#bleus masterlist

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Meetings On Window Sills

masterlist

note: I fucking love 60s-70s music so there's a lot of it mentioned, and also remus is a full blown music nerd so why would i not make them bond over music?? also this was inspired by 2007s Jump In! starring my first crush: corbin bleu lol

warnings: didn't edit (don't care), little tiny bit of angst between remus and his dad, smoking, remus having back problems since 11 and a city boy, reader has hair long enough to put in a claw clip

word count: 3.8 k

♡ summary: Many don't know that during summer, Remus goes home to a muggle girl, and he spends more time on his fire escape than in his room some days

♡ Remus Lupin x fem!muggle!reader

request ✗

1971

He’d known her his whole life, well since he was 6 months old. Their mums had both gone to the same ‘mommy and me’ class and hit it off when they both took a smoke break. Since then their mums had noticed they didn’t have much in common and grew apart, not after buying apartments in the same building.

Remus stretched his back, hands on his waist while leaning back, just having done all his folding, getting ready to organize in his trunk. As he stood from the small single bed in the corner he heard the soft hum of music coming from outside, the young boy lifted his widow, needing much more force than when it was made. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” 

Remus looks to her widow, seeing the record player playing on her desk while she reads, not seeming to be doing a whole lot of that though. From his view it looks to be Little Women, which he had read and which he would never tell her, but he had been bored on a visit to his grandparents before they died and that was the only book in his moms childhood room, so he read it and enjoyed it enough to finish and not have much of a critic.

“You always sing that song much louder than the rest.” 

His sudden voice caused the girl to jump in her seat, putting the book down and turning down the record she looked at to him, slightly embarrassed at him catching her. 

“It’s my favourite.” She said moving to sit on her window seat. Remus of course noticed this as a sign that she wanted to continue the conversation, he also noticed the way she played with the bottom button of her cardigan. The boy exited his window onto the fire escape to sit on the window sill.

“It’s The Beatles?” “Yeah, my mum got it for me for Christmas last year. Along with George Harrison’s solo album, ‘cause he’s my favourite Beatle- he actually wrote the song I was singing.” She knew she went on a little too long but Remus wouldn’t stop her, that was the type of person he was, kind hearted. When he listened to her, he really listened, he heard every word and took it in.

“Because he wrote your favourite song?” “Not just that, but I guess that’s where it started then I looked through all my albums and all my favourite songs he wrote.” She briefly pointed behind her and he saw the self of records behind her.

“What ones?” He asked, getting more comfortable by leaning his back on one side of the window frame.

“Umm, I’m happy just to dance with you, and of course here comes the sun.” “That’s me mum's favourite, tells me every time it’s on the radio.” 

The conversation stalls, to avoid awkward stares Remus looks down to the street and watches a man with a yellow jacket cross the street, it glowing in the yellow street lights. His stare only breaks when he hears her voice ask, “What’re you packing for?”

“Oh- That..” Her brows furrow at the nervous tone, he wasn’t sure how to tell her, it wasn’t like they were best friends, they talked once in a while like how they are now and would see eachother at school, “I wasn’t sure how to tell people, I’m going to a different school next year.” “Where?” “It’s a boarding school up in Scotland.” “Why are they making you go?” 

Remus would be lying to say that didn’t surprise him, she sounded like she would miss him a little more than he thought she would, and that deeply confused him.

“My father went so-” It’s interesting how much truth he could say while withholding the biggest piece of information from her.

“That sucks. Aren’t you going to miss your friends.” “I never had many friends.” Overstatement. He had no friends, never really did, kids at school made fun of his scars, or for being a nerd, or for having second hand clothes that his mother still had to sew to be wearable; take your pick really. 

“Not many people like me.” “I like you.” Remus’s head lifted from its stare at his swinging legs, “As- as a friend of course.” “Of course, I like you as a friend too.” 

-

1973 

As soon as he walked through the door, Remus set on the way to his window, leaving his trunk at the door. 

“Hun! Where’re you going so fast?” His mum asked, placing the keys in the bowl by the door, and putting her hands on her hips. His father made his way past her to the kitchen.

“I missed my room!” He yelled, never slowing down the hall. Once they believed he was out of ear shot, he heard his father say, “He wants to see Jen’s girl.” 

As he got closer to her window he saw the girls laying on her back legs up resting on the wall while she read. Her head snapped to the window after the first knock, a large grin making its way to her face. She rolled off her bed and opened the window for him and he heard the tune of Bowie flowing through the room.

She crawled half out the window to hug him, her arms going around his neck and he held her back, his hands felt warm, his embrace felt safe. He wore a thin jumper that felt soft on her skin.

“I’m so happy you’re back.” “Me too.” They say, pulling back and getting comfortable on the window sill. She was still smiling at him, and him at her, before Remus felt he had to look away or he would explode. He took the moment to look at her room and it had changed quite a bit since last summer; bed against a new wall, something she did when she felt she needed a change. He noticed her vinyl collection had grown.

“You finally got Ziggy Stardust!” “Oh yeah!” She jumped off the ledge they sat on and made her way to put it on. 

“I went with some friends to London and we got to go to a huge record shop. Remus you wouldn’t believe the stuff they had there- they had Bob Dylan’s first album so my collection of his is complete.” “Brilliant.” Remus sat down on her window seat bench and grabbed the album from her shelf to get a closer look. With the Bowie record set up, she nudged the volume dial up before returning next to the boy. She hit his leg to get his attention, “Listen to this first one it’s my favourite.” 

He put the Bob Dylan album down to give his full attention to the music. 

Many hours later, the two were still perfectly content listening to album after album, pausing their conversation when a particularly good verse came. They were now on the floor of her room, the girl laid out on her carpet flooring, looking just as carefree and stunning as ever. 

“Joni next?” She said as the album playing came to a close, before he could respond they heard a knock on the window, it was his dad.

“Bit late, innit? ‘S past one, Remus.” “Sorry, Mr. Lupin, we lost track of time.” “‘S alright, dear, but come to bed Remus.” “Okay.” 

His father went back through the window and waited. Remus stood the floor and stretched his back, the girl stood as well, “Tomorrow?” “Yeah.” “G’night, Rem.” “G’night.” 

He joined his dad out on the fire escape as they made their way back to his room, once they got inside and closed the window his father broke the silence. “I know you like that girl, but you’ve ‘ot to keep her out of this world, especially with what you are.” 

And just like, an otherwise perfect night, ruined by one comment by his father. 

“I know.” “Alright. G’night, son.” The door shut behind him, and when he heard that click he let the tear drop.

He knew from his friends that  some people don’t care, they found out this past school year and he still hasn’t told his parents that fact. But for all his life he’s heard otherwise, and he can’t help but think one day the boy’s will come to their senses and leave him all alone again. Y/n though, a muggle, if he ever told her he can imagine that  best case scenario is him having to use obliviate.

-

1975 

Remus retreated to his room after dinner, wanting to sleep or read or something that didn’t involve more people, it had been a long day even before he got on the train home for the summer. As he grabbed the book on his desk he saw a trail of smoke leading to a certain girl’s bedroom, he leaned forward to see her with her glasses on, smoking a cigarette, and wearing mismatching pajamas.

He lifted the window with ease, causing the girl to flick her eyes back to him, “You're back.” “Same time every year.” Both shared a look with smiles on their faces, the girl broke eye contact to grab her pack of cigarettes, and overing him with one.

“Yeah.” He climbs out the window and comes to now sit on her window sill and takes his own cigarette, she grabs the light from behind her and he lets her light his. Her fingertips brushing against his check as she blocks the blooming flame from the soft summer breeze.

He takes the chance to gaze at her lips, wrapped around the cigarette, residue of lipstick left behind, a soft red. She never needed the makeup, but sometimes if he woke up early he could watch her put it on. A moment that he found she looked the most beautiful, practiced movements, mouthing the words to whatever song she was listening to, and the funny faces she made made him smile. 

“I missed you.” “Yeah?” A smile creeped on his face as he looked into her eyes. “Yeah.” “I missed you too. I always do.”

The girl looks away, a smile on her face, unaware that Remus continues his stare looking from her eyes to her smile and the way her hair falls in its clip. She wore a thin olive green tank top, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra so he moved his eyes to the clouds she was looking at. 

“How’re your friends?” Sometimes she felt as though she knew the boys, with how much Remus talked about them, her mind began to wonder if they knew as much about her as she knew about them.

“They’re just the same pricks they’ve always been.” “James got any farther with Lily?” She muttered, flicking off her cigarette and taking another puff, she looked so beautiful and natural. She had glasses that fell down her nose, messy hair that she liked that way, and a laugh like no other.

“Lils would like me to say ‘no’, but I think she likes him a lot more than she cares to share.” “That’s the way it always goes.” She trailed off, to look at him and he was already looking at her.

It was second year Remus became friends with Lily, they were paired up for a project together and became close. At first she was jealous of the girl, she felt that Lily was going to take her spot in Remus’ life, it weirdly enough was when she heard of James’ fondness for the ginger girl that she no longer worried. Well that and the fact that Remus never did anything to insinuate that he was any less friends with her because of Lily. 

And what she didn’t know was that half of the time he was with Lily, he ended up bringing up her.

-

1977 

Y/n was waiting all day for Remus to come home, she never left her room the whole day in waiting. Looking to his window every ten minutes in hope she would see her lanky boy crawling out his window.

It was late in the evening when she came back from the bathroom and immediately went to check, she almost didn’t believe her eyes when she saw the lamp beside his bed on. The girl shrugged on her cardigan that was lying across her desk chair, and crawled out the window.

Remus had just gotten back from a nice dinner with his parents, this was his last summer as a kid and they wanted to make it special from the beginning, especially since next week he was going to spend a month at the Potter’s. 

He was interrupted from changing by a knock on his window, he turned on his heels to see the girl he’s been waiting all year to see. Her smile lights up his face, she looks away and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because he isn’t wearing a shirt, clad in nothing but pajama pants gifted to him by Peter. He quickly slips on a jumper before he opens the window and she stumbles into his room. 

“Hey.” “Hi.” They each silently take this moment to get a look at eachother, the girl noticed that she could see that scar on his chest end just where his jumper begins, it’s surprising that she could know him since they were babies yet doesn’t know when he got that scar. To be honest she never asked about them, she could tell he was insecure about the way he looked, though in her mind there was no need to be.

During this Remus is having his own thoughts about her looks, she was wearing that cardigan she’s had since she was ten, underneath was a tank top like she commonly wore. Her hair was up in a clip, the same ones Mary always wore, small pieces of hair falling out. She was beautiful.

“Urm.. How have you been?” The boy asked justering for her to sit as he took a seat on his bed. She joined him, leaning against the wall and pulled a carton of cigarettes out of her cardigan pocket. 

“Good, yeah I’m good. You?” She replied, feeling around her pockets, “No lighter.” He stood from the bed and went to his dresser drawer, retrieving the pink lighter and throwing it to the girl, she caught it with ease yet didn’t begin to light.

“Is this the lighter I gave you?” 

When they were fifteen, they first smoked weed together, at a nearby park in order to not get caught by their parents. And Y/n, high, had given Remus her lighter when they had climbed back up the fire escape to their windows and told him, “This is my favourite lighter. I don’t know why? I think ‘cause it’s pink, so that means it’s lucky- ‘cause the lighter is lucky it’s pink and not some boring lighter like yours- No, you know what Remus? You should take this one, ‘cause it’s luckier and prettier than yours. But keep it safe, it’s my favourite.” 

That night Remus put it in his sock drawer to keep safe, he never wanted to use it or worse lose it, so he kept it safe just as she asked.

“Um, yeah.” He mumbled, a little embarrassed at the amount of sentiment he put into that cheap lighter. 

“You kept it?” “Yeah, you told me to.” 

He becomes even more embarrassed when she chuckles. She looks down at it in her hands, her chuckle dying down and smile slips. There's a moment of silence as Remus doesn’t know what to say so he just returns to his spot on the bed next to her. She doesn’t look up at him still as she asks, “Why did you keep it?” 

Truthfully Remus does know why he kept it, it was just because she gave it to him, but if that sounds lame in his head it will most definitely sound lame if he says it to the girl he likes, no love, he’s always known he loved her. So once again he’ll chicken out and doesn’t respond.

She waits for his answer, and when it never comes, “Is it.. For the reason I think?” She boldly asks, looking at the side of his face as he has not looked away from the spot on the wall in front of them. 

Another moment, and the beautiful girl tries to get his attention by leaning her face in his line of vision. His gaze is unnerved, he’s too consumed by the thoughts running in his mind, until they all go silent.

She presses a kiss to the side of his mouth and says, “I like you too.”

Head snaps to look at her, eye to eye, nose to nose, and finally lips to lips as Remus presses a hard kiss right on her lips. She immediately begins kissing back, and trying to take control but to her surprise Remus is a lot more comfortable in his actions now and is the one leading the kiss and pushing his tongue between her soft lips, which she gladly accepts.

The girl trails her hand up the inside of his thigh before skipping up to hold his jaw, Remus at the same time grabs her hips and squeezes, causing Y/n to swing one leg over his and straddle the boy’s lap. Her hands fall from his jaw, to his neck, to his chest and pushes him away lightly.

Both slowly allow their eyes to open and look at eachother, smiles mirroring each other. 

“So-” “Boyfriend girlfriend?” “Yeah, that’s cool.”

-

1977

“I’ll get the Bowie album, then we can listen to it when you get back.” “When’s it coming out?” “October.”

The girl replied, her head lying on his bicep as she played with his hand, drawing shapes and tracing his veins. In his other hand, resting on her stomach, Remus held the book he and Lily decided to read over the break for their informal book club. 

Y/n thought about asking what she’s been wanting to ask since they’ve gotten together, “Are you going to come home for Christmas?” The last time he did was fifth year, last year he had gone to his friend James’ house. And from what he told her, he had the best time, so you can see she was a little worried he would do that again and she wouldn’t get to see her boyfriend till next summer.

What she didn’t know was that Remus was hoping to avoid this at any cost, it was a full moon this christmas. So even if he did come home, he wouldn’t even get to see her much.

“I haven’t thought about it.” “Oh.” Damn, wrong thing to say. She thought about it. She asked him. She wanted him there.

“I mean- I would love to come home and see you! I just- I don’t know if-” “What?” 

She saw the hurt in his face, she knew whatever he was thinking about he was trying to push down and resist it, she sat up and sat crisscrossed facing him. She leaned down and grabbed his hands, gently taking the book out of his hands and marking the page by folding the corner.

“What’s wrong, Remus?... You can tell me.” “That’s just it- I can’t, or rather I shouldn’t.” “Okay, now I’m confused.” She scoffed, shaking her head and standing up to get some space, “What can you not tell me. I tell you everything.” 

Remus sat up, leaning against the wall on his bed, head in his hands, thinking about everything. Everything he ‘couldn’t’ tell her, if he couldn’t trust her he believed he couldn’t trust anyone ever again.

“Okay, you have to believe me though, and it’s going to sound like I’ve gone mad. So just remember that I know how absolutely insane I sound, and that I’m still telling you because I trust you. More than anyone.” Met with slight hesitance, Y/n replies, “Okay.”

“I’m a wizard.” He waits for the big reaction that never comes, he stares at the confused face of his girlfriend before he stands and goes to his bottom desk drawer and grabs his wand.

“Levioso.” The boy says, pointing at his record player and directing it as it levitates, before ultimately placing it back in the same spot on his dresser. When he looked back at the girl, her jaw opened in shock. 

“Holy fucking SHIT!... That just- in air! You are!” “A wizard? Yes.” “How? I mean- you- what?” 

Remus came to her side, guiding her to sit with him on his bed, “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve got more.” “MORE?” She looked towards him, concerned for what was to come.

“Yes. Okay, I’m also a werewolf.” “If I didn’t know you, or see that pissing record player float- God, I’d think you were too far gone.” Her words were a relief, causing Remus to chuckle, but truthfully a weight lifted off his chest, to have the most important person in his life to not judge him, “You have no idea how much that means to me- I’m the same Remus you knew, you just know everything now.” 

-

1977

“So I werewolves are real, what about vampires?” “Yes.” “What?! Am I going to have to worry about them?” “Don’t visit Romania.” “That’s not funny.”

They laid together, well Remus laid done while his girl moved every few moments, very excited about the new world she was learning about, at this moment she sat on the boy’s thighs with her legs straddling them on either side.

“What’s your favourite subject in school? For real, now that I know you don’t actually take English.” “Defence against the dark arts.” “That’s a class?” “Yes, a very important one.” He replied, moving his hands up the girl's thighs, from her knees to grasping her hips. He keeps his hands there, squeezing when he feels like it.

“What’s your least favourite?” “Flying. But I haven’t taken that since first year.” “WHY would you hate flying? That’s the dream.” “I don’t like heights.” “But you’re FLYING! Through the air!” “Really? Well, now I’ve got to rethink things.” “Oh, shut up.” 

Remus was laughing now, and he could tell she was trying hard not to. He pulled her down to him, keeping her there with his hands on her back as he attacked her cheek with kisses, “Ah!” 

The small scream falls on deaf ears as Remus continues kissing her cheeks to her jaw and burrows his head to the crook of her neck. He mumbles something she can’t quite hear, but she can just barely make out the word ‘love’. But still continues to fight him off, “Ah! Rem- tickles!” “Don’t care.”

[jintaka-hane]

Hiiii. Smooching my blorbos on new years eve? Yes please! So ummm is it OK if it's Mihawk x reader x Shanks? I can’t choose between them. 🥺

This is such a fun idea Jintaka!! 😘

[Masterlist] Kiss your blorbo on New Year’s Eve

MIHAWK AND SHANKS

Summary: Your boyfriends have never cared if you burn the food. Word count: 600 Warning: xf!reader; MDNI, +18 All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

"Why did I get myself into this?" you wonder, desperately trying to salvage the charred high-quality cordon bleu you have bought for the occasion.

This isn't just any night. It's New Year's Eve, and you're spending it with your two boyfriends. So, in an attempt to surprise them, you've decided to get into the kitchen and prepare a delicious and sumptuous dinner to close out the year. But it’s not going quite as planned.

While you wrestle with a sauce that also seems determined to stick to the bottom of the pan, the two men wait patiently in the living room. One takes small sips from his wine glass, while the other is already on his fifth or sixth pint of beer. The clatter from the kitchen gives them a clear idea of the chaos unfolding inside, and when they hear pots and pans crash followed by a stream of curses, they exchange a conspiratorial glance.

You wipe the sweat from your brow, leaning over the counter to scrub at the pepper sauce stubbornly stuck to the wall, and just as you're about to curse again, you feel strong, familiar hands firmly grab your waist and pull you back.

"Come here, love," whispers a velvety voice in your ear as your lover presses your back flush against his chest.

"Mihawk, let me go!" you protest, "I said I’d make dinner, and I still have a lot to do!" Squirming, you try to pull away, even though you know it’s pointless. Once he’s got you like this, you’ll only be let go when he decides.

Shanks strolls into the kitchen and stands in front of you, trying not to laugh as he surveys the chaotic mess.

"You know, sweetheart," he grins, running a hand through his hair, "sometimes you need to know when to stop..."

"I haven't even started the dessert!" you huff in frustration as Mihawk keeps holding you firmly. Shanks laughs loudly, and you pout, looking at him through your long lashes. "Aren't you hungry?"

Shanks' expression darkens in an instant. He leans closer to you, and your breath catches as you feel Mihawk's grip tighten around your waist.

"Oh, yes, we're definitely hungry..." the redhead says, tracing your lips slowly with his thumb, forcing you to part them.

"In fact, love..." Mihawk's deep voice whispers from behind. "We're starting to get a little impatient." Holding you firmly with one hand, he moves the other to your neck, stroking it before gripping your chin and turning your face toward the man in front of you. "Shanks, care to take a bite?"

