#i desperately wanted that house since i was a small child

[polari]

i have recently been in contact with jamal al-dahdouh, a sweet young man from the gaza strip. he is the oldest child in a family of six, with ages ranging from 18 to 4 years old, and they have been living in a tent since an airstrike destroyed their house. recently, there was a bombing near jamal’s tent, which destroyed it, too. the situation is critical, and he has reached out to me to spread his campaign. i’m helping him, but i alone am not enough. i urge you to share his campaign if you can’t donate, and to donate whatever you’re able when you can. no one reading this is powerless to help someone who desperately needs it.

in his words:

I am not asking for much — I only want a chance to live, a chance to continue my education, to get medical treatment, and to protect the remaining members of my family. That is why I appeal to kind-hearted people to extend a helping hand. Your donation, no matter how small, could be the reason save our lifes.

jamal’s gofundme

#647 on gazavetters

[nexus-nebulae]

it's kinda funny how similar to my grandpa i am considering my birthday was three days after his

[falesten-iw]

On this day last year, my family faced a choice no one should ever have to make: stay in their home in Gaza and risk death or flee south, clinging to the slim hope of finding safety. Spoiler alert: there was no “right” answer. In Gaza, there never is. Families like mine would run from areas labeled dangerous, only to be bombed in so-called ‘humanitarian’ zones. Because in Gaza, no place is truly safe.

Each time they evacuated, they had the same gut-wrenching, desperate conversations on repeat: “Should we stay or go? Where would we even go? Do we send the women and children first, or do we all stick together?” Imagine trying to make life-and-death decisions with bombs falling around you.

One evening, a family friend offered them shelter, hoping the madness would calm down in a few days. My brothers agreed to move everyone there the next morning. But the bombs beat them to it. Just hours after that phone call, Israeli airstrikes hit our friend’s house. Thirty-five people, including children, gone. They never got a chance to move, and instead, they grieved for the lives lost.

They ran to Khan Younis, only for tragedy to follow. In November 2023, Israeli bombs hit my cousin’s house. I lost three cousins, their wives, and their children. It was chaos. Pieces of people scattered everywhere. A small child’s body lay unrecognizable until my cousin realized it was her son, Odi. His head was almost gone, but she knew him. She knew him by the shape of his teeth, his little toes. That’s the kind of loss no mother should ever face.

Since then, my family has moved over 50 times, haunted by the same questions: Where can they go next? How can they afford to survive another evacuation? Will they even manage to set up another flimsy tent?

And speaking of tents, imagine trying to live in one with your children. Picture makeshift cesspits serving as toilets, which fill up in a few weeks, forcing them to dig another. Comfort? Safety? Those words mean nothing. How do you sleep at night when your ‘home’ is a tent and your bathroom is a hole in the ground?

Talking about my family and Gaza breaks me, yet it also brings me a strange comfort. I refuse to let their stories fade. Their memories are beacons in the darkness, bittersweet reminders of joy and sorrow.

My family needs urgent help to survive this ongoing nightmare. Please, donate if you can. Share our story with your friends and family. Help us keep fighting, keep surviving.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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[lucidfairies]

— mess around (part two)

part one • part three • part four

synopsis: it wasn't everyday you moved to the south, surrounded by cowboys and their women, but here you were, and your new neighbor simply couldn't get any more enticing

pairing: rancher!sevika x married housewife!reader

warnings: cheating, dom!sev, sub!reader, reader is bolder in this one, face sitting, fingering, finger sucking, size kink, back shots, breeding kink, rougher than part one(!), light bondage, sevika is a bit meaner in this one but not outside of sex, new pet names (!!!!), choking, thigh riding, cum plug

a/n: I want to make it very clear that even though pregnancy is mentioned several times, r will never get pregnant with an unwanted child or with the husband figure, it's solely for plot !

wc: 4.4k

collaboration: my biggest love and thank you to @sevsgiirl for literally leading me through this and giving me all the ideas and also reading my rough drafts lol! 🙏🙏

Sevika was obscenely tired. This was her third week running only getting two hours of sleep, tossing and turning, unable to fall back into sleep. When she did sleep, it was short and light, not sufficient enough. It was eating her alive.

There were a number of reasons - her dog had been sick for days, the horses needed a different feed schedule, she briefly had to travel up North to visit relatives, changing her time zone. But most of all, and most obviously, you.

Everything about you. Your eyes, your hips, your smell. The way your hair flicked when you walked, your smile when you greeted the neighbors, the way you knew something about everyone. You were the complete opposite of her, and it was driving her mad.

She hated you. Hated your perfection, and the blush in your cheeks. She hated the way you dressed, pretty sundresses that hardly past mid thigh, bows, and those fuck ass boots. She hated you because she needed you.

She was desperate to get you a real pair of boots, ones that weren't from some northern shop impersonating southern culture. She needed to show you off and parade you around, have you sit on her lap at the bar with her hat on while she played poker, and tell everyone that you were hers.

But that wasn't ever going to happen. You were never going to be hers, divorce was too much of a hassle for a woman like you, who probably wanted a million things she couldn't give you.

-

“Babe, can you come here?” Your husband called you from the kitchen. You were perched on your bed, folding the week's laundry. You stood and made your way to the kitchen, stomach twisting. Ever since your night with Sevika, your husband wanting to speak to you worried you. There's no way he found out. But what if he did?

“What's up, honey?” He beckoned you to sit down across from him at the small table, and you did. He had papers in his hand, messy scribbles covering the page.

“I wanted to have a serious conversation about kids,” he paused for a moment while his words sank in, “I asked you to stay home so that we could start our family, but you keep declining to actually start it. I can't keep you home like this if you aren't going to do anything.” You sighed.

You knew this was coming - every time he brought it up, you shut it down. Every time you slept together you had him wear protection, or you made sure you had taken the pill that morning. You couldn't identify why you didn't want to have children with him at the moment, but the feeling was there, and it was strong.

“I'm just not ready yet,” you insisted, “if you want me to go to work I can, but I do quite a bit around the house. Just because we don't have children yet doesn't mean that my work is diminished.” You stood your ground, annoyed at the constant assumption that you didn't do anything.

“Babe,” he sighed angrily, pinching the bridge of his nose while he formulated what to say, “every time we talk about this you say you're not ready. We've been married for three years, when will you be ready?” You shrugged, embarrassment getting the best of you. “You only have so many years to have kids. I can’t sit around and waste them while you figure out if you’re ready or not.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, especially because you knew them to be true. You got into this relationship and eventually this marriage knowing his intention with children, and up until recently, you thought you shared that intention. But the longer you thought about bearing his children, the more displeasing the thought became.

“We can start trying, then. But not until next week, come July.” If you had to do it, you would at least have it when you wanted to. Your husband grinned, rising from the table to give you a hug, and press a kiss to your head.

“I’m glad it’s time,” you put on your best fake smile, “I’m headed to bed. Mind cleaning up?” He waved towards the dinner dishes as he walked towards the bedroom. “See you tomorrow, my love.”

You sat in your seat at the table for a long time, simply looking at it. Sevika’s words from the night she had dinner rang in your mind like a screeching alarm - I’m a capable woman, babygirl. I can clean my own plate. She wanted to help, even after working all day. She chose to help.

Before you could choose the wiser, you were shooting up from your seat and clearing the dishes into the sink. You washed them quickly, not bothering to scrub very hard before tossing a robe over your shoulders and slipping on some shoes. Quietly, trying not to wake your husband, you peeled open the door and slipped it shut, sneaking down the steps carefully. You knew where they creaked now, you had lived here long enough for that.

There was a clunking sound and loud groan when you knocked on her door. Part of you hoped that, if you knocked softly enough, she wouldn’t hear it, or that she would be asleep. The other part of you begged to see her, even though it wasn’t right. Something about her drew you in, wrong or right.

The door flew open, and there stood Sevika in all her glory. Except, she didn’t look as if she felt glorious. There were eye bags under her eyes that made it look as if she hadn’t slept in a week, and her face was angry. Her downturned lips only frowned further at the sight of you, and you felt small, beginning to question your decision.

She must’ve noticed. Her face softened, still angry, but not as angry as before. She simply looked at you, waiting for something. “Hi Sev,” you whispered, meekly. “I don’t really know why I’m here.” You looked over your shoulder, gazing at the home that was calling you back, the husband that was asleep in the bed you shared.

“I can’t help you with that, sugar.” She said, gruffly. “When you know what you want, come and find me.” She went to close the door, but on instinct, your hand flew out to stop it.

“Can I come in?” She looked at you for a moment longer, eyes sullen and mind begging to send you back home. But she opened the door nonetheless, allowing you to step in. You had never been in Sevika’s home, but it looked just like you would think. Clean, homey, a little boring. Lots of pictures of people you didn’t recognize, aside from the ones you met at the bar.

“What can I do ya for, angel?” The name made you breathless. It effortlessly brought you back to when she had you riding her, calling you angel.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” You moved through her house slowly, taking a spot in the living room. It felt embarrassing, inviting yourself in like this, late. “Unless you’re sleeping. I understand if I woke you.” She punched out a laugh.

“I ain’t slept in weeks,” she plopped down across from you, the L shaped couch making it easy to see her. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Husband doin’ you wrong?” You considered whether you should answer yes.

“We’re going to start trying for a baby,” you told her, cringing at the sentence. You could see her face drop and her eyes change, but she was quick to recover. “I’m not sure I want to.” Your gaze fell to your hands as you crossed your ankles.

“Want to try, or want to have a baby?” She clarified, brows knit as she leaned back and fell into her manspread once again.

“I guess both,” you sighed, “I don’t know if I’m ready to have a baby with him, and the trying part..” you trailed off, considering your options as to how to phrase what you wanted to convey. “When we.. did what we did, it was much more fun than when my husband and I sleep together,” a proud smirk found Sevika’s lips. “He’s very boring, he doesn’t like to try things. In out, in out.” You made a gesture with your hands and she laughed. “He’s always on top of me, it never really changes. I don’t like it.”

Sevika hummed. There were so many ways she could take this. “You don’t say,” her accent was thick this time of night. It made you wonder what she was thinking about. “So you want somethin’ rougher?” You nodded slowly, not 100% sure what ‘rougher’ meant. “Tell me, sugar, has anyone ever bent you over?”

Your eyes blew, and your lips parted. Sevika’s clit started to beat at the expression. It was perfect, she longed to frame it. “No, I don’t believe so.” She tapped her thigh, looking at you with low eyes.

“Come,” she instructed, and for some reason, you stood, and found placement on her thigh. Her hands gripped your hips in a tighter grip than the one she had the first time you were like this with her. There was something different in her now. “Tell me what you want. What he isn’t giving you.”

You thought for a moment. “I’ve always thought about having my hands bound,” you told her, quietly. You let out a soft gasp as she used her tight grip on your hips to roll them forward slowly. “I don’t know how that would work, but I’ve wondered. Sometimes I think about my throat..” Once again you trailed off, unable to formulate the right thing.

“What about your throat, darlin’?” Sevika pushed, bringing you down on her thigh again.

“Having it squeezed, being choked in a sense.” Sevika let out a soft ‘mhm’, reaching up and cupping your face, swiping her thumb along your bottom lip before her hand fell to your throat, gently wrapping around your windpipe. Your hands rushed to her wrist as she tightened her grip, forcing your head up. She held you there, large hand wrapped tightly around your throat while her mech hand worked with your hips.

The fuzzier your brain got, the better the muscle of her thigh felt under you. Sevika rocked you and rocked you until you were finding your own pace, forcing your cunt down onto her thigh in rapid, uncoordinated motions. You were so close, stomach twisting as you gasped for air under Sevika’s hand, just for her to hold you down and restrict your movements. “Sevy,” you whined, trying to push and get to your finish.

“No baby,” she hushed. “Y’r gon’ have to wait. You can do that, can’tcha?” With a huff you nodded, wondering how long you’d have to wait. What did she even mean by ‘wait’? Sevika lifted you off her lap and stood you up, standing with you and pressing a hand into your back, pushing you until you began walking.

Her bedroom was lovely. She had a large bed, probably because she was so tall. The sheets were a dark shade of purple and made, creating a clean look for the already clean room. Once you got in the room she shut and locked the door, as if anyone else would walk in. “Sit. I’m gonna get some things, sugar. I’ll be right back.” You sat on the edge of her bed and watched her move around, first grabbing a box from a drawer and then leaving, returning shortly after with a bunched up rope.

“What’s all of that?” You asked, trying to catch a glimpse of what she had aside from the rope. God, of course she had rope. She was a rancher after all, she probably took it from the stables. She sat her things down on her nightstand next to her bed, turning to you.

“Nothin’ you needa worry your pretty little head about, sweetheart.” Sevika came to you and leaned down, tilting your chin to her and capturing your lips in a kiss. It grew from a chaste kiss to a feverous one quickly, with Sevika bearing down on you, pushing her weight into you, making you hers, just for tonight. She pulled away from you, climbing into and laying back on the bed. “Get up and strip for me, peach.”

“What if I want you to undress me?” You pouted. It felt strange, acting like this. You wanted her hands on you, you didn’t want to bother doing it yourself. That’s what you were here for. Not having to do things yourself like you did with your husband.

“You said you didn’t want borin’,” she said, nonchalantly, as she laid back and placed her human arm behind her head, muscles flexing in the best way possible to keep her upright. “So get up and strip.” Huffing, you did as told.

You would never have looked at the situation and called it something as vulgar as a strip tease, but the slowness of you stripping yourself and the way Sevika’s eyes fell upon your body as you did made the thought cross your mind. You were slow to pull your pajama top up, slow to slide your pajama shorts down your thighs, slow to rid yourself of your panties. God, she could come off the sight of it.

Once you were naked, she beckoned you over with her mech hand, having you sit in her lap. “You look so damn pretty like this, all naked in my lap.” She felt as if this was her first time having a woman in her lap. She didn’t know where to start, all of her favorite things were before her, yearning to be touched and pulled and sucked.

She leaned into your neck, sucking the skin there briefly before traveling down your body. She caught your nipple in her mouth, and by some miracle, you could’ve sworn it felt better than the first time. Maybe it was because, in her lap, you had something to grind down against when her teeth clashed over the sensitive spot in your nipple, and when she pushed her tongue up into the spot after nipping it.

“Sevika,” you moaned, head thrown back as she did her best work on your tits. Fuck, your tits. She barely thought about them the first time, but now? Now. She got to see them in all their glory, nipples perky and waiting, so fucking ready for her. She didn’t even bother with her mech arm, she needed to feel you. Feel the way your nipple hardened when she rolled it between her fingers and feel the way you gasped and ground down on her every time she made you feel good.

She made you feel good. Nobody else. Only her.

She switched tits, and she couldn’t resist rutting up into you when a string of drool dripped from your boob. She didn’t even realize she was sucking enough that drool could fucking drip from you nipple, but it was a sight from God nonetheless.

She took much longer on your tits this night than she had the previous night you spent together, and it was lovely. But, to your humiliation, you had completely soaked through her pajama pants. The material was thin, but it was sopping from your grinding and dripping. She could feel it on her leg, and the feeling was driving her up the wall.

