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darknight3904 · 1 year ago

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It Burns For You

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears

A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.

"I already ate it." He lied

"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.

"Is it your first day?" He asks

"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said

Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.

You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words

"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."

The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.

"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.

"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said

Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.

"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "

And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.

"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.

Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.

He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.

"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds

"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.

"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says

"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks

He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.

"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."

His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.

"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."

Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.

He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,

"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"

He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.

Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.

"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking

You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.

"What're you doing?" You ask quietly

"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.

The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.

"Coryo...what was that?" You ask

"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip

"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask

"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."

Part 2 is out now!

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sunshine-and-kookies · 5 months ago

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UNHINGED (m)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Summary-> The corporate recession has your company grovelling for funds.

As the relegated chief operating officer, you have to bear the brunt of seeking out an enterprising and successful shareholder who can revive your company for posterity.

As a sorry state of affairs, you're compelled to enlist the CEO of Jeon Enterprise for his help. However, The question remains.

Just how much convincing are you willing to do?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Part: 1 of 2

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Pairing: Yandere Jeongguk x Female Reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Yandere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Warnings for both parts: Power Imbalance, Blackmailing, Manipulation, inebriation, smut, fingering, groping, penetration, some nasty stuff, light choking, a few corporate jargons, jk is a dick who is smitten with oc, jk is selfish asf, threats of violence (not against OC).

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Word count: 2.1k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Disclaimer: This is a two-shot which delves into themes that may be triggering or dark in nature. It is important to note that the behaviors portrayed by Jungkook are purely fictional and do not reflect his real-life character. Reader discretion is advised. Minors are discouraged from engaging with this content. Remember, plagiarism is a serious offense.

°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°

"This is unbelievable", you lament, hunched over your desk.

"How did the stocks plummet so much?"

"Miss. L/N, The stock market is a gamble." Mr. Kwon offers.

"I am aware of that Mr. Kwon. But the risks we took were calculated." You massage your temples, grumbling defensively under your breath.

The predicament at hand induced mixed emotions in you. On one hand, you were anxious. Anxious for the employees who have a family to fend for, the news headlines they'll be witnessing and the confrontation you'll need to have with the stakeholders.

On the other, less dominant hand, you felt uncannily relieved.

Ever since your company, Jubilee and Co, invested in the share market with you at the helm, you've been waiting for something to go awry.

Simply, because you couldn't fathom anything remotely auspicious happening under your leadership. Not because you didn't have faith in your capabilities. No.

It was because you've gotten the short end of the stick from life so often that you've grown accustomed to it.

And now that your trepidations have borne fruit, you feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders.

Gingerly clutching the cup of coffee perched on your table, you take a sip. This was not the time to wallow in self pity.

"Mr. Kwon, prepare an excel sheet that has all the consolidated data of the company's capital. We can't afford any delays. I have to begin looking for plausible shareholders."

You could feel the soreness kicking in, as you knead the knots in your shoulder.

It was gonna be a long day.

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

You peer at your phone's self camera for the umpteenth time.

Huffing, as you rake your fingers through your hair. Everything about your outfit seemed off but scrounging for a better one would take an eternity. You were living on borrowed time as it is.

"Miss. Y/N L/N, Mr. Jeon is ready for you."

You stand upright, hands clenching the portfolio in your hand futilely, your heels scuffing across the floor of the hallway.

Navigating through the huge corridor, you spot the door of the room where the incumbent CEO sits.

Knocking lightly, you speak "Mr Jeon?"

"Come in."

His husky voice beckons.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you step into the room.

And as soon as you do, you're rendered awestruck by the cabin.

It has expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the bustling city below.

The golden hour sunlight streaming in through the blinds.

The walls, adorned with exquisite golden motifs, which no doubt must have cost a fortune.

Fitting for a billionaire like him, you suppose.

Right in the center of the room is a rich mahogany desk, cluttered with documents.

Perched behind the desk is Jeon Jeongguk, the formidable CEO of Jeon Enterprises. It is renowned globally as the only firm which deals with technological ergonomics. Their unparalleled success transcended borders, setting the standard worldwide.

Needless to say, Jubilee and Co was a far cry from Jeon Enterprises.

You've read enough tabloids about the cold, formidable CEO to know what might transpire.

On behalf of your company's stakeholder, you'll ask him for help. He'll eye you incredulously, disdain marring his face before he politely calls the security guard to escort this deranged woman out.

You're taking a leap of faith coming here and hoping a tech tycoon like him even spares you a glance.

You hear him take a sharp intake of breath, prompting you to look at him.

His mouth was slightly agape, eyes widened, as he stared at you from across the room.

His gaze trailed your dainty form from top to bottom, eyes darkening the more they consume you.

You shudder.

You should have taken time to look for a more flattering outfit. Or maybe your hair was dishevelled?

Clearing your throat, you politely ask him, "May I take a seat, Mr Jeon?"

Caught off guard, Mr. Jeon suddenly stands up before motioning for you to sit.

"Please do, Miss...?"

"Y/N L/N." , you supply.

"Y/N..." His dulcet voice repeats your name, as though in a trance.

There was an eerie tension in the room but you would be damned if you let it get to you and lose this golden opportunity.

"As the chief operating officer, I'm here to represent Jubilee and Co."

This was it.

This was the part where you'll be catapulted out of the building by big and buff security men--

"How may I be of assistance to Jubilee and Co. today?"

You blanch.

Out of all outcomes you were expecting would ensue your introduction, this was the most unexpected one.

You were not prepared for this, how do you broach the proposal of an alliance now?

Quickly gathering yourself, you resume.

"We are honoured you have decided to give us the time of the day, Mr Jeon."

"Don't mention." His tone, though professional, betrayed a hint of eagerness.

"From what I presume, you're here to ask for an affiliation." He continues.

"Your stakeholders want Jubilee and Co to become a subsidiary under Jeon Enterprises."

You were tongue tied.

Mr. Jeon was an astute man. You'll give him that.

"Yes, sir. That is correct."

"And why, exactly, should I invest in a company that is, for a lack of better word, in shambles? Inundated with abysmal employees", He rejoinders.

You wince. No matter how true his word were, they were acerbic.

Jubilee was like a baby to you.

You've gone through hell to make it transition from a tier 3 brand name to a decently esteemed firm. You've spent countless sleepless nights looking after it, skipped meals to tend to it's wounds.

Chagrined, you speak before your brain can process your words.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Jeon. But Jubilee is more than just its current state. It's a testament to resilience, to the countless hours of dedication and hard work put in by its employees, including myself."

Your gaze meets his, vulnerability shining in your eyes.

"Yes, we may have faced setbacks, but we've also overcome them. I believe that adversity often presents the greatest opportunities for growth. I understand your reservations, Mr. Jeon, but I urge you to consider the untapped potential within Jubilee. With the right investments and guidance, I firmly believe that it has the potential to rise from its current situation and flourish once again."

A hush falls over the room.

Jeongguk's gaze remained unwavering, fixed on your face throughout your entire tirade.

"Consider me convinced, Miss. Y/N."

"S-Sir?"

"I guarantee. Jubilee's stock will be restored, funds will be augmented, and brand reputation will be unrivalled. The employees that will henceforth be inducted will be recruited by my personal hiring team."

You can barely hear the rest of his sentence, already thrumming with excitement. Your mind plotting all the ways you can get back at the naysayers.

The resurgence of Jubilee is inevitable, now that you have Jeongguk on board.

"But, you must understand Y/N, there are no free lunches in this world."

And just like that all your dreams come crashing down.

"Pardon, sir?"

Mr. Jeon gracefully rises from his chair, closing the proximity between the both of you as he leans on the front of the desk, positioned directly in front of you.

"I'll accede to all your demands, but I want a fair trade."

Mr. Jeon's words hang in the air. You had hoped for a smooth negotiation, where was this coming from?

"What kind of fair trade are you suggesting, Mr. Jeon?"

A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze.

"I'll provide my expertise, my resources, to ensure Jubilee's revival," he begins.

"But in return, I ask for something beyond the confines of business."

There is a tacit silence enveloping the room.

The implication of his suggestion is glaringly blatant.

Situations like these were rife in the corporate world. Pleasure in exchange for business gains was not unheard of.

What was however, unheard of, was an employee of Jubilee engaging in such lewd dalliances.

While they were definitely slacking and inept when it comes to work and strategies, Jubilee has maintained a pristine image of possessing the most morally sound employees.

You are caught in a mire.

On one hand, you are disgruntled that he thought you were so shallow that you'll take him up on an offer as promiscuous as that.

But on the other hand, you are convinced this is your only shot at reviving Jubilee. Jungkook's assets and team marshalled together will undoubtedly take Jubilee to unprecedented heights.

"We have a deal, Mr. Jeon."

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

"Jeongguk, stop please! Not now, I have to get ready for a meeting."

"I don't renege on my promises, baby girl." He hums, biting your lower lip as his hands fondle your clothed chest.

"And I expect the same from you, yeah?"

The past few months have been very conducive for Jubilee.

As expected, with Jeongguk's acumen & assistance, the company is practically thriving, now in a league comparable to the unicorns.

And it had to be. You've traded yourself for its prosperity after all.

"Fuck", the expletive rolls off your tongue as a strangled moan.

His palms knead the flesh as he grinds his hips on your clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty, my baby. Got me wrapped around your little finger like a hormonal fucking teenager."

He grunts in your ear as one of his hands find purchase on your hip, the other smoothly lifting your pencil skirt to stroke your thigh.

"Kook, I c-can't"

He is terse as he pants, "Yes, you can. You will do everything I ask you to, am I clear?"

"Y-Yeah"

"Good girl" He dotes.

Unbuttoning your top and latching his tongue onto your now bare nipple.

"Stop teasing Kook, touch me already. I'm so fuckin' wet"

He grins as he resumes his ministrations on your inner thigh, cheekily peering up at you from where he is stationed, between your breasts.

"Someone's needy."

You huff exasperated, placing a hand on his as you halt him.

"Fine, I'll just ask Taehyung for help. He won't deny me anyways."

All air escapes you as you're suddenly jerked, your bare back meeting the wall with a thud.

You open your eyes at the sudden movement.

Jeongguk's laborious breath is laden with ire.

Eyes closed. Jaw clenched.

His previous playful beam, nowhere to be found.

He takes in a deep breath before opening his eyes.

They're the darkest you've ever seen them. Pupils enlarged to an extent that his eyes appear pitch black.

You fucked up.

His hand comes up as he lightly chokes you, not enough to hurt you but enough to cause a pool of wetness dripping down your thighs in its wake.

"Say shit like that one more time and see me burn that fucker alive."

"You have the fucking audacity to even think of another man, when yours is right in front of you? Don't you fucking forget who you belong to Y/N. You're fucking mine. Body, Heart and Soul. You've sworn your loyalty to me. You've surrendered yourself to me completely the day I agreed to buy that shitty company of yours."

Your panties are completely drenched at this point and you're unsure if its because you're turned on or petrified of how vexed he has become by the mere thought of you with another man, even though you had said it in jest.

Without any preamble, his fingers prod at your entrance as he sinks them in. Your walls embracing him like second skin.

"Even your tight little pussy isn't yours anymore. It belongs to Jeon Jungkook.”

He slaps your pussy immediately after, as though proving his point.

“And I don't fucking share, so you better pray to any deity you worship that I don't fucking catch you masturbating or so help me god."

He fingers you passionately. Not stopping even after you plead him to.

"T-Too sensitive, K-Kook."

Unbuckling his belt, He pulls out his penis. It stands tall, proud and red with pre cum oozing out of the tip.

You grab him for stability as he pushes the tip in, letting your walls adjust and clamp before he brutally picks up his pace.

"Tell me who you belong to." He bellows.

Too out of it, you fail to form a coherent response.

THWACK.

He slaps your ass hard.

Once. Twice. Too many times to count.

"I-I'm yours Koo, only yours." you manage to say, eager to cajole him.

"Damn right you are." He hums, seemingly placated with your answer. Picking up his pace, he spits in your mouth, meshing his tongue with yours, while his fingers play with your clit.

You feel the familiar warmth below your cervix, as you groan,

"C-Cumming"

He gently pats your hair, kissing your earlobe.

"Let go, baby."

As you ride off your high, too blissful to pay attention to your surroundings, you don't notice the way Jeongguk's gaze darkens.

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

Part: 1 of 2

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puck-luck · 14 days ago

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hallmates | quinn hughes

warnings: voyeuristic themes (thin walls), masturbation (fem), dirty talk, wet dreams, drunkenness, quinn pining but barely, garland mentioned before i found out he followed trump and tucker carlson on instagram..., PROTECTED p in v (for once), the smut in this is not as strong as previous pieces of mine, use of Y/N. pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: when fem!reader moves in next to qh, there are two instances where she forgets just how thin the walls are. the second time, quinn is sure to remind her. wc: 5746

Your first grown-up job out of college has been great. You like your coworkers, you’re not bored with your daily tasks, and they gave you a very generous relocation package for your move to Vancouver. You were lucky enough to find a nice apartment with the money, and you paid the first three months’ rent easily. It’s your first one-bedroom apartment, finally living on your own for the first time in your life, and almost everything is perfect.

Almost everything.

Your one gripe is that you can hear your neighbor through the wall when he gets home from his job at weird hours, or when he has friends over during weeknights when you’re trying to prepare for work the following day, or even when he hosts holiday parties for what sounds like fifty-plus people.

It happens often enough that you’re annoyed when his presence makes itself known, but you’re not the kind of person to go over and tell him to knock it off. Plus, you decided that you’d give him a pass because it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose.

Well, that, and he’s cute.

The first time you met was on move-in day. You were lugging your suitcases up the stairs leading to the apartment and he offered to help you carry them in. He took them both– one in each hand– and lifted them like they were nothing. He brought them all the way to the lobby, then smiled softly at you instead of saying “You’re welcome” when you thanked him. You had to talk to the security guard to get your key before ascending up to your floor in the elevator, and in that time, the cute boy had disappeared. You hadn’t caught his name, but you had texted your best friends and informed them that there was at least one hottie in your building.

You learned his name the second time he helped you carry something up the stairs. You had gone grocery shopping at the market down the street and had conveniently forgotten your reusable bags. Before you realized your mistake, you had gone a little crazy with the fruits and vegetables. You’d had to pack all of your goodies into two bursting paper bags that one of the vendors had on hand, and they were filled to the brim. You made it all the way to the bottom of the steps to your apartment when the handles of the bags tore off and all of your hard work was suddenly for naught.

The bags went crashing to the pavement, dirty and littered with the fallen leaves that hadn’t been corralled when they first made their way to the ground, and the prized red onion that you were going to chop up tonight as part of your dinner rolled about a foot away.

All in all, you should’ve been glad it was the onion. You always peel the skin off of an onion before you cook it, and you always wash it thoroughly before cutting it up, but you reacted like it was the end of the world. Your prized onion was tarnished by the ground, which was silly, because they come from the ground in the first place.

The onion rolled all the way to your neighbor’s feet. He was arriving home with a friend, a short brunet with floppy hair and a mustache. “You okay?” Your neighbor asked. He picked up the onion and cradled it in his palm.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Just not sure how I’m going to carry all of this upstairs without the handles.”

“We’ll help out. You live next to Huggy, right?” The friend said, bending down to lift one of the bags. He cradles it in his arms and your neighbor does the same.

“Huggy?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

Your neighbor, in the meanwhile, had blushed beet-red and stooped down to pick up the other bag of groceries. “That’s me. It’s a nickname.”

“Huggy Bear,” his friend cooed, bumping his arm and knocking your neighbor off balance.

“It’s Quinn. My name. You can call me Quinn,” your neighbor said, diverting your attention from the silly nickname.

“How do you know which apartment I live in, Quinn?” You questioned. You walked alongside the men as they took your groceries up the stairs, into the elevator, and into your apartment.

Quinn had cut his friend off by replying first. “Moving in makes a lot of noise. I live next door and we share a wall. You weren’t really quiet when you built your bed. I’m glad you have somewhere to sleep, but I could live without the expletives.” He reveals the information with a smile, the same slight curve of his lips that you’re starting to really admire.

That was that. They dropped the groceries off on your kitchen counter and you thanked them for the help, then sent them on their way.

