#it was cool she did a little look-back but nothing major
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a little midday rollerblade canicross to get the beans out
#dogblr#rory borealis#rollerblade canicross#canicross#its pretty neat that rollerblade canicross tires her out so much more than regular canicross#i think its because i cue more pace changes while rollerblading#(switching between trot and canter and full out gallop and back again)#whereas in regular canicross im struggling to run fast enough so she can kind of mentally check out#its cool though#it really makes it worth the drive to go to the river valley park where we rollerblade#today she passed her first dog from behind!#weve past lots of dogs head on but not usually from behind#it was cool she did a little look-back but nothing major#honestly shes such a superstar
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This is part of a longer thing I may post on ao3 at some point but here’s some silly little Jaytim texting AU. I use this format as a writing warmup.
EDIT: This has been posted on AO3.
[Unknown] »
Hey. This is Jason.
I have a favor to ask. You can say no.
« tim
uh
1. i’m aware of how favors work
2. what is it?
« tim
?
« tim
hey are you like. good
J »
Yeah fine
Sry. Rethinking this maybe
« tim
what, do you need a kidney or something?
i can’t give you a kidney.
i don’t have any organs to spare.
J »
What ?
« tim
what’s the favor?
J »
I wouldn’t ask if it wasnt important
I’d ask Roy but hes in star city
or Kori but shes off world
I tried dickhead but hes in haven. Cant get away tonight
« tim
yeah jason i get it lol
J »
So Im currently in the cargo hold of a private yacht
« tim
what >?
J »
We’re caught in the storm thats hitting the city its a whole thing.
« tim
are you in the cargo hold of your own volition or did someone put you there
J »
So I dont think I can get back t
No its on purpose
« tim
hang on. you’re in gotham bay right now? in a boat?
jason this storm is really bad.
it’s already sunk a houseboat and a fishing boat at the marina
J »
I dont think I can get back totown toni
Christ you type fast
Shut up for a sec. Clam down
Clam*
*Calm fuck me
Thought I was gnna be back tonight but bc of storm its not looking great.
Can you feed my sourdough starter
« tim
what
J »
4511 overhill apt 6D
Key under the neighbors mat. 6H
« tim
hey to clarify. “its not looking great” ← what does that mean
J »
Starter is on counter. in glass jar
Should just need one feeindg. Maybe 2. depending
« tim
on???
J »
On wwhen I get back?
« tim
so you do plan on coming back
J »
Yeah timothy I’m in a boat not the heart of Mount Doom
« tim
yeah? vaders not there? so that means everything’s fine?
J »
Did you
jst say Vader
As in Darth
« tim
???
J »
Oh my god
« tim
jason are you in peril or what.
J »
No im not in “peril” lol.
Did you see the thing I said about my sourddough starter
It needs to be fed
« tim
wtf is a sourdough starter
nvm i googled it
J »
Its a live bacteria colony you use to m
Oh ok
Yeah so it just needs 50g lukewarm water + 50g flour
Theres a scale next to the jar
Stir until it looks like hummus
Put lid back on
The end
« tim
the internet says if you put it in the fridge it doesn’t need daily feedings
J »
Sure. But that would mess up my bread schedule
« tim
your bread schedule
J »
Man are gyou gonna fuckin feed Breadie Mercury or should I find someone else
« tim
im already en route.
J »
Oh
Ok
Thank you.
Wtf dont text and motorbike
« tim
how about you dont text and Sinking Boat
J »
Hey its not like I’m gonna cause a boat crash
« tim
i was stopped at a red light 😐
anwyay i’m at your place.
1. why do you not have a security system. when you said key under the neighbor’s mat i thought you were joking.
2. how warm is lukewarm
J »
1. I’m the security system
« tim
just rolled my eyes so hard it actually physically hurt
J »
God youre annoying
2. ? Its lukewarm
« tim
ohhhhh thanks! that’s so helpful :) here i am trying not to murder your incredibly important bacteria colony that i just drove across town for but no thats great jason very descriptive thanks :)
J »
Like warm but not too wram, nothing you’d want to take a bath in
Can you fucking
I TYPE SLOW.
« tim
ok.
[Image Attached]
he is fed
J »
Thanks man.
Sincerely.
« tim
so hows the cargo hold going
still intact i assume?
J »
Mostly ya
« tim
pardon?
J »
Slight leakage. Nothing major
« tim
oh? are you a boatologist now?
i dont think you’re qualified to judge that?
J »
Moving right past “boatologist” out of the goodness of my heart.
Chill lol. If it was rly bad thered probably be some sort of alar
Hm.
« tim
did an alarm just start going off
J »
Dont worry about it
« tim
im not.
did it though
also which yacht? im in the marinas scheduling dtabase
blue miracle, serendipity, carp-e diem? which one
« tim
jason?
« tim
if this is a joke it’s not funny
oh cool you’re not on comms either. great.
hey if youre dead again and i just fed your stupid starter for nothing im gonna be soooo mad just fyi
« tim
ugh.
*
J »
Hey
Thanks again for the
I’m not gonna say “save” bc I was doinf just fine on my own.
But thanks for the backup.
Lmk when youre home
Nope sorry lol you dont have to do that.
Night.
« tim
home
J »
Also I just saw your messaages from
Ah. 👍
From earlier.
« tim
you mean from when you said “huh, this boat seems to be filling with water” and then disappeared? those messages?
J »
Those were not my exact words.
« tim
right. your exact words contained somehow even less information
J »
Shut up
I just wanted to
You know. Youre the only one who jokes about it
The only one in the family I mean
your family, I mean
The bats.
« tim
?
the only one who jokes about what
J »
Me being dead
« tim
oh.
ok. well
its not like. actually funny to me. i was just annoyed. sorry i guess
J »
No thats not
Tim. Shut up.
I dont mind. I like that one of you does.
Its better than people talking around it. Like its this big shameful thing I did.
One of many
If I mention it in front of dickhead he does the face
the :~{ face
« tim
wow its uncanny
uh. for the record.
i don’t think that’s the reason people talk around it
if im correct in thinking that by “people” you mean “one specific person whose name rhymes with Rat Can”
J »
Yeah well
I just
Christ never mind. Im sorry. You are not the person to be sayign this to.
Im gonna shut the fuck up I think.
Goodnight.
« tim
oh what, you can’t talk to me about being dead bc of that one time you tried to kill me?
and failed btw :/
J »
Tim
Not to be so unchill
But you know how me being dead isnt actaully funny to you
« tim
…got it. sorry
J »
No. don’t apologize to me
Ever
I’m serious
« tim
like for anything?
what if i killed breadie mercury
J »
You didnt. He is thriving
« tim
he is?
wait. really?
you can tell?
J »
[Image Attached]
Hes doubled in size since you fed him.
« tim
whoa
J »
Yup. Thanks again for thattoo.
*that too
Its stupid but hes kinda my son.
« tim
wouldn’t he technically be like, 10 billion sons
J »
He is my 10 billion sons.
« tim
lolol
wow. why am i so pleased hes thriving lol
J »
Right
« tim
jeez
i was so worried about the water temp
google said lukewarm is 98-105 so i did 98 to be safe
J »
You used a thermometer?
« tim
your instructions were vague!
i didnt want to kill your bacteria colony!
J »
Thanks Tim.
« tim
? you already said that lol
i gotta pass out btw
glad you didnt die: the sequel in a yacht
that would have been so cringe
night jason
J »
Night
*
J »
You up?
« tim
obviously
why
J »
Could use your eyes on something.
[Image Attached]
« tim
morse code but the dots and dashes are reversed and its spelling backwards in russian, ASTITP AYALEB AVD RTSIRP → PRISTR DVA BELAYA PTITSA → PIER TWO WHITE BIRD
J »
Bc it looks like morse but its not, its kind of scrambl
Ok jesus christ .
30 seconds? Seriously? Fuck me
Can I hire you? Jesus lol
« tim
that depends. do you pay more than batman?
J »
The fuck? Does he pay you guys now?
« tim
no.
J »
Then yes. I do pay more than batman.
« tim
how much more
J »
One coffee per codebreak?
« tim
:\
J »
Two coffees per codebreak
Two and a loaf of sourdough
« tim
sourdough from breadie mercury?
J »
Ya
« tim
done
J »
Damn. I feel like you should have higher standards
« tim
i mean i was already gonna do it for free
now i have successfully negotiated coffee & sustenance
im on a roll. nothing but Ws
J »
Ws?
« tim
its young people slang you wouldn’t get it ❤️
J »
I am barely 3 years older htan you.
It could be argued, considering certain events, that we’re basically the same age.
« tim
and yet you text like an old, old man
J »
I do not
Would you rather I texted like “idk brb lmao roflcopter”
« tim
ROFLCOPTER?
oh my god. ohhhhhh jason. oh my god
that is absolutely not what the kids are saying these days. oh my god
J »
Ok you know what. At least I know Mount Doom isnt a Star Wars thing
« tim
?
oh, is it star trek?
J »
I’m 99% sure youre antagonizing me on purpose
But have you seriously not read or watched Lord of the Rings
« tim
no i have not.
J »
Hm.
« tim
what
J »
Nothing.
« tim
……….what
*
« tim
did you NARC on me
to BRUCE
about LORD OF THE RINGS?????
J »
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
« tim
WHY DO I NOW HAVE 3 SEPARATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON “HOUSE MEETINGS” BLOCKED OFF IN MY CALENDAR, JASON?
WHY ARE THEY EACH 4 HOURS LONG?
WHY ARE THEY LABELED “CULTURAL EDUCATION (MANDATORY)”?
J »
I can’t pretend to know what goes on in B’s mind.
That said, I have reason to believe he and Alfred take lotr pretty seriously.
« tim
its a TWELVE HOUR MOVIE
about GOBLINS
J »
I’m not gonna respond to that bc I know youre just lashing out.
« tim
if youve sentenced me to 12 hours of a movie i hate i’m gonna hack everything you own.
im gonna mass text the entire cape wearers community the footage of that time condiment king kicked your ass so bad he felt guilty and offered to personally help you out of the mustard pool
J »
What the fuck
How do you fuckig know about ?????? that????????
Not that ithahpened
What hefuckk ??
« tim
ooooooooo you better hope i love these goblins!
J »
Why are you?? evil??
« tim
you should have killed me when you had the chance!!
sorry.
J »
Its ok. That one was pretty funny tbh.
Oh hm shouldnt have laughed just then. Bad timing on my part
Brb
« tim
uh
« tim
ok…….. getting reports of a “disturbance” at pier two……..
« tim
sorry were you texting me *mid-standoff* with the russian mafia
« tim
ugh.
*
« tim
you know tracking your location would be so much easier if i didn’t have to hack into your comm sys every time
luckily your encryption is garbage but still. its 2 minutes of my life i wont get back.
J »
Not sure I recall giving you permission to track my location?
« tim
oh i’m sorry. next time i will simply leave you to go down with a texas oil magnate’s incredibly tacky yacht, or get swiss cheesified by mobsters
J »
Hey I wrapped up the russians myself
« tim
yeah?
J »
…
Yeah….
« tim
so you thought the 12-minute universal signal jam was the act of a benevolent god?
J »
:-|
« tim
im just saying it would be significantly more efficient if you agreed to a tracker
just one little tracker. you wouldn’t even notice it’s there.
think of all the time and energy you’d save me
J »
I feel the need to point out that you don’t have to repeatedly hack my comms system.
« tim
i mean it’s that or monitor sightings on the gocitizen app
i have an algo that texts relevant pings to me, which is super helpful for when i want an inbox full of random people talking about how hot you are. less helpful for literally every other circumstance
J »
Uh
What
« tim
how hot *red hood is. to clarify
in their opinion
the people’s opinion
J »
?
« tim
the people of gotham city
J »
The people of Gotham city do not think Red Hood is hot lol
« tim
wait
i cant tell if you’re being serious
J »
Uh? Yeah Im being serious? Lol tf
Why would they think hes hot
They dont think Batman is hot
« tim
o…kay…
huh.
how to… hmm
J »
Like nightwing sure
And the girls. Bc of objectification of women
« tim
oh wow
J »
Red Robin. If i had to guess
But when people see Hood its definitely not… that kind of response lol
« tim
what kind of response, exactly
J »
You know like saying “Hey Hood youre hot”
« tim
oh, wow.
okay. ummm
hmm. one sec.
J »
?
« tim
check your email
J »
Ok…?
J »
Oh my fucking god.
« tim
yeah
J »
Oh my god?
« tim
yeah
J »
This document is fucking 45 pages long?
« tim
its everything from the past 30 days yeah
J »
The past
Whaht the fuck
Ok some of these people definitely got hit by Poison Ivy.
This is . Tim wtf. I havent even heard of some of this stuff.
« tim
oof are you on page 14
J »
Im on page 3???
« tim
oh my god
J »
What the fuck
Please please tell me its not like this for Batman too
Tim
« tim
its not like this for batman :)
J »
Ok. Jesus. I would genuinely have to move cities.
« tim
its worse :)
J »
Oh what the fuck
Oh my fucking god page 14.
You get this shit TEXTED to you?????
Ohm ygod. You read this?????
« tim
i mean
no
i glance at it
for security purposes.
i dont like, read it read it
anyway did you seriously not know? haha
J »
No??? Again its not like people tell me
« tim
yeah but
like
theres a certain level of objectivity involved, here
yknow
sorry im trying to find a non awkward way to be like “have you looked in a mirror lately”
« tim
sorry
that was in fact awkward!
nvm
just let me know if you’d be ok with the tracker. its fine if not
i was mostly joking about the hacking
J (From Work) »
No you weren’t.
« tim
no i wasnt
i dont mind though. its like a brain teaser
anyway im going dark for patrol, later
*
J (From Work) »
[Screenshot Attached]
[Screenshot Attached]
[Screenshot Attached]
[Screenshot Attached]
[Screenshot Attached]
Question. why is the average Gotham citizen a raging horndog
« tim
oh my god
you know i can tell you searched “red robin hot” right
J (From Work) »
Figured it was only fair
[Screenshot Attached]
This persons got some mad zoom lens skills
I’d think it was you, if it wasnt, yknow, you
« tim
wow. that is certainly a photo of my ass
…a stellar photo of my ass. wow.
do you have a direct link? i gotta send this to steph
J (From Work) »
goctz.app/user/3824973/post/29348230df3
Haha
I kinda thought you and blondie broke up
back on again?
« tim
no lol we are very much just friends
she has a thing going with someone who shall remain nameless but suffice to say it’s Going
anyway we just send each other gocitizen vigilante ass shots
its a whole genre
they’re like trading cards
J (From Work) »
Guess everyone’s got a hobby?
« tim
the only rule is no nightwing
J (From Work) »
Do I want to know why
« tim
he accounts for a frankly overwhelming percentage of vigilante ass shots
so its too easy
you’d THINK we’d have a no-batman rule, because ew, but due to the cape and his sixth sense for cameras pointed at him, a qualifying shot is actually extremely rare.
← only guy who ever managed to take quality photos of batman
anyway, we put it to a vote. i lost.
J (From Work) »
A vote between you and Steph?
You lost a 50/50 vote?
« tim
i dont wanna talk about it.
J (From Work) »
Right.
So what I’m getting from this is you have Red Hood ass shots in your phone.
« tim
no
J (From Work) »
No?
« tim
well
J (From Work) »
Yeah?
« tim
we don’t like, save them
that would be weird
we just notify each other. professionally, as colleagues
and keep an ongoing points tally
thats all
so i do not currently have photos of your ass in my phone. thank you
J (From Work) »
How many points is my ass worth
« tim
i hate everything about this conversation
J (From Work) »
Its 100% your own fault, answer the question
« tim
if you must know.
points are awarded based on a series of objective scoring criteria.
J (From Work) »
Uh huh. Like what
« tim
technical excellence
composition. lighting and color balance.
dynamism
J (From Work) »
Dynamism…
« tim
creativity
umm
emotional impact
and
subject matter
J (From Work) »
I see.
« tim
ok i know it sounds bad
J (From Work) »
It sounds fucking hysterical Im near tears
« tim
but if you think abou
oh
okay, well, great
J (From Work) »
I’ll let you know if I stumble on any more.
Or is that cheating
« tim
its totally cheating
please do
J (From Work) »
You got it red. 👍
« tim
:)
#jaytim#can’t emphasize enough that this is a silly thing i wrote for Me and My Friends but sharing here as well lol#my writing
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Hello hello! I am still absolutely obsessed with the "Fire" fic you wrote. You are such a talented writer omg, the storytelling, the humour, everything!
So I thought, I have an idea for a funny fic and I'm just gonna send it in LOL I remember Lando saying in an interview that he's really scared when he's the passenger. So what if his GF is speeding all the time and Lando is just internally freaking out and sweating while trying to keep his cool next to her?
Just an idea, if you don't wanna write it that's fine too (:
omg omg omg thank you so much! i'm blushing and i'm scared - hopefully you'll like this one! i added a detail that might be little over the top - but who knows? not me anymore.
I'll drive
"You have a car?!" Lando uttered, forgetting any table manners, the food he had been chewing nearly falling out of his mouth.
Y/N was dead silent, the look on her face strongly resembling a child who lied about cleaning their room and just blushed every toy under their bed.
Her boyfriend gave her a cheeky questioning look, and when it finally set in - the fact she had been hiding the existence of her car from him - he was truly stunned and somewhat amused.
"So, wait. You know how to drive?! Why am I always taking you places?" he asked rhetorically, never actually being bothered by that, but still.
"I don't know how to drive-" she tried before getting interrupted by her father.
"Of course she does, I taught her myself," the jolly man said and patted her on her back with a proud smile. Y/N's face got washed with crocked smile, as if she swallowed something truly detestable.
"No, I do not know how to drive-"
"Nonsense, she's alway been so hard on herself," he father continued. Y/N just sighed.
The young couple came to visit her hometown for the first time. It was lot of reminescing of old times and her school days - a context that Lando very much appreaciated. He had met her as a grown up woman, but that weekend, he witnessed many amusing moments and heard lots of stories that only childhood small towns hold. What did he love the most about this experience? The fact there was nothing for her to do to stop it, no matter how much she frowned. Influx of surprising moments, but this discovery topping all of them.
She saw Lando's perplexed face and tried to save the situation. "I never lied to you, technically you never asked...I just figured you like driving so much, why bother, especially if I am so bad at it..."
Lando was not having it. "Oh, you're not getting easily out of this one," he replied, biting his lower lip, actively having to remind himself of the fact her family was right there. There was something innately attractive about her being so raw and pushed into a corner. Just pure cuteness. "I'm sure you're not half as bad as majority of the people out there," he said, new plans forming in his head. "I think you and I should take her for a spin," he said, referring to the car, and hid his smile behind a glass. Her eyes were piercing his with an energy so intense, it was electrifying.
"No, Lando, I am not driving while you're in the same car," she stated firmly, not breaking the eye contact.
"Come one, sweetheart, it'll be fun," he said, honey dripping out of his mouth.
"It will be anything but that," she said, but Lando ignored that, turning into her father for more information.
"So what kind of a car it?"
The rest of the conversation continued in description of a car Y/N herself could only describe as red, her father telling a story about how he got it for his daughter and how she actually barely ever drove it, which apparently broke his heart.
//
Let's not forget, this was Lando - of course he had ulterior motives. While it was great, spending few wholesome days in the company of his girlfriends family, his frustration grew, because for some reason, she refused to have any intimate activities in her family's house. Why, he had no idea. But of course, he respected that.
She never mentioned anything about not having some nice outdoor sex in a car. He wanted to see her drive and also ride. His perfect afternoon.
Lando is not the best of passengers, often uneasy about the common mistakes casual drivers made. Taking over the wheel is a natural thing for him to do. But, this was an exception he was excited to make - how bad could it be, right? He learned the hard way not to ask that question again.
//
"You sure you don't want to switch places?" she asked, once again, doing everything she could to get out of this.
"Nope babe, passenger seat is the vibe for me today," he smirked, making himself overly comfortable sitting next to her.
She raised her eyebrows. "Here goes nothing, I guess," she murmured and put the keys into ignition.
Lando found it amusing, seeing her so hyper-focused, as if she was launching a rocket ship. To be fair, it was a manual car - so it was close.
Three deep breaths - I fucking hate this, she thought, turned the key and released the clutch. When the car immediately jumped, Lando regretted sitting in his usual obscure way, his head hitting the door with quite a loud bump.
"Told ya," she said and started the car again. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't possibly sell her mistake as an intention.
"You released the clutch too soon," he said while assessing the bump forming on his head.
"Do not give me advice when I drive, makes me angry," she announced and this time actually managed to start the car in a semi-ok way.
Lando watched his bubbly, happy-go-lucky, girlfriend turn into a monster and there was nothing for him to do to stop it.
Everything was somewhat fine when they were still on the quiet roads surrounding her neighborhood. She stopped on the way to the main road, watching two cars that were comically far away and letting them pass. They didn't have to say anything, both knew what the other one was thinking. Y/N knew there was plenty of time for her to join the road before those cars, but the lack of trust in her own abilities was making her wait stubbornly. Lando watched the scenery, amused and starting to understand that in this relationship, his place as the driver was more than secure. She didn't want to be in this position, in fact she was increasingly more mad, that Lando and her father teamed up on her. But since she was where fate got her, she was absolutely not accepting Lando smirking at her.
"I know what you think, we have plenty of time, so I will not be doing some stupid moves to get us both killed," she said and gripped the steering wheel even more.
To prove his point, Lando leaned over her and squirted his eyes and watched the slowly approaching cars. He gave her a sarcastic nod. She rolled her eyes.
"I'm joking, I'm joking," he said, putting his hands in defense.
"You better be, otherwise I'll just yeet us into the ditch."
"Feisty..."
And that was when the line got crossed.
"Fine!" she said, having no control over her emotions, and pressed the gas with new found energy. She turned, almost into a drift, and joined the main road, nearly having the two cars crash into her.
Lando gripped the handle, not expecting her to speed so much. His eyes went wide with realizations - she was the kind of driver operating on emotions. Had this been a racing track and an F1 car, he'd be having more fun, knowing the cars were epitome of safety. He was not so sure about this vehicle.
She had the "Tsunoda" energy and absolute lack of skill to go about it. Weaving, wrong gear almost constantly and not bothered by the sound her car was making.
"You're driving quite close to the lane, baby," he commented, getting more and more worried about their safety.
"Shut up, don't be all smart about it," she said, lips locked in a line. She was focused - not that it helped.
Another hard turn where she missed the right moment to go into it. Lando took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay calm.
After few hundred metres, he couldn't take it again.
"I think you're way over the speeding limit," he mentioned.
"That's not what this says," he nodded to her speedometer. Lando leaned over and had to laugh.
"Yeah, that's definitely not correct. Honey, I'm sorry, but the lane - you are too close to it," he said in the calmest tone he could gather.
"My brain does not work like that, I see it more in an abstract way..."
His eyes nearly popped out. "You see the road in an abstract way? Oh dear god."
She sighed, not understanding what was the big deal was. "No like, it's a concept. It's not real, if there is nobody on the road, you can be anywhere."
"I'm pretty sure that's not the case, sweetheart," he said and thought for himself that it could be the case if she knew how to drive, but not like that. "Change the gear, you're burning your clutch."
She slapped the steering wheel. "I. Do not. Accept. Advice. At the moment. Thank you!" she said slowly before going on a rampage. "We both know you're exceptionally good at this, it was your idea, I tried to stop you, so now face the situation and do not tell me what to do because I might panic even more!"
"Ok, ok, calm down," he said, putting his hands up in defense and turning his head away to avoid watching her inventing a new way how to turn the steering wheel.
This sent her over the edge, truly giving up on any rules. She was mad, scared, uncomfortable and kind of hungry to be honest.
Lando stayed silent, worried for his life, regretting his decision and making a mental note to listen to her if she says she can't do something - if they survive this.
A huge bump and a loud noise. She barely managed to keep the car on the road.
"What is that?" she screamed, not knowing what to do.
"Front left tire puncture, retire the car! I mean, shit, stop, over there," he gestured, to the sideline of the road.
//
"Ok, so what now?" she said once it seemed like a decent amount of time for him to stop observing the wheel.
"It's just the tire, I'm sure you've got a spare at the back, right?" he asked and like the gentleman he was, got up and looked in the back for a replacement. When he got it out, he proudly put it in front of her, considering his part of the job done. She stared at him, not moving. "There you go," he said, encouraging her. "They taught you how to do this at driving school."
"Um, yeah. I missed that lesson. Can you do it?"
"How could you miss that lesson?" he asked in desperation. Both of them stood there, waiting for the other to take the lead. It was very unusual for Y/N to see him this passive around a car. "Come on, you must have had a question about this on your test," he pleaded.
