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ahsokaismyqueen · 5 months ago

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Stay Stay Stay Pairing - Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary - Until you met Tyler, you'd only had shitty boyfriends who would leave at the first sign of trouble or when you started to get too attached. Tyler Owens however is there to show you that he's in it for the long run, even when he finds out you're pregnant with his child. Word Count - 4.5k Warnings - Pregnant Reader, but this is just 4k words of pure fluff based on Taylor Swift's Stay Stay Stay ngl.

You woke up feeling miserable. You had barely gotten any sleep, staying up most of the night crying, and all you could think about was how stupid the fight you and Tyler had seemed now. You glanced over at the clock on your bedside table, and shot up when you realized how late it was. Tyler might have already gone, and now you wouldn’t get the chance to say how sorry you were. The fear of that gripping your chest had you rolling out of bed and out the door. What you saw in the hallway however, had you stopping in your tracks.

As soon as you shut the door behind you, Tyler jolted awake from his spot on the floor, rubbing his eyes. He was still in his clothes from last night, the button up and jeans, complete with cowboy boots. “You stayed out here all night?” You asked, emotion tight in your throat.

Tyler looked up at you, brushing his hair back from his face. “Of course I did. Didn’t know if you might need me or not after those nightmares you’ve been having.”

“But - but I threw something-”

“Your phone.” He informed you.

Heat rushed to your face in embarrassment. “-My phone at you.”

“I don’t know if I’d really say ‘at me’. If so, your aim was pretty off for someone who used to play baseball.” He said, and he started to move so he could stand up.

Before he could though, you bent down and scrambled into his lap, wrapping your arms and legs around him as the tears fell down your cheeks.

He let out a surprised grunt, but put his arms around you as well. “To be honest, not the greeting I was expecting this morning.” He said in a strained voice, probably because you were squeezing him so tight.

“I thought you left already, and I didn’t want you to leave mad at me, because if something happened to you out there. . .” You wondered if he could even understand you with the way your tears messed with your breathing, but you had to tell him. The thought of him leaving while the two of you were mad at each other made you feel sick.

“Hey,” Tyler started running a hand through your hair, the comfort of the motion easing into you. “I wasn’t about to leave without talking to you. I told them I’d catch up.” You closed your eyes as you felt his lips against the side of your head. “And you know I can’t leave without my good luck kiss.”

You pulled back so you could look at him when you said this. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I got so mad. I’ve just been all over the place lately, and I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m mad one second, the next I’m sobbing, then I can’t keep my eyes open, and the next second I feel like I’m going to die if I’m not jumping your bones-”

Tyler reached up and brushed your tears away with his thumb. “That one’s my favorite.” He said with a smirk.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “I think I’m going crazy.”

“Baby, you chase tornados in your spare time. Pretty sure by most people’s standards you are crazy,” he said, putting some hair behind your ear.

You shook your head, and playfully smacked him in the chest. “I’m serious. I mean I know I get a little crazy around-” the thought hit you like a freight train. “Tyler, what’s today?”

His brow furrowed, his smirk turning into a frown. “Sunday . . .”

“No! I mean what day of the month?” Were the calculations you were doing in your head right? Had the time passed that quickly?

“It’s the 11th. Why?”

Oh god. You gripped his face in your hands. “Ty, I’m late.”

Tyler squinted at you. “Did you have somewhere to go . . . ?”

You shook your head, your eyes wide with panic. “No, Tyler. I’m late.” You grabbed one of his arms and put his hand on your stomach, giving him a significant look.

It was funny, how you could almost see the gears moving in his mind. It was like when he was trying to decide what storm to chase. You could tell the exact moments your words and actions landed. His eyes widened, and he glanced down at your stomach, then you. “You’re late . . . For that?”

You nodded, watching his face for his reaction. It was an accident of course. The two of you tried to be careful, but one night a couple of months ago after an insane chase . . . The adrenaline got the better of both of you. While you had known you could get pregnant, you thought the chances of it happening the one time you didn’t use protection couldn’t be that high. Well, the universe might be proving you wrong. You weren’t sure how you felt about the possibility, but you were damn sure terrified of what Tyler might be thinking.

You didn’t need to be.

A slow grin started to spread on his face, and within seconds you found yourself hoisted over his shoulder and into the air.

Letting out a little shriek, you grabbed a hold of his shirt. “Tyler! Put me down!”

“Can’t! Got to go buy a pregnancy test.” He said, giving you a smack on the ass that made you squeal again.

“We can’t! I’m not wearing pants!”

“You don’t need pants to take a pregnancy test!” He said.

A laugh left your lips at that, but then you smacked his back to get his attention. “Ty, what about the crew? They’re waiting on you. I can take the test, and call you-”

He put you down then, his hands holding your face and making you look at him. “If you think there is anything more important to me right now than this, you’re wrong.”

It almost embarrassed you that you had thought for even a second any different. “I might not be, you know? I could actually be losing my mind.”

Tyler shrugged. “Either way, there’s no place I’d rather be right now than here with you.” He said, sliding his hands down to grab your own, then leaned forward to give you one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever had in your life, all gentle and tender, enough to almost bring tears back to your eyes. “Now, there’s my good luck kiss.” He said once he pulled away.

“And what do you need good luck for, huh Owens?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

He smirked at you. “I’ll tell you later.”

And he did. In about five months after he shot fireworks up in a tornado to reveal you were having a boy, just like he wanted.

————————

“Ty! I can pick up potatoes. I’m barely showing.” You said, shaking your head at him as he dived in front of you to get the sack of potatoes before you could.

He put them in the grocery cart, leaning over it and crossing his arms. “See, I know that, but the gentleman in me won’t let the woman carrying my son do something as lowly as pick up potatoes.”

You rolled your eyes. It was sweet, but you knew it was also going to drive you crazy. “If you don’t let me do some things I might murder you in your sleep. I hope you know that.”

Tyler raised his eyebrows at you, pretending to look confused. “Then who would reach all the stuff on the top shelf?” He asked, his expression morphing into a smirk as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I guess I’ll have to find another tall, handsome cowboy. Shouldn’t be too hard.” You teased, and then grabbed the cart, pushing it past him.

He stopped you, grabbing you around the waist, holding you back against his chest and pressing a kiss against your neck. “Unfortunately, you’ll find I’m very hard to replace.” He murmured against your skin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, elbowing him in the side. “All right cowboy, if you’re going to not let me pick anything up heavier than three pounds, go do me a favor and get the water. Lily said you guys are running low, and the weather conditions for the weekend look rough.”

Tyler pressed another kiss against your neck, and then let you go. “Whatever you say ma’am.”

You watched him walk away, a sight you always enjoyed in those jeans, then hurried up to get as many of your groceries as you could before Tyler came back to not let you do anything again.

“Well, look who it is.”

Oh god, you knew that voice. It was one you hadn’t heard in years now, and one you hoped never to hear again. You almost didn’t want to turn around so you could pretend it wasn’t there, but you knew this person wasn’t going to allow that to happen. It would hurt his ego too much. Turning around, you let out a sigh at the familiar face. “Hey, Charles.”

Your ex was a dick. In fact almost all of your exes were dicks. Until you started dating Tyler, you hadn’t known what it was like to date someone that put you above themselves. Charles was no different. In fact, he was one of the worst, and the way he was looking at you right now made you want to throw up. Or maybe that was the morning sickness . . .

“I’ve got to say,” he looked you up and down. “You’re looking good.”

Nope, it wasn't morning sickness. “Thanks.” You replied, moving your cart so you could go around him. Hopefully you could make a quick escape and pretend this whole interaction had never happened. “It was good seeing you.” Lies.

He grabbed the cart, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait a second. Don’t you think we should catch up some? I mean it’s been-”

“Five years.” You answered, your hands squeezing the handle of the cart.

He smirked. “You kept track?”

You wanted to smack that expression off his face, “to celebrate.”

The nice facade faded upon your words. “You know, I thought maybe you’d changed over the years, but it seems like you’re still a-”

“Got the waters!” You breathed a quick little sigh of relief as Tyler came to a stop beside you, carrying not one, but two packs of water. He placed them in the cart, flipped his baseball cap around backwards, and put his hand on the small of your back. “Who’s this?” Tyler asked with his charming grin.

You took a step closer to Tyler, not because you were scared of Charles, but because you liked the comfort of his presence. Something you never felt with the douche in front of you now. “You remember me telling you about Charles? This is him.”

To Charles, Tyler showed no response to the name, but you felt the hand on your back press a little harder against your skin. Tyler turned to look at you, and there was a little glimmer in his eyes when he spoke. “I don’t actually. Are you sure you’ve mentioned someone named Charles before?”

You had to bite back a smirk once you realized what he was up to. “Yeah, I think so.” You played along.

“Hmmm, I must not have thought it was that important. Anyway, Tyler Owens.” He held out his hand to Charles, and you watched Charles’s face with delight. Not only had Tyler made him feel unimportant, something you knew from experience he couldn’t stand, but Tyler was . . . a big man. At least a foot taller than Charles, and more muscles on him than this guy could ever hope to have. You didn’t however expect the look of disbelief that crossed his face.

“Tyler Owens? The tornado wrangler?” He asked, almost too shocked to shake his hand, but then he collected himself and reached for Tyler’s.

“The very same.” He said. “Though I’ve got to say, I think my favorite title is her future husband.” He said, nodding his head back to you.

Heat flushed straight to your face at the bold statement. Tyler and you hadn’t talked much about marriage. You had thought that might be the logical next step, but you also didn’t want to bring it up if it scared him away. With past boyfriends, including the one in front of you, it always had. You should’ve known by now though that Tyler was nothing like that. You leaned into him more now, smiling as his arm went around you and his hand rested on your stomach.

“Her future-” Charles looked dumbfounded, and you also didn’t miss the wince when Tyler shook his hand probably more roughly than necessary.

“Got to lock her down, you know? Plenty of other idiots have already let her go. I’m not going to make the same mistake.” Tyler replied, giving you a smile full of mischief.

You placed your hand on top of the one he had on your stomach. “Ty, I’m having your baby. I don’t think you have to worry about that.” You assured him, your smile widening as he kissed your cheek.

“You’re - you’re pregnant?”

You’d almost forgotten Charles was there with Tyler’s sudden proclamation, but his words pulled your attention back to him. Turning to the side, you let him see the slight curve to your stomach. “Yep. Four months to go before we meet our baby boy.”

As soon as you said the words, Tyler’s face lit up with genuine excitement like it always did. “I can’t wait.” He turned back to Charles, putting both of his arms around you protectively now. “How do you two know each other again?” Tyler asked, and once again you had to fight back a laugh.

“It doesn’t matter.” You said, looking back up at Tyler with a soft smile. “We need to be getting out of here anyway right babe?”

“Yes ma’am. Well, it was nice to meet you, Chuck.” Tyler said, stepping back from you so he could grab a hold of the cart with one hand, taking your hand in the other.

You couldn’t hold your laughter back anymore at that point, entwining your fingers together as you followed him to the register, leaving Charles standing dumbfounded in your wake.

________________

It was the thing you had been the most scared of happening. You had no one else to blame other than yourself though. You were the one who had insisted that Tyler go on the chase. It was supposed to be a large storm, and you reminded him that it was the last one he’d probably go on for a while since the season was ending, as was your pregnancy. You had faith that he would be careful, knowing that he wouldn’t risk anything that would endanger him from meeting his son.

What you hadn’t expected however, was your water to break three weeks early.

It was safe to say you were panicking when you called your sister to come get you, and by the time they wheeled you back to your room, you were close to a full blown meltdown. “I can’t do this without him.” You told her, holding your stomach as if that could keep him in, tears streaming down your face. “And he’s at least five hours away! What if I don’t have that long?!”

Your sister, who was more calm than you, grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. “He will make it, I’m sure. You’ve texted him right?”

You bit your lip, and when your sister gave you a look, you blurted. “I didn’t want to ruin his chase! I thought I’d wait to see if the doctor was even going to take me!”

“Oh my god.” She reached into your bag and grabbed your phone. You held out your hand for it, but she was already texting away. “There, done.”

“What did you say?”

But she didn’t answer, instead she waited about ten seconds and said, “he said he’s on his way.”

You nodded, watching as she put your phone back in your purse. God you hoped he was going to make it. The thought of doing this without him was terrifying. You were already scared enough that something was wrong because of how early he was. Having to have this baby without Tyler by your side, reassuring you the whole way, seemed impossible.

A few minutes later, while you were lost in your thoughts, the door to your room opened and a nurse walked in. “Hey, honey, how’re we doing?”

“She’s panicking.” Your sister replied for you.

You glared at her. “My boyfriend, he’s - he’s not going to be able to get here for a few hours, do you think I have that long?”

She gave you a sympathetic smile. “Well that’s according to him I’d say, because I speak from experience when I say babies don’t wait for no one.” She said.

Oh god, he wasn’t going to make it. You just knew it. He wasn’t going to make it in time, and you would have to try and do this without him, and you didn’t think that you could. You needed him. You needed him so badly it added to the pain you were already in, and the worst part was that it was your fault. If you hadn’t forced him to go on that chase -

“I’m here, I’m here!”

To your complete and utter shock, Tyler came sliding into your room, taking his cowboy hat off and hurrying to your side.

“Ty?” Was all you could think to say.

“Did I miss anything?” Tyler asked, taking your hand in his own and looking at your nurse.

“Dad, I assume?” The nurse said with a smile.

Tyler beamed at the use of the word. “About to be.”

“In that case, you haven’t missed a thing yet. We’re about to take some vitals and get this show on the road.” She informed him. “Glad you could make it.” She said, and left your room. Your sister, sensing the two of you needed some alone time, followed close behind.

Once they had both left, your thoughts caught up to your brain, and you squeezed Tyler’s hand. “Tyler Owens, I’ve never been more happy to see you in my entire life, but how the hell did you get here so fast?”

He gave you an affectionate smile, and reached up to wipe away the tears you didn’t even know you’d still been crying. “Yeah, so about that chase . . . I never went.”

“You - you what?”

He started stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “You were less than a month away from having our son. I knew you’d blame yourself if I didn’t go, but I also knew if something happened while I was away . . . You’d blame yourself too. So I just . . . stayed at a hotel the past couple of nights.”

You couldn’t even be mad. He knew you too well, and the relief you felt that he was here to help you was too much to be upset. “I was so scared you were going to miss it.”

“Not for the largest tornado in the world baby.” Tyler said, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss it. “You ready to do this?” He asked as they started wheeling in the equipment.

Not five minutes ago you were horrified. The effect of Tyler’s presence on your emotions was remarkable. With him by your side, you had no doubts that you could do this. You could have this baby. “Now that you’re here? Definitely.”

Tyler leaned forward to give you the last kiss the two of you would have before you were parents, the smile on his lips unmistakable.

————————

“He looks so much like you it’s like you birthed him.” You said with a tired laugh. It was god knows how many hours later, you had never been more tired in your life, and somehow you and Tyler had squeezed into your tiny hospital bed. You were leaning against his shoulder, eyes glued to the baby he held in his arms that was looking up at you both curiously.

“Not completely. I know that nose anywhere.” He said, gently tapping your son in the nose. Then, for the first time since his son had been placed in his arms, he looked at you, the unmistakable glint of tears in his eyes. “He’s perfect.”

You knew that you were already emotional. You were exhausted, overwhelmed and a million other things at once, but the way Tyler was looking at your son, then at you? Your whole body seemed to light up with warmth. It was love all over his face, pure, intense love, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forget what it looked like again. You felt too choked up to speak, so you slipped your arm through his to curl your hand around his bicep, and turned your head to kiss his shoulder.

A smile formed on your face as Tyler looked back at your son, that adoring expression not fading for a second. “This is the best day of my life so far.”

“So far?” You said curiously.

“Well, you haven’t agreed to marry me yet.” He replied, grinning over at you.

Your smile widened, giving his arm a little squeeze. “Ty, you haven’t asked.”

“I haven’t?” Tyler said, pretending to look confused. “It’s a great proposal. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You rolled your eyes, but the thought of Tyler proposing to you made you feel giddy. “Does it involve fireworks in a tornado?” You teased.

He shook his head. “Nah, been there, done that. Boone would love it though.” Tyler shifted your son, who cuddled right against his chest. “By the way, the crew’s waiting outside with your sister.”

You sat further up, wincing when you moved too quickly. “Jeez Tyler, how long have they been out there?”

“Since they dropped me off.” He admitted.

“You mean none of them went on the chase either?” You said in shock.

Tyler shook his head again, “They said this was going to be better than any tornado.”

Your throat clogged with emotion again, and you really hoped this crying at the drop of a hat wasn’t going to last long. “Go get them! They deserve to see him!”

He reached up, brushing a tear away from your face. “Are you sure? I know how tired you are, and I can tell them to come back tomorrow.”

“I can sleep when they’re gone. Right now I want them to see what they gave up a chase for.” You said, holding out your arms for the baby.

Tyler leaned forward, giving you a kiss on your forehead and handing your son over as gently as if he was made of glass. You smiled as he snuggled right up to your chest, and knew that there was no better feeling in the world than this right here. When you looked up, Tyler was staring at the two of you as if he was trying to memorize this moment. “I love you.” He said finally.

You felt like you could float at that moment, so light and loved. “We love you too.” You told him, and the softest smile formed on his face. “Go,” you told him before you started crying again. “We’re not going anywhere.” You joked.

“You better not.” He played along, giving you a mock stern look, and then he went outside the door.

Not ten seconds later you heard a cheer from outside your door, and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at their enthusiasm. Of course, they were shushed by nurses, and then Tyler brought them all in.

You smiled at them as your sister, Lily, Boone, Dex and Dani’s eyes all went straight to the baby in your arms. Lily, Dani, your sister and Dex rushed forward to get a better look and started cooing over him, the biggest smiles on their faces while Boone hung back, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe the baby was a real thing.

“We got you guys something.” Dex said, holding up some familiar looking material as Tyler got back into the bed with you. He handed him the shirts, and Tyler unfolded them, letting out a laugh before showing them to you. It was similar to the normal shirts, but instead of Tyler’s face, it was a baby with a cowboy hat. That would have been hilarious enough, but instead of saying, “not my first tornadeo” it said, “this is my first babeo.”

“Oh my god, it’s so cheesy. I love it.” You said with a laugh yourself.

“We also got little man . . .” Dani held up a little onesie that said, “mini wrangler” on it with their tornado logo.

You grinned, looking down at the bundle of cuteness in your arms. “It’s perfect.” You said, turning your smile to them. “Thank you guys for bringing Ty by the way, and staying. I would have understood if you all went on the chase.”

“Are you crazy? We weren’t going to miss this.” Lily said, giving your son a little wave.

Your eyes went over to Boone though, still standing back a little ways. The man who had gone into tornados and helped shoot fireworks and rockets up into them was looking at the baby in your arms like it was a bomb. “Hey Boone, you want to hold him?” You asked.

“Oh, I don’t - I wouldn’t even know how-”

But Dani was already pushing him towards you. “It’s all right Boone, you got this.” You reassured him, sitting up a little more to hand him your son.

“Make sure you get the back of his head.” Tyler said, watching with the eyes of a hawk as you gently placed him in Boone’s arms.

“Woah.” Boone said, as he looked down at him.

Tyler wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and now that your arms were free, you curled into his side, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around his stomach.

