#and they dance together effortlessly and win

[edandstede]

it’s a niche one BUT: gentlebeard au where they’re west coast swing improv dance partners

[hoshifighting]

how do you think each member of svt would take the girl they like out on their first date together? tooth aching sweetness kinda fluff pls 😭

seventeen x first date

seungcheol would probably take you to a nice rooftop restaurant. he’s the type who loves a good view, and he’d want you to see the city lights while you two chat over dinner. “do you like it up here?” he’d ask, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he watches your reaction. something is calming about the way he makes everything feel relaxed, even if it’s your first date. you’d find yourself easily opening up to him, laughing as he shares stories from his trainee days. he’d reach out, taking your hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “let’s come back here again sometime.”

jeonghan wouldd suggest a day at a cozy café followed by a stroll through a retro neighborhood. “i know this great place with amazing pies,” he’d say, his eyes lighting up. you’d spend hours just talking. when you least expect it, he’d pull you into a cute little shop, insisting on buying you a small trinket/charm. “something to remember today by,” he’d grin. the day would end with a sunset walk, and as you sit on a park bench, he’d lean in close, whispering, “today was perfect, don’t you think?” he would fold when you agree.

joshua would plan something thoughtful, like a picnic in the park 🤧. he’d arrive with a basket full of homemade sandwiches and fruit, looking proud of his efforts. “i made these myself!” he’d say, a hint of shyness in his voice. you’d find a quiet spot under a tree, spreading out a blanket and just enjoying each other’s company. as you eat, he’d strum a guitar, softly singing a song he wrote—no sunday morning rain is falling. there’s a gentle sweetness in the way he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel warm inside.

junhui would suggest a trip to an amusement park. not that he reaaaally likes it, but he saw so many couples the last time he went that he can't help but think it's something romantic. “let’s see who screams the loudest?” he’d ask. you’d spend the day hopping from ride to ride. you’d laugh a LOT, especially when you both try and fail to win a giant stuffed animal. “we’ll get it next time,” he’d promise—but makes a trade with the seller to buy the teddy bear. he's not letting go of your hand. as the night falls, you’d ride the ferris wheel, the city spread out below.

soonyoung would take you to a dance studio for a fun and unconventional date. “i’ll teach you some moves,” he’d say excitedly, dragging you along. he’d be so eager, enthusiastically guiding you through the steps. you’d laugh together, stumbling over your feet, but he’d never let you feel embarrassed. “you’re doing great,” he’d encourage, his smile bright. after dancing, he’d take you for a casual meal at a street food stall, insisting you try his favorite dishes. he would break some dancing limietance your had, and you would leave the date FULL after the agitated dance session. “let’s dance again soon,” he’d say, a hopeful look in his eyes.

wonwoo would opt for a bookstore date, a good excuse to watch you over the book he’s going to read. he’d take you to a quiet little shop with shelves full of hidden gems. “pick out a book for me,” he’d say, curious to see your choice. you’d wander around, exchanging recommendations and sharing your favorite reads. there’s something personal about the way he listens, genuinely interested in what you have to say. afterward, he’d suggest grabbing coffee, and you’d sit in a cozy corner, talking about everything and nothing.

woozi would take you to an upscale restaurant, a place with faint lighting and a sophisticated ambiance. it's not really his scene, but he wants to make the night special. he shows up looking effortlessly cool, holding a small box. “i thought you’d like these,” he says, handing you a delicate bracelet from a luxury brand—that matches his. the evening is filled with soft conversations and gentle smiles. he watches you carefully, making sure you’re comfortable and happy. the whole night, you can’t help but feel a bit spoiled, but in the finest way possible.

minghao plans something unique and spiritual i think? he takes you to a meditation garden, a peaceful place filled with nature and tranquility. “i thought we could try something new together,” he says, leading you to a quiet spot. you sit together, practicing mindfulness and enjoying the serenity. after the meditation, he suggests a quiet walk. the date feels deep and meaningful, a chance to connect on a different level, you know? you leave feeling refreshed and enlightened, with a new perspective on things for sure.

mingyu a hands-on experience. he takes you to a cooking class, knowing you love trying new things. “let’s see who’s the better chef,” he teases, as you both don aprons. the class is fun and interactive, with lots of banter and friendly competition. mingyu is surprisingly good at it, but he’s also super sweet, helping you out when you struggle. you end up making a delicious meal together, and he insists on sharing it with everyone in the class.

seokmin has a flair for the dramatic, so it’s no surprise when he takes you to a theater. he’s picked a play he knows you've been dying to see. before the show starts, he surprises you by taking you backstage. “i know the lead actor,” he grins, as you meet the cast and crew. his enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself laughing and joking with everyone. during the play, he sneaks glances at you, gauging your reactions. it’s clear he’s put a lot of thought into this, and the way he beams every time you smile makes your heart flutter.

seungkwan plans an exciting date at a karaoke bar. he NEEDS to show off his vocal skills. “i’m going to impress you!” he says with a cheeky grin. he picks all the classics, and you both sing your hearts out, cheering each other on. he’s energetic and confident, making the whole experience feel like a concert. between songs, you joke and flirt a lot. it’s a night of fun and music, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, you two would probably end up making out on the karaoke’s sofa with the mics in hand as the instrumental sounds behind.

vernon would take you to a comedy show, because he loves to see/watch you laughing. “you’ll love this comedian,” he’d say, grinning. you’d spend the evening laughing until your sides hurt, and he’d be just as entertained by your reactions as the show itself. after the comedy club, he’d suggest a late-night snack run, and you’d end up at a 24-hour diner, sharing fries and milkshakes. “you’ve got a great laugh,” he’d compliment. “i had so much fun tonight... with you.”

chan would want to do something active and fun. he’d take you to an arcade, eager to show off his gaming skills. “i’m gonna beat you at every game,” he’d tease, challenging you to a friendly competition. you’d play everything from racing games to air hockey, laughing and teasing each other. he’d win you a stuffed animal from a claw machine, proudly handing it to you. “for you,” he’d say with a grin. after the arcade, he’d take you to a casual burger joint, where you’d talk and joke around.

[enwoso]

Emily Fox x Reader based on "I Love You, I'm Sorry" by Gracie Abrams

I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY — emily fox

this is probably a bit longer than all the other blurbs i’ve done… but i got a little carried away writing it,, anyways enjoy xox

masterlist

you and emily fox had a complicated relationship as well as history. it wasn't the usual hatred towards each other it was that you were just civil and that was part of the problem.

you'd both met way back in college, you both playing for UNC alongside some of your current teammates at the moment, alessia and lotte. you joining arsenal just a year after lotte wanting to make the big move back across the pond in hope it would help build your footballing career.

and much to your surprise it did, while you spent most of the first season on the bench you still managed to come on and most of the time make a difference in the game weather that being to score or assisting the goal.

before cementing yourself in the first team just the next season and finding yourself starting majority of the games and then going on to help arsenal lift the league title in the 18/19 season.

but enough of that and back to the complicated history of you and emily fox. you and her were the best of friends from the moment you met, you were glued to hip. you loving to make fun of her funny american accent while she would make fun of how bad your american accent was no matter how hard you tried, it sounded nothing like hers.

over the four years that you were at UNC you grew closer and closer together, to the point you weren't really sure if you were just friends anymore. on some nights when the team would be out celebrating and you both may not be thinking straight due to the alcohol that would be flowing through your veins.

and more times than you would like to admit out loud you would find yourself pinned to the a stall in the toilets while you were out, small whines strung from you as begged for her to carry on kissing you. her lips, her touch, her everything were your drug.

and while the casual hookup happened every other month, it never went anything further than that. you were simply just friends with benefits and while you wished you were more you just couldn’t bring yourself to commit in fear of ruining a friendship.

so when the offer to move across the pond, you grasped it with two hands. it breaking your heart that you were leaving but also emily’s but you made a promise to the girl that you would stay in contact and you would try and make the journey to see her whenever you had time.

however, the long distance between the two of you proving difficult for the two of you to stay close, text messages going from every hour to every other day as well as calls going from every morning to every week until the contact stopped and it was radio silence from each other.

so when the news hit arsenal that a new girl was coming from america the last person you expected was for it to be her.

watching as she walked through the club the same bubbly girl that you knew and left in america.

she quickly fitted in, reconnecting with the UNC duo alessia and lotte and over the weeks the american was back in your life all those feelings you had spent years trying to forgot came rushing back quicker than you could have said 1,2,3.

so on a night after a big win in the league you were sat in the booth of a bar by yourself as you watched on with a slight twang of envy as emily effortlessly danced and laughed with the arsenal girls.

you hadn’t had a chance to talk properly with emily, only the odd little small talk, ‘how your day’ ‘how you finding london’ or ‘you okay’ was all that had been spoken to by the two of you. but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by bringing up the past in case she was over you, and she didn’t want to bring up old memories cause what if it was just a college hookup to her.

you told yourself you would rather be hurt not knowing then hurt yourself by knowing the truth.

“why don’t you just talk to her?” beth said as you jumped a little not knowing how long she had been there or how long she had been watching you watch emily’s each movement.

“who?” you tried to play the dumb act but you knew by the look on beth’s face that she knew, you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“y/n don’t play stupid with me, just talk to emily. i can see the way you close yourself off from her every time she gets too close. you never know she may want to talk to you too about the past.” beth smiled softly nudging you slightly towards the end, you knew that she’d spoke the emily about you, more than likely meddling. beth had been one of the only people you had told about your past with the american.

“i can’t beth, it is what it is. it’s in the past now. m’trying to move on” you sighed, swirling your empty glass in your hand, hearing a tut from the blonde beside you.

“you can, y/n. and what’s the saying it’s better to try and fail then to never try at all!” beth tried as you gave her a pointed look, your eyebrow raised slightly at the sudden inspirational words.

“who would have thought drinking made you all inspirational quotes!” you laughed lightly as the blonde rolled her eyes pushing you out of the booth. “yeah, yeah, go and get your girl!” beth mocked your tone as she took another sip of her drink.

walking over to the american your nerves were all over, as you tried to navigate the hot and sweaty bar people being everywhere you turned it was like you were in a can of sardines.

finally reaching the girl, you tapped her on the shoulder probably not the best move to pull in a bar full of strangers but before you had time to think your body had already moved and done it for you.

startling the american as she turned around her features softening as she realised who it was, watching as alessia, kyra and laia were now stood behind emily eyes glued to the interaction between the two of you.

“hi”

“hey, you okay?” emily looked worried, this was one of the first times you’d been the one to start a conversation since she’d joined arsenal just a little over a month ago.

“yeah, um can we talk-“ you stuttered out looking down at your hands as you fidgeted with the rings on your hands. “of course, what’s up?” emily said quickly, her worried look still not moved but not clicking on at the fact you didn’t want to talk in front of prying eyes.

“um follow me” you said grabbing the girls hand and dragging her through the crowd and out the door of the bar, sitting on one of the six steps out the front, emily sitting down next to you as the cold london air hit you both.

“so.. what did-“ emily began after minutes of silence between you both.

“yeah right um just wanted to make amends see where we stand” you pointed between the two of you with a slight laugh, a habit you tended to do when you were sad, something emily picked up immediately.

“oh” was all emily could find the words to say. you were glad it was dark outside in the streets of london as it was able to hide your red cheeks of embarrassment you knew you shouldn’t have had this chat.

you began to back peddle but emily cut you off, “no we need to have this chat but it hurt when you left, i know you had to but you promised to stay in contact and you didn’t. there were so many moments in the past years that i’ve needed you and you haven’t been there.” emily smiled sadly as you bit your lip, you’d been nothing but a dick to her.

“i’m sorry” was all you could say and something you probably should have said to the american a long time ago.

“but i miss you y/n i really do, i miss how we used to be. i know we were never official a thing but i loved you, i really did” emily confessed as you nodded along, the word loved, past tense did that mean she didn’t still love you.

“as sick as it sounds i loved you first” you smiled slightly remember the moment you realised you loved the american. from the moment you met her you knew she was the prettiest girl you’d ever seen.

the two of you sat in silence just taking in each other, as emily carefully moved closer to you as she placed her hand on your cheek, her thumb moving slightly as you sighed. you hands resting on her torso, as you gripped her t-shirt she was wearing.

“y/n” emily breathed out as her hand rested on you cheek, your lips only a mere inch away from touching. you could feel her breath on yours.

“i love you, i’m sorry.” you whispered against her as you moved closer attaching your lips.

[ghost-proofbaby]

when you know, you know. (e.m.)

summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.

warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.

“Yes!” 

If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly. 

“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.” 

You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.” 

Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.

You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed. 

But it hadn’t. 

It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over. 

The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon. 

The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours. 

“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving. 

“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.” 

“And why would you ever do that?” 

Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee. 

“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.” 

You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you. 

You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.

He was an absolute weirdo as well. 

Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil. 

That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?” 

He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you. 

“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose. 

He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”

“You just-”

You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees. 

Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more. 

Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner. 

“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.

“It was your prize.”

“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?” 

Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it. 

You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.” 

If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this. 

He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”

He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least. 

You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed. 

“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?” 

He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically. 

He wants you to kiss him. 

Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too. 

Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose. 

He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him. 

“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.” 

He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”

You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him. 

The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out. 

“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?” 

His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss. 

You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life. 

When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.

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[rhenuvee]

Warnings: lots of kissies, established relationship, suggestive (bc of author simping), a little angsty in the last one..?

For Diluc (aka my beloved)'s birthday: Diluc stans, which AU do we like him in?

CEO!Diluc who looks so refined and handsome everyday in his crisp suit. His employees are intimidated by his cold gaze, and don't dare get in his way. Not you though- because Diluc's favourite part of his work days are when you visit him, bringing him a light snack or a drink (to which he grumbles because he insists it's his job to spoil you), completely void of his usually serious demeanour. He finds it especially frustrating whenever an employee bursts in, interrupting you fixing his tie or midway towards a kiss. He will not allow his workers to see him in a flustered state- that is reserved for you.

