon divergent, mention of Geto and Shoko, mention of smoking, alcohol. // syn. | Gojo never liked the idea of piling up unfinished business, and he was not tough enough to chase you so he waited for you to come back. + word count -1kish // back to blog navigation.

“This was a mistake.” Satoru unzips your jacket holding the apex of the zipper in between his teeth; along with the tiniest sliver of modesty that you had kept carefully tucked underneath your skin.“I should have never come here.” His galactic eyes stilled on you. He is still holding the zip in between his teeth. The jacket is not undone yet. He has paused halfway. “S'to0ru, why did you bring me here again?”

Great! The painkillers are now slowly kicking into your system. But at least you are safe now. You are in his vicinity. That's all he cares about. That's all he needs to protect you. That's all he needs to —

“was I supposed to leave you there?” He unzips the rest of your jacket. Your belly is on display. Not that he could not see it, he always did. With his six eyes, he could see anything he wanted to. But with his limitless being off, he is more embarrassed than you are right now. This is the first time he is touching you, the first time ever touching a woman. “Seriously, how bad do you think I am?” There is a tone of mockery in his words. He finds it funny. hah! Of course, he does. His hands are resting alongside your shoulders. He scans your body. You are wearing a bra and three-quarter jeans; wherever his eyes land it is bruised. “God, what kind of missions were you doing past these years, babe?”

Now that he is hovering above you, you can meet his eyes properly. “Babe, huh?” Satoru notices your face contort, lips tremble and eyelids blinking rapidly. You look away holding your tears back. A second later, you feel Satoru’s lips graze over your belly. He inhales, strongly. You could hear him. “Oh god! Stop it Satoru. It tickles.” You protest throwing your hands at him in all irregularity preventing him from inflicting another wound on yourself.

As Satoru hears you laugh he remembers the good old days he spent with you. If he had not been so hooked on you there is no doubt you would have lived a much better life. But that is not the case. He is your doom which is why you are the only one he allowed himself to be vulnerable with. He feels he owes it to you. He feels he owes it to you because you were brave enough to love him, brave enough to confess, and more brave than him to let Suguru go so easily.

Unfortunately, your heart mistook it as affection, sometimes even love. But that is not the worst part of all this. Satoru played along with you until he was aware of your emotions, his emotions. And before he could reconcile, you left. You had to because you could not forgive him so easily for what he did and how he did.

Moreover, he had enough on his plate. But Satoru never thought he would see you years later at a pub sitting opposite to Shoko sharing a smoke and a couple of beers. How could you let go of him so easily? Did you not love him enough? Or was it just a silly teenage crush? Secretly, he wished to be like you— empathetic, honest, and blah blah blah! He is everything that you are not. He is everything that you do not deserve. He is everything that you would drown in the pool of regret.

Satoru leans forward kissing your cheeks. You do not protest and even if you did he could easily overpower you. After all that is exactly why you are in such a predicament. Your so-called ex-boyfriend towering above you while you are wasted. You had to take painkillers because the moment Satoru saw you with Shoko, you knew you could not lose him even if you ran away.

“don’t let me lose you too.” he murmurs as he starts kissing softly along your neckline, towards your cleavage, and down to your stomach. “you’re the last good thing left for me in this world.” You get up and hold his face in between your palms. He retorts to give you space but you do not let go of your hand from his face.

“I hate the way that I don’t hate you,” you remarked with a scoff. Satoru jerks away from you. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He is going to dissociate any minute now— “I know you have a heart because I feel it breaking.”

“Oh, now you care?” He snaps. Of course, he does.

“you always push people away.” You start. “Let it care,” but Satoru is quick to interrupt.

“this time I won't. this time I — he sounds so earnest that you think he must have spent all these years without you stuck in a flux of regret and hurt which is unexpecting of him“You know how things were back then. Geto left—”

“yeah.” You pause. “I know.” You inhale heavily, trying to swallow your tears. “which is why I left. So that neither of us had to deal with the hurt we were supposed to deal with. Does that makes sense to you ’tooru?” God! You sound awful with that breaking voice of yours. The painkillers are not helping either. Your mind is so fuzzy and you could feel your nerves tickling but there is nothing to worry about. You have always been honest with him. Maybe that is why he pushed you away.

Your eyes were almost on the verge of betraying you but a firm grip on your wrists kept you awake enough to feel the fervent kiss of his. You did not resist but rather let him sink his teeth into until his grip loosened, groans softened and you tasted a little blood while sucking his lips. You are not sure whose blood it is and you do not need to. He was not playing when he said he won't push you away this time. This is dangerous. You can not run or hide from him anymore. What a pain! Satoru rolled over the bed with you on top. He settled you on his lap quickly before discarding your jacket on the floor.

“There is no turning back now.” He stated holding by your waist.

“Too late to regret now” You murmur against his lips before kissing him. You feel him smile while giving him the taste of his own blood.

—

@angelshub @public-safety-network

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changisworld · 2 months ago

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Breathplay with Leeknow.

->Breath play: Erotic asphyxiation (breath play) is the consensual restricting of the airflow of your partner for a brief period of time.

Word count:1,125

->Smut warnings: Sub!Leeknow, choking, teasing, crying(from pleasure), Leeknow is just a whiny baby, nipple play, handjob, use of a collar, begging, teasing, ball slapping, mommy kink

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post, 18+ MDNI!!

Kinktober masterlist here

Main masterlist here

You've just gotten home from dinner with your parents & of course Leeknow, & to say you're pissed is an understatement.

Leeknow had been teasing you all throughout the dinner, edging his hand up your thigh before pinching at the flesh, grabbing your own hand to put it on his semi under the table & not missing the opportunity to whisper dirty things in your ear at every chance he got, & you couldn't let him away with that, of course.

That's how he has ended up completely naked on your shared bed while you're of course still fully dressed, your dress hitched up around your waist since you're straddling him but Leeknow isn't brave enough to touch you, so you don't care at the state your dress is in.

"Please mommy, touch me!" Leeknow cries, his eyes glossy & wide as his hips & legs shake & twitch beneath you in need.

"I am touching you, but who are you to make demands hmm? You knew this would happen if you didn't stop & you didn't care." you chuckle back as your nails are painfully slowly dragging down his tummy, fingers paying extra attention to his scar that you love so much.

"I'm sorry! Just lemme fuck you, I know you're wet, please!" he whimpers, hissing as you slap the tip of his cock with the back of your hand, his precum sticking to your knuckles & you fake disgust.

"Ohh, so now you're sorry? Only good boys get mamas pussy & you know that fine well, but since you look so beautiful i'll be nice enough to give you just a little something." you purr as you pick up his heavy cock in your hand, not jerking it but instead pinching at the tip of it, your thumbs swirling & spreading his precum around, just the way he likes & he writhes beneath you, his hands clenching onto the bedsheets so hard that the veins are visible all up his arms.

You giggle at his reactions & you move a hand to reach down to his balls, fondling them in your hands before pinching at them, making him squeak out as he lurches forward, but you're quick to stop him by cupping his neck with the hand that was playing with the tip, your thumb on the opposite side of his neck to the rest of your finger before you clench lightly around it, making him feel light headed in his favourite way & the hushed moan he lets out proves so.

"Don't move so much, you're lucky you're getting anything from me pretty boy, don't make me stop." you speak with more demand in your voice, & as much as he tries to tell him not to, he listens with a weak nod & you get off the bed & reach into your & his shared drawer of sex toys & you pull out a pink re adjustable collar with the word 'princess' in gold letters around it & you make your way back to the bed & you swear you can see his eyes glow at the sight of what you're holding.

"Put this on yourself, don't leave it on loose." you say as you slap it in his hands & he mutters something along the lines of a 'yes mommy' as he fumbles to put the collar on, but his fingers are too shaky & you tut before leaning in & doing it for him, putting it onto the third tightest setting, one more than he usually does.

"That okay?" you question & he nods "Tight but's fine, want kiss, please" he mumbles, his hands playing with each other, dying to touch you but not wanting to go against you, & you almost feel pity for him, so you peck his nose, ignoring how his lips try chase yours as you pull away.

"If you're good you can get more, mkay?" you purr as your right hand finds its way back down to his cock & your left hand attaches itself to his nipple, picking up the pace & intensity of how much you're tugging & twisting his nipple, making him whine as he tries bucking his hips up into you, his tip grinding & hitting against your underwear, but you decide to not move because despite the fact you're supposed to be punishing him, it does feel really good, so you'll allow it for now.

You stop playing with his nipple with your fingers & bring it down to his upper thighs, pinching his skin right at his sweet spot which makes him squeak, his voice breaking because of the tight collar around his neck, his head fuzzy & his glossy eyes leaking tears & you can't stop yourself from leaning down & kissing them off his cheeks, which makes him hum & you give him a warm smile before you shuffle yourself down so you can now attach your own lips to his nipple that you were just abusing & at the same time, your hand that was just abusing his sensitive skin up to his cock, pumping it as you grind against the base with your clothed cunt, your underwear soaked already, which he feels.

"Mommy- so wet, wanna cum, p-please, so good, sorry m-mama" he cries out, his voice getting more desperate at the end & you are quite surprised at how fast he has dropped into a different space, the biggest sign in him doing so is him changing names to use 'mama' instead.

"You're sorry, hmm? Cum then, show me how sorry you are jagi." you chuckle, moaning lowly as you grind against his cock, fisting his tip with your hand before tightening your grip on it, your other hand smacking his balls with the back of your hand & he squeals before he is convulsing beneath you as his orgasm sprays onto his own body & also in your hand & you quickly lean forward & kiss him, your hand resting on top of the choker around his neck as you kiss him & his tongue desperately explores your mouth, whimpering & squeaking into your mouth.