“T, man! He looks just like you!” Boone said, and you smiled at the excitement in his voice.

“Except for the nose.” Tyler said, and you found your eyes closing as Tyler pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

He was so comfortable, and you were so tired. You felt yourself starting to drift off as his thumb brushed up and down your shoulder. It was hard not to when you felt so safe and loved, surrounded by your family, your new baby and the love of your life.

Tyler could sense it, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You want me to kick them out?”

You shook your head, tightening your grip on him. “They can stay.” You murmured, nuzzling into him. “Make sure Boone doesn’t get too excited and drop our baby.” You joked.

“Yes ma’am.” Tyler responded with a chuckle, pulling you closer. “You go ahead and rest. I'll be here when you wake up.”

“I know.” You mumbled sleepily with a soft smile. “You always stay.”

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens imagine #twisters imagine

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lizzyiii · 3 months ago

Note

The Dragon’s Treasure has my WHOLE heart 🥹

thank you, babe. i've really enjoyed writing her and aemond

The Dragon's Treasure (3)

pairing | young aemond targaryen x niece!reader

word count | 11k words

summary | “...and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of happiness for the future.”

tags | as we all know ANGST, ANGST, ANGSTTTT, and eventually rainbow after the storm, SA! (aemonds brothel scene), things do get better y'all, targaryen incest, reader is described to have silver hair and lilac eyes, reader being a sensitive queen, and FLUFF and young love, aemond being a SIMP, TOOTHROTTING FLUFF

a/n | I cried so much, while writing this. I loved writing young aemond, I loved writing young helaena but especially loved writing young reader. I promise you guys this, when I have the time I'll write a one shot of them when they're older and more post-episode 7. When they're older (16&18). Also I really went overboard ngl

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 1 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You weren’t eating again.

Aemond had overheard his mother’s worried whispers as she discussed your condition with the maesters. He was still angry with you—hurt by the thought that you would try to leave them all behind, leave him behind, without a second thought. But no matter how deep his anger ran, his concern for you ran deeper.

After a long and contemplative ride on Vhagar, the weight of the sky above him and the sea below doing little to settle his thoughts, Aemond sought out his mother.

“Aemond,” Alicent began, her voice weary as she looked down at him, her exhaustion evident in the fine lines around her eyes. Between preparing for Aegon and Helaena's wedding and your worsening state, the strain was taking its toll. “I don’t think she’s in the mood for any visitors.”

She still didn’t know the full truth of what had happened—the attempt to run away with Helaena, the plan you had kept hidden from them all. All Alicent knew was that you had retreated into yourself once more, refusing to speak to anyone, even to Helaena, the one who had once pulled you from your darkness.

“It’s her nameday tomorrow,” Aemond murmured, his voice quiet but steady.

Alicent’s face tightened, pain flashing in her eyes as she thought of how you had been before all this—brighter, more spirited. Aemond continued, his tone soft but resolute. “She likes strawberry cakes. Let me bring her one, Mother. Please.”

Alicent’s gaze softened as she looked at her son. Her sharp, determined boy, scarred both in body and soul, yet still showing more kindness than anyone would expect after all he had endured. He had lost an eye, but his heart—his heart still carried a tenderness that surprised her.

She sighed, her shoulders drooping with the weight of her worries. “Very well,” she said softly. “You have my leave to visit her tomorrow.”

Aemond didn’t smile, didn’t show any hint of relief, though inside, the resolve in his chest tightened. He simply nodded in acknowledgment. His mind had already begun to turn over what he would say to you when he saw you—how he might reach you through the walls you had built around yourself.

Tomorrow was your nameday, and whether you liked it or not, Aemond would be there for you.

──────────────────────────────

Aemond’s heart raced as he approached your chambers, his hands gripping the tray carrying strawberry cakes. He had spent much of the morning thinking of what else he could bring—perhaps a necklace, something to match the sapphire that lay hidden beneath his eyepatch. You loved jewelry, and he knew how your eyes lit up at the sight of anything that sparkled. But in the end, he settled on simplicity—just the cakes you loved, hoping they would be enough.

As he neared your door, he was greeted by Ser Rowan, your loyal guard, who stood as firm as ever, his expression stern.

“My prince,” Ser Rowan acknowledged with a nod, his voice gruff. “The princess is in no condition to receive visitors today.”

Aemond stiffened, his chest rising as he squared his shoulders. He would not be turned away so easily. “It is her nameday,” he said firmly, his voice laced with authority. He took a step closer, meeting Ser Rowan’s unyielding gaze with his own, violet eye sharp. “The queen has granted me permission to visit her.”

Ser Rowan remained still, but Aemond didn’t back down. He tilted his head slightly, his tone low and challenging. “Will you disobey the Queen’s word?”

There was a moment of silence as the guard’s eyes flicked down to the tray Aemond carried. His stern expression softened just slightly when he saw the strawberry cakes. Ser Rowan let out a heavy sigh, his duty to you outweighing his hesitation. He too wished for your recovery, and perhaps, he thought, a visit from Aemond might bring some light back into your eyes.

“Very well, my prince,” he said at last, stepping aside. He opened the door with a creak, allowing Aemond to enter.

Aemond took a deep breath, holding the tray steady as he stepped into your chambers. The door closed softly behind him, but the room was dim, heavy with silence. His heart clenched at the sight of you curled up on the bed, facing the wall, your small form barely stirring.

"Niece," Aemond’s voice echoed softly through the room, breaking the heavy silence of your chambers.

There was a pause, and then your voice, quiet and tired, reached him. "Go away."

He pursed his lips, setting the tray down gently on the bedside table. The room was dim, shrouded in a pink hue from your curtains, and he made his way over to the window, pulling the drapes wide open. Sunlight poured in, casting the room in a golden glow.

From behind him, you hissed, "Close them." He heard the rustle of your blankets as you pulled them over your head, shielding yourself from the brightness.

Aemond couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he turned back to face you. "Happy Nameday," he said, his tone lighter than before. "I brought you something."

"I don’t want it," you muttered from beneath the covers, your voice muffled and distant.

He sat beside you, his movements careful, placing the tray of strawberry cakes within arm’s reach. "I’m sure you will," he replied softly, hoping to coax you out from your cocoon of blankets.

For a few moments, there was nothing—just the faint sounds of the breeze outside and the distant chatter from the courtyard. Aemond sighed, the weight of the silence between you heavier than he could bear. He reached out, his hand hovering just above your arm, but then hesitated. His fingers twitched before he pulled his hand back, unsure of how to communicate with you.

"You know," he began quietly, his voice careful, "I wouldn’t force that on you. To bear children you don’t want. One would be enough."

There was a sharp scoff from beneath the blankets. "How generous of you," you replied, the bitterness in your tone unmistakable.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze steady on the blankets that covered you. His mind drifted to the records he had been reading, the histories you both loved to discuss. He knew how much you valued stories of the past, of old kings and queens, of the lives they led. Swallowing, he decided to share what had been on his mind, hoping it might reach you.

"I’ve been reading more since our last talk," he murmured. "About King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. Even after many children, he made her bear more when she didn’t wish to." His voice was soft but steady, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. He had been thinking of you, trying to understand your fears.

The sunlight streamed across your bed, casting shadows as Aemond spoke. He knew that love was rare among their kind, especially in Targaryen unions, but he hoped. Hoped that maybe, in time, you would not just be duty and title to him.

"I would never do that to you," he added, his tone sincere, almost vulnerable. "I want our marriage to be different."

The room was still. The only sound was the faint rustling of the breeze outside, and the quiet breathing of Dreamfyre from somewhere far beyond your window. Aemond’s words lingered, waiting for you to respond, to show him something—anything—that might bridge the gap between you.

Slowly, you lowered the blankets just enough for your eyes to peek out, meeting Aemond's gaze. "He was a bad man," you mumbled, referring to King Jaehaerys.

Aemond, ever the scholar, couldn’t resist. "He was a good king," he pointed out, his tone firm but calm.

You rolled your eyes, a small defiance shining through your sadness. "Still a bad man." For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, and then you added thoughtfully, "Aenys Targaryen was a good man."

Aemond let out a scoff. "He was weak."

You narrowed your eyes at him, but there was a flicker of something behind your lilac gaze, something like amusement. "A weak king, yes. Only because he tried to make everyone happy."

Your eyes shifted towards the tray on the bedside table, where the strawberry cakes sat. After a moment of hesitation, your voice, still tinged with sadness, broke the silence. "Is today really my nameday?"

Aemond nodded, his own expression softening. "Yes."

"Oh." Your response was quiet, almost absent-minded, as if you were still processing.

Aemond reached for the tray and held it out to you, offering a tentative smile. "Would you like one?"

You eyed the cakes, and though your sadness still lingered, something softened in your expression. "Those do look nice," you murmured. Finally, you pulled the blanket away from your face and sat up slowly, your movements careful and deliberate. Though your face remained neutral, devoid of the joy that used to light it up, you gave a small nod. "Alright."

Aemond couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face as he handed you a cake. It wasn’t much, but seeing you like this—out of bed, talking to him—felt like a small victory.

As you took a bite, your eyes flickered to his once more, and Aemond stayed beside you, content with the simple moment of shared silence, hopeful that things might get better.

Aemond felt as though he were trapped in a cage of unbearable heat, the air around him thick, suffocating. The wine—a dark, bitter liquid that Aegon had forced upon him—now churned wildly in his stomach, its taste sour and unpleasant. He longed to rid himself of it, to escape the strange and unfamiliar sensations overtaking him.

It was after the grand feast in honor of his thirteenth nameday that Aegon, with a sly grin and a glint in his eye, had promised him a "surprise." Aemond, still naive to the darker aspects of his brother’s humor, had followed without protest, his curiosity outweighing his caution. They had ventured deep into King’s Landing, to a shadowed place Aemond had never seen before—a pleasure house filled with laughter and the soft rustling of silks.

Before Aemond could voice his hesitation, Aegon had disappeared into the throng of bodies, swallowed by the merry voices and whispers of the women within. And Aemond was left alone, standing awkwardly, unsure of what was to happen next.

He was led into a small chamber, dimly lit by flickering candles, their soft glow casting strange and unsettling shadows on the walls. The tapestries that adorned the room depicted scenes he barely understood—men and women entwined in ways that seemed more confusing than enticing. He felt a knot tightening in his chest, and a cold wave of dread settled over him.

Then she entered—a woman far older than his mother, her presence overwhelming in the confined space. She smiled at him, her voice soft and syrupy, laced with sweet lies that made his skin crawl. She cooed over him, her hands reaching for him before he had the chance to say anything, her touch gentle yet intrusive as she began to undress him.

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest, and every fiber of his being screamed for her to stop, to leave him be. But his voice—his strength—had abandoned him. He remained frozen, his limbs stiff and unresponsive as she whispered things into his ear, words he wished he hadn’t heard, promises he didn’t understand.

When it was over, Aemond was left numb. He sat there, silent, as if his body no longer belonged to him, as though he had become something entirely separate from himself. Trembling, he fumbled with his clothes, his fingers shaking as he struggled to dress. His mind was a whirl of confusion, shame, and anger, but above all, he felt the desperate need to flee.

He didn’t care where Aegon had gone, didn’t want to face him or anyone else. The only thought that filled his mind was reaching you, his niece, his betrothed, his future wife, the one person who might make him feel whole again.

His feet carried him through the secret passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast, each step heavy with fear and sorrow. His breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, his chest aching as he pushed himself to move faster. His tears—hot and unbidden—ran down his cheeks, blurring his vision, but he did not stop.

He passed his own chambers, the rooms of his mother, and everyone else, not wanting to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside him. He only wanted you.

It felt as though the gods had granted Aemond a moment of mercy when he reached your chambers, finding Ser Rowan absent from his post. Without hesitation, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, his heart still racing, tears brimming in his eye as he struggled to hold them back.

You were fast asleep, your back turned toward him. Aemond let out a quiet breath of relief. He hadn’t come to disturb you, only to be near you—just your presence, your warmth, was enough to calm the storm inside him.

Quietly, he made his way to your bed and carefully, as if afraid to wake you, slid in beside you. He kept a respectful distance, not wanting to intrude, but just close enough to feel your presence. The motion stirred you from your sleep, and you sat up, blinking in confusion.

Your eyes widened when they fell on Aemond, and for a brief, horrible moment, he realised it was because of his face. He had forgotten—he had left his eye patch behind at the brothel. The clear ragged sapphire was bare for you to see.

Panic surged through him. You would be disgusted, he thought, repelled by the sight of his disfigurement. He moved to leave, heart pounding, but your voice reached him before he could retreat.

“Aemond, breathe,” you whispered, your strained voice soft and steady.

He froze, his chest tight with the effort to suppress his panic. He needed to leave—he couldn’t bear for you to see him like this. Not you, his dearest niece, who always knew him as strong, as whole. He couldn’t let you witness the broken, ruined side of him.

But then, you reached out, grabbing his trembling hands in your own small ones, your touch warm and gentle. "Please, stay," you whispered, your voice filled with concern. Slowly, you began rubbing his cold hands, trying to bring warmth back to him, both in body and spirit.

His breathing was still uneven, but your soft words and the warmth of your touch soothed him. He looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. There was no disgust there, no fear—only worry and care. Just like before. Slowly, the tension began to leave his body, and for the first time since he had fled that terrible place, Aemond felt a glimmer of relief.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hands a little tighter. "I don’t care about your face, Aemond," you murmured softly, your tired lilac eyes meeting his. "I care about you."

As you gently laid back onto your pillow, you looked at Aemond with concern, urging him to lie beside you. He hesitated for a moment, but slowly, he did as you asked, his awkward frame seeming out of place in your small bed. You turned to face him, your wide lilac eyes full of care, while Aemond’s own single violet eye struggled to meet yours.

With quiet care, you reached out, placing your small hand on his scarred cheek. He flinched at first, his breath catching in his throat, but you didn’t pull away. Your fingers traced the jagged line of the scar that ran down his face, the skin rough beneath your touch. It was as if you weren’t looking at the scar at all, just him—Aemond, your beloved uncle, the boy who protected you, who read to you, who you always knew to be brave.

He shivered under your touch, his emotions twisting inside him. But you said nothing more, just a quiet, simple comfort.

“Sleep, Aemond,” you whispered softly, your voice gentle and soothing. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

The words wrapped around him like a balm, a promise in the soft glow of the dim candlelight. For so long, Aemond had carried his burdens alone, but in this moment, with your hand on his face and your soft breath mingling with the night air, he felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since Driftmark—peace.

His eye fluttered shut, and with the rhythm of your breathing beside him, he let himself drift away, finally surrendering to sleep.

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Aemond entered your chambers quietly, the weight of the box in his hands almost insignificant compared to the heaviness that lingered in the air. He had been allowed to visit freely now, thanks to Ser Rowan's softening stance, but each visit felt like walking on a thread, delicate and uncertain.

He paused when he saw you on the chaise, struggling with your embroidery. The soft light from the window highlighted the paleness of your features—still recovering, still distant, but better than before. You were eating now, and though your mood hadn't brightened, that small improvement brought Aemond some comfort. He cherished these moments, even if they were shrouded in silence.

"I've brought something for you," he said, his voice steady yet quiet as he approached.

You glanced up from your work but said nothing. The tangled mess of threads on the pillow caught his eye, and he bent slightly to inspect it, attempting to mask the awkwardness he always felt in the wake of that night. He hadn’t been ready to speak of it, and thankfully, neither had you.

"That’s a nice lion," Aemond offered, pointing to the uneven form stitched into the fabric.

Your lips parted slightly, a faint glimmer of amusement mixing with frustration as you murmured, "It was supposed to be the Queen."

Aemond’s lips twitched in response, nodding solemnly as if in deep thought. "Now that you say it," he replied, his voice light, "I do recognize her hair."

With a small sigh, you tossed the pillow aside like it was something offensive, watching as it tumbled to the floor, forgotten. Your eyes flickered towards the box in Aemond’s hands, suspicion mingling with curiosity.

"What have you brought me?" you asked, your voice quiet, but holding a hint of anticipation.

Aemond didn’t reply at first, simply stepping forward and offering the box to you, his expression unreadable. You hesitated for a moment, then carefully took it from him.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you lifted the lid, pulling back the fine paper that covered the gift inside. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you uncovered a stunning gown—lilac silk adorned with delicate embroidery, tiny jewels catching the light like stars. Your hands traced the fabric, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips, the craftsmanship clear in every stitch.

Aemond watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your face. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a shift in your expression—a glimmer of something that almost resembled joy.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice low, holding his breath as he awaited your response.

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in many moons, you smiled. It was small, barely there, but it warmed Aemond's heart like the sun after a long winter.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, still admiring the gown. "What's it for?"

"Helaena's wedding."

At once, the warmth in the room seemed to drain away. The smile you had given Aemond, fleeting as it was, vanished, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. His heart sank, watching as you carefully folded the gown, tucking it back into the box with deliberate gentleness. The delicate fabric crinkled under your hands as though it were something too precious to be touched, something that no longer belonged to you.

"I'm afraid you've wasted your efforts," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze fixed on the gown. "I'm not going."

Aemond's brow furrowed, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He stepped closer, his voice steady yet urgent. "You have to go."

But you refused to meet his eye. You knew how intense his gaze could be, how easily it could pierce through your defenses. Staring at the box instead, you shook your head, your words coming out firm, resolute. "I won't."

Aemond's lips pressed into a thin line, the familiar weight of your stubbornness settling between you both. "Helaena needs you," he urged, his tone softening, as if pleading might sway you.

You let out a bitter sigh, your fingers tracing the edge of the box, a dull ache settling in your chest. "Well, perhaps I can hurt her the same way she hurt me," you muttered, your words tinged with petulance, though the pain beneath them was clear.

Aemond stood in silence for a long moment, weighing your words, the tension in the air thick between you. His voice, quieter this time, broke the silence like a whisper carried on the wind. "Will you really not go?"

"No," you replied, though your voice softened now, the sharp edge of defiance fading. You hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing your face. You raised your chin, trying to hold onto the last bit of resolve. "Now, is that all you've come to visit me for?"

Aemond's heart ached at the sight of you—so distant, so caught in your own sorrow. He stood there, unsure of how to reach you, the distance between you feeling far more than just the space in the room.

The day of Helaena’s wedding arrived, and just as you had promised, you didn’t go. Aemond had come to your chambers in the morning, his expression pleading as he urged you one last time to change your mind. His words were careful, filled with the weight of his disappointment, but still, you remained firm.

You had refused.

As the sun set, casting a warm golden hue across the castle walls, you lay alone in your chambers, curled beneath the thick blankets on your bed. The echoes of the celebrations reached your ears in faint murmurs, muffled by the heavy stone of the keep. The joyous sounds of laughter and music only seemed to deepen the ache in your heart.

It was when night fell fully that the tears came, slow at first, then faster, spilling onto your pillow as regret took hold of you. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, but it did little to stop the sadness that had finally caught up to you. You could see it so clearly in your mind—Helaena standing alone in the grand Sept, a pale and fragile figure, her face drawn with sorrow. You imagined her forced to marry Aegon, the brother you both knew was unfit for her, and the weight of your absence pressed hard on your chest.

How could you not have been there for her?

