#he’s grounded for the rest of the year but it’s worth it

[bo0zey]

boys be mad asl when i don’t giggle n tehe n show cute emotions like bitch my wounded inner child just got done drunk sniveling begging for daddy not to yell n hate her while her intoxicated narcissistic father screamed n gaslit her until she dissociated to euthymic plane 🙄🙄🙄

[girlcrushau]

how do u politely tell ur friend that u do not care abt the guy she’s dating

[euphoricfilter]

omg i LOVED open the way u wrote tae was so 😩✊💦💯✨ i’m addicted to ur writing style!!! if ur still doing requests could u pls do taehyung x reader where he’s your aunt’s boyfriend and he’s really into you and lowkey flirts with you but you don’t realize how much until you two are left alone 🫣 ends with smut and can be yandere hehe the rest is up to you bc i trust you dear author!!

𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭:

pairing: yandere! taehyung x f! reader

genre: smut || non-idol au || fluffy-ish but in a kinda dark way

summary: it’s wrong, but it feels so good.

word count: 4.5k

tags/ warnings: slight age-gap, stalking, infidelity, coercion, naive! reader, but she means well, anxiety, briefly mentioned panic attack, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction don’t be stupid), dom! tae, sub! reader, big dick! tae, ddlg themes, cry baby reader, thigh riding, fingering, dick riding, creampie, squirting, slight cum play, cockwarming

notes: yes! thank you for having so much faith in me, and i hope this lives up to your expectations :’)

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

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Taehyung remembers the exact day he fell in love with you. How he’d been mindlessly flicking through dating apps for a quick fuck; only to stumble across, well not you, but your aunt.

She was pretty. Conventionally attractive at most, a little plain, but seemed like she’d gotten around with enough men to please him for the night. The skimpy little lingerie pictures enough for him to know that she was somewhat desperate in her search for a partner and maybe all she had to offer was her decent body— by his standards.

And as he’d been scrolling through her other photos, mingled among half naked mirror selfies, there you were. The prettiest little thing he’d ever seen.

He’d found all your aunt’s social media before making the leap to message her, wanting to know just how close the two of you were and if this little plan of his would be worth it in the long run.

There were photos upon photos of you posted on every profile she had. Like a little trophy, your achievements now her own to flaunt to the world through the web.

You and your aunt were close. That much he had gathered from her social media. Peeved that he was unable to find your own, left to see your aunt’s grating face beside yours in every photo. Nothing a little editing couldn’t fix. He had already picked out a cute photo album for all the pictures he planned to take with you.

He later found out that his soon-to-be girlfriend was more your sister than auntie. With 15 years between your mother and herself, she’d always felt too young to be anything other than a sibling your mother was never willing to have, leaving you as an only child.

And only child who still lived home with their mother because the big wide world is too scary for some people.

That just gave Taehyung another reason to take care of you. While your mother bitched at you about finding a job, with him you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The ground you stepped on too precious, hands too delicate, body a temple that he planned to worship.

Your aunt was a little older than he would usually go for, but anything to have you in his clutches, the sacrifice was worth every second.

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It’s easy to woo a woman who’s desperate. A few sweet nothings and a big dick can get you a long way with a pitiful lady whose self-esteem lays in the depths of hell. Luckily, he lurked that low, and now he had a prize he was trying to win, kneeling before the devil himself to have you as his own.

It wasn’t long before your aunt had invited him to dinner with you and your mother. Caring more about your validation than your mothers, but he wasn’t all that bothered about the woman anyways. A spitting image of you if you were to age 20 odd years. But it wasn’t her he was after.

And Taehyung could feel his cock throb under his slacks at the sight of you, fidgeting under his gaze as he takes a little longer than proper watching you from across the table; though neither your mother nor his girlfriend seemed to notice, too hung up in their own little catch-up to care.

He could see your fingers itching to pick up the crayons left by the last little family that had sat at the table, your eyes trained on the maze from the kids menu. Probably mapping out the way in your mind, squirming when he assumes you’d escaped the maze.

And Taehyung wants to coo when your mother tells one of the waitresses to clean up the mess; pitiful pout on your lips that you hide behind your teeth when she turns to you, asking what you wanted to order.

Your eyes flit to the menu, then to your mother, then over to Taehyung before blurting you’ll just have salad. Unbothered, your mother shrugs, calling over the waitress again when she asks the rest of the table if they’re ready to order.

Taehyung thinks the little dinosaur shaped nuggets would have suited you better. Maybe a pretty pink milkshake to match your pretty pink cheeks.

He wouldn’t mind feeding you spoonfuls of whipped cream between bites of french fries, and then buying you a cute strawberry cake for afters. You look like you might have liked the brownies and vanilla ice cream better though.

Maybe he could spoil you a little, buy you both and when you shake your head, claiming to be too full; he’d pull you over his lap, teasing the edge of your panties as he makes you lick the chocolate sauce off his fingers.

And oh how sweet you would taste after that. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stop kissing you until your lips are swollen with his love, sticky with his spit and left over ice cream that he would clean with his tongue.

His mood sours when his girlfriend runs a hand along the length of his thigh, lovestruck smile plastered on her face as your mother asks questions on how the two of them met.

His little fantasy of your perfect little date being shattered by the shrill voice of your aunt as he fawns over your new sweater that your mother informs them that you’d ordered online.

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He eased you into it. His own little game of how long he can keep up his flirty little touches before someone noticed.

Carefully brushing over your back as he walked past you. His arm slung around your shoulder when you’d be stood by yourself in the garden as the rest of your family gathers around the grill. More interested in the smell of food than one another.

But Taehyung found you didn’t like large groups of people, family or not, loud noises picking at your brain, like an itch that won’t go away until tears gathered on your waterline and Taehyung would have to sit in the corner of your room with you until you calmed down. Your head in his lap as he runs his fingers through your hair.

Because he seemed to be the only one who cared that you’d had a panic attack, worried to leave you alone, to cry until your head hurt. To then feel sorry for yourself as you curl up between the arms of your plushies that line the bed. Now why would you do that, when he could hold you tighter than your little bear ever could?

“Thanks for helping her. Poor thing, her anxiety has been worse as of late. Must be school” his girlfriend whispers from the door, heart swelling with happiness at the image of you two together.

“Having such large family gatherings isn’t helping” he mutters, tongue poking the inside of his his cheek as your aunt waves him off.

“We’ll get her to stay up in her room next week then”

Other times, his fingers lingering over your own a little longer than they should as he gives you gifts.

You assume Taehyung must come from money. If the shiny looking pearls that hung around your aunt’s neck were anything to go by. Her dead-end, 9-5 job could barely cover rent, you doubted she was splurging on overpriced rocks and fancy dinners that she flaunts when she comes over. Making you scroll through endless pictures of 5 course meals that you have no interest in.

He never spoke of himself much. You had never heard of his parents, nor did he ever seem busy with friends when it came to your weekly dinners. Your aunt didn’t seem to care either way; having won the jackpot with a rich, hot boyfriend that would fuck her like a common whore at night and treat her like royalty during the day.

Taehyung was very generous, you knew that much. He often came a couple of times a week to visit you with your auntie. And each week he would have a new gift for you.

“You spoil her too much” your mother had tutted one afternoon. You hadn’t said anything, too preoccupied with the paint set Taehyung had wrapped in pretty wrapping paper. Pink with scattered little red hearts.

You’d started to keep the wrapping paper Taehyung gave your gifts in. Gluing them in an empty notebook with the dates written in your best hand writing beside them. Because it felt like a waste to throw such pretty paper away. And it always left you wondering why he had so much wrapping paper to begin with. Maybe he just likes giving, and then you read online that it was a love language, did that mean Taehyung loved you?

Gentle touches had turned to your knees grazing as you sat beside one another on the couch. To you sat between Taehyung’s legs from the floor, while he sat on the chair as you both played a game on the TV.

Some evenings while his girlfriend helped your mother in the kitchen he would lay your thighs across his own, fingers skimming the bare skin until goosebumps prickled in his wake. And he’d hide a smile behind his hands as you squirmed over his lap.

He starts feeding you at dinner, disguised as him asking for your opinion on a new recipe he was trying out. To suggesting what you order when you go out for dinner together with your aunt who was in awe of how well the two of you got along.

Compliments had started off simple too.

‘You look pretty today’ turning to ‘My y/n is so beautiful’ while his arms wrap around your waist. Praise of your beauty never ending, it seemed Taehyung had a compliment stored away on his tongue for all hours of the day. Even when you’d just woken up, hair tangled and eyes a little puffy from eating ramen so late the night before. He had given you a gentle ‘good morning’ as he brought you into his chest for a hug.

His heart had swelled once you’d gotten more comfortable with him. Albeit still awfully shy, you had now started to approach him first. The years of dating your aunt finally paying off as you gift him your own paintings. Thank you cards decorated with the little stickers he’d bought for you and way too much washy tape.

His favorite of your little gifts so far had been the small cakes you’d baked after hearing him tell your beloved aunt that chocolate was his favorite. It wasn’t. It was yours, but he liked the smile on your face when he’d said that, and the fact you both had something in common, even it were as insignificant as your aunt had pointed out.

He’d tugged your chair closer to his own that evening. Aware of your eyes watching his every little move as he shoveled your cake into his mouth. Low hum of appreciation rumbling in his chest as he gives you a cheeky smile.

He adores the way your cheeks had flushed red when he’d carded his fingers through your hair, “So smart. It’s delicious, darling”

And you hadn’t been able to contain your smile.

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“Baby, can you take Y/n to the train station? I think she’s meeting a friend out of town but her mum’s gone for the weekend and I have work in the morning”

And of course he’d agreed.

And that’s how he found you, wrapped up warm in your winter coat in the passenger side of his car; nose red from the bitter cold morning air. Perfect for kissing, but he doesn’t want to scare you off when he’s so close to where he needs you.

“Meeting a friend?” he asks as you shut the car door. Leaning over to help strap you in, you don’t seem to mind, unfazed as his arm reaches over your body, and Taehyung thinks you really must be perfect; needing his help, needing someone to just take care of you in the way you deserve. In the way he knows you need.

“Yeah” you nod, voice barely above a whisper, but he hears you, attuned to how soft you spoke.

“A close one?”

You shrug. “We used to be, but she moved out of town for school and thought we’d catch up while she’s on winter break”

She.

Taehyung’s lips curl up, “Must be nice to catch up”

You hum at that. Feet tapping against the floor.

“You don’t look very excited, baby” his eyes flit to look at your face, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

He’s moments away from touching your lips, ready to scold you that you shouldn’t chew on the skin until it bled, a bad habit he’d come to see you have; but the car behind beeps and he’s stepping on the gas, eyes-brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Just a little scared of taking the train” you admit, hands tucked under your thighs.

“Nothing to be scared of, i’ll be here when you get back” he smiles over at you, and you nod slowly at that.

“Is that really okay?” you ask him.

And Taehyung wants to coo, “Of course, baby. Just call me when you’re on the way home, and i’ll be here right as the train gets in”

“Promise?” you look up at him through your lashes and Taehyung feels his cock throb at your desperation.

“Pinky promise” he gives you his little fingers after he parks the car.

You connect your finger with his own, gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips as he stamps your thumbs together.

“You got everything?” he asks, leaning over into the back seat to grab your bag.

“I think so” you nod.

“Money?”

You hum.

“What about my goodbye kiss?” he asks, and you simply blink up at him.

“Kiss?” you gape.

“Mhm” he nods, tapping his cheek.

“I thought kisses were only for family” you whisper and Taehyung’s head tips back against the seat.

“I am family, aren’t I?” he turns to look at you, and you think he looks sad, a pang of guilt striking through your heart at his disheartened expression.

Your head tilts a little, “I guess so”

You lean over the center console, hand landing on Taehyung’s thigh as you lean up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. Taehyung turns his head a little, your lips pressing against the corner of his own, though you don’t seem to notice as you keep your eyes closed.

“Good girl, now be quick or you’ll miss the train” he runs his thumb over your cheek.

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As promised Taehyung was there when you’d gotten off the train. His arm wrapping tightly around your shoulder as he pulled you into his chest. The gentle beating of his heart through his thick sweater lulling your anxieties, fingers holding onto his arms like you would crumble if he were to let go of you.

“I got you this” you’d told him once you’d gotten home, inviting Taehyung in to warm up with a hot coffee before he left, “I got one too, so we could be matching” you rock back and forth on your feet.

You drop the little keychain into his palm, character from a game he’d seen you play many times carved out of wood and delicately painted.

“It’s beautiful, baby”

Taehyung thinks he can see the cogs of your mind start to overheat at the pet name. No more anxiety there to overshadow the term of endearment. Your cheeks flushing pink as you flop down onto the couch beside him.

“Come here and tell me about you day then” he pats his thigh.

You look up at him, eye brows furrowing in confusion.

“Need me to help you, hmm?” his hands hold under your arms, tugging you up your your legs straddle one of his thighs. You squeak at the sudden motion, hands grabbing onto his shoulders for support.

He feels your thighs clench as he stabilizes you, cunt throbbing as he holds onto your hips.

“Taehyung” you whisper, fingers clasped onto his sweater.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, gentle smile on his face. Expression so innocent you feel bad for thinking he had an ulterior motive.

“We’re not meant to be doing this” you squirm, pouting when his hands hold onto your hips tighter.

“Doing what?”

Your mouth stays shut, humiliation bubbling through your body as Taehyung watches your face. You shake your head.

“Don’t be shy, baby” he smiles, hand coming to cradle your face in his palm.

You lean into his touch. Hips stuttering forwards as he urges you on.

A chocked whimper drips off your tongue like honey as your panties brush against your clit.

“Like that baby?” he asks, shushing you when you open your mouth to protest.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you” he hums, rocking your hips for you. Your head falls onto his shoulder as jolts of pleasure wrack down your body, slick staining your panties.

A broken moan slips off your lips as Taehyung rocks you harder, slowly brining you to the peak of pleasure, moments away from tumbling into what will be your first orgasm of the night. You whimper against his neck, warm breath fanning his skin as you now rock your hips, Taehyung clenching the muscles of his thigh to help you get off.

“Go on little one, cum for me” Taehyung urges, hands slipping down to grab your ass as your hips stutter. Your thighs shake, teeth sinking into the skin of his neck as you fall over the edge. Little stars scattered behind your eye lids.

“Well done, baby” he soothes, pulling you into his chest.

Your breath comes out uneven, tears cascading down your cheeks in little pearls.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Taehyung pulls your face away from his neck, thumb coming to brush away your tears.

“I did something bad” you snivel, trying to pull yourself off Taehyung’s lap.

He hold you down, tutting. “You haven’t done anything wrong” he shakes his head, easy laugh reverberating through his chest and you just shake your head.

“You’re— you’re dating my aunt, we shouldn’t— I shouldn’t— I just- ” you squirm out of his lap.

Taehyung grabs onto your back, cradling your head between the junction of his neck and shoulder, rocking the both of you back and forth as you let the tears fall.

“You’re okay” he hushes, gentle hands rubbing down your back as you hiccup, “It’ll be our little secret, yeah? Just wanna make you feel good, you’ve been such a good girl recently”

Your shoulders shake as more tears dribble down your cheeks, “been good?” you ask, voice a little broken from the tears.

“Very good. The best even, don’t you think you deserve a treat?”

“Taehyungie always gives me a treat” you use the sleeve of your sweater to wipe your cheeks, hips rocking forward a little.

Taehyung’s hands smooth down your back, “I haven’t given you a treat for being so brave. Going on the train all by yourself, i’m proud of you, darling” he hums, bouncing the leg you were sat on.

Taehyung can feel your cunt clenching around nothing through his jeans, your hips rutting against his leg like a little puppy. He tangles a hand in your hair, pulling your face out of his neck and he feels his head tip back at the look of your tear streaked cheeks, a little blotchy, your eyes begging Taehyung to defile you.

“Has anyone ever touched you here, baby?” his hands slip between the waist band of your sweats, finger toying with the cute little bow on your underwear.

You nod, thigh twitching as Taehyung eases his hand into your panties. Fingers parting your slit, gathering your wetness before he slicks up your clit.

You fall into him, arms slung over his shoulders as he draws lazy circles on your sensitive pearl.

“Yeah? Did they make you cum?”

“No” you whisper, and Taehyung laughs. A daunting laugh that sends a shiver down your spine.

“That was selfish of them, wasn’t it, darling?” he frowns, and if you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure that consumed your body, you may have noticed how condescending his tone was.

“Let’s take these off, shall we” he pats your behind, smiling as you lift your ass high enough for him to slip both your sweats and panties over your thighs.

His fingers return to your clit, letting you buck your hips up to meet his fingers. You whine when he dips them lower, stimulation suddenly gone, the orgasm that was slowly building dissipating as he nudges the entrance to your cunt.

You roll your hips forward, wad of slick dripping from your hole onto his jeans as you wait for him to push a finger inside of you.

“Taehyungie” you snivel, another wave of pitiful tears glazing your cheeks in saline pearls.

“What, doll? What do you want Taehyungie to do?” he urges, blood flowing south at the way your mouth falls open in a pitiful whine. “I cant do anything if you don’t ask”

You take a hold of his hand, pulling it towards your sodden core, “here, please”

“Yeah?” he asks, sinking a finger into you.

You let out a breathy sigh as he adds a second, using your thighs to bounce on his fingers, you pull your sweater over your breasts, matching little bra on display for Taehyung to see.

“So cute, baby. And all mine” he croons, crooking his fingers, as he leans forward to press a kiss to the swell of your breast, your cheeks heating from the crude squelch your pussy was making.

Taehyung uses his free hand to tug your bra down, watching your cute tits as your bounce over his lap, your knee nudging against his cock.

“Want you to come over my cock, darling” he groans, fingers slipping from wet core.

You unzip his jeans, fingers a little shaky as you help his pull both his pants and boxers off before they’re discarded on the floor somewhere.

It felt wrong. Fucking in the living room where anyone could open the front door and walk in. You might have been a little more worried if you mum wasn’t gone for a couple of days, and you knew your aunt was at work.

You felt a pang of guilt at the thought of your aunt. What would she think if she were to find out.

But Taehyung just wanted to make you feel good. Surely there was nothing wrong with that.

“Up you go” Taehyung helps you straddle both his thighs, hard cock slapping against your leg, coating it in a sheen of his sticky precum.

He holds the shaft, one hand on your thigh to help lower you onto his cock. You whimper as the thick head pops through your entrance, your mouth falling open as a lick of pain shoots up your spine.

You stay with the tip sat inside you, your hips rocking a little to try and adjust to the size.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me” he shushes when you moan, trying to push in another inch.

Taehyung spits onto two of his fingers, bringing them down to toy with your clit. Your thighs quiver, sinking another inch of his thick cock inside of you. “Almost there, baby”

You pull up until the tip, dropping all the way so your ass meets his thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck, a fresh wave of tears dribbling down your cheeks.

“No need to cry” Taehyung eases his hands down your sides, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he feels your cunt convulse around his length.

“Feels good” you hiccup, “like feeling full”

Taehyung groans at that, hands gripping the meat of your waist, pulling you up his length before he slowly sinks you back down. You moan, breathy and cute and Taehyung wishes he could shove you against the couch and fuck you within an inch of your life but he supposes your first time together could be a little slower.

“Just like that” he praises as you start to bounce on his cock, wetness pooling around the base, coating your own thighs in your own heady arousal.

It was lewd, the noises your pussy were making as you dropped back down onto Taehyung’s dick. He uses the floor as leverage, fucking up into you, making sure his cock was as far into you as he could go.

You cry out, his name the only words you seemed to know as your orgasm slowly starts to build.

Your teeth nip at his neck, saliva painting his skin. “Wanna cum” you whine.

Your breathing stutters when his fingers find your clit, relentless as he flicks the swollen bud. Your thighs start to shake, leaving Taehyung to thrust up into you with all he had.

“Wait—“ you squeak, vulgar moan cutting you off, “feels like i’m gonna pee” you cry, trying to push yourself off Taehyung’s cock. He holds you down, continuing to fuck up into you.

“Just let it go, doll” he groans, head tipped back against the back of the couch.

“No” you cry, “I really have to—“ you’re cut off as you feel what you can only describe as an explosion of wetness leak from your cunt.

Taehyung’s cock slips out of you at the force of it, your thighs shaking as Taehyung holds you to his chest, fingers slowing down their figures of eight on your clit as he helps you ride out your high.

“Well done, baby. You squirted” he soothes, lazy smile on his face as he lines his cock back up with your cunt, “it’s almost over, i’m close” he tells you.

You simply lay slumped against his chest. Hips jutting forward in overstimulation as Taehyung slowly drags his cock through your walls.

“Too much” you try to pull away, only for Taehyung to bring his hand down, a harsh slap on your ass.

You hiccup at that, walls sporadically clenching around his length to bring him to his peak.

Taehyung’s hips stutter, thrusts sloppy as he nears his orgasm. You feel his cock twitch before he’s flooding your cunt with his thick cum, painting your walls white.

You cum again at the feeling as Taehyung continues to rock into you, his dick slipping out of your soiled hole before he’s pushing it back into you again, making sure his cum is as deep as it can go before he keeps you sat on his cock.