He slowly comes back down from his orgasm, his toes still curling then uncurling, just to repeat the action as his stomach muscles keep clenching, his chest heaving & his lips a darker shade from his bunny teeth chewing down on them.

"Poor baby, so worn out after just one orgasm? cmere" you speak in a soft, sweet voice as you undo his collar & he takes a deeper breath & you use all your strength to put his head against the pillows before you snuggle into him, deciding you will lick the cum off of him later.

->Taglist & anon list are open!

@kissesmellow21 @lixies-favorite-cookie @keshet2k @mikaelless @minniesverse @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @missystay @felixsangelicfreckles

(if your name is NOT in gray, it’s because it wouldn’t let me tag you:( )

#skz smut #stray kids #skz x reader #skz #leeknow skz #leeknow oneshot #leeknow x reader #leeknow headcanons #leeknow smut #lee know smut #lee know imagines #leeknow #skz minho #skz imagines #skz scenarios

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kaermorhenatnight · 10 months ago

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Light in the shadows

Rolan smut, NSFW, minors don't interact, please

Huge thanks to @commander-krios for proofreading and for all of the comments, suggestions and corrections! You’re amazing!

Rolan x fem!reader smut, Reader is one of the tiefling refugees from Elturel, afab, she/her. No y/n used. She's been friends with our favorite tiefling bachelor and decides to make her move during the tiefling party that they should have after act II. Tav appears and is gn (they/them)

CW | spoilers for acts I and II with mentions of violence, cursing, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, spells used for sex (including detect thoughts – consensually), Rolan's POV for a moment, biting and hickeys, tail play, Rolan is insecure about his body at first, dom Rolan, dirty talk, edging, Karlach x Shadowheart makes an appearance because I love them

Word count | 5,5k

Note: I tried to keep the spells as correct as possible (including components, duration and spell slots) because I am fun like that. If I messed something up about that please let me know! English is my second language so any tips and corrections about my writing are more than welcome!

Read on Ao3 here

Enjoy!

It was a nightmare. All of it. If not for blood pouring down your temple, sharp pain in your side and pounding in your head, you could pretend it was all a bad dream, that you would soon wake up from. Saying the shadow-cursed land was unwelcoming would be an understatement, but the attack... The screams. Zevlor, the calm, brave, strong Zevlor, just froze. Cal, Lia, and many others were dragged away. Others were bleeding out in the dirt. Some of you tried to fight, Rolan yelled to fall back, protecting the kids with everything he had. If not for his well-aimed spells, and the fight Cal and Lia put up keeping the cultists busy, none of you would have made it to the unexpected sanctuary of Last Light Inn.

Rolan took care of your wounds as best as he could. Despite your protests, he convinced the lovely cleric, Isobel, the woman responsible for the safety of the Inn, to come downstairs and lend some of her magic to help with your head injury.

Even though he went to great lengths to ensure your comfort, you could see all of his thoughts were preoccupied with his siblings' kidnapping and his perceived guilt in their capture. He was drinking himself numb, screaming at the kids who were just trying their best to show gratitude for all he'd done. He even lashed out at Tav when they offered help. Luckily for all of you, Tav not only brought Cal and Lia back safe and sound, but they also found, saved, and sent back to the Inn a slightly tipsy Rolan, who had disappeared to rescue his family on his own without accepting any help.

He did apologize to Tav afterward and thanked them for saving his ass, but gods, you and his family had to force it out of him with threats of violence.

You weren't that close before. You were good friends with Lia back in Elturel. It’s how you met him the first time. You liked him. He was fun to be around, although you would never feed his ego by telling him that, or risk being mercilessly made fun of by Lia, by sharing it with her. He was smart and funny, even if a little snarky and grumpy. You thought it was only natural that the difficulty and stress of your current situation brought you closer together. It didn't mean anything. Although you couldn’t help noticing him not being that attentive towards anyone else after all of you got to safety and could tend to your wounds. But you didn't want to give yourself hope. You couldn't. Life was difficult enough without getting your heart broken if you let yourself believe he might feel about you how you feel about him.

Right?

After what you heard was a terrifying and exhausting battle, the curse devouring this land was finally lifted. The sky started clearing up. A small party sounded like a pleasant idea, not unlike the gathering you held at Tav's camp after they helped you back at the grove.

And now you sit here, wine bottle in hand, watching with glee as everyone laughs and dances, celebrating the victory and honoring the fallen. Tav told you the truth about Zevlor. You can't find it in you to be angry at him. Honestly, you are just happy he survived and escaped.

Cal and Lia are on the other side of the room laughing, bothering Rolan about something. He lets out a frustrated groan, but the music of Alfira’s lute and the noise of conversation around them drown out what they are saying. You just look at them, smiling, happy to see them safe, happy to see Rolan relaxing in his own way, with his family by his side.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Come on, she's been pining for you for so long. And she's not subtle about it either. How can you not see it?” Lia is a little too loud for Rolan's comfort but everyone around them doesn't seem to notice anyway, in the haze of celebration. “I mean, I know I'm pretty great, but she wasn't coming to visit so often just to see me.”

“That’s a lovely tale, but I would appreciate it if you stopped spinning it. You are seeing things that are not there.”

“Gods, you are the dumbest smart person I know.”

“Are you also gonna pretend,” Cal chimes in, “your tail doesn't sweep the floor like you're a godsdamned kitten when she's talking to you?”

Rolan groans, hiding his face in his hands, trying to feign annoyance, while his cheeks and ears burn.

The truth is he couldn't believe you'd ever even look at him. In his eyes, you were a strong warrior, someone who he had once seen kill two people with one swing of a sword. Powerful, strong, courageous. And he's just a scrawny wizard who keeps getting his ass kicked. While he appreciates his siblings' attempts to support him, the amount of faith they are putting in his chances is ridiculously unrealistic.

He's going to try, one day, when he might have a chance. But he's not going to delude himself that he has it now.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Unless you are casting a sending spell, I don't think he's gonna be able to read your mind.” Tav sits next to you and nudges your shoulder, pointing at Rolan with a quick nod. “I’m sure Cal and Lia, as happy as they are to be reunited with him, won't mind if you steal your boyfriend for an hour or two for some… relaxation… upstairs.”

What?

“What?”

“Hey, I know there's not much privacy on the road and this might be your last night under a solid roof for some time. I imagine it must be hard for couples to spend quality time together in such circumstances.” They don't sound like they're teasing. In fact, Tav sounds painfully sincere and supportive.

‘Couples’.

‘Boyfriend’?

“I— I'm not… I mean… We…” You trip over your own words, not sure what to say. “We are not a couple.”

“Oh.” The surprise on their face is confusing you. Why would they think you are a couple? Were you that obvious with your crush that they just assumed this level of openly shown adoration must mean an established relationship? That would mean Rolan must see it too. What if he starts pushing you away, displeased with your feelings for him? “Well, apologies for assuming.” They rub the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed. “I just saw how attentive he was… and the way Cal and Lia were talking about you… Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It's alright, no apology needed.”

You sit in silence for a moment but it keeps bugging you.

“What did Cal and Lia say?”

“Well, how happy they are that Rolan and you ‘found each other’ and how ‘less unbearable’ he is when you're around… Like I said, I didn't know they meant friendship and it was rude of me to assume.”

Oh.

“I see,” you say and turn to look around the room. No matter how hard you try you can't not think about it. You would think the two of you were a couple if you heard them speak like that. It spreads warmth in your chest knowing Rolan's siblings see your influence on him that way. Your thoughts might be too obvious in your expression because Tav nudges you again.

“You wouldn't mind that though, huh?”

Your skin is naturally red. Usually, it’s hard to see blush on your face, but now you are convinced a blind person would notice.

“Don't be embarrassed. There’s enough darkness in the world to be negative about, some love here and there is what truly makes everything worth it.” They smile at you with encouragement. “And… he has been staring at you throughout our entire conversation.”

You look up and the moment Rolan's eyes meet yours he looks away, his face slightly darker.

“I know it's not my business and far be it from me to mingle in your love life… but it's rare to have a moment of peace like this. Go talk to him, enjoy the celebrations.” They get up and wander off to talk to other people. After all, they're the hero of the hour everyone wants a piece of. Again.

And…they're right. You probably won't try to make a move, but you can't let your confused heart stop you from spending time with your friends. Especially after all you've been through. As soon as you walk up, Lia puts her arm around you and hugs you.

“I thought you were gonna sulk there alone forever! Is your head acting up again?” she points at the almost-healed wound on your temple.

“Oh no, I can barely feel it.”

You smile. It's nice. Cal is leaning against the wall, wine bottle in hand. Lia is holding you with her arm around your shoulders.

You start with small talk, but in your current situation, weather and gossip don't really hold up. But as soon as Lia mentions the upcoming threat of the Absolute army, Cal steps in.

“We can discuss it tomorrow. And the day after that. Today, let's talk about nice things. Like Rolan finally getting that big boy job in Baldur's Gate.”

Up until now, you tried not to pay too much attention to Rolan, being very self-aware of your gestures, but now you can do it unsuspiciously. There is something in the way he is leaning against the table, in his relaxed posture, in the lazy smile, that is making you melt a little.

“Oh yes, it almost makes me want to treat you with more respect,” Lia laughs, poking Rolan in the ribs with her finger. “The Great Wizard Rolan of Elturel!”