And then it clicked. "Lando?" she asked, having a very strange feeling about his behavior. "Do you know how to change a tire?"
He stayed silent, pretending to ignore her question. Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you don't know how to change a tire?!" she asked once again, unable to believe that could even be the case. "Isn't that like half of your job?"
"Well no, actually, my job is to drive. There is a whole team dedicated for changing my tires," he said matter-o-factly.
"You're a racing driver. Spend more time in a car than in a bed. And you don't know how to change a tire," she stated and started to laugh. "That's so rich."
He let out a heavy sigh. "I've never actually done it myself. Plus these are normal tires, different system."
"Oh my god," she said, unable to process.
The way how much this whole thing has backfired had Lando stuck. He was suppose to be engaging in inappropriate activities with his girlfriend at this moment. In his understanding of that, it did not include getting his phone out and searching for an online tutorial for bloody tire change. But, there he was. Y/N was suddenly having so much fun, coming off a high that was the adrenaline her body produced during driving. She was free and driving was impossible now. Bliss. In her opinion, this was all Lando's fault - she told him she couldn't drive. Payback time - hopefully Oscar would pick up.
She was dialing her phone, while he was trying to understand how to go about this.
Yes, he picked up! "Hi, this is Y/N," she said in a very serious tone. "Who are you calling?" Lando mouthed, his biggest worry that she dialed up her father and he is now going to have a reputation until the end of time. "Help," she mouthed back silently.
"Hi Y/N," was Oscar's response, the driver being somewhat confused as to why she was calling him. "What's up?"
"Glad you ask. Me and my boyfriend got into a serious situation."
"You and Lando?"
Lando frowned. "Are you calling assistance? We don't need them..."
She ignored him."Yes, I was forced to drive-"
"He let you drive?"
"Forced-"
"What kind of assistance is it?" Lando asked, doubting the whole phone call.
Y/N continued without pausing. "And we managed to get a flat tire, which I don't know how to fix and to surprise of the whole universe, he can't fix as well."
There was only laughter on the other end of the call.
"Y/N, who are you calling?"
Y/N pretended not the hear Lando. "Do you know how to change a tire?"
Oscar was more than amused, knowing he just gained a wild card to use on Lando anytime he would want. "Yes, of course I do. Put me on Facetime with him."
Y/N smirked at her boyfriend, who was still confused and with sparkles in her eyes handed him her phone.
"Oscar says hi!"
Lando blinked, several times. "What? No!...Shit. Hey Oscar," he waved at his teammate awkwardly.
"I have been summoned," Oscar announced, finding this all very amusing.
"Yes," Lando replied, defeated.
Oscar did not wait and took the situation in charge. "First step to do is make yourself seen, guys. You got a triangle?"
"Where's the bloody bucket hat when you need it the most..." Y/N mumbled, having Lando roll his eyes in reaction.
"I'll go and find it and you guys figure this out, ok?" she said handing over the phone to Lando and giving him a little peck on the cheek.
"I hate you," he said with a smile.
"I hate you more," she replied and skipped over to the trunk.
//
After series of creative curse words, one pair of ruined jeans and a celebratory high five, the pair stood once again in front of her car, staring at each other.
"I guess I'll drive us back," Lando decided loudly and waited for her approval.
"Agree. Let's not disturb the gods anymore. You're such a bad passenger princess anyway."
The past hour was filled with lot of conflicting emotions, but the only one that stayed was the love the two shared just by looking at each other.
"I'm sorry I forced you into this," Lando apologized softly. "It was not fair. I see that now."
Her lips turned into a weak smile. "Thank you. And sorry for calling Oscar. I'm sure he won't let you forget this."
He saw right through her. "No, you're not sorry about that - I can see the devil in your eyes."
She bit her tongue. "Yup."
It was hard for Lando not to kiss her in that moment. It was impossible for her to resist.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#ln4 imagine#formula 1#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#fluff#lando norris fluff#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 fanfic#ln4 x reader#ln4 x y/n#lando norris x y/n#formula 1 one shot#f1 one shot#lando norris imagine#ln4 fic#f1 requests
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From Ashes, Fire | Claimant Pt 3
summary: dragons take what they want, you and your brother are no different. but what will be left to burn in the name of happiness?
pairing: dark!aemond x sister!reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, angst, angst but happy ending, very cersei/jaime coded moment that's all i'll say, major character death, noncanonical death, very brief descriptions of injury, blood, i promise it's nothing graphic, reader turns to the dark side lol, piv sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), minor breeding kink, possessive aemond, possessive reader, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 8.3k oops
a/n: this is it, the grand finale! i had so much fun with this series and i hope y'all enjoy the last bit!
gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
🔪read part 1 and part 2 here!
❤️my masterlist
🦋find me on ao3!
🌟add yourself to my taglist!
"Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."
“Jaehaera, please,” Helaena’s voice is gentle and melodic even as she scolds her daughter, pointing at one of the straw-stuffed dolls in her tiny hands, “You must share with your brother; how about you let him play with the knight, hm?”
One of Maelor’s little fists wraps tightly around your pointer finger as you chuckle at the displeased frown on the toddler’s face when she shoves the doll in Jaehaerys’s direction, though her lips quickly lift into a smile at her mother’s praise.
“Good, that’s very sweet of you,” your sister smiles, watching her eldest two children play, sitting cross-legged beside them on the plush blanket she’d had spread out on the grass.
A cool breeze blows through the grassy field while you idly look around at the many red tents and campfires, observing the groups of people gathered around – knights sat at one of the many wooden tables, a few servants peel vegetables brought from the Keep, and various nobles, lady’s maids, and other court patrons shuffle about.
Taking a deep breath, you turn your face toward the sun, cooler now as day turns to evening, and savor the first moment of peace you’ve had in nearly a week. The days since your marriage to Jace have been… eventful, to say the least, with each new duty feeling like another stab to your already fragile heart. Respite hadn’t even found you in the night, each one spent fending off your new husband’s advances with excuses of your menstrual flux having come early, headaches, and various other ailments. He was getting anxious, you could tell – each night he pushed back a little more, arguing the importance of consummating the marriage, reminding you of the vows you had both uttered in the Sept.
But how can a vow mean much if the Gods know it was only ever a lie?
You had felt your mother’s eyes on you at every turn, watching you and your brother like a hawk. Though as the days progressed her fiery stare cooled to one of guilt – a penance for subjecting you to the same fate that had befallen her. You suspected that was why she and Rhaenyra had organized this little trip; a celebratory hunt they’d called it, to commemorate the rift between your two families finally being healed.
“Dear, dear wife,” your oldest brother slurs, goblet clutched in one hand as he staggers toward you and Helaena, groaning when he flops down on the bench next to you. “Oh, you look… ravishing,” your lips quirk up into a smirk as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, giggling and making faces at Maelor.
“What did I tell you,” your sister says through a huff of laughter, violet eyes finding yours, “They ignore you until they’re drunk.”
If only that were the case, you think as you force yourself to laugh in time with her.
“That is quite rude,” Aegon chastises, brows furrowed in offense while he takes a messy swig of wine, a few red drops run down his chin. “Do you see how she treats me?” He pouts, leaning closer to you with a wry grin, “The deed is done though, yes? Bastard knew where to put it?”
“Aegon!” Helaena hisses, swatting at his knee.
The two fall into a playful round of bickering, thankfully leaving you out of it. With a sigh, you let your gaze wander again, tumbling thoughts muffling your siblings voices.
“It’s not as hard as it looks, here,” Daemon’s voice catches your attention and you watch as he points a knife at the belly of a deer he and Lucerys had hunted earlier in the day, showing the boy where to cut, “Get your knife in there – good, like that, and now just cut downwards, one clean movement…” You glance away as blood spills from the beast’s abdomen, staining the grass below it.
Looking over the treeline, you try to ignore the sick feeling building in the pit of your stomach, though you know it won’t be settled until Aemond’s back at camp. Biting at your lip, you let out an irritated huff when you can’t make out any movement in the distance, no sign of your brother or Ser Criston, even your husband.
You’d only spoken to Aemond once since your marriage – a hushed conversation hidden away in an alcove when the two of you had a spare moment alone after supper. He’d held you while you’d cried against the crook of his neck, shushing you and running a soothing hand up and down your back. You remember the way his jaw felt, teeth clenched as he rested it atop your head, letting you tuck yourself into him while he vibrated with barely contained rage.
“I can’t do this, I can’t,” you lamented, peering up at him with a mournful sob as your fingers clung to the dark jacket he wore, “They’re planning on going back to Dragonstone! Dragonstone, Aem!”
“Shh, little one,” his hands had cupped your cheeks, wiped away your tears with calloused thumbs, “I’m not letting them take you.”
His words had held such conviction, you’d wanted nothing more than to believe him, yet you’d shaken your head anyway. “I don’t think there’s any stopping them, this time,” your breath had hitched with each word, “You heard Rhaenyra, they’re leaving as soon as we’re back from the hunt and she would never agree to leave Jacaerys here, never.”
You had known you were spiraling, head spinning as you’d looked up at him, and yet the words tumbled out anyway. “I hate him, I wish he’d just… just disappear!” It was a childish little jab and yet, your heart had leapt into your throat the moment you’d said it. You were expecting to feel the clawing ache of guilt gnaw at your stomach, however, a weightlessness followed. You’d never felt lighter than in that moment – tucked away in the shadows, a secret you’d harbored since childhood finally set free.
Aemond had stayed quiet, but you saw the way his violet eye sparkled, the gears turning in his head.
Your words had echoed in his head, calling out to him like a siren’s song – the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
Finally convinced that the three men are truly not just going to materialize at the edge of camp, your gaze shifts to where your mother and Rhaenyra sit, huddled together beside one of the many firepits. Bouncing little Maelor on your lap, you’re vaguely aware of Aegon and Helaena idly chatting beside you, something to do with how your brother believes some such thing about the Small Council is a waste of time – a frequent complaint of his since taking the throne.
You’re hardly listening though, head cocked to the side while you watch the two women laughing and animatedly conversing; they remind you of the young girls at court – youthful and carefree, too wrapped up in one another to notice much around them.
That’s why she let them go together, that shadowy voice in the back of your head hisses, Too distracted to know better. You clench your jaw, only halfway aware of the stinging pain at your cuticle as you dig a nail into it.
“What say you to accompanying me on a hunt, nephew?” Aemond had asked earlier in the afternoon, voice low as he slunk over to where you, Jace, and your mothers had been sitting at one of the wooden tables, picking through a light lunch the cooks at the Keep had prepared.
“Aemond,” Alicent had sighed wearily, leaning heavily on her elbows while Rhaenyra regarded your brother with a cool indifference – evidently unaware of your family’s tensions.
“What? I merely wish to bond with my dearest sister’s new husband.”
“Uncle,” Jace had finally spoken up, pointedly grasping one of your hands that had sat on the table, “As much as I would love to accompany you, don’t you think it a bit unwise for only the two of us to go? If I remember correctly from my youth, your father used to take a whole host of men into the woods with him…”
“Do you not think yourself man enough to take on a measly buck, nephew?”
“Aemond!”
“Don’t fret, mother. ‘Twas only a joke, a tasteless one, I admit,” your hackles had raised at that, at how quickly he had stood down, so wholly unlike your brother, “Besides, I’ve taken the liberty of asking Ser Criston to accompany us as well.”
It was then, at the mention of the knight, that Rhaenyra had leaned closer to Alicent, the two of them laughing softly and sharing knowing glances while your half-sister whispered into her ear.
“Surely the three of us are more than capable of subduing a deer or two, don’t you think?”
Jace had balked at that, sighing heavily as his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.
“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” you had coached your lips into a tight smile when you interjected, “Doesn’t that sound like a lovely idea, mother?”
“Hm?” She had blinked, finally parting from Rhaenyra, the ghost of a smile still on her lips.
“For Ser Criston to accompany Jace and Aemond, to go hunting with them.”
“Well, I –”
“Surely that would be safest, yes?” You pushed, glancing at Jace before locking eyes with Aemond, “A knight with them, a Kingsguard no less.”
“I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Rhaenyra had smiled, squeezing one of your mother’s hands, “They should take the time to bond, no? Savor it while we’re together these last few days.”
“Yes… yes, a fine idea,” she had immediately agreed, always swaying to your half-sister.
“Wonderful,” your brother murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he clasped his arms behind his back, “I’ll have Ser Criston ready the horses.” With that, he had stalked away, giving you one final glance.
“You truly think this a good idea?” Your husband had questioned, turning to you while your mothers got lost in yet another hushed conversation.
“Of course!” You had nodded, clasping one of his hands in both of yours, “Aemond is… odd with his affections. This is just his way of attempting to rectify things, I’m sure of it.”
“I suppose…,” he had sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
“It’ll be fine,” you had urged, going so far as to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek, one of the scant few times you had initiated any affections.
Those words had echoed in your head while you watched the three men sheath their swords and load various bows and arrows onto their horses, the midday sun suddenly feeling much too warm against your skin.
It’ll be fine, you had reminded yourself for the millionth time when they set off, horses galloping along a narrow path that led into the Kingswood, He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.
“Oh, shit,” Aegon whispers beside you, nearly dropping his goblet.
You quickly follow his eyeline, looking to where he stares at one of the small paths that lead into the camp – the sight wrenching a hitched gasp from your throat.
A hush seems to fall over the entirety of the camp, only for the quickest of seconds, before chaos erupts. Aemond stands before one of the horses, a grey one you recognize as Jace’s, steadying it while Criston pulls your husband from the saddle, smearing the side of the animal with thick streaks of red.
Daemon quickly runs over to assist while you hastily hand Maelor back to Helaena, hardly looking in her direction as you do.
“Jace? Jacaerys?!” Rhaenyra calls, picking up her skirts as she sprints over, violet eyes wide with terror, “What is it? What’s happened?”
Every noise sounds muffled when you make your way over to the huddle of commotion, Alicent following closely behind. A strange detached sensation fills you while you watch Criston and Daemon lay Jace down on a nearby bench, blood immediately soaking into the silk fabric of the pillows.
It feels as if everything is happening both too quickly and too slowly all at once – a few of the other knights rush forward, hastily pulling his tunic out of the way before pressing stark white medical linens to the gaping cut on his side. They bark orders over his body, yelling for the servants to bring water and more linens.
You feel your mother and Helaena grabbing at your arms and it’s only then you realize you’re shaking, swaying in place like a leaf on a branch; you know they’re talking to you but their words are dulled by the rushing of blood in your ears.
Somewhere in your periphery, you register the sound of Daemon’s voice, thick with desperation as he shouts question after question at Criston, “What happened? When? How? How long ago? How could you, you were supposed to protect him?!” They blend together, echoing through the haze in a roaring hum.
Distantly, you register the feel of another warm body pressing into the small pack you find yourself a part of. Helaena shushes someone next to you and your gaze tears itself away from the pools of crimson gathering on the grass just long enough to realize that it’s Luke. Your heart breaks at that, a sharp pang in your chest at the fact that the poor boy is distressed enough to seek comfort from your family, of all places.
“No! No, no, no!” Rhaenyra’s wails slice through the fog clouding your mind in such an exacting manner that your knees buckle, “Jace, Jace, look at me, please? Sweetling, please look at me!” She sobs, leaning over her son, one hand cradling his cheek.
Unseeing brown eyes stare, unblinking, up at the hazy orange sky while yours focus solely on a single, paralyzing flash of violet.
He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.
The Sept is eerily quiet, normal for this time of night but unsettling all the same; the occasional fizzling noises of the dozens of flickering candles is the only way you’re able to discern that time hasn’t simply halted. Pale moonlight shines in through the windows, bathing the floor in a star-shaped pool of light and making the whites of the painted eyes resting atop Jace’s face glow like beacons.
You had picked out the stones and painted the eyes on them yourself, taking them from a spot in the gardens you knew he had favored when you were children and spent hours sourcing the pigments to make just the right shade of brown – one that reminded you of the rich chocolates that had been imported from Essos for your betrothal feast.
“A wife’s duty,” your mother had said.
Rhaenyra had glared at you the whole time; silently, you wondered if she somehow knew it wasn’t duty that drove you – only atonement.
Atonement, your mind echoes as you sit upon the cool stone steps beneath the Seven-Pointed Star, leaning your head against the bannister as you force yourself to look at his body, still atop black silks.
Must one feel guilt to atone? Must I atone for not feeling it? When will it end?
Those questions had plagued you in the days since Jace died, bled out like a hunter’s boon in the field by the Kingswood. They’d settled over you like a fever, an ever-present haunting ache, made only worse by the soft, sinful voice in the back of your head that whispered the truth – that you didn’t care, that you don’t even now.
You hadn’t cared, even as blood seeped from the gash at his side, even as you forced yourself to kneel by his still warm body and press gentle kisses to his forehead – the performance of a good wife.
You hadn’t cared in the carriage ride back to the Keep, letting your mother and your sister hold you while you cried – I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I should be sad.
And you hadn’t cared when Aemond had come to you in the dead of night, had slipped into your chambers – your chambers – through one of the many hidden passageways in the old castle.
“How?” You had asked, tracing patterns onto the pale skin of his bare chest while the two of you laid tangled in your silk sheets.
“A boar,” he answered plainly, speaking through a sigh while running his fingers over the thigh you had draped across his hips, “Just as I’ve told you the last four times you’ve asked.”
“Aemond,” you sighed in that same tired tone your mother so often used; your eyes had narrowed when you saw the corner of his lips just barely twitch up into a smile; were it any other time, he would’ve made a cheeky comment about the similarity.
“I’ve told you,” his grip tightened ever so slightly on your thigh and his other hand had grasped at your chin, guiding your eyes to his, “We had been tracking a buck, had gotten close and dismounted our horses, and had, I assume, stumbled into the beast’s territory and it charged at us.”
“Brother,” you had whispered, shaking your head and cupping his cheek, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie?”
He had stayed silent for a long while at that, jaw clenched while he stared at some point off in the distance, lips drawn into a tight line. Eventually, you had laid your head down, resting your cheek on his shoulder while you tried to accept that you wouldn’t be getting the truth that night, if ever.
It was only then that he had spoken.
“Please, let me protect you.”
“Protect me?” You had looked up, brows furrowed as you studied his face, “From what?”
“From the law –”
“Our brother is king, if he says it was not murder, if he says it was an accident, which he already has done, then no one will question his –”
“Fine, then,” he had snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “From the damn Gods! I…” He trailed off, sighing heavily while he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“... the Gods?”
He’d finally looked at you again and your heart had pinched meanly in your chest when you saw tears gathering in his violet eye, “They will judge me harshly for what I’ve done, whenever the time comes, but… I will not subject you to the same fate.”
You had scoffed at that, had rolled your eyes when he looked away shamefully and had climbed atop him then, straddled his hips and turned his face toward yours, “I don’t give a shit about the Gods.”
“What?”
“I don’t,” you repeated, leaning down until your forehead touched his, “If they were good Gods, if they cared, they would not have subjected me to that sham of a marriage in the first place. They would’ve guided our mother rightly, but they didn’t.”
“Sister, I –”
“And I hate that our nephew paid for that, Aemond, I truly do, but I am the one who told you to do it.”
He had shaken his head while a mournful peal of laughter clawed its way out of his throat, “You didn’t tell me to do any–”
“Perhaps not directly,” you interjected, smiling sadly while you cupped both of his cheeks in your hands, running a thumb over the scar beneath his eye, “But I did. I could’ve told you not to, could’ve said I didn’t mean it, could’ve cautioned our mother against letting him go with you, but… I didn’t.”
“No… no, I suppose you didn’t,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried in vain to blink away tears.
“I didn’t,” you echoed, your words hushed and cooed, like a mother soothing an infant, “I know what you’re capable of, I knew it then, and I didn’t.”
He nodded, his breath stuttered in his throat as a single tear rolled down his cheek.
“Because I knew you’d protect me… and you did.”
“I did,” he mumbled, nodding up at you as his face twisted and a small sob bubbled from his lips, “I did, I did it. I did it, I did. For you, for us.”
“I know,” you murmured sweetly, stroking a hand over his long hair while you pressed sweet kisses against his forehead. You held him as he cried, huddled together in the dark of your chambers
And you hadn’t cared when you realized you were smiling.
“The hour is quite late, little one,” the suddenness of his voice makes you jump, though you settle quickly.
“So it is,” you smile and look over your shoulder, tilting your head up while he walks down the steps to join you, “The hour of ghosts, yes? Fitting.”
He huffs as he sits beside you before regarding you with a slight smirk, “I suppose it is,” he murmurs, only sparing the red and black draped body on the altar a passing glance.
“Why are you here?”
“I was looking for you… Hel said you would probably be here.”
“Mm,” you nod, idly running a finger over the pattern on your skirts, finding a morbid sort of beauty in the way the rich black silks glimmered in the candlelight.
“Why are you here?” Aemond asks, eye following the line of your profile.
“Praying.”
Without looking, you can practically feel him rolling his eye beside you, huffing a little breathy laugh again, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie, sweet sister?”
Hearing your own words from the night before parroted back to you pulls a laugh from you as well, though you wince as your giggle echoes throughout the Sept. “It’s funny,” you sigh, glancing about the cavernous space before finally looking at him, “This is the only place where no one wants to be.”
He hums next to you and nods his head, lets the two of you sit in silence for a moment before you continue.
“I don’t have to pretend when I’m here.”
“Pretend?”
Biting at your bottom lip, you nod and lean into his touch when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “That I’m sad… that I feel anything, really,” you sigh, breathing the words more so than saying them, “All Rhaenyra does is cry, Daemon is ready to strangle anything that moves, Lucerys is despondent to the point of being mute. Even our own mother cries for him and I cannot muster a single tear that isn’t a farce.”
Your eyes trail back over to Jace and you regard him with a mournful stare, staying silent for a long moment as you try to will yourself to feel sad, to feel angry, to feel guilty… yet nothing comes.
“Everyone grieves differently,” Aemond mumbles beside you, though his words only serve to make you more bitter, “Perhaps, in time –”
“In time nothing will happen,” you snap, grimacing at the harshness in your voice, “I’m not sad and I am… I’m tired of pretending I am.” You murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder.
Aemond is quiet for a long while, though you can feel the energy radiating off of him in waves – you’ve always been able to tell when he has a lot on his mind. You’re content to simply let him think, taking his silence as a cue that it’s your turn to let him sort through things.
“You… are happy, though? Yes?” He finally asks after several long minutes, going strangely rigid next to you as if he’s afraid of your answer, “I know you say you aren’t sad but…”
“Aemond,” you sigh, sitting up and staring at him as a slow, creeping smile spreads across your face, “I have never been happier.”
“Truly?”
“Yes!” You quickly shift yourself on the stairs, turning yourself more toward him and placing a gentle hand on top of his thigh, “Big brother, you saved me.”
He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him get a word in edgewise before the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the last few days finally spill over and you practically throw yourself into his lap, straddling his hips.
“Brother, I've been tethered to him since I was eight and you have freed me from that,” you say softly, voice hardly carrying in the air. Slowly, carefully you pull his eyepatch off, the only one ever allowed to do so; there is a sadness in your smile when you gently trail your fingers over the crease of his scar, “We both lost something that night and have suffered for it ever since.”
Without another word, you press your lips to his and savor the groan your kiss pulls from him. His hands grab at your hips in the same instance yours card through his hair while your lips move together in a practiced rhythm.
Impatient, one of your hands travels down his chest and stomach, though you hardly have time to pull at the hem of his dark tunic before he grabs your wrist, stopping you.
“Aemond,” you huff, fighting against his grip.
“Surely you don’t mean to defile this place in such a way,” he murmurs, violet eye sparkling as if he were challenging you, even as he glances over your shoulder, “What would your dear husband think?
You grin at the lecherous smirk on his lips, heart pounding in your chest as a familiar ache settles at the apex of your thighs. You give one final glance over your shoulder before turning back to him with a dismissive shrug. “Husband in name only,” you remind him, yanking your hand out of his grasp and trailing your fingers over the growing bulge beneath his trousers, “I have only ever been devoted to you.”
A rough growl leaves his lips and he clenches his jaw, narrowing his eye. “We will burn for this, sweet sister,” he huffs, pale cheeks flushing while he stares up at you, one hand still settled on your hip as the other comes up to cup your jaw.
“The Seven can have their say,” your cunt clenches at the way he looks at you – surprise, lust, even reverence giving such an intensity to his gaze that it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs, “The Old Valyrian Gods can as well, I don’t care. Aemond, I don’t.”
Your hand finally, blessedly, pulls free the ties at the top of his trousers and you quickly find his length. The sharp grunt that’s wrenched from his throat when your hand wraps around it echoes through the Sept, each iteration of it making the fire in your belly burn brighter and brighter.