The third time you saw Quinn– well, it started this whole mess. He’s been nice to you twice, so you thought you would repay him with the best thing you could think of: brownies. You’d just gotten the recipe from your aunt to make them from scratch and, hey, he’s a guy, right? Guys like baked goods.

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Not that you’re trying to get to Quinn’s heart. You wouldn’t mind it, but you’re not… trying.

Thirty minutes later, you’re knocking on Quinn’s door with a plate of brownies. Half of your goods are on the platter, ready for Quinn to dig into. The rest are on your counter, their yummy scent rising in waves from them like in a cartoon and waiting for you to return.

You only know that he’s home because you can hear him through the wall. After he told you that the walls were thin, you’d been noticing the same thing. It wasn’t just when he gets home or when he has people over. You can hear him moving around and cooking throughout the day. You can hear his sports channels through the wall– yes, that’s right, channels. Multiple. You’re not sure, but he might have two or even three TVs.

Long story short, Quinn’s home. It takes him a few minutes to come to the door when you knock. “Who is it?” He asks, voice muffled through the door.

“Your friendly next door neighbor,” you reply. “With a plate of fresh brownies.”

The lock slides open and Quinn appears from behind the door. You hold the plate out to Quinn and he takes it from you with one hand. The other rests above his head on the doorframe. He leans over you, smiling softly.

Suddenly, you don’t know what to say. You don’t know where you were going with this. Your eyes are drawn to his neck, which looks muscular and, well, biteable.

“Enjoy the brownies,” you squeak out, then you turn on your heel and bolt away.

Like any normal woman who is shocked by her sudden visceral attraction to her admittedly-hot next door neighbor, you call your best friend. She talks you through it for a little while, then starts to stray into enemy territory: “Go out, Y/N. Get your mind off of it. Have a drink, get a little tipsy, then go over to his place and tell him how hot you think he is. You’ve never heard a girl’s voice, right? I feel like you would’ve, if he has a girlfriend. The worst he can say is that he’s not interested.”

When you try to weasel out of it, speaking in low tones so that Quinn doesn't hear you through the wall, she reminds you that your resolution for this “new stage of your life” was to stop being so anxious about what someone could say to you. You had declared that you wouldn’t let your own anxiety affect your ability to be vulnerable, especially not with the people that you find attractive.

Damn your best friend. How dare she look out for you. She even promises to call you in four hours to check in on your drunkenness.

You make plans with the girl in your office that you’ve been taking lunch with. She’s also new– not compared to you, but within the past year. She remembers what it was like to be brand new to Vancouver, so she’s eager to go out with you and offer up her friendship. She takes you to two bars in the downtown area: when the first one gets too full with what she calls “the sport crowd,” you move to the next.

Your coworker’s favorite liquor is tequila. After three shots, which make you cringe despite filling your stomach with warmth, she pulls your troubles out of you. You tell her all about your “sexy” roommate– that’s right, Quinn has been upgraded from “hot” to “sexy” as a result of the alcohol– and she encourages you to try and bag him, just like your best friend did. She agrees that there’s no reason not to and that you should be fine because you’ve been bolstered by the tequila.

She tells you about the person she’s currently seeing and how confusing it is, rambling on and on. When the time comes, and you’re still out, your best friend does call. You talk to her for a second, then she meets your coworker through speakerphone, and they bond over the fact that they both think you should hook up with Quinn.

You party into the night, getting more and more loopy. Your confidence skyrockets by the end of the evening and your drinks are tasting like water. You’re probably too far gone to actually talk to Quinn tonight, but who cares? You feel good. You needed a night out like this.

By the time you’re getting in the Uber, there’s a goofy smile that hasn’t left your face since maybe your fifth drink. You’re able to stumble up the stairs to the lobby and gleefully greet the nighttime security guard at his desk, then you ride the elevator up to your floor. You look up and see yourself in the mirrors on the ceiling of the elevator, which is a treat for Drunk-You. It’s almost a shame when the elevator dings, having finally reached your floor, and you have to leave.

You walk down the hall and consider going up to Quinn’s door, but your phone vibrates in your pocket and you dig it out. It’s the newly minted group chat between you, your coworker, and your bestie. It distracts you, and the clock in the top left corner informs you that you’ve gotten home at a crisp 1:30am, so you decide to go to bed.

You go to bed, alright. You get ready, you get comfy, and then you remember Quinn’s neck.

The skin looked so soft. The hair from his beard had started to creep down towards his adam’s apple, but it was neatly maintained. You can imagine how scratchy it would be in your palms, or against your cheek when he graces you with a little kiss, or against your neck while he sucks hickeys onto your skin… or against the sensitive expanse of your own thighs.

You know just how sensitive and delicate the skin is on your thighs because it’s where your fingers are dancing.

As you drift off, mind still foggy from your drinks, your touch starts to feel much more like you imagine Quinn’s would. His big fingers, on that manly hand, would touch you so carefully. He’d be so determined to play you like a fiddle.

As you imagine your very sexy next door neighbor touching you, you’re making a lot more noise than you realize. It starts with a whimper here and there, then crescendos into actual moans and desperate keens. You’ve shoved your face into the pillow below you, but it does very little to muffle your moans– considering you’re a big fan of breathing, your face is more turned to the side so that you don’t actually suffocate yourself while in the middle of getting off. Your middle two fingers are shoved into your cunt, your index finger erratically sliding against your clit.

“I know, baby, you feel so good. You want it so bad, don’t you?” Quinn’s imaginary and gently deprecating words wash over your brain like an intrusive thought.

You bite your lip and turn into the pillow, pleading with him belligerently into the cushion. You’re fighting for your life in this little fantasy, feeling so overwhelmed, and the man you’re imagining isn’t even here. But, in your mind, he’s the one with his fingers inside of you, making you gasp out his name once when his finger passes over your clit just right. In your mind, he doubles down and turns you into a mess. The drinks clogging your mind are able to make it feel more real.

You’re so caught up in your own pleasure that you forget just how thin the walls are. You miss the sound of your neighbor tossing and turning in his bed, even standing at one point and pacing around his bedroom.

It’s only after you come that you hear his bedframe creak with the weight of his body and the faint music that he seems to be playing– maybe just as white noise to fall asleep. You write it off and succumb to the clawing hands of your own slumber.

You see Quinn again the next day. You’re heading to work with a heavy hangover weighing on you– why did you listen to your best friend when she told you to go out on a Sunday? Why did you listen to your coworker when she brought out the second and third round of shots?– and Quinn seems to be heading to his own job. You still don’t know what that is.

You meet him in front of the elevator, waiting for its doors to open and let you in. You’re honestly not sure if the movement will make you feel more sick, or even push you over the edge and make you dizzy and on the verge of throwing up, like getting out of bed did when you woke up later than you meant to and you had to rush to get ready. Everything is too bright.

Quinn yawns three times in two minutes. You’re the only two in the elevator and the silence is growing more uncomfortable than the ache in your head, since you consider Quinn to be your… friend now? General acquaintance, distant crush, or next-door neighbor might be a better categorization.

“Long night?” You ask.

His cheeks turn pink, bizarrely, and Quinn seems determined to face straight forward. His eyes look a little more deer-in-headlights today, rather than the calm and serene blankness that you’re used to. Not that you’re used to looking into Quinn’s eyes. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling for him. You’ve been the victim of a restless night many times over, so you know how dreadful it is the following day. “Do you know why?”

Quinn swallows harshly. “Um, I have an idea.”

It’s a weird answer, only because he doesn’t elaborate any further. You keep waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. That is, until the elevator arrives in the parking garage under the complex, when Quinn starts to head one way towards his car and you start to go the other way to your own. To make things even more confusing, Quinn says in a very stilted voice, “Thanks for the brownies.”

Then, like you did when you dropped the brownies off the previous day, he bolts.

At first, you’re confused, but you let it go. Maybe he was late for work. At least he took the time out of his day to thank you for the brownies, right?

You consider gifting him some of your sleepy-time tea, since he was having trouble sleeping and it’s clearly affecting him. Then you think to yourself that if you kept bringing Quinn treats, you would seem like a cat dropping a mouse at their owners’ feet… so you decide not to.

You feel vindicated with your choice in the coming days. Each time Quinn sees you, his eyes go wide and he scampers away as quickly as he can. It proves itself to be very confusing because he was so nice before.

After a tough week at work, and another near-miss with Quinn, you’re just… tired. It’s been a weird few days. What you really want is to snuggle up in your bed, throw on some ambient music, drink a glass of wine, light a candle, and fall asleep early– after blowing out your candle, of course. You’d be damned if you were the reason the entire apartment burned down in the middle of the night.

You’re lucky enough that your plans for the night work out. You get to settle in with a book– a spicy romance novel that your coworker recommended to “take the edge off if you won’t knock on Quinn’s damn door.” She seems to think that the reason you’re having a bad week is because you haven’t hooked up with Quinn yet. You don’t think there’s any correlation.

There does seem to be a correlation between the spicy book, the mention of Quinn, and what happens later. You fell asleep with your book open against your chest, having been lulled to sleep by the comfort of your own home.

It starts simple. Quinn’s lips are sliding against yours, his hand resting securely on your waist. You’re laying in bed and you’ve got a thigh over his hip, grinding into his generous length. Before you know it, and in dream-land it seems like a flash, Quinn’s length is inside of you. He’s got a thumb on your clit while the other plays with your hair, sweet kisses gracing your lips. Quinn’s content teasing you, thrusting as shallowly as he wants and leaving you whining for more.

“Quinn,” dream-you insists between kisses.

“Not enough for you, sweetheart?” dream-Quinn chides playfully, his voice riddled with fondness. “You weren’t even supposed to take my cock tonight. But no, you just had to be full. You couldn’t be content with warming me either, huh? You need me to fuck you whenever you want. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Quinn, I need you,” you confirm, whining a little bit and pursing your lips so he finds them again.

“Music to my ears,” Quinn tells you with a smile. “Let me make you come, yeah?”

“Quinn,” you moan again, his touch reducing you to a mess that can only say one word: his name.

You wake to a loud knock on your apartment door. “Y/N!” The person calls, and it sounds like a man, which alarms you in your freshly awoken state.

You roll out of bed and tug on your bathrobe, which you had thrown in the dryer during your first stint in bed, the one that had sent you into sleep. And– and– had sparked that weird dream that has you wet in your panties and wishing Quinn had been there when you woke up.

You tie the belt of the robe around your waist and look through the peephole– it is Quinn. Your wish came true, in a bizarre way. He’s here and he looks concerned. He’s lifting his hand to knock again, but you open the door.

“Quinn, what’s–”

“Are you okay?” He asks. He’s wearing sweatpants and an undershirt, as well as his tennis shoes. He probably just slipped those on to come over here. “You were saying my name. I heard you through the wall. You said you needed me. Are you hurt? Is something wrong?”

The barrage of questions leaves you rattled. You blink in surprise, trying to process all of his inquiries. “What?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut hard to try and wipe the sleep away.

“You were saying my name,” Quinn repeats.

You squint, crossing your arms over your chest. “I was asleep,” you say, aware of how confused you sound.

“You were asleep,” Quinn repeats. He blinks twice, then repeats himself, sounding more sure. “You were asleep.”

“I was asleep,” you agree.

Quinn goes to leave, then faces you again and tilts his head to the side. “What were you dreaming about?” He asks.

You feel your face flood with embarrassment. You’ve never been good at controlling your expression. “It was nothing.”

“Was I there?” Quinn checks. “Is that why you were saying my name?”

“You were there,” you confirm, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him and he leaves.

Quinn smiles. He looks extra handsome when he smiles. He was smiling at you in your dream. He was doing a lot of good things in your dream. If only you could fall asleep and jump right back in– you were so close and his cock was filling you so well.

“What was I doing in this dream?” Quinn crosses his arms and takes a step closer to you.

You move closer to the door, keeping your hand on the doorknob, ready to slam it behind him as soon as he heads back to his apartment. “I don’t remember,” you lie. “You know, most people forget their dream within ten minutes of waking up.”

Quinn nods, still smirking. “You didn’t forget this one, though, did you?” He teases knowingly.

“Bits and pieces.”

The next thing Quinn says is Earth-shattering.

“Were you dreaming last time, too?”

You wish you could melt into the floor or camouflage yourself against the wall. You had a theory that Quinn had heard you getting off through the wall the night that you were drunk, although you don’t imagine that he understood your wanton noises. That was why he was running away so much.

But… he’s not running away this time. He’s here and he’s pressing you for more and more details.

“What do you mean?” You ask, swallowing hard.

“The last time you were saying my name,” Quinn prompts. “Were you asleep then, too?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t think so,” You reply, scrubbing over your arms. It’s a sign of being uncomfortable. Hopefully Quinn picks up on that and goes, sparing you any further humiliation. You’ll never talk to him again. He’s heard you make sex noises twice, and now you know that he knows. It’s embarrassing.

Quinn takes another step forward. He’s right in the doorway now, inches away from stepping across the threshold and entering your apartment. “If you have another dream,” he says, pushing his long sleeves up to his elbows and revealing his arms. He dips his head, lowering his voice to a timbre that has you growing damp again. “You know where to find me.”

Like a final stamp of approval on an official document, Quinn touches the knot at the front of your robe. It’s a brief, fleeting touch and it’s so close to where his hands were originally planted in your dream.

He turns to leave and gets all of three steps away before you call him back. “Quinn.”

“Mhm?” He asks, knowing smile on his face.

“How, um… how much did you hear?” You scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

“The first time?” Quinn asks. “Or this time?”

You don’t really want to know the answer, but you nod anyway. “Uh...both?”

“Well,” Quinn says. “Today, you didn’t seem to get very far.”

No thanks to you, you think bitterly. I would’ve liked to see how that dream ended.

“But the first time, I heard everything,” Quinn informs you with a little shrug. “You… you sound really pretty when you come.”

It’s a sheepish admission and it has your jaw dropping. You fishmouth at him for a second, unable to think of something to say. He can just say shit like that? What? How?

“I guess I was hoping…” Quinn licks his lower lip, then looks you up and down. “That if I interrupted you this time, I’d get to… experience the real thing. Not just listen in through the wall.”

“You want…” you trail off, overwhelmed by the information he’s giving you. Quinn wants to have sex with you? But he’s your neighbor crush– this is a new development in the dynamic that you were not expecting. You’re not usually the kind of girl whose little crushes are reciprocated, at least, not like this.

Quinn raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to complete the sentence. When you don’t, he asks another question. “What was I doing in your dream, Y/N?”

“We, um, we were in bed,” you stammer out, feeling unsure. He wants to know– he’s made that very clear. Still, you’re somewhat reluctant. It might be coming off as coyness by accident.

“Can I come in?” Quinn asks. “I need to get the full picture. I don’t know what your bed looks like.”

You stand aside and allow him in. You close, and, out of habit, lock the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom. You try to see it through his eyes for the first time, although you’ve been living here for a while, so it’s hard. It’s just your bedroom.

“So this is where we were,” Quinn says. “Then what?”

“We were laying down,” you explain.

Quinn starts to take off his shoes, then his socks, then he climbs into your bed. “Like this?”

You feel lightheaded. What is he doing? This is so bizarre.

“Kind of?” You reply. You join him. “It was more like– this?” You pull at his arm until he lays on his side, facing you. You face him, bringing his elbow up so it rests on the pillow.

He asked, you remind yourself. He wants to know. He asked. It’s weird, but you’re just showing him.

You resolutely avoid his eyes, which have been trained on your face this whole time. Your cheeks are probably going to remain stained pink from the constant blush on your skin. You lay your head on the curve of his arm, then touch his cheek. Just his cheek. You’re still avoiding his eyes. It’s getting harder. “And then, um, my leg was over your hip, too.”

“Like this?” Quinn asks, bringing his warm palm to the curve of your knee and guiding your leg into place. He leaves his hand there.

“Like that,” you confirm faintly.

All of your neurons are firing like crazy, making you question if this, too, is a dream. Has your subconscious gotten so meta that you can’t decipher what’s real and what’s fake?

“What else did we do?” Quinn’s voice has dropped to a whisper. His hand is still on your thigh.