“Ha… ha… love the respect.” Rolan rolls his eyes and straightens his robe where she wrinkled it slightly. You can't help but follow his hands’ movement with your eyes, wishing to feel them on your skin.

What is wrong with you? You are trying to have a conversation and your mind just wanders off into territories you would prefer not to explore in a room full of people.

“I did say ‘almost’.”

Your eyes meet Rolan's again. He smiles, almost shyly, and his cheeks darken. You fight the urge to look away. Maybe thanks to Tav's encouragement, maybe because of the wine, you hold his gaze and return the smile.

“Well, look at that,” Cal says loudly and hurriedly finishes the wine in his bottle. It takes him a few chugs, too many to be fully comfortable. “My wine is finished. Lia, wanna go get some more?” He gives his sister a look that you cannot fully decipher before they both walk away, leaving you and Rolan alone. You move to stand next to him, taking Cal’s place by the wall.

“It's good to see you feeling better,” he says, shifting ever so slightly like he's trying to stand closer to you.

“I could say the same thing about you.” You catch yourself moving closer. “You were a wreck without these two.”

“They're… they're family.” He looks down, his fingers clench on the edge of the table, and his brow furrows. Even after everything, he still blames himself.

“I know.” You give his hand a sympathetic squeeze and his entire body tenses. Oh shit. Did you overstep a boundary? “Sorry,” you mumble, panic taking over your body as you move your hand away, trying to take a step back, but Rolan reaches out to you quickly and takes your hand in his.

“No! No, it's… thank you.”

He doesn't let go. You are only holding hands but it feels more intimate than anything you've ever done with anyone. Gods, you want him. You want to be close, to hug him, kiss him. You want to let him know how much you care, how dear he is to you. And if not now, then when? If he doesn't reciprocate, so be it. You are adults. Your friendship can survive a moment of embarrassment.

You take a step towards him, put your free hand on his chest, and press a kiss against his lips. You brace yourself for rejection as you start to pull away, but he doesn't let you. He puts his hand on your cheek and pulls you back in.

Kissing him feels right. Like his lips were made to be on yours. Like his hands belonged on the curves of your waist.

You are careful at first. Just relishing in the softness of the gesture. But when he parts his lips and you feel the warm flash of his tongue on your bottom lip, you are gone. Your hands find the front of his robes to pull him even closer. For a moment, you forget where you are but a heavy arm falling on your shoulder painfully reminds you.

“You two should get a room.”

You turn, letting go of Rolan in panic, but when you see the smiling, heavily intoxicated face of Karlach, you relax. “Get it? Cause we're in an Inn!” She laughs joyfully, swaying on her feet, and then wanders off, not even trying to walk in a straight line.

“Ugh, they are going to be so obnoxious about being right.” Rolan rubs the bridge of his nose.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, Cal and Lia were trying to convince me… uh— that you…” he pauses and all of his confidence leaves him. But you are starting to understand and it makes your hearts flutter.

“I like you, if that's what you're getting at.” You spare him the embarrassment. “I really like you, Rolan.”

“Well, I gathered that.” He smirks and touches his mouth. “Do you… want to go upstairs?” He glances at Karlach who is now wrapping her arms around Shadowheart. “To ‘get a room’?”

You laugh and grab his hand.

“Sure, I'd love to.”

He pulls you behind him towards the stairs. “Have fun!” Lia says to you as you pass her by, and Rolan cringes, avoiding her gaze.

As soon as you leave everyone's line of sight, Rolan turns and takes your face in his hands.

“If I had known…” He is so gentle, fingers barely grazing your skin. His eyes wander around your face, drinking you in. “I wanted to wait until we got to Baldur's Gate and I became a wizard's apprentice and… when I'd finally be somebody… I would ask if you'd allow me to court you.”

“Rolan, what are you talking about?” You place your hands on his. “You don't need validation from some stuck-up jerk in his stupid tower to be somebody.”

“Actually, the Ramazith Tower is quite impress—”

“I adore you,” you interrupt. “You. Not what you can do or what you can become.”

You feel dizzy. He's so close.

He kisses you again. Slowly. Purposefully. His tail wraps around your leg and pulls you even closer. You whimper as the tip, you're not sure if it's accidental or not, strokes the inside of your thigh. Rolan pauses for a split second before repeating the motion, this time definitely on purpose.

“Fuck— Rolan… I'm sure there's an empty room here somewhere,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “I— Someone will hear us.”

“Well, if you can't stay quiet…” You can almost hear his smug smile before you feel his tail loosening its grip, getting more freedom of movement to climb up your leg and grind against your cunt.

You press your face into his chest in a desperate attempt to muffle a moan that is forced from your throat. He steadies you with a firm grip on your waist but doesn't stop.

You can't talk, you can't think, you can barely breathe. He has you wrapped around his finger and he hasn't even taken your clothes off yet. Every stroke brings you closer to release and makes it harder not to cry out in pleasure. You muster all of your self-control to grab his tail and move it away from you.

“Let’s find a room,” you say, voice hoarse. “So I can get you out of these robes and make you see stars.”

He swallows hard and tugs on your arm to lead you to a door in the corner. The door seems stuck at first, but one strong push gets it open. The room is not in the best state, most of the furniture is broken and scattered across the floor. The bed, except for dust and a few broken pieces of wood on top, is holding together pretty well though. A quick spell and a flick of his wrist from Rolan cleans the sheets enough for them to be almost presentable and even smell like lavender and vanilla. Flames appear on the candles that are still left on the walls.

“There are some advantages to bedding a wizard,” he says with a confident smile.

“I can't wait to learn what the others are.”

He places one hand on your cheek, pulling you into another kiss, and the other hand travels down until it stops between your legs. Him palming you through your leggings is enough to make you whimper. When he starts moving, his fingers circling your clit, your knees buckle underneath you and if Rolan didn't catch you, wrapping his arm around your waist and anchoring you against his chest, you might have fallen.

Even through the fabric, with movement restricted by both of your bodies pressing against each other, he brings you achingly close to release.

“Rolan… I— Gods…” Your breath is reduced to huffs and whimpers. He eagerly muffles them with a kiss so hungry and sloppy, it's all tongue and teeth clashing.

“Let go,” he whispers, breaking the kiss and letting you come up for air. “I've waited so long to see you come undone in my arms.”

As aroused as you are, the dry friction of the fabric becomes a little uncomfortable. You can't think of anything other than how much you want to get rid of all the clothing that separates you from Rolan right now.

“Take off your clothes then,” you say, shifting a little to move away from his touch. “And fuck me into tomorrow.”

You think you see his jaw tense up a little, but can't be certain in the dim light.

He leads you towards the bed and sits next to you, helping you get rid of your clothes, but when you gently tug on the hem of his robe he nudges your hand away.

“What's wrong?” This time you are sure something is bothering him.

“It's nothing,” he assures you, but his posture and tone of voice betray him.

“If you don't want to do this, you don't have to… I mean, obviously, you don't have to, but… I mean— I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“It's not that. I… really want this with you. I promise I will make you feel good.” He looks down and whispers to himself. “I just don't want you to see me.”

You know there's a lot of insecurities under Rolan's confident facade. He acts arrogant to hide how unsure of his abilities he is. He worries that Cal and Lia not being his blood means they don't see him as real family. He doesn't believe he is worth something in your eyes, or anyone else’s, until he proves himself in the city.

Despite all of that, you would never assume he felt insecure about his body. You always thought he would consider any focus on the physical appearance beneath him.

“Rolan... why?”

“I'm not exactly the… physical-prowess type. I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed with what you see.”

“I could never be disappointed with you. With anything about you.” You tangle your fingers with his and place a kiss on the back of his hand. “You can read me.”

“What?”

“Detect my thoughts. At any point, you can look into my mind. No need to warn me or even ask. Just look.”

You are scared. Scared that your feelings are going to overwhelm him, that they would be more than he is in for. But he needs to see for himself the way you feel about him.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

Rolan stares at you for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts, before leading your hand toward the clasp at the front of his robe.

With shaking fingers, you help him out of his robes and then the shirt underneath. You want to memorize every inch of his skin you uncover. You want to kiss every part of him. Feel every part of him. You slide off the bed and settle between his legs. He watches you wide-eyed as you unbutton his pants and pull his cock out.

You start slowly, licking the tip before moving up and down the shaft. Rolan lets out a ragged breath, clutching at the sheets. When you suck the tip into your mouth, he whimpers softly. But it's not enough. For you anyway. You want to feel him hit the back of your throat. Choke on him until tears stream down your cheeks. You want him to completely ruin you.

Your hands wander, stroking his thighs and then his stomach. Tracing the infernal ridges, you relish in the softness of his flesh as you dip your head down until your nose brushes his navel. Your throat contracts around his cock and gods, you love the sounds that he makes.

When you pull away briefly, only to dive right back onto his cock, Rolan shifts slightly and you hear shuffling of fabric where his discarded robe lies next to him, as he pulls a piece of copper from a pocket. Then he whispers words of a spell and you feel tingling in your head. You look up. Rolan's eyes are set on yours.

You allow him in your mind. Let him see everything. All the lust and yearning. How you try so hard to burn the view in front of you into your memory forever. The view of his chest raising with heavy breaths as you continue to suck his cock; Muscles in his forearms flexing under prominent veins; His soft stomach you want to lick and kiss and leave bite marks on. He was scared of undressing because his body is not built like a brick house but gods, and now also Rolan, know it's not what you want, not what you need. Every single part of his body sends shivers of lust through you. You want him, need him, in every way possible.