Shanks gives you a wolfish grin before pressing his lips against yours, stealing your breath as he kisses ravenously. Your arms struggle futilely under Mihawk's grip to embrace your red-haired boyfriend, but he doesn't allow it. As you eagerly returns the kiss, you notice Mihawk's hand sliding over your waist, tracing it before reaching into your pants. He then makes its way under your underwear, his fingers spreading your folds with expertise, feeling the wetness of your arousal.

“Shanks, the food is ready,” he says in his sulky voice.

You moan in frustration as Shanks abruptly pulls away from the kiss. The man lifts his gaze over you, looking at his lover behind you with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright, take her to bed.”

In a single movement, Mihawk spins you in his arms, and lifts you bridal-style. As he moves down the hallway with you, his lips seek yours, giving you a passionate kiss while Shanks guides you both forward.

You laugh softly on his lips, and in the brief moment of breath your lover gives you, you catch a glimpse of the time on the huge wall clock. 

00:01.

Merry Christmas Robin!

.............................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[cowboygenesis]

13: animalica | kylo ren x reader

part 13 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language and smut (hickeys, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kinda hate sex but then it gets fluffy) word count: 7.7k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: *hands you chapter 13* this is filthy and NOT proofread. *crashes tf out*

Now Playing: A New Life - Zeke Bleu

The long trek through the Upper West Side proved the toughest. The city blurred past in a kaleidoscope of headlights and neon, the rush of bodies shoving against you as you weaved through the crowded sidewalks.

Thick beads of sweat slick your skin, sticking to your tank top. Your thighs and calves burn. Someone shouted obscenities when you elbowed your way out of the subway car earlier.

As you book it through your neighborhood, your heaving draws the attention of a few pacing kids and their parents out on an afternoon stroll. Some of them, you recognize. They issue you worried glances and awkward stares that you quickly wave away with a wild smile.

When you finally reach your building, your hands tremble as you fumble with the gate. A soft tremor settles into your palm as you sort through your collection of decorative keychains, searching for the right key. Your eyes skim over the time.

Then, bingo.

Your pulse is a wild drumbeat in your ears, breath ragged as you try and shove the keys in. It takes you exactly three tries and four breathy curses to finally unlock it. You take a few long paces toward the entrance, quickly inputting the 4-digit code you know by heart. Once the heavy door clicks open, you push onto it with your whole weight, hopping the steps two at a time once you reach the staircase.

The adrenaline drumming through your body makes the three floors feel like a brisk walk. Your bated breath echoes through the dim hallway as you finally approach your apartment, leaning against the doorway and beginning to knock fervently.

“Kylo!” you gasp, voice cracking from exertion as the sound of pounded wood booms through the space around you.

Silence.

Your stomach knots painfully as you check the time again.

You fish your keys out once more, quickly finding the largest and shoving it in one try. The lock clicks open, urging you to barge inside. You hope your poor neighbors aren’t suspecting a break-in with all the commotion you’re making, but regardless, it’s something you’d have to deal with later.

You march inside, chest still heaving as you drop your belongings onto the couch; Kylo’s bed. It sits there serenely, stagnant in the silence of the apartment as you haphazardly kick your shoes off.

“Kylo?” You call out again, leaning your weight against the headrest. With your muscles stagnant again, the adrenaline coursing your veins drops dramatically. Your diaphragm contracts, making you gasp and sigh in over-exertion.

The kitchen is in mild disarray, piled with a few mugs and glasses. Something in the air smells vaguely of coffee, meaning he must have been here recently.

“Damn it,” you huff, the sweat on your back beginning to cool uncomfortably. With a swift, albeit awkward move, you hitch your hoodie off your head with a loud, carrying yell.

“Fucking—Ben Solo!”

Then, from the hallway, you hear a doorway click closed. You throw your discarded clothing on the couch alongside your bag, biting your lip as you listen in. Your ears ring.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Your head snaps toward the baritone, sweat-slick hair whipping wildly as you face the hallway.

And there he is.

Fresh out of the shower, damp curls falling in thick waves over his forehead and a towel slung around his neck. His charcoal-grey shirt clings to his chest in places, damp in others, as evidence that he barely finished toweling off before you came crashing through the door like a fucking lunatic.

His brows furrow as he steps closer. You freeze.

You knew you had to see him, and that notion alone has fuelled you thus far. Except now, the sight of him makes you realize you didn’t account for the remorse that begins to creep up your spine.

Kylo’s gaze quickly flits over your blush-stricken face, lowering toward your dampened tank top. You cross your arms, protecting the thin material from the peering.

When his eyes meet yours again, you’re astonished to spot a glint of amusement.

“Did you—” he croaks, flattening his lips to stop a smirk from emerging, “did you run here?”

You blink, still gulping for air, hands flexing at your sides as you gauge his physique. Even in a crisis, you find yourself struggling to look away from his strong arms and star-speckled nose.

“I—”

The sight of him is too much.

Your body is still alight with adrenaline, mind reeling with every revelation from the balcony, the cafe, and Sienna’s words. The boy he was, the man he became; standing in front of you now, looking at you like you never meant him any harm.

“I thought you had a meeting,” you manage, voice softer now, like you’re suddenly aware of how desperate you sound.

His expression shifts, confusion knitting his brow. “They canceled it.” His eyes sweep over you. “Why are you—?”

But you don’t let him finish. Because in this moment, nothing else matters: not the kiss, not the argument, and not even Rey.

You just needed him to know.

“I know about your mom,” you breathe.

The words leave your lips before you can stop them, and for a moment, time slows around you.

Kylo’s expression shifts. It’s quick, like the smallest flicker vulnerability, before his face settles into a blank, characteristic mask of the man he forced himself to be for years before you even knew his name.

You watch the way his throat bobs, fingers twitching where they clutch the towel.

Silence stretches between you like a taut, suffocating thread.

He clears his throat, whipping the cotton fabric off his neck. He walks back, hitching the towel against the headrest of a chair. “What did you just say?”

The heat in your limbs hasn’t dissipated, but a different kind of tension creeps in now. The sharp, dagger-like sensation flows through your bones, urging you a step forward.

You square your shoulders, refusing to shrink beneath the weight of his stare when he finally looks.

“Sienna told me.”

That flicker returns, like a crack in his armor.

“You—” he trails lowly, eyes flickering with confusion while yours widen. “You talked to her?”

To pick up the pieces, you quickly shake your head, your arms flailing wildly in denial. You’re afraid that even context won’t save your dignity in this situation, but it’ll have to do for now. After all, words are all you have now.

“No! No, no—” you object, rubbing at your face with both hands to calm the redness threatening to rise. Then, with a short exhale, you face him with a pointed glare. “I was around the block getting coffee, and she just… I don’t know, she just happened to be there. I didn’t even recognize her at first until she…”

The memory of her saccharine laugh carries through your skull, making you wince. You take a short, ragged breath before continuing.

“I know it sounds bat-shit insane and you can kick my ass for this later, but—” you swallow thickly, facing him with guilt in your eyes. “We spoke.”

The hum he emits is rough, edged with something like impatience. You catch his body turn slightly like he’s about to walk away, but you step forward before he has the chance.

“She told me about the way you grew up.” You press on, voice steadier and stronger now that your anxiety has settled. “About your father. About Rey.”

That stops him. Something shifts in his mein, tightening his jaw as he turns toward you. His back is tense, heaving with the weight of his steady breath as you step even closer.

Kylo scoffs quietly, running a hand through his damp curls as he watches the floor with a sudden, keen interest. “Of course she did.”

“I— Kylo, I had no idea,” you say softly, being severely mindful of your tone. It carries through the air uninterrupted, reaching him in a flinch. “You should’ve told me.”

He exhales slowly, eyes flicking away from you. His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring, and you recognize the battle playing out inside him like clockwork. He towers in front of you like a wild beast waiting to be tamed. A man wanting to be broken-in by a soft, guiding hand.

A hand you desperately want to offer.

“Why would I?” he finally says, voice edged with little venom. You’re not sure if he’s tired or if the aftermath of your kiss has finally shoved him into an unfortunate, fatal resignation. “What difference would it make?”

You swallow hard, fingers flexing at your sides.

You knew his reasoning. You knew he held things in until they festered into pain and morphed into something impossible to unweave. And you knew that, at the end of the day, it wasn’t his fault.

“Because I wouldn’t have left.”

His gaze snaps back to you, a fleeting twilight flashing behind his eyes. His lips part, and for a second, you think he might say something true. Something fundamentally life-changing to you both.

But then, despite your deepest hopes, the mask drops back down.

“I didn’t need you to stay,” he huffs lowly, facing you with a certain flicker of sorrow in his eyes. “You made your choice.”

A muscle in your jaw jumps, but your heart beats steadily.

After your winded conversation with Sienna, something about Kylo clicked to you. It’s like the veil slipped and allowed you to see his wrangle for what it truly was, and that alone has melted all semblance of rage brewing in your body.

You knew he was shutting down and deflecting, pretending it doesn’t matter and, more significantly, pretending you don’t matter. Acting like you haven’t spent every night in this damned apartment orbiting each other like you were bound to collide.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. "Bullshit."

Kylo scoffs, rubbing his face with both hands. His damp curls fall even messier over his forehead, clinging to his skin like wild tendrils.

“You don’t get to say that,” he mutters, voice low and sharp.

But you’re exhausted, too. And more than that, you’re fucking frantic.

“Why?” you snap, stepping closer. “Because it makes you uncomfortable? Because you don’t want to talk about it?” you trail, arms flailing in the small space between you. “Because you think that if you just sit in your own misery long enough, no one will even dare to try and understand you?”

Kylo’s brows furrow, and something in his expression once again cracks just a fraction.

‘Good,’ you think through a stubborn scowl. ‘Let it fall apart.’

“Just say it,” you push, stepping even closer now, toe to toe with your sorrowful giant. “Tell me this means nothing.”

His lips part, but nothing comes out. Because you know that, in good faith, he can’t speak a lie this large and significant.

His hands flex at his sides, chest rising and falling fast, and fuck, you’re close enough to see the way his pupils swallow up those dark, glassy eyes of his like thundering seas.

"I—I know this has been difficult, but… but I just feel like I finally get you, okay? And, despite your shitty witticisms and… and your general… disdain for my existance," You laugh bitterly, shaking your head to steady your quivering voice before you finally face him. "I know that… that at the end of the day, you’re more than that. I know you don’t want to be alone."

Your voice wavers on the last word, heart splintering with an ache though you know it should be angry instead. Every step forward felt like two steps backward, even after you’ve pushed every threshold there was to push. You knew that now, it was all up to him to decide your fate.

You swallow, eyes flitting over his tensed-up facade and taking in the sheer, resonant ache in those dark eyes of his. The eyes you’ve taken in with frustration, when you should have noticed the shame. The same ones that now flit with something that makes your chest rumble.

“Ben,” you begin again, breaking the taut silence with your soft lilt. He darts over your features in microscopic movements, lips tight when he swallows at your proximity.

The air between you is razor-thin, weighted with a suffocating, agonizing vehemence.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Kylo doesn’t move. He blinks once, painstakingly slow. Then, his jaw tightens.

His breath is measured when he finally exhales, long and slow as it darts across your cheeks.

“You already know why,” he says lowly, and the softness that lines his lilt makes you want to come undone where you stand.

“No,” you shake your head, stepping close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off his body and catch the damp scent of his shampoo in the stagnant air between you. “I don’t.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He looks away for a fraction of a second before his gaze is on you again, burning into your soul like little embers. You see them in his eyes, exploding with pure, uninhibited fervor. It’s as passionate as he’ll let himself be, yet you want to press for more.

“You—” He huffs in exasperation, fingers twitching at his sides. “You’re—”

“I’m what?” you force ahead, urging him into a corner. His back collides with the hallway wall, emitting a soft, dull thud.

Kylo’s nostrils flare. His hands finally move, pushing through the damp curls at his temples with a slight, barely-there tremor.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he grits out, but you’re already beyond his excuses to let it slide.

“Try me.”

His eyes flicker over your face, searching for something you so desperately want to offer.

“You think I push you away on purpose?” he suddenly murmurs, his voice edged with a strange ascerbity that you greedily welcome.

You flatten your lips, licking the bottom half as you still in place.

“I think you—”

“No.” He counters with a bite, lifting his gaze to meet yours. When your lips part, you struggle to emit more than a quiet stutter. Kylo, on the other hand, picks up where you left off, straightening his posture to successfully dwarf you. “Listen to me.”

His breath is unsteady. His eyes are sharp, burning through you like you love it most.

“You think I don’t want this?” Kylo asks low and rough, the result of it pressing hard against your ribs. “You think I don’t want you?”

You swallow hard with a quiet tick, watching him ascribe like he’s the only one you’d ever allow. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, head shaking in short, staggering motions.

“That’s not it,” he says, voice softer now but still tight, like admitting it cost him a piece of his heart. “That’s never been it.”

You bite your bottom lip, worrying it there til it draws a trickle of blood. Your stomach clenches at the silent furrow of his eyebrows, like he’s at war with no one but himself.

And then it dawns on you.

He wants you, too.

The realization hits you like a thunderclap, spinning the air around you like a powerful current.

“Then what is it?” you ask quietly.

Kylo exhales sharply, his jaw tightening as he sizes you up. The sheer feeling of his eyes penetrating you urges a quiet, fleeting gasp from your lips, spreading into the dormant air between you like a guilty prayer.

“I…” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes flit across your face, down to your reddened cheeks and bitten lips. “I don’t know how.” He trails off, jaw clenched tight. And when his eyes shut, you think they might just stay that way.

His nose flares with a deep inhale, letting the breath settle into his lungs slowly, almost tenaciously. You watch in silent awe, taking in the marvelous sight of his plush lips silently testing the words before he even utters.

When his eyes flutter open again, your breath catches.

“I don’t know how to let you in without ruining it.”

There it is. The real reason. The thing he’s been too fearful to say was finally seeing the dim light of day. The dawn of your judgment.

Kylo Ren, for all his intensity, coldness, and strength, was afraid of this tether between you and what it would mean if he let himself succumb to it.

And it’s that culmination, that vulnerable truth, that finally lets you advance.

Your hands lift before you can think better of it, fingers grazing his jaw, thumbs pressing into the heat of his cheekbones. Kylo stills instantly, dark eyes flickering, his entire frame tense as if waiting for the inevitable impact that is you.

“Ben,” you whisper, and you feel the way he exhales, the name alone knocking the breath from his lungs. You know it does.

And so, with all the certainty you can muster, you lean into his shoulder and take cover in the safety of it. The familiar, all-encompassing scent of pine envelops you like holy fire, your hand tracing the lobe of his reddened ear.

Your breath falls hot on his neck.

“Let me try.”

And when his chest shudders, you know you’ve signed your demise.

His hands surge forward, grasping your face haphazardly and enveloping you in a tight, devoted warmth that reels your body inward. Your chests collide.

When his lips meet yours, it’s not careful or slow.

It’s painfully, disastrously anguished.

You crash together in a symphony of gasps, his teeth grazing your lip and making you mewl at the nipping pain it exudes.

Kylo reacts accordingly, his mouth curling against yours with a sharp, humorous exhale. His fingers dig into the sides of your face, keeping you close as he swallows your breath like it belongs to him and no one else.

And this time?

You let it happen.

His hands slide down, anchoring at your hips for a beat only to pull you flush against him. Your chest squishes against muscle, urging a quiet moan from your throat.

Fuck, you feel filthy.

Your teeth clack a little with the next kiss. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his uninhibited craving, yet the notion surges a wave of heat through your thighs.

You tug at his shirt with clumsy hands, half-blind with want, and he groans when your fingers accidentally scratch down his stomach. He’s laughing breathlessly now, dragging you backwards down the hallway in short stumbles.

You barely make it through the frame before he’s got you pressed against the wall, your back colliding with a dull thud.

“You better not bruise,” he whispers into your mouth.

You snort, your lips brushing his again with a matching smile. "You worried about me?"

"I’m not," he lies, biting at your bottom lip with a strained smirk. "I just don’t want you whining later."

You gasp dramatically and swat his shoulder. He catches your wrist in mid-air and pins it to the wall with a wicked grin, chasing your gaze like a madman.

"You’re such an asshole," you breathe, but you're already tilting your head to kiss him again.

Kylo leans back, keeping a safe distance as you mewl for contact. "You like me that way."

He looks down at you through dark lashes, his starved gaze raking down your sweat-slick body like he plans on devouring you whole. You pray he will.

You scoff through bitten lips, licking off the rawness he left behind. You can’t help but size him up, taking in the soft, cruel need painting his gaze as you stand beneath him with little agency.

"I tolerate you."

He grins, wanton and boyish. The sight knocks a shiver straight down your core, making your thighs clench with a pleasant itch.

"Liar."

He lifts you like it’s second nature, stumbling the two of you into your room and kicking the door shut behind him with a sharp clunk.

As you move forward, Kylo stumbles over something on the floor with a quiet hiss. He catches his balance just in time, grasping you tightly to prevent you from slipping off.

“Your room’s fucking filthy,” Kylo mutters as he deposits you unceremoniously on the bed, crawling over you in one swift motion.

“You’ll survive,” you pant quietly, writhing under him as he drags his mouth down your throat, nipping until he feels you shudder.

“Barely.”

Your laugh turns into a gasp as he drags your shirt up over your ribs and dips his head, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your throat. He shifts back for a moment, breaking the kiss.

“Fuck—Oh, c’mon,” you sigh dramatically, frustrated with the sudden lack of contact as he surveys your exposed upper-half.

You watch his eyes glaze over with craving, flitting over your bra-clad chest and glowing skin.

His mouth parts like he’s trying to say something, but no sound comes out besides a quiet, ragged exhale. He runs a hand through his curls, then plants his palm flat beside your head, staring down at you with a tensed jaw.

You take this time to exhale slowly, shifting your shoulders against the pillow below. When your gaze connects with his, a wanton, teasing smirk creeps to your face like the ghost of your anticipation.

“What?” you challenge, breathless and sweat-slick from your earlier marathon. “Never seen a girl before?”

He huffs with a halfhearted scoff, his hand reaching for the strap of your bra. You watch with bated breath as he snaps it lightly before dragging one knuckle along the curve of your clothed breast.

“Not one like you,” he mutters, and you think you might jump him right here and now.

But he doesn’t give you time to answer or do anything for that matter as his mouth presses hot kisses down your collarbone, sucking gently yet not enough to leave a mark.

You arch into him, and he chuckles darkly against your skin.

“God, you’re obsessed with me,” you hiss through a grin, holding onto any semblance of control you have left, though you know your resources are steadily depleting with every kiss and nip.

He lifts his head, eyes blazing into your skin.

“Yeah?” he says, breath hitching as he unclasps your bra with a single, practiced flick that sends goosebumps down your arms. You barely stop yourself from gasping. "Don't flatter yourself."

You toy your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with a lazy, licentious smile. “Too late.”

His mouth twitches, eyes dragging down your body with shameless hunger.

In a snap, he shoves the bra down your arms with all the reverence. His palms curve beneath your breasts, rough thumbs grazing across your nipples as soon as they come into view.

You jolt under him, trying hard not to moan at the ridiculous display of experience.

“What?” he murmurs, leaning in close and letting his lips ghost against your jaw. “You were begging for this five minutes ago.”

“I was yelling at you five minutes ago,” you snap, heat flaring through your core despite yourself.

Kylo whistles with a haphazard shrug, leaning his weight onto one elbow as he rakes over your body again.

“Same thing,” he mutters, before dipping his head and sucking a mark into the skin just above your heart. Your back arches involuntarily, head dipping back to grant him easier access even if you know you’ll spend an hour in the bathroom later trying to cover the indecency up.

His voice is gravel when he speaks again, still pressed against your skin.

“You gonna keep talking?”

He bites again, lower this time, and your hands shoot to his hair, clawing at his curls like you can’t decide whether to shove him off or pull him closer: your endless predicament.