The thought made you feel smaller, childish even. You had let your anger and hurt guide you, and in doing so, you had abandoned Helaena on one of the worst days of her life. She was likely miserable, her heart heavy with sadness, and you, spiteful and stubborn, had stayed away. You bit your lip, choking back a sob.

Your gaze drifted to the gown Aemond had gifted you, still lying folded neatly in the box by your bedside, untouched, its lilac fabric gleaming faintly in the moonlight. You reached for it now, pulling the soft material through your fingers as though it could offer you some comfort.

But it didn’t.

It only reminded you of the mistake you had made.

You missed your mother.

For all the hurt she caused, all the ways she had abandoned you, there was still a deep ache for her, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. You wanted to hate her, truly despise her for leaving you behind. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t. The love for her still clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t lose.

As the days passed in the quiet isolation of your chambers, you began to understand things you hadn’t before. With each lonely hour, the weight of your thoughts pressed harder on your heart. Your mother had been selfish, more than you had ever allowed yourself to admit. She had promised you the world, and yet, in the end, she had given you nothing.

You were her firstborn, the eldest of her children, and yet the title that should have been yours had been passed to Jace. He was her heir to the Iron Throne, the future king, while you were left to the shadows. Even Driftmark, the seat of your grandsire, should have been yours by birthright, but it had been given to Luke instead.

The bitterness inside you grew with every thought. You hated them now—your brothers. You knew it was childish, petulant even, but the feelings were there, and they wouldn’t leave. They had taken everything from you. Titles that were rightfully yours, the pride of riding dragons, and worst of all, they still had your mother. They were together as one big happy family on Dragonstone, while you had been left here in King's Landing, a forgotten daughter in the midst of their enemies.

“It’s fine,” you whispered to yourself in the dark, trying to believe it. You had never liked Dragonstone anyway, with its cold winds and sharp rocks. But even as you said it, your heart tightened with the lie. You missed the place, the warmth of the hearth, the sight of the sea from your window, and the feeling of belonging—something you hadn’t felt in so long.

And in the quiet moments, when the anger settled and the room was still, you knew the truth. It wasn’t your brothers’ fault. They hadn’t asked for this, to be born as they were, with all the whispers and shadows cast over their lineage. No, it was your mother’s choices that had led to this. Her indiscretions. But even as that truth formed in your mind, you found that you couldn’t hate her.

It was easier to be angry with them—with Jace and Luke—because hating her, the one you loved most, was something you just couldn’t bear.

──────────────────────────────

"I hated you, you know."

Aemond's head jerked up, eyes widening at the unexpected words. He had been sitting quietly in your chambers, absorbed in a thick tome about the horrors of Essos. You stood across the room, brush in hand, painting the pink walls of your chamber as if it were any other day. But there was a tension in the air, a weight to your voice that made his heart quicken.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the canvas as you murmured, "When you claimed Vhagar, I hated you."

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. Aemond’s mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you. The stillness of the room was broken only by the soft strokes of your brush against the canvas.

"I feel as if I hate everyone," you continued, voice tight and strained. "I hate Luke and Jace for stealing my titles." Your brush moved faster, more aggressively. "I hate Daemon for stealing my mother. I even hate Baela and Rhaena, if only because they get to have her now, as if she’s theirs instead of mine."

A scoff escaped your lips, but the sound was bitter. Aemond noticed the way your hand trembled slightly, how your breath caught as tears glistened in your lilac eyes.

"I hated Helaena for not running away with me," you whispered, the words coming out choked. "And I hate myself for not having a dragon, for not being someone important, someone worthy of a title."

Tears began streaming down your face, and yet you kept painting, as if the act itself could somehow keep the flood of emotions at bay. Finally, your gaze lifted from the canvas and met Aemond’s. His heart clenched at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

"And I hated you," you said, voice breaking, "for claiming Vhagar and leaving me alone in this world."

The sob that followed was wrenching, and Aemond couldn’t stay still any longer. He moved toward you, closing the distance between you both with careful, deliberate steps. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as you wept.

"I don’t want to feel this way," you cried into his tunic, voice muffled and raw. "So pathetic, so angry at everyone. But I can’t help it. And yet, no matter how hard I try, I can never hate her."

Aemond’s chest tightened at your words, his own emotions swirling in a storm he didn’t know how to express. He rested his chin gently on your head, holding you as tightly as he dared, feeling the weight of your pain as if it were his own.

"I know," he whispered softly, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

And so he held you, offering no more words, just the quiet comfort of his presence as your tears slowly soaked into his shoulder. He wished he could consume your pain and take it away, wished he could make things right. But all he could do was stand there, arms around you, as the world outside seemed so far away.

──────────────────────────────

“How is Helaena?”

It was the first time in what felt like forever that you had left your chambers. Aemond had been persistent, urging you to take some air, to leave the four walls that had become your prison. Reluctantly, you agreed, and now the two of you sat beneath the heart tree in the Godswood, surrounded by the stillness of nature. Aemond had brought a stack of books, ones he knew you both enjoyed, hoping they might distract you.

“The same as ever,” Aemond answered absently, his attention flickering between the pages of the book in his lap and the rustling leaves above.

He paused, glancing up at you. "She’s set to give birth in three moons' time," he added, his voice soft, as if the thought still surprised him.

You looked down, your heart aching at how quickly time had passed. It had been almost two years since you had returned to King’s Landing, and though you tried to avoid thinking about it, you knew things would never be the same. “Is her pregnancy going well?” you asked quietly, your voice small against the whisper of the wind.

Aemond pursed his lips, his brow furrowing in thought. “She has strange cravings," he said, his voice low. "And her belly is… large, perhaps too large for just six moons.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. “I’m sure a visit from you would lift her spirits,” he suggested, his tone careful, as though he didn’t want to push too hard.

You shook your head almost immediately, your silver curls spilling over your shoulders. “I’m not sure it would,” you murmured, your voice full of doubt.

Aemond studied you for a long moment, his sharp violet eye watching the way your expression shifted, the way your gaze seemed to turn inward. "She speaks of you sometimes," he said quietly, trying to find the right words to reach you. "She misses you."

You sighed, pulling your knees to your chest as you looked away from him, your fingers tracing idle patterns in the grass. You missed her too.

Aemond, noticing the sadness clouding your face, cleared his throat, quickly steering the conversation elsewhere. “Perhaps when you feel better,” he began, his voice lighter, “you could join me on a ride with Vhagar.”

Your head snapped up in surprise. “Me? Ride Vhagar?” You shook your head. “I’m not sure Vhagar would like me. A loud, annoying girl.”

Aemond raised a brow, his face dead serious. “If that were true, Vhagar would’ve eaten Baela and Rhaena years ago.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you laughed. A real laugh, bubbling up from deep within, spilling out in a way that felt foreign yet so relieving. Two years of being shut away in your chambers, and now here you were, laughing at Aemond’s dry humor. The sound filled the Godswood, bright and full of life.

Aemond, momentarily stunned, blinked at you in astonishment. He hadn’t expected it, not after everything, but when his mind caught up, a broad smile tugged at his lips. The kind of smile that was rare for him, genuine and unguarded.

“Vhagar will love you,” he said, his voice quiet but sure. He hesitated for just a moment, his thoughts turning to words he longed to say but didn’t. Just as I do, he thought. But instead, he insisted with a warmth in his tone, “I’m sure of that.”

You gave a small shrug, murmuring, "Maybe," without truly committing to the idea.

Aemond studied your face for a moment, his heart lighter at the sound of your earlier laughter, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. "I claimed Vhagar for the both of us."

Your expression shifted in an instant, the color draining from your face as you stared at him. "What?" you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Aemond averted his gaze, trying to appear casual, though his heart raced. "I remembered what you said—about sharing a dragon. And when your dragon egg didn’t hatch, I decided... Vhagar should be for both of us." He looked up, meeting your startled lilac eyes with his steady violet one. "For you and me to share."

Tears welled in your eyes without warning, and Aemond’s calm composure crumbled. He immediately scrambled to your side, kneeling in the grass and reaching out to comfort you. "No, no, I didn’t mean to make you cry," he said, his hands hovering nervously, unsure of what to do.

You waved his hands away, though a small smile began to form through your tears. "I feel a bit foolish now," you admitted, as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

Aemond took your hands gently in his, bringing them to his lips in a tender kiss. "And so?" He whispered, his gaze filled with sincerity.

As the tears dried on your cheeks, you let out a shaky breath, though your nose remained a bit red. "But... I think Vhagar is much more suited for you," you finally said, your voice still soft but calmer.

Aemond nodded, willing to agree if it brought you comfort. "Will you still consider joining me?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

You looked at him, your smile returning, this time more playful. "I shall," you said with a teasing glint in your eyes, your hands still resting in his.

──────────────────────────────

"Princess, are you almost done?"

Ser Rowan’s voice was tinged with exasperation as he stood with arms raised, holding the pose you had instructed. You had begged him to model for your painting when he arrived to greet you at dawn, and now the sun was climbing high in the sky, casting warm rays through the window. Despite the time, he remained your patient subject.

"Almost, Ser Rowan," you replied cheerfully, your brush gliding across the canvas as you focused on capturing the details of his expression.

The knight let out a weary sigh, feeling his muscles beginning to stiffen. Yet he would endure anything to keep the smile on your face; he was your willing captive, devoted to your whims.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Ser Rowan instinctively straightened, positioning himself protectively in front of you. He relaxed his stance when he saw Prince Aemond enter, though a worried look darkened the prince's features.

"Aemond, what’s wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing in concern as you set down your brush.

The prince was out of breath, urgency threading through his voice. "Helaena went into labor last night. It’s been long and difficult. She’s calling for you."

Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth in shock, struggling to find your voice amidst the sudden rush of fear and worry.

Before you could respond, Ser Rowan spoke softly but firmly. "Princess, we must go."

You nodded, the news settling in your stomach like a stone, heavy and cold. You hurriedly followed Aemond and Ser Rowan out of your chamber, your heart pounding with a mix of concern and guilt.

Thoughts raced through your mind—what would you say to Helaena? Would she forgive you for not being there these past months? You hadn’t seen her in nearly ten moons, too consumed by your own sadness to leave your room.

As the three of you made your way to the birthing chambers, the air felt thick with anticipation. Upon reaching the door, you encountered another guard who bowed respectfully at your approach.

"The princess has successfully given birth, your Highnesses," he announced, his voice steady.

You and Aemond exchanged a glance, relief washing over you, and he offered you an encouraging nod. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to enter and see Helaena, the weight of your past decisions lingering in the back of your mind, but hope beginning to spark within your heart.

As you stepped into the chamber, your eyes immediately found Queen Alicent standing in the center, cradling a tiny bundle in her arms. A soft glow of love radiated from her as she looked down at Helaena's babe, a precious life nestled against her.

Your gaze shifted, and you gasped softly when you finally spotted Helaena on the birthing bed. To your astonishment, she was holding another baby as well.

"Twins," you murmured, the words slipping out louder than intended, catching the attention of both the Queen and Helaena.

Alicent's eyes widened in surprise, and a warm smile spread across her face at the sight of you. "Princess, it brings me joy to see you out of your chambers," she said, her voice gentle.

You nodded, feeling a rush of embarrassment as you shifted your gaze back to Helaena. She was already looking at you, her expression filled with a mix of fatigue and joy. Slowly, you approached the bed, holding your breath as you took in the sight before you.

The babe in Helaena's arms had the unmistakable silver hair of House Targaryen, a stark contrast to the dark-haired children of your brothers. You couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl, but the sight of the tiny face, so fragile and perfect, made your heart swell.

"What are their names?" you asked softly, careful not to disturb the babe's slumber. Your voice barely rose above a whisper, filled with wonder.

A tiny smile bloomed on Helaena's weary face, her eyes lighting up with pride. She gestured to the babe nestled in her arms. "This is Jaehaera," she said, her voice tender. Then she nodded toward the child cradled by Queen Alicent. "And that is Jaehaerys."

You nodded slowly, feeling a swell of warmth at the names, though a shadow lingered in your mind. You didn’t dare ask where Aegon was; the thought of him missing the birth of his children felt too heavy to voice. Carefully, you settled beside Helaena on the birthing bed, the air filled with soft silence and the smell of newborns.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, unable to meet her gaze as your eyes traced the delicate features of Jaehaera. The babe's tiny fingers curled and unfurled, and your heart ached with a mix of joy and regret.

Helaena's hand found yours, giving a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry too," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

Looking up at her, a relieved smile broke through your sadness, tears glistening in your eyes. In that moment, the past felt a little lighter, the bond between you strengthening. But then Helaena's expression turned hopeful. "Would you like to hold her?"

You immediately shook your head, anxiety creeping in. "I don't know how."

"I didn’t know how either before this," Helaena said, her voice soft and encouraging. She carefully passed Jaehaera into your arms. You cradled the babe as if she were made of glass, your heart racing with both fear and delight. "It’s very easy."

A small laugh escaped you, bubbling with nervousness. "She’s very small."

"Yes," Helaena murmured, a hint of nostalgia in her tone. "Just as we were once."

You gazed down at the sleeping babe, feeling the weight of her tiny form in your arms. You glanced up at Helaena, her eyes shining with love and hope, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of happiness for the future.

You let out a huge yawn as you finally walked back to your chambers, the weight of the day settling on your shoulders. You had spent most of your time in Helaena's chambers, cradling Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in your arms. Queen Alicent had eagerly encouraged your visits, saying it was good practice for when you would have your own children with Aemond.

The thought felt strange yet comforting. After so many hours spent with the tiny babes, you found yourself warming to the idea of one day having a child with Aemond. Of course, that was a distant thought; you were only twelve now, and marriage was still years away. Yet, the notion no longer filled you with dread.

As your health improved and your mood lightened, Queen Alicent insisted you return to your princess lessons with Septa Agertha. The strict septa had been happy to resume your lessons, and to your surprise, she seemed kinder and softer than before, guiding you patiently through your studies.

Despite your busy days, you always tried to carve out time for Aemond. You cherished those moments, whether you were reading together in the library, basking in the sunlight of the gardens, or watching him train with his sword. Today, you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he took down Aegon during practice, his movements fluid and precise.

As you entered your chambers, your eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of Aemond standing amidst the soft pinks of your room, a striking contrast in his dark green leather. He looked entirely out of place, and the nervous smile tugging at his lips only deepened your suspicion.

"It is highly improper for you to visit my chambers so late, Aemond," you teased, crossing your arms as you arched an eyebrow. "Does Ser Rowan know about this?"

Aemond’s smile grew as he replied with a hint of mystery, "Ser Rowan does not know all the entrances to your room."

You rolled your eyes, amused but unconvinced. However, something behind Aemond caught your attention—a small object sitting on your table. You moved closer, but Aemond swiftly stepped in front of you, his hands gently resting on your waist to stop you.

"Wait," he said quickly, clearing his throat. "Before you get angry… don’t. Just trust me."

You eyed him suspiciously but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Happy Nameday," Aemond said quietly, almost as if he were embarrassed by the gesture.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Aemond, my nameday was a week ago."

"Still," he muttered, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

With curiosity getting the better of you, you gently pushed past him, approaching the table where the mysterious item sat. There, on the table, was a small brazier pot, the kind used for hatching dragon eggs. Your heart quickened as you slowly lifted the lid.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips when you saw the sparkly navy blue egg resting inside, hot as ever. "Aemond," you whispered, feeling a mix of exasperation and affection.

Aemond stepped up behind you, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, "I know. But you know what they say—fourth time’s the charm."

You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes as you turned to face him. Your noses were practically touching as you corrected him, "It’s third time’s the charm, you stubborn idiot."

"I also brought strawberry cakes," Aemond said, seeing that the sight of the dragon egg had done little to lift your spirits.

You tilted your head with a small smile, "You know the way to my heart, Aemond Targaryen."

The two of you found yourselves lounging on your grand pink canopy bed, nestled among the cushions, feasting on strawberry cakes that Aemond had brought for you. The scent of the sweet berries filled the air, and for a moment, all seemed simple and light in your world.

“Aemond, I’ve been thinking,” you began thoughtfully, wiping a bit of cream from your lips.

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a mischievous smirk. “My, my, that is worrisome,” he teased, his voice playful.

You shot him a sharp glare before rolling your eyes. With a lift of your chin, you said firmly, “I’ve decided our first child must be a girl.”

Aemond blinked at you, stunned by the declaration. “You understand we do not get to choose, yes?”

You waved his words away dismissively, as if the very idea of leaving such an important matter to chance was absurd. “I believe if I am firm in my belief, then I shall have the choice,” you replied with the confidence only a twelve-year-old could muster.

Aemond gave you a long, bemused look, as if weighing your words for any sense. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “Why?” he asked, indulging your fanciful notion.

“Do not mistake me,” you began, leaning back into the pillows with a thoughtful expression. “I love both Jaehaera and Jaehaerys equally. And if we were to have a son, I would love him just as much.”

A big, silly grin spread across your face as you continued, “But I want a daughter. I want to dress her up, match with her, and have her follow me around in little gowns.”

Aemond gave you a knowing look. “You have Jaehaera for that.”

You pouted dramatically, the cake in your hand momentarily forgotten. “It’s not the same. Jaehaera is Helaena’s, not mine.”

Aemond chuckled softly at your logic. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, raising his hands as if surrendering. “I shall pray to the Seven for us to be blessed with a daughter first.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Perhaps a daughter and a son at the same time?”

You glared at him, flicking a cake crumb in his direction. “Why would you wish something like that upon me? Twins?” You shook your head vehemently.

Aemond’s amused smile only widened as he met your deathly serious gaze. “You’re right, my bad,” he said with a chuckle, brushing the crumb off his tunic.

You huffed, but your irritation quickly melted away as you stuffed another bite of cake into your mouth, a small smile tugging at your lips. Despite his teasing, you knew that Aemond would pray to the Seven for whatever you wished—even if that meant asking for something as impossible as choosing your firstborn's gender.

You glanced down at the strawberry cake in your hand, scrunching your nose. "With all this cake you keep bringing me, Aemond, I’m going to grow fat."

Aemond gave you a thoughtful look, his expression serious yet teasing at the same time. "And? Do they not say that more is always better?"

You tried to hold back your amusement, but despite your best effort, a smile tugged at your lips. You sighed, shaking your head as you chuckled softly. "You’re incorrigible."

Aemond tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Perhaps. But I speak the truth." His eye glimmered as they held yours for a moment longer. "A bit of extra weight would not lessen your beauty."

You blushed, looking away from him as you fiddled with the edge of your dress. "You say that now," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your heart felt light.

"I shall always say that," Aemond countered smoothly, his voice unwavering, as if he truly meant every word. "No matter what the years bring, you will always be perfect to me."

A warmth spread through you, making your cheeks burn even more. You tried to dismiss it, waving a hand at him. "You just want me to keep eating cake so I’ll be too heavy to run away when you’re being impossible."

Aemond smiled at that, his violet eye gleaming with mirth. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you happy. And if it takes cake to do that, so be it."

You laughed then, shaking your head at him. "You’ve won this time, but I’ll have my revenge when I’m too fat to walk."

Aemond smirked, leaning closer to you with a satisfied look. "I’ll carry you, then."

You tilted your head, rolling your eyes at Aemond, wondering why he was looking at you like that, as if the world had shifted between the two of you. Somehow, without realizing it, you had drifted closer, your faces mere inches apart. You could feel his breath, soft and warm, as he leaned in further. His eye fluttered shut, and your heart skipped a beat as you sensed what was coming.