You drag your tongue against the side of his cock. You can feel his presence in your head fading as his focus falters and then completely disappears when you suck in your cheeks and take his whole length again. Tears form in the corners of your eyes in reaction to the gag.

Rolan caresses your cheek, pulling you away and wiping your tears with his thumb.

“I— Wow.” He helps you up and pulls onto his lap. He's holding you close, one hand gently scratching your back and the other gripping your thigh, his face awestruck as he stares into your eyes.

You hoped hearing your thoughts would put Rolan's mind at ease, but it did so much more than that. You can see a sudden surge of confidence that you didn't expect, even in him. He roughly grabs you and pushes you down on the bed, caging you with his arms.

“I am going to make you beg for me.” His voice is almost a growl in his throat. He lowers himself and without any further hesitation, dives down your body, his tongue pressing flat against your clit.

It's so much better than anything you imagined, and you imagined a lot. Every lick, every flick of his tongue sends a burning hot jolt of pleasure from your cunt through your entire body to the tips of your fingers and toes. You dig your nails into the sheets, trying to ground yourself. You buck your hips, begging for more friction, more pleasure, more.

You feel the tingling in your mind again and let him in immediately.

The coil in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter and you can feel that if he keeps going like that it will soon snap. That's when he stops. Raises his head and looks at you, smug and a little mischievous. He knows what he did.

“Rolan, what the fuck?”

“You need to be patient. I will take care of you, I promise. But I want to take my time.” Before you respond, his head is back between your legs. The spell connecting you fades, but he doesn't need it anymore to know when you are close. He listened to the change in the pitch of your moans. The slight difference in the way your body tenses. And he's always been a quick learner.

The buildup is even faster this time, and again, he brings you painfully close to release before stopping.

“You're mean,” you whimper, tears now streaming down your face.

“A little.” He chuckles but goes back to work immediately after he sees your muscles relax a bit. His grip on your thighs is unyielding, holding you in place so he can devour you.

You can feel your orgasm approaching again and you don't think you can take the teasing anymore. You reach down and grab Rolan's horn, holding to it like a lifeline. “Rolan, please… I can't— Let me finish… Please…” Your legs are shaking, your body burns. You feel like you're going to die if he pulls away now.

He doesn't. When he can see how close you are, this time he just looks up to watch as you cum on his tongue, keeping the pressure and tempo going as you ride out your orgasm. He only stops when you push him away, high in the afterglow.

“Hells, Rolan…”

“Told you I was gonna make you beg.”

“You fucking asshole,” you laugh, grabbing his hand and urging him to lie next to you. He complies, clumsily kicking his shoes and trousers off, cleaning his face that's still dripping with your slick with a quick spell. His cock is now digging into your thigh and he's littering your neck and shoulders with kisses. Gentle at first, then harder, with more teeth, leaving marks. You expected this possessiveness from him yet it still surprises you a little. He pulls your leg to rest around his hip. His tongue is soothing the bites and bruises he has left on your skin.

“Do you want to continue?” He raises his head and bucks his hips involuntarily, grinding against you.

“Fuck yes.”

You turn to him fully, wrapping your arm around him and pulling him closer. His lips, kiss bruised, are back on yours. You flip him on his back, straddling him, his cock between your folds, the tip hitting your clit as you start rocking your hips.

His grip on your thighs is strong, desperate. He guides your movement, pressing his head back into the pillow.

“Ride me,” he pleads, his nails digging deeper into the flesh of your legs. And how can you refuse, when he's asking so nicely?

You shift to press the tip of his cock against your entrance and then sit down taking him in one swift motion. He thoroughly prepared you with his mouth but the stretch still steals the breath from your lungs.

“Hells,” you sigh, stilling for a moment to adjust to him.

He whispers your name with a reverence usually reserved only for the gods. Then he whispers something else. A spell. And you feel a gentle pressure of the mage hand at your clit. You start rocking your hips and his cock starts pressing deliciously against all the right spots inside of you. He has to recast the mage hand every other minute but he does it without any delay, the moment it would disappear, it appears again, as if he's counting the seconds to make sure your pleasure never falters.

“Rolan, you fill me so well.” You don't even think about it, the words just spill from your mouth. But they don't go unnoticed. You can see Rolan's eyes darken as something changes in him. He grabs you roughly again and rolls over to be on top of you. The slow rolling of your hips is replaced by his thrusts. The first two are restrained, but then he picks up the pace. He steadies himself on his elbows, chest pressed against yours, breathing heavily in the crook of your neck.

“Say it again,” he groans into your ear. His voice is low, lustful. A demanding hunger, that mirrors your own.

“You make me feel so good— Gods…” Your sentence is cut short by a moan Rolan pulls from you, his mage hand steadily circling your clit. “I never want to stop doing this. You fuck me so well, Rolan.”

The sounds he is making are animalistic. His movement becomes erratic and soon you can feel him twitching, spilling into you. The warmth of his seed fills you and the sweet honey of his incomprehensible praises tickles your neck. The mage hand seems to flicker for a moment as Rolan's climax overwhelms him, but he quickly gets his bearings and the steady pressure on your clit is back. His cock is slowly softening as he pulls out, shifting to kneel between your thighs. You can feel his seed spilling out of you as your muscles contract and relax, grieving the loss of his cock. Rolan looks between your legs like he's hypnotized for a moment. Droplets of sweat are glistening on his chest, his hair is in disarray. He is so fucking handsome.

When you feel Rolan's fingers circle your entrance and then, carefully minding his claws, sink into you, the tension inside comes close to snapping again. Your back arches as you're inching closer and closer to release and then when it overflows you, your vision blurs, your whole body tenses and soon you are gently pushing Rolan's hand away, overstimulated.

As he pulls his fingers out, he casts a spell and you feel his seed disappear and your thighs and his fingers are clean and dry again. It puts your mind at ease, not having to worry about any surprises in a few months.

“I don't think I could ever get tired of that view.” Rolan cocks his head slightly, his gaze caressing your body. His tail wraps around your calf.

“Well, I could never get tired of presenting it to you.” You let out a breathless laugh, collecting yourself. You sit up and place a quick kiss on his lips. It feels almost out of place, the gentleness of it, after what you just did. Slowly both of you start putting your clothes on between the kisses and you want to ask if he would like to stay here or go back downstairs, but you don't get that chance.

The door opens with a thump as it hits the wall and two people stumble inside not even noticing you at first, their limbs tangled, their lips joined. You wouldn't even recognize them if not for blue flames engulfing the tall figure of Karlach accompanied by Shadowheart. Good for her. You see a flash when Dancing Lights is cast.

“Oh shit, sorry.” Karlach laughs, when she finally notices you, one arm around Shadowheart, the other rubbing the back of her neck. You can hear Rolan behind you struggling to put his robe over his shirt and trousers faster.

“Don't worry, we were just checking out.” You can't help but laugh. Normally the situation would be mortifyingly embarrassing but right now your heart feels so light you can't find it in yourself to be anything other than joyful. You grab Rolan's hand as he finishes tightening the last clasp on his robe, and pull him towards the door, grabbing your jacket from the floor on your way out. “Have fun!” You manage to say before the door shuts behind you. The muffled noises you hear from inside the room tell you they definitely were planning on having fun even without your encouragement.

“Well,” Rolan clears his throat, trying to regain the scraps of his dignity. “That's a less-than-ideal ending to our evening. But I'm sure there are many more evenings to come.” It's not a statement, not really. It's a question. And even though he's smiling, you can see a hint of panic and insecurity in his eyes. You grab his hand. It feels so nice to be able to do that.

“Of course. You are not getting rid of me that easily.”

His smile of relief could melt even the coldest heart of stone.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x reader #baldur's gate rolan #smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut

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formulawolff · 5 months ago

Note

gg stays the night at Toto’s when he has Jack for the weekend… Jack wakes up with a nightmare and gg offers to put him back to bed, sharing some quality time together and in this interaction, gg imagines children of her own in the future, something she would’ve never considered before

i am so sorry!!!

i just now got to this!!!

but i wanted to write a little blurb about it! i hope you enjoy it! <3

"papaaaa!"

a cry floods the room, bringing you out of your slumber. you stir, gently shaking the figure dead asleep beside you. he grumbles, yet you persist, pressing light kisses all over his temple and cheeks.

"toto. i think it's jack."

"he probably had a nightmare," the words are slurred, thick with exhaustion, "i can go-"

"no," you rub your eyes, "let me see what's wrong. you stay here. you could use the sleep."

blearily, you shift, scooting to the edge of the bed. slipping your feet into cozy slippers, you stretch. carefully, you make your way through the dark room, cursing as you bump your knee against the rigid door.

"fuck."

"careful now, love. come get me if you need anything. don't let the monster under the bed get you too."

rolling your eyes, you shuffle down the hall. once you reach the destination, the third room on the right, you knock softly.

"jack, it's me. can i come in?"

"you're not my papa, but i guess you'll do."

as you make your way into the bedroom, you can't help but feel the little eyes searing into you. the poor thing is clutching his favorite plushie, a cream colored bunny. his name was hase, the german word for the animal. it was a gift from you months ago, as you wanted to treat the little one to something he could sleep with.

at first, toto was hesitant of the gift, but once he saw jack's eyes light up at the new plushie, he couldn't help but melt. you were in the same boat, your heart fluttering every time you saw the boy toting around the animal.

it was his newfound best friend. the one thing he carried with everywhere, no matter what. he even accompanied jack to karting weekends with susie, vacations with the family, and race weekends all across the world.

