#i cannot stop thinking about him (nor do i mind)

[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 10

Summary - As (Y/N) recovers from his injury and Rhaenyra prepares for the birth of their sixth child Princess Rhaenys brings troubling news to the couple that changes the course of their lives forever.

Warnings - Canon character death(s), stillbirth, general HOTD warnings, pain, injuries, ableist language towards oneself

(Y/N) groaned as he rested his forehead against the cool stone wall. His legs shook from the effort it took to keep himself upright, his knuckles white with strain as he gripped his cane. The maesters had warned him of aggravating his injuries so soon after his recovery, but he had been going mad with boredom locked in his chambers. He hadn’t been allowed out of his chambers without someone standing guard like he was going to collapse at any second since he’d arrived on Vermithor. Although, considering the searing pain coming from his calf and shoulder perhaps he’d been too hasty in his break for freedom. 

Breathing heavily, (Y/N) straightened, his free hand placed on the wall for extra support as he made his way slowly down the hall. His jaw clenched and he barely suppressed a yell as an uneven stone on the floor caused the pain in his leg to ramp up to a blinding agony. He grabbed the wall before he could fall, but the sudden pressure on his arm jolted his shoulder and he could not stop the noise that escaped him at the sudden onset of pain. 

“Father?” 

(Y/N) turned his head at the voice, plastering a no doubt pained smile on his face at the sight of his son. “Should you not be at lessons, Luke?” 

Luke frowned, ignoring his father’s question, “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” (Y/N) nodded. “Yes I am alright I just- I just needed to catch my breath.” 

Luke walked over to (Y/N), carefully helping sit on the ground. (Y/N) groaned in relief as the pressure was taken off his legs, allowing some of the pain to ease. Luke took a seat next to him, eyes full of worry as he looked at his father. (Y/N) raised his good arm, placing his palm on the boy's cheek in an attempt to soothe his worries. 

“I am alright, tresy. I promise, it was just a little pain.” 

Luke’s frown deepened, “It did not look like a little.” 

(Y/N) pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “There is no need to worry about me, Luke.” Luke did not respond, and the look on his face reminded (Y/N) of the looks Rhea would give him when he was a young child. (Y/N) smiled softly, cupping his son’s cheek, “What is on your mind?” 

Luke bit his lip, and the clear conflict on his son’s face made (Y/N) frown. Luke did not meet his eyes as he spoke. “I just- I think they made a mistake.” 

“Who did?” 

“Gunthor should’ve been your heir.” 

(Y/N) clutched his son's cheek, probably too hard if the small wince from the boy was anything to go by. “Do not speak that way. You are my son, you are my heir. Gunthor was a snake and a leech and I am glad he’s dead.” 

“But-” 

“No buts, Luke.” (Y/N) said. “He wished to strip you of your birthright simply because he hated me and your grandsire.” 

“I cannot rule Runestone, father.” Luke sighed. “I’m not like you and mom.” 

“In what way, sweet boy.” (Y/N) huffed a small laugh, brushing some of Luke’s bangs out of his face. 

“I am not so-” Luke hesitated. “Perfect.” 

(Y/N) let out a full laugh at the statement, “Luke. Your mother and I are anything but. I became heir to Runestone after my mother’s death when I was just older than your brother. I did not wish for that responsibility, nor did I wish to become the Lord not four moons later when my grandsire died. My mother and grandsire looked after me and prepared me for my duties, and your father will do the same for you.” 

Before Luke could respond they were interrupted by Ser Lorent. The knight was almost frantic in his movements, and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the two princes sitting on the stone floor. “Prince (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) nodded at the knight, “Ser Lorent.” 

“Princess Rhaenyra has requested your presence in the council chambers. The Princess Rhaenys has arrived from Kingslanding with news.” 

(Y/N) turned to his son, “We will continue this conversation later.” Luke nodded, and (Y/N) made to stand. He clenched his teeth as his body protested his movements. Luke and Ser Lorent reached to help him, but (Y/N) stopped them, holding up his hand. “I am fine.” 

He heard Luke sigh next to him, but the boy did not call his father on the lie. Instead he gave his father a small frown and watched as he struggled to stand. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to Luke. “You should go back to your lessons before the maester realizes you are missing.” 

Luke nodded, giving his father an unreadable look before walking away. (Y/N) turned to Ser Lorent and motioned for him to lead the way. They had to stop halfway through the journey, (Y/N) doubling over as his stomach pain went from a dull ache to a sharp burn. Ser Lorent offered his arm to the Prince, but (Y/N) batted his hand away, taking a deep breath before continuing on to the council room. Ser Lorent trailed behind him cautiously as if expecting (Y/N) to keel over any second, which, (Y/N) mused, was not unreasonable given how he felt. 

(Y/N) collapsed into the chair that was brought out for him as soon as they reached the council room. Rhaenyra approached, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He reached up, placing his hand atop hers. “I am fine, just in some pain.” 

“I can get the maesters-” 

“I am fine.” He repeated, squeezing her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Let us hear what Rhaenys has to say.” 

Rhaenyra ran her hands gently through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen from his bun out of his face and tucking them behind his ear. “Alright. But afterward I want you to get some rest.” 

“Rhaenyra-” (Y/N) prepared to argue, but he was cut off by his father’s entrance into the room. 

“Listen to Rhaenyra.” His father chastised, giving (Y/N) a hard look. “You will not recover overnight, and you will especially not recover if you do not rest.” 

(Y/N) sank in on himself, feeling like a child under his father’s gaze. Rhaenyra chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before the doors were once again opened. Rhaenys entered the room and just by the expression on her face (Y/N) could tell his family was not going to be happy to hear what she had to say. 

“The Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.” 

“Thank you, Ser Lorent.” Rhaenyra smiled, “Princess Rhaenys, might we hope for news of Lord Corlys’ recovery?” 

“Viserys is dead.” Everyone in the room froze at Rhaenys’ words. (Y/N)’s eyes snapped from Rhaenys to his wife then to his father. Both Rhaenyra and Daemon were frozen in place, watching Rhaenys carefully. “I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father, possessed a kind heart.”

“There is more.” Rhaenys approached Rhaenyra, taking Rhaenyra’s hand in hers. She sighed, and (Y/N) tensed preparing himself for her next words. “Aegon has been crowned as his successor.” 

(Y/N) hung his head, gripping his cane between both hands. He shut his eyes tight, ears ringing and head pounding as the conversation continued around him. 

“They crowned him?” He heard Rhaenyra ask, grief and anger evident in her voice. 

“How did Viserys die?” (Y/N) looked up at the sound of his father’s voice. 

“I could not say.” 

“How long ago?” Rhaenyra bit out, and (Y/N) watched helplessly as his wife’s walls crumbled before him. 

“A day past, perhaps two. I was made a prisoner in my quarters while the Queen made her preparations.” 

“Viserys has been slain.” His father bit out. 

“Father.” (Y/N) sighed, giving him a look, and Daemon quieted yet the fury was still burning in his eyes. 

“Alicent demanded you declare for Aegon.” Rhaenyra said, posture becoming even more tense. Both Daemon and (Y/N) sat up straighter, Daemon taking a defensive stance and angling his body toward his son and good-daughter. 

“She did.” (Y/N) saw his father’s hand fall toward his sword. “I refused her.” 

“And yet you are alive.” 

“The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit.” Rhaenys gave Daemon a harsh look, but no one in the room relaxed at her words. “I witnessed it myself just before I fled on Meleys.” 

“They crowned him before the masses.” Rhaenyra sounded absent, as if she was barely listening to the words being spoken around her. 

“So that the masses would see him as their rightful King.” 

(Y/N) watched Rhaenyra carefully, as his father and Rhaenys began to argue. 

“That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne. And you could’ve burned them all for it.” 

Rhaenyra winced, hand coming to rest on her stomach. (Y/N) stood, ignoring the pain it brought him. He limped over to his wife as Rhaenys responded to Daemon, paying them barely any attention. 

“A war is like to be fought over this treachery, to be sure. But that war is not mine to begin. I only rushed to you out of loyalty to my husband and to my house.” Rhaenyra gasped, and (Y/N) placed his hand on her arm. She looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“The Greens are coming for you, Rhaenyra. And for your children. You should leave Dragonstone at once.” 

Rhaenyra gasped again, and (Y/N) steadied her to the best of his ability. “Rhaenyra, what-” 

He watched as Rhaenyra grabbed her dress pulling it up far enough to reach under it. When she brought her hand back into his few he froze at the crimson blood coating her fingers. Rhaenyra looked up at her, eyes shining. 

“The babe is coming.”

Breathing deeply, (Y/N) listened to the men around him chatter on. His father was saying something about patrols as he stood next to him, but (Y/N) could not hear him over the ringing in his ears and the faint cries of his wife. 

He took a breath in, Daemon speaking once more, and he took a breath out. 

In. 

Rhaenyra screamed again, and (Y/N) gripped the arms of his chair digging his blunt nails into the wood hard enough to leave crescent indents. 

Out. 

The first time (Y/N) had climbed a tree, the knights guarding him had yelled for him to get down until their voices were hoarse. He remembers their voices becoming softer and softer as he climbed higher and higher. That day was nearly thirty years ago. And yet, as he sat in his chair trying to understand the men around him, he felt as if he was back at the top of the tree, the voices fading from him as he climbed and climbed. 

A hand touched his neck, rubbing soothing circles into his skin as he started to come back to himself. He looked to his left where his father was watching him, brows pinched in worry. He opened his mouth, before shutting it again, taking another shaky breath. 

“My Prince?” 

(Y/N) looked to Lord Celtigar, his surroundings fading back in slowly. “What?” 

Celtigar looked to his father, and Daemon simply gave the man a pointed stare. Clearing his throat, Celtigar spoke. “A raven flew in this morning. The Sea Snake’s fever has broken, and he has left Evenfall.” 

(Y/N) nodded, running his shaking hands down his face. “Where is he sailing?” 

“That much is unclear, my Prince.” 

(Y/N) nodded, and at his lack of response Daemon spoke for him. “We’ll send ravens to our nearest allies: Lords Darklyn, Massey, and Bar Emmon.” 

“As well as Lords Coldwater, Shett, and Tollett.” (Y/N) said, unsure if his voice was loud enough for the surrounding Lords to hear him, but his father nodded at his words. 

“(Y/N)!” Rhaenyra’s voice echoed through the hall, and (Y/N) winced, squeezing his eyes shut tight. 

“Go to her.” His father knelt next to him, taking his hand and gently prying his tight grip off the chair. His free hand gently grasped his neck, the pressure the only thing keeping (Y/N) grounded. “She needs you.” 

(Y/N) nodded. He grabbed his cane from where it rested against the table, standing on unsteady legs. He looked to the Lords of Rhaenyra’s council, “Naught is to be done but by Rhaenyra’s direct command.” 

He made eye contact with Jace as he turned to walk out of the room. Jace walked over silently, pausing just in front of his father. His brown eyes were hard as he took in the men before him, but (Y/N) reached out, directing his son's attention to him and only to him. 

“Make sure no action is declared while your mother is abed.” He said, soft enough to ensure only Jace heard him. Jace straightened at the command, giving his father a curt nod. 

(Y/N) ignored the way his body ached and screamed at him as he climbed the stairs to Rhaenyra’s chambers. He practically flung the doors to the chambers open, breath coming in short but desperate gasps as he looked around for his wife. The maester rushed over to him, a protest most likely on the tip of his tongue, but (Y/N) simply held his hand up. He did not speak to the man as he pushed past him, making a beeline for his sobbing wife. The handmaidens flocking Rhaenyra moved out of his way as he approached, their worry for the princess evident in the looks they gave him. 

“Rhaenyra-” Her name had barely left his lips before she was reaching for him. He stumbled at the suddenness of her embrace but willed himself to stay standing as he brought his free hand to her hair. Mumbling soft words of reassurance into her sweaty hair, (Y/N) guided her toward the bed. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, dropping his cane to hold her properly as soon as his legs were supported by the mattress. 

He guided her hands to his shoulders, biting back a groan as her nails dug into the fresh skin that covered his wounds. He rested his forehead against hers as she cried, silent tears rolling down his cheeks at his wife’s pain. The faint dragon cries in the distance made (Y/N) choke back a sob. 

He was useless to his wife. 

The war in the Vale had crippled him, probably permanently. The maesters doubted he would ever be able to properly ride his dragon again let alone fight. He couldn’t even hold Rhaenyra properly as she struggled through labor, how was he supposed to help her secure her crown? 

“Princess, let us help you.” Elinda begged. 

Rhaenyra simply shook her head, gripping her husband harder as she screamed “No. Get out!” 

(Y/N) could not tell who she was talking to, but he cupped her face gently. “Rhaenyra please.” 

“Get out.” Rhaenyra sobbed, groaning and screaming. She was bearing down forcefully now, and (Y/N) watched helplessly. 

“You should not be doing this alone, Nyra.” (Y/N) sobbed, tears flowing down his face. “Please let them help.” 

The scream that wretched itself from Rhaenyra’s throat made (Y/N) shut his eyes, unable to watch his wife’s pain any longer. He murmured incoherently as Rhaenyra birthed their child, unsure if she was even able to hear him over her screams. When the screams stopped, and a gasp echoed through the now-silent room, (Y/N) opened his eyes. 

He was unable to stop the noise that escaped him at the sight of their daughter’s body, bloody and painfully still in Rhaenyra’s arms. She cradled the babe close to her chest, bringing her up so that (Y/N) could get a proper look at the daughter he would now never know. He pressed a kiss to his daughter before resting his head on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, but his wife just shook her head. They both sat there cradling their daughter between them. People filtered in and out of the room, offering condolences to the pair, but they ignored them. The maester offered to take the babe to the silent sisters for them, but both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra turned him down, insisting that they were to do the preparation themselves. 

When Rhaenyra felt well enough to stand they began to walk to the room where the silent sisters were waiting for them. The sisters didn’t bother approaching the couple, just watching as silently as their name implied. Rhaenyra set their daughter carefully on the table and began to wrap her gently in the cloth wrap. 

(Y/N) did not believe in the Stranger, so the only people he could find to place the blame of the death of his only daughter on were the Greens. The usurpers of his wife’s birthright, the people who had attempted to help rob Luke of his, and now the killers of his child. 

“Rhea Royce.” (Y/N) caught Rhaenyra’s gaze as she cried over their daughter. She sobbed harder after she was finished wrapping her and (Y/N), unable to do anything else, just held her as they sobbed in the dark room.

He could not bring himself to look at the small pyre they had built on the hill. He kept his gaze firmly locked on Vermithor, and as if the dragon could read its rider's mind, Vermihtor kept his eyes trained on (Y/N), waiting patiently for his command. 

Rhaenyra stood motionless beside her husband, watery eyes focused solely on the unlit pyre. After minutes of excruciating silence, their family standing patiently behind the couple, she turned to (Y/N), giving him a curt nod. 

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) spoke. “Dracarys.” 

He watched as Vermithor crept forward slowly, the dragon gave his rider one last look before lighting the pyre. Only then did (Y/N) force himself to look at his daughter. He and Rhaenyra stood there silently as the black smoke from the flames rose into the air. The sound of steel being drawn eventually caused (Y/N) and Rhaenyra to turn to face the crowd behind them. 

A kingsguard that (Y/N) was not acquainted with stood before the crowd, putting the Prince immediately on edge. The guard took his helmet off, speaking to the guards in front of him. “I mean no harm brothers.” 

(Y/N) took a step forward, putting himself between the knight and his wife. The man reached into his satchel, taking the crown of (Y/N)’s great-grandfather and uncle out. (Y/N)’s eyes widened at the action, and his surprise furthered when the man kneeled, presenting (Y/N) with the crown. 

“I swear to ward the Queen with all my strength and give my blood for hers.” (Y/N) took the crown from the knight, turning it over in his hands to get a proper look at it. “I shall take no wife, hold no land, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.” 

(Y/N) turned to Rhaenyra as those around them began to slowly bend the knee. Her face betrayed her surprise at the events, and (Y/N) slowly approached. He held the crown of her ancestors before her above her placing it softly on her head. (Y/N) knelt before his wife, the pain in his body easier to ignore than ever before. He kept his eyes trained on her as he spoke. 

“My Queen.”

---

Translations -

Tresy - son

Dracarys - dragon fire

[and-this-of-all-my-hopes]

So, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep seeing metas about how Aziraphale wants Crowley to return to Heaven and be an angel again because he wants them to be on the same side/be good/change/etc., etc., etc. but I don’t see that at all. I actually see it as the very opposite.

Aziraphale loves Crowley just as he is. But there’s something more. Something huge.

Aziraphale loves Crowley and because he is an angel who is stuck in seeing things as black and white, he constantly praises Crowley for being nice. For being good. For being kind.

Aziraphale has watched Crowley on and off for 6,000 years. He watched him thwart the plans of Heaven and Hell because it was unjust. He spared the lives of innocents. He did small things that made Aziraphale happy just because (like making Hamlet successful and saving valuable books). And because Aziraphale sees things in black and white, he sees all the things Crowley has done as nice, as good, as kind.

Crowley vehemently attests he’s not nice or good or kind.

He’s not exactly wrong nor is he lying when he says this. When Crowley spares goats during a cruel bet over a righteous man and swallowing laudanum to prevent a suicide, when he prevents Armageddon by working with Aziraphale and stopping the Anti-Christ from being the Anti-Christ, he’s not doing the nice/good/kind thing.

He’s doing the right thing.

Crowley chooses to do the right thing without hesitation. He is better than all of Heaven and Hell who have callous and dispassionate view of all existence because he questions, because he makes choices. Crowley sees the world for all its messiness and he sees himself. He sees a place where he fits in. He sees the blurred edges.

And Aziraphale sees that, even if seeing the blurred edges is hard for him.

But here’s the thing that Aziraphale can’t voice.

It’s the reason why he told Crowley about being allowed to return to Heaven and become an angel again. He doesn’t want Crowley to change. He doesn’t think Crowley is flawed. Or not enough.