He slowly starts to soften inside of you, dick twitching in interest as your cunt continues to clench around his length.

And it’s not long before you’re dozing off, still impaled on his cock as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“My precious girl” he smiles.

[alovesongshewrote]

Baby Girl | The Lost Boys x Reader HCs

Plot:  ya call the boys baby girl. just to see what happens. [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count:  1420 (nice)

Warnings:  implied horniness???? it's not that bad, it's just paul being a dingus

A/N: again, holy fuck i can't believe i wrote this. even more holy fuck, somehow, this isn't the stupidest thing i've ever written, and the most holy fuck, i think i might do one of these for every fandom i write for. wish me fuckin luck babes.

Marko

Marko finds it hilarious 

You saunter up to him on the boardwalk

Full of confidence and mischief 

You throw an arm around his shoulders 

Lean your weight on him

And you say

“Ok, where are we going, baby girl?”

Yeah, you don’t end up going anywhere, because he starts wheezing 

He just wasn’t expecting it, it caught him off guard

And then you have to stand there for five minutes while he laughs so hard he fails at standing

Boy is on his KNEES losing it at “baby girl”

And you’re just standing over him for a few minutes, ginning like a madman until you kneel down next to him

And holding back your own laughter

You say

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

And he just falls over

And at that point you also fall over 

And both of you are just cackling at this dumb shit

It’s attracting attention, but neither of you care

Eventually the rest of the boys come back to find you and marko just

On the ground

Dying

And david straight up turns around and walks the other way

It’s great, it’s fantastic

You and marko call each other “baby girl” for at least a week

And you both die laughing every single time

Everyone else hates you but it’s so fucking worth it

Paul

He also finds it hilarious, but like

Slightly to the left

The two of you are also on the boardwalk 

Vibing

Waiting for everyone else to show up

And you’re sitting on one of the rails while he stands like, kind of in front of you?

And he gets distracted by something

As he does with startling frequency 

And you watch him for a few minutes

Admiring him

But eventually, you get bored with that, so you kinda 

Kick him

A little bit

Not hard 

It’s not enough to hurt him

(if you can even do that)

But it’s enough to get his attention 

He looks at you

And his eyes get really big and sad, like he’s silently asking, “Why did you kick me?”

Or alternatively, “YOU KICK PAUL?  YOU KICK HIS BODY LIKE THE FOOTBALL?  JAIL FOR Y/N, JAIL FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS”

Either way, you power through it

And you go

“Whatcha lookin at, baby girl?”

And this boy just

Lights Up

The sad puppy eyes are Dropped 

And They Are Replaced With The Horny Eyes.

He just

Leans into you

As he looks at you, scanning you up and down

His gaze is piercing and uhhh

It looks like he wants to Eat You.

And goes

“baby girl, huh?”

And you’re like

“Yeah, baby girl.  And you didn’t answer my question.”

Which like

You say it

And you are Aware that you are Playing With Fire

But fuck, the fire is fun to play with

And you won’t complain about getting burned 

So

When he takes another step towards you and like

Smacks a hand down on your leg

You just lean in further and go

“Are you gonna answer me, baby girl?”

Yeah, you get bit

On the neck

You fucked around and found out

You leaned in too far and you got bit

These boys, i swear, they’re animals 

Just fuckin biting

It’s a gentle bite tho

Soft

Teasing 

And when he pulls back he goes

“Doesn’t matter, baby.  All I can see now is you.”

And it’s so fuckin cute that you almost fall off the rail you’re sitting on

Anyway, yeah, you and paul also call each other “baby girl” for a week, but the context is Different 

Dwayne

Dwayne has a relatively simple reaction

The two of you are vibin in the cave

It’s dark outside 

So everyone else is out

And the two of you are alone

And he’s minding his own business

Lounging around a bit 

Reading a book 

And you

You are Bored

And you’re in the mood to cause problems on purpose, so

You slide in

Lean over him

And you watch him for a second

Tilting your head every now and then like a confused puppy

He ignores you

And after a few minutes of standing there, a plot comes to your wicked little mind

You lean in even closer

And you go

“Hey baby girl, whatcha reading?”

And he just

Looks at you 

For a second

Maybe he blinks once or twice

And you don’t budge, you’re just sitting there grinning at him

In silence

And then suddenly 

In the blink of an eye

He pulls you down onto him and into his arms

You quickly find yourself resting on top of him 

Using his chest as a pillow 

And this man

Does Not Wear A Shirt

So that’s fun for you

Anyway, he takes the book and just

Holds it above the two of you 

So that you can both read it

And he says

“Look for yourself, baby girl”

Which if you ask me, is the fuckin Height Of Romance, but you didn’t ask me, and that’s okay

Anyway, yeah, it’s cute

Fuckin

Adorable shit

David

Anyway, time for david

David is

Confused

By his baby girlification 

Like

He’s not mad, he doesn’t expect it

(Kinda like marko, but he doesn't laugh, he just sorta sits there)

It takes him a second to process, because the second the word “baby girl” leaves your mouth and floats his way, he blue screens

Like

David.exe is not working

The first time you do it, you’re in the cave with everyone else

And he’s sitting in his wheelchair, staring off into the distance like the brooding vampire man that he is

And you lean over him and go

“Whatcha thinkin about, baby girl?”

And he just goes

“What?”

And like

I don’t think you can actually say that he says what

It’s more like he breathes it out while his eyebrows furrow together and he shoots you the most confused look you have ever seen on his face

In part, he’s unsure that you’re talking to him

And in another part, you usually use more

Idk

Standard?  Pet Names? 

Darling, maybe sweetheart 

And he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to weird pet names, it’s just that one time on the boardwalk you heard him call a potential meal “kitten” and you didn’t stop meowing at him for three months

So yeah, he didn’t see that one coming

It doesn’t help that the rest of the boys are there at the time, and you, marko, and paul just start chanting the word “baby girl” over and over again

Side note, i think the boys may have a thing for chants

Anyway

The next time you call him baby girl, he you catch him off guard with your sheer boldness 

It’s not the “baby girl” itself, it’s the words that accompany it

See, he’s drinking something 

Water, blood, whatever

He’s drinking it

And you look over at him and you just go

“Damn, you’re pretty thirsty tonight, huh baby girl?  We’ll just have to do something about that.”

And your tone is like, half joking, but that doesn’t matter, he still chokes on his drink

He coughs for like

A Good Few Minutes

And in those minutes you go from laughing at him, to panicking and patting him on the back

Congrats to you btw, you almost killed known horror icon david lost boys

Good for you

Anyway, he survives, which is good

Bc idk how forgiving the other boys would be of you committing manslaughter (vampire slaughter?) against david

(tbh, they’d probably be pretty forgiving given the sheer hilarity of the situation)

BUT HE LIVES, AND I DIGRESS 

The next time you call him baby girl is in front of max

And like

This is peak 0 brain cell behaviour for you, because you straight up aren’t even thinking about it

You see david in the video store

You walk into the video store

You don’t realize he is in the Middle Of Talking To His Dad

“Dad”

And you go

“Hey baby girl”

And then you wander off to the horror section 

Just

No thots given 

You don’t even notice david and max staring after you

You’re too busy looking at a copy of texas chainsaw massacre 2

And when they turn back to face each other it is literally that one meme

“David, why does (Y/N) call you baby girl?”

“Maybe we should stop talking for a while”

Overall 

David doesn’t mind it, it just fucking surprises him every gd time

You’d think he’d get used to it but nope

It always gets him

[pedgito]

𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 — 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: based off this request. eddie’s used to being everyone’s dirty little secret; quick hookups spur rumors spread around school that have you more than curious and eddie has to admit, he’s just as curious about you.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), cheerleader!reader, reader is also new to school, teasing banter between reader and eddie, strangers with benefits (joke, but also true), lots of horrible sex experiences with a clueless eddie (he’s just eager to please), reader having similar interests with eddie, fingering, mostly clothed sex, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 5.5k

Eddie learned quickly that rejection came in many forms, not necessarily when he expected, but it was always there, waiting to creep up on him. His hard exterior wasn’t something that was always there either—and he wasn’t even sure if you could call it that. But, he was great at theatrics, an amazing actor, and if there was anyone better at masking their feelings—sadness, or what have you. It was him.

When he loses his virginity to the girl down the road, quick and hurried in the driver’s seat of his van, he feels like he should do more—maybe even take her out on a nice date. Truly, he should’ve done that first, but she wasn’t interested. So, after a short few minutes of unskillful thrusts, seethed inside a girl he doesn’t know much about, he comes with a pitiful groan until she can’t stand it anymore, pulling herself together swiftly and bidding Eddie a clipped, excusable goodbye.

The second time is…better? It’s the beginning of senior year—the first time, and it’s sweeter, not much longer, but Eddie isn’t as clueless when it comes to listening to his partner’s needs. And she’s just a kind, helping him figure out what she likes, bossing him around in a way that he’s too afraid to admit he likes—and he makes her come, which is a miraculous feat in itself. The sex is a little lackluster and Eddie still feel the needs to apologize. She promises him it’s okay—but she’s out of his trailer before he can even utter another word.

It doesn’t take him long to realize that he’s somewhat of a commodity—not in the positive way, but the idea of everyone wanting a piece of the freak. He was a novelty prize, another notch on the belt. Eddie didn’t really care that much, the sex was worth it, even if he had to hide how badly he wanted more than just that.

The other girls are whispering at the table when you lean toward Chrissy, her eyes linger on Jason a few feet away.

“Haven’t you heard?” One of them asks, “He’s huge—Janice wouldn’t shut up about it for a week. He didn't let her come first, though.”

“It’s always the weird ones.” Another replies, flipping their prestige ponytail over their shoulder. “If you can get past the cigarette smell—maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.”

“No—no way.” A smaller redhead butts in, “He looks like he showers once a month.”

You give Chrissy a quizzical look, to which she quickly answers, “They’re talking about Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

She points a few tables away, a gaggle of rowdy boys surrounded together and laughing loudly at something Eddie had said, his feet pressed against the bar under the table as he leaned back, arms crossed behind his head.

You'd noticed him the first day, a hell of an introduction, his voice bellowing down the hall as he chased down a younger student. Dustin was his name, if you remember correctly. He'd collided into you harshly, forcing you to the ground. An apology dies on his lips before it can even come out, helping you up wordlessly before disappearing just as fast.

Your palm raises to rest against your chin, lips pursed in concentration. His side profile is mesmerizing, the soft point to his nose, pillowy lips, “Is it true?”

“About his…” Chrissy, bless her heart, she couldn’t utter the words, quickly shaking her head, “I wouldn’t know.”

She pauses for a moment, chewing on her lip.

“He’s not mean, though.” She tells you quietly, “I’ve talked to him a few times—he’s not what people say he is.”

“Oh?” You ask, intrigued.

“He’s easy to talk to.” Chrissy admits, “It’s—it’s not important. But hey, you should try and ask him about his D&D club, I know you told me you play it—“

“Isn’t that against cheerleading rules?” You say jokingly, though it could be considered social suicide.

“I’m cheer captain.” Chrissy reminds you. “They might not like it, but I don’t care.”

You smile slightly. Chrissy was a warm light in this rather dark, dull school. She’d dragged you into her circle the second she spotted you a month ago—her personality was infectious, you couldn’t explain it.

“Okay,” You agree, “I’ll see what it’s all about.”

Eddie spots you in the doorway, hand posed to knock on the already open door, offering a subtle, but polite smile.

“Uh—hi,” You start awkwardly, “I was wondering if your club still had room for one more, but I know it’s the middle of the year and if—“

“Are you free after school?” Eddie asks, hands pressed to his hips, “Say—seven-ish?”

You laugh softly at his brazenness, instantly hooked by his unnatural charm, “Uh—I have cheer practice, but I should be able to make it. Are you sure I don’t have to like…try out or something? Pass a test?”

Eddie snorts, “So you’re a Chrissy disciple?”

“Hey—no.” You start with a stern tone, “Chrissy is sweet—“

“I’m joking,” Eddie interrupts, shaking his head, long curls flowing over his shoulders, “no, there’s no test. Just show up.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Okay,” You nod, “I guess I’ll see you then.”

“We start at seven, doors locked.” Eddie tells you, “If you’re late, you’re out.”

You give a weak, two finger mock salute. “Oh, I’m very punctual, don’t worry.”

And to your own credit, you show up five minutes early. Part of you was hoping to beat the obvious stares of the rest of the group, but you should’ve expected they’d already be seated and ready to go.

“She lives to see another day,” Eddie boasts lowly, already deep into his DM voice—you can’t help but chuckle at it, taking the free seat next to him at the table, “they didn’t eat you alive for wanting to come here?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” You shrug.

Eddie’s always been everyone’s dirty little secret, so it doesn’t surprise him when you decided to omit your Hellfire club meeting to your stuck-up friends.

“Uh, who’s she?” A younger kid asks, curly hair tucked tightly under his baseball cap. Dustin.

You and Eddie both say your name at the same time, causing you to turn your head to look at him.

“I…never—“ Told him your name, is what you try to say, but Eddie interrupts just as quick.

“You did, remember?” Eddie interjects, and you’re inclined to agree, given how his face flushes red with embarrassment.

Fine. You’ll bite.

“Oh, yeah,” You agree with ease, “sorry—I completely forgot.”

The campaign goes off without a hitch and you defeat whatever big, bad monster Eddie had concocted for the night—your steadfast and quick thinking cements you as a temporary part of the group, but while the group immediately takes to you, they’re still weary to newcomers. It made sense. They all seemed like good, genuine friends—unlike the people you surrounded yourself with.

Eddie approaches you after while you’re rummaging through your bag for something, pulled from your panic as he speaks beside you, everyone having already left.

“Chrissy mentioned you before,” Eddie explains without elaborating, “that’s how I knew.”

You nod slightly, “It checks out.” You offer with a soft laugh, “She’s mentioned talking to you a few times.”

Eddie smiles tightly, eyes wandering around anxiously. If you didn’t know, he wasn’t going to say. The last thing he wanted to do was rat Chrissy out for buying from him, not that it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.

Eddie huffs softly, a chortle, “—said you weren’t like the others, I guess that’s partly true.”

Your hands still, shoulders slumping as you looked over at him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re still one of them,” He teases kindly, ringed finger motioning pointedly toward your cheer outfit, “it’s like a cult, isn’t it?”

He isn’t wrong, but to be bunched in with that group, it’s blood boiling.

“You don’t know me,” You tell him carefully, “I’m nothing like them.”

Eddie shrugs, taking the hand that’s tucked securely behind him and throwing a blob of cloth your way. You catch it clumsily, clutched to your chest as you stare down.

“I guess we’ll see,” Eddie grins, cheeks dimpling at the corners, “—we wear them on Friday’s.”

It’s a conflicting issue with your uniform, but nothing you can’t handle. It’s almost like he’s daring you to wear the shirt, brand yourself as a nerd in the eyes of everyone else. A freak, just like he.

You unzip the top of your cheer uniform, snug half-tank hidden underneath. Eddie doesn’t even have the courage to look away, despite how bold you’re being. You slip the shirt on over your head, the quarter sleeves rubbing at your elbows. Eddie’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“What?” You ask innocently, “It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

Eddie snorts a laugh, turning on his heels to grab his own bag, keys jangling in his hand.

“You drive?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Uh, no,” You reply, dismissing your bag and zipping it back up, “I usually ride with Chrissy…and Jason.”

“Bummer.” Eddie retorts humorously.

You laugh at his comment, subconsciously agreeing.

“They’re already long gone, I imagine.” You admit, staring at the clock on the wall that read close to nine.

“Do you need a ride?” Eddie ask curiously, now making his way back toward you.

You smirk at the offer, shaking your head.

“I’m a big girl,” You assure him, “I can walk.”

Eddie makes a noise of disapproval, shaking his head.

“Forgive me if I’m being too forward,” Eddie begins, “but there’s no way I’m letting you walk alone this late. My uncle would kill me if he found out I let a girl walk the streets of Hawkins at night without offering her a ride.”

You sling the bag over your shoulder, “Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him—or you, I guess.”

Eddie’s not letting up though—eyes softer, pleading slightly. Normally you’d run the other direction, but Eddie had a strange aura to him; intriguing, comforting, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You cave, releasing a quiet sigh. “Fine.”

Eddie smiles then, arms extending as he bowed forward, motioning toward the door. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

There’s a stark difference between the Eddie everyone talked about and the Eddie in front of you—you were more partial to the latter.

Eddie bounced with energy, unabashedly moving to the rumbling off the heavy rock music that played through the speakers, it’s only when he sees your eyes on him that he tones it down, shifting slightly in his seat as he mumbles a soft, “Sorry.”

You watched with amusement, adoring the way he fell into the tune of the song, never caring who was watching. Eddie’s learned to brush everyone’s opinions aside, no matter if they bothered him or not.

“Nono, I get it.” You quickly soothe his worry, shaking your head, hands clutched in your laps where your legs were crossed in the seat. “Black Sabbath is really good.”

“No way,” Eddie says with a half smile, feeling like he’s being pranked. He’s got one hand clutched on the steering wheel, head turned toward you slightly, “you listen?”

You shrug, “When I can—my parents would disown me if I brought any type of vinyl like that home. They’d say I’d switch to the dark side and started worshipping the devil.”

“So it’s Blondie and Madonna for you, huh?” Eddie asks, an exasperated nod coming from you.

“I have a few tapes for my Walkman—Exodus, Whitesnake, but it broke a few months ago.”

Eddie takes a left in the opposite direction of your house, turning down a dark road.

“Eddie,” You say slowly, eyes flicking up toward the windshield, “where are we going?”

“Quick detour.” He responds, head tilted over his shoulder, lashes fluttering as he blinked, the ever apparent charm oozing from his tone.

You really couldn’t understand the rumors now.

“Defenseless girl with a stranger in their car,” You’re being dramatic, mostly at the expense to make Eddie laugh, but also to calm your rapidly beating heart, “middle of the night—all alone, are you sure you’re not a murderer?”

“Not a murderer,” Eddie confirms, “Or a devil worshipper, or any of the other stuff everyone says about me.”

“You seem to claim the freak title.”

“It’s subjective,” Eddie counters, “people like to treat it as if it’s a bad thing. I don’t see it that way.”

A silence settles, the music filling the lull.

“I have a spare Walkman that I don’t use,” Eddie tells you, the dark road venturing into light, a small neighborhood lines with trailers, “I was gonna lend it to you.”

“That’s mighty trusting of you,” You say, eyeing him suspiciously, “what if I lose it?”

Eddie shrugs, leather rubbing against itself on his jacket. He pulls to a stop outside of the trailer, his home you’re assuming. “I guess I’m trusting you.”

And if Eddie was flirting, you were oblivious to it.

He definitely was.

“You can wait here if that makes you feel better.” Eddie offers, hand pressed to the door handle.

You take a quick glance around, unsettles by the eerie silence, a culdasac covered in trees and a forest that stretched for miles. Not a chance. Besides, you were curious.

“Nope,” Your lips pop, swinging the door open before he can even process your response, when your feet hit the ground you turn toward him, an expression of wonder crossing his face, “—give me the grand tour?”

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, following your actions and taking the lead toward his front door, your softer footsteps following closely behind.

“You thought I was gonna murder you a few minutes ago,” Eddie says as he fingers with his keys, slipping the key into the lock, “what happened to that?”

You shrug, “I’m trusting you,” Eddie turns to you slightly, eyes downturned toward the gravel, you peek up on your tiptoes as his hand turns the doorknob, “don’t make me regret it.”

“Sorry if it’s a mess,” Eddie feels the need to say, even if he doesn’t mean it. He was used to living in chaos and filth, both and him spent minimal time in the trailer if they weren’t sleeping or eating a quick dinner—it was his sanctitude, but he didn’t like being cooped up all the time, “—and for the smell.”

Your nose scrunched up in question—it smelled overwhelmingly like cigarettes, the ashtray on the counter filled to the brim, and faintly of black coffee and liquor. It wasn’t bad, not by any means, but it wasn’t something you were particularly used to.

“Back here.” Eddie nods, playing with the ring of his left hand as he lead you toward the backend of the trailer, door opening to revealed another cluttered room.

The mess seemed more…organized. Less haphazard throwing around and more like an overicumulated mess of items that Eddie wasn’t able to part with. The walls covered in posters and self-made art, shelves covered so deeply you couldn’t see the original wood finish, his bad half made and stained in certain spots. It’s so typical and predictable to his personality that you can’t even be surprised by it. Eddie quickly scatters about, shoving a pile of clothes into a laundry basket and kneeling down to sift through his cabinets, pulling out a small plastic box.

You take a seat on his bed, smoothing the blanket out under you before you plop down, feet kicking at the shaggy rug. You spot the guitar a moment later, in all it’s glory, it was beautiful.

“That just for show?” You ask, pointing toward the item hung on the wall. Eddie turns to you, then to where you’re pointing, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

“No,” He says proudly, making a small ‘ha!’ sound when he finds what he’s looking for, “I’ve played since middle school.”

You spot the second guitar nestled in the corner. A true collector he was and Eddie Munson surprised you once more, proving he was more than the silly rumors everyone spoke about him.