“C’mon,” he looks up at you with a wild gleam in his eyes, “say something.”

You pant, drunk on the closeness and the vicious burn in your blood, but there’s little you can say without making a mess of yourself, so you opt for a tense silence instead.

“Want me to stop?” he growls against the valley of your breasts, breath warm and moist as it hovers over your nipples.

“Kylo,” you finally croak.

He looks up at you with dark, expectant eyes, and how could he not? You’re so soft under him. So vulnerable and easy to mould.

You swallow thickly, panting into the hot air between you. When his hand gives your hip a tight, reassuring squeeze, you feel the remnants of your willpower shatter into unconsolable pieces.

“More.”

And just like that, the space between you is obliterated.

He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and sweatpants, dragging them both down with a single, brutal pull that leaves you bare and panting. He watches you, mouth parted like a starving dog as your thighs squeeze together in a sudden burst of embarrassment.

When your hands reach to cover your nudity, Kylo catches them in mid-air with a loud scoff.

“Don’t you dare,” he mutters low and sharp, his fingers wrapping tight around your wrists. “You think I dragged you all the way here just to let you hide all this?”

Your breath stutters, your spine arching against the bed. His grip tightens for just a second, not to restrain you, but to ground you in place.

You finally acquiesce, letting him move your hands away in a slow, controlled movement. A warm breeze suddenly swirls into your bedroom, rolling down your body and causing your nipples to go taut with the temperature change.

“Look at you,” he breathes, almost to himself. His eyes drag down the line of your body, delirious and worshipful at your softness. “Fuck, I’ll never get over this.”

You squirm, thighs trying to press shut again, but he shuffles down between them with a predatory patience. Then, with a low, throaty growl, he spreads you open and drags his mouth down your stomach, teeth grazing at your hipbone before he licks a slow, calculated stripe up your heated skin.

Every muscle in your body tenses, a pathetic sound catching in your throat.

His broad shoulders settle between your legs, glancing up through thick lashes, eyes blown wide and glittering in the soft, evening light pouring in through your parted window.

When you feel the heat of his breath against your clit, you choke out a weak warning.

“Ben—”

His hands grip your hips, dragging you flush against his mouth before you can protest.

You gasp loudly into the air, your head whipping back in a sudden barrage of ecstasy as his hot tongue presses up against your pussy. Your hand flies down the next beat, nestling into his thick, dark locks, still moist from his earlier shower.

“Say that again,” he growls against your clit, sending ripples of pleasure through your core, “and I’ll keep you here all damn night.”

Kylo eats you like his life depends on it. He groans against your slick pussy, shameless, his fingers bruising into the skin of your thighs as he pulls you deeper. The rhythm is torturous, perfect, and when your hips buck, he pins them down hard.

You’re shaking, chest heaving, just barely able to utter your mewls of pleasure. You try for wit or something equally flippant to his efforts, but it all ends in vain as he continues his fingerless ministrations.

You’re already a mess, clinging to his hair with trembling fingers, his name pouring from your lips like damnation. Something red-hot curls in your belly, spreading through your core and thighs, prefacing the steady approach of something much larger than you can handle.

“K-Kylo—fuck, please—”

He hums against you almost purposefully, the vibration making you cry out into the flesh of your folded arm. Feeling like you’re already on the precipice of a climax, you tug at his locks in short, staggering motions. This urges him to halt his torture for a second, pulling back just long enough to meet your eyes. His chin glistens with your wetness, smirk downright cruel in its mockery.

“Please what?” He murmurs, and your breath catches for a beat. You’re thoroughly speechless, staring down at him with a creased forehead and parted lips that he mercilessly rejects with a soft shrug.

He begins to lower again, unaffected by your fervent mewls of protest. When his tongue twirls against your entrance, you tug at his hair again, hard.

“Use your words,” he only growls, never leaving your pussy as his eyes burn into yours. The sight is dirty enough to make you toss your head back with a ragged moan, cheeks flushed with the ache of an impending orgasm.

“Don’t be a dick—”

“Say it.” His voice is deeper now, ragged and close to breaking before he licks a long, languid strip up your entire core. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck—” you gasp, body jerking when he flicks his nose against your clit. “I don’t— I don’t wanna cum yet.”

He relaxes slightly, letting you shift your leg out of the confines of his grip and bend it at the knee.

Kylo moves away from you painstakingly slow, letting his breath hover over your mound for a beat longer before he settles his cheek against your thigh. You watch as he kisses a stripe down your leg, holding you close with a balanced grip.

“Tell me,” he whispers again, eyes flitting across your face impatiently. “Just tell me what you need.”

You withdraw your hand from his hair, watching his lips twitch at the loss of contact. But you’re already one step ahead, needy fingers trailing down his cheekbone and planting against the softness of his speckled cheek.

“Ben,” you sigh softly, urging the man’s breath to catch. He looks at you needily, pressing a final kiss to your thigh before you’re gasping your desires.

“I need you inside me.”

And that seems to wreck whatever control he had left.

Kylo growls your name, and the next thing you know, he’s moving up your body, mouth crashing against yours like he can’t stand another second without it. You taste yourself on his lips, sweet and animalic, and whimper into the kiss, fingers dragging down his back in white lines.

“Fuck,” you breathe between kisses, your legs wrapping around his hips like a woman gone mad. “Stop teasing.”

His mouth ghosts against your jaw and down the column of your throat. Once he locates the thick muscle, he bites down with a ragged groan.

You yelp, half-laughing as you slap at his shoulder in shock of the savage display of his affections.

“Ouch—you asshole!”

“Mm.” He doesn’t sound sorry, and naturally, you doubt he is. His voice dips, low and warm against your skin as he kisses the bite mark with pertinent accuracy. “Don’t you like it when I’m mean?”

“No,” you lie, tilting your head back as he sucks another bruise into your neck. This one feels softer, yet the adrenaline pumping your veins makes it sizzle with heat. “I like it when you shut up and—”

“Say please.” He grins against your throat, boyish, wolfish, and entirely maddening to witness.

“Please,” you whisper, too breathless to sound smug about it or even try to deny him the satisfaction like you usually would. It’s unlike you, but agreeing to fuck him in general was starting to feel quite uncouth for your situation.

Hence, as you stumble along the precipice of your morals, you suddenly figure that you might as well just leap in.

“God, Ben, please—”

The second you say his name again, it’s like a fuse gets lit.

He shifts away from you, sitting on his knees. His eyes rake over your face, and he grins wildly, keeping furious eye contact as his fingers trace over the hem of his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, practiced motion, shooting you a sly wink once he spots you watching.

“Slut,” you force through a tight grin, making him snort humorously.

“Careful,” he warns as the top gets tossed on a pile with yours, his gaze half-lidded when he begins toying with the hem of his sweatpants. “You’ll wanna be nice to me going forward.”

His fingers twirl around the knotted thread, loosening it with a pull. Immediately, the melange fabric slides down his hipbone, revealing a neat line of dark hair leading to a cloth-obscured mound.

You look up at him with bated breath, his gaze searing into yours like fire.

His jaw tightens at the sight of your fluster, hooking a thumb into the waistband. Slowly, tentatively, he forces it down his hips, revealing the base of his length.

You chew your lip with a soft mewl, propping your body on your elbows to get closer. The sweatpants ride down his thighs, and finally, the whole girth of his cock springs free.

You can’t help the lewd moan that escapes your lips at the sight, gaze flitting over the thick head and slick pre-cum.

Kylo wastes no time, wrapping his fist tight and giving the breadth an experimental pump.

You hear him hiss something insignificant under his breath as the stickiness coats his knuckles, making your mouth inexplicably water. And, naturally, he notices.

“Keep looking.”

You scoff at his half-hearted mockery, shoving his thigh with the ball of your foot.

But instead of arguing, he swiftly mounts you again with a growl of your name. The sound reverberates through your pleasure-deprived body like thunder, his mouth finding yours within seconds of the assault.

You whimper into the kiss, pushed back into the pillow as he works at his cock. His tongue slips past your lips, wrestling with your own in a battle never fit in your favor.

You hear the soft pumps grow increasingly slicker, and suddenly, something grazes the inner flesh of your thigh. You don’t need to break the kiss and look down to realize just how hard he’s gotten, the fact alone sending a crisp jolt down your spine.

“You’re shivering,” he mutters against your skin, tracing his tongue down the thin veil of goosebumps emerging on your shoulder. “You excited?”

You try to scoff, but it comes out breathless. His cock smooths along the skin of your thigh, inching closer toward your impatient folds.

“You were practically drooling.” He counters smoothly, his hand slipping under your knee almost inconspicuously. “Might start charging you for the view.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Yeah?” he drawls, voice dark and low. His hand wraps around your thigh, dragging it higher. “What’s this all about, then?”

He takes a firm hold of your knees, spreading you wide and open before planting the length of his cock between your slick folds. You choke out a sharp, tight gasp when he begins to move, thick shaft inching against the entire height of your needy pussy.

Your lips part to answer, but all that comes out is a strained, suffocated moan.

He chuckles lowly at your torture, hastily gripping the base of his cock and letting it slap against your clit in quick succession. The reverberating pleasure hits you like a rolling tide, urging you to hiss a staggered profanity and inch your hand toward his abs.

His hand moves down in response, guiding himself against your entrance with a shaky breath.

“That’s what I thought.”

He slides in devastatingly slow, pulling a guttural sound straight from your lungs as your channel pulls to accommodate him.

As he slowly bottoms out, the engorged head of his cock presses against your cervix, urging you to gasp raggedly. Your back arches instinctively, eyes rolling shut with the stretch of him. He’s thick and hot and throbbing inside you, and the way your body flutters helplessly around him draws a guttural curse from his chest.

“Oh, fuck—” Kylo lets his head drop to your shoulder, whispering your name into the dew-covered skin like a prayer. “Shit—you're tight—” he pants, voice cracking as he slowly pulls out, then bangs back in. Your cry echoes against the walls, strained against his neck.

“Oh my God,” you choke out, clawing at his shoulder blades with trembling hands as he presses his body against you.

He wastes no time setting a punishing pace, snapping his hips into yours with bruising thrusts that make your toes curl and your brain short-circuit in their intensity.

“You feel that?” he grits through clenched teeth, driving into you harder each time your moans turn into strained mewls. “That’s what happens when you tease me.”

You can barely speak, voice caught somewhere between a sob and a moan as your muscles tighten with the delicious intrusion. “I—I didn’t even—”

His hand catches the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up further around his waist, getting impossibly deeper.

Your hands fumble at his shoulders, nails dragging across sweat-slick skin as his hips settle between yours. You’re flushed, throbbing, and trembling, but it’s the hungry look in his eyes that really undoes you in the end.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you whisper, voice wrecked and shaky as he plows into you. “You’re such a— f-fucking asshole.”

His breath hitches in something close to a laugh, but it’s not amused or mocking anymore.

“Yeah? You think I haven’t imagined it?” he growls, cock twitching inside you with every motion. “You—shit—under me. Moaning m-my name while you swear you fuckin’ hate me.”

You swallow hard. Your body’s trembling under his, nerves buzzing with adrenaline and something white-hot bubbling in your tummy.

“I still— I still h-hate you,” you breathe raggedly, words slurring into nothing as Kylo leans in.

He grins, lowering his lips just inches from yours but denying you closure.

“Liar.”

His pace picks up into a ragged pounding, stretching you inch by inch and watching your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. You claw at his back, mumbling quiet obscenities into the crook of his neck.

“I-I think I’ll—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He groans low, forehead pressed to yours. “God, you feel better than I dreamt—”

You gasp, hands raking through his dark locks as you let out a short, disbelieving laugh into the tantric air between you.

“You’ve dreamt about this, you sick fuck?”

His pace stills just long enough for him to breathe, lips curled into a wolfish smirk when his dark eyes meet yours in a moment of pure rapture.

“Every goddamn night.”

And then his lips are on yours again. He captures you in a sloppy, needy kiss, your whole body seizing at his filthy confession, cunt clenching tight around his cock with a sudden, aching spasm.

Kylo lets out a strained cry into your mouth, parting just enough to husk out a quiet praise.

“That’s it.” His hand slithers between your bodies, inching down your belly with a torturous gait. “Just like that.”

His thumb meets your clit, circling firmly around the precipice and sending a surge of warmth through your entire body. The combined sensation of his ministrations and the steady pumping of his cock makes you wail, loud and pathetic.

He chuckles haphazardly, catching a steady rhythm with his digit. The space between you fills with loud, filthy slaps as he bottoms out with every pump.

“Good girl.”

Your breath catches with a broken moan.

“Say it again,” you whisper, dazed and confused and so painfully close to cumming you think you might pass out before you part the threshold.

“My good girl,” he repeats, shamelessly biting down on your shoulder and urging your walls to contract once more.

He responds accordingly, bucking hard into you with a strained laugh. “Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

You nod, barely. Your mind’s already floating, the pain and pleasure mixing too sweetly to try and separate.

“You gonna cum for me?” he pants, voice dipping with a sudden stutter of his hips.

You’re shaking, crying out, clinging to him like your life depends on it while he watches you with bated breath.

“Kylo—fuck, Ben—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he laughs saccharinely, drawing his thumb away from your clit. The loss of pressure, however devastating, is quickly replaced by something much warmer and more welcome: his palm against your cheek, holding you close as you steadily approach your expiration. “C’mon. Wanna feel you ‘round me.”

“Shit,” you breathe, the thread of your impending pleasure threatening to break with every thrust. You’re soaked now, the excess of slick letting him slide into you with agonizing ease. “F-Fuck—fuck!”

You writhe under him, gasping into the crook of his neck as he curses under his breath, burying himself to the very hilt. You feel him grow tired now, each movement less regular than the last, while all you can do is call his name.

“God, I’m so fuckin’ close—” he hisses against you, bringing his face back to let your gazes fall in tandem. The wicked, lust-filled swirl of his eyes makes your lips twitch with a smile, looking into him like a fearing reverend. “I’m—I’m gonna cum. Jesus Christ—”

And amidst your unholy duet, you don’t believe the words that flee your mouth next.

“I—I’m safe—just—”

“Fuck—shit,” he moans, face morphing into pure, uninhibited perversion at your words, his thrusts slowing now as he knocks close to completion. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” you wail in response, heart fluttering at his wolfish grin once he hears your explicit permission to do what you felt was unthinkable. “Yes, just— I’m fuckin’ yours, just—”

“God.” Kylo’s forehead connects with yours, voice low and delirious as his pace picks up again. When you cry out, he swallows it with a kiss, hips rolling into you in short, punishing strokes that leave you little time to think. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

Your release slams into you like a devastating collision, blooming in your belly and legs. You arch beneath him with a cry, shaking and coming undone in his strong arms as your cunt pulses steadily around his thick length.

With a string of half-formed curses, he buries himself deep with a stab of his hips against yours. The impact of his cock against your womb accelerates your orgasm into pure ecstasy, making you cling onto him for dear life.

With a guttural call of your name, Kylo spills into you, his hips stuttering to deliver a series of conclusive, powerful thrusts that your spent pussy welcomes greedily.

Amidst a symphony of cries and moans, you both lie there in complete bliss, chests heaving as he collapses onto you with a ragged breath. He’s heavy but warm, so solid and real you snake your arms around his neck to keep the feelings close to your heart.

Minutes pass before his hand eventually drags up your side with surprising gentleness, trailing lazy circles along your ribs and waist.

You exhale shakily, staring at the ceiling with a half-smile.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Kylo snorts softly against your shoulder, nuzzling into your sweat-slick skin. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Letting you fuck me,” you elaborate half-heartedly, unsure how authentic your words are anymore as your fingers graze the hair on the nape of his neck. “You’re insatiable.”

He hums, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and rolling you both to the side, making sure his cock never slips out of you even now as it’s softened. You mewl at the sensation, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Mm,” he mutters, dark gaze flicking over your face with residual hunger. “Didn’t hear any complaints until now.”

“Uh-huh,” you scoff softly, nestling your hands against his chest. “If I can’t walk tomorrow morning, I’m suing.”

He smirks, leaning in to string soft kisses against your hairline. “Except you’re not walking anywhere. This is a hostage situation.”

You close your eyes and let out a long, defeated sigh, tangling your sore legs with his. “You’re actually the worst person I’ve ever met.”

He looks at you again, quirking an eyebrow in near-authentic offense.

“Yeah,” he agrees haphazardly, brushing your nose with his. “But you let this horrible guy hit raw, so what does that say about you, then?”

You feel uncharacteristically stumped, unable to muster a witty retort as you spot his plush, bitten lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. You return it absentmindedly, letting the rare, sweet moment linger as long as it wants to.

For a moment, the air between you stills.

There’s no heat or panting desperation, just the quiet weight of his body and the subtle warmth of his fingers ghosting lazy lines along your waist. You let your face fall into the crook of his neck, quietly breathing his scent in.

“You okay?” he asks softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The affection makes your eyes inexplicably glaze over.

You let a soft sigh of affirmation escape your lips as your eyes start to flutter closed.

“Yeah,” you murmur into his skin, holding there to escape his gaze. Somehow, you don’t think you’d be able to face him right now without shedding tears. “Just tired.”

He hums, tilting his head so that his temple rests against yours, breath warm where it hits your heated, oversensitive skin.

“Sleep. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You exhale a chuckle, turning your face into the crook of his neck, lulled by the steady beat of his breathing beneath your cheek. As the aftermath of your wild deed lowers to a simmer, something much more visceral slithers between your lungs.

Your lashes brush his neck, lips parted with a soft exhale of your anxiety.

“Will you stay?”

There’s a pause. You can’t see his face, but you feel him stiffen slightly. His fingers curl a little tighter around your hip, anchoring himself to you while you wonder if it hurts him to answer.

When he does, you hear the haphazard humor lacing his tone like an escape from the pains of reality.

“Maybe.”

It’s not a promise, and though you yearned for something genuine, you don’t ask again. You know he wouldn’t be able to answer you in earnest, even if you pleaded on your knees.

And though your body still sings his praises as he curls a protective arm around your waist, your mind’s already running with a million questions: wondering what version of him you’ll wake up to tomorrow and whether anything that felt this good could ever survive the fallout.

Your breathing slows, limbs going soft beneath his as you fall asleep to the steady rhythm of your hearts intertwined, if only for one night.