It’s something that is so monumental that it cannot be put into words. Because to put it into words would be more than blasphemy. It’s down right unthinkable for anyone in Heaven, Hell, or Earth to say what Aziraphale knows deep in his soul.

God was wrong to cast out Crowley.

Aziraphale believes Crowley can/should return to Heaven because he knows that Crowley should never have fallen in the first place. He wants him to be forgiven because when Crowley fell it was unjust. Aziraphale is trying to correct a mistake. He’s trying to do the right thing.

Yes, Crowley would never accept returning to Heaven. And Aziraphale was wrong to even suggest it (although that conversation is another can of worms to unpack).

Aziraphale loves Crowley. He loves him exactly as he is. He doesn’t want him to change. Aziraphale knows that Crowley the best of all of them. He wants to change Heaven because of it. Because God was wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale may have difficulty seeing beyond black and white, but when it comes to Crowley he sees everything crystal clear and in vivid color.

[sonolynn]

Forbidden Fruit

summary | Jace didn't want her, but Aemond did.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags | 18+ MDNI, Jealously, Aemond yearning, explicit sexual content, mentions of bastards, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, size kink (?), oral f!receiving, Angst if you squint. "Technical" infidelity but is it really if Jace started it? (yes). ooc!Aemond (probably). NOT PROOF READ (its one am, leave me alone).

w.c | 3.8k

note(s) | My first smut fic!! Ah I'm scared...I also think I have a problem with making Aemond want fem!reader when he rightfully can't have her. Also I swear I'm not a Jace hater!! I love Jace, but in this fic specifically I made him long and wish for Baela.

____________________________________________

“Why don’t you marry her then?” 

Aegon’s voice was taunting, as if pushing Aemond to say something. Aemond stared down at the cup in front of him; even with a stoic expression, his mannerisms betrayed him. He tapped his finger against the edge of the cup, he picked at the skin around his nails on the opposite hand-all the tell tale signs of thinking, a mind that cannot be stopped. 

“Because she is betrothed to Rhaenyra’s bastard.” His voice dripped with malice as he spoke. Aemond hated that Jacerys would inherit the throne enough; What his bastard nephew didn’t need was the girl Aemond had wished for his entire life. Ever since the two of them were children Aemond had a…weird infatuation with her. When he was a boy, he would pick flowers from the garden and he would purposely do good deeds for her, just to have her hug him or smile graciously at him. 

But now, everything was different. She was a woman grown, and him a man grown. She was to be engaged to his bastard nephew, and he would have to sit and watch as they shared a kiss, held hands, smiled and danced as newlyweds. He’d have to hold a straight face as the two of them left to Jacerys’ bed chamber, only knowing the connotations that came with what would happen on their wedding night. 

Ignoring his brother's tedious rants about hells knows what, Aemond stood from his chair, opting for a walk in the gardens.

____________________________________________

Aemond walked, hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze drifted into nothingness as he walked with just his thoughts, and the cool breeze that accompanied the summer evenings. He tried to distract himself from the thoughts of her, for they were all almost too painful to ever truly think about. 

But he couldn’t help himself. He thought of her as a sickness, one that lingered and grew stronger by the day until it fully consumed your every waking moment. He thought of her laugh just as contagious as the plague, her eyes as intoxicating as the finest of wines. He thought her to be a type of sickness, and he so desperately wanted to be affected. 

Aemond was never one to smile-one to truly-smile, his half smirks or half smiles were only ever in a sarcastic sense, but for some reason his smiles were real with her. With her he laughed a little more, with her he walked a little faster. He knew it was stupid, perhaps perpetually idiotic-to ever think, let alone long for such a pure and innocent creature. 

As Aemond walked, he noticed her sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. She looked breathtaking, he thought to himself. Her hair was down and cascaded down her shoulders, her face was just the perfect amount of shaded with the moon's light. And above all, she held that intoxicating smile that she always held. He never knew why she was always smiling, nor did he wish to find out. 

She turned her head, her smile widening at the sight of Aemond. 

“Aemond!” Her voice was cheerful, slowly standing as he walked towards her. 

“Princess,” Aemond smiled-a half smile-at her as he looked around, then slowly back at her. “It’s quite late. Should you not be in your chambers?” 

She always thought the way he cared for her, even if he didn’t show it outright, was extremely enticing. She knew how he was with others, but she knew the differences he had with almost everyone in court-so what made her so different? Why her, the object of the second son's affection. 

“Perhaps I do not wish to sleep. Perhaps…I quite like the quietness of the garden.” She smiled innocently, looking back towards the fountain as she started to walk. Aemond knew her well enough to see that this was a quiet plea for him to join her; Because no matter how much she enjoyed the quietness of the garden, she enjoyed it much more when he was with her. 

Aemond stared at her, as he often did, but this time, it was different. The stare he held was nothing short of primal. He watched the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him and for some reason, now, he wished to watch as the innocent light in her eyes slowly dwindled as he claimed her. 

“Aemond? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped his thoughts back, if only for a moment. She stopped walking to look up at him and she crossed her arms underneath her chest. His eye trailed down slowly, fixating on the way that her cleavage just slightly out of her dress. He was like a man starved; Clinging to the littlest of details that would make his imagination run wild. 

She seemed to notice the way that his eye raked over her chest like a starving man, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She-though subconsciously-reached up to place her arm over her chest, but to her surprise, Aemond gently took her hand, and when she looked up, his one sapphire eye was locked with hers. 

“You needn’t cover up. Not around me.” He spoke calmly, though his heart was racing and his head spinning. He let out a shaky breath as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes. 

She watched him carefully, searching his gaze for anything that would betray him. In truth she didn’t know what she was searching for, but she felt as if she should be searching for something. 

Aemond lifted a hand, placing the back of his knuckles against her hot cheek. The gesture was gentle, and slow, something he was not known for. His eye slowly trailed down her face, and his eye caught on her lips, his breath heavy as he reached his hand up and gently placed his thumb over her plush bottom lip. 

Her eyes followed his, big, and full of longing. She stared at him as his thumb pushed against her lip. She didn’t know exactly what to do; She knew that this moment was intimate, far too intimate to be happening between a betrothed woman and a bachelor. But, the way he gazed at her made her feel hot, and the way he trailed his hand over her face and body made her want to see where this could lead. 

His free hand shakily went up to her waist, cupping it firmly as he brought her closer. He leaned forward, just slightly, till his nose was pressed against hers. Her breath hitched, and her eyes instinctively closed. She waited for him to press his lips against hers, to feel his mouth on hers like she had (shamefully) always wished for. But, it never came. 

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aemond breathing heavily, desperately trying to restrain himself. He pulled away slightly, and he shook his head,

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you…not like this.” Though his words held conviction, it seemed his body betrayed him. His hand stayed on her waist, slowly trailing up and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped softly at the feeling, and his thumb went to her lip again before he connected his lips to hers. She responded immediately, putting her hands on his arms. 

He kissed her like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled her flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup her face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have her closer. He opened his mouth, causing her to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Her mouth moved with his as if it was known to her; As if this was a dance she had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of her lips was a song that Aemond had mastered just for her. 

She practically melted in his arms. She had been kissed before; Jace was a good kisser but he was soft, and the kisses were never not chaste. But, kissing Aemond was like walking through fire. Her entire body reacted to the way he clung to her body, how he pulled her impossibly closer. It was like a fire had escaped through his lips and was now coursing through her veins and settling in her abdomen. 

Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, it seemed her body did. Her hands slid down his arms and slowly made their way to his chest as she moaned softly. 

The moan grounded him, like he had been falling from the heavens and down to earth. He suddenly pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. Her eyes opened steadily, and she looked up at him with confusion while a frown graced her kiss swollen lips. 

“We shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke breathlessly, his hand still gently stroking her side. 

“Maybe not..but it felt good.” Gods, the way she spoke held him in a chokehold. He wished desperately to dive back into her; To drown in her lips and never come up for air, but.. 

“Not again. You are to be married.” He suddenly pulled away and at the feeling of his hands leaving her body, she frowned deeper. 

“Aemond-” “Goodnight, Princess.” 

And with that, the prince turned and rushed back into the keep. 

____________________________________________

Aemond couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, picking at his nails, biting his lip-genuinely anything to help stop the incessant thoughts of her lips. 

The thoughts started off sweet and innocent. The way she looked up at him as he trailed his thumb over her lip, the way her lips pursed just slightly when he leaned forward. 

But then the thoughts got venereal fast. He thought about how he felt to finally kiss her. The way his lips practically burned when they pulled away. He knew that as he gazed at her kiss swollen lips his night would be harbored with thoughts of what they’d look like doing gods knows what else. 

His hand slid down underneath the sheets, firmly grasping at his length as he let out a shuddering breath. He hated doing this; Feeling so pent up and so desperate that he had to resort to using himself. But as of right now he couldn’t care less. 

He imagined her lips around his cock, her innocent eyes gazing up into his. He’d imagine the way she’d gag around him, how her lips would look kissing the head of his cock. 

He groaned at the thought, his head tipping back as he closed his eye and let his thoughts wander more. He’d think about how she’d look with his seed covering her lips and her chin, how she’d moan his name as he devoured her between her legs-

He peaked with a gasp, and a low moan of her name. The minute his orgasm washed over him, and he started to slowly come down, he felt an intense feeling of guilt, shame, but most of all pain. 

Guilt and shame because he hated himself for touching himself to someone who couldn’t be his. 

Pain because she’d never be his. Pain because he knew that no matter what he did, she’d still be betrothed to Jacerys. 

____________________________________________

The next morning, she sat alone at breakfast, supposedly liking it more that way. With her fiance practically ignoring her, and her father too entranced with kissing the king's ass, she learned to enjoy the solitude of just…nothing. 

Plus, she always had her thoughts. Even if they were only occupied with Aemond. 

She played around with the food on her plate as her mind trailed. She remembered the way he kissed her, how he held her. She felt happy, something she so rarely felt with Jacerys. 

She knew how he felt, how he longed for and wished for Baela. She did not blame him, she was beautiful, but she also didn’t feel sad, which, at a point did bother her but, not so much. 

At least, not after last night. 

She smiled to herself as she thought about the kiss, wishing that he would do it again, longing for the way the heat escalated through her body. 

She didn’t register the voice next to her until it spoke her name. 

She looked up, surprised. But, when her eyes met with Aemond’s, her heartbeat quickened, and she smiled. 

“Aemond.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” “You’re not eating.” “Oh,” Her cheeks flushed red for a reason unbeknownst to her, and with a soft huff, she pushed the plate away, “It seems as though I have lost my appetite.” 

Aemond looked concerned at that, and he looked down at her. Despite himself, he found himself worrying yet again for her comfort, her needs. 

“Is something the matter?” She shakes her head, but for some reason, Aemond was persistent. “If this is about what happened last night, then I should apologize-” 

“Apologize?” She interrupted, sitting up straighter at the mention of the word. “Why?” 

“Yes…apologize. Because we should not have done that-”

“But I wanted it to happen.” 

Aemomd stopped and he slowly looked towards her. His eye pierced into hers as if to read every thought and emotion that crossed her brain. He just simply couldn’t believe her. 

“You shouldn’t say things you do not mean, Princess.”

“You don’t know that I don’t mean it.”

“Princess-”

“Aemond.” She said his name as if to challenge him, and he knew that he truly could never challenge her. He saw it in her eyes, he saw by the way she looked at him and smiled that she wished for him just as he wished for her. But these feelings-these blockages-would only cause unnecessary trouble. 

“Please, do not give me a hope that cannot be upheld.” Her heart broke a little at that, and, as he stood to leave, she instinctively stood with him, taking his wrist in her hand as she pulled on his arm. As if the small gesture would stop him from walking, (it did). 

“Aemond please..You do not know what I wish for.” 

His lip curled down into a small frown as he looked at her. He knew what she felt-at least he thought he did-but even if his suspicions were right, even if she did wish for him like how he longed for her, he couldn’t. He may dislike, perhaps even hate his nephew, but he was better than stealing his fiance. 

Right?

“We cannot. To be with you would disgrace your family and the alliance-” 

“Fuck the alliance!” She swore, her eyes boring into his as she studied his face. “Fuck the alliances Aemond, I wish for you. Desperately, I wish for you. Jace does not see me like how you do. Jace does not make me feel the way that you do-”

“It does not matter if Jace makes you happy or if he makes you feel desired-” “He does not wish for me as you do!”

“Princess-” “You do not understand! We are speaking of breaking it off. Neither of us wish for this.” Aemond went quiet at this and he sighed heavily, turning his full body towards her. He pried his arm away from her, staring at her incredulously, his body language giving no open window to how he was truly feeling. With no words coming from him, she continued. 

“I love you.” At those words Aemond showed his shock. He took a step back from her and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You do not mean-”

“Oh for the love of-Yes! I mean it! I love you, Aemond! I love you as if it is breathing! Instinctively, not thinking about it….I love you.” 

Aemond couldn’t hold it anymore, he walked to her and gripped her face tightly, her cheeks squishing slightly in his grasp as he smashed his lips against hers. She initially was shocked at the sudden kiss, but she kissed him back fiercely, holding his wrists as she leaned up to kiss him deeper. 

He led her back until he pressed her back against the table, holding her thighs as he pushed her onto the table. His body fit perfectly in between her thighs, just like he imagined it would. His hands gripped her thighs, one of his hands traveling up, feeling and savoring the soft skin as he groaned. 

She pulled away from the kiss to leave small kisses along his jaw. He bit his lip at the feeling, the action presumably so innocent and so sweet it almost made him chuckle. 

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense and lust filled as his hand trailed underneath her breasts. 

“Tell me to stop.” He demanded. His head was spinning with the lust that clouded it. He waited for her to push him away, or to whimper a soft “I do not think myself ready”- But she shook her head, bringing his head back to hers swiftly to connect their lips in another passionate kiss. 

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning to himself as he left hot, open mouthed kisses against her jaw and neck. He looked down, his breath heavy as he stared down into her cleavage. He wished for nothing more than to rip her dress open and kiss every inch of her body, but being in the dining room came with its disadvantages. So, he settled for kissing her cleavage, before trailing his lips down the fabric of her dress till he came to her thighs.

Aemond pushed her dress up as far as he could, staring at her the whole time. He slowly pushed her thighs about, giving her time to stop him but she never did. Gently kissing the inner side of her thigh, he tried to reassure her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes; The way she looked at him with both anxiety and lust. He stared up at her searching for any sign or signal that would make him stop. 

“Is this okay?” Once he saw the light nod of her head, he disappeared underneath her dress. 

She had never been intimate with a man-courtesy of her father, enforcing the “Women should be pure” melodramatic speech into her head ever since she could stand. She always thought it to be a chore, only having heard stories from unhappy married women who hated their husbands, and much less disliked their children a little less, but this? This was exciting, this felt good. 

She placed a hand on his head, moaning his name under her breath as he ate her like a beast. His hands gripped her thighs as if to ground himself-He had tasted women before but for some reason she was so much sweeter, so much more divine. His eyes practically rolled back just from pushing his tongue into her heat, sucking gently on her flit before he pulled away slightly, focusing his attention on her clit as he dipped a finger inside of her. 

The sudden stretch made her jump, and gasp loudly. She may have pleasured herself before but it really never felt like what Aemond was doing to her. He eased his finger in slowly, dragging it back out, and then slowly pushing it back in. Hearing the moans that graced her lips, he continued the slow thrust of his finger for a moment before he added another one. 

She let out a loud moan, a hand on the back of his head as she pushed his head closer to her heat. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure. She moaned loudly, perhaps too loudly for comfort, but Aemond only seemed to want more of those noises to come from her. 

He slowly curled his fingers, his mouth praising her clit. The added pressure with the curl of his fingers, and the sucking of her clit made her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Oh gods Aemond, I’m going to-” Just as her orgasm was going to consume her, it stopped. With her heavy breathing, and slightly shaky legs, she slowly sat up. Aemond smirked up at her, holding her gaze as he nipped at her inner thighs. “You stopped..” 

“Yes. Because if you are going to peak it should be on my cock.” 

Her face flushed at the words, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled his trousers down slightly to free his throbbing cock. As their eyes met, he seemed to notice the slight anxiety in her eyes, because he pressed his forehead against hers and lined himself up with her entrance. 

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” She nodded in response, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he pushed into her. She let out a gasp; The feeling was new, discomfiting but..new. Her face scrunched up at the stretch, and Aemond shushed her quietly as he started to move. After a few thrusts, her body relaxed, and she started to moan his name. 

Hearing his name fall from her lips was like a prayer answered, like a lifelong dream he had been waiting for. He grunted as he started to rock his hips back and forth into her slowly. It took everything inside of him to not pound into her, to fuck her like he had fantized about. He wished that her father could see her now, her maidenhood gone and her body fully submitting to the pleasure he so gracefully gave her. 

“Aemond..Aemond oh gods-” Her voice broke as he went faster, her moans only getting louder. She tried to wrap her mind around the pleasure he was giving her, the way his hips moved slowly yet deeply, the way the tip of his thick cock rubbed against the spot so deliciously. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she held him close to her. 

One of his hands was on her thigh, the other on the table as he thrusted into her, as if holding the edge of the table would stop the creaking sounds, or the way she moaned his name, or how his groans got louder as his climax approached. 

White splattered her vision as her orgasm washed over. She cried out his name in pleasure, holding him close as his legs trapped him inside of her. The feeling of her core pulsating and tightening made Aemond’s head spin, and he grunted out a moan of her name as he came himself, spilling his seed inside of her. 

As the two sat there, basking in the afterglow of being intimate, neither of them would move for what felt like hours. Even though the position that they were in was compromising, they smiled, and laughed softly at the situation itself. 

Once they both got cleaned up-the best they could get cleaned up for just having sex on the dining room table-Aemond took her hand. She smiled softly at Aemond, her heart racing in a new, and exciting way. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to wrap their minds around the fact that now, they could truly be together, or at least, now, they had a hope that they could be together.

