#my tears are of both joy and sadness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vanteguccir · 6 months

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── ୨୧ !　𝗙𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris records a TikTok with Tara after many requests from both fandoms, but fans reacted contrary to what he expected, generating questioning thoughts in Y/N.

WARNING: Crying, comparison, fighting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The morning sun beamed beyond the half-open curtains in the living room, painting the room with orange and gold tones. Sitting at the kitchen table, Y/N immersed herself in her books, trying to focus on her notes as the sounds of Nick and Matt echoed around the house.

At that moment, Chris was absent. He had gone to Tara's house, a new friend of the triplets and, consequently, of Y/N, who had recently become a frequent figure in their lives. The objective was to record a video for Tara's channel since after the large group's social media post together, both fandoms started begging for collabs.

As Y/N immersed herself in her studies, a notification flashed on her phone screen. The girl looked up at her device, seeing the new message.

pretty boy: hi baby!! look, we did a tiktok! I look so cool: link.

A smile curved Y/N's lips as she clicked on the link, curious to see the result of one of Chris and Tara's creations. The video started, and she immediately recognized the song as one of her favorites, humming softly as her eyes captured the funny dance and interaction between the two.

A laugh escaped her lips when she saw Chris shaking his head in the lyrics "Would you get down on knees for me?", remembering all the times the song played when they were together, and exactly in this part, Chris always got down on his knees in front of Y/N, making her laugh.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to relax and enjoy the scene. It was a genuine demonstration of their new friendship, and Y/N felt grateful to be part of that dynamic.

However, her joy was momentary.

As the video came to an end, Y/N scrolled through the comments, eager to see the reaction of Tara's followers. What she found left her cold.

Among the funny and complimentary comments, there was a barrage of messages that cut like sharp knives. Ardent fans of both Tara and Chris were heavily shipping them, completely ignoring Chris's long-standing and public relationship with Y/N.

"Chris and Tara are so cute together!"

"I so wanted them to be a couple 😭"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you don't hold a candle to Tara. Chris deserves someone like her."

The words echoed in Y/N's mind, like a distant echo of an approaching storm. She felt a tightness in her chest, a mixture of sadness, anger, and confusion.

How could they be so cruel? How could they judge their relationship based on fragments of a distorted reality? Y/N felt vulnerable, exposed to the relentless cruelty of the virtual world.

Her thumb moved automatically as she left the comment box, sliding the screen to the TikTok below the one she was watching, craving a quick distraction. But her hope was suddenly dashed when she saw that the next video was an edit of Chris and Tara's TikTok and all the others after.

She knew the fans were fast, but at that moment, she wanted them to be as slow as possible.

Y/N closed the app with a heavy sigh, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It was difficult not to let the strangers' words and opinions get to her.

With a determined effort to forget about it momentarily, Y/N turned her attention back to the books, seeking refuge in the comforting familiarity of the printed pages, forgetting to answer Chris.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The day was coming to an end. In the room shared by Y/N and Chris, the atmosphere was filled with a silent energy, interrupted only by the gentle slide of Y/N's fingers over her phone screen, and the low sounds of various videos.

She was lying in their bed, having already taken a comforting shower, but her mind was still shrouded in a haze of dark thoughts. As she scrolled through her TikTok's For You, romantic edits of Chris and Tara popped up with disturbing frequency. Y/N's expression was a mixture of sadness and self-questioning, her eyes reflecting an inner storm.

She felt her mind defeat her with thoughts of comparison. She knew she would never reach Tara's beauty, humor, and even body.

The heavy atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door opening gently. Chris entered the room, radiating an aura of euphoria. His eyes sparkled with joy, and a smile spread across his face with ease.

"Hi, my pretty girl!" Chris greeted, closing the door behind him. "You won't believe how amazing the video with Tara turned out. I can't wait for her to post it so you can see it!"

"Hey, baby! I'm so happy you had fun." Y/N looked up from her cell, forcing a smile on her lips, trying with all her might not to reveal her current state - the last thing she wanted to do was ruin Chris's excitement, but the sadness still hovered in her eyes.

Chris immediately noticed the change in her expression and approached the bed, worried.

"What happened, babe?" He asked in a worried tone, frowning and sitting down next to her.

She just shook her head slightly, unable to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. Chris reached out to caress her face gently, seeking to comfort her with his loving touch.

"You didn't answer my text, I really thought something was happening... You know you can tell me anything, right?" Chris continued gently. He didn't want to force anything out of her.