Sevika didn’t find herself begging very often, especially not at the mercy of a woman she had in bed, but when her eyes fell between your wet nipples and the patch on her thigh, she couldn’t find herself doing anything but. “Please ride my face, sweet thing, need y’on my face.” Her hands rested on your thighs in a tight hold.

You sat up, going up and up until your cunt rested over her nose, and your thighs found purchase on either side of her head. She brought her hands to your hips and pulled, dragging you down onto her mouth. You were quick to learn that sitting on Sevika’s face was the best feeling you’d felt at this point in your life.

However, you were also quick to learn that her nose had more purpose than just fitting her face and breathing. Your clit found purpose on her nose while you rode her tongue, so much so that it made the experience that much better. You must’ve looked like a fucking slut the way you were humping her face, but the feeling of her flattening her tongue and letting you take control was one that you never wanted to escape.

Your orgasm hit you like a punch, making you double over on her face. With ease, Sevika lifted you off her face and pinned you to the bed by your lips, licking you up and making your legs shake around her head. “Sevy, it’s too much,” you whined, but she didn’t care to listen. Her middle finger was pushing against your entrance no matter how much you whimpered and moaned, finding solace in your pussy as she fucked you again.

Her pace was ruthless, fucking you with two of her fingers and arching them into the best spot inside you. You were gripping the sheets, arching your back, doing anything you could to get away from her relentless abuse of your cunt, but she was stronger than you, and you loved it.

Sevika loved it too. She loved the way that, if she wanted to, she could get you to do anything she wanted. You were easy to hold down, easy to pick up and throw around the room, she loved being bigger than you. It drove her mad, the way you looked next to her, or under her, or better yet, on top. She simply couldn’t get enough.

“We’re gon’ try somethin’ new, peach,” she kissed your pelvis, overtop where her fingers were still logged inside you. “I’m gonna stretch you out, make you all good and ready for my dick.” The words hardly registered in your head before a third finger was probing in your entrance. And it hurt. Three of her large fingers were wider than anything you had taken before, and it made you wonder how wide her strap was if her fingers were stretching you this much.

“Vika it hurts,” you cried, and she paused, letting you adjust to the feeling before pushing more in you. She adored the view, the way your pussy gaped and pulled her in. With little further struggle, all three fingers were knuckle-deep in you, and you were clenching tightly around them.

“That’s my pretty girl,” her voice was hoarse, watching you take her. If this was this good, she couldn’t imagine what her strap would look like bottomed out in you, greedy pussy sucking her in. She fucked your cunt slowly, building up your orgasm with each pump, until you were on the brink, and once you were there, she attached her lips to your clit and sucked, pulling everything she could out of you.

You came again with a shriek, overstimulation getting to the best of you. She had you coming for maybe a full minute, getting everything she could out of you before stuffing her fingers in your mouth. You hoped this would become a routine - her fucking you then making you suck your cum off her fingers. The way she looked at you was irreplaceable.

When she was finished, she was giving you a whole new set of instructions. “On your knees, face the headboard.” You did as told, waiting patiently as she trifled through her things. You felt the bed dip and her body take position behind you. “Gimme y’r hands, bunny.” The new nickname had you reeling.

You placed your hands behind your back and she gripped them both in her mechanical hand, and soon after, you felt the rough material of rope lacing your skin. She pulled tight, letting the scratchy material dig into your skin. “Be good, or I’ll have you comin’ till you can’t fucking think.” She whispered in your ear, placing a small kiss below your ear before pushing you forward and bending you over.

With a squeal, you went cheek first into the pillows, ass up. Sevika pressed her mech hand into the arch in your back, pushing down and down until you were arching up as much as you could. Sevika smirked, not that you could see. You looked so pretty like this. Your pussy was drenched, waiting for her dick. She swiped two fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness and smearing her strap with it, before lining her tip up with your entrance.

You whimpered when she pushed into you, the feeling different than her fingers. It was different than anything you’d felt - the rubber wasn’t warm like when you got fucked by your husband, obviously, and as she bottomed out, it was insatiably better than any way your husband had fucked you.

Maybe her strap was longer, or maybe it was the position she had you in, but the stretch of your cunt and the feeling of her being in you made your head spin. She pressed a firm hand into your shoulderblades as she began to work her hips, fucking you gently at first. She couldn’t watch anything but the sight of her strap disappearing fully in you, and it was growing harder and harder each breathing minute to restrain herself from fucking you as roughly as she could.

Really, there was no luck for her the minute your little uh, uh uh’s started, matching each thrust as the air got punched out of you. She grabbed your hip roughly and fucked into you harder, the skin of her thighs slapping loudly against your ass as her pace quickened.

“Fuck baby, y’r so good, such a good pussy.” She groaned, base of the harness fucking against her clit in just the right place. Her pace only got faster, and you were practically crying to god. It was no less than the best thing you'd felt in your life.

“Vika,” you moaned, dragging out the ‘a’ while her pace grew restless. She needed your pussy. It was like she was high out of her mind, addicted to your body and your cunt. “Vika, Vika, oh, daddy!” Her hips came to a stuttered stop.

Before you could apologize, her mech hand was wrapping tightly around the back of your neck and pulling you up off the bed, against her chest. She continued her original pace, the new angle hitting even better than before. “You call y’r husband that, sweetheart?” She groaned.

“No,” you whined, and she grabbed the rope, pulling you into a deeper arch against her. “Just you, Vika.” Her head fell into the crook of your neck with a deep groan.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she pushed you back down, reaching around and rubbing your clit with her human hand. Her pace and the clit stimulation had your stomach twisting. “Wanna put a baby in you,” she moaned before she could think. The conversation you guys had early resurrected in her brain, and the thought of fucking a baby into you, just the thought. Fuck, she could've come on sight.

“Please,” you whined, high pitched and fucking disgusting. “Put a baby in me Vika,” she was going to fucking explode. Her hand found your throat again, leaning over you and squeezing as she fucked you as deep as she could. You were so fucking close, the feeling almost overwhelming.

“Gon’ make you a mama, peach,” the idea crawled into her mind and she knew it would never leave. Fucking you pregnant with her baby. If she could, she would never stop. “Fuck,” her moan was much higher pitched than any of her others, and you could tell she was growing just as close as you were, “take it, take it, take it,” she moaned in between thrusts, hand only tightening around your neck. “Fucking take it, nghh,”

You came at the same time, but you could barely keep yourself from coming again when she reached down and squeezed, filling you up and leaving you spent. You moaned again, rocking back into her.

She pulled out slowly, letting you adjust to being without her as your cunt drooled. You went to move and she slapped your ass, making you yelp. “Stay.” She commanded, and you did.

It was truly a humiliating position. You were ass up, drooling like a fool while her cum dripped from your cunt. When she came back, she had a toy, and she wasted no time pressing it into you. “Keep this in ya’ till you get home, y’hear me? Need you full of my cum, bunny.”

She unraveled your hands and you rolled over, the plug shifting in you just enough to roll against your sensitive g-spot. “How'd you like that, pretty? Rough enough for my girl?” You watched as she stripped herself of her strap and put on a clean pair of purple boxers.

You simply hummed, shifting in her bed and rolling onto her pillows. “I like you a lot, Sev.” You mumbled, fuzzy, fucked out brain speaking before registering. “Wanna keep coming over.”

Sevika sighed. “Wish you could, sugar plum.” She came to you and rubbed your thighs. “But for now, you oughta get home. Y’r husband's waitin’,” you groaned, shutting your eyes tightly. “‘m sorry, angel.” You sat up, letting her bring your clothes to you.

“Where are my panties?” You asked with a pout as you trifled through the mound of clothes she presented you with.

She pressed a kiss into your forehead, but you could feel her smirk under it. “I’m keepin’ those, peach.” You giggled, slipping your top over you and standing to slip your shorts up. “You best do what I say ‘nd keep that in you.” Her tone was low as she watched you dress from her relaxed position on the bed.

“I will,” you promised, reaching over and placing a finger kiss on her lips. “Wish you could watch me drip, though.” You pouted.

“Don't say shit like that,” she growled, “or I'll have you bent over again.” You shrugged, smirk painting your lips.

“Bye Sevy,” you said quietly as you slipped on your shoes and robe. “I'll see you.” She sent you a short goodbye and you were leaving her home, traveling back across the ride and into your house.

What a life, you thought. You spent the time before you fell asleep thinking about what life would be like with Sevika. Having Sevika’s babies, walking down the aisle to Sevika. And boy, it was good to think about.

taglist: @sevsgiirl @chaosisclassy @ilovesevika88 @2hiigh2cry @glass-apothecary @zthebean27 @sli-v3r @carotenoidstereo @hbwrelic @savedforlaterr @sunflowerwinds @megamultifandomtrashposts @thatsmadiculous @thehoneybeesting @moodient @jinxvex @lez-zuha @sookaihrts @belovedisappointment @rereanduselessbird @sksksscarlet @coneyislandhorrorqueen @prwttiestbunny @ghostlylittlemoths @half-of-a-gay @aiden-slayyyys @womenlover360 @luphelia @maximoff-jp @losernb @dayfeelinglighter @powderpinkandsweeet @gumboug @andyslovingwife @hello222things @ayooooohush @yoursimhannah @yesplstodaysatan @purplehazzes @xblinkx2 @mistershotz @lilithyys @abbyanderswife @stmvivs @theoreticalfreak @deliciouslydeviantsatan @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @misswannadieqwq @wingedhallows

[xo2dee]

🗨️ OPIA/GOJO NSFW WEEK 2023 - DAY FIVE: BREEDING

PAIRING: Gojo Satoru/(Fem)Reader.WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Breeding Kink, Vaginal sex, Rough Sex, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Mentions of Pregnancy.WORD COUNT: 2,336. SUMMARY: Honestly, it was a wonder it didn't happen sooner in your marriageOr: Gojo and you explore the wonders of not using a condom.

A/N: i would probably have like 6 kids if i was married to gojo ngl, just bc we wouldnt wrap it up LMAO

JJK MASTERLIST

Marriage was something you hadn’t necessarily prepared yourself for – well, you wouldn’t necessarily say that. Of course, you’d thought about it, more-so as a child whenever you had your Barbie dolls getting married to one another or when you got older and began to watch more Romcoms that usually ended with the titular characters getting married. So yeah, you did sometimes think about getting married, but you would stand by and say that you actually never thought about it.

And boy, when you did get married, you realized a lot of the Romcoms were leaving out the intricate threads of the relationship within.

Your husband was of no issues; in fact you very much loved him and could safely say after years of dating before he popped the big question, that he very much loved you as well. He was handsome to boot, he was so, so, so, so funny, he called you silly names and kissed your cheek when he left the house for the day, he was very attentive to you and your needs, and all in all he actually loved you.

On November 14th (just a year and half prior), you became Mrs. Gojo, your husband being the Gojo Satoru of course. A big name to add onto yourself, but nothing too daunting since you’d been there for each other every step of the way. No, it was more… the intimate parts of your relationship that started to see a change whenever you settled a year into your relationship. And it all started when you found yourself having an urge – families with babies and swollen bellies carrying a life in them that your mind reeling and kept you up at night thinking of the possibilities you could’ve had with Satoru.

You kept it to yourself, but that wasn’t to say you didn’t drop hints. It started with cooing at baby clothes whenever you took him shopping with you, his eyebrow rising behind his glasses but nothing coming from it. Or whenever you took to babysitting your friends kids, bringing it up to him every time you saw on social media someone you knew was pregnant, or the most important when you had announced that you’d be getting off of birth control. He’d been somewhat surprised, asking you if it was for health reasons or others, but you only offered a small smile while telling him that he was welcome to throw away the condoms he had if he wanted to – to which he gladly did, your own interest piquing at how inanely willing he was to just go along with it.

(“Unlimited creampies,” he’d joked, tossing every he had condom away and grinning like a shark once he did so. You should’ve known that he’d really meant it too.)

You should’ve known, however, Satoru could read you like a book.

That’s how you found yourself clutching the pillow underneath your head for dear life as Satoru’s cock was all but rearranging your organs while his hands had a near death grip on your hips in the process.

Your legs took purchase hitched up on top of his shoulders, your heels nearly touching your ears as he literally bent you in half so that he could fuck you better. The temperature in the room was boiling, perspiration lining your bodies down from the forehead to the conjunction of where both of your bodies were currently smacking into one and another. The only sounds you were really able to make out was the smacking of his skin into yours, the headboard of your shared bed knocking into the wallpaper you desperately wanted to change, and your gasped out moans all jumbled in words varying of his name and praises from the ferocity of his movements.

His face was a God-given sight to see; all flushed and his eyebrows knotted together in ecstasy as he kept his jaw clenched yet allowed his poorly concealed groans leave his mouth. It didn’t help you were talking filthy in his ear either, the loud exhales growling and the grip on your hips bruising every time you moaned out his name driving him forward push and stretch your insides as much as he could. Your earlier admission to how you wanted to feel him cum inside of you had seemingly pushed him over the edge, and you hadn’t even gotten the part where you wanted to tell him to put baby in you.

Unclutching the fabric of the pillow you slid your hands out to dig your nails into his back, earning you a grunt and a particular hard thrust as he pulled out back far enough until his tip was resting on your opening before diving back in. It was insane on how good he felt, your toes curling as that ball of fire behind your naval burned further towards your eventual release whenever he fucked into you harder.

You panted out again as your body rocked underneath his in unison to his hips, mouth finding his ear again to push at his resolve more, “If I would’ve known you – mmmGod – known you’d be like this, I would’ve – fuckrightthere – would’ve begged you more.”

Normally Satoru was so talkative; he just talked, talked, and talked, especially in the bedroom. Yet you supposed he more focused on concentrating than anything, his eyelashes fluttering at your words and thumbs digging into your ribcage the more he slid your bodies further up to the bed. It made you purse your lips, his lack of responding to you, and you knew if you wanted to drive him wild you’d have to really tell him what you wanted.

Your fingers traced back up to his nape, curl a few strands fingers around his hair there as you pressed a kiss to his jaw and whispered in finality into his ear, “Satoru… I want you to cum. I want you to put a baby in me.”

Your husband abruptly stopped for a moment, your body and mind nearly seizing in fear that you had said the wrong thing, however he was quick to recover. Meeting your eyes with an intensely dilated pupil as he searched your face, and once he found what he was looking for, he was already moving once more. And you really didn’t have to say anything else to urge him on either.

His pace was faster than before, your eyes rolling and stomach knotting up from the force of his cock stretching and pounding into your pussy, and you couldn’t strangle a moan out as his mouth covered your own. He trapped your tongue without any remorse, sucking on it feverishly as the slaps of your skin meeting echoed throughout the bedroom and the sounds of your pussy wet and garbled reached your ears to make your cheeks warm up. He was already teetering on a side of rough sex beforehand, but by then Satoru was full-blown feral.

He released your mouth with a pop, a string of spit connecting you both as you could only look headily up at him, his cheeks flushed and teeth flashing in a grin. “Mmm, you think I didn’t know? Droppin’ all those hints… I was just waiting on you to say it,” a hand left your body to squeeze your cheeks, puckering your lips as he pried your lips open, “Is that what you wanted? Wanted me to fuck you stupid and fill you up with enough cum that you’d get pregnant? Is that what it was?”