Rockstar!Diluc who doesn't understand the reason for his popularity. You beg to differ- you always tell him how hot he looks, all mysterious and badass when he's wearing dark colours and the silver accessories that accentuate his look. The way his bangs stick to his forehead, the way his fingers skillfully pluck the strings of his guitar. Sure, performing is exhilarating, but his favourite part about it is when it's intermission- a time where his attention is on you. Where he has you sat on his lap, dazed and admiring your beauty, stroking your cheek, giving you light kisses here and there. It couldn't get better than this.

Hockeyplayer!Diluc who looks gorgeous when he takes off his helmet, revealing his long luscious red hair. You praise him, cooing on how hot and rugged he looks after playing a tough game. He's grateful for having something that covers his face at all times, otherwise his teammates would catch him blushing. He denies your statements, claiming you're exaggerating- yet he will let you hold onto his muscular arms every time. He's sweaty after a game and doesn't want to disgust you, but you're always there to remind him that you love him, sweaty or not.

Fireman!Diluc who genuinely just wants to do good for the community and needs you to stop gushing over him in uniform- or even better worse, without a shirt on. He finds it quite ridiculous how you keep the newspaper of when he saved a cat and his bare forearms were visible on the front page. You shamelessly stare when he comes home taking off his jacket, leaving only his bare chest to ogle at. He catches you every time, resulting in him blushing which he hopes you don't see. So he effortlessly picks you up with your legs hooked around his waist in his strong, beefy arms and wonders, what is he gonna do with you?

Racer!Diluc who always shows up on time at the end of class/work to pick you up in his sports car. He waits for you leaning on his vehicle, until he takes your hand and opens the passenger door for you before kissing your hand like the gentleman he is. He kisses your forehead and caresses your cheek sweetly before departing to start his race. And after a long night of you cheering for his win (which he claims is because of you), he doesn't fail to notice you getting sleepy. He coos as how you try to stay awake, but he once he carries you to the car, he bringing your head to rest on his shoulder, lightly lulling you to sleep.

Prince!Diluc who, despite his high status, treats you like absolute royalty. There is always gossip about the young prince, how handsome and eligible he would be to marry another heir of a neighbouring kingdom. But he pays it no mind- for he is already happily together with you. When it is time for the ball, his eyes go soft, when he sees you in your gown. You ask if you look okay and Diluc can only bury his head in your shoulder, telling you how beautiful you are in between kisses. Every kiss, every dance, every flower- it's yours.

Vampire!Diluc who curses himself for being so greedy with you. Despite him being a supernatural and dangerous being, he retains his gentleness when it comes to you, and you only. When it's time to feed, he feels his heart sink every time because it hurts you. He kisses the spot where he bit as a way to relieve the pain, and brings you whatever you need to relax again. Because of that he clings to you dearly, and is willing to do anything to protect you.

Which Diluc is your fave? Mine personally is fireman!-Luc but you know I’ll take any Diluc any day <3

[futurewdclandonorris]

Lines | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: it's morning after the victory celebration and George and you need to talk about what happened the previous night, except it doesn't really go as planned

Warnings: angst

A/N: 👉👈👀 Now I wish I had that other one shot ready considering George ended up on the podium, but balance baby. The melody of the song might not fit, but the lyrics are 🤌 Also I made a whole damn playlist for this little story

Previous part

The morning after excessive drinking was never a good one. The sun shining through the unclosed curtains only made the head pounding worse, causing you to let out an agonized groan. Your throat and mouth felt parched like walking through a desert and your body seemed to be weighed down, refusing to move when you tried turning over.

You extended one arm and blindly felt around the cold, empty side of the bed that obviously someone had been in last night. You were only barely aware of the night before. You knew you went out to celebrate George's win and had an amazing time, but you were vaguely able to recollect any of it.

There were only flashes of him holding you as you moved on the dance floor and drinks coming and going - the reason why you were in such pain right now. The way you celebrated, someone would think it was you who won. And in all those in-between moments, you couldn't remember meeting anyone and certainly had no memory of bringing them home, but you knew someone should be beside you. And surely George wouldn't just let you-

George. 

Your eyes flew open. 

Oh, no.

You glanced to the left side of your bed, trying to convince yourself that it was just a drunken dream and you slept alone in your bed, but the sheets were crumpled exactly as they should have been if someone had occupied the space. Only faintly, bits and pieces of what happened after were coming back to you now - the feel of George's lips and of his fingertips dancing on your skin.

You propped yourself up on an elbow, blinking away dizziness as you sat up. You held onto the edge of the bed until the room stopped spinning and you found your balance again. Moreover, feeling exposed underneath the sheets was only a confirmation of what you dreaded most.

The only thing that you could take solace in at the moment was that you didn't have to face George and the aftermath of your own doings. Oh, how could you have been so rash? You were the one to initiate everything with your friend, despite begging him not to let anything come between your friendship. All night, you kept making advances towards him and it was due to your constant prodding, teasing and cajoling that George eventually kissed you and ended up in your bed.

You heard an uninvited voice in your head. There were no consequences last night, only two friends who had spent the most perfect evening together doing the things they loved and being with the one person they trusted the most.

But the night hadn't ended there. And it had involved an awful lot of alcohol. 

Oh, god, you couldn't even remember everything that happened.

And that was the thing that scared you even more. 

Then George's deep voice echoed in your head. You could remember every word he said last night, and you could still feel his arms wrapped around you. He'd loved the feel of you. He'd loved watching you. He'd loved how hard you came on his fingers. He'd been so proud of you. 

No, no, no, no, no, no. This is ridiculous. This shouldn't have happened. You ran a hand through your thick, tangled hair when a loud noise coming from outside of your bedroom snapped you out of your thoughts.

You jumped out of the bed, grabbing the first bit of clothing you could find and hastily throwing it on. The sunshine hit you hard from your floor-to-ceiling living room windows, your eyes squinting as you tried to adjust to the brightness. And there he was, moving effortlessly through your kitchen, just in his gray sweatpants and barefoot.

You could observe the definition of his back muscles, how relaxed and tranquil he was. The red marks that ran across his body were only a further confirmation it was true what had happened the previous night. When he spun around to face you, his lips curled into a smile as his eyes scanned you from head to toe.

"Good morning,"

"I thought you left," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, leaning against the doorframe.

His face dropped and he put down the thing he was holding on the counter. For the first time ever it was hard for him to read your face. "The way you said it sounds like you wish I did."

"No, I just..." you tried to find words to explain, but nothing was coming. "That's not it at all."

"I'm making breakfast," he grinned once more, showing off the pan.

"Mhm," you murmured, trying to give him a hint of a smile, but it fell flat.

He didn't seem to notice though as he was busy stirring something in the pan. "I like your outfit by the way," he said casually without even glancing at you.

It was only then that you looked at yourself. You were wearing his shirt from last night. Your hand moved to take it off, but you remembered there was nothing underneath, so instead you pulled the fabric closer to your skin.

"I'll give it back," you muttered, trying to keep your eyes away from him as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I didn't say it because I wanted you to give it back. You know I let you wear my clothes," you knew he was trying to make things less awkward, but it only made it more difficult for you. This was not supposed to happen between the two of you. You were just friends, best friends, and now there was this added layer of complication that you couldn't ignore.

"That was before… That was different." 

"How is that different?" he turned around, facing you fully.

"It just is!" you snapped.

George raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Whoa, okay. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," you muttered, looking away from him.

"I'm sorry you had to wake up alone, I wanted to-"

"That's not the problem," you shook your head.

"Then what is?" he finally turned the stove off, looking at you. 

"What are you making?" you forced a smile and walked up to him, the subject changed once again. 

You were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and he knew that. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, that you didn't regret what happened last night. He knew you better than anyone else and he could see the guilt eating away at you. He had to do something to make you feel better, to make things right. Still, he let you have your way, glancing at you sideways. "Well, it's an omelette with all kinds of vegetables. Even the mushrooms you hate."

"And the tomatoes, right?"

"And the tomatoes." he smiled, nodding.

"Smells amazing," you returned the smile.

"I'm glad you think so. Are you hungry?"

"I'm sick, honestly." you grimaced.

"Here, drink this, it should help you with your hangover until I wrap this up." he said, indicating the pan.

"Is this one of your trainer's smoothie recipes?" you asked, eyeing the glass filled with green liquid suspiciously.

He laughed, then nodded. "Guilty. But it does the job, trust me. I already had one."

You took a small sip, noting the disgusting taste. 

"Bleh," you tried to shove it in your mouth as fast as possible and moved the glass away from your lips. You shivered, shuddering at the aftertaste.

"I told you." George laughed, taking it from you. "It's not that bad."

"I hate you." you muttered.

He sighed, somehow not doubting your words, presenting you a plate with the omelette and the cooked vegetables on it. He then poured out a glass of water for you. "Eat up, you'll feel better."

You shot a glare at him, but grabbed your fork and started eating anyway. He stepped away for a brief moment to search for and put on a shirt. And that irked you even more. How could he be so calm, so collected, so... normal after what happened between the two of you last night? You couldn't even look at him without feeling a sense of shame washing over you.

The more you stayed quiet, the more apprehensive you were about what had happened the night before. You didn't know the consequences that may arise from your actions and it could have caused irreparable damage, even though nothing seemed to be amiss. The stress was steadily building inside of you as you desperately tried to keep yourself from starting an argument, but eventually you couldn't contain it any longer.

The guilt that had been weighing down on your heart since you woke up was only getting heavier. How could he act like nothing was out of the ordinary? Like nothing had happened between you two? How could he not bring it up?

"I can't do this." and there it was.

"Do what?" he said with a frown.

God, this was not a conversation you wanted to have first thing in the morning.

"Pretend." you crossed your arms. "Acting like what happened last night didn't happen."

George's face fell, but he didn't look away from you. "I'm not pretending, y/n." he took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours. “I just thought that maybe we could talk about it later."

"Later? George, this is important. We can't just pretend like it didn't happen.”

"I know it is," he was still frowning.

"Last night, I- I don't know what came over me. I mean, I got drunk, you know that I wouldn't do something like that otherwise."

“I know,” he repeated.

"Well, I think I wouldn't, anyway," you tried to laugh, but it only came out as a nervous cough. "Because right now I can't remember a single thing that happened after the club."

"I brought you home." George replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Can you stop doing that?" you were getting annoyed after each second that passed.

"What?" he responded, still not meeting your gaze.

"Avoiding addressing the problem. Like nothing changed between us!"

"I'm not." he gritted.

"Oh, please!" you rolled your eyes, "Can we not do this right now?"

"Do what?!"

"This! Act like nothing happened between us and nothing changed. We can't just sweep it under the rug. We are both adults, you can act like one."

“Nothing has changed.” George finally looked up at you, his eyes penetrating yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "What do you want me to say, y/n? That I regret last night? That I wish it never happened?" he shook his head. "I can't say that because it wouldn't be true."

"We crossed the line!" you shouted.

"What line?! The line was already blurred after the thing that happened in my driver's room. Last night it was barely existent!"

You flinched at his words, the reminder of your previous encounters with George sending shivers down your spine. "I shouldn't have ever let you touch me." you whispered.

"God, if I knew it would be like this I never would have offered."

"So why did you?" you snapped.

"Because I wanted to." he clapped back.

The tension between you both was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel like your friendship was hurtling towards its breaking point. You couldn't understand why he was so calm about everything, why he wasn't feeling the same way as you. It was almost as if he didn't care about the fact that you had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

"You wanted to?" you repeated, feeling the anger inside you bubbling up. "Is that all it takes for you to just throw away our friendship like it's nothing?"

"It's not like that," he said, his voice calm despite the way you were shouting at him. "I care about you, y/n. You know that."

"We shouldn’t have let things go this far…" you whispered.

"Well, yeah, it's all should've, would've, could've now, isn't it?" George's voice was hard and bitter. He pushed himself away from the counter, balling his fists at his sides.

"How can you be so calm about it? Does it not mean anything to you? Do you even care?!"

George ran his hands through his hair, frustration etched onto his face. "No, I'm just trying to understand why you're so upset about it."

"Why am I so upset?! We had sex, for god's sake, George!"

George stood up from his seat and walked towards you, his face just inches away from yours, his breath hot on your skin. "And it was amazing," he said. "Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy it just as much as I did. Do you remember what you were saying to me last night? Huh? Do you?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to push down the memory of your slurred words. "That doesn't matter," you said, trying to push away from him. "That's not even the point! We can't just pretend like it never happened and go back to being friends like nothing changed."

"What, you don't want to admit that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you?" he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face. "And I asked you, time and time again, are you sure, do you want this," he raised his voice, "and you said yes every time. Don't backtrack now just because it's convenient for you. Don't even try to deny it."

"I was drunk!" you yelled back, your heart pounding in your chest. "What did I know? You should've known better than to..." you trailed off, not really wanting to believe it.

"Than to what?" George interrupted, his eyes blazing with anger. "To trust you? To believe that you knew what you were doing?"

"You knew I was vulnerable!" you shot back, tears streaming down your face. 

"Vulnerable of what?!" he bellowed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You were the one who came on to me, who kissed me, who begged me to take you."

"You could have said no!" you cried, feeling the weight of the accusation heavy on your shoulders. "You should've said no..."

"Why should I have said no?" he shouted. "I wanted you! I still want you! God, I wanted you for years. I'd be willing to risk anything just to show how much I cared, but because the friendship meant so much to us both, I was afraid that if I confessed my feelings, I would end up losing you completely. And being your friend was infinitely better than not having you at all."

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, dousing you from head to toe. His face was twisted from anger and hurt, but there was no denying the truth in his words. And you were afraid of losing him too, otherwise you wouldn't even be acting this way. He was your best friend, or at least you thought he was. You had been friends for so long, you couldn't even remember when you two became friends. You were so close, so comfortable with each other, so much so that it became a part of your identity. That was why the transition from two to one had been so abrupt.

"I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.”