"is hase not doing a good enough job scaring away the nightmares?" you fold your arms across your chest, arching a brow.

"no," jack huffs, "will you do me a favor?"

"yes," you nod, yawning slightly, "what is it?"

"will you lay with me?" his eyes are bright, alight with a childlike fear, "just for a little while. papa and mama used to, but not so much anymore."

"maybe because they want you to be brave," you cross over to the closet, peering in before shutting it softly, "there's no monsters in the closet. don't worry, i peeked behind the hangers."

"good," jack chirps, "will you look under my bed too?"

since it was the weekend after a race, the last thing your knees wanted to do was squat or bend. yet, you obeyed jack's request, stifling a groan as you kneel to the floor, head bowing as you look under the bed.

no monsters there either.

"i have to report that there are no monsters. maybe they all left because hase scared them off."

"no," jack shakes his head, "they probably left because you're scary!"

"i'm scary?" you can't help but giggle as you burrow under the covers, the child cuddling into your chest.

"yeah," jack responds, "you're a world champion! you'd probably run them over in your car or beat them in a race. i would be scared of you too."

oh lord. the things that came out of that child's mouth.

"well," your eyelids are heavier by the second as jack's breathing slows, his arms clinging to you, "let's get some sleep then. i'll stay here, just for a little bit."

"how about you stay forever?"

"i can't do that," you press a tender kiss to his crown, "your papa needs me."

"well i need you too. you do a much better job checking for monsters than he does."

as the child dozes off, you can't help but feel your heart flutter. perhaps this wasn't so bad. you could definitely be a mom. if it came with moments like this, then fuck yes. you would definitely be a mom.

especially if your children resembled the love of your life.

an hour passes, toto wolff cursing as he rolls over, feeling a coldness in the space where you typically lay. tossing the sheets, he gets up, strolling down the hall.

as the door opens, he can't help but melt at the sight before him.

his son, fast asleep on his beloved golden girl, the two deep in slumber.

if only he had his phone.

#asks: alkaline 💌#asks: toto wolff 💌#asks: golden girl 💌

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samkerrworshipper · 1 year ago

Text

togetherness | pt.2

longawaited and has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now cause i wasn’t quite sure if i liked the direction it’s gone in… but highliting different issues n stuff so i hope y’all enjoy! again i’ve edited this on my phone whilst reading from my kindle lol so not going to lie i’m aware that the editing could be shocking… there’s a few more parts sitting in my drafts so lmk if y’all want more

warnings: child exploitation, themes of sexual assault of minors, just general hurt with protective n supportive tillies

“Now that we’ve settled that, is there anything, anything at all that you’d like to tell me that I could help you with?”

I gulped, there were about six things I could think of just off the top of my head. I was tentative though. I could feel tears starting to form in the back of my eyes as I tried to make the decision in my head.

“No judgement?”

Sam’s immediate nod in response was comforting and apparently enough to get me talking.

“It’s going to sound stupid and I don’t even know what you could do about it considering that I’m probably somewhere in the wrong with it as well.”

Sam looked like a mixture of intrigued and perplexed.

“Y/n, even if I can’t do anything about it, you look like you just need to get it off your chest, I can be that for you as well, just tell me what’s been bothering you so much.”

I sniffled and nodded at Sam, this situation was so abnormally vulnerable for me.

“You know that I was rough around the edges when I got here, I know you haven’t heard the whole story, to put it simply I went through a rough patch when I was 14 and 15, before I got here. I’d just had spine surgery, I thought that I was never going to walk again, let alone play football. I turned to a lot of things, drugs, alcohol, anything. I ran away when I was 14, I don’t remember much of it, just that when I returned home my parents had had enough and they sent me off to the AIS for Tony to train me. Anyways, I’m rambling. Somewhere along the road I sent some explicit videos, photos and texts to my ex boyfriend, graphic ones, there’s a lot of them. He’s been posting them on reddit and twitter and they haven’t gotten any attention yet but with all the media coverage and bad press I’ve had recently I’m worried they are going to be brought up and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Sam’s expression was one thing, completely deflated and shocked. She was typing furiously into her phone whilst she was listening to my story. It took a few minutes of silence for her to reply to me.

“First off I want to start off with telling you how grateful I am for you sharing that information with me, it can’t have been easy and you are incredibly brave for telling me. I’ve got some follow up questions that I need to ask, you don’t have to answer them, I’d just appreciate it if you could try your best, okay?”

I nodded quickly in reply to Sam.

“Okay. How old were you when you sent these videos and how old was your boyfriend at the time?”

“I was 14 or 15, he was in his mid twenties.”

“So that puts him in his late 20s or early 30s right now, if my maths is correct. Did you take these photos and videos or did someone else?”

“I took most of them but he took some.”

Sam nodded at me again.

“Okay based on that question I can tell you that this ex boyfriend of yours is legally in possession of child pornography, that’s an indictable crime. If you want this to well and truly stop then we can go up that path. I want us to talk about this with Tony, it’s ultimately your decision but I think it would be very sensible to take this up with him at the very least. Y/n, you have done absolutely nothing wrong, I need to stress to you how important it is that you understand that. No one is going to blame this on you, because it isn’t your fault, you are a victim of a crime. That isn’t something light. I promise you that I have your best interests in concern when I’m telling you this. I have to ask, have you talked to anyone else about this? Your family? A therapist? A friend? Leah?”

Leah Williamson, my arsenal team captain and my best friend/mom/girlfriend. I shook my head at Sam, I’d wanted to tell Leah, she was the only person I probably trusted enough to tell but I hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Do you want to talk to someone about it?”

“I was going to talk to Lee about it, eventually. Just with her ACL and us being in different places it didn’t make much sense, plus this stuff is so fucking stupid I didn’t want to bother anyone with it, I’m sorry for bothering you with it, Ellie was right I’m being fucking selfish.”

Sam’s face was unreadable, it was clear she was pretty deep in thought. She sat across from me for a few minutes, in thought, before she stood up and walked around the table, sitting herself down beside me.

“Can I give you a hug?”

I nodded and relaxed a little bit as I felt Sam’s arm snake its way across my shoulders, inevitably bringing me closer to her and into her chest.

“Williamson would want you to tell her, she’ll probably be mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You are not being a bother to anyone, you have human emotions and this situation you are in is a hard one. You aren't being selfish, you are asking for help, which is a very human thing and you very clearly need it right now, there is nothing wrong with that. Now, how about I call Williamson for you, I’ll see you if you can get down here? I’m going to call Tony down here, I’ll brief him and he’ll help, okay?”

“I don’t want to tell Tony, he’s going to be mad and he’ll probably tell me this kind of behaviour isn’t wanted on his team and then I’ll get sent home.”

I could feel the material of Sam’s jumper that she must have thrown on after training soaking up my tears, that was embarrassing.

“I know you don’t want to, and I can promise you that Tony is going to be nothing but supportive, you’ve done nothing wrong. There is nothing illegal about what you did, now or then. Tony is not going to send you home, I promise. Now, do I need to call Williamson or can you do it?”

Realistically I probably could have, but I really didn’t want to.

“Can you?”

Sam nodded at me immediately, which comforted me a little bit.

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I couldn’t. She should be in Sydney right now to watch the Lionesses play tomorrow night, yeah? I’ll talk to her and we’ll see what we can work out for you. I don’t have her number though, so can you call her on your phone and I’ll talk to her.”

I nodded quickly, shakingly pulling my phone out of my pocket and pushing it out onto the table. I very quickly pulled Leah's contact, I’d called her last night so it wasn’t hard to find. She was the only person in the world that I could talk to when I was at my lowest, the only person who actually cared about me. So last night, whilst I was mid panic attack, on Ellie's and I’s ensuite floor I called her and she’d talked me through it. I should have told her then, it probably would have saved me this whole interaction with Sam, but I hadn’t wanted to worry her anymore, so I blamed it on pressure of being selected to start this week and she’d accepted my answer.

We’d been texting most of the morning, her asking me if I’d gotten sleep and if I was feeling alright, I’d answered shortly with an array of 'yes', because I didn’t want to worry her anymore. I passed the phone over to Sam once I found her phone number and she clicked the call button before pressing the phone up to her ear and standing up from her seat, starting to pace between the seats.

“Hey Leah, this is Sam, Sam Kerr, from the Matildas. Look, I’m here at our Sydney training facility with Y/n, we’ve just had a pretty serious conversation with her about some problems that she’s had recently and I was wondering if you were around so you could be here for her.”

Sam pulled out her own phone again as I assumed she listened to Leah’s response. It amazed me as to how fast her fingers danced across her own screen, it was a different kind of multi tasking.

“Yup, Mmm. Alright, I’ll send you the address, it’s not far from you guys hotel from recollection. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being able to do this for her, I’ll see you soon and we can talk about it then.”

I gulped as Sam said her farewells and then hung up the phone before walking back over to me.

“She’s coming down, should be here in fifteen or so. She sounded worried about you, mentioned something about you having a panic attack to her on the phone last night and that she was concerned about you. I’ve texted Tony, he’s finishing up with Ellie and then he’s going to be down here. I’m going to get Steph to meet Leah downstairs when she gets here and she’ll bring her up, Y/n, we’re all here to support you however you need, alright?”

Me and Sam stayed silent in the room until about ten minutes later there was a distinct knock against the door.

“Sam, it’s me, unlock the door.”