He doesn’t attempt to stop you when you plunge a hand beneath the fabric of your black skirts and hastily tug your smallclothes out of the way, he merely studies you in awe, as if watching a newly hatched dragon spread its wings for the first time. His gaze makes you shiver, though you dare not look away.
“What do you care about, little one?” He murmurs suddenly, unable to help himself from glancing between your bodies, licking his lips while he watches you use your fingers to prepare yourself as you rub your own slick through your folds.
“You,” you whisper, shuddering at the way you both gasp at the same time when you rut against his already throbbing length, “You are the only god I’ve ever worshiped, big brother.”
A loud groan bursts free of his lips at that and the hunger in his eye nearly catches you alight, and yet he still grabs at your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking onto his length – so out of his element, wholly unused to being taken in such a way. “Come, let us go to my chambers,” he tries, breathing your name against your neck as he leans up, “Where I can take you properly, hm? No risk of anyone interrupting…”
Undeterred, you simply shake your head and lean forward, pressing your lips against his in an eager, near feral kiss. It’s mostly teeth and tongues and thankfully, it’s enough to shock him into loosening his grip, just enough for you to take what you want. You bite at his bottom lip when you sink down onto his length, hard enough to taste iron, making him growl into the kiss, the sound of it deepening to a low groan at the feel of your tight cunt around him.
The feel of his cock stretching you open somehow only gets better each time and leaves you gasping in his lap, your hands grabbing at his shoulders for leverage while you begin grinding yourself against him, impatient and ravenous. “Ohh, f-fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut while your walls flutter around him.
Aemond’s chest heaves under your hands while he stares up at you, lips parted ever so slightly as breathy groans spill, unbidden, from them. Opening your eyes, your gaze is immediately drawn to a little smear of red beside his mouth and you lean forward – licking his pale skin clean without a second thought.
“Little minx,” he smirks, meanly grabbing at your hips again and bucking up into you. He huffs a soft laugh at the sharp moan that bursts from you, sounding louder still in the large open space of the Sept; there’s a dangerous, challenging gleam in his eye that makes you shiver. “Go on, then,” he rasps, trailing a hand up from your hip to cup the underside of your breast, his touch warm even through the bodice of your gown, “Worship your god.”
A soft, stuttered moan wrenches itself from your lips at that and you quickly obey, staking your claim over him. As you find your rhythm, rutting wildly in his lap, the only sounds echoing off the walls are that of panted breaths and the slick, wet noises from where the two of you connect. “You’re mine,” you breathe, leaning forward to bite at his throat, determined to mark him in as many ways as possible, “Y-You’ve always been mine, Aemond.”
He nods his head, hands scrambling at the ties on your bodice, determined to free your breasts. “I’m yours?” He taunts, sighing victoriously when he finally manages to practically rip the top of your gown open; his tongue darts out, wetting his lips at the sight of them and he allows himself a few seconds to appreciate the way they bounce so enticingly with each of your determined movements, “Show me, then… show me who I belong to, sweet sister.”
Something snaps inside you then, breaking and clicking perfectly into place all in the same breath; the feeble thing that was holding the dam inside of you shut disappears. Whatever greedy darkness Aemond has always harbored within himself has been slowly seeping into you since the night of your betrothal feast and now, it seems, it has finally settled into your bones as well. It’s as if he can sense it in the same instance you do and gives a subtle nod of his head, commanding you to give in.
With renewed vigor, you grind against him harshly, pressing your hips as far down onto him as you can manage until you can feel his cock pressing against the entrance to your womb. The thought of him there, of the possibility of his seed catching, of the possibility that it may already have, spurs you on further.
“I would kill for you, too,” you say lowly through clenched teeth, licking up the side of his neck until you can whisper into his ear, “I’ll do anything to have you, my love, I don’t care what it is.”
A low groan reverberates from within his chest, both of you all but snarling as you move together; his hips rut up against yours, unable to hold still any longer, and he bites a path down your neck until he reaches the softness of your breasts. You gasp as he teases at one nipple, flicking at it with the tip of his tongue while his fingers toy with the other one, only to cut yourself off with a loud moan when his lips seal around it.
“I would burn this city to the fucking ground if that’s what… what it took, brother,” the words tumble from your lips when you card your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and holding him against your chest. Your head tilts down, heart pounding in your chest while you watch him savor the feel of your warm flesh in his mouth; his violet eye snaps up and his gaze bores into yours, making your cunt clutch greedily at his length.
Feeling the knot building quickly in your belly, aided by the way your sensitive pearl brushes against the small patch of hair at the base of Aemond’s cock, you only grow more needy – craving confirmation that he is yours, that no one will be able to take him from you again. Your breath catches in your throat when you recall a conversation the two of you had had a few nights ago, the night of Jace’s death.
The two of you had been cuddled in your bed together, panting in sweat-damp sheets, when he had cupped your cheek and turned your face to his.
“What is it?” You asked, familiar with the faraway look in his eye – God’s knew where he could’ve been in that moment.
“Marry me.”
His whispered demand had knocked the air from your lungs then, the whole world may as well have come to a grinding halt on its axis. “Aemond, we must wait, you know this. I hate it as much as you do but –”
“We need to wait for a Westerosi wedding, yes,” he murmured, leaning over you and shushing you with a soft kiss, “Too soon and it looks suspicious.”
“But –”
“But… a wedding in the tradition of our house need not wait, little one,” the determination in his eye had shocked you then, had warmed you from the inside out, “Our sister and her cunt of a husband hardly waited until Laena and Laenor were cold before they married… we could do the same.”
You had stayed quiet after that, too much death and change and uncertainty clouding your mind to give him an answer, and yet you knew he was right. Rhaenyra and Daemon had married in secret, so soon after Laenor’s sudden passing that it had always seemed a bit odd to you. Yet, no one ever questioned it; your own father had accepted it without so much as a blink, writing the marriage into law with no fuss. Aegon would do the same for you, you felt certain.
Nothing was stopping you, nothing that mattered, anyway.
That thought fuels you now as you rock on Aemond’s lap, both of you barreling toward your eventual ends. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him away from your breast despite his growl of displeasure. Just as he had with you, you cup his cheeks, focusing his attention on you.
“Marry me.”
The rhythm of his hips hitches at your words and he fucks up into you harshly, moving you more desperately against him as another loud, guttural moan echoes through the chamber.
“Tonight,” you continue, brows furrowing as you stare at him, greedily drinking him in, “I cannot wait any longer, brother, tonight, please…”
A vicious, conquering smirk grows on his lips, white teeth gleaming in the low candlelight like a snarling dog. “You wish to be mine, is that it?” He teases, reaching between your two writhing bodies to rub hungrily at your pearl, savoring the pretty breathy moans he earns.
You’re shaking your head before he can even finish speaking as an unrelenting, all consuming possessive ache starts spreading out from your heart, flowing through your blood vessels like fire. “I don’t wish it,” you pant, forehead resting against his while the wildfire burning in your belly threatens to burn you whole, “I told you, I would kill for you and… and, fuck, I swear it. A-Aemond, no one will have you ever again, never, none except me…”
Your words descend into a barely intelligible murmur as you finally let go, pushed suddenly over the edge at the thought of being so tightly bound together that no one would be able to tear the two of you apart again. Your brother growls again at the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the movements spurring him toward his own end.
He grabs at you when he follows you into oblivion, holding you against him as if you’d disappear otherwise. The feel of his spend spilling into you, filling you, nearly sends you over the edge again and you cling to him just as harshly, holding him while he trembles beneath you.
“You are a vicious little thing,” he says softly after some minutes, holding you against his chest while the two of you catch your breaths.
“I learned from the best.”
He only sighs at that but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I would do it again for you,” he mumbles, eye fixed on Jace, “I would do it a thousand times over.”
He speaks in a reverent whisper, promises of death and destruction as sweet as a prayer on his lips.
Aemond’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you through the winding corridors below the Red Keep, the flickering light from the torches lining the walls making the various statues and reliefs dance in your periphery.
“I’ve always hated that he’s down here, stowed away,” he murmurs, yet his voice still carries some among the stone hallways.
“Mm,” you hum in agreement, glancing into each shadowy alcove you come across while you try to ignore the wild beating in your chest – the way your heart clenches at the thought of finally being so close to what you’ve always wanted. “Yes, he should be out in the sun, somewhere he can be celebrated.”
The old cellars under the Keep have always seemed so haunting to you, so cold and empty. The thought of the walls down here being lined with the ashen remains of generations upon generations of your ancestors had never failed to send a shiver down your spine. Yet, they unfold before you now like paradise; even the still, musty air begins to smell as sweet as honeyed wine.
For the briefest of seconds, guilt joins you – walks alongside you, invisible like the Stranger. A stuttered heartbeat, that’s all and then it’s gone, at the thought that Jace would join them tomorrow, still warm from Vermax’s fire.
How ironic, you think, glancing up at your brother and admiring the way the light gleams on his sapphire eye, That a place that holds so much death would be where our lives finally begin.
“I don’t want to wait any longer,” you’d said again, retying your bodice while Aemond tucked himself back into his trousers and searched for his eyepatch.
“Nor do I,” he agreed, stuffing the small scrap of fabric into a pocket – the streets of King’s Landing would be deserted enough at this time of night that he could get away without wearing it. “Tensions are bound to rise after tomorrow, after everything is said and done; I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”
You had nodded and followed him out of the Sept, through one of the many old, forgotten tunnels that only a scant few knew existed, the list of which definitely didn’t include the guards stationed at the front of the building who had escorted your carriage earlier that evening.
While he had helped you onto the back of his horse, the two of you shared a knowing look, each of you already thinking the same thing.
Turning down one final corridor, your heart thuds in your chest as you’re finally met with Balerion’s petrifying gaze and, just like every other time you’d been in his presence, a little huff of reverence leaves you. Your eyes dance over the rows of his razor sharp teeth, gleaming in the glow of dozens of candles, and you can’t help but imagine the horrors those jaws have inflicted, the pain they wrought while subduing the continent – all in your family’s name.
“Targaryens have always taken what we’ve wanted,” Aemond murmurs beside you, staring up at the gargantuan skull with just as much respect as you are, “Tamed our desires in fields of fire.”
“And rivers of blood,” you turn your heads at the same time, soft smiles on your lips when your eyes meet, like you’re sharing sweet words of love rather than painting pictures of horrors.
Perhaps that is what wrath is for us, you wonder, your eyes flicking between violet and sapphire when you turn toward your brother, What is death if not the sweetest of devotions?
He takes your hands in his, glancing down when your fingers intertwine before looking back up at you; you can feel yourself blushing under his intense gaze, heart squeezing in your chest as he looks at you like that in and of itself is an honor. There’s such softness in his eye, you would think him incapable of violence if you didn’t know better.
“You truly wish for this?” He questions one last time, needing to be sure.
“I’ve told you, I do not wish,” your hands squeeze his, “I need this, Aemond… I would kill for you, for this – for us. Anything, just as you did.”
Your voice trembles when you speak, the intensity of your hushed promises making your head spin because you would. The want you feel, that you have always felt, is not some soft yearning thing. It’s not so simple as some mere whisper uttered in the dead of night at a holy altar while your skin is awash with the glow of candlelight, no.
No, your want is something far more insidious – something deep-seated. An oppressive, clinging thing that has always coaxed you further and further down into that shadowy part of yourself; the part that has always reminded you too much of him.
The demon, lurking in your periphery, that has always begged you to look, has tempted you since childhood with the sweetest of promises, finally rejoices.
Aemond nods, a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and you watch as he lets go of one of your hands to unsheath his dagger. The sight of the worn leather handle makes you smile bashfully, though your core clenches all the same, and you gasp when you feel another drop of his seed soak into your smallclothes.
“You know the words?”
Again, he nods and your head cocks to the side curiously when a wash of pink grows on his pale cheeks; he smiles again and fixes you with that same intense stare. “I used to spend hours reading them, over and over, when we were children,” he whispers, leaning closer to you like he’s revealing some deep, dark secret, “I always wanted to get them perfect for you.”
A little peal of laughter echoes through the cellars before you swallow thickly, trying to tamper the tightness at the back of your throat as the backs of your eyes sting, tears pooling in your waterline. He cups your cheek and you smile when he brushes one away, a pleased hum leaves his lips when you nod.
Aemond raises the dagger, glancing between its shining blade and your lips while you ready yourself, one hand clenching at the black silk of your skirts. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises.
You hold stock-still, gasping when he presses the cool edge of it against your lower lip, yet your eyes don’t leave his when he finally cuts – nicking your delicate flesh just enough to draw blood before offering you the dagger. Grasping it, you mirror his steps exactly, just as careful with him.
Setting the dagger to the side, you both reach up at the same time, swiping a thumb over your own lip before reaching out. Your arms intertwine when you brush each other’s foreheads, leaving behind two crimson lines.
His gaze never breaks from yours as he takes the blade again and carefully cuts his palm, holding it out to you again and waiting while you do the same, gasping at the sharp sting. Finally, the two of you join hands, blood mingling together as a few drops of it splatter on the stone floor as Balerion bears witness to your union.
“Hen lantoti ānogar, va syndroti vāedroma, mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr,” he recites, murmuring the words with care, making sure to enunciate each syllable, to make the vows unmistakeable to whichever ghosts may be listening, “Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jeny māzīlarion,” (Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass.)
Aemond pauses, taking a breath as he squeezes your hand with his, echoing your smile.
“Qēlossa ozūndesi, syndroro ōñō jēdo, ry kīvia mazvestraksi,” he finishes, all but breathing the last few words as his eye grows misty. (The stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.)
The two of you stand still for a moment like you’re waiting for the world to crash down around you and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours as your palms press together, both of you seemingly in shock at finally, finally having everything you’ve ever wanted.
You can’t tell who moves first but suddenly you’re crashing against him, dagger clanging as it hits the floor, while the two of you clutch at one another desperately, uncaring of the blood smearing on your clothes.
Your lips press against his like they’re a lifeline and you moan at the touch, swiping your tongue over his while you grab at the lapels of his jacket. His hands cup your cheeks, staining one with red, before carding through your hair.
“Gods,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you pant, breathing out soft laughs. “My little wife…” He says the word slowly, lets it drag over his tongue.
“Husband,” you reply between soft kisses to his cheek, head spinning at how a word that once had to be dragged from you, that had scraped against your skin like thorns, now felt like silk slipping cooly over you.
Your brother growls deep in his chest and his eye flutters shut for a second before his hands are at your waist again and he’s walking you backwards, only a few paces, until you’re pressed against one of the stone columns surrounding the great dragon’s skull. Though your landing is soft, it wrenches a gasp from you all the same but you don’t have time to question his intent before his lips are on yours again.
You moan into the kiss, matching each of his deep groans with one of your own as your tongues tangle together. “Aemond,” you pant when he begins trailing kisses down across your jaw and neck, “What –”
He nips at your cleavage then and you can feel him smirking at the loud whine he pulls from you, soothing the skin after with a sweet kiss before sinking to his knees before you. The sight is enough to make you weak – the man that loves you more than eternity itself, who loves you enough to do terrible, monstrous things, kneeling at your feet and staring up at you like you are his salvation.
Your hands tangle in his soft hair while he pulls at your skirts, pushing them up and out of the way, kissing your thighs as he goes. “You had the chance to worship at your altar, sweetest little wife,” he pants, groaning when he pushes your smallclothes to the side and licking his lips at the sight of your cunt, still wet with your combined spend, “Now let me worship at mine.”
That’s the only warning you get before he dives in, lapping at your center with a loud, satiated growl. Your head thuds back against the column while your eyes are fixed, half-lidded, on Balerion, on the fire that surrounds him.
You understand, then – the curtains of fire that blanketed the continent were necessary to conquer it, just as blood was necessary to bind the two of you. Perhaps one day you’ll be called to answer for that, but even then you would do it a thousand times over; even if the dark, shadowy parts of yourself, of him, lead to the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. You would do it, again and again, for him.
You were always meant to burn together.
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Selective Standards
Alessia Russo x Reader
word count:
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Y/N walked into the changing room, expecting to find the usual post-training chaos—water bottles here, jerseys there, a few bits of kit scattered on the benches. But this was on another level. A mess of epic proportions.
Protein shake bottles lay on the floor, half-empty, with their lids off, spilling sticky liquid across the floor. An assortment of clothes, some still in training gear and others discarded in the middle of the room, was strewn about, creating an obstacle course. Half-open snack wrappers crinkled underfoot, and towels were abandoned haphazardly across the benches. It looked like someone had taken a whirlwind tour of the room and forgotten to clean up after themselves.
Y/N froze in the doorway, mouth agape.
“What the hell happened in here?” Y/N muttered, stepping into the chaos, surveying the damage. Her hands flew to her hips as she turned to face the team. “Who even leaves a place like this? This is so disrespectful. We’re a team, we’re supposed to take care of our space. Whoever made this mess should be reprimanded. They should pay a fine or be suspended for a game. This is ridiculous.”
The room fell silent. A few players exchanged awkward glances, and some even stifled small chuckles, glancing at each other. It wasn’t every day they saw Y/N go off like this. Normally cool-headed, Y/N’s frustration seemed to be bubbling over today.
Leah, who had just come out of the showers, raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but trying to hold back her laughter. “Y/N… I don’t think it’s that deep.”
“It’s that deep, Leah,” Y/N snapped, gesturing to the mess. “Look at this. It’s disrespectful to all of us. You know how hard we work. This—” She pointed to an empty water bottle rolling across the floor, “—this is a disaster.”
Katie, who was sitting on the bench nearby, grinned mischievously. “You know, you could always just pick it up yourself, right?”
“No,” Y/N huffed, her eyes scanning the room, clearly riled up. “Someone needs to be held accountable. This isn’t just a little accident. It’s a pattern of neglect.”
Just then, the door opened, and Alessia Russo walked in, her attention quickly drawn to the group as she noticed them all looking toward her. She hadn’t noticed the mess yet.
Y/N shot a pointed glance toward the protein shake bottle, still leaking a sticky mess onto the floor. “Whoever did this needs to clean it up—immediately. No exceptions.”
Leah couldn’t help but smile, taking a slow step toward Y/N. “Well, you might want to turn around, because—”
Before she could finish, Y/N’s voice rang out again, sharp and direct. “And I’m serious. If this happens again, I don’t care if it’s—”
“Uh, Y/N,” Leah interrupted, a grin tugging at her lips as she stepped to the side. “It’s Alessia’s mess.”
Y/N froze mid-sentence, her eyes wide. She turned slowly to see Alessia, who was now staring at the group, completely unaware of the mess she had left behind. Her eyes darted from teammate to teammate, catching their expressions. And then her gaze fell on the aftermath she’d left in her rush.
“Oh no,” Y/N muttered, her face turning bright red. She hadn’t even noticed that Alessia was the culprit when she was ranting. “I didn’t—uh… I didn’t realize it was—”
Katie raised an eyebrow, giving Y/N an amused look. “You sure? You were just about to have someone suspended for this.”
Y/N, caught in the moment, quickly tried to backtrack, her voice dropping an octave as she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Well, I mean, we all get caught up in things, right? Just a little… oversight. Nothing major. It’s fine. Not a big deal. Right, Alessia?”
Alessia, who had been listening with an amused grin, walked over and casually tossed her gym bag on the bench. “Yeah, I was running late for media stuff,” she said with a shrug. “Guess I left a trail behind me. Sorry about that.”
Y/N, now visibly flustered, waved her hand dismissively, trying to cover up her earlier outburst. “No, no, it’s… it’s really not that serious. Just, maybe next time, a little more care when you’re in a rush? That’s all. Right, guys?” She forced a smile, but it was clear she was embarrassed.
Katie burst out laughing, slapping her hands on the bench. “Oh, you were so ready to fine someone for this mess, and now you’re backtracking?”
“I was just—” Y/N started, but she didn’t have the energy to continue. “I guess I got a little carried away. It’s Alessia. I’ll let it slide… just this once.”
Alessia, who had clearly caught the shift in Y/N’s tone, grinned and casually threw an arm around her shoulders. “It’s all good, babe. Thanks for being so understanding. I’ll do better next time.”
Y/N shot a playful glare at her, trying to regain her composure. “Just… don’t make me do a whole speech next time. I’ll have to give you a fine or something.”
The entire team erupted into laughter as Y/N’s serious demeanor quickly crumbled into a sheepish smile. Alessia leaned in close, still grinning. “You’re the best, Y/N. Maybe I’ll get you to help me clean up next time?”
“Yeah, sure,” Y/N muttered with a roll of her eyes, “I’ll bring the fine book.”
And with that, the room returned to its usual chaos—but this time, everyone was a little lighter, the tension having dissolved in a fit of laughter.
---
The team was starting to form more bad habits. Every day, without fail, more and more players were coming late to training. It wasn’t anything too serious at first—just a few minutes here and there—but Y/N, always one to stick to the rules and maintain discipline, was getting fed up.
It had been the third day in a row that several players were running through the gates minutes after the scheduled start time. She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Alright, that’s it,” Y/N muttered to herself, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as the last player jogged onto the field. “Enough is enough.”
She marched up to the front, her voice firm and clear as she addressed the entire team. “I’m done with this. We’re all professionals here, and we can’t keep letting people stroll in whenever they feel like it. From now on, anyone who’s late will be fined. A minute late? A minute’s fine. You’re five minutes late? Five minutes’ worth of fines.”
The room went silent, the rest of the players exchanging nervous glances. They knew Y/N wasn’t messing around.
Katie, ever the troublemaker, leaned in and whispered to Leah, “She’s not serious, is she?”
“Oh, she’s dead serious,” Leah replied, eyes widening as she watched Y/N cross her arms and glare at the group. “You’ve seen her like this before.”
Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, locking onto the players who had been late. “This isn’t school, people. You all know better. You’re adults. You can show up on time. It’s disrespectful to your teammates, and we need to take this seriously.” She turned to face a particularly late-looking Kyra. “Five minutes late today. That’s a fiver.”
Kyra rolled her eyes but said nothing, too tired of the back-and-forth to argue. Y/N then turned her eyes to the next culprit, Alessia, who had just jogged in, breathless from her sprint to the field.
“Alessia, you’re late again!” Y/N snapped, hands on her hips, but before Alessia could even start to apologize, Y/N’s tone softened. “No, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s just—training was probably a little too early for you today. I’ll take care of the fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Alessia blinked, surprised by the sudden change in tone. “Really? You’ll take care of it?”
“Of course,” Y/N replied, shaking her head, her voice calming. “You don’t need the added stress. We’ll make sure your fine is covered. You can count on me.”
Y/N then glared back at the others. “But for everyone else? You’d better pay up. You’ve all been warned.”
Leah gave her a pointed look as Y/N turned her attention to the rest of the group. “If anyone else is late, there’s no excuse. I mean it. We’re not running a daycare here.”
The session went on, but Y/N couldn’t help but notice how the other players seemed to keep a little distance from her. They knew Y/N meant business, and with her new fine system, she wasn’t about to let anyone get away with being tardy.
The next few days passed, and the fines kept racking up. By the end of the week, Y/N had nearly filled a small notebook with the fines from late arrivals, most of which had come from the usual suspects: Katie, Beth, and a few others who just didn’t seem to care. But when Alessia was late yet again, Y/N was quick to brush it off.
“Alessia, don’t stress. I’ve got this,” she’d say, her voice soft and reassuring, even as she filled in the fine for her late arrival.
The others watched this dynamic unfold. The fines were getting hefty—very hefty—but every time Alessia was late, Y/N would simply wave it off and mutter that it was okay. They all found it strange, but there was something about the way Y/N spoke to Alessia that made her seem… untouchable, in a way.
By the end of the month, Y/N had paid off all of Alessia’s fines, covering the hundreds of euros in late fees. Every time she brought it up, Alessia would try to refuse.
“You really don’t need to do that, Y/N,” Alessia said, a hint of guilt in her voice.
“I’ve got it covered,” Y/N replied with a smile, brushing off Alessia’s concern. “It’s not a big deal.”
But even as she said it, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why she was doing it. Why did she always soften when it came to Alessia? Why was she willing to put up with the fines when everyone else had to pay up without a second thought?
One evening, as they sat together after training, Y/N gave Alessia a sideways glance. “You know, if you just stopped being late, I wouldn’t have to pay these fines for you.”
Alessia looked at her with a half-smirk. “Maybe I’m just testing how far you’ll go.”
Y/N chuckled softly, rolling her eyes. “Well, consider this the last time, okay? I’m not made of money, and I’m not paying your fines forever.”
Alessia laughed, leaning in close. “I know. But I appreciate it, Y/N. More than you know.”
Y/N just smiled, knowing full well that no matter how many fines Alessia racked up, she’d always be the one to take care of it. She didn’t mind. Not when it was Alessia.