____________________________________________

[satoruhour]

HIS FAVOURITE W— STUDENT !

a/n: dilly / @crysugu i am losing the pwp war i needed the lore to be in this HELP. anyway !!! professors bc i cannot stop my mind from spiralling while starting my university classes — im not entirely proud of this but eehhh ….

wc: 4k

warnings: ultimately semi-public sex for all, unprotected sex, cumshot, standing doggy, brief oral (m receiving), brief f! masturbation, brief fingering (gojo), geto is a professor who is also a camboy, camgirl!reader, f! and m! masturbation, mentions of bad dragon’s cumtubes, brief fingering, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (geto), pussy slapping, spitting (on yo pussy), pet names, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, tit play, fingering, implied f! masturbation (nanami), mentions of murder, stripper!reader, riding, degradation, calls you ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, calls you ‘mama’ once too, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, slight face-fucking (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

professor gojo was… an interesting teaching figure. he didn’t have a set way of doing lectures or tutorials, nor was his feedback on assignments entirely coherent, but he was fun and unorthodox. he was also hot as fuck, as you’ve heard from your friends, but you never really got the deal even after seeing his photo on the university website or from miles away entertaining some starstruck student. his classes were always left with no vacancies, too, only able to see what your friends meant after stepping foot first into the lecture.

you were a tad bit early, greeted with gojo sitting at the front with his legs propped up on the desk as he shot you a nonchalant greeting and you think maybe you should’ve signed up for another lecture group, but then he speaks and the air is knocked out of your chest. professor gojo is charismatic when he teaches about art, design and media, captivating everyone with the stark white hair and blue eyes, but he’s clever with his glances because you aren’t realising he stares at you more than anyone else.

aren’t you in your second year? how did he not see you anywhere last year? why did you just sign up? 

the smiles he gives you are sweeter than others, the words more sugar coated with lilts in his voice and you’re chastising yourself for not being any different from everyone else, soon turning into the girls who ask for extra tutoring sessions and sidling up to him on campus — at least you’d get the full experience.

“oh! sweetness, what are you doing here?” you’ve managed to get gojo just as he leaves his office, standing outside for quite some time thinking if you’d really want to do this. several lecturers and professors have already walked past asking if you needed anything, but no matter how much you wanted to say professor gojo’s name, it always turned into something like waiting for a friend.

“oh— uhm, professor gojo, just wondering if the grade for that major project is really set in stone?”

gojo makes a show of thinking, but you know you’re asking for the devil himself when he replies yes with a stifled grin and you’re asking if the two week period of appealing works for the major you’re in.

“you can submit other collaterals as an appeal but it might either boost your grade or bring it down,” the professor leans down with a sick smile on his face, because he’s had so many people outside just like this, nervous from his advances and yet not going through with what they thought they could do. but this time it’s you, the you who he imagined taking on his office desk or even in a lecture theatre for everyone to see, who wants the words to fall from your lips just so he could be your knight in shining armour.

“is there really no… other way to appeal?” you swallow when gojo switches the position and gets you in exactly where he wants you: your back facing his office, his face dangerously close to yours while his eyes slyly catching the way your thighs rub together.

gojo smirks to himself when you knock down yet another cup of stationery on his desk after “discussing” ways you could improve your grades, nails making unsatisfactory noises on the wooden desk while he can hear your cunt gush around him, made obvious from the squelch of your hole and he’s muttering praises into your neck from behind.

“this what you had in mind, baby?” just another girl in his roster, getting ruined just for a grade that wasn’t even that bad. what you didn’t know is that you were the only girl, getting professor gojo so hard in lectures and tutorial classes just from the sight of you that to finally have you — it’s a sweet reward. you shiver when his hand reaches to your front to rub at your clit and you’re grasping at nothing as moans leave your lips.

“y-yeah, professor—” gojo is filthy, lewd, lifting your leg to prop up on the desk just so he could get deeper in you, your pussy everything he imagined and more as he continues to fuck into you. you’re warmer than his hand, than some hookup’s mouth from the club, clenching around his cock so tightly his hips stutter.

“f-fuck, angel, tryna snap my dick off?” you let out an incredulous chuckle at that, hips moving back to meet his while the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fill the room. your juices are coating his length so well, too, that gojo’s eyes lock on your cunt that sucks him in over and over again, the spread of your pussy lips just amplifying his moans. the other spreads your cheeks and sighs at the translucent ring of cum at the base of his cock, hips fucking up to hit your sweet spot that you’re cumming with a shock down your spine — so hard, so deep, so intense that you’re jolting from the orgasm with whimpers of his name. gojo never truly is done with you after pulling out to cum on your ass, however, and you aren’t either.

there’s a thrill that runs through his veins when you back him up onto the sofa, a glimmer in your eyes that suggest you’re as intoxicated on him as he is on you, a sultry gaze taking over your shyness from earlier before he’s pushed onto the cushions.

“thank you for the meal, professor,” you giggle and gojo swears he’s reached his death when your mouth first closes around his still sensitive tip and he whines loudly, hearing your fingers fill your drooling cunt as your hand squeezes out leftover cum from before. a hand runs through your hair and your cockdrunk face is enough for him to see white—

professor gojo thinks you look heavenly between his legs.

✶ GETO

you sigh echoes throughout your dorm room, ending the stream and collecting your keep for the day as you grimace at the mess you’ve made on your sheets. it’s not like it wasn’t pleasurable, but on some days you’re wondering how long you truly need to serve gross men on the internet for it to be enough to pay off your university fees. sure, there were a few attractive people who commented and tipped you, but that was the extent of it. it’s not long before you can only think about cleaning up and taking a big fat nap, but a video in the sidebar catches your attention.

it seemed like a casual stream — no script or planned storyline apart from a heavily tattooed arm taking up half the screen, his pelvis just slightly off the thumbnail. he was faceless, too, filming rather from the chest down which was also inked, something that sends a chill to your core.

it’s only later when you’re slipping your dildo back into you as you watch this stranger pump his cock, guttural groans and slick noises filling your airpods that you realise the dragon wrapping around his arm looks awfully familiar. you’re so blissed out by pleasure, focusing on the needy moans that the man lets out before he cums with a grunt, so much cum leaking out from him. you’ve reached your high too, but you have no time to admire the stranger because it seemed like he was in a hurry, but not before you’ve caught a glimpse of his lip ring.

you know why he looked so familiar, now, standing in front of him in his office while his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, something he doesn’t do often. geto suguru doesn’t wear his lip ring in lecturers either, and now you think you know why because they match the video you’ve seen just last night. you aren’t even entirely sure why you were called in, and you think maybe it’s because you “accidentally” sent a friend request, but you’re taken aback when he asks you if you’ve already selected a tutor to be your mentor throughout your major project.

“surprised? i sent out the email a week ago, love.” you try not to let the name get to you, and the confession lingers at the tip of your tongue.

“y-yeah! i saw it, professor geto, just—”

everyone was no stranger to professor geto’s striking looks, always turning heads with his unconventional gauges and long hair that probably should’ve landed him in a modelling agency in the first place. except, he’s opting instead to teach linguistics, a fitting major for him to talk of the history of language and its formation of it, even slipping in some latin and greek to show its origins but you can hardly listen when all you can focus on is the tight pull of his shirt around his body while his hair falls around his face and you think maybe it was a bad time to think if his hair falls out of his bun while he rails someone. you hope soon it’ll be you, just so you can confirm it for yourself with no other reason involved (you’re a fucking liar).

geto clears his throat and you swallow and the flex of his forearms only distract you further, the dragon on his arm seemingly laughing at your torment as it moves along his skin — the other doesn’t miss your dilemma, staring at you for your answer with a dark stare and enjoying the effect he had on you. your brain doesn’t respond fast enough, though, and you’re blurting out the first thing as you watch the curve of his mouth turn in either distaste or satisfaction; you weren’t sure.

“i saw you stream yesterday—” and you slap a hand over your mouth, wanting to run immediately, but you didn’t expect him to smile after a moment of recognition, making the connections to your account until his mouth falls open just a little.

“you’re the little cutie who sent me a request last night, aren’t ya?”

as he asks the question you hoped he wouldn’t ask, you find there’s nothing on your mind except maybe seeing his tattooed arms wrap around you — and you did. they looked so much better up close, leading from one thing to another in that stuffy office soon they’re looking especially good with how he’s currently dragging the tip of his cock along your folds, collecting your slick as you hold onto his biceps after confessing sin after sin about you from—

“i’ve jerked off to your videos.” a burn on your cheeks when geto sets you on his office table, palms leaving hot trails along your thighs and skin. he lets you play with his bulge, hands probably forming bruises on you from how you relieve the tension in his pants.

“the way your cunt wraps around that dildo — makes me wish i was there fuckin’ your pussy instead.” a gasp and a moan when he preps you with both fingers as he sucks hickeys into your neck and plays with your tits, pinching your nipple that has you clenching around him.

“didn’t miss how you like to be bred in your videos too. think maybe you need some real cum, princess,” geto’s button up shirt is pried open by now, trousers just barely pulled down below his hips because he has a lecture in about half n’ hour. though, he wanted your pussy all to himself and if 27 minutes was all he was granted, he was going to make full use of it. geto groans into your hair when your legs wrap around his middle and he’s reeling at how he’s been watching your videos for the longest time and yet, nothing compares to having you fall apart by his hands.

a quick glance to his watch tells him fifteen minutes, eyes flitting back to the squelch of your cunt around him and he smiles smugly at the whimpers he knows so well. he’s sure it’s imprinted on his brain by now but his dick still jumps at the many variations you’ve let out during the 27; he’d commit every single one to memory. “professor— s-shit!”

geto angles his hips up, the curve of his cock hitting that spot just right that your back arches and you let out a drawn out moan, “yes, baby?”

“w-wan’ your cum in me, suguru,” you’re pleading with a drunk little smile and your face is twisted into such pleasure he’s only seen through pixels that geto cums almost immediately with a pained laugh seeing the real thing, hips stilling as he fills you up, up, up to the brim with hot, white semen that geto feels embarrassed to climaxing so quickly. but what can he do? when his favourite camgirl and student asks to be bred, it’s only natural.

how could he possibly say no?

✶ NANAMI

“does that mean the poem is written from the cross’ perspective?” your hand shoots up in hopes of interpreting the text correctly, but also because, just maybe, that you wanted to impress a little someone at the front of the lecture theatre. beside you, you can hear the gasp of your friend along with the eyes of various other students. “sort of like— personification?”

nanami points to you with his glasses that he’s long removed, a small smile on his face. it’s not like you’re trying too hard, but of course you know your shit fairly well. you always have in every class, it was just a bonus you were so attractive that all nanami could think about was spreading your legs right on this desk. “yes, almost. anthropomorphism, something that was very common in poems or works written in old english.”

you were sceptical about professor nanami at first, especially since he was a lecturer who was transferred here from overseas only three months ago and is technically quarter of a white man, but he held command of the japanese language well enough for you to understand, both in speech and concepts. you were more interested in the lecturer himself though, piqued from the moment he explained his grandfather was danish and you turn to your friend, explains the blonde hair, doesn’t explain how he’s so insanely fine, giggling quietly to each other the first day.

as for your major, it was texts after story after poem, but you enjoyed it alongside giving your own input in class — something you knew would help your participation grades. you’ve raised your hand in more ways than one, always coming up at the end of lectures with a question, stopping him in hallways to show him the book you were currently reading. so that’s why you were confused when you were called to the front of the lecture theatre after everything’s over. it couldn’t be bad, right?

it wasn’t bad, it was much better, especially when nanami’s got your legs on either side of him on the lecture theatre desk while he takes his rightful place between your legs — somewhere he’s always longed to be. both the front and back doors are locked, with only your soft, muffled moans filling the room. but nanami has no shame, slurping up the juices that drip from your pussy loudly, possibly staining the desk below him. he’s cared before about the condensation of his drinks but when it comes to your sweet, sweet cunt? he doesn’t give one fuck.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” nanami moans wrapping a forearm around your thighs and just eats. he flicks his tongue over your clit, while the other hand goes up to squeeze at your tits, kneading and playing with them while you’re still at awe at the man on his knees, at how you’ve gotten one of the hottest professors in the university eating out of your pussy like it’s the last meal on earth.

you’re snapped out of your daze when nanami lands a few slaps onto your pussy, brown eyes boring holes into your skull. but this stare is different, as opposed to glaring down the mischievous boys who can’t stop making noise, this is…

“pay attention when i eat your little pussy, angel,” the demanding tone has you shivering, a small grin stifled when he nods in deserved approval and continues his assault. fingers slip in before you have time to react and your head is thrown back so hard it bumps against the wood but you don’t care, clamping down around his fingers. nanami’s pace is unforgiving, sucking hard on your clit while he pumps them in and out.

“feel good?” nanami asks through slurps as he catches your eye, licking one last stripe before gathering his saliva into a ball and he spits onto your clit, sight so lewd you clamp around his fingers. he admires how the way the glob of liquid runs down your cunt and mixes with your arousal that he can’t wait for it to be his cum instead.

“better than…” your voice trails off when he rubs in his spit, a thumb on your bud while he continues to move his fingers and your thighs are already trembling from how nanami knows all your sweet spots in such a short period of time. nanami simply chuckles at your sensitivity, meeting you halfway as you sit up to feel his lips against yours and he whispers against your lips—

“what were you gonna say, baby?”

you’re heaving for oxygen as he adds a third finger and you’re just hoping he’d show you his fucking dick already. hot breath fans across your lips and you smile to yourself seeing how your words affect him.

“better than fucking myself with my fingers thinkin’ it’s your cock, prof.”

✶ TOJI

it was nine in the morning, and toji could already feel a headache forming from the amount of absentees in his class, simply sighing before pulling up the details for today’s lecture, eyes unknowingly looking for you in the large lecture theatre. he finds that you’re already looking, clad in a cardigan and tired eyes — no doubt from trying to reach his deadline earlier than usual. toji found that you liked to do that, the first one to always submit your essays and assignments, so that’s why he knows what game you’re playing at when you’re asking the difference between first, second and third degree murder when you already know their definitions.

he would know — you got full marks the other time. 

“hm?” toji only hums when he sees your enthusiastic face and a quick look down to your lower half shows how your legs spread naturally for him. the professor only licks his lips before he spots your underwear, entertaining you for now as you stare on earnestly, while nothing is actually entering your brain. that’s okay, though, you’re smart.

toji can count on one hand the amount of times you manage to catch him off guard, but he didn’t expect both of those times to be on the same day. it was a busy night at the club, trailing behind professor gojo, bored, until the clock hits 11 and the shift changes, some dancers retiring for the night whilst others make their way out. they emerge with pumps and skimpy outfits, but toji still hasn’t found someone worth wasting his loaded bank account on until you’re stepping out in a corset and garters and toji whistles lowly, eyes travelling up your person unforgivingly before he hears a small gasp.

his curiosity is piqued at the small noise, only to be greeted with your widened eyes and taut muscles at having seen your professor at the strip club you work at, but with a clap from somewhere backstage your body moves naturally into a professional stance, and perhaps a little more sluttily than other days.

your professor was hot, of course you would work twice as hard, twisting your body around the pole while you show off your assets — things you were covering just this morning in professor toji’s lecture. he taught criminology, a minor that you were trying out in your second year of uni and if it didn’t work, you’d drop it, but no matter how much you complained about the class, the green eyes that bore into yours in lectures always seem to ask you to stay. you never really knew whether he was looking at you or not.

at least now, you’ll make him.

toji’s hands tightened around the wad of cash he planned to waste tonight, all put on hold just from watching the way you put your body on display. he wouldn’t have imagined seeing you tonight at the strip club he let gojo drag him to, but he’s almost glad he’s here when you seem to be only dancing for him, all focus on the other patrons lost.

your eyes are still locked with toji’s, reminding you of the times in the lecture theatre where green was all you could see, a smile creeping on your face when one of your girlfriends behind you whispers that the man with the black hair and tight shirt wants a private session with you.

that’s all it took before you feel toji’s hands on your ass later in the private room, pulling you to his front with a smirk. “what’s a sweet girl like you doin’ here?”

you roll your eyes as you feign annoyance. your heart was pounding along with the music, finally being able to feel his toned body from the front., “cut the crap, prof. you booked me for a reason. what, here to talk about my grades or something?”

“what? can’t see my favourite student?” you scoff with a small smile.

“and how did you know i work here?”

“i didn’t, but seeing you work that pole,” toji grins, landing a smack on your butt before grinding his very obvious, large bulge on you and he’s loving the way it seemed to stimulate your clit, “i need ya to show me what i’ve been missing, mama.”

toji groans later while you’ve got his cock in his mouth, on your knees in front of him while you’re fisting the places you can’t reach. you take most of him easily, feeling the tip of his length reach the back of your throat. there, your eyes flick up to him, doe eyed and pleading. it isn’t long before you feel his hips bucking into your mouth and the cute twitch of his cock in your mouth, moaning around him as you knead his thighs, dragging him closer with what little strength you had.

“dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?” toji mumbles out breathlessly, tightening his grip around your hair before you start bobbing your head again, a plethora of lewd noises alongside the slurp of your saliva and his pre-cum mixing only makes your panties wetter and sends your cunt clenching around nothing. “who knew my cutest student was such a whore?” your head reels at the degradation, sucking in your cheeks even more while you slobber over him. toji swears under his breath when your tongue sweeps over his tip, collecting his pre-cum.

“it’s s’big in my mouth, professor,” giggling, you bob your head faster as the other’s noises increase in volume, and he’s left to tap the side of your skull, causing you to tilt your head in question. the vibrations of your moans has him grinding into your mouth, shutting you up until he’s cumming down your throat with a loud groan. toji spills so much into your mouth that you have to swallow twice, pulling on your jaw as you show him the remnants of the cum still on your tongue.