Eddie slides the Walkman into your hands, pushing on his knees as he rose, “Do you play?”

You shake your head furiously, “Absolutely not.”

Instead of urging you out of his room, Eddie takes a careful seat beside you, palms outstretch behind him, legs crossed at the ankles. You tried and failed to ignore the small sliver of skin that peaked out below his shirt, a patch of hair disappearing under his belt line, the obvious ridges of toned muscles visible underneath his shirt. Eddie seems to notice, waiting a few seconds longer before leaning forward, eyes catching yours.

You offer a friendly smile, a hint of your thighs peeking out further underneath your skirt as you crossed your legs, rubbing your hands over your exposed calves.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask timidly, curious brain getting the best of you. “But, don’t take it the wrong way.”

“You make fun of me for being a cheerleader,” You tell him, an obvious observation, “but you’ve fucked half of my friends.”

Eddie ignores the idea that he’s being talked about so openly amongst you, instead asking, “Are they really your friends though?”

And he’s right on the nose, because he’s not that clueless, “No, but—why are you being nice to me?”

“I’m nice to everyone,” Eddie defends feebly, earning a deadpan look from you, “—well, most.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I try not to judge people off of initial impressions and the shit people say about them,” It’s exactly what you’d done to him in the beginning, “why can’t I be nice to you? Do I need to have some sort of hidden agenda?”

“Do you?” You challenge.

“No—no,” He shakes his head, voice cracking slightly, “you’re a sweet girl but I would never—“

“Fuck me?” You ask crudely, smiling at him salaciously.

“Take advantage of you,” Eddie corrects you swiftly, “or try to make you feel uncomfortable—why, do you feel uncomfortable?”

“No,” You shake your head, slipping the Walkman to the floor beside your feet, “I guess I’m just curious.” You shrug, hand tucked under your thighs, legs squeezing together slightly as Eddie flexes his arms from where they rested against his knees. You could smell him from this angle—and yes, he did smell like cigarettes, and a little like weed, but he also smelled like cheap cologne and leather, a concoction of scents that invaded your senses and your brain, a pulse sent straight to your core.

“Of?” Eddie asks with a soft laugh.

“They say you’re, well,” and suddenly you feel shy, gaze flicking to his crotch, causing Eddie to glance down in response, “—considering how much I have to hear about your dick, I just wanted to know if the rumors were true.”

“So that’s what you ladies do all day?” Eddie asks, tongue resting against the ridge of his top lip, eyes narrowing on you. “Talk about me?”

“Not me,” You correct, “Them.”

Eddie’s been enough situations like these to know where it leads and you’re a pretty girl, all imperfections and quirks included, Eddie can’t help but buy into whatever game you’re playing at.

“And what do they say?” Eddie asks, a soft and curious tone to his voice.

“It’s nothing nice, usually.” You tell him, face scrunched up, “Do you really want to know?”

“I’ve gotta confirm the rumors somehow, don’t I?”

You smile to yourself, eyes turned down to your feet where they shift against the rug. “They talk about how you don’t shower and you stink and you can’t make a girl come—not that it’s possible for any man to accomplish that.”

Eddie opens his mouth to speak but you continue.

“But, apparently your dick is huge—so that somehow makes up for it.”

These aren’t the types of talks he has with Chrissy—a girl much more innocent than you. It’s a peek inside the inner workings of a group Eddie’s never cared too much about, but it’s intriguing nonetheless.

And for once, Eddie’s at a loss for words.

“You’re—“ Eddie says with a hint of disbelief, breathing out a laugh.

“Not like most girls?” You ask expectantly, “That’s cheesy—you’re better than that, Eddie.”

“No,” Eddie responds in turn, chewing idly at his bottom lip, “—I was going to say you were hard to figure out.”

Eddie pauses, considering how mortifying it might be to admit what’s rattling in his brain—he takes his chances.

“I have a confession to make.” Eddie admits, urged on by your attentive look, eyebrows raising in question. “I might’ve been the one to ask Chrissy about you—not the other way around.”

“Eddie,” You tease, “do you have a crush on me?”

Eddie laughs, “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Then?”

“I saw you that first day—before Chrissy swiped you up, before I pushed you down in the hall. I knew.”

You laugh at the memory fondly, but whatever he’s getting at, you’re not following.

Eddie elaborates, “You’re not one of them.” He flicks at the loose threading of your skirt, black shorts hidden underneath for your modesty, “It’s cute, though.”

Your nimble fingers grasp his wrist before he can pull away, cold chain pressing against your fingers from the leather band wrapped there. You were quiet, but your mind was screaming, yearning for something you knew you shouldn’t indulge in.

“I can show you,” Eddie suggests, his hand relaxing in your grip, rising up the side of your thigh to squeeze, guiding your legs apart gently until they’re no longer crossed, “if you want.”

You nod, barely a jerk of your head, letting Eddie switch the dynamic, his palm covering your own hand, guiding it over the seam of zipper, the hard line of his cock pressed against the material. That was enough to prove his point, but a touch wasn’t enough—not when he was already this hard, having not even touched you; hard at the mere thought of you.

“Eddie,” You say on a shallow breathe, eyes lifting up towards his—those wide, wet doe eyes staring right back, curls framing his face in a way that softened his features, “do you…want to?”

Fuck. The word couldn’t leave your lips, caught in your throat as his cock pulsed under your touch. Eddie doesn’t think twice, of course he does.

It’s a rushed, “Yes.” a gruff tone followed by Eddie releasing your hand to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you toward him in a searing press of your lips, fighting for the dominance you give to him so willingly, leg hiking over his lap until you’re settled over the middle, knees pressed into the old mattress where they bracketed his hips.

Eddie’s kisses are hot and overwhelming, gusts of breath against your lips as his tongue pushes inside, mewling desperately as you returned the fervor, delicate hand reaching under his chin to tilt his head up, disconnecting your lips for a brief moment.

“Condoms,” You tell him, “do you have any?”

Eddie nods tensely, eager lips wanting to reconnect. You pull back teasingly, a toothy grin growing on your face.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” You remind him, “so—we should probably hurry this up.”

Eddie tries to ignore the reoccurring theme in his life—and he’d held out a small tinge of hope that maybe this could be different. He was willing to swallow the pain, be the bigger person.

“Okay, okay,” He stammers, leaning away to grab at the open condom box on his bedside table, avoiding your amused gaze as he rummages inside, yanking the small foil packet from the box, “uh, should we—“

And suddenly he feels like a blushing virgin again, shrinking underneath your gaze. You looked at him intently, analyzing every part of him. You weren’t sure what type of guy Eddie was and you weren’t going to let yourself forget this so easily.

“No, here’s fine,” You assure him, perched at the edge of his bed, “—let me, hold on—“ You stand for a brief moment, slipping your underwear and shorts down in one quick moment, leaving you bare underneath that skimpy cheer skirt. Eddie tries not to stare, to linger, but his hands press along the tops of your thighs, warm palms kneading into the skin, staring up at you with an awestruck gaze, not realizing you’re speaking to him until you’re judging his shoulder, “—your pants, Eddie. Unzip them.”

“Shit, yeah,” Eddie comes to, shaking away the daze, “sorry.”

Eddie struggles with the clasp of his belt, leaned back slightly as he fumbles with it. You can’t stand his anxious, shaking hands and assist him, yanking the belt away with a snap when it’s finally free, climbing back on his lap as he yanks at his jeans, pulling them down far enough to free his cock, aching as it arches up toward his belly in all it’s glory—you could easily say the rumors were true, the tip blushed a soft pink as the precome that leaked from it stained his shirt.

Eddie squeezes gently at the soft mound of your ass, rubbing your cunt against him for a brief second, his breath heavy as he exhaled.

“I know we’re on a time limit, but I don’t want it to hurt,” Eddie interrupted quietly, hands traveling around to press against your hips, forcing you to sit fully on his lap, feet tucked up behind you against his knees, “Can I touch you?”

He was right—the thought of taking him inside of you so suddenly, it was daunting.

“Mhmm.” You reply softly, a melodic hum.

Eddie slips a hand under your skirt, eyes locked on your face to watch your reaction, brow furrowing at the first touch of his middle finger of your clit, circling briefly before gliding through your folds, dipping inside you carefully. He pumps once, twice, your slick wetting his finger as he pulls back out, the friction enough to have you whimpering out loud—and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, Eddie introduces a second finger soon after, your hand squeezing at his broad shoulder, steadying you as your body shook with his movements. His mouth was hung open slightly in concentration, eyes half-lidded as he watched you sigh and lean back into his hold, a solid hand pressed into your back to keep you there.

Your hips rock against his hand, a gentle movement, eyes squeezed shut from the overwhelming sensation—his skilled touches and you’re absolute inability to not be turned on by simply being in his presence, let alone like this. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle waiting for his cock, the laugh that slips from his chest enough to send you down a spiral. But, he’s pulling away just as quick, the sound of a foil packet ripping in the close distance.

He slips the condom on wordlessly, gaze locked on the space between you both, the rubber snapping slightly as he struggles to be swift, face scrunching up in concentration.

Eddie’s always been one to try and take his time—though that isn’t always the case, like now, but he still wants to make things enjoyable, as difficult as that may be for something as nonchalant as a quick fuck.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Eddie says softly, breath hot against your neck as he lifts your hips with one hand, the other steady or his shaft as he guides himself toward your entrance, pressing gently, “I’ll slow down.”

“You really underestimate just how much I can handle.” You joke teasingly, breath hitching as he pushes at your hip slightly, tip of his cock breaching you.

It isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you’re expecting, the first gentle thrust of his hips—the stretch stings, but it’s nothing but a dull ache amongst all the other things you’re feeling. Warm, calloused hands on bare skin as they sneak under your Hellfire shirt, wrinkled and smelling of Eddie like he’d had it shoved away in his bag for weeks. Soft, wet lips pressing against the underside of your chin from where Eddie’s head is tilted up caused by the small height difference from where you’re positioned in his lap.

His features are more noticeable like this, rough from a distance but even softer up close—chocolate brown eyes staring up at you so wantonly, blinded by pleasure. His hair is mused around his face, bangs askew from where he’s pushed them away slightly, having reached a length a little more uncomfortable than normal. He’s present and watching, gauging every reaction you have, thrusting his hips a little faster until you’re moaning out, desperate hands burying into his untamed hair and pulling, his lips leaving your skin and his neck pulled back taut.

“Fuck that’s—“ Eddie sighs, another subtle hair pull from you as he stretches his thighs wider, forcing you to fall against him in support, “—no one’s ever—“

You gasp, laughing against his face from where you’ve leaned slack against him, lips dragging along his cheek, “No one’s ever pulled your hair? You’re kidding?”

Eddie shakes his head with difficulty, chuckling as you pulled a bit tighter. “That’s a fucking shame.” You tell him honestly.

Eddie nods in agreement, hands spreading out over your thighs as he squeezes, forcing himself impossibly deeper, nudging a spot inside of you that has you keening forward, a choked off moan leaving your mouth.

“Again,” You gasp, “Fuck, do that again.”

Eddie smirks, devious edge to his expression as he thrust into you harshly, your face burying into his neck at the motion, muffling your cries.

Eddie mimics your actions, ringed fingers winding into your hair and pulling, forcing your face away from his neck, whimpering at the speed of his thrusts, clenching around him in desperation. Eddie’s incredibly noisy, something you had been too distracted to pay attention until he’s holding you up, forcing you to look at him. He’s daring, bold—confident considering the circumstances. He barely knows you—but he knows well enough that he’s already addicted. Addicted to you noises, your subtle expressions, your ability to keep up with him in conversation and give back just as much as he gave, it was refreshing despite how he knew things would end.

It was rushed, grabbing hands, irregular thrusts that were driving you mad, animalistic in the way Eddie’s teeth grazed against your jaw, sucking a light bruise into the skin—you weren’t quick enough to tell him you didn’t like marks, but you also couldn’t find it in your to care. But, you were despair touch, desperate to come, so you opened your mouth and begged, embarrassed over how pitiful you sound.

“Your hand—“ You say rushed, pulling at his wrist. Eddie nods jerkily, letting you guide his hand toward your cunt, his thumb pressing over your clit suddenly, knowing just what you need, “fuckfuck, Eddie—“

“Trying to prove those rumors wrong, sweetheart.”

You let out a strained laugh, dying out on a loud moan as Eddie rubs quick circles over your clit, alighting a bundle of electricity the starts in the pit of your stomach and hits you hard, hips rocking needy against his hand.

Eddie follows after just as fast, moving his long arms to encircle your waist, coming undone under your touch with a whine, mouth hung open slightly as he breathed out a harsh breath that swallowed up by you, a soft kiss pressed against his lips.

A silence drags over, nothing but the combined sounds of your breaths until Eddie finally speaks, breaking the blanket of tension.

“Thoughts?” He asks timidly, helping you off of his lap slowly, hips aching as you stood. “Concerns?”

You huff a quiet laugh, reaching down for your underwear and slipping them back on. “Shut up,” You say fondly, wiggling your hips until they’re set, watching as Eddie moved around the room to dispose of the condom, fixing his pants back up, “—it was good.”

He’s waiting for the but—but it never comes.

“I really need to get home though,” You remind him, offering a subtle smile, “if you don’t mind.”

“Uh, yeah—“ Eddie replies awkward, returning to your side and leaning down to grab the Walkman. In the midst of everything, you’d completely forgotten it, “—let’s go.”

And you feel like an idiot, anxiety and nerves running through your body. If you don’t say it now, you’ll never get it out.

“How early do you get up in the morning?” You ask randomly, watching as Eddie pulled a confused face.

“Eight.” He answers simply.

“But, school starts at eight fifteen—“ You shake your head, hands held out to stop him in his place, “—anyways, do you want to stop for breakfast on Monday?”

Eddie pauses, stricken with shock.

You notice his uneasiness, “Or not.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, suddenly realizing that silence isn’t an option in this situation, “No, no, no—We can, we totally can.”

“But?”

“I don’t really—“ Eddie stops, trying to mince his words down, “girls don’t typically stick around to hang out, you know?”

“That’s ridiculous,” You laugh slightly, “oh—you’re serious?”

Eddie nods, “I’m just surprised, is all. But yeah, I’d love to.”

“Thank god,” You sigh, “another morning in the car with Chrissy and Jason and I was going to lose it.”

Eddie makes a face, asking for you to elaborate, eyebrow raised subtly.

“They’re so grossly in love.”

And love—you just couldn’t stand it.

“So, pick me up at seven?” You ask hopefully, arms crossed over you front, Walkman gripped in your hand.

Eddie smiles wide, “Sure.”

Eddie’s so used to rejection and abandonment that he almost can’t believe it’s true, but you’re living, breathing proof. But like he’d suspected, there was just something special about you. Something different.

Please consider leaving a comment or reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[chronicrabbit]

A Very Steddie Christmas

Listen. I had an idea.

It’s post-Vecna. Steve and Eddie are friends. Eddie has had a hopeless little crush on Steve for years, yada yada yada. The usual shit. You get the picture.

It’s mid December and Steve Harrington is hyped up for Christmas.

Steve had always been a Christmas fan. He lives for it; the tacky decorations, the twinkling lights strung up on every tree and house on the block, the joyous atmosphere, the warmth of a good cup of cocoa on a snowy Hawkins night.

Everything.

Steve loves Christmas, even more so now that he has a Family™️ to share it with!

So when he overhears Eddie talking to Gareth about how he’s:

“Never had an actual Christmas”

he knows his services are needed.

He makes it his mission to give Eddie Munson the best Christmas ever, despite Robin’s teasing looks and Dustin’s frown of confusion.

He starts it all off with inviting him over to decorate inside and out, mostly because he doesn’t particularly want to do it himself and Robin point blank refuses when he asks her.

It’s not the funnest holiday activity, but the end goal is worth it; that’s what Steve’d always thought, anyway.

The Harrington’s were not terribly festive people, but they were deeply prideful and competitive, so naturally there were about five shelves in their sizable garage packed full of lights, tinsel, baubles, and other more expensive pieces of decor purchased by a fuming and wine-drunk Claire Harrington after a single and very passive aggressive conversation with Mrs. Thompson across the street.

Steve and Eddie work for hours, ending in tinsel littering every available surface, a bent gutter from a very close call with the ladder, and a declaration of hatred for string lights, but the huge grin on Eddie’s face is undeniable as they stand side by side, clinking together their hideous holiday mugs of eggnog and rum as they survey the impressive product of their hard work.

It looks amazing.

Mrs. Thompson, eat your heart out.

His next step is to bake his Nonna’s red-hot cinnamon snickerdoodles, the ones she’d sneak him every Christmas when he was a kid before his parents decided visiting was too much effort, and to watch a few Christmas Classics.

The cookies were meant to be a surprise, but Eddie shows up an hour and a half earlier than he’d said he would with the movies Robin had set aside for him and finds Steve in the kitchen, hair pinned back, glasses on, and red knit sweater covered in flour despite the apron tied around his waist.

He finds he doesn’t so much mind the change of plans as he and Eddie dance around the kitchen to George Michael, Eddie grabbing the batter covered wire whisk for a compelling performance of “Last Christmas”, a song he very clearly knows none of the words to.

Once the cookies are safely tucked away in the oven, they make their way to the couch, sitting nice and close for extra warmth as “It’s a Wonderful Life” begins to play.

Eddie talks through the entire first part of the movie, and when they return from the short break they take to retrieve the cookies from the oven and divvy them out between the two of them along with two cups of steaming hot cocoa, he talks through the rest through his mouthful of cookie.

Steve’s never enjoyed that movie more.

The third step is a bit more of an impromptu thing, because when Steve wakes up to see a fresh layer of beautiful powdery snow on the ground, he basically has no choice but to round up the party for the worlds most epic snowball fight.

Eddie complains at first, but quickly changes his tune the moment Mike manages to nail him directly in the face with a snowball.

He leaps into action with a declaration of:

“Oh it’s on, Wheeler!”

No matter how much Dustin swears you can’t win a snowball fight, Steve and Nancy definitely take the victory that day between her killer aim and his brutal throwing arm.

They split up into groups after the fact for some more snowy day activities.

El, Max, Nancy, and Steve build a little snow family together, Mike, Lucas, Will, and Robin work exceptionally hard to craft a nice sturdy fort with packed snow and ice (they write out actual equations and dimensions that make Steve’s head spin), and Erica, Dustin, Eddie, Jonathan, and Argyle make a serious of increasingly more ridiculous snow angels, ending in the five of them just tackling each other over to see what shape it makes.

Everyone stays out until their fingertips and noses are bright red and numb, finally giving in and heading inside once the sun starts to set and fresh snow starts to fall.

They clamber into Steve’s house, bundling up in blankets and huddling in front of the fireplace together to watch, much to Steve’s chagrin, the He-Man Christmas Special from the year before that Dustin had recorded over an episode of Night Court (Claudia was still upset with him over it).

And he couldn’t lie to himself and pretend he didn’t know how close he was sitting beside Eddie on the couch; close enough that their shoulders were bumping together with each breath.

He also couldn’t pretend he wasn’t enjoying every single time Eddie would turn to face him, to share in the excitement of whatever was happening on the screen.

Steve hadn’t watched a single second of the movie, far too focused on the dimples that appeared whenever Eddie smiled that big sunny smile, or the crinkles that appeared likewise around his big brown eyes, or the small freckle just over his lip…

Oh.

Oh.

Well…

He’d have to adjust his plan just a little.

With that new information tucked safely away in his mind, his next step became very clear. Thankfully, he didn’t need a different gift idea than the one he’d already come up with, perhaps just a different method of delivery.

………

It’s the afternoon of Christmas Eve when he knocks on the door of Eddie Munson’s trailer, the only one in the park with a complete absence of Christmas decorations or, at the very least, a wreath or something.

Eddie answers with that heart stopping smile, dressed in a blue sweater Steve is 90% certain he snatched from Robin who stole it from him some time last year.

He doesn’t give Eddie much time to greet him, holding out a small green bag with a red bow.

“What’s this, Steve?”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together, his smile not quite dropped, more slanting into a look of gentle confusion.

“It’s a present. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, so…”

Steve does a ‘here we are’ motion with his hands, pushing the present towards Eddie once again.

The movement seems to reactivate Eddie, who pulls Steve into the warmth of his living room with a shiver.

“You got me a present?” Eddie inquires the moment the door was closed behind them, protecting them from the bitingly cold air.

“Of course. Can’t have Christmas without the gifts, can you?” Steve laughs.

“Christmas,” Eddie repeats after him a bit dubiously.

“Yeah, I suppose you can’t,” he shrugs, as if he doesn’t know.

“Exactly, so!” Steve extends the bag towards Eddie once again, shaking it enticingly.

Eddie’s nose scrunches in that way it does when he’s very carefully considering something.

“Steve. As much as I appreciate the constant stream of hot cocoa and holiday cheer you’ve been bombarding me with for the past week, I gotta ask. What gives? Why are you doing all this?”

Steve sighs.

“Well, I…” he starts, licking his lips as he tries to sort out his jumbled thoughts before continuing.