It was one of those days where the team was a little too playful for their own good, and Katie had a mischievous gleam in her eye. She leaned in towards Alessia, a sly grin creeping across her face as she whispered her idea.
“Why don't you come in an hour late to training? You know, just to test if Y/N will actually follow through with paying your fine,” Katie suggested, practically vibrating with excitement.
Alessia raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? You really think she’d pay a £200 fine?”
Katie’s grin only grew wider. “Y/N loves you. She’s a softie for you, trust me. She’ll pay without batting an eye.”
Alessia hesitated, but then the thought of seeing how far Y/N would go for her made her heart flutter. “Alright, fine. But if she gets mad, I’m blaming you.”
Katie winked. “Deal.”
The next day, as the team finished their warm-ups and got into their drills, Alessia sneaked in, only to join the sprints, breathless and looking sheepish as she entered the pitch.
Y/N, who had been keeping track of everyone’s arrival times as usual, immediately shot her a glare. “Alessia, you’re late,” she said, arms crossed and voice stern.
The team watched with baited breath, knowing full well that this was going to be interesting. Y/N pulled out her notebook, jotting down the fine.
“1 hour late, that’s £200,” she said, her voice sharp as she turned to the rest of the team. “You all know the rules. Late is late.”
Alessia bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face as she watched Y/N turn back to her, ready to pay the fine. Without a single word of complaint, Y/N pulled out her wallet, counted out the money, and handed it to the coach.
“Here you go,” Y/N said, her voice oddly calm.
Katie couldn’t contain her smirk. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
Y/N barely even looked at Katie. She turned back to Alessia, her face softening. “You don’t need to worry about this,” she said gently. “It’s not your fault. I’ll take care of it.”
Without thinking, Y/N reached forward and cupped Alessia’s cheek, leaning in for a kiss, soft and sweet, making the rest of the team collectively roll their eyes. When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her eyes full of affection.
The rest of the team, including Leah, watched in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. Katie, trying to keep a straight face, let out a dramatic gasp. “I can’t believe you actually paid it, Y/N! You’re such a sucker.”
Leah, smirking, chimed in, “Looks like Alessia’s got you wrapped around her finger.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle. “I’m not a sucker. I’m just making sure my girlfriend isn't stressed over something silly like fines.”
Katie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?"
Alessia leaned in, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know. I was just testing you…”
Y/N turned to the group, suddenly serious. “You shouldn’t have pressured poor Alessia into that,” she said, her voice taking on a more reprimanding tone. “If you all have issues, you come to me. We don’t put her in situations like that. You’ve all got to start acting your age. We’re supposed to be grown, not schoolkids that mess with each other for fun.”
The rest of the team exchanged glances, bored for Y/N's thousandth lecture, and nodded in acknowledgment.
Leah nudged Katie, both of them smirking. “I think Y/N’s getting soft,” Leah teased. “Guess the only one who can make her pay £2000 without a fight is Alessia.”
Katie laughed. “I’m just amazed. She didn’t even hesitate! It’s like she has a weakness for her. She's like kryptonite”
Y/N gave them a mock glare, but her voice had a playful edge. “Alright, alright, I get it. You two are clearly jealous because I didn’t pay your fines.”
Katie threw her hands up in defeat. “I mean, I would have asked, but I’m pretty sure you’re whipped for Alessia.”
Leah chuckled. “I think she just wants to see if she can get away with being that spoiled.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, turning back to Alessia, who was clearly enjoying the teasing. She gave her a smile, though. “You’re lucky you’re cute. And you know I’d do anything for you.”
Alessia grinned, her heart swelling with affection. “I know. I won’t make a habit of it. I swear.”
Y/N chuckled softly, her protective nature not fully letting go, but a warmth in her chest that reminded her just how much she cared for Alessia.
The rest of the team couldn’t help but laugh at the playful dynamic between the two, and even though they were teasing Y/N, there was a sense of warmth in the air. It was clear they were a team in more ways than one. Even if some of them had to be teased a little for their soft moments, they all knew Y/N had their backs—just as much as she had Alessia’s.
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The End
#offside story#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso#woso soccer#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo x y/n#alessia russo#arsenal wfc#leah williamson#katie mccabe#arsenal women#awfc
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New Prosthetic Eye
141 reacts to you showing them your new prosthetic eye.
Note: Anyone else in the COD fandom have a prosthetic eye or just me?
CW: Slight angst
Price:
This was the first time Price was coming with you to the ocularist. You two had planned an entire weekend trip based around this appointment, but he had to admit that he was most excited about seeing the process of you getting your new eyes; the fun eye and the normal eye.
You had warned him though that this was going to be two days of going to the doctor’s office, putting the eye in, taking it out, and then leaving every few hours for the regular prosthetic. The visit only being a few minutes long every few hours, and that you would have understood if he didn’t want to come. He does want to come though; this is a major part of you. Nothing was going to stop him from being here with you no matter how mundane it is.
“Honey, are you ready to tell me what design you're doing? I don’t think you can keep it a secret for much longer now that we’re here.” Price says to you while you both are sitting in the waiting room.
You give him a devilish smile, “No, you’ll see it in just a few minutes! I’m not ruining the surprise while we’re this close to the finish line!”
Price chuckled and squeezed your hand. You had told him a while ago that the fun eye was going to be a surprise for him. He had no idea how this was going to shock, but he was excited to see what you had done nonetheless.
It was only a few minutes after that when your name was called by the doctor. You and her first talked about the regular eye, and her taking all the photos she first needed to get started. Next it was the fun eye. You had been talking with the ocularist for the past few weeks before your appointment talking about it. The fun eye didn’t need the whole back and forth like the regular eye did so when the doctor brought out a little box Price knew that the eye was in there.
Excitedly so you remove the eye you already had in, and place it on the table beside you. Price stood right next to you as the doctor opened the box for you both to see. What he saw only reminded him of how much he loved you.
The eye was covered in a honeycomb pattern and bee right in the corner. It was an obvious connection to the nickname “Honey” that he always called you.
“That’s not even the best part,” you take the eye in your hand, and turn it around to show the back of it. Right where you would normally have a star symbol, a marker to let you know where the top was, instead was his and your initials. A heart drawn in between them.
Price doesn’t think that he could have stopped the smile that graced his face even if he tried. Grabbing one of your hands he gives your knuckles a kiss. “Put it in, Honey. Let’s see it in action.”
Gaz:
Gaz doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget the moment you first showed him your new eye. Your smile was bright, but uncertain as you looked at him. This was your first fun eye as you had called it.
You had come to him months ago talking about how you had made an appointment for a new eye, and that you were getting a fun eye as well despite being so nervous about it. When he had asked what you had to be nervous about you talked about it would then be obvious that you were different. That was why you had always only ever gotten the normal eyes because you didn't want to stand out any more than you already do.
It was a long conversation about your feelings surrounding your missing eye, but in the end he felt that he understood you so much more. Gaz honestly found the fact that you had a prosthetic eye pretty cool. He's so happy that you're now embracing it fully.
"You look amazing, love." Gaz leaned forward giving you a quick kiss, "That eye truly looks like it was meant to be worn by you." It really did too. The design on the eye resembled a disco ball. Your eye flashed with every move you made.
“Well it was made specifically for me.” You say with a small chuckle.
Gaz chuckles along with you before remembering a conversation the two of you had a while ago, “Does this mean I can have one of your old eyes?”
“You seriously want one?”
“Of course! You said that people often made jewelry out of them, and I want to make a keychain with one of yours. That way I’ll always have a piece of you with me.”
“We'll go down to the craft store tomorrow then, and get that made!”
He gives you another kiss, “Perfect!”
Gaz loved watching you the following days as you lit up every time you looked in the mirror. Moving your head around, and watching as the light bounced off your eye. He promised himself right there that if anyone said anything cruel about your new eye he would make sure that poor soul never looked in your direction again.
Soap:
Soap couldn't believe that he was finally getting married to you today. It had been so stressful yet so fun planning for this day. He couldn't wait to see you walk down the aisle to him.
You didn’t let him see the wedding dress or your wedding eye, and he knew you were excited for him to see as well. Soap hadn't thought about a wedding eye when you two were talking about making appointments for everything, but when you had hesitantly brought up the idea of getting a new eye specially for the wedding he was all for it.
He had begged you to let him see it, but you had said that, just like the dress, him seeing it would cause bad luck. It was hard though not knowing what it looked like. Soap had been at every appointment since you two had gotten together; even helped you with a few designs as well.
It wasn’t until the doors opened and the music started did Soap snap out of his thoughts. You, his soon to be wife, stood at the entrance looking ethereal. It truly took his breath away looking at you. He didn’t think this day could get any better.
With you now standing right in front him he was finally able to clearly see your eyes. Your beautiful seeing eye and your wedding eye. Which somehow made his smile even wider looking at it. The design on it was his family’s tartan; it perfectly matched his kilt.
“You have no idea what you do to me, lass.” Soap whispered to you as he took your hands in his.
“I have an idea on exactly what I can do.”
And that is exactly why he loves you so much. He doesn’t think anyone else could ever know him like you do. The only left to do know was to say “I do” and walk out of here as Mr. and Mrs. MacTavish.
Ghost:
Walking into the front door of your shared apartment after being deployed was always something he looked forward to. As soon as the door shut behind you were already jumping into his arms, and he welcomed it every time.
He held you tight for several seconds before pulling away. Looking into your eyes he sees something that he’s never seen before; you got a new eye while he was away. Ghost couldn’t get enough of your eyes; both of them.
Your new eye’s design was a glittery skull. A skull that held a lot of resemblance to his own mask. Very gently he grabs your face, making you hold your gaze with his. “What’s this love?” Ghost makes sure to tap your cheek on the same side as your prosthetic just to make sure you know what he’s talking about.
"Do you like it?" You grin up at him, "We match!”
“Hmm looks great, love,” Ghost loved all your eyes. He especially loved when you had given him a random gift one day that was one of your older normal eyes made into a bracelet. He wore it all the time. The reaction he got from Soap seeing it for the first time was something he would always remember.
Getting a closer look at the eye, Ghost noticed that the accuracy of his mask was almost scary. Your ocularist was truly an artist and it showed with every single eye you had made. The new eye wasn’t his favorite, but it was a close second. His absolute favorite was when you got an eye designed after his own eyes. You had gotten it some time after you gave him the bracelet.
Ghost didn’t understand why, when you first started dating, hid the fact that you wore a prosthetic eye. Only ever wearing a normal eye around him for the longest time. It wasn’t until you wore a fun eye with him, and you ended up getting harassed by an old woman about how terrible it was that you didn’t try and hide it. “You’re going to scare the children, “ she had said.
It was a step back in your confidence of wearing them, but with time and reassurance it seems like you don’t ever wear your normal eye nowadays. He wouldn’t have it any other way; all he wanted was for you to feel comfortable expressing yourself.
#task force 141#x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#fem reader#john price#kyle gaz garrick#john price x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#kyle gaz x reader#gaz x reader#141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#prosthetic eye#This fic is so self indulgent#Any other one eyed girlies
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✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁✧:･. rapid eye movement (part ii)
summary: you meet ellie in a dream…or was it at a café now?
cw: nothing, just fluff (repost from old account), you can read part 1 here
BEFORE YOU READ!!!:
FUNDRAISER MASTERPOST BOYCOTT TLOU DAILY CLICK
"Excuse me, um, I love you"
I know that's not the way to start a conversation
It had been two days since you had seen Ellie. This time she wasn’t accompanied by the yellowish hue and warm ambience of your R.E.M. state, you had actually seen her.
The girl that was driving you crazy was actually flesh and bones, rather than just a lulling mirage, and she had been kind enough to give you the notebook you’d forgotten at your favorite café.
There was no other way to describe it besides bizarre.
You couldn’t even thank her properly, staring at her for what was probably too long with widened eyes. She even asked a concerned “Are you okay?”. And no, you definitely weren’t.
Did she not know who you were? Did she forget about your strolls and your hugs and your deep talks? Had she ever dreamt of you? Was it even possible that it was all true? Or had you maybe seen her before and your brain took her face and made up an entire person?
How are you supposed to explain to a total stranger you’ve dreamt of her and fallen for her in said dreams?
The hair, the face, the tattoo, all of it was the same. Would she be the same, though? Was she an astrophysics major? Did she like the color green and NASA and also laughed at silly puns?
It was like your brain was nothing but a bunch of questions with no answer. None rational, at least.
But there she was. Right in front of you with that mesmerizing aura of hers that made you feel so drawn to her…regardless of the realm you were in. You weren’t one to ask people out. You’d usually wait for them to ask you or flirt with them until they took a hint. But there was no way you could let her go just like that. You couldn’t really tell her you knew her either, but you could just ask for her phone number, right?
And so you did. She smiled and agreed. In her mind, she was happy about the fact that giving you your notebook back had landed her a possible date with such a pretty girl.
Two days. You hadn’t texted her. You didn’t dare. What if she wasn’t like your Ellie? What if for some fucked up reason you dreamt of someone so special but she turned out to be nothing like that? What if the connection wasn’t there? What if she wasn’t sweet and caring and funny and trustworthy?
But it had been enough. Enough questions and enough overthinking. There was no way for you to know if you didn’t text her.
“Hi, it’s the girl whose notebook you saved :)”
“Hey, didn’t think you’d text anymore”
“Oh no! I’m sorry. I just got a little caught up with school”
“I wanted to see if you’d like to hangout sometime?”
“I’d really like that. Is friday cool?”
“Friday’s great <3”
“Okay, I’ll pick you up, yeah?”
“Oh you don’t have to dw”
“No, it’s okay, I want to”
“Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking on her own”
You sighed in relief. At least you were done with that part.
Flirty…At least that checks out with your Ellie.
You spent the rest of your week both dreading and anticipating your date on Friday. And, god, were you a mess.
You couldn’t remember ever being so nervous about meeting someone. You spent the next couple days overthinking your outfit choices, how you should do your hair, what you were going to say. More than anything, the thought of this Ellie not being at least a little like your Ellie was nothing short of terrifying. You adored this girl. Her not being real was one thing, but her being real and being the complete opposite was a nightmare.
At 6:36pm your bell rang.
“Coming!” You yelled as you finished putting on your shoe and took one last look in the mirror.
“You got this,” you told yourself. Though the shaking of your hands was slightly contradictory.
You finally opened the door and there she was. She was wearing jeans and an open button-up with the half-up hairdo you liked so much. You can’t help but discreetly pinch yourself just to make sure you weren’t asleep.
“Hi.” You greet her with a smile.
“Hey, you look great.”
“Thank you, you look great too.” She´s smirking now, probably noticing how nervous you were. Well, at least now you knew she was cocky too. “You ready?”
The ride to the restaurant was filled with small talk. You were too nervous to ask her any of the questions you actually needed to ask. You thought to yourself you’d leave them for the restaurant. Having warmed up a little more with each other.
One thing about Ellie, she knew how to treat a girl. She opened the door for you, helped you fasten your seatbelt, let you play your own music on the way there. She was so…well, dreamy.
As you both wait for your food you finally gather the courage to ask. In reality, they were all very basic questions. Not to you, though.
“So, Ellie..”
She hums.
“Are you in college?”
“Yeah, Astrophysics”. Oh, fuck.
“Astrophysics?” Your eyes widen.
“Yeah,” she chuckles, “have always been into all things space.”
You can’t quite believe this is real and not some sort of sick cosmic joke. You try your best to hide your shock. It’s not really a good look for you to audibly gasp every time she says or does something that further proves she’s actually Ellie.
“Oh really? You must be really smart, then.” You tease with a smile.
“Shut up.” She laughs. “Are you in college?”
“Yes, English Literature. Almost done.”
“Really? Suits you.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good, of course.”
If this whole thing was bizarre, this moment was just ridiculous. Every other déjà vu was nothing compared to this. It was your Ellie, from the looks down to the way she worded her thoughts.
The rest of your date went great. You learned she indeed was twenty two and liked NASA and comics. She talked the same and she laughed at the same things. She had the same mannerisms: pouts her lips, she fidgets with her hands, smirks a whole lot and oh! such a flirt.
One thing, though - nothing hinted at the fact that she remembered you. You knew most of the things she told you about herself today, not that you minded, but she was actually meeting you for the first time. How could she not remember? Did she even have the same dreams?
You still had many questions, but you were also very relieved. She was Ellie. Your Ellie. Your auburnette with a space obsession and a liking for silly puns. Your funny and sweet friend. Your favorite girl.
She took you back home and walked you to your door. You spin on your heel to face her.
Loose strand of her framing her face, glimmery green eyes staring at you and an eyebrow scar that’s surprisingly attractive on her. Like straight up from your subconscious mind, now right in front of you.
“Can I see you again?” You can tell she’s the nervous one now, not that she lets you see it. You just know her too well.
You smile at her. You thought it was obvious.
“Of course.” You inch closer towards her and press a kiss on her cheek. “Call me, yeah?”
She blushes at this. Trying too hard to contain the huge grin on her lips.
“I will.”
“Goodbye, Ellie.”
The next few days went well. Ellie and you kept texting back and forth, getting to know each other more. You did find out new things about her. About her past, her friendships, her family.
You found yourself constantly checking your phone for her texts. Eagerly waiting for the notification on your screen with her name attached to it. Not that she ever made you wait long, you pretty much had all her attention. You’d smile every time she’d make a dumb joke or she’d call you a sweet name. When you thought you couldn’t love this girl more…
-
The sun was starting to set. Pink and purple clouds painting the sky. The weather was getting warmer and you didn’t have to carry an obnoxiously big jacket with you anymore. You’d had classes all day, finally ready to unwind and peacefully enjoy your Friday night. Or so you thought.
Your phone starts ringing and it’s none other than the girl who's responsible for your stomach doing somersaults. You quickly drag the phone icon to the right and press the device to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, pretty, Are you busy?”
“Nope, just walking home. Had a bunch of classes all day.”
“Are you doing anything later?”
“Ellie Williams, are you trying to ask me out on a date?” You jokingly gasp and earn a laugh from her end.
“Yes, actually. The sky’s supposed to be like super clear tonight and I know a spot where you can really see all the stars and stuff.”
“I’m in.”
“Yeah? I’ll pick you up in an hour. Sounds good?”
“Sounds great. Bye, Ellie.”
“See you in an hour.”
You scurried to your apartment to get ready. You did your hair, changed your clothes, sprayed a sweet vanilla perfume on your pulsing points and quickly touched up your makeup. An hour and eleven minutes later, your bell rang.
This time she was wearing a hoodie with a light jacket on top, her staple jeans and jacket combo. Her hair was up in a low bun. She was such a sight for sore eyes.
“How do you even know this place?” You ask as you both get out of the car. It was higher than the rest of the city, not quite at the top of the mountains but it still had a rather breath-taking view. Pretty quiet yet comforting. A safe haven just for the two of you, at least for tonight.
“Well…” Ellie scrunches her nose.
“What?”
“Kind of found it by accident once, with my ex.” She nervously scratches the back of her neck.
“Are you serious?” You laugh.
“It was just once!”
“So you bring all your girls here?”
“Just the special ones.”
“Shut up, dork.” You playfully roll your eyes at her and nudge her arm.
You both settle the blanket on the grass. Lying next to each other. Propped heads rested on your respective hands.
“So..ex, huh?”
“Yeah, we broke up a little bit over a year ago.”
“What was her name?”
“Cat.” You hum. “She’s great, we just didn’t really work as a couple.”
“Are you guys still friends?”
“We are on good terms. Talk every now and then. I wouldn’t call it ‘friends’, though.”
“I’m not really supposed to talk about exes until like the fifth date, you know?” She jokes.
“You brought her up!” You laugh.
“Yeah, you are right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Ellie couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Yes, this was your second date but it felt like it wasn’t. She felt as if she had known you her whole life. Something about talking to you and spending time with you felt just right. More than right. You brought a sense of comfort to her. She was in awe of you.
You both rest your heads and look up at the sky. Ellie was right, it was very clear tonight, you couldn’t recall the last time you had seen so many stars.
“Look, you see that one? The one that looks like a W.”
“Wait, where?”
“Right..” she grabs your index finger and points it towards it, “there.”
“Oh I see it!”
“That’s Cassiopeia.” She explains not letting go of your hand, despite you having already spotted the cluster of stars. “It’s the 25th largest constellation in the night sky.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, and the first to list it was Ptolomy in the second century…” Ellie went on and on about nebulas and exoplanets. It’s not that you didn’t care, it just so happened that the constellations lined up by her freckles were a whole lot more interesting than the ones drawn in the navy blue sky. “I probably sound like such a nerd right now.” She laughed.
“What? No, not at all. It’s cute how excited you get.” You keep on playing with her hand. Locking and unlocking your fingers, twisting them against each other’s, featherly brushes against her knuckles and the soft scraping of your nails against her skin.
“Is it?” She could feel her heart speed up, so much so that it felt like it was trying to break her ribs and find its way to you. You were no better.
“Mhm, you are very smart. I love hearing you talk.”
She smirked. Of course she did. No matter how nervous or excited she was, she wasn’t Ellie without that tinge of cockiness never leaving her side.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.” You breathed out.
She hovered over you, grabbing your chin to pull you closer to her. She brushed her lips against yours, almost kissing you. Breaths perfectly sync as you feel the air fanning against each other’s mouth. There was no way in hell you could wait one more second, you break first. You crashed your lips into hers.
You had never kissed Ellie, not even in your dreams. You had thought about it many times, but even your imagination’s best efforts couldn’t compare to this.
It was exhilarating, the feeling of her lips rhythmically moving with yours. It just made sense, you two fit. You had kissed people before, but nothing like this. You two were made for each other, and if the otherworldly experience of how you first met didn’t make it painfully obvious, this did.
You moaned into the kiss which she took as an opportunity to explore your mouth with her tongue. Cupping your face to bring you closer, as if you were going anywhere.
She finally breaks the kiss.
“Fuck…”
You giggle, “I know.”
Crazy to be so infatuated by someone on your second date. But the truth is that’s how Ellie felt and she couldn’t explain the how. You, on the other hand, had an idea or two.
After your second date the two of you only got closer. You were on cloud nine. You two could talk for hours, hangout for hours, laugh for hours, kiss for hours. You had come to terms with the fact that you would never know how it is that you met Ellie first or why she couldn’t remember your slumber induced escapades.
It didn’t make it any less strange, but you were long past the freaking out stage. If anything, you had gotten to know Ellie better and even experienced things you never got the chance to back there. You were meant to find each other. That was the best you could come up with and it was fine with you.
-
You decided to plan a date for you and Ellie. She was usually the one that did, being the creative one out of the two of you. But you wanted to do something nice for her.
You settled on a picnic. The past few days had been sunny and warm enough for it. You hauled to the kitchen and prepared everything you needed. The snacks, the drinks, the plates and the cutlery, checkered blanket and all. You even got her flowers earlier that morning.
As your girl rang your bell one more time to pick you up, you grabbed the basket and the flowers and opened the door.
“Hey, beautiful.” She said as she pulled you in for a kiss. You hum into the kiss.
“These are for you,” you tell her as you hand her the bouquet.
“Are you serious?” She asks with a grin on her face.
“Of course, I’m serious.”
“God, you are” kiss “so fucking” kiss “cute” kiss
You giggle into her kisses. “I take it you like them?”
“I love them. You are the first girl to give me flowers, you know?”
“I am?” You ask incredulously.
“Yeah.”
“All the other girls were stupid, then.” She laughs.
She drives to your destination. A pretty forest you had found upon a quick internet search for a good picnic spot. The pictures didn’t lie, the place was beautiful. Green foliage and perfectly cut grass with the perfect amount of sun and shade. You set up the whole thing, enjoying the evening with Ellie.
Ellie was convinced she could stare at you for hours. From how you move your hands when you talk, to how you tilt your head back slightly when you laugh, to how you pout your lips and twist them to the side when you are thinking, you drive her mad.
And maybe it’s the way the sun is hitting your back, making a halo form around your silhouette. Maybe it’s the way the green compliments your skin so beautifully, so familiarly. Maybe the way the warmth of the day and yours mix together and embrace her, making her vision slightly hazy. Maybe the way the sound of the breeze hits the leaves and the sound of the birds chirping mixes with your voice and creates a song she’s sure she’s heard before. But Ellie has lived this before. She has seen you like this before.
She almost gets whiplash from it, all of it coming back to her at once. The day at the cafè wasn’t the first time you two met, and she remembered now.