Before anything could happen, your hand instinctively shot up, covering his mouth. Aemond froze, opening his eye wide to see you staring at him with confusion. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice full of suspicion.

He mumbled something beneath your hand, and you lowered it, giving him a curious look as you tried to catch his words.

Clearing his throat, clearly embarrassed, he murmured, "I was trying to kiss you."

You squinted at him, still doubtful. "Aemond," you began cautiously, "Septa Agertha says if a maiden and a man kiss, she’ll become with child. And I think we should at least wait until the twins’ first nameday before we bring another baby into the castle."

Aemond’s lips pressed together tightly, trying to suppress a laugh. His ears turned red as he responded, "Maidens do not become pregnant because of kisses."

"Then how do they become with child?" you asked, raising a challenging brow, your tone daring him to contradict what you’d been taught.

Aemond’s face flushed deeply, and his gaze flickered away in sheer embarrassment. He seemed to search for a way to avoid the topic. "Your Septa will tell you... in time," he muttered, clearly hoping to escape further questioning.

You were about to protest, about to accuse your Septa of lying again—how could you trust her after she said that about kissing? But the sight of Aemond’s bright red cheeks and the way he squirmed told you it was better to drop it. So, with a sigh, you decided to change the subject. "So then," you asked, "why do people kiss if it’s not to make babies?"

Aemond shifted awkwardly before murmuring, "To show affection. It’s what people do when they love each other. Married couples especially."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow, folding your arms. "I’ve never seen my mother and father kiss. And I’ve never seen Grandsire and the Queen kiss either."

Aemond made an exasperated sound, running a hand through his hair. "Well... they’re different," he said, sounding both frustrated and amused.

You tilted your head again, considering his words. "Different how?"

"Just different," Aemond replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked at you. "Not everyone is... affectionate like that."

"So, you want to kiss me because you’re affectionate?" you teased, a small smirk growing on your face.

Aemond’s ears burned again, and he glanced away, muttering under his breath. "Something like that..."

You tilted your head, watching him with amusement before shrugging nonchalantly. "Alright," you said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. "You may kiss me."

Aemond's head snapped back toward you, his eye wide in disbelief. "Really?" he asked, unsure if you were being serious.

You nodded, offering him a small smile before puckering your lips in a way you thought was appropriate for a kiss. "Go on, then," you said, your lips pursed in a dramatic display.

Aemond stared at you for a moment, utterly bewildered. "You can't stare at me like that," he finally managed, his voice a little strangled as he glanced away again, clearly nervous.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, "Alright, Aemond," and then did as he requested, squeezing your eyes shut. You sat there, waiting for him to make the first move, your heart thumping in your chest even though you tried to act as though it didn’t matter at all.

The room felt strangely quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. You could hear Aemond shift slightly, feel the warmth of him as he leaned in closer. The air between you felt charged, as if something important was about to happen.

His breath ghosted across your lips, soft and hesitant, and your heart skipped a beat. But just as you thought the kiss was going to happen, Aemond hesitated again.

"Are you certain?" he whispered, his voice soft and uncertain, as if he didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.

Without opening your eyes, you replied with a huff, "Yes, Aemond. Just do it."

Aemond finally leaned in, pressing his lips gently to yours in the briefest of kisses. It was awkward and tentative, like neither of you really knew what you were doing, but it was soft and sweet in its own way.

When he pulled back, you opened your eyes, blinking at him. The two of you sat there for a moment, staring at each other in silence, unsure of what to say or do next.

"Well?" Aemond asked, his voice low, his cheeks still a little flushed. "How was that?"

You pursed your lips, considering. "It wasn’t so bad," you admitted, then smiled, a hint of mischief in your eyes. "But I don't think that’ll make me with child, so Septa Agertha must be wrong after all."

Aemond let out a small, relieved chuckle, the tension easing from his shoulders. "No," he agreed quietly, "that won't make you with child."

You both shared a soft laugh, the awkwardness melting away as you realized it wasn’t as strange or nerve-wracking as you thought it would be.

Still, after a moment, you tilted your head and added thoughtfully, "Mayhaps we can try again another time... just to make sure."

Aemond’s face broke into a wide grin at your words, and he shook his head, still amused. "Whenever you like," he promised softly, his voice full of warmth.

Aemond’s smile remained as you shared a quiet moment, a comfortable warmth settling between the two of you. His words, soft and full of promise, made your heart flutter a little, though you tried to ignore it. Just as you were about to speak, a strange sound filled the room.

You paused, frowning in confusion as the sound persisted. Aemond’s brow furrowed, and he gave you the same puzzled look. "What is that?" you asked, your voice low and uncertain.

Before Aemond could answer, the sound came again, louder this time—a soft, irregular rattling, like something gently tapping against metal. Both of you turned your heads toward the source of the noise, your eyes settling on the small brazier pot resting on the table beside your chaise.

The pot was trembling slightly, the lid shifting ever so subtly as if something within was stirring to life.

You exchanged a wary glance with Aemond, both of you too stunned to speak. Hope flickered in your chest, a fragile, cautious feeling that you tried desperately to suppress, even though it grew with each passing second. You didn’t want to feel it—not again. Not after so many failed attempts, so many disappointments.

But as the rattling continued, you couldn’t help but let that hope bloom, filling your chest with an almost painful intensity. You could feel Aemond's steady gaze on you, as if he too shared your mixture of anticipation and disbelief. His hand lightly touched your arm, offering silent reassurance as you both stood frozen in place.

Finally, the rattling grew louder, more insistent. Aemond moved first, stepping cautiously toward the brazier pot, his movements careful, as if approaching something fragile and dangerous all at once.

Your heart pounded in your ears as Aemond gently reached out and lifted the lid.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. You held your breath, waiting, expecting the worst, but then—

A small, sharp crack echoed through the air, and your breath hitched in your throat. Aemond’s eye widened in astonishment as he stepped back slightly, motioning for you to come closer.

With shaky steps, you moved forward, peering into the brazier pot. Inside, nestled among the glowing embers, was the dragon egg—your dragon egg. And it was moving.

Tiny cracks began to spread across the surface, like delicate lines etched into stone. A tiny chirp escaped from within, soft yet insistent, and your heart leapt in your chest.

Aemond’s voice was barely a whisper, full of wonder. "It’s hatching."

You didn’t dare speak, afraid that if you did, the fragile moment would shatter. Instead, you watched in awe as the cracks grew wider, the shell breaking apart bit by bit.

Slowly, a tiny snout poked through the shell, followed by a pair of gleaming, sapphire-blue eyes that blinked up at you curiously.

Aemond’s hand slipped into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to smile.

"It’s really happening," you whispered, barely able to contain the joy welling up inside you.

Aemond stood beside you, his gaze never leaving the hatchling, and he nodded, his voice low but filled with a kind of quiet awe. "Yes, it is."

The tiny dragon stretched its delicate wings, the membrane translucent in the firelight, revealing the rich, dark blue that shimmered against the glow. It was so small, fragile even, yet there was a certain strength in its movements, as though it knew its place in the world. Its scales appeared nearly black in the dim light, but with each flicker of the brazier’s flame, a glint of deep sapphire blue reflected back at you, shimmering like the ocean at night.

You couldn't hold back the soft laugh that bubbled from your lips, a sound of pure, unrestrained joy. Your laughter caught the attention of the little dragon, whose head turned sharply towards you. It blinked, tilting its head, studying you with wide, curious eyes before letting out a sharp screech in response. The sound, though high-pitched, was surprisingly strong for such a tiny creature.

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you knelt closer, your hand trembling slightly as you reached out, but you stopped just short of touching it. It felt too precious, too delicate to handle without care.

"Hello," you murmured, your voice soft and gentle, as though speaking to an infant. "Aren't you absolutely beautiful."

The little dragon blinked again, watching you intently. Its tiny nostrils flared as it took in the scent of the air, its wings fluttering slightly as it made a sound that almost resembled a purr. You couldn't help but smile wider, your heart swelling with affection.

Aemond crouched down beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder as he watched the dragon with a look of pride and admiration. "You were meant for each other," he said, his voice filled with certainty.

You looked up at him, tears still brimming in your eyes, and nodded. "I think so," you whispered.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in quiet awe, watching as the dragon stretched its limbs, adjusting to the world it had just entered. It was strange how something so small could carry such weight, as if this tiny creature already held within it the potential for something great, something magnificent.

As the little dragon shifted closer to you, its warmth radiated through the air, and you felt a bond forming, something deeper than words could express. This was more than just a pet, more than a companion. This was a piece of your soul, reflected in scales and wings, fire and strength.

Aemond’s smile softened as he watched you with the newborn dragon, his gaze flicking between the two of you with a quiet fondness. "What will you name it?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

You beamed at the little creature before you, a warmth blooming in your chest as you finally dared to reach out. Gently, you brushed your knuckle against her soft, dark scales. She—yes, she was definitely a girl, you were certain of it—immediately leaned into your touch, her tiny body pressing closer, as if seeking comfort from your warmth.

"Treasure," you whispered, the name slipping from your lips without hesitation. A wide, contented smile grew on your face. "Her name is Treasure."

Aemond blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected name, but then a grin spread across his face, lighting up his features. Of course, you would name your dragon something soft, something sweet and endearing. It was just like you to choose a name that carried such a feeling of warmth, rather than something fierce and grand.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "Treasure?" he repeated, his eye twinkling with affection as he looked at you.

You looked up at him, still stroking the dragon’s scales, and nodded firmly. "Yes. Because she’s my treasure," you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Aemond’s grin only widened as he crouched down beside you again, watching as Treasure nestled closer to your hand, clearly content with the name and her newfound bond with you. "A fitting name," he said quietly, and in that moment, as he watched you and your dragon together, he could see how the two of you were meant for each other.

Treasure let out a soft, sleepy sound, curling closer to the warmth of your hand, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace. The bond between you and your dragon was only beginning, but it was already something special—something that would only grow stronger with time.

this is anything but the end

guyssss help, im literally crying thinking about young rhaenyra (milly) and reader as a baby. how reader probably became rhaenyra's new best friend and was the only thing keeping her going in court. And how rhaenyra would talk to her as a full-grown person, while reader, being a baby, would just babble back. And how rhaenyra would probably walk around taking her baby everywhere and riding on Syrax with her. BYE lol that just makes it all sadder

(side note in my head ive decided to give reader/y/n the most basic hotd name and name her aemma. because when she has her own daughter with aemond, she'll name her laenora after her father)

Treasure The dragon

I can just imagine reader doing that Sweeney Todd trend with Treasure:

ohh mr.todd 💋 i'm so happy 💋 I could - 💋 eat you up I really could. you know what I like to do mr. todd 💋 what I dream 💋

Ser Rowan

(it's rick grimes because I say so) (note I've only watched two episodes of the walking dead)

Reader's Mind in a nutshell

(I feel if I made this into a full time fic, reader could lowkey have saved the family and avoided the dance of the dragons entirely)

Hope you enjoyed!

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@evernores @jouryuu @dbd-mommy @g-cf2020 @sl-ut @radiantdanvers @sillysillygyalsmh @callsignwidow @missyviolet123 @thelastemzy @lechat-rouge @sonichkkaaascreams @djarinsstuff @yovrnewromantic @waiting-fortheupdate @strawberymilktea @ninihrtss @kenqki @winter-solstice24 @darlingcharling-blog @feyresqueen @momoewn @literishdegree99 @xxxkat3xxx @6000-fandoms

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond x you #hotd x reader

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hitomisuzuya · 1 month ago

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Not sure if you’ll get this request but can you do something holiday related with scummy scara? I’m not sure what holiday so I’ll leave it up to you to choose ✨.

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. cunnilingus. degradation. squirting. scummy pussy drunk!scara

i thought this one was gonna win the poll, ngl

"sc-scara, they are all going to wonder where we are," you barely managed shakily, a moan you uselessly tried to swallow tearing from your throat. your fingers tighten in scaramouche's hair, your thighs trembling as you pressed his face down onto your pussy.

"you think i give a shit? you taste way too fucking good," scaramouche moaned into your cunt, swirling his tongue around and around your swollen clit. he really didn't give a shit. he was too busy enjoying himself and devouring you.

earlier, you'd asked him so sweetly to pick out the outfit he wanted to see you in at the christmas party you both had been invited to. scaramouche put such careful thoughts into his choices, right down to the bra and panties you wore. your skirt gave the perfect of flash of thigh when you walked or crossed your legs.

the subtle peeks of your garter when the pleats on your skirt bobbed was making him salivate all night. he wanted nothing more than to get you alone, he didn't care were. whether it be in his room or the spare bedroom at your friend's house, he just wanted to spread your legs and tongue fuck you into oblivion.

why was it so hot to him that there were little leaves of holly with a cherry on them on the band of your garter? how cute you are, being all festive for this party.

scaramouche latched his lips around your throbbing clit, the jolts of pleasure from his sucks made your eyes water as your hips jerked up to grind on his mouth. "you little slut, apparently you don't care if anyone comes looking either," he released your clit with a soft pop, sweeping his tongue inside your hole to feel it clench from his degradation.

you mewl in bliss as his tongue lapped around your clenching hole, pushing his mouth down onto your cunt again. his excessive drooling as he lapped and sucked at your puffy pussy made you wetter. try as you might to quiet yourself, one glare from scaramouche made your drop your hand back down onto the bed when you tried to cover it.

"moan for me, whore. let them all hear what you would really rather be doing," he moaned the command, wagging his tongue on your clit. "let them hear how much you are enjoying my tongue fucking into you," his mouth wasn't leaving your cunt until he had you squirting on his tongue.

he chuckled hearing some of your moans sound a little louder. what a sweet, obedient thing you are. being so good and obliging his command despite how shy you felt about making noise, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks.

even though his grip on your thighs to hold them apart was possessive, he still somehow managed to stroke them in encouragement, sending shivers up your spine. you were losing all sense of control, breaking so well for him. his relentless tongue building your orgasm up so tight you could taste it.

you writhed restlessly on the spare bedroom bed, tugging urgently on his hair. scaramouche moaned in complete and utter bliss as your taste further saturated his tongue. if you didn't taste so fucking good, he would feed his straining cock from his jeans and fuck it into you until you cried instead.

but he was too driven to taste you squirting on his tongue. the mere thought made his cock harder. maybe you would kindly wrap your lips around it in worshipping thanks for making you cum so hard?

you could feel it, his tongue did this to you so often. you squirmed feeling the pressure build up as he sucked on your clit. you always squirmed a certain way, his cock pulsed knowing what was coming.

he bullied your clit with his tongue, tearing whimpers from you as you squirted. it was so fucking cute how embarrassed your moans sound. you didn't have time to think about it for long, a few moments later you were cumming hard and shaking.

scaramouche happily lapped at your release, snapping your garter against your thigh as you shamelessly rubbed your pussy on his tongue. "keep fucking yourself on my mouth like that and i'll make you cum again."

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scummy scara #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #modern au

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bandgie · 9 months ago

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stray kids as tattoo artists? I read a fic on AO3 once where Jisung Chan and Felix all owned a tattoo parlour (called Red Lights hehe) and reader worked there and got brought into their OT8 poly relationship and it lives rent free in my brain.

But anyway, what do you think they would be like as tattoo artists? Who would tattoo what body parts? Who would fuck you in the chair, who would give you head/let you suck them off, and who would force themselves to remain professional even though you can see they're hard?

wait I so need the fic if you have it plzzz

MDNI 18+ under the cut

fucking you

lee know - you have such a shy yet aroused look the moment you're in the chair. he'd touch you lightly at first, knuckles bumping against your breasts to clean the skin for the tattoo. your breath would hitch, your eyes would stare into his and you'd bite your lip. all it takes is a little nod from your end and he's undoing his belt

hyunjin - no because he never really does this. he's usually so professional, even with the hungry eyes staring at him, but there's just something so sexy about you. maybe it's the tattoos you already have, slightly faded and in need of a touch up. once he establishes that you are, in fact, wanting him the same way he wants you, he'd go to the front door of his shop and flip the sign to 'closed'

Seungmin - you'd have to beg him for it ngl. you're a regular at his parlor and he just loves how flustered you get. Seungmin doesn't mind teasing you for your session, but you just cant take it anymore. you'd make him move the stencil over and over again just under your boobs because 'its just not right' and you'd offer to take off your shirt so it's easier for him. that's the last straw for him and he'd waste no time in getting you on his cock

oral sex

changbin - he's giving you head, no questions asked. he's shaving the inner part of your thigh and your legs just look so good in shorts. he's gulping, eyes wide and briefly looking at your crotch. you notice though, and you'd gently place your hand over his and push the razor away, opening your legs so he can get a better look. he might panic at first, claiming he didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but you shush him and grab the back of his head to guide him to your cunt.

han - you're on your tummy, feeling han prep you for a back tattoo. honestly, if he wasn't so nervous he'd fuck you just like that, but you start giving him innocent compliments that lead to you not-so-innocently sitting him on the laid out chair and getting on your knees. he's just so cute whimpering and biting into his hand while his thighs tremble around your face

professional

chan - this honestly shouldn't be a surprise. he takes his job very seriously, and no matter how many times your hand accidentally brushes against his cock or how prettily you bat your eyelashes, he will not do anything out of line. but ofc you can see the strain, and tent in his jeans that must be so uncomfortable. he's got a red blush on his ears, but he's so keen on making sure he's professional throughout the session. maybe you just need to make another appointment

felix - I think he likes knowing that you know he's horny, if that makes sense. it's the yearning that really turns him on, the longing stares, the lip bite he does when his touches linger. even if it makes his cock throb, he just loves teasing you too much to do anything. still, I do think he'd grind his front against your body 'accidentally' and he wouldn't say no if you start palming him while he shaves your arm to clean to area

jeongin - is just nervous. he really isn't sure if you're flirting with him or not. a lot of girls try to do favors in getting out of paying, but you're just so persistent you tip very good after each session. he's thought about taking things a step further, but he really isn't sure how to. if he's doing a chest tattoo, his hand will find purchase on your tit, a small blush on his face saying it helps in keeping him anchored. you don't push him, a sweet smile on your face as you tell him you don't mind, that it feels good. he gulps, cock hardening in his sweats and he prays he doesn't have to stand for a while

not proofread lmao

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reinerszn · 2 years ago

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ooooh how about bimbo!reader punishing sub!ethan for cumming too fast? 🤭 maybe some overstimulation or face sitting (but he'd prob like that ngl...)

content warnings: nsfw/smut, afab!reader, sub!ethan, pet names (momma, good boy, bad boy, pretty boy, puppy, baby), overstimulation, e’s just a very vocal&whiny guy we been knew that!, reader slaps e’s tip like once, pretty short and simple sorry :( not proofread either!!!

xylea’s note: 0.4k words sooo like super short. might write a little smth for the face sitting one as well bc that’s been takin’ up my mind for quite awhile ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა hope i did this justice for u anon !!