“To tell the truth, I overheard you telling Gareth that you’ve never had a real Christmas before. I… I’ve always loved Christmas. It’s the only holiday my parents would stay home for- well, up until I turned 16, that is. So, I guess I just… wanted to give you one. A real Christmas, that is.”

Eddie presses his lips together into a thin line, his usually open expression strangely unreadable as he considers Steve closely.

He nods when he seems to come to a conclusion, reaching his hands out towards the little bag and clenching and unclenching his fingers as if to say:

“Gimme.”

Steve smiles and hands over the gift bag, his stomach turning somersaults like an Olympic gymnast.

Eddie tears through the tissue paper, sending it flying to litter across the carpet, until his fingers find the occupant of the bag; a single Polaroid.

He fixes Steve with a raised eyebrow before letting his eyes fall back down to take in the picture.

“Alright,” Eddie nods as if he’s trying to understand a joke, mirth-filled gaze landing back on Steve over the Polaroid.

“Ok, Stevie. Very funny.”

Steve can’t help the smirk that overtakes his own face.

“And it’s all yours,” he assures him, playing into the playful tone as he watches Eddie survey the snapshot of the guitar; a BC Rich Warbeast with a glossy black body and a cherry red flame motif.

“I’ll cherish it, Big Boy,” Eddie snorts good naturally, pressing the image to his chest with a dramatic little sigh.

“I sure hope you will,” Steve nods.

“It cost me most of my savings up front, and I still have payments to make on it for the next few months.”

Eddie eyebrows scrunch together at that, that puzzled look from before returning to his face as he pulls the picture back up to take a closer look.

“Steve, wha- this… is this in your living room in this pic- Did you…”

Steve watches as several emotions crossed Eddie’s face; confusion, bewilderment, disbelief, and then, finally, understanding.

“Steve…” he says in what’s barely a whisper, Steve leaning in a bit closer to hear him.

“Did you… did you actually…”

He can’t seem to finish the sentence, so Steve takes it upon himself to answer him.

“I know you’ve been missing your old one. It’s not the same, but it’s the closet I could find and it’s waiting for you under the tree at my place. I had to drive all the way to Indy for it, and it’s not new, but I checked it out and it’s only lightly used. The scratches were easy enough to buff out, and Jeff helped to make sure it was-“

Steve grunts at the sudden impact of a body against his, warmth flooding through him as Eddie wraps him up in the tightest hug he’s even been given in his life.

He can’t help the surprised laugh that escapes him, sputtering as some of Eddie’s hair gets in his mouth. He winds his own arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling him somehow closer and simply breathing him in.

“You are unbelievable,” Eddie breathes as he gives him a solid squeeze before pulling back, though he doesn’t relinquish his hold on Steve’s shoulders.

“So, I’m guessing you like it?” Steve asks through his smile.

“Like it? Stevie, I… I could honestly kiss you right now! You’re damn lucky there’s no mistletoe here, or else-“

Eddie’s words die out as Steve digs in his pocket, pulling out and raising up high above their heads a little sprig of mistletoe with the most charming smile he can muster.

He prays his nerves don’t show through as Eddie’s eyes meet his, wide with shock as they flicker back and forth between them and the mistletoe.

“Damn lucky,” Steve says, his tone steady with resolve even as his hand shakes.

In the next second Eddie’s lips meet his and it’s everything he could’ve ever dreamed of.

It’s everything every single cheesy little Christmas RomCom promises.

Magic.

When they finally part, both breathless and dazed and smiling like complete idiots, Steve tugs Eddie in close by his pilfered sweater.

“So? Was this a good first Christmas?”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise up and he honest to god giggles.

“Considering Christmas is tomorrow, I’d say it’s a pretty solid start.”

Steve allows himself a very John Bender-like fist pump, much to Eddie’s amusement as he pulls him into another kiss.

“As sweet as this is, Sweetheart,” Eddie whispers against his lips, hands fisting in the fabric of his sweater to hold him nice and close, which is lucky considering how hard Steve swoons at the word “sweetheart”.

“I feel the need to ask.”

“Anything,” Steve promises, nudging Eddie’s nose with his own as he presses a couple more gentle kisses against his grinning mouth.

“You know I’m Jewish, right?”

………

I might turn this into an actual multi chapter fic. Let me know if that’s something y’all would want!

[samstree]

Jaskier is easy to please.

It’s a surprise finding, Geralt thinks to himself. At least, it goes against everything he knows about Jaskier.

He’s born noble, spoiled and doted on by a loving family for eighteen years. He has the best education, one that gives him endless titles as a master of the arts and a position at the best university. He wears fine silk, dines with lords and ladies, and sings for kings and queens.

And yet, Jaskier’s eyes always light up when Geralt prepares a simple meal at the side of the road as if a chunk of rye bread is anything finer than what Lettenhove can provide for him. He always leaves the lecture halls of Oxenfurt at the first thaw of spring to catch Geralt’s early contract of the year. He delights in the most mundane days on the path and colors them bright with his songs.

“I wonder how many are as lucky as me. How many souls under the sky,” Jaskier says one night, lying on top of a thin bedroll, under a sky full of stars. “To have found what pleases them, and get to keep it.”

“The stars?” Geralt mumbles sleepily. The day has been long and he’s too tired for Jaskier’s bouts of musing. “You don’t get to keep them, Jask.”

“No, you oaf. It’s…” Jaskier trails off, huffing a smile against Geralt’s shoulder. “Never mind. Sleep for now. You won’t understand today.”

“Yes, sleep.”

“Sleep, and you just might tomorrow.”

Jaskier snores through the night on the ground. He wakes up at the first light of dawn, eyes bleary and hair mussed. He wakes up to Geralt, lying next to him and calling his name gently. A soft smile overtakes his face, their limbs still tangling.

☆  

Geralt just might understand.

Or he starts to, when he pays attention to those things that please Jaskier.

He makes a pair of gloves over the winter with leather and fur in his stash. The plain materials are nothing to be boasted, and his sewing is far from the best. Compared to Jaskier’s doublets and coats, lined with jewels and silver thread, these may as well be two lumps of rags, but somehow, Geralt knows deep in his heart that Jaskier will squeal with joy when he sees them on his birthday.

The sureness settles over his chest, spreading until it unfurls his toes like warm mead on a rainy day. He wonders how long this unnamed confidence has been with him but finds no answer. It seems his life is so full of Jaskier, that there are no traces of what came before his bright-colored existence.

On Jaskier’s birthday, the squeal ends up hurting Geralt’s sensitive ears, but the tight hug that lifts him off the ground makes it all worth it. The gloves never leave the bard’s person even in the worst of the summer days and are proudly shown off to every friend they meet on the road.

And then, Geralt learns ballroom dancing from Essi so he may invite Jaskier to a first dance after the bardic competition. Geralt practices and practices, but when the day comes and Jaskier is all close and eager, all the complicated sequences are forgotten like foams on the sea. The world narrows down to the way Jaskier leans into his embrace and those surprised laughs when Geralt steps on his toes. The first dance turns into a second, a third, and then a fourth. Before Geralt knows it, the music has ended. Jaskier keeps holding on in the silence, his chin resting on Geralt’s shoulder, his scent sweet and happy.

☆  

“So, you are Julian’s witcher.”

An unfamiliar figure appears next to Geralt as the night comes to an end. Jaskier has gone to collect the award from his placement, but there’s no need for an introduction. Golden hair, fancy jewels, sharp eyes—it must be Valdo Marx.

“If I am?”

“Ha!” The other bard nurses his drink. “You’d need my warning, witcher. That one, Julian, is hard to please.”

Geralt could laugh if he didn’t hold too much disdain for the man.

“Don’t believe me? You’ll see. I once filled his room with roses and lilies, composed him full cycles of fine music, but all I got was rejection after rejection. I’d give him all the flowers in the world, all the songs and poetry. But no, none of it was ever good enough for Julian. Our dear Julian, who needs the world and more.”

“Hmm.”

Strange. Jaskier has never needed a world of flowers and poetry.

A bluebell is enough to make Jaskier blush when Geralt picks it from a wild field and puts it in his hand. A simple letter is enough to lift his spirit when solitude weighs down his shoulders while Geralt is away.

The flower will be pinned behind Jaskier’s ear for the rest of the day, and the letter will be read so many times the edges are worn out by the time they finally reunite. One particular songbook in the Jaskier’s pack holds tiny wildflowers and old letters on every other page. That book is growing thick over the years, bursting with little souvenirs of their time together and apart.

Valdo Marx is long gone when Geralt realizes how far his thoughts have wandered. The dance floor is empty. All the bards have left. All except for one.

“Geralt?” Jaskier appears before him, searching, curious. “Goodness, I called your name four times. What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Geralt blinks.

“You.”

“Me? What about—oh!”

Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand and pulls him into a kiss.

It’s desperate and messy, done without so much as a thought. All Geralt knows is that he should kiss Jaskier. All the world could end right now and he should be kissing Jaskier. Their breaths quicken as their bodies press closer. Jaskier lets out a surprised gasp as Geralt opens him up eagerly, teasing him with every swipe of tongue, every quiet moan. He kisses the corner of Jaskier’s mouth at the end before meeting his gaze.

“Wow,” Jaskier breathes, voice hoarse and eyes hazy. He clears his throat. “Wow, Geralt, that was…”

Geralt holds onto the small of Jaskier’s back, practically keeping him upright with how unsteady his legs have become. He can’t help but preen, letting a grin tug at his lips. “That was…?”

“Oh, just…” Jaskier’s cheeks have gone pink. It’s adorable in the candlelight. He lets out a string of giggles, hiding his face in his hands and pressing his forehead to Geralt’s shoulder. “You’ve kissed me, and now I feel like the happiest man on earth,” he mumbles into Geralt’s shirt. “So forgive me if I need a moment. Just a moment to let it all sink in, is all.”

Geralt kisses Jaskier’s hair and feels him suck in another shaky breath. “You are too easy to please,” he chuckles.

When Jaskier finds enough strength to stand on his own and pulls away, his eyes are full of wonder. They are full of Geralt. “Well, of course. It’s you.”

With Jaskier here in his arms, Geralt understands now. He is what pleases Jaskier, and he is lucky. Too lucky, perhaps. To be dear to this loud bard who smiles like a fool at the sight of him is a privilege Geralt would not deserve even if he lived ten lives over. He isn’t sure what to do with this fact yet.

So he answers. “Yes, it’s me.” He makes a promise. “I’m right here.”

Geralt leans in for another kiss, nuzzling Jaskier’s nose, but a finger halts him by the lips.

“You see, if you kissed me in such quick succession,” Jaskier says, swallowing, his eyelashes casting long shadows, “I may burst with joy right this moment. So have mercy on me, will you? Let’s just stay here. Just stay, and remember.”

Under Jaskier’s palm, a witcher’s slow heart flutters at the next beat.

Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand and remembers the moment. He remembers the moment when all the world’s luck is held within their palms, intertwining between their linked fingers.

☆  

It turns out, Geralt is easy to please too.

All it takes is a simple tune under Jaskier’s breath, a slow ballad, full of love and contentment, a private performance for one. It’s such a small thing, such a small joy when they are in the snowy mountains at the top of the world.

Geralt sinks into the big armchair in Kaer Morhen’s library, listening as the last note fades. His eyes flutter shut, tugged heavy by sleep and the burning fireplace. Jaskier put his lute down by the wall and settles on Geralt’s lap, tucking Geralt’s head into the crook of his neck.

“Is my new song putting you to sleep?” Jaskier asks. “Do you not like it?”

Geralt shakes his head, melting under Jaskier’s weight and attention. “Like the song fine. It’s just you.” He lets out a long exhale, his heart slowing. “Want to sleep when I’m safe.”

“Oh.”

Gentle fingers run across Geralt’s eyebrows, and he almost drifts off right there. “We should go to bed,” so he says.

“I’ll join you in a bit.”

Jaskier scrambles away, and the lack of his warmth makes Geralt grumble.

Jaskier huffs, taking Geralt’s hands to pull him up. “Just a few minutes. I have some tidying up to do.”

The world is blurry around the edges and the last line of Jaskier’s song keeps playing in Geralt’s mind. He mumbles an answer, his legs heavy. The bed that belongs to the two of them calls for Geralt with the promise of a mountain of blankets and furs to burrow under.

“Hold on.” Jaskier’s hand is on Geralt’s elbow. “The night is dangerous. Take this with you.”

He turns Geralt around to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

With his eyes barely open, Geralt winds Kaer Morhen’s halls until the darkness gives way to the warm glow of their bedroom, where the fireplace is lit and his lungs are filled with the clean soap on Jaskier’s clothes.

Geralt returns to bed safely, with a small kiss to guard him.

It turns out, he is easy to please when it’s Jaskier.

It’s as natural as breathing, like these small things, small joys, small kisses. And they are all it takes.

[imaginedisish]

I Bet On Losing Dogs (Bruce Wayne x F!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! Here is the Battinson smut I promised. I’m not so sure how I feel about it. I don’t think it’s my favorite thing I’ve ever written, but oh well. I based it on “I Bet On Losing Dogs,” by Mitski, so you better believe this one is gonna be angsty. I’m getting all your requests, and I’m currently deciding on which one to write next. For now, enjoy!

Summary: After a terrible night, Bruce’s worries and stresses overwhelm him, escalating to something neither of you expected. 

Warnings: SMUT! This is seriously smutty...18+. Oral (female receiving), PIV, no protection (wear a condom kids), dom!Bruce tones. There’s some major angst, cursing, references to violence, injuries, etc. Probably some grammatical errors.

Word Count: 3,710

The ride home from a rough night was never peaceful. Whatever glamour Gotham had to offer slipped away, far out of your reach. The few stars that weren’t lost in the light pollution and dirty smog clouds carefully danced away, too afraid to watch the horrors that you and Bruce took care of each night. The billboard lights dimmed, darkening the already-present shadows just enough to hide whoever dodged this evening’s blows. Rain splatters violently against the visor of your helmet, the clouds above threatening to downpour. The bike’s wheels skid across the cold, wet, black concrete. The wind whips uncomfortably against your sweater, flowing inside the flexible fabric and blowing it up like a beach ball.  

You reach your hands under Bruce’s sweatshirt, searching for warmth, grabbing at the soft, cotton t-shirt underneath. He pushes his back against your stomach, giving in to your touch. It was rare that he would reciprocate your small tokens of affection, and when he did, it usually meant that things had gone wrong. It meant that he was worried, that he needed comfort. 

And to you, his pain certainly wasn’t worth a hug or holding his hand. 

You were upset at tonight’s losses, but you knew he felt worse than you. He always did. He took each failure as a sign he wasn’t good enough, a sign he wasn’t doing everything in his power to keep the city safe. You, of course, knew that wasn’t true. 

There were so many things that you had grown to know about him that he would never believe. In your years of being friends with Bruce, you had learned that he was unbelievably kind and caring, despite his cold and distant facade. You had learned that he would do anything for you, a fact that made your heart pang with something you had never felt for anyone else before. 

Something you could never tell him you felt.

He’s silent as he slows the bike down, pressing a button in the center console. The garage door of the manor glides upwards, and the bike rolls in. You take your helmet off, lightly tossing it on a table while the bike is still barely in motion. 

“Bruce,” Your voice is quiet, apprehensive. “Tonight really wasn’t that bad,” You say to him as he turns the bike slightly, putting one foot on the ground and cutting the engine. You slide off as he puts the kickstand down. 

He dismounts, shaking his head once or twice before removing his helmet. “It was,” He retorts. “The last guy got away, and you…” He trails off, walking over to you. He pulls your sweater up just a bit, enough to reveal the red, thin slash resting just below your belly button, and the dark black bruise blotted on your hip. 

“They’re small,” You assure him. “I don’t even feel anything.” You’re lying through your teeth. You can feel your blood pulsing around the injuries. 

He presses his lips together tightly, seeing right through you. His fingers reach towards the bruise. His hand clasps against your hip, his thumb brushing softly against the tender area. You immediately wince under his touch, despite how soft it is. He removes his hand in response, taking a step back. His brows furrow in disappointment, in contempt with himself. 

He walks over towards the staircase that leads up to the foyer, and you follow closely behind. 

“Bruce, please,” You call out behind him, practically tripping over the steps just to keep up with him. “I’m fine.” You know he isn’t going to listen, he isn’t going to give in. 

He scoffs to himself as he enters the foyer. “I can’t even protect you anymore,” He says, his voice echoing off the walls, instantly alerting the staff of his presence. The harsh, loud words hang in the air longer than you’d like them to. You swallow firmly, searching for the right thing to say. You watch Alfred pop out from around the corner for just a second before peeling back behind a closed door, doing his best to avoid Bruce’s current mood. 

Bruce paces back and forth, finally stopping on the other side of the room, his back facing you.

“You don’t need to protect me,” You promise, walking over to him. You grab his elbow carefully, your touch burning a hole in his skin, forcing him to turn around. “I can handle things just as well as you.” You weren’t wrong, you certainly could. If you couldn’t handle being a vigilante, you would have never joined him. You were just as well trained as he was. After all, it was Bruce who had taught you everything you knew.

Bruce shakes his head, your hand still resting on his arm. He takes a deep breath. He hates seeing you like this, seeing you hurt because of what he’s gotten you into. If you never found out what he did, who he was, you would have never gotten into this mess. He blames himself, endlessly. 

“I chose this,” You say firmly, trying to remind him of the truth. “And I chose this knowing what risks would come with it.”

He knows it’s true, but he won’t admit it. 

“I can’t keep fucking up like this,” His voice is still angry, still filled with resentment towards himself. He grabs your hand, holding it tightly in his. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He was struggling for control, drowning in the overwhelming flood that he had created for himself. 

His green eyes bare into yours. You can hear the subtext, the words being left unsaid.

I can’t lose you. If I lose you, I lose myself.

He inches closer to you, slowly eliminating the small space that had once kept the two of you apart, the space that kept you safe from the tension that was quickly filling the room. It was a tension you worried that only you felt, a tension that if acted upon, could bring everything tumbling down. 

It didn’t matter that you wanted him. It didn’t matter that you loved him as more than a friend. You didn’t want to scare him away, to destroy the bond you two shared. You’d rather lose by his side than lose him altogether.

I bet on losing dogs

I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place

By the ring

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down

I'll be there on their side

I'm losing by their side

The silence that had settled upon the room was deafening. “So,” Your words cut through the tension, still struggling to pull yourself out of your thoughts. You finally remove your hand from his elbow, and point in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m starving.” It wasn’t a lie, but it did seem like a rather shitty way to exit the conversation. But you couldn’t bear to be this close to Bruce, not without doing something about it. 

Bruce keeps your other hand in his as he leads you into the kitchen. He doesn’t let go until he swings open the kitchen door, as if he had forgotten to out of habit. He walks over to the pantry, opening one of the cabinets, revealing a set of entirely stocked shelves. Alfred must have gone shopping while you and Bruce were out. 

“See anything you want?” He’s curt, his voice still laden with residual annoyance. 

“What about you? You need to eat too,” You say, walking to his side. 

He shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.” You furrow your brows, unsure of how to go about getting Bruce down from whatever ledge he had climbed up on. Something was different this time. This wasn’t his usual frustration. This was something more. 

“I know you don’t keep protein bars under that suit of yours,” You joke, trying to fish a smile out of him. You can see the corners of his mouth start to slowly turn up. “Unless you made a change you didn’t tell me about. Did you add a new granola bar compartment to your utility belt?”  

And just like that, a small smile spreads across his face. That was all you needed from him; a sign that he was going to be okay. His smile makes your heart flutter in your chest. His emerald eyes gaze into yours again, bringing back the very same tension from before, the very same tension you’ve worked your hardest to avoid for years. You’re not sure how much longer you could fight it. You couldn’t pretend that it didn’t exist forever. There would eventually come a time where he finds someone else, someone who isn’t you, and then what? It would be too late.

My baby, my baby

You're my baby, say it to me

Baby, my baby

Tell your baby that I'm your baby

Still, you choose to continue to ignore the tension. You grab a box of cereal from the pantry and place it on the white, marble island behind you. You turn away from Bruce and reach into the cabinet next to the pantry, grabbing a red, glass bowl. 

“Hey, listen,” Bruce says, as if he has something important he needs to tell you. His voice is quiet and calm, closer to the Bruce you’ve grown to know and love. You whip your body around to face him a bit too quickly, and the bowl flies out of your hand. It falls to the ground, crashing cacophonously, separating into a sea of large, sharp, red shards. They stand out vibrantly against the dark, black tiled floors.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself, immediately kneeling down to pick up the broken pieces. Bruce quickly grabs the trash can from under the sink and kneels down, helping you to clean up. You and Bruce carefully dispose of each shard, making sure not to cut yourselves in the process. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, there’s just one piece left. You reach out to grab the shard, but instead of the cold, sharp, surface the glass, you’re met with Bruce’s hand. He was just a second quicker than you, his fingertips already grabbing at the piece. You peer up at him, keeping your hand on his. He smiles that stupid smile of his, the smile that kills you every single time, the smile that you wish you got to see more often. 

The smile that’s only ever on his face when you’re around. 

He tosses the glass to the side, exchanging his grip on it for a grip on your hand. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest as he leans closer towards you, his eyes staring deeply into yours. He brings his free hand up to your cheek, his fingers exploring your soft skin. 