-
a/n: second repost while i work on part 3 :)
taglist @s4pphicslutt @fleshunger @whore4abby @astroph1les @eelliesbtch
#works 𝜗ϱ#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie fluff#ellie williams fanfic#wlw post#wlw#tlou#the last of us#lesbian#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x y/n
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Frustrated - CC
Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader
Summary: Caitlin is frustrated and you save the day HC (based on THIS request)
Warnings: just fluff
Word Count: 1.8k
Sweetbans Masterlist
AN: I am not a gamer but your girl tried.
Caitlin met you in one of her classes - the two of you were partnered up for a project that had to do with marketing strategies. Your topic was video games and how they are marketed differently than other products. You had talked to one another here and there throughout your time at Iowa since you shared a major but nothing more than the simple 'Hi' or 'Did you get this part of the notes?'.
Partnering up with Caitlin was harder than you had expected considering her schedule but you made it work. Since the project was the whole semester long and would all culminate into your final project, you both made it a priority to meet up regularly to work on it. This included working around Caitlin's basketball schedule and your work schedule.
Due to both of your schedules, you ended up meeting up at the oddest times. Typically it was a late study night back at one of your apartments or the occasional weekend afternoon if you weren't working. But in all reality, neither of you wanted to be doing any sort of schoolwork on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.
As the project progressed, so did your friendship with the school's star athlete. There would be times that you had planned to meet up to work on the project and ended up getting takeout and talking.
"You know I have never been a fan of partner work for class but you have made it bearable," you say as you take a bite of your food. "Thank you?" She asks confused but is followed by a laugh. "You're welcome," you say now also laughing. "Hey will all this talk about games and stuff, do you play?" She asks looking over at you. You bob your head around, "I dabble. I don't really play much anymore but grew up with brothers who were always gaming." "Well you should try sometime," Caitlin says taking a bite. "I don't have any sort of console," you say passing her a napkin. "You can always play here," she says knowing that she is widening the scope of your interactions. Up to this point, you would really only consider her your marketing partner but her asking you to do something more than the project projects you two in to the friend zone. "That would be cool," you say with a smile. You could use more friends on campus.
Over the course of the semester, in addition to working on your project, you found yourself over at Caitlin's apartment gaming. It mostly consisted of you watching her play games and keeping her company. Not that you ever minded. You would chill on her bed and watch her play.
Watching her play consisted of you typically watching her for the first few minutes and then picking up the book you brought to read. Caitlin never minded and really just enjoyed your company. She always played with one of her ears uncovered from her headset to hear your little remarks.
"Those flowers look like weeds my grandma would have me pick from her garden when I was little," you say, book in hand but looking at the screen in front of her. "Really?" Cait asked. "That's random." "You asked," you say as you look back down towards your book. "I didn't ask," she says turning to face you now. "You did, you asked when you invited me over to watch you game," you say with a smile. She rolls her eyes and turns back to the monitor. A few minutes pass before Caitlin is pulled out of the game by you but this time not by a comment. She sees you put your book down and make your way out of her room. "Where are you going?" She yells after you but doesn't leave her spot. "Don't worry about it," you say. Cait knows you weren't leaving because your book was still propped open on her bed and if there is anything she has learned about you it's that you don't go anywhere without it. You come back 30 minutes later with a plate in your hand. Caitlin perks up knowing the smell of what's on it before you even enter the room. "Cookies?" She asks. "Cookies," you say as you sit on the corner of her bed and offer the plate to her. She goes to take the plate and you swat her hand. "Not the whole plate, just take one, you say biting into the one in your hand. She grabs one and it is gone in two bites. "Mmmm chocolate chip, my favorite," she says and turns back to her game.
Little to your knowledge, Caitlin was getting quite comfortable with your presence. She would invite you over just to have you present. You never minded. You enjoyed her company as well. It was easy - the two of you never needed to entertain each other when you were together.
Little to her knowledge, you sort of fibbed a little when you told her you dabbled in gaming before. You did much more than dabble. You would dominate your brothers which caused them to never want to play with you. Gaming just came naturally to you. Your instinct and reaction were something that couldn't be taught.
All of this leads to a turning point in Caitlin's knowledge of you as well as her feelings.
Caitlin groans yet again as she tosses her controller and removes her headset. "What's up CC?" You ask, not looking up from your book. "So stupid," she says and flops down on her bed next to you. You look up and see the screen she is on. You have been there before - your brothers had gotten the game over the summer and played it nonstop, all the way through. "Mind if I try?" You ask. "Good luck," she says sarcastically. When you grab the controller and give it a go - Caitlin knows you have been holding out on her when you didn't ask what buttons mean what and what the goal is for where her character is at in the game. She sits back and watches you, jaw-dropping as watches you navigate the side quest she was so adamant about completing. When you complete it on the first go, Caitlin is in awe. She pushes you over and presses you into the bed, shaking you. "Where did that come from???" She yells both in excitement and confusion. "Cait, you are crushing me," you say as the girl over you continues to press all the air in your lungs out of you. "You have been lying to me!" She is still shaking you. "Caitlin Clark!" You yell with every ounce of breath you have left. She finally lets up on you but sits on her knees next to you. "Why haven't you been playing with me?" She asks as she lets you sit up. "Cause when I play - people end up getting frustrated with me and never want to play with me," you say. "I don't believe it, we are playing together right now," Caitlin says as she gets up and grabs a second controller.
Caitlin very quickly learns why no one likes to play with you. You don't mess up. It takes her about a week to realize she misses the days when you would come over and read while she plays.
One night in particular, Cait reaches a breaking point.
The night is a little different than the others as you have brought a book and decided to read while CC plays. As you are reading you hear Cait groan in frustration - multiple times. "What Cait," you say not also annoying because her sighing and groaning now interrupting your reading. She doesn't say anything as she is lying face down next to you with her face in her hands. You see the screen and grab her controller. You seamlessly make your way through another scene, getting it on the first try. Caitlin whips her head around when she hears the sound of the level begin complete. "Unbelievable," Caitlin says frustrated. "CC," you say as you watch her move from her laying position to a sitting one and cross her arms. "Oh come on, CC," you say and she just pouts. Whenever she gets frustrated, she acts like a toddler. You thought it was adorable but never made that known since the two of you had always just been friends. You begin to poke at her sides, pinching them and causing her to squirm. A smile peaks on your face as you keep poking at her. Caitlin's arms now are unfolded trying to stick to her sides to diminish the surface area you have access to. When you begin to tickle her full-on - you can see her fighting a smile as her hands come up to try to grab yours to get you to stop. "I surrender!" Caitlin yells trying to get you to stop, which you do. You didn't realize you had moved to straddle her and are now sitting on her while Cait's hands hold yours on her stomach. Caitlin sits up a little, her hands leaving yours and holding your waist to make sure you don't move off of her when she sits up. You don't know what to feel - your heart is racing and you don't know if that is from just trying to tickle the girl you are on or because of your growing feelings. Caitlin is looking at your lips and you can't help but lick your bottom lip. This causes Cait to lean in. "Don't move," she whispers as she brings her lips to meet yours. Her hands are firm on your hips as your hands come to wrap around her neck. Once you begin to kiss her back, she pulls you closer to her and kisses you in a manner that is much more than friendly. You pull away, both of you panting. Your head is spinning. "Caitlin," you say and she leans her forehead against yours. "Yes?" She asks one of her hands coming to cup your face, brushing her thumb along your cheek. "Caitlin," you say with a sigh. She smiles and pulls you in for another kiss.
From then on, the two of you decided that you could not game together and that Caitlin would only call on you to help her when she really needed it. Which she never liked to admit but loves watching you dominate.
The two of you end up having to catch up on your project as the semester comes to an end. It is annoying but you both end up having to put a few Saturdays into it. When you finally present your project a weight is lifted off of your shoulders because you no longer have to be Cait's marketing partner and could just be her girlfriend.
AN: Strayed a little from the request but I hope it makes sense. Let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍
#caitlin clark#caitlin clark concepts#caitlin clark imagine#caitlin clark x reader#caitlin clark masterlist
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Butterflies can’t see the colour of their wings series:
Part 1 Part 2 ( you are here) part 3
A/n: this ain’t probably the part 2 that you were looking for but I tried brainstorming a few ideas and this is all I could come up with.
Tag list: @xoxobabe @spiderpunksbaee @farleyis @ray202 @persondoingstuff @kittekat420 @juicyj28 @mikeikax @karmz-7319
‘Wait, you think Miles might be setting you up with Hobie?’ Gwen asked.
‘That’s what it feels like, we were just chilling then all of a sudden Hobie became the topic.’ You told her as you were waiting for the feet of your friends to come, knowing how Hobie goes to grab Miles first, then hoping over to Pav’s so the three could go to yours or Gwen’s dimension together; it was easy to know when they were near as you could hear them laughing and participate in some good old fashioned roughhousing with one another much like brothers did. So it wasn’t uncommon when one or all of them turn up with scuffed clothing and wide grins laced with mischief.
You and Gwen loved your boys, you truly did but the could be a fucking handful when they wanted to be, but that’s what you signed up for once becoming friends with them after some bonding during a mission to contain an anomaly in your; dimension 619.
‘Hmm,’ Gwen made a thoughtful face, she, Miles and Pavitr had taken notice of how Hobie acts when he’s with you and despite there no being real major differentiations but there was obviously something going off in the way he would always sit beside you, arm slung over your shoulders as his leg is pressed up against yours or how it was that whenever you spoke he would give you all of his undivided attention and hang onto your every word as though it were gospel. ‘If there’s anyone to ask about this it should be Hobie, after all wouldn’t it be better to hear it from him rather then through someone else that he has feelings for you?’
‘I guess you’re right but I just don’t see what he sees in me to find me all that interesting, I’m just another Spider-person like you, him, Pav and Miles.’ You tell Gwen, not seeing how someone as cool as him could ever possibly show interest in you; sure you’ve noticed a change or two in how he interacts with you but you didn’t want to be in over your head about this and end up looking like a total idiot for overanalysing. ‘Will you stop that.’ Gwen suddenly says and you look at her as you gradually stopped fiddling with the spiked cuff Hobie gave you a while back, ‘stop what?’
‘This!’ she exclaimed, ‘This self deprecating tear down, you’re a lovely person and i like being with you, Miles likes being with you, Pavitr likes being with you, Hobie especially likes being with you! A butterfly can’t see the colour of their wings but us as humans can see how beautiful they are; likewise you might not think you’re not good enough but others can see how special and amazing you are and to me, you’re pretty fucking amazing and I’m done letting you get in your own yeah in being happy.’ Gwen finished, slightly out of breath. She was done allowing you degrade yourself without letting you get a glimpse of what she sees, of what she thinks Hobie sees, because at the end of the day their words are just that; words, it was up to you on whether or not you wanted to believe them or not.
Before you could say anything in response, Hobie, Miles and Pavitr came onto the rooftop, laughing and smiling with one another and upon seeing you, Hobie made his way over, slugging his arm over your shoulder and tugging you into his side, jostling you a little upon seeing the look upon your face. ‘You alright love?’ He asked concerned. You sent him a smile as your hand reached to grab the one that was hanging loosely from your shoulders, giving it a quick squeeze. ‘I’m alright Hobie, nothing you need to worry yourself with.’
‘You’d tell me if there was wouldn’t you?’ Hobie asked, still not convinced that you were one hundred percent. ‘Hobie,’ you chuckled, ‘trust me I’m fine, me and Gwen just had a heart to heart is all.’ You tell him without going into much detail. Hobie stared at you a little longer to see if you were lying to him but stopped when he couldn’t, squeezing your hand, Hobie conceded, ‘fine, but just know I’m here for you yeah? You don’t gotta hide from me, I just wanna shoulder the burden with you and make it a tad easier on you.’ You appreciated Hobie’s want to help his friends, he’s naturally protective over you, Miles, Gwen and Pavitr so it was natural for him to want to help you guys wherever he can, mainly because he was the one all of you went for solid advice to now and then.
Yet you doubt he could help you when it came to you expressing your feelings for him. This was something you’d have to sort out yourself now with your newfound self confidence thanks to Gwen. You pressed an innocent kiss to Hobie’s cheek, ‘You’re amazing Hobie and I’m not dismissing your help or anything but I’m sure I can figure this out on my own, if I can’t then I’ll come to you.’ You tell him, unaware of the fact that Gwen, Pavitr and Miles all looked to you both just in time to see the kiss happen.
Gwen and Miles were both smiling with pride while Pavitr was trying his hardest not to squeal as he snapped a picture of the tender moment, once you two get together he was defiantly going to tease you both about how obvious the tension between you two was.
#spiderman atsv x reader#atsv x reader#spiderman atsv x you#spiderman atsv imagines#spiderman atsv imagine#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman: atsv#spiderverse x you#spiderverse x reader#spiderverse imagine#hobie brown fluff#hobie x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown imagine#hobie x you#hobie brown imagines#hobie brown x you#hobie brown atsv#spiderpunk x reader#spiderverse#atsv x you#atsv#atsv fic#spiderman atsv#spiderman atsv fic#aross the spiderverse#spiderman: across the spiderverse
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i’m having thee worst plug!eren brainrot rn so here’s some random hc’s for himmm
mdni///cw include: black coded reader, SMUT, a whole lotta tooth rotting fluff, drug usage, major gun kink, talks of mommy and daddy issues, some grisha slander heh, not proofread so there may be some spelling mistakes :((
♡ so it’s goes without saying he is one of those ppl that has no idea what to do when someone’s crying in front of him. he grew up in a household where if he was ever caught crying he’d be told to suck it up and act like a man :(( so it’s very hard for him to find the right words to say or do the right actions when comforting someone. on the bright side he has gotten better at it since he’s met you.
♡ the first time you cried in front of him was when you made the horrible decision to show him the movie ‘my sisters keeper’ and you were an absolute mess by the time the credits rolled. “are you….are you crying?” he asked absolutely flabbergasted that you were crying, sure the movie was sad but was it really that sad?? (yes it is). “of c-course im sad *hiccup* did you not watch any of the damn movie?” you sniffled crossing your arms over you chest. instead of talking about it any further eren just pulled you onto his lap and tucked your face in his neck muttering out a ‘whatever you say weirdo.’ after witnessing many moments like that he’s wayyy better at handling your lil emotional self.
♡ he’s surprisingly a natural with kids!!! one of his homeboys has a three year old daughter who is absolutely too precious for her own good and every time eren sees her he can’t help but turn into a pile of mush. he doesn’t do the whole baby talk thing though he’ll talk to that little girl like she’s one of the homies much to your dismay. one time he bought her a barbie car as a present and the gesture was adorable a first until he opened his damn mouth, “and if any of those kids at the park mess with you just run them over with this and they’ll leave you alone okay? listen to your uncle eren he knows his shit.” that earned him a smack upside the head from you and an exhausted head shake from his homeboy. he rlly is too much.
♡ seeing you with his homies daughter also ignited something in him he’s never ever felt before. eren could never see himself as a dad, maybe the cool uncle but nothing more than that. but goddamn seeing you handle kids makes him wanna buy a big ass house and give you as many kids as you’ll let him—hence his raging breeding kink that appears from time to time. you always wondered why he got so riled up every time he saw you with his friends daughter and then it all started to make sense one night when he was fucking you like a madman and kept moaning n panting about how pretty you’d look carrying his kids. you both came to an agreement that kids were off the table for a while but it didn’t make it any less fun when he stuffed you full of his cum until he was basically shooting blanks.
♡ “g-goddamn fuck y/n,” eren groaned into your ear, emptying his fourth load into your aching pussy. you were absolutely spent—nothing but a babbling, brain dead mess. you thought eren would’ve been too tired as well, but when he pulled his face outta your neck he still had that mischievous glint in eyes that had you folded up in the first place. “m’still hard,” he whispered making you whimper. “no…n-no more ren too sensitive,” you whined making eren hum. he glanced at your thighs that were still shaking from the aftershocks of you previous orgasm, then looked back into your eyes. you knew what he was hinting at and meekly nodded your head making him smile. he slowly pulled out of your pussy, gently shushing you when he heard you whine before sitting back on his knees. he pushed your thighs together and quickly slipped his dick between the pillowy skin, groaning at how soft you felt. “yeah…that’s it you feel so good mama,” he grunted pulling his kiss swollen bottom lip between his teeth. every once in a while he dick would glide across your overly sensitive clit making you mewl. it didn’t take long for eren to reach his peak once again and without warning he parted your thighs and shoved his dick back into your pussy knocking all the air out of your lungs. “so good….always so good for me. my perfect girl i love you do much,” eren muttered breathlessly into your ear.
♡ his love language is words of affirmation hands down!!!! he practically purrs like a kitten when you tell him how much you love him and how much he means to you :((
♡ i don’t think it’s any surprise he’s got some pretty bad mommy AND daddy issues. losing carla at a young age had a monumental impact on him as a kid and grisha didn’t even deserve the title of being a father. his whole life he’s never been able to be vulnerable in front of anyone until he met you ofc. you were his light, his safe haven and he didn’t know what he did to deserve someone as caring and nurturing as you but he never dared question it. you’d only seen him cry one time in front of you and it was when you went with him to visit carla’s grave. he looked like he was holding so much in and it absolutely broke your heart. “it’s okay to be upset eren you don’t ever have to put on that tough façade for me,” you whispered pressing a kiss to his trembling lips that was full of so much love and care he could’ve sobbed. he still has his moments where he closes his emotions off from you but day by day you’re slowly breaking down those walls he built up all those years.
♡ he is a true crime girly!!! he’s one of those ppl that can go to sleep watching the i.d. channel and still sleep peacefully.
♡ you’re a tad bit too clumsy for your own good so eren keeps a thing of bandaids and alcohol in his car and then a small lil box of sanrio themed bandaids in your purse. you thought he was absolutely ridiculous for keeping them on standby until you used damn near all the sanrio themed bandaids.
♡ “not so ridiculous for keeping these around now am i huh?” he chuckled putting the bandaid on your scraped knee. you didn’t say anything instead letting out an annoyed huff, but the annoyance quickly went away when he gave your knee three kisses. “my clumsy girl,” he snickered giving your pouting lips a kiss. “s’not my fault these heels are just too tall,” you mumbled kicking them off in annoyance. eren smirked and reached behind his seat pulling out a pair of fluffy slides, “i knew you’d get annoyed with them eventually—put these on instead,” he said setting the slides on your lap. you tried to your bratty act up but you just couldn’t stop the smile that crept on your glossed up lips, “you’re the best renny,” you giggled giving his cheek a kiss. “i know i am.” cocky ass mf.
♡whenever y’all are at your place it’s such a sight seeing this big, strong, mean man all comfortable in your pink fluffy blankets n cuddling with your squishmallows even though he supposedly has beef w them—but let me not even get into that seriously. sometimes after he’s done beating your pussy up he’ll grab two of your plushies and make them hump each other pretending it’s the two of you.
♡ “yes yes yes eren!” eren moaned on a high pitched voice making your cheeks burn in embarrassment. you tried snatching the plushies from his grip but it was no use he was too damn strong. “oh my godddd eren enough!” you whined smacking his chest, leaving a red handprint in the making. eren’s jaw dropped and he turned to you his brows furrowed, “now that wasn’t very nice was it?” he said turning his head to plushie. “not very nice at all,” he said dropping his voice an octave making you giggle. you moved yourself onto his stomach and grabbed the plushies, tossing them aside. “m’sorry baby,” you pouted giving the red mark a sweet kiss, “let me make it up to you.” and that’s how you ended up face down ass up while eren pounded you from behind, the force making you grab onto your plushies for dear life.
♡ he’s very very into gunplay and it’s all your fault. that day you asked him so nicely to fuck your mouth with his glock was the day you created a monster.
♡ one night you both were at a block party and ‘get low’ by lil jon started playing and you couldn’t help but make your way over to where everyone was dancing and join in. eren admired you from the side taking a hit of his blunt every once in a while. you looked so damn good it was criminal. the way your denim mini skirt began to ride up your thick thighs from dancing had eren’s dick jumping in his pants. while you were dancing you suddenly felt a pair of strong arms around you and knew exactly who it was. “you look so fine dancing out here you’re killing me baby,” he chuckled pushing your backside into his front and that’s when you felt it. you froze in your spot making eren smirk, “you okay mama?” he asked pressing a wet kiss to your neck. not even five minutes later you dragged eren to his car and bounced on his dick while while you sucked on his glock. even though the windows were blacked out anyone with eyes could tell what was happening with the way the car bounced and jostled. “fuck just like that baby make a mess on this dick,” eren groaned, pushing the glock deeper into your mouth.
♡ it didn’t stop there either sometimes eren liked to have you point the gun at his head while he fucked you. “look at my sweet girl holding my—goddamn m-my fucking gun. so damn naughty hm?” he grinned loving the way you were struggling to hold it against his head.
♡ his only social media is instagram and it’s basically a fanpage dedicated to you. his profile pic? a picture of him laying on your ass with the biggest smile on his face. his pinned photos? a picture of you and him with matching grills, one of you both wearing ski masks while his gun is pointed at the camera beam on and everything, and the other one is a pic of you two in a photo booth—you were smiling oh so prettily while one of your boobs was in his mouth. he only follows a few of his friends and the only girl he follows is you ofc not bc you made him only follow you he just chose too <333
♡ now after eren gets locked up life is a little bit different than it used to be. since being a dealer was out of the question he started working at an auto body shop w connie and although he wasn’t making as much money as he was before he still provided for you in every way. you didn’t mind the lack of expensive gifts in the slightest you were just happy your renny was back in your arms. he worked a lot more than he used to which left you a lot more needy for his touch and attention but he always made sure to take care you even after an excruciatingly long day at work.
♡ “missed you so much ren today went by so slow,” you whined against his lips as he fucked into you. he was pretty tired so he went a little slower than he usual fast pace but you didn’t mind in the slightest. “missed you too mama. you’re so sweet f’having dinner ready for me n’ helping me out in the shower,” he groaned pushing his thumb into your mouth which you greedily sucked. he always took a shower as soon as he got off, not wanting to get any oil or other grime from the shop on your pretty clothes. you couldn’t stand to not be in his arms a minute longer so you followed him into the shower and just wrapped your arms around his toned stomach while he showered not saying a word. little did you know in just a few days he’d be taking you on a vacation to barbados (somewhere you’ve been dying to visit) and while you both were there he planned on making you his forever by putting a fat rock on your finger.
#sigh i love him so damn much :((#someone pls hold me why isn’t he real oh my god#plug!eren#eren smut#eren yeager smut#eren jaeger smut#eren imagines#eren yeager imagine#eren jaeger imagine#eren fluff#eren yeager fluff#eren jaeger fluff#attack on titan smut#aot smut#eren x black reader#eren yeager x black reader#eren jaeger x black reader#eren x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren jaeger x reader
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Dₒₚₚₑₗgₐₙgₑᵣₛ
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐮𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴘʀᴏᴡʟᴇʀ! ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
Tw: you and miles are vigilantes, theft, venom symbiote, mentions of death, mentions of getting shot, Symbiote being a little shit sometimes, murder?
A/N: Since I don't really know much about earth 42 Miles, I just came up with an idea on why he is the Prowler.
Masterlist
The first person to know about your Symbiote was your boyfriend Miles, you knew that he was the one and only Prowler, sure he was a vigilante, but he did more than the police had ever done, it all started when his father died. His dad was a good cop, but sadly he was killed while on a patrol and the police station did nothing, so Miles had decided to take matters into his own hands.
You had no idea how the alien had got to you. One day you just woke up and bam, you had an Symbiote on you. Miles could not believe it, he has seen weird shit, but not this weird. Your Symbiote on the other hand, was a little shit, who was always hungry or would just flat out fuck with both you and Miles for its entertainment.
But as time passed, you and your Symbiote got along well, it would still mess with Miles, but your boyfriend was cool with the creature. Then one night that you were walking home late back to your apartment complex, you nearly got shot by a mugger. He had wanted everything that you had, but refused to give him any of the money Miles had given you, then you heard gunshots.
Except, your body had been consumed by a black liquid, almost similar to a shield, then you felt a lot of anger and all sorts of things going through your body, next thing you new, the guy was dead. Ripped apart on the ally. You went back home straight away, wondering what just happened.
You had bumped into Miles, and basically told him what happened. How you were nearly mugged and you basically killed the guy. Miles wanted to kill the guy himself, but he was already dead. Then that was when your Symbiote had told you both its abilities.
Now this caused interest, you basically had some kind of weapon on you. And that's how you began to help Miles and his Uncle, they both helped train you so that you didn't get your ass kicked, sure you had your Symbiote, but it was good that you knew how to fight. You didn't have to help, but you choose to help both Miles and Aaron. At first your Symbiote wasn't convinced, but once you told it that with the extra money you got, you can get them as much junk food as they wanted, they agreed.