[lewisvinga]

chocolate almond croissant | jude bellingham x fem! perez! reader

summary; jude bellingham and the granddaughter of florentino pérez, the president of real madrid, soft launch their relationship

fc; nailea devora

note; i haven’t written in forever and i’ve never done a smau on tumblr so here’s my attempt😋😋 my requests are closed btw 😁

masterlist !

liked by bsfuser, judebellingham, and 739,038 others!

ynperez: in france, kinda want a baguette

user1: mother

user2: i wanna be u

bsfuser: u only know the words oui and allez les bleus

ynperez: i know cama ooh too

camavinga: i feel so special

user3: anyone see jude in her likes

user4: he’s trying to get on presi’s good side

user5: our future president

user6: tell papa pérez to send the damn bid

user7: i’m a culer but i love yn

liked by ynperez, camavinga, and 2,038,937 others!

judebellingham: the south of france

user8: we were in the same country we’re meant to be guys

user9: my faves

user10: going feral rn

camavinga: QP QP-skyyy

vinijr: 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄me dejaron

judebellingham: restttt bro😘

ynperez: ur so unserious

judebellingham: thx

user11: isn’t yn in france rn??

user12: who is yn??

user13: she’s florentino pérez’s granddaughter, he’s the president of real madrid 😭

liked by judebellingham, aurelientchm, and 723,938 others!

ynperez: when bae ate the last bite of your chocolate almond croissant

bsfuser: u look so sad

ynperez: nothing to smile about in my life

user14: BAE????

user15: omg she’s not in her single era anymore

user16: 100% believe she’s dating a real madrid player

aurelientchm: how many bites did he take

ynperez: one too many

ynperez: and one too many sips of my matcha latte 💔💔

judebellingham: sounds delicious 😁

ynperez: yeah yeah 😒

user17: can you blame her?? jude and aurelien are on that team i’d want them too if my father was the president of the biggest club!

user18: real

liked by ynperez, vinijr, and 2,985,034 others!

judebellingham: new found love for chocolate almond croissants

user19: it’s illegal to be this fine

user20: damn

user21: call me delusional but didn’t yn pérez talk about her ‘bae’ eating her chocolate almond croissant & they seemed to be in france together

user22: delusional

vinijr: wonder what else you love 😂🤣

judebellingham: hey man, chillll🤫

ynperez: u should try matcha lattes i heard they’re good

judebellingham: i’m a fan of them icl

user23: no way jude isn’t dating yn p��rez

user24: tryna get on presi’s good side like presi didn’t speak english for him at his presentation 😭

liked by judebellingham, camavinga, and 940,038 others!

ynperez: bf always taking pics of me mid complaining should i dump

user25: yn so cute😭

user26: THE SECOND PIC LMFAO

user27: dump him u can do better (me)

judebellingham: I CANT HELP IT THAT YOU LOOK CUTE WHILE COMPLAINING??

ynperez: ur so dumb ur lucky ur cute

judebellingham: oopsies

user28: JUDES COMMENT IM SCREAMING

user29: i knew those twitter threads were right

camavinga: it only took so long for jude to explode

vinijr: to be fair u always complain

ynperez: i helped sign him he should be grateful for me!

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, and 1,482,038 others!

ynperez: ruined my soft launch but it’s okay, mi novio is tan lindo y lo quiero 🤍 [my boyfriend is so cute and i love him]

tagged; judebellingham

judebellingham: i said i’m sorry😔

ynperez: it’s ok pumpkin

vinijr: just so you know he giggled

judebellingham: i don’t giggle idk what u mean

judebellingham: i love you🤍

ynperez: i love you 🤍🤍

user30: I KNEW IT

user31: it couple

user32: now we know why jude signed for real madrid

yourbsf: finally u posted him, such cuties 🥹

ynperez: i wanted a cute soft launch but this will do😔😔

user33: she calls him pumpkin that’s so adorable

user34: idk if i want him or her

user35: anyone see vini’s comment 😭

liked by ynperez, camavinga, and 3,028,937 others!

judebellingham: prettiest girl ever, te quiero, mi flor 🌹🤍 [i love you, my flower]

tagged; ynperez

ynperez: AWHH U SPOKE SPANISH TO ME YOU LOVE ME🥹🥹🥹🥹

judebellingham: what can i say, i have vw the best teacher!

ynperez: te quiero muchísimo mi querido [i love you very much, my dear]

judebellingham: te quiero siempre [i love you always]

user36: 50% of me is crying but the other 50% is so excited

user37: him speaking in spanish for her?? that’s so cute stop

camavinga: he asked me 20 times to make sure he was saying it right btw

judebellingham: mate, don’t expose me like this 😕😕😕😕

user38: camavinga 😭

user39: wanna know how presi feels

ynperez: papa pérez is happy that his granddaughter is happy 😁

user40: i’d sign for real madrid too if that means yn perez would be my gf

[jazjelspen]

jazjel’s masterlist

everything written by jazjel and their pen so far!

about the author

[P.S!!!! If there’s a series that you want to keep in touch with and know when each part comes out, please let me know in messages or in the comments that you want to be tagged!

You will only be tagged once, unless specified that you want to be tagged in all upcoming parts of a particular series.]

[currently not taking requests right now, will open very soon tho! >.<]

CHAPTER 1: Twisted Wonderland

CHAPTER 2: Spider-verse (ATSV)

CHAPTER 3: Hazbin Hotel

CHAPTER 4: PERSONA 5: Royal

CHAPTER 5: CREEPYPASTA (pending…)

——————————————————

bonus: original works/ocs

artwall: personal drawings!

———————————————————

[CHAPTER 1]

Twisted Wonderland

“we’ll show you a real happy ending.”

-Heartslabyul(none yet)

-Savannaclaw(none yet)

-Octovinelle(none yet)

-Scarabia(none yet)

-Pomefiore(none yet)

-Ignihyde

and so they lived happily ever after(idia)

-Diasomnia

breaking up with the prince of briar valley(malleus)

the world we knew(malleus)

————————————-

series/various

leaving on wild charted waters (story/various) (songs recommended to listen for this series: White Tea - Rozie Ramati, Ex-Girlfriend - No Doubt)

-part 1

-part 2

-part 3

-part 4

-part 5

-part 6

-part 7

-…….

-…….

-…….

the domestic life (various)

-part 1

-part 2

——————————————-

[CHAPTER 2]

SPIDER-VERSE

“anyone can be under the mask.”

-miles morales(not yet)

-gwen stacey(not yet)

-hobie brown(not yet)

-pavitr prabhakar(not yet)

-miguel o’hara

amor eterno (daughter reader/series)

amor eterno [parte 2](daughter reader/series)

—————————————————

[CHAPTER 3]

HAZBIN HOTEL

“now that’s the spirit! you’re in hell you delinquent fuck!”

-charlie morningstar(not yet) -vaggie(not yet) -angel dust(not yet) -husk(not yet) -nifty(not yet)(will mostly be platonic) -alastor when memories snow (x overlord reader)

devil’s spawn (angel alastor/radio demon daughter reader platonic) -sir pentious(not yet) -vox(not yet) -lucifer morningstar(not yet)

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

series/various

my angel baby

-part 1

-part 2

-part 3

-part 4

-part 5

-part 6

……

……

……

scarlet and silver lining(story)

-epilogue

-part 1

-…

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

original works/ocs

twst oc: Evan Bleu: a normal day for the blue fairy

PERSONA 5: Royal

“show me your true form!”

-akira kurusu (not yet)

-ryuji sakamoto (not yet)

-ann takamaki (not yet)

-yusuke kitagawa (not yet)

-makoto niijima (not yet)

-futaba sakura (not yet)

-haru okumura (not yet)

-sumire kasumi yoshizawa (not yet)

-goro akechi

why would he trust you? (x reader)

———————————————————————————————

artwall

my angel baby: author’s interpretation

my angel baby: school drabbles

[kathlare]

jealous heart

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando finds himself battling unexpected jealousy when he discovers that Amelie is on a date with Mick Schumacher, someone he’s always kept at arm's length.

Wordcount: 2.3 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

May 20th, 2021 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

Lando slouched back in his chair, absently swirling the drink in his hand as he listened to Charles ramble about some boat party planned for Saturday night. The usual pre-race Thursday dinner was in full swing—George, Alex, and Charles sitting around the table at La Vie en Bleu, an overpriced French restaurant with dim lighting and a pretentious atmosphere. It was the kind of place Charles liked to pretend he was a regular at, and the rest of them tolerated because he always got them a good table.

But something felt… off.

Lando drummed his fingers against the table before finally voicing the thought nagging at him all night. —Where’s Amelie?—

Alex barely glanced up from his menu. —Not coming.—

Lando frowned. —Why?—

Alex’s lips twitched, and George let out a quiet chuckle, sharing a knowing look with Charles.

—She’s on a date,— Alex finally said, flipping the page like he hadn’t just casually thrown a grenade onto the table.

Lando’s brain short-circuited.

—A date?— he repeated, the word foreign in his mouth.

Alex hummed in confirmation, eyes scanning the wine list. —With Mick.—

Lando blinked.

Then blinked again.

—Mick?— he echoed, like if he said it enough times, it would start making sense.

—Mick Schumacher,— Charles clarified unhelpfully, smirking.

—No, I fucking know which Mick!— Lando snapped, sitting up straight.

George snorted into his drink, and Alex finally glanced up, looking far too amused.

Lando clenched his jaw. His grip on his glass tightened. He could feel the heat rising up his neck.

He knew Mick had been trying to get a date with Amelie for months—had been annoyingly persistent about it all season. But Lando had never entertained it, never passed on a message, never encouraged anything. Because at the time, Amelie had been with him.

And now?

Now she was on a fucking date.

His stomach twisted, a slow, simmering irritation bubbling under his skin.

Charles grinned, clearly enjoying this far too much. —Mick’s been obsessed with her since Bahrain. Can you blame him?—

George shook his head with a dramatic sigh. —I don’t know, man. Mick’s a nice guy. Maybe they’ll hit it off.—

—Imagine if she actually likes him,— Alex added, pretending to be deep in thought. —They’d be cute together. And he’s German. She likes German things. She likes her cats.—

Lando stared at him, unimpressed. —Are you comparing Mick Schumacher to her fucking cat?—

Alex shrugged.

—I’m just saying, she clearly has a thing for Germans. Maybe Mick’s her type.—

Lando scoffed, sinking further into his chair. Her type. What the fuck did that even mean?

Alex was still talking, but Lando wasn’t listening. His mind was stuck on the fact that Amelie was out right now—laughing at Mick’s jokes, tilting her head the way she did when she was amused, probably twirling the stupid little gold ring she always wore on her pinky.

She was supposed to be here.

Not on a date.

His stomach twisted again. He picked up his glass, then set it back down without drinking. His appetite was gone.

Charles, George, and Alex were still grinning like idiots, throwing out hypothetical scenarios about Amelie’s date, but Lando couldn’t take another second of it.

—I gotta go,— he muttered abruptly, shoving back his chair.

George raised an eyebrow. —Where? Dinner just started.—

—Just remembered something.— Lando stood up, grabbing his phone off the table. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered with the excuse. He knew they wouldn’t believe him.

—What, you suddenly remembered you left the oven on?— Alex deadpanned.

—Or is it food poisoning from all the jealousy you just swallowed?— Charles smirked, earning a snicker from George.

Lando rolled his eyes. —Fuck off.— He didn’t wait for more comments, already walking away, his mind spinning.

There was no plan, not really. Just a simmering feeling in his chest, pushing him forward.

As soon as he stepped outside, he pulled out his phone and scrolled down to Max Verstappen’s contact.

Lando: Where are you? Max: In my apartment? Why? Lando: I need you to come with me somewhere. Max: It’s not illegal, right? Lando: It’s Monaco. Even if it was, we’d get away with it. Max: …I don’t like this. Lando: Be outside in five.

Max sent back a middle finger emoji, but five minutes later, he was standing outside his apartment, waiting with an unimpressed expression.

—What are we doing?— Max asked as Lando pulled up in his car.

Lando didn’t answer right away. He was gripping the steering wheel like it had personally offended him, jaw set, mind still stuck on the fact that Amelie—his Amelie—was on a date with Mick Schumacher of all people.

—Lando,— Max pressed, raising an eyebrow. —Where the fuck are we going?—

Lando exhaled sharply. —Amelie’s on a date.—

Max blinked, processing. —Okay…?—

—With Mick.—

Max’s face did something complicated. He knew about the whole whatever Lando and Amelie had been doing for the past year, knew it had ended, but he hadn’t known about this.

—Mick Schumacher?— he clarified, like maybe he’d misheard.

—Yes, Max, fucking Mick Schumacher.— Lando’s fingers tapped against the gearshift impatiently.

Max let out a low whistle, leaning back against the passenger seat. —Damn. Didn’t see that one coming.—

Lando glared at him. —Yeah, well. I need to see it with my own fucking eyes.—

Max’s brows furrowed. —You wanna spy on them?—

—Not spy,— Lando argued, already pulling out of the parking space. —Just… gather intel.—

Max scoffed. —That’s literally spying.—

Lando didn’t care. His foot pressed a little harder on the accelerator.

—This is a bad idea,— Max added, but he didn’t make any move to leave the car.

Lando ignored him.

His hands tightened around the wheel as he drove toward Le Papillon Noir, the upscale restaurant Alex had casually mentioned when he’d blown up Lando’s entire night. Of course Mick would take her somewhere like that—somewhere with dim lighting and overpriced food, where he could try and charm her with his stupid polite smile and whatever the fuck German boys talked about on dates.

Lando hated it. He hated every single second of this.

—You know, if you’re this jealous, maybe breaking up wasn’t the best move,— Max pointed out, arms crossed as he stared out the window.

Lando gritted his teeth. He didn’t need Max fucking Verstappen lecturing him about his life choices right now.

—We had to,— he muttered, mostly to himself.

—Uh-huh.— Max didn’t sound convinced.

Lando stayed silent, focusing on the road.

It wasn’t long before they pulled up near the restaurant. The place was all sleek black exteriors and golden lighting, filled with expensive people eating expensive food. Lando’s stomach churned.

Max sighed. —Alright, so what’s the plan?—

Lando hesitated. In his rush to get here, he hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.

—We, uh… blend in. Sit at the bar. See if we can spot them.—

Max stared at him like he was a lost cause. —Right. Because no one’s gonna notice two F1 drivers randomly sitting at a bar, not being subtle at all.—

Lando ignored him, already getting out of the car.

They stepped inside, the scent of truffle oil and expensive wine filling the air. Lando scanned the restaurant, his pulse picking up when he spotted a familiar head of dark hair at a table near the back.

There she was.

Amelie.

She was sitting across from Mick, laughing at something he’d said, her eyes bright, her hand absently twirling that stupid gold ring she always wore.

Lando felt something burn in his chest.

—Wow. She looks like she’s having fun,— Max commented, unhelpful as always.

Lando wanted to strangle him.

They slipped into seats at the bar, far enough that Amelie wouldn’t notice them, but close enough that Lando could still see.

Mick was talking animatedly, and Amelie was listening, smiling. She didn’t smile like that at just anyone.

Lando hated it.

He sipped his drink, the expensive whiskey burning a path down his throat. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.

—You’re staring, mate,— Max said, nudging him with his elbow.

—I’m observing,— Lando corrected, his eyes still fixed on Amelie.

—Observing her having a good time with another guy,— Max pointed out. —Real productive.—

Lando glared at him. —Shut up.—

He watched as Mick reached across the table, his hand hovering near Amelie’s. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. She just kept smiling, her eyes fixed on him.

Lando’s jaw clenched.

He wanted to march over there, grab her hand, and pull her away. He wanted to tell Mick to fuck off and leave her alone. He wanted to tell Amelie that she was his, even though she wasn’t.

—He’s gonna touch her,— Max whispered, his voice laced with amusement.

Lando’s grip on his glass tightened. He could feel the blood pounding in his temples.

Mick’s hand finally landed on the table, just inches from Amelie’s. She didn’t seem to notice. She was still smiling, still listening.

Lando’s heart pounded in his chest. He was about to explode.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something.

—I’m going over there,— he announced, pushing back his chair.

Max grabbed his arm. —Are you fucking insane? You’re gonna ruin their date.—

—I don’t care,— Lando hissed, shaking off Max’s grip. —I can’t watch this anymore.—

He stood up, his eyes fixed on Amelie. He started walking toward the table, his steps quick and determined.

—Lando, don’t be an idiot,— Max called after him, but Lando ignored him.

He was almost there. Just a few more steps.

He was almost there. Just a few more steps. He could practically feel the heat radiating off Amelie, the familiar scent of her perfume filling his senses. He was so close.

Then, just as he was about to reach the table, Max’s hand clamped down on his arm, pulling him back with surprising force.

—Lando, stop!— Max hissed, his voice low and urgent.

Lando turned, his eyes blazing. —Let go of me, Max.—

—No,— Max said firmly, his grip tightening. —You’re not going to ruin their date. You’re not going to make a scene.—

Lando stared at him, his chest heaving. —They shouldn’t even be on a date!—

—That’s not your call anymore,— Max said, his voice softer now. —You two broke up. You need to respect that.—

Lando’s anger deflated, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. He knew Max was right. He hated that he was right, but he knew it.

He looked back at Amelie. She was still smiling, still laughing, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was going through.

He turned back to Max, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and resignation. —Fine,— he muttered, his voice rough. —But I’m not staying here. I can’t watch this.—

Max nodded, releasing his arm. —Let’s go.—

They walked out of the restaurant in silence, the cool night air a stark contrast to the burning jealousy still simmering in Lando’s veins.

They got back into the car, and Lando started the engine, pulling away from the curb. He drove in silence, his mind replaying the scene over and over again. Amelie’s smile, Mick’s hand, the way she looked at him…

He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He hated this. He hated feeling like this. He hated that he couldn’t just be her friend.

—You okay?— Max asked, his voice quiet.

Lando scoffed. —Do I look okay?—

Max sighed. —You need to let this go, Lando. You can’t keep torturing yourself like this.—

—It’s not torture,— Lando argued, his voice tight. —It’s… complicated.—

—It’s torture,— Max repeated. —You’re in love with her, and you’re watching her go on dates with other guys. That’s torture.—

Lando didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Max was right. He was in love with Amelie. He had been for a long time. And watching her with Mick was tearing him apart.

[spurbleu]

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↬︎ works

captain john price- scapegoat/tucked tail you and your boss, smoldered under cigar ash and a horrible day, get trapped in an elevator.

captain john price - where the aster grows. in her absence, your grandmother leaves you a floral shop, the house above, and a neighbor.

johnny 'soap' mactavish- unraveling careful threads- johnny finds you where he needs you.

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎ ▁︎‧︎✳︎⁎︎☼︎༚︎‧︎‧︎༚︎︎☼︎︎⁎︎✳︎‧▁ ▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

thanks for being here, much love ❤︎

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 179

warnings: nsfw moment hmh masterlist

“Momma,” Ronan walks over to you with a flower in her hand, and you smile as you take it. “For you.”

“Well, thank you, baby.” you lean over and laugh when she tucks it behind your ear. “Where is your dad?”

Ronan shrugs before she rushes over and plays in the yard with Bleu. You’re supposed to be going on a walk, but John had something he needed to grab quickly, and he’s taking longer than expected.

After the Peter incident, it’s been…different around the house. John is just quiet and a little disengaged with things. It didn’t happen right away, but about a week after everything happened, John got really quiet. He got into his own head, which makes you worry. He’s been shutting himself in the basement more often than not, which means you and Ronan haven’t been spending as much time with him.

You take the flower out of your hair and set it on the table, then you open the patio door and stick your head in, “John, you still coming with us?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” he calls from the office. “You two go without me.”

You frown a little, but you let him have his space, “Okay, well, we’ll be back in a bit then.”

Just as you go to shut the door, you see John poke his head around the corner, “I love you.”

“I love you too, John.” you smile softly, “We’ll be back in a bit.”

You watch as John goes back to the office and closes the door, and you try to keep yourself composed as you turn around to look down at Ronan.

“Daddy?”

“He’s busy, so it’s just us girls,” you say, praying she’ll be okay with it. “Is that okay?”

Ronan nods her head and holds up Bleu’s leash, so you take it and clip it to his collar. You lift up Ronan and put her into the stroller, then you fix her hat and make sure she’s bundled up. It’s not really that cold, but there’s a little nip in the air.

“Should we maybe go to the park?” you ask, and she nods. You lean down and kiss her cheek, “Alright, let’s go.”

__

Ronan is playing with some other kids at the park as you watch her, and she waves when she looks at you. You wave back at her and laugh when she giggles loudly. She truly can brighten any gloomy day. Even though it’s not really gloomy today, you feel gloomy. Whenever John isn’t feeling like himself, it hurts you. You just want him to be himself again, but you don’t want to push him. He’s allowed to process his emotions. It just sucks that he’s shutting you out.

“Hello, sister.” Tess says, leaning over the back of the bench you’re sitting on, “Watcha up to?”

You gesture to Ronan, “Just letting her get some energy out. How about you?”

“On a walk. It’s so nice,” Tess says, then she smiles as Jimmy chases Finn to the playground. She sits down next to you and rests her hands on her growing belly, “Where’s Wick?”

“He stayed home,” you say, watching Tess look at you from the corner of her eye.