You couldn’t necessarily answer him, his thumb pressing down on your tongue only left you mumbling and keening with gasping whines as he fucked you. Your body grow hotter the more he spoke, however, a weak nod you gave to encourage him onward to keeping talking as you began to feel your climax spiral throughout your body.

“I wish you could see yourself; you got that look in your eye that’s just begging me to ruin you. You want my cum so bad you can’t stand it, can you?” his fingers left your cheeks to pull down on your chin, forcing your mouth to open a little wider as his thumb hooked itself onto your bottom teeth, forcing your moans out into the open air and your tongue swiping forward to lick at the appendage. He gave a breathy laugh, his hips further into you that made you back arch and thighs scream at the way your body was bending to his will, and he leant down far enough to skim his lips over your own, “You’d look so good – with my cum inside of you and a baby fucked into you… Just say it again for me.”

You tried to answer him, you really did, but your mind was teetering on a slippery slope and your body was falling prey to its desires, it was suffocating you. Your breaths intermingled with one another in lost kisses and nips, his own fanning across your burning cheeks and his grunts rising in octave to near moans to signal he was at his own impending release. You mumbled a jumble of something you weren’t necessarily too sure of, his pelvis rubbing against your clit making your eyes roll back and he pushed forward more.

“Say it again.”

His thumb trailed away down onto your chin, an afterthought of saliva following after him, “I want a baby. Fuck a baby into me.”

Satoru’s eyebrows furrowed inwards, one hand slipping away to press against your swollen clit and his thrusts growing to an alarming rate. He had mastered knowing just what spots inside of you to get you to come undone for him; he knew which way to rub your clit as well, a pattern he was doing at that moment that your lower abdomen twitching and curling in on itself in an effort to keep yourself from cumming to early on him lest he was dragging it out. And given how your thighs were beginning to shake and his thrust were begging to grow sloppy and uneven, you knew neither of you would last much longer given all that dirty talk and moaned promises.

His hips pushed into you desperately, nearly hard enough to leave you with bruises and your fingers found purchase to scratching along his back, something that was rewarded with Satoru’s back arching and a groan pushing through his swollen lips. His cock twitched fervently – a pulse when it slotted up fully inside of you, and a warning that he was about to cum.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, fingers twitching on your clit as it was slippery with your own juices. His cheeks grew redder, sweat glistening all across his body and you had half a mind to engrave the way he looked into memory for future reference when he was away and you two more than likely engaged in phone sex. When you didn’t answer him for a moment, he sighed and pinched your clit with a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Please.”

You couldn’t deny him, garbling it on in a mess of whines and sighs, “I want you to cum inside me… Cum so much there’s no way I don’t get pregnant.”

Satoru groaned, "That's it.” His intentions became clear after that, deliberately slamming his cock against that oh-so sweet spot inside of your pussy. Your head began to spin, muscles tightening up and on the verge of your tendons stretching outwards, you could feel yourself losing the hold you had on your orgasm. It started to slip from you, fingernails digging crescents into his back and your toes curling at his heated groans jolting straight towards your clit. Satoru at that point had become desperate, uneven and choppy thrusts jostling you upwards on the bed as his voice tuned out into a whine, "Say my name when you cum – say it." 

You couldn’t take it; mind full of thoughts of your husband cumming into you and finally fulfilling your wants. And even if it didn’t stick that time around, you both could always keep trying, just cumming –

"Satoru!"

You finally came, a guttural cry of his name that you’d never done before and something he picked up om as well. Cunt spasming sporadically around his hot cock and soaking it completely with your cum, you gasped with a radically arched back and nails sunken fully into his skin. Your eyes fluttered in a hazy gaze, ears tuning back in from brief lapse into nirvana to listen and feel Satoru cum inside of you for the first time. He was always a whiner more than a groaner, spilling into your mouth or hand, but he sounded particularly more whiney once he finally jolted forward with a keening gasp of your name and thick spurts of his cum coated your insides. You felt so full – complete, as his cock twitched and throbbed once the rounds of his cum were settle inside of you, a longing sense of more prickling your mind when you thought of what it could accomplish.

Satoru sighed after a long moment, hand falling away from your clit to steady himself as he leant forward to press a wet kiss to your cheek, and pulling away from you with another exhale to survey how you looked. Your legs fell from his shoulders, boneless and weak, and fell open on their own as your breathing slowed down and you managed to catch your senses as your only heard him hum.

It wasn’t seconds later his long fingers were pushing back into your sensitive pussy, your walls clenching around them as a spark ignited up behind your naval as his prodding. His cum was sloshed around into you by his fingers, a light laugh breaking itself free from his chest a moment later when you began to slowly rock your hips to the rhythm to how his fingers were pushing his cum back inside of you.

“Glad you’re as optimistic as I am, because I’ve got a lot of plans for us now…”

[demilypyro]

My father chases ghosts.

In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, I once questioned my father on why he treated me with such cold detachment. Why his advice only ever seemed to come in the form of lecturing, and why he never hugged me, or even said he was proud of me. His words in that moment caused the small amount of respect I had for him to shake. He told me that he saw it as the mother's role to love a child, and that it was the father's role to keep the child on the straight and narrow. After some contemplation, I decided in that moment that I disliked him, not just as a parent, but as a person.

My father doesn't have a father. He was the product of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy between an interracial couple in the 60s... My grandmother was never willing to speak about what happened to my grandfather. I can only imagine he didn't stick around long, since my father never knew him, and grew up with only his mother. And it's always been clear to me that this bothered him. The man idolizes masculinity. Maybe desperate for a father figure, he found role models in his grandfather, whose portrait still hangs in his house and which he treats with great care, and his stepfather, whose surname he took (discarding his mother's last name) and passed on to me. Supposedly, his stepfather left his mother in a matter of years, so why my father idolizes him so, I don't understand. I've never met the man.

Perhaps similarly, my father left his mother's care the second he turned 18. Having lived with my grandmother for some years when I was in college, I can honestly understand why. She is prone to smothering the people she loves. In light of that experience, it maybe becomes easier to understand why my father would prefer a more distant form of parenting. Still, I don't agree with his philosophy on gender roles.

Some years after I transitioned, I had a conversation with my father that stuck with me. He said that he actually saw himself as rather unmasculine, a possibility that had never once occurred to me. With that in mind, I suppose he is somewhat short, and not especially muscular. He told me he had always felt insecure about it. But, unlike me, he had never once considered abandoning the pursuit of masculinity entirely. Rather, in his own words, he felt he needed to chase it even harder. To live up to the image he'd set for himself. The ghost of masculinity.

A lot became clear to me in that moment. My father is obsessed with chasing ghosts of how he thinks things Should Be. My mother once told me how he had this "plan" for where he wanted to be in life at each age. He wanted to live on his own by 20. He wanted to be married by 30. He wanted children by 40. When he found out my mother was pregnant, he married her as fast as he could. My mother didn't really care, but he said they HAD to be married before the baby was born. Things had to go in the right order. According to him, that was just how things Should Be.

He was chasing the ghost of the perfect nuclear family that was denied him.

They divorced when I was eight.

In light of all this, it becomes very clear why he acted the way he did when I was younger. I wasn't how his child Should Be. No matter how many things I was diagnosed with, he never bothered looking into what neurodivergency was, or how to deal with it, and simply held me to the standards of a neurotypical child. My mother tells me that when I was six, he yelled at me in a store for wanting to try on a dress. His child being autistic was something to be ignored until it went away. His child being transgender? Forget it.

In recent years, I think my father has started giving up on me. In a good way. Seeing me become happier as my transition progresses seems to have finally convinced him that he doesn't understand what's best for me, at least somewhat. I speak to him maybe once a month. But I often mourn the idea of a father I could've been closer to. A father with whom I could have had a relationship of love, and support. A father I never had.

Maybe I'm chasing a ghost too.

[ceoofglytchell]

A Dream Come True

Summary: Aegon falls in love with a bastard of his House, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Against all odds, he marries you in secret and you become the light of his life.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen!Bastard!Reader

Word count: 2695 words

Warnings: Incest, Reader is a bastard of Saera Targaryen and a Lannister noble, Reader is described to have silver hair and blue eyes, fluff, brief mention of intimacy, Sunfyre makes an appearance, no mention of Y/N

Notes: This is based on this request. I hope you like it! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛

You have never been what one would call "ordinary."

For one thing, you were the bastard daughter of Saera Targaryen and a lord of House Lannister. You inherited your mother's beauty. Pale skin and silver hair that made you look as if the moon itself had kissed your head, but your eyes were different. Instead of the usual amethyst hue, your eyes were as blue as the sky itself.

You were born during a hot day in Lys. Your mother, wild and bold as ever, insisted on completing the birth all by herself, unaided.

The other ladies of the whorehouse where she worked after escaping the Oldtown sisterhood, into which her father had placed her after a terrible argument, were fearful for her well-being. As was her current lover, who had given her this child.

Saera, however, despite everyone else, gave birth to a healthy girl all by herself— you.

Raised in a brothel under your mother, you blossomed into a beautiful young woman who had all sorts of desires but no one to fulfill them.

You had a kind heart. You were always there when one of the other girls cried, but you were also not afraid to tell the men what you thought whenever they got too close to you or one of your friends.

Your mother's daughter you were.

She often told you stories about the mighty House Targaryen, which ruled Westeros through the power of fire and blood. Ever since you were a small child, you had been fascinated by these stories.

You wanted to meet the rest of your family. You wanted to see the dragons your mother always raved about.

However, she refused to return with you to King's Landing. She did not want to look her family in the eye, she had explained. She kept the letters from Queen Alysanne— your grandmother— in a locked drawer, so you could never read them.

You had always been far too much like your mother. If you wanted something, you wanted it desperately, and no one could change your mind.

You wanted to see those dragons.

You wanted to go to Westeros.

And so, one night, you bribed a fishing boat to take you there.

You would never have imagined that you would meet someone on the very first night.

Someone who would change your life forever.

You met him one rainy evening in a tavern. You had just arrived and needed a place to warm up. An old woman had been kind enough to show you the way to the tavern. However, she had asked for four gold coins in return.

You did not have that much with you.

You pretended to drop one, and when the woman bent down to help you find it, you ran off like a thief.

In the tavern, you were stared at from several sides. Women who were astonished by your appearance and wardrobe— lysenian clothing was always easily recognizable by its slightly more revealing and thinner fabric— and men who licked their lips, probably wondering how much you cost.

They all seemed to be thinking the same thing: a bastard girl of House Targaryen who had become a whore to survive on the streets.

But the unusual thing was that you were not a whore. You had not even lost your maidenhead, even though you were born and raised in a whorehouse.

You sat in a corner, holding your hands over a candle, hoping it would warm you. After all, you were only used to the hot, always sunny weather from across the Narrow Sea.

And then, suddenly, he walked in.

He wore the clothes of a commoner, but that was not who he was. His silver hair fell wildly over his forehead, and his violet eyes met yours before one of the waitresses could ask him what he would like to drink.

He sat down next to you and stared at you for a moment, as if you were a being from another world. A deity made flesh. The fulfillment of his wildest dreams and desires.

"I am Aegon," he finally said.

You gave him your name, and he smiled.

That same night, he introduced you to a woman named the White Worm, gave her a bag full of gold, and asked her to take good care of you, which she did.

You were given your own quarters, food, drink, and new clothing more in keeping with the style of the ladies of King's Landing.

Rumors about you and who you were spread like wildfire, even reaching the Red Keep.

Aegon visited you almost every night.

He told you about his life as a Targaryen prince. and you of yours as the daughter of the lost Saera Targaryen herself.

Your bond deepened with every word, every touch, and soon after, with every kiss you shared.

At that point, he had only known you for a few weeks, but even so, Aegon, the second of his name, had never been so sure of anything. You were the love of his life. A gift from the gods in return for all the suffering he had endured.

The constant absence of his father, the biting words of his mother, the endless and simply crushing expectations, the beatings of his grandfather, and the shame of being the king's firstborn son, but never his heir.

You were his light in the darkness.

And he was your entire world.

Just three months after your arrival in King's Landing, Aegon brought you under cover of darkness to the Great Sept of Baelor, where a high septon of the Faith of the Seven was already waiting for you at the prince's behest.

"She is mine and I am hers." "He is mine and I am his."

Defying every rule and all reason, you were married that night, and you went from being a Targaryen bastard to a true princess.

You consummated the marriage on the beach. The rising sun cast a golden glow on your husband as he lay over you, moving his hips slowly and passionately against yours.

He treated you like a queen.

And when the moment finally came, and you stood with him before his mother, the queen, and his grandfather, the hand of the king, you defended him like a lion. Or a dragon— you were both, after all.

Holding his hand, you revealed to them who you were and what you felt for him. Love, true and unwavering love that could never be broken.

They called you a whore, a seductress, and a witch.

But the sacred bond of marriage had been entered into already, and Queen Alicent, a staunch advocate of the faith, could ultimately do nothing but acknowledge you as her daughter-in-law.

It was a scandal that reached even the shores of Lys even a few weeks later.

Your mother laughed when she heard that within a few months you had married a prince and now bore the title of princess.

She did not write to you, but she was still proud of you.

And deep down, you knew it too.

"Darling? Darling! I have a gift for you!" Aegon cried with joy as he rushed into your shared chambers.

Three years had passed since your secret wedding in the Sept, and your love had only grown stronger since then.

You were sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, reading a book about Old Valyria and dragons. Your silver hair had grown longer and now fell in soft waves to your hips. Your body was wrapped in a blue dress made of Lys's soft silk, the color of your eyes.

It had also been a gift from your husband.

"What is it?" you asked him with an excited smile as he sat down next to you.

But instead of answering, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. You sighed into the kiss and let your soft hands wander into his hair, which drew a sound of satisfaction from him.

"I love you," he murmured against your lips, unable to let go of you.

You leaned back and giggled at the pout on his beautiful face, as he could have continued kissing you forever.

"I love you too, my treasure," you replied, lovingly brushing one of his ever-wild strands of hair from his forehead. "You mentioned a gift?"

He nodded. His eyes shone with childlike anticipation, and he handed you a small, unassuming wooden box.

Carefully, as if it were the most precious thing in the entire world, you took it in your hands and opened the lid. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open a crack when you saw what your husband had given you that afternoon.

It was a silver necklace with gemstones as blue as the sky outside. As blue as your eyes and your dress, too.

"Oh, Aegon…" you whispered in admiration, gently running your fingertips over one of the gemstones.

"Only the best for my wife," he replied, sitting up a little straighter. He was obviously proud of this special gift, and he had every right to be. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

"It is beautiful," you breathed, looking up at him again, your gaze filled with love and wonder. "Where did you get them?"

"Oh, you know, there is this merchant..."

And so Aegon recounted the story of how he had come by this piece of jewelry, taking many detours, all afternoon long. At one point, you laid your head in his lap, and he let his fingers wander through your hair almost reverently.

As you proudly wore this necklace at dinner, you could feel the queen's piercing gaze on you every single second. She hated you more than anything, for completely ruining her and her father's plans in a single night.

You did not regret it one bit, and neither did Aegon.

That evening, as you lay in bed together, your head nestled against his chest and his arm around your waist, you thought back to a dream you once had. A wish that had so far remained unfulfilled.