Y/N nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. Before he could say anything else, Chris noticed the phone in her hand with almost silent sounds escaping from the speaker, leaning over to peer at the screen.

Romantic edits of Chris and Tara filled Y/N's device. He swallowed hard, instantly connecting the dots.

Chris's comforting touch on Y/N's face seemed to turn cool. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a sigh escaped his lips before he could control it.

"Y/N, are you really upset because of these silly edits?" The boy questioned, his voice filled with disbelief. His touch against the warm skin disappeared within seconds, the boy removing his hand from her face before sitting down on the bed.

Y/N flinched at the accusation implicit in his words, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes as she struggled to find a coherent response.

"It's not just because of the edits..." She, her voice shaking with turbulent emotions. "Did you see the comments? They-"

Chris shook his head impatiently, cutting her off abruptly, frustration beginning to seep into his expression. He couldn't understand why something as trivial as fan edits could affect his girlfriend so much.

"Y/N, this is ridiculous!" He continued firmly. "These edits and comments don't mean anything. They're just fan jokes. It's not the end of the world." His voice came out louder than before, his posture now rigid.

His words hit Y/N like a sharp knife, making her feel even more inadequate and misunderstood. Anger bubbled inside her, a simmering mix of resentment and hurt.

"You don't understand, Chris!" She snapped, her voice shaking slightly. Her right hand worked to lock the screen of her phone in one quick motion, tossing it aside. "This isn't just about the edits. It's about how I feel about being compared to Tara, about how it's making me feel inferior to her! How would you feel if people started wanting to see me with a man other than you? While I'm in a relationship with you!"

Chris rolled his eyes dismissively, his patience beginning to wear thin at the intensity of Y/N's emotions.

“You’re so tiring sometimes, Y/N.” He snapped without thinking, his voice tinged with irritation, not giving a damn about how his girlfriend felt. "I can't deal with all this insecurity all the time. It's fucking exhausting."

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless, her rigid posture quickly crumbling. She felt tears run down her face without force as the painful realization settled in her heart.

She was tiring. She was insecure. She was too much for him to handle.

The pain of rejection burned in her chest as she retrieved her phone again, ripping the comforter off her legs. Her lips were pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the ugly sobs that she wanted to let out. She wouldn't give herself the luxury of showing Chris how much he hurt her.

The girl got up from the bed in one quick movement, grabbing her pillow and heading towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Chris's voice echoed harshly behind her, his body rising from the mattress quickly.

"I'll sleep in the living room." Y/N responded curtly, turning the handle with ease before walking through the door, slamming it, feeling more alone than ever amidst the multitude of turbulent emotions.

She could feel her heart being crushed a little more when she didn't hear Chris call for her again, let alone try to reach her.

The stairs leading to the living room were silent, and her pillow clutched to her chest as a last vestige of comfort in a world that seemed to be falling apart around her. Each step up echoed like a lonely echo in an emotional void that seemed to swallow her whole.

Upon reaching the living room, Y/N found refuge on the empty couch. She curled into the soft upholstery, hugging the pillow tightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks silently. The phone rested next to her, emitting a dim light that wouldn't turn off, almost begging her to pick it up again.

Hours dragged by like centuries as Y/N fought the ghosts of her own mind.

At some point, she had given up resisting and was on her TikTok again. The algorithm seemed to hate her, delivering her frequent videos of Chris and Tara, which were like a sharp dagger in her heart.

They would really look beautiful together.

Dawn fell heavily upon her, but sleep refused to welcome her into its comforting arms. Instead, she found herself trapped in a whirlwind of torturous thoughts, her mind pounding incessantly with doubts and questions about her relationship with Chris.

Until her brain shuts down completely, letting tiredness win.

At 3 a.m., in the darkness of the night, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the room. Chris was there, his tired face etched with worry and regret.

His eyes quickly found Y/N's figure lying on the couch, already asleep, curled up and shivering slightly from the cold. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the swelling that surrounded them, the traces of tears on her cheeks and her still damp face. Next to her, her phone repeatedly played one of the videos she had watched before falling asleep.

A lump formed in Chris's throat. He intensely blamed himself for not having thought before acting and, much less, noticing how much his actions had affected his girlfriend.

With hesitant steps, he approached her, feeling the weight of his own anguish on his shoulders.

Gently, Chris turned off her phone, cutting the endless cycle of pain that had consumed Y/N. He then crouched down beside her, studying her peaceful face with a mixture of love and pain.