“Well, your hand was here,” You say, correcting him and bringing his hand to your waist. “And you…”

Quinn gives your waist a little squeeze. “I… what?”

“You were kissing me,” you say, your voice barely a breath. This can’t be real.

Quinn surprises you. “Good,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do that.” He leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours before he meets you completely. He’s hesitant, waiting for you to relax with him.

You don’t fully, still confused from waking up and the fact that this happened so quickly and in such a bizarre way. When he pulls away, you voice your confusion. “Are you real?” You question under your breath.

Quinn chuckles, leaning in to kiss you again. “I’m real.”

He continues to kiss you. Over and over, until you finally melt into his touch and start to do exactly what you were doing in your dream– grinding against him.

“Were you doing this in your dream?” Quinn asks. He’s helping guide your movements and you can feel him swelling beneath you. He’s not wearing underwear– you can tell. You want it, bad, and now that you’ve been kissing him, you’re more willing to explain the rest of your dream to him.

“More,” you breathe out. “I needed your cock inside me.”

Quinn makes a noise of surprise, but the way he kisses you after you say that reveals his enthusiasm.

“And you were talking to me,” you reveal as Quinn starts to meet your rolling hips. “You were– you were teasing me for being so needy.”

“What was I saying?” Quinn’s hand twitches against your waist, pulling you closer. He licks into your mouth briefly, then pulls back. “What had you begging for me, sweetheart?”

“Making fun of me,” you exhale. “Saying– I couldn’t get enough of you. That I was greedy and that I couldn’t be satisfied with just warming you–”

“Warming me,” Quinn repeats quietly, interrupting you.

You talk over him. “So you had to fuck me, but you weren’t really fucking me– you were just, inside, barely moving and your thumb was on my clit.”

“As if I could hold myself back like that,” Quinn scoffs. You grab the sides of his shirt and tug petulantly, bringing him in for another kiss. You’re addicted.

“Show me,” you invite. “Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me what you’d do differently. Please. You came all the way over here– I want to make it worth your time.”

Quinn groans into your mouth, bringing his hand from your waist to the tie of your robe. “Really?”

“Don’t make me ask again,” you say. “I was so close in my dream.”

Quinn reacts to that in the same way. “Fuck, let me get my fingers in you first–”

“No.”

“No?” Quinn repeats, pulling away from you.

“Not no,” you correct, bringing your hands to his waistband and snapping the band impatiently. “Just– I want your cock. Just your cock. Please fuck me, Quinn.” You kiss him sweetly one more time. “Please?”

“Undress yourself,” Quinn says. “I want to see all of you.”

“You too,” you reply. “Take your clothes off.”

As you undress, untying the knot of your belt and tossing the robe to the floor of your bedroom, you talk. You take your big t-shirt off, asking, “Condom?”

Quinn digs into the pocket of his sweats, having shed his shirt. He pulls out a foil– just one, sadly– and tosses it to you.

You catch it, tearing the edge of the packet and taking out the ring of plastic inside of it. You push your panties down with one hand, while Quinn loses his sweats. As soon as his cock is revealed to you, hard and pink at the tip, you jump into action. You’re rolling the condom on quickly, unable to help yourself from pumping his shaft a few times.

“Quit,” Quinn remarks, batting your hand away and laying back down. He’s on his side, pulling your thigh back over his hip and resuming the position from before. He puts his hand under your jaw, then guides his cock to your opening. He pushes in, rolling his hips until every single inch is sheathed inside of you. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”

“You’re big,” you reply, holding his shoulders and tilting your pelvis forward to encourage him to move. “Filling me so nice, Q.”

“Q,” Quinn echoes, his voice sounding a little strangled. “That’s– that’s nice.”

You wonder if he’s holding back. He always seems to when it comes to talking to you. After a while, maybe he’ll give you something more than his shy words and his hesitant admissions. He’s in your bed now, but he’s still holding back.

He starts to rut against you, finding a rhythm in which his cock slides in and out of your heat. The movement is smooth because you’re so wet from dreaming about him, then kissing him, and now having him inside. Even though there’s the barrier of protection between you, he’s warm and you can feel the way his skin stretches over his veins and his tip. That, combined with the scrape of his member against your fleshy walls, creates something so warm inside of you that you can’t help but ask for more.

Quinn gives you everything you ask for like he can’t imagine doing anything else. Soon enough, he’s holding himself up slightly by his elbow so he has some leverage to fuck into you harder and faster.

You’re moaning, pulling him closer and threading your fingers through his hair. “Quinn,” you’re saying, repeating the word that inspired him to come over in the first place.

He’s saying your name, too. He’s whispering it into your ear and into your mouth as he presses kisses wherever he can reach. He thrusts, he says your name, he kisses. He thrusts again, he says your name again, and he kisses you again. It’s an endless cycle, a perpetual loop. It’s soft and sweet, even though the way he’s fucking you is anything but. His thrusts are sharp and pointed, hitting the right spot inside of you as often as he can.

The kiss to your neck is your undoing. He’s sucking a bit, biting down just barely, and his tongue works against your pulse point. It’s too much, too full of something deeper. You let go, making the noise he likes so much– the noise that he said was pretty, and he meant it, even as bashful as he looked when he said it. Your moan mixes with his name again.

Quinn spills into the condom shortly after, touching you reverently and letting his hips jerk and twitch through his release.

You feel innately close to him, like you’re part of him. It’s bizarre how one hookup with your cute neighbor leaves you feeling satisfied and unsettled– ‘unsettled’ because, well, why would you feel so close to a man you’ve slept with once and only had a few genuine conversations with?

Quinn eases your thoughts by letting you know that he feels, at least, a little bit similar to you.

“Can I take you to dinner?” He asks. “I’m busy most of the time, but I want to take you out. Let’s make time to have a real date.” Quinn pauses. “Unless you don’t want to– if you just want this, that’s okay. I just– I’d feel stupid if I didn’t ask.”

You touch his mouth, effectively silencing him, even though you hadn’t meant to. You just wanted to feel his lips move while he spoke. “I’ll go to dinner with you,” you agree. “If you sleep here tonight.”

Quinn smiles. “Done.”

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #qh43 #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months ago

Note

Would you ever consider writing out the Alley Boyfriends?

Tim's favorite brand of coffee since childhood- for one could not follow Batman and Robin around without losing some sleep- had always been the Heart Attack Coffee. It was known for its high levels of sugar and caffeine, with the added bonus of being cheap.

Heart Attack Coffee grew from a small family-run booth in Gotham's street market to five stores in Gotham, three in Bludhaven, and even one in Metropolis.

Their menu comprises about sixty percent of various coffees, but there are teas, fruit waters, and even pastries.

They rolled out signature drinks per season, and Tim was always the first one in line when the new menu was revealed. He preferred the winter ones- mainly because they were hot and always had a special kick to his coffee compared to the spring and summer that tended to lean more towards ice dreams like teas or fruit waters.

Tim adored Heart Attack with all his might. He collected their special cups, a book on all the different flavors he tried, and even cried for three hours straight after learning the Heart Attack team had made drinks inspired by the Bats.

He doesn't think he drank anything but the Red Robbin Rush for the three months the promotion ran. Yes, his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest the whole time, and he was a bit jitty, but it was worth it.

Then came the terrible day Bruce found out just how much caffeine was inside Heart Attack's coffee. Not enough to shut them down with health violations but enough to worry him.

He forbids the family from Heart Attack, suggesting another cafe that were safer. The thing is, Tim does not drink any other coffee. He tried of course, but unless he was the one that made it, the other coffee never came close!

That was Tim's coffee. His special coffee. He had one every day (that he was in town and not away on a mission) so much so the employees knew him by name and what time he usually showed up.

Sean, the morning cashier at the closest branch to WE, would have an experimental drink prepared for him. Sean would let him test out possible new flavors!

That's how valued he was as a customer.

Don't get him wrong, Tim tried to follow Bruce's mandatory boycott. But by the third day, his headache was killing him, and his hands were starting to get itchy.

Not only that. His whole day just felt off when he skipped out on his morning coffee or his after-work coffee. Tam had caught him re-organizing his office at least five times because his office just didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't balanced.

On the fourth day, he walked into a Heart Attack, and Sean smiled at him. He had a blond expresso Rush halfway made when Tim reached the counter. "Welcome back, Tim."

He placed a fifty in the tip jar grinning at the employee. He took his first sip of the golden nectar and felt his very soul breathe as it settled in his stomach. "Good to be back"

Tim figured that Bruce wouldn't notice because, frankly his adoptive dad wasn't the most observant when it came to Tim's habits. He got away with it for about a month.

Then came the faithful day Bruce reminded him why he was Bartman.

"I'm sorry, Tim, you've been placed on the Do not Serve Coffee list." Sean winces, showing the binder to the stunned CEO.

"I've been banned!?" He chokes, running his eyes over his own face in picture form. "What did I do!?"

"Not banned. You can still order caffeine-free teas or fruit waters." Sean reassures, but it means nothing. His apologies and his explanations mean nothing.

Sean-who he was half sure had been flirting with Tim for months- suddenly meant nothing.

Bruce has bought out Heart Attack was nearest WE in an effort to get Tim to cut back on his coffee intake. The man knew he did not like drinking any other brand, didn't function right without it, and still chose to pull this stunt.

Well, if he thought Tim wouldn't drive ten minutes to the next nearest Heart Attack, he was sorely mistaken. He got up twenty minutes early- and Tim loves to sleep okay. Just because he can't have too much of it with his busy life didn't mean he didn't adore sleep- and drove himself there to make sure he was on time for WE.

The employee gave him the same spiel, holding that dreaded binder. Bruce had also gotten to this branch. But Tim knew that while the branches could be bought out, the name was trademarked, so Bruce couldn't own them all!

He tried the Heart Attack that was thirty minutes away, showing up late to work due to him not planning the traffic for the morning rush, and still did not succeed in getting coffee.

. Then he tried the one that forty minutes, on the complete opposite side of his work, and that one failed too. By this point, a whole week had gone by since he last had a Heart Attack.

Not even on missions did he go this long. He usually bought those take-home packages when he knew the missions were going to be longer than three days at the most. They wouldn't even sell him that anymore!

The packages were just packs of Heart Attack instant coffee. It wasn't even the real deal!

He was feeling withdrawal; his headaches were getting worse, while his body felt slow with fatigue, and he was snapping at everything and everyone.

Just the other day, he yelled at Tam for sneezing. Sneezing.

Thankfully, she can give out as good as she gets. She reminded Tim why she was the one who tended to call all the shots around the office despite what others believed.

His skin was starting to burn, which didn't make sense since caffeine withdrawal did not include itchiness, but he couldn't stop scratching. Tim also hasn't slept in a while because his daily evening routines were all off now that he couldn't have Coco Connect!

He thinks he made all of his executives uneasy with his fidgeting and nasty scowl at the last meeting because he couldn't sit still when all he could think of was Heart Attack.

The last Heart Attack, the one right at the edge of the city, the one that was only a street away from Crime Alley and happened to be a forty-five-minute commute for both Wayne Manor and WE, was his last hope.

Out of all of the branches, this one was the least impressive. It was cramped with only three tables, the walls were painted a dark brown, and the light setting was all low.

It was nothing like the bright and spacious atmosphere of the other branches. It was even squished between two large buildings, the narrow doorway making it hard to even see. Tim was sure Bruce had not found this one yet.

When he pushed the door open, he jumped slightly at the chime from the bells on the door. His anxiety had been climbing to ridiculous levels, he needed his coffee.

At the counter, a boy who looked his age glanced up from his red bulky phone. He quickly slipped it into his pocket, giving Tim a friendly, if slightly bored smile. "Can I help you?"

Tim raced towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet. There was a slight note of deranged desperation in his voice as he responded. "Please, I just want a cup of coffee."

The boy nods, pressing a few buttons on his little cheap register. "What kind would you like?"

Tim's heart swelled with hope. "I want a large Blond Expresso Rush and a-"

The boy stops. He looks up slowly at the time, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Tim's mind. Then, with a slow movement, he reached under the counter to withdraw a very familiar binder.

Tim's eyes burn with unshed tears as the stranger flips through the binder before stopping on a particular page. "I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-"

"NO!" Tim yells, causing the employee to jerk back. He knows he must look like a mess, with tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. This was his last chance. He can't make it to the branches in Bludhaven or Metropolis, not daily and certainly not without Bruce noticing. " THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!"

He places his face into his hands and wails. His body is shaking with his sobs, leaning against the counter because he lost all strength to himself up.

The employee stares at him with a strangely understanding expression. "Does this coffee mean that much to you? Is it.... an Obsession for you?"

Tim can only nod because words are hard to push through his cries. The teenager sighs, running a hand through his hair before leaning forward and whispering. "Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes, and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash."

Tim snaps his head up at once.

"How much? Five hundred, six hundred, or hell, even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want." He sobbed, knowing he looked sort of pathetic but beyond the point of caring about his dignity.

" Chill, dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine." The other says with a sort of uneasy smile.

"It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand, and Bruce bought them out to ensure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!"

The guy holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?"

Tim stumbles his way outside, reaching for his wallet. He has no cash, but he says an ATM is not too far down the street. He all but runs there and sprints back with a crispy twenties.

He stopped at a local flower store to ask if they would break it for him and was told he needed to buy something first. Not wanting to meet the coffee angel, he picks out a lovely bouquet of lavender roses.

He gets four dollars as his change and races back to the Alley behind Heart Attack. Just in time, too, because the back door opens and out strolls the cashier with a large travel container.

Tim throws the cash and flowers into his hands to rip off the lid and check the inside. It's a Blond Expersso Rush. Even just a sniff has something in him settling. He takes a sip, and all is right with the world for the first time in a while.

"That good?" The boy asks with a slight grin. Tim hums, smiling back as he takes another sip. "I'm glad. Want your flowers back?"

Huh? Oh yeah, he bought those. He shakes his head. "Keep them. Think of it as a thanks for doing this."

"Cool. Never had flowers as a tip before." He jokes, taking a sniff of the roses with a broader grin. "Name's Danny, by the way."

"Tim. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

Tim tips his head back, letting the coffee burn down his throat. It's hot, but that hardly matters. Danny's mouth drops. "Dude, maybe wait for it to not be so hot?"

"I can't." He whines, downing the cup's contents, and only after it's all gone does he realize he forgot to savor it. He throws it over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can. "I don't know when I'll get a chance like this again."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make you more whenever you want. Here, have my number and text me when you're on your way so I can-"

Tim throws himself onto Danny. The other fumbles with the flowers, trying to hold them and Tim simultaneously, but Tim doesn't care. "You are the best person I have ever met! I think I love you!"

The other laughs, patting his hair. "I'm glad. You've been the first to give me flowers, so you're cool, too."

"When do you get off shift? I'll treat you to dinner."

"It's not a big deal, dude."

"I insist!"

"Well if you insist. I just finished, actually. Where do you have in mind?"

Tim leans back to smile at Danny, unaware of the two shadows that leap away from the still-embraced couple. They arrived sometime after Tim finished his cup, unaware he had drunk it since it was lying on the group near the other discarded cups in the trash.

They only saw Tim in the arms of a boy, holding flowers, which represented "Love at First Sight," and the way they heard Tim offer to buy him dinner.

"See B? Tim wasn't buying coffee. He was just meeting his crush!"

"Hmm. Based on what we saw, it's safe to say boyfriend. No one is comfortable with someone unless they have known them for a while."

"I think your right. I wonder when Tim will bring him over to meet the family?"

"Try not to push too much Nightwing. You know T values his privacy."

They both smile at each other knowingly, and even though Bruce suppresses it right away for his Batman persona they don't forget what they saw.

They pretend not to notice every time Tim disappears or that his GPS puts him back in that alley. They'll wait till he's ready to tell them. Besides, the barista seems good to him; Tim is far more energetic and bright these days.

A month goes by like this, where Tim is back to his normal self, no longer needing coffee to be happy. Bruce pats himself ion the back for his plan to help cut him off working so well.

Even though he seems to be texting constantly on his phone.

Neither Dick nor Bruce noticed the narrow eye stare of worry that Jason aimed at Tim whenever he slipped away to meet Danny. He has theories on what is inside those strange containers, but he hasn't gotten close enough to confirm his suspicions yet.