“’m sure they have it somewhere in the conduct about professors not having sexual relations with a student,” toji chuckles when he sees you peel off your underwear, eagerly wrapping his arms around your waist. “or even something about cutting corners to get your grades up…” it’s a little soft, trailing off when he feels you drag his tip along your pussy and he’s mesmerised with how your dripping folds accommodate him easily.

you pout in dramatics, thighs tightening around his when you take inch after inch of him before you’re bottoming out. there’s a deep sigh coming from you before you’re moving your hips lazily, a certain slur to your words that already show you’re drunk on your professor’s cock and toji only smiles.

“yeah, but my grades are perfectly fine,” you whisper with a small whine when toji squeezes your ass, something he never thought he’d get a taste of.

“plus, we’re not in the classroom now, are we, professor?”

[moonstruckme]

OMGGGGGGG

the first kiss was so cute!!! perfect!! james was so sweet and gentle w her😍😭😭

can’t wait to see there dynamic from now on

Thank you gorgeous! I held onto this so I'd have something to post this last part to, hope you don't mind <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

James is buzzing while he makes breakfast the next morning. Golden morning light pours in through the front windows, brightening the kitchen and warming his back where he stands in front of the stove, the buttery smell of pancake batter wafting up from the pan. He’d gone to bed later than usual last night and slept hard but woke jittery, desperate to do something about the commotion in his chest. 

A run hadn’t done it, nor had replaying the previous night in his head, and now he’s convinced he won’t be able to rest until he can kiss you again. It’s your fault, really. Your little sighs, your careful touches, the way you’d tugged at the roots of his hair when he asked you to, like all this time you’d only been waiting for permission. You’ve fucked him. James will never be able to get over it. Now, all he can think about is getting more. 

He’s made more pancakes than a family of five could eat when he hears the stair creak. 

“Good morning,” he says, turning around just as you pad into the kitchen, quiet as a ghost. 

Your eyes are bleary, but they still manage to widen slightly as you take him in, along with the precarious tower of pancakes beside him. You’re in that sweatshirt he loves so much, sleeves hanging limply from your hands and hem hitting just above your knees. 

“Morning,” you say, softer than soft. 

“How’d you sleep, lovely?” 

You shrug, not quite looking at him. “Fine. You?” 

James grins. “Beautifully. You want some pancakes?” 

Your gaze goes again to the stack beside him, and he can practically see the quip brewing in your eyes. Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice. Are you planning to feed an army?

“Sure,” you say in that same quiet voice. “Thanks.” 

James studies you, intrigued. “Great. C’mere, sweetheart.” 

He plates up a few pancakes, keeping one eye on you as he does. You seem disinclined to look even in his general direction, finding distractions with the stove, your plate, the weather outside. 

“How’s this?” He turns around with the plate. You take it cautiously, by the complete opposite end to avoid any possibility of making contact with his hand. James’ heart warms at the way your fingers just peek out from the sleeve of your sweatshirt to grasp the plate. He wants to kiss you until you don’t know what day it is. “Too many? Not enough?” 

“This is good.” 

“Yeah?” He doesn’t let go of the plate. He tilts his head, trying to catch your eye, but you evade him. He has a hunch that if he were to touch your face (and god, does he want to) he’d find it burning hot. “Are you alright?” 

Your eyes flit up to his for a half a second before fleeing again. You hum, the sound tense and pitchy. “Mhm.” 

“You sure?” he asks, matching your soft tone. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” 

You look like you stop breathing. 

And ordinarily James might feel bad, but post-kiss James cannot be prevailed upon to treat you as cautiously as he ordinarily might. Unfortunately for you, your secret’s out. You’re lovely, you’d said, voice soft and breathy and mere inches from his own mouth, I like having you around. I do. I really like you. Also unfortunately for you, post-kiss James knows things. 

He slips his palm alongside your face, working his hand behind your ear and letting his fingers burrow into the hair behind it. You melt, leaning into the touch. Your eyes meet his. 

It’s grueling work to keep from smiling. “What’s wrong, angel?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say, still quietly but now with more of yourself in your voice. 

“Really? Because you’re acting like we’ve just met.” 

“Don’t you—don’t things feel different to you?” You seem almost distressed, eyebrows hooking upwards just slightly, pretty eyes imploring. Your voice softens again, now more with intimacy than reticence. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to talk with you about.” 

James lets his smile loose, thumbing at the skin behind your ear before letting you go. “We can talk about anything you want,” he says simply, grabbing his own plate and leading you into the living room. 

You’ve got a perfectly good kitchen table but almost never use it, each preferring to eat your meals on the couch. He flops down, careful not to tip his pancakes onto the cushion as he crosses his legs underneath him like you’re at a sleepover. 

“So, have any fun dreams last night?”  

You smile. It’s as heart-stoppingly lovely as always, and James thinks his own probably doubles in magnitude in response. 

“A couple,” you admit. 

“Oh? What about?” 

Your smile goes sheepish, bottom lip slipping in between your teeth as if to impede its progress. You fork clinks against the plate as you start cutting up your pancake. 

James’ brain short-circuits. 

“You were in my dream,” he blurts. 

Your eyes flit up to his warily. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It was one of those weird, super vivid dreams where nothing really happens, you know?” You seem to relax a bit. James douses his pancakes in syrup, starting to cut them up as he talks. “We were here, and someone had spilled something on the rug—probably Sirius, to be honest—and it made this huge stain. I’d tried to pour baking soda on it, but the whole box had collapsed and it got everywhere. We were both sitting right there scrubbing with literal toothbrushes, and I think I was worried you’d be upset with me but you were just laughing.” His heart warms at the pseudo-memory, the hazy feeling of contentment that had permeated the dream. The sound of your laugh, exactly as sweet as in real life. “Your hands were totally covered in baking soda, and the rug was ruined, but we were both laughing our heads off.” 

You’re smiling again, a small, knowing thing. “Had you said something to make us laugh?” 

“No,” he says honestly, “I think it was you.” 

James is aware that he’s barely functioning. It’s almost too much to talk and cut his pancakes at the same time while you’re looking at him like that, like he’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen. It makes it both a relief and a disappointment when you drop your gaze. 

“Do you think the stain might’ve been a premonition?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “How do you mean?” 

You laugh, and he’s instantly spellbound, caught somewhere between fantasy and reality. It takes him a second to realize you’re touching the edge of his plate, tipping it up. James looks down. It had been nearly falling off his lap, his pancakes cut up into tiny pieces and syrup pooled near the rim. 

You look up at him, seraphim with the morning light brightening your features and the hint of a smile playing on your lips. He thinks of how soft they’d felt on his the night before, the way they’d fallen open like welcoming him home. 

“You were almost spilling syrup onto the rug,” you say, that rare and beloved teasing lilt to your voice. “It would’ve taken more than baking soda to get that out.” 

“See?” he asks. “You know how to talk to me just fine.” 

You look surprised, then self-conscious, though not nearly as bad as when you’d come into the kitchen a few minutes ago. He covers your hand with his to keep you from going anywhere. Sets his plate on the coffee table. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your eyes are wide. “Again?” 

“Yes, again,” James laughs. “And again after that, preferably. Only if it’s okay with you.” 

You shake your head, looking something akin to bewildered. “Yeah. Yeah, please.” 

He starts to lean toward you, and you meet him halfway. Already, it’s a bit different. There’s no tentative stillness, no slow yielding. Your lips are pliant and eager, parting and closing around his like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Your fingers wind in his hair without instruction, and James responds by placing his hand in that spot you’d seemed to like it so well last night, the material of your sweatshirt soft beneath his touch. You taste like his pancakes, the syrup sweet on your tongue. 

“Keep talking to me,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips worshipfully, “okay?” 

Your voice is breathless. “Why?” 

“Because I like you.” He tugs at you, wanting you closer. “And I think I’ve put in the work for you to warm up to me, if it’s all the same to you.” 

You make a tiny, amused sound. “Fine,” you say. You grow bolder, kissing your way up his cheek, the top of his eyebrow, until your nose is nestled in his hair and your lips are caressing his forehead. “Consider me warmed.” 

James grins, unable to help himself. He thinks that becoming your friend didn’t go quite as he planned, but he feels as though he won in the end.

[liahaslosthermind]

~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭~ Part 1

Part 1 of The Spy Master's Secret Find more ACOTAR works here! Summary: The Inner Circle has questions they need answered, too bad the one person they rely on for secret information is also the one who doesn't want to answer it. Warnings: Swearing, Cas and Rhysand fight, mention of *that* Solstice conversation, but I actually write Rhys as not an asshole in this one

Part 2 out now!

“It would certainly be me!” Nesta yelled, her voice joining the many that were arguing in the Inner Circle. 

Her mate let out a bellowing laugh, finding the statement ridiculous. She wouldn’t have been as pissed, had he not doubled over when realizing how very serious she was. 

“Nesta, don’t be ridiculous. You could be attached to him for 100 years straight and it still wouldn’t hold a candle to either me nor Cassian.” Rhysand stated, the air of superiority around him while making such a statement caused a shoe to fly at his head.

“Don’t be an ass, Rhys.” 

“Of course, Ferye, Darling.” The High Lord slumped down a little at that. 

The argument had been going on for far too long and after far too many drinks consumed, there wasn’t a resolution in sight.

“Well, now that we have established Nesta is out of the running, does anyone want to nominate themselves? Or will it only be Rhys and I?” Cassian asked.

Everyone was silent, minus Nesta who was angrily huffing at both her mate and his brother’s arrogance. 

“Good. Now, Rhysand, tell me what in Prythian has possessed you to think he would ever pick you over me?”

“What! Cas, you cannot actually be serious enough to think it would be yo-”

“If I remember correctly, one Solstice night a few years ago dethroned you forever.”

“That is not fair and you know it! Plus, we have made up tenfold.”

“Doesn’t matter, its about principles.”

“Please! Cassian, what the fuck do you know about principles?”

“Oh, I’ll show you principles alright-” Was all the General said before he promptly tackled Rhysand to the ground. 

Everyone else in the room just rolled their eyes. It seemed the fight would never end. 

“What am I looking at?” Lucian asked as he walked in on the brawl, noting how Amren and Mor were in the corner exchanging money for the bets they had already placed on the two Illyrians still fighting on the ground. 

“Cassian called himself Azriel’s best friend.” Elain explained as she moved over slightly on the couch, beckoning her mate forward. 

“I thought he was?” Lucian replied.

“Thank you!... I knew- I liked… you, Vanserra” Cassian managed to get out while Rhysand tried and failed to put him in a headlock. 

“I still think it's me.” Nesta grumbled. 

“I don’t understand why you all can’t ask Azriel himself?” Gwyn pitched in. 

The two brothers stopped their fighting as everyone looked to the priestess. 

Clearly, the thought hadn’t crossed anyones’ mind.

They all slowly turned to the Shadowsinger, who had been sitting in the chair by the corner of the room, shadows dancing around him, clearly enjoying the show as much as he was. 

“Come on, boy. Put the two most powerful idiots in Prythian out of their misery.” Amren said commanded 

The rest of the Inner Circle waited impatiently for Azriel’s response, which he purposefully took a pause before answering to torture them.

“Cassian, Rhysand, you both are my brothers. But I wouldn’t classify either of you as my best friend.” He finally responded. “What the fuck?” “Are you serious?” They yelled over each other.

“Ha! I knew it had to be m-” Nesta was cut off by the hand Azriel raised, pausing her thought. 

“Nesta, you are a very dear friend of mine. I appreciate our friendship very much… but it isn’t you either.”

The tension building from everyone’s anticipation was almost suffocating. 

The Spy Master opened his mouth then, deciding better of it, closed it. Getting out of his chair and walking to the door without a word. 

“Hold on!” Rhysand yelled and the House of Wind shut the door in front of Azriel, as if it too wanted to hear his answer.

Unamused, Azriel turned around to the sea of expectant faces.

“Azriel. You don’t think your… shadows are your best friend, right?” Cassian asked, a pitying tone in his voice.

Az’s shoulders shook with silent laughter at the string of curses his shadows sent at the General, even if Cassian couldn’t hear them.

“No, I don’t. But they don’t appreciate the tone, Cas.” Azriel answered as he watched his shadows menacingly circle Cassian. Finally deciding to put everyone out of their misery, he replied: 

“You don’t know her.” 

Before walking into the shadows, escaping the shouts of vulgarity that filled the room at his nonresponse.

A/n: Do y'all want a part 2?

Update: Read part 2 here!

[yandere-romanticaa]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🍒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜.

❝ heaven is my baby, suicide's her father, opulence is the end. ❞ - lana del rey.

various! yandere! honkai star rail men on how they claim you ~

🎀 I just wanted to make a little post which features my favorite male HSR characters lolz. Also, there's zero reason why I picked the song for the title other than the fact that it is for the ✨ aesthetic ✨!

❥ 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍 !

What better way than to leave a mark on his beloved than by his mere presence alone? Jing Yuan is a simple man in his core, even if his tactical nature or even mischievous side can get carried away at times, The General is all too aware of his influence on the Lofu.

The sun could stop shining, the sky could fall and darkness could envelop the whole galaxy but not even that could erase the impact that Jing Yuan has left on you.

Wandering eyes follow you everywhere you go, quaint whispers have become a daily occurrence for you as the entirety of the Lofu knows who you lover is. Some praise and envy your position as The General is known to be handsome, kind and strong. They secretly spit at you and curse your very existence, nasty jealousy rotting them to their core as you march on like a solider to war, aimless and uncertain.

There is also of course the opposite end of the spectrum - adoring fans who just gush about your so called relationship with the dashing general. Hours are wasted scrolling away on your phone as you browse through the endless sea of lovey dovey articles, pictures taken you weren't even aware of that existed, and a plethora of other things you could even bother to remember.

All he needed to do was to just give you a nice golden collar to seal the deal. At least that would be the more obvious way of him trying to brand you as his own sweetheart.

He had his own little secret though. A velvet box was kept hidden away in his desk, ready to be opened on a special occasion.

Depending on how you got on with the general in the future, the little thing in the box was either going to make you the happiest person in the world or, he really would finally shackle you with gold.

❥ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 !

Sunday, ever the gentleman, would try to remain subtle about his feelings towards you in public. There are just some things that you do not do, nor share with the outside world.

This is a rule he always tells you to follow.

Still, all he needs to do is to speak. Honeyed words fall from his lips like candy, always so sweet, so addictive, so passionate. Even a man like Sunday, who is known for keeping his cool, cannot hide his infatuation with you. He rambles and rambles, sometimes even losing himself in his thoughts as he sings his praises for you, like the lovesick fool that he is.

Sunday likes to think that he is being cool, suave, but he is literally anything but.

Sometimes, he gets a little too carried away. Sometimes, his darker desires get the better of him, which can set you off a little. He's always so sweet and apologetic whenever he upsets you...

Please, he says through gritted teeth.

Don't mind my ramblings. They don't mean anything. Truly, they do not.

Disregard those pleas entirely as they are nothing but hollow. All one needs to do is to look into his crazed eyes, and that is where you will find out just how true everything he's saying really is.

❥ 𝐉𝐈𝐀𝐎𝐐𝐈𝐔 !

This sly fox has such a hard time keeping his hands to himself... In all honesty, can you even blame him? Whenever he sneaks up on you, Jiaoqiu cannot help but to place his hands literally anywhere on your soft body and he is not shy about showing his true feelings.

Bearing his pearly white fangs, Jiaoqiu likes to bite from time to time.

The desire to do so is further enhanced with every sweet noise you make. Now now, don't cover your mouth, be nice! Every squeal, sigh, groan, even scream are so precious to him... Don't deny him the pleasure of not being able to listen to you.

It's very cruel of you, he says with a pout.

In the cover of night, he likes to trace the markings he left on you with his tongue, maybe even adding even more marks in the process. If you bleed a little, it's all fine and dandy.

You always taste sweet to him.

And the thought of other people being able to see the red bruises which bloom into hideous purple in green bruises on your neck... My goodness, he thinks to himself.

He could just devour you whole.

[lundenloves]

fatherhood II

*Standing on a soap box, pointing at every one of you.* I will not be responsible for the tears passed in this piece of written emotional catastrophe. It simply had to be done. Simon meeting his daughter for the first time. It's canon. Leave me alone! *Runs away*

↳ no warnings | f!reader | 1.2k

part one | dad!simon masterlist

i may as well be running from lions at this rate, i cannot believe this. yes i can. no one talk to me or ask me the colour of anything for at least twelve days. sigh.

Having a baby sleeping on his chest was not on Simon Riley’s bingo cards for this year. His own baby at that.

Ironically, it was like learning to walk all over again. Having a little person who was completely dependent on you was something he couldn’t fathom at all until the time came. And boy, did it come, straight to the deep end he was.

It started when he was stood on the doorstep to his own home, two days late, taking deep breaths and roughing his hair in attempts to alleviate the bubbling anxiety. He was mentally beating himself up for the fucking career he’d chosen, and the hardships that came with time. Time he wouldn’t get back.

“Fuck sake, Simon.” Came a mutter to himself, slapping one hand of motivation to his cheek before reaching to turn the handle. Baby cries were audible from outside, his jaw tightening at the sound. He hadn’t been home in two weeks. Many an argument had passed to get time off although it just simply wasn’t an option. Forcing his wife to give birth alone bar her family. Christ.

He stepped into the house quietly, as if subconsciously on a fucking stakeout. A shaky sigh came when he’d leant against the wall, dropping his bag and shutting the door behind him.

It was a lot and he hadn’t even met her yet.

His daughter.

A rush of guilt panged in his chest and forced the steps he took toward the living-room. His broad shoulders filled the doorframe, in complete contrast to the tiny baby who lay in your arms.

His cold heart attempted to ignite a spark at the sight, kickstarting a warmth that didn’t quite come. Not until you had caught sight of him and instantaneously teared up. It was like all hell had broken loose in his chest, experiencing emotions he hadn’t felt in years. Still, he couldn’t speak, nor move.