“t’much! t’much momma.. no no—“ ethan was helplessly squirming around, hands trying to swat yours away from his sensitive tip. “nuh-uh.. good boys keep their hands away. you’re a good boy, right?” you cooed, straddling his thighs to make it hard for him to move. he immediately took his hands away, frantically trying to keep them away. “momma— momma i’ma cum.. please!” he couldn’t hold back anymore and covered your manicured hands with his cum, spurting out everything he had in him. ethan involuntarily bucked his hips up.

god was he a sight. his brown, bouncy curls stuck to the slick of sweat on his forehead and his eyes were rolled back to his skull. ethan’s jaw fell slack and his mouth was open, heavy pants and strained groans leaving his kiss-swollen lips.

before he could even get over his high, you ran your thumb over his tip, using his cum as lube. your pretty acrylic nails complimented his dick that was twitching every now and then. “didn’t say you could cum, ethan. sucha bad boy.” a small chuckle left your glossy lips, enjoying the sight in front of you. he looked so adorable at your mercy :(

from still being so sensitive, he wriggled around on the bed, beautifully arching his back off the bed from your mere touch. his gasps and high-pitched squeals were like music to your ears. “g’na milk you of everything you have pretty boy. it’s what you deserve for being a bad boy, isn’t that right?” ethan was lost for words, his poor head clouded up with nothing but how pathetic he may have looked at this moment. from the lack of answers, you took your hand away and slapped his tip softly, earning a cry. “don’t hear you,” you cooed in a sweet yet mocking tone. “‘m a bad boy.. deserve this.” ethan was practically drooling, his tone slurred from the pure bliss. you hummed out in approval.

it’d been an hour at the least and ethan was already nearing his 6th orgasm of the night. he was seeing stars and tears kept running down his rosy cheeks. “please.. please momma— can’t do it anymore.” he managed to choke out between whimpers and breathy sobs. “jus’ one more puppy. know you have it in you.” you ran your nails along his thigh gently as the other hand was squeezing at his cock, hand white and sticky with all his cum. pleads continued to flee from his pretty pink lips. “g’na cum.. please— let me. please please please!” ethan was so spent, all he could do was cry and beg. “go ahead baby. you deserve it.” and with that he lazily bucked his hips up in your hands a few times before spilling into your hands, all sweaty and dumb.

#🍍 ˖˚˳⊹ ❝ xylea’s work .ᐟ #ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ ethan landry ❞#requested !! 🦀⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#❛ a note in a bottle .ᐟ 🧜‍♀️ ˖ ࣪⊹#ethan landry scream #ethan scream 6 #scream vi smut #scream smut #scream vi #scream #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #sub! ethan landry #ethan landry x you

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notiddygothgf · 2 months ago

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15. An Affair

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I'm not going home with you. ❞

★ c.w.: domestic violence, confessions (bad ones)

★ a/n: HEY GUYSSSS!! its my day off today and instead of studying I wanted to put somethin' out for my girlies. im ngl, this chapter was so hard to write, but the ending was so worth it. Y'all are gonna have such a love/hate relationship w me after this. Anyway! I hope yall enjoy! Keep those wonderful comments coming! I hope you have all been well. If not, I hope this chapter cheers you up (it prob. wont.)

★ w.c: .5.8k

shameless ; chapter index

PUBLIC SAFETY ALERT:| Your presence has been requested at Public Safety Tokyo HQ. A mission is being assigned to you.

Seen

The morning air hung thick around the quiet school grounds, carrying a chill that made your skin prickle. Each step forward felt measured, heavy, as you walked alongside your husband, the space between you humming with unspoken tension. He walked with his hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze darting toward you now and then, searching for an opening to break the silence. But you kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead, determined to keep this quiet, to push down the remnants of last night’s argument until you could forget it entirely. Or at least pretend to.

Finally, he spoke, voice soft and wary. “About last night…” He trailed off, pausing to clear his throat as if that might help the words come more easily. “I didn’t mean for things to… go that way. I was just worried. I shouldn’t have…” He let out a short, strained breath, his gaze fixed on the ground.

The apology hung in the air between you, awkward, unfinished, and you felt it tug at something inside you—a part of you that almost wanted to forgive him. Almost.

But the way he’d looked at you, the words he’d said, were still fresh, lingering like a bruise that hadn’t fully healed. A quiet, distrustful part of him had surfaced last night, and even though he seemed sorry now, that part of him was still there, waiting.

You swallowed, keeping your voice steady, measured. “Can we just… do this job?” Your words were a plea wrapped in exhaustion, and you could feel his shoulders slump, the small fight in him deflating in one slow exhale.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Sure.”

The building finally came into view, its pale brick walls rising against the sky like an empty, blank stare. Division 4 waited by the entrance, their expressions serious, their stances taut with quiet anticipation. Aki stood slightly off to the side, his posture rigid, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the school’s shadowed entrance. And even in the cool, gray light, you found him instantly, drawn to that familiar, unshakable steadiness.

You caught his eye, and for a fleeting moment, the tension in your chest eased, his gaze steadying you like an anchor. There was a question in his eyes, something soft and understanding, though it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He held your gaze just a beat too long, as if reluctant to let it go, and you felt a quiet understanding settle between you.

“Good morning!” Himeno’s voice sliced through the tension, her warm smile easing the air around you all as she approached. She waved, the familiar glow in her eyes brightening her face. “Glad to see you’re here.”

Your husband shifted beside you, his face flickering with something unreadable as his eyes lingered on Aki before he turned to Himeno, offering her a small nod. Then, as if reminding himself of his role, he extended a hand toward Aki, his expression carefully neutral, voice formal. “Captain Hayakawa.”

Aki’s gaze drifted to the offered handshake, his expression barely shifting. There was a flicker of something—disdain, perhaps, or maybe just indifference. He didn’t bother to hide it. Instead, he straightened, his face a mask of calm detachment as he looked toward the group.

“Let’s head in,” he said smoothly, his tone level, almost too controlled. His eyes flicked back to you and your husband, impassive. “You’re late.”

Himeno’s gaze flickered from you to Aki, a faint smile tugging at her lips, as if she could read the silent tension, though she chose not to comment. She was sharp that way, perceptive to the smallest changes, though she kept her observations to herself, a quiet ally in the awkwardness.

He’s so hot when he plays captain.

Your husband’s hand dropped back to his side, his face momentarily tightening before he carefully masked it, his expression becoming a careful blankness. He took a step back, composing himself as he fell into line behind you, saying nothing.

Aki kept his gaze forward, ignoring the unspoken friction that lingered in the air, his posture steady, unbothered. But you could sense the tension simmering just beneath the surface, in the slight shift of his shoulders, in the way he held his jaw just a bit too tight.

As the group began moving toward the building, you found yourself drawn beside Aki, his presence a steadying force that you clung to, even as you kept a careful distance. The two of you fell into step, shoulders almost brushing, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the cold around you. He kept his eyes forward, his expression giving nothing away, but the quiet understanding between you both was enough.

Your husband walked behind you now, his steps deliberate, and though he said nothing, you could feel the weight of his gaze flickering between you and Aki. There was a guardedness in his posture, a watchfulness that lingered in the space between you all, like he was waiting for something to confirm whatever suspicions still lingered in his mind.

The school loomed closer, its windows dark, reflecting the dull gray sky back at you, and as you approached, a strange, unsettling stillness settled over the group. The building seemed to watch you all with an empty, silent gaze, as if daring you to step inside, to disturb whatever lay waiting in its shadows.

The building swallowed you up the moment you stepped inside, closing in around the group like a mouth with bated breath. Aki’s flashlight flicked on, cutting through the darkness in a narrow beam that skimmed over half-open lockers and scattered shoes left behind in haste. Stray papers littered the ground, pages from abandoned notebooks catching the flashlight’s glow, rustling softly with each step, as if stirred to life by your passing.

You stayed close to Aki, moving at his side, careful not to draw too near but finding comfort in his steady, unwavering pace. Beside him, you could let your own unease simmer beneath the surface, half-hidden, masked by his calm. Every now and then, he shifted the flashlight to scan further down the hall, his expression as unreadable as ever, and yet, in the quiet, a tension simmered. He was prepared, senses sharpened; you knew by the way his shoulder brushed yours in the narrow passage, felt by the slightest tightening of his grip on the flashlight.

Behind you, your husband walked a few steps back, his silence no less present. He didn’t have to say anything for you to feel the way he observed, his eyes moving between you and Aki with a cautious deliberation. The weight of his gaze lingered on the spaces between you, where he seemed to search for something neither spoken nor visible, yet unmistakable.

The halls echoed with your footfalls and the quiet hum of distant lights that hadn’t yet died out completely. The building had the eerie feel of a place left suddenly, like whoever had been here had simply vanished mid-motion. The lockers were open, contents strewn about as if someone had been in too much of a rush to close them properly. Shoes and scattered backpacks lined the floor, small details that added an unsettling familiarity to the strangeness around you. It felt like walking through a memory someone had tried to erase.

“This place is giving me the creeps,” Himeno whispered, her voice breaking through the quiet like the flutter of a bird’s wings. She kept close to Denji, her eyes darting around, and he gave a tight grin, though his shoulders were wound tense, his hand twitching at his side.

Aki didn’t respond, just kept his eyes forward, his flashlight sweeping the walls and floor as he led you through the darkened hallways. The silence settled back over the group, thickening as you continued deeper into the building. You reached the cafeteria, its entrance looming before you like the mouth of a cavern. Aki stepped over a fallen backpack just inside, his flashlight catching on the glint of scattered utensils and trays, and Denji followed close behind, moving with a quiet intensity that belied his usual carelessness. He lingered near the doorway, casting a quick glance at Aki before slipping further inside, putting a bit of distance between them as though seeking his own sense of direction, away from Aki’s unspoken authority.

You stepped in as well, your heart beating faster as the room stretched before you in a dim, empty sprawl. Anxiety simmered in your chest, the stillness of the place pressing down harder with each step. It was as if something waited just beyond the edges of the flashlight’s reach, lurking in the corners, lying in wait. You forced yourself to take a steady breath, though the question lingered, unsettling in its quiet persistence: Why hadn’t anything happened yet?

Then, Aki’s voice, low but clear, cut through the quiet. “Do you hear that?”

You stopped, tilting your head to listen. “What?” you whispered, your eyes scanning the dim shadows around you.

“There’s a… ticking sound,” he replied, his brow furrowing as he tilted the flashlight upward, his gaze following the beam to scan the high, shadowed ceiling.

Himeno stepped forward, moving cautiously, her eyes narrowing as she glanced around the room. “I don’t see anything,” she murmured, her tone wavering.

Aki’s attention sharpened, and he moved deeper into the room, his flashlight focusing on the rows of overturned tables and chairs, like soldiers abandoned mid-march. He stopped in front of an industrial oven, the source of the faint ticking that had drawn his attention. He bent down, inspecting it closely before he turned back to you all, his voice tense. “Stand back,” he ordered, gesturing for everyone to move away as he prepared to open it.

The group took a few steps back, a collective breath held as Aki swung the oven door open. The flashlight revealed only empty racks and dust, nothing to suggest any real danger, and yet the ticking persisted, faint but insistent.

Aki straightened, glancing back toward you all with a small shake of his head. “Nothing in there.”

The moment he spoke, a low rumble began, a tremor that sent vibrations through the floor. You looked to him, worry blooming as he took a step backward, his attention still on the others as if to reassure you all—but before he could say a word, the wall behind him burst open with a deafening crack.

Dust and debris exploded into the air, and Aki was thrown forward, his body slammed by a wave of rubble that crashed over him. He fell hard, hitting the ground as chunks of concrete and metal scattered around him. You staggered back, your breath catching as the sound of the explosion reverberated in your ears, muffling everything but the thundering of your own heartbeat.

Your ears were ringing, your head was throbbing, yet all you could think was – Aki.

The moment you saw him lying there, still and silent, everything around you faded into a muted blur. A distant voice, your husband’s, drifted from behind you, sounding strained and far away.

“I’m here,” he called out, steady but cautious, like he was trying to anchor you, but it barely registered.

The sight of Aki’s limp body, his chest unmoving, was all you could see. You moved past everyone—blind to the dust, the debris, and even the sharp sting in your own side—your legs carrying you to him without thought.

“Aki!” The shout tore from your throat before you could stop it, raw with a panic you couldn’t hold back. You rushed forward, your hands trembling as you stumbled over the debris, your focus locked on Aki’s crumpled form amid the settling dust – professional names be damned.

Dropping to your knees beside him, you reached out, cradling his head in your lap, your hands trembling as you gently lifted his face toward yours. Your fingers found their way to his cheeks, then to his brow, tracing the slight furrow still etched into it, as though he had fought to stay conscious even until the last moment. He was still warm, but his skin was too pale. It was as if the entire world had come to a halt around you. Somewhere behind, you could sense the others standing in stunned silence, unmoving. How could they just stand there, watching? The love of your life could be slipping away, and they were frozen.

Love of my life…

The thought stopped you cold, a rush of fear and realization so profound it almost hurt. Had it really taken you that long to realize it?

“He’s alive,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, so quiet you could hardly recognize it as your own.

From the corner of your eye, you saw your husband watching, his face tense but unreadable, taking in the scene with a look of guarded apprehension. He didn’t say anything, though you felt his gaze linger as you checked Aki’s pulse, letting yourself believe, even if for a moment, that everything might be okay.

Himeno limped toward you, her face pale and streaked with dust, though her eyes were focused. Denji hovered nearby, his gaze shifting nervously between Aki and the rest of the room, his usual bravado strangely absent.

A slow, mocking laugh echoed through the darkness, slicing through the tension. The sound sent a chill down your spine, and Himeno’s gaze snapped toward the source, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “Shit. He’s here,” she muttered, glancing down at you. “You’re bleeding.”

You blinked, looking down at your side, only just noticing the thick patch of blood soaking through your shirt. A sharp pain throbbed beneath your ribs, and you inhaled unsteadily, trying to keep your focus. You had been so concerned with Aki, you hadn’t noticed that a stray piece of metal from the inside of the wall had embedded itself into your side.

“He’s barely breathing,” you said, fighting to keep your voice steady. “We have to call for help.”

Your ears were ringing, the edges of the room swimming slightly as adrenaline surged and ebbed in rapid waves. Himeno looked at you, her expression torn, her face bruised and her breathing labored. But then she nodded, her decision clear. “Call for help,” she instructed firmly. “You stay with him and keep checking his pulse until they arrive. The rest of you,” she turned to Denji and your husband, “are coming with me. Let’s put this bastard down.”

Nodding, you reached for Aki’s walkie-talkie, your fingers slipping slightly as you clutched the radio and pressed the call button. Your voice cracked as you spoke. “This is… this is urgent. Aki’s down. He’s unconscious, barely breathing. He’s bleeding out—we need immediate backup.”

The rest of the group slipped away – Your husband cast you one final glance before following suit, leaving you and your lover alone with nothing but the deafening silence to accompany you.

The silence that followed felt endless, punctuated only by the faint static from the walkie-talkie and Aki’s faint, irregular breaths. You swallowed, trying to keep your focus even as your hands began to shake.

“Stay with me, Aki,” you whispered, brushing a lock of hair from his face, your fingers lingering on his cheek, willing him to open his eyes, to just look at you. But he remained still, each shallow breath a reminder of how close you had come to losing him.

Fifteen minutes later—though it felt like hours—help arrived. Three officers rushed in, their faces taut with concern as they took in the scene. One of them, a man you vaguely recognized, gave you a solemn nod before crouching down beside you, reaching for Aki. His hands were gentle, but the thought of someone else touching him, moving him, felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“We’ve got him now,” he said quietly, but when he reached out to lift Aki, a desperate surge of protectiveness made you tighten your hold.

“No—” The word left your lips before you could stop it, raw and laced with panic. But they gently pried him from your arms, and the separation felt like a wound opening wide, a visceral ache that made it hard to breathe.

You clutched your bleeding side, your vision blurring as you tried to steady yourself. A thick, aching pain throbbed in your chest as you watched them begin to lift him, every instinct screaming to stay by his side. You had to follow. You had to make sure he would be okay.

“Aiko,” one of the officers said, his voice firm yet gentle, nodding toward the door. “Take them outside.”

He moved beside Aki, lifting him carefully, and without another word, he threw one of Aki’s arms over his shoulder, giving you a brief, determined glance. “Come on. Grab his other side.”

Wordlessly, you nodded, stepping forward and slipping your arm around Aki’s waist, bracing him as you lifted his other arm over your shoulder. The weight of him pressed against you, grounding you, and you forced yourself to keep moving, even as every step felt like a jagged edge digging deeper into your side.

With each step toward the exit, the fresh air grew closer, yet the world felt hazy, every breath heavy with worry and the knowledge that nothing would ever feel certain until he opened his eyes again.

As you moved to lean over, easing Aki into the seat beside you, a sharp, searing pain suddenly tore up your side, fierce enough to make you gasp. Your hand slipped, and you nearly dropped him, his weight sagging as you stumbled back, struggling to catch your breath. It took everything you had to hold steady, to keep your balance, gritting your teeth as you fought to ignore the blooming heat spreading across your ribs.

Aiko, his face furrowing with concern, caught sight of the blood soaking through your shirt. “Shit, are you bleeding?” he asked, eyes widening as he looked from you to the deep red stain.

The pain was settling into something fierce and relentless, throbbing with each shallow breath you took. You nodded, barely able to speak through the tightness in your chest, feeling the sting pulse along every nerve.

Without hesitation, Aiko steadied Aki, shifting his weight to settle him securely into the back seat of the car. Then he turned to you, his tone calm but firm as he took in your paling face and shaking hands. “We’re taking you to the hospital too. Both of you,” he said, cutting off any protest before you could muster one. “Get in the car. Other side.”

The finality in his voice made it clear there was no room for argument, and even if you wanted to push back, your strength was dwindling. You bit down against the pain, making your way around to the other side, sliding in opposite Aki. The weight of the seat seemed to press into your side, aggravating the wound as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You glanced over at Aki, his face still pale, breaths shallow as he lay slumped against the seat.

As the car started up, you shifted carefully, reaching over to lay his head in your lap. The feel of him there—fragile, the warmth of his skin faint against your touch—steadied you. Your fingers brushed over his hair, gentle and soothing, a small comfort as you tried to hold back the trembling in your hands.

Aiko turned to the driver. “Take them both straight to the hospital, now.”

The engine rumbled to life, and the car jolted forward, pulling you away from the scene, the night blurring past as the streetlights flickered over you in a stream of dim light. You adjusted yourself slowly, angling your body to support Aki’s head in your lap without disturbing your wound, even as the pain persisted, gnawing with every bump and turn. But you didn’t care; all that mattered was keeping him close, reassuring yourself with each faint breath he took, each barely-there rise and fall of his chest.

You focused on his face, his closed eyes and furrowed brows, his features softened in unconsciousness, untouched by his usual sharpness and guarded restraint. It was almost peaceful—if not for the bruises beginning to form along his cheek, the small streaks of blood that marred his skin. You reached up, wiping away a smudge of dust from his forehead, the simple act anchoring you to the moment, grounding you in the steady silence of the drive.

The pain in your side was starting to numb, fading into a distant ache as the adrenaline dulled your senses. But the reality of it all—the weight of what had happened, the fear that had gripped you—settled heavily over you like a thick fog, refusing to lift. You leaned back, eyes never leaving Aki’s face, your hand resting gently on his shoulder as the car carried you both toward the hospital, away from the shadows of that place.

In the quiet, with the hum of the engine and the soft darkness around you, it was just the two of you, a fragile peace holding steady as you waited for help, the tension of the night still lingering but softened by the small, steady assurance of his presence in your lap, the nauseating fear as you whispered again,

“Stay with me, Aki.”