The longing to see a dragon with your own eyes.

"Aegon?" you whispered softly, not knowing if he was still awake or had long since drifted off to dreamland.

"Mm? Yes?" he replied sleepily. You woke him just as he was drifting off to sleep, but he was not mad at you. He could never be mad at you.

"You have already done so much for me, and I know I do not really deserve most of it, but-"

"What are you talking about?" he interrupted suddenly, looking down at you in confusion.

You looked up at him and blinked. A few seconds of silence surrounded you before you finally sighed and nodded gently. You have had this conversation many times before. You still could not help but consider yourself less than worthy. A bastard instead of a princess.

"I love you. More than anything. I would give you the world if I could, do you understand?" he asked you softly, letting his hand stroke your soft, slightly rosy cheek.

"I know, my love."

His thumb slowly stroked your lower lip, and he could not help but think about how beautiful you are. An angel sent by the gods to pull him out of the dark hole he had been trapped in all those years before meeting you.

"You deserve everything and so much more. Tell me every wish, and I will grant it," he whispered, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead.

That made you sit up and look at him with big eyes.

"Every wish?" you asked cautiously.

"Every wish," he answered with a nod.

"No matter how absurd it may be?"

"The more absurd, the better," your husband laughed into the silent night, pulling you even closer to his side, pressing you tightly against him. Just the way you loved it.

"I want to see a dragon," you whispered softly, holding your breath.

"A dragon?" he asked you, blinking for a few seconds. "That is all?"

You nodded, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Then we will go to the dragon pit tomorrow, and I will show you one."

The sun was just rising over the hills, bathing the streets of King's Landing in golden light, when your husband led you by the hand into the dragon pit.

You wore another blue dress, one he had given you, and his necklace fit perfectly around your neck. As he often did, he wore a dark green doublet with a gold chain draped over his shoulders, which was almost symbolic of everything he was going through.

"You do not have to be afraid, my light. Sunfyre is a good dragon, and he is beautiful too," he explained to you as he led you deeper into the darkness.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. The time had come. Your dream would finally come true. You would see your first dragon, and it was your husband's, too.

Suddenly, a soft roar sounded from the depths. It did not sound threatening or dangerous, but almost curious.

"There you are, my boy," Aegon whispered with a grin on his lips.

And then you saw him. Sunfyre.

His scales looked like molten gold and shimmered in the light, and his wings were the same color as the sky when it turns pink in the mornings.

He was breathtaking.

His iridescent green eyes focused on you, and he came closer and closer. Uncertain, you wanted to stumble back, but Aegon placed a steadying hand on your lower back to prevent you from escaping.

"Do not be afraid, stay calm. He is just curious," he whispered in your ear before reaching out a hand toward the winged beast and lovingly stroking the side of its snout, causing the dragon to let out a noise that sounded almost like a purr.

You blinked in surprise and took a hesitant step toward the dragon. He met you in the middle and touched your upper body with his snout, which brought a smile to your lips.

You could not believe that flames could shoot out of its mouth that could kill you and so many others, bathing you in heat. The beast seemed almost harmless.

"He is beautiful," you finally said, and as if the dragon understood your words, it pressed its snout against you again, causing you to stumble back a few steps.

Aegon just smiled and looked at the two of you as if you were the most important thing in the world to him, which you were. He loved you both so incredibly much.

"He is," he replied, gently scratching his chin.

Sunfyre sang a tune, and you could not help but beam as you stroked him. You could hardly believe it. Not only were you standing in front of a dragon, but you were also stroking it.

Your husband looked at you, and he could feel his heart leap in his chest. You were so beautiful, he could hardly believe it. He used to not believe in the gods or miracles, but ever since you came into his life, he knew there had to be such a thing as miracles.

You were a miracle.

"Come here," he murmured, taking your hand and leading you to one of the walls of the dragon pit.

He sat down, pulled you onto his lap, and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, making you giggle. Sunfyre followed you like an overgrown dog and lay down in front of you, his large head in front of Aegon's legs.

"He is like a dog," you whispered in his ear. "A sweet dog."

"Our dog," Aegon nodded, burying his face in your hair as he wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you as close to him as possible.

If there was one thing you knew about him, it was that he loved to cuddle.

"Can we visit Sunfyre more often from now on?" you asked him gently, watching the dragon lying quietly and peacefully not far from you.

"Whenever you want, my darling," he replied, and you smiled.

He would give anything to see you smile.

Forever and ever.

The Divider is from the wonderful @zaldritzosrose !

Taglist: @bey0nd-1he-stars @sassypain @hisfavegirl @dahaenatargaryen

(The second part of “To be the Thorn to a Rose” comes next week!)

[jaehaeryshater]

King Maekar and his cupbearer Vaella Targaryen, daughter of Daeron

art by @vazdelart, commissioned by me

“Emme, stop commissioning Vaella art” the crowd begs. “I can’t :(((” I reply while holding out a large wad of money to all my favorite artists.

I’ve been wanting a Vaella art featuring Maekar desperately for the past few months. The reason for this is that Rhaenyra was a cupbearer and in the southern part of Westeros, and especially in King’s Landing, the role of cupbearer is a very prestigious title for a young person to have and is often an indicator of someone being the heir to the throne. While Vaella’s claim was dismissed at the Great Council, I find no reason to believe that as long as Daeron lived, her role as his only child would not have been taken seriously and her education would not have been a priority nor that her prestige as the only child of the heir of the Iron Throne would not have been respected. That’s why I see her as Maekar’s cupbearer versus Duncan the Small, who was around the same age as her. Besides, I just think it’s sweet that Maekar would want to have her around as much as possible and hopefully have some control in her upbringing while Daeron, although I believe based on what we know about it his character that he must have loved Vaella deeply, was often not in a state to be a good father.

This is my second time commissioning Vaz and I love their work, so I would like to take a moment to point out some of the details that were worked in. I think they deserved to be appreciated. I didn’t ask for the pockmarks on Maekar’s face, she thought of it on her own and I’m so glad because I haven’t really seen any Maekar art where he has them, it adds a level of accuracy I think. I was so happy with the idea and how it came out. I wanted Maekar dressed mostly in black, sort of to show how he was a serious/no nonsense person and as a nod to his status as widower (I know we know nothing about him and Dyanna’s relationship but I like to think he never got over it, a lot like Queen Victoria), but also just because of it being his house colors. I think he looks regal but understated. Vaella, however, is all decked out. In my eyes, she loves pink. The excessive and showy fashion is meant to be courtesy of Daeron. I headcanon that he loves her so much but is too scared to get close to her because he thinks he will somehow negatively impact her, but that she adores him. The only way he feels that he can show his love and relieve his guilt is to spoil her with whatever will make her happy. And she loves dresses, he loves dressing her up and seeing her squeal in excitement when they’re fitting her for a new outfit. She does a pink strip in her hair, that’s supposed to be a nod to her mother, Kiera of Tyrosh. When this got posted to Reddit, someone was complaining that people (myself included) keep putting colored strips in characters hair when it’s not canon to their appearance, which I thought was really funny because Vaella has no canon appearance and the pink strip is as canon as her being bald. I just went with the sandy colored hair like Daeron’s because Kiera also doesn’t have a canon hair color. And in Tyrosh, they love to color their hair bright colors, so I thought Vaella would be a prime candidate to have a color strip in her hair.

This is mostly irrelevant but I wanted to yap about what I think Daeron’s intentions were for Vaella and kind of compare that to Aemon the Pale Prince. First off, it’s never stated in Fire and Blood that Aemon intended on Rhaenys being his heir, so it’s unlikely that Blood and Fire and will say anything about Daeron picking an heir, especially since we can infer that Daeron is a much less politically savvy person than Aemon. That said, Aemon is married to his wife Jocelyn for many many years and Rhaenys is their only child. He never tries to acquire a new wife (although I will say that I think people overestimate how easy/common it was in real history and in Westeros history to just set aside a wife, especially one you already have a child with. Henry VIII is not the standard) and never issues any complaints about Rhaenys. Jaehaerys only settles the issue about Baelon being next in line after Aemon dies, which I like to think is because if Aemon was alive he would oppose that and simply undo that once he became King. I think Daeron is similar in his love for his daughter and lack of concern about having a son. Although we have no information on it so it’s just a guess, I don’t think his love for Kiera was remotely to the caliber of Aemon and Jocelyn’s, so I don’t think the idea of having a new wife would bother him as much as it would Aemon. I don’t think Daeron ever wanted to be King nor ever saw that for himself, but I do think he assumed that Vaella would succeed him and that he would have wanted every opportunity in the world for her. I’m not sure the matter of succession was ever brought up by Maekar to Daeron. However, I will say that Daeron is not a very mentally well person and most likely would be easily swayed, so I’m not sure he’d hold up as well as Aemon if people were pressuring him to name a boy heir or to have a son. I think he’d want something for Vaella in his heart, but could be easily convinced that her being Queen would not be good for her. Then when he died (which it’s my headcanon that while he was dying for quite some time, he gave up fighting the disease entirely once he realized that Vaella was old enough to fend for herself, and that she was the only reason he was fighting it in the first place instead of not bothering to get up in the morning, seeing as his dragon dreams left him in such a deep state of depression). It was only when Daeron died that Maekar very quickly made Aerion heir, in fear that a female ruler would could strife. Kiera, I believe, was the one person to speak for Vaella at the Council, just as I imagine that Daenora was the one to speak for Maegor.

I do recommend commissioning anything you want to see even if it’s just for you and you think no one else will like it, because it’s so fun and it feels like you’re a King in the Renaissance and are a patron of the Arra. You can literally see anything you want and you don’t have to use AI slop to do it!!!! In the time of AI, it’s more important than ever to support artists. And I will never stop because it is so rewarding. I recommended @vazdelart in particular because they work really fast and are accommodating and they are really good at drawing old men; I love it. And you may be surprised about how many people will enjoy the art, because this piece got 1400 likes on Twitter. So it’s really fun. I can’t thank the artist enough.

[4mrplumi]

USED A SUA IMG IN ONE OF YOUR BATFAM POST imagine a luka reader. the family desperate to reach you and due to lack of memories of what You were like since they all neglected you, started just making shit up about you. yes, of course youre angelic, kind and so darling to them! youd never hurt a fly and your soul is such a forgiving one... until they look you up online properly and see you gay baiting someone to get them shot

- prologue

PAUSE anon you cooked, omg. (for those who don't know who luka is i've put a very small summary of his character right at the end.)

honestly i've just been using sua as a poster girl, but a reader with luka's characteristics is so interesting... after being relocated from your "father's" underground business dealings to gotham to live with your real family, it'd be natural to stay reclusive because of the change in atmosphere.

i imagine a luka-ish reader would try to socialise more with the family than the current insert, but their attempts would be unmeaningly unsettling. an innate feeling would rise in the batfam that didn't make them dislike you, per say, just unintentionally avoid you.

you can't be much bothered with it, since even in your previous living conditions, there'd be people who liked you, and people who didn't. you knew how to work around it

so you redirect your focus. you'd been treated like an adult as you were being raised, so you had your goals and motivations figured out at this age already. for a handful of years in the manor, you'd work to keep up the fame you'd built up with your old "father", fame that slightly dissolved after your sudden disappearance from the screens; your escape from the industry.

eventually, when you decide to move out to perhaps further your prospects and influence, there's a buzz in the media at the sudden reappearance of the angle-voiced child star who was taken off the big screens after their "father" got involved with court dealings.

this is probably what eventually alerts the family to your absence in the manor, and in the shame that they couldn't notice it without the help of a third party, they scrounge around in their memory for good exchanges with you. just to have some semblance of the kid who wandered around aimlessly in the house. the kid they shooed away without ever actually shooing them away.

when they find nothing; they try to make stuff up. "angle-voiced child star", so you must've been soft-spoken, sympathetic, angelic person too, right? yeah, yeah you must've been a darling... how could they be so ignorant of you?

their shame somewhat morphs their unease at your old attempts to talk to them, into a shy child's timid want to talk to a new family in a new area, without any help whatsoever.

oh you poor, poor little kid.

i imagine it wouldn't be too difficult for them to find content of you, since your net-presence sky-rocketed after returning to the music industry. but ohh just imagine their surprise when they get access to an underground website streaming some sick stage-show human trafficking project, and see you there?? whatever are you there for? doesn't your fame generate a fortune? what in the world would you need to be on this... show for?

idk how the "getting them shot" thing could play into any other place other than a dark-web game show tbh. maybe they don't initially recognise that the videos up there are for such a thing, only after seeing you walk away from an applauding audience, get surprised by the sound of a shot and the image of your opponent lying dead on the stage ground, do they bother to investigate the ordeal. but this time, as vigilantes, and not failed family.

they'll just... save you along the way, yeah? 'save' you.

luka is a character from a series called alien stage, and you can find the episodes uploaded on youtube by vivinos. luka's established as a well known, famous character within the alien stage 'tournament', who's participated in the whole thing before, and has a significant amount of aliens/audience rooting for him.

his character on it's own looks beautiful, and is dubbed "prince" by his fans, but on his first appearance in round 5, he is portrayed as somewhat unfeeling and manipulative.

better characterisation is provided on alien stage's official accounts, with comics and patreon uploads. the "father" i refer to in the above imagine is referring to luka's alien owner.

[gojosoups]

a/n: guys I literally wrote this in like 10 mins and I just had to post it to make sure no one else has the same idea as me.. also this is NOT related to my fic Where Water Meets Land, that’s a completely different arranged marriage fic!! not proofread DUH and not an official post, so I might delete this later.. lmk if anyone wants to be in the taglist for this!!

Was literally washing the dishes and I had to run to my phone cause I had a fic idea….

Hear me out, arranged marriage fic with gojo except the two of you never got married (yet)? In short: the arrangement never carried out because you were lost as a child :(

Imagine being childhood friends with gojo and in an arranged marriage, until one day you get lost while playing in the woods with him, never to be found again… only for a normal family to find you and adopt you during a rainy night

For years and years your family desperately tries to find you, and each time they fail, loosing hope as the days pass by. And the gojo family wasn’t any help, placing a constant burden on your family and threatening to break off the engagement and their ties (in favour for another family and engagement.)

You were none the wiser, spending your days since childhood helping your new found family with their small business. And all though your memory is foggy and you can’t remember much, you were glad you found a loving home.

Imagine on a random day, where you’re taking care of the small family business because your poor elderly father got sick, only to encounter gojo all these years later as your customer and as a stranger (him none the wiser too)

Your head throbbing as you look at the oddly familiar glow of his blue eyes and striking ivory hair that stands out, his name on the tip of your tongue in your foggy mind.

Imagine slowly but surely, falling in love with this “stranger” as he keeps coming back, charming you with his sweet smile and equally sweet words, until one day, he finally confesses.

Imagine gojo slowly finding a home in your family, far away from the burdens he carries as a gojo heir, far away where in the cozy little house you call home, surrounded by a family that loves him.

Imagine gojo trying to make it official to the public, taking you with him, arm wrapped around your waist as he shows you off to the numerous people at the event? Gala? Knowing that his parents (especially his mother) would be furious, but too busy flaunting you in all your pretty and witty personality.