She shifts a little on the bench to allow Jimmy to sit next to her, “He didn’t want to come with?”

“No, he’s…I don’t know,” you look down at your hands and shrug, “This past week or so, he’s been a little quiet. I know it’s not Helen, like an anniversary or anything, plus we talk about that stuff now. He’s open about it.”

“Think it’s Peter?” Jimmy asks, and you look at him. He inhales deeply and nods, “I worried he’d do this.”

You nod, “Me too.”

“Want me to talk to him?” he asks, and you look at him and shrug.

“It might be good for him to hear from someone else for a change.” you let out a stiff laugh, “I’m sure he’s sick of me.”

Tess shakes her head, “Don’t. This isn’t on you.”

“It’s just when he decides to shut down and shut people out, it’s so fucking lonely for those he shuts out, and I know he’s lonely too. Or maybe he’s not.” you whisper as you tear up, then you look at Jimmy, “Please talk to him.”

“I will,” he nods, reaching over for your hand, “I will.”

Tess smiles as she looks at you, “You up for some ice cream?”

__

Of course you were up for ice cream. You feel like shit and ice cream is obviously the answer. The idea of letting Ronan get energy out at the park ended up being pointless since she’s going crazy over some sugar now, but it’s fine. She’s playing with Finn in the playroom, so hopefully she’ll get the rest of her energy out.

When you got to Tess’ house, Jimmy went to your house to talk to John. You hope it’s going okay. John loves Jimmy and knows he wants the best for him, so hopefully John will be open with him.

“Have you two talked about the whole Peter thing?”

You nod, “We did. I was the one who told John to kill him, well, actually mom said it first.”

“Excuse me, mom said what?”

“Yeah,” you laugh quietly, “When we were in the hospital, she said she wouldn’t blame John if he killed him. She said she doesn’t understand everything about John’s past but she understands enough. Anyway, I told John at the police station that he should do it. I didn’t say it in those words, but it was implied. So, it’s not like I didn’t know John would do it. Hell, I knew he would before I ever even suggested it. I know John. I know he’ll do whatever he can to protect his family.”

Tess nods as she shifts on the couch, “What do you think is going on with him?”

“He’s getting into his head and overthinking everything, which means he shuts down. Gets emotionless. He said something the other day that concerned me, but I just kind of brushed it aside because I was tired of living life with a cloud over my head.”

“What did he say?”

You look at Tess, “He said he’s let his walls down and now he’s weak.”

“But him letting his walls down is actually the opposite. He’s strong and brave for allowing love back into his life. He understands what loss is. He’s incredibly brave for it.”

“And I told him that. I told him that letting his walls down is why I’m here and why we have a daughter. I just feel like maybe it went in one ear and out the other. Or maybe that’s not what is bothering him, or maybe he just needs to talk about something else. I hate feeling like this,” you frown as you look at her, “I hate not knowing what’s going on with him. He’s my best friend. I know him better than anyone, and I hate feeling like I don't know him right now.”

Tess opens her mouth to say something, but the front door opens as Jimmy walks in. You turn around to look at him, and he quickly leans down to kiss Tess before plopping into the chair and exhaling sharply.

“So, how did it go?”

Jimmy rubs his hands over his face--oh, it was that bad then. He sits up and shakes his head, “He has thick fucking walls, Y/N. I couldn’t crack him. I usually can. I have before in the past, you know, that’s my…that’s my fucking best friend, but I couldn’t. Not this time. I’m sorry.”

You sit back and sigh, “It’s fine. Thanks, Jimmy.”

“I can go over tomorrow and try again, but…”

“It’s okay,” you look at him and smile softly, “Thanks.”

Tess reaches for your hand, “So, what’s the plan?”

“He wants to be alone, so I’ll let him be alone.” you say, shrugging. “I mean, I’m always going to be there for him, but he clearly isn’t ready to talk about it, so I’ll give him space until he’s ready. I can wait. I love him more than anything; I can wait.”

“Wanna sleepover?” Tess asks, and you frown as you tear up and nod your head. She wraps her arm around your shoulder and looks at Jimmy, “Sorry, babe, I can’t snuggle with you tonight.”

Jimmy laughs as he gets up and kisses the top of her head, “That’s okay. I understand.”

You smile when Jimmy ruffles your hair, “Thanks, Jimmy.”

“Anything for family, right?” he says, and you nod your head. “No need to thank me.”

__

Since you’re just packing a little bag for the night, you left Ronan with Tess but you brought Bleu back home. He immediately goes to the last place John was--the office--but he quickly comes out and looks at you. You furrow your brow and look to your right at the basement door that is slightly open.

“Hey, you down here?”

“Yeah,” he says, and you make your way down to find him working on a book. He doesn’t even look up at you. “How was your walk?”

You let out a small laugh, “Our walk ended about three hours ago, but it was fine. Thanks for asking. Um, Ro and I are going to stay the night at Tess’.”

That gets his attention. He looks up at you, “Why?”

“The kiddos wanted a sleepover, and you know Tess, she loves them too.” you say, and John nods before looking down. “You’ll be okay here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

You inhale deeply as you shuffle in place a little, “I’ll miss you.”

“Well, I’ll be here,” he says, which completely shatters you.

You blink a few times to rid your eyes of tears, “I’m gonna go pack a bag for us.”

“Did you send Jimmy over to talk to me?” he asks as you step onto the stairs. You look over your shoulder at him and shake your head. He sets his utensils down, “You did.”

“I just wanted, maybe, ugh…” you turn around and gesture to him, “You’re being quiet, so I thought maybe you didn’t want to talk to me, and if you didn’t want to talk to me, maybe you’d want to talk to your best friend. I guess I was wrong.”

John nods, “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You have to eventually, John. It’ll eat you alive otherwise. Just talk to me.” you say, walking over to him, “Talk to me.”

John rests his hands on your waist and looks up at you, “I can’t. Not right now.”

“Am I asking too much of you? Am I being too much? How can I fix it?”

“This isn’t you.”

“No, this isn’t you. Being so quiet, shutting me out, it’s not you, John. You’re not that guy anymore.”

John shakes his head, “I’m always going to be that guy.”

“Stop repeating words you’ve heard from enemies.” you say, tilting his chin up, “Listen to me, listen to someone who loves you: you’re not that guy.”

“I appreciate it, I do, but…” he looks down and sighs, “Just not now, okay?”

You frown as you look at him so small and defeated, “Okay. I’ll be at Tess’ if you…need me.”

He won’t call. Maybe he’ll text just to say he loves Ronan or something, but you know you won’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” you whisper to him, and he looks at you as you walk to the stairs. “While you’re busy putting up all those walls again, remember who broke them down last time. I did once, I’ll do it again.”

__

You can’t avoid the house, nor do you want to. It’s your home, and John isn’t some big, scary creature; he’s just having a hard time. Maybe just your presence will make him feel a little better or something. Probably not, but it’s worth a shot.

When you got home, you saw that the kitchen and living room were a little less than tidy, plus you had a big pile of clothes that needed to be washed. Logan has always washed his own clothes, but since he’s been working a lot more than usual, he hasn’t had the time, so his clothes are in a basket in the laundry room as well. You’ll toss them in and get that taken care of first.

As you sift through his clothes, you peek out to the living room and see Ronan playing by herself with her toys. You smile when she makes a little noise, then you load the washer and turn to grab some soap.

“Daddy!” Ronan calls out, and you peek around the corner again, watching as Ronan hugs John tight.

“Hi, baby girl.” John ruffles her hair a little and smiles when she holds up a toy to show him. He sits down on the floor with her and plays for a few minutes, “Are you being good for momma?”

You watch as Ronan nods her head and points to where you’re standing. You quickly move so John can’t see you, then you put the soap in the washer and start it. Since there’s nothing left for you to do in the laundry room, you head to the kitchen and start cleaning up in there. You gather up some papers that have been sitting on the counter for a few days and bring them to the office, tucking them away in a drawer. You’ll deal with them later.

John is, surprisingly, still playing with Ronan when you walk past, and you smile to yourself when you hear the two of them laughing. Even though he’s shutting you out, it’s nice that he’s spending a little time with her. He adores her, and she adores him.

After spraying and wiping down the counters, you start the dishwasher and put away some small items that are around. You really want to mop the kitchen floor, but Ronan isn’t ready for a nap yet. You want to do it once she’s napping so that she won’t walk on the wet floor, plus you can mop and have a little snack afterward while you wait for it to dry.

John clears his throat, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you glance up at him from where you’re cleaning the windows.

“How was your…sleepover?”

You shrug, “It was okay. We crashed in the basement, and it was really cold.”

“Yeah, their basement is freakishly cold.”

“Probably a ghost,” you joke, and John’s lips tip up a little. “Are you busy?”

John nods, “Yeah, just working on some stuff. I heard noise up here, so I just wanted to see Ronan.”

You look over at him and feel your nose burn as you tear up. He looks at you and widens his eyes before shaking his head.

“No, that…that came out wrong. I wanted to see you too--”

“It’s fine,” you put your hand up and wave it off, “She’s cute and can barely talk. I get why you’d just want to see her.”

John steps closer, “It’s not that I didn’t want to see you.”

“You just didn’t want to talk to me,” you say, holding his gaze, “I get it. We don’t have to talk. I’ll go back to doing what I’m doing.”

God, this is killing you! You just want to fucking talk to him. He obviously doesn’t realize that what he’s saying is hurtful and it sucks. You know John, so you know he’ll apologize for acting this way, but until he’s ready to talk, it will be a lonely time.

You look over your shoulder to see John looking around the kitchen for something, “What are--”

“Where was the paper that was here?” he says, tapping the counter, “I had a paper here that I needed. It was important. I need it.”

“I…” you set the cleaner aside and walk around to search the drawers, “I just was cleaning and I put--”

John sighs, “You misplaced it. Or threw it away.”

“I didn’t throw it--”

“I really needed that, Y/N”

You look at him, “And I’ll find it. Calm down.”

“I just needed--”

“You needed it. Yeah, got it,” you roll your eyes and close the drawer, then you head to the office to find the stack of papers you had earlier. You bring them back to John and throw them a little too hard on the counter, and some slide to the floor. “Is it in this pile?”

John looks through them and takes one, nodding his head, “Yes, it’s here.”

“So, no, I did not misplace it or throw it away. You’re welcome.” you say, and John looks at you and opens his mouth, but you stop him. “Don’t. I really do want an apology, but you’re being a true asshole right now. You can shut me out all you want, but I draw the line at being a dick to me. I’m not cool with that. I’ve always stood up for myself, and that won’t stop today. You’re being mean and incredibly unfair to me when all I’m doing is giving you space or just trying to let you know I’m here for you. If you’re going to continue to be mean to me, then you can go back downstairs and continue ignoring me too.”

“Look…”

You turn to him, “John, no! I said I’m not looking for an apology right now. You’ve made me feel like shit. I want to be left alone. I’m respecting you; do the same for me.”

John stands there for a moment before he lets out a sharp sigh, “Fine.”

Looking ahead, you watch John from the corner of your eye as he waits for a moment. You know this man better than anyone, so you know he’s waiting for a moment longer so he can see if he can apologize yet. Not only is this killing you, but deep down, you know in your heart it’s killing him too.

John taps the paper against the counter, “I’ll be downstairs.”

The moment you hear the basement door shut, you put your head down on the counter and cry.

__

You’re ready to talk to John. Whether he’s ready to talk to you or not is still the question. He’s been up and down from the basement all day today. You think he’s trying to work up the courage to talk to you, but you feel like he doesn’t know how to go about it.

After stepping out onto the patio with a cup of coffee, you smile when you see Ronan playing with Bleu. She gives her best attempt at throwing the ball for him, and it only goes a few feet, but Bleu is very enthusiastic about it anyway. He gets it and immediately drops it at her feet.

You look over your shoulder when you hear the door open, and you smile softly at John before looking back at Ronan. John chuckles quietly when he sees her throw the ball for Bleu.

“She can’t throw very far, but he doesn’t care,” you say as John stands next to you. You sip your coffee and offer him some. Surprisingly, he takes a drink of it before handing it back. You take a deep breath and look at him, “Can we talk now?”

John looks down at the ground as he shuffles in place, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t want to force you to talk about it if you’re not ready, but I can’t keep doing this.” you say, turning to face him, “I can’t live my life without talking to you. I can’t live my life without you. I can’t live my life with you shutting me out. I want to talk. I want to listen to you. I just want to fix whatever is broken and move past it. Not because I just want to get past it, but I want you to be okay. I want my husband back.”

John blinks as he looks at Ronan, then he furrows his brow, “What is she doing?”

“She’s playing in a pile of leaves.” you say, deflating and tilting your head back, “John, we need to talk.”

John pushes past you, “No, she’s playing in the flowers. Ronan Charlotte!”

You watch as John walks over to her and grabs the dead flower in her hand, and you immediately follow him.

“Where did you find this?” he asks, and Ronan points at the ground.

Your heart sinks to the ground when you realize she’s been playing on the spot where Daisy is buried. John plants flowers there every spring. They’ve died, but they’re still there and will be until next spring when he plants them again.

“You do not play there, and you do not take these flowers, you understand me?”

Ronan instantly starts crying, because why wouldn’t she when her gentle and sweet dad is scolding her, and you lean down and pick her up, looking at John in horror. He’s never yelled at her. He’s barely even scolded her.

John huffs, “She’s not supposed to play on that spot.”

“She didn’t know.”

John shakes his head, “I’ve told her before. She didn’t listen. You can’t play there!”

“Jonathan!” you turn Ronan away from him, “Stop! She is a toddler. Stop yelling at her!”

“I’ve told her before--”

You put your hand up to stop him, furrowing your brow and looking at him in disgust, “Stop! Who the hell are you right now? Yelling at our daughter for playing in leaves, for picking flowers. I don’t…I don’t know you right now.”

It must be a sobering thing for him to hear because John’s entire demeanor immediately changes. His tense shoulders relax, his cold eyes turn warm but sad.

“I’m…”

You shake your head, holding Ronan tight to your chest as she cries. John steps forward, so you step back and put your hand out.

“Don’t.”

John begins to crumble, “Mouse, I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t hurt you.”

You scoff, “Right now I don’t know who you even are, so I can’t say that I believe you.”

“You think I’d hurt you?”

“Do I think you’d physically hurt me? No, of course not, John. But you have hurt me. You have hurt me all week, Jonathan. You’ve been fucking mean to me and to Ronan. You’ve ignored us.” you say, and he frowns. “Don’t follow me inside. Just…leave us alone for a bit. Now I’m shutting you out.”

John puts his hand over his heart as if it hurts, “Don’t do this. I can’t…I can’t deal with that right now. I need you.”

“You should have thought about that sooner.”

You hoist Ronan up and kiss her cheek as you walk into the house, soothing her along the way. You close the door behind you and look back at John as he watches you, then you head up to Ronan’s room with her in your arms.

__

Who would have guessed that sleeping on your daughter’s tiny bed would cause your back to hurt? You feel stiff as a board as you get up and stretch. You stretch your arms above your head and yawn before looking down to see Ronan isn’t in bed. You open the door and hear a fork scraping against a plate and Ronan giggling, and you put your hand over your heart where it’s hammering away.

“Want more?” John asks, and Ronan nods her head as she looks up at him. He leans down and kisses the top of her head, “Hungry little bug.”

You smile as you watch John looking down at her adoringly. You clear your throat and give him a small wave when he looks at you.

“Hey, I just got her some breakfast. She…crawled into bed with me this morning.”

You pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands, “Yeah, I think she was tired of sharing with me. Sorry about that, bug.”

“I had plenty of room to share with her,” he says, and you look at him, “You could have crawled into bed with me too.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug as you lean against the counter, “Me from last night didn’t want that.”

John chuckles, “But you from this morning with a stiff back…”

“Yeah, she, on the other hand, would have loved it.” you say, letting out a small laugh. You look up at John as he watches you, then you take a deep breath and say something just as John does. He gestures for you to start, but you shake your head and gesture to him.

“I made breakfast.” he says quietly, gesturing to the counter, “I haven’t made pancakes for a while, so I thought I would.”

You lean on your elbows on the counter and grab a pancake. You rip a piece off and eat it, “Peace offering?”

“It’d be a rather poor one,” he says, and you look at him as he grimaces, “I can do better.”

“No need to do anything for me.”

John nods, “I already apologized to her. She…stuck her finger up my nose, so I think she’s forgiven me. I can’t tell though. She’s a hard one to read, kind of like her mom.”

“You understand why I’m upset?”

“Absolutely.” he nods, and you set down your half-eaten pancake. “And I want to talk about everything."

“Let’s sit down and have a real conversation,” you suggest, motioning toward the table. John nods in agreement, his expression serious yet open. “Let’s talk about what’s really going on.”

“I know things have been strained between us,” John begins, his voice tinged with sincerity. “I can’t exactly explain everything I’ve been feeling because it doesn’t make sense. It really doesn’t. But I want to apologize. I want to fix this.”

You listen intently, feeling a glimmer of hope. There is so much vulnerability in his eyes. You’re honestly a little surprised he’s having this conversation in front of Ronan, but this is how you know he’s ready to talk. You could be petty and tell him you’ll talk to him when you’re ready and make him wait, but you’re not that person. You’re his wife who loves him more than anything in this world, and you want this weird tension to end.

John reaches across the table for your hand, “I’ve been an asshole to you. I’ve been mean, I’ve been distant. I made our baby cry. Trust me, nothing in this world could make me feel worse than that.”

“Why? Why have you been acting like this? I thought everything was fine,” you hold John’s hand with both of yours, and he leans over more, placing his hand on top of yours. “After Peter, I thought things had gone back to normal.”

“Remember what you said about me putting my walls back up…” he says, and you nod. “I started to put them back up. I quickly realized putting them back up hurts the people I love the most. I was pushing you away.”

You bite your cheek before you squeeze his hand, “Was it a self-preservation thing? Trying to protect yourself like you did before?”

“I think so,” he admits, and you squeeze his hand again, “There was a moment where I thought that if I put those walls up again, I’d be…safe. It was so second nature to me that I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. I don’t want to lose you, and putting those walls up caused me to lose you.”

“You didn’t lose me.”

John looks down, “Yet.”

You loosen your grip on his hands and pull away, and John furrows his brow and leans over more for your hand.

“What do you mean ‘yet’?” you stare at him as you tear up, “Are…are you breaking up with me?”

“No! Oh my god, no.” he says, pulling your chair as close as he can to him, “Hell would have to freeze over before I ever did that.”

“Then what do you mean by ‘yet’?”

John sighs, “I can’t stop feeling this way. I don’t want to get hurt. I can’t stop feeling like I have to protect myself.”

“Do you remember when we first started dating?” you ask, and John smiles as he nods. “Remember how I would be so weirded out when you’d do nice things for me? I’d immediately assume you just wanted to get laid, but I quickly learned that you were just really nice. You’re just a really nice guy, I still think that now. Remember how you’d try to do something nice for me and I’d immediately try to shut it down because…no one has ever just done nice things for me before. You taught me to let my guard down and allow someone to just be nice to me, and because of that, well, here we are.”

“This is a little different from that.”

You shrug, “Maybe so, but we’ve gone on to have such a great relationship because, while yes, someone hurt me so deeply in my past, I don’t let it define my life now. If I did, John, we wouldn’t even be together still. I would have completely sabotaged our relationship, and sometimes, if I don’t catch myself right away, I still see myself getting ready to do it because despite everything, sometimes I feel like I still don’t deserve this life.”

“But you do,” he whispers, reaching over to cup your face, “You deserve everything, Y/N. You deserve every good thing life has to offer.”

You cock up your brow and smile at him, “Now say that to yourself.”

“That’s different,” he drops his hand and sighs, “I’ve done…bad things.”

“Who the hell cares? Do I look like I care?” you ask, and he laughs quietly. “Is this…because of Peter?”