Jason prays he's wrong.

He waits until he knows Tim is gone (he is not. He likes to hide in the cave's shadows to overhear the latest family gossip) before turning to Bruce and Dick.

"Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention."

Predictably both men freak out.

"What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!" Dick wails, looking over all the pictures of Tim and Danny standing in an alley trading cash, flowers, and containers that Jason took.

"I also thought that was Tim's boyfriend, but if it's a drug dealer, we have to help him," Bruce grunts, eyes hard as he now sees Danny Fenton in a new, less favorable light.

And Tim, who is still hiding in the cave's shadows overhead, can only whisper a heartfelt "shit."

He rips out his phone to text Danny as the rest of the Bats below begin plotting. Thank goodness they don't know what Danny has been giving him exactly. Maybe they can steal Bruce's and Dick's ideas.

Meanwhile, Danny's tiny apartment across the city is starting to appear like a greenhouse with all the flowers Tim has been giving him. His small slip of loving flowers was all Tim needed to hear.

He's taken it as a personal challenge to always have some flowers for Danny as a thank-you for the coffee he made for him.

It was nice. It helped get rid of the boredom his life had developed. He looked forward to Tim's presence. He hadn't had this much fun or clicked as easily with someone since Sam or Tucker.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Danny grins as his phone dings and Tim's picture flashes on his screen.

If anyone asks you're my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny stares at the screen momentarily, before shrugging and texting back a confirmation. "Who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend."

He's never met any of Tim's family, but he doesn't think they will be too hard to fool.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Alley Boyfrinds #Part 1?#Does the chat considered the first part?#misunderstandings #fake relationship #Danny was bored and this guy who looked to be on crack for coffee is funny #Tim was not aware of the flowers meaning. Neither is Danny #Everyone playing chess while Tim is trying to figure out thumb wrestling #Danny is not aware that Tim is a Wayne

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shadyshaylee114 · 1 month ago

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Orc x reader

You lived in alittle cottage on the outskirts of town. Many found you to be strange but you had the best fruits and vegetables anyone had tasted so when you came into town to trade and sell the line was never ending. The towns people had practically raised you so your booth was always busy. What you weren't expecting today was the fact an orc had set up a meat stand right next to your produce stand. You had arrived before the sunlight to set up as you always do but froze taking in the sight. An orc, well over 6 ft tall, was standing in front of the stand next to yours hanging up rows of wrapped meat. You swallowed as you watched the way his muscles moved, enjoying the dark green color on his skin. You took in the scars that littered his back. Wishing you could kiss each individual scar. Distracted you hadn't notice the orc had turned his head and notice your stare.

"I paid for this stand I won't leave even if you have an issue with my kind." He snarled snapping you out of your perverse thoughts.

"No! I.. I mean no I don't have a problem with orcs. I just hadn't seen you around before. I'm... I'm sorry I didn't mean to stare or make you uncomfortable." You stammered out your cheeks turning bright red in embarrassment. You looked him in the eyes finally taking in his features. He had four tusks in total. Two larger than the the others , his eyes a vibrant yellow that reminded you of the sunflowers you grew around your cabin. You were attracted to the orc and had already made him think you where racist, way to go.

"Agar Warbringer." He said holding out his hand.

"Agar thats a wonderful name." You whispered shaking his hand as you told him your name. Agar grunted giving you a curt nod before turning back to his meats.

You left him alone to continue setting up your stand. Little did you know Agar couldn't help but keep stealing peeks at the small little human. You hadn't been afraid and looked him in the eyes. Plus the smell of your arousal had been what caught his attention in the first place. A human female attracted to an orc. There must be something wrong with you. He watched from the side as you set out your produce. Watching the way your hair fell and how often you'd brush it out of your eyes. The way the dawn was starting to shine on your skin so very different from his. Then he thought back to your tiny hand in his. How soft your fingers where compared to his. He could feel his cock hardening at the thought of your hands wrapped around him. Agar cursed silently under his breath focusing on the task at hand. He couldn't sell his meats if he couldn't even control his own.

The bell that signaled the start of the market rang through the air and just as fast, people started to flood in. As you helped person after person you kept stealing glances at Agar unable to help yourself. He was so handsome and they way he handled people was incredible. Giving small children some jerky to nibble on while there parents picked through his assorted product. The way he laughed with the elders as they told him their own hunting tales. His patience was vast even with those who didn't deserve it.

"Honestly if I were you I'd ask to move your stand." You jumped looking at the young man standing at the front of your line.

"Excuse me?" You asked shocked at his statement.

"Why would they allow an orc to put up a stand next to yours? Your one of the busiest stands in the market that thing will scare away your buyers with his ugly face." You could feel rage boiling up inside of you. How dare he say something so nasty.

"If that's all for you, I think you should go." You said coldly. The boy looked at you in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you actually care about that orc." He gasped. Shaking his head he scowled and left muttering under his breath. You knew violence was prohibited but you wanted to beat some sense into that child. You quickly stepped behind the stand for a second to calm your nerves. As you started to prepare to head back you turned right into Agar slamming your head into his chest. He quickly grabbed your arms to stop you from falling.

"Are you okay? I saw you kick that man away from your stand." He asked with a wince. Why was he over here? The last thing you probably wanted was him so close. Without thinking since Agar had a hold of both your arms still you rubbed your nose on his chest it had stung to slam into him. As his musky scent started to fill your sense you froze. Quickly pulling back from him your face turning red in embarrassment. You had just practically harassed him.

"I'm fine. Thank you for coming to check up on me. Sorry about your chest. I mean sorry. I'm just gonna go back the lines waiting. Thank you again!" You rushed out the words. Mortified how could things possibly get worse.

As the day continued you stayed busy still stealing glances at Agar every chance you had. Then as usual the bell tolled signaling the end of the market. When you looked over at Agars stand again. The orc was quickly loading his cart not even sparing you a glance as he did. A deep ache settled into your chest. Why was it bothering you? You and Agar had barely meet. You needed to leave him alone. Ignoring the tears burning at your eyes you started to pack up your own stand. Working diligently placing all the produce back into the crates you'd brought them in. So busy you hadn't noticed Agar slid inside to stand behind you. Agar shifted on his heels he had come to help you, wanting to court you in the orc manner, but paused as he could smell your tears. Had that man come back? He'd crush his skull for making you cry. Agar chose to clear his throat to get your attention wishing to bring you comfort. What he wasn't anticipating was the terrified shriek that left your lips. Agar covered his ears stumbling back an slamming his head on one of the beams. He lowered himself to sit on the counter rubbing his large hand over the bump.

"Oh by the gods Agar I'm sorry you scared me." You cried out, pulling him down to inspect where he hit his head. Swatting his hand away so you could see better. "Luckily your not bleeding." You whispered as you gently ran your fingers thru his hair. His forehead was rested on your breast in this postion. Agar found his eyes sliding closed letting out a soft moan. You started to pull away worried that the sound he made was because of pain. Agar wrapped his arm around your waist resting his chin on your breast.

"It's okay I shouldn't have snuck up on you." Agar had opened his eyes to take you in once again, you looked so worried for him. He found himself smiling at the way you fiddled with his hair while holding eye contact with him. "Little one, what made you cry?" He found himself asking. You shook your head wiping at your eyes. You let out a sigh biting your lip.

"I thought I'd upset you. And that you'd no longer want anything to do with me. You were packing up your cart so quickly." You whispered looking down. Agar groaned in embarrassment.

"I was packing my cart up so quickly because I wanted to come help you. I hoped if I helped you perhaps you'd allow me to spend more time with you." Agar gently grabbed your hands unwillingly lifting his head from your breast. He couldn't help himself but to admire the differences between the two of you.

"You wanted to spend more time with me?" You asked drawing Agars gaze away from your hands. At the look of wonder mixed with delight on your face, Agar found himself moving once more this time pulling you closer to him as he sealed his lips against yours. He spread his thighs tugging you into the space in-between. Placing your hands onto his chest he groaned. He dragged his hand up your arm tangling his thick fingers into your hair as he deepened the kiss. You'd never been kissed like this before it was all fire, passion, and need. You felt as though Agar would never get his fill of you. As you moaned collapsing against him no longer able to hold yourself up on your shaky legs. Agar slid his tongue into your mouth, bringing you into a heated dance of your tongues. As Agar broke the kiss he chuckled at the soft dazed look on your face.

"Your so beautiful and kind. You smell like sunshine and taste like fresh fruit. How could I not want to spend time with you? Let's pack up your cart then we shall go for a stroll." You whined softly as he separated the two of you smiling brightly at your response. He was pleased that you where returning his affection. He had truly believed wooing you wouldn't be possible. Yet here you where looking at him with some much love he kept forgetting how to breath. You approached Agar as he put the last crate into your cart.

"Are you staying in town?" You asked. Agar look at you shaking his head.

"No the people normally prefer I don't stay in town. I rest in my cart." At his words you shook your head. You knew that humans and the mythical didn't get along but that felt like to much.

"Please Agar, come stay at my cabin. I'll make us a hot meal and you can sleep on an actual bed." You begged softly. Agar look down at you his eyes widened. He found himself nodding at a loss for words, especially when your face lit up in a bright smile upon his agreement. The travel to your cabin didn't take long. You lived in the forest, just outside the city walls.

"Why don't you live in town?" Agar asked. Taking in your home. You had paused a sad look settling on your face before you answered.

"Mmm my parents where what the towns people call wise men. My father would say they where historians. They'd take down knowledge of anything and everything they could. When my mother discovered she was pregnant they chose this forest. I've been here ever since." A soft silence once again settled between the two of you. You led the horses to the barn as Agar looked at you.

"How old where you when they left?" Agar asked softly.

"I was six. I really dont like talking about it. The people in town took good care of me helped me be an honest worker." You whispered entering your home Agar close behind. You showed Agar a place to wash up as you cooked dinner.

You and Agar enjoyed your meal sharing stories. Agar helped you clean up.

"I'll show you to the bedroom." You whispered leading the way down the hall. As you arrived to your bedroom and opened the door Agar blinked.

"This is really well furnished for a spare bedroom." He stated simply sitting down on the foot of the bed. You blushed fiddling with your fingers once more.

"It's my bedroom. I thought.... I thought we could sleep together." Agar smiled you where being so bold and brave.

"Come here little one." He groaned as he pulled you onto his lap. You whinned softly at the feeling of Agars cock pressed against your core. He chuckled at the needy sound lowering his head to kiss you. His hands gripping your ass slowly dragging you along his length. "You feel that little one. I've been like that all day watching you." He growled lowering his head to travel kisses and small nips with his tusk along your neck. He chuckled once more at the needy sounds leaving your lips. "So desperate love. Acting like I don't have every intention to stuff you full."

"Please Agar more. Want you to take me." You practically sobbed out. Agar burst out laughing at your antics making you pout.

"I have to prepare you little one I'm much to big for you to take me right away." He layed down flat on the bed. "Take off the rest of your clothes and come up here." At his order, you quickly threw off your gown and undergarments. Once again drawing a chuckle from Agar. He found your eagerness endearing. As you climbed onto his lap he shook his head. "Higher love. I cant feast on you from all the way down there." You looked at him swallowing heavily as he licked his lips and tusks. You made your way up untill your dripping cunt was hovering above his face.

"I what if I hurt you?" You asked holding yourself up. This time it was your turn to laugh. The look on Agars face was a mix between being insulted and bewilderment.

"I want you to try." He growled his hands closing around on your hips pulling you straight onto his face. Making you choke on your laughter as his tusk pressed right against your lips, opening you up for his thick tongue. At the first swipe along your clit you whined. He moaned low pushing his tongue into your opening. He rubbed his nose against your clit as he tried to touch the deepest parts of you with his tongue. Gasping and trying to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure he snarled in frustration. You where interrupting him, with a quick movement you where moving backwards. Finding yourself flat on the bed his face still buried inbetween your legs.

"Oh by the stars Agar I can't!" You cried out as he now had you fully pinned open to his assault. He was fucking you with his tongue every once in awhile giving special attention to your swollen clit. You continued to try to get away from the immense pleasure. Agar brought one arm up to settle on to your hips right under your stomach. Using his other hand he grabbed your leg moving it so he could slip his hand to your weeping cunt. He slid his ring finger into you. Just his one finger was already stretching you wider then his tongue had. You moaned your back arching. Agar didn't hesitate to add a second you where already so wet for him. Agar slid his fingers deeper, watching as you cum. You were such a sight spread out before him so ready, so willing, and so sensitive. As his fingers pressed against your g-spot you cried out the sensation dragging out your already intense orgasam. He groaned in delight making sure you rode out the high of your orgasm, continuing to fuck you with his fingers.

"Your so sweet little one." He sighed dragging his tongue up your sensitive cunt making you whine.

"I could live in between your legs, but now your ready for me. Catch your breath." His eyes were almost glowing with his need to have you. Agar was patient rubbing slowly circles on your thighs as your breathing slowed.

"Please Agar. I'm ready I want you." At your words, Agar moved pulling you towards him. He grabbed his cock in his hand dragging it along you wet folds. As he lined himself up with your entrance he locked his eyes onto yours. Slowly pushing himself in he gritted his teeth. Slow, he had to go slow, you were so wet and tight. He could fill his control slipping. Another soft moan left your lips. With that soft sound Agar could no longer resist. He pushed himself the rest of the way with a quick rough thrust, his balls smacked against your ass. You let out a loud groan your eyes sliding closed at the feeling of being filled.

"Oh no mate, your gonna keep those gorgeous eyes on me." Agar growled as he began to move. Your eyes flew open thanks to the way he was kissing your cervix with every thrust. "There's my pretty mate. So lovely so tight around me. Irresistible, I will never let you go."

Your nails where digging into his bicep. The pleasure was overwhelming you. You were getting close to cumming. With out thinking you sank your teeth into his chest. Agar groaned feeling your walls tightening on him. "My pretty girl your begging for my seed. Pulling me back so tight." At Agars next rough thrust you cried out into his chest

Agar roared as he slammed himself all the way into you, slamming into your cervix as he filled you with his seed. Agar brushed your hair away from your eyes taking in the way your eyes where dilated. How your breast rose and fell with each panting breath. Blinking away your tears you looked back at Agar.

"Did you mean it?" You asked softly. Agar looked at you with a soft tilt of his head.

"Mean what little one?" He asked as he ran his hands along anywhere he could easily reach.

"When you called me your mate?" You whispered hiding your face now afraid his answer would be no. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Agar rather it be in your cabin or traveling by his side. Agar froze at your question he thought he had made that perfectly clear. Pulling his cock back he slid himself back in slowly to your sensitive cunt. Your eyes rolled back at the overwhelming pleasure. Agar leaned down resting his cheek against yours. Setting in a slow steady pace.

"I meant every word. Your mine little one. My mate, my lover, my heart. I'll make sure your always full of my offsprings. I'll make sure all you know is how much your mine." As Agar continued to thrust into you at his words your eyes flew open looking at him. Agar above you his green skin shining with sweat under the lanterns. His yellow eyes were filled with admiration and need.

Agar once again picked up his pace. Making you cry out.

"All yours Agar. Your mate. But please I'm so close. So sensitive." You sobbed out fresh tears falling down your cheeks. Agar groaned at your words sliding his hand under your waist he lifted you up to meet his thrust at his brutal pace. Agar closed his lips over yours Pulling you into a heavy kiss. As he slid his tongue into your mouth. You once again came on his cock. Agar slid all the way into you once more as he came. As Agar pulled out fully this time he watched his cum dripping out of your cunt and down your thighs. Dragging his finger along the cum he started pushing it back into your cunt. He wouldn't allow a drop to be wasted. Your back arched at this rate Agar would be the death of you.

"Agar please I...I need some rest." You stammered out. Agar looked at you letting out a soft grunt. He laid down back flat on the bed easily pulling you onto him. Your head rested on his chest while he had your legs inbeetween his thighs. He started to fiddle with your hair.

"Sleep my heart for once you awaken I will have you again." He stated smiling at you his eyes filled with the same look of love and admiration. Agar had finally found his heart and he would never abandoned her.