Blah blah blah argument with his family, threatening to break you two off and putting your family in ruins for trying to taint the gojo bloodline.

More stuff, your (biological) mother finally finds you, shaming the gojo’s for treating you like this, and helping you and Satoru to run away and get married finally. The two of you coming back, hand in hand with matching wedding rings, making your way into high society as newly weds. The end… or is it-

[cdragons]

"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job

[enwoso]

Lovie fic nye party and Lovie is desperate to stay up till midnight but alessia doesn’t want to let that happen so makes the whole party fake that its new years before it actually is so Lovie can celebrate with them

midnight magic | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was new year's eve and you were bursting with with excitement. you were bouncing around the living room in a sparkled dress, your hair done to perfection with sparkly bobbles and hair slides as your face was painted with enthusiasm.

since you had been told about new year's eve by beth one afternoon while you waited for your mummy, you'd non stop talking about staying up until midnight.

but with that, your mummy knew there was no way you would make it. knowing you would be flat out asleep by the time the clock even struck ten pm.

you were a ball of energy but once that energy drained and it inched closer to your bedtime, your eyelids grew heavy faster than anyone could even say 'happy new year'

but alessia had a plan. an elaborate one that would ensure you felt like you had experienced the full midnight celebration without the inevitable crash into your slumber.

"alright, lovie. are you ready for the party?" alessia asked as her voice too was full of excitement, though her heart ached a little sing how determined you were. "but you have to promise me you'll try your best to stay awake"

you nodded, your eyes wide and gleaming, "i will stay awake, mummy i promise i'll wait for the fireworks and i'll say happy new year to all the girls"

alessia smiled, pushing your little head back which had '2025' in silver sparkly letters big and proud on it "tonight will be so special and you won't believe whose made the journey!"

you gasped, "who? who?" you asked, you asked your little legs hopping up and down in excitement.

"you'll have to wait and see" alessia dragged out her last word as a small huff came from you.

all the arsenal girls had been invited by alessia and had promised to help alessia with making tonight magical for you, the living room had been transformed into a festive wonderland, fairy lights twinkling— which you had helped put up, as well as a big balloon banner which read happy new year across the wall.

as well as your favourite part a table piled high with all of your favourite treats — mini cupcakes, juice cartons and of course enough crisps to feed a small army.

the plan was simple, set up a fake countdown and let you celebrate with all of your favourite people.

the doorbell rang and your eyes grew wide as saucers, "is that them, mummy? is that them?" alessia grinned as she nodded, helping you to open the door as all the arsenal girls were here.

each and every one complimenting how cute you looked as alessia hugged each one as they walked into her home. but as each one came in, you waved to beth and then you face lit up as you spotted someone who definitely didn't play in arsenal reds anymore.

"vivvy!" you squealed rushing into her arms, giving her a big hug as viv laughed at your reaction. "you came! beth said you might not be able to come"

"i wouldn't have missed it for the world, klein"

"how come i never get that type of reaction?" beth huffed as she leaned against the banister, alessia giggling at beth's reaction.

"beth she sees you at least five days a week-"

"and?”

once you had got over the star struck of viv making the journey down settling into a rhythm with the arsenal girls being around your house, music filling your ears until.

"where's my favourite little russo?" a voice with a thick accent called out as your head shot up. there was only one person who had a favourite russo.

"mummy? is that tooney?" you gasped as you looked towards your mummy, the smile giving away everything as she nodded.

you quickly getting up and making your way to the hallway, "auntie ella!" you squealed rushing into her arms as she hugged you once she'd put her bags down.

"'ello tiny, i've missed ya!" ella smiled as she tickled your side, earning a few giggles from you as you went to inspect what she had brought for you.

"are these for me?" you asked pointing to the chocolate cakes decked with icing and cool decoration. ella nodding as you rushed to tell your mummy with such excitement as ella followed you into the living room, saying her hellos to the arsenal girls.

your body was filled with even more excitement than you thought was even possible. all surrounded by those you loved, it was a dream come true for you.

but as much fun as it was, alessia had a little secret up her sleeve to ensure you didn't realise what was going on.

as the night grew later, alessia had kept a careful eye on the time, both the real time and the fake clock. when the real time had hit just past 7:55 pm which was exactly thirty-five minutes before your bedtime — alessia was beginning to gather everyone for the 'countdown'

"lovie, cmon it's time! we are gonna do out countdown for the new year!" alessia announced with a wink as ella helped to round everyone up.

you jumped up and down, "yay! i'm ready! i'll say happy new year like big girl!" you cheered umping up and down and clapping your tiny hands.

the girls all gathered around, pretending to check their watches making dramatic faces as if they were waiting for the clock to strike twelve.

"ten... nine... eight..." alessia started, and the room filled with cheers. "seven... six... five..." everyone joined in, chanting with exaggerated excitement.

in the moment, kyra was really paying attention as she glanced down at her own phone and at the time and then up to the other, "it's literally only-" she stopped herself mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she realised now what alessia meant by an early new years, "oh.. uh happy new year tiny!"

the room erupted in laughter as your eyes sparkled, you hadn't even noticed the slip up. too focused on watching the large clock on the wall strike, twelve. as you popped your party popper. "happy new year!" you shouted as you clapped your hands like a pro.

ella leaned over to alessia and whispered with a wink, "she's going to remember this for years. the best party"

alessia couldn't help but smile, "i think we done a pretty good job!" alessia paused as ella hummed in agreement before alessia broke into small laughter, "we aren't going to hear the end of that fact she's seen the real midnight, though"

as the fake new year's celebration continued, the team showered you with love, played games and even with a small persuasion game with your mummy were allowed to kick the ball around in the living room.

even if you did have to help kyra and katie hide the fact that the three of you had broken one of your mummy's ornaments that had lived on the coffee table for ages. but alessia wouldn't notice that it wasn’t there? and you would maybe tell your mummy about that later..

but by the time the actual midnight came around, you'd been changed into your pyjamas and were already fast asleep, snuggled up on the couch. your tiny hands clutching your esme the elephant teddy.

alessia looking down at you, her little girl, her heart full. she'd given you the magic of the night and you own kind of special celebrations and you could wake up tomorrow thinking you had stayed up till the very end of the year.

as a content left your mummy's lips, she whispered, "happy new year my lovie. you're my favorite part of every year."

and as she kissed your forehead, she could already picture next years celebrations. but for now, alessia savoured this moment knowing she'd made it a memory to last forever.

[ryewwww]

halo! new follower here! i like your yandere!ex!bully!Eren x Reader ♡_♡ can I ask for a continuation of it? where y/n is on her pregnant phase and up until the child was finally born. like how would Eren treat her? bcs ik for sure y/n would drop out on her college T_T

⚠️: NON CON, Forced Pregnancy, yandere!eren...

DARK CONTENT! DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERED EASILY!!

-> sorry for the wait, life's been hectic

-> yall got me fucked up. The eren smut tag be so dry nowadays

-> part 1

The last few days, you've been feeling uneasy

Eren's been avoiding you ever since that night he stormed into your house and fucked you unconscious

You desperately want to talk to someone about your feelings but can't due to:

1. lack of friends... scratch that, you don't have any friends

2. Your mother doesn't give a flying fuck about you

3. Eren... The person who is causing you to feel this way

You can't put your finger on it, but it's a gut feeling that something bad is going to happen

Nonetheless, you can't just wallow in your bed all day so you get up to get ready for your 12pm lecture

Everything seemed normal until you started to feel nauseous upon your arrival at school

You thought maybe it was because you hadn’t ate anything in the morning, so it’s just empty stomach nausea

But no.

The nausea was then followed with a pang of dizziness and before you knew it, you collapsed onto the floor.

Waking up in a hospital bed and being met with emerald eyes was not ideal

It was unfair how pretty he was. How could someone look like a prince from a fairy tale be so ruthless and cold?

His hand reached to touch your cheek, gently caressing it. You can’t remember the last time he touched you so gently like this.

“I’m gonna go get the nurse to make sure you’re stable.” He spoke is a calm, gentle tone. Despite all the shit he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel safe, wanted and loved when he spoke to you in that moment.

He left the room and you took the chance to sit upright and look at your surroundings. There was a fruit platter, a teddy bear and some flowers on the table.

How long have you been out for??

Panic began to settle in, but luckily Eren and his father walked into the room. Right, his father was a doctor.

After some small talk, he did a quick checkup and said that there’s nothing to be concerned about. He got up and paged a nurse before leaving you and Eren alone again.

“Am I able to go home now? Your dad said I’m fine.”

“Not quite yet. There’s something that we need to tell you.”

The door opens and a machine is pushed into the room. The nurse wheeled in a sonogram?

“What do you need that for?”

“To check on how your little bean is doing sweetheart.”

It looked like a vampire sucked all the blood out of you. You went pale. Is this what your gut was warning you about?

Instantly, you begin freaking out. Thrashing around, trying to get up and away from this hospital, away from this city, away from this life and more importantly, away from him.

Eren holds you down on the bed and tried his best to keep you calm. He knew your reaction wouldn’t be pleasant, but you couldn’t possibly despise him this much, right?

“What is she talking about? I- I can’t be pregnant! I’m too young. Please god, this is not happening. Why me?” You begin sobbing, as Eren holds you close to him, sitting on your bed and pulling your body onto his.

“Could you give us a moment please” eren cleared his throat and eyed the nurse as she left and closed the door behind her.

It was like a switch went off in him and he grabbed your jaw tightly, pulling your face close to his.

“Stop fucking crying. You’re embarrassing me. You’re the one who fucking caused me to do this. You kept trying to leave me without a reason. Even though I pleaded with you to stay, to give me another chance to fix my mistakes. But you didn’t. I know the reason why you broke up with me is to whore around. Like your mother who doesn’t even know who your dad is. Now unlike your whore mother, this baby has a father. And I have no plans on abandoning my child because I don’t want them to turn out like you. So sit up straight and let her take the ultrasound. You’re ruining what’s supposed to be a happy moment for first time parents.”

He roughly let go of your jaw and called the nurse back in while you sat upright again and wiped the tears away.

Eren lifted your gown to expose your stomach and pulled up the blanket so you weren’t exposed down there. The cool gel was spread on your stomach and before you knew it, a small bean was presented on the sonogram screen.

Your heart began to soften up after realizing that you were growing a baby in your stomach.

But the tears wouldn’t stop. You ended up turning away from the screen and closing your eyes, trying to figure out what you’re going to do.

After the nurse left to print out the pictures, Eren helped you get dressed so you could finally leave this depressing place.

The car ride was silent. You had the bouquet of flowers resting on your lap while you played with the ultrasound photos with your fingers

You noticed eren was headed back to his place so you cleared your throat and asked him to drop you off at your place.

“I’m not gonna leave you alone. Not when you’re pregnant with my child. We’re gonna be staying at my place so I can take care of you. We also have to search for a house to settle in before the baby’s arrival.”

“Eren, all of that isn’t necessary. I’m still in my first trimester.”

“Even more reason for you to stay with me. The first trimester is always the riskiest. And I’m not taking that risk.”

“I can’t just up and leave everything, Eren. My lease isn’t up until July and I have a job too.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay whatever I have to, and break the lease.”

Panic began to set in

Tears started forming in your eyes and the palms of your hands became clammy

The idea of being tied to Eren for the rest of your life made your heart pound in your ears and your stomach churn

You’d be signing your freedom away

You wouldn’t be able to go to school, or have a job

You’d be stuck at home as a house wife, like he’s always wanted

You couldn’t let that happen

no no no no no

It was a stupid, impulsive decision

But you were desperate to get out of his car and stay away from his place

So you blurted,

“What if it’s not yours?!”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back

I know I didn’t answer this request to the full extent, but tbh if I did, you’d have to wait an additional 10 months.

[writingsfrombeyondthegrave]

Opposites Attract

Astrid Deetz x Fem!Reader

Summary- You had been a psychic ever since you were a child, but recently you had been overwhelmed by how many spirits were contacting you, giving you no time to yourself anymore. Seeking out Lydia Deetz, you go to her home for advice.

Requested by @perfectartisanwerewolf

Warnings- Ghosts, probably some timeline issues, morbid facts, talking about the afterlife, more of my ghost facts (Tell me when you're getting sick of them)

When you met the Deetz family, it was several years after the whole "Ghost House" incident. They had always been kind to you and your family.

The ghosts in Winter River were more plentiful than most people knew. It happened to be a very quiet and uneventful town, but your life never had a dull moment here. You were constantly sought out after Lydia had moved. Now the deceased flocked to you for guidance.

Apparently, they described your psychic abilities as "A shining light in the never-ending darkness". Which would be flattering if they hadn't always been around you for every second of your day. Some spirits followed you to the grocery store, to school, and even sat at your desk while you were sleeping, waiting for you to awaken.

You wanted to help them; you really did. It was just that the only privacy you got now a days was when you excused yourself to use the facilities.

Recently there had been a death in the Deetz family, so Lydia had returned to town with her daughter to attend the funeral and help her stepmother, Deelia. It was like a saving grace to have someone else help with the spirits around the place.

Walking up the giant hill to their home with a stack of books in your hand was proving difficult, but you needed Lydia's help desperately. You waited patiently after knocking on their door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Lydia welcomed you into their home with a smile. After making your way to the couch and placing your books on the table, you took a quick look around the room. There were still many of Deelia's sculptures, most of them unsettling to say the very least.

Your attention shifted back to Lydia as she sat across from you. Talking about ghosts with anyone else might have been awkward, but not with her. She was almost like a second mother to you.

Even now as you sat in the house, you could sense spirits lingering just outside your line of sight.

"I agree, it can be overwhelming, you just need to learn how to set boundaries with them." She explained simply and you nodded.

"I thought I did, but I guess I could try and be sterner with them?"

Her smile grew and you both turned as you heard footsteps descending the staircase. Astrid was in the middle of putting on her sweater to leave the house when she stopped and stared at you, as if in a trance. You smiled and offered her a small wave, trying to be polite.

Your smile awakened something in Astrid. Like a light at the end of a tunnel. A breath of fresh air, or a missing puzzle piece to finally complete a part of herself that had been missing for years. The world faded as all she could focus on was you. She snapped out of it with a cough, finally making her way to stand in the living room with you both.

Lydia introduced you and in turn introduced her daughter, Astrid. It took a moment for her to regain her composure before she muttered an almost completely quiet "Hi."

On the inside, her heart pounded against her chest, but she fought to remain uninterested in anything that involved her mother. Especially now that it seemed like a complete stranger could easily occupy her mother's attention without even trying. It was frustrating.

It was an odd experience, how you made her heart pound. She wasn't sure if it was from jealousy or something more, so she opted to ignore it and continue her journey out the door.

A frown grazed your lips, confused by her behavior before you shifted back to continue your conversation from before. Lydia spoke up first. "Astrid can't see ghosts like we can. The living ignore the strange and unusual."

That didn't seem to brighten up your mood even in the slightest.

"You're saying Mrs. bright eyes can also supposedly see ghosts? Great, here I thought she seemed normal. Is there anyone normal in this town?" Astrid scrunched her nose and picked at her food as she sat at the kitchen table.

"Whatever makes us more money, maybe she could be on your show Lydia!" Deelia smiled as she continued eating, only half paying attention to their conversation.