“Bruce,” You whisper. It comes out almost as a warning. But it’s not for him, it’s for yourself. 

His lips are just inches away from yours. His hand travels from your cheek to the nape of your neck. He drags his nails across your scalp, combing gently through your hair. You let out a soft moan at the feeling of his touch. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” He says.

And that was all it took. You were gone. There was officially no coming back from this. 

He finally closes the distance between the two of you as his lips crash into yours. It’s rushed and heavy. His hand tangles itself in your hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging lightly. You moan against him in response. 

“You like that?” He mumbles against your lips. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter, bringing your hands up to rest upon his shoulders. 

He breaks the kiss for just a second, wrapping his arms around you to pick you up. Your legs instinctively clasp around his waist as he stands. He carefully places you on the counter of the island before his lips find his way back to yours. The kiss is slower this time, languid, as if you have all the time in the world to memorize the feeling of each other’s lips, as if nothing else mattered. He brings one hand to the nape of your neck, while the other rests on your thigh. The sensation sends a pulsing heat down to your core. You needed more of him. You grind yourself against his crotch, searching for some sort of relief.

He notices your needy movements immediately as his lips part from yours. His hands move down to the hem of your sweater, swiftly pulling it over your head, revealing the white, lacy bra you wore underneath. He unclasps your bra next, allowing it to drop to the floor. 

He brings his hands up to your chest, squeezing your breasts lightly. He plays with your nipples, toying with them, rolling them between his pointer finger and thumb. 

“You’re so perfect,” He whispers, the words only furthering your already intense arousal.

His hands leave your chest as hooks his fingers under the waistband of your leggings, yanking them, along with your panties, down to your ankles. He casts them off to the side in one, fluid motion. 

He brings his mouth to your ear. His hot breath blows against your neck, sending a chill down your spine. “Use your words, sweetheart,” He whispers. You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter at the sound of his voice. “Tell me what you want.” 

I wanna feel it

I bet on losing dogs

I always want you when I'm finally fine

How you'd be over me looking in my eyes when I cum

You inhale deeply, struggling to form a single word, never mind an entire sentence. “I-I want you to touch me,” You say finally, stumbling around each syllable. 

“Good girl,” He whispers again, his lips still brushing against your ear. “Now tell me where you want me.” His hand drops down to your inner thigh, traveling upwards, stopping at your clit. 

“Th-there, please,” You stutter, begging, wanting more. He rubs slow circles around your heat with his thumb, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. He brings his fingers down to your folds, spreading your slick around. 

“You’re so wet for me,” He says, his voice mellifluous, overwhelming your senses. He smirks, knowing full well the mess he’s making out of you. He moves back to your clit, rubbing more soft, slow circles. “Is that what you wanted?” He asks, but the moans that fall from your lips are the only answer he needs. 

“More,” You plead, your voice shaking with each flick of your clit. “Bruce, please.” 

Without warning, Bruce kneels down, his head pushing between your thighs. He looks up into your eyes before starting. “You don’t come until I tell you, understand?” 

You nod your head. “Yes,” You whimper. “Please just-,”

The feeling of his tongue against your core clouds your thoughts. He pushes your thighs open wide against the cold countertops with the calloused palms of his hands. He laps against you, over and over again, keeping you spread open wide for him. 

“You taste so good for me,” He mumbles against your heat, the vibrations of his heavy voice pushing you closer to the edge. “So sweet, so perfect.” 

He takes his right hand off your thigh, and brings it down to your folds. He lets his fingers explore you while his mouth sucks harshly around your clit. Suddenly, two fingers force themselves into your opening. You shake involuntarily, the sensations quickly becoming too much for you to handle. Your elbows buckle as you fight to hold yourself up. 

He’s taking his time with you, moving slowly and carefully. He wants to tease you, to bring you to the edge and leave you wanting more. His fingers pump in and out of you rhythmically, languidly. Your walls tighten around him. You can feel yourself approaching your climax, and so can Bruce. 

“You want to come, don’t you?” He mutters in between licks, his fingers exceeding their pace. 

You nod, unsure of how much longer you could hold on. “Y-yes,” Your voice is trembling now. “Please, I wanna come.”

He sucks harshly on your core before separating his mouth from you. “Then come.” It’s not a request, not an option. “Now,” He commands. His need for control sends you over the edge. His mouth clamps back down on you, his tongue roughly stroking against your clit. 

“Shit, Bruce!” You cry out. Your eyes close as your walls flutter around his fingers, seeing nothing but white heat as your climax takes over. Bruce laps at you a few more times, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He removes himself after a few seconds, leaving you feeling cold and empty at the loss of contact. He stands up in between your legs, resting his forehead against your own. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, his hands traveling down to your waist. He stops at the bruise on your hip, just as he did before in the garage, brushing his thumb over the injury. You hold in your wince, knowing that he’d use it as a sign not to go any further tonight. 

“We shouldn’t do anything else until that,” He pauses, tapping the bruise lightly, eliciting a grimace and a flinch from you, “Heals a little more.” He knows he’s right as a soft smile spreads across his face. You shake your head in disapproval, tugging on Bruce’s sweatshirt lightly. You hadn’t had enough of him yet. You needed more. You wanted to make him feel good too. 

“I’m fine,” You plead, sneaking one hand down to his crotch while the other snakes around to the nape of his neck. You can feel his erection growing as you palm his length. “Please Bruce, fuck me,” Your voice is low, quiet, and convincing. He groans at your touch, shutting his eyes tightly. He was so touch starved, so deprived of physical contact. 

And you knew he wanted this just as much as you did.

He finally pulls his sweatshirt and t-shirt over his head, revealing his muscular chest. You bring your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants, sliding off the counter to drag the sweatpants down his legs. You dig your nails into the hem of his boxers, but Bruce stops you before you can get any further. 

“Counter,” He demands, grabbing your hands to pull you back up to his level. You do as he says, watching as he steps out of his boxers and towards you. His erection springs up against his stomach. You swallow harshly, realizing just how big he really was. “Lean back,” His voice is faint and mellow this time. You listen to him, leaning back so that you’re resting against your forearms.  

He takes his cock in his hand, stroking gently before lining himself up with you. His head pushes up and down against your wet folds. You both moan at the contact. 

He groans as he suddenly enters you, his length filling you up. “F-fuck,” His voice trembles as he stretches you out, pushing all the way in before pulling all the way back out. He fills you up again, giving you a second to adjust to his size. “You’re so tight,” He mumbles as one of his hands travels down to your clit, digging his thumb into the overly sensitive area.

“Shit,” You whimper as Bruce sets a rhythmic, hard, fast pace. He pumps in and out of you, each thrust just as controlled as the last. His free hand snakes around to your lower back, pulling you up, your chests now flush against each other’s. You hum pleasantly at the contact, wrapping your arms around his neck for support. 

He moans into your ear, his pace growing faster and faster as he hits the exact spot you needed him in most. “You’re taking me so good sweetheart,” He growls. His words alone are practically enough to make you come. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” He says before slamming into you again. “So fucking long.” 

The confession almost drives you to your breaking point, your walls convulsing around his length. “Bruce, I’m so close,” You say, barely able to get the sentence out in between heavy, labored breaths. You can feel his thrusts becoming sloppy, indicating that he’s right behind you. 

His thumb presses firmly into your clit, circling the bundle of nerves quickly, bringing you right to your peak. Your walls tighten around him, and you feel his cock spasm at the pressure. He comes inside of you, pumping in and out slowly now, each thrust threatening to make you come undone yet again. He slowly pulls out after a few seconds, riding out his high. 

He pulls you off the counter and into his arms in a tight, warm embrace. Your bodies meld together, his nails dragging softly against your back. This was more than just sex, more than just a one time thing, more than the release of tension after a hard night. 

“When I said I wanted this for a long time…” Bruce trails off, almost as if he’s unsure if he should say what it is he wants to say. “I meant it.” 

Your heart flutters. “I know,” You whisper, your head resting against his chest. You can hear his heart beating rapidly underneath you. 

“And I don’t want this to be the only time,” He says, far less confident than usual. You can hear the apprehension, the hesitation, the nervousness in his voice. He doesn’t want to scare you off, to upset you. “If you don’t want more, that’s fine. We can act like this never-,” 

“No,” You cut him off immediately. “I want more too. I’ve always wanted more.” You look up into his green eyes. His dark, brown hair, drenched in sweat, sweeps against his brows. He smiles. 

It’s the same smile from before, the smile that only you can bring out of him. 

You wanted to see that smile forever. You wanted him forever.

And that’s what you’d get.

Someone to watch me die

Someone to watch me die

I bet on losing dogs

[soobnny]

month of may — lee heeseung. fake dating. unrequited love. fluff and angst. best friends to ?

synopsis. you don’t think you’d ever want to go back to the month of may; the month lee heeseung asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend (2.6k words)

note. no warnings for this one :) just a little angsty i hope u enjoy this it’s inspired by the song “buwan ng mayo” oh n thank u to my bff yun for beta reading this <3

part 2

It takes seven seconds for Lee Heeseung to ruin years-worth of hiding your feelings.

“Do you think you could pretend to be my girlfriend for the month of May?”, he asks you this as the pair of you walk home together after a long day of classes, just like you always do.

The question leaves you with your eyes wide and mouth agape, feet glued to the ground. It had come out so easily from him, as if he was simply asking you what you had eaten for dinner. He laughs at your obviously confused gaze, halting his own steps so he could patiently wait for your answer.

“Excuse me?” You blink up at the boy, tilting your head. He simply repeats his question – “Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for the month of May?”

“I know, I heard you, but… why?”

Heeseung laughs quietly to himself, shuffling his feet in place out of nervousness before he lets his eyes rest on yours. “You remember Yujin, right?”

You nod your head.

Of course you remember Yujin.

Before it was _____ and Heeseung, it had been _____, Heeseung, and Yujin. The three of you had lived in the same neighborhood a few years back, the common factor that had led to your uncanny friendship.

Growing up together was a funny thing, and somewhere along the lines, Heeseung had fallen in love with Yujin, and you found yourself at your first crossroad. How could you be in love with someone while trying to set them up with your other best friend?

For a few years, it was like thin ice. You thread along your friendship lightly and carefully, trying not to shatter the walls you had built. But you survived. The three of you survived with Heeseung helplessly in love with Yujin, and you with Heeseung. You survived without recklessly telling Heeseung how you felt, without losing your friends.

Hiding the way you felt became second-nature to you.

A major shift happened in your friendship when Yujin had to go back to the United States where her mother was. When Yujin leaves, Heeseung doesn’t cry. He simply holds your hand and leads the two of you out of the airport and back home.

He tells you of his regrets, of not confessing soon enough, and you wonder if you’d share the same regrets as Heeseung in a few years. Will there come a time when you’d lose him and feel this way too?

“Of course I remember Yujin.”

Your heart drops to your stomach when you recognize the same lovesick smile plastered on his face. You don’t think this favor will lead to anything good.

“She’s coming back here for a bit.”

“She’s coming back?” Heeseung nods, leading an arm to rest on the small of your back so the pair of you could start walking again. “That’s great! But, what does that have to do with… with what you just asked me?”

“We called earlier. I don’t even remember most of it, but she said she was coming here for around a month, and asked if we were finally together? I don’t know why I said yes. Maybe I wanted to show her I’m no longer as hung up on her as I was… but yeah. I said yes, and that’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a shock, and you totally don’t have to do it. I’m just gonna call her and figure out how to say that I lied. Unless it’s alright with you, but I know it’s kind of a weird favor to ask your best friend.”

Heeseung’s favor is a dangerous thing. It’s risking the collapse of the walls you had built for yourself even if you’ve long since mastered how to suppress your thoughts and feelings. This was like an open invitation to give Heeseung your heart and say — here, you can have it, I’ve always been in love with you anyway!

You don’t think you could do it, but your words betray you as quickly as you had tried to shut it down.

“Okay.”

+

May comes a little too quickly than you would’ve liked, and you don’t understand how Heeseung is so good at pretending to be your boyfriend.

It feels too real.

He walks you home with your hands intertwined, and it terrifies you. It terrifies you that you might get used to the way his hand feels against yours, you might get used to the sweet and short kisses to your cheeks, you might get used to his mock words of affection.

The truth behind his actions isn’t real, not in the way you think, not in the way you wish it was. So why does he have to reach for your hand when there isn’t a need to?

Yujin comes home a week later for the marriage of a cousin. She congratulates the pair of you, exclaiming how she had always known that you and Heeseung were meant for each other. She doesn’t catch the way Heeseung looks at her with stars in his eyes, but you do.

It doesn’t take long for the three of you to fall easily into a routine again. Everything smoothly settled into place as you spent your free days hanging out together and catching up. Your friendship with Yujin started right back where it left off, and it was wonderful.

You don’t realize how much you’ve missed her until you catch light of her teasing, the same way she always did a few years ago. She still begs to dress you up when you plan to hangout, still orders the same coffee, still smiles the same way. In that, you were relieved that nothing felt awkward or forced.

Yujin still felt the same, and maybe that’s why you see Heeseung’s walls crumble and fall for her all over again.

+

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” You appeared in front of Heeseung and Yujin at a coffee shop by the corner of your neighborhood. They ask you what caught you up, and you tell them about homework, and as boring as it sounded, they still listen.

“I’m gonna go order something real quick.” You flash a quick smile, but before you could turn to the counter, a hand wrapped around your wrist stops you and you’re greeted with the sight of a shyly smiling Heeseung. “It’s alright, I already ordered for you.”

“He memorizes your coffee order?” Yujin coos at the (fake) couple in front of her, chin on the palm of her hands as she stares off dreamily, wondering when someone would do that for her too.

You know Heeseung knows her order by heart as well.

The boy pulls you down to sit at the empty seat right next to him, and he leans in to kiss your cheek in greeting. You pretend to be unfazed, but the heat in your cheeks say otherwise.

The conversation flows naturally once your coffee orders arrive, jumping from banter to reminiscing without a single pause. You laugh heartily at each other’s jokes, and the whole time, Heeseung has a hand rested on your thigh.

“Speaking of romance, how’d you two finally confess your feelings for each other?” Yujin leans back in her seat with an amused grin on her face. “Because, not to be a know-it-all, but I always knew it’d be the two of you.”

You watched as Heeseung struggled to make eye contact with her.

“It just… sort of happened?” You contemplated your words before saying anything at all.

“Just sort of happened?” Yujin’s voice is one of disbelief as she raises an eyebrow at you, arms crossed. “Come on, there must be a cuter backstory.” She prods, giggling at all the possibilities of Heeseung asking you out.

“It happened along the lines of me walking her home everyday, and her waiting for me to finish practice even though it’d run really long, or when I’d instantly save her a seat at school. I think… I think it was the little trivial things that we do for each other, when I realized she meant more to me than a best friend.”

Heeseung is smiling down at his hands, fiddling with his mug as he refuses to make eye contact with you. His response leaves you speechless, and you’re left to wonder how good of a liar Lee Heeseung is. Something in the way your stomach dropped was deeply unsettling.

“That’s so cute.” Yujin says so softly, hands cupping her cheeks as she smiles at her two best friends. It’s clear she’s happy with the outcome of events.

“It’s not all that cute all the time, you know! His friends are absolute menaces, and he still enjoys hiding my things sometimes.” You reply, nudging Heeseung’s side playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood at the table.

He laughs at this, and it leads to another conversation about his friends, and stories similar fly out from Yujin as well. The conversation was great, genuine, and you wished Yujin would just stay so you could have this back.

When she has to leave early to go to dress rehearsals as one of the bridesmaids, you’re left alone with Heeseung who has seated slightly closer to you than he did almost an hour ago. His proximity and the words he had said a bit ago has you repeating the mantra you’ve been drilling into your head for the past week.

This is all pretend. None of this is real.

“You okay?”

Heeseung peeks at you when he notices the faraway look in your eyes, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance for a moment.

“Yeah, all good.”

“We were pretty convincing, weren’t we?” Heeseung is laughing quietly, pinching at your side teasingly. “If I didn’t know this was fake, I would’ve believed it myself!”

You force a smile at the statement, and you hope it looks a little convincing to Heeseung.

Still, you wonder what he gets out of this arrangement. It wasn’t like it was some ploy to get him with Yujin (he had told you he couldn’t, she was leaving again and it’d be too hard to commit to a long distance relationship). Was it simply to prove to her he wasn’t in love with her anymore? It’s not like she knew in the first place.

You reason, maybe this is how he can cope, by pretending he has his life together, pretending that he’s way over her, more to convince himself than anyone else - so things don’t have to hurt as much when she leaves again.

+

The wedding was a straightforward event, something that should’ve been easy to get through. You don’t understand why Heeseung’s arm wrapped around your waist makes the night so much more difficult to handle.

The ceremony was beautiful, but there was a lingering weight in your chest. At one point, you’ve shuffled out of your seat to use the bathroom, but when you return, you find Heeseung waiting for you. He smiles when he spots you, and he gently scolds you not to disappear without telling him next time.

He didn’t need to make it feel so real.

But you also tell yourself, it doesn’t have to matter so much. You know this is all pretend, and pretending is nothing new to you. None of this matters, it doesn’t have to affect you this much.

“Dance with me?” The way he says it is not a request so much as it is a statement. When you see him with his hand outstretched at you and a small smile planted on his lips, you realize, this means everything to you.

He means everything to you.

You’re not quite sure when you take his hand, or if you were the one to take it at all, but his hand is firmly wrapped around your waist as you sway beneath the twinkling light of the moon and the stars.

He’s smiling at you like he’s in love with you, and you almost believe it for a second.

You choose to close your eyes, squeezing it shut tightly as you lean your head against his shoulder. You feel too helpless to stop your heart from leaping out of your throat as he leads you in the middle of the beautiful garden, amongst other dancing couples.

You can’t help but think back to the events of the month. The memories of Heeseung as your pretend boyfriend smells like surprise tulips and coffee handed to you as he walks you to school. It feels like his hand in yours and the warmth of his hugs as he thanks you for waiting for him after his club ends particularly late.

Heeseung’s hand feels a little more calloused now.

“I’m not a very good dancer, Hee.” He shakes his head, reassuring you it’s alright as he draws you closer and closer to his chest. You can hear his heartbeat.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You know he’s looking down at you, and you’re forced to look up and meet his eyes. How is he smiling like that? Did he always smile like that?

Your facade is slipping.

You blink up at him before looking around the venue. “Not a big fan of dancing.”

This makes him laugh, head tilted back a little. When he looks back at you, you notice a difference in his smile. The atmosphere shifts back.

“Thanks for doing this for me.” There’s sincerity in his voice and you laugh pathetically at yourself for allowing this to happen. “It’s really no problem.”

“Was I a good boyfriend for the month?” You know he means it as a joke, just like your whole pretend relationship, but you wonder how you could tell him he’s been the best boyfriend – that he played his part so well, it takes everything in you not to believe this is real every single day.

(You made me fall deeper in love with you.)

“You were alright.”

Heeseung shakes his head at your response, another laugh escaping his lips. How do you tell him to stop smiling like that?

When he brings his head back, you notice his gaze is no longer on you. He’s staring off somewhere else and when you follow his line of direction, you see Yujin standing beautifully by herself.

“Wanna go dance with her?” The smile you give him is genuine as you push him to talk to her alone, the way he’s been avoiding this whole month. “I don’t know if I can.” His voice is a whisper as he looks down at your feet.

“You’re gonna regret not talking to her. Trust me, I know you like the back of my hand.” There’s a hint of a smile on Heeseung’s face when you say that and he nods his head, looking back at you before giving you a quick hug.

“I’m sorry to cut our dance short. I’ll make it up to you next time.”

You know there’s no next time after this.

You shake your head, saying it’s no problem as you push him in Yujin’s general direction. You flash him a smile, small and slightly heart-broken, and a thumbs-up to tell him he can do it.

Just like that, he goes.

The month ends like a dream you don’t want to wake up from. One moment you’re holding his hand, and the next, you’re watching him walk towards the girl he’s actually in love with. And you can still see flashes of the dream vaguely, unwilling to let go when you know you have to forget now. You know you have to wake up.

Just like it takes Lee Heeseung seven seconds to ask you to be his fake girlfriend, it takes him the same amount of time to walk away from it.

And while it was a dream, you don’t think you’d ever want to go back to the month of May if you knew he was just going to leave you again.

[keykeep]

Our Little Secret- Draco Malfoy

Summary: The relationship is secret to only Draco and Y/N. But they’ll soon discover that no secret stays secret in Hogwarts.

Y/N= Your Name

Y/H/N= Your House Name

During the day Draco Malfoy was a spoilt daddy's boy from Slytherin who you shared classes with but at night he was a different person. He was sweet, charming and all yours.

No one in Y/H/N or Slytherin knew of your relationship. They wouldn't understand how opposites attract.

Plus if you had to admit it, you liked the secret glances in class, the fake facade, the sneaking out of your dorms much to the oblivion of your dorm mates. The late-night adventures were worth losing sleep for.

At night was the only time the blonde-haired boy could be himself without the expectations of his family or him trying to impress his friends.