“You… What?” your voice was barely above a whisper as you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. You had never expected him to say something like that, not in a million years. It was as if a dam had burst inside of you, all the emotions you had been holding back crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You stepped back, trying to make sense of what he just said. "You love me?" you repeated, feeling your heart skip a beat.

George nodded, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry, this isn't how I planned to tell you. I don't know if I ever did. And maybe you’re right, maybe I should have taken better care of you last night and waited until we were both sober do to something, but I couldn't hold myself back any longer, I've been in love with you for so long-"

"No. Don't. Shut up." you raised a finger to stop him from talking further. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" he stepped closer to you, his hands reaching for yours, but you stumbled away from him, towards the window.

"Shut up, George. Just- shut up." you placed your hands on your temples hoping to block everything out.

The room spun and you felt like you were going to throw up. You couldn't believe what was happening. You had never thought of him in that way, not once. He was your best friend, your confidant, your everything, but not your lover. How could he be?

You turned away from him, your back pressed against the cold window. You felt trapped, cornered, and scared. You didn't know how to feel, what to do, or what to say. You were lost in a sea of conflicting emotions, and you didn't know how to swim.

"Don't you love me?" he asked, his voice still soft, his eyes clouded with worry.

"No." as soon as the words flew out of your mouth you wanted to retract them. "Yes. No, not like that." you couldn't handle it anymore. You were breaking apart inside and you were afraid that if you stayed here that you would shatter completely. "You can't be in love with me."

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?” George's voice was laced with pain and frustration.

"You have to stop."

"Stop what? Loving you? You think I can just turn my feelings off like a switch? But if you're so wise tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me." the emotion in his voice was like a thunderbolt.

And then you saw them, the tears in his eyes begging for you to stop pushing him away. And you saw the pain, the pleading hurt in his eyes. And you felt your heart breaking.

Oh, god. You were hurting him.

You hesitated, but your feet started moving before your mind had a chance to catch up with your body. Before you realized it, you were standing in front of him, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek. His hand instantly grabbed yours.

"I tried, you know? It's not that easy." he sobbed. "It’s not that easy to just let go of someone you’ve held onto for so fucking long. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, now that I see what it's doing to you. To us."

"I think we need to spend some time apart." you said.

George's grip on your hand tightened, and he looked at you with a mixture of fear and desperation. "How can you be like this?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I just need some space, George. This is all too overwhelming for me right now. I need to figure things out for myself."

George's eyes widened in shock. "You can't walk away from me like this. We can do it together, we can-"

"No, I'm not walking away from you," you said softly, trying to keep your voice calm. "I just need some time to think. We both do. On our own."

"Time apart won't solve a thing." he said, his voice pleading.

"There's nothing left to say." you sighed.

He almost laughed. "I just confessed my love to you and it's all too much? You have nothing left to say? Huh?"

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing. How could you explain to him that your heart was so full of conflicting emotions that you couldn't even speak? You loved him, there was no denying that. But you were scared, scared of losing him as a friend, scared of losing yourself in him. You needed some time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed, and for the first time, you couldn't do that with him around. Not right now.

"I need to do what's best for me right now. I hope you can understand that." you took a step back, your hand slipping from his.

George's eyes followed your hand as it slipped away from his. His heart ached at the thought of losing you, and for a moment, he considered grabbing your hand and pulling you back into his arms. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to respect your wishes, even if it hurt like hell.

"What's best for you, huh? I guess I don't have a choice then, do I?" he said, walking backwards away from you.

"George-" you started, but he already disappeared in your bedroom.

When he emerged back, he was wearing one of his sweaters that you borrowed a long time ago and never returned. He put on his jacket and shoes without even looking at you. You knew he was hurt, but you also knew that you couldn't just give in to him. You needed to take care of yourself first. As he walked towards the door in silence, you knew that he was leaving, maybe for good. You wanted to run after him, to tell him that you loved him too, but you stayed rooted to the spot, knowing that it was the right thing to do.

The second he left, you fell into the cushions of the couch, your hands clutching your face. You had crushed his heart and yours in the same instant. You needed space to collect your thoughts and decide what the future held for George and yourself - if a future existed at all between you two.

Next part

[nayziiz]

One Night in Miami | LN4

Summary: An eventful night with a close friend turns Lando’s world upside down when he’s forced to confront his true feelings about her. As they return to normal, he cannot seem to forget their time together and neither can she. Will they find each other once again?

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Renn)

Warnings: Smut, a lot of angst, fluff

Author's note: A little context around this series, if I may. I started writing this on 24/04/24, before Lando's Miami win. All the fours in the date - IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A SIGN, is all I'm saying. Anyway, as always, please send through your feedback, suggestions, or requests!

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1 - Miami 2023

Lando had invited all of his closest friends and the Quadrant team out to Miami for the Miami Grand Prix. The city buzzed with anticipation, the atmosphere electric with the excitement of the upcoming race. The streets were alive with the hum of engines and the vibrant energy of fans from all over the world.

For Lando and his friends, it was more than just a race. It was a week of fun, filming content, and partying until the sun rose over the glistening Miami skyline. Amongst the attendees was Pietra’s best friend, Renn. When Pietra moved to London, Renn was the first person she met and they instantly became good friends. It was a natural introduction to Max, Pietra’s boyfriend, and then Lando, Max’s best friend. Lando and Renn were quite literally cut from the same cloth in terms of their humour and banter. There was natural chemistry from the get-go between them.

The sun was setting over Miami as the group gathered at a beachfront bar, the warm breeze carrying the sound of laughter and music. Lando, with his infectious grin, was in the centre of it all, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. Renn, standing beside him, matched his energy effortlessly, their banter a seamless dance that had everyone in stitches.

“Remember that time we tried to film that prank video and ended up getting chased by security?” Lando said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“How could I forget? I still have a scar on my knee from hiding in that hedge!” Renn laughed, shaking her head. Pietra, sitting nearby with Max, watched the exchange with a knowing smile.

“You two are a dangerous combination,” she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. “But I have to admit, it’s entertaining.”

The days in Miami were a blur of excitement. The group spent their mornings filming content for their respective channels, capturing the essence of the city and the thrill of the Grand Prix. They interviewed drivers, explored the paddock, and even managed to get a few laps in on the track.

In the afternoons, they lounged by the pool or explored Miami’s vibrant neighbourhoods, soaking in the culture and cuisine. Renn and Lando often found themselves paired up, whether it was trying out the latest food trucks or challenging each other to a game of beach volleyball. The week culminated with the much-anticipated Miami Grand Prix. However, the race did not go according to plan for Lando or McLaren. Technical issues plagued the car, and despite his best efforts, Lando couldn’t climb the ranks. He finished far lower than he had hoped, and the frustration was evident as he stepped out of the car.

In the garage, Lando was a mix of frustration and devastation. His usually bright demeanour was clouded with disappointment. Renn, always the one to lighten the mood, tried to joke around, but Lando was not feeling it. Sensing his need for support, she shifted from humour to empathy, offering a listening ear and comforting presence.

Throughout the afternoon and early evening, they had a few moments alone. Lando vented to her about his frustrations with the car, his feeling of inadequacy as a driver, and the pressure he felt to perform. Renn listened intently, offering small touches on his arm, reassuring words, and a calm presence.

Deciding to forget the entire race weekend and write it off as one to learn from and move past, Lando and the group decided to go out clubbing. The vibrant Miami nightlife beckoned, promising an escape from the day’s frustrations. The city’s pulsating energy was the perfect antidote to their subdued spirits. They headed to one of Miami’s hottest clubs, a place known for its electric atmosphere and celebrity sightings. As they entered, the thumping bass of the music enveloped them, and the flashing lights painted the scene in vibrant colours. Lando led the way, determined to let loose and shake off the negativity of the race.

On the dance floor, the group immersed themselves in the music, moving to the rhythm and letting the beat drive away their worries. Lando and Renn danced together, their chemistry undeniable as they laughed and moved in sync. For a while, the frustrations of the day melted away, replaced by the sheer joy of the moment. At the bar, they ordered rounds of exotic cocktails, toasting to friendship and resilience. Lando, his spirits lifted by the music and the company, found himself smiling and laughing more freely. Renn stayed close, her presence a steady source of comfort.

Later, as the night deepened and the club continued to buzz with life, Lando and Renn found themselves on the rooftop terrace, looking out over the city. The Miami skyline was a breathtaking sight, a sea of lights stretching out into the horizon.

“I needed this,” Lando admitted, leaning on the railing. “Just to forget about today, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“We all need to let go sometimes. You’ll come back stronger, Lando. I know it,” Renn nodded, her gaze fixed on the distant lights.

Despite her reassurance, the disappointment in his race result lingered. Lando couldn't shake the frustration gnawing at the back of his mind. As the group continued to revel in the club’s intoxicating atmosphere, one drink led to the next and the next. The flashing lights and pulsing music blurred together, creating a haze that Lando eagerly embraced, hoping to drown out the nagging sense of failure.

Renn stayed by his side, matching him drink for drink, her laughter and energy unwavering. She knew he was still struggling and wanted to be there for him, even if it meant getting a little too drunk herself. Their friends cheered them on, oblivious to the deeper emotions at play. At some point, the decision to leave was made - perhaps unspoken but mutually understood. They stumbled out of the club, giggling and leaning on each other for support. The cool night air hit them, a stark contrast to the club’s warm, enclosed chaos. They ordered an Uber, collapsing into the backseat in a fit of laughter, still trying to keep the party going.

As the car sped through Miami’s neon-lit streets, the city’s energy seemed to pulse in time with their still-racing hearts. They exchanged slurred stories and jokes, but beneath the surface, Renn could see the tension in Lando’s eyes. The alcohol had numbed the sharp edge of his disappointment but hadn’t erased it. When they reached the hotel, they managed to navigate the lobby with a mix of stealth and stumbling, trying to keep their giggles under control. Renn’s hand was a steadying presence on Lando’s arm, guiding him towards the elevator and up to his room.

Inside, the room was dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant noise they had left behind. Renn flicked on a lamp, casting a soft, warm glow across the room. Lando collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the day settled back onto him. The party, the drinks, and the laughter had been a temporary reprieve, but now reality crept back in. Renn watched him closely, her own drunken haze giving way to concern. She could see he was still not himself, the disappointment etched in his features despite his attempts to mask it.

“Lan,” she said softly, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his back. “You don’t have to hold it all in.”

He looked at her, his eyes tired and a bit glassy from the alcohol.

“I just... I wanted this weekend to be different,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I feel like I let everyone down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down. Things just didn’t go as planned. It happens. But it doesn’t define who you are or what you can do,” She shook her head, her hand rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“I know that, but it’s hard not to feel like I’m not good enough sometimes,” Lando sighed deeply, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“You are more than good enough. One bad race doesn’t change that. You’ve got so many people who believe in you, who see how incredible you are,” Renn moved closer, her hand shifting to hold his.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, the closeness providing comfort to them both. For a moment, they sat in silence, the room’s quietude enveloping them. The world outside continued its frenetic pace, but in this small bubble, they found solace in each other’s presence. The alcohol’s numbing effect was beginning to wane, but the warmth of Renn’s words and touch remained, helping to ease Lando’s troubled mind.

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” she asked, her voice soft with worry. Lando sighed, the weight of his emotions evident in his response. 

“No,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Not at all.”

Renn’s heart ached for him.

“Should I stay with you until you fall asleep?” she offered gently. He looked up at her, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” Lando conceded.

The next moments were a blur of movement and quiet coordination. Lando stripped off his shirt, the sight of his toned torso briefly catching Renn’s attention. He then grabbed his sleep trunks and disappeared into the bathroom to change. Meanwhile, Renn began discarding the thousands of pillows that adorned the bed, creating a comfortable space for them to settle in. When Lando returned, he held out one of his shirts for her.

“Here, you can change out of that,” he said, gesturing to her sequined dress that shimmered under the soft light.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking the shirt with a grateful smile.

Renn went into the bathroom to change into the cool cotton shirt, a welcome relief from the constricting dress. It smelled faintly of him, a comforting blend of cologne and something uniquely Lando. When she emerged, she found Lando already in bed, looking slightly more at ease in his sleep trunks.

She slid into bed beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Without hesitation, Lando moved closer, laying on top of her, his head resting on her chest. The proximity was intimate, yet felt completely natural. She began brushing his hair back, twirling his curls between her fingers in a soothing rhythm.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and warm. Renn’s touch seemed to calm Lando, his breathing slowing as he relaxed against her. She could feel the tension leaving his body, replaced by a soft, sleepy tranquillity. Eventually, Lando looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers with a vulnerable intensity. Without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, a gentle, heartfelt kiss that conveyed all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. Renn kissed him back, her fingers still tangled in his hair, her heart swelling with a mix of tenderness and affection. When they finally pulled apart, Lando rested his forehead against hers.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Renn smiled, her hand caressing his cheek.

“Always,” she replied softly.

As the minutes passed, their quiet touching took on a different quality. It was still gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something more intense. Lando’s hand began to move, tracing slow, deliberate paths up and down her side. His fingers grazed her ribs, slipped under the hem of the shirt she wore, and rested on the smooth skin of her hip.

Renn’s breath hitched slightly, her heart beating faster in response. She continued to twirl his curls, her other hand drifting to his back, where she traced light patterns with her fingertips. The tension between them grew, an unspoken understanding passing through their shared glances and touches.

Lando’s hand ventured further, moving up her inner thigh and over her underwear, pausing briefly at her hip bone before slipping under the shirt yet again. The sensation sent a shiver through Renn, her body reacting to his touch. She looked down at him, their eyes locking in a moment of mutual recognition. His fingers continued their exploration, brushing against the sensitive skin just below her ribs. Renn’s hand stilled in his hair, her breath catching as his touch sent sparks of sensation through her. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with the tension building between them.

Slowly, Lando shifted, lifting himself slightly to look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire. He leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, fueled by the emotions they had been holding back. Renn responded eagerly, her hands sliding down his back, pulling him closer. Their kisses grew more urgent, a silent communication of their need for each other. Lando’s hands roamed under the shirt, finding the curves of her body and memorising every inch with his touch.