"Maybe you would be more interested if you talked to her about it, Astrid. It could be good for you to have some friends in this town." Lydia suggested, trying to stray away from yet another argument with her daughter.

"Ghosts are everywhere, you may even see one without even realizing it. Have you ever seen someone walking on the side of the street, but when you look back they're gone?" You smiled; your books open in front of you as you spoke enthusiastically to Astrid.

You sat in her room, a stark contrast from your own. While you liked the paranormal and macabre, her room seemed more... gloomy.

Did you know how much light you radiated? Or the shimmer that appeared in your gorgeous eyes whenever you spoke about this mumbo jumbo? Astrid didn't care for spirits or the paranormal. She believed it was all fake, but the way you spoke to her and the way you looked, she swore she would follow you anywhere.

She simply nodded, trying to snap out of that trance you put her in. Sometimes she believed you must've been a witch instead of a psychic, because how had you possibly gained so much power over her cold heart?

"Are there any here now? You know, ghosts?" her eyebrow raised curiously, just thinking of an excuse for you to speak more.

"I know there is one here, but I haven't been able to place it. It's a male energy."

"Do you use candles or sprinkle some paprika on stuff for rituals?"

Her enthusiasm was great, if not a bit misplaced and incorrect. Your smile widened as you laughed, a freeing sound.

"I've been talking forever, how about you tell me something you're interested in? I know you don't care about this stuff"

Astrid froze, fearing that you caught her. She cleared her throat and blushed softly, looking away as she wracked her brain for anything interesting to say. "Did you know that Mount Everest has a certain area called 'Rainbow Valley' because of all the multicolored jackets and climbing gear that's still attached to the mummified corpses of those who failed to get to the top and froze to death?"

Your head tilted and silence loomed between you both before she spoke again.

"A cult leader named Jim Jones poisoned 918 people by forcing them to drink Kool-Aid mixed with cyanide, chloral hydrate, valium and Phenergan. It was considered one of the largest intentional losses of life since 9/11." She continued talking, trying her best to fill the silence.

Your giggles made her stop digging a deeper hole for herself. You looked amused and not terrified in the least. "Why Kool-Aid?"

"Probably because it was the cheapest" Astrid smiled wide at you, happy that you didn't see her as some sort of creep.

The next morning, Astrid was determined to gain more information about spirits, wanting another chance to spend time with you. She even went as far as to ask her mother for help, which she would deny until the end of her days.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. It was actually nice to have a common interest. Or so Lydia thought at least. Meanwhile she was interested in you, and not in fact her mother's psychic abilities.

By the time you showed up at her house, she opened the door to you and smiled softly, gesturing for you to come inside. She soon regretted that action as if you would think she was a dork for gesturing like a ringleader in some cheesy circus movie.

You didn't seem to notice her inner turmoil, simply enjoying the fact that she invited you back, saying she had something to share with you.

Sitting on her bed with your legs crossed, you leaned your head in your hand as you gave her your full attention. Everything you did seemed to light a spark in her chest.

"I learned some stuff about ghosts and wanted to run it by you. Maybe I could add it in with my history facts" Astrid spoke with a little more enthusiasm, as if excited to share with you.

She took a deep breath as she tried remembering all of the things her mother had previously told her. "Is it true that there are different types of ghosts? And that they're not all humans?"

You nod your head and sit up a little straighter. "Yes. There are many different classifications of ghosts, including non-human ghosts that never had a soul. Those may include poltergeists, which are simply manifestations of negative energy in a certain space. Thats why you can't communicate intelligently with a poltergeist, because they have no soul or sense of being. They're just energy."

That actually caught her attention, maybe the paranormal wasn't as fake as she thought it was. How could someone possibly come up with a lie that detailed in such a short amount of time? She sat beside you and resisted the urge to kiss you right there and then. Never in her life has she been attracted to someone simply because of their interests and passion when speaking about them.

"Will you go uh... ghost hunting with me at Dracula's castle this summer? I was planning on going there alone after... after my dad passed away. But I'd like you there."

You smiled brightly and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. "I would love to"

Bonus:

Lydia stood a careful distance away from Astrid's bedroom door. She wanted to give her daughter some privacy, but she was overjoyed to see the smile return to Astrid's face. The one that had been lost since her father.

She argued that it was to see what about you made her so happy. As she leaned in closer, she heard a gruff voice behind her, making her jump.

"Thats our daughter alright" He spoke, munching on a bucket of popcorn. He leaned against the wall smugly, watching Lydia with a smirk.

Her smile vanished as she stared him down. "Beetl-" She began to utter before he waved his hand dismissively.

"Alright, alright. Your Kid" He huffed out an annoyed sigh before vanishing.

A/N- I finally finished writing this one and I hope that it's to your liking! I tried my best. Usually, I base the reader off of myself to make writing it easier but I tried to switch it up a bit this time.

Thank you all for your patience with me writing this, and I'm sorry for the delay.

Please send in more requests! Next I will be working on a lost boys fic and the second part to the tom riddle series

Credits-

Book Divider- @firefly-graphics

Green swirl divider- @anitalenia

---

Taglist: @mirage018

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 2

Lemonade || leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: Your first few days in your new home.

Warnings: reliving of traumatic events, mentions of death, pregnancy

a/n: Will make more sense if you read Part 1 first.

Thank you to everyone for the warm welcome back. I really, really appreciate it 🫶

PART 2

You couldn’t really believe how different your room looked now.  Your Aunties had gone a bit overboard and it had somehow transformed from a very plain and adult looking room, to a soft and colourful squishy bedroom.  You now had a cozy single bed with a purple duvet cover and lots of new stuffies.  You had a bookshelf that was already half filled with books and a desk with drawers filled with all different coloured papers and various drawing supplies.  Your wardrobe was filled with all sorts of new clothes, including brand new school uniforms and a new backpack.  There’s a big fluffy rug on the floor and a small nightlight shaped like a bunny on your bedside table. 

Beside the bunny nightlight there was a picture frame with a photo of you, your Mummy and your Daddy in it.

It made you feel a bit sad, but you still don’t want to cry.  You hadn’t cried since they died.

You didn’t cry when you found out.  You didn’t cry at their funeral.  You didn’t cry when your Nana took you to see what was left of your home.  You just felt an overwhelming sense of nothing about it all.  You didn’t know how else to explain it.

You did however still feel anxious and trembly and on edge about your new living situation.  You of course knew that Aunty Lessi and Leah would never do anything on purpose to hurt you, but you didn’t want to do anything to upset them or make them angry.  You wanted to be good.  You needed to be good.    

So, as you lay tucked into your squishy new bed, you tried your best to just fall asleep.  You’d wanted to read a book like you usually did before bed, but your nightlight wasn’t bright enough.  So once Aunty Lessi had turned the big light off, you had been left to just toss and turn.  You’d tried counting sheep.  Well, you’d tried counting bunnies actually, but that didn’t help.  Then you tried listing off all the different breeds of bunnies that you could think of, and then you tried to list off all the books you had read and at some point you finally, finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning it’s your birthday and you’re sitting at the kitchen table with your Mummy and Daddy as they sing happy birthday to you.  There are some presents beside you and a big card with a number 8 and a bunny on it.  You make a wish and go to blow your candles out, but instead of blowing them out, you take a birthday candle off your cake and flick it onto the floor.  The whole house erupts in flames as you walk out the front door, not even stopping to look back as you hear your Mummy and Daddy’s scream.

Suddenly you wake up, gasping for air and covered in sweat.  Your sheets are all tangled around you, and you feel like you’re being strangled.  You leap out of the bed, desperate to escape the location of your nightmare.  You just wanted to escape to somewhere far, far away.  Anywhere would do.  Anywhere but the place where your head was currently.

So, you escape the best way you know how.  Looking around the room, you figure out what supplies you’ll need to gather: a sheet, a torch of some kind, Arthur (of course) and a book.  Once gathered, you sat on the big fluffy rug and pulled the sheet over your head before cracking the new book open and diving into whatever world awaits you.  The relief is instant. 

You’re not too sure how long it is before you hear a few footsteps followed by your bedroom door creaking open gently.

“Bunny, what are you doing up sweetie?”

You panic.  You’d been caught by your Aunty Leah.  Surely you were going to get in all sorts of trouble for being up this late when you should have been in bed asleep.

You quickly turn off the makeshift torch (you’d discovered some kind of bouncy ball that lit up when you hit it and was just bright enough) and hurried to push the sheet and book away, before diving back into your bed and getting under the covers. 

“S-sorry Aunty Leah.  I’m really sorry…”

Your voice was trembling.  In fact, your whole body was trembling.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Hey, hey… you have nothing to apologise for sweetheart.”  Your Aunty Leah walked over towards your bed.  “Is it okay if I sit with you for a bit?”

You nodded, unsure where this conversation was going.  She sat down on the side of bed, one hand on her big baby belly, the other reaching forward to gently stroke your cheek.

It felt really nice.  You very much wanted one of her hugs right about now.

“Sorry for waking y-you up, Aunty Leah.  I promise I didn’t mean to.  I’ll try to be more quiet in the future.”

“Oh Bun, you didn’t wake me up.  This one did” she poked at her belly and chuckled.  “They’re currently doing star jumps on my bladder and making me need the loo every 10 minutes.  I just thought I’d check on you while I was up.”

A small part of you relaxed knowing you hadn’t woken her up, but you were still waiting for her to punish you for being up past your bedtime.  Not that you really knew what your bedtime was now.  It used to be 8 o’clock, but you were allowed to read in bed with your reading lamp for a little while after that.  Surely it was way, way past 8 o’clock now though.

“Were you having trouble sleeping?” she asked.

“Kind of…”

“Did you have a scary dream?”

You gulped.  That wasn’t exactly how you would describe it, but you also didn’t have any better words to use, so instead you just nodded.

“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry.  You can always come find your Aunty Lessi or I if you have a bad dream or you’re having trouble sleeping.  We’re always happy to give you snuggles in our bed.”

You just nod, afraid to tell her that you couldn’t climb into her and Aunty Lessi’s bed.  Bad things happen when you sleep in beds that aren’t yours.  You would never tell your Aunties, but you had slept on the floor the two nights before your brand-new bed had arrived, too scared to sleep in the big, adult bed in case something bad happened again.

“I’m happy to see you reading the books we picked out though.  We weren’t too sure what you had and hadn’t read, so we just tried to get you your own little library going…”

All of a sudden, the most intense wave of panic hit you, followed by a terrifying realisation.  For the first time since your parents died, you started to cry.  And it wasn’t the gentle, weepy kind of cry.  It was the big, jagged breaths and snotty nose tears streaming down your face kind of cry.

“Oh my goodness… I’m- I’m going to get in so much trouble! They’ll never let me back there again.  I’ll have to find some way to make all the money to pay them back.  It’s- it’s going to take me years.  I- I- I’ll never-”

“Woah, woah… deep breaths, deep breaths.  Copy me, in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

You copied your Aunty Leah and your breathing slowly started to settle down, your panic subsiding a little, but your tears continued to fall.

“That’s it. Well done, Bunny.  Can you tell me what made you so upset just now?” she asked.

“All of my library books were in my bedroom and… and I must have had at least 15 or 16 of them.  And Nana said nothing from my room made it through the fire and Mummy always said if I didn’t treat the library books good or if I lost one that I would have to save up all my pocket money to replace it.  Because if the books get lost or broken then no-one else can borrow them.”

You’re getting worked up again, your voice beginning to rise. 

“But I don’t have any pocket money, coz it was all in my bunny bank, and that would have gone in the fire too and it’s going to take me forever to save up enough to replace 16 books and the librarians will be so mad at me.  They’ll probably never let me back in the library or any library ever again!”

It was the most you had spoken since you had moved in with your Aunties, and you could tell that your Aunty Leah was a bit shocked at your outburst.  Suddenly Aunty Lessi appeared at your door in her pyjamas.  You must have woken her up now too.

Hopeless. Hopeless. Hopeless.

“I’m sorry for being so loud, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

At some point, you’re not really sure when, you’d buried your face into the fur of Arthur’s belly, rubbing the softness across your skin in an effort to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The words just kept tumbling out of your mouth, losing all sense and meaning.  You just kept saying them over and over, feeling like both them and the soft fur of your beloved Arthur were the only things keeping you tethered to the earth right now.

But then you were being lifted out of your bed sheets and being pulled into a tight embrace.  You assumed it was your Aunty Lessi.  There was no baby belly and it smelled like Aunty Lessi.  She wore the same perfume as your Mummy did.  You clung to her with all your strength, even though you were still afraid that she was angry at you for waking her up.  She stroked your hair and ran her fingers gently up and down your back as she walked around the room with you in her arms, rocking you slightly.  You felt like a baby, but you didn’t care.  You knew you were a big girl who could and would look after herself, but just for this moment, this one moment, you just wanted to be little again.  You just wanted to be held and comforted and cuddled and loved.

You just wanted your Mummy and Daddy.

And just as quickly as the wave of panic and outburst of tears hit you, the balloon of emotions grew too big, and popped.  Once again, you felt nothing. 

Your tears dried, your breathing settled and your tight grip on your Aunty loosened until she placed you gently back down in your bed.  Your Aunty Leah brushed your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear and cupping your cheek.  She looked at you with what seemed to be a mixture of concern and confusion, as if she couldn’t quite figure out how you’d gone so quickly from a shaking, crying little baby back to your previous state of nothingness.  You couldn’t figure it out either, it’s just how it was.

“Bunny, I don’t want you worry about those library books for a single second.  We will talk to the librarians and if there are any fees that need to be paid, Aunty Lessi and I will make sure they are taken care of.  The library isn’t going to stop you from coming to visit because something really, really awful has happened to you.  We will make sure you get to go back and pick out plenty of new books to read, okay?  We will always make sure you have plenty of books to read.  We promise.”

--

The next day when your Aunty Lessi went off to training, Aunty Leah took you down to the library.

She had asked you if you wanted to talk to the librarian or if you wanted her to do it for you.  Whilst everything inside of you screamed to let her do the talking, you were a big girl, and it was your fault the books got destroyed, so you had to do this yourself.  So, you walked up to the counter and with trembling hands pressed the little silver bell on the bench and waited patiently for a librarian to come help you.

A kind looking lady with fuzzy black hair and big brown eyes approached the desk and gazed down toward you.  “And how can I help you today, little lady?”

With a deep breath and a tight squeeze of your beloved Arthur, you began to explain.

“My house burned down.  I had borrowed lots and lots of books because I love to read but they all got burned in the fire so I can’t return them.  So I-I-I know I need to pay loads of money to replace them, but I need to know how much so I can start saving…”

The lady looked from you, up towards your Aunty Leah stood just behind you, who had what you could only describe as a sad smile on her face as she nodded at the librarian.

“Well, it sounds to me like the only thing that needs replacing here is your library card.  I’m assuming you lost that in the fire too darling?”

You hadn’t even considered your library card.  Were you going to have to pay for that as well?

“Oh yeah, I did.  So umm… how much will it all cost all together then, with the library card added on?”

Useless. Useless. Useless.

“Oh no sweetie, what I’m saying is that you don’t have to pay for anything.  We’ll just make sure we get you set up with a replacement library card so that you can keep borrowing from the library and keep on reading!”