Thanks to you and your Symbiote, you manage to get more money, but majority of the money would go to Miss Morales, she worked hard as a nurse, but she wasn't getting paid enough, you believed that she dissevered the money due to her hard work. Besides Bounties, you also stole from the rich and helped the people from your community. Since no one cared about your people, you and Miles made it your mission to help them as much as possible. Sure it was dirty work, but you didn't care, if this was how to help the community you grew up in, so be it.
You and Miles had been on a mission, you as Venom and him as the Prowler. You had stolen some money from this Rich's guy's home, after you got both your shares, you went to drop it off at the orphanage that was near your apartment complex, afterwards you got a call from Aaron, there was a situation and he needed both of you to see what it was. "What do you think it is? Another bounty?" you asked, your face had been uncovered to be able to speak and look at Miles. "I don't know, but it sounds important. Lets go." That was all he said, then you both hurried back to the hide out.
Once you arrived, you crawled in through the window, then you saw someone tied onto the punching bag while Aaron was messing with some stuff. You wanted to get a better look, so with your spiderlike abilities, you crawled on the celling. As soon as you saw the guy, he looked identical to you boyfriend, except he had his hair in an afro and he was wearing some kind of suit, spider suit in particular. Now you were above the person tied up on the punching bag, then your boyfriend made himself present. You also spotted someone else, tied behind him, when you set your eyes on them, you couldn't believe it, it was you! Except, the fake looked more nice and sweet, very unlike you.
He then got down, while you stayed on the ceiling. Aaron then tossed him one of his gloves in which he caught. He looked very intimidating when he got closer to the imposter. "Your dad is still alive?" he asked, making the imposter respond in confusion. "What?" he asked, making your boyfriend repeat himself. "You father, you said he is still alive." he said, this time the imposter whispered. "Yeah.." he said, making your boyfriend let out a small hum. "Who are you?" he asked, a whole minute passed, then your Miles reveal himself to the other one by removing his mask from his face. Your fake couldn't really see any of what was happening, except hear everything, she could feel how everything was happening all at once.
"I'm Miles Morales, but you.. can call me the Prowler" he said, making the other Miles have a look of shock. "If I don't get home, our dad is going to die-" he tried to reason with him but he was cut off by your Miles. "Your dad" he said coldly, making the other more scared. Then this was when you decided to make yourself present. You slid upside down using your web, now face to face to the imposter Miles. Your face had been covered, so all he could see was your sharp rows of teeth and your wide white eyes, making him even more scared.
You smirked and licked your teeth with your long tongue. "I didn't know you had a twin brother, I thought we didn't keep secret from us Babe" you teased, in your demonic voice. You then got a hold of the other Miles face, lightly pressing your sharp talons on his cheeks, causing him to be even more scared. "He isn't my brother" your boyfriend said. You continued to have a good look at the fake. Impressed on how similar he was to your boyfriend, except he looked more dorky and soft. "W-who are you?" he asked again, still frightened.
Just like your boyfriend, you showed your face to him. This caused him to let out a small gasp. "I'm Y/n L/n" You said then you turned the bag around, now face to face to your other you! Just like Miles, she was terrified, even more terrified than Miles. "But you can call me Venom" you said with a smirk, showing her the fangs that you developed over time. It made her even more scared, you saw how she was shivering by the fear.
Taglist?: @sorryi-mtrash
#miles morales x reader#miles morales x you#miles morales x y/n#earth 42 miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles morales x you#earth 42 miles morales x y/n#prowler miles morales x venom reader#prowler miles morales x reader#prowler miles x reader#prowler x reader#prowler miles morales x fem reader#female reader#female y/n#venom reader#venom y/n#aphrodite's writing
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The Engagement pt.3
Armando Aretas x Black Fem! Reader
Hey guys I know this took a little while to come out but like I said, nothing but the best for my readers!
With that being said, this has strong themes of toxic relationships and major smut! Enjoy 🌺💋
I also wanna give credit to @zari-0115 she helped me write the smut scene so W to her! She’s the best
You knew he’d be here. You were told he’d be here. You just didn’t realize how much it would actually hurt. You didn’t realize the air would start thinning around you when you saw his new girlfriend wrapped around him looking like they were the happiest couple on earth.
You feel a tight squeeze on your hand before realizing Armando was standing beside you.
“C’mon”,he says,taking your hand in his. You sift through the crowded party, hand in hand, before finally making it through the balconys sliding doors. You put your hands on your knees , and attempt to steady your breathing.
“Look up and count to ten”,Armando lifts your chin up before turning your head to look at the view in front of you. You stare out at the beautiful picture. The sunset and the ocean colliding in a way that’s so gorgeous with the pool infront of you glistening. It makes you wonder what you did to deserve to see this.
“One.Two.Three. Four. Five”, you start to count,feeling the tension and anxiety fade away. “There you go, inhala exhala”,he says rubbing your arms softly. “Thank you”,you smile up at him.
“What’s with the panic attack?”,Armando asks. “I don’t know. I saw my ex and my chest just started like caving in”, you explain trying not to let the tears hiding behind your eyes, out. You take a seat on the cool pavement
“That blonde tonto wit the bad hair cut?”, he asks with a disgusted look as he sits next to you.
“Unfortunately yes. I don’t even know why I dated him. But when someone manipulates your heart, it’s hard not to fall for the fake version of them”, you sigh.
“Oh look at me sounding like a Pinterest quote and shit”,you laugh. “What happened?”,he looks over to you. “Well he didn’t physically do anything to me. But i just realized it was like he was jealous of what I was doing with work and when I finally had my own place it was like he hated me for it.”,you start to explain.
Armando’s blood starts to boil the more you talk. “I don’t wanna talk your head off about old shit tho”,you shrug. “Im here to listen”,he says geniunely.
You give a slight nod,“It got to the point where he would ridicule me for everything and belittle me. And at some point I started believing he was right. And I got in this really low place..I wasn’t eating, couldn’t sleep, didn’t even show up to work for a week.”, you sigh getting war flashbacks from arguably the worst time of your life.
“Why did Kelly and Dorn invite him if he did all that to you?”,he asks. “They don’t know about anything that actually went down. They just know we didn’t work out. After everything I still wanted to protect his image.”,you say fidgeting with your finger tips .
Armando grabs your hand, “promise me something”. You raise an eyebrow. “Promise you’ll never let anyone give you anything less than what you deserve”. He looks into your eyes, waiting for you to promise.
“I promise”,you nod. “And don’t let that dickhead fuck this party up for you okay.”,he says rubbing the palm of your hand with his thumb.
“Thank you again Armando. Like for coming and helping me with all this.”,You look over at him. The world is calm for a moment and it seems like it’s only you and Armando.
“I don’t know if this is dumb to tell you or not. But Armando I think I -“
You’re cut off by Armando smashing his lips into yours. You lean into the kiss as he cups your face. You two get so deep into the kiss that at some point your back is on the pavement and he’s on top of you. Without coming up for air the two of you deepen the kiss. Within an instant Armando falls over into the pool, the splash getting you wet.
“Oh shit”,you let out a loud laugh. He resurfaces,wiping the water out of his eyes. “Oh this is funny to you?”,he smiles up at you. “Oh no of course not. It’s hillarious”, you cackle. “Yea yea now help me out”,he sticks his hand out for you. He grabs on hold of your hand before he smirks and pulls you in next to him.
You resurface in the water, “no the fuck you didnt”,you laugh. Everyone walks outside hearing the commotion. “What is going on here”,Kelly laughs.
“Um nothing”,you giggle. “Who cares just jump in”,Marcus says pushing past Mike to jump in the pool. “Man you better watch my suit,”, He says, dead serious by the look on his face.
The two of you climb out of the pool as everyone files back into the living room. You make your way to you guys’s room as your wet clothes cling to your bodies. “You wanna shower first?”, you ask turning to him. “Nah ladies first”, he smirks over at you . You head into the bathroom,starting up the shower, getting the temperature just right. You loved the build of the bathroom. There was a huge see through shower with beautiful deep brown brick walls and a huge granite sink.
You peek your head out the bathroom seeing Armando snatch off the wet t-shirt. It’s not like he didn’t look amazing with the shirt on but got damn if he didn’t look just as good with it off.
You get into the shower feeling the warm water and bubbles up your skin. A wide smirk spreads across your face as a bright idea pops into your head. “Hey Armando can you hand me my towel I left it on the bed”,You call out.
“Yea sure”,he says putting the towel over his shoulder and walking into the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He walks in with his hand over his eyes. “Why don’t you move your hand and put them somewhere else”,you smile. He slowly removes his hand before looking upon your body and stepping into the shower with you.
He places soft kisses on your neck, tracing his hands up and down your skin. You let out soft moans as he scoops you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist.
In this moment you two were the only things that matter. He looks up at you, “Are you sure you wanna do this”,he looks into your deep brown eyes.
“Yes, I want you”,you say as a wide smile appears across your face. He smiles before kissing you so passionately.
He immediately starts fast, pounding into you with your back against the tile wall. He slides in you going deeper, until he hits your cervix causing you to yell out in pleasure.
Armando carries you to the bed, your legs still wrapped around his waist, before laying you down, towering over you he places soft kisses on your boobs, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. He enters two fingers into you causing you to arch yourself upwards with every touch. Your toes curl as he massages your clit. Just when you’re close to finishing Armando removes his fingers. You look down at him, your eyes meeting his, you all but beg for him to give you your release. He smiles up at you mischievously while taking his fingers and putting it up to his mouth to taste you.
He then lifts you up and turns you over like you weigh nothing. He slips himself inside of you and pounds in and out repeatedly. You grab hold of the pillows to keep yourself up right, squirming at each jolt you can hardly keep your ass up. “Hold on Mi Amor” he says instructing you not to finish just yet. Right when he feels you pulsing under him he slips himself out… yet again. “Why are you teasing me?” You whine. Armando doesn’t answer he just flips you over and begins to go down on you, alternating between his tongue and fingers devouring you while he pleasures your nipples with his other hand. He finally lets you release not soon after he enters you again for him to then be finished.
The two of you plop down onto the soft satin sheets, heavy breathing and giggling in between. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that”,You smile over at him. “I’ve been waiting for that since the day I met you”,He says cupping the side of your face.
“You getting soft on me Aretas?”,you laugh. “You know ain’t shit bout me soft Mama”,He looks over at you with a sarcastic smirk. “Call me mama again and we gon have to may have to go run it back ”,You say before climbing on top of him, a mischievous smile across your face. “Let’s do it then mama”,he smirks up at you.
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Just You, Just Me
“You look like a war bond poster.” Major John Egan smiled big and bright as he exited Colonel Harding’s office. More like a pin-up, he thoughtfully amended walking closer to the Lieutenant.
The 0400 hour offered little light but John could recognize the silhouette sitting on the hood of his jeep. He did it with the ease of someone who memorized those smooth curves and soft edges.
“Now remind me, does the poster say ‘a woman’s place is in the war’ or ‘save some wings, smile at a fly boy’?” The Lieutenant asked playfully as her hands found purchase on his broad shoulders.
“I believe it’s ‘lonely lips crash B17s’.” Slotting himself between her legs, he was grateful for her fashion choice to wear slacks in the early morning cool air. The war had done a lot for women but he selfishly loved how easily he could get close to her in a way her uniform skirt didn’t allow. Not that he wasn’t adept at that either…
“Oh, we can’t have that can we?” She airly replied, beginning to play with the baby curls at the back of the pilot’s head. Soft and irresistible were just two of the many positive qualities the curls shared with the man they rested on.
Warmth blossomed in John’s chest by her gentle movements. He allowed himself the comfort of brushing his nose against hers. The action gave him a vision of another life and time, where he could do it again in the safety of their shared bed, where Krauts and colonels were a faraway nightmare.
But at the moment, that wasn’t their reality. Their current reality were stolen moments and cherished nights, where they were just a man and a woman who met on a fateful rainy afternoon.
With a gentle peck to the tip of her nose, he distanced himself just enough for cerulean to meet [eye color]. She matched his soft gaze with one of her own, equal parts affection and longing. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
John smiled at [y/n]’s raised eyebrow, as if she was asking if he read her mind. However, [y/n] learned early on she couldn’t run from John Egan. He was far too intelligent, emotionally aware and observant to allow her to be too far once he learned she liked him back.
“I know that look,” his voice teased, his warm hands squeezing her hips. “It’s your ‘‘John, darling, baby, light of my life, be my good bad boy and be safe’”.
She wasn’t shocked that John knew the bubbling anxiety inside of her. In the dead of night, they had shared many things. Dances, bottles of beer, kisses, fears and the emotional intimacy born from two souls finding comfort and love in each other.
“Well, now it’s saying ‘kiss me senseless and never let me go John Egan’”. His honeyed tone matched his sweet smile.
“Sounds like an order to be me then Major.” She gently replied. Batting her lashes at him, [y/n] considered her options. She could tease him and they’d flirt and banter until the tension was too high to avoid. Or she could strike first and allow them to have some rare moments together before he has to fly away.
So without further warning, she tightened her arms around his neck and guided his lips towards her awaiting ones. Kissing him softly, but without inhibition. Kissing him to disarm his teasing retort. Kissing him to relieve any doubt for the both of them that this mission was going to be his last.
When he felt her soft lips on his, John melted further into her, her scent invading his mind. He exhaled against her skin, hot and full of desire, breathing nothing but her, the uncertainty of the mission forgotten for a moment.
Reluctantly, he pulled back, slow and hesitant, stealing another three kisses from her lips.
“Be careful on this mission, please.” She murmured against his mouth. Placing a lingering kiss on his Cupid’s bow, smiling as his mustache tickled her.
Cupping her cheek, he didn’t let her get too far. “I’ll come back to you,” he sealed the promise with a lingering kiss. “‘Sides, we gotta bet to settle.”
Giggling, she busied herself with fixing his disheveled sheepskin. Smoothing her hands across the front of his jacket, she suddenly gripped the open lapels and pulled. Successfully, she surprised the pilot who could only brace his palms on jeep’s hood caging [y/n] between his arms. “Good, I want my souvenir and bragging rights that I beat Major Bucky Egan at the navigator exam.”
“You don’t stand a chance.” The pilot began matching her haughty tone before his deep voice turned accusatory. “And don’t think I don’t know about you asking Bubbles to tutor you.”
Mouth opening in out rage at the implication, she scoffed. Pointing his left pointer finger dangerously close to her mouth, [y/n] considered biting it.
“I saw you two talking in cahoots!” John argued with a huff of poorly hidden humor as his baritone voice raised.
As was expected when it came to Major Egan, it was a half truth. She was good at navigating, her job as Major Bowman's lieutenant required it, but she wasn’t as good as John. She could claim it was because a well rounded pilot, especially a commanding officer, could and should be able to complete any job on his fort. But truthfully he was just smart, he wouldn’t successfully carry out missions and be named Air Exec for nothing. One of her favorite sights was watching him correct and inform new recruits.
“Cahoots?” Removing her arms from what John deemed ‘their rightful spot’, she instead crossed them. “We were doing this called working, who do you think plans your flight missions, Major?”
He barely bit back a laugh, instead settling on a cheeky smile. “Speaking of flight missions, wanna kiss my lucky deuces?”
Tilting her head quizzically, [y/n] regarded the pilot. “Is that what the kids are calling their lips now?”
His callused hands picked up her smaller ones. “I meant my lucky two bucks, baby.”
Despite her nose scrunching up in what seemed like disgust, [y/n] linked her fingers with John’s. “You want my lips to touch the money that has touched yours and Gale’s hands and sat in both of your pockets?”
“Technically, I split it with Gale so it's only one dollar.” With a squeeze to their interlocked hands, he brought one up to his lips. Placing a gentle kiss onto the back of it, he brazenly added. “But my lips are welcome as well.”
With her head thrown back in laughter, John appreciatively watched the unencumbered laughter spill from her saccharine lips. Moments like this were the reason why he was fighting and why he was coming back. John Egan wanted many things out of life. He wouldn’t let any Krauts take the many more laughs and kisses he could share with [y/n] away without a fight.
Winding her arms around his neck, she placed a kiss on his lips. John accepted her soft kiss at first and then with a swift shift of intensity, as if moving the control of a B17, he found her clinging to him as if he was the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world.
Pulling back slowly, John placed a final kiss on her forehead. “Drive me to the airfield?”
Closing her eyes, her hands bunched in the warm fleece of his coat lapels. “Your chariot awaits.” She whispered softly, taking solace in their last few moments. Gathering herself, she lightly pushed her hands against his chest asking for space.
John took a step back, allowing [y/n] the room to slide off the jeep. However, once her feet were firmly on the ground, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his warm body. “Take the long way?”
“Sure thing, fly boy.”
A/N: Appreciate any and all feedback!
#bucky egan x reader#john egan x reader#major john egan x reader#john egan imagine#john egan x female reader#mota x reader#mota fanfic#masters of the air imagine#masters of the air x reader
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austin butler - clumsy
warnings ; none
prompt ; in which your celebrity crush causes you to become a flustered, blubbering mess.
a/n ; a little something fun i wrote during the fall but never published! it’s basically anxious!reader and honestly how I imagine myself reacting to meeting aus so enjoy xoxo
Okay, don’t panic.
Do not panic.
It’s just a man. A man with blonde, curly locks, blue eyes, over 6 feet tall… but still, a man. Nothing special. You could probably find ten of him walking down Rodeo Drive.
Except that’s probably not true either.
It is Austin Butler, after all.
You hike the tail of your dress higher as you descend up the stairs to the red carpet, inhaling as much oxygen as possible to tame your nerves. It does nothing for you beside provide a placebo effect of calmness. Your publicist, Jane, stands next to you with her eyebrows furrowed in permanent worry, a crinkle she’s had since the day she took you on. “[Y/N], did you get a chance to look at your seating arrangement?”
“Uh, no, not yet,” You respond slowly, wincing slightly as you brace yourself for her reaction. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning towards you.
“You know what, that’s fine, sweets. Just go stand on the carpet so we can take these pictures,” She goes back to her clipboard full of tedious things like timing and interviewers and stupid seating arrangements, and you’re trying to stay focused, but how can you do that when Austin Butler is standing 8 feet away from you, posing on the red carpet?
You’re pretty sure you’re drooling.
Whoever keeps leaving his shirts unbuttoned is a menace to society and needs to be locked away for endangerment to the general public.
This whole idiotic schoolgirl crush began relatively long ago, when he was still deeply in love with Vanessa Hudgens and playing a teen heartthrob on The Carrie Diaries. You weren’t even famous at that point, just a mediocre commercial actress trying to get her big break. Once you finally booked your first big role, the crush faded away (only the tiniest amount) but that all came crashing down like an avalanche when you saw Elvis with your best friend.
They probably could’ve posted the entire movie on a porn website and made the same amount of money. And, thus, your crush ensued, full throttle and invading your every thought at the worst moments. Including this one.
Jane kicks the back of your leg, cursing under her breath as you tear your eyes away from him. You’re not new to this scene, you’ve been in major leading roles and you’ve been nominated for Oscars. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that at your core, you are a complete and utter mess. A klutz. A loser with some money in the bank.
So, you take the pictures, with not too many mistakes as you expected, just a few shots of you blinking while smiling. You’re sure they’ll end up on Twitter where your fans will laugh about it while saying how much they love you.
This part always goes by fast. It’s camera flashes, smiles that are strained under the bright lights, talks with interviewers that always go far longer than expected, and then before you know it, you’re being ushered into a tight room with celebrities you had only dreamed of seeing in real life. Jane is glued to your side as you wait for your turn to enter the theater.
Despite the cool temperature of Los Angeles, you’re somehow drenched in sweat. You’ve done this before, you know that. But that doesn’t stop your entire body from going into fight or flight mode, teetering towards flight.
“What’s the hold up?” You hear a female’s voice yell out, and you almost think it’s Jane before you hear her chuckle beside you.
“Speak that truth. I am so sick of these fucking Oscars dimwits wasting my time,” Jane says loudly enough for the girl to hear it, and before you know it, they’re enthralled in a full-blown conversation. If you weren’t trying to fan your armpit sweat, you might’ve joined.
Maybe it’s a good idea to find out where you’re sitting. Probably will need to know that before you enter. You can only assume they’ll sit you next to your last co-star, Timothee Chalamet. What a delight that would be (and that’s not sarcasm, he always smells like cashmere and some type of forest.)
You turn your body slightly, eyeing Jane and the girl she’s talking to. She’s a redhead, also wearing a suit and clearly another publicist that has been in the position for far too long to enjoy it.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a male figure standing next to the redhead. Hm. A black suit. Your eyes trail over his body, a soft black lace shirt that is half-unbuttoned peeking over the hem. How nice. You love that look on men.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, fuck.
Your body freezes. Mouth runs dry. Sweat shrivels back up into your body only to start forming at impossible speeds. Heart palpates so quickly you think you might be going into cardiac arrest.
In front of you, is Austin Butler. And he completely, totally, entirely, caught you checking out his entire body, head to toe.
There’s a smirk on his face that is undeniably directed towards you, eyes glimmering with amusement. You can’t even believe that you’re looking directly at him. He can’t be real, he has to be a figment of your imagination.
“Come here often?”
You did not just speak.
No, you didn’t. That couldn’t have been real. That couldn’t have been what you just said. After years of dreaming about this moment, that can’t have been what your brain and tongue agreed on.
He chuckles, a deep one that rumbles through his chest, and says, “I try not to make it a habit. You?”
You entangle your fingers with each other, hoping the sweat that has gathered on them just slides right off. “Me either. Trying to cut down on my presence and all that.”
He raises his eyebrows quizzically, that soft smile that curves upon his lips widening a little, “Well, can’t say the Oscars is the best place to do that.”
“Yes, well…” You trail off. Thoughts empty. Brain just a shallow void with nothing but dirty, filthy fantasies about him floating around. Oh god, get a grip.
And he should end the conversation right there, then back around and not acknowledge the weird girl who clearly hasn’t had enough media training. But, he doesn’t. Instead, he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and says, “I’m Austin. Austin Butler.”
“I know,” You say almost immediately. His facial expression contorts into something unreadable, and your lips flap again to try and salvage the rest of your dignity. “I’m [Y/N].”
You shake his hand, praying to some otherworldly creature above that he won’t feel the sweat on your hands. It’s a little weird, when you touch his hand. Feels like you’re envisioning yourself with him, like you’re some kind of wizard that can tell it won’t be the last time you see him. It feels a little like something out of a rom-com, with the electricity zap and the sounds of your hearts beating erratically.
You both pull your hands away, smiling to the ground. You really, really, really hope he’ll keep talking to you.
“Nervous?” He asks, taking note of the way your thumbs twiddle and the sidestep you keep doing with your heels.
“A little. Kinda. Maybe,” You let out a sigh of relief. “I’m not really the most organized.”
“Hm. Well, I’m sure you’ll be great,” His grin widens just enough to show off his pearly white teeth that glimmer under the remaining sunlight that California has to offer.
“Thanks,” You smile back. “How about you? Nervous?”
“Always,” He responds, almost taken aback by the transparency he’s having with another celebrity. He’s never had a conversation about nerves, never felt validated enough by someone to open up about the fear that comes along with being at this level of fame. “It’s my first Oscars.”
“Right,” You say, “Well, I’ve been to a few, and honestly, I’ll let you in on a secret. Even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself a little when the nominees are announced.”
He lets out a laugh, a real one, one that sounds like all good things in the world and you would be more than happy to capture it in a jar and keep it on your bedside forever. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” He switches gears, shifting his body around a little. “What afterparty are you going to?”
It’s a simple question, one you’ve been asked numerous times by other people in the industry. It usually offers a sense of dominance over who got the better invite. “Er, yes, that would be a question for my lovely publicist, Jane, because I don’t have a rat’s ass idea of where I’m supposed to go.”
He laughs. Again. Part of you is enthralled, part of you is confused as to why he thinks you’re a comedy show. Maybe he thinks you’re a joke. Yes, that makes good sense. “That honestly makes me feel better because I don’t really know where I’m going either,” He admits.
“Are you kidding?” You ask incredulously. “You look like that and you don’t know where you’re going? I think the President of the Academy Awards has a personal invite waiting for you.”
Okay, maybe you shouldn’t have said that. But really, it has to be blamed on the fact that there are a swarm of murderous bees flying around in your stomach that are making you feel woozy.
His cheeks turn a crimson glow, “Like that?”
“Oh, you know…” You trail, slowly laughing to brush off the fact that you basically just admitted your undying love to him. “Just…. That’s a great black shirt. I’m gonna buy one for my brother.”
His lips curve upwards a little more, blue eyes sparkling like little oceans. “Thanks. And, you know, you don’t look bad yourself.”
You blink twice. Did he just say that?
Before you even whip up a flirty comment, or even a funny one that’ll have him doubling over in laughter and proposing to you by tonight, you feel Jane gripping your forearm tightly. “Stop dicking around, [Y/N]. We need to go in.”