With a resigned sigh, the boy carefully took her into his arms, hooking them around her back and behind her knees, feeling the weight of her fragile body against his own chest. Y/N hummed softly in response to his touch but didn't fully wake up.

Chris carried her down the stairs and back to their bedroom, where the soft light from the lamp bathed the room in yellow tones. Tenderly, he placed her on the soft mattress, covering her with the comforter carefully so as not to wake her.

Y/N shifted slightly under Chris's touch and the new surface beneath her limbs, her eyebrows furrowing in an expression of discomfort. She looked restless, as if she were immersed in a nightmare.

Chris watched her for a moment, feeling the weight of his own harsh words weigh on him like an anchor. He knew he had hurt Y/N deeply, and the pain of seeing her suffer was almost unbearable.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to her, his hand reaching for her with a tentative touch. Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes finally slowly opening to meet Chris's. She fought the urge to get up and leave the room again, her anger at Chris's actions and sadness in her mind, making her want to avoid him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, sharing a silent understanding that transcended words, Y/N making the decision to let him say what he wanted.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Chris muttered, his voice thick with regret. "I was insensitive and selfish. I didn't want to hurt you, I acted on impulse and completely without thinking. This whole situation is not silly if it hurts and bothers you, and I promise that we can talk better about what you saw and how you felt, and solve this together... Just please, give me this chance?"

Y/N blinked slowly, her eyes locked on Chris's as she processed his words. For a moment, she felt the weight of hurt and disappointment pressing against her, but then she saw the sincerity in Chris's eyes, the pure, unconditional love he had always offered her.

And in that moment, she knew that forgiveness was the only good choice to make. With a sigh, she squeezed Chris's hand tenderly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

"Just one chance. I want you to fix what you did and do it right this time."

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 3 months

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When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt3

Warnings: Mentioning of needles in a medical sense, Cursing, Mentioning of death

Pt1 Pt2 Hyungline (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

The room was bright, and everyone of Jisung's senses were clouded slightly when he woke up.

"Where-"

He looked up to see Chan looking at him concerned.

"You passed out and hit your head. You've been out for a minute. You worried us."

Jisung's face scrunched as he looked at Chan. "I didn't mean to...why did I..." The events of right before his fainting spell came to him at once and Chan watched as his face slowly crumpled.

"N-No no! Jisung don't cry please! She's okay! She's okay!"

Jisung's heart rate monitor kept hiking up. "St-Stop ly-lying to me! Sh-She's gone!" He wailed- his heart rate reaching extreme levels that spurred the appearance of three nurses.

They tried to calm him down and Chan talked to a nurse about giving him something to calm him down.

A subtle sedative was injected into one of Jisung's flailing limbs and within a few minutes he was calmed down enough to be considered safe.

Chris sat by Jisung's bed as he fell in and out of sleep, the exhaustion of the past day hit him.

He looked at his phone as Minho was calling him. He looked at the boba eyes boy, who's eyes were closed in what he was assumed was sleep.

"Hello...hey...yeah we're still here, Jisung passed out...yeah...she's okay...I've been splitting my time between his room and her's...both of her femurs are fractured and she's cut up and bruised, and her arm is broken but she'll be okay...I'm trying to wait until he's calm enough to bring him over...he won't even listen to me he's that distraught..." Chris sounded tired. "I hate to them both hurting...I'm going to cancel to schedules...no one should have to work after this...maybe apply for hiatus of Jisung..." Chan stood up and looked at Jisung who was staring back at him with wide eyes. "Minho I'll call you back."

Han sat up and looked at his elder. "Y/N...Y/N? Where is she-" He swung his feet over the bed, not even flinching at the frozen floor as they connected with his bare feet.

Chris guided Jisung by the shoulder and brought him to room a few halls down, nodding politely at the ladies at the desk; silently praying they wouldn't point out that it was past the time for any types of visitors. He led him in front of your door, and knocked lightly. "She might be asleep...I have to run back to the dorms real quick to grab you a change of clothes and update the boys they're worried sick."

Jisung nodded and looked at the bags under Chris's eyes and saw how dark and droopy they were. He looked like a tired dad, and that only hurt Jisung more.

Chris gave him a hug and gave him a peck on the head. "I'll be back soon, Jisung." As he walked away Jisung immediately walked into the room. His heart dropped when he saw you laying there on the bed- legs elevate and your arms as well, your eyes closed.

He almost couldn't recognize your face at first, with the purplish bruise and large cut on your cheek.