The moment you had been cleared to leave the hospital some three or four hours later, you found out what room Aki was staying in and rushed right over. There he was – stable, albeit not in very good shape. He was still asleep (which the attending nurse had said something about earlier, something along the lines of a medically-induced sleep). His skin was a little more colorful now, but still pale. He was donning the same hospital gown you had been wearing a few hours earlier, hair down out of it’s typical style and splayed out over the pillow. His vitals were being monitored on a screen on the other side of his hospital bed – an IV dripped syrupy-looking medicine into his veins.

He was achingly beautiful, even now. You stood off to the side of his bed, arms crossed nervously over your chest, fingers being chewed by your teeth. You didn’t know how long you had been waiting there – hell, you hadn’t even checked your phone since you had been discharged.

A pit in your stomach made it impossible to eat, even if you had certainly worked up quite the appetite. You didn’t want to leave his bedside, even for a moment. Any moment, he could slip away – slip through your fingertips and leave you for good (even if the doctors told you he was stable).

You stood at Aki’s bedside, rooted in place, the room spinning slowly around you as the weight of your own feelings sank in, cold and unstoppable. You’d been forced to confront it back there in the rubble, but now, with him lying so still before you, there was no denying it. Aki was the love of your life.

The realization hit you again like a wave crashing over your head, pulling you under. He was it—the person you’d been circling, moving toward all this time without even knowing it. And if you lost him, you didn’t know how you’d survive it. The thought alone was enough to make the air feel thin, the walls closing in as you struggled to catch a full breath.

Aki looked almost serene under the fluorescent hospital lights, his face softened and bare, no longer hidden behind his usual quiet guard. His hair lay messily across the pillow, spilling across his forehead, casting delicate shadows over his cheeks. He looked painfully beautiful, achingly real in a way that left you feeling raw, vulnerable. And you knew then that you had been clinging to him, maybe all along, without even realizing it. There was something in his presence that grounded you, something you couldn’t name, but now that you had it, you didn’t know how you’d live without it. Without him.

A hollow ache twisted in your stomach, and you crossed your arms tightly over your chest, as if you could keep yourself from unraveling entirely. What if you’d lost him before you ever had the chance to tell him—before he knew what he meant to you? The thought stabbed at you, fierce and unrelenting. You tried to imagine a world where he wasn’t here, where he’d slipped away in those moments of silence and chaos, and the thought alone felt like stepping into an endless void, cold and unforgiving.

What would you do if he left, if he was gone? How would you wake up each morning knowing he wasn’t there, wasn’t just a few steps away, grounding you in the only way he knew how—without even trying?

You swallowed hard, biting down against the well of emotions, feeling the sting of it all build in your throat. Your fingers trembled, itching to reach out, to grasp his hand, to feel the pulse of life beneath his skin. But you couldn’t bear it—couldn’t bear to feel the fragility of him, couldn’t stand the thought of his warmth fading, of his presence slipping away from you forever.

It was the one thing you couldn’t lose. Not him.

And as you stood there, heart pounding, head spinning, you swore that if he woke up, you’d find a way to make him understand that—how much he meant to you, how deeply he had become a part of you. How he was the only one who ever truly had loved you.

A knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, the door slid open, and in stepped Tanimoto, brown eyes somber like he knew he was the last person you wanted to see.

You looked at him, and suddenly, your mouth ran dry. What more was there to say? One look into his eyes, and you knew there was no need to clarify.

He understood, now. Everything.

He cleared his throat, “Hey.”

“Hey,” You said back, voice hoarse from all of the crying you had done before he came, from shouting Aki’s name the moment that wall blew up. “How’d the mission go?”

It was then that you realized – you couldn’t possibly have been less concerned with his well being on the mission since he had left you there with Aki in your arms, too preoccupied with the state of your lover to care.

“It went alright,” He sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He didn’t dare to move any closer, standing a considerable distance away from you, like he wasn’t sure whether or not approaching you would be the best idea. “It wound up being the school lunch devil, or some shit like that. A real small fry, but he wound up having a piece of the gun devil’s flesh. That would explain the…” He glanced over at Captain Hayakawa’s sleeping form, wincing at his condition, “Explosion.”

There was a pause. A long, drawn out silence, during which neither of you made eye contact. Your husband was the first one to breach it.

“Look, I was going to apologize about what I said last night, but… after today– after what I saw back there, I… I’ve been thinking of what I’d say to you,” He finally – finally – approached the elephant in the room, avoiding your gaze the entire time (not that it left Aki). He paused again to release a trembling breath. “Am I… mistaken? About you and him?”

Your eyes began to water before you knew it. It was as if everything from the past few hours – past few days had finally come crashing down on you. In one heart-aching moment, the world you had spent all of your time building up – the lies, all of it – came to a standstill.

And it was then that you realized you didn’t have the strength to lie to him anymore. Not when the love of your life was sitting right there.

So you swallowed the lump in your throat, taking a moment to build up the icy resolve you desperately needed before you answered slowly.

“No. You’re not mistaken,” You breathed. “I’m his mistress. I’m having an affair.”

And there it was.

The words hung in the air, heavy and irreversible, cutting through the sterile quiet of the hospital room. You could see the impact ripple across his face, a flicker of pain breaking through his carefully maintained calm before he composed himself again, pressing his tongue into his cheek as he nodded, slow and mechanical. The look in his eyes sharpened, darkening to something you could hardly recognize, and a tremor of fear crawled up your spine.

You had expected this moment to feel like some kind of release, like pulling off a bandage and letting the wound breathe. But as you looked at him, at the silent fury and restrained hurt carved into his features, a different kind of fear settled over you—one that made your body tense, instinctively bracing for whatever he might do next.

You couldn’t stop the shaking. It started in your hands, then moved through your shoulders, until your whole body felt unsteady, as if it could collapse under the weight of what you’d just admitted. The question pressed itself into your mind, unbidden: would he hit you? Here, in this sterile, fluorescent-lit space with Aki lying beside you? It felt like a violation, the idea of violence in a place that was supposed to be safe, where people came to heal. But even as the thought crossed your mind, you knew it wasn’t impossible.

To your shock, though, he didn’t raise a hand. He only let out a slow, exhausted breath, his shoulders slumping, as though the anger was something that would consume him from within rather than burst out. "I knew it," he muttered, his voice tight and shaking. He swallowed hard, but there was no break, no moment of hesitation as he spoke again. “I knew it from the start, but I thought—” He cut himself off, staring at you with that cold, assessing gaze that felt like he was searching for any sign of regret, any hint that you cared about what this was doing to him. “You don’t even sound the least bit sorry about it, do you?”

There it was—a blow sharper than any slap or strike, his words digging in deep, meant to hurt. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came, just a hollow, empty ache that left you frozen. Because the truth was, no matter how you tried to twist it, he was right. You weren’t sorry. Not about loving Aki, not about the way you felt when you looked at him, even lying in a hospital bed, his face softened and beautiful in the stark light.

“I’m not. I don’t regret it,” You retorted, a little bolder, now that the cat was finally out of the bag. What more was there to lose? Straightening your shoulders, you added, “We’re in love.”

He glanced at Aki. A cold, humorless laugh left his lips. When he glanced back at you, there wasn’t even an ounce of affection for you – all that was left was hatred, the same hatred you felt for him.

Before you could part your lips to speak again, he was craning his hand back – then there was a familiar sting.

He had hit you. Again.

And the worst part was that you couldn’t even bring yourself to oppose it. A moment of sickening silence passed before he spoke again.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” He spoke calmly, calculatedly, but you could hear the anger that seeped through his words. “This will be the last time you see him. You are to never speak of him again, or of this, and in exchange, I’ll let you keep the money and the house… and your life back at home.”

You swallowed, refusing to let him see the full extent of the hurt. It was nothing you hadn’t weathered before. And besides, the pain only sharpened the resolve forming inside you, stealing something that had felt soft, uncertain before. You weren’t backing down this time.

He watched you with an icy expression, something gleaming in his eyes that made you feel small, like a child being reprimanded, caught out in a lie you could barely understand. You gnawed the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as your eyes stung. He’d hit you, yes, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest, the hollowed-out feeling that had grown deeper with each beat of this tense, bitter silence.

His voice was sharp as he leaned in, his words clipped and venomous. “You can see him this one final time, and then it’s over,” he sneered. “That’s what you wanted, right? To see him?”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and without thinking, you shot back, “Yes, but not to say goodbye.”

He stilled, his expression darkening, mouth twisting into something half incredulous, half enraged. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

But you’d started now, and there was no way to take it back. The words spilled out, gathering momentum as you spoke, voice steadying with each syllable. “Yes,” you repeated, stronger this time, voice firm. “But not to say goodbye.”

He looked at you like you were unhinged, something unfamiliar and unfathomable to him, and his lip curled with distaste. “You’re insane,” he spat, barely keeping his voice in check. “You’re hopeless. You’re married. It’s time to wake up and go home.”

The word married twisted inside you, feeling more like a chain than a bond, something cold and suffocating. And in that instant, as he spat the word out, you knew there was no future left here, no home in this hollow arrangement he was calling marriage.

And then, you dropped the second bomb of the evening.

“I’m not going home with you.” Your voice was quiet but clear, the words like iron. You felt something break free within you, some final tether to the life you’d been clinging to.

“I want a divorce.”

a/n: MUAHHHHHAHAHAAA!! OH MY GODDDD. it feels so good to finally write those words, you guys have NO idea. sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger, tho, you know i couldn't resist. To think that hours and hours and hours of my time have been poured into reaching THIS moment. Omg. We're reaching the climax of the story! Please let me know what you guys want to see happen before the story ends in the comments, or just drop by and say hello. I hope yall are as hyped for the next chapter as i am. Will y/n stand her ground? Or will she pussy out? Who knows (I do)? Stay tuned!!! Q of the Day: have you heard Rauw Alejandro's new album? (If not, what are you doing?)

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#shameless!#aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #aki fluff #aki smut #denji #aki hayakawa

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aka-indulgence · 5 months ago

Note

So, Ramattra huh? :3c

Ok so um. He’s completely taken over my mind for the past month 😭 I’m in love with this man

Usually I’m a sucker for the villains who are evil mostly for the sake of being evil or aggressive monster types but he’s like… morally gray complex? My (personal opinion) least favorite thing about supposedly morally grey characters is when they’re basically just evil except they go “oh but my backstory,” >:/ But here you can see why, there’s a lot of injustices towards omnics in the overwatch universe and you can see why he’s fighting so hard to make a change, even through any means necessary.

I’ve only started playing recently and every time I play as him I just find every little thing he does attractive orz the way he moves is so determined and confident, the way his hand strains when he’s shooting his primary fire/raising his shield… his scarf makes him look so majestic when he runs… his hair, gives him this effect that makes him look elegant? I want to tie his hair back for him huhuguhghuh

And oh my god don’t get me started on his nemesis form I’m dead 💀 He turns into this huge beast of a robot with big arms?? And his voice gets an extra.. filter to it that makes him sound scarier and growlier? I used to not like how his original arms were still visible, but now it’s yet another thing why I love him uhghehgfg he looks so confident with his arms crossed while he’s pummeling his enemies into submission and his cable hair flowing in the wind liks swoosh… and things get ramped up when he’s doing his annihilation ultimate, he can just run into the enemy team and suck their life force(?) Also this is a meta reason but I think it’s hot when he ults and the team scatters away from him 😳

and ough HIS VOICE AUGH HIS VOICE!! He always sounds so controlled and collected, and when he’s in nemesis form it’s like his restrained rage gets unleashed, phew… ngl I’ve been rewatching “Ramattra Voice Line” videos so much jkdshfnejf I love all versions of his ult line, whether its “SUFFER, AS I HAVE!” or “Rip them to pieces,”, or even the april fools line bc I just think he’s silly and dramatic in that one 🥺

I also watch a lot of his interactions, because despite his (understandable) hatred for humans, he’s respectful and polite to a lot of the other overwatch heroes. I imagine it’d be easy to write him as someone who dislikes all humans, but he shows appreciation to humans he thinks are kind and helpful to omnics, even if they might not like him. Even to humans he isn’t a fan of his conversations are still polite and reserved, or at the very least, he’s passive aggressive- but he never gets into a “grr I hate all of you” thing that Reaper has (lol)

His conversation with Venture especially makes me soft… he sounds encouraging to a human who wants to go to the Shambali monastery.

And of course his interactions with Bastion and Zenyatta are soft and gentle because omnics and knowing Zenyatta from the monastery.

I just- what if I’m his favorite person? What if I’m his exception to his hatred for humans? What if he was contrasted by a soft human? What if he says “Only you,” to his human? What if the hands he used for violence were also used to gently hold a delicate human he loves? uhuguhguhuhgufdgdfhgjdfhgd

I’m being self indulgent here and I say I wanna kiss Null Sector’s leader !!!! I want him to press his forehead to mine!! I want him to dink his mouth on my cheek and I do the same on his cool faceplate! I want him to cradle me with his nemesis hands! I want to hold his face when his faceplate gets cracked and his handsome, intense eye is visible and looking at me like I’m his treasure! ARGHRGHRG

#i have so many scenarios in my head #some ive already rwritten #but like. i dont feel like theyre post-able jfknfd #bc its snippets from whole stories in my head #or just very rambly #and they dont have an intro or anything #i am just very Down Bad for this man #ask #overwatch #ramattra #me: chooses to play as ram #ramattra: we will have peace at any cost.#me: 😳

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ellieromanov · 1 year ago

Text

Moments in between

Pairings: Natasha x reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: angst

Warnings: toxic relationships (toxic Nat) manipulation, brief Smut

(Ngl, This wasn’t my best work, don’t love it but I needed to post something lol)

Y/n’s point of view

Natty❤️

Hey, the mission was canceled, I'll be home around 7-7:30 give or take. So I'll see you soon! Btw I'm starving! xx

That's great! I can't wait!! I'll have dinner ready! Love you!!! xx

Despite her lack of response, I immediately set to work, tidying the house so she wouldn't have to worry about it when she returned.

By 6:20, dinner was in progress—her favorite, a small effort to make our evening special. As it cooked, I chose a cute dress, styled my hair, and applied makeup. Nights like these were extremely rare lately, and Nat and I were feeling the strain so I might as well put details into the little things when I can.

She's always busy with work, I mean of course she is, she's an avenger. But when I go weeks at a time without seeing her it gets hard. It feels like half the time shes avoiding being around me. It feels like she often looks for extra tasks. It might all be in my head but I mean Hell I can't even remember the last time we ate and had a conversation together, so I want tonight to be perfect.

As the clock ticked past 7:20, dinner sat ready on the stove, the aroma of her favorite dish filling the air. I hesitated, torn between plating her food or waiting for her call. At 7:40, I finally dialed her number, but the call went unanswered, sending me straight to voicemail. I decided to wait before serving the meal, hoping it wouldn't lose its warmth.

8:00 nothing, she hasn't called back or texted. But that's alright maybe she needed to get a few things done.

8:30 nothing. Maybe traffic?

9:00 nothing. Maybe there was an emergency

9:30 not a word. Something probably came up.

By 10:00 I gave up. I put away the left overs and cleaned up the kitchen. I put Natasha's plate in the fridge, turned off the music and blew out the candles.

In the bathroom, I unwound my efforts, removing my makeup and undoing my hair before stepping into the shower.

I went to sleep alone that night. Natasha finally came home just past 2 in the morning. Her footsteps were loud enough to wake me up. Though I heard her entrance, I chose not to acknowledge her. She joined me in bed, and when she realized I was awake she wrapped her arms around me and whispered apologies and showered kisses on my bare shoulder.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled between kisses. She kissed from my cheek to my neck, then finally my collarbone. "Let me make it up to you gorgeous."

When she kissed my lips I could taste the whiskey on her.

I remained silent, unsure whether to accept her apologies or express the disappointment that lingered. Natasha's tender kisses continued, and her warmth beside me begged for acknowledgment.

I didn't say anything. "Please baby, let me make you feel good, let me make it better." She pleaded as she sucked marks into my neck. I was so overwhelmed with emotions and I was mad and disappointed but I couldn't convey any of my feelings. I couldn't speak so I just nodded my head as tears started to stream down my cheeks. I don't know why I was crying but I couldn't help it. Once the tears started they couldn't stop. Natasha got on top of me, straddling my hips as she kissed my neck. I just wrapped my arms around her and buried my hands in her hair as I cried.

"I promise to make it up to you." She whispered for the hundredth time as she kissed my bare skin. She took my hoodie off first then went lower, leaving her trail of marks as she went.

Moments later I was completely bare under her and had no control. I know if I told her to stop she would. I know that. But then what. We'd fight and she'd sleep in the guest room? I just want things to go back to the way they were.

With every thrust I just held onto her tighter and closed my eyes to stop the tears and try to enjoy the moment with her but there was no enjoyment to be found.

Just tell her to stop.

Tell her later.

Tell her you're tired.

I didn't say anything. I tried to react as much as I could when she wanted me too. Gasped when she went faster, moaned when she did something different, just keep her satisfied.

"God baby, you're so fucking perfect." She grunted.

Just nod.

"Such a good girl"

React.

"I love your tight little pussy so much. I love you, so much detka"

Tell her you love her.

...

She eventually got the release she was looking for and went to sleep not long after. But I couldn't. I stayed awake next to her and cried. I curled up in a ball with me knees tucked under my chin and cried. My whole body was shaking from my silent sobs. It wasn't that she touched me, it wasn't that she didn't show up for dinner, it wasn't that she didn't take care of me, it was the fact that things used to be different. It was the realization that I was losing her.

She used to get home from missions early to come home and cook with me, we'd dance in the kitchen together and we'd laugh until we couldn't breath and it physically hurt, we used to talk for hours on end, we used play games together and watch movies, we used to make love, and we used to read, and paint, play music, go on walks, we used to do everything together. Because we loved each other...

But now... I don't think she loves me anymore. She doesn't look at me the same. She used to look at me like I was the only girl in the world, but she doesn't have that same spark in her eyes anymore. She doesn't talk to me anymore, she doesn't watch movies with me, or go on walks. Let alone laugh or dance with me. I haven't heard her say she loves me before tonight in months. I think she's done with me...

When I was younger I remember thinking that I'd refuse to stay with someone who doesn't see me for all my worth. How naïve.

_____

When the sun came up in the morning I was alone again. She left without a goodbye, without a kiss on top of my head, without a touch. without a simple acknowledgment.

When I went to the bathroom to shower I saw how red and puffy my eyes were from crying last night. Seeing myself like that confirmed my thoughts that Natasha was in fact done with me. No loving caring partner would let this happen. They wouldn't let their person cry themselves to sleep after an intimate moment. They wouldn't miss a dinner after saying they would be there and they wouldn't use sex as a way to make it up to them. That's not how a healthy functioning relationship works. It's just not.

That afternoon so many thoughts ran through my head, because even though she didn't love me anymore, I loved her with all I had. And if she didn't want me to leave then I wouldn't, I'd stay and I'd give her my entire being until I had nothing left to give and even then I'd stay. I'd stay because I'd have no where else to go, I'd have no one. I'd have nothing. And Id always love her.

I texted her that afternoon asking to talk when she got home.

I Hope you are having a good day. I want to talk to you when you get home if that's okay. Stay safe.

I love you.

She didn't respond, she never does.