You brought her to him, standing up and pressing your forehead against his chest. “You don’t need to say anything.” He nodded quietly, looking down at the baby in your arms. The inner corners of his eyebrows had raised, jaw tensing and loosening between seconds.

You could practically see the thoughts race through his mind. Good and bad.

“Stop worrying, you’re home now.” His shirt had a central wet patch from your silent tears.

You weren’t going to tell him how it was hell, how awful it was that he wasn’t around, and just how much you cried the night you got home with her. Welcomed by an empty house and darkness.

“Simon.” You said weakly, looking up at him and catching the gloss of his dark eyes. He was just as devastated about the whole thing. “Don’t think about it. It’s over. We have her, she’s safe, I'm safe.”

He nodded slowly, eyes unmoved from the baby below him. “Do you want to hold her?” Your voice came as a whisper, aware of his anxieties.

“I don’t know how.” He cleared his throat, looking back up to you. The hardness in his eyes was still there, although exposed by the sheen of upset that threatened to spill. You’d never seen him cry. Not once in the seven years of being together.

You smiled a little at him, a quivering one at best. “You just have to support her head.” Your arms lifted toward his, lightly adjusting his positions before handing your daughter toward her father.

And fuck, did it hit you then.

Stepping back, you made an effort to mentally photograph the scene in front of you. His eyes cast down to the baby in his arms, holding her as if she could break any second. The large palm of his hand was bigger than her whole body, supporting her with his arm although she barely used a forearm's worth of space. Her little hands raised upward, entirely relaxed in his arms as opposed to the crying he had walked in on.

His energy had entirely calmed her down.

“How do you feel?” You sucked your lips inward, both hands on your head to calm the maddening amount of emotion running through your stomach.

His eyes remained fixed on his daughter, still frozen in the position you had put him in. “I don’t know.” He admitted, voice as deep as ever although it had a strain to it.

You nodded. “That’s okay.”

The two of you shared a silence for a minute or two, just entirely in the moment for your daughter and the small babbles she made every now and then. The only consistent sound was her breathing, only audible for the dead silence in the house.

He shifted, “Are you alright?”

You rubbed your arm, looking up at him to find his eyes already on yours. “Mhm.” It was the truth, although he was evidently searching for a different answer. “Just glad you’re home.”

“Have you slept much?”

“Not really. But that’s okay.” The sweet tone of your voice made his shoulders drop, arms relax and his eyes soften. Well, until the baby began to cry and he tensed up all over again, silently panicking while looking to you. “Relax, Si.”

He screwed his face, letting her small hand curl weakly around his finger in hopes she would stop crying. “She’s fine. You’re fine.” A warm laugh escapes you and a slight smile plays on his lips at the sound. “She’s just tired.”

He pushed his arms toward you, gesturing you take her back. He was tired. You could see it in his eyes, “She’s still crying.”

“I couldn’t hear that.” You quip and he tsks, holding his arms out a little further. “Sit with her, it’ll be easier on your arms.” It was a thing for you, wanting him to have her in his arms as often as he could and not scare himself away.

He gave you a predictably unsure look before moving to the sofa. Each step he took was cautious to not stir her even further, sitting down slowly. You leant against the dining table, looking at him from across the room as he mumbled words you couldn’t hear to the baby in his arms.

When he had relaxed, she too calmed down. The steady breathing of his chest created a rise and fall that drifted her to sleep, small fingers still wrapped around his the best they could.

“Are you alright if I shower?”

He looked up in your direction, a flash of a panic appeared across his features. “What do I do if she wakes up?” His glance directed back down to the unthreatening baby in his arms.

“Just talk to her, like you just did.” You walked over, leaning down over the back of the sofa to press a kiss to his cheek. “I know it’s hard, but don’t think about it too much.” Hands placed on his shoulders, massaging into his collarbones.

He hummed in response.

“I’ll be ten minutes.”

Simon only lasted three. Three minutes of staring down at his daughter, alone and full of emotion for her but it wasn’t willing to come out just yet. Fatigue had taken over and by the time you had gotten back, ready to put her down for the night, she was already deep in sleep along with her father.

She was on his chest, arm raised upward to his neck where her tiny fingers touched his skin. His head tilted to the back of the sofa, two hands supporting her while soft snores left him.

Fatherhood.

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pats me on the head every now and then.

taglist? fill out this form.

[yoredoesmore]

Okay I have a request with Hoshina Soshiro. So maybe some angst thing but fluff. Okay so since reader joined hoshina team she flirted with him, give him things , complement him yk? And he would mostly ignore her, give her extra training ANYTHING to make her go away cuz he didn't want to lose her on mission (dangerous job) but she didn't know that. So it lasted for like long time and a new member joined and he started to flirt with reader, give her flowers itp. And she unfortunately thought that making hoshina love her is like against his own will. She doesn't want to be a b so she leaves him alone. And he doesn't like that at all? I love that kind of fanfic. 🎀

Words cannot describe how much i love this request!! thank you so much for this, i hope you enjoy what i came up with!!

Attention | Hoshina Soshiro

pairing: jealous!hoshina soshiro x reader

summary: you stop giving hoshina your attention and he doesn't like that at all.

genre: romance/angst/jealousy/fluff | [wc: 3.3k ]

a/n: my very first request (so exciting!!) i hope i do your wishes justice! hoshina is kinda mean in this one, lol ^^

enjoy!

“Vice Captain Hoshina!” You chimed in an enthusiastic voice, your body moving over to the man's disappearing figure. The vice captain did not even bother to turn around, nor halt in his footsteps as he heard you approach him. Even as you finally catched up, his gaze remained focused on the scene ahead.

“Today's mission went surprisingly well, don't you think!” Excitement hung in your voice, even as Vice Captain Hoshina remained unbothered by your presence. You were all too used to his unbothered demeanor, his avoiding gazes and the lingering silence, therefore you did what you always did in these situations– keep the conversation alive.

“But honestly, with you as our Vice Captain I didn't expect anything else–”

“Your movements towards the end of the battle were sloppy and unprofessional. Talking about a successful mission, tsk, is there nothing else but air in your head? You could have seriously gotten hurt.” His voice was sharp and mocking but the worst part was, it stung.

It has been a little over a year since you joined the Third Division. Despite all your attempts of building a healthy relationship between you and the Vice Captain, nothing much has changed so far. All the compliments, all the gifts and hard work– none of them had been able to bring change to your chemistry. And watching him turn into this jolly ball of joy when talking to the other cadets definitely didn't make you feel better either. It sometimes discouraged you from continuing this sad pursuit of his attention, but only sometimes.

“Seriously, If you wanna stay in this division and continue being part of these missions you gotta be better than that. What even happened back there?!’

A strong force rushed through your lungs, your mind recalling the last minutes of battle. It silenced you immediately.

A Yoju had appeared right behind your exhausted figure, catching you off guard. In any normal situation you would have drawn your weapon at light speed and blast right through the monster but something had stopped you.

The Vice Captain himself.

Nobody else saw it, how could they have– Vice Captain Hoshina did his best to conceal his little mistake. But you took notice of it, of the Vice Captain actually missing his target. It was unexpected to say the least, distracting as well. But the Kaiju blood that ran down his face, temporarily took his vision and that caused his momentum to shift. He lost his balance for a split second and let the Yoju escape from his weapon. He immediately caught up with the monster but the worry that engulfed your stomach was enough to temporarily cause your brain to shut down.

If it hadn't been for Reno calling you back into reality you would have seriously gotten hurt indeed.

“I apologize Cap–”

“Don't bother.” And with that said he left the scene, joining the others in a discussion of how to proceed with the mission.

“Are you alright Y/n..?” Shinomiya approached you, her gentle hand finding its way on your shoulders.

“Yes, I'm alright. Guess he wasn't in the mood to talk, haha..”

This was just one of many failed attempts of you trying to charm Hoshina.

About a week later you were wandering through the hallways of Tachikawa Base. The sun had long kissed the world goodnight, leaving only the dimmed light of the moon to illuminate the building. Sleep was unable to find you, thus you decided to take a short stroll around the building.

It calmed you, watching the stars live in perfect harmony with the moon. They were able to enjoy its presence, even from a distance– just like you were still able to appreciate Hoshina.

He wasn't all that bad honestly. What happened a week ago was a rare occasion, he only got worked up like that when you gave a sloppy performance during a mission.

Perhaps he just wanted you to improve? One could view your way of thinking as delusional, yes, but you preferred to think that you were just optimistic.

On your way back to your dorm you heard subtle sounds in the distance. A few grunts here and some equipment being moved there. Allowing curiosity to take the best of you, you investigated the strange noise. What you found left you shocked and motionless.

The Vice Captain was up and about in the training room, moving in ways you have so rarely seen him in. His body became one with his weapon, it was as if they molded into one to perform something magical. Seeing him in action, in his element, it reminded you why you still chased after Hoshina. He was just perfect in every single aspect, from looks to abilities. You watched him just a little longer, until you decided to step back and return to your dorm to not get into any trouble for being up so late.

“And where do you think you're going?” A single sentence from his lips was enough for your body to become imobile. The Vice Captain was the scariest during battles, when neutralizing Kaiju, everybody knew that. But whatever vibe he was emitting right now, it felt just as dangerous. With each step he took towards your body you could feel your limbs grow weaker and weaker.

“It's quite disrespectful to stare. And on top of that you're walking around past the curfew. Honestly Y/n, it's starting to get annoying.”

“I apologize. I couldn't sleep, that's why I–”

“Give me 50.” Hoshina interrupted you, turning back around to collect his things.

“I..are you serious?” The last thing you wanted was to sound disrespectful, but his cold demeanor was starting to affect you in a way you had hoped it never would.

His body bent forward to grab both his katana and zip jacket. For only a moment his eyes met yours.

“Yes. And while you're already at it, try working on your reflexes and stealth as well, I could hear you from miles away. Your mistakes of last week's battle could have cost you your life. Don't let it happen again."

His gaze fell onto the ground and his grip on the jacket tightened. Like always you were unable to make out what concrete emotions he was hiding behind those eyes but his voice pretty much gave away what state he was currently in.

He was pissed.

As Hoshina walked towards the exit, he made sure to throw one last look at you. You didn't notice it but even if you had, it would have made no sense to you..

The following weeks continued to all look the same. While you were trying your best to uphold a positive attitude towards the Vice Captain, it felt like he was distancing himself further and further away from you. Even the other cadets were starting to wonder when you were finally going to move on and give up.

“Hoshina!” You exclaimed cheerfully, waving at the man. “I hope you had a great weekend. I'm looking forward to today's work!”

Like always he just passed you by, not even bothering to give you anything else than a roll of his eyes or a nod (when he was feeling generous).

Even when you left little notes for him or small treats on his desk, you would always later on find them in the trash.

“Wanna go out and drink something together?”

“No.”

“Excuse me, but could you please help me with–”

“I'm busy.”

“Why wasn't I called in to participate at the weapon testing–”

“Because.”

This went on for a couple more months, until a certain someone brought you back to reality.

“Please welcome Tanaka Yosuke, the newest addition to our team.”.

Tanaka was an interesting guy. He was sweet and nice and always had something positive about you to say. On missions he would have your back and even off the battlefield he would make you feel warm and welcomed. Being with him made you realize just how much attention you actually deserved and maybe even how much you wasted on Hoshina. Tanaka made you appreciate how nice it felt to be sought out for once.

Your words did not pass him by, nor did any of your actions go unnoticed by his attentive eyes. He was someone you were able to feel comfortable around.

“Y/n!” His voice immediately caused a smile to appear on your face. Tanaka stood in front of you, a playful grin shining right back at you as he approached your seated body. You were at the base’s cafeteria, enjoying a simple meal by yourself. After another failed attempt of talking to the Vice Captain you believed that you deserved a little treat.

“I got you something.” He spoke, hands reaching into the small bag he brought with him.

A sharp breath escaped your lips and a feeling so fuzzy engulfed your heart it almost knocked you off the chair.

“Look, aren't these flowers beautiful.” White Lilies swayed in the wind, brought by the Kaiju’s collapse. Only this group of flowers had stayed untouched from the destruction, maintaining their beauty.

You had made one little remark about the flowers but here this man was, surprising you with a whole bouquet of them. As your fingers grazed over the soft petals a thought suddenly occurred in your head.

What if Hoshina genuinely disliked you?

It wasn't a brand new discovery. Vice Captain Hoshina not being a fan of yours was quite obvious, yet you thought that his opinion about you could be swayed if you tried hard enough, like in movies. But seeing him dodge you like a bullet and going out of his way to hurt your feelings..maybe you were a bother after all..

Spending more time with Tanaka and less around the Vice Captain felt strange. You wondered if he noticed or if he even cared about the lack of your presence. The thought occupied your mind even while you were looking at your gift.

But did that mean that you like Tanaka..? Despite being a sweet guy, all you saw in him was a comrade who you could call a good friend. No one could ever compare to the Hoshina that you met years ago, before you joined the decision. The sweet man who saved you that day..the man you fell in love with.

“These flowers are beautiful, Tanaka.” But that didn't change the fact that Tanaka's eyes were different. They looked at you, not past or beyond, they stared right at you and made sure to perceive you.

“Not as beautiful as the one who is holding them..”

For a brief moment you felt your heart skip a beat, Tanaka's words melting on your ears like butter. While you were losing yourself in this warm feeling you didn't notice the person who was lingering behind the wall, watching the scene unfold with sharp eyes.

“Tsk..”

×

“That new guy, what's his name again?” Hoshina rested his body against one of the bookshelves, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the Captain arrange some files.

“You mean Tanaka Yosuke? What's with him?” Mina's gaze remained on the countless sheets of papers in front of her, only moving up once to give the man a questioning look.

“Something about him seems off, I don't like the guy.”

“Oh please.” The woman finally averted her attention to her friend, a smug smile hanging on her lips.

“You're just mad that Y/n is paying him attention, much more than you recently.” The last part of that sentence came out as a mumble yet Hoshina’s sharp ears picked up on Mina's remark.

“As if.” Hoshina scoffed. “It's just, he is always dragging Y/n to the front of every battle and acts as if he has known her for ages.”

“You want him to act like you? Cold and ignorant, even after knowing that she is one of the sweetest people around.” Although Mina tried to add a playful touch to her voice, the backlash of her words stayed strong.

“Everybody knows that Y/n is, or maybe now was, head over heels for you– yes even I picked up on that. Yet for some reason you are a complete asshole to the poor girl. But now that she has decided to stop paying you that special kind of attention you want to complain and talk about some "I miss her” and what not. Give me a break.”

Hearing these words come out of the Captain's mouth felt like a strong jab to the side. Hoshina found himself unable to respond, react in any way, really. Like a block of ice he stood motionless in the room, mouth slightly open.

“Play with a girl's heart for too long and she will leave you in the past. You men have the audacity to treat the woman who cares for you like trash and ignore her but get upset when she starts showing affection to another man who actually treats her right, how childish.”

A paper ball suddenly came flying towards Hoshina’s head. He let the crumbled item hit his skull. His eyes followed it as it bounced off his head and fell to the ground, rolling around for a little longer until it eventually stopped moving. A strange taste now sat in his mouth. It was bitter yet blunt, how irritating..

"Whatever reason you have to act this way, just stop. Tell Y/n face to face how you actually feel and give that poor thing a break for gods sake."

×

The day came to an end rather quickly today. Only hours ago you were out with Tanaka, enjoying some time together and now you were already headed to bed. But before you decided to tell the world goodnight you had to make one quick stop at the base's library.

There was a book about flowers Tanaka gave you that you wanted to lend out, to be able to properly tent your gift. But as you searched through the countless isles, too concentrated on quickly finding the copy, a loud noise suddenly pulled you back to reality.

“Vice Captain..” You stuttered, startled by Hoshinas' sudden appearance. The man stood in front of you, his usual nonchalant expression printed on his face. You were ready to apologize for being out this late once again but before you were even able to open your mouth you were silenced.

“You've been avoiding me..” He spoke in such a low tone you almost didn't hear him.

“I've been…what?”

“You've been avoiding me, Y/n.” Hoshina took a step forward, invading a fraction of your personal space. A gasp slipped from your lips but he continued to stare you down.

“Well..I was under the impression that I was bothering you, Vice Captain, so I backed down a li–”

“Now you can't even say my name anymore?” Another step was taken towards your direction.

Hoshina's playful demeanor had completely disappeared, all that was left was a stoic facade. But something about the way he positioned himself above you, his sharp eyes looking down at your frame as if they were guarding you– it fell off. Despite appearing cold and upset, he somehow seemed..vulnerable?

“I really don't understand what is going on here. I thought you didn't like me?”

It seemed like Hoshina wanted to say something along the lines of “what gave you that idea” but he quickly realized that those words would have not helped him at all. Thus he remained silent for a while, his arms crossing over his chest as his gaze fell onto the wall.

“That Tanaka guy, is he your latest obsession?”

“Excuse me?” You mildly snapped. “Yosuke is a friend of mine, a very nice guy and an amazing fighter.” Hearing you speak his first name so casually caused a nerve to snap in Hoshina’s body.

“He is a completely irresponsible guy if you ask me. Dragging you out to the front of every battle, making you fight all these Yoju– it's like he's setting you up for injuries.” As if the Vicevice Captain's words didn't irritate you enough, he had the audacity to add a scoff, leaving you confused and slightly vexed.

“Orrr maybe he just trusts in my abilities. But with all respect sir, what are you talking about? Are you here to hand out another punishment or is this some type of joke, pretending to suddenly care about me and all..” Silence hushed over the space as your question stayed unanswered. It was beyond obvious that your words triggered something in Hoshina but you didn't know what it was. The lack of a conversation allowed you to reflect on past interactions. Despite hish harsh words, this was the third time that the Vice Captain has mentioned you potentially getting hurt during battle.

Was he maybe..

“I apologize for my tone..” You suddenly sighed.