Tonight as you lay awake listening to the soft snoring of the other people in your dorm. You slipped out of your bed and tiptoed down the staircase and out the door.

Walking the halls at night used to terrify you but now it's an accelerating rush hiding and dodging teachers and prefects and if you and Malfoy got detention it's just more time to spend together away from prying eyes.

As you made it outside a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist hoisting you off the ground as you yelped in surprise.

“shh, you don't want to wake the whole castle up do you?” Draco whispered in your ear before returning you to the ground.

“Hey” you whispered to him, his face broke out in a smile as he responded with a “hi yourself”.

He took your hand in his own as you two walked the grounds until you found a spot on the grass to sit. He pulled you into his lap as his soft lips collided with your own. After a breathtaking kiss, you two broke apart and began to tell each other about your days in detail.

As you listened to your boyfriend's voice as he explained his Quidditch training and how Slytherin were taking the cup this year.

You let out a yawn halting Draco from talking as he laughed. “ is that your way of saying that Y/H/N is going to win?”

“ of course” you smiled brightly at your boyfriend. “Only cause they have the best Seeker ever Y/N” he replied leaning in for another kiss. “ well I caught you so I’d say I am pretty good” you boasted.

After a considerable amount of time laughing, kissing and swapping stories. You and Draco decided it was time to get some much needed rest.

He took your hand in his own walking back to the castle as you slipped inside. “ I insist on walking you to your dorms, you never know what sort of creeps are out of bed” Draco whispered.

“ you’re right I might need protection”.

You arrived at your house portrait before you gave your boyfriend a kiss big enough to dream about tonight.

“ good night” you both said in unison. You entered your common room and headed to bed with a massive grin on your face.

Awakening the next morning you headed into The Great Hall with your friends by your side.

“ I say young love is just magical”, you heard a portrait say as you passed.

“ who would have thought a Y/H/N and a Slytherin”another portrait stated. Your cheeks felt hot and your friends too busy in conversations with each other to pay attention to the portraits.

You realised all the time you had been sneaking around with Draco Malfoy you had been watched by all the portraits in the castle and after all this time hiding they were finally spilling the tea to anyone who walked past.

You entered The Great Hall to silence and eyes staring at you. You hated the attention as your eyes searched for Draco at the Slytherin table.

But he wasn’t at the table he was walking over to you in front of everyone. Your eyes widened and your heartbeat rose drastically. His lips pressing against your own and his arms pulling you flush against his body holding you up.

He pulled away from you still holding you up in fear that if he didn’t your legs would turn to jelly.

You stood speechless unable to process what was happening.

“ If anyone has a problem with that, I don’t give a shit, this is my girlfriend and if anyone has a problem with that you can take it up with me in Duelling Club” Draco announced.

The deafening silence was broken by the Slytherins who whooped and banged on the table as each house joined in causing a mass commotion in the hall.

“ The secret’s out,” Draco said to you before going in for another kiss.

[goldsainz]

MASTERLIST.

A/N: i’m not making a masterlist for this man, not worth it, only fic i’ll make for him ever (and i mean that because as much as i love reading about him, it would hurt my heart to write good things about him) velaryon!reader (no stating of bastard or true born, just rhaenyra’s daughter) i’d recommend listening to bigger than the whole sky because it sets the mood greatly [gif cred: @gameofthronesdaily]

WORD COUNT: 2,5k

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MORE THAN JUST A SHORT TIME

You had claimed the second largest dragon to exist, Vermithor, when you were just 9 years old. 

It was a great feat, and an outworldly honour to be his rider. Though tensions weren’t as high within your family, having claimed that dragon was an obvious gain towards your side. 

You had sung to him, paying no mind to the warnings of the dragon keepers as you ventured into the depths of the dragon pit. It was like a match made in heaven, as Vermithor found you worthy, being claimed once more.

You could offer a protection many dragons lacked, as did their riders. It made perfect sense in your head to advocate for yourself and go to Storm’s End with your brother, Lucerys. And even though you would be of better use somewhere else, the thought of your little brother being sent alone, even as a messenger, was outrageous in your eyes.

“It will be easy, mother. In and out, he’s just a messenger.” You continued to argue with your freshly crowned mother.

“You would be of better use elsewhere, Y/N.” Her voice was stern, you were sure she was a breath away from commanding you to drop the matter.

“What of the skies? Arrax is far too young as is Lucerys, Vermithor will serve the both of them with great protection.” Lucery’s huff was not unheard, but you chose to ignore it, you had more pressing issues. 

“Lucerys will be just a messenger, what would he need protection for?”

“Our foes.” Your voice is chilly, it makes your younger brother’s hair stand up. He knows the risk, and yet he is willing to still complete his duty, but you won’t let him do it alone.

“Lord Borros is a proud man, he would not let harm come to his guest.” Your mother’s words are true, but the fear burning in the pit of your stomach could not be quelled.

“It’s a short flight, we'll be back before you know it.” You assured firmly, reaching to grab one of her hands, “Please let me do this, I will go wherever you need me to after coming back, I swear it.” Your whisper was intended only for your mother’s ears only, as she nodded her head, the rest of the people in the room awaited their Queen’s verdict.

“Princess Y/N Velaryon will aid her brother, Lucerys Velaryon, in his travel to Storm’s End to prevent any conflict that may arise.” You let out a breath, the grip you had on the table lessening in force as you looked at your brother, noting the relief of not being alone.

You stared at the ceiling above, hoping that the Gods were not playing cruel games with you. You prayed for your fears to be misplaced, that you would return home safely.

━━━━━━

Flying towards Storm’s End was more dreadful than you had anticipated. You flew over Arrax, as your own dragon shielded Lucery’s. You were both slightly shaken from the tempestuous storm coming, your hair now laid messier and more like knots form the strong winds.

Sometimes Vermithor grumbled from the thunder, as if to challenge them to be louder. You urged him to be calm, but he was set on showing his strength. Though you weren’t sure to whom.

When you finally landed you viewed the guards standing in front of Lord Borros’s hall. You hopped off from Vermithor, gracefully landing on the ground. As you walked behind your brother, you both heard a roar that made you turn.

Vhagar was here.

You had to swallow down your worries, preparing for the worst, but mostly to defend Lucerys. Something in you urged you to turn back, to denote the Baratheon’s as a lost cause, but that would not suffice. So you took all of your bravery, and continued to walk.

“I am Prince Lucerys Velaryon.” You knew him, he was fearful but still remained poised for the realm’s sake, more so your mother’s.

The guards looked at you, “I am Princess Y/N Velaryon.” 

“We bring a message to Lord Borros from the Queen.”

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon.” The thundering does not stop, but as he is introduced a figure turns around.

You know exactly who it is. Aemond Targaryen had not been a pleasant surprise, but you were grateful that the sighting of his dragon could mask the utter shock of seeing him, once more.

“Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. And his sister, Princess Y/N Velaryon.” One of the Baratheon guards finished.

You held his gaze, looking straight at his eye, no fear visible for him to take advantage of.

“Lord Borros... we brought you a message from our mother... the Queen.” Lucerys says, 

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King. Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.” Borros Baratheon laughs at his own jests, but you do not even twitch from it. Your posture straight, which made his laughter die as he viewed your hard stance. “What's your mother's message?”

Your brother hands it to one of his guards, so that he can place it on Lord Borros’s hand.

“Where's the bloody maester?” The maester makes haste to him, grabbing the message as he whispers it’s content to him.

Whilst you awaited for him to finish, you quickly avert your eye to your once lover, now enemy. It seems the joy shared just days ago quickly died, as did the memories of you and him together in your heart. Replaced by betrayal, the usurping of your mother’s throne no doubt supported by his end.

“"Remind" me of my father's oath. King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact.” The smirk on Aemond’s face never leaves him, only seeming to be reinforced by his seeming victory, “If I do as your mother bids... which one of my daughters will you wed... boy?” 

“My lord... I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed.” At Lucerys’s words, your uncle smirks more, the change noticeable to the both of you.

“So you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.

“I shall take your answer to the Queen, my lord.” Your brother says, making his way out of the Hall. You follow in suit, your hand still gripping the sword on your hip tightly. 

“Wait... my Lord Strong.” You tense at his voice, watching as Lucerys turns to him. “Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?” 

“I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior.

“A fight would be little challenge. No. I want you to put out your eye. As payment for mine. One will serve.” Aemond takes of his eyepatch, his sapphire eye a sight you often saw in the privacy of your chambers. He then proceeds to take out a dagger, throwing it onto the ground. You step in front of your little brother, cocking your head to the side as if to challenge him. “I would not blind you. Mm, plan to make a gift of it to my mother.” 

“He will do no such thing.” You seethe, your voice overpowering your brother’s “No”.

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.” Aemond seems to come to his own conclusion, but you just scoff at the irony of his words.

“Says the usurper’s brother.” He smirks at your words, only infuriating you more.

“Not here.” 

“Give me your eye or I will take it, bastard!” You take out your sword, pointing it to him, watching as he runs towards the both of you. Lucerys has taken out his own, too, but you know that only one of you can put up a fight against him. It seems your fears were correct, you only wished they didn’t escalate further than mere threats.

“Not in my hall! The boy came as an envoy. I'll not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys and Princess Y/N back to their dragons.” The three of you make no move, “Now.” 

You made your way to the exit, gripping your brother’s hand to show even the slightest of comforts to him. You shuddered out a breath as you noticed the terrible storm you now had to fly in.

You watched Lucerys run to Arrax, the dragon meeting him halfway. You avert your gaze from them, looking out for Vhagar, but she was nowhere to be seen, and that made you tremble. And the cold was not at fault.

“Sōvēs, Vermithor!” You took off when Arrax did, following them from behind this time.

You yelped when you saw Vhagar appear above you, watching intently as your brother appeared to be shaken from the scare. 

Aemond’ laugh was cruel, not the one you loved. It made you gulp, trying to maintain Vermithor at bay as he sensed your worries. You had a great bond with him, but he was not called the Bronze Fury for nothing, and now was not the time for him to show it.

Aemond shouted things you couldn’t quite make out with the heavy storm, but what you could make out was Vhagar trying to bite Lucerys and his dragon like it was her last meal. Though Vermithor was big, he paled in comparison to the mighty Visenya’s dragon. Which is why you feared greatly for Arrax, who in your eyes was still just a baby.

Your brother shouted for his dragon to turn quickly. You gripped the reins and flew after him, swishing around Vhagar who seemed to not be bothered by the big dragon by her side. The same could not be said for her rider, who was watching you attentively. 

As Lucerys entered a narrow passage made of rocks, you were below Vhagar but still slightly behind her. You now set your eyes only on Lucerys, making sure not to lose your sight on him.

Aemond continued to laugh, talking to the rain about how he was still owed a debt. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, wind jig what possessed him to create such a dangerous chase for something that had not great value now. He had claimed Vhagar, wasn’t that what he once called, a fair exchange?

You were suddenly pulled down by your dragon, no command needed as you watched fire be thrown to Vhagar, some of the heat reaching you. Vermithor seemed to be aware of his surroundings more than you were, but you were frightened, he did something under no command. Yes, he had saved you from being burnt, but who could say what more would be done without your word. 

“No, no, no, no, no! No, Vhagar! No!” Aemond shouted to his dragon, who seemed to have made her own mind up as to what she would do in retaliation.

Vermithor roared, a protective nature you had now passed onto him. He quickened his flight to reach Arrax faster than Vhagar, and you were now flying upwards, reaching a clear sky.

Vermithor was now surveying the new landscape, he was near your brother but not close enough to shield him from the wide mouth of Vhagar.

It had happened far too quickly for the both of you, the screech from Arrax, the frightened scream of Lucerys, and the chilling roar of Vhagar. In just a second you had watched your brother fall from the sky, whatever was left from his dragon almost grazed you. 

You looked to Aemond, who seemed just as distraught, the evident loss of control over his own dragon did nothing to your growing anger. There was no time to truly grasp the severity of the situation, your new mission was to get to Dragonstone physically intact. 

“Sagon adere, Vermithor, adere!” You shouted to your own dragon. Be fast, Vermithor, fast!

The chase was now bloodier, it was no longer a game of a scorned man, but that of a war scarred dragon. Vermithor was thankfully faster than Arrax could have ever been, which was why you had managed to loose Vhagar in the clouds. Though you could still hear her roar every once in a while, you weren’t sure if it was true or just your imagination replaying it. 

But you knew one thing for certain: this meant war. This was one of the biggest crimes a man could commit, and you would make sure it was known by every single lord lyal to the Blacks or Greens, the world would know. 

Aemond Targaryen was a kinslayer, and your little brother had been his victim.

━━━━━━

When you reached Dragonstone, only then did tears start falling from your eyes. Vermithor wailed as he felt your pain.

You sobbed still sitting on your dragon, you hadn’t even reached the dragon keepers, resting by the mount. You felt helpless, like a failure, you had been sent to avoid anything even touching Lucerys. Yet here you were, without your brother, mourning over a loss you had witnessed.

It shouldn’t have been him, he was young, far too young, with so much life to be lived. What were you supposed to say? There were no words that could ever suffice for the horrible event that had happened.

Your mother had lost her daughter just hours ago, and now, Lucerys was gone too. You screamed in agony, hitting the saddle with all of your might, knowing Vermithor would just barely feel it. He roared loudly, and if the people at Dragonstone hadn’t heard him before, they had now.

You cried for what felt like hours, until your face felt dry from the tears. Your eyes were red, your face puffy, all things you rarely saw from yourself. You didn’t even bother fixing your soaked hair as you commanded your dragon to fly towards the dragon pit. 

The keepers made now questions with your state, already fearing the wrath painted all over their Princess’s face. You walked painfully slowly towards your mother, not giving any time for the guards to open any doors or announce your presence to her. You only stood in front of her from the other end of the table. 

Daemon sensed something was wrong with his daughter, ordering the room to be cleared. All of the lords and guards left as quickly as their feet allowed them too. 

“Where is Lucerys, Y/N?” Your mother carefully asked, watching you intently as you made your way to her.

You didn’t dare to look at her, tears dripping onto the floor. You heard her take a sharp breath, turning to look at the fireplace. You saw Daemon follow in suit, his hand intertwined with hers. 

When she turned around, you glanced up and saw a look on her face that could only mean trouble. There was no way to go back now, any ounce of mercy that existed inside her, was now gone. 

You bowed your head to her, your lips trembling from grief and rage. 

Lucerys would be avenged. 

[happilyhertale]

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 6

Summary: You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. When the invitation to Aegon and Helaena's wedding came, your entire family rushes from Dragonstone to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. You haven't seen your family in King's Landing for 6 years so you are very excited...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Author’s note: Hello you! (:

This is my first fic so please be nice (: I thought I'd just try a little self-considered story. I hope u like it.

The events are not entirely similar from the series.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 4.6k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7a, Part 7b, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You enjoy his warmth and press his arm tightly against you. You have noticed that your touch has eased Aemond's tension and you like the thought of having such an effect on him.

You lean your head gently against his shoulder as you walk down the corridor, softly hearing him chuckle. With Aemond, spending time in complete silence was not uncomfortable. You do not need to exchange many words to understand each other.

After a while you reach your "secret" tree and sit down next to each other on the bench, so close that your thighs almost touch. Aemond doesn't wait long and opens the wine bottle. "I didn't think of the cups," he looks at you apologetically. "I don't need one," you take the bottle from him and take a big gulp. He laughs as you choke and cough.

Silence reigns between you again as Aemond looks at you and says, "You know, when you left back then, after the Driftmark incident, that was a really hard time for me," he takes a deep breath and fixes his gaze on a point in the distance. "Aemond... I...", "No Y/N, I have to tell you this. And I don't know if I'll ever have the courage to tell you if I don't tell you now…. I know…“, he stops in mid-sentence and that is unusual for him,“… I know you couldn't help it when your parents left with you, but it was still hard for me.".

You look at him worriedly, he continues, "After the accident, I needed someone. Someone to be by my side. I would have needed you by my side.“ he exhales sharply, “… Until then, I was used to having at least you by my side. No matter whether I had trouble with my brother or with your brothers," he smiles sadly for a moment, "or whether it was about something else in this terrible world,“ He looks at you, “… I could count on you... And then, after they took my eye... It wasn't the only thing taken from me that night," he pauses for a moment and looks into the distance again. "Yes, I got Vhagar in return. But... it wasn't worth it." He looks at you again, but this time with a watery eye, his jaw tense.

You cannot answer him. You dare not interrupt him. You feel he needs to let it all out for once. If not with you, where else could he do it. Yet his sudden openness overwhelms you. In the short time you have spent together over the last few days, he has never been so honest with you. Your eyes fill with tears and you bite your lower lip.

Aemond hangs his head, his hands resting on the bench beside him, his gaze fixed on the ground. "It was almost worst for me when I got older. I felt more and more insecure. My face seemed to scare everyone...“ his sobbing that you hear is so quiet that you are almost not sure if it was a sob. Your heart aches, you want to touch him, to soothe him, but you don't dare. “… No one said it directly to my face, but I heard them whispering. They called me the monster of the Red Keep. No Lady dared to look at my face for more than a brief moment," he took another deep breath, "of course Aegon is not innocent of my bad treatment either. He was always fuelling the rumours among the servants, always reminding me that I was indeed a monster. That I was not worthy of being loved. That no woman could ever love me except our mother because she had to. Not to mention that no woman would ever want to share a bed with me."

That was too much. Your heart broke. You've never really liked Aegon, but even you wouldn't have expected that from Aegon. Single tears ran down your cheeks. "I feel like I'll never be enough. Not for anyone. And... I've missed you so much, Y/N. All the time. I've wanted nothing more than to see you. I feel like the people I care about end up leaving me." Aemond lifts his head and slowly looks over at you. His eye is red from the tears he has hidden from you. As he looks at you he sees that you are no different, "No my Love, please don't cry," you ignore him and turn in his direction and place your hand on top of his.

"Aemond.... I am so sorry. I can't put it into words. I'm so sorry that you had to suffer like this. That I couldn't be there for you, that my parents took away my chance to sit by your bedside day after day after the accident," you sob briefly, "But what I do know is that I missed you. Every single day. When I was stuck on Dragonstone without being able to say goodbye to you, it broke my heart. But I can tell you that I will never leave you again," you bite your lower lip again.

Aemond also turns a little in your direction and gently wipes the tears from your face with one hand. You stay like that for a while. You and Aemond sob quietly, he holds your face gently in his hand and strokes your cheek.

When you laugh softly, "What a lovely evening. Now we sit here, under our 'secret' tree and cry" He too laughs briefly. None of you dares to disturb the beautiful silence. Your gaze is fixed on Aemond's face. He is looking at the ground. You absorb every detail of his face. His beautiful eye, which shines so beautifully purple. His high cheekbones, his perfect jawline. Even his nose, which would be too big for many, is perfect for you. Everything about him is naturally beautiful.

After a while you break the silence, "Aemond.... I want to see all of you" He looks at you motionless. He knows immediately what you mean, but suddenly a feeling of fear flows through him and he stiffens. Too often he has frightened women with this sight, his uncovered eye. He would not bear it if you looked at him with disgust, if not with fear. He is a strong man who can bear many things, but that would be the end of him if you saw his eye and turned away from him.

You gently let your fingers caress his hand, which is lying on the bench again. He breathes in and out deeply, wanting to try something he's never done before, wanting to trust someone. He wants to trust you. After all, you are the one, the only one with whom he doesn't have to act cold, with whom he can express his feelings and sensations without exposing himself to the risk of you despising or laughing at him. This eye patch hides all the insecurities that he must never show to anyone. With you, he wouldn't need that eye patch. With you, he doesn't have to be constantly prepared for the worst.

He hesitates for a moment as he carefully pulls his hand from under yours and lets it wander to his covered eye. You watch every little movement. He feels the leather over his eye, the feeling of fear spreading through his chest, making it hard to breathe. His other hand comes to support him and grips the leather strap. Slowly he lowers his head as he removes the eye patch. He is breathing heavily, his hands now on his thighs, the eyepatch in his hands. He has taken off the eye patch, but he does not dare to look up.

You give him a moment and wait until his breathing has calmed down. Carefully you let your hand wander to his face. Gently you touch him under the chin and lift his head. His right eye is closed, he does not dare to see your first reaction. As your gaze falls on his scar and his left eye, you inhale sharply. Amond's jaw immediately stiffens, the old familiar feeling of someone being disgusted with him spreading through him. But then you carefully glide your thumb over the lower part of his scar. There it was. The face you could look at and caress day and night. Not a piece of leather to hide him and his insecurities. A "so beautiful" escapes you as your gaze falls on the sapphire sitting in his eye socket. A gemstone replacing the eye he lost the night his life took a tragic turn.

Slowly, Aemond opens his eye and watches you and your expression closely. And he is relieved that for the first time someone sees his whole face and does not walk away in disgust. Your hand is still on his face, gently caressing his scar. You cannot take your eyes off the sapphire. Without really noticing it, you slide closer to him so that you can reach him better. You are in a trance, "A sapphire," you whisper. Aemond nods slowly. "Like in my necklace," your other hand moves to your necklace. "As in your necklace," Aemond replies quietly, his hand also slowly moving to your necklace and touching it. Hesitantly, he strokes your sapphire. When your hands touch at your necklace, Aemond pauses for a moment, but then takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your touching hands slide slowly downwards.