As the hours passed by I distracted myself with cleaning, cooking, painting and reading, and with each activity my concern only grew. the sun set and the only thing that brought light to the apartment was the television.

when 10 o'clock passed by I started crying again. I wondered if tonight would be another night on my own or if she'd decide to come home at some point. My heart felt heavy with anxiety and mourning. I wish I had never made the realization that she was moving on from me, I wish that I could have stayed in my denial.

The more minutes that went by the more tears I shed. I tried calling her and I tried texting her, but every message went unanswered. I tried to check her location but she turned it off. I finally had enough and decided to text the one person who always knew of Natasha's whereabouts.

Hey Barton. It's Y/n, I don't know if you had my number saved. I was just texting to ask if Natasha was still at the compound? Or if she was sent on a mission. She stopped sharing her location with me and won't respond to any of my text. I'm just starting to get worried so if you could just let me know that would be great.

It didn't take him long to respond.

Clint 🏹

Hey Y/n. Natasha went out with Maria and a few other agents. They said they were just going out for a quick drink. Is she not responding to your calls either?

She hasn't responded to anything, text or call. Thanks for letting me know.

Clint🏹

Do you want me to try calling her? Try to knock some since into her?

If you could try calling her I'd really appreciate it. I Just want to make sure she's okay. If she answers tell her I need to talk to her.

Clint🏹

Of course Y/n. I'll let you know if she picks up. If not I'll call Maria.

Thank you Clint, I really appreciate it.

As I sat on the sofa with tear stained cheeks I finally got a message from Natasha.

Natty❤️

What?

Are you serious?

Natty❤️

What do you mean am I serious?

I've been trying to call you and text you for the past four hours Natasha.

Natty❤️

I'm sorry. I didn't see them.

but when Barton is the one who's calling all the sudden you see it.

It took her a few minutes to respond to the message. The text bubbles kept disappearing and appearing again. But Finally she responds.

Natty❤️

I'm sorry. You're right, I should have answered you, I've just been busy. Is everything okay?

Im just hurting. I really want you to come home to me Natasha.

Please just come home.

When the text bubbles disappeared my heart sank even more. I couldn't help the sobs and whimpers as I curled up on the couch.

_____

Natasha's point of view

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses. I sat at a corner table, nursing a drink that I ordered half an hour ago. I stare off as I half-listen to Maria rant about her latest assignment from Fury. But truth be told, my mind was elsewhere, the guilt sitting in.

I glance down at my phone for every new string of unanswered messages and missed calls from Y/n. I continue to Ignore them as they keep poring in. I take another sip of the aged whiskey, as I try to participate in the conversation and ignore my buzzing phone. Finally, well past midnight, I decide to head home, my mind clouded with the alcohol's numbness. The walk through the Crisp winter air helped me sober up and cleared my head as I walked.

Finally getting to our townhouse I unlock and open the door. As I climb the stairs to the main floor I notice the lights are off so I simply assume she has gone off to bed. Perfect, that means no fighting. But when I reach the final step leading to the living room I find Y/n on the couch, tear-stained and defeated, wrapped up in a blanket, half asleep. I walk towards her, every step echoing in the stillness of our home.

I wordlessly scoop her up into my arms, I can see the hurt on her face as I hold her against me. She wakes up enough to wrap her arms around me as I take her to our room.

"I'm tired Tasha." She mumbles against my neck, she's hardly audible but I could hear her. "I know. I'm here now, we can sleep." I tell her as we enter our room.

I Gently place Y/n on the bed, I couldn't meet her eyes. There was a weariness in her voice as she again murmured, "No, Nat. I'm tired." I couldn't help the sigh that escaped me as I replied, "Just go to sleep, Y/n." The weight of my own exhaustion mingled with the my guilt.

I walk off to the closet to change into comfortable clothes and when I walk back to the bed Y/n is sat crisscrossed in her oversized hoodie with tears streaming down her face again. a knot of frustration tightened in me.

"Y/n stop it. It's late. I'm not dealing with this right now." I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, my impatience slipping into my tone. But then she looks at me. "No Nat. Im so tired, im tired of being so lonely..." her voice shakes. "I miss you so much. Is it to much to ask you come back to me at the end of a day? I'm hurting so much." She stifles her cry.

I sit next to her and grab her hands. "Baby please. Let's not do this right now. We are both tired so can we please go to sleep and talk about this tomorrow?" I try to negotiate with her.

"No because I might not see you tomorrow, I hardly ever see you anymore Natasha, that's the problem. The past few months you haven't been here... you'd rather stay out till god who knows how late rather then to come home to me..." she pauses for a moment before beginning again. "Natasha I love you so much. And I want you to be happy. So I need to know now. Do you still want to be here?-"

"of course I still want-"

"No Nat, let me speak. I Will not be the reason you are unhappy. I won't, I won't do that. I will not be the reason you miss out on the life you are wanting so I need to now right now. If you are done I need you to tell me- because I can't let go of you by myself, I love you to much to willingly walk away, so I need to hear you say it. If it's time for me to let you go I need you to tell me that, i need you to tell me to let you go. You have to do that for me..."

As she spoke something finally registered with me, something I've known for a long time but never wanted to admit. Y/n has always been a backup plan for me. If any aspect of my life were to go south I could always come back home and she'd be here waiting. She's a safety net, a lifeline, she's the plan B. And I don't want to let that go. If I let her go then that means I have no one to fall back on.

She deserves so much more then me, she deserves someone worthy of her, to give her love and affection, and someone who will show up for her when she cooks dinner, and be there for her when she needs a shoulder to cry on, I know this. I've always known.

She will always be second in my life, she'll be second to my career, to my wants and needs. But that selfish part of me won't let her go. I won't let her go even though I know it's time.

As the room hung in silence, Y/n's tear-streaked eyes searched mine for a response. For an acknowledgment. The tension between us only thickened. Her eyes begging for an answer of some sort.

"I..." The words lingered on my tongue. My gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding her pleading eyes. I know it's selfish, I know I should do what's best for her because I do want to see her happy but I can't loose her.

"I can't let you leave, Y/n..." I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Y/n's eyes glistened with a mix of relief and sorrow. She heard the words she was hoping for, but I could tell she was hoping for more. For an expression of love and need, she wanted to feel the truth of my words but she couldn't find any. But I will say what I need to to make sure she doesn't leave. If she needs to hear me say I love her then I will tell her every day, if she needs to hear me say I need her, then I won't stop telling her until she gets sick of it. It's all about playing the right cards.

"I know I haven't been here for you as I should be, I'm sorry you felt neglected, but I need you to know how much I need you, and want you. I can't do this without you."

A heavy silence settled between us as the gravity of my decision sunk in. Y/n, still wrapped in the blanket of my selfishness. she clung to the hope that things might change, that our love will come back.

I reached out, hesitantly brushing a strand of hair from her tear-stained face as an attempt to comfort her. Her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her eyes have always been a beauty. Pools of color I could always get lost in. I hold both sides of her face and wipe away the tears.

"I love you. I need you to stop doubting me. Do you understand?" I ask. She only nods and leans further into my hands. "Good girl. Now Can we keep talking in the morning? You're exhausted." She again only nods her head. I lean in to kiss her forehead before getting up to my side of the bed.

We get under the covers and it takes no time at all before Y/n is pressed against me, I instinctively wrap my arms around her.

When we first met, I really did love her, or the closest thing to love I could feel. She used to make me laugh and smile, she made me feel comforted, she made me feel safe. I don't know when that stopped. I just hope the feeling might come back if I put in the effort.

As my thoughts continue to race, she eventually falls asleep. She sniffles and whimpers in her sleep, just like she has been these last few months. Even in her sleep she can't seem to catch a break. My heart is heavy, I know I don't love her as I should. I just don't know what I'm meant to do. I was never made to love. It's not apart of my nature. I'll continue to be selfish and hold on to her as a life line for as long as I can. Maybe one day she'll be strong enough to walk away by herself.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #angst #black widow #marvel #mcu x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov #natasha x you #dark natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #marvel mcu #daddy natasha

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itsohh · 1 year ago

Text

Pavlov Responce

A/N: Female reader, I totally slept through today ngl.

Day 7: Stuck in a wall

Word count: 798

Warnings: smut, safe word usage

AO3 Kinktober Masterlist

Silence filled the room as the pair of you stared at each other. It was rare that Soap was completely speechless. He always had some joke to say, some curse or a headstrong reply. This time he was frozen.

Then the bastard started to laugh. "How fuck the fuck did you-"

"My hips are too big and my shoulders won't let me get out. This isn't funny MacTavish. Get me out."

He only proceeded to laugh harder while you scowled at him. "Surely I can push you through? Your hips aren't that much bigger than the metal bars."

"If you can lift and twist me that might work."

"Got it." John made his way to your back and grabbed hold of your hips ready to lift you when you went the light brush of something against your ass. He coughed for a second and your scowl grew.

"Are you actually fucking hard right now? I swear to god-"

"It's a Pavlov response, come on."

"Oh my fucking God."

"Look I'm sorry- I'm only human." There was a struggle of laughter in his voice as you wriggled a little in his grasp.

"Besides it's not like I'm acting on it." He leaned over you and braced himself on the metal bars. His chest pressed against your back while the tent in his pants prodded against your ass.

"It's not like I'm actually going to fuck you here."

"John…"

"What do you want me to do? Come onnnnn of course I get hard when I see you bent over. Fucking beauty."

"Uh-huh. Compliments won't save you this time."

"Might have watched a bit too much porn over the years." He admitted with a grin. Gods he was hard, completely rock solid. He cleared his throat and his voice became a little bit more serious as he retreated. “So uh, I don’t know how to lift you without hurting you.”

“Fuck, go get the lube from beside the table.” Before you had even finished speaking, the man had vanished. It didn’t take long for him to come back, you could have sworn he sprinted. “Right now put it on my hips and see if you can push me through.”

“Over your jeans?” His voice was slightly strained and you thought about it for a second.

“Take my pants off.” Soap followed your instructions and was quick to lean over your body once more. His hand popped out the button from your jeans with ease and the zip slid down. Next, John pulled the pants over your hips. Unfortunately for you, your underwear moved with the jeans and soon they had both fallen to your ankles. “Soap!”

“Sorry! They got caught- they…” He swallowed and you could feel his hands run over the side of your now bare hips. “You got a nice arse you know that?”

A strained sound came from your lips as his fingers continued to run all over your hips. They grabbed a handful of on cheek then he slid them in between your legs. His fingers slipped between the folds of your cunt with ease where he was met with the soft touch of your wet lips. “Tell me to stop and I will.” John breathed in your ear and parted your lips. Your hands braced on the stairs in front of you while John thrust his fingers in and out of you.

“Fuck don’t know if I want to fuck you more or devour you.” He whispered while his wet fingers curled inside of you. “Fuck it.” John pulled his hand back and stuck those two fingers in his mouth while he yanked away his own pants. A pleased hum came from his mouth at your sweet taste while his cock sprung free from his pants.

Soap wet his cock with the arousal on your cunt before he pushed in completely. The pleasant stretch of your cunt had you moan out and relax. He grabbed hold of your hips and pulled back before he snapped his hips back into you. The force had you rock into the bars that confined you. “Ow ow! Red, red.” Your eyes snapped open as pain protested on your sides. Immediately Soap stopped and you got out from between the town bars. Soap looked at you with concern while the immersion of the fantasy the pair of you were playing out completely broke.

“You alright?” He searched for any signs of discomfort and you nodded your head.

“Just, kinda hurts. Guess it didn’t work out too well.” The side of your lips raised and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Ah, we gave it a go, thanks for trying anyway.”

You placed your hand on his cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. “We can always try one of your other fantasies.”

#soap x reader #john mactavish #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #call of duty #modern warfare 2

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a-voice-for-the-victims · 3 months ago

Note

Ngl, I’ve had a look at the venting blog that Lux keeps being allowed on.

Its been a year, to whoever runs it. If you think thats really enough time to changed, enough time to fix the damage, enough time to be trusted with children again?

Then you don’t deserve to be labeled a safe space, kids go to you for comfort, yet your putting them in danger.

I might make a venting account for people to go on about sams drama. One that doesn’t allow proven child diddlers on it to advertise themselves.

I'm sure you can address these concerns with the mod, they've been very open about their identity, however they also have reportedly been blocking anyone who brings up concerns with them so it seems to be a coin flip about it. Which is a shame since the mod is underage and doesn't understand that the people around them are genuinely terrified for their well being.

A year is not enough time for an adult to stop preying on children.

Especially not a year with virtually no consequences.

Just because Lux's current partners are adults it does not prove that he will not reoffend. A year is not nearly enough time in the eyes of the law either. Someone in one of my reblogs, I lack the recall of who, broke down the expected legal sentence Lux would be able to receive if someone were able to report him to the proper authorities (I lack knowhow about this otherwise I would have done so already) and it was quite the unforgiving sentence. Especially since Lux was involved with possession and distribution of CSEM, which has no statute of limitations and can land you in jail decades after it happened.

As far as the venting thing, you could, that is within your rights, but make sure that you are aware of the mental strain that comes with such a situation. And be smarter than the current venting blog, don't link it to your main. If you're ever going to do something like that never link it to your main unless you're 100% aware of the possible fallout.

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myfandomprompts · 2 years ago

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟐)

Synopsis: You are a French girl that had the opportunity to teach in Manchester, and you had been lucky enough to be granted a bed at the Bennett’s place. As Europe is on the brink of war, you start to worry for your family back at home, and you are surprisingly consoled by the one man of the house you would never have thought capable of landing you an ear. It’s not that you like Tom, is it? Part 1 -Masterlist

Tags: fluff, angst

A/N: I died a little writing this, ngl. Enjoy! Thank you again @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan for beta reading.

“When did you get that?”

It was morning, and all three of the Bennett's and yourself were having breakfast in the kitchen while listening to the wireless. Douglas had just noticed the fresh reddened marks on Tom’s knuckles, making both you and Lois look in interest.

“Uh, yesterday night, don't worry 'bout it,” came his unconcerned reply.

“Did you fight, son?”

Tom’s eyes briefly shot at you, suddenly uncomfortable. “Maybe, but they deserved it,” he shrugged, taking another spoon of his oats.

You frowned. “Was it at the pub yesterday? After I left? What happened?” you asked, now very curious as you eyed his hand in turn.

Tom seemed shy all of a sudden, mumbling and avoiding eye contact. It wasn’t like him. “I said nothin’ important, don’t worry about it.”

“Are we to expect the coppers to knock at our door at any moment, then?” teased Lois, taking Tom’s hand to examine it.

He recoiled. “I said drop it. And no one is coming. The guy was just a bloody git, nothing unusual.”

His hard gaze made everybody around the table stop talking and resumed eating their food in silence, the argument from yesterday between Tom and Douglas still in the air. The former seemed to finally relax as everybody dropped the subject.

“Does it hurt?” you risked asking after a while.

You saw him bite his lips, and you wondered why he could not meet your gaze, rather playing with his spoon. “It’s alright. Not my first time.”

His words made Douglas clench his jaw but he returned to his paper without saying a word as you and Lois cleared the table. You did not miss the way Tom followed your every movement, drumming the fingers of his valid hand on the table before deciding to stand up and retire in the living room. It was a stark contrast to the conversation you had last night, and you wished he would open up to you as you did with him.

Later that day, after you had returned from the post office, sending yet another letter to your mother with the false hope to make one of hers come quicker, you had returned to find the house almost empty, with only Tom sitting at the kitchen table.

He gave you a fleeting glance before returning his attention to the official-looking papers displayed before him, certainly army papers. As you poured yourself a cup of tea, you saw him clench his injured hand anxiously, then hiss in pain at the motion.

“Are you sure it’s not strained?” you remarked, coming closer to him. Tom instantly stopped his movement, hiding his hand under the table and away from view.

“It’s not,” he assured, still not looking at you.

You made an unconvinced sound, sinking down on the chair next to him and extending your hand in his direction. He finally raised his eyes up at you and gave you a puzzled look.

“What?” he said, watching your flattened and expectant open palm.

“Give me your hand. Let me see it.”

“Y/N…”

You arched a challenging brow. “...Tom?”

He hesitated with a reluctant look before sighing deeply and indulging you. You took his hand and began trailing your fingers over his skin, observing the marks over it. It was surprisingly soft.

“You’re a doctor of somethin’?”

“No, but a friend of mine is a very good nurse. She might have taught me one or two things. Stop moving."

You massaged his knuckles gently, watching his reaction to your touch, his eyes darting from your face to your movement over his hand in a tensed silence, and when he slightly hissed as you reached a particular area of his fist, you stopped and gave him a reassuring smile. “Not strained. But stop clenching it if it hurts. It’s not helping it heal.”

“Yes m’am.”

You let go of his hand, trying to not notice the way he had grazed the inside of your wrist in the process, letting it lie there. “You… don’t want to tell me what happened then?”

He grunted and retreated his hand back. “You and Lois are the same…. you won’t give up. I’ll say the same to you: drop it, it’s nothing.”

You ignored him, a smile creeping up on your face. “She told me that when you get into a fight, it’s usually for two reasons: when your swindles get you into trouble, and for girls,” you stated, feigning to think hard, happy to be at the other side of the teasing for once. “So… which one is it? Hm?”

“I don’t do scams any more…” he said grumpily, looking back at the papers in front of him.

“So it is about a girl, isn't it?” you said, glad to see that you were going somewhere, ignoring the slight pang in your chest as you continued to demonstrate interest.

“Maybe,” he stated, readjusting himself in his seat, making his thigh graze against your knees in your sitting position. “You won’t drop it, will ya?”

You only responded with a sweet smile, the best one you could muster, and you swore you could see his cheeks redden at that. “She must be a pretty lucky lass if you go to that sort of length for her," you said, pointing to his injured hand. "Or you’re just stupid. I can’t decide just yet.”

He shook his head at your teasing tone, a bit more joyful. But you found yourself suddenly willing to drop the subject, not especially eager to hear about any girl Tom was seeing. Maybe you should drop it, it was none of your concern anyway.

“Maybe it’s both?" he answered playfully. "And I never admitted that it was for a girl, Lois needs to check her sources.”

You felt your heart jump in relief, even though you failed to know the exact reason. “Oh really? So what was it about then?” you asked further, hope returning into your eyes as well as your curiosity.

Tom didn’t answer. The atmosphere suddenly turned heavy as he looked straight into your eyes, like he was searching for something. You grew nervous under his gaze after a while, and you had nothing else to do but look at him in return as the silence lingered.

“Tom?”

He remained motionless still, his eyes lowering to your lips for two solid and breathtaking seconds after you had said his name and when he finally talked, his voice was soft, almost whispering. "It’s just… I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. The emotions. I always end up doing things I shouldn’t, I can’t control it. I can’t even imagine what you must think of me, always getting into trouble."

You frowned, not sure to understand. “Tom, I’m not… judging you, if that’s what you mean, I-, I think you’re brave, in your own way. It doesn’t matter to me how you deal with your emotions, I just don’t want you to be hurt because of it.”

His soft gaze was becoming very hard for you to handle, the blue of his eyes preventing you from even moving a muscle. He was closer now, and your throat suddenly felt dry. Tom had never looked at you like that.

“You know, maybe you're right, I am stupid, but I would still punch that guy again for the same reasons I did yesterday. Because that’s how far gone I am for you.”