“But Vice Captain Hoshina, I think I have made it quite clear that I..that I like you yet you don't seem even the tiniest bit interested in me. Which is okay, I get it, but how come that now that i'm finally leaving you alone, you all of a–”

The door to the library suddenly swung open, cutting you off mid sentence.

“Y/n?” Tanaka called out, looking around the empty space.

Hoshina had reacted before you could even realize what was going on. The Vice Captain quickly pulled you into his embrace, so that your back rested against his chest, and placed his hands over your mouth. The mild sensation you felt only moments ago in your stomach now fully exploded, causing a strong heat to rush through your body.

“Weird..the others told me that she would be here..” Tanaka looked around one last time before turning off the lights and closing the door behind him. You thought that Hoshina would let you go but his grip around your waist stayed strong.

“Y/n..” He lowered his face to softly talk into your ear. Something inside the man felt relieved. Now that you were both standing in complete darkness, unable to see each other, he could finally confess what was on his mind.

“As a Vice Captain it is my duty to charge head first into battle, despite knowing that I could die any second. You are persistent by nature, I saw that during our first encounter a couple years ago, so the thought of you being stubborn enough to follow me on the battlefield and potentially getting hurt always haunted me. I..I tried getting rid of you to prevent that from happening and during the process I must have hurt you a lot and I am so sorry. I kept ignoring you because being close to you..it made it so fucking difficult to not–”

Hoshina stopped himself from continuing that sentence and let go of you, his body's heat becoming too overwhelming. With every second your eyes adjusted more and more to the darkness, until you were properly able to see him.

“Don't run after any other man when I'm right here, Y/n..”

“Hoshina..”

You could only see fragments of it but Hoshina was smiling. Hearing you finally drop the formalities made him happier than it should.

All this time, the man you thought hated you for purely existing had a special spot in his heart reserved just for you. It felt weird, being perceived by him, but at the same time there was no sweeter feeling.

“I don't know if I can just forgive you yet..” You joked. “It's gonna take a lot more than just your words to make me forget the months of blatant disrespect.”

“Don't play around too much now.” The man pulled you back into his embrace. One arm tightly held you by the waist while the other pretended to pull on your ear. For a short moment the two of you laughed together, until he suddenly spoke in a more serious tone.

“Please keep your eyes on me, don't look away.” One of his hands wrapped around yours to pull it up to his face. Hoshina's soft lips ran over your fingers, placing a strong kiss on your hand. Then his eyes fell on yours, locking your gazes.

“I'm yours, Y/n. You don't need anyone else as long as I'm here so please continue to give me your attention. It gets me going like nothing else, hearing your adorable voice and seeing how much effort you put into every fight. Fuck” He chuckled, the other hand now cupping your right cheek.

“You don't know how long I had to hold myself back. But now that the truth's out, I can finally show you just how crazy you make me.”

[percyluvr]

hey babes, could you maybe do like a percy x reader where he gets home from AHS one day and just walk in on his mom and gf just having the ultimate gossip session and being besties, idk i just thought that would be funny

percy jackson x fem!reader summary: percy comes home from a long day at school to find his girlfriend and mother immersed in a juicy gossip session wc: 668

Since the day you'd met Sally Jackson, she'd been your favorite person in the whole world, even surpassing your own boyfriend, who just so happened to be her son. Apparently, being a great person just ran in the Jackson family.

Luckily for you, Sally had also taken an immense liking to you, considering you her own daughter. The two of you bonded over various common interests, as well as your worry about Percy.

At first, Percy had been the main thing the two of you bonded over, but the two of you eventually realized that you had a lot in common, one of these things being your love for gossiping. The two of you gossiped every day without fail, even on the days that the two of you didn't see each other in person. The two of you talked long into the night on the phone, Percy overhearing it whether he was at home or with you, and he always pretended to be jealous that the two of you were 'ignoring' him in favor of talking to each other, to which you and Sally would just laugh and continue talking about people that neither of you really even knew that well.

Today, Percy was tired beyond belief, having a test or quiz in almost all of his classes. He was walking home, the only thoughts on his mind being you and a long nap. Yes, he was a demigod, and yes he fought many hour long battles, one of which being a full day of school, and he was now a sleepy boy who just wanted to cuddle with his girlfriend.

Unfortunately, the gods were not looking favorably at him today, because when he finally made it home, he found his girlfriend and mother sat on the couch, seemingly very immersed in a conversation.

While it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to be at his house before him, what was unusual was the fact that when he walked in the door, near you nor his mother even batted an eye in acknowledgement of his presence.

Typically the two of you would at least give him a small 'hi', but not today.

"Hey, I'm home," he said, thinking that the two of you must not have noticed the door opening.

You and Sally didn't even acknowledge him, opting to continue your gossip session instead.

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Paul Blofis, Percy's step-dad, let out a small sigh, causing Percy to look over at him and finally notice he was there.

Paul gave him a pained smile. "They've been talking like this since I got home," he stated.

Percy gave an empathetic nod, pulling up a chair next to Paul.

"Let's see how long they talk before realizing we're even here," Percy half-jokes.

"Sounds fun," Paul agreed.

It was, in fact, not fun, because the two boys sat there for around 4 hours before you and Sally even looked in their direction.

It was around 9 pm when you and Sally finally stopped talking and acknowledged the two sitting there nearly dozing off.

You got up and grabbed Percy's hand, leading him to his room and plopping down on the bed. His arms went around your waist as he pulled you close to him.

"What were you and my mom even talking about that was so interesting that you completely ignored me when I said hi?" He asked.

"Percy, Sally and I have gossip sessions daily, and they cannot be interrupted. It's very vital that we get to talk about other people for at least 2 hours a day, otherwise we might die," you joke.

"Really? You two do that every day? How do you not run out of things to talk about?"

"Oh you sweet summer child, you underestimate our ability to find gossip-worthy topics."

Percy realizes that he will not ever understand the two most important women in his life and just hums in acknowledgement of your words before falling soundly asleep.

[ph6ntomm]

HARRY'S HOUSE MASTERLIST

── .✦ IN WHICH … jacks best friend and quinn hughes growing up together over the years blossoms into something more.

── .✦ DISCLAIMER … this is purely fictional. this does not depict the reality of anyone or anything. with that being said, please do not use my work against anyone, nor should you apply it to any real life situations.

── .✦ DO NOT … copy, translate, repost, or put my work into ai.

── .✦ WARNINGS … small age gap (1 year), light mentions of drinking

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AS IT WAS

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Holdin' me back, gravity's holdin' me back, I want you to hold out the palm of your hand, why don't we leave it at that?

when you moved into the vacant house next door at 8 years old, the last thing you expected was to make new friends almost immediately. three boys played out in the yard in the house next door, presumably playing tag, as they were chasing each other and slightly shoving.

you watched from the top step of your porch with your teddy bear clutched tightly to your chest. the tallest boy had messy black hair and looked to be about a year or so older. the second boy, who was running away from the other had light brown hair and looked full of energy. he also looked to be around the same age. the last boy had blonde curly hair and had a constant smile on his face. he looked to be a bit younger than you, but still cool.

your dad had came out onto the porch and looked over to where your eyes had been trained on for the last three minutes. he waited for a second before suggesting that you walked over and tried to talk to them. so you did.

timidly, you had walked over slowly, not wanting to seem too desperate to talk to any of them, especially the boy with the messy raven colored hair. the boy with the light brown hair stopped in his tracks when he saw you and his smile widened. “hi! i’m jack,” he said to you. you had waved at him and told him your name too. he told you his age, which was 7, and the smallest boy told you his name too, which was luke, he was 5. immediately, he asked you if you wanted to be friends. the tallest, who you had figured out was the oldest, just stared at you. you stared back. he didn’t say anything, so jack spoke for him. “that’s quinn, he’s 9 and he’s mine and luke’s older brother. he’s an old grump sometimes,” he said with a light snicker while quinn rolled his eyes.

you held out your hand for him to shake, but he didn’t take it. instead, your hand stayed rested towards the sky. you awkwardly took your hand back and dropped it to your side, slightly embarrassed at the interaction.

little did you know, quinn was beating himself up over the interaction. he felt stupid that he hadn’t taken the chance to get to know a pretty girl, or even make a new friend. he felt like he couldn’t make the move forward and shake your hand, but he didn’t know why.

“do you wanna play with us?” jack had asked, and who in their right mind would’ve said no to that?

so, for the rest of the night until you were all called in to your respective homes, you played with them.

all night you were thinking about quinn, until you fell asleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Nothin' to say, when everything gets in the way, seems you cannot be replaced, and I'm the one who will stay

a few years later, 15 to be exact, you find yourself sitting in the backyard of the hughes house. it was a particularly cold evening so they invited you and your parents over for s’mores around the campfire. the boys had invited some of their friends over too, which made it more lively.

you were sitting alone by the fire, partly to try and warm up, but the other part to get away from everyone. you were getting overwhelmed.

jack, your closest friend, was surrounded by a group of people you didn’t know as well. in turn, being around all of them at once caused you to become anxious. so that’s why you were sitting by the fire alone.

your parents and the boys parents looked like they were a bit tipsy, as they had been sipping on something all night and you didn’t really wanna be around that. luke was with jack and the big group so you couldn’t go hang out with him either. and quinn? that was out of the question. you and quinn had an odd relationship. you didn’t not like each other, but you didn’t exactly talk either. you’d only ever had very brief interactions in passing. it’s not like you didn’t want to talk to him, you just had nothing to say to him.

which is why it was a big surprise when he came over to the fire and sat beside you. you slightly tensed next to him, but he didn’t seem to notice. you had been harboring a small crush on him for about two years, and your friends had yet to find out. you feared for what could happen if the secret got out. what if jack stopped being friends with you? or even worse, what if you stopped talking to the family completely? you couldn’t let that happen, so you kept your silly crush to yourself and shook away the negative thoughts the best that you could.

it was quiet for a few beats until he spoke up. “you looked lonely over here,” he started. “i hope im not bothering your time alone, i just didn’t know what to do either,”

you stared forward for a second before looking over to him. he was already looking at you. “no, you’re good, i was feeling a bit awkward sitting over here alone anyways,” you said with a light laugh. you looked over to where jack was to find him in the same spot he’d been at for the past 15 minutes.

you looked back over to quinn to find that he had looked back towards the fire, so you did too.

“i guess we can sit over here awkwardly together then,” he said after a minute or so. “i guess so,” you replied, a light smile resting across your face.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

In this world it's just us, you know it's not the same as it was

at 17 years old, you were about to graduate high school. quinn was 19 and was in college and was about to get drafted. he was visiting his family back at home and happened to be there at the time of your graduation, so he showed up with your family and the rest of his family too.

you had started to stay more in touch with quinn, checking up on him every few days or so, asking him how school was going and how his day went. he did the same with you too. the conversations sometimes went into something even deeper, conversations about anything and everything you could imagine.

when you walked across the stage, your family and the hughes cheered the loudest.

after the graduation, you found them and hugged your parents first. your dad hugged you first, and also the tightest, his eyes tearing up. your mom hugged you next and told you how proud of you she was. you hugged jim and ellen, then jack and luke. lastly, you hugged quinn. you saved him for last because the thought of hugging him made you nervous. your crush for the boy had never subsided. in fact it had became more than just a little crush.

your family and the rest of the hughes had walked away by now. quinn hugged you and shook you a little, which made you laugh. you took your arms off from around his neck and lightly pushed on his chest to try and move him away a little, but he didn’t budge. his eyes were trained on yours. you felt like you could crumble under his stare. “have i ever told you how pretty you are?” he asked. a light blush dusted your cheeks, before you laughed nervously. “no, i don’t think so,” you replied. he smiled, and in that moment you were sure he felt the same way you did.

he asked if he could kiss you, and of course you agreed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You know it's not the same as it was, as it was, as it was

years later, you and quinn are together, and you had been ever since the day after you graduated. your families had taken the news well, especially jack. he was ecstatic to have you as part of the family, even now calling you his sister. luke of course followed suit.

you moved in with quinn after you finished college. long distance was hard, but you always had summer and sometimes quinn would even fly in just to see you for a weekend.

you were always together, and you didn’t think anything would ever change that.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[jimothyhalperts]

Okay, so I’m on my second watch of s2 and I think people are really being too harsh on Aziraphale. Here’s the receipts:

1 - He said to Metatron that he didn’t want to go back to heaven, he only accepted the job after Metatron said he could take Crowley with him

2 - When Crowley says “If Gabriel and Belzebu can go off together, then we can [...].We need to get away from them, just be an us. You and me.”, Aziraphale answers “Come with me to heaven. [...] We can make a difference.[...] We can be together, angels, doing good.” He is not rejecting Crowley nor the idea of them being together, he is rejecting the idea of doing nothing to make things better. He’s saying “let’s be an us in heaven, where we can be together and look after this planet that we both love instead of abandoning it”

(Of course that he is seeing heaven through rose-tinted glasses, but this is a whole different rant)

3 - The dialogue in the book shop is very similar to S1 when Crowley say they can go off together and let the Armageddon happen: While Crowley wants to run away and save them both, Aziraphale wants to try saving Earth, the only difference is that now Aziraphale recognizes that he needs Crowley and wants to be with Crowley.

4 - Just before EVERY, Crowley says “You idiot, we could have been us”, Aziraphale turns away from him to cry. In this scene I believe they are both thinking the same thing “He might even want to be with me but only on his terms.” 

5 - The “I FORGIVE YOU” scene, he meant “I forgive you for not wanting to come with me and trying to change my mind, instead breaking my heart even more”

Aziraphale LOVES Earth and will try to do everything to save it and he knows Crowley loves Earth too, they are not Gabriel and Belzebu who never cared for Earth nor humans. He knows Crowley didn’t want to work for Hell anymore and that he is good and he can finally do good without being punished.

Crowley (and the viewers) has a much clearer and realistic vision of how things work, because heaven has already betrayed him. He doesn’t want to go back there because he already knows all of its flaws. 

Crowley is a realist (and a bit of a pessimist), he believes Earth will end because heaven and hell cannot be trusted, so the best solution is to run away while they can.

 Aziraphale is an idealistic, he is going to heaven, he is going to fix the system, Earth will be happy and safe forever, Crowley will realize that and go to heaven after him and they will live happily ever after. 

SO WHEN Metatron said about the second coming Aziraphale REALIZED Crowley was right about heaven, but he still had to try to save Earth instead of taking the easy way out.

SO STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE ANGEL, HE LOVES CROWLEY AND LOVES EARTH AND IS JUST TRYING TO SAVE EVERYONE

[outlawinthisworld1117]

Perhaps in another life | Fleabag AU

☆ pairing: priest!Yunho x fleabag!(fem)reader

☆ genre: Angst, Smut, there is some light fluff as well because I genuinely cannot resist writing it in everything I do.

☆ summary: It's just a Fleabag au... I don't really know what to say here. Yunho is the Priest and you are Fleabag…

☆ warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! Religious themes, fingering, oral (f), Praise kink?, edging, vaginal sex, protected sex, aftercare (idk if I need to put a warning for that? but I've seen other ppl do it before so...), pet names (Angel, baby, good girl), Priest kink??, reader does call him Father sometimes, requited love that can't be pursued... ouchie.

☆ word count: 3.8k

☆ authors note: I heard that Yunho is (most likely) Catholic and my religious trauma manifests in interesting ways >:). This work is fiction and purely self-indulgent (really as all fanfics should be), it doesn’t reflect any of the members personally. The fourth wall break text is highlighted in red!

You weren’t good at love, never had been, and probably never would be. But it wouldn’t stop you from trying because he was all you could think about. Day and Night. Always on your mind. You met him at a family dinner you were unwillingly dragged to. Jeong Yunho. Pretty name. He was the only one that asked about you the entire night. No one ever cared to ask about you, but he did. How could you not form an attachment? You ran into him again while on your way home from work. You were able to see him better in the sunlight. Beautiful smile, really tall, kind eyes… his hands. Oh, Lord. His hands were gorgeous, and his neck was so— Shit… He was wearing a clerical collar. Fuck. He was Father Yunho. 

He’s a priest. I want to fuck a priest…

That didn’t stop you from seeing him though, nor thinking about him the way you did. How could it? Religious trauma manifested in strange ways. You would visit him at his church. He always welcomed you with a smile, and you would talk for hours. Sometimes about God, you weren’t religious and probably never would be, but sometimes he would ask about you. How you were doing. What your job was. How long you’ve lived here. Where you grew up. Your favorite color. The movies you enjoyed most. Your ex-boyfriends. Your future plans. What you ate for breakfast. He was so curious about everything you had to say. Shit. This was dangerous. You didn’t care though. You would ask about him and the more you learned the more you felt yourself falling for him. Your conversations started to become more intimate. Oh fuck. You were so attracted to him and you could tell he felt the same way about you.

How you ask? Well, it’s simple. Let me recall what happened yesterday, shall I?

“I’d better get going Father, lot’s of stuff to do today—”

He grinned, “Oh fuck you calling me Father like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it”

That’s how… 

And we made out in the confessional box right after.

You felt sick. Nauseous. Your head was pounding.

I really shouldn’t have gone out last night.

Or maybe your headache wasn’t from the ridiculous amount of alcohol you consumed, but instead, of each thought about him that consumed your very being. You didn’t know. What you did know was that if your bus didn’t show up in the next couple of minutes you were probably going to throw up all over the bench you were sitting on. Putting your head in your hands helped distract you from the throbbing against your skull. Though it couldn’t help you with what would happen next. Taking a deep, mind-clearing breath, you lifted your head up from your hands and there he was. Sitting right beside you. Like a damn apparition, waiting to jump scare you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!—” He waved his large hands expressively.

“How long have you been—”

“Literally like two seconds,” He clarified quickly.

You exhaled, what felt like your entire soul, out, “W-why? What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you. It always made you feel weak. Such a beautiful smile, but it was quickly replaced with a pursed frown. His eyes became serious as he stared into yours. Then at your lips. Lingering for a moment before going back to your eyes.