You were shocked.  You were certain that the fee was going to be huge.  Absolutely massive.  And even though you knew your Aunties had said they’d pay for it, you’d promised yourself you would save up and pay them back every last pound.

“Really?”

“Absolutely!  Here, you just need pick out which design you would like on your new library card, and I’ll just grab a few details off your Mum here and-”

“She’s my Aunty.  My Mummy died in the fire.  So did my Daddy.”

A tense silence filled the air as you went about looking over the laminated sheet of paper showing you the card design options.

“Can I get the one with the purple ladybirds, please?”

--

When your Aunty Lessi came home from training that afternoon, she had her kit bag on her shoulder and a couple of shopping bags in her hands.

“Hi my loves!”

You watched from your spot on the armchair as your Aunty Leah walked in from the kitchen and gave Aunty Lessi a kiss ‘hello’.  After their kiss, Aunty Lessi bent down to rub her hands over Aunty Leah’s tummy and pressed a few kisses there too.  They were exchanging soft words, but they were talking a bit too quietly and were standing a bit too far away for you to hear.

Your insides felt a weird jumbly feeling whenever you saw the pair of them kiss and cuddle, especially when Aunty Lessi would kiss or talk to Aunty Leah’s baby belly.  A part of you felt this really warm, light kind of feeling that made you want to sing and fly and twirl, but a bigger part of you felt this awful sinking feeling that made want to run and hide.  When they combined, they made you feel like you might be sick.

In an effort not to throw up all over your Aunties nice furniture, you leapt from the armchair and ran quietly towards the bathroom, making sure to close the door gently behind you.

Whilst you didn’t end up being sick, you found relief in the feeling of the cool bathroom tiles against your skin as you lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling.  You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there, running your fingers across the smooth flooring, before you heard a soft knock at the door. 

“Bunny? Are you okay in there?  You’ve been in there a little while?”

Lifting your head off the cool tiles, you rummaged together a response for your Aunty Lessi.

“Uhh, yeah.  Just a bit of a yucky tummy.  I’m okay,” you replied.

“Alright sweetie, let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you Aunty Lessi.”

Your head hit the tiles again with a soft thud.

Reluctantly you got to your feet, straightened your clothes and looked at yourself in the mirror.  You made sure to flush the toilet to make your lie seem a little more realistic, and you washed your hands so that they would smell like your Aunties nice vanilla soap.

When you emerged from the bathroom and re-entered the living room, your Aunty Lessi got off the couch where she had been sitting and shuffled on her knees over to you.

“How are you feeling, Bun?”

She looked you over as one of her hands ran over your forehead, checking for a temperature, whilst the other ran soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m fine.  My tummy was just a bit upset, but it’s all good now.  I’m fine.” 

“Do you want some water or some toast or-”

“I’m fine, Aunty Lessi.”

“Okay, well you let us know if you need anything or you feel worse, alright?” she insisted.

You nodded, gently stepping out of her grasp as you shuffled back toward the armchair you had been sitting in, aiming to reunite with Arthur and your book.

There was a brief silence as you got yourself settled, but then Aunty Lessi returned to the room with the shopping bags from earlier.

“I got you a couple of things, Bunny.”

You looked up from your book, confused to find your Aunty Lessi now sitting in front of the coffee table.  She was patting the spot beside her, indicating to you she wanted you to join her on the rug.  You shuffled back down off the armchair, this time bringing Arthur with you, and tentatively sat in the spot she’d gestured at.

“Well, I know you’re not that big on sports or football, but I thought maybe you might want to come along to our game next weekend?  It’s totally up to you and completely okay if you don’t want to come along! Nana has already said she’ll come around and look after you if you’re not interested.  But just in case you do want to come, or if you ever want to later down the track, I got you some gear so you’ll fit right in and match everyone.”

She started pulling a bunch of red and white clothing out of a bright red shopping bag, each one with the same pictures and words printed somewhere on them.  The final item she pulled out was a mostly red shirt with the word ‘BUNNY’ in big white block writing across the back and the number 23 under it.

“I wasn’t too sure what to get on your jersey, but I figured as Aunty Leah isn’t really playing this season, we’d start with my number, 23, and maybe we can swap to 6 next season or on an away jersey or something.  Or you can pick your favourite number, or another player if you prefer…”

Aunty Leah laughed loudly beside you at the last remark.

“The only rule is that you’re not allowed to pick McCabe’s number, because we will never hear the end of that, okay?” she told you.

You nodded, not quite understanding what she meant, but filing that information away for later.  It seemed important. 

As you surveyed the sea of red and white clothing, you felt a strong sense of obligation to attend the game.  You knew that football was very, very important to your Aunties and they spent a lot of their time playing the sport.  And whilst you only very vaguely understood the rules (kick the ball into the back of the big net thing), you thought maybe with your brand-new library card you might be able to borrow a few books on football and learn about it some more.  You loved to learn, and perhaps this could be an opportunity to learn about something completely new.

“Can Arthur come to the game too?”

You watched as both your Aunties eyes lit up with excitement as they both shouted “Of course!”

“Okay, we will come then.”

“Are you sure, Bun?  You don’t have to just because Aunty Lessi got you some gear,” your Aunty Leah was sitting on the very edge of the couch now, her hand reaching out towards yours.

“I’m sure.  And it’s good coz I want to learn more about football because it means a lot to you” you replied as you took hold of her hand before turning to face Aunty Lessi  “To both of you.”

“Well, we will be honoured to have you come along with us.  And I’ll try and score a goal just for you” your Aunty Lessi said.

You like the sound of that.  That gave you the light kind of feeling that made you wanted to sing and fly and twirl, but without the other horrible sinking feeling that made you want to run and hide.

“What’s- what’s in the other bag?” you asked.

“Oh, thank you for reminding me, I nearly forgot with all the excitement about the game,” she reached over the coffee table and pulled a brown cardboard box out of the bag.  “It’s nothing fancy, but your Aunty Leah realised we didn’t get you a proper lamp for reading, so I popped into the shops and picked you up one.  Now you can read before bed or if you wake up throughout the n-”

You cut her off before she finished her sentence, launching yourself at her in the tightest hug you could muster.  You could have cried at the thoughtfulness.  In fact, you think you may have been crying, just a tiny little bit. 

“Thank you, Aunty Lessi.” 

You quickly pulled back and stumbled over to the couch where Aunty Leah was sitting, wrapping your arms around her the best you could with her big baby belly in the way.

“Thank you, Aunty Leah,” you whispered as her hands ran through your hair.

“No more using a bouncy ball as a torch, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[piastriheart]

sweetheart. op81.

summary: brigitte camden has just moved to melbourne, australia, and is forced to begin again in an unfamiliar new academy far from home. but on her first day, she meets oscar piastri, a guiding force and her best friend. this is the story of brigitte camden’s relationship with oscar piastri, starting from year 6 of primary school (2013) to graduation (2019).

warnings: nsfw — mdni.

genre & tropes: fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers, slow burn.

word count: 5.1k.

song: ♪ “ i wanna be yours ” / arctic monkeys.

Year 6.

I stood outside the ivy-covered walls of the Academy, watching as my mother’s familiar gray Camry faded into the distance. I wanted so desperately for her to come back, and tell me that everything had been a dream, a mistake. Our sudden move from Sydney to Melbourne had uprooted the life I had built for myself. No more shared tickets for events at the Opera House, no more running around the Royal Botanic Gardens with my friends. These treasured moments would all fade into a distant memory, and I was forced to pretend like I was OK with it, when in reality, all I wanted to do was scream and throw a temper tantrum as if I were a little child.

My heart pounded in my ears, a staccato drumbeat that made my head spin with dizziness. I was in uncharted territory, with no one to cling onto. I knew nobody here, and even though my parents had comforted me, telling me that it would all solve itself out, that I was magnetic and charming so everyone would instantly become my friend, I was starting to suspect that the opposite was true.

Dozens of other students had passed by me, chattering about their teachers and events that had happened over the past weekend. They all ignored me. I was invisible. I could disappear right now, and no one would notice, save for the teachers who completed attendance.

I tugged at a loose strand of my hair, a nervous tic I had never been able to break, no matter how hard I tried to resist it. I checked my watch, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for the bell to ring, signifying the start of passing time, when everyone would rush to their classes. Maybe I could find someone heading the same way as me and befriend them? It was a small flicker of hope, but it was enough to illuminate the darkness that was plaguing me.

Someone walked by me, and I waited for them to disregard me, the same way that everyone else had. I turned my face away. But instead, I listened to their footsteps halt, and I heard them say, “Are you lost?”

I flushed red and stammered, “No, I was waiting for the bell, I’m not…” I angled my gaze up to meet the eyes of the person who was talking to me. It was a boy, around my age, with freckles and moles dotting his pale skin and floppy brown hair that refused to lie flat. “I’m sorry, I’m new here, so I wasn’t sure what the right protocol was. At my old school, we waited outside the gates before classes started, and then we were let in. But it looks like it’s different here.”

The boy nodded his head, appraising me. I was desperate to befriend him, even though I’d just met him moments before. “I understand. I just moved here at the start of the year, too.”

“So…” I twisted my lips, unsure of what to say.

He smiled at me, a display of amiableness. “I’m Oscar.”

“Brigitte,” I replied. At that moment, a great swell of relief and gratitude flooded me. I was so thankful for this random boy, someone I had only exchanged a handful of words with. I was sure that if we didn’t have classes together, I would die, solely because he was trying to help me when everyone else was so eager to watch me struggle. “What’s your first class?”

“Mathematics with Professor McCullough,” he informed me, and I grinned – the first real smile since I’d moved to Melbourne. “You? I’m assuming the same?”

I tilted my head up and down like a bobblehead. “Yes.”

“Great. Then let’s go together. We don’t want to be late.” Oscar motioned for me to follow him inside the school, and I trailed behind him as he wove through the halls. Everything looked the same, from the glossy ceiling to the floor tiles. Even some of the paintings and trophy cabinets were identical. It would take weeks for me to memorize everything, and once again, I felt a surge of appreciation that Oscar was my guide.

He finally stopped in front of a nondescript door. The only telltale sign that it was a classroom was the sheet of laminated paper on the wall beside it, stating, “Professor McCullough, Mathematics (Geometry) Year 6.”

Oscar opened the door for me, ushering me in first. “I sit over here.” He headed to his desk, but I waited, hesitant to accompany him in case he didn’t want me to. “There’s an empty seat beside me. Come on, Brigitte.”

I sat down beside him, placing my backpack on the floor beside the chair. “I’m so nervous,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

Oscar frowned, somehow catching what I had uttered. He had ears like a bat; they could hear everything. “You’ll be fine.”

I sighed, annoyed that he had repeated the same weary line the adults had. They thought they knew so much just because they were older, experienced more things than I had, but they didn’t realize that I was so out of my depth. I wasn’t them. I didn’t have their set of skills or talents. Nobody knew, except for maybe God, if I would be fine.

The bell rang harshly, and I jolted in my seat, taken by surprise. Oscar chuckled, but didn’t say anything. Professor McCullough entered moments later, his posture stooped over as if he were the Hunchback of Notre Dame. His white hair crowded on his head in tufts, watery eyes obscured by thick black lenses. When he spoke, it was at a dull, monotone hum. I was wide awake from adrenaline coursing through my veins, but his voice was a spell in itself, and I found myself having to ward off sleep as he droned on about geometric shapes.

Oscar jotted down some notes on the paper beside him, and I rushed to catch up, looking over my shoulder to see what he had written down so I wouldn’t miss anything. When I looked back at the board again a few moments later, everything had been erased, and Professor McCullough had started on a new problem.

I sucked in a breath, panic slowly making its way through my body. Back in Sydney, we were still working on algebra. I barely knew anything about geometry, and the professor was moving through everything so quickly. It was embarrassing, and I felt hot tears spring to my eyes as I watched the professor begin another question before I had even solved the first one.

After class ended, Oscar waited until I packed up my things before exiting the room. “Everything alright?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. I avoided meeting his eyes. “You look upset.”

I swallowed roughly, not trusting myself enough to respond without crying.

“If you don’t have the notes, or don’t understand something, you can ask me. I want to be an engineer, so I’m good at maths.” Oscar gave me a smile. “I know Professor McCullough moves fast. It was a lot, especially for your first day. Have you ever done anything with geometry before?”

I shook my head, forcing back the tears that threatened to flow. My first day, and I was already on the verge of breaking down. This must be a world record. “Nope,” I whispered, ashamed.

“I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” Oscar promised. “What’s your second class?”

I reached for the timetable that was in my pocket with shaky fingers, and read aloud, “Professor Reilly, World History.”

Oscar pumped his fist excitedly. “We have that together.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe it. Two classes with him — it was a miracle.

“For real,” he whooped, and I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound pealing off the walls and sounding bright, even to my melancholy self.

The rest of the year, and the transition to my new life in Melbourne, went much smoother with Oscar by my side. He introduced me to his friends, Isaac and Nathaniel, who integrated me rapidly into their group like I was always one of them. When I went to Oscar’s house for the first time, I met Hattie, his younger sister, and we hit it off immediately. Her quick retorts and witty comments had me laughing until I truly thought my sides would split.

Oscar wasn’t exactly a man of many words, but even in the silence between our conversations, I always knew he was there for me. We spent a lot of time together, even outside of school. He brought me to his favorite ice cream shop, and I ordered the best red velvet and caramel sundae I’d ever tasted in my life. We went to the zoo, and I joked that he looked just like one of the koalas that was clinging to a eucalyptus tree. Adding to the joke, he bought me a koala stuffed animal, and I nicknamed it “Osc”.

My parents met Oscar a month after we had met, and they told him how pleased they were that he had befriended me. In response, Oscar said, “It wasn’t out of obligation or duty. I just wanted to.”

Once school had let out for summer break in December, Oscar invited me to his second house in Adelaide, where we spent the weeks tanning on the sunny stretches of beach and building elaborate sandcastles, weeping together theatrically when the tide would wash over them.

Lying beside each other on the recliners we rented for the beach, I confessed, “I don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve made my life so much better by being a part of it.”

Oscar turned his head to me, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I agree. I thought something was missing before, but then I met you, and now I feel complete.”

Year 7.

I eagerly awaited the arrival of the next school year’s timetable, ripping the envelope open loudly over the dining table. Oscar stood next to me, a letter opener gripped in his hands. “Ready?” he inquired, a tremble present in his voice.

“Ready,” I confirmed, and we both unfolded the sheets, skimming over them at the same time. We exchanged them a second later, recognizing some of the same names and times. “We have first, third, and sixth together.”

Oscar hummed in approval. “That’s not so bad. It’s half the day.”

“Yeah.”

Oscar examined his sheet again. “I heard Professor Smith is a bore.”

“Shame. But at least we have it together,” I reminded him, a wide grin splitting my face. “OK, now that that’s over, want to rewatch Frozen with me?” Even though it was meant for little children, I loved all the songs. Oscar, trying to act macho and cool, pretended he didn’t, but I caught him humming the lyrics to Let it Go once before. I would never let him forget it.

Oscar sighed, continuing his fake act of disliking the film. “Sure,” he relented finally, throwing his hands up in the air in mock-surrender.