Steph’s voice was pretty distinct, even through the heavy door. Sam stood up almost immediately, walking to the door and unlocking it before a grumpy looking Steph and a flustered version of Leah made their way through the doorway before Sam had the opportunity to relock it. Leah’s eyes went straight to my own, her whole facial expression was very controlled, she could command an entire room with that face, I knew from experience.

“Are you okay?”

Her words were directed at me, and only me. I pressed my tongue against my front teeth and lip, trying to decide how to answer the question.

“There’s some stuff that’s been happening that I haven’t told you, I’m not in trouble, or at least that’s what Sam is telling me. It’s some stuff from my past, when I was a kid. Explicit images and photos, on the internet, from when I was a kid. They popped up a few weeks ago, starting when I was in Spain with you before we came here. I didn’t bring it up because I thought I was at fault for it as much as the person who has possession of them. Sam told me that it isn’t, that I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry, I know it was fucking stupid and I should have told you about it or not done it, I don’t even remember taking any of the photos or videos, it just happened and now I don’t know what to do because I don’t want it getting out to the public and I just, I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Leah’s face relaxed a little bit as I progressively talked and rambled. Once I was done she walked over to my spot, seated on one of the chairs and wrapped her arms around me.

“Hey, it’s alright, we’re going to sort this out. She’s right, you didn’t do anything wrong and you should have told me earlier but I am so grateful that you are telling me now, yeah? You are so brave kiddo, that’s child exploitation and whoever has possession of those materials is the one who’s in the wrong, okay?”

I nodded into Leah, Steph and Sam were whispering between each other behind us.

“You have to take legal action though.”

Those words made me feel like I’d been stabbed and my guts had been ripped out of my body cavity.

Leah let go of me very gently and pursed her lips.

“Because this isn’t going to go away if you don’t, and I know that you are strong but you aren’t going to be able to live if you know that this person who has possession of these materials is still out there. You’ve been checked out for weeks now, since before Mallorca. You aren’t going to check back into your life until this goes, I know it. I need you checked in, I need you to be my girl, not the skeleton of your own body that you inhabit as a coping mechanism when something bad happens.”

I think Leah would have said more if it wasn’t for the incessant knocking against the door that came again. Sam was the one who went to the door again, letting Tony in. He looked flustered as well, and a little bit worried. I’d known the man since I was 15, he’d seen me in some pretty interesting situations. Sam intercepted him before he could say anything, pulling him aside and giving him what I assumed to be the rundown of the last hour.

“I don’t think I can handle this getting out, it will, if I take legal action this is going to get out and then I’m going to be Y/n Y/l/n, the Matilda’s exploitative rookie and I’ll never be back here. My career will be over, Jonas won’t want me back, everything I've worked for will be done.”

Leah took a deep breath before wrapping her arms around me and working her hands through my scalp and hair.

“If you take legal action you will be supported, I’ll make sure of it. We are a part of a community of women that uplift us for everything you do, this won’t be any different. There will be some who judge, there is always going to be someone there to judge you. Y/n, you need to do this for your sanity, I won’t lose you to your mental health again, not like last year. Kerr has done the right thing here, bringing this up, it shows me that she cares a lot more about you then you think, it also shows me that she knows what’s best for this team and you. She wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t think this was the best course of action.”

I nodded into Leah, trying to convince myself that her words were correct. Eventually, after Sam had given Tony the full rundown he sat down across from me, exactly where Sam had been beforehand. Sam and Steph both stood behind me and Leah, Sam’s arms resting gently on my shoulders, it was grounding.

“Sam’s told me about what’s happening. First of all I want to say how sorry I am that you are going through this, it’s not something that anyone should have to deal with, ever. Second of all I want to let you know that this team, this whole nation is in support of you. Look, it’s too late for me to take any action now. I’m going to get the police to come down tomorrow morning, you aren’t in trouble. I just think that they are going to have a better understanding of this situation than any of us could. They’ll come down, we’ll have a talk about all of this, they’ll ask the questions they need to. We don’t need to make any decisions now, we’ll talk to them, Sam and I will be there to advocate for you. After that we can make decisions about taking legal action and whatnot. Otherwise I just wanted to tell you genuinely, from the bottom of my heart how much we all care about you and value you here, we are all going to be here for whatever you need in the future, you are a valued part of this team and family and we are all here to look out for your needs, okay?”

I gulped, I could feel fresh tears springing to my eyes again. I was petrified of the police, to say the least, but Tony’s voice was so reassuring. He was the father that I’d never had and when I was 15 and he’d met me I’d been in a bad place, I’d needed him to be that figure in my life and he had been. He gave me a routine, gave me something to wake up for every morning. I probably wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Tony. He’d given me a chance when no one else had been prepared to and for that I would always be in debt to him for.

“Okay, I’ll get in contact with the police, we’ll get a constable down tomorrow morning and we can have an open conversation with them about it, you are not in trouble, nothing is going to happen that will end in consequences for you. I think though that you need to head back to the hotel and get some proper sleep, your body needs it. So head back, don’t worry about any of this, because I’m going to sort it out and we’ll talk about it in the morning with a clean slate and mindset, alright?”

I nodded at Tony, I didn’t really have much to say.

“Thank you Coach.”

He nodded at me, before standing up and walking around to the other side of the octoval table and giving me a pat on the back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry about this anymore, it’s going to be okay. Get back to the hotel, we’ve got an early wakeup tomorrow.”

I nodded at Coach, watching as he left the room just as quickly as he’d entered it.

“I’ve talked to Steph, her and I are rooming together so we’ll switch, she’ll stay with Ellie and you can come and room in with me, I think we’ll keep it that way for the rest of the tournament.”

I looked over at Sam, nodding along with what she was saying. Leah reached her arms around me, a big bear hug.

“And I am here, I expect you to check in with me, at least twice a day. When you guys head off to Melbourne or Brisbane I’m not going to be able to be there, so I need you to stay in contact with me, okay? Anybody does so much as look at you wrong I want to be the first to know, okay?”

I nodded at Leah, half in fear, half in adoration. She was the only person in the world that I actually trusted in. Our bond had been forced, when I’d moved to London to play for Arsenal I’d been moved into the spare room in her apartment and in a very short amount of time we’d created a bond that extended beyond the realm of friendship. I loved her, she was the first person besides Tony to give me a chance and he was obligated to give me on, Leah had chosen to fight for me and to stick by my side even when it wasn’t easy, she was a good person, better than I was sure I’d ever be.

“We’ll drop you back to your hotel on our way home Williamson, it’s the least we could do considering you got here so quickly, can you just give us five minutes to grab our things from the locker room?”

Sam’s voice held no room for argument, she was insisting on giving Leah a ride home and Leah didn’t try to object.

“Please, call me Leah and if it’s no trouble I would really appreciate it. I can meet you guys down in the foyer in about five, I need to go to the loo, so whilst I’m doing that how about you guys go and get your stuff together?”

Sam, Steph and I all walked back down to the change rooms in a comfortable silence. It was when we actually made it back to the rooms that I realised I still had my boots on, the cleats that were spotless from not even getting any wear at training. The cleats that a few hours ago had seemed impossible to tie up. I made quick business of pulling them off of my feet, throwing them into my kit bag and pulling out the pair of Nike dunks that I’d worn in earlier when we’d all come down here for our match analysis. Sam and Steph both made quick work off slipping out of their training kits and changing into sweat pant duos that matched with me. After they’d gotten changed and refreshed we all grabbed our bags and whatever other things we had lying around before making our way down to the foyer.

Leah was waiting for us, tapping her foot violently against the marble floors. When she spotted the three of us out of the corner of her eye her stress ceased almost immediately. I’d learnt a lot about Leah in the amount of time I’d known her. One thing about England’s captain was that she was not as fearless as everyone credited her as being, she put on a brave face, a bloody good one, but she was just as human as everyone else and sometimes it showed, especially when she felt uncomfortable in a situation or she didn’t think she deserved to be where she was. I’d moved in with her initially just before she'd led the Lionesses to their victory at the euro’s, and at the time Leah had been a basket case to be nice. I think that was how we’d bonded, through our similar insecurities of not being good enough to fill the shoes that had been passed down to us.

“C’mon cap, let’s get going.”

Leah smiled at me and nodded. We’d been keeping our relationship under wraps for a few months now. Neither of us were insecure in our situation and we were happy to enjoy our private, happy and blessed life together. Plus we hadn’t really seen much of each other in the past month or so, being caught up with our obligations to our national teams. Leah was also very committed to her rehab and I couldn’t be there for every step of that so we’d spent some time apart. We’d both agreed when the new Arsenal season rolled around that we’d tell the team, but still keep it under wraps from the public for as long as we could. Neither of us were worried about the public finding out, I was out, had been since I was 14. Leah wasn’t officially but she’d also never dated a man and in the eyes of the female soccer world that pretty much means you're gay. It would come out when it did and we were prepared for that to happen.

We walked out to Steph’s car, piling all of our bags in the boot before Sam and Steph slid into the passenger and drivers seats whilst Leah and I both took seats in the backseat. Somewhere along in the drive her hand made its way to my own, resting gently on top of my knee cap. I interlocked our fingers and smiled up at her, this was the part of a secret relationship that I liked, getting moments just between the two of you that only the two of you understood. The sweet nothings. I felt my heart plummet a little bit as we arrived out the front of Leah’s hotel and I realised that I was going to have to say goodbye, potentially for a few more weeks. That was the suckish part of being a professional athlete messing around with another professional athlete, there wasn’t always a timeline on when you’d see each other next, sometimes it was just situational.