“I don’t think you should come by the church anymore. Actually, I don’t just think… this is me pleading with you to not come by anymore.”

You just stared at him, unable to breathe, your chest felt so tight.

“And I mean that with the greatest of compliments,” he gushed before he got up and left. Just like that. He was gone as quickly as he had arrived.

What. the. fuck…

Regardless of his intent, it didn’t matter if you never went to that church again because you would still see him. At your house. Later that night. Knocking on your door like his life depended on it. So when you opened it up for him, he rushed in looking frantic. Pacing back and forth in your living room before sitting down on your couch, imploring you to do the same. So you did. He wasted no time to speak.

“I’ve sacrificed a lot for this life— I…” His words faltered, unsure of what to even say or why he came to your house in the first place.

You seemed to understand why he was there though. Nodding you took his hand, squeezing it gently in hopes that it would provide him some shred of comfort.

He took a relaxed breath, staring at the floor for a long time before he spoke again, “I shouldn’t have done what I did yesterday. I have to make sacrifices, yet I chose to be selfish. You…. You make me want to be selfish more than anything.”

You didn’t even realize he had moved until you felt his breath tickling your face. He was so close to you. Staring into your eyes, searching, begging, praying that he would find an answer he so desperately craved.

“It’s okay to be selfish, Father,” You whispered, “You’re not going to burst into flames. It  just makes you human.”

His palm was on your cheek, caressing it as he moved just a little bit closer to you. His breath seemed strained, building up to being labored. You had no idea the effect you had upon him, “I know. But… I can’t. I can’t allow myself to be selfish with you.”

Oh my god. We’re going to fuck.

“Why not allow yourself to, Father?”

He’s totally going to fuck me right here.

“I cannot be intimate with you—”

Oh, yes, yes he can.

“— oh for FUCKS SAKE. What is that?” He leaned back from you, his hand moved from your face to your thigh as his eyes were once again searching yours.

“What is what?”

His hand is…

“THAT! Right there. Where do you go when you do that?” His eyes were locked in on you, with extreme clarity, like he could effortlessly read the inner workings of your soul.

“I— I was just thinking…” You whispered, overwhelmed by his detailed observation. No one had ever noticed you like he did. No one. It made you feel hot.

“What are you thinking, Angel?” He pleaded sweetly as if he didn’t just shock your entire being.

Angel…

You stayed quiet, feeling exposed in front of him, worried that he could read your thoughts. He started to rub along your thigh, stilling before he spoke with a deep husky tone, “We’re going to have sex, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah…”

That was all he needed before moving his other hand to cup your face, quickly closing the gap between you as he ardently placed his lips upon yours. He started slow, mapping out your lips with his. He was so observant, noting every touch, taste, and feeling with small, curious movements. Warmth blossomed in your chest, he made you feel so wanted and cared for. He always made you feel this way. And then, as if he was suffocating and you were his oxygen, he began kissing you fervently. Pouring every ounce of selfishness he could into this act like he would never get to do it again. You carded your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, never wanting to let go of him out of fear he would slip away forever. Begging to be let in, he pressed his tongue lightly, and you gladly obliged, parting your lips like they were the Red Sea. He tasted of red wine and he always smelled so good. Like a room full of unscented candles that were just blown out. Smokey and sensual. It turned the warmth in your chest into a burning desire. You couldn’t help the sounds you were letting out as his hands explored over your body. His dexterous, long fingers traced along you, memorizing how you felt beneath him.

“Do you know what you do to me, Angel?” He moved your position so that you were lying down, his weight pressing on top of you, enveloping your senses completely. You could feel what he meant on your hip. Oh; And his pants were restraining him. A lot. Oh, Jesus… Hallelujah.

“Yunho…” You breathed lightly, aching for more of him. To which he understood, perfectly, like he always did.

You wrapped your legs around his waist when he picked you up from the couch. Easily. His arms never letting go of your ass on the way to your room. He groaned at the friction he was getting from you as he walked. Once he set you down he began loosening his collar. You watched tantalizingly as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt. He was so beautiful, his chest was lean and sculpted, like a marble statue. You whined when his shirt slipped off completely, feeling embarrassed from the noise that escaped your lips. He grinned at you as he moved forward, causing you to lay flat against your bed. His long fingers teased at the hem of your shirt before he pulled it over your head. His breath hitched when he saw your bra. A black, lacy one you bought recently in the hopes he would be seeing it. 

Dreams do come true.

“Stop that. I want you present here with me,” He begged, tipping your chin so you were looking at him again, as his lips attached to your neck in a feverish haste. Nipping and licking along you like you were a sweet treat he was enjoying for the first time after Lent. Small moans escaped his lips, causing heat to shoot to your core. He moved down from your neck to the mounds of your breasts, kissing lightly while his hand explored your inner thigh. Every small movement made the warmth inside you grow. Snaking his fingers up to the button on your pants he undid it quickly, expertly removing your pants and tossing them to the side with the rest of the discarded clothing. Your panties matched the bra, earning a small hiss from him that shot a thrill through you.

“You’re quite good at this Father. Like you’ve done it before?” You teased him. His eyes were dark and needy, admiring you lying beneath him as he towered above you. The dark patch from your core caught his attention, hitching his breath. He looked different from his normal self. Hungry. Possessive. Almost like a demon had taken over. An incubus of a man before you.

“I had a life before the church, Angel,” Was all he avowed before kneeling down to worship you. Sliding his fingers under the waistband, he grabbed the edge of your panties with his teeth, and slowly… pulled… them… off. The act made you arch your back and let out a gasp; It was singlehandedly the most toe-curling thing you had ever witnessed. He trailed kisses along your leg, starting at your ankle and moving up. Feathery kisses on your calf. Light ones at your knee. Nibbling on your thigh, and ending up between them, where you needed him most. Your breath had become ragged, matching his. He shuddered when he looked at your core, pulsating around nothing.

“Oh fuck… look at how wet you are for me,” He whimpered, gathering your arousal on his fingers, and showing it to you. You moaned at the sensation of him touching your folds. He sinfully grinned at your reaction before latching on to you with his mouth, swiping his tongue along you salaciously. It ignited a fire with you. Each lick felt like a pleasure you had never experienced before. You were more turned on than you had ever been in your entire life and it was all because of him. His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire in the best way.

“Please— I,” Moaning out, unable to express how he made you feel. You could feel a familiar coil building within you, his ministrations against you were heavenly, “Yun, that feels so good.”

He slipped in one long finger, curving it up, immediately finding your g-spot. He was so fucking good at this. It shocked you. A celibate man who still had all this expert knowledge years later. God, what couldn’t he do? The spring inside you was close to snapping, and he grinned against you, “You gonna cum, Angel?”

“Y-Yes I’m gonna—” He pulled away from you, leaving you right on the edge of bliss. Release escaped you and you cried out, “No, no…Please, Yunho, please.”

You grabbed him gently, but franticly, by his hair, trying to put him back. He just chuckled, the vibrations of his voice buzzed through you, “What’s the rush baby? You’ve waited a long time for this. I’d like to make it last.”

He crawled up to you so that your faces were parallel once again. Kissing you softly, you could taste yourself on him, which made you shiver. Arching your back, he took the opportunity to take off your bra swiftly. He looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, breathing you in, and then commanding, “Take them off.”

So you did. Unbuttoning his pants quickly so that he was free of them. You might just convert to Catholicism after this because you don’t know what you did to deserve that. He was perfect and painfully hard; there was precum already leaking from his pretty red tip. Experimentally, you reached out and wrapped your hand around him, and the sound that he let out… was pathetic. He screwed his eyes shut and whimpered into the crook of your neck, “FucK-uh! Angel… not yet. Please.”

He hadn’t been touched in so long that he was afraid he would burst at the slightest stroke from you. It made you feel unbelievably powerful, so, teasingly, you did it again and he grabbed your wrist, “Behave. Don’t make me say that again.”

“Or what, Father?” You purred into his ear.

“Or I’m going to have to make you repent, Angel,” He glared at you lustfully. It shot a thrill through your entire being, “I’d chose your next words carefully…”

You stayed silent, not out of obedience, but because you didn’t know what to come back with. When you first met him you never would’ve expected him to be like this, but you weren’t going to complain. He grinned, thinking that you had learned your lesson, “Good girl.”

You could’ve come right then. Good girl? It’s like he was trying to kill you. You loved hearing him praise you and he caught onto it quickly. He trailed his fingers lightly up and down your inner thighs as he kissed along your jaw, it made you shudder.

“You’re going to keep being good for me now, okay?” He sighed, breath quivering. You nodded numbly, enjoying this unseen side of him.

“Yunho, please…” You begged him to do something, anything.

“Of course Angel, you’ve been so patient,” He kissed your forehead before he rubbed his fingers against your folds, teasing around your opening. You gasped when he pressed two digits in, all the way to the knuckle, he hissed, “Fuck… you’re so tight, baby. I’m going to have to stretch you out first.” 

He began to move them, curling into your sweet spot again, pumping in and out while his thumb found your clit; he could already feel your walls loosening around him. As he worked you down there, his lips attached to one of your nipples. It made you cry out. He licked and tugged at the swollen bud before moving to the other one, repeating his actions. The coil in your abdomen wound up quickly and you knew that he wouldn’t have to go much longer. Grasping at his back you took a second to look at him, his face was flushed, and his lips were red from kisses. He was so beautiful it made your heart hurt. Lazily he rubbed circles along your clit as he continued his movements, “Can you cum for me, Angel?”

His words sent you spiraling into ecstasy, your walls trembling around his fingers as he skillfully guided you through your orgasm. Waves of pure pleasure crashed over you, and for a fleeting moment, you could have sworn you glimpsed heaven itself. You took a moment, trembling and breathing heavily, to gather yourself. It was undeniably one of the best orgasms you had ever experienced. When you finally opened your eyes, he was positioned at your entrance, condom already on. His eyes found yours, like a prayer for your consent, to which you nodded in reply. He rubbed slowly along your folds, gathering slick before he steadily began to enter you. He was stretching you out way more than his fingers did, but it wasn't painful; you gasped as he finally bottomed out, “You take me so well, Angel. Are you alright?”

You nodded your head lazily, “More than alright, Yun.”

He kissed you, so lovingly, so sweetly, it made you blush. Every movement of his lips against yours was infused with a depth of emotion, while his hands lovingly caressed your face, his thumb softly brushing against your cheek. He obviously couldn’t say how he felt, but you knew. You knew unmistakably in that kiss. It brought tears to your eyes and, of course, he knew why they were there. You two just understood each other so well. He was inside you, and yet that was the most sacred, intimate thing he could have done. He delicately kissed away the tears on your face until they vanished, and then, tentatively he began to move.

Starting slow, he gently pulled out a bit at a time, allowing you to fully adjust to the movement. When he sensed that you were ready for more, the pace quickened. You clung to his back, as he withdrew to the tip and then thrust back into you. It was as if he was perfectly made for you, with every thrust meeting that sweet spot inside you over and over again. The heat in your core began to intensify, each whimper and moan from him sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, “FUck-ah! Mmm Angel, fuck you feel s-so good.”

“F-Father…” You tightened around him with each thrust, the room alive with the sounds of squelching and skin meeting skin, intertwined with the breathless whimpers from both of you. It left you feeling delightfully dizzy. He pressed his face into your neck, teasing, and nipping along it, leaving behind little marks that would greet him in the morning light, “God… Yunho, Please, more please.”

He was ramming into you at an ungodly pace with an intensity that felt almost divine, the coil inside you teetering on the brink of snapping once more. Attacking your neck with fervent nips and tantalizing licks that sent waves of pleasure humming through you. His movements began to grow frantic, his rhythm wavering as he neared the edge with you. Your second orgasm surged through you unexpectedly, his clumsy thrusts elongating the pleasure to new lengths. With a few erratic movements, he tensed in your embrace, a chorus of moans, whimpers, and whispered curses escaping his lips as he reached his peak. He relaxed in your arms, letting his full weight rest on you as you both came down from your highs, feeling the rhythm of each other’s heavy breaths intertwining in the stillness.

“I can’t believe you did that, Father,” You whispered, in a post-high clarity.

He chuckled against you, resting his chin on your chest, smiling as he looked up at you, “Yeah… me either.”

He tenderly kissed your cheek before pulling out and disposing of the condom. With a gentle smile, he got up and went to your bathroom, returning with a warm, wet rag to clean both you and himself with. After he was done he grinned, “Go use the bathroom, Angel, and then come back here, okay?”

You came back out from the bathroom wearing a comfy T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear, and he was waiting on your bed, with his boxers back on. He looked absolutely adorable with his tousled hair and those sleepy, drowsy eyes. He pulled you back onto the bed, nestling close to you, awaiting blissful sleep to lull over you both.

His hair softly ticked you awake. He was wrapped around you like he had used you as a body pillow at some point during the night. You hadn’t slept that great in a while. Your stirring had woken him up. He inhaled deeply, holding you tightly for a moment before releasing you. A radiant smile lit up his face, and you could see the gears behind his eyes whirring with life.

“What are you thinking about?” You titled your head to capture his attention.

He just grinned at you, “I just… I don’t know what this feeling is.”

“Is it God or is it me?” You playfully joked.

“I don’t know,” The smile on his face wavering slightly, taking your question seriously into consideration. It made your heart drop a bit.

Your feet ached from a long, exhausting day at work. You were glad to finally be on your way home. Looking up at the bus stop schedule you saw that yours was about twenty minutes away.

Great…

You heard a sharp inhale next to you and a small chuckle, “Might be quicker if you walked, Angel.”

Yunho was sitting next to you at the bus stop, once again.

“Long time no see stranger,” You smirked.

He smiled at you warmly, but there was a look in his eyes that squashed your joking mood. He just dryly laughed and stared into your eyes for a good while. Those loving brown orbs of his were full of sincerity and anguish. You nodded slowly, a suffocating ache in your chest made itself present.

“It’s God… isn’t it?” You choked, the lump in your throat had become overwhelming.

“Yeah…” He sighed, taking hold of one of your hands in his.

You just let out a small laugh and smiled, tears welling into your eyes, making it hard to see him, “You know, the worst thing is that I fucking love you. I- I love you.”

“Angel—”

“No, no. Let’s not. Let’s just leave that out there for a moment okay?” You interrupted, the tears breaking free from your eyes to roll down your red cheeks, “I love you.”

He squeezed your hand, a warmth that provided little comfort to you now, before he whispered, “It’ll pass”

You bit at your lip, trying to prevent yourself from having a breakdown at the bus stop. So you plastered on a fake smile, choked back your tears, and nodded. You stayed like that, with your hand in his, for what felt like a fucking eternity, until he got up.

As he began to walk away he paused, turning to you one last time, confirming what you already knew, “I love you too.”

Fucking hell...

And then he was gone. Your bus was there, magically, and he was gone. Perhaps in another life, he wouldn't be. But this was the one you had.

a/n: This is my first time writing smut and posting it somewhere. So I am very open to feedback and constructive criticism. If you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it lets me know that I should continue writing <3

Masterlist

[paraphwrites]

dead boy detectives is a show about forgiveness and goodness and change. but also, not.

marren isn't a bad person. she's a scared teenager and she accidentally kills her shitty boyfriend and she feels bad about it and she decides to turn herself into the police even though, honestly, she kind of did not have to in my opinion (sorry i know being pro murder is a wild take but this is fiction hush). she chooses to be good and she chooses to take accountability for her actions. but she doesn't forgive brad or hunter because what they did is not worthy of forgiveness

crystal is a dick! crystal's an absolute dick before she's possessed. but once she's taken out of a toxic environment she chooses to become better because she knows she can and she knows she should. crystal isn't a bad person before because she wants to be she is a bad person because she doesn't know how else to be. she doesn't forgive her parents but she does want to fix their relationship

charles is not a bad person, ever, but he thinks he is. he thinks he's a bad person because he was taught that he was and because all the other boy's around him were, so why would he be the exception? charles is not a bad person but he has to learn that. he does not forgive his dad, nor should he, but he also does not forgive himself or process the situation whatsoever. because his arc is incomplete

esther is a bad person because she is made into a bad person. i think we overlook how irresponsible it is of lilith to make an angry, vengeful person immortal - yes, esther was wronged, and lilith didn't think through the potential harm esther could do. after all, i think it is far easier to loose your humanity when you are immortal. esther wasn't a bad person initially but she chose revenge instead of forgiveness and then she still chose to harm other people instead of moving on

simon is not a bad person, he is sixteen. but, he still does horrible, horrible things, and he feels horrible about it. he's complicated. he's in hell. he's sixteen. he's a murderer. he's sixteen. and it all kind of coalesces in this violent swath of guilt and grief which consumes everything, including the people around him, including edwin. edwin forgives simon but simon cannot forgive himself so simon is lost forever. edwin moves on and simon does not and that is that

monty is selfish, not evil. i think he got caught up in the fantasy of liking edwin and chose to ignore the real facts that he was trying to facilitate his death. he played pretend that he and edwin could sit on swings and kiss forever, as if that would stop esther's plan. and when edwin did not reciprocate his feelings, monty decided he should die for that. but, he still did feel a lot of remorse about it and tried to change his mind. the damage was still done, though

dbda is not a show which preaches forgiveness but it is a show which demands you try your best to be kind.

monty was nice but he was not kind. esther was mean but she was honest. crystal was mean because she was angry, and once you took away that anger, she was kind. they're all immortal or sixteen and more often than not both. they're all fucking traumatized. they aren't all trying to be good. some of them are better people than they deserve to be. some are worse people than the rest deserve.

we aren't all trying to be good but dead boy detectives says we should. it also says it's not too late to start trying today. yes crystal was a bad person before. and now she is trying not to be. yes monty was selfish and dangerous before. and now he is trying not to be. yes simon was a bad person before, and now he is so trapped in his own guilt that he is unable to make amends and instead just rots.

we can all be better. and, we can all be worse. change is not inevitable but it is possible and that is important

[danielsarmand]

honestly i think what i don't understand is why people expect certain things from certain characters. like why do you expect armand to earnestly give two damns about claudia and madeleine, or about anyone else beside himself and perhaps louis, or lestat, or people he has personally developed feelings for and/or entertained a relationship with? hell, why do you expect lestat, even, to truly care about claudia? louis is the one who wanted her, and for his own selfish reasons, no less! to make himself feel better about himself, to feel righteous and good, to feel like he'd atoned for his sins, to feel cleansed. and sure, he came to care for her, to love her, but never enough. never more than he loved lestat, never more than he loved his own pride and hubris.

and that is because each and every one of this characters is selfish, has been selfish, will be selfish. vampires are monsters. they are what's left when you're no longer the human you were, and some of them weren't good people to begin with, and some others have hundreds of years of abuse and trauma in place of human bones, and most of the times both things are true. louis has been warned time and time again, claudia has been warned time and time again, they have even been warned—multiple times—by the people who ended up hurting them the most. they were told there's no such thing as a good vampire, they were told to keep to themselves, they were told to leave, they were warned both with words and with actions. they proceeded to ignore all the warnings, all the signs, and to turn into wretched little things themselves in the process, because that's how it goes.

it confuses me, is all, to see posts where people are so outraged about armand not doing anything to stop what happened, or about him manipulating louis into believing he couldn't, because why did you expect him to? armand is not a good, immaculate entity. he operates under his own set of morals, his own rules, always has. at no point in the show was the audience meant to be fooled by him. we were always meant to be wary of him, because he is a 500+ yo vampire and we do not have a single example in favour of any vampire, really, let alone one so old and powerful. you cannot in your right mind ask this of armand. you cannot ask of him to be a decent, morally irreprehensible character who does the right thing and saves the day, because he was never meant to be that character for you, nor was it ever implied that he would. you cannot ask someone to be something they aren't and then get mad when—well, they're not.

the show is set in a future where things have gone very clearly awry, and the set of characters we are left with were never meant to be easily digestible, regardless of what you wanted them to be. otherwise, they wouldn't be all we're left with. so by all means, be mad at armand, be mad at lestat, be mad at louis, curse their names until you can't anymore—they deserve it! none of them, none of them, is exempt. but the surprise? the absolute confusion as to why they'd do what they each have done? nonsensical. they did all of those things—and more—because they were never good enough not to. they were never heroes. that's really all there is to it.