With a gentle but insistent tug, Lando pulled the shirt up and over her head, discarding it to the side. He paused to take in the sight of her, his eyes filled with admiration and desire. Renn reached up, cupping his face and pulling him back down for another deep, passionate kiss. While their kisses intensified, Lando’s hands continued their exploration, his touch sending waves of pleasure through Renn. She arched into him, her body responding to his every movement. His mouth left hers, trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, each touch igniting a new flame of sensation.

Renn’s hands were not idle either. She traced the lines of his muscles, her fingers memorising the feel of him. She slid her hands under the waistband of his sleep trunks, encouraging him to shed the last barrier between them. Lando complied, kicking off his trunks and returning his attention to her. She pushed her panties to the side before he pushed his tip through her folds. He moved slowly as he entered her, savouring each moment of contact. Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, the warmth and closeness intensifying their connection.

The intensity between them surged, and suddenly they were fucking like prisoners who had just been released after a ten-year sentence. Their movements were frantic, fueled by a desperate need to feel each other fully. There was no room for hesitation; only raw, unfiltered desire. Lando's hands gripped her hips tightly as he thrust into her with a fervour that spoke of all the emotions he had bottled up throughout the day. Renn matched his intensity, her nails digging into his back as she arched against him, meeting each of his powerful thrusts with equal force.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the room. The bed creaked under the strain of their passion, but they paid no mind. Every touch, every kiss was a release, a cathartic expression of everything they felt for each other. Lando's mouth found hers again, their kisses bruising and desperate. He moved faster, deeper, their shared rhythm driving them both to the edge. Renn cried out his name, her voice a mixture of pleasure and urgency, urging him on.

The tension built to a breaking point, their bodies trembling with the force of their connection. They came together in a shattering climax, their cries mingling as they clung to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure that crashed over them. Afterward, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat and still trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking. Lando rested his head on Renn's chest, listening to the rapid beat of her heart as their breathing slowly returned to normal. It had been the first time something like that had happened between them. Sure, they shared a few kisses every so often when he would be gone for a few weeks, but nothing like that, never full blown, passionate lovemaking.

“Fuck,” Lando moaned, the tension gone from his body. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to break their skin-to-skin contact, but he also wanted to clean her up after cumming inside her. Renn felt his hesitation and gently cupped his face.

“It's okay,” she whispered, smiling softly, her fingers brushing over his cheek. He nodded, kissing her tenderly before reluctantly pulling away.

“I'll be right back,” he promised, slipping off the bed and heading to the bathroom.

Renn watched him go, feeling a strange mix of contentment and vulnerability. The intensity of their lovemaking had left her breathless, but she also felt a deep sense of connection with Lando that went beyond physical pleasure. Lando returned with a warm, damp cloth and a look of tender concern on his face. He carefully cleaned her, his touch gentle and reverent. It was a quiet, intimate moment that spoke of his care and respect for her.

Once he was done, he discarded the cloth and slid back into bed beside her, pulling her close. They lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between them filled with unspoken emotions. The disappointment of the day was a distant memory, replaced by the warmth they had found in each other's arms.

[eyesthatroll]

SKIN

pairing luke hughes x fem!reader

summary a late night at home with luke

warning(s) fluff, allusion/mention of smut (barely detailed), not sure what else

word count 1.1k

authors note this piece of writing for luke is probably my favorite i’ve ever written. i truly hope you all enjoy it as much as i do, and as always, any reblogs or constructive criticism is always appreciated <3 — mari

Your fingers navigated the intricate landscape of Luke's curls, a delicate dance that involved caressing the wild tangles, and occasionally tugging at the ends, your nails gently tracing across his scalp. Each pass of your fingertips sent shivers down his spine, evoking soft, contented sighs from him that whispered against your skin. He rested atop you, almost as if he'd melded with your form, his lean legs sprawled languidly over yours, the weight of his body a comforting anchor. His strong arms encircled your waist, offering both a sense of security and profound connection, radiating a warmth that permeated through your skin and enveloped your core. His head had found its sanctuary on your chest, rising and falling in perfect synchrony with your exhaled breaths and rhythm of your heartbeat.

As he drifted deeper into slumber, light snores occasionally escaped his parted lips, an endearing reminder of his peaceful surrender to rest. The muted tones of Sportscenter played softly in the background, an unobtrusive soundtrack to your shared moment, its distant glow casting a soft, blueish hue across your cozy space. You watch the screen with detached interest, not particularly invested in the broadcast, but unwilling to disrupt the stillness of the moment by searching for the remote, which had become an inconsequential trinket in this oasis of tranquility, where the world outside now ceased to matter.

Luke had made an impromptu visit to your apartment a few hours ago, his face illuminated by the glow of victory after his team's hard-fought win against the Rangers. The game had been a grueling, high-stakes battle that culminated in a rousing 6-5 overtime victory. You had been engrossed in the game on your laptop, the backdrop to your frantic efforts to complete some last-minute schoolwork.

As you watched, your heart had soared with pride for the boys on the ice, but it was Luke who had truly captured your admiration. He had been a standout player, netting a crucial goal and tallying four points in total. The achievement had warmed your heart to its core, but what had touched you even more was his choice to celebrate this victory with you. Rather than joining his teammates for a night out at the bar, he had chosen the intimacy of your company, a gesture that spoke volumes about the way he truly felt about you.

Together, you began the lovely task of preparing his favorite meal, fettuccine alfredo. As the savory aroma of the sauce filled the kitchen, the two of you effortlessly slipped into your own enchanting world. Lost in each other's gaze, you began a spontaneous slow dance to the soulful notes of 'Dijon's "Skin," which played softly through your speaker. You melted into his comforting touch, finding solace in the circle of his arms as you both moved gracefully, an intimate dance within the confines of your small kitchen. His chin rested tenderly atop your head, and in that fleeting moment, you yearned for time to stand still, allowing you to exist forever within this embrace. In this singular instance, worries and work faded away, leaving only the idyllic essence of your love, encapsulated in the gentle sway of your bodies to the sweet strains of a love ballad.

The soft glow of the living room provided a warm ambience, while Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift played quietly on the television. As the two of you indulged in your meals, Luke explained some of the inner workings of tonights game during the commercials, giving you an added appreciation for how arduous the win truly was. You couldn't help but appreciate the way his eyes lit up as he spoke of his teammates' accomplishments, his humility shining through as he downplayed his own success from the night.

It didn't take long before the chemistry between you two grew palpable, and the desire became irresistible. You eventually abandoned the living room for the intimacy of your bedroom, eager to express your deep affection for each other in the tender embrace of the tangled sheets beneath your duvet.

Tonight was a celebration of him, and the man he was. You desired to cater to him, to convey your adoration not through mere words but through actions. To show how proud you were of him and and how deeply your love for him ran.

The sex was lazy and passionate, you doing most of the work as his energy was waning. He planted soft, wet kisses on your neck as you rode him through his orgasm, his soft whimpering of your name prompting your own release. You fell on top of him with a quiet moan, and his hands reached against your back, massaging the sweat stricken skin as he murmured praises into your ear.

The two of you shared a quick shower, washing away the temporary evidence of the heartfelt night you'd shared. You pampered him with your skincare routine, caring for his skin as well as your own. And after brushing your teeth side by side, you both retreated back to the comfort of your bed.

Luke now stirs on top of you, his eyes slowly fluttering open, only to squint in response to the sudden intrusion of light emanating from the television, which now displayed a random informercial.

"I can't believe you're still awake," Luke rasps, his voice a husky mumble from the brink of slumber. His gaze remains fixed on your intertwined bodies, not lifting to meet your eyes. Slipping his hand under your shirt, his fingers trace aimless patterns on your stomach, a gentle and affectionate touch in the quiet intimacy of the night.

A soft smile graces your lips. "I like to watch you sleep."

He snorts, and you feel the rumble of his laughter resonate through his chest against your body. "Such a creep," he teases, his voice filled with fondness.

An involuntary yawn escapes your lips, and as you turn to glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table, your eyes widen at the time displayed – two am. Had you really been laying here, running your hands through Luke's hair for an hour and a half?

He rises from his sprawled position on top of you, unfolding his frame with a contented stretch. His bare feet meet the cool, unforgiving embrace of the hardwood floor with a soft thud as he ambles towards the bathroom. In the dim light, you seize the moment to search beneath the tangled sheets for the TV remote, waiting until Luke returns, before extinguishing the screen.

Another yawn escapes from your lips, marking the shift in positions as Luke draws you close against his chest. Nestling into his side, you're serenaded by the gentle metre of his heartbeat, its soothing echo resonating in your ear.

"Go to sleep, baby, I know you're tired."

You hum in response, finally content with allowing your eyes to close.

[iron-strangers]

of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Summary: Din Djarin is not an early bird. But there's one way to convince him to be one.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, Morning Sex, Kitchen Sex, Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie. I mean they are married and she's pregnant already

CW: Pregnancy, No use of Y/N, NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 1.5k

A/N: This fic is a part of an ongoing series, posted on AO3.

Read this on AO3 : of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Prequel to Aliit

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

As the soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, Din stirs awake from his slumber, the warmth of his bed reluctant to release him. Stretching languidly, he blinks away the remnants of sleep with dismay, frowning when his stretched arm doesn't find the warm body of his riduur. His senses gradually awakened to the familiar sounds of home. A gentle melody wafts through the air, drawing Din from the comfort of his bed. Curiosity wins, he rises from the bed and follows the melodic trail, where his feet lead him toward the heart of his home.

There, standing by the stove, is his beloved riduur.

Your silhouette is illuminated by the soft glow of the morning light. With a gentle sway, you hum a lullaby, your voice a soothing serenade that wraps around Din like an embrace. One hand effortlessly flips eggs with practiced ease while your left hand is raised, manipulating the force, levitating plates and glasses from the cabinets. The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed caf and breakfast fills the air, mingling with the sweet notes of your song, Din is still watching in awe as you move with grace and tenderness around the kitchen.

“Kandosii sa kyr'am ast, troan teroch jetiise a'den,” you sing softly, caressing your growing bump, singing an old Mandalorian war chant to your baby instead of core-world lullabies. Unable to resist, Din quietly approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting hiazs chin on your shoulder. You lean back to his bare chest, clearly expecting the embrace, soaking in his warmth. Can't sneak up on a jetii , Din thinks, scratching your shoulder with his stubbles.

“Duraan vi at ara'nov, vode an, kar’ta tor,” Din joins in, both of you singing the last two lines of the chant. You look back at him, your face breaking into a radiant smile before burying your nose into his curls, pressing a sweet kiss to his temple. 

“Morning, mesh’la,” Din smiles, kissing your shoulder, tightening his hug and pulling your body closer to his. “Hey there, ad’ika," Din coos, his voice filled with adoration as he greets his baby. "Are you having a dance party in there? Keeping your momma awake, huh?"

You chuckle, absently tracing circles on Din’s hand. "You know," you tease, "every time you talk to the baby, they kick like crazy. I swear, it's like they’re trying to tell you to pipe down."

Din grins, his gaze softening as he looks at his wife. "But how can I resist talking to our ad'ika?" he replies, his voice laced with affection. 

You roll your eyes playfully, but your heart swells with love at Din’s words. "I know, I know," you huff, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Din can’t resist the urge to put his hands over your belly once more, whispering sweet nothings to his verd’ika. And true to form, the baby responds with a flurry of kicks and movements, eliciting a groan of mock annoyance from you.

"Oh, see what you have done?" you complain but your tone is teasing as you nudge Din with your elbow. "Now they're all riled up."

Din grins unabashedly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can't help it," he laughs, "I just love them so much already."

Grinning, you lean your head on his shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Din's jaws. Your bodies sway together from side to side as you finish up making breakfast, setting everything on the dining table with the force. Din smiles against your temple when he feels another kick on his hand. His hands sneak underneath your robes, smirking against your neck when he feels skin and nothing else underneath. He roams your body, massaging your aching breast and trailing his hand down, stopping on your belly, caressing the stretched skin as he nips his marks on your neck. 

You feel him grinding against your thighs and you gasp, feeling the heat of arousal pooling in your center. Whimpering, you grind against his thickening length. You reach back, running your hand over the outline of his cock through the fabric, slipping your hand down the waistband of his pants, teasing and squeezing him with your fingers, smearing his precum all over the tip. Din groans, catching your hand and slips it out, ignoring your disappointed whine to pull his pants down. His cock slaps against his belly, hard and already wet from his precum. He takes your robes off your back, throwing the thin silk down the floor and he bends you towards the counter, still ever so careful with your growing bump.

“Mesh’la,” Din praises, parting your folds with two big fingers. He scoops some of your slick around and spreads his fingers all over your clit. You let out a low protest as his fingers leave you, stroking himself slowly with your arousal before nestling the red, flared tip of his cock between your folds, gathering up the creamy mess.

“Gonna let me fuck you like this, sweet girl?” He grunts low in your ear, giving your clit a well-deserved attention with his swollen, leaking head gliding through you.

“Yes, please- Oh, Din!”

He watches you desperately moan for him, whining needily as he buries all of himself into you in one deep thrust, pushing himself in easily with the slick that’s been pooling from all his teasing. Your cheek squished against the cold tile of your kitchen counter, looking back to meet Din’s eyes as he holds your hips in place and fucks into you. 

“You do, yeah, mesh’la? Always so desperate to take my dick." Din murmurs his praises, hissing when he feels your pussy fluttering around him, struggling to take his girth. He swears when he hears the sloppy squelching sounds of him pounding into your tight heat. He keeps on hitting the spot inside of you that makes you see stars, over and over again. “That’s a good girl, my perfect little riduur. Let me hear you, cyar’ika.”