John looks at you, “I haven’t had to be that person for a long time, and I guess I’m having some sort of conflict over it. Imposter syndrome or whatever.”

“John, you deserve a good and happy life, and guess what?” you whisper, tilting his chin up, “John Wick deserves one too. I don’t just love Jonathan, I also love John Wick. I love every side and every inch of that man, you know that, right? I love every single part of you.”

“If Helen were here and I had to do this,” he shakes his head, “She’d never forgive me.”

You smile softly when he looks at you, ���But I’m not Helen.”

“I know,” he nods, reaching for your hand again, “I know you’re not.”

“And John, she loved you. She’d have forgiven you. Despite you thinking you’re some monster who is cursed, you’re not. You’re just a guy.”

John starts to laugh, “Well, thanks.”

“You know what I mean!” you laugh as you get up and sit in his lap, “You don’t ever need to apologize to me for protecting me. I told you what needed to be done. You needed to kill him. I would have done it myself!”

“You don’t ever have to do that stuff. You have me for that.”

A smile spreads on your face as you look at him, “Don’t shut me out. No matter what you’re feeling. I want to know because I want to help, and even if I can’t help, it’ll help you to just get it off your chest. Doesn’t it feel good to just talk to someone?”

“It does.” he nods, then he puts his hand over his face, “I am so sorry.”

“You’re still learning.” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “We’re still learning. Yeah, we’ve been together for a few years now, but we’re constantly learning more about each other. We’re being put into different situations every day, and it helps us learn more about each other. We’re not automatically going to know how to navigate all of it just because we love each other. But because we love each other, we’re always going to want to help the other. I love you more than anything in this world, and all I’ve wanted these past few days was to make you feel better. I wanted to make all the bad feelings you were having go away.”

John touches your cheek gently, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile at him, “Don’t shut me out.”

“I won’t,” he shakes his head as he leans up to kiss you, “I promise I won’t. God, I completely shut Jimmy out too. He probably…hates me.”

“Stop saying things like that. No one hates you because you’re having an emotion that’s something other than happiness. We get mad, we get sad, we get anxious, we shut down, but no one hates us for it. I do not hate you for it. Jimmy does not hate you for it.”

John’s eyes are so sad as he looks at you, “I shut you out.”

“You did,” you nod. You’re not going to beat around the bush. “You really hurt my feelings. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek, “I’m…so worried that word will get out to people and they’ll think I’m coming back.”

You furrow your brow, “Like last time?”

“I went back in for a reason. Someone wronged me, and I wanted revenge for that. Then suddenly, people were coming out of the woodwork…”

“Santino?” you ask, and John nods, “Yeah, but he’s dead. I think everyone would understand why you did what you did; to protect your family. Peter was…a nobody. He didn’t know you. He didn’t know your past.”

John nods, “I just don’t want anyone to try to pull me back.”

“If they try, they’ll have to deal with me, because if you go, I go. Two minutes in a car with me, and they’d bring you back.” you say as John laughs, “Trust me, if someone were to step foot into this house and try to pull you back in, I would stand in their way and not move. I’m not letting you go back to that life. You deserve to have a good life, John, and I’m going to make sure that you have it.”

“I do have a good life, because of you.”  he says, and you wrap your arm around his shoulder and hug him. He holds you close and rests his head on your chest, “I’m truly so sorry.”

You close your eyes and rest your cheek against the top of his head, “Thank you.”

“You should never feel that way, and I always promised that I’d never make you feel that, but I did.”

Sitting back, you look at him, “It would be so unfair to you if I didn’t allow you to have any emotions. How unfair would it be if someone told you that you’re never allowed to get upset or sad or pissed off about something? I would be beyond upset if that happened to me. I’m allowed to feel every emotion under the sun, and you are too. I will never be the person who tells you how to feel. That’s not fair to the person that I love, and it’s not realistic. It is so unrealistic and, again, unfair to hold you to a standard where you’re not allowed to feel certain things.”

“I hate when we fight.”

“I do too! But not to sound like a broken record, it is genuinely so unrealistic to hold you to some standard where you aren’t allowed to be upset or have emotions. I truly hate the saying ‘love means never having to say sorry’, because it basically just means you get to treat someone like shit and never apologize, but you and I, we apologize. Immediately once the dust has settled.”

John chuckles, “Because I don’t like when we’re not getting along.”

“And I don’t either.” you press a kiss to his lips and hold his gaze. “You’re allowed to feel things, John. You’re allowed to not always be happy. Okay? And when you feel like shutting down, just don’t shut me out. I want to help.”

Letting out a big breath, John reaches up and tucks your hair behind your ear, “I won’t. I promise I won’t shut you out.”

“Okay, good. And no one is coming back to drag you into that world, okay? I’m not kidding when I say I will stand in their way. You’re not going anywhere. We need you,” you say, gesturing to yourself and Ronan, who is covered in maple syrup, “We need our guy. Don’t we, Ro?”

Ronan nods her head, “Yuh!”

You laugh when you see Ronan with maple syrup on her face, “See? We need you here, and you’ve already been gone for too long.”

John smiles, “It was a rough few days.”

“I know, but you’re back, right?” you ask, holding his gaze as he nods. “Good. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he whispers back, pulling you closer so he can kiss you.

You smile softly, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he nods, sighing a little, “Still worried someone is going to call, but if they do, I have no problem telling them that I’m done. I want to be here.”

“And those walls you were putting up to protect yourself?”

John nods, “They’re gone.”

“Good. I mean…” you get up and flex your arm, “I have no problem busting them down again. I did last time.”

“Effortlessly, to be honest.” John says, and you smile as he stands up in front of you. He pulls you closer and wraps his arms around your waist, “I’m sorry.”

You let out a small laugh, “I appreciate the apology.”

“And you forgive me?”

“Of course I do, babe.” you wrap your arms around his neck and smile at him, “Remember? Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

John begins to laugh, “Yeah, at face value, that quote is pretty shit.”

“I forgive you, John. I just want you to be able to come to me next time instead of shutting me out.”

“And I will. I didn’t…want to bother you with--”

You gasp, “Bother me? You? Bother me? Do you think you’ve ever bothered me before? I’m your wife! You do not bother me. The only thing that bothers me is that you feel like you bother me.”

John laughs, “Okay. That’s good to know.”

“What didn’t you want to bother me with?”

“I didn’t want to keep talking about him.” he says, and you nod. “I didn’t want to bring it up and upset you. We went through a lot. But I did need someone to talk about it with. I wanted that person to be you.”

You smile softly and whisper, “I am that person. I will always be that person. Do you still want to talk about it?”

John takes a deep breath and nods, “I do.”

“Okay, well--”

Ronan throws a pancake onto the floor and fusses, kicking her legs, “Out!”

“Later?” John says, and you lean up to kiss him.

“I will always make time for you and your emotions, John. I’m always gonna be here.” you cup his face while Ronan continues to cry, and you both start to laugh. “Tonight. You and me. We will talk all night long.”

John nods, “Sounds good.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” you say to Ronan as you get her out of the high chair, “You are filthy! You need a bath.”

“Thank you,” John says as you begin to leave the kitchen, and you turn around to look at him. “For being patient with me.”

You laugh, “I wasn’t exactly patient, and I certainly wasn’t very nice. I am sorry for that.”

“You were better than some people would have been.” he says, and you shrug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile at him, then you lift up Ronan and look at him, “I am all yours tonight, John, and I’m all ears. I’ll be there for you.”

John puts his hand over his heart and smiles, “Thank you.”

__

You and John spent about an hour just talking about everything. He opened up to you and shared how he had been feeling. He truly just didn’t want to bother anyone with his feelings, which is crazy to you. You’re his wife, and you thought that he would know he could come to you. He just didn’t want to keep bringing up his past and Peter, which you understood in the end.

John pulls the blanket over your bare shoulder and smiles softly, “I missed you.”

“Oh, no, you mean you missed sex.”

“No!” he laughs, and you smile at him. “I mean, yeah, but that wasn’t what I was concerned with. I hate when we’re fighting or not getting along.”

You scoot closer and feel the warmth radiating from his naked body, “Me too. It’s lonely when you shut me out.”

“You’ve shut me out before, so I know what it feels like too,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “It’s not fun.”

“We should probably never do that again, huh?”

John laughs, “Yeah, I will never do that again.”

“Good,” you lean over and kiss him.

“At first I didn’t even realize I was pushing you away. I just got so focused on some work, and next thing I knew, I hadn’t talked to you all day. You were in bed when I finally came upstairs. Ronan was asleep. I didn’t even get to eat dinner with my girls or watch a movie.” he says, and you nod. He exhales as he shakes his head, “I am so sorry. I am more than sorry. I don’t know how long you want me to keep apologizing, but I’ll do it forever. I will beg and plead for your forgiveness, if I’m even worthy of it.”

You let out a small laugh, “Stop it. I love you, Jonathan. I didn’t ask for you to apologize 17 times. Once is enough for me as long as it’s genuine, which I know it is. I forgive you. And of course you’re worthy of my forgiveness.”

“Should I go check on Ro?” he asks quietly, and you smile at him before you nod.

Ronan is only a toddler, but John is desperate to know if she’s forgiven him--she has! She was clinging to him all night after dinner. She doesn’t even know what was happening, but John still feels awful for having yelled at her.

“I’ll be back,” John whispers, and you watch as he gets up and puts on his pajama pants and a t-shirt before disappearing around the corner to Ronan’s room.

You shift under the blankets a little and freeze when you hear the front door open. Logan is home. You can hear John’s voice, but you can’t make out the words, so you grab the blanket and wrap it around yourself to peek around the corner.

“I wanted to apologize,” John says, and you frown as you look down at him and Logan, “I’ve been a little distant lately.”

“I don’t blame you. What happened was nuts,” Logan says, and John nods. “I know it was hard on Y/N, which meant it was hard on you.”

John nods again, “It was, but we’re good now. I’m…sorry if I ignored you. I hope it didn’t remind you of your dad or anything.”

“Nah,” Logan waves it off, “You two couldn’t be any more different. Trust me, I understand. And hopefully this doesn’t sound rude, but I’ve been working so much that I hadn’t been around for a lot of it. Y/N was really alone then, huh?”

“She was,” John glances up at you, and you smile at him. “I think she’s good now. I hope she is.”

You laugh when they both look at you, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“We have plans tomorrow.” John says as he backs away, “You’re invited. Family day.”

Logan laughs, “Yeah, okay. Cool.”

“Goodnight,” Logan waves, then he heads to the kitchen for a late-night snack.

John smiles as he comes back up the stairs, and you back away and laugh when he shuts the door and locks it behind him. You open up the blanket and close your eyes when he wraps his arms around you and kisses you as you walk backwards toward your bed.

“Lay down, beautiful,” John whispers, and you do as you’re told. He fixes the blankets and holds your gaze as he pulls his shirt off and takes off his pajama pants.

You smile when he crawls back into bed with you, “Might want to turn the TV on. A little extra noise.”

John laughs as he reaches for the remote to turn it on. He turns the volume up just two clicks more than usual. It’s not too loud, but at least no one will be able to hear what’s happening in your bedroom.

“Ready?” you ask, and John scoffs before he playfully rolls his eyes and nods. “I’m just asking. The last one was…intense.”

“I’m always ready.” he says, and you shiver a little when he looks into your eyes.

You hum as he kisses you, “Good.”

After he turns off the light on his nightstand, John leans over and kisses you deeply, and you close your eyes and reach up to cup his face. He moves to hover above you, so you take the invitation and scoot over until you’re beneath his body. Using his legs, he spreads your legs open, and you both let out a breath when he slides between your legs with ease. You whimper into his mouth as he pushes himself in deeper, your nails digging into his back.

You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly, but when John thrusts his hips, you can’t help but let it out. You put your hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, then you reach up and grab a fistful of John’s hair, gripping it in your hand; he does the same to you.

Your head involuntarily tilts back as you moan, “Oh, fuck, John.”

“I love you,” John whispers against your forehead as he thrusts his hips, “I love you so much.”

You kiss John desperately as he rolls his hips, “Show me how much you love me.”

Those are the last words from your lips before John sits up and flips you over onto your stomach. He pulls you up by your hips and slides back between your legs, and you instantly dissolve into moans.

He trails kisses up your spine, sending shivers down your body. His hands explore every inch of your skin, finding their way up to your breasts. He cups them in his hands and gently helps you sit up so you’re leaning back against his chest. You roll your hips and moan softly, and John sucks on your neck for a moment before he places his hand over your mouth.

“Fuck me harder,” you demand, and John chuckles softly into your ear before laying you back down on the bed.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

You feel his warm breath against your skin as he trails kisses down your neck, covering your body in goosebumps. His hands explore your body with a gentle and soft touch, igniting a fire within you. All worries and stress melt away as you lose yourself with John, and his whispered words of love.

_

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[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 3.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

shera's voice sounds like blue diamond in this clip. a soft, dreamy whisper.

wordcount: 4.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence

story playlist

Shera didn’t waste much time getting back to her chambers. She was overwhelmed, confused and overall exhausted— and the day wasn’t even over yet. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she padded the stone to her rooms, hoping to the Gods, the old and the new, that someone wouldn’t stop and speak to her. 

“A bath, please,” Shera asked the chambermaids hastily once she reached her solar. “Scorching, as hot as possible. And… my oils, from my chest— if you please…”

They brought in the large copper tub and filled it with hot water, all the way near the top until Shera could see the wisps of steam billowing from it. The maids poured in vials of oil that she brought with her from Winterfell— lavender oil, rosemary oil and sweet honeysuckle oil. The concoction swirled into a lovely light purple color. 

“Will you need help undressing, miss?” one of the maids asked. 

“N-no,” she murmured. “Thank you— you may go. Return just before sunset.” 

Then she was alone. She could finally breathe. Wasting no time undressing, she shed her veil and choker and outer layers until she met the hard exterior of her corset. Fuck. Mayhaps she should’ve asked for help. Unwilling to call them back in, she grabbed a cheese knife from the small dining table near the balcony, slitting through the bindings of the corset like a lovely aged bleu. 

Moongeist nosed the latch to the balcony, prompting Shera to open it and let in the breeze from the sea. Nude at last, she all but jumped into the bath, which to her delight, was still scorching. She watched as the wolf sat on the terrace, nose poking out through the stone barrier. He took in the scent of the sea, the salty spray and lingering aroma of toiling waves— and of course, barked at a few seagulls. 

Her bones relaxed as she unpinned her hair, tossing the pins astray into the room— to either be stepped on later, or never found again. Shera let out an audible sigh, feeling her skin soften from the oils. This was the pinnacle of her days— she was very fond of baths and made her own bath oils. She loved the warmth, the enveloping heat of the water soothing her worry. It was like the most comfortable of blankets and she loved to get clean, to be clean. It was a ritual and a must for her to have a bath at least every other day. 

Her love for baths started because of Helaena, she supposed. When Shera arrived in King’s Landing all those years ago for the first time, she was a grimy and dirty child, wild to the bone, and detested baths. The maids didn’t know what to do with her, until they bathed Helaena and Shera together. They weren’t far apart in age at the time, Helaena being the polar opposite of Shera— but somehow she reeled her into normalcy. The princess would bring her wooden toys into the bath, much to the chagrin of her mother, and play with Shera, blow bubbles and tell stories. It was odd to everyone around them, as the two seemingly switched personalities when they bathed together. Helaena, usually a quiet child, would tell grandiose stories, while Shera would sit quietly, giving her complete and rapt attention to the princess. 

The girls bathed together until they were both eight and ten years of age respectively, but even then, they would be in the room with one another while they did— reading books out loud, gossiping, or just sitting in silence, enjoying one another’s presence. 

Shera’s undoubted companion in the Keep was Aemond, but she had a very close and special friendship with Helaena— a friendship that the both of them very much missed, subconsciously. It wasn’t as huge of a blow to Shera as losing Aemond, as the Lady of Winterfell and the Princess frequently wrote one another throughout the ten years apart. It was one of the only reasons Shera wasn’t completely mad. But, even so, letters can only do so much, can’t they? 

As much as she loathed this marriage and the ramifications of it… she would still be closer to her family, her real family, upon Dragonstone than in Winterfell. She laid in the bath until the water went cool, her mind wandering back to the encounter in the Godswood. Why would Daemon speak to her and with such a… driven attitude? What did he want? 

Her thoughts continued to flow, a finger tracing patterns in the mingling oils that lived atop the water. Did Helaena still like baths? If she so asked, would they be able to bathe together like old times? 

No– that would require… forgoing her veil and choker. Even if it was Helaena– she doesn’t know if she could truly bare herself to her– to anyone.

—

The hours stretched on until dinner, Shera pacing back and forth, working herself up to a point where Moongeist tugged on her sleeve with his teeth as an indication to calm down.

The maids who’d been assigned to her flittered around her like a flock of ptarmigan hens, pleading with her to let them dress her. She shied away from their touch, only allowing them to dress her in a new corset and skirts. 

She stayed in her veil, accentuating it with a few strings of pearls so mayhaps she wouldn’t look so haunting– a hope that always went unfounded, people found her so very terrifying either way.

Shera preferred to wear dark, muted colors and always had on some item of fur upon her; tonight’s being a gorgeous black and white mink stole, which Cregan had gifted her for her seventeenth name day four years ago. It was accompanied with one of her newly tailored dresses, one she sewed herself just a few moons ago and making some last minute alterations on the journey to King’s Landing. It was black lace, falling down to her feet and dragging behind her like a ghostly shadow. Coupled with a laced black veil, she looked in the mirror. 

The maid behind her glanced at her warily. “Are… are you in mourning, Lady Stark?” she asked timidly. 

“... no?” Shera blinked, taking in her appearance from her reflection. Ah. So, this is why people consist with the ‘Banshee’ title. Shrugging her shoulders, she wrapped the stole around her snugly

Letting Moongeist guide her to the dining hall, to which he followed the smell of roasting meats, she mentally prepared herself. Princess Rhaenyra was to attend, and with Rhaenyra was her brood of children and her rogue husband and the extended clutch of hatchlings– Baela and Rhaena amongst them. She felt sickly at the fact that she would be seeing the twins again, the former of whom was who disfigured her.

Walking into the chamber, the music was in full swing and everyone was already seated. Had she really been so late? All eyes turned to her and Shera scanned them with a bowed head, the tips of her fingers shaking as she locked gazes with Baela. A reminder of the pain that she’d caused, how she wielded the knife that cut Shera’s throat and blinded her in one eye. 

The wolf to Shera’s side let out the tiniest of whines, pushing Shera towards the table, and her seat between Helaena and Alicent– thank the Gods for small mercies. Although, she was directly across from Aemond, who hadn’t even blinked since she entered the room. 

“Oh, it's so good to have you here again, my dear,” Alicent hummed, taking one of Shera’s hands into her own. The queen was so warm, where Shera was cold. “It is just like old times, hm?”

“Beautiful pup, Shera,” Helaena whispered to her, a hand outstretched to Moongeist. “You see so well through him.” she cooed, a smile plastering upon her lips as the wolf licked her open palm.

“Yes… old times,” Shera responded softly, adjusting her veil. She looked to Helaena, who returned with a knowing gaze. “Hel?” she murmured, lower than usual. 

“Yes, dovey?” 

“… I’ve missed you dearly.” Shera whispered, offering her hand to the princess— to which they interlocked fingers. The two separately were considered touch-averse, with Shera shying away from touch and Helaena cringing at it. But the two had a deeper understanding of one another, it seemed. They always had, their bond only outshined by Shera and Aemond’s. 

But now, it’d be different, wouldn’t it? Aemond was a hot and cold mess to Shera— but Helaena welcomed her like no time had passed. It made her chest ache in a nostalgic way, tears threatening to spill. The good thing about her veil is that no one could see her cry. The whole day had been terribly overwhelming, taut with too many people wanting something from her, needing her to be someone she didn’t wish to be— is this how Helaena felt when she was married to Aegon? 