#orc x reader #monster fucker #monster x reader smut #beginner writer #monster smut #orc boyfriend #smut

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anadiasmount · 3 months ago

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moscow mule - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: a boat day in the beautiful city of miami ends handsy with your boyfriend who can’t get enough of you and your red bikini as you stroll around slowly to take in the city night…

masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: ik i said tiny blurb but this had been on my mind after an anon requested!! who doesn’t love bf! jude?? 😛 tiny mature content, not in-depth smut though!! so small 18+ warning!! small insta au at the end 🤍

you smile widely sitting up and put your book away as you saw your boyfriend approach you. “you enjoyed yourself today?” he asked, hunching over you and kissed your knee, spreading your legs and came between them. “i certainly did. nothing could beat a nice day boat day full of drinks, food and swimming,” you said meeting jude in a small kiss midway.

“even if you almost drowned?” he joked making you laugh and cover your face embarrassed.

“hey! to be fair, i had no idea it would be that deep? one second we were in shallow water then boom, i couldn’t reach my tiptoes on the sand? it’s a good thing i had my night and shining armor there with me,” you said sarcastically remembering how jude jumped in and saved you while laughing hysterically.

“i literally warned you to be careful, then all i could see is you treading the water!” jude replied, pulling you up and sitting you on his lap, his hand slowly trailing your back and playing with the strings from your red bikini. “i panicked, hello! i was genuinely not prepared for that,” you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb and giving a tiny peck on his nose.

“i love when you do that,” jude admits with a shy smile. “good because im not gonna stop doing it,” you stick your tongue wanting to get up to retrieve some of the fruit you bought in the morning at the small market. “what are you doing? where you going?” jude asked you concerned pulling you back down with a tight grip.

“to get some mangos and pineapple for us,” you laugh but jude is quick to get up and retrieve it, bringing some water along as well. “drink some, you’ve been in the sun all day and i don’t want you to get dehydrated,” he says opening the top and handing it gently while he went to get some napkins. “here pretty girl.”

“thank you!”

now it was no surprise but all you could feel is his intense eyes roam as you stood up to remove the white coverup you had on. jude gulping heavily, almost choking on the piece of mango as you tied your hair back and adjusted your bikini. the dark red set that had him stressing and putting images in his head he didn’t need.

he was lost for words when you stepped out the restroom in the morning, wearing just that. watching how you applied sunscreen, your jewelry and fixed your hair. miami had gave you a different glow that radiated your essence so much. jude was starstruck every time he stared at you. in the morning when you slept, when you people watched, when you talked to him. he knew that he was the luckiest man alive.

“i can feel you staring…” you whisper, jude letting out a small smile. “can’t help it, you under this sun light? this bikini? you’re killing me here,” he chuckles nervously, slightly going back and resting his forearms on the couch bed, his eyes lowering as you toppled him. “am i now? who knew this would be making you feel like that…”

“you always do, i can’t ever deny that. but this miami glow is hitting different… especially this tiny bikini,” he tugged the middle part of the bra top, seeing how your breasts pushed in. you gasp, feeling your ears heat up as you gently slap his hand away, jude letting out a smirk. “jude! we’re in public!” you say with clenched teeth, looking around to see if anyone would be watching.

“so?”

“so that means we have to be careful. who knows who could be watching or listening, maybe even filming,” you express, situating yourself on his lap, as he offers you a piece of fruit. “no matter where we go we’re being watched, and it’s something we can’t do unless we play undercover and dress up,” jude shrugs his shoulders.

“i remember we did that back in madrid when i visited you during christmas. your fans were so confused,” your laughter gets loud thinking how the little kids were twisting their heads trying to see and recognize if it was jude or not. you had been dating for a year yet were still scared to go public, especially with jude growing rapidly at his current club. now you were at peace with terms and not scared of public. yet you were careful because one never knew.

“you don’t know how bad i needed this,” jude confessed, his hands running up and down your soft thighs, nails grazing softly as he did different motions. “everything happened so fast after the semifinal. i was off for a week and then shit went crazy. but i’m so grateful to be where i am today, especially with you,” his fingers tugged and played with the knot from your bottoms.

“jude…” you warn, a faint smile on your lips giving him a knowing look.

“seriously i feel like you wore this on purpose just to rile me up,” he squeezed your thighs, watching as you adverted your gaze to the water where you guys now roamed close the city. more open to the public eye. “you did didn’t you!” jude exclaimed, hopping up as he pulled you close and tickled your neck. “okay maybe! maybe! ok yes, yes i did!” you struggled to say as you kept laughing and squinting.

“i love seeing you in red,” jude said, noticing how those words affected you, your eyes boring into his as your wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “every color looks beautiful on you, but this certain red definitely is one of my favorites,” jude’s hands trailed down to your bum where he gently squeezed it. you sigh with a playful gaze, “why do i even try with you?”

“because you love me? and i’m hot.”

“whatever.”

you stayed like this for the rest of the city stroll, often getting side tracked and just watched the sun set till it became dark. the only lights on were from the piers and buildings. the whole scenery looking aesthetic and relaxing. jude and you played kid games like “i spy” “would you rather” “name the top” getting competitive especially when the uno cards came out.

you would take this over any day. the private and intimate moments with him. appreciating and showing each other the undeniable love you had together. knowing it could be hard because of the high maintenance jobs you had, but you always made it work. willing to put in the sacrifice and effort to ensure your relationship was healthy. it was never ever the bare minimum.

jude told and reminded you always. even before you dated he wanted to let you know he was there no matter what. that being with you was the luckiest and most important aspects of his life. he never failed to show the gratitude or shy away the love he has and created. “you’re my world y/n. i’d do anything for you…”

“oh my god i love this song!” you squeal tuning up the volume as you heard the introduction of moscow mule. “isn’t this by bad bunny?” asked jude, remembering how his teammates played him back during training and gym sessions. “what do you know about bad bunny?” you teased, earning a tiny scoff from jude. “more than you know.”

your back laid on jude’s chest, giving his bicep a tiny peck in appreciation, his arms holding your waist, rubbing small circles on your hips. “this song is perfect for todays evening,” the small comment has jude cocking his head to the side, you go on to explain how the song means living life and in the moment with the person you love.

“yo no se tu, pero yo quisiera amanecer 'esnu', en una playa por balí, si no, cancún, pide otro moscow mule…” (my fav part ever of this song 😣)

jude’s lips place faint kisses on your ear lobe, leaving a wet trail as he gently ran his tongue on your pulse point, making you shiver and close your eyes anticipating his next move when he blew air. “i need you so bad you don’t understand y/n…” jude whined, pressing you down on his cock, as you panted. “i can feel that, can hear it in you,” you say gently turning around where jude made a mental picture of you like this.

you made sure no one was around, including the driver even if he was on the top deck of the yacht. you grind on him, a tiny groan escaping his mouth as you kissed his jaw bone. “we have to be quiet okay,” jude placed you down with one hand on him, his kisses urgent and showing how much he needed you. “can i take this off?” he asked tugging the red string from your top, your noses together as you calmed your breaths.

you nod biting your bottom lip, jude watching your eyes dilate as he gently undid the bow from the back. his eyes roamed your now bare breast, running his hands from your sides and giving both a small squeeze, hearing your shaky inhale, not resisting the urge and placing kisses on the flesh of them, tracing all the way up to your lips, where he hummed. “so sweet… so mine.”

“jude please…” you whimpered. “i know, i know, i got you, i got you baby,” jude reassured. sealing his promise by showing you what he meant and desired all day. your small and quiet moans driving him insane since all he wanted was to hear you. hear how good you were taking him, how amazing you felt wrapped around his cock. he felt it all, the cloud nine feeling as your warm walls squeezed him tight, your nails raking down his back leaving a burn and red trails, your lips struggling to kiss him as you came undone.

“i love you darling,” he kissed you deeply, feeling as you smiled into the kiss knowing you were about to say it back.

“i. love. you.”

——— j. b. ———

judebellingham

liked by: ynusername, yourbestie, vinijr, brahmin, badbunny, jobebellingham, fedevalverde, declanrice, trentalexanderarnold, vogue, spottedcelebrity, camavinga, and 2,348,699 others.

judebellingham: moscow mule feeling

comments:

ynusername: hi bf 😛

ynusername: still not okay after first pic�� anyways VEN Y CHOCA

↪️ judebellingham: conmigo que se joda 🫣🫡

username90: miami y/n and jude?? okay then

user12: she is actually so stunning i can’t. jude move.

username23: OMGGG BAD BUNNY SONG?? he knows what he’s doing.

brahmin: hermanoooo, disfruten ❤️

trentalexanderarnold: 🫡🫡

liked by judebellingham

username65: oh- well we know they had a good time ☺️

user33: miami was not ready for them…

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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lalunanymph · 2 months ago

Text

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: mentions of food, mentions of murder, talks of death, predator/prey dynamic, sword to neck trope, reader gets restrained, mentions of injuries, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is referred to as 'cerena', princess cerena has pink hair and feminine features, reader is in cerena's body, isekai-ed reader

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 3: THE VILLAGE

Life at this little village offered you a gentle respite from the fears eating at your soul, putting the memory of Satoru's bloodthirsty desires momentarily out of your mind.

Whilst under Aeva’s care, you learned how to use an old fire stove, sweep the floors with a broom made of brambles, and prepare some of Northern Haleway’s most famous fare—pigeon mince pies.

In return, she offered you the room in her attic, a quaint, cozy space that did not perturb you with its lack of size but instead, reminded you fondly of your own bedroom back in your real world.

When you weren’t busy with chores and cooking, Aeva gave you free rein to roam about the village with the condition that you were to never reveal your true identity to the poor villagers. You took her worries in stride, always leaving her home with your hood and cloak on; Cerena’s signature pink hair plaited neatly and wrapped under the scratchy hood.

The reason for your excursions to town were simple: you wanted to find out the truth about why you were here in the first place.

You struck up conversations with various healers, visited the village shaman, and even spent an hour talking to the friendly barman on the merits of body swapping and waking up in a different life.

But, your research barely yielded anything fruitful.

It only served to increase your worries, driving you to the brink of a mental breakdown at the fact that you may never go back to your real world again.

That you may never see your mother or listen to her laugh as you both drank rice wine on a veranda; happy memories illuminated by the sun setting over the paddy fields. You may never roll your eyes at your best friend’s piss poor attempts at setting you up on blind dates, or enjoy your morning commute with a cup of turmeric latte.

Every single thought drew you deeper into a pit of despair.

But, you knew you had to be strong.

This was a temporary setback and you have to believe that you will return home. You have to believe that life would not be so cruel as to leave you stranded here, in a place where you were despised and ridiculed. You had to keep the faith; had to hold onto the hope that you would make it home in one piece.

There was no other option.

Satoru slowed his horse to a trot once he arrived in the market square, the guards flanking his sides dispersing to find you at his terse nod.

Those unyielding blue eyes swept across the square, noting the various sellers and stalls surrounding him. The smell of horse dung and rotten food scraps burned through his nose with the force of a thousand fires, and he made a face, wanting nothing more than to get this search party over, find you and take you back to the King.

For a man used to the trenches of war, peasant life will always astound him with its stink and squalor. Children with dirt-packed faces and blackened hands chase after each other. A skinny, malnourished dog feebly lifts its head when his horse trots by and a heavily pregnant woman with scars running down her arms gives him a scrutinizing look while she hangs up her linens to dry.

Satoru intended to keep this visit brief, and he is no more looking forward to the reality of finding you than he is at the thought of how you would react.

It was obvious that this was one of your usual tantrums in retaliation for not getting what you want; an act of rebellion made to paint him in a bad light.

His jaw ticks and his mood darkens at the thought of what he would do if he ever saw you again.

First things first, Satoru wouldn’t hesitate to threaten you by sword point to return back to the castle. Then, he will interrogate you on where you had been, who you spoke to, how you escaped in the first place so he can put anyone and everyone who aided you in this resistance to the sword.

Those flinty cerulean eyes shift across the market square, hoping to find a glimpse of the hooded and cloaked figure Miri had informed him about. But, all his gaze does is meet more exhausted faces; the villager’s blackened, fatigued air drawing his lips downward into a grimace.

He was close to redirecting the search party into the forest where he believed you would be hiding, when he sees the figure of his hunt.

A waifish, hooded and cloaked woman made her way past the fruit stalls, stopping to purchase an apple.

Satoru doesn’t spare another second. He threw his horse into a gallop, reaching for his sword and drawing it out of the scabbard.

The hooded woman seemed to sense his murderous intent for her all the way across the square and lifted her head.

Satoru’s eyes widened when he noticed the familiar slope of your nose; the parting of your cherubic lips frozen in a silent scream.

“Cerena!”

The blasted woman takes off, running as fast as she could straight to the forest’s edge. Satoru doesn’t know what compelled him to disembark off his horse, hastily tying the reins around an apple tree and tearing after you with his longer, stronger legs.

Your terrified expression seared through his brain when you turn around to flash him a pleading look. Satoru gritted his teeth, his larger lung capacity and fitter body making it easier for him to sweep past the trees, darting under the brushes and jumping over fallen logs to chase after you.

There is nothing but the thought of escape in your mind.

As you weaved through the trees, bounding across brooks and fell logs, your breath came out in icy pants, crystalizing right in front of your face.

You wanted to turn around and plead and beg with him to spare you, the sight of the broadsword in his hand pumping your veins full of adrenaline and the need to escape. Like a hounded prey, the predator behind you was closing in, near enough that you could hear his jagged breaths.

“Cerena—stop running!”

You pushed yourself harder, ignoring his words, forcing your legs to bring you towards a gnarly apple tree. Using muscles you haven’t utilized since you were four when you were wildly swinging from jungle bars, you expertly swung your body up the tree, clambering the thick trunk and using the spruces as your support—trying to get off the ground and hide in the foliage so he would give up and leave you alone.

But, luck was never on your side, especially when it came head-to-head with Satoru’s determination.

He circled the tree you were hiding in, those frantic blue eyes darting through the thick leaves, trying to get a glimpse of you.

“Cerena, stop this madness at once and come back home!” Satoru bellowed, cheeks splotched red with anger and frustration. “You mad woman! Get down and face your repercussions, dammit!”

A slight movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you rush to unleash your dagger, cutting through the stem of the hornet’s nest just a few inches from you.

Sensing danger, they hummed, digging their stingers into your vulnerable hand, but you paid the bites of pain no mind—focused completely on evading Satoru.

The prince’s keen ears catch a rustle, like the sound of something being sawed and he looks up into the trees, jaw clenched and icy blue eyes wild.

“Cerena! What are you doing up there? Come down, dammit!”

Without warning, a lump of something brown and scraggly falls right at his feet.

Satoru barely had time to react before he’s surrounded by a swarm of nasty wasps, stinger-triggered and ready to attack him. The sight of him swinging his broadsword to ward off the wasps would’ve been hilarious, if you didn’t use this as an opportunity to scamper down the apple tree and take off like your life depended on it.

“—Cerena!”

Your stomach sank to your feet as you quickly whipped your head back to catch him speeding up to you, the mottled flesh of his face from the wasp stings and those raging blue eyes shocking you through the core with pure, unadulterated fear.

“Please!”

You screamed, needing to run back to Aeva’s hut. She will protect you; she has to.

Sliding into the clearing, you’re almost to the home run when you feel a hard tug around your neck. Your head jerks back and you go crashing to the ground, Satoru’s bigger body enveloping yours.

“No—no!”

The shine of his sword nicks your neck, and you’re both breathing hard.

Satoru’s fiery icy azure eyes bore right into you with such potent hatred, you throw your hands to your face, bracing for the blade to slice through your neck hotly.

One second turned into two. His heavy breathing becomes a grunt, and he yanks you unceremoniously to your feet.

His arm tightened around your trembling body, face a few inches from yours as he sneered.

“You will pay for what you did to me.” Those reddened lesions from the wasps littering his neck and cheeks strike terror into your numbed heart.

“If only you hadn’t ran away from me,” he clicked his tongue as if in disappointment, and to your mortification, brought out a coil of rope from his jacket. “Then, your punishment would not be so severe.”

A hushed sob slips from between your gritted teeth as he lashed your hands together with the rope, tying it tightly enough so you wouldn’t think of running away from him again.

“Please,” you started to cry. “Please, do not hurt me. Do not harm me.”