“Fuck- Din, fuck my pussy so good, daddy-”

Manda. Din knows you know what that word did to him-

Din drapes himself across your back, pressing you down to the counter. He sneaks one hand down, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit, completely fucking the ability to form any thoughts out from your brain. He’s basking himself with your filthy moans and screams that come from the sharp, long snap of his hips, going as deep as your pussy will allow him. Din feels the sweet clench of your pussy around the base of his cock, familiar with all the signs that his riduur is going to cum hard.

“Want me to fill you up, rid'ika? Want to feel it dripping out of you?” Din asks in a low, rough grunt and you respond with a flurry of desperate nods.

“Yes, fill me up, please, cyare, want your cum inside me!”

“I know, momma, just let it all out. Take what you need, sweet girl. I’ve got you, cum on my cock.”

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. You cum with an arch of your back followed by a cry of Din’s name and he groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling deep inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Din groans in your ear, murmuring sweet praises and sucking his bite marks all over your neck and your shoulder, holding your shivering body up by your hips. “Too rough?”

You shake your head from the counter, too comfortable to even lift it from the cool tile. “So fucking good,” you hum pleasantly, holding your hand up and a towel flies across the room to your waiting palm. Din slowly eases himself out of you and you moan, feeling his load drip out of you. Din groans, scooping his leaking spend from your thighs with his finger and plugging it all back into your fucked out cunt. He plants a deep lingering kiss on your lips and he takes the towel from your hand, wetting it and wiping the shared mess between you two, careful when you start to hiss from over-stimulation.

“Hey, love? Can you help your gooey puddle of a wife up to the chair?” You ask, flashing him your best attempt at puppy eyes. Din smirks, pulling his pants back up before helping you back into your discarded robe, lifting you to the breakfast stool.

“Take a breather, cyar’ika, I’ll go get Grogu,” Din kisses the top of your head and flicks your nose before he goes to wake the child up, smiling to himself when he watches your nose wrinkle. You playfully shoo him as you tie your robes up, huffing about having to disinfect the kitchen after breakfast. 

If every morning started out like this, Din will never complains again for the rest of his life.

-

Song used in this fic: Ka’rta tor by Jesse Harlin

Ka'rta Tor (Heart of Justice)

Mando'a

Kandosii sa kyr'am ast,

Troan teroch jetiise a'den,

Duraan vi at ara'nov.

Vode an, ka'rta tor.

Translation

As ruthless as Death itself,

The pitiless face of The Jedi's wrath,

Let us look down on all who are before us.

Brothers all, one heart of justice.

[nahoney22]

New Years Kiss

All Bad Batch Boys X GN!Reader

Sharing a New Years Kiss with your favourite Bad Batcher.

warnings: none, complete fluff. Mixture of established and non-established relationships. Gender neutral reader, first kiss, love confessions.

authors note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! 🎉 (I wrote this on 28/11/2023 lol)

Echo 🎊

In the enchanting, snow-kissed ambiance, the town's New Year countdown becomes a magical moment, with you standing side by side by Echo.

As the countdown echoes, faces close, hands entwined, and laughter fills the air, Echo interrupts with a breathless revelation. "Can I tell you something?" he hurriedly asks, tightening his hold.

Amidst the dwindling seconds, curiosity lingers. "Of course, what is it?" you prompt, noticing his flustered expression.

"I know we've only been together a few months," he rushes, "but I love you. I love you more than anything in this galaxy."

With the cheer of "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" enveloping you, his lips find yours in a kiss that seals a confession of love. Among the celebratory chaos, your kisses ignite like fire on snow as you both exchanged whispered 'I love yous'.

You just can’t wait to see what the new year has to bring.

Hunter 🎉

As the countdown commenced, you sat at the bar, tapping your rings against the glass in frustration, abandoned by your supposed date. The prospect of entering the New Year alone dampened your spirits.

“Mind if I join you tonight?”

Surprised, you turn to find Hunter approaching, dressed casually and looking remarkably handsome, as always. "Hunter? What are you doing here?" you inquire with a laugh, standing to embrace the Sergeant in a hug.

"I heard you got stood up, and nobody should be alone on New Year's Eve," he smiles, joining you in counting down the seconds.

Shoulder to shoulder, the final moments arrive, and as the bar erupts with cheers, you share a glance with Hunter, a silent understanding passing between you.

He leans in and so do you, sealing the night with a soft kiss. It’s quick and simple but it spoke a thousand of unsaid words too.

"Happy New Year," he whispers against your lips.

"Happy New Year, Hunter," you reply, grateful for the twist of fate that brought him to your side when your plans fell through.

Wrecker 🎂

"I can't wait to spend New Year's with you," your boyfriend exclaims with a wide grin as you stroll hand in hand through the bustling market, alive with music, dancing, and delicious food—a perfect setting for both of you.

"I wouldn't want to spend it any other way," you reply, beaming up at him. The day unfolds with carnival games, your boyfriend's enthusiasm occasionally needing calming as he becomes determined to win despite your reminders of the games being rigged.

Time slips away unnoticed until fireworks light up the night sky. "Wreck! I think it's New Year," you call out.

His amazement mirrors yours as he gazes at the sky, then down at you. "I think it is too... and I owe my sweetheart a kiss."

You smirk, feeling your knees weaken at his charm. "That you do." He effortlessly lifts you, planting a warm, loving kiss on your lips, ushering in a moment that holds the promise of many more years together.

Tech 🎉

"I do not understand the importance of celebrating a day that leads into a new day," Tech explains for the fifth time, despite the lack of plans for New Year's Eve. You explain again the essence of celebrating New Year's as a way to mark new beginnings and enjoy time with loved ones.

"Because it's a nice thing to do, Tech," you explain, trying to convey the sentiment. "It's about celebrating new beginnings, having fun, and spending time with those you care about."

As you both navigate through hyperspace, Tech, stealing glances at you, detects a hint of dissatisfaction, realising that being stuck in a ship might not align with your desires for the occasion.

"According to my device, New Year commences in twenty-seven seconds on Ord Mantel," Tech informs, adjusting his goggles, sensing your subdued response.

"That's nice," you reply softly, masking your disappointment.

Fidgeting nervously, Tech clears his throat, breaking the silence. "That gives me fifteen seconds to prepare to kiss you."

Your eyes widen in surprise at his unexpected declaration. "Kiss me? What?"

"Isn't that what people do when New Year begins? Kiss someone they care for or are acquainted with," Tech rationalises, his desire to share that moment with you becoming apparent.

Your breath catches as realisation dawns. "Yes, I suppose they do."

As the clock strikes midnight, Tech moves closer, his hand finding your waist, drawing you near, and without hesitation, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender moment, marking the start of the New Year in a way neither of you anticipated.

“Just so you know, if we travel someone more the time zones will set to change meaning that we can do this again?” Tech mentions sheepishly as you both break away from the kiss. You like the idea of that.

Crosshair 🎆

In the quiet confines of the ship, you're ready to head out and enjoy the fireworks when you spot Crosshair meticulously cleaning his Firepuncher on his bunk. His piercing gaze meets yours as you ready yourself to step out. “Are you coming?”

"Why would I do that?" he retorts, his tone indicative of his disinterest.

With a deadpan expression, you suggest, "It's a good way to spend time with your brothers, sister... me," hoping to coax him into joining the celebrations. But Crosshair remains unimpressed, continuing to attend to his weapon with an air of indifference.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you stride purposefully toward him, deftly taking the weapon from his grasp. "Give it back," he demands, a note of irritation in his voice.

"Not until you've been outside," you insist, gesturing towards the gangplank. "Listen," you raise a hand to your ear, "they're counting down. It's almost New Year."

"I'm not interested in New Year," he grumbles, attempting to retrieve his weapon, but you effortlessly evade his reach, circling around him.

"Why's that? No pretty barmaid to kiss this year?" you tease, trying to crack his stoic exterior, earning a sharp glance from the Marksman.

"That was just a rumor," he grunts, crossing his arms defensively. "It's not even true."

Surprised by this revelation, you pause momentarily. "So, you don't want a kiss?"

Crosshair maintains his steely composure, replying with a raised brow, "Why? Are you offering?"

As he approaches slowly, you find yourself backed into the ship's doorway, the countdown to midnight resonating in the background. The explosive bursts of fireworks illuminate the sky, creating an enchanting backdrop as Crosshair leans in, allowing you a fleeting chance to retreat. Instead, you surrender to the moment, closing your eyes as his lips find yours, initiating a tender yet passionate kiss that leaves you breathless and unsteady.

"Happy New Year," he whispers as he pulls away, leaving a gentle peck on your cheek before swiftly retreating to secure his weapon. The odd and unexpected nature of Crosshair's actions leaves you in a whirlwind of different feelings. What a man.

Masterlist

My Ko-Fi

Tags & TAGLIST: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ezras-left-thumb @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san n @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @imalovernotahater @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @green-alm0nd (if your name is crossed you need to alter your settings so I can tag you 💜) @cw80831

[theprongspotter]

Give - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 17 - 1,440

Regulus doesn’t like parties, especially when it’s Gryffindors celebrating a win over Slytherin, but how could he say no to James? So, here he is, awkwardly standing beside James and Lily as Remus complains, his arm lazily slung around Sirius’ shoulders.

“The universe just needs to give me a man already,” Remus groans. James and Lily exchange a look, their shared amusement prompting Remus to sit up from his comfortable slouch on the couch. “No, no, no. Absolutely not. I know that look. Stop that right now!”

But it’s too late, because Lily flicks her wand at the gramophone, and suddenly, the room is filled with the unmistakable opening of “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” by ABBA. James, with the confidence only he could possess, clambers up onto the table in the middle of the common room and offers his hand to Lily, who laughs as she takes it, joining him up on the makeshift stage. The common room erupts with cheers, students abandoning their conversations and drinks to crowd around them, ready to indulge in the show.

“Half past twelve!” James and Lily belt out together, their voices blending surprisingly well as they point dramatically at each other. Remus groans, rolling his eyes, but Sirius only grins, clearly entertained by the spectacle.

Regulus, on the other hand, stands on the sidelines, entirely baffled. This doesn’t sound like any wizard music he’s ever heard. ABBA? Muggle music? He’s confused but doesn’t let it show, instead watching as James pours his heart into the performance.

“And I’m watching the late show in my flat all alone, how I hate to spend the evening on my own,” James sings with an exaggerated pout, his eyes scanning the room before locking onto Regulus.

Regulus’ breath catches, his heart stuttering in his chest as James croons the next line. “Autumn winds!” James and Lily harmonize, and though everyone is laughing, dancing along, and losing themselves in the carefree energy of the moment, Regulus finds himself caught in the storm of James’ gaze.

“Blowing outside the window as I look around the room, and it makes me so depressed to see the gloom,” Lily sings with a flair for the dramatic, her voice rising above the noise, but Regulus barely registers it. James’ eyes haven’t left his, and it makes Regulus feel both exposed and tethered, like something between them is about to unravel.

“There’s not a soul out there. No one to hear my prayer!” James sings with a cheeky grin, lifting an invisible microphone to his lips. His eyes glint mischievously, but when he focuses on Regulus, there’s something more. Something deeper.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight!” James and Lily sing in unison, but James’ eyes are still on him. And Regulus can’t look away, his stomach flipping at the way James’ gaze feels heavy with intent, as though the words hold a secret message just for him.

James’ grin softens slightly as he sings the next line, his voice dropping an octave. “Won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away?”

And Regulus feels a strange jolt of recognition. He feels like James is asking him that question—not with playful theatrics, but with an underlying plea. His heart pounds, the noise of the room fading away as James keeps singing, their connection electric and undeniable.

“Take me through the darkness to the break of the day,” Lily sings alone, but James still doesn’t tear his gaze from Regulus, even as he twirls Lily around effortlessly. It’s as if every word is meant for him, like James is saying something without saying it aloud. The weight of that thought makes Regulus shiver, and he can’t quite shake it.

The song comes to an end with a final spin, and James hops off the table, laughter bubbling up from the crowd. But instead of turning to his friends or acknowledging the chaos around him, James strides directly towards Regulus, a familiar gleam in his hazel eyes. His hands find their way to the belt loops of Regulus’ trousers, tugging him just close enough that their chests almost brush against one another.

“So,” James asks, his voice teasing but breathless, his glasses slightly crooked and that stupid, irresistible grin plastered on his face. “What’d you think?”

Regulus tries to keep his composure, but the warmth radiating off James, combined with the thrill of their proximity, makes it difficult. He fights against the blush rising to his cheeks and instead reaches up to fix James’ glasses, brushing his fingertips lightly against James’ temple.

“Hmm,” Regulus hums softly, his voice barely above a murmur. “It was alright. It was definitely lacking something, though.”

James arches a brow, intrigued. “Oh, really?” he asks, his voice low with interest. “And what was it lacking?”

Regulus’ response comes out in a whisper, his lips just inches away from James’ ear. “Me.”

James’ breath hitches, and for a moment, there’s a flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by a dangerous glint. A slow, wolfish grin spreads across his face, and his hands tighten slightly around Regulus’ belt loops, pulling him impossibly closer. The air between them is thick, charged with something electric and undeniable.

Regulus feels his pulse quicken, the confident smirk he had been wearing faltering slightly as James leans in, their faces so close now that he can feel the warmth of James’ breath against his skin. It’s almost overwhelming, the weight of the moment pressing down on him, and yet he doesn’t pull away. He can’t.

“You think you’re what was missing, huh?” James whispers, his voice low and laced with challenge. His eyes are sparkling with mischief, but beneath it, there’s something more—something unspoken but powerful, as if this moment is a turning point, something they’ve both been skirting around for far too long.

Regulus swallows, his throat dry, but he doesn’t back down. “I know I am.”

For a heartbeat, they just stand there, locked in place, the world around them seemingly fading away. The sounds of the party continue to swirl in the background—Remus and Sirius still bickering affectionately, Lily laughing with some of her friends, music thumping softly in the background—but none of it matters. It’s just them. Just James and Regulus, teetering on the edge of something more.

And then, without warning, James moves.

He closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against Regulus’ in a kiss that’s surprisingly soft at first—tentative, almost, as if testing the waters. But it quickly deepens, James’ grip on Regulus’ waist becoming firmer, more possessive, and Regulus feels himself melting into the kiss, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering wildly.

The kiss is brief, but it’s enough to make Regulus’ mind spin. When James finally pulls back, there’s a smug but affectionate look in his eyes, like he’s just won some secret game they’ve been playing. Regulus, breathless and slightly dazed, tries to compose himself, but the way James is looking at him makes it difficult.

“I’d say you’re right,” James says quietly, his voice warm and teasing. “You were definitely what was missing.”

Regulus scoffs, trying to hide how flustered he is. “You’re insufferable.”

James chuckles, stepping back just enough to give Regulus some space but not letting go entirely. “And yet, here you are,” he teases. His eyes flicker over Regulus’ face, and then he adds, softer this time, “I’m glad you are.”

Regulus wants to roll his eyes or make some sarcastic retort, but the sincerity in James’ voice makes it impossible. Instead, he huffs quietly, his heart still racing, and mutters, “You’re lucky I am.”

They stand there for a moment longer, the intensity of the kiss lingering in the air between them. But then, before the moment can grow too serious, Sirius’ voice cuts through the tension like a knife.

“Oi! What’s going on over there? Are you two finally making out?” Sirius hollers from the couch, a wide grin plastered on his face as he disentangles himself from Remus. “Took you long enough!”

Regulus groans, his face flushing bright red as he tries to pull away from James, but James just laughs, keeping him close.

“Mind your own business, Padfoot!” James calls back, not even remotely embarrassed. He looks down at Regulus with a wink. “Shall we give them something to really talk about?”

Regulus glares at him, but it’s half-hearted at best. “If you kiss me again in front of my brother, I will hex you.”

James chuckles, his grin never wavering. “Worth it.”

Regulus shakes his head, exasperated but undeniably charmed. “I hate you.”

James’ grin softens, and he brushes a thumb gently against Regulus’ waist. “Liar.”

[middlingmay]

Buck x Marge meet Gale HCs

What if it was Bucky and Marge who were together, and they both meet Buck?

Bucky and Marge have been together for maybe 6-9 months when he signs up to the Air Force. They're pretty smitten with each other, but also drive each other all kinds of crazy. Know all the buttons to push when they want to be annoying or get a rise out of the other.

They both like things a little lively, so hey.

Bucky enlists and all his letters to Marge are full of "my buddy Buck". She learns he has eyes like the morning sky, hair like the golden fields back home, a voice people jump to obey, lips like a dame, and a jawline that could cut glass.

"Hey!" he writes one day. "He's a lot like you! That's why we get on so well!"

And Bucky might be obtuse but Marge knows that isn't how most fellas talk about their buddles. But it amuses her more than anything else: her man's got himself a crush. She makes Bucky promise to introduce them sometime.

Almost immediately upon meeting John, Gale is regaled about his "little spitfire" at home, Marge. Mostly through John telling Gale how Marge and him are a lot alike, and he isn't quite sure how that makes him feel.

Especially when Bucky is so handsy and flirty and Gale definitely doesn't hate it. He leans into it, relishes it, anticipates it. Until Bucky mentions Marge again and something in Gale deflates and he pulls back.

There's a dance on, and Marge makes the trip and Bucky's so excited for them to meet. But Gale dreads it. Bucky already pushes it when he dances with girls at the bar, never taking it too far, and it makes Gale feel like crawling into a hole. He can't imagine what it'll be like when Bucky has his actual girl to fondle.

Then it's 100 times worse when he meets Marge because she's drop dead gorgeous and sweet and keeps John in line effortlessly, and Gale sits there, sipping his ginger beer, losing his goddamn mind about the fact he's jealous of both his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend.

Meanwhile Bucky and Marge are on the dance floor and Marge whispers in Bucky's ear that she knows about his crush and ho boy does she get it. And she wouldn't be adverse to getting to know Gale a little better.

And Bucky kind of just wants to drop to his knees in front of this woman because how perfect could she get?? But she's got that glint in her eye, and Bucky's never backed down from it yet.

"You like him?" He asks and Marge just bites her lip the way she knows gets him a little crazy. The way Buck bites his lips too.

"Then how about a little competition?"

That sparks the tinder in Marge’s eye. "What did you have in mind?"

"Whoever gets Buck to break first, gets first fuck? But no solo time! No way I'm missing out on that spectacle if you win."

"Oh, John," she says, glacing back over to Gale who's very busy looking like he's not watching them. "When I win."

[glorified-red]

Sometimes u just need Damian to hold u while u cry y'know¿??

I feel this with every fiber of my being, you have no idea.

Actions Speak a Thousand Words

summary: Damian was always a man of little words, but in moments like these, he wished he could do better to comfort you. word count: 1,280~ warnings: self-doubt, self-hatred, Damian sucks at emotions but he's tRyiNg. Light hurt/comfort In honor of summer classes sucking ASS and Damian's cameo in the Pride comic, here's this, because I feel like everyones a little bit tired right now.

You felt a shoulder bump into yours, effectively washing away all your thoughts. You hummed in question, your gaze barely lifting from where it was stuck. 

“You’ve been staring at the wall for long enough that I’ve begun to think it’s personally wronged you.” 

You hummed into the fingers that nestled against your chin, it was subtle pressure but it was enough to keep you from floating away. The hum almost died in your throat, having gotten caught in the heat that taunted you. 

When you didn’t laugh or even budge, Damian grew worried. He attempted to—as you taught him—lighten the mood once more. 

“I could fight the wall for you. It seems as though you’re mortal enemies.” 

You responded that time, but the attempt at banter fell short when your voice was nothing but a whisper. “We’re in the middle of a staring contest, that’d defeat the point.” 

It was Damian’s turn to hum, he tried to sound like he was on board with the idea but the tail end of the noise lifted into confusion. He slipped onto the seat next to you. 

“Are you at least winning?” His gaze attempted to reach yours. Green eyes were at the edge of your vision if you just turned your head to look at him. He felt his eyebrows crease together when your eyes fell from the wall and onto the desk in front of you. 

“I don’t think so,” you whispered, much softer than the last time you spoke. If Damian wasn’t inches away, the wobbles in your voice would have faded into nothing, to never be heard. The lips behind shaky fingers struggled to suck in a breath. 

Damian sifted ever closer to you until he could feel your silhouette against his. He hesitated, if not for a moment. He wasn’t good at this, he was trying to be—god he was—but it didn’t stop the lump in his throat from forming every time he saw you in hardship. 

He started with the first step: “Are you okay?” 

That sentence alone felt like he had said it wrong. He could mimic the exact inflections as everyone, down to the last breath, and he would still feel so out of place saying it. He hated the sound of his own hesitance—why couldn’t he be good at this, just once? He’d watched for years as his oldest brother danced through emotions so effortlessly, even his father had grown in an aspect Damian would never admit he was jealous of. He’d seen it—experienced it himself—yet he could never navigate this as easily as the others. 

You told him he was doing wonderful every time. You noticed his efforts and smiled at his mistakes, told him he was human and that it was okay. But damn, did Damian want to be better for you. You taught him what it was like to feel alive. He wanted to return that feeling tenfold until your body buzzed with his love for you. 

He just didn’t know how. 

The silence between you too lingered for longer than he liked. Every fiber of his being itched to fix the problem, to make sure whatever was making you feel this lost was squandered. But he quieted that part of him; he told himself “later.” Right now, that wouldn’t help you. That wouldn’t help you process this or feel whatever you were feeling right now. He had to give you time. 

So he waited, even as the milliseconds stretched into seconds. He let your brain filter through his question and piece together a response. 

“I’m just tired, Dames.” 

He picked at his pants, feeling the seams roll under his fingers. 

“Do you want to take a nap?” died in his throat. 

“We could cuddle?” slipped from his tongue. 

“Maybe take a break?” seemed impossible to say. 

Those are solutions, they wouldn’t help right now. 

“From?” he settled on. The green from his eyes never left your face for a moment. He was sure you could feel it, the weight of his gaze. It slid from your temples down your nose and across your jaw, tracing each line over and over again so he could see when they shifted. He could analyze your face for hours, it’s how he knew the twitch between your eyebrows was a sign you were trying to form the words on your tongue. 

He knew you. And he knew you wanted to smack a smile on your face and move on, to laugh it off and apologize for everything and nothing all at once. He often did the same, just with a different way of shrugging off emotions. He hid behind a stone wall where you hid behind a mirror. 

It was funny really, how easily you could penetrate his walls and how easily he could see through a two-way. 

“Everything.” Your eyes finally met his and the feeling of his heart sinking wasn’t one he could ever get used to. The sight of tears forming constellations on your lashes was enough for his heart to lurch. He felt it deep in his ribcage and up into his throat. 

He struggled on his next word. The words had to claw their way out of his mouth, enemies of hesitance and anxiety blocking their path. He wanted to tell you everything would be okay; he wanted to say it would get better; he wanted to say something that would help—anything. 

But Damian was never a man of many words, and oh, did he hate himself for it. 

No matter how many times he was told his strengths, he could only ever see the weaknesses, the imperfections, and the traits of him that could be traced back to his grandfather. Even after so long of trying to be better, it was useless. 

He was trying to be someone he wasn’t. 

So he let the words die. He let the resonance turn into a steady breath and did what he was good at: he held you. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You all but fell into his embrace, your head finding its way under his chin out of habit. It felt natural here, with you in his arms. Damian felt like he could breathe easier as if all his insecurities washed away. 

He hoped you felt the same. 

“I'm so tired,” you sobbed. Fingers clung to his shirt and pulled on the fabric but he stayed steady. He was, and always would be, your rock: the steady force in your life while all else seemed to swirl into chaos. He would always be there for you, despite everything. He was an immovable force and he slowly took pride in that fact. 

His lips pressed into the top of your head, the words hidden behind those lips ached to break through. Instead, he wrote the words into your body and kissed them into your skin in hopes the message was received all the same. 

The pads of his fingers squeezed consonants into your shoulders and slid vowels down your back and up again. His thighs carried the weight of yours and promised strength in return. His chest breathed in your sorrows and pressed affirmations into your heart. 

“I’m here.” 

It was short—that much Damian knew. But it was all he had to say. Every single word trapped in his chest was released in two simple syllables. There was nothing else. It was so simple, yet he overlooked it everytime. 

He could feel your body leaning into his, the way your hands had to convince themselves he was there. He knew you. And he knew this was enough. 

He would always be enough. 

As he was.

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

[stqr-grl]

╭﹕🍒｡♡・more than a friend

୨୧⸝⸝﹕synopsis — you loved your boyfriend but you seemingly loved your ‘friend’ kurona a little bit more.﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕warnings — f!reader, infidelity[reader cheats on their boyfriend w kurona], weed usage[reader and kurona are both high, dw], unprotected vaginal sex, reader answers the phone while getting bent, reader’s boyfriend walks in at the end, not proofread, v messy, all characters are depicted at 18+!﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕wc — 1k.﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕notes — this is js absolute brain barf but i had to write even a little smth for kurona i simply cannot get him out my head !﹐

you met best friend, kurona, a few years back in your high school chemistry class which is right around the time you started dating your now long term boyfriend, teru.

kurona wasn’t sociable by any means but you still took it upon yourself to initiate conversation with him — which surprisingly went well.

conversation between the two of you flowed easily once you got pass the initial awkward introductions, kurona cracking jokes and telling you about his aspiring soccer career while you sat pretty and listened to all he had to say despite knowing nothing about the sport.

it was after that one day in class together that you two decided to continue what you had going, forming a tight friendship with one another.

but soon after you graduated high school and entered college with your best friend and boyfriend by your side things got a bit more complicated…despite only being friends you found yourself not being able to get kurona out your mind no matter where you were or what you were doing.

weather you’d be simply walking to your classes, doing the dishes, or even being in bed with teru present a thought of him would pop into the forefront of your mind; thinking of his cute sharp toothed smile that he’d send your way when you laughed at a joke he made, or the way his eyes would light up when he’d see you in the stands to watch him practice.

you had feelings for ranze, you knew you had feelings for him and you felt awful about it, really. you tried to trick yourself into thinking that all your love was still saved for teru but in reality you knew it wasn’t. it was his passion that shifted all your life to to kurona. who when out of his shell could be fun and excitable, passionate and energized by the adrenaline given to him by his sport, always looking so determined for a win, all whilst looking effortlessly pretty in the process.

even now looking at him now sprawled out on your bed, legs tangled with yours and dressed in his sweaty soccer uniform he looked gorgeous; eyes half lidded and bloodshot from the weed he smoked a few minutes prior, his pink tinted lips slightly agape, his sharp shark-like teeth being slightly exposed.

“kurona,” you blurt out, voice laced with something unreadable to the pink hair boy who slowly shifted his gaze to you, an eyebrow cocked up. “i think i like you.”

the lazy look of surprise on his face scares you. “oh?” he sits up, leaning towards you, head tilted like a cats, “well, i think i wanna kiss you.” your breath hitched as he muttered the words against your lips. “well if that’s the case then maybe you should kiss me.”

a sly smile grows on his face as he closes the gap between you two, the kiss is hot — messy and full of need, tongues nicely dancing together as kurona’s hands began to roam as if unsure where to put them.

it all feels so surreal to you- to have kurona on top of you, hands traveling your body gently moving to your shorts that we’re riding up your plush thighs, the sweet fragrance of your perfume filling his nose as he breathed you in. it all felt like absolute heaven despite how wrong it all was.

a shaky breath escapes his lips when he pulls away from you, tracking your expressions. the look on your face —eyes starry and red, lips swollen from all the kissing— could make him cum on the spot, the sight of you alone making his own shorts feel much tighter than before.