Tears did fall and Shera let them drip down her face, sinking and sliding from the mink stole to her legs. Helaena tugged on her hand. “Don’t cry, dragonfly,” she hummed. “Dance with me?” 

Shera blinked the tears away, even though they were replaced by new ones right away. “I… would love to. I will not be the most coordinated, though— will you guide me?” 

“Always.” the princess replied, pulling Shera from her chair and guiding her with a gentle hand to the space in the hall set aside for dancing. The music was lively and jaunty, with a lovely tune strummed from a fiddle, accompanied with a wooden flute. Helaena placed a hand on Shera’s waist, then kept their other hands interlocked. “Put your hand on my shoulder. I will lead— you can pretend I’m a gallant knight.” 

Shera snorted a giggle. “I do not want to dance with a gallant knight,” she mused as they began to sway. Helaena kept her upright and indeed took the lead, allowing Shera to stay close and follow her movements. “I want to dance with the butterfly princess.” 

“Ah, the butterfly princess!” Helaena cooed. “I suppose that can be arranged. What will that make you? Oh— my little wolf spider.” she giggled in return. 

It was the first time the entire day, mayhaps the entire fortnight, that Shera felt… happy. She felt weightless dancing with Helaena and felt like crying again— damn the emotions. “Please don’t leave me, Hela,” she murmured, almost silently through garbled tears. “I’ve been so alone.” 

Helaena led the dance off to the further corner of the room where they would have more privacy to speak, still swaying. “I wouldn’t leave you, Shera. The wolf spider’s been so alone— so alone in the cold,” she hushed. “Now you’ve come back to play with the dragonflies and the butterflies— but we must watch out for the birds, the black tailed magpies, and oh, the hawks and gulls, my sweet.”

“May I steal Lady Stark for a dance, sister?” Aemond suddenly cut in, so silent in his approach that Shera hadn’t even heard him at all.

“I don’t know,” Helaena looked to Shera. “Say the word, and I shall release a clutch of spiders into his bedchamber.” she whispered lowly, as if telling a secret. 

Shera cracked a smile. “It’s alright, Hela. If he is untoward, Moongeist shall bite him.” 

Helaena embraced her once more before giving her brother a mock threatening glance. Aemond swiftly replaced her, putting his hands on Shera’s waist. It felt… different. Different from how Helaena had them, and how Daemon had touched her earlier in the Godswood. It wasn’t friendly, nor slimy— it made her want to turn tail and run away, but it also made her chest warm, heart thumping like a rabbit’s. 

“My lady.” he greeted, putting one hand on her lower back to help her posture. “I do hope you won’t sic your dog upon me– yet.”

“My prince,” Shera responded, looking up at him. “Mayhaps I won’t, we shall see.”

“Does it haunt you? That they’re all here in one room?” he leaned down to whisper, swaying back and forth to the music, albeit a bit rigidly. He wasn’t nearly as good of a dancer as Helaena.

“I am always haunted,” she echoed, blinking slowly. She wondered if he could really see her face under her veil. He was looking so intensely at her and she was unsure if he was putting her together or picking her apart in his mind. “Are you?” 

“It’s an agitation, like a brood of mosquitoes.” Aemond answered gruffly, looking away from her now. He wasn’t telling the whole truth, she noted. His lone pupil wavered, looking everywhere but at her.

“Do you have nightmares about it?” she asked, fingers prickling under one of the buckles of his doublet absentmindedly. “I haven’t outgrown them. Not even after this long.” 

He scoffed. “Nightmares? I’m not a child.” 

Liar. Liar. Liar.

The servers interrupted as they began to serve the first course— Aemond helped guide Shera back to her seat. 

“Thank you for the dance.” she murmured as he pushed in her seat. 

“Hm.” 

The dinner continued, Shera staying quiet while she prodded at her food. She preferred to eat alone and only ate enough, slipping it under her veil to not seem rude. Cregan was having a jolly time down the table, talking the ear off of Jacaerys. Baela and Rhaena were whispering to one another, as were Rhaenyra and Daemon. Shera’s skin crawled as she stole looks at the four of them– the twins hadn’t said a word to her, nor did it seem they would, merely whispering like mice. Aegon had excused himself after the first course was served and did not return. Aemond remained staring at Shera the entire time.

Blinking, Shera stared back at him finally, raising her head to lock gazes with him. The subtle shift of her veil indicated she had cocked her brow, as if to say ‘Why are you staring?’

The motion wasn’t lost on Aemond, as they fell back into their own silent communications that they were so well versed in as children. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, responding in kind, ‘You know why.’

Alicent stood up, “I would like to propose a toast– to the return of our beloved Shera, as well as the visit of her brother and warden of the North, Cregan Stark. I cannot imagine it was an easy journey, but we are so blessed that you’ve made it, especially to finalize something that has… been in the making for a few years,” she held up her cup of wine, to which everyone else held up theirs, including Aemond. “Princess Rhaenyra, Cregan and I have been in much talk of betrothals and the like. I would like to announce, formally, the betrothal of Shera Stark,” she paused, taking a breath, “And Jacaerys Velaryon.”

Shera’s breath caught in her throat, her nails sinking into the soft of her palm. She focused solely on Alicent, even if she could feel the searing brand of Aemond’s stare on her. She refused to look, she couldn’t— 

But her sole eye betrayed her, her head turning ever so slightly to gauge Aemond’s reaction. He looked like a statue, his lone pupil narrowed to a slit, like a dragon’s. His hands were placed together dutifully, but the veins near his knuckles were bulging with strain, the fervor of what could only be described as fury coursed through him. The look in his violet iris scared the hells out of Shera. ‘Twas only a moment they locked gazes, but she felt, she saw the barely contained rage, the burning of the city and beyond from Vhagar’s back— 

And then it was gone, as if the candle of ferocity had been snuffed out. He sat up straight, giving Shera one last eyebrow raise before turning his attention solely to his mother. It terrified her how quickly he was able to turn it off, to bury deep as if it never existed at all. 

Perhaps she had imagined it. Surely she did– he didn’t have such a volatile temper as a child, if she could remember correctly.

Clearing her throat, she raised her glass higher as Alicent finished the announcement, gesturing in Jacaerys’ direction, who did the same in return to her. She wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of living upon Dragonstone, nor did she feel she was fit to be the wife of Rhaenyra’s heir. But, ‘twas the way of things. 

She thought Jace, as he had insisted she call him, was well and fine. He was a bit taller than she with a boyish charm and curled brown locks. Their few meetings as adults, where he had so gallantly rode all the way up to Winterfell upon his dragon, he always kissed her hand and smiled at her. It was easy to forget that he was a part of her and Aemond’s maiming when she turned her mind off and became the little puppet Lady that she was supposed to be— but then she would wake up crying in the middle of the night, begging for them not to kill her—

“I would like to propose a toast,” Aemond’s voice cut through Shera’s thoughts like a sharpened blade, the horrid screeching of his swiftly kicked out chair causing her to cringe. “A toast— to our lovely banshee, and her strong husband-to-be. I do hope that Jacaerys is keen on sleeping on the floor whilst a dog warms his wife’s furs– and let us pray for Shera’s health once they ruminate over Dragonstone. Do you still get sea sick, my lady? I cannot imagine a wolf gaining sea legs any time soon.” 

“It’s none of your business, uncle–,” Jace countered, pushing back from his chair to stand.

“Aemond, don’t,” Alicent hissed quietly, gripping her goblet with an iron fist. 

“I’m merely expressing my joy for their coming union, mother. Seems the issue is a bit touchy, hm, Jacaerys?” Aemond’s mouth twitched into a toothy smile, but it was nothing of joy. It was like the open maw of a dragon, daring anyone to walk near, lest they be snapped into smithereens. 

Jacaerys walked a bit closer to Aemond, his hackles equally raised in a challenge. Shera’s observation of the two was quickly surmised; Jace was soft where Aemond was razor-edged. A fight between them would be of little challenge. The underlying rage in Aemond was apparent once more, simmering and bubbling in the pot, threatening to boil over and scald everyone within his reach. His words didn’t sound like he was about to fly off the handle– he was in complete control of every carefully placed barb, every pause in his speech was intentional for added dramatics, to piss off Jace– and Shera, it seemed.

“Do you really expect your nuptials to be fruitful, nephew? Have you ever seen her without her veil? I must say,” Aemond nodded his head toward Shera’s direction as he got closer to Jace, whispering in his ear as if not to let anyone else in on their conversation– Shera heard, though. “I’m quite curious myself– do you think that our dear cousin’s blade,” his lone eye looked to Baela, who was arm-in-arm with Rhaena, Daemon looming behind them like the Dragonmont itself, “Was sharp enough, for a clean cut? Mayhaps it’s a mangled mess under there. Best to keep the covering on for your wedding night, hm?”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys growled, his hand itching as he flexed and unflexed his fist. “You can say what you’d like about me, but you shall hold your tongue before my betrothed.” 

“Jace,” Shera murmured lowly, feeling for Moongeist as she got up from her own chair, shaking. The wolf pressed to her leg, guiding her to where Jacaerys was at arm's length. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, whilst trying to quell the quiver of her bones, while keeping her eye upon Aemond. “‘Twas merely a jest– in poor taste… but a jest.” she had her head lowered diminutively, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Sure, the ‘jest’, as it was, hurt immensely to her already fragile psyche– but she had to keep a level head, especially here. 

Still holding his own goblet, Aemond’s nostrils flared as he watched Shera caress Jace, as if they were truly close. The tip of his brow twitched as he hardened his jaw, lowering his cup and proverbial feathers, remembering himself, remembering where he was. “A jest— of course. Though, I never was the jester of our group, was I? Once upon a time, it’d been you, Jacaerys.” the second son exhaled, eye still trained on Shera. But he approached Jace, hand outstretched. “Congratulations.” he said, his voice clipped. Once again, the rage had been shoved deep down and quelled for the time being.

Jace tentatively took his hand, nodding slowly. “Thank you, uncle,” he squeezed Aemond’s hand before pulling back. “You’re better with a blade than a joke, that is for certain.”

“Mayhaps we shall spar sometime, then?” Aemond suggested. Everyone in the room knew it was a chance for him to kick Jace into the dirt like he desperately wished to do presently. 

“Yes– on the morrow, uncle,” Jacaerys nodded. “Lord Stark should join us, yes? Let’s make a proper gauntlet out of it, then.”

Shera’s hand, in turn, retreated from Jace’s shoulder as she rested a hand on Moongeist’s head. Turning to Alicent, who looked on the edge of an anxious breakdown. “Thank you for the dinner, your grace. I am… feeling quite faint, so I fear I must retire,” Shera whispered, curtsying as best she could. Turning to Rhaenyra and Daemon, she bowed her head. “Princess, prince.” 

Rhaenyra gave a wry smile. “Feel better soon, dear.” 

Daemon said nothing, just nodding his head as his finger traced the rim of his cup. 

“Allow me to escort you, sister,” Cregan was at her side in an instant. 

“It’s not nec—,” 

“I insist.” 

It wasn’t a lie— Shera did feel quite faint from the events and excitement. Letting Moongeist guide her, she escaped the dining hall mostly unscathed, despite feeling a gnawing pain in the pit of her stomach. 

Keep the covering on during your wedding night– mayhaps it's a mangled mess under there.

“O-okay,” she responded monotonously, as if she wasn’t even in control of her own body, her own words. 

Cregan held her in his steady grip, guiding her out of the hall. He was quiet until they entered Maegor’s holdfast. “Dragons are quite tempestuous, aren’t they?” he began.

“… yes.” 

“Your childhood companion— the prince— he certainly had a lot of great things to say about you, didn’t he?” 

“… Cregan.” 

“Listen to me, Shera,” he said as they entered her chambers. “They’re not your friends— not anymore. They’re strangers to you.” 

“But—,” 

“They don’t know you anymore, they only knew who you used to be.” 

And you’re a shell of who you used to be. But that was left unsaid. 

“You shan’t waste your tears any longer on them, on him,” he continued. “And do not give me that look, don’t think I don’t hear you crying at night.” 

“Mayhaps I cry at night because you shoved me into something I am unfit for!” Shera shouted, her voice cracking, followed by a hiss of pain. Something I do not wish for. Jacaerys helped make me this way, Cregan. Don’t you care? Does it matter more than your fucking oath?

Cregan wanted to bite back, but instead furrowed his brow. “Are you alright? Shall I fetch a maester?” 

“N-no…” she whimpered, her voice broken and full of gravel. She pressed a hand to her throat, swallowing a cough. “… tea.” 

“Of course,” Cregan murmured, guiding his sister to sit on the loveseat near the fire. “I’ll get a maid… and… and the tea.” 

Shera nodded, watching him leave. She didn’t care for the pain, even if it felt like someone was dragging a brush of thorns inside of her throat— she felt like she was falling apart at the seams mentally, akin to her old mended dresses, the threads wilting and falling away. 

She felt lost. Lost in the fact that… she wasn’t sure she belonged anywhere. They thought her not cut out for Northern life from her delicate sensibilities— and she wasn’t cut out for King’s Landing for the same reason, except it wasn’t the physical environment, but the barbed tongues, the venomed words, the games of the mind. 

She didn’t belong. 

Would it even matter if she wasn’t part of the equation? Rhaenyra would get her alliance with the North somehow, Cregan would fulfill his oath, Jacaerys would have a number of other betrothal options. 

It mattered not that she was here. 

Didn’t it?

Keep the covering on during your wedding night– mayhaps it's a mangled mess under there.

Her jaw clenched all night as she nursed her tea to soothe her throat– but every other part of her was purely on fire. The one person in the entirety of this Gods forsaken world who knew what she felt, what she went through– the one other person who was there, who was on her side, who she… she lost everything for– was keen to jest at her disfigurement. 

She stood up from her chair, hours after Cregan had left her, throwing the porcelain at the wall. The teacup smashed into bits and pieces and she sunk her teeth into her own lip until she tasted copper. The kettle was next, hocked upon the mantle of the fireplace as it too, split apart. 

I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

Her damaged vocal cords mustered her wails they best they could, forlorn and haunting and low– 

Where was home? She wanted to go home, home– but she didn’t belong anywhere. Where was her home? 

The banshee yowled like a creature with a broken leg, echoing against the walls, ever enclosing.

[bleu-seas]

★ Sypnosis  - Y/n S/n, an Architecture student and Bada Lee, a Performing Arts student shares an apartment at their university. They are doing great until Bada started bringing different girls at night forbidding Y/n to focus on her studies. Things went south when Bada stated her adoration towards Y/n. It all went downhill when one night ruined Y/n’s heart.

★ Pairings - Bada Lee x Y/n

★ Character Background -

Bada Lee as herself

— Performing Arts, Dance Major

— 23 years old

— Owns a dance studio

— President of the Dance club

— Well known choreographer

Bada’s friends

— Lusher

— Tatter

— Noze

— Aiki

— Monika

— Leejung

Y/n S/n

— Architecture

— 22 years old

— Consistent Dean's Lister

— President of the Student Council

— A well known artist

Y/n’s friends

— Audrey

— Ling

— Kirsten

— Latrice

— Emma

★ Warnings - Enemies to lovers, mentions of sex, accidents, and more (i will be updating the warnings depending on the chapter). Bada as a mixed signal giver 🥹

★ Bleu’s Note - Posting Ignited Fire here in Tumblr is something that I thought I could never do. It took me 3 whole months contemplating whether I should post this or not but here I am. Please bare with spelling or grammatical mistakes.

IGNITED FIRE MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

[masa-yoshi-dan]

Ensemble Stars!! x Pokemon || New Dimension

Starmaker Production || Cosmic Production || Rhytm Link || Masterlist || Others

Knights

Tsukasa: Gallade. G.Rapidash. Swirlix. Leo: Gardevoir. Kingambit. Elgyem. Kricketune. Izumi: Kirlia. Clauncher. Bisharp. Roserade. Ritsu: Kirlia. Swoobat. Komala. Musharna. Arashi: Kirlia. Delcatty. Sylveon (shiny). 

Ralts line was the easy pick for Knights. They are both always ready to protect their trainer and pokemon around them and based on the whole concept of empathy and chivalry. Gardevoir’s Japanese name is Sirnight. Leo was the Knights' leader so I gave him Gardevoir which was introduced before Gallade.

Tsukasa is good at horseback riding so i gave him Galarian Rapidash. Tsukasa is really into the knights theme so the fairy horse works the best. Also, Galar is bri’ish region so it can work as a reference to Tsukasa’s english. Tsukasa likes sweets and snacks so Swirlix, the cotton candy pokemon, was a choice.

Kingambit is a reference to Chess and other Knights calling him “King”. Leo believes in aliens so I gave THE alien (not Ultra Beast) pokemon. Elgyem’s name is based on LGM (little green men). For Leo’s composer side I went with Kricketune. It’s the only music-based pokemon which fits “composer” rather than “performer”.

There’s no italian based pokemon dammit! Clauncher is a shrimp. Bisharp is a reference to Chess. Izumi is a model so I checked among Beauty and Lasses trainer classes. Budew line is one the common pokemon they use. And Roserade does feel like can be Izumi’s pokemon.

Swoobat was given as Woobat by Rei. Ritsu loves sleeping and napping so I went over pokemons who can learn Hypnosis, Yawn and Dream Eater. I picked two pokemon: Komala and Musharna. They both are Drowsing pokemon. Komala always sleeps and can cling to its trainer, like Ritsu’s clinginess. Musharna feeds on people’s dreams and constantly sleeps and dreams. Also, Ritsu does not like being disturbed from sleep and Musharna “can become a terrible grump should it be freshly roused from sleep”.

Sylveon became proclaimed THE trans icon as pokemon for both color palette and 1:7 female rate with “girly” appearance. Also, Sylveon evolves through affection which fits Arashi’s “big sister” role. 

Delcatty = Nyanko. I was torn between Mewoth, Glameow and Delcatty. Nyanko appears to be a Siamese cat which is Meowth based on, but it feels more like a stray cat. Glameow and Delcatty are more domestic cats. Delcatty looks more similar to Nyanko and more calm, then Glameow is spiteful.

Switch

Natsume: A.Raichu. Espeon. Both Meowstic. Hatenna. Tsumugi: Pikachu. Togekiss. Altaria.  Sora: Pikachu. Lucario. Emolga.

First Pikachu appearance! Alolan Raichu is the only electric/psychic type. Switch’s symbol is lighting and the main motif is magic. Hence electric/psychic type. Also Pikachu does fit Sora.

Natsume’s all into magic, spells and fortune-telling, so a full psychic-type team was a pick. Espeon was a first choice. Natsume has associations with cats and is said to have 2 pet cats. Espeon is most likely based on sphynx cats, bakeneko and nekomata and the most cat-like among all of eeveelutions. Similar to this was picked Meowstic. Hatenna is a witch hat.

Togekiss is left from ex-fine where he was a leader (his Togekiss has Super Luck ability instead of Serene Grace). Tsumugi’s main association is “bluebird of happiness” and first solo is named “Hummingbird”. Altaria is most likely based on bluebird of happiness for  The Blue Bird (L'Oiseau bleu) with japanese names referencing the character’s name, and Altaria’s category is Humming pokemon.

Sora’s synesthesia is described more like aura so I went for the aura pokemon, Lucario. Sora’s name means “sky” and “midair” and good at acrobatics and parkour. Emolga is a flying type which can learn move as “Acrobatics”. It's a cute creature which can be a troublemaker.

MaM

Madara: Braviary. Bouffalant. Kangaskhan.

MaM's style cowboy and sheriff, so the american pokemon, Braviary, was a choice. He’s aggressively protective of his friends and will protect others even if his life is threatened. And now guess which was I describing, Madara or Braviary (hint: both). Bouffalant = volcano bison. Madara calls himself “Mama” and encourages others to do so, so mother pokemon was a pick. I didn't mean to give him a full normal type team, but it happened and i don’t know what to do with it.