His last words were spoken in a low murmur and your lips parted in confusion, suddenly crushed by the weight of all of the unsaid things between you, things you didn’t want to admit to yourself.

You were at a loss, both because of his words you didn’t fully comprehend and because of the captivating way his eyes glowed. He was so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, and you really wanted to say something, but you realised that you were incapable of such a thing, completely frozen. Your eyes lowered to his lips in the resounding silence of the room, like drawn unnaturally to it and you could hear your heart beating in your ears as you felt your breath quicken.

But then you heard shuffling behind you and the next moment, Douglas had entered from the back door, making you jump out of your chair and knocking a spoon over, suddenly awake from your daze. You looked like a deer in headlights, but Douglas didn’t seem to notice.

“Afternoon, you two,” he greeted, closing the door and walking a few steps into the room. Tom hadn’t moved a muscle, still seated and looking like he had just been slapped in the face. Douglas stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, daring a fleeting glance at his son before looking at you. You were still recovering, your heart racing.

“Erm, do you mind… if I talk to my son alone, Y/N?”

You eagerly nodded in agreement, glad to depart from the unbearable atmosphere and craving for air.

You knew Douglas was regretful of the way their argument went the day before, and wanted to settle things with his son. You gladly gave them privacy as you grabbed your coat and made your way out from where Douglas had just entered.

Finally outside, you took a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding, and allowed yourself to relax.

But you miserably failed, all you could think about being the way your lips still itched for his.

The next few days were a mix between trying to focus on work despite the constant debate inside your mind about a particular blue-eyed man, and avoiding the said man.

You were not proud, nor were you very happy with yourself. But you couldn’t help it: every time you knew Tom would be in the room you were going to enter you just turned back and walked away, trying your hardest not to think about it too much. Or about him.

But you did. It was consuming, the way all of your feelings you had been denying for weeks, maybe months even, hit you like a rushing wave, the dam destroyed by your time with him in the kitchen a few days back. It was a mess to try to figure that out, and it did not help that you were still worried for your family back in France, as well as the fact that Tom would be leaving tomorrow for Liverpool. Then he would be at sea, far away, and yet you still didn’t find the courage to talk to him.

You really didn’t want him to go.

So, as a result of your pride, or rather, your cowardice, you had ended up at one of Lois’s performances tonight, attempting to enjoy the bliss her voice brought to the crowd around you as they exploded in applause each time one of her songs ended, Connie behind the piano. But it failed to take your mind off things, so after concluding that it was no use, maybe even stupid as an attempt to escape your thoughts, you decided to go home before the end of the show.

As you entered the house, you genuinely considered finally going to him, just to talk a bit and establish that everything was fine between you, convincing you in the process. But you couldn’t find him, neither in the living room or in the kitchen, so with slight disappointment, mixed with something akin to relief, you had got up straight up to your shared room with Lois, intending to go to bed and find the sleep you desperately needed, hoping to shut the constant turmoil going inside of your mind. But as you readied yourself to change clothes, you heard a soft knock on the open door.

You bit your lips when you saw Tom, carefully entering as he tried not to glance at your underwear laying on the bed. It failed.

“Hiya.”

“Hi,” you replied, nervously playing with your fingers.

He looked around awkwardly, putting his hands in his pockets as you stood there expectantly. When nothing came, you decided to break the ice. “So… Have you finished packing?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, finding nothing else to say. Your shame of how you had treated him in the past few days putting you at unease, but still your words of apologies were stuck in your throat, unable to come out. Fortunately for you, he was the one to speak next.

“Listen Y/N…” he said, taking a few steps toward you, closing the distance. “I’m sorry if I did anything wrong, I didn’t want to scare you, or to upset you. I just… said some things… hell- I was honest. But it doesn’t have to mean anything, or even be anything. I’m leaving tomorrow and I just wanted things to be fine between us. It’s hard enough as it is.”

You stared at him for a very long time, not even daring to blink as his own eyes searched yours, the softness of their blue making your heart clench. “I’m not upset Tom…” you whispered, your heartbeat quickening again.

You wondered how you had never noticed how his presence made you feel. It made every fibre of your being grow nervous, itching for something as he was just there.

“Then what is it? I don’t want you to hate me, you couldn’t even look at me recently.”

“Wh- I will never hate you Tom! I just… I’ve been worried lately and you have been through a lot on your own, it was just… bad timing. You shouldn’t be apologising, I should,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to sooth yourself from the guilt. “I’m sorry I avoided you, it wasn’t fair to you. Or to me for that matter.”

His lips parted slightly, his shoulders relaxing at the same time. “So we’re good?”

You nodded. “Yeah, as long as you don’t die out there, we’re good,” you smiled, and your heart felt a little lighter.

“I’ll try not to. I’ll say hi to the fishes for you.”

You laughed. “Tom Bennet, the man who whispered to fishes. Try not to get drowned by a mermaid in the process, you could not resist."

“Wouldn’t be such a bad way to go I reckon’,” he joked, making you giggle as he smiled fondly at the sound.

But soon silence settled back in, and with it all of the unsaid things between the both of you. A minute passed.

“So, I’ll leave you to it then,” he stated, glancing at your clothes on your bed and heading to the door.

You followed to hold it for him. “Yeah, thank you, Tom. Have a good night.”

He turned to you one last time on the threshold, taking his time to observe your features, as to carve them in his mind. “Good night Y/N.”

His stare lingered on as you both stood still. He made a move to leave, but then you saw his smile fade, the glimmer in his eyes replaced with something else.

“You know what?” he spoke softly. “I don’t really fancy mermaids.”

The next moment his hands were on your waist and he was kissing you, his lips careful against your unmoving ones and you gasped in surprise, parting your own slightly. For a moment, all you could register was how soft his lips were on yours, how warm, and you found yourself unable to move, the overwhelming sensation of what was happening making your head dizzy.

Tom felt your frozen state and parted from you with concern, robbing you of that delicious moment you realised you had desperately wanted, needed. His fingers remained at your waist as you opened your eyes to see his blue ones locked on you, waiting for you to do something, say something. They were hooded with lust, mirroring yours without a doubt but when you saw a flash of uncertainty pass in his, you instantly wanted to make it disappear, to take control of your body again. So you flattened your lips over his once more, putting your hands hesitantly over his shoulders.

He responded wonderfully, relieved and leaning into your embrace like suddenly unchained and you felt his hands leave your waist to trace your back, coming up to caress your bare shoulder blades with soft fingers. His mouth was moving more eagerly against yours, so different from the first attempt, wanting to taste every bit of you. You rapidly lost yourself in his touch, one hand coming to bury into his hair as you tried to move with him, just him.

It was sweet, all of the sentiments you could not say out loud expressed in one action, hands everywhere and nowhere at the same time, writing silent words over your bodies. Soon, you both found yourself slightly out of breath from the heated embrace and you were forced to pull away, looking into each other's eyes. Downstairs the sound of a door closing reached your ears and pulled you out of the comfortable daze you were in, along with the reasons why you had avoided him these last few days, and that ill feeling in your chest came back.

“Tom I-…” you began, hesitant, lowering your hands to his chest once again. “You’re leaving tomorrow, and I don’t know if-”

“Yeah,” he cut, pulling away from you with a stern look and putting his hands back into his pockets. “I get it.”

As the footsteps came closer, you found nothing else to do but to reach for his hand, making him lower his gaze to it and then back at you. You gave him a smile as you squeezed slightly.

He squeezed back, but you could feel his distress behind his smile. “‘Night Y/N,” he repeated, and with a last grazing of his finger on your skin he left, crossing paths with his sister in the corridor.

She gave you a questioning look before following you inside the room, and you only told her that Tom had simply come to say goodbye, before drifting the subject on her show and drawing her attention away from you.

When you fell asleep, Tom being only a few flights of stairs from you for the last time in maybe months was the only thing you could think about.

Part 3

@chainsawsangel @mischiefmanaged71 @depressedperson88 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @yentroucnagol

#tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #wof #world on fire #tom bennet imagine #tom bennett fanfiction #oneshot #ewan mitchell #wof gif #mygif #angst #short story #fluff #world on fire 1x04 #gone with regret

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liverpool-enjoyer · 2 years ago

Text

footballers reacting to a younger player calling them dad (long as hell version)

anon requested it n so it shall be!! ngl for some a the teams i simply googled "youngest player on INSERTTEAMHERE." ive never written formal fic for football so i apologize for this being iffy n also for the SHITTON of innacuracies theres bound to be. oh n also that everyone talks like a twenty year old american college student

leo:

"Thanks, dad," Warren said nonchalantly as Leo helped him up off the ground. He had stumbled a little and fell during the last part of training.

Leo only narrowed his eyes a little in response. Dad?

Poor Warren clasped a hand over his mouth, seemingly mortified. "I'm so sorry," he said, chuckling even though he didn't look like he found anything funny. "I guess I just- And then- Yeah I'll, uh, get going now." He scampered away not once looking back.

Leo got to thinking as me made his way back to the locker room. He's used to being called that; he has children of his own. But he's never considered a teammate of his as his own child. Sure, he was helpful, a mentor maybe, but fatherly wasn't how he would describe his behavior with his younger teammates.

There was only one thing to do, obviously. Ask a younger teammate.

When he got to the locker room he approached Neymar, who didn't notice him at first.

"Ney."

His friend's face brightened upon noticing Leo was there. "Yeah, what's up?" he asked, before taking a swig of water.

"Do you see me as a father figure?"

In response, Leo was met with Neymar choking and coughing. "NO, GOD NO-" he stopped to cough again and catch his breath. "WHAT GAVE YOU THAT IDEA?"

"Nothing, jeez, calm down."

---

ney:

"Woah, not like that, you could hurt yourself," Neymar told Bitshiabu. He was doing an new training excercise incorrectly, and the last thing PSG needed was a good player pulling or straining something.

Neymar took a minute to show him how to do it properly. "Thanks, dad," the seventeen year old said sarcastically. Despite the snark, he appreciated the help.

Neymar just laughed in response, but for the rest of traning the thought kept bouncing around in the back of his head. 'Dad? I was acting like a dad? Some of them see me as old enough to be their father?'

Well, he was a father, but that was different. His teammates were much older than Davi.

Oh, gosh, was he getting old?

Later in training, when he saw Leo, he grabbed the poor man by the shoulders without so much as a hello. "Leo. Do you think I'm getting old?"

In classic Leo fashion, he looked like he'd rather be anywhere than here, interacting with someone. "Well, technically we all are... You're older now than you were yesterday, so I guess you are get-"

Neymar let out an exasperated sigh, unhappy with that answer.

His next victim was Sergio, who's phone conversation he interrupted to ask him the question of the day.

"Do you think I'm getting old?"

"You interrupted my conversation with Lukita to ask me if-"

"JUST ANSWER."

"SURE, I GUESS. I DON'T CARE."

Damn. Neymar was gonna have to get hammered tonight. To prove he still has it in him.

---

milly:

"What about you, Milly? Any fun weekend plans?" Andy asked. Some of the team were talking about the plans they had for the free weekend they had coming up.

"You bet; I have a date with my new book and chamomile tea."

This earned him a few eye rolls, most noticably from Trent. "Aw, that's so boring! Robbo and I are hitting this new club Saturday night, aren't we, mate?" he reached across the kitchen island to fist bump his friend. "Surely you've got something more fun in mind."

"I might fire up the grill if the weather allows..." Milly started. "Oh, and I should probably get my car checked out; it's been making this weird noise."

"Yeah yeah, we get it, dad, you're boring."

Milly didn't hesitate. "I am nowhere near old enough to be your dad," he said with his typical snark.

"You do act like it though..." the previously quiet Alisson chimed in, peering at his friends from over his coffee mug.

"And you're no spring chicken either," Milly remarked, which shut the goalkeeper up. "Will you lot ever get bored of the 'James is old' joke?"

"Aw, don't be like that, mate," Andy said with a hearty laugh, putting an arm around Milly's neck and ruffling his hair. "You know it's just because we love you!"

Milly sighed. Yeah, he did know, he supposed.

---

kdb:

"I mean," Alvarez said between passes. "You're practically his dad."

Kevin rolled his eyes for what was probably the third time during that conversation.

"Ah, shove it, you know I'm not that old."

"It's not about age," his younger teammate responds, accepting the ball Kevin passed to him. "You're always like... I dunno, dadish."

Kevin just gave Alvarez an absolutely bewildered look. "...Are you actually saying these words?"

"I'm serious, mate! You're always, y'know, taking him out for ice cream after training, making sure he gets home safe, whatever that means-"

Kevin brought up a hand to rub his temple. "Oh my gosh, I don't see him as my kid. Can't I just be nice?"

"No."

"Shove off," Kevin said playfully.

An amused grin crossed Alvarez's face. "Speak of the devil."

Kevin turned to see Erling walking up to the pair.

"Hey guys!" Erling said with a polite wave, and Alvarez waved back.

"You need anything?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, actually," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you think you can give me a ride home after training? Jack drove me but he had to leave early."

"Of course, no problem," he replied without hesitation, and clapped a hand on Erling's shoulder for seemingly no reason.

Erling nodded happily in response. "Thank you, dad!" he said with a bright smile, before walking away as if what he said was completely normal.

It was taking everything Alvarez had in him to not start rolling on the ground with laughter. "What was that about not being his dad?"

"Shaddup."

---

luka:

It was actually Luka who started it.

Everyone entered the locker room very happy, fresh off a 44th minute goal from Rodrygo that had earned them the lead. The young player received hugs and claps on the back from pretty much every player. The attention was well deserved; the goal was a beauty, after all.

One of the last players to congratulate him was Luka. "Good job, hijo!" he said, hugging his teammate. "You were brilliant out there!"

"Gracias, papa," Rodrygo said, casual, even though he had never called him that before. "But it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't set me up for it!"

"Aw, aren't you the sweetest," said Luka, smiling proudly as he ruffled up Rodrygo's short hair beyond repair.

Rodrygo reached up in a futile attempt to fix his hair, and even though it wasn't said out loud, he got the feeling that he could call Luka that anytime he wanted.

---

luis:

Training had long since ended, and everyone was in the locker room, gathering their belongings and talking amongst themselves.

Luis and Kauan had been making small talk, with Luis telling his youngest teammate about some of his exploits and giving him some pointers.

"Y'know," Kauan eventually said. "You kinda remind me of my dad!"

Luis immediately burst into laughter, but it was out of genuine joy rather than condescension.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, not bothering to wait for an answer. "I'm not that old, kiddo. Now would your dad do THIS?"

Before his teammate could respond, Luis had taken Kauan into a light, non-painful chokehold n given him the strongest noogie he could muster, sending Kauan into a fit of giggling.

When Luis had mercy on the kid and let him go, Kauan needed a minute to catch his breath and compose himself.

Kuan gave Luis a sly grin. "Y'know, my dad does that to me all the time!"

"Damnit."

---

lewa:

It wasn't Gavi's day. Or his week, and it wasn't shaping out to be his month, for that matter.

He didn't know what was wrong; he just wasn't playing like his normal self these past few games. But the crushing blow was this game in particular, when he was subbed off in the first half due to his performance.

The atmosphere in the locker room after the game was still positive, however, as they had won. But Gavi wasn't participating in the celebrating and joking. He had changed and was just sitting by his locker, just... thinking. He hated sulking like this. He felt like he was being dramatic. Maybe he should go.

He didn't notice someone had approached him until he heard his voice.

"Gavi?" Robert asked, voice laced with concern. "What're you doing here all by yourself?"

The younger player just shrugged, blinking away tears that definitely weren't forming.

"May I?" Robert asked, gesturing to the spot next to Gavi on the bench.

Gavi just muttered a quiet "yeah," and Robert sat closely next to him.

Robert took a good look at Gavi, and for a moment he was reminded of his girls.

"You don't seem to be too happy with yourself," the man said.

"Can you blame me?" Gavi asked, trying not to sound sarcastic.

"Well, I understand. But I don't think you should be so hard on yourself," he put an arm around the young player. "You're talented, Gavi, and you're only going to get better from here. You just had a few rough weeks; it's not permanent. And I'm saying that because I really believe it." He smiled warmly at the young man.

Gavi would be lying if he said he didn't feel just a little bit better. He found himself resting his head on the other's shoulder.

"Thank you, dad. I mean- shit, I-"

Robert just chuckled in response. "It's ok, really, I'm honored," he said, holding the other just a little tighter.

---

sergio:

"Hey, dad? Do you-" Vini shut his mouth quickly after he realized what he had just said.

Sergio was on him before the young player could even apologize. "I'm sorry?" he asked, feeling kind enough to at least give the young player a chance to explain himself.

"I don't know, I guess I just got my wires crossed, or something-"

"I thought so. Just don't let it happen again," Sergio said, sounding less angry and more just... irritated. And with that, he left.

Much later in the day, Sergio found himself at Luka's place eating dinner with his teammate, as was pretty much tradition after training.

"Y'know," the team captain said between bites of what Luka made him. "Those kids of ours are really improving. I mean, they were always talented but, y'know..."

Luka just smiled and kept his thoughts to himself. He knew if he made mention of Sergio referring to the young players as their kids, he'd deny it faster than you could say Madrid.

---

pep:

"Don't overwork yourself, Cole, I don't want you getting hurt," Pep said to the young player. It was Cole's first training back after recovering from an injury, so he was prone to hurting himself again.

"Sure thing, dad," Cole said sarcastically.

Pep simply blinked at the young man. He had been managing a long time and had been called many things by all his players over the years. But this was definitely a first for "dad."

After a few seconds of silence, Cole could tell that his attempt at a joke was not well received. He simply stared at the man staring back at him, waiting for whatever stupid prize awaited, and kind of hoping he would just die right now.

"Laps."

Cole's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Hm?"

"Laps."

"Uh... don't you think that's too exerting? You just said I should take it e-"

"Laps!"

And without another word, Cole took off running. It wasn't until three laps in that he realized he never asked how many of these things he should do.

Shit.

---

klopp:

"We've won our last five matches," Darwin said.

"And it's raining outside, so traning will be, uh... Not as good," chimed in Harvey.

"And we promise to train extra hard tomorrow! Don't we, lads?" Cody asked, turning to his teammates, who nodded furiously in response.

"I still don't know if you can afford to miss it; training every day is important," Jurgen told the boys. There was a new movie out that the boys wanted to forego traning to go and see. Rather than sending one person to him to be The Negotiator, the boys thought it was better to approach him with their request all at once.

"But papaaaaaa!!" damn near all of the teammates chimed at once.

Jurgen clenched his expensive-ass teeth. These boys always knew how to get to him. He loved being reminded that they loved him and saw them as a father, as someone to be trusted and depended upon. He couldn't even remember when they started calling him that.

He loud out a long, overly-dramatic sigh.

"Fine."

In return, he received a chorus of cheers. An onlooker would think these boys just watched their teammate win them a penalty shootout.

In no time at all he was swarmed with hugs and "thank you, papa"s from too many of the boys to count.

The boys all stopped at the door when they saw their gaffer wasn't following them.

"Aren't you coming?" Alisson asked, eyes kind and welcoming.

"Do you want me to?" questioned Jurgen, looking at his boys' faces for signs of approval. Most of them just rolled their eyes at the suggestion that they didn't want him to join them.

Alisson approached him, took him by the arm, and dragged him to the door himself, Jurgen laughing while following him.

"Of course we do, papa."

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