[the-apocrypha]

Cottagecore Series DVD Bonus Features

By popular request: the deleted scenes of how Dream and Hob ended up confessing their respective Big Secrets to one another. Below the cut are a series of conversations that take place a few days after Dream announces his pregnancy with Orpheus, and they are incredibly angsty. They also heavily feature abortion as a conversation topic. These were originally written to intercut with at least two miracles but didn't end up working out due to tone issues, and also don't really work as a standalone fic, so. If you're interested--enjoy!

The possibility of a child—their child, their own, of them—had occasionally crossed Hob’s mind, in the same way that other fantastical things like dragons and public libraries did. Fleeting. Unformed. Simple, wonderful little daydreams. 

The reality of it was both impossibly more exciting and terrifying than he could have ever imagined. 

Hob thought of a beautiful child with tiny pointed ears and glowing amber eyes. He thought of a babe born to the world still and pale, never to draw a single breath of life. He thought of all the stories his mother used to tell him, the skipping games and the toy swords and songs that lived inside of him, waiting to be passed down to someone small and new. He thought of a fae child, enamored of the forest and magic and books of learning, with little use for its mortal father. 

Once, when Hob was young, his mother had been called to help an ewe who had been laboring for the better part of the day. Twin lambs, both trying to emerge at the same time.

They’d had mutton for dinner, that night. And for many nights after that. 

Hob could not stop thinking about it. About everything.

What if the child came out completely human. 

What if the child came out completely fae. 

“You told me once,” Hob said, the words leaving his mouth even as lead weights sank pits into his stomach, even as his heart said don’t ask this don’t ask this don’t do it, but he had to, he had to know. “You told me once. That it took you a very long time to grow up.” 

Dream paused. “Yes,” he said, at length. “But time in the realm of the fae is not so… linear as it is here. It is—it was subject to neither law nor order. Time was fickle. Changeable.” 

“You said that it was almost a hundred years.” 

“That was… a guess,” Dream said. 

Hob stared. 

“It was unusual,” Dream added. He did not meet Hob’s eyes. “It. It was a choice I made. The rest of my siblings came of age much faster than I.” 

“How fast?” Hob asked, heart in his throat. 

Dream swallowed. 

“How fast?” 

“The child is half mortal, Hob it should not—it will not age as a fae child would. It cannot, it—it will not have the same power, the same gifts, and moreover, the laws of this universe would not allow—” 

“Oh, you know that, do you?” Hob asked, eyebrows raised. “Like you knew that a mortal man couldn’t get you pregnant in the first place?” 

Dream flinched. 

Hob sighed, and scrubbed at his face. “I’m just. I’m just thinking. We don’t know what we’re going to get, eight months from now—” If they were going to get anything at all. “—and we’ve got zero precedent to go off of, here. It. It could be anything. It could grow like a human and take sixteen years and be done. But, it could also…” 

“It will not,” Dream said, but there was a traitorous wobble in his voice.

“It could,” Hob insisted. “It could, Dream, and we just. I just want to be prepared for that. I want you to be prepared for that.” 

Dream stared, like the whole world was crashing down around him. As if he had not considered this at all. “No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Hob—” 

“But, listen—listen, it’ll be okay,” Hob said hurriedly, and took Dream’s hands into his own. Put on the bravest face he could muster. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be with you every step of the way, for. For as long as I can be. Even if it means being stuck in the terrible twos for an entire decade. You just might have to do the teenage years on your own, that’s all. And. You know. The thousand years that come after that.” 

Dream closed his eyes. 

Hob tried desperately to rally. “And, hey! The good news is, at least I won’t be around to give any dodgy sex talks when it comes time for that, since I obviously—” 

“Hob,” Dream said. 

“Though clearly pregnancy prevention isn’t your strong suit either,” Hob allowed. 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s eyes were open again, and they were full of tears. 

“Hob,” Dream said again, and it caught in his throat. “Hob, I—I am not going to live for another thousand years.” 

Hob frowned. “But—”

“I made,” Dream said, and with the next blink the tears spilled over, “a bargain.” 

The reason that Hob had kept it a secret for so long (was because he was a coward) was because, in his opinion, there had been no good that would come of the truth. 

Dream had assumed that the people of Eskham had turned against Hob for being a hedgewitch. He’d assumed in turn that mortals were prejudiced against any being with magic, which was a category that happened to include the fae but more importantly included Hob, who did not have the ability to summon tornadoes or fell ancient oaks. Dream still sweetly seethed about the injustices Hob’s own people had done upon him. He had yet to even once seem concerned for his own safety. 

This was fair. 

Dream had, after all, taken out an entire village of mortals in one wrothful fell swoop. 

Now, Dream had confessed what had happened in the aftermath of that massacre—what he had so readily sacrificed, to save Hob’s life—and it had been devastating in its own right. It had left Hob awake at night, imagining what it would be like to grow older and older and older, while his child did not. 

But it had also pulled on the string that unraveled whatever remained of their tapestried joy at the possibility of impending parenthood. The happiness was gone. The happiness should never have existed in the first place, because the ache of its absence was far worse than to have never known it at all. Hob could not believe he ever felt such simple, mindless elation at what had quickly become a question to which every answer was more horrifying than the last. 

Hob thought of a babe with perfectly pointed ears, stolen away in the night, drowned in the river. 

Hob thought of a child with huge, phosphorescent eyes, tied to a stake above a pile of dried tinder. Screaming.

Hob thought of black-nailed teenager who had had forty-odd years of childhood with its parents before they succumbed to old age, and left their child alone in a world it did not belong in. Orphaned. Ostracized. Hunted. 

It filled Hob’s stomach and left him unable to eat. It pressed down on his chest at night, and he could not sleep. 

And he knew what he needed to do. 

At the same table where Dream had confessed not three days ago, Hob sat himself heavily on the bench. 

Dream stared back wanly. He’d spent most of the morning vomiting copiously, which perhaps made this timing even worse, but Hob knew if he did not say it now he might never say it at all. 

“Dream,” Hob said carefully. The words stuck in his throat like glass, and they tore him open one by one as he forced them out. “There’s. The other day, when you told me about the bargain you made. I—there’s something that I should. Something I should have told you, before—something. Something.” He swallowed. “Something I. Something.” His nails dug into his palms. His heart was pounding in his ears. “Something—” 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s hand splayed across his chest is like ice on fire. Hob sucked in a breath, and relished the burn. 

He seized Dream’s hand in his own. Looked Dream in the eyes. Prepared to pull this one last thread of sanity for the person he loved more than anything in this world. 

“Something,” Hob said unevenly, holding onto Dream like a lifeline, “that I should have told you a long time ago. About. About Eskham.” 

Dream tilted his head, brows drawing together. “Eskham?” 

Hob nodded. 

“What about it?” Dream asked. 

He had no idea. He had no clue. 

“That day,” Hob said, and he was gripping Dream’s hand hard as if he could prevent the inevitable withdrawal. “When they came for me.” 

And Dream nodded. He reached out with his other hand to rest it on Hob’s forearm—a gesture meant as supportive that only served to make Hob’s stomach drop to new depths. 

But this was not about him. This was not even about Dream. It was about their child, carried one day into a town square with pitchforks at its throat and devil spawn in its ears. It was about deserved truths. 

“That day,” Hob said again. He swallowed against a dry tongue. Against the heart that was trying to escape through his throat. “That day. The mob. They weren’t looking for me.”

Dream stared. 

Hob’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might be sick. 

He watched, as Dream’s face went from confusion, to realization, to—

Bloodless. 

Grey. Dead eyes and parted lips. Staring, but not seeing. 

“I—defended you,” Hob made himself say. “I wouldn’t tell them. Where you were. I told them that I loved you, that you were just as natural as any other creature in this realm and that I would rather die before I let any of them hurt you, and—” 

Dream yanked his hands back. 

Hob tried to hold on, but he wasn’t quick enough. Not strong enough. 

“You,” Dream whispered. 

“I don’t regret it,” Hob said frantically, almost angrily. He was losing control, the tidal wave of panic and horror sweeping him out to a roiling sea he could not swim in, and he barely knew which words would leave his mouth when he opened it again. “I haven’t regretted it for a single second, Dream, not once, not ever, I’d have burned on that stake a thousand times over before I let them touch you, I’d—” 

And Dream bolted. 

Hob leapt to his feet to follow—but his calf muscle seized, and he careened to the side and just barely managed to grab the table at the last second. Stood there, panting, gripping the table as his calf cramped hard enough to render the entire leg useless. Staring at the empty doorway. 

He deserved this, he supposed. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

The summer air was thick and sweet beneath the canopy of the forest. The trees mostly blocked the breeze, but so also the warmth of the sun, which made it about as pleasant as any place was during the midday heat. They were sat at the base of an ancient yew tree that Dream favored, not far from the cottage, and had been for some time. Ravens chattered and rustled softly overhead. A large halo of bird shit was slowly accumulating around them. 

Dream inhaled as if to speak, for the third time in about as many minutes. This time, though, the words came. 

“I do not want. Our child. To be hunted.” 

Hob closed his eyes. “I know.” 

“We do not know what powers it will be born to. What features it will be born to.” 

Unspoken—the slimmest chance, the highest hope, that it would somehow be born wholly mortal. 

A mortal body. A mortal magic. A mortal lifespan. 

“We’ll do whatever we have to, to protect them. Whatever it takes. You know we will,” Hob said, and even as anxiety turned his stomach over, rage flared through him hot and fast. “Anyone that tries to lay a finger on our child, I’ll—I’ll kill ‘em. I would. Anyone. Everyone. And if they think I’m terrifying just wait until they meet the thirty-foot forest nightmare right behind me that can summon hail and rent the earth.” 

Dream swallowed. “Hail and earth. Did not save you.” 

Hob tightened his grip around Dream’s waist. “Yes it did.” 

“You—” 

“Yes it bloody well did. You saved my life that day, you fought, and if you hadn’t been there I—” 

“If I had not been there,” Dream interrupted darkly. He barked one harsh, bitter laugh. “If I had never inflicted myself upon you in the first place, then no mob would have ever come for you at all. You would be—” 

“Lonely,” Hob said. He tried desperately to keep the frustration from rising. “I told you. I would have been lonely, and bored, Dream, and I would have died in that house feeling as if I’d never truly lived at all. You are the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I nearly killed you,” Dream said. 

“You saved—”

“And now,” Dream continued, staring into the depths of the forest, “I have attempted to thrust a child upon you, without your consent. I have tried to sentence you to spending the rest of your meager years consumed in the care of a creature that will only suffer as a result of my own hubris—my own selfishness—and it will resent us. It will hate us. It will hate me, and it will be right to do so for—” 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Hob said, scrambling around in front of Dream, and cupping his face. 

Dream stared determinedly to the side, with eyes that were red-rimmed and shiny. His breaths came uneven and jagged. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t get pregnant on purpose,” Hob said fiercely. “You didn’t know better. I didn’t know better. Right?” 

“Hob—” 

“This isn’t something that you’ve done to me. To us. Neither one of us is to blame here. Not one little bit. And it wouldn’t matter anyway if it was, because whatever happens, you know that we’re in this together. We’re going to do what we always do, and make it work. Figure it out. Pregnancy, childbirth, parenthood, all of it. Together. Yeah?” 

Dream set his jaw, and at last met Hob’s eyes. Slowly, he reached up, and pulled Hob’s hands away from his face. 

“You argue. That we are absolved of any guilt, for what strife our child may face in life. Because we held no intention of conception, in our couplings,” Dream said. 

“...Yes?” Hob said, eyebrows raising. “I don’t think we can be blamed for bringing a child into the world when we didn’t know it was possible in the first place.” 

“Incorrect,” Dream disagreed. 

Hob opened his mouth, but Dream continued too quickly. 

“Ignorance acquits us from blame in the conception of this child, yes.” Dream’s hand moved, in the periphery of Hob’s vision, delving into the folds of his robe. “But we are not without agency, in these early months of pregnancy.” 

Dread swung sudden and hard into Hob’s chest, like a fist. 

“...What do you mean?” 

Dream held out his hand between them, and uncurled his fingers. A cluster of flowers rested there. 

Tansy. 

“It sings to me of… release,” Dream said. His thumb brushed over golden petals like spikes. “Of choice. Liberty. Of the harmonization of poison and medicine, as one.”

Hob took in a deep breath, because he was, for the first time in days, hopeful. 

Hob was also terrified. 

Hob was sick, sick, sick, sick. 

“I believe,” Dream whispered, eyes boring in Hob’s, “that it would be enough. To—take care of it.” 

There was a cup of water on the table, steaming and yellow with tansy. 

Choice, Dream said it sang. Release. Liberty. The harmonization of poison and medicine, as one. 

But to Hob, it was silent as a grave. 

Dream was holding the cup so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The steam had long disappeared from the cup, leaving only a stagnant yellow tonic. Hob had offered to leave the cottage twice and allow Dream some privacy, and on the second time Dream had grabbed his hand, hard, and he hadn’t let go since. 

Hob’s fingers ached where they were threaded through Dream’s, but he did not complain. 

He sat in silence, and watched Dream raise the cup to his mouth. 

Watched him inhale. 

Watched him close his eyes. 

Watched him press the rim of the cup to his lips. 

Watched as Dream froze, and was perfectly still for an eternity save for the tremble of the cup in his grasp—

And the cup slammed down onto the table, sloshing poison everywhere, and Dream gasped, “I cannot. I cannot, forgive me, Hob, I—” 

Hob grabbed him and pulled him in hard. “It’s okay—” 

“—I cannot do it, I cannot—” 

“—you don’t have to—” 

“I should,” Dream snarled, gripping the fabric of Hob’s tunic and pushing back. There were tears streaming down his face. “I should end it, I should be rid of it. It is. It is the only humane option, the only option that guarantees that—that—” 

“I know, love,” Hob said miserably, his own throat going tight and hot. “I know that. But—” 

“Hob,” Dream choked out. He tried to inhale, but could not. “Hob, I can—hear it.” 

Hob’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went numb. “Y-you—” 

“I can—” Dream slapped his hands over his mouth. He stared at Hob in horror. 

Dream, who could hear the songs of river stones and the herbs in the garden. Who communed with foxes and ancient oak trees alike. Who had come to Hob with news of this pregnancy but without explanation as to how he knew. 

“You can hear it,” Hob repeated blankly. 

“I should not have told you,” Dream said, shaking his head. His eyes were blank and unseeing and wet with tears. “I. I should not have told you, I told myself I would not, I—it should not matter. It does not matter.” 

“What does it sound like?” Hob asked. 

Dream looked up at him. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“Dream, what does it sound like?” 

He shouldn’t ask. 

He couldn’t not know. 

“Like. A songbird,” Dream whispered. 

A songbird. 

“The most beautiful—” Dream choked on a sob. “The most beautiful songbird, Hob, the most wonderful songbird in the world.” 

And Hob. Hob, quite abruptly, could not imagine a world where he did not one day get to hear that song. He could not imagine a world in which he did not get to hold their child in his arms this winter and instantly fall in love with whatever features the world had seen fit to give them, mortal or fae or some splendid combination of both. 

He could not imagine what it would be like, for Dream to sit at this table and drink down poison and then listen to the song of their child go silent. 

Dream sobbed in his arms. He begged for forgiveness—from Hob. Their future child. The universe. I have failed, he said, over and over again. Selfish, and weak, and worthless, he named himself, and he would not be consoled with any combination or repetition of words Hob had to offer. 

But still, the tansy sat untouched. 

Eventually, it went out the window. 

And the songbird lived another day.