He walked over quietly and sat down in the chair next yo your bed, just quietly weeping next to you.

Tears of joy, relief, praise, sadness, pain, and heartbreak.

God thank you. Thank you. Thanl you.

He continued to weep quietly, as he reached for your hand on your uninjured arm to hold it.

He felt calloused and scabbed skin when he put his hand in it and looked down through his tear.

His index finger traced the dark scabbed that decorated your palm, and he felt a hollow pain in his heart. Despite all the other injuries this one hurt him the most, knowing that he was the direct cause for this specific one.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked over to see the love of your life crying over you hand.

"JiJi?" Your voice was raspy, and he instead of saying anything he started placing kisses on your palm in a silent apology.

"It's okay, love. I'm okay."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Y/N...it's my fault."

You shook your head viciously and winced with the neck pain; mentally kicking yourself for moving at all.

"Its not your fault Jisung. You weren't the one drunk driving. Nor were to the one distracted behind the wheel. Things like this happen in life; you just have to be grateful to be the ones that get through it." You swallowed and started blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I worried you so much-" You croaked. "Channie said you fainted and hit your head? Are you okay?" Your voice was heartbreakingly warm, and Jisung couldn't fathom why you were so kind to him at a time like this. When you were hurting so much physically, mentally and emotionally; you were still concerned about him.

He kissed your palm again and let out a shaky breath. "Stay with me."

You give out a small chuckle, but it hurts your chest so you decide just to smile.

"Sungie...I can't even walk." You joked. "My femurs are pretty messed up right now." Jisung continued to gently hold your hand as if it was something priceless; something extremely fragile and breakable. He rested his forehead against is and murmured.

"Then when you can walk again, don't leave. Stay. Cling to me. Walk towards me instead of away."

You smile. "Walk towards you dressed in white?" You joked.

"Yes." He said with 1000% seriousness in his voice. "I thought I lost you. That was a pain that I couldn't even begin to comprehend. If I ever lose you again...I don't know how I would deal with it...if I could...especially if I knew you left by choice..."

You felt your heart thump at a faster rate and cursed it quietly since it would bring the inevitable visit of a concerned nurse.

"I'm sorry. I truly am." He said, his eyes looking at you. They softly traced all the injuries, all though none of them compared to what he was feeling in his heart, what you were feeling in yours.

"I love you." You said quietly, those three simple words filled with so much that it quelled the negative feelings that were churning in his heart.

And even though he knew it wouldn't be something he could ever truly forgive himself for - even if you did - he was selfish enough to push that aside if it meant that he could be with you.

If it meant you would stay with him.

He kissed your palm once more, before laying his head near yours. His nose gently nuzzling your face.

"I love you more."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

FELIX|

When Felix walked into your home, he wasn't expecting you to be there.

But what he defintely was not expecting at all was you struggling to put together a new gaming station for him, looking at a super complicated instruction sheet for a chair and while sitting next to a bag filled with other electronics.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You turned as the rich and deep voice you loved so much reached your ears. It had been days since you had gotten to hear it.

"It-It was supposed to be a surprise." You said standing up, bracing yourself for him to yell at you, or scold you. "I'm sor-"

You almost had the wind knocked out of you as Felix threw himself into your arms, inhaling deeply.

You hugged him back, feeling just how much he needed it.

His breathing was shaking as you heard him apologize quietly.

He reached for your hands to see if they were red from cleaning so much.

"I'm sorry baby. But sorry doesn't fix it. So what can I do-"

"I love you." You said. "I understand you were angry...it's understandable. So I went to go fix it!"

You pulled away and Felix was in disbelief of how positive and sunshiny you were. He would consider you even more like sunshine than he was.

And with that he felt and overwhelming sense of love and appreciation to the one in front of him, as he watched you explain to him what you had been doing the past few days (odd freelance work for extra money) and how you had went to buy him replacements for all the things you had ruined by accident.

"I thought you'd like this one cause it was blue but I'm not sure..." You mumbled. "It wasn't as expensive as you last one so I'm sorry if it-"

You looked up to see Felix crying with a smile on his face as he bent down to look at you while you knelt on the ground organizing pieces.

"Lix, are you okay?"

He nodded, his freckles scrunching up as he smiled even more, reaching to cup you face with his cool hands.

"I'm more than okay, Y/N." He said. "More than okay."

You looked at him with wide eyes and he couldn't help but plant a bunch of kisses on your face as a musical giggle escaped the lips he soon captured in his own.