“Right, yes, totally,” You smile awkwardly over to Austin, and he returns it. You feel soft and warm and glowy inside, like you might levitate off the floor.
And then you really are levitating off the floor, because your feet miss the step and you’re falling before you even have a chance to stop yourself. Your arm extends to try and delay your inevitable fall, but it doesn’t work and you’re really sprawled out. Immediately, Jane rushes down to try and drag you up, hurriedly asking if you’re okay.
You nod slightly, balancing yourself on your knees. Thankfully, you think the vast majority of people have entered the theater and missed out on your embarrassment of epic proportions.
Well, maybe not everyone.
Suddenly, like a light peeking from beyond the clouds, you see an outstretched hand to your right. It’s tan, a male’s hand for sure. You look up to see who could possibly be nice enough to help you up. Maybe it’s God telling you it’s time to pass away.
It’s Austin. And he has a really worried look on his face that you’re shocked by, but his expression falters once he sees the look on your face. You’re smiling, a real big goofy one, because it’s so ridiculous and he’s so ridiculous and you’re pretty sure one of your heels is broken.
You place your hand in his, and his other hand wraps around your waist to help you up and steady yourself against him. Once you’re finally standing, he grins, leaning into your ear, “Remember, even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself at the table.”
You don’t even realize his arm is still wrapped around your waist until you notice the absence of it. You giggle lightly, biting your lip. “Of course. And I think I saw Brad Pitt throw up in the bathroom last year.”
“Austin, we gotta go,” His publicist grabs his hand, and you feel a pang of disappointment. You almost think he does too, his blue eyes turning grayish as he looks back at her.
“Right,” He clears his throat. “Well, good luck tonight, [Y/N]. I hope you win.”
“You too,” The smile on your face is probably permanently tattooed on. You feel Jane’s hand on your back, slowly moving you away from him although your feet beg to stay.
“Oh, and [Y/N]?” You turn back around to face him, “Big fan of your work.”
With that, he turns away with his publicist to go and find his seat amongst the crowd. You watch him disappear, an indescribable feeling washing over your entire body. You’re also being whisked away to your table, greeted by familiar faces and friends. But it’s pretty clear that’s not the reason why you’re smiling.
Some part of your brain decides on one thing: this won’t be the last time you see him.
▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓
You decide that you like California. Not a whole lot, but enough to make you sign a contract for a new film. Normally, you believe that Los Angeles and all its surrounding cities are a dreadful structure that encapsulates all the worst features of privileged Southern California lifestyle. But the food is undeniably tasty, and your new apartment is decorated with high ceilings and well-lit rooms, so you’ll make do. You’ll be filming in sunny Calabasas, where the houses are painted a perfect shade of white, where time stills a little and every cloud is just the right amount of fluffy.
The Oscar’s had came and went, and you won, to no one’s surprise but your own. With that accomplishment came offers. People really, truly wanted to work with you, and although it baffled you, Jane was having the time of her life coordinating auditions and interviews.
Everything was truly perfect.
You flip through the pages of your fresh script, your manicured nails turning through the warm pages, the black ink bleeding onto the sheets. Jane sits across from you, feverishly scribbling something, negotiating your pay for your new film. She’ll deliver. In the end, she always does.
She hangs up her call, sighing from relief. You’re about to ask her how it went, if you got the price you wanted, before her phone blares again with that god awful ringtone she refuses to change. She answers it, a cheerful tone in her voice, “Kate? So good to hear from you! What’s going on?”
You tune out of her conversation, focusing your eyes back on the mass of paper in front of you. A new story to be told. A new character to embody. A new chapter of your life. It’s all very emotional and sappy and you almost want to cry tears of happiness, but you’ll save that for later, once you get home and crack open a bottle of wine.
You hear Jane place her phone down, and your eyes flicker back up to her. There’s an expression on her face that’s unreadable, and you’re unsure of how to process it. Oh, no. If you didn’t get the price you wanted, that would suck. Or, maybe you did and she’s just unsure on how to process emotion. You always thought she was a robot.
“I just had the weirdest phone call,” She finally speaks, scratching her forehead quizzically.
“What’s up?” You ask mindlessly, certain she’s going to tell you something personal like her cousin getting married to a farmer.
“That was Austin Butler’s publicist. She said he’s been asking about you since the Oscars.”
There’s no fucking way. She’s pranking you. Any second now, Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out behind the doorframe and say “You’ve been Punk’d!” and then maybe he’ll also bring out Austin to further your embarrassment.
“Excuse me?” You blink.
“Yeah,” She seems just as baffled as you are. “She said he’s been trying to find a way to get in contact with you, but turns out, you guys don’t have a lot of mutual friends.”
Well, that makes sense.
She continues on, “Anyway, she gave me his number and then said he wants to ask you on a date. So, do with that what you will.”
She unlocks her phone, slides it across the table to you, and you see a phone number typed into her notes. Your hand trembles as you pick up the iPhone, copying the number into your own contacts. You feel woozy, just like you did on that red carpet, just like you did the moment you locked eyes with him.
“Right, well,” You clear your throat. “I’ll just step outside and call him real quick.”
She nods, raising one eyebrow. There’s a small grin that appears on her lips, a knowing one, and you slide out the door into the hallway.
You don’t know what comes over you, or what demon compels you, but you click the number. You hear the ring. There’s a pause. Your heart drops as you think that he might not answer.
And then you hear him. His voice.
“Hello?”
“Uh, h-hi. Hi. This is, um, [Y/N]. Your publicist gave me your number.”
It almost sounds ridiculous.
“[Y/N]. You know, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you but turns out you’re not an easy person to reach,” You can hear the smile in his voice.
“Well, you know me and my presence. All time low,” You say sarcastically, and he chuckles.
“Right. Well, congratulations on your win. Very well-deserved,” His voice is deeper than you remember. There’s a slight desire that pools between your legs for a moment before you snap yourself back into reality.
“You too. Some would call it the performance of the year,” And you can’t even believe it’s happening. You’re really flirting with him.
“Thank you,” He says so softly, so charming. He’s always grateful and humble, and it makes you even more attracted to him. If that’s even possible at this point. “So, do you think there’s a chance you would allow me to take you out to dinner? Somewhere lowkey, you know, for your presence and all?”
The question is so unbelievable that you can’t even take it in. You make a few sounds, splutter over your words and trip over them like you did your own two feet at the Oscars. Your heartbeat travels up to your eardrum, pounding with every ounce of blood that travels through you. “U-uh, umm… well, you know, let me go ahead and check my schedule.” There’s a pause. You cover the reciever and scream a silent yell into the void, jumping a few feet high.
Clearing your throat, you say, “Hm. Seems like I’m free tomorrow.”
“You can’t do tonight?”
The question takes you aback. Surely, he can’t be asking that because he wants to see you. “Oh, why? Are you leaving California tomorrow?”
“Not at all,” You hear him shuffle. “I just really want to take you out.”
“Right, yes, of course.” You let his question hang in the air. You know your answer, but you like letting him think there’s a possibility you might reject him.
“I am free tonight.”
“Great,” His voice is upbeat, a newfound excitement peeking through. “Well, text me your address. I’ll send a car to pick you up.”
“Yup, totally. Super duper cool. Looking really forward to it,” You babble on, pacing the hallway you’ve trapped yourself in.
He lets out a low laugh, “Me too. I’ll see you tonight. Bye, [Y/N].”
You say your goodbyes, leaning against the wall for stability before you collapse into a puddle. Later, a janitor might come to find your lifeless body glued to the wall. Cause of death? Man built like a Greek god asks woman on date.
But, everything is fine. You’ll somehow make it.
There’s a ridiculous feeling in your heart, a warmth that spreads to your toes and fingers. Now, everything is perfect.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
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Consequences | Two
Word Count: 6.2k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex
Series Masterlist
Hedi had noticed her praying more often, with soft tears in her eyes.
But no matter how much Hedi asked her what was wrong, the little maidservant would shake her head and insist that she was merely homesick having sent a few copper coins to her siblings.
In the room she shared with her fellow maidservant, Alanna, who luckily worked quite the opposite shift to her, she would sit on the stool before the pale of water, scrubbing at her skin to wash herself. Trying to rid her mind of the experience altogether. The taste of his spend on her tongue. The uncomfortable prod of his cock at the back of her throat. The way his voice sent a jolt of both fear and a thrill through her. It made her question everything about herself. That perhaps she didn’t know herself as well as she thought. And it was this fact that disturbed her the most.
That she was beginning to lose touch of herself.
She’d not said a word to anyone. And when she attended to him in the mornings as she usually did, she tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping that if she hugged her arms around herself tight enough, she might actually begin to disappear. Prince Aemond had almost pretended as if nothing had happened, with his usual one word answers, faint hums and lack of presence in his chambers.
The little maidservant wondered if she had done something to irk him, or if he had not enjoyed the experience and wished not to repeat it. Secretly, she hoped so. Hoped that he would lose interest and slowly slip into the old habits, ignoring her completely. Then she could go about her life, picking and cleaning up the royal Prince’s mess, and hers into the bargain as well. She thought that royals such as him do not think about the messes they make.
In that way they are like children.
She wondered if anyone, in Prince Aemond’s life, had ever told him no.
It was doubtful.
Perhaps that was why he felt entitled to torment her in the way he had. Perhaps it was the effect of privilege in the pursuit of pleasure.
It was a morning like any other and she dressed in silence, careful not to wake her fellow colleague whom she shared a bed with. Alanna was a night owl, through and through, but it did not mean she was not exhausted after performing her night shift duties and when she had come back in the early hours, it was like a prod for the other little maidservant to wake for her morning duties.
Who she saw in the looking glass looked very much like her, but didn’t feel like her.
The weather was pleasant enough, warm with a cool breeze as she carried Prince Aemond’s breakfast tray, a heavy bubble in her gut at the thought of seeing him again.
She’d turned at the call of her name. The young boy who served alongside the staff rushed up to her carrying a scroll.
“What is it?”
“Message from your family, miss” the boy’s voice broke as he spoke, he could not have been older than three and ten and still had that nervous wide look about him.
The little maidservant swallowed nervously and gestured for him to read it. She recognised him as the son of one of the staff, almost born for the role of being a hasty little messenger, and thus he was taught to read. Perhaps a benefit of his sex and his environment.
The letter read:
Your pestilent brother and sister are well, but their stomach’s are never full and the boy in particular has almost completely cleaned out the pantry. I will, for the love I had for your mother and father, continue to look after them, however I must request three additional copper coins per week to fund their insatiable appetite. Otherwise I shall be forced to send the little beggars on their way to earn their own coin, the young girl is certainly old enough.
The maidservant delivered a large sigh, an uncomfortable weight that was already on her shoulders was becoming heavier the more the boy read on.
“Thank you” she nodded to dismiss the young boy, only allowing herself to breathe a shuddered breath once she was alone. She told herself to not panic, to not cry and that everything would be alright in the end. But there was a small piece of her inside that allowed herself to be a child again, wanting the comfort of a mother and father. She wondered how she would be able to come up with 3 additional copper coins a week and still be able to feed and clothe herself.
Steadying her breath to keep herself from becoming emotional, she knocked twice and was allowed to enter when she once again heard the muffled tone of his voice.
Tray on the nightstand. Draw the curtains. Tie them back. She kept going over what she was going to do in her head, eyes downcast the entire time, not wanting to look at him.
And yet in her peripheral she saw him rise from his bed as she tied the curtains back
Her heart lurched into her chest when she saw his arms hook underneath hers to lean against the windowsill in front of her, and then when his bare chest had nudged against her back. She felt as if she could not make a sound and so she didn’t even acknowledge it at first, screwing her eyes shut to draw in a shaky breath. Aemond had smirked behind her, knowing what her reaction would be and his finger once again came to the little curl at the side of her head that perpetually made itself free of her braids.
“My little maidservant is shy today” he said lowly, pressing his form tighter against her back, thinking about how if he bucked his hips just a little, his hard arousal would prod against her dress-clad backside.
He looked down as she purposefully did not look back at him. He watched the way her lips were slightly parted, as if so afraid that she had to breathe through her mouth, albeit quietly. He chuckled at the effect he seemed to have on his little maidservant, smoothing his finger over her hair, then her neck, which he can tell made her shudder slightly.
“Tell me, sweet girl, do you still taste it…” he whispers in the shell of her ear, looking down he can see the shadow of her skin beneath her dress, but it becomes too dark to truly see anything. He allowed himself to wonder what her bare form would look like.
Would she have small, well-rounded breasts, easily fit into his palms. How he thought he'd grip them so tight he wouldn't let go, intent on making her at least whimper at the pleasurable pain.
Would she have a smooth curve to her hips, the line leading down to her cunny, to where he imagined that little patch of hair would welcome him.
Would she have supple thighs, ones he could leave bruises and marks all over. Perhaps even a bit of blood. The thought of smearing blood over her skin thrilled him more than he thought.
He remembers how she'd told him she'd not been with a man. Would she bleed so nicely for him, once he'd taken her maidenhead, be good and muffle her little whimpers of discomfort into the pillow. Or rather, he wondered if he'd quite like to hear them, while curling his fingers around her throat and squeezing tightly.
It was getting harder to breathe for Aemond. And unbeknownst to him, it was increasingly so for her as well. Frozen in absolute fear.
“...do you still feel my cock in your throat, hm?”
Yes, she thought, with a shameful twist of her stomach. She could still feel his hands holding her face, forcing her to take him as deep as he wanted, still feel every thrust of his hips against her, his fist tightening in her hair, tugging.
He released one of his hands on the windowsill to rest on her waist, making her inhale sharply. He’d not touched her intimately, only solicited the use of her mouth on him that one time. Aemond felt the movement of her ribs beneath her dress with her breathing, as if he’s just realised she was a living, breathing person before him.
“Have you touched yourself, sweet girl” he asks.
She managed to gather all the courage she has inside her and cleared her throat, “I…am not sure what you mean, your grace”
Fucking cock tease, Aemond thought. But she had really not known at all what he’d meant. Of course she had touched herself, to bathe herself, to brush her hair?
“I mean…” he starts, his large hands moving to gather her skirts in his fist. And this time she did shudder when the air hit her legs, skin that outside the boundaries of her own bedroom, should never be seen, “...have you touched your little cunt for pleasure”
She clenches her fists when his palm runs up the side of her thigh. It’s so wrong. So, so wrong for him to touch her like this.
Aemond breathes hot against her neck at the feeling of her soft skin. Just like how he'd imagined it. The curve of her hip, so feminine and squeezable in his hand. He thought of the way he would grab at them to fuck her, for leverage, using her body the way he sees fit. And now that he'd done so with her mouth, he thought of the rest of her little holes and how they would squeeze him too.
“Bought yourself to peak with your fingers…”
She could cry. She thought she’d lost his interest. Thought she might be free of it. Calm down, is all she kept trying to tell herself. She counted in her head, trying to ground herself.
He squeezes her hip tightly when she doesn’t respond, “Answer me now, or I will not be so nice”
“A few times” she admits, voice thick with tears, “a few times, your grace…”
But never to peak, she thought, embarrassed.
She spoke like she may have been in trouble for it and dreaded what he might do now that she’s given her answer.
“Hm” she chuckles, giving the skin of her hip one firm squeeze, one that is so tight in his palm it almost makes her whimper in pain. He lets her skirts fall as he moves away from her, looking much pleased with himself, smirking like he knows a secret.
“Go now” he orders, still with that gravelly authority but ever so slightly softer, now that he'd been thinking of her cunt. But the softer tone does nothing to calm her and if it were possible, she guards herself even more, keeping her eyes to the ground. She doesn’t even look back when he says, “I shall see you tonight, sweet girl”
She did not want to know what that meant, if it meant anything at all.
Aemond watched as she left, scared completely out of her senses.
Good, he thought. He loved that terror-stricken look in her eyes, the sharp taking in of breath when she was trying not to cry in his presence. He’d remembered wiping her tears away when he’d fucked her mouth so ruthlessly in search of his own pleasure, the way the slickness of it had smeared across her face. Aemond found that he wanted to know what she tasted like, every single bit of her. She would be so sweet…his virtuous little maidservant. He had to make sure she was entirely his, so that she knew nothing else but him.
Young women like her are so helpless in the hands of amorous men.
Whatever words were said to them, whatever touch and manipulation on their bodies seemed like love to them, the poor, silly little things.
He would make sure that whatever words, whatever touch inflicted to his little maidservant would be sweet, delightful torture.
All the while she was dismissed until the evening, she busied herself with such menial tasks such as helping the others with the laundry for the day. It was nice to get outside, free from the suffocating confines of the Keep, even if it was just for a moment. The hallways now served to remind her of him, dreading the moment she would be walking down them and he would round the corner, with that predatory gaze he always gave her.
It was a calm day, so she revelled in the lovely breeze for a moment, allowing herself to be happy.
There was some relief in the idle chatter of the other maidservants, as she scrubbed the white bed linen against the washboard, her sleeves turned up to prevent from getting wet.
“I hear the Princess Rhaenyra very well may be returning to King’s Landing soon”
Freiya was a little younger than the others and as such, had a wandering imagination, a large mouth and a bit appetite for gossip. So it was no wonder she’d already managed to receive the latest even if it was barely early afternoon.
The other, who went by Mari, also probably short for something but she would never tell anyone, rolled her eyes at the younger woman. Mari was one and twenty, but her mind was mature beyond her years.
“You must not believe everything you hear, your ears will fall off one day, you little tyrant”
Freiya pulled an offended frown, “No! I heard such news right from the source, while I was attending to the Queen. She said herself that the Princess will return to contest some…birthright or something like that”
The little maidservant raised her head and gave Mari an amused look, “You should not be listening to them while you attend to them”
“You get away with it if you pretend you’re not listening at all” Freiya snaps back with a mischievous smirk, “the Queen is understandably not thrilled with their arrival”
Mari huffed a laugh, “Neither are the Princes”
“Why is that?” she asks with a confused lilt of her head,
Despite being younger, Freiya talks over Mari when she’s about to open her mouth. Such a carefree little thing, it made her laugh. She cared not about such hierarchies.
“Supposedly they are here for the little Prince Lucerys’ ‘right’ to Driftmark”
Mari wrinkles her nose in distaste, “Prince Lucerys? The…”
“Exactly” Freiya responds,
“What on earth are you two talking about?” she asks, completely lost.
Mari sighs, “Prince Lucerys is the one who took Prince Aemond’s eye all those years ago, both merely children” she explains, folding the damp cloth in her arms, “the Queen was so distressed for her son, she barely allowed him from her sight”
For a very split second, something akin to sympathy washes over the little maidservant. But then underneath that is another feeling still. Something questioning.
“When are they to arrive?”
“Allegedly, within a few days” Freiya responds excitedly, ecstatic to receive some drama in her no doubt monotonous maidservant life.
For a man who had been so wronged in his past, with such a traumatic past, to turn into the person he was today. Someone who could be cruel, taking the little power she had in her own life into his own, greedy for more. She had done nothing to him but merely exist and attend to him, as was her job. And she wracked her brain about it. What had she done to incite such cruelty in him, if anything at all? What harm could she do to him in her position, that he had not done to her a million times over.
With her heart weighing heavy in her chest, after scrubbing the living daylights out of the linen, she carried the dirty water back with Freiya, chatting idly. She was good company, she had to admit, even if she was obsessed with the inner workings of the royal’s lives. As melancholic as the little maidservant felt, she let out perhaps her first genuine laugh when Freiya ‘accidentally’ bumped some of the water over the front of her dress. She’d given the young girl a friendly swat and told the little tyrant to scarper.
If what Freiya and Mari had said was true, there was a possibility that his typical Targaryen temper could possibly become worse. Perhaps irreparably so.
She waited in his chambers until it was impossibly dark. Later than usual, Aemond eventually returned, in a much more sour mood than this morning.
She’d knelt in front of the fire, placing more wood on it to heat the room in the cold that had captured it now that the sun had gone down. Was this how it was to be now? In the morning, he was one person, not burdened by the mood of others and his own not dependent on what had happened during the day. And at night, after the weight of his day had weighed heavy on his tired soul, his desire for release, of any kind, was insatiable.
“Your grace” she greeted with a bowed head, her soft, fearful voice barely carried above the crackling of the flames. Quite the opposite of the other night, while he was still angry, he let the door shut softly behind him. She just stared at his legs as they made their way towards her, and a flash of her pushing against his legs, in an attempt to push him away from her zips through her head. He was so much larger than her, she thought. It would take no effort on his side at all to subdue her.
She notices how he stands before her, fists clenched white.
“My little maidservant does not meet my eye today” he says with a hint of irritation to his tone, “Why”
She swallows nervously, trying desperately to regain her breath “Apologies, your grace.Just some problems at home that are of no matter”
When he remains still and quiet, she worries for a moment that she’s overshared, spoken too much and that depending on what mood he’s in, she might have set him off.
“What problems” he asks, and despite him asking, she gets the impression from his tone of voice that he is completely and utterly unbothered about the reason and just wants to hear her speak. She looks up to meet his eye and immediately wishes she hadn’t. His gaze is cold, uncaring, dark, like she is an annoyance.
“My…siblings, your grace. I am required to send them more coin, to pay for their support…” she replies nervously, insistent that she has shared too much information and that he very much does not care. She sees this, because his cold expression does not change.
His eyes roam her face, seeing the discomfort there at her situation. But he cannot find it within himself to care. All he cares to remember is how her smooth hip felt that very morning, how hard he had squeezed it, how he had dreamt for his fingernails to create little indents in her soft skin.
“You do not smile in my presence” he says simply.
At this, her lips part in shock. What did he mean? And also, what reason would she have to smile in his presence while attending to him?
“Pardon me, your grace?” she says in a quiet voice, immediately sucking in air as he steps closer to her. Her feet didn’t move from their spot.
“With the other maidservants, you smile so widely and yet in my presence…” he hums, his finger reaching out to twirl the little piece of hair at the side of her face once more, as if obsessed with it, “...I believe you fear me, sweet girl”
She could say nothing but try and keep her breath steady. He was right, he frightened her. But what woman would not be frightened at the way he leered at her, kept her in his sights firm and unyielding.
Only a woman who would want it, she thought.
“But no matter,” he says, his hand trailing to her the buttons of her dress at the top of her chest. Undoing the first…then the second…”I will have your fear if I can have nothing else” he smirks only slightly.
Her brain was all over the place. He said it with such conviction. Uncaring if she had wanted any of it or not. She could feel her stomach bubbling in her gut, feeling as if she might either cry or vomit. Aemond could not help but smirk at her efforts to keep herself calm, and failing miserably. His hand barely floated over her chest, over her clothed nipple and she’d flinched only slightly, with a slight inhale of her sweet, hot breath.
He had seen how she had smiled with her fellow maidservant, the way her dimples had shown on the upper apples of her cheeks, the pink that coloured them when she laughed. He had seen the way the little cock tease had water splashed down her front, turning her dress completely dark and sodden. Aemond would not be able to rid his mind of the image of her hardened nipples beneath the fabric for days, weeks, months to come.
“Sit” he gestured to the end of the large bed, while Aemond stalked to the fireplace for a moment.
She gathered her skirts in her shaking hands and sat herself down, closing her eyes to catch her breath, feeling as if the walls were closing in, and that the air was becoming difficult to breathe.
When Aemond turned around, his eyepatch had been discarded and he was shucking off his leather doublet, with the cream undershirt the only thing beneath it. He walked with such purpose towards her, until his tall, broad form was completely staring and looming over hers. His sapphire eye caught the light of the fire and at this moment, he looked almost possessed.
“I do not want your hair up when you are in my chambers”
There was a beat of silence, timed by the beating of her heart.
“Well?”
The intensity of his voice seemed to wake her from the impregnable fear for just a moment, and her shaking hands reached up for her hair again, quicker about her movements than she had been the previous time he’d aske-no, demanded for her to do so. It was wrong firstly to have her hair loose in his presence, but if anyone
“Look at me”
With her hair now falling in their waves down her back, she barely has time to look up before his large hand flies to her jaw, fingers squeezing painfully at her cheekbones, almost bruisingly. He pulls at her face slightly upwards and towards him. Aemond revells in the shocked and doe-eyed expression on her face and the way her skin blossoms pink under his firm, hard touch. His lips are drawn into a tight line, as if getting angrier by the second, and in his grasp he felt her tremble.
“Did you enjoy my cock in your throat” he says, his thumb drawing across her bottom lip, only slightly dipping inside into the warm embrace of her little mouth. He can see that she’s too shocked to say anything, her pupils shaking.
“Did you enjoy swallowing my spend…” he goes on, his thumb pressing against the wet muscle of her tongue, emphasising where his spend had been before he had demanded her to swallow it.