“gah, y’so pretty, angel. i want more of you, need more of you,” groaning at the restraint of his shorts. “need you too,” you gasp, reaching down and lifting your body off the dip of the mattress, shimmying out of your shorts and underwear, tossing the two pieces of fabric aside and spreading your glistening folds before him.

if his face want red before then it definitely was now- seeing your sopping wet cunt almost him made whimper with need as he pulled his throbbing cock from his shorts, small globs of pre running from the leaking head, stroking the base. “ah, look at that pretty p’sy all soaked from a few kisses.” he rasps, voice full of lust as he rubs the angry tip of his cock against your wet folds, ripping a small whine from you. “ah– kurona, don’t tease.”

kurona leans down pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he slides himself into your wet, doughy walls. a high pitched mewl escapes your throat at the burning stretch of his cock.

as soon as he bottoms out inside you he lets out a whiney moan of his own and the constriction your heat has against his shaft.

pushing the tip of his cock in, he’s hisses at the constriction of your doughy walls, head dipping down to your shoulder, teeth gently digging into the flesh to keep the whiny moans from bubbling out of his chest.

“oh fu-uuuk, pretty thing– feels so good.” he whines, head dipping down to the crook of your neck, teeth digging into the flesh as he paused for a moment.

kurona begins with a steady pace, thrusts long and slow as he struggles to move in and out of your cunt. a series of mains flows out of you as your phone begins ringing — it was teru. what the hell were you supposed to do? was he on his way back from the store? obviously you could just ignore it but-

“pick it up,” kurona huffed, “answer the phone and let him hear who’s splitting you open on their cock.” you bite down on your lower lip as you pick up the phone, placing it on speaker for your friend to hear.

“h-hello?” you choked, kurona deliberately picking up his pace making you gasp and slap a hand over your mouth. “love, hi, is everything okay? you sound kind of… breathless?” teru questioned, concern laced in his voice.

an airy giggle leaves kurona’s mouth at teru’s words. as he continues the ruthless rut of his hips into yours, making your eyes roll back and drool run from the corner of your mouth.

“oh yeah i’m– ah! shit. i’m okay, just–“ you pause, receiving a sloppy kiss from your friend as you spoke. “just got done doing some dances with ‘rona..” you rasp, feeling the pink haired male’s cock press against the spot inside you that made you crumble, a blatant moan escaping your lips as you slap your hand back over your mouth. the other end of the phone goes eerily silent, the final words you hear from your boyfriend being “i’m in my way home” before the call cut.

“shiiit, he’s comin’ back,” you moan out, gripping the sheets, back arching off the bed. “gotta make this quick.” kurona moves his head down to your throbbing clit, slightly calloused fingers rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerve, making you cry out once more.

“c’mon pretty, cum for me, let me see you cum in my cock.” he whispers, his hips shuddering as he speaks, growing close to his own high- but that’s when you both hear it; loud, angry footsteps headed towards your room — it was teru.

almost as if one instinct the knot that’s been growing in your stomach for the past 5 minutes finally snaps as you cream around kurona’s cock, a white ring forming around it as he continues his sloppy thrusts before pairing your gummy insides white just as the door opens.

2023 ©stqr-grl

[minhosbitterriver]

🏵️ BEAUTIFUL MESS. ( xdinary heroes )

❛ After winning a bet against you, Jiseok decides that he would be the dominant one for a change...though that doesn't last long.

𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐤 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ) 4.2k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Another amazing request made by the wonderful 🍀 Anon! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, Gaon gets pegged, he's also a brat that crumbles quickly, smut, Reader uses strap, overstimulation as punishment, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞����𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

Jiseok’s intoxicating moan permeated the room, a symphony of desire that hung in the air like a heavy, sweet perfume. His body moved with an almost languid grace as he settled fully onto your lap, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His head tipped back, exposing the elegant curve of his throat, while his lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure, capturing the very essence of his rapture.

For a heartbeat, he remained perfectly still, his body tense as he adjusted to the sensation of your strap. The room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his breath, each exhale a testament to the intensity of the moment. The heat between you was palpable, a magnetic force drawing you closer.

Your hand moved with purpose, fingers curling around his cheeks with a commanding yet tender touch. The pads of your fingers pressed gently but firmly into his skin, guiding his gaze to meet yours. His eyes, dark and glazed with lust, locked onto yours, creating an electric connection that sent shivers down your spine. The dominance in your grip was undeniable, but it was tempered with a deep, unspoken affection, a silent promise of pleasure and trust.

Although he turned his gaze towards you as you desired, the playful glint in his eyes was a tantalizing reminder of the agreement you'd struck earlier. That sparkle of mischief was undeniable, a testament to the unspoken game that had woven itself into your intimate encounter.

His hand, warm and firm, wrapped around your wrist, pulling your touch away from his face. The loss of contact was a sharp contrast to the previous closeness, creating a sense of longing that deepened the intensity of the moment. His other hand moved with a similar purpose, capturing the ones resting on his hips and effortlessly locking them by the sides of your head.

A mean smile curled on Jiseok's lips, a blend of dominance and playful cruelty that sent a thrill through your veins. The power dynamic shifted as he asserted control, leaving you helplessly bound beneath him. The heat of his skin and the strength of his grip were both captivating and consuming.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Jiseok began to lift himself off your lap. His body arched gracefully, and another intoxicating moan escaped his lips, a sound that reverberated through the room and settled deep within you. The deliberate pace of his movements was a torment, a slow burn of pleasure and anticipation that made every second feel like an eternity.

As he descended once more, the connection between you was electric, a fusion of bodies and desires that left you breathless. The sight of him above you, the feel of his hands pinning you down, and the sound of his moans created a sensory overload, a beautifully torturous experience that bound you together in a dance of passion and control.

Watching as he shamelessly used you for his own pleasure was a stark departure from your usual dynamic, a reversal that sent a thrill of unfamiliar excitement through you. Typically, you held the reins, but now, with Jiseok in control, you found yourself on the precipice of a new and tantalizing experience. There was a fleeting moment where you almost wished you’d won the bet, to reclaim that familiar dominance, but the allure of this role reversal was undeniable.

The way his own leaking length slapped against your stomach with each glide up and down your strap was a vivid, tantalizing sensation. Each movement sent ripples of heat coursing through you, a physical manifestation of his pleasure and a reminder of your current submission. His every action, every deliberate thrust, elicited filthy, unrestrained sounds from his lips. Those moans, raw and primal, traveled down to your very core, igniting a fire that burned with intensity.

Jiseok was utterly mesmerizing. His body, a study in fluid grace and raw desire, moved with a rhythm that was both hypnotic and intoxicating. The interplay of power and vulnerability in his eyes, the way they flickered between control and surrender, held you captive. His pleasure was palpable, a living thing that enveloped you both, drawing you deeper into the moment.

The intensity of the situation was heightened by the contrast to your usual roles. The sight of him lost in ecstasy, taking what he needed from you with such shameless abandon, was a heady mix of power and submission that blurred the lines of dominance and desire. Each glide, each slap, each moan was a symphony of sensations that wove together into an exquisite tapestry of pleasure and connection.

In this moment, Jiseok was not just using you; he was unveiling a new facet of your relationship, one that was as captivating as it was unexpected. The raw honesty of his desire, the unguarded vulnerability of his pleasure, created a space where you both could explore the depths of your connection in a way that was beautifully, intoxicatingly real.

Jiseok's pace quickened, driven by an increasing neediness that was palpable in every movement. His lewd moans and groans filled the air, a symphony of raw desire that echoed around the room, amplifying the intensity of the moment. The sound of his pleasure intertwined with the rhythmic slap of his body against yours, creating an intoxicating soundtrack to your shared passion.

As his need grew, Jiseok's hands released your wrists, leaving behind the ghost of his touch. His fingers, now free, moved with an eager purpose, reaching up to grasp your breasts. The sudden shift sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the unexpected contact. The weight and warmth of his hands on your skin, the way they molded to the curve of your breasts, was a heady sensation that added another layer to your shared ecstasy.

Your breasts bounced in time with the rhythm he set, each movement a visual testament to the intensity of your connection. His hands, once gentle, became more assertive, groping and squeezing with a fervent hunger. The pressure of his touch, the way his fingers moved against your flesh, was an exquisite blend of pleasure and pain.

An unexpected moan tore from your lips, raw and unfiltered. The sound seemed to ignite something within Jiseok, a spark that fanned the flames of his desire. His eyes, dark with lust, gleamed with satisfaction as he heard your response. His fingers found your nipples, pinching them with expert precision, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Each pinch, each twist, was a calculated move designed to elicit the sounds he craved from you.

Jiseok's actions were a dance of dominance and desire, a carefully choreographed performance that left you breathless and yearning for more. His hands, his touch, the way he moved—everything was a testament to his understanding of your body and the pleasure it could bring. The room pulsed with the heat of your shared passion, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that left you both on the edge of ecstasy.

“Fuck,” Jiseok panted, his voice a hoarse whisper as his eyes remained glued to your breasts, bouncing rhythmically with his every movement. His gaze was fervent, filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger as he chased his own high. “You’re so gorgeous like this,” he breathed out, the words drenched in genuine admiration and lust.

The moment his declaration reached your ears, you felt one of his hands abandon its grip on your breast, the loss of contact momentarily jarring. His fingers trailed a burning path up your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before wrapping firmly around your neck. The pressure was calculated, just enough to squeeze in a way that was both erotic and thrilling. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and another moan, raw and unbidden, escaped your lips.

The sound you made seemed to resonate deeply within Jiseok, fueling the fire of his desire. His eyes, dark with intensity, widened as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your reactions heightening his own arousal. The eroticism of the moment was almost too much for him to bear; his breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp, and his moans grew louder, filling the room with a symphony of lust.

His pace quickened, the urgency of his movements mirroring the escalation of his need. Every thrust, every squeeze of his hand around your neck, was a testament to the powerful connection you shared. The way he moved, the way he sounded, it was all a beautiful, chaotic dance of desire and dominance.

Jiseok's body tensed as he drew closer to his peak, his sounds becoming a harmonious blend of desperation and ecstasy. The sight of you, the feel of you, the sounds you made—it was all an intoxicating mix that drove him to the brink. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to send another wave of pleasure through you, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce intensity.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only Jiseok, his need, his desire, and the incredible, electrifying connection between you. The way he looked at you, the way he moved with you, it was all a testament to the depth of your shared passion, a beautifully detailed tableau of pleasure and intimacy.

“Yeah?” you grunted, your voice a mix of challenge and desire. Deciding to take control for a moment, you bucked your hips upwards, meeting his pace with a deliberate force that sent a shockwave of pleasure through both of you. The sudden movement elicited a sharp gasp from Jiseok, his eyes widening as he seemed to teeter right on the edge of his climax.

Your actions spurred him on, pushing him closer to that precipice of ecstasy. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, each exhale a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body. The intensity of your connection was almost palpable, a physical force that bound you together in this intimate dance.

“You love it when you use me, huh?” you taunted, your voice dripping with a provocative mix of mockery and allure. The words seemed to resonate deeply with Jiseok, his expression shifting to one of pure, unrestrained need. The provocative edge in your voice only served to heighten his arousal, pushing him further towards the brink.

“Shameless boy,” you added, your tone a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. The term of endearment, laced with playful reproach, hung in the air between you, adding another layer to the intricate tapestry of your shared pleasure. 

Jiseok's response was visceral, a guttural moan that tore from his throat as he bucked against you with renewed fervor. His eyes, dark with lust, locked onto yours, the connection between you deepening with every passing second. The way he moved, the way he responded to your taunts, was a testament to the powerful dynamic you both shared.

In this moment, the roles of dominance and submission blurred, creating a beautifully intricate dance of power and pleasure. The heat of your bodies, the intensity of your gazes, and the raw honesty of your words all combined to create a moment of unparalleled intimacy. Jiseok’s vulnerability and shameless need, matched by your confident control, wove together to form a scene of exquisite passion that neither of you would soon forget.

Taking advantage of Jiseok's dazed state, his focus solely on his own pleasure, you slid your hand between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his leaking, sensitive length. The heat and pulsing hardness of him filled your palm, and his immediate reaction was a sharp yelp at the unexpected contact. The sound was almost sweet in its vulnerability, a stark contrast to the mischief that had previously clouded his eyes.

In that instant, the playful defiance in his gaze was replaced by a silent, desperate pleading. His eyes, wide and dark with need, locked onto yours with an intensity that made you smirk. The power shift was palpable, his bravado crumbling as his desire took over. He was so, so close to finishing—that much was obvious from the way his length twitched and pulsed in your hand, his body betraying his imminent release.

Despite his earlier bratty behavior, you decided to grant him what he so clearly craved, though not without a touch of your own mischief. With a deliberate slowness, you began to stroke him, matching the rhythm he had set for himself. Your movements were precise, calculated, designed to drive him wild with need. The contrast of your cool control against his desperate urgency created a delicious tension that heightened the intensity of the moment.

Your fingers moved expertly, each stroke sending shivers down his spine, his hips bucking instinctively in response. The feeling of his hot, slick length in your hand, combined with the sight of his face contorted in pleasure, was intoxicating. Every gasp, every shudder, was a testament to the exquisite torture you were inflicting upon him.

As you continued, his breathing grew ragged, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. The silent begging in his eyes deepened, his lips parting in a wordless plea for release. Your smirk widened, savoring the power you held over him in that moment. The combination of his need and your control created a heady, electric atmosphere that thrummed with shared desire.

With each stroke, you brought him closer to the edge, his moans growing louder, more desperate. The friction, the pace, the sheer intimacy of your touch was pushing him to his limits. The sight of him, so undone and vulnerable, was a beautiful contrast to his earlier defiance. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a beautifully orchestrated performance that left you both breathless and yearning for more.

As he teetered on the brink, his eyes begged for mercy, for release. And in that moment, you knew you had him completely, utterly at your mercy. The power was intoxicating, the control exhilarating, and the pleasure, both his and yours, was a symphony of sensation that filled the room with a palpable, electrifying energy.

Jiseok's face nuzzled into your neck, his moans loud and unabashed as he sought the comfort of your closeness. The intensity of his orgasm wracked his body, sending shudders of pleasure through him as ropes of his release stained both his stomach and yours. The heat and wetness of it created an intimate connection, a tangible reminder of the pleasure you'd just shared.