At last you can take your gaze off the sapphire and look him in the eye, your faces only inches apart. Your other hand is still on his face and you caress him. Your gaze falls from his eye to his slightly parted lips. You swallow visibly. As if of your own accord, you bend further in his direction. You can feel his breath, it is quick and shallow. Aemond makes no move to stop you as you move closer, tilting your head slightly to one side. His free hand drags itself over your bare shoulder, towards the back of your neck. Gently he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and he leads you further in his direction. You close your eyes and feel your lips touch. You feel his soft lips on yours. It seems to you that you cannot stand this incredible feeling. You need more. You push yourself further into the kiss, as if by magic you let your tongue slide into his mouth, as you deepen the kiss you moan softly. It just feels right, like your lips were made for exchanging passionate kisses.

You take your hand, still on his face, and put your arm around his neck, your hand reaching into his hair to hold him and feel him even closer.  Aemond chuckles softly at your greedy behaviour. But he also needs to feel you closer. He releases his hand from yours and places it on your back to hold you close. 

Meanwhile, your parents are still sitting in the hall. Your brothers have seized the opportunity and are celebrating exuberantly. They drink wine and Jace can show off his dancing skills. Much to the delight of the Ladies present.

Daemon, who is watching his stepsons from a distance, has noticed for a while that Rhaenyra is visibly restless sitting next to him. She slides back and forth on her chair. At first he didn't take it seriously, who likes to sit at the head table at a party like this?

But nevertheless he notices that she seems to be getting more and more nervous, "Is everything okay with you?" he looks at her worriedly. "Yeah... I guess. I don't know. You'll think I'm stupid if I tell you that" He looks at her with raised eyebrows, "...when do I ever not think you're stupid?", she gives him a startled look and punches him in the arm. He gives a short laugh, "Go on tell me what's bothering you" She sighs and replies, "Don't laugh. But when Y/N was walking down the hall with Aemond... They seemed very familiar. And they've been gone for quite a while now. I'm worried, and I must confess I don't like her being alone with him"

Daemon nods thoughtfully, "Yes, okay, I understand your concerns. But I think they're just walking around somewhere talking. There's nothing to worry about there" He can see that doesn't reassure Rhaenyra, "But if we're a bit lucky, she takes after her mother more than her father." Rhaenyra's eyes widen, "Daemon, that's not even a little bit funny." Daemon laughs, "Oh come on, did it hurt you to have a little fun?"

Rhaenyra gives him a warning look, "Only that I was forced to marry Laenor... Daemon you need to check on her" Daemon frowns, "No I won't… There are probably things happening that I don't want to see." She looks at him in shock, "Daemon I'm serious.".

"Yeah, me too"

"Please Daemon... It would really calm me down to know that they are just talking somewhere." Rhaenyra puts her hand on his lower arm. Daemon exhales annoyed, "I'll never ask again when you seem worried" Daemon stands up and Rhaenyra returns a quiet thank you with a smile on her lips. 

He is not at all thrilled that he now has to look for you. Your relationship is not based on him having to look for you to see if you behave. Daemon doesn't trust many people, but you are his daughter and your relationship is largely based on trust. Just as he trusts you, you trust him and he enjoys that. It makes him happy in a way that you don't have to keep secrets from him. But after searching numerous corners of the Red Keep, including your chambers, and not finding you, he is no longer quite so sure whether it is better to trust you or to know where you are.

Finally, he makes his way to the garden. He walks through the corridor adjoining the garden and looks through the windows facing the garden. He tries to see something in the darkness that looks like your silver hair. That's when he sees you. Although it is pitch black, your hair literally glows. He sees you sitting on a bench in the distance, your back turned to him. But he doesn't hear any of the conversations or giggles that usually surround you. Until he notices.

Although he sees you from a distance, he sees exactly how Aemond kisses you, how his hands are wrapped around your body and how you give yourself completely to this touch. His little daughter. Daemon is seething with anger. It is quite different to see this scene than to joke about it. Just as he is about to storm off to crush Aemond's skull, it dawns on him.

You really take after your mother.

Disbelieving, he stands in the dark corridor for a short time. His hand covers his forehead, he has to think. Here you are, a young woman, in the arms of the man you have known and loved since childhood. You surrender to the touch of the man you love, your uncle. Just like your mother did, only she was not allowed to savour this love from the beginning. And the gods know how much suffering that brought for many people. He rubs his eyes, still thinking.

Only he can't quite understand why you fancy the One-Eyed Prince. But fortunately that's not for him to decide. He calmed down and breathed in and out a few times. He knows you and your temperament only too well. If he storms out now and exposes you or crushes Aemond's skull, he would provoke a war and it would most likely cost him his daughter. He looks over at you and sighs. Slowly he walks towards the garden. 

Reluctantly, you release yourself from the kiss. Your lips are slightly swollen and reddened. Your breathing is heavy, almost halting. Your hand is still firmly in his soft hair. You look into his eye, pure lust is reflected in his eyes and he swallows hard. You desperately try to breathe in the air you need to continue, you can't think of stopping kissing him now.

Aemond gently caresses your cheek, only now you realise that he too is breathing heavily. He leans back a little, "Perhaps we should take a short break" You look almost pouty, "No.. Why?", Aemond chuckles at the look on your face.

"Well you two...", you only now notice the approaching footsteps and hear your father's voice.

In a flash you break free from Aemond's embrace. You turn in his direction as Aemond stiffens beside you, "Oh wow, fancy eye." Aemond immediately lowers his head and you hiss at your father, "Dad! Stop it!"

Daemon smiles in your direction, "It's alright, I won't bother you for long at all. Your mother sent me. She wants me to see if everything is alright." You look at him irritated, "Why would anything be wrong?" He shrugs, "Yes, as I can see, everything is fine. I guess I'll tell her that," you look at him, still irritated. "Okay?" you reply simply.

He nods and slowly turns away from you. As he leaves he says, "And don't worry, I won't tell her about that kiss". Your eyes widen immediately and Aemond's head goes up. That was exactly the reaction Daemon wanted to see. He wants you to think twice about taking another step. Actually, he doesn't believe in the principle of judging a woman by whether she's a virgin, but he wants you to be comfortable with it and think twice about who you want to experience it with. And that's the only time Daemon hopes you won't take after your mother or father and that this shock will be enough for you to consider whether you want to have this experience with the One-Eyed Prince. After all, you are his daughter and if he has his way, you always deserve better. But somehow his feeling tells him that it won't do any good. 

When your father is out of sight, Aemond can't hold it in any longer, "Did he just say kiss?", he looks at you from the side. You can only nod. "Then why did he act so... relaxed?" You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not entirely sure. Whenever a Lord expresses interest in me, he doesn't react so relaxed...", an "Ooh..." escapes you.

"Perhaps because, I'm supposed to choose my own husband and it didn't seem like you were forcing me to do anything....", as it dawned on you, you squint your eyes.

"Husband, mhm?", Aemond smirks at you. Aemond notices how uncomfortable this makes you. He puts his hand on your thigh, "Well yes, to an outsider it probably looked like you were forcing me. The way you threw yourself at me", he smirks at you.

"You wish!" you scoff at him. You laugh together.

Aemond thinks for a moment, "Yes, but when I think about it, in a way you're right. The thought is nice that there is a woman who wants to share the bed with me".

You take his hand, which is resting on your thigh, "Please don't listen to the stupid things your brother spreads. I bet there is not one woman who has ever willingly climbed into his bed," Aemond smiles at you. You sit under your tree for a while without anyone breaking the silence. Eventually you realise that you are quite tired, "It's quite late, will you take me to my chambers?", you ask him, with a slight smile on your lips. "Of course, my princess," Aemond replies.

Before you leave, Aemond carefully puts his eye patch back on. He can show himself in front of you, but he wouldn't wander through the corridors without protection. As you walk through the corridors, you are pressed close to his side. You are slowly getting used to being so close to him, and Aemond, too, does not want to miss your closeness at any moment you spend together. Suddenly an idea comes to you, "Tomorrow night is another stupid ball, isn't it?" You smile at him, "How about you pick me up at my chambers and we can go there together?“ Aemond looks at you in surprise, "Together? Well, that would give people even more to talk about... But you wouldn't be late for the ball either." You grin at him, "So that's a yes?", Aemond smiles and nods.

It's very unusual for him, but it makes him feel warm that someone is so happy to spend time with him. 

When you find yourselves at your door, no one dares to ask if you want to spend the night together. The fear of Daemon suddenly standing in your chamber and Aemond being at the dark sister's blade is too great.

You shyly look up into his face. He smiles lightly at you, "Good night my princess," carefully he takes your hand and kisses the back of your hand first as he turns your hand and leaves a light kiss on your inner wrist. You bite down on your bottom lip and this view drives Aemond wild.

"Good night Aemond," you say softly. Aemond grins at you. Slowly he lets your hand slide down, turns and walks towards his chamber. 

"Aemond wait!" it suddenly occurs to you. Aemond turns again and comes back. You walk into your chambers, Aemond not daring to follow you, he waits outside your open door, "What's wrong Y/N?" he calls after you.

As you reappear in the doorway, smiling you hold out his vest to him. He has to grin, "am I supposed to just walk through the Red Keep with my vest in my hand now?"

"Why not?" you ask. "Mhm, no. Keep that. You'll certainly need something to sleep in tonight," he winks at you. You smile at him. He gently strokes your cheek and this time really goes to his chambers.

On the way to his room, Aemond is still high from the evening. He couldn't be happier at this moment. 

But this feeling did not last long.

When you come for breakfast in the morning, Aemond is usually already training. So it is on this morning as well.

As he moves away from the breakfast table, a couple of servants are standing in a corner, they don't hear him coming. They were talking animatedly and he could hear exactly what they were saying, "Did you hear about yesterday? With Prince Aemond? The monster from the Red Keep actually managed to get a Lady to endure his proximity." Another replied, "No, not just a Lady! Even a princess. Princess Y/N is said to have been close to him"

"Are you sure?" the first asks again, "Yet she is so beautiful. She could really do better... Than with that monster", everyone in the round giggles.

"Yeah who knows what she'll get in return," another giggle follows. Seeing that Aemond is near them, the servants quickly disperse and go back to their work. And now the all too familiar feeling makes its way through him. Every day anew he has to fight his own thoughts. Just when he dares to feel good, he is reminded again that it will never just be good for him. How can he think he deserves such happiness. You certainly felt compelled to kiss him yesterday. All his previous chatter must have befuddled you, you were certainly not in your right mind. He must apologise to you afterwards. He must promise you that it won't happen again.

The training went sluggishly and he did not do well. Ser Criston, who has become his constant fighting partner, has hit him a few times now with the morning star on the shield. Aemond groans as he is once again brought to his knees by Ser Criston.

He kneels in the dirt, the next shield destroyed in his hand. Enraged, he throws the remains into the nearest corner. "Prince Aemond, what is the matter with you today? Normally I hardly come near you and today you willingly kneel before me several times already"

Aemond just shakes his head slightly, "I don't know, I'm distracted" Ser Criston looks at him closely, "Perhapse we have trained enough for today? It's getting into the afternoon by now and you'll want to change for tonight," Aemond just nods.

Aemond is not really close to anyone, but with Ser Criston he has a sort of connection. Not really any kind of closeness, but Aemond trusts him. What he didn't know is that in the meantime you stood up on the balcony for a short while watching him and you saw that something was troubling him. You don't know exactly what's going on, but it hurts you. You don't want him to feel so bad. 

Later you wait impatiently for Aemond to show up. This time you have finished much too early. Somehow you are excited. You have tried on several different dresses and as a result, half the contents of your wardrobe are lying on your bed. You walk up and down in your chamber, rubbing your palms against each other. And just when you are almost convinced that Aemond will not come and you will have to go to the hall alone, you hear a light knock on your door. You hurry to your door and as you open it, you can't help grinning.

Aemond is standing in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. His long silver hair falls slightly over his shoulder. He is handsome as ever. You think back to when he was lying topless in your bed and you notice that even through his leather waistcoat you can see how slim, yet muscular, he is. Suddenly the thought occurs to you that the idea of staying in your chambers with him excites you much more than going to the stupid ball.

"Aemond," you whisper.

"Wow... you look... really beautiful," it escapes him. You bite your lower lip. Before Aemond can be too distracted by this sight, he continues, "Y/N, About yesterday. I'm really sorry that I just kissed you yesterday. That was inappropriate. I promise it will be..." after making sure no one is around, you take a step towards him and kiss him passionately.

Again you reach up and grab the back of his neck to press him closer to you. Aemond is reluctant at first, but can't contain himself for long when he notices you nestling against his body. The deep moan that seems to come directly from his chest vibrates through your whole body. As you part out of breath from the kiss, you look up into his eyes, "I'm not sorry," you whisper. He smiles at you. "I thought it was very nice," and again you bite your lip. Seeing you like this drives him mad and the thought of just taking you here and now occurs to him. He leans his forehead against yours and closes his eye. Only you manage to dispel his misgivings and fears in no time.

"And besides, you shouldn't let Aegon or anyone else play with your mind like that," you break away from him, followed by a silent protest from Aemond, "after all, I know at least one woman who would share a bed with you." Grinning, you turn away from him and continue walking as Aemond looks after you, amused. He realises that you'll be in bed with him at some point, and it won't be for sleeping or cuddling. Or at least not just for that.

He catches you up quickly and holds out his arm, which you are only too happy to accept.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[hiraya-rawr]

I absolutely loved the recent work about Zhongli (?) and Xiao and how they would clash in an imposter au or something of the like. Do you have any more thoughts about what could happen with them and the aftermath of it? No pressure!!

SAGAU: The Aftermath (Xiao, Zhongli)

note: hi anon!! no worries, I really enjoy exploring SAGAU so this was a delight to brainrot on!! it sort of ended up being a fic instead. and sorry for replying late, I was having trouble with being shadow banned ☺️ I hope it's alright now and this reaches you!

cw: mentions of violence, blood, religious themes, can be platonic/romantic

based off of this reply: Xiao & Zhongli SAGAU

~ the aftermath ~

The minute Xiao takes you and disappears, Zhongli finally notices the pool of golden blood staining the grass.

Shame and regret quickly gives way to anger. Anger at himself for not trusting you or Xiao, anger at his own carelessness and assumptions, and most of all, anger towards the false creator cruelly manipulating them all along.

Zhongli's emotions resonate with Liyue as the ground shakes in fervor. He makes his way to the temple, to the halls, past the pavilion, till he's in the throne room where several of the other acolytes stood in waiting.

The false god raises an eyebrow curiously as the most "devoted" of worshippers makes his way towards them, polearm in hand.

Zhongli doesn't give the "god" a moment to react when he grabs them by the back of the throat and manhandling them to the floor, face first.

"Morax, how dare you!-" The god begins to say before the grip on their throat tightens to silence them.

"Zhongli, such sacrilege! Unhand the creator at once!" One of the archons rush towards the two but a pillar quickly rises from the ground, causing them to stagger back. There's hesitation amongst the acolytes, for who would want to go against the geo archon, Morax?

With one knee on the false god's back, Zhongli angles his polearm and nicks the skin of their shoulders.

The result was as expected. Blood without a single glimmer of the stars or a glow of ichor — simply ordinary red blood.

He raises his vortex vanquisher, the blood for all to see, before glaring down at the once confident "creator", now shaking in fear.

"You dare to fool Teyvat — enact cruelties and wield power under the name and privilege of our holy divine god."

Without a second thought, he drags them by the hair out of the temple, they pathetically squirm, trying to get away as the rest of the acolytes follow in shock or resonated anger.

Outside the temple for all the crowds to see, he raises the true imposter and spears them without a second thought. There's red blood dribbling down the staircase. He drops them and the fake jumbles down the stairs, landing with a thud at the very bottom. Someone screams, another gasps, mixed emotions circles the air but Zhongli can only think of one thing:

The false god was a fool, but the biggest fool of them all were the ones who fell for such lies

~ meanwhile ~

Unknowing of the chaos happening in the capital, at a far away part of Liyue, in an abandoned shrine, Xiao is patching up your injuries with skills perfected from centuries of his own battle wounds. Every drop of golden blood reverberates him with shame — how could he fail to protect you?

As if sensing his inner struggle, you place a hand on his cheek, "I'm alright, Xiao, it'll heal in no time." His expression softens at that but somehow, he doesn't feel any better

He was feeling conflicted between his loyalty towards Morax and his adoration towards you. It wasn't just about you getting hurt, but the fact that his own master did it even when Xiao himself was trying to protect you

In all honesty, Xiao felt betrayed. Did Zhongli not trust him enough? Were his hundreds of years of loyalty and devotion towards the geo archon not enough for a moments worth of patience to hear him out?

Or perhaps Xiao was overstepping his place. Did he really assume that he — a weapon of war — could be anything like a mentee? a friend? a son? It was his mistake to assume that he could mean anything more than a contract to the archon of contracts himself.

His thoughts were cut off by a shuffle of grass, quiet footsteps entering the area.

Xiao quickly stands and materializes his polearm, putting you behind him. You reach for his hand and he grips it tightly.

A flash of brown hair appears from the bushes and Xiao tenses at the sight. He doesn't wish to clash blades again.

"Xiao.." There's a lack of hostility in the former archon's voice. Actually, his entire form is loose and just plain wrong, arms without a weapon. How did he even find you?

He looked exhausted after what seemed to have been only a few hours since you last met.

Zhongli doesn't dare take a step forward. You take this chance to peek at him from behind Xiao, your eyes on Zhongli's averting ones.

He dares not face you after what he's done

"I have committed an unforgivable sin," He starts, eyes on the ground and slowly kneeling down, "because of my foolishness and obsession, I..."

You could've sworn had it not been for his sincerity to apologize properly, he would be choking in tears

"I harmed the true and divine god." His forehead touches the ground in a bow, you bit your lip hesitantly and glanced towards Xiao. The adeptus seemed equally as lost, unable to say anything. You slowly stand next to Xiao, hands still holding onto his.

"Zhongli, I.." It's okay now, you think, but you choke back on your words because you know it's not okay. It was traumatizing and painful to be chased by your most beloved characters. It took a while for you to speak again, Xiao squeezes your hand in an unknowing attempt at comfort.

"I just want to rest now," You tell him and it takes a while before he realizes it's his cue to sit up. He takes you back to Liyue, explaining the situation:

The false god was removed (he didn't specify how)

The Qixing has prepared a place for you to recuperate (it's a private and peaceful area, no one is allowed to enter unless you allow it)

News is spreading fast and that no one would hurt you anymore (he flinches saying this and you wonder if he's having flashbacks of guilt)

"Only Xiao would be allowed to enter this adobe," Zhongli says as he stops before a temple entrance, "If you wish for assistance, handmaidens will be sent immediately. If you have any problems with the adobe, the Qixing will answer to it. Please take all the time in the world." to forgive us for our sins.

Zhongli stops you one last time before you turn to leave, his hand outstretched but not quite intending to touch you. "And... we await whatever punishment there may be for our unforgivable actions."

You stare at him with a conflicted expression. He stares at the ground. Not once has he faced you since his crime and you're not quite sure how to feel about that.

"Okay.." was your quiet response before entering the adobe with Xiao.

~ the aftermath ~

You didn't leave your adobe for weeks. The trauma of being hunted down slowly dawning on you as you wake nightmare after nightmare in the dead of nights.

Xiao would be by your side, comforting you and assisting you. His presence helped you cope better but there was a small problem.

The adobe was beautiful, vast and large. For you, it was a safe haven from the disasters of the outside world.

But Xiao was slowly acknowledging how this wasn't quite good for your mental health. The place was beautiful, yes, but he was noticing how lonely it made you. The peacefulness almost stifling. Besides, he's not sure how much longer you can push back facing reality.

Xiao would leave you sometimes to go outside. He's seen the anguish of the people of Teyvat, wondering how to get you to forgive them. A few of the archons who weren't quite as familiar with you were growing anxious. What punishment does their true creator have for them? How severe must they be punished? Regardless, they're ready to accept whatever you have prepared.

Teyvat was safe for you now, Xiao deduces. In fact, you'd be the most protected person as well.

It was only a matter of time before he finally encouraged you to leave your recluse. Your exit was done quietly without anyone knowing, you walked behind his back, a hand tightly in his own.

navigation

note 2: I want to mention that im not good at writing angry MC, which is why my reader often leans to the softer side (unless specified). if you dislike this, my work may not be for you :> but feel free to explore anyway!

[peterparkersnose]

“You think there fucking?”

Bob x reader

Bob Floyd x reader

Bob Floyd x pilot!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: sneaking around, allusions to sex, allusions to death, small violence, angst for reader

(reader presents as female and her callsign is Honey)

a/n hi I saw top gun early in the summer and have been thinking about this for months. also, I don’t know anything about the navy or jets so take what I write about flying lightly. have a great new school year loves! also yes I know bob doesn’t technically fly the jet shut up pls its for the story :)

summary Y/N and Bob are secretly seeing eachother and Bob get’s hurt during practice. 