I made the call to walk Leah to the door of the hotel, when we got to the doors I gave her a hug, a big, long hug. She hugged me back, tightly. Leah was good at hugs. When we finally had to come apart I looked up at her, with my big green eyes and apparently she couldn’t resist because she reached down and honoured me with a peck. It was nothing more, a small gesture but to me it was everything.

“I love you okay, be safe, text me, call me. I am always here for you, don’t keep me in the dark on things that you think are going to burden me, they aren’t, call your therapist, please.”

I nodded at Leah, she was using her captain's voice with me that she knew I couldn’t refuse.

“When you get back to the hotel I expect you to eat some proper food, not of those bloody granola bars that you insist are nutritional, proper food. Hydrate, at least a litre of water. Sleep, you deserve to sleep, let yourself sleep. Call me in the morning and tell me how you are feeling, okay?”

I gulped and nodded at Leah, an action that I was becoming aware I might have done too much of tonight.

“Love you too, thank you for being here for me.”

“Anytime, I’m only ever one call away, now go home.”

I gave Leah one final look before walking back to the car, closing the door behind me only to be bombarded with googly eyes from the two co captains sitting in the front of the car.

“You and Williamson?”

Sam’s voice was the first one to break the sound barrier, it scared me a little bit.

“Yeah.”

I made it sound like it was a non fact, like every person on the planet knew that I was in the bed sheets of the Lionesses Captain.

“Fuck, I knew it, McCabe owes me fifty quid.”

Steph’s voice was steadier and surprised me a little bit.

“We all had bets, how long have you guys been together?”

“We’ve been dating for 6 or 8 months, fucking around with each other since I joined Arsenal so about a year or so.”

Steph’s eyebrows rose to the top of her forrid, obviously very surprised by my answer.

“You're trying to tell me that you and Lee have just casually been hiding a relationship behind closed doors for months.”

“I mean we’re roommates, it wasn’t that hard to hide, plus we just aren’t rabbits who need to fuck on every surface unlike Sam and fucking Kristie, I’m never going to be able to mentally burn the image of you two getting at it on the pool table after the olympics, that was fucking traumatic.”

Sam’s face had flushed, we constantly brought it up with her. After our bronze loss to the US in the olympics a lot of the team had gone out in celebration with the Americans, what I hadn’t expected to find that night when I’d walked into the room that I thought was the bathroom was Sam eating her secret girlfriend out on the table. It had messed with my brain permanently.

“Hey you're the one who’s always bringing it up, maybe you were secretly into it, secret fantasy between you and Williamson.”

I loudly gagged from my spot in the backseat, extremely displeased by Sam’s imaginative imagery.

“Nobody thinks that Sam, it’s just you and all of your lost brain cells.”

There was something so comfortable about the dynamic between Sam and Steph, something so sisterly and bonded. They were like family, they messed around with each other and pushed each other but they loved each other and the both of them knew that at the end of the day. They might not have been the closest on the team, they weren’t each other's best friends but they were family and that was all that mattered.

“Whatever you say Stephy.”

#woso #woso community #leah williamson #marry me rn #sam kerr #leah williamson x reader #matildas x reader #matildas #tillies #samantha may #sam kerr x reader #tears for fears #crying lil bit #i’m sleep deprived #it’s 12am #idek #idek anymore #idek what to tag this

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dyadicjustice · 1 year ago

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can u do like a hazelxreader best friends to lovers

like they’ve both been secretly in love with each other and pining for years but were too scared to say anything (and maybe smut if u write that but if not that’s totally good)

ooooh let me see what magic i can work, bestie. aged up the characters to be in college, so rockbridge falls high is now rockbridge university. unfortunately no smut this time because i am awful at it 😅 but i hope you enjoy this little blurb instead

ao3 link for if u prefer to read there :)

At 11:30, Professor G's class let out without anyone having learned anything actually in the syllabus. But for you, there wasn’t much room in your mind for history lessons anyway. You were too distracted by Hazel sitting next to you, scrolling on Twitter and excitedly showing you every adorable cat meme she came across.

You’d known each other since the 3rd grade, and it was safe to say that some things never change— especially not your love for one another as best friends. At least until the end of Senior Year, when you’d started to realize that change was inevitable, and you’d fallen hard for her.

You’d been overcompensating these past couple months. You’d purposely try to fly under the radar, so she wouldn’t notice you pining or the countless lingering looks and lip biting. Desperation was heavy in your bones, settled deep in your core. So when you finally return to your shared dorm, she asks, “Seriously y/n, it seems like you’re not even here most days. What’s going on?”

You know you can’t lie to her. You can’t lie to those dazzling grey eyes, so warm and sweet and sincere. So you sigh and admit, “Are you ready to receive some potentially devastating information that could change the state of our friendship forever?”

She blinks and lets out a quiet chuckle, “Uh, no promises, weirdo. What’s up?”

“Hazel, I’m being serious. It’s like... important,” you whine.

She hikes an eyebrow at your nervous demeanor, taking a beat to take in your features. She’s suddenly fully aware you’re uncomfortable when you start to wring your hands a bit. To calm your fidgeting, she slips her hands in between them and intertwines your fingers. You feel her sweet gesture start to soothe you, like when puppies snuggle up to you to help you stop crying.

She whispers, “What’s wrong, bean?”

Your eyes start to water at the nickname. “You have to promise you won’t get upset”, you choke out.

She wraps her arms around your neck in a comforting embrace, and whispers in your ear, “I promise. You can tell me, only if you’re comfortable and ready.” And her considerate nature makes you want to cave and sob right then and there.

“I love you, Hazel. But, I also… I just… I’m in love with you.” You can’t even meet her eyes out of pure embarrassment. You feel her fingers snake beneath your chin, and she gently tugs until you’re looking into her eyes. She stares into yours, into your soul, really. She whispers, “y/f/n, I’ve been dreaming of hearing you say that for years.” You both giggle. You joke, “That’s such a fucking relief because I would’ve shat myself if you rejected me.”

“I could never reject you, bean! Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.” You can hear the smile in her voice. “But I am curious, when did you realize you felt that way?”

You sigh, “Honestly? I knew I was sure when we went to Senior Prom together, so 6 months maybe? But I also would say, I’d felt something since we were like 10. I just hadn’t realized how deep my love was back then.”

Hazel murmurs, “You made Prom Night so magical. You looked lovely. Not to mention, you just had this magnetism to you that had everybody staring. I was fighting the urge to kiss you the entire evening. It was hardest during the slow dance.”

You admit that you had felt similarly, explaining, “It was hardest for me to resist when you had that little bit of whipped cream stuck on your lip when we went to Denny’s after. I wiped it away with a napkin, but I wish I’d just gone for it.”

You stare up at her lovingly as a subtle silence emerges between you, your eyes scanning her features before dropping to her lips. Without saying a word, you crash your lips together. Hers taste like… well, like nothing and like everything at the same time. Just chapstick and love.

And it’s not your first time kissing a girl by any means, But you can already tell it’s your favorite after only ten seconds.

Hazel pulls away, breathless, “So just to be clear, what does this make you and me?” She smirks.

You hold her cheek with one hand and hook the other around the back of her neck, scratching the back of her head. Her jaw goes slack and her eyes flutter. You reply, “Horny, Hazel. It makes us really fucking horny.”

She smirks, “Maybe we should… do something about that. Your place or mine?” She dopily wiggles her eyebrows. It’s made even more ridiculous by the fact that your beds are just feet away from each other.

You shoot back, giggling, “Yours. I don’t wanna fuck up my sheets right now.”

She scoops you up bridal style and sets you down on her bed. Those months of pre-season training for rugby had made her insanely strong despite her short and lean figure.

She kisses your forehead and replies, “Whatever you wish, Your Majesty.”

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms (2023)#bottoms movie #bottoms 2023

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xitsensunmoon · 1 year ago

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I've been thinking about sharing this here for a very long time and now it reached a point when I'm so upset I just can't be silent anymore.

Almost immediately after creating this account, the first thing I did was to put "Ukrainian artist" in my bio.

Shortly after that, I got a few asks with death threats, disturbing and just horrible words about my nation and culture. I was called a nazi, a fascist, and just a pig. Hating me just for being a Ukrainian, just for my existence. Not just on Tumblr, but on other social platforms too. If I were to guess, those were sent by russians or people who support the war.

Dca community made me feel the safest I've ever felt in any other community, up until that point.

After that, I put "russians DNI" in my bio and closed anons. Whoever was sending hate was not brave enough to say the same terrible things to me on their main pages. It felt a little bit safer that way, even if some of you will say it's not the right thing to do. Honestly, at that point, I was really ready to just leave Tumblr for good.

I can't stop people who are making me uncomfortable and making me feel unsafe from coming to my page and ignoring my very clear boundary of just not interacting with me.

It's my page. It's my art. It's my home. I have the right to decide who I want to have here, who I want to interact with me and my art, my hours of work. If you're taking away that right from me, do you really think you're a good person and my boundary doesn't apply to you?

I do not attack russians. I do not spread hate and toxicity, even though I have a right to be as angry as I can. I do not mass report their accounts and don't send death threat asks. I just ask to be left alone.

My question is, if a person, a russian, sees my bio that asks to not interact with me, but decides against it, ignoring my boundaries gets banned for it. Am I really in the wrong?

The point of this - if you don't agree with my actions please leave. Don't start a fight, just please leave. Because I will continue to block every russian who I encounter on my page. I really, really don't want people who just don't even want and try to understand the situation and just completely ignore how fucking terrible this is even WITHOUT me starting on the war context.