As the last tremors of his climax coursed through him, you took advantage of his dazed state, swiftly shifting your bodies so you were on top of him. The transition was seamless, a fluid motion that left him momentarily disoriented. His eyes fluttered open, confusion and surprise mingling in their depths as he processed the change in position.

His bewilderment deepened when he realized you were still buried to the hilt inside of him. The sensation of fullness, combined with the unexpected shift in dominance, sent another wave of pleasure through his already sensitized body. You couldn't help but chuckle meanly, the sound a dark, tantalizing promise of what was to come.

With deliberate slowness, you began to withdraw, watching the emotions play across his face. The startled moan that tore from his lips was music to your ears, a symphony of need and surprise that only fueled your own desire. His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and anticipation as he felt you pull out almost completely.

Then, without warning, you snapped your hips back into him, the sudden, powerful thrust drawing another moan from deep within his chest. The sensation was overwhelming, the intensity of your movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through both of you. Each snap of your hips was a calculated strike, designed to elicit the most exquisite responses from him.

Jiseok's body responded instinctively, his back arching, his fingers clutching at the sheets as he tried to ground himself against the onslaught of sensations. His moans grew louder, more desperate, filling the room with the raw, unfiltered sounds of his pleasure. The way he writhed beneath you, the way his body reacted to every thrust, was mesmerizing.

You reveled in the control, the power you held over him in that moment. Each movement, each sound, was a testament to the depth of your connection, a beautifully orchestrated dance of dominance and submission. The pleasure was all-encompassing, a heady mix of physical sensation and emotional intensity that left you both breathless.

“Wait, wait!” Jiseok panted, his eyes wide with a mix of desperation and lingering sensitivity. “I’m still so sensitive, please!” Despite his pleas, his nails dug deliciously into the skin of your hips, urging you to stay inside him each time you attempted to pull away. The contradiction between his words and actions was intoxicating, a testament to the depths of his desire.

“Aw, is my shameless boy still sensitive?” you cooed, your tone laced with feigned sympathy as you pouted. The mockery in your voice was deliberate, a playful taunt that only heightened the intensity of the moment. Without hesitation, you picked up your pace, your movements becoming more deliberate and powerful. Jiseok responded by burying his head deeper into the pillows beneath him, his body trembling with unrestrained pleasure.

The sight of his exposed neck, so vulnerable and inviting, was too tempting to resist. You leaned in, attaching your tongue and lips to his skin, leaving a messy trail of kisses and licks that he loved. The wet, heated contact sent shivers down his spine, adding another layer to the sensory overload he was experiencing. His moans grew louder, each sound a symphony of pleasure that resonated through the room.

As you continued to thrust into him, you reached down, grabbing ahold of one of his hands. Guiding it with a firm yet gentle touch, you directed it towards his own sensitive core. The look in your eyes was stern, a silent command that left no room for disobedience. “Touch yourself,” you ordered, your voice low and authoritative. “And don’t you dare stop until I’m done with you.”

The combination of your firm grip, the intensity of your gaze, and the raw power of your words sent a thrill through Jiseok. His eyes widened even further, a mix of surprise and arousal evident in their depths. Obediently, he wrapped his hand around his own length, his touch tentative at first, then growing more confident as he began to stroke himself in time with your thrusts.

The added stimulation pushed him closer to the edge, his moans becoming more desperate, more pleading. Every movement, every sound, was a testament to the exquisite torture you were inflicting upon him. His body was a canvas, and you were the artist, painting a masterpiece of pleasure and submission.

Your lips never left his neck, the wet, messy kisses a constant reminder of your presence and control. Each thrust, each command, each touch, was a deliberate act of dominance, designed to bring him to the brink and keep him there, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The power you held over him was intoxicating, a heady mix of control and desire that left you both breathless.

As Jiseok’s strokes grew more frantic, his body trembling with the effort to maintain control, you could see the raw need in his eyes. The sight of him, so vulnerable and desperate, was a beautiful contrast to his usual bravado. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a dance of power and submission that left you both craving more.

Though Jiseok was rendered speechless, his response was visceral. He nodded vigorously, his movements driven by instinct rather than thought. His eyes fluttered shut, rolling back into his head as waves of pleasure overwhelmed him. His mouth, parted in a breathless gasp, emitted a continuous stream of erotic sounds—moans, whimpers, and gasps—that filled the air with a symphony of raw desire.

The pace you had set was relentless, each thrust precise and unyielding. The rhythm of your movements was a powerful force, pushing him closer to the edge with every stroke. His body responded instinctively, bouncing beneath you with each snap of your hips, the force of your actions leaving him helplessly at your mercy.

You could see the culmination of his orgasm approaching, a visible wave of pleasure that crested before he even had the chance to fully experience it. His entire body trembled with the intensity of his release, the tension and ecstasy etched across his features as his senses were inundated with the overwhelming pleasure you had orchestrated.

Despite the overwhelming sight of his climax, you did not relent. The snap of your hips continued with unyielding precision, maintaining the rhythm that kept him on the precipice of his ecstasy. The relentless force of your movements only added to the intensity, ensuring that he was swept up in the powerful, unending wave of sensation.

As Jiseok's body was rocked by the force of your thrusts, the combination of his vocal responses and the visual impact of his pleasure created a scene of exquisite, almost violent intimacy. Each thrust, each push, was a testament to the power you held, a beautifully detailed expression of control and desire that left you both breathless and craving more.

Jiseok’s whines began to rise in pitch, the sound a desperate plea for respite as you continued, relentless, after his second orgasm. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears, a telltale sign of the overstimulation that left him vulnerable and overwhelmed. Despite his evident distress, he didn’t dare disobey; his hands, trembling with the effort, shakily tried to keep pace with the rhythm you set. Each quiver of his fingers was a testament to his surrender, an acknowledgment of your absolute control.

You kept your gaze fixed on his face, savoring the exquisite display of his unraveling. His expression was a mix of helplessness and desperate need, a beautiful contrast to the confident persona he usually projected. The sight of him so utterly undone beneath you was intoxicating, his whimpers and pleas a perfect accompaniment to the raw pleasure you were inflicting.

It wasn’t long before a third orgasm tore through him with a surprising ferocity, more intense and aggressive than the first two. The force of it was almost overwhelming, a powerful wave that left him trembling and gasping. This time, you allowed yourself to slow your pace, guiding him through the tumultuous waves of his climax with a deliberate, measured rhythm. Each thrust was calculated, designed to prolong his pleasure and deepen the intensity of his release.

As his body continued to writhe beneath you, the rhythmic pulse of his orgasm gradually subsided. His movements became more frantic, a clear sign of his need for relief. You watched with a mix of satisfaction and possessive delight as he squirmed, finally wriggling under you in a final, desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sensations. With one last, deliberate thrust, you brought the relentless rhythm to a halt, your body coming to rest against his.

The room was filled with the echoes of his pleasure, the air thick with the remnants of his intense release. You took a moment to bask in the aftermath, your control and dominance etched into every breath he took. The scene before you was a testament to the exquisite power of your connection, a beautifully detailed tableau of desire and submission that left both of you breathless and spent.

He lay before you, a beautiful mess of flushed skin and disheveled abandon. His cheeks and ears were painted a deep crimson, a vivid contrast to the pale expanse of his neck and shoulders. His pink lips were parted, still gasping for breath as he struggled to regain his composure. The sight of him, so utterly spent and vulnerable, was a portrait of exquisite pleasure and surrender.

Yet, it was the adoration in his eyes that captivated you the most. Despite the chaos of the moment, his gaze remained steady, a soft, glowing warmth radiating from his eyes as they followed your every move. It was a look of profound devotion, a silent testament to the connection you shared. The sight was both endearing and electrifying, a stark contrast to the wild, urgent sounds that had filled the air moments before.

"You’re so good to me," he murmured, his voice a tender whisper against the lingering echoes of his earlier cries. The contrast between his previous loud moans and the soft, heartfelt admission was striking, adding a layer of intimacy to the moment. His words were a balm to your own exhaustion, a reminder of the depth of the bond you both shared.

A chuckle, full of affection and warmth, escaped your lips as you absorbed the sweetness of his confession. With a gentle, almost reverent touch, you leaned down, your movements slow and deliberate. You pressed your lips against his forehead, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of comfort and reassurance. Moving to his nose, you placed another kiss, this one lighter and more playful, before finally capturing his lips in a tender, lingering embrace.

The kiss was a silent promise, a wordless declaration of your feelings as you melted into the intimacy of the moment. The softness of his lips against yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, created a cocoon of affection that wrapped around both of you. In that shared space, amidst the aftermath of passion and pleasure, you found a quiet, beautiful connection that transcended words and left you both basking in the gentle glow of your shared intimacy.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ My permanent taglist is open! (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

[randomdragonfires]

Fabulous chapter 3 of Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did btw.

So I'm guessing he's legit sleeping with both? but damn I hope she tells him she's figured out who the other woman is..

Hello lovely anon! Thank you ::)

With regards to Aemond's little mess and Alys being labelled 'the other woman,' I have some thoughts. Long character dissection below.

Aemond has always been more mature and well-read than his peers, but this trait truly began to show after his accident. The loss of his eye compounded his insecurities, making him feel as though he needed to work harder to compensate for what he had lost. His desire to gain his father Viserys’s approval became a driving force, as he saw how effortlessly Rhaenyra's children seemed to win their father’s favor, a favor he never received. While Aemond is undoubtedly angry at his father’s lack of reaction to his injury, much of his motivation stems from deeper insecurities and a yearning for his father to be better, particularly toward his mother and siblings.

This desire to impress Viserys shaped Aemond into someone highly focused and driven. He dedicated himself to performing exceptionally in everything he did, but at the cost of becoming emotionally distant. While he maintained surface-level friendships with those in his orbit - the children of wealthy families who would eventually become business collaborators or competition - he never truly allowed anyone to get too close unless they're his mother, his siblings or Cole. In this regard, his connections were strategic, rather than personal.

Wylde however, is a different case.

Given her mother's friendship with Alicent and her eventual passing, Wylde is brought into the fold as much as Alicent deems appropriate. She's not the best mother by any means - she's not even that open with her own children, as is the case with most society mothers - but she sees that the kids take care of each other, so she simply enables Wylde's presence by welcoming her and lets them grow together. There is a certain comfort in it for her, given how her negligent Viserys was to the point of driving a perfect woman like her to an affair with Cole the bodyguard - the man who eventually becomes the calm in her storm, the love of her life.

Wylde basically grows up as part of the unit. Aegon takes on a big brother mantle even if he's not interacting with them on a regular basis - remember that scene where he's dancing with a kid!Wylde in the first chapter?

She is a fairly important presence in Helaena's life - it isn't much, but given how inclined she is to not go out there and stick to her own family, it's a lot. Daeron and Wylde of course grow up thick as thieves - same age, same classes, all of it. They're the definition of the young friendship trope and they've been in it all.

Aemond, however, was not initially part of this close-knit orbit. From a young age, he kept mostly to himself. Though he was aware of his popularity as a teenager - after all, he was the brooding, motorcycle-riding billionaire heir with perfect grades - he was careful to avoid emotional entanglements outside of what he's already got. The other kids may have admired him, but Aemond’s introverted nature allowed him to maintain a sharp, disciplined focus. Still, for all his emotional distance, Aemond held a soft spot for those who had been in his life for a long time, including Wylde, even if he didn’t initially interact with her much.

Aemond grew up in a conservative, old-money family where Alicent’s strict parenting set certain expectations, yet his worldview shifted significantly after meeting Alys at university. Alys was a woman who had lived - someone who had experienced life, pain, and pleasure in a way Aemond never had. She introduced him to a new way of being: one where a person could be at the pinnacle of success, the most well-read in the room, and still indulge in life’s pleasures without compromising their guard.

For Aemond, this was a revelation. His entire persona had been built around the idea of staying emotionally detached to avoid being hurt. Alys, however, showed him that he could live both worlds - he could enjoy life while staying sharp and focused. Their intellectual and emotional compatibility intrigued him, and their chemistry kept him hooked. He was drawn to her not just because of her knowledge, but because of the way she navigated the world with such control. Aemond’s relationship with Alys is more than just attraction - it’s about learning a new way to protect himself while still being able to not just live, but thrive. Imagine a worldly, mysterious and intriguing professor with society connects and crazy stories, all with a sad past to match - that's Alys. How can he possibly say no to that?

So no, she's not the other woman. Not in Aemond's eyes. She's someone that's widened his horizons. BUT Wylde won't see it that way - her reaction to it is natural. Concern, worry - and because she's grown feelings for him, hurt.

Despite his want to maintain the casual nature of it all, there are things that he doesn't account for - that Alys is an unattached to her partners as they come, and his feelings for Wylde (and hers for him) are too serious to involve someone else.

Aemond’s growing attachment to both Alys and Wylde sets the stage for a messy chapter 3. He believes that if Alys can balance her emotional detachment with the pleasures of life, he can too. What he doesn’t realize, though, is that Alys is emotionally removed from her partners by choice, while his feelings for Wylde - and hers for him - are far too serious to involve someone else. He’s playing a dangerous game, caught between two women and two very different sets of emotions.

The final chapter of their story will be a mess of unresolved feelings and emotional tension, leading to where Aemond will have to confront the reality of his relationships with both Alys and Wylde and figuring out what he wants, ultimately. I’ve taken a fair amount of inspiration from Sally Rooney in terms of tone, trying to keep the dynamics as realistic and emotionally grounded as possible. The hope is that I don't make it a wild ride, but simply as a part of their lives that is beyond their control and overwhelming, if you get what I mean.

Anyway, sorry about the rambling lmao. I just needed to discuss the POVs and motivations, really. I've been talking about this with @humanpurposes @chattylurker and @aemondstark a lot, and it's quite nice to have someone ask me about the mess that is this triangle hehe.