He grunted, looping the tie into a double knot. “What in the devil are you blubbering about, woman? I have no intention of hurting you.”

Your tears trickled your cheeks like fragments of icy shards, slipping down your neck as you attempted to resist, pressing your bound palms to his broad chest and trying to push him away.

Satoru growled: “Cerena! Behave.”

The flash of disgust and anger in his eyes instantly brought to mind how he had held the sword to your bare neck—how he had wanted to kill you.

Terror seized your lungs, your scream shattering the calm quiet of the forest.

“Help me! Somebody help me! Please!”

You sobbed loudly and with full abandonment, balking whenever he tried to reach out for you, batting your useless hands against his chest and neck to try and buy yourself some time for someone to help.

In the midst of the struggle with Satoru, you missed a wizened figure stepping out of the hut, her bow and arrow pointed right at the crowned prince.

Gojo, noticing the intruder in this scene, raised his eyes, sneering at the lowly woman who dared believe she can take him on with a flimsy weapon.

“You dare point that at me? The crowned prince of the region?”

Aeva steadied her aim, the tip of the arrow quivering. The expression on her face was of fierce protectiveness, surging from seeing you being manhandled like a sack of potatoes by a man who was supposed to honor you as his fiancé.

For a brief moment, you felt a shining sense of hope—that you were going to be safe.

But, he does not yield. Despite not saying a word, his frigid glare is all the loathing he needs to dissuade Aeva from releasing the arrow. Her rheumy eyes shifted from your tear-streaked face to his furious glare and to your dismay, she slowly lowered the weapon, letting it dangle by her side.

Your gasp rang with betrayal and alarm. “Aeva… please…”

Smug that he was let off without much of a fight, Gojo used his raw strength to lift you over his shoulder, your bound hands dangling across his back, your slippered feet kicking in mid-air.

“Please! Don’t let him harm me! Aeva! Aeva—” you choke off a broken sob, unable to bear her devastated expression through your tears.

With every jarring step he took, you get further and further away from the safe house; from finding your answers and plotting your return back to your world.

Satoru didn't just tear your hopes of returning home from your hands, he also stomped them to the ground with the impending dread of his promise to Miri.

The promise to kill you should he see you again.

Crippling agony washed over you, enough to make you bitterly wail, your cries weaving through the trees as fearful images of your mangled body flashed through your mind, the end of your life brought about by this cruel prince's hand.

“Enough with the dramatics,” Satoru muttered frostily as he trudged through the thick snow, reaching his behemoth of a stallion. With barely an iota of effort, he heaped you onto the saddle, giving your thigh a hard squeeze in warning not to do anything funny.

Mounting behind you, he used his sturdier build to keep you caged in between his arms. Gripping the reins and snapping it once, his great white horse whinnies, moving to a trot as the forest and the safe house you spent these three blissful days in disappeared from your view.

You never thought your fate would end up like this: bound atop a horse like fresh game being brought back after a hunt, while a sadistic man who wants nothing more than your demise sat behind you, stoic and silent despite your hushed cries.

Anguish welled deep in your soul, manifesting as endless tears streaming down your face which you tried desperately to hide from him.

His voice broke through your frantic thoughts as a low, baritone warning.

“I told you I will force you take accountability for your actions,” Satoru muttered darkly, slowing his horse to a cant.

Without any warning, he grasped your chin and tugged hard, eliciting a gasp of fear from you, forcing your teary eyes to meet his enraged ones.

“And your punishment has only just begun, Princess.”

mtt fun fact: minced pigeon pies were brought to northern haleway by merchants from the south who introduced this alternative meat source during one of the country's harshest famines

dawn says: what kind of 'punishment' do you think satoru meant? 👀

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

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skyahri · 8 months ago

Text

Blind |Naruto Men X Uchiha!Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Madara Uchiha, Hashirama Senju

Summary: How they handle their partner losing their sight due to the effects of the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Warnings: Mentions of fem, but not very relevant. Mentions of war and loss of sight.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Kakashi Hatake

He knew the day would come when the Sharingan would take your vision, but he didn't know it'd be so soon.

There were no other eyes available to you at the moment, so eternal was not an option.

Not that'd you do it anyway. It was highly against your beliefs to partake in the Uchiha nonsense that was eye swapping.

Something that drew Kakashi towards you in the first place.

You'd been preparing for this day since you first awakened your mangekyo.

You'd memorized the layout of your apartment, practiced roaming the village in a blind fold, and learned braille.

You'd been coping well, Kakashi... not so much.

He couldn't deal with the knowledge that you'd sacrificed your vision for the sake of the village.

You'd given up everything during your years as a shinobi, and this was the icing on top of the cake.

He'd watch you every day.

Watch you drag your hands across the walls of your apartment. Watch you walk a bit too far past the stall in the market. Watched you struggle to do simple things like grocery shopping.

Over time, you'd become worse and worse at eye contact, and that ate him alive.

There were no more longing looks or sneaky glances. Even your attempts to appear as if you could see were slowly declining, and it dampened his mood every time.

He felt as if he'd failed you. If only he'd been stronger, you wouldn't have had to overuse your doujutsu.

But he stayed quiet because you seemed happy. You were alive and safe and happy, and that's all he could ask for.

Shikamaru Nara

After the war, your vision had completely vanished. There were no blurry shapes or deaf perception problems because there was simply no sight.

There was no time to prepare. You hadn't planned on having to use the mangekyo so much in battle, and the price was astronomical.

He tried to help where he could, but you were being stubborn, constantly rejecting any aid he tried to provide.

"Just let me-"

"I told you I can do it myself."

"No, you can't, just let me-"

And that's when he felt the sobs rack through your body. Tears quickly fell down your face and your hands couldn't keep up.

He sighed and forced everything out of your hands.

"I can't do anything anymore."

"That's not true."

You scoffed, a bitter laugh leaving your lips.

"I can't go grocery shopping or cut fruit or put dishes away without running into everything or breaking something or,"

"Give it time. It'll get better."

"Two weeks ago, I was a shinobi. Today, I'm just a blind girl who can barely feed herself."

Shikamaru wasn't sure what to do. Strategy was easy becausebit was all factual. Feelings, though? So many variables he didn't know where to start.

He confided in Kakashi at some point, but wasn't too pleased with the advice he got it.

"Let her figure it out. She's a smart girl."

Despite thinking it was a stupid suggestion, he listened.

Slowly, over time, you'd regained your confidence and became the capable person you had previously been.

Doesn't stop Shikamaru from uncharacteristically babying you sometimes, though.

Sasuke Uchiha

He offered you his eyes, but you declined.

You weren't fond of Uchiha tradition despite being raised by it. Taking his eyes just felt like you'd be starting the new age Uchiha clan off on the wrong foot.

So you chose blindness.

It was difficult at first, but you quickly learned to get around and help yourself with little to no issue.

You'd gone from stumbling around the kitchen to making yourself breakfast within a few months.

Living with out sight wasn't too bad, and you'd grown accustomed to it. You felt like you'd made the right decision.

Until your first son was born.

It wasn't the parenting aspect that you found difficult, it was the emotional one.

When Sasuke told you your son looked just like Itachi, you knew you'd have to see for yourself.

So, you allowed Sakura to do the transplant.

Within seconds after the bandages were off and you had time to adjust to light, your sight was fully restored.

Sasuke brought in your baby, and wouldn't you know it? He looks exactly like Itachi.

The sharingan is based on strong emotions, yeah? Maybe you can base it on love in the new Era.

Naruto Uzumaki

Unlike the others, Naruto finds the whole eye transplant thing horrendous.

"What do you mean by that, huh? You freaks just trade eyes like around? That's the worst thing I've ever heard."

Although he wasn't happy with your newfound loss of sight, he wasn't one to label anything as a downside.

A setback? Sure. Negative? Never.

Hes overall very patient about it, even if in the moment he gets a little ahead of himself.

He's always forgetting that you're blind, so he'll ask you to look at things all the time.

"Hey, what's this?"

You just shrug. He may or may not bring your hand to the object to get a feel, but he mostly just gets embarrassed and drops it.

It honestly hadn't really dawned on him until he asked you to go train with him and you'd refused.

Sure, you could overtime work yourself up to be a shinobi again, but at this point in your life, that just wasn't the dream anymore.

Madara Uchiha

He thinks you're being stupid.

This world is all about power and you're choosing to be blind?

Idiotic.

You may be his wife, but he ignores you for quite some time after you make it clear there will be no eternal in your future.

It's an easy justification for him; he doesn't mingle with the weak.

Life gets pretty lonely after he decides to completely shut you out. Yeah, he sees Hashirama and makes his round through the compound, but it's not the same.

It isn't until he sees you in the village, going about life as you had months ago, that he starts to think maybe he was too hasty.

After all, he had married you for many reasons, and a big one was how skilled you were at adapting.

That night, when he finally returns home, he decides to sleep in your marital bed, not in the guest room.

The next day, he joins you for breakfast.

He came home early from his duties for the first time in a while.

He even started speaking to you once again.

You don't say anything right away. You know how he is about changing his mind, and you aren't willing to push your luck.

Things slowly get better over the span of a few weeks, and that's when you decide it's time to question him.

"I take it you've come to terms with my decision?"

"Of course not. I still think you're a fool."

Just the answer you'd expect.

"But I have missed you dearly."

You smile at him.

Hashirama Senju

The eternal was never something either of you had considered, so when your vision eventually dulled, it was fully expected.

Times were peaceful at the moment, so he had no need to worry for your safety.

You were almost always near someone willing to lay their life down for you- himself, Tobirama (reluctantly), or Madara - so there truly was no need to stress.

He helped as much as he could while also attending to his duties as Hokage.

Unlike Naruto, he had true patience. He happily held your hand every step of the way.

It wasn't long before your life was back on track, no longer burdened by the anxiety that came with cluelessness.

While Hashirama had preferred it never come to this in the first place, he was happy that things had worked out as best as they possibly could.

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reasonsforhope · 2 months ago

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"The transformation of ancestral lands into intensive monoculture plantations has led to the destruction of Guatemala’s native forests and traditional practices, as well as loss of livelihoods and damage to local health and the environment.

A network of more than 40 Indigenous and local communities and farmer associations are developing agroecology schools across the country to promote the recovery of ancestral practices, educate communities on agroecology and teach them how to build their own local economies.

Based on the traditional “campesino a campesino” (from farmer to farmer) method, the organization says it has improved the livelihoods of 33,000 families who use only organic farming techniques and collectively protect 74,000 hectares (182,858 acres) of forest across Guatemala.

Every Friday at 7:30 a.m., María Isabel Aguilar sells her organic produce in an artisanal market in Totonicapán, a city located in the western highlands of Guatemala. Presented on a handwoven multicolor blanket, her broccoli, cabbage, potatoes and fruits are neatly organized into handmade baskets.

Aguilar is in a cohort of campesinos, or small-scale farmers, who took part in farmer-led agroecology schools in her community. As a way out of the cycle of hunger and poverty, she learned ecological principles of sowing, soil conservation, seed storage, propagation and other agroecological practices that have provided her with greater autonomy, self-sufficiency and improved health.

“We learned how to develop insecticides to fend off pests,” she said. The process, she explained, involves a purely organic cocktail of garlic, chile, horsetail and other weeds and leaves, depending on what type of insecticide is needed. “You want to put this all together and let it settle for several days before applying it, and then the pests won’t come.”

“We also learned how to prepare fertilizer that helps improve the health of our plants,” she added. “Using leaves from trees or medicinal plants we have in our gardens, we apply this to our crops and trees so they give us good fruit.”

The expansion of large-scale agriculture has transformed Guatemala’s ancestral lands into intensive monoculture plantations, leading to the destruction of forests and traditional practices. The use of harmful chemical fertilizers, including glyphosate, which is prohibited in many countries, has destroyed some livelihoods and resulted in serious health and environmental damage.

To combat these trends, organizations across the country have been building a practice called campesino a campesino (from farmer to farmer) to revive the ancient traditions of peasant families in Guatemala. Through the implementation of agroecology schools in communities, they have helped Indigenous and local communities tackle modern-day rural development issues by exchanging wisdom, experiences and resources with other farmers participating in the program.

Keeping ancestral traditions alive

The agroecology schools are organized by a network of more than 40 Indigenous and local communities and farmer associations operating under the Utz Che’ Community Forestry Association. Since 2006, they have spread across several departments, including Totonicapán, Quiché, Quetzaltenango, Sololá and Huehuetenango, representing about 200,000 people — 90% of them Indigenous.

“An important part of this process is the economic autonomy and productive capacity installed in the communities,” said Ilse De León Gramajo, project coordinator at Utz Che’. “How we generate this capacity and knowledge is through the schools and the exchange of experiences that are facilitated by the network.”

Utz Che’, which means “good tree” in the K’iche’ Mayan language, identifies communities in need of support and sends a representative to set up the schools. Around 30-35 people participate in each school, including women and men of all ages. The aim is to facilitate co-learning rather than invite an “expert” to lead the classes.

The purpose of these schools is to help farmers identify problems and opportunities, propose possible solutions and receive technical support that can later be shared with other farmers.

The participants decide what they want to learn. Together, they exchange knowledge and experiment with different solutions to thorny problems. If no one in the class knows how to deal with a certain issue, Utz Che’ will invite someone from another community to come in and teach...

Part of what Utz Che’ does is document ancestral practices to disseminate among schools. Over time, the group has compiled a list of basics that it considers to be fundamental to all the farming communities, most of which respond to the needs and requests that have surfaced in the schools.

Agroecology schools transform lives

Claudia Irene Calderón, based at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, is an expert in agroecology and sustainable food systems in Guatemala. She said she believes the co-creation of knowledge is “key to balance the decision-making power that corporations have, which focus on profit maximization and not on climate change mitigation and adaptation.”

“The recovery and, I would add, revalorization of ancestral practices is essential to diversify fields and diets and to enhance planetary health,” she said. “Recognizing the value of ancestral practices that are rooted in communality and that foster solidarity and mutual aid is instrumental to strengthen the social fabric of Indigenous and small-scale farmers in Guatemala.”

Through the implementation of agroecology schools across the country, Utz Che’ says it has improved the livelihoods of 33,000 families. In total, these farmers also report that they collectively protect 74,000 hectares (182,858 acres) of forest across Guatemala by fighting fires, monitoring illegal logging and practicing reforestation.

In 2022, Utz Che’ surveyed 32 women who had taken part in the agroecology school. All the women had become fully responsible for the production, distribution and commercialization of their products, which was taught to them in agroecology schools. Today, they sell their produce at the artisanal market in Totonicapán.

The findings, which highlight the many ways the schools helped them improve their knowledge, also demonstrate the power and potential of these schools to increase opportunities and strengthen the independence of women producers across the country...

The schools are centered around the idea that people are responsible for protecting their natural resources and, through the revitalization of ancestral practices, can help safeguard the environment and strengthen livelihoods."

-via Mongabay News, July 7, 2023

#a little older but still very good!#indigenous #farming #agriculture #sustainable agriculture #agroecology #land back #guatemala #latin america #north america #central america #indigenous knowledge #indigenous peoples #good news #hope

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abbyshands · 4 months ago

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𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ YOU GOT ME, DARLING 𓄀 part 1

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

𓄀 pairing: cowgirl!reader x city girl!abby anderson

𓄀 includes: masc!reader, tall!reader, reader has tattoos and piercings and is implied to be muscular, established friendships (abby x ellie, dina, and manny), reader has an established backstory, modern setting, flirting, reader has an accent so read as such!

𓄀 summary: you decide to represent your business, cowboy classics, at seattle’s annual farmer’s market, unaware that the universe would send an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes to your feet.