Special for Princess!

Esu: G. Rapidash. Minior (indigo). Kanna: G. Ponyta. F.Meowstic. Yume: G. Ponyta. Gothita. Amaura. Raika: G. Ponyta. Archeops (shiny).

They’re new and we don’t know much about them so it was hard. I was ready to skip them and just say “there’s too little information about them”. But it has been half-year since their introduction and multiple stories (events, scouts, idol stories) so it’s too late to pull out that card. Any of their producers, I will try my best.

All white/pink/violet princess-like have already been taken by other units (Hatterene and Gardevoir). And then i noticed… logo has unicorn on it what looks like Galarian Rapidash! I’m saved!

Esu’s fs costume is themed around stars and blue. I was to give him Starmie but it’s purple. That color of Minior is different from Kanata’s Minior.

Female Meowstic has a similar color palette. Kanna’s image is being stoic, calculated and kinda emotionless. “-stic” in name may be from “stoic” due to their generally emotionless facial expression.

Yume’s fs costume has a lot of ribbons and his original signature had a ribbon on it. Gothta’s line has a lot of ribbons too. Yume means winter so I went with Amaura also for cuteness.

Raika is Sakuma's distant relative and instead of bats he’s harpy. And there’s no harpy pokemons. So just bird. Archeops is the most “weirdest” one and its feather has a similar color and is as wild as Raika’s hair. He can have shiny. As a treat. Also, it’s said Raika is from a facility(..?) and Archeops is a revived fossil.

[ldma-boodyshaker900]

😺 Tostada Masterlist! 😺

😺Tostada from Little hope Au😺

Cute Cat Yawn 💤

Lil doodle 😅

Future Raph and Tostada ❤️😺

Looking For Papa with @bleu-mush

Way Of Showing Affection 💙😺

[sinful-lanterns]

FAMINE MASTERLIST

FAMINE LADIES

🔗 KORRYN

tba...

🔗 MIRA

tba...

🔗 VAUTOUR BLEU

tba...

🔗 DOVE

tba...

🔗 JELENA

tba...

[cameronspecial]

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 2)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: It's always a funny thing to be invited to your ex-boyfriend's engagement party. It's an even funnier thing when it seems all his family members have something to say to you.

Masterlist

“How about Lace Place?” Lacey asks, flashing her hands in an ark to imitate the arch of the sign she is imagining. Y/N gives her a funny look at the words, “Babe, that sounds like you sell drugs. If you name your restaurant that, you’ll be attracting the wrong type of clientele. Although, if a stoner accidentally walks in, maybe you’ll get some business from the munchies.” Lacey cringes at the realization and nods. “Hey, you think I could sell some cookies at your bookstore? Maybe, it can help drum up some business,” Lacey suggests. 

“I don’t see why it would be an issue. Let me just read up on the regulations on it just in case we need a special license or something, but it’s such a cute idea. I can get one of those rollie carts and call it the Cookie Cart. Ooh, maybe I can give a free bookmark with each purchase of a cookie.”

“That’s a great idea. Then I could offer the same thing when someone buys a certain thing at the restaurant. Like, get a ten percent coupon for the bookstore. How do you feel about being a dinner special?” 

“Ahh, I love this idea. We are just two business girlies supporting each other. Soon, well, be girl bosses dominating the world.”

“Uhh, excuse me. Last time I checked, you were already a girl boss, who dominates the world. I mean In The Shadows has been in The New York Times Best Sellers for fifty-two weeks, now. You went on an international book tour for your debut book and you are writing the much-anticipated sequel as we speak. You made it, girl.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t discount your achievements though. You literally worked at a Michelin-star restaurant and graduated top of your class at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Now, you are opening your own restaurant at twenty-three.” 

The girls laugh at the little spiel they went on about being proud of their achievement and return to the paperwork they were going through for each of their respective businesses. In the five years since graduating high school, Y/N graduated from Oxford at twenty-one, but not before signing a deal with a major publisher for her book. A year later, her book is on the best sellers list and she is whisked away all over the world to promote it. She does recognize that her success may in part have to do with her mother and considered writing under a pseudonym, but decides against it when she realizes it wouldn’t really do anything. Using a fake name would mean she wouldn’t be able to make an in-person appearance out of concern for being recognized. It’s not exactly like her face has been hidden from her mother’s social media page. She really wants to have those moments to connect physically with her fans.

 On the other hand, Lacey had gone to culinary school at Le Cordon Bleu, and then quickly got a job at the Michelin-star restaurant. She decided to quit her job there so that she could open up her own restaurant. 

——

Y/N has no clue where she is going. Mason had just told her to get dressed nicely and to get in the car. She couldn’t get a question out, so she followed his instructions and got changed. She put on tan-coloured pants and a light pink balloon-sleeved satin blouse. She wore a black belt with a gold buckle and golden jewellery to pull the outfit together. Y/N sulked as she walked to Mason’s car. Her pestering as to where they were going went unanswered. When she sees where he stops the car, she wants to literally jump out of the car and run home. “Why did you bring me here, Mace?”

“It’s their engagement party today. I wasn’t planning on bringing you, but Blythe called and she literally begged me to bring you today. She knows how much you meant to Rafe and wants to get to know you more. She hopes, maybe even, that you guys can make up.” 

Y/N gives Mason a questioning look, “She wants her fiancé to get along again with his ex-girlfriend?” Mason nods and gently moves to bring his sister inside. “Blythe is a sweet girl and she really loves Rafe. She feels secu-.” Realizing that what he was about to say may have made his sister feel bad, he quickly switches to a different path. “Blythe is really friendly. She makes it her mission to help mend broken relationships. Rafe told me that she got two girls who were best friends when they were younger to make up after they got into a two-year fight over a boy. Can you just go in? You don’t have to talk to anyone and I literally brought you a book.” Y/N isn’t too excited about going to her ex-boyfriend’s engagement party, but she does as her brother asks. 

The twins enter Tannyhill together and are immediately given each a hug from the excited bride-to-be. “Ahh, and in comes the best man. You are only a tiny bit late, Mace. Y/N, I’m so glad you decided to come. I just know you and Rafe will make up in a jiffy.” Y/N gives an awkward smile, “Yeah, I totally chose to be here voluntarily.” Mason discretely elbows his sister in the stomach with a smile on his face. Play nice, the action signified. Blythe doesn’t seem to sense the sarcasm in Y/N’s words and turns towards Mason. “We are going to take the wedding party pictures now. Come on,” Blythe orders, taking Mason’s hand and dragging him away. “Rafe, say hello to Y/N.”

Y/N hadn’t noticed that Rafe had been standing at the main entrance too. Blythe has a way of holding everyone’s attention in a room. He had been standing there quietly observing the greetings. He quickly murmurs a hello then goes off after Blythe before Y/N can return it. She isn’t sure what to do and seeing as the only people she knows at the party are groomsmen, she goes upstairs to read on the balcony. She knows she probably shouldn’t be up there, but the balcony was guest free and she really didn’t want to explain who she was to anyone else. 

The broken silence from the front yard causes her to look up from the book. She silently watches as it appears the party is being moved outside. Rafe’s arm is wrapped around Blythe’s waist as she makes a speech thanking everyone for being there. Once she is done talking, Rafe follows her around whilst she talks from guest to guest. Rafe and the older lady listen to something Blythe says and they both laugh their heads off. This is why Y/N had to break up with Rafe. She could never be the social butterfly that matched his need to be around people. She could never fake pleasant conversations with people she doesn’t know. She would never want any of the traditional things associated with a wedding. And Rafe deserves all of that. Watching Blythe be all of those things for him cements the idea into Y/N’s mind that she did the right thing for him. He was able to move on and thrive with someone much more like him. With someone who didn’t hold him back. 

“Why does it not surprise me that you are up here?” A voice breaks the silence. Y/N turns to see a much older Wheezie at the door of the balcony. “OMG, Wheez. Look how big you’ve gotten. You are such a dignified young woman. Are you driving yet?” Wheezie moves herself to go sit beside Y/N, “Thank you, but I only seem to have gotten bigger because you haven’t seen me in five years. And I am driving. Rafe and Sarah are too scared to be in a car with me though. Blythe lets me drive her but I think only because she wants brownie points with me.”

“It’s still nice of her though. Do you like her?”

“Yeah, but you would let me drive you because you believe in my driving. Not because you want me to like you. You bribed me with cookies for that. She does it because she wants me to like her. She’s nice, though. But you know, she doesn’t make Rafe’s eyes twinkle as much as you do.”

“Louisa, you can’t keep comparing me to her. She’s the one marrying your brother.”

“And you are the one who still has a tighter hold on his heart even if he won’t admit it. You know I’m still angry at you for breaking up with him in the first place. But I missed you too much to be mad at you right now.”

“You gotta stop saying that. And I know you are mad. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have iced you guys out like that. I’m back now though and you can tell me all about your high school experience.”

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about that later. Right now, I want you to sign my book.”

“You read my book?”

“Of course I did. You tell the best stories. You know Damian is an interesting character.” 

“He is, isn’t he? Don’t you just love a good demon love interest?”

“Yeah, that’s totally why I find him interesting…” 

Y/N doesn’t comment on Wheezie’s crypticness and follows the girl to her bedroom where the book sits. She signs the book and is dragged back downstairs to the party by the younger girl. Wheezie promises to come back and darts off to who knows where. Y/N is left alone in the kitchen she once used to make dessert cookies for her first date with Rafe. She resorts back to reading her book on the kitchen island. The sound of someone entering the kitchen causes her to look up from her book. Rafe is at the entryway staring at her with a scowl. “Where did you run off to, Y/L/N?”  

“I was upstairs on the balcony, reading.”

“You know, typically guests aren’t allowed upstairs during a party.”

“Wheezie didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

“Yeah, well, she worships the ground you walk on so she isn’t exactly a non-biased host.” 

They stare each other down for a few seconds in silence before Y/N decides to break it. 

“You told me you wanted to get married at twenty-five.”

“And you told me that you wanted to be with me forever. I guess we are both pretty good at changing our life plan without telling the other.” 

“Haha, such a good retort. You really thought that would hurt me, Rafe?” Her words are only half true. The reminder of the choice she made stings a lot if she were to be honest, but she wasn’t about to admit that. Rafe just shakes his head and pushes past her to get to the fridge. He gets a drink out of it, “Whatever, I don’t have time to deal with this.” On his way out of the kitchen, he accidentally brushes her arm with his elbow and the scent of sea breeze and pool overwhelms her. The fact that he still smells the same after all these years causes her breath to hitch and tears to start to swell in her eyes. Rafe wants to pretend like he doesn’t see it. He wants to pretend like he doesn’t care, so he does. Now, she is left alone in the kitchen, wondering where the hell Wheezie went. 

Y/N goes in search of the younger girl, but it seems to be like playing a game of Where’s Waldo with the amount of other people in the house. Somehow, Y/N always seems to find herself in the same room as Rafe and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her that every time he spots her, he moves to another room. He’s avoiding her and she obviously understands why he would. Eventually, she gives up on finding Wheezie, but she soon regrets staying in the now-empty backyard. Because Ward Cameron is quick to make his presence known to the girl. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here.” Y/N looks at Ward with critical eyes, it’s not every day she sees the human embodiment of her insecurities in person. Her hands go to hold her locket and plays with it between her fingers. 

“I’m not here out of my free will. The bride wanted me here and what the bride wants, she gets.”

“Ahh, yes. Blythe,” Ward begins, they both look at Rafe and Blythe through the window. “Isn’t she a much better fit for him? She went to UNC with him. She moved to the OBX for him. Look at everything she sacrificed for him.” Y/N watches as Blythe and Rafe interact with the guests of the party. She can’t listen to Ward’s insistent belittling of her, so she does what Rafe would argue she does best and runs away from Tannyhill. She runs as fast as she can back home without a care for her tired limbs. Once safely in the sanctuary of her room, she slams her back against her door and starts crying. She doesn’t know why she is; she’s over Rafe. She let him go, but something about Ward poking holes at all of her insecurities brought back some complicated feelings she always seems to want to repress. 

——

Rafe had seen Ward talking to Y/N through the glass and he watched confused as she ran off after something his father said. He had no idea what Ward said but he was sure as hell going to find out. The engagement party has finally come to an end. Rose and Blythe went out to do some wedding shopping, while Sarah and Wheezie went to go do sister things, leaving Rafe the perfect opportunity to interrogate Ward. “What did you say to my ex-girlfriend?” Ward turns toward his son in his desk chair, “Nothing she hasn’t already heard before. What does it matter? As far as I know, you didn’t want anything to do with her.” Rafe shakes his head at his dad’s callousness. “Really, Dad? Even after we’ve been broken up for five years, you still find a way to torment her,” Rafe argues. 

Ward gives a questioning tilt of his head towards his father, “She broke up with you. How could you still care for you?” “She may have made the decision to break up with me and I will always be angry at her for that. But I’m not oblivious enough to think you were a harmless observer in Y/N and mine’s relationship,” Rafe begins. “I know you probably said some things to her that set our break up into motion. I want to make something clear, Dad. Even if we are broken up, I don’t want you to get your claws into Y/N’s head ever again. She doesn’t deserve it no matter how much she hurt me.” Rafe finishes his threat and gets up from the chair he sits upon. He storms out of Ward’s office without another word. 

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you @winterrrnight @maggiecc

[cypherlune]

Heya! I'm Evelyn!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Oc owned by : @thescarleteevee please read full post, if want to know more Im an ex-HYDRA assassin who now works for the Avengers I'm a part time spy now, for S.H.I.E.L.D (the non corrupted one).

Name : Evelyn (Evy) Lune Avenger Name: Cypher HYDRA Name: The Blue Beam Code Name: Nightshadow

Age (as of 2025) : 26 Birthday March 5th, 1999

Backstory: 100 Shades of Blue Masterlist *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Other stuff

Description Headcanons Fact #1

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Hi! I'm Evelyn! *ੈ✩‧₊˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I know over 21 languages thanks to HYDRA ｡･ﾟﾟ･ADHD, PTSD Therapist: @best-therapist-ever

So the Hydra-Loyal side of me; The Blue Beam, i can restrain her alot of the time but she might talk, and she talks using blue text like this . She doesnt speak alot as i have her restrained in the chip in my ear but i cant all the time, Info here: The Blue Beam Info @the-blue-beam Heres The Blue Beam's HYDRA file as well: Here NSFW FREE PAGE any nsfw asks, comments or reposts will be ignored.

Abilities: Energy manipulation (its like bright teal and i can use it however i want), Technopath, enhanced agility, strength, super soldier serum stuff. im also just smart (all from hydra)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. Yes, I have a metal hand, my right one, no its not an arm like Bucky .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ No Biological or Adoptive family left so dont tell me "Im telling your mom" or anything, because both my biological and adoptive ones are dead. I will joke about it .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡Pansexual 🩷💛💙 ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘAny Pronouns ENTP-A ◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷ 1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47 ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : brutal (Olivia Rodrigo) ⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙ Tech Genius Sassy, Nice when wants to be Secretly Likes affection you can ask for a hug if you want ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

Family: (Biological) Sister: @littleautumn-girl ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ─── Friends: @lenas-baby-sis @your-fav-russian-assassin @luna-draven-barnes @hydrabucky @nadia-stark-official @serenastark-official @maybe-im-spider-fox @backupwintersoldier @goddess-of-birds @iwasmadetobeasoldier @multiverse-peterbparker @official-buckybarnes

skin colour is innacurate here as well XD

Ask About my Past If you want. I don't get that triggered by it. Im used to it i guess? So uh if you wanna know anything just hit that ask Button and ill do my best. ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ─── Hydra Name was The Blue Beam, and I was taken at age eleven to uh be with.. them so uh yeah. Dont call me Blue Beam. Its weird.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ─── btw her skin colour is innacurate here, because i drew this before I decided she would have some Latina heritage

2183210, rayonner, lune, deux, onze, mort, sœur, bleu

Im also team cap. ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ─── Yall Can swear, No Nsfw cuz yeah ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ─── Bye I guess

Dividers are not mine, credits to the og creator!

[neonghostlily]

Sous les néons, un peu de chaleur

Fandom : Cyberpunk 2077 Couple : Goro Takemura / V (version femme) Classification : Tout public Longueur : ~1000 mots Langue : Français Genre : Fluff, slow burn, douce mélancolie Statut : One-Shot Résumé : Elle est trop solaire pour cette ville. Lui, trop fermé pour avouer à quel point ça compte

-`✮´- English Version / Masterlist -`✮´-

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　 Le van cahote sur la route trouée de Japantown, les néons roses et bleus glissant sur les vitres crasseuses. V est affalée sur le siège passager, jambes allongées sur le tableau de bord qui craque de temps à autre sous son poids et les virages. Ses doigts tripotent un paquet de chewing-gum vide, qu’elle balance vers le samouraï corpo.

Takemura l’attrape machinalement et le laisse tomber au sol sans un mot.

— C’est dingue comment tu peux avoir des réflexes pareils et toujours rater un compliment quand on t’en fait un.

Silence. Puis, sans détourner les yeux de la route :

— Je préfère viser les choses qui comptent.

— T’as raté une occasion de dire que je compte, là. Juste pour info.

Il pousse un long soupir, trouvant soudain les pubs pour boisson énergisante plus intéressantes que sa voisine.

V s’étire, bras derrière la tête. Une égratignure sur sa tempe saigne un peu, rien de grave. Elle l’essuie du revers de la manche. Il faudrait quand même qu’elle passe chez Vik avant d’aller dormir.

— Bon, sérieux, on a géré là-bas. C’était un sacré morceau, cet entrepôt. Mais tu dois admettre que sans moi, tu serais encore en train de batailler contre ce robot. T’as failli te prendre un shoot dans le dos des tourelles.

— C’était calculé.

— Calculé comme ton sens de l’humour ?

Cette fois, il ne répond pas. Mais il tourne la tête pour la dévisager, une seconde à peine, et leurs regards se croisent. Elle lui adresse un sourire franc, lumineux, un peu cabossé mais entier. Takemura détourne les yeux. Il sent une chaleur monter en lui — sans doute une anomalie à corriger.

— Fais attention, tu me taquines un peu trop.

V se penche en avant, récupère une canette de synth-cola, la secoue et la tend vers lui.

— Tu veux ? C’est tiède et probablement périmé. Le nec plus ultra de la gastronomie post-mission.

— Tu as une définition étrange de la gastronomie.

— Tu parles à une enfant des rues, Takemura ! On faisait griller des rats quand on avait de la chance. Alors ouais, une canette de merde partagée dans un van qui pue le plastique fondu, avec un samouraï qui critique tous les stands de streetfood de Japantown ? C’est du grand luxe.

Il ne prend pas la canette. Mais le coin de sa bouche tressaille. Elle l’a vu. Et elle compte bien ne pas le laisser tranquille avec ça.

— T’as souri. Avoue. J’ai vu ton micro-rictus, là. Niveau 3 sur l’échelle de la Takemura-émotion.

— Tu délires encore à cause de la puce.

— Et voilà. C’est la défense classique du coupable pris en flag.

Elle rit doucement, le genre de rire qui fait vibrer l’air autour d’elle. Takemura ne dit rien, les mains bien droites sur le volant, mais ses yeux trahissent quelque chose — une lueur qui n’était pas là, il y a quelques semaines.

Et dans le silence confortable qui suit, il se surprend à penser que peut-être, juste peut-être… il pourrait s’habituer à cette voix. À cette chaleur. Peut-être qu’un jour, il pourrait lui faire goûter de la vraie gastronomie.

Il aime bien cette idée. ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

Voilà c'était ma première fanfiction ici avec ce ship, j'avais écrit plusieurs brouillons mais c'est le premier que je trouve bien "abouti" assez pour le publié. Je commence petit, la prochaine devrait être plus longue 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