If he dipped beneath her skirts, would she bet as wet as her mouth? Accepting his digit so willingly.
“I think you did, sweet girl”
Did I?
He collects the wetness of her mouth on his thumb, still grasping her face tightly. When she briefly looked down, she saw how hard he was beneath his breeches and the memory of how he had felt in her mouth, heavy and hot. As well as how he’d tasted. At this she feels her gut tighten.
He pulls his thumb out her mouth, again, smearing the wetness over her lips and then her face as he grips her tightly once more.
“Do you like this job, sweet girl” he asked and her heart froze in fear.
“Yes, your grace” she whispered back,
“Then you will do as I say if you wish to keep it”
He quite forcefully pushes her back, making her support her torso on her elbows, looking over to the bed with parted lips when Aemond kneels on the floor, his eye forever on her face as he rucks up her skirts. It’s here she realises what he may intend to do and goes to shut her legs tight against each other.
“Are you going to be a good little maidservant and be quiet?”
She nods, voice failing her. Not that she would trust it to be steady at the moment.
If it were possible, his mood flattened completely. Aemond growls and hooks both his hands under her thighs and pulls her closer to him, his fingers digging into her bare, soft skin.
“Your grace, I-” she starts. Aemond glares right at her, forcefully parting her thighs and painfully squeezing the meat of her legs, emitting a whimper from her.
“What did I fucking say about being quiet” he snarls, hooking his fingers into her smallclothes and ripping them down her legs. She would shut her legs tightly if Aemond were not so strongly holding them apart, and she feels her heart going fast when she feels his hot breath on the juncture of her thigh. His tongue runs over the line there, inhaling deeply the heady scent of her sex, which he has no doubt is seeping with arousal.
“Stay still while I taste you, sweet…sweet girl”
He dips between her thighs and sees her bare cunny before him. It was just as he’d imagined it, the luscious hair framing it just for him was waiting there, his thumb ran over her lips, parting them to brush his thumb over her clit. She was wet. So wet. Her slick aided his movements and when he’d brushed over her swollen bundle of nerves, she’d released a shuddered breath, tensing up somewhat. Aemond was tempted to reprimand her, but now faced with her perfect cunt right before him, ready for his taking, he cannot find it within himself to care.
He dives in, flattening his tongue against her sex and he feels her body jolt beneath his hold, fingers curling into her hips.
“Mm…” he hums. She tasted so sweet for him, the intoxicating taste of her arousal flooded his tongue, waking his nerves and something deep, dark and ancient within. His eye opened somewhat to look up at her, being so good and quiet for him and he smirked against her cunt, quickening his motions when he saw that she’d laid back, keeping her hand over her mouth to obey him. Aemond watched as her chest and body writhed with each movement of his wet muscle against her clit, her other hand fisted the bedsheets and he could faintly hear her whimpering behind her hand.
Aemond pushed her legs further apart, granting his tongue access to her wet and waiting entrance, he dipped inside, using it to fuck her repeatedly. The only sound in his otherwise quiet chambers was slapping of his mouth against her cunt, lapping up her juices with a new vigour. He thought, the longer he continued, the more addicted he would become to it. He wanted to have this sweet cunt for all his meals; it gave him life and sustenance.
But it wasn’t enough.
His little maidservant was not letting go of herself enough. He could not bring her to peak like this.
He wanted her climax on his tongue, like she had his.
Aemond moves his tongue out of her, running up slowly to her bundle of nerves and sucks eagerly, giving her a new, deeper sensation in her gut that makes her hips buck against his face against her will. A new sound floods out her mouth against her hand that has Aemond’s ears perked up and his lips turn up into a smirk. He briefly breaks his contact with her to pull her hand from her face, pinning it by her wrist to the bed harshly.
“I want to hear you when I make you peak”
Her eyes are shut tightly, but Aemond doesn’t wait for an answer and goes right back in, licking and sucking her clit, one hand forever at her thigh to keep her open for him. He can feel her body trembling beneath him and the little sounds of her breath as she tries to keep it under control, and now that her hand is not muffling her sounds, he drinks in the various whimpers and tiny, tiny moans with renewed purpose.
She lets out halfway between a choked whimper and moan when Aemond mercilessly thrusts one finger into her, he moans against her sex at the tightness of her, and how she would feel when she was finally wrapped around his cock. How she’d squeeze him as he used her body for himself and milk him for his spend when her cunt convulsed with the force of her climax.
Aemond moved his head side to side against her sex, licking every bit of her he could as her moans had become louder. Stray tears ran down her face at the foreign feeling. It was strange and slightly unpleasant, as she’d never put anything inside her before. But his finger crooked up inside her slightly, rubbing against somewhere she never knew existed and it gave her the urge to move her hips, searching for something.
Uncaring if she was ready, Aemond hastened all his movements and inserted a second, stretching her little cunny with his long, thick digits. He thought she would need to be prepared, for when he would eventually have his cock inside of her.
It would hurt. It would be painful.
And it was this that excited him the most.
As he fucked her with his fingers, focussing his tongue on her clit quickly, he noted the way her body began to spasm in his grip. She was close, just that bit more.
He loved it when her pink lips parted to give him a quiet moan. It was like praise. And when he concentrated the pads of his fingers against that rough spot within her, her back began to move off the bed, her breath coming in hurried pants. Her tears joined the rest, sliding down her face at the absurdity of the feeling she was having. What was this? Was this pleasure? What everyone else sought so much? It didn’t feel entirely pleasurable, she thought. But there was something deep, dark about the way it was being drawn from her that set shame heavy in her.
“Come on, sweet girl…” Aemond murmurs against her, “come on”
He keeps his mouth on her the entire time, body wracked with painful pleasure. So much so that even her voice doesn’t manage to form coherently and her mouth is slack open, frozen in place as the warmth floods her body against her will.
“That’s it…” he coos, all while his tongue earnestly laps up every single bit of her climax from her, drinking it down like the air he breathes. Aemond can’t help but smile, now that he’s tasted her, seen what she looks like when she comes apart. He can’t not have her and fully intends to have her little cunny at his disposal. One hand dips beneath his breeches, to pump himself, feeling that he did not need much friction to climax himself.
Her body slumps against the mattress, limbs now entirely limp and feeling both warm and empty at the same time. She eventually cracks her eyes open when Aemond delivers one more warm, stripe upwards, collecting what little is left of her. She looks up to the ceiling, to the canopy and realises her vision is fogged with tears and her hand comes up to wipe at them, now being able to feel the wetness of them against her cheeks.
Aemond had travelled up her body, still furiously stroking his cock, aching for completion.
“Do not let it go to waste” he ordered, holding his manhood close to her mouth as he fisted it furiously, fingers once again running through her hair to grip harshly as he pulled at the back of her head.
Without warning, he shoves his cock into her mouth, prodding the back of her throat and moaning loudly when she splutters around it, having not been prepared. She could smell his musky scent, now even more amplified from his efforts on her previously and it completely flooded her senses. Not a second later, was the familiar flood of his spend into her mouth as he softly thrusted into her, wanting to prolong his friction.
He took one long breath and pulled his cock from her mouth. But her eyes were firmly shut, whimpering as she swallowed the thick, bitter substance. Again.
She had a strange thought. That there may have been more spend than food in her belly. And it rattled her beyond comprehension.
Why am I crying, she thought, having not felt them even come. Her body felt strange, like she was on the outside looking in at herself and she wondered how pathetic she must look. She wondered how other people would look at her if they saw what trouble she’d gotten herself into. What other people thought…
…it frightened her.
Regaining her strength, she finally sits up, looking around bleary-eyed to see Aemond, on the other side of the room, already seated in his armchair with a cup of wine in one hand, watching the flames of the fire in front of him. She could see from this angle that his lips and the skin around it was glistening and his other hand was at his lips, smearing whatever wetness was there more over them. She wondered how long she had been laid there.
In the soft light of the fire, he almost looked handsome. She thought that he, Aemond Targaryen, would be remembered as a skilled swordsman, rider of the largest dragon in the world, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. History books would record him for centuries to come, on his skills, his wit, his fearsome victories.
And she…
…She who had been owned first by her father. And now owed her life to servitude under him. She had always been owned and perhaps always would be. Any husband would own her as well as her money and her children, doomed by the determination of her sex to perform the duties of them for the rest of her life.
History would not remember her. It would scarcely even know she existed in the first place. Even her own name would not even be remembered by those she worked alongside, she feared. Those she called her friends.
Forgotten. Replaceable.
Gathering her breath and wiping her face, she’s unable to control the soft pants of her weak cries and pulls her dress back over herself. Aemond turns, but does not look at her straight on.
“Leave” he orders flatly.
She would be shocked, if it hadn’t already happened before. So she took shakily to her feet, feeling entirely degraded and empty within, despite the hum of pleasure still present inside. He didn’t say anything else as she struggled out of the door, her hair still loose around her shoulders.
It was only when she was in the lit safety of the hallway that she finally allows herself to comprehend what happened and a few more fat tears make their way down her face and her neck.
Am I his maidservant, or his whore.
Maidservant.
Whore.
Whore.
The way back to the staff quarters was long and wracked with quiet sobs.
She’d brushed Hedi’s shoulder as she walked past and Hedi had looked wide-eyed at her, as if only just recognising her with her hair down. Hedi’s face immediately fell into a sombre, sorrowful one,
“Child, what is wrong?” she says, cupping her face in both her hands and looking over her for any sign of injury. She simply shook her head and hastily wiped her cheeks til they were red,
“I am just tired, please Hedi I-”
Hedi pressed a hand to her forehead, acting very much like a mother, despite the age gap being small between them, but she found no fever there and she was only very warm from all her crying.
“Why is your hair down, child?” she asks hesitantly, her eyes darting about her face in search of a clue. Hedi had noticed. Her loose hair, her two undone buttons, the shake of her hands.
“Please, I just need sleep” she insisted unconvincingly, tearing herself from Hedi’s grasp to wander through the halls to her own quarters, intent on scrubbing herself raw once again with the brush. Desperately trying to erase any memory of touch.
Hedi had watched her disappear, the other few maidservants followed with their looks, cementing their thoughts in their sour expression.
“Whore”
General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics
Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid @thedamewithabook @hiatuswhore @apollonshootafar @ladymarg0t
*Bold means I couldn’t tag, DM me if you wanna be removed besties
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond smut#aemond fic#aemond x you#aemond targaryen smut#aemond fanfiction#aemond fluff#aemond one eye#prince aemond#aemond the kinslayer#aemond angst#aemond stannies#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x oc#aemond x maid!reader#prince aemond targaryen fic#prince aemond targaryen smut#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen angst#dark hotd#dark!aemond targaryen#dark!aemond x reader#dark!aemond targaryen x reader#dark!aemond
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Worth
John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader
Summary: You're swept off your feet by one Major John C. Egan, and you love every second of it. Sequel to Birdie.
Word Count: 3.0k
Tags: female!reader, mechanic!reader, women™, period typical sexism & misogyny, fun date night, dude w/ a small dick gets rightfully called out, mostly just fun date stuff, tons of fluff
A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the kind words on Birdie. I really appreciate everyone's comments, they warm my heart right up. I almost didn't write this, but the thought of having these two smooch it up was too good to pass up. I also completely headcanon that Bucky has the biggest sweet tooth, oops. As always, I'd be most gracious if you were to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog :)
Read the OC Version of this story on AO3!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, please don't copy, repost, or translate my writing without explicit prior permission. Don't even think about it, AI!
A knock at the door brings butterflies to your stomach.
“Oh, he’s here!” Irene shouts, which is immediately met with your shushing, as well as Teresa’s.
You nervously pat your hair and check over your outfit for the evening. You’re spending your second day’s leave on a date with Bucky Egan. He had approached you last night at the pub, asking if you wanted to grab dinner. Alone.
You, of course, said yes.
Teresa and Irene go to answer the door while you gather your purse, stuffing it with your essentials. Your friends greet him at the same time, sounding like twins.
“Good evening, Major!”
“Good evening, Major!”
You hear his deep voice reply, only a small bit of surprise leaking into his voice.
“Good evening, ladies. Is Birdie around? We have dinner plans.”
“I’m here! Hi.” You step around the wall that hides you from the front door, taking a look at the man you’d been crushing on for months. He stands tall and confident in his neatly pressed uniform, hat covering most of his dark curls. His mouth gapes, giving you a once over and attempting to speak up.
“I- You-…Uh, wow. Y-you look…” But any sweet words he attempts to say are interrupted by Irene, who comes in hot with a manic smile.
“Did you know that my daddy taught me how to shoot when I was just a little girl? I’m real good at it. They call me Oakley, back home, cause of how great a marksman I am. Y’know, like Annie Oakley?” She stepped forward, puffing up her chest and giving a frightening grin to Major Egan. You and Teresa exchanged confused looks, not knowing quite where she was going with this.
“I’m not allowed a sidearm or a rifle over here, but I’m sure I could easily borrow one from any of the fellas on base should you break my best friend’s hea—”
“OKAY! We don’t wanna be late, all the tables might be taken soon. Gotta go. Love you. Bye!” You quickly shove past the blonde, stepping over the threshold. You take Bucky’s hand and practically drag his tall form down the hallway, away from your best friend’s attempt at a shovel talk.
You faintly hear Teresa’s well wishes to you amid the aggressively whispered conversation she has with Irene. The last words you hear before the elevator door closes in front of you are a heavily accented protest from Irene.
“What? I was just trying to..!”
The pair of you stand in the elevator in silence. A slight rocking indicates the starting motion of it, which snaps you back to reality. Looking down, you realize that you’re still holding hands with Bucky. You quickly separate your hand from his, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Your friends seem nice.”
Your head snaps to glance at Bucky, who is already looking at you. A sincere smile graces his face, not a hint of mocking in his eyes.
“I’m glad you have them looking out for you.”
You feel your face start to cool down, making you comfortable enough to respond.
“They drive me nuts sometimes. But they’re the best friends I could ever ask for.” You mean every word.
You see John nod, so you turn back to look to the elevator doors in front of you. An awkward pause.
“You look beautiful.”
Another pause. “What?”
“It’s what I meant to say earlier. That you look beautiful. Because you do.”
Heat quickly returns to your cheeks, spreading throughout your whole upper body. You give a bashful smile, peeking up at him through your lashes. You gaze into his eyes for a moment.
“Thank you, Johnny. You look quite handsome yourself.” The Major adjusts his hat, covering just the tips of his ears. He returns your gaze with an uncharacteristically nervous grin. The floor gives a slight rattle, elevator door and gate opening to reveal the lobby.
John straightens up, holding out his arm for you to take. You tentatively weave your hand within the crook of his elbow. He gently presses his arm in, bringing your body closer to his.
You meet your other hand in its position and let Bucky lead you out of the hotel and into the evening air.
✨
“That was so delicious! I never knew that a roast could be so tender…”
The pair of you were walking arm-in-arm down a cobblestone street, just having finished dinner. It was a wonderful time. Bucky had been the perfect gentleman, but made his interest in you clear without being sleezy.
He was entirely focused on you the whole time. He asked questions and was genuinely invested in your answers. Conversation came to the two of you like a duck to water. After a shared glass of wine, his hand had slowly inched towards yours. Soon he had cradled it in his, like you were a precious commodity, until your meals arrived. You could hardly keep your eyes off of each other long enough to even promptly acknowledge the wait staff, which you were sure annoyed some and amused others.
Safe to say, John Egan was doing his best to sweep you off your feet.
You hadn’t discussed any other plans for after dinner, but the walk you’re on now is nice enough to give you reason to stick close together.
Bucky nods along, “And that fruit tart? Incredible.”
You laugh, leaning into your date, “I knew that would be your favorite part. You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?”
Bucky holds his hands up with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Hey, I plead the fifth.”
“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone so adamant on having some coffee with his sugar.” You continue to tease him. He nudges you playfully, giving a smooth grin in return.
“Hey, we’re in a war! If you see something sweet,” Bucky surprises you by picking you up and twirling you around, getting a full belly laugh from you as he sets you back on the ground.
“You gotta snatch it up and enjoy it while you can.”
You have a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about food.
By that point, you’re leaning against his front, hands on both of his shoulders. The moment has shifted into something else. Something different. His eyes roam your face, eventually stopping on your lips. Just as he starts to lean in, the moment is shattered by the sound of instruments starting up nearby. Bucky flinches, cursing the ill-timed disruption.
Oblivious to his turmoil, you gasp in delight and look around for the source of the music.
“Do you hear that? I think there’s a band playing!”
You spot a few people walk into what looks like a club. It barely a stone’s throw from where you’re both currently standing.
Bucky quickly recovers, “Should we grab a drink? Have a dance or two?”
You beam at him, and his heart stutters in his chest once more. After you give a nod, you place your hand in his arm and let him lead you into the club.
The two of you step into the establishment, and the energy is almost electric. There are mills of people walking about, drinking, talking, laughing. There’s a great score more on the dance floor, hopping and jiving along to the band you now knew you’d heard earlier. There weren’t a lot of uniforms present, but the ones that were were RAF.
Bucky guides you to the bar, hand on your back until you're both sat on a pair of stools. Your drinks are quickly ordered and served, so your night continues. You both allow yourselves to talk shop for a moment, so your conversation turns towards what you were working on before your leave. As you get to discussing the more intricate parts of your project, you hear a scoff from behind you.
John quickly looks over your shoulder, spotting the culprit.
“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”
You turn around to find a uniformed man taking a sip of his whiskey, RAF logo plastered on the lapel. He mockingly shakes his head, placing the glass down on the bar.
“No, no problem at all.”
Bucky, ever the confrontationist, persists. “It seems like there’s a problem here.”
You gesture towards the man, silently indicating that he was welcome to speak his mind.
“It’s not enough that you Yanks come over to our country, destroy our pubs and disrespect our women with your recklessness. But you can’t even keep your own women in check! She should be at home, away from the war, for God’s sake. Taking care of the house and the children. You know, doing feminine duties.”
You had heard all of this before, so it was no skin off your back to hear it again. You roll your eyes and decided to just ignore him. Then the man started to laugh, as if he was in on a private joke.
“I mean, a female mechanic? Between that and your daytime missions, it’s no wonder you’re all dropping like flies.”
You let out an exhale, letting the air stream out through your nose. In your periphery, you see Bucky start to stand— to, no doubt, escalate the situation. You stop him with a hand on his chest. He sits back down, looking between you and the man who had just insulted you. You set your glass down, hopping off the stool and giving a slow clap.
“I’m so glad to know that some people still live in the Stone Age, where apparently all a woman is good for is cooking and giving birth! Thank you so much for showing us exactly what a lack of education and individual thought looks like! See where we are—over in modern times— women can do whatever the hell they want. That includes fixing your planes and jeeps, operating your radios, driving your trucks, and even training your allies to use machine artillery!”
The RAF soldier realizes what he’s gotten himself into but is backed into a corner of the bar as you pace forward with each scathing word that leaves your mouth.
“Never mind all the bullshit you just spouted about what a woman is fit to do. I think that women can decide for ourselves exactly what we can and cannot do. As for my countrymen, I’m proud to serve alongside them. They go up every day willing to sacrifice themselves so that the rest of us don’t have to. They’re gonna be remembered for their bravery and grit. They’re not cowardly enough to hem and haw and stick up their noses at the thought of a woman doing something other than popping out a kid and ironing their pleats.”
The music has dulled down, but you don’t have the complete attention of the club. That gives you the courage to say your final piece.
“Never you mind. I'm confident that the men I serve with, including the man I have with me tonight, aren’t anything like you. Thank God for that! They're not so…” You take an exaggerated glance towards the man’s crotch, scrunching up your nose. “…small-minded.”
Leaving the gaping man behind, you turn to Bucky and ask if he wants to go get some air. He picks his jaw up off the floor quick enough to nod and lead you back outside into the street.
Hey, hanging around Irene pays off sometimes.
As you step out into the night air, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel John step up behind you, voice carefully asking,
“Hey, are you okay? Birdie?”
You continue to stand with your eyes closed. You just needed a moment.
“I’ve come too far to let anyone’s opinion of me, or my career choices, effect me.”
You open your eyes and look over your shoulder at your date. He gives an understanding nod, stepping closer to you. He places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lean back into him, closing your eyes once more, letting him comfort you for the time being.
“Sorry if I ruined the night.”
You can feel a rumble from Bucky’s chest as he chuckles. “Oh, this night’s far from ruined. In fact, that was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
One of your eyes pops open. You crane your neck to peek at him, “Even better than the time you told me about Curt knocking out an RAF officer in one punch?”
“Yep.”
“Winning that bet to get your bicycle?”
“Oh, for sure.”
“Better than your fruit tart from dinner?”
His smile widens, “Okay, let’s not get crazy here. Maybe it was top ten.”
“Top ten?!” You playfully gasp, turning around to face him again. You rest your hands on your hips, “What’s a girl gotta do to rank above a fruit tart around here?”
“Well…” You scoff and shove Bucky at the cheeky smirk he gives you. You’re quickly distracted by the sound of the band inside starting up again. This time with a familiar tune.
“Oh, your song’s on, Johnny!”
Bucky tosses his hat to the side, steps back and gives a very unserious bow. He then sneers with a hyper-nasal impression of the RAF officer you’d just affronted.
“My lady.”
You roll your eyes and give a joking curtsy in return, taking his offered hand. He pulls you into a proper stance for a waltz, which is a complete offset to the jive song that reaches your ears. You both jokingly hop along in the awkward squared formation for a moment, giggling to yourselves.
He gently pushes on your hip while outstretching his hand, so you take the cue and twirl until you’re both standing at each other’s fingertips. A quick grasp of your hand and a pull twirls you right back into his arms, bumping into his chest. The moment made you burst into laughter, leaning into your dance partner until the song ends.
The next song is a much slower tune, giving Bucky the chance to pull you in close. You hum along to the band playing, sidling up to the Major’s chest. He places a hand in yours and loops the other around your waist. Your free arm gently drapes under his and over his shoulder, encouraging a lean into his firm body. You both give a slow sway, leading each other back and forth in the quiet echoes of the street. Closer than before.
“You know, I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask you to dinner for a while now.”
You lay your head on the knuckles of your hand that rest on his shoulder, responding lowly.
“Really?”
You continue to sway.
“Yeah.”
You’re curious, so you ask, “What made you finally do it?”
He thinks on the answer for a moment, almost chewing on his thoughts. John is not the kind of person to typically contemplate over an answer, so you gift him all the time in the world to respond. You recognize how important that is to him.
“I… I think that it was a lot of little things.” He pulls you in closer. “Your smile, your eyes, the way you talk about the things you love. Birdie, you are so personable with everyone you come into contact with and it’s so magnetic.”
The flow of compliments shocks you, not expecting this barrage of details to come from the man in front of you. But you dance on anyways.
“But I really think what did me in was yesterday, at the pub. When you looked at me during your song.”
You remember. You know exactly what he was talking about. Whatever he must have felt, you know that you felt it too.
He continues to speak in an intimate tone as you sway along in the street.
“I felt my entire life click into place. It was like everything suddenly made sense. I didn’t have to wonder about what my life was going to be like in five, ten, fifteen years. Because I knew.”
He pulls back to look you in the eye, and the amount of vulnerability in his eyes floors you.
“I’ll be honest, it scared the shit outta me. It terrified me.”
You understand what he meant. This is all new to him, as it is to you. You pull his forehead to touch yours, noses gently brushing one another, as you offer your best words of comfort in that moment.
“Sometimes, you have to do what scares you the most to find out what’s worth doing.”
He cups your face, letting his lips ghost against yours. He made his intentions clear, but it was up to you to decide how you move forward.
So, you close your eyes and take the leap.
Your lips press into his, hands stroking the arms that were framing your face. He immediately responds in kind, lips moving in tandem with yours. You melt into him at the reciprocated motion. His arms soon move to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your arms reach around his neck, hands resting at the nape of his neck. As he deepens the kiss, you run your hands up, down, and through the dark curls on the back of his head, earning a groan from your partner.
A burst of warmth sparks from within your very being, traveling further and further through your body until you’re consumed by flames. Half of your mind is scrambling to make sense of reality, and the other half is completely consumed by passion.
After a moment, you reluctantly separate from one another, panting to catch your breath. It’s as if the world stopped spinning when you connected, and then started up again when you parted.
Giving a nervous look to the man you just kissed, you’re elated when he gives you an ear-to-ear grin. He grasps one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. His other hand comes up to cup your face again, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.
You stay silent for the time being, letting the moment marinate. He brings up your joined hands to kiss the back of your palm. Your heart jumps with joy at the sight.
Bucky gives an exhale before breaking the silence.
“You are most definitely worth it.”
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