𓄀 notes: so i had a lil’ idea and i ran with it so i present this lil’ series i’m gonna start <3 i have lots of ideas for it so be prepared for it to be a lil’ all over the place if i’m being honest. also, eventual smut of course! please comment or let me know if you want to be tagged. alright now, enjoy! ♡

𓄀 wc: 3k

every year, seattle hosts a farmer’s market that lasts a week, the hottest week of the summer. for the last, dear god, however many years you had lived here, you had never come to it, much less represented your business at it. but this year, you figured, why not? all your other friends were pooling into the heart of the city to attend the yearly market, so why couldn’t you?

you weren’t the biggest fan of seattle when you first arrived here. it was a stark contrast from where you grew up, a little prairie in rural texas. you remember shuddering each time you passed by a building the first week you lived here, wondering, where the hell are the fields?

seattle was just so different. rainy, cold, urbanized down to the last letter. you had moved here from texas when you were only 18 by your parents’ wishes for you to go to a college, get a degree, and get a damn job. your parents had been hard on you growing up for reasons unbeknownst to you, not like it mattered. not then, and not now.

after studying in college for two years and narrowly managing to get an associate’s degree in business, you decided to not pursue your bachelor’s, instead getting right to work. you earned yourself a job as a construction worker, the closest you had gotten to home since moving to seattle two years prior. the hot days when the sun came out in the summer, the rigorous work outside, the dirt on your skin by evening to show for a job well done. it was all you could have asked for and more.

when you managed to get yourself afloat, considerably well off, you ventured right outside urban seattle and scored yourself a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, far up a mile long dirt road. it was perfect, reminiscent of that old texas charm you had missed so dearly since leaving it. and then, when you finally settled down, you purchased a place bordering the urban and rural areas of seattle to make your own, where you used your associate’s degree and your casual texan charm to open a business.

cowboy classics read the sign hanging off your stand as the hot summer sun beat down on your back, shining down on your skin, which glistened with sweat as you set up your stand. thank god your stall had a roof, or else you’d be a goner for the next few hours that you’d be at the farmer’s market.

the market was crowded that morning, and more people were drawn to you and your stand than you were ready for. you couldn’t say you weren’t flattered, especially when you made a solid hundred dollars in the first hour and pretty girls were all but falling at your feet to buy your merchandise.

cowboy classics consisted of several products right off your farm. fruits like apples, berries, and melons, veggies like corn and peppers, and herbs of all kinds, such as cilantro, parsley, and rosemary, which you had grown yourself. dairy products, like fresh milk in classic milk jugs, regular and strawberry, cream cheese, and smooth butter. jams and jellies that the folks back home and your friends here in seattle could die for. and last but not least, handmade soaps and candles.

one would wonder why your shop was called cowboy classics when you were clearly a girl, if it weren’t for your heavily masculine energy. it seemed to radiate off of you, like the very sunrays shining down on your skin. from your voice, deep and low, thick with a rural texan accent, to your attire, a flannel and jeans, a belt with a big buckle and boots, and you couldn’t miss the cowboy hat, to even your scent, musky cologne mixed with the smells of your farm and all the products you produced from it.

now, city girl abby anderson couldn’t be further from a cowgirl. having grown up in the heart of seattle, washington, abigail “abby” anderson works as a personal trainer at a gym a few blocks away from her house. as tall, big, and muscular as she is, she couldn’t be more awkward. she wasn’t clueless, she just preferred her bed to being so human as to socialize. she was a little shy, but complex in nature, her sweet blue eyes easy to get lost in, her blonde hair shaping her freckled face to flawlessness.

the yearly market was always fun for abby. her dad would always take a few days off his shifts at the hospital just to bring abby to the market, unable to resist the way her eyes lit up when they settled on all the wonders the place had to offer, at least for a little girl. now that she was older, she had grown to adore it even more. it was all so raw, so natural, and the products at the market were inexpensive and could actually be of use to her.

abby was walking through the market with a few friends beside her. her best friend, ellie, her girlfriend, dina, and one of abby’s closest friends, manny. manny liked the market as much as abby did, though it was less for what you could buy and more for what you could take home with you. in other words, the pretty girls. ellie previously just liked to accompany abby to the market, but since having met dina, she came more for dina’s love of it.

“shit, it’s hot,” abby said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in the last ten minutes. her pale forehead glistened with sweat, little blonde baby hairs plastered to it.

ellie chuckled, nodding. “this heat wave’s no fucking joke. we’re going to be liquid by the time we get out of here.”

“ooh, look at that! those shirts are so cute!” dina suddenly exclaimed, causing the group’s attention to snap to a stand of hand knitted shirts and randomized accessories, like scarves, purses, and gloves. before ellie could even respond, dina was dragging her by the hand to the stand.

abby chuckled, having grown quite used to dina’s impulsive nature. when she turned to her side to look to manny, she realized that he had also wandered off, easily finding him chatting up a pretty girl at a different stall. abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. those were her friends for you. looks like she was on her own.

if she was being honest, she preferred to walk through the market alone, at least when she was actually looking through the vendors for good finds. it was reminiscent of her childhood, this little piece of seattle that gave the city girl a taste of what it was like on the other side of urban, even if it only lasted a week.

abby was walking through the market, having yet to find a stand that piqued her interest, when one poked out at her. curiously, she squinted to get a better look at it, her feet approaching it of their own accord. the owner’s back was turned, but abby could tell that it was a woman, one that was a sight for sore eyes, at that. but what interested her, too, was the variety of products at the stand, produce and dairy products, jams and jellies, paired with what looked like soaps and candles.

it was only when she turned around that abby’s attention was hers, and hers only.

who the hell is that?

the closer abby got to your stand, the more intrigued by you she was. you had a face that could bring anybody to their knees, clad in a flannel and dark blue jeans, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and jesus christ, a black cowboy hat to top it off. it was like she had looked one way and been in seattle, washington, than turned and teleported into rural texas. she couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over your body, taking you in in all your glory, tattooed arms and hands with a prominent tattoo on your neck and collarbone, several silver piercings in your ears.

alright, she’d bite.

and she hoped you would, too.

your interest was piqued when you saw her walking up to your stand. the girls who had approached you thus far were pretty, but this girl was a downright stunner. blonde hair tied back in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, exposed by her black tank top, paired with her brown cargo shorts. she had these pretty blue eyes, too, pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sweet diamonds in the burning seattle sun, accompanying the prominent freckles on her nose and cheeks.

she was muscular like you, only it peaked out in her arms, hands, and thighs, whereas your muscle presented itself in your broad shoulders and chest. you can’t wipe the grin off your face as she approaches your stand, and you set down the soaps you’d just picked up from a crate behind you on the stand, seeing as you had just sold out for the second time since arriving at the market.

“hey there,” you smile at her, and shit, even your voice is alluring, and it matches your face just right. dark, deep and low and thick with rasp, a texan accent to it that was impossible to miss. it was embarrassing for the blonde, just how fast her face heated up, that is, and she gave you a shy smile in response, along with a little awkward wave. “see somethin’ ya’like, baby?”

yes, you.

abby cleared her throat, nodding, trying so hard to ignore the way her stomach flips at the way that last word slipped off your lips. “uh, yeah. your stand is really cool,” abby said, a rosy blush covering her cheeks and nose as she inspected the soaps you had just set down on the counter. before you can respond to her compliment, she asks, “did you make these yourself?”

you nod to confirm, looking down at the soaps she was referring to. “sure did. handmade all day. the folks here quite like ‘em. sold out twice,” you said, leaning over the counter, eyes settled on the blonde girl before you. abby’s battling to ignore how nervous she feels at being in the presence of such a handsome woman, heavily aware of how much taller than her you are.

and she never meets girls who are taller than her.

abby takes one of the soaps into her hands. pine, her scent of choice in cologne, hair products, air freshener, candles, whatever it may be. she would marry the damn scent if she could. reading the label, she realized the scent of the little handmade bar of soap was a mix of pine and vanilla, and she lifted it to her nose to give it a smell, earning the blonde’s instant approval. “well, i can see why. this smells great,�� abby commented.

“i’m glad’ya like it,” you chuckle as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, your eyes raking over the girl for the millionth time since she had walked up to your stand. you can’t help but be curious about her. unlike most of the girls you had met at the market thus far, she wasn’t throwing herself at your feet.

though you wouldn’t mind if she did.

“i’m abigail, by the way. abby,” abby said with that awkward grin of hers, putting her hand out for you to shake. abigail. jesus christ, she never introduced herself like that. you were making the poor girl so nervous she couldn't even think right. you take her hand into yours, kissing the back of it before telling her your own name, tipping your hat. shit, even your name made her heart skip a beat.

was there a damn thing about you that abby anderson wasn’t attracted to?

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from you and all the products your stand had to offer. she walked over to a little shelf beside it, stocked with candles of all scents. “did you make these, too?”

“that i did, darlin’. use the same scents as i do the soaps, so if’ya like that pine one, it’s there,” you say. abby nods. you didn’t have to tell her twice. somehow, it only smells better to her when the scent of pine and vanilla fills her nose in the form of a candle. and, of course, because you made it. she sets the candle and soap onto your stand, timid as she slides them over to you, a small mumble of, “just these,” leaving her lips.

you take the candle into your hands, grabbing a piece of brown wrapping paper from the stack of it you had behind the stand. you put it down, setting the candle in the middle of the sheet of paper before wrapping it up and putting it into a little bag alongside the soap. abby would be drooling if her lips were parted, watching the way your muscles flex at even the smallest movements as you wrap the candle up for her.

you give abby a price, to which she takes out her wallet and hands you the bills, graciously telling you to keep the change. you smile at her, more than thankful for her kindness, but not needing the extra money. “that’s alright, baby. i’ll get’ya your change, though i appreciate the gesture,” you return, reaching behind you to fetch a few ones and coins. but not before abby cuts you off.

“n- no, really, i insist. you deserve it,” abby says a little too quickly. an angel this one was, that was for damn sure.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “well, aren’t you sweet. insist, huh?”

abby nods firmly, though the blush on her cheeks betrays the show of confidence. “yes, i insist. you’re going to be here all day, you’re selling awesome products, and you’re hot. it’s the least i could do,” she says, like the fact was common knowledge. you lean in just to tease her, raising an eyebrow.

“ya’think i’m hot, darlin’?”

abby’s eyes widen at how close you get to her face, and how suddenly aware she is of her own existence. she almost can’t hear you over the sound of her heart rattling in her ears, pumping in her chest as the musky scent of your cologne fills her nose. she tries and fails to not let her eyes wander down to your lips and fuck, her head was spinning, spiraling with the handsome cowgirl she could die happy now that she’d met.

you sure as hell don’t miss it.

“well, thank’ya kindly, darlin’. you’re mighty fine yourself,” you smirk, and abby’s head was spinning. how did people like you even exist in real life? you were right of of a western movie, the way you looked, the way you sounded, even your energy alone was enough to throw a city girl like abby for a loop. “but you’re damn right. fuck, sweatin’ like a damn sinner in church in this heat,” you say, taking a second to stretch as you do.

abby can’t help the way her cheeks burn at the simple act of you cussing. and she’d tear her eyes from you right now, if it weren’t for the way your flannel rises when you stretch, revealing the lower part of your torso. you make direct eye contact with her and shoot one of your signature smirks her way before speaking. “well, if you’re gonna be such a sweetheart, s’only fair i do a little somethin’ in return,” you say. you reach behind you to the little cooler that’s filled with all the dairy products you make on your farm, rummaging through it. “d’ya like strawberries?”

abby nodded, wondering what you were getting at. “i do.”

“alright, then,” you nod in return, pulling out one of your jugs of strawberry milk and sliding it across the counter towards her. “can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up in this heat, now can we? promise you’ll like it.”

abby cursed the blush on her cheeks, hoping you’d think she was getting sunburnt instead. pretty. you think she’s fucking pretty. “i- i’m sure i will, but i don’t think the change i gave you covers this,” abby said, just about ready to reach into her wallet and give you every last bill in it. but you shake your head, taking her previous words.

“ah ah ah. i insist. alright?” you say, and there’s a no nonsense way about the words that leave your lips, like you won’t take no for an answer, so firm that it sends chills down abby’s spine. she pouts and she’s fucking adorable as she does it. and when she gives you a reluctant nod, you smile. “attagirl.”

jesus christ.

“i’m going to pay you back for this. somehow,” abby says, a hint of brattiness to her voice. you can’t say you don’t like it, especially when it’s accompanied with that cute pout of hers. you chuckle as she asks, “what do you want?”

“hm,” you pretend to think about it, putting your hands on your hips as you push your tongue into your cheek. abby’s trying and failing hard not to look at the sweat dripping down your tattooed arms. you make up your mind, then look down at her. “why don’t’cha come back tomorrow? late, when the market’s ‘bout to close. i’ll show’ya how to make it up to me,” you say with a wink.

abby’s heart skips a beat at your words. she doesn’t think she’s ever been more happy to hear a promise like that one. her smile is equal parts coy and shy as she responds to you. “i’ll be here.”

no matter how confident you look on the outside, butterflies are swarming ‘round your belly within. a pretty girl like this one, shy and sweet, generous and kind, was going to come back tomorrow to see you, no convincing needed. had you died and gone to heaven? you smile, blowing abby a little kiss. “alright, then. take care now, abigail,” you tease, just as she’s about to walk away. abby playfully rolls her eyes at you.

“abby.”

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ taglist! @aouiaa @plutolovesyou @soupycloud @xayn-xd

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bhavanameti · 6 months ago

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#Frozen Food Market #Frozen Food #Frozen Snacks #Frozen Bakery Products #Frozen Ready Meals #Frozen Fruits and Vegetables #Frozen Raw Material #Prepared Food

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misswynters · 4 months ago

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Journey Begins — Chapter One

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. You are betrothed to the heir apparent, Aegon Targaryen. Your new spouse is not very keen towards you, only his brother, Aerion shows slight interest.

[warnings: none

[work count: 3.3k

[a/n: i haven’t written in so long so bare with me. it’s proofread but i couldve missed something.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

| next chapter | masterlist |

The sun was setting as you made your way to King’s Landing. The banners of House Dayne which beared the white sword and falling star, fluttered against the warm breeze. You sat there, with your head held high as your eyes peaked through the small windows of the carriage. The only think you saw was the streets of the capital buzzing with people at the market and kids playing. The Red Keep loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows over the ancient city. As they approached, you could feel the weight of your family’s expectations that are now resting on your shoulders.

House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house you would soon be entangled with. You dismounted gracefully, your hair cascading over your shoulders, and adjusted your violet cloak, a gift from your family marking your status as a noble of Dorne.

Inside the red keep, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Nobles and the servants whispered amongst themselves as their eyes followed your presence. You were escorted to the grand hall where there was a feast being prepared in your honor. The hall was a marvel of architecture, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The long tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of rich spices and sweet wines.

At the head of the hall, seated upon the dais, were the twin princes of the realm: Aegon and Aerion Targaryen. Aegon, the elder by mere minutes and the heir apparent, had an air of composed authority. His silver-gold hair was neatly trimmed, and his piercing violet eyes exuded a sense of calm determination. By contrast, Aerion's dark auburn hair fell in wild waves around his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with mischief and restless energy. They were a striking pair, embodying the duality of fire and ice that defined their lineage.

You approached the dais with measured steps, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You bowed gracefully, acknowledging the princes with the respect due their station. "Your Highnesses," you greeted them, your voice steady and clear.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

Aegon’s expression softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are pleased you have arrived safely. There is much to discuss in the days to come, matters of great importance to both our houses."

As the day continued, the atmosphere in the Red Keep grew increasingly tense. You found yourself caught in the middle of a growing rift between Aegon and Aerion.

Aegon's cold demeanor persisted, though he made more of an effort to be present. You appreciated the attempts, but the connection you guys longed for remained elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a source of comfort and companionship, his presence a balm to your weary soul.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next evening, a ceremony was held to formally announce your betrothal to Aegon. The Great Hall was filled with nobles, lords, and ladies, all dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of flowers and the sound of music, creating an atmosphere of celebration that belied the undercurrents of tension.

You stood beside Aegon, your hand resting on his arm as they greeted the guests. Aerion was nearby, his eyes never straying far from his brother and the person who would soon be his sister-in-law. As the ceremony began, You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that intensified with each passing moment.

The High Septon performed the ritual, binding their hands with a length of silk and speaking the ancient words that would unite them in the eyes of the Seven. You glanced at Aegon, hoping to find some hint of warmth or affection, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the Septon.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests applauded, you and Aegon were led to the high table for the ceremonial feast. The hall was filled with laughter and conversation, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being on display, a pawn in a game of power.