#tw death threats mention #tw harassment #xit shh #I'm so sick and tired of this #i feel helpless #it's like I'm banging my head on the wall just begging for peace #it just keeps happening

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night-dazai · 10 months ago

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The Demon Never Died - 3

Dazai X Reader

Synopsis: You were rescued and now both you and Dazai are scared thinking that the other person hates the other only to find the truth and for Dazai to realise another fact about his pretty sweet soft gf. When she said she had her won share of madness and trauma she was not kidding .

Word count : 2008

It has been how long you had no idea but all you knew was that your hands hurt very badly and you are sure they would leave a mark “Finally “ you said removing the rope from your feet. The fear in you has not left but since no one has come into that room you were brave enough to remove the rope and look around. “Thank god I was not cuffed to bed or something .” you mumbled, the room was tiny the moment anyone opened the door they could see one big white bed one nightstand with a heart-shaped lamp on it and a door to the right “bathroom, “ you said closing it . The tiny screen near the door was now black and no voices were also heard so with nothing to listen you opened the nightstand near the bed the only other furniture in the room “ wh-” you turned to the sound of the door throwing open. “ This is kinda nice why not sell her?” one said coming in while the other man closed the door . The black-haired man walked towards you as you fell back on the bed and chuckled seeing the fear in your eyes “ we did not even tell him much he surrendered, why does he love you so much ?” he asked grabbing your chin in a harsh pull . His nasty breath was close to your nose “wha..” you mumbled thinking about what he could mean . “ what else Dazai said he will surrender and we let you go “ the other red hair said opening the door “ we said we will send her back intact and we should “ .The man holding your chin opened your mouth with force and popped a pill in as he dragged you out “ Dazai …why .why would he” you mumbled feeling tired and soon slumped as they dragged you .

Dazai stood in the warehouse for the past 20 minutes tapping his feet impaitinetly “ what is taking them so long “ he mumbled as his mind raced a million of things they could do to you . The sweet , innocent flower you were and he knew you had never faced anything like this ever . Naomi placed a hand on his shoulder “calm down we are just early “ . As she finished talking a car pulled up at the opening, Dazai and Naomi both turned to see 6 men come out of 2 cars and one held you mouth tied hands cuffed and red . Dazai’s blood boiled “ come here “ one of the man with black hair said looking like the leader he stood in the middle as the red hair behind him was removing the cloth from your mouth “DAZAI GET OUT !” you shouting making everyone look at you suprised. Dazai’s eyes widened “ get out and dont you dare surrender “ you shouted struggling from the man grasp. Before Dazai could get a word out SLAP! the leader-looking guy spoke “ shut up before it goes south “ he grabbed your hair and made you kneel putting a knife to your neck “ come here Dazai before this thing is dead “. You were still crying, you could not see much due to the tears and your head felt dizzy . You were sure your lips were bleeding. “No” was all you hear Dazai say , you looked up with hazy eyes and now saw many people dressed in black.

The men around you struggled to understand the situation. Taking their guns out the were ready , the guy tugged your hair harder making it hurt a lot more “ She is de-” A bullet hit his leg and hand making him fall to the said limp and scream. All you do was be still and shake in fear as bullets rained making all the men near you fall dead . Your taers was running like a river. Feeling a hand on your eyes you flinched “ y/n ..its me “ you opened your eyes to see you lover kneeling in front of you . You flung yourself on him “ whyy..whyyy” you shouted and kept crying as Dazai held you tightly running small circles on your back “ i am sorry y/n “ was the last thing you heard before fainting.

Jun'ichirō snapped his fingers and all the illusions of the military men was gone, Kunikida showed up with a sniper gun with Kenji next to him “The majority are injured very much “ he said giving his sunshine smile but the moment he saw you his face went blank . “can i take-” Dazai stopped him “ thanks but i would like to have alone time with them while the government comes here“ he said handing you gently to his partner whom he trusts with all his heart. Dazai pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear “Make sure she is alright i will be joining you people soon after Ango comes here” his voice was falt with no emotion other than his trembling hand on your face he watched as Kenji, Jun'ichirō and Kunikida walked out . “Now … i told you i would surrender without any problem and was honestly thinking about letting you guys to get your revenge on me “ he cracked his knuckles and neck.

Anger was visible in his face and his voice was strong and scary the 6 men trembled “ i left this all back years go i did but i nerve said i will not do it “ his head titled to the side looking like a psycho Dazai smiled at his prey he removed his brown trench coat , walking towards the corner in the warehouse he came back wearing a thick black coat “ Please allow me to show you my old tricks “ he said bowing dramatically smiling sending chills down the men on the floor already bleeding.

Ango stood outside the warehouse with his men for the past 40 mins mostly cause after 5 mins of his arrival he could hear horrified screams form the other side and knew “lets wait here “ he told his men and waited . Dazai opened the door after a few more mins “ Ya!! Ango , you are here early “ Dazai said back to his cheery voice and goofy aura but this appearance did not match them. A black coat replaced the brown coat he stood blood splashed all over him , pure white bandages soaked in blood “ yeah now you just gave me more work of treating them “ he said adjusting his specs.

Giggling Dazai patted Ango’s shoulder “ well you are good at it right , this is off record “ his voice suddenly went cold saying the last part . Before he got a reply Dazai’s phone rang “ y/n woke up and said she wanted to go back to your shared house she is treated but refused to stay the agency “ Dazai hummed in response hanging up walked back home , a place he thought he could never have .

It has been 2 hours since you woke up and cried for sold 30 mins on the agency couch you said you wanted to go home. Kunikida against it let you go with Athushi when Ranpo told it would be better for you that way. The moment you came back in you dropped to the floor crying hard your mind revolving all horrible images, “why Dazai was not next to you when you woke up , did he think they did something to you ? was his disgusted or was he hurt ? his hands were tied ….yet crying you walked into the room and practically pulled a bunch of his shirts and made a pile of out it to sit and cry till your lover came in . Soon it turned into little sobs while you thought about other things " what happened to those men ? is it alright for me to imagine them being hurt ? " and that's when your brain hit it . Dazai might do it but "his hands were tied and they might be high profile criminals what if samu gets hurt ?" and the thought just made you sob more

Dazai stood outside the apt door wondering in what stay would he find you , what can he say , will you wan to break up , will you hate him. His still opened the door uttering your name softly but found that all random lights were on but you were not in the hall or kitchen he walked worried and scared to the bedroom you both share. The sight in front of him made his heart and whole body clench in pain and guilt seeing your plight wearing one of his shirts and lying on the rest crying your heart out. “Y/n ?” his soft voice made you look at him in fear, more than anything else he hurt at the way you reacted “Any can just kill or torture me “ he thought and walked towards you seeing how you got up and opened your arms like a 5 years old asking for a hug but with bandaged wrists . “Sorry dear ..please…dont cryyy” he said hugging you while soothing your hair “pleasee you are making me cry too” he mumbled with wet eyes “Dazai…dont cry” you still mumbled hiding your face in his chest and there you both sat crying on each other for a while before both of you calm down and soon your rational minds started functioning.

“Here “ he said handing you a cup of white tea “Thank you “ you mumbled and pulled closer ot him as he sat down next to you . “Why would you shout something like that y/n ?” Dazai got right to point starting at you with dark eyes filled with nothing but worry “Cause its true “ you said pouting and sipping your tea “ dont ever i mean ever sacrifice yourself for me you never know i might be worth it “ you said sipping your tea and turned the tv for distcartion. “Why..” his voice broken making you turn to see his eyes getting wet again “ Osamu..” you mumbled and held his hand “Just like how you hate to see me hurt i also do not want to see you hurt i will say this again and again but please i want to be with you if you allow me . If you still like me..” your last sentence facing make the brunette look at you with the question “ why would i not like you ?” you fumbled with your hands “ well..i was kidnapped ..for a while you might know what they did ..” you said softly but panicked feeling his hand go hard “no..i mean they did not do anything to me please trust me!” you also said most begging him .

Dazai could not take anymore his heart and body felt tired “ why ..why in the world would i doubt you love, i know and even if they did something they would be dead and “ he held both your hands tightly getting down on his knees “ i am sorry sorry that you had to go through something like that “ sincerity filled his voice and eyes looking at you his hands trembled yet he held yours tightly. Smiling you bumped your foreheads “ Samu you recall what i told you when you asked why i chose you ?” your voice now normal and cheery, he nodded without blinking you “ you took the coat off ok but your shirt ? , you jaw “ you said tracing the staring and sharp bone “ see blood “ you said showing you finers. Embrassed he looked away but you forced his chin back to you “ i know they are off the hook “ your eyes dug deep into his smiling “ did they beg ?” you asked. Confused for a min Dazai looked at you and blinked understanding the meaning he giggled kissing your hands “ yes dear, they begged a lot to die “You kissed his forehead “ good , see this is why dont be sorry and get up i feel cold “ you said pulling him up .

You snuggled into his arms and that's when he realised you were not some innocent little flower who knew nothing about the world, he never took it seriously when Ranpo said the way you watched gore was different now he knew, you might be naive and foolish and sweet and kind but under them hid something and he also realised that you could see right into his soul from the first time he saw you he realised “ you saw that the demon never died right ?” he asked. You poped your head from his chest and smiled back the sweetest smile “ yes “

Thank you for reading this i was supposed to write a smut scene but will do it separately.

If you have any specific requests do send them to me.

If there are any mistakes please do mention them for me to correct them in the future.

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