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read time: 4 mins 55 seconds

The day was just like any other. You woke up, slicked back your hair and pulled on your boots. You reported to training at 9 like you were supposed to. Phoenix had brought you an orange juice this morning and sat with you as Maverick named off the people who would be flight testing that day.

“Hangman, Payback, Fanboy, Rooster, Bob, and Coyote. The rest of you can stay.”

You followed the rest of the crew to the monitoring room. As you were passing the group that was preparing to fly out, you caught Bob’s eye for a split second. He smiled at you and caused an eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

All you could hear in your head was him calling you “Darling” last night and holding you until the sun came up. You always hated leaving him. Sleepless nights after he would ‘drive you home’ after a night drinking at the Hard Deck was always worth it. But just for now, you would classify it as ‘fuck buddies’. Even though you craved more. And so did Bob. But for now you and Bob decided to keep it as it was. There was a big mission coming up and you two didn’t want to jeopardize it.

“Drool much?” Phoenix snorted, drawing you out of your trance. “Shut it.” you hissed at her, elbowing her side.

Phoenix had walked in on you and Bob about a week and a half ago. She hasn’t been able to let it go since.

“You and Bob?” she would whisper to you periodically thorough out the next few days. She was truly stunned, not expecting this from anywhere.

The ground team for the day made it into the control pit as the other pilots kept preparing for flight. You excused yourself to the bathroom.

You followed the route to the women’s restroom as the final people made it into the control pit. Then you whipped around, making your way to the men’s room.

Bob was for sure in there. He had an irrational fear of peeing in his suit and would always go to the bathroom last thing before a flight to make sure there wasn’t any complications. But, it had also turned into a time where the bathroom was completely empty and you two could see eachother. At work.

You flung open the door and was shocked to see no Bob. Just then, you saw a bathroom stall open just slightly and the frame of his glasses peek through.

“Oh thank god, I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, quickly pulling you in the stall and embracing you. His 6’ figure looked taller in the flight boots. “There were some people hanging around I didn’t want to look suspicious,” you explained, holding his hand in yours.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you looked today?” he asked, fixing a bit of stray hair back into place. A wide smile grew on your face as did the redness in your cheeks. You always loved when Bob complimented you. He struggled with it at first, not knowing what to say. He seemed to finally get the hang of it and know just how to make you swoon.

“Be careful,” you whispered, kissing him on the cheek. His hand tightened in yours as you flattened one of the straps around his shoulders. “See you tonight,” he whispered in your ear, giving you one last hug before he left.

Even if it was 30 seconds of him, it was more than enough to get you through your day of treating him like any other guy on your team.

Entering the control pit once again, you joined Phoenix. “Bathroom quickie?” she asked. “No. I had to pee.” you lied. “Mhm,” she smirked, watching the planes begin to fire up.

Everything seemed to be going to plan. The training session was normal and the same as every other day. Did you have a tab of Bob’s stats pulled up secretly on your tablet? Maybe. Just for piece of mind.

And a good thing you did. Your tablet began flashing and giving out a loud erratic noise suddenly. There was a fluke in Bob’s plane. You ran over to the big screen and pulled it up, demanding for him to be called in.

“I’m trying!” The commander yelled at you. Everyone was concerned about Bob, but your urgency definitely raised a few suspicions. “His jet is in the mountains- the signal isn’t going through.” the commander explained. You swiped around on your tablet until you could find the closest pilot to him. Hangman was about 9,000 feet behind him.

“Radio to Hangman! Now 8,000 feet behind!” you yelled at the commander.

“Hangman, come in!” he yelled through the microphone. “Bob needs assistance. Go find him. He is now 7,000 feet ahead.” “The target is too close, commander. No can do.” Hangman replied.

Your blood boiled. The main systems started issuing a warning for Bob’s plane now and it was beginning to decline. “God dammit Hangman!” you yelled, issuing the call to Maverick to bring everyone home.

Everyone watched as Bob’s plane flew straight into the mountain.

Praying that Bob recognized the issue fast enough to eject, you marched yourself down to the deck where Hangman was conveniently landing.

“You fucker!” you yelled, pushing Hangman back with both of your hands as he steadied himself after getting out of his jet.

“Hey, woah! The fuck was that for, Honey?” he yelled, steadying himself on the side of his jet ready to defend himself. “What did the commander tell you at 0-90? Huh?” you yelled at him.

Phoenix and Fanboy came running on the scene, seeing the tensions rising. “Excuse me?” Hangman yelled back, spit flying out of his mouth.

“That’s enough!” Phoenix yelled, placing herself between the two of you. “Y-you had to save Bob! How could you just leave him?” you yelled through Phoenix holding you back. Pushing past her, you came at Hangman again ready to throw a punch.

Rooster then came up behind you and snatched you up. You kicked and resisted against him, but he was too strong. As the ‘older brother’ type in the group, you knew he was ready to deal with whatever shit you were about to put up.

“Quit it. Your little boyfriends fine.” Rooster whispered in your ear in an attempt to calm your erratic mood.

“You wanna fucking go Honey? Is that what you want? To get your shit rocked?” Hangman taunted you.

“Rooster, let me go.” you yelled at him. He promptly dragged you away from Hangman’s jet and sat you down by the side of his.

“If you had any patience and stayed in the pit longer you would have learned that Coyote got him. He ejected at 0-140 and landed in a field. He’s fine. Minor injuries.” Rooster scoffed. He hated your temper sometimes.

“Maybe try being a little less obvious that you have a thing for Bob. Because at this point I’m sure he’s figured your little crush out by now.” Rooster warned you. “Maverick won’t be happy either.”

Oh, little did he know.

And perfect timing, Coyote came walking around the corner with Bob around his arm. He was limping and looked a little rough, but otherwise fine.

You left Rooster’s side and ran to Bob, not stopping to embrace him. Bob hobbled back a bit at impact.

“Are you okay?” you asked, holding the boy tight. “I-I’m alright Honey.” he forced out. “I hope you know just how much I care about you.” you whispered in his ear. You definitely weren’t at the four letter word stage, and that was the best you could put words together for to represent your emotions for him. “I know darling. I’m sorry.” he muttered back. His voice sounded hoarse and tired.

You tried your best to fix his hair and straighten his glasses as you took him from Coyote and began to help him walk to the medical ward.

Maverick joined Rooster watching you two across the deck.

“You think there fucking?” “Oh, there definitely fucking.”

-

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[ministarfruit]

blackmadhi week day 2: fake dating au 📞

aka I did it, I finally drew fanart for this beautiful behemoth of a fic!! come read it here, for a bad time call simon blackquill by nerdyskeleton

transcript under cut

Comic art is drawn to correspond with the events of the ad posted in the fic as follows:

“Do you hate your family? I want to hate them too!

I’m a 29 year old ex-convict (didn’t actually kill anyone, don’t worry) who probably hates your family and probably doesn’t have anything to do but terrorize them. I will be your platonic date to a stupid family dinner or gathering for one (1) night/event.

I work at a noodle place and will get buckwheat flour all over your family members, if you ask me to. I will also make fun of you and your family members, because that’s all I do in general anyway. Other services include telling scary prison stories, threatening to show any possible prison scars, pretending to get very drunk, hitting on a different family member, or hitting a family member. May be convinced to propose to you in front of your family members, too.

Feed me and maybe give me $30?”

This cuts into the next scene, which is mid phone call with Simon and Nahyuta. This is lifted directly from the fic, with talking tags added below where it may not be clear without context.

“I will pay you. More than what the ad said.” [Nahyuta told him.]

“How much?” Simon asked. If it was a big enough sum, it might be worth it to spend a few agonizing hours with this man and his shitty family.

“$200. I’ll make it $300 if you bring flour to get all over my brat of a little sister. The ad said that you would do that.”

Ye gods, if this right bastard of a man thought that his little sister was a brat she must be terrible.

“Will you do it now?”

“…Fine.”

“Excellent. That’s what I thought your answer would be in the end, Simon. What’s your full name?”

“Simon Blackquill,” he ground out.

“And I’m Nahyuta Sahdmadhi. Can you promise to be as insufferable to the rest of my family and friends as you have been to me?”

[acatalystrising]

Yes, it’s November, but the oneshots stop for no one! I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head for a bit so I finally got a chance to write it!

This oneshot is a veterinarian!(f)reader x TBOBF Boba, no warnings, just lotssss of fluff (and a cute rancor) enjoy!

Here’s a link to part two and three!

Alsooo this one may or may not have been inspired by this…

Oneshot: Moth to a Flame

He was back again.

You heard the now familiar tisk tisk of beskar spurs striking the wooden planks of your walkway, announcing his arrival long before he opened your door. You crossed your waiting room and slipped behind your desk, already rummaging for his package.

You’d never forget the first time Boba Fett stepped into your clinic.

Broad, stern, wearing green beskar that spoke of years of violence and a bounty hunting career soaked in blood. He looked the part too: built like a tank, black clothing that could far too easily hide bloodstains, boots and gloves made of functional leather, helmet with a T-visor that slowly turned, scanning everything and missing nothing.

And yet Boba Fett, the bounty hunter turned Daimyo of Tatooine, hadn’t threatened your life that day. He’d come for medicine…for his rancor. His voice had been rough, like mountain stone, yet carrying a warmth that reminded you of the way spotchka settled in the back of your throat after a long day.

You’d been afraid, intimidated - but advised him calmly, as professionals should, you’d wagered, your concern for the animal overriding your fear for your life. And it had worked - he’d thanked you, paid you handsomely, and left without another word.

And yet, for some reason, he kept coming back. It was usually for more medicine, but recently it had been for something as small as a treat, or advice…and despite your reservations, you’d nearly grown accustomed to his presence. He never threatened you, and always ensured you were paid more than the goods were worth - but still. He was a killer, you knew, and killers couldn’t be trusted.

Perhaps it was for the best, you thought, even as his shadow fell over your doorstep, made larger than life by the binary suns - for the best that you had a working relationship with the new Daimyo. If relations were good, you’d be able to stay in business - then the animals you cared for would be safe. Even if you were entertaining something much more dangerous than a rancor to keep it that way.

He stepped inside - armor slightly dusted by the sandy terrain, silent as always. You dipped your head in a greeting and lifted the brown bag of medicine onto the counter.

“Hello,” you looked at the expressionless helmet, nerves twisting in your gut, and dared to give him a small smile as you gestured at the small paper bag. “Here for the usual?”

He nodded slowly in acknowledgement, helmet dipping nearly gracefully as he approached, gloved hands resting on the edge of your desk as he took the bag. Your gaze dropped to his thick fingers, absently wondering how many people he’d killed with those hands, when his voice crackled over the vocorder.

“The medicine is appreciated, but,” his helmet titled slightly to the side, as if pondering his words. “I’m here for another matter.”

Alarm spiked your chest, and you could have sworn your heart dropped to your stomach. You tried your best to remain calm, collected - but you clenched a shaking hand underneath the counter to ground yourself.

“Is something wrong?” You frowned, unable to fully eradicate the quiver from your tone. “With the medicine, I mean?”

He was silent for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if he was plotting how to kill you. What could you have possibly done? You couldn’t die now - you had two sick banthas, three loth cats, and a nexu cub you’d managed to wrangle from a merchant all depending on you to survive.

“If I have, I promise I can make it up to you,” you knew you were babbling, fear slowly overriding logic. “I never meant to-“

He held up a hand, helmet gently shaking side to side.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, mesh’la.” His tone was still carrying that gravely rasp, yet had somehow imperceptibly softened.

And there he was again, saying that word you didn’t understand…what the kriff did it mean? Was he insulting you? But the way he said it nearly made you feel weak kneed. Damn, he was dangerous.

“The medicine’s helped, but I’m told he’s depressed.” He crossed his arms, weapons on full display, and you waited with bated breath for him to continue. “I need someone to look him over, ensure he has what he needs. Would you be willing?”

Wait, he was asking you to inspect a rancor? The biggest animal you’d worked with was a bantha, and your experience with predators was lackluster at best…

And besides, this wasn’t just any rancor…it was his. At the palace. Jabba’s former palace. In that gods damned pit where so many had met their untimely demise. That place…didn’t have good memories.

“You’ll be safe, I give my word,” Boba’s voice broke you from your thoughts, but he didn’t sound impatient…in fact, he seemed entirely understanding. “You’re the only one I’d trust around him.”

You raised a brow, but nodded. You always knew when a pet’s owner was sincere - there was a weighted concern in every voice, every expression. And even though you couldn’t see the Daimyo’s face, you knew he was being genuine. And so, even though you knew you were probably signing your life away, you felt yourself nodding.

“Okay, I’ll help. When do you want me to stop by?” You nearly wanted to roll your eyes at yourself.

Here you were potentially facing death, and yet you were conversing as if you were going on a regular afternoon picnic with the most notorious bounty hunter in the galaxy - what a funny notion.

“The sooner the better, I wager.” He shifted, fingers tapping lightly on his gauntlet, either in boredom or agitation, you couldn’t figure. “Do you have any appointments for the rest of the day?”

Oh karking hell. You were so going to die.

“Umm,” you nervously scanned your daily schedule that you already knew was unfortunately blank. “No, all clear. It’s…a quiet season.”

His helmet shifted to scan the room before looking back down at you with a nod. “You’re welcome to accompany me back, then.”

You nodded, trying your best to still your quivering hands as you made your way around the facade of safety your desk had created. Boba Fett looked down at you, silent and immovable, as you stopped before him.

I, you thought to yourself, am so dead.

-

You’d seen the confused and frightened looks cast your way as you’d walked through the streets of Mos Espa with none other than the Daimyo himself.

You hoped that someone would be charitable enough to care for the animals after your death. But the chances were always slim. At least the rumors would spread, you wagered, thoughts swirling in the tangible silence between you and your armored companion as he led you through the darkened underbelly of the palace.

I’m dead, dead, dead. Sentenced to be rancor food for Maker knows what.

You kept your gaze locked ahead, hoping you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in your final moments. But you could also be wrong. He’d only ever been true to his word, and he hadn’t once hurt you or threatened to do so. Your thoughts were still a swirling mess when he stopped at a door, glancing down at you.

“Stay with me, but don’t be alarmed. You’re safe.” Boba’s voice was nearly calming to your nerves as he opened the door, the barricade sliding out of the way, as you both stepped into the cavern beyond.

It was a massive cave, littered with stalactites and stalagmites bared like teeth, but that wasn’t what held your attention. Your gaze was locked on the giant, impossibly massive, deadly creature laying at its center. A rancor, in the flesh.

It rumbled a low growl, huge fanged maw parting, and slowly shifted to its feet. Boba, you noticed with wide eyes, approached the beast completely unafraid. You watched, blinking in shock, as he removed his helmet and tucked it under an arm, reaching up to pat the creature’s neck as if it were as tame as a bantha. He turned to face you, still scratching the rancor’s neck.

“He won’t hurt you,” he spoke calmly, deep voice nearly melodic without the vocorder, and gestured at you with a flick of his gloved fingers. “But he does want to say hello.”

Oh stars, you weren’t expecting Boba Fett to be attractive. Nor did you ever think you’d see the Daimyo smile. But he was - so genuinely enamored by this giant beast that his small grin was infectious.

And so you stepped forward, daring to approach the beast. It watched you with glittering eyes, those massive teeth still parted, but Boba walked around to its head and stood beside you.

“See? A friend.” Boba placed a hand on the small of your back, keeping his eyes trained on the rancor, which shook its head and let out a huff. “She’s gonna make sure you’re okay.”

Friend? You glanced at him, striking features focused on the rancor, and you felt a warmth settle in your chest when his gaze shifted to ensnare yours, something altogether soft in those dark brown eyes.

You noticed his hand was still at your back, touch surprisingly gentle. He spoke softly, as if to comfort both you and his gargantuan pet, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d misjudged him. Perhaps there was more to Boba Fett then met the eye.

“Can I…” you regarded the rancor with a tilted head, a small smile slowly creeping to your lips. You couldn’t help it, being in such close proximity with something so magnificent. Well, two magnificent things. “Will he let me pet him?”

“Yes, I’ll show you how,” he turned to face you, so dizzying close, and held out a gloved hand. “Do you trust me?”

Part of you still wanted to say no, knowing all too well that he could still kill you. But you saw nothing but kindness in that stern, scarred face, the corner of his plush lip curved in a small, beckoning smile. You nodded and dared to slip your hand in his.

You noted, even as he raised your hand with his toward the rancor’s nose, that his touch was warm and gentle - not at all what you’d expected from one of his reputation. And when you felt your fingertips brush against the rancor’s tough hide, it rumbled, pressing its head into your hand with a soft sound you almost interpreted as a purr.

“Oh my gods, this is amazing! He’s so sweet, look at those pretty eyes,” you couldn’t help but gush, your love of animals kicking into overdrive, and you gave the scales a gentle scratch. “Let’s make sure you’re okay, all right?”

You glanced at Boba, and found he was watching you with such a tender warmth you nearly felt your knees go weak.

“Knew this was a good idea,” he smiled fully now, rumbling voice rolling through you and settling in your chest. “You like him?”

Kriff, kriff, kriff. He was attractive, dangerously so - his skin a rich tan that flickered bronze in the torchlight. You didn’t want to stare, but you couldn’t help it, feeling drawn to him in a way you couldn’t fully grasp. You found yourself wishing the Daimyo was asking about himself.

“I do, he’s amazing. I never thought I’d ever be able to see one in person, definitely not this close,” you looked back at the rancor, hoping to hide your blush. “Will he let me examine him?”

“Yes, he will,” Boba chuckled, the sound rumbling through your chest to your toes this time, and you distinctly felt a warmth settle in your core. Ohhh kriff, you were in trouble, but not in the kind that you’d been expecting.

He finally let go of you, and you found yourself missing his touch, forcing yourself to focus on the matter at hand.

“Hey sweetie,” you brushed your hand over the rancor’s face, checking his eyes and ear cavities. “All clear, no discoloration. That’s good. Let’s see those teeth.”

You fearlessly dropped to a crouch beside its face, and it rumbled again as you brushed a hand underneath its jaw. You kept a respectful distance from those massive fangs, but noted that this rancor was already earning a clean bill of health. You felt Boba’s gaze on you as you worked, and your cheeks flared. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about - and why he’d chosen you of all people to entrust with this opportunity.

“Well, he’s in perfect health,” you stood and scratched the rancor’s neck, earning another pleased rumble. “Oh, you like that huh? What a good boy.”

You finally pulled away, knowing you’d done what he’d brought you here for, and found that he was still watching you. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze, and you turned to fully face him with a small, shy smile.

“Thanks, for this,” you reluctantly lifted your hand from the rancor and it butted its head into you, making you chuckle despite your nerves. “He’s healthy, just needs interaction. If you ever…you know, need someone to work with him, just let me know.”

“You’d want to come back?” His brows flew upward in surprise, and if he was entirely shocked by this development. “I don’t want to scare you.”

You nearly grinned, a giddiness settling in your bones despite the fact that you knew you should be afraid. At least wary, of the man in front of you. But he’d been talking about himself, not the rancor, hadn’t he?

“You don’t scare me, neither of you do,” you crossed your arms and dared to regard him with a small smirk. “That is, if you wouldn’t get tired of me.”

“I could never get tired of you, little one,” he closed the distance between you, hands held loosely at his sides, and you absently wished he’d touch you again. “I’m glad that you like him.”

“His owner’s not half bad either,” you felt the words slip from your lips before you could stop yourself, and you dropped your gaze to your boots to hide your furious blush.

But Boba Fett merely chuckled, and you felt the soft leather of his gloves bush against your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“You don’t have to hide that pretty face,” he lifted a brow, lips curved in a welcoming smile as his thumb gently caressed your jawline. “You’re welcome here anytime, mesh’la.”

Oh stars, if you didn’t get a hold of yourself, you were going to melt. You took a breath, realizing too late that you were leaning into his touch.

“What…does that mean?” You met his gaze, molten eyes so warm and inviting, you felt you wanted to dive in despite the potential danger.

He held your gaze, face mere inches away, and you resisted the urge to recklessly learn forward to capture those damn lips in yours.

“It means beautiful.” His gaze flicked between your eyes and lips, and you held your breath, the tension palpable as he leaned slowly forward…

The rancor suddenly released a playful rumble, head-butting you both. You tumbled gracelessly into his arms, and Boba held you gently against his armored chest, a deep, warm laugh rumbling from his throat and sending tingles down your spine.

“Someone doesn’t like being left out,” he patted the rancor’s neck, arm still wrapped around you. “I want to ride him, you know.”

You did your very, very best to not let your thoughts take an improper turn at that comment, given that there was something else you’d be fine with riding - and you smothered a smirk as he met your gaze with a raised brow.

“Perhaps, if your schedule isn’t too busy, would you like to have dinner here tomorrow?” He spoke so smoothly, so gently, you nearly didn’t notice that he was gently caressing your back. “That is, if you’re interested…”

You nodded vigorously, earning another chuckle, and hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’d like that very much,” you met his gaze with a smile of your own. “If you’re interested.”

“Ad’ika,” he leaned forward, warm breath washing over your skin, and gave your cheek a soft peck. “I’d be honored.”