Aerion joined you guys at the high table, his presence a welcome distraction from the tension that lingered between you and Aegon. As the feast progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Aerion, his wit and charm a stark contrast to Aegon's brooding silence.

"Aegon, you must try the Dornish red," Aerion said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to his brother. "It's truly exceptional."

Aegon accepted the goblet with a curt nod, his eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to his food. "Thank you, Aerion," he said, his tone neutral.

You sighed inwardly, turning your attention back to Aerion. "Have you ever visited Dorne, Aerion?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Aerion's eyes lit up. "Once, a few years ago. The landscape is breathtaking, and the people are as warm as the sun. You must show me around someday."

"I would love that," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at their lips. "There are so many places I could show you."

Aegon looked up, his expression darkening. "Is this appropriate?" he asked, his voice cold. "Discussing travel plans when we are in the middle of our betrothal feast?"

Your smile faltered, a flush of embarrassment coloring their cheeks. "I was just trying to make conversation," you said quietly.

Aerion's gaze hardened. "Aegon, there's no harm in a little light conversation. Surely you can see that."

Aegon's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your brother, Aerion, she is my betrothed. I expect you to respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "Aegon, this is our celebration. Can't we enjoy it without arguing, please?"

Aegon set his goblet down with a thud, his eyes boring into you. "I am trying to enjoy it, but it is difficult when you spend more time talking to my brother than to me."

You met his gaze evenly, you’re voice was steady. "I am trying to bridge the gap between us, Aegon. But respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The hall fell silent, the guests watching the exchange with wide eyes. Aerion placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "Let's not ruin this evening," he said softly. "We are family, and we should act like it."

Aegon's expression softened slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained. "Very well," he said, his tone grudging. "Let us enjoy the feast."

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, the earlier warmth and camaraderie replaced by a palpable unease. You did your best to engage with the guests, but their thoughts kept returning to the confrontation with Aegon and the growing tension between him and Aerion.

As the feast drew to a close, you excused yourself and retired to your chambers, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. You changed into your nightclothes and climbed into bed, your mind was racing with the events of the evening.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, you were awakened by a gentle knock on the door. The handmaidens entered, bringing fresh clothes and preparing a bath. As you got dressed, your thoughts turned to the day ahead and the many challenges that awaited you. Hoping that Aegon would soon find you more interesting and give you the attention as your husband.

After getting ready, you made your way to the dining hall, hoping for a quiet meal and a chance to unwind. To your surprise, Aerion was already there, seated at a small table near the window. He looked up as you entered, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Good morning, ___," he greeted, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "Join me?"

You returned the smile and took a seat. "Good morning, your grace. I would love to."

You guys ordered a simple meal, the kind that reminded you of home, and settled into an easy conversation. The food was delicious, and the company even more so. Aerion's presence was a balm to your weary soul, and you found yourself laughing and talking late into the morning.

As the conversation flowed, you both continued to talked about your hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties. Surprisingly, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you had never been able to with Aegon, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I never expected to find a friend here," you admitted with a soft voice. "But you have been a true friend to me, Aerion. Thank you."

Aerion smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are welcome, ___. I am glad to have found a friend in you as well."

Their laughter and easy banter were interrupted by the arrival of Aegon. His expression was stern, and his eyes flashed with irritation as he took in the scene before him. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice cold.

You and Aerion looked up, the warmth of your conversation dissipating in an instant. Aerion remained seated, his expression calm but his eyes defiant. "We were just having breakfast, brother."

Aegon's gaze shifted to you, a frown marring his handsome features. "This again…why are you speaking with him?"

Your met his gaze evenly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Aerion was kind enough to join me for breakfast. We were just talking."

Aegon's frown deepened. "Just talking? You are my wife. You should be spending time with me, not him."

Aerion stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Aegon, if you were around more often, perhaps ___ wouldn't feel the need to seek company elsewhere."

Aegon's face flushed with anger. "Stay out of this, Aerion. This is between me and my wife."

You stood as well, your voice firm. "Aegon, he has been nothing but kind to me. Ever since the ceremony, you have ignored me and treated me with indifference. I am trying to make the best of this situation, but you make it incredibly difficult."

Aegon's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—guilt, perhaps. "I am your husband, and you will respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "I am trying to respect our union, but respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aerion watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression, his earlier amusement replaced by concern.

Finally, Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I...I will try to do better," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He turned and left the hall, leaving you and Aerion standing in the aftermath of the confrontation.

Aerion placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You did well. Aegon can be difficult, but he will come around."

“Though he does get drunk often as you’ve noticed these past few days, so be weary about that” he continued.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, frustration, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. "Thank you, your grace. I appreciate your support."

He smiled gently. "Anytime,” as he looked into your eyes “And call me by my name from now on. We are family now, after all." The young man left the dining hall, letting you all by your self and the servants worked the room.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

As the days passed, you tried to settle into your new life in the Red Keep. You attended council meetings, participated in court functions, and did your best to navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined the royal court.

Aegon remained distant, though he made an effort to be more present. He would sit with you during meals, engage in polite conversation, and accompany you to various events. However, the warmth and connection you had hoped for were still elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a constant source of support and companionship.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of court politics, you found yourself in the library, seeking solace among the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. Aerion joined you, as he often did, settling into a quiet corner, a bottle of wine and two goblets between you.

"I heard you had a difficult day," Aerion said, pouring them each a generous measure of wine.

You sighed, taking the offered goblet. "It seems there is no end to the intrigue and scheming at court. I feel like I am constantly walking a tightrope."

Aerion raised his goblet in a toast. "To surviving another day in the snake pit."

Clinking your goblets together and drinking the wine, you felt a sense of ease with him. Talking late into the night, your conversations ranging from the mundane life to beyond. Aerion's wit and insight were a constant source of comfort, and you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your new life.

As the candles burned low, you leaned back in their chair, a contented smile on their lips. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know what I would do without you."

He smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are stronger than you realize, ___. You will find your way."

You both parted ways reluctantly, each returning to your respective chambers. As always Aegon is nowhere to be found. He probably ran off somewhere in the capital to get drunk with his friends. If he meant what he said that morning when you met with aerion at the dining hall, he would be spending more time with you. Especially when it comes to sharing your chambers. From what aerion told you about aegon, he would go spend time with whores and get wasted. Though he is the heir apparent, he sure doesn’t act like it sometimes.

As you slipped into bed, the memory of Aerion's reassuring words lingering in your mind. Closing your eyes, you felt a sense of peace washing over them as you drifted off to sleep. At the back of your mind, thinking that the same things would happen continuously, everyday. Aegon ignoring you every time he sees you alone, yet causing an argument when you are with his twin.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, Aegon woke you with a sharp knock on the door. The sound echoed through the room, pulling you from a fitful sleep. You blinked against the early morning light, your mind still foggy from the remnants of your dreams.

"Wake up," Aegon called through the door, his voice stern. "We have a council meeting."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you sat up. "I'm coming," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering weariness. The servants got you dressed quickly, donning the elegant attire befitting your noble status, and made your way to the council chamber.

The atmosphere in the room was tense when you entered, with Aegon by your side. The small council members were already seated, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving. You recognized some of them: Lord Hand Otto Hightower, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Ships. Each of their gazes bore into you, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Aegon led you to a seat near the head of the table, introducing you to the council with a formal tone. "This is Lady ___, my betrothed. She will be joining us from now on."

There were murmurs of acknowledgment, but you could feel the underlying tension. You glanced around the table, noticing the reluctant expressions and the way some of the members exchanged knowing glances. It was clear that the rumors about you and Aerion had reached their ears. As if on cue, Aerion entered the chamber, his presence commanding immediate attention. He took his seat with a nod to you and aegon, his expression composed.

The meeting began with the usual discussions of state affairs, taxes, and military matters. You listened attentively, trying to absorb the complex web of politics and alliances. You felt the weight of scrutiny on you, the council members' eyes frequently drifting your way.

After some time, Aegon addressed you directly. "Lady ___, what are your thoughts on the current state of the northern defenses?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I believe that the northern defenses are crucial for the security of the realm," you began, choosing your words carefully. "We must ensure they are well-manned and adequately supplied to withstand any potential threats."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "And how do you propose we achieve that?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the council's eyes on you. "By allocating more resources to the northern regions, increasing recruitment efforts, and ensuring that the commanders are experienced and well-equipped."

Aegon smirked, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Is that so? And where do you suggest we find these resources? Shall we simply conjure them out of thin air?"

A few of the council members chuckled, and you could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You clenched your fists against your dress, struggling to maintain your composure. "No, of course not," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We can reallocate funds from less critical areas, and seek additional support from our allies."

Aegon leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Reallocate funds? Seek additional support? It seems you have all the answers, Lady ___. Perhaps you should be sitting in my seat."

The laughter around the table grew louder, and you felt a surge of anger and humiliation. You reached for your goblet, your hand trembling with rage, as you hurled it across the table. The goblet flew past Aegon's head, narrowly missing him, and crashed against the wall, spilling wine everywhere.

The room fell into stunned silence, the council members staring at you in shock. Aegon's expression darkened with fury, but before he could speak, you stood up, your eyes blazing with defiance.

"I will not be humiliated like this," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am trying to do my best, but you make it impossible."

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of shocked silence in your wake. As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, tears of frustration and anger welled up in your eyes. You had tried so hard to bridge the gap between yourself and Aegon, but it seemed that every step you took only widened the chasm.

You retreated to your chambers, slamming the door behind her. You sank onto your soft bed, burying your face in your hands. The weight of your new life, the constant scrutiny, and the growing tension with Aegon were all becoming too much to bear.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your solemn thoughts. You wiped your tears stained eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door. To your surprise, it was Aerion.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

Aerion stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I saw what happened. Aegon can be cruel, but you did well to stand up to him."

You looked up at him, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Aerion sat beside you, his presence comforting. "Aegon will come around, eventually. But in the meantime, you have me."

You managed a small smile, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."

Aerion's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "We'll get through this together."

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n0tamused · 2 months ago

Note

Have you by any chance seen someone on Twitter posting a translated version of Xiangli Yao's daily schedule? How about writing something like what his schedule would be with the reader (already in a relationship) maybe on a day off? Something like: 8:00 AM - get up and start day 10:00-12:00 AM snuggled in bed with y/n as a result. Or - 4:00 PM - prosthetic maintenance. ambushed from behind. (Imagine nuzzling him from behind while he tinkers with his hand 🥺) Something like a bunch of small drabbles in 1 work? I guess finding someone to write for him awakened something in my brain, I'msorry.

A/n: I have heard of this schedule but tbh I didn't see it myself before I got this request lol, I really find the idea sweet so I hope I did it justice! And no need to apologize, I am happy to write for Xangli Yao

Contents: Xiangli Yao x GN!Reader, fluff, short drabbles, established relationship not proofread

Saturday:

08:30 - Wake up

It’s been many years since Xiangli Yao has practiced this continuous cycle of waking up at certain times, to the point he did not need an alarm clock anymore. It was 8:14 when he came to his senses, morning light sleeping through the blinds and softly caressing his eyelids to open. He turns away from them, shifting sluggishly underneath the blankets, knowing that work wasn’t waiting on him today.

He is greeted by your sleeping face, relaxed and soft as the few spots of light from the blinds danced over your cheeks and lips. The light didn’t seem to disturb you, something he was thankful for as he shuffled closer and wrapped his good arm around you, bringing you closer to his warmth as he nuzzled his nose into the top of your head, breathing in your scent as your hair tickled his skin. He feels you mold into his shape, your sleep heavy arm going underneath his and over his side, the blanket keeping your shared warmth trapped, shielding you from the chilly morning.

09:30 - make breakfast with my beloved :)

Well, it may have been 9:10 by the time you both willed yourself to leave the comforts of eachothers arms. It was hunger that pulled you both from bed, stumbling into the bathroom. Xiangli Yao was next to you as you washed your face while he brushed his teeth. He handed you your toothbrush after you blindly found the towel next to the sink and brushed your face dry.

Although he had gotten used to being the one to prepare breakfast for both of you during workdays, the weekends did allow more time, and so Yao did try to listen to you more when you said you wanted to help or do more of the work since you don’t usually get the chance to do so. He did convince you some times before, letting you so simply sit aside and look pretty while he whips you up your favorite, but today wasn’t that day. You woke up with more energy and a craving for good quality time and to get your hands busy.

What ends up happening is a table full of food, a big but balanced breakfast of veggies and fruit and needed protein. While you were setting up the table, Xiangli Yao poured you both the juice you made the weekend. He may not think about it too often, but he always feels like the richest man in the world when he shares mornings like these with you.

13:00 - go to the market, restock groceries

His prosthetic arm is holding the basket while the fingers of his other hand are intertwined with yours. Xiangli Yao was yet to become truly used to these public displays of affection, but he never disliked them. The thing was that such little acts of affection flustered him so much at first and he’d rather not catch someone ogling him while his cheeks are red as the tomatoes you were looking at now. He was used to it, he tells himself as he slowly lets your fingers slip from his hold when you say you can use some of the tomatoes. He remembers you mentioning a recipe some time ago that required a good amount of tomatoes. He helps you pick out the best ones and he adds it to the basket after the purchase is done. Although today’s shopping trip ended with more bags than either of you expected, Xiangli Yao vehemently refused to allow you to carry any of the bags.

You ended up stopping at the local dessert shop, purchasing a few sweet goods for home. You mentioned how the chocolate cake he got looked oddly similar to Xiang-LEE. Now he couldn’t unsee it..

16:00 - prosthetic maintenance(p.s. keep your back guarded!)

How oddly homely it felt to have your arms around him while he tinkered away on his mechanical arm..

Although at first you only observed him from the doorway, he chose to skillfully ignore you when you began to sneak closer, almost as if he couldn’t see you from the corner of his eye.

You knew he knew too, but it's a game you both chose to play every evening when the sun began to lean in to kiss the mountains.

You hum as you put your chin on top of his head, peering down at the assortment of open wires and metal plating scattered about on the table. There's a screwdriver in his good hand, and he's clearly doing something, but you're unsure what. Perhaps you'd ask one day, tell him to explain how his arm really works, but that is not today.

He feels you leaning in and kissing his cheek and then his temple.

“The meal is soon to be done. Don't keep me waiting all alone at the table, Xiangli Yao”

19:00 - Free activities

Xiangli Yao can't help the chuckle that escapes him as he witnesses your scowl and furrowed brows, and all for the little board game with black and white pieces. You've won the round from last night and he deemed it appropriate to ask for a rematch, although he only wished to make you blow off the steam. You've been rather stressed this week, perhaps some back and forth of the game could allow a reprieve.

“You've been thinking about your next move for quite some time now, my love…” he tries, a smile plastered on his lips, both amused and sympathetic.

“...I got it…shh” you return, pushing your chin into the heel of your palm. He hums in response, and another few heartbeats of silence pass before he sees your face light up, as if a star had whispered the next act into your ear. Your fingers deftly move across the board and move your piece across the checkerboard.

“Checkmate!”

He laughs, his chest shaking with joy as you beam at him. You beat him. Again.

22:30 - bedtime

Mornings are where Xiangli Yao thrives. He is a morning person to the last bone in his body and on work days it is not rare for him to rise before you and his alarm, but they don’t bring him nearly as much relief and joy as bedtime does. Your sleepy face as you go to brush your teeth and change into your bedwear always has his heart softening, his own movements slowing down as his entire body yawns for the comforts of the mattress and comfortable blankets.

He is sitting at the edge of the bed, tinkering with his prosthetic arm for the last time and setting it aside on the table right next to his side of the bed. His prosthetic is cold and rather uncomfortable to sleep with for both of you. From behind he hears you exiting the bathroom and the sound of your bare feet against the floor hurrying up has him turning around to see how you crash into the bed, your face buried into your pillow with a low groan, a breath of relief as weight is taken off your feet.

He shuffles, telling you to get under the blankets while he turns off the lights. Once he remembered you both joking about being afraid of the dark, and although it was all just a joke - Xiangli Yao has been the one to turn off the lights since then.

He hums as he returns, sliding under the blankets and finding the warmth of your body with searching fingers, pulling himself closer until he was wrapped around you. He buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent before laying a lingering kiss to your cheek, bidding you goodnight.

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