“Yay!” I cheered happily, and he chuckled.

Year 8.

Oscar was absent the first week back from summer break; he had caught some sort of flu that was contagious. I hated going to school without him, my classes felt unbearably boring and time seemed to pass extra slowly. Worst of all was the fact that a lot of my social life revolved around him. Oscar wasn’t an extrovert, but his calming energy allowed him to create his own tight-knit group. Those who weren’t in it still gravitated towards him. Without him, I had to find people on my own, something I’d always found daunting.

“Brigitte, Brigitte!” A group of girls chirped from a nearly full lunch table. Charlotte, a girl with bouncy brown hair and flawless makeup like a model, waved at me. “Come sit with us!”

I pushed back emotions of unease and distrust that prickled at me. Just because Oscar didn’t spend much time with them didn’t mean they weren’t good people. I didn’t interact with them much, but from what I was aware of, they were nice. It was time for me to leave the nest, and this was my first trial.

“Hi,” I said, setting down my lunch box and taking a spot next to Charlotte.

Georgiana, her right-hand woman, giggled as she looked me up and down. I had the sensation that I was being criticized in her mind, all of my flaws pointed out and made fun of, and the urge to escape overtook me. “Do you know why Oscar’s not here?”

“Um, he’s sick,” I offered lamely.

Charlotte made a noise under her breath. “I heard he has mono.”

I raised an eyebrow quizzically, unable to identify what that word was.

“Like the sickness? You get it from kissing?” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she waited for me to recognize the term.

Kissing. My face heated up, and I abruptly dropped my gaze to the turkey sandwich waiting to be eaten in front of me. “I haven’t… I don’t know anything about that.”

Charlotte and her clique sighed dramatically, like I should be sorry. “You’re meaning to tell me that neither one of you has…You know, kissed?”

I wanted to shrink into my clothes and disappear, I was so mortified. Why were these girls asking me about such a private topic? Also, wasn’t it obvious that Oscar and I were nothing more than friends? They had to be joking. There was no other option. “We’ve never…We’re not like that.”

“You have to be lying,” Georgiana chastised, her blue eyes wide. “There’s no way you two haven’t made out yet. Tell me, is he a good kisser? I bet he is. He looks like he knows how to kiss a girl right. Andy Bellingham doesn’t.” She scoffed, crossing her arms.

I yanked a lock of my hair, the tic coming back to me instinctively as the girls waited for me to respond. I was failing horribly at whatever test they were putting me through, and I had no clue what to do. “We’re thirteen. I don’t know why anyone would be rushing to do all of that.”

“Well,” Charlotte clucked. “If that’s true, then it’s a damn shame. Oscar is one fine specimen.”

When Oscar returned to school the next week, I could barely talk to him. It wasn’t intentional, the cold shoulder I was giving him, I simply couldn’t shake off the conversation I had with Charlotte, Georgiana, and the other girls. I’d never imagined Oscar in a romantic way; sure, I knew at one point both of us would have significant others, but I’d never thought of us being a couple. He was my best friend, the person I told every secret to and fell asleep talking to on the phone.

But what if he could be more than just a confidant?

Year 9.

Oscar and I were growing up, and it was obvious to everyone, including ourselves. Charlotte and Georgiana were just the start of the insanity that would commence. With the start of ninth year, the both of us had to fend off accusations that we were “engaged in romantic activities” at least once per week. It was exhausting.

It was a struggle denying the rumors when there were no feelings attached to Oscar, when we were solely platonic friends. But something had changed between the two of us; the air was charged, and I felt myself growing more and more attracted to him. I found myself admiring his physique in gym class, or memorizing all the moles on his face. I knew it was only a matter of time before my feelings grew too much to bear, and I was terrified at the thought of losing him.

I was at Oscar’s home, grabbing myself a fresh glass of water, when Hattie intercepted me. “I know you too well,” she began, “So don’t even think about lying.”

Despite the fact that I knew I’d done nothing wrong, my palms grew sweaty and I felt faint. I was about to be accused of a false crime, and I’d be thrown out of the house, disgraced forever —

“You have a crush on Oscar.”

I blinked twice, confused. “What?”

“Don’t deny it.”

I regained my composure, trying to formulate a reply. “Oscar and I are just friends. That’s it.”

Hattie rolled her eyes and scowled at me. “I see the way you look at each other. With heart eyes. It’s as if no one in the world exists but you two.”

“That’s not true,” I protested, but deep down, I knew it was. Oscar was so magnetic, it was obnoxious. I wished every day that I had his allure.

“You should tell him,” Hattie prattled on like she hadn’t heard what I said.

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“You’ll be shooting yourself in the foot, then, because he likes you too.”

I ignored her, writing it off as sisterly wisecracking. It was much easier for me to pretend that the relationship between Oscar and I was the same, and it hadn’t changed at all since we’d met each other at the front gates of the Academy, all those years ago.

Year 10.

For the summer, I was invited again to the house in Adelaide. I was looking forward to the hours spent in each others’ company. Since Hattie’s revelation, I had slowly drifted away from Oscar, unwilling to give him any extra reason to leave me. In my mind, I thought that if I left first, I couldn’t get hurt. Yet, Oscar refused to let me go. He still texted me nightly, crafting plans to hang out. An invisible knife twisted in my gut every time I turned them down.

Oscar was easily the most good looking boy in our grade. He was effortlessly cool, and kind, and didn’t show off like the other boys in our year. I had already heard a few girls who were crushing on him, fawning over how attractive he was. They didn’t know him like I did, and I wanted to yell at them. He’s not just a pretty face.

I could kid myself all I wanted, though, because Oscar didn’t belong to me. He wasn’t my property, I didn’t have some sort of stake on him. He was on the market. Any girl could have him if she was brave enough to make the move, even if I so desperately wanted to call him mine.

I knocked on Oscar’s bedroom door, rocking from side to side impatiently. “I’m going to the beach in five minutes. Are you almost ready?” I called.

No response.

“Oscar?” I repeated, louder. Panic threaded through my voice. Maybe he’d fallen, and couldn’t yell for help. Seconds passed, and he still didn’t answer. I cracked the door open, and I saw him, lying on the bed, spread-eagled.

He wasn’t wearing anything, save for a pair of black boxers. Instead of being repulsed, instead of turning away, I eagerly devoured every inch of visible skin, frozen in place. The flat planes of his stomach, the strong muscles of his legs.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes still closed.

I jolted out of my stupor, shutting the door, struck dumb. Oscar was built like a Greek god. Holy shit.

I forced myself to swallow and erase the image that was dancing behind my eyelids. I had to pretend like I hadn’t seen anything. That everything was normal.

Arousal curled in my gut, and I let out a loose breath. Getting laid wasn’t worth it if it destroyed a years-long friendship with someone I valued deeply. Simplifying Oscar down to his looks was something the girls in our year did that I despised, but after seeing him, in all his glory, it was difficult not to do the same.

He was beautiful.

And I was falling for him, hard.

That same year was our first dance. We were finally mature enough to handle “the responsibilities that come with such a prestigious event”, even though it would be held in the Academy’s gymnasium, not at the Ritz-Carlton. I was going to attend the event with my female friends, and meet up with Oscar later. We weren’t each other’s dates. We still hadn’t crossed that boundary, between friends and more, and it was slowly eating me up inside. Every little thing Oscar did was catalogued in my mind, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I talked about him so much to my mother that she grew suspicious, thinking I was in an illicit, secret relationship with him. The opposite was true; we were still painfully, just friends.

“Just friends” was what I had to repeat, over and over, like a mantra, to myself. Every time I looked at Oscar, and our gaze held for a moment longer than it was supposed to. Every time he remembered a small detail about myself – the street I used to live on in Sydney, or called me “Bridge”, or bought me my favorite soda in the cafeteria.

It would have been too easy to delude myself that he shared the same feelings that I had for him. Neither of us were willing to confess, which left me in a sticky situation when a girl in the year below us asked him out for the dance.

I was there. I watched it happen, how she left her lunch table and sashayed (for lack of better words, because what else do you call that undulating movement girls do when they walk?) over to him. She ignored me, giving him a wide smile that was ten megawatts too bright. She introduced herself, because Oscar didn’t recognize her. Later, my friend told me that she was his lab partner in Chemistry, and somehow, he hadn’t committed her to his memory. When she asked him out, she did it bashfully, but confidently enough that it seemed inevitable that he would say yes.

I busied myself by collecting my leftover lunch scraps, not looking at Oscar. It was his decision to make. I wouldn’t penalize him for that.

“I’m sorry, I’m already going with someone,” he finally said after a few moments.

The girl’s carefully tweezed eyebrows shot up in shock. She wasn’t expecting him to respond in that manner. I wasn’t either, and I almost dropped my water bottle as I tried to take a sip from it while acting nonchalant.

Accepting defeat, the girl gave him another smile, but it was fake. “That’s alright. If she cancels, let me know.” She turned tail, her shoes clicking across the floor, leaving Oscar and I alone.

I didn’t bring it up again, and I could tell Oscar was grateful for that small mercy. We both knew the “other date” was a ruse, meant to buy time. I felt it like stones pressing against my chest.

I vowed not to give in, even if it killed me.

Year 11.

“Brigitte.”

The sharp sound of Oscar’s voice made me jump. “Yes?”

“Have you been listening at all to what I’m saying?” Oscar asked exasperatedly, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

I flushed crimson, looking down at my newly painted nails. They were dark purple. Oscar had chosen the color, because I was too indecisive for my own good. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Everything OK?” he tilted his head in concern, scanning my features for any signs of distress. “You’ve been more distant. Did I do something?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Everything’s OK.”

“You’re lying. I know there has to be something. Hattie’s been bugging me all week long to say something.” The tips of Oscar’s ears turned red. “I don’t exactly know what she means, but maybe you do?”

I bit my lip, mulling over all possible choices. Hattie had been more persistent these past weeks, constantly pestering me to confess to Oscar. I could act stupid, and say I didn’t know what she meant. Or I could take a leap of faith. “It’s something about us, but she’s vague about it. She thinks she knows everything.”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair. “She’s such a nosy Nellie,” he bit out.

“Well, is there something between us?” I ventured cautiously.

His jaw flexed. “Do you want there to be something between us?”

“Stop answering my questions with other questions,” I huffed, and Oscar laughed. He pulled me close to him in a big bear hug.

In my ear, he murmured, “I do want more.”

“More of what?” My words came out as light as the breeze.

“More of you. I want all of you.”

And then he kissed me, in the middle of his living room while a news station droned in the background, rain drumming on the windows outside. Everything was blotted out until it was just us, our lips and our souls connected.

Year 12.

It had been almost a year since Oscar and I started dating. I was so relieved at finally confessing my feelings that I felt almost weightless, like nothing could ever take me down. Oscar was mine, and I was his. It was as simple as that.

Oscar kissed the top of my forehead before the start of class. I was about to take a big exam for my maths class, and I was extremely anxious. “You’ll be fine, Brigitte,” he promised. “I’ll be waiting for you after, and you can tell me all about it.”

“OK,” I said.

“I believe in you, baby.” He kissed me again tenderly, and I forced myself to break apart from him.

I gave him a smile that hid how nervous I was. “We’re going to get in trouble for PDA.”

“So be it,” he teased. “It’s worth it.”

I rolled my eyes. “See you later, smooth talker.”

An hour later, Oscar was waiting for me in the exact spot he had said. “How was it, gorgeous?” he asked as he walked beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to him.

“It was something.”

He chuckled. “Any other details you wish to impart, or is that it, Bridge? You were making it so suspenseful, and I feel let down.”

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I don’t want to think about it, that’s all.”

Oscar made a noise under his breath. “Yeah, I get it. When do you get your marks back?”

“Probably by the end of the week,” I mused, dreading the day that the paper would be returned to my desk. My mother was going to kill me if I did badly, and I was certain that I’d barely scraped a passing grade.

Oscar threaded his fingers through mine. “We can look together.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Are you free to hang out this weekend?” Oscar inquired. “I have a competition, and I want you to be there.” Oscar was a rising star in the karting world, and I had attended two or three of his races before. As much as the speed and thrill excited me, I was too scared of something bad occurring, so I kept my appearances limited for my health — and sanity.

I thought for a second, and said, “Yeah, I’d like to come.”

“Good. I was worried you’d say no.”

“How could I?” I gasped, mock-offended. “You’re my perfect racer boyfriend. How could I ever say no?”

Oscar laughed, and nudged me on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re aware.”

After.

I couldn’t believe that we had graduated secondary school and that we were on our way to the real world. I was applying to university in Europe so I could be closer to Oscar as he rose through the ranks of the motorsports world. Walking across that stage, seeing Oscar and my family clap for me, I felt so proud. I was so lost when I had originally moved to Melbourne, but Oscar had helped me through it. I had found my person, my soulmate.

Maybe the move hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

Once the celebrations had concluded, Oscar and I were alone in his bedroom. My parents were already home, and his parents were drinking wine in the kitchen. Hattie was upstairs, reading a book. We wouldn’t be interrupted. “Are you sure you want this?” he repeated again nervously. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries.”

“You’re not,” I assured him.

“Good.”

My blouse was unbuttoned in one flourish, and I bared myself to Oscar. I held my breath, waiting for him to decide what to do next. “You’re so fucking stunning,” he said, his voice nearly a growl.

“I…” I stifled my protests as he bit me softly on the neck, bunny teeth leaving indents in the soft flesh. “Oscar…”

He paused, meeting my eyes to ensure that he was OK to continue. “You’re so fucking stunning, my God.”

“Not God, just Brigitte,” I jested breathlessly, and he nipped at the hollow of my throat. “Please go faster. You’re killing me.”

Oscar made a purring sound. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He obeyed, unbuttoning his own shirt and loosening the belt on his pants. Moving on, he swished my skirt down and let it pool on the floor. Both of us were left in nothing but our underthings.

In one fluid motion, he lifted me up and placed me on the bed, spreading me carefully below him. His arm muscles flexed as he caged me in, his breath hot against my skin as he began to pepper kisses again on my body. “I need to grab a condom. Then we can have sex.”

I whimpered loudly as he pulled away, walking over to the bathroom. I heard the plastic crinkle of a condom wrapper opening, and soon Oscar was in my line of view again.

“Ready?” he waited for confirmation.

I inclined my head. “I’ve been ready.”

He positioned himself on top once more, his body perfectly molded against mine. Oscar kissed my cheek as he removed my panties, tossing them off the bed to the already messy floor. “I love you, Brigitte. So fucking much. Since year 6, you’ve been mine. Only mine.”

“Yes,” I moaned slightly as he entered me, his length stretching inside of me. “I love you too.”

Oscar groaned, his head falling forward as he moved languidly. “You feel so perfect. Like you’re made for me.” He kissed me forcefully on the lips. “I’m so fucking addicted to you.”

“I’m glad,” I teased. “But it goes both ways.”

He grinned, teeth biting at my collarbones. I felt like I could have come undone at any second as Oscar’s heat penetrated my body. I was in heaven, and this was my reward for my years of patience.

“You’re the love of my life. My sweetheart, my Brigitte.”

The End. ♡

©⠀piastriheart, 25’. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or reproduce my work in any form without my permission.