You looked up at him as he rolled over onto the ground next to you, grasping your hand in his.

"I bought replacements angel..." He said, a smile playing on his face. "So now that we have two... we can take my old PC from storage and I can teach you how to play...?"

You looked at him. "But isn't gaming time your you time? I thought thats why you were so upset, since I had ruined something that was giving you detox time..."

He shook his head. "I had gotten into an argument with Hyunjin..." He said rubbing his thumb across your hand. "And I didn't manage my anger well towards you. I'm sorry, again."

He turned to face you while resting on his elbow.

"You're too good you know?" He murmured quietly, moving a few strands of hair out of your face.

"Lixxie...you're entire fandom call you sunshine..." You say, feeling your face heat up.

"Well that's because they don't know you well enough. But once they do they'll realize that you're the true sunshine in the Stray Kids world. Since you're my world..." He said leaning over again, resting his elbows on either side of you as he connected his lips to yours again; both sets upturned into a smile.

"I could never be mad you love...how would it even be possible?" He asked as he continued to press his lips against your face in a cute, but chaste manner. "It is impossible."

You giggled as he blew raspberries on you and you got up and looked at the boy you loved so much, knowing that you meant just as much to him as he did to you.

And you knew that you could rest assured that you would be okay no matter what.

"Do you want to play games...or cuddle?" Felix asked, pulling you up, already reaching for the blanket you kept draped over your desk chair; knowing your answer would be exactly what he was hoping it would be.

"Cuddles." You said clinging to him. Intending to do that for the rest of the night.

And Felix intended to make sure you kept true to that promise.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

SEUNGMIN|

The crowd was static with a murmured excitement. The result of hundred of Stays conversing just before the group walked on stage.

You made your way to the front of the arena. After selling the ticket you had intended to use to get back at Seungmin; you had made quite a bit of money from the upsale and the desire of some crazed stan.

And you put that money towards flying across the world, to come to this concert, and surprise him.

Hopefully easing the growing rumors but mostly easing his heart.

You called the Kids manager, asking to get you in closer to the front, and was praying that Seungmin would be able to spot you. Or a fan would spot you and it would spark the little "Where's Waldo" game that would get back to him - or more importantly the camera men.

You just wanted Seungmin to be assured you weren't leaving him.

Rather you hoped after tonight it would be the complete opposite.

As security pushed their way through the crowd with you encircled in them people tried to peak through to see you.

When a few curious eyes met yours you waved, and those eyes widened in the ones who recognized you.

It was almost like they were relieved.

And just with that you could tell how much the fandom cared about the boy.

Almost as much as you cared about them while knowing all of them on a personal friend level. And an even more intimate level with Seungmin.

The crowd buzzed with energy up until the moments to boys ran out on stage. You were close enough to see just how tired Seungmin was; but he still put on a smile.

There was almost know build up as they immediately started performing, Seungmin on the complete opposite side of the stage. The crowd was extremely loud- so yelling out to the closet member to you - Hyunjin - wasn't going to do you any good, even if he could easily recognize the voice of one of his closest friends' significant others; he wouldn't be able to hear it over the sea of others voices and screams.

So you decided to head back towards the dressing room.

Seungmin returned to his dressing room after the show, his heart racing with excitement after the show. But he still had that underlying hurt.

Should I call her? I miss her so much I'm imagining her perfume...

He stopped and turned his nose upwards. Y/N?

He rushed into his dressing room and saw you standing up, folding one of his shirts.

He immediately ran into your arms, burying his head into your hair, a wet spot forming on the crown of your head.

"Baby...are you really here?" He whispered, the vibration of his voice tickling you slightly.

You nod and pull back; feeling a bit proud to straight out apologize so instead get to what you came here for.

He looked at you as you squared your shoulders and adjusted your dress so it covered you properly as you knelt down onto the ground.

"Jagiya...?" He said instinctively kneeling down with you reaching for you, but instead you motioned for him to stay standing.

He looked at you with confusion, a bead of sweat dripping down his neck to his exposed collar bone, making you even more nervous than you were a second ago.

You pulled a small box out of the pocket in your dress and noticed Seungmin's puppy eyes widening as you held it out to him with a shaky hand.

"Marry me, MinMin?"

His jaw twitched and he just stared at you in shock and you fumbled to open up the box, a simple deep gray colored band laying in there.

"Um...I mean will you marry me? Please...?" You rubbed your forehead feeling your face get warm at Seungmin's extended silence.

"No." You felt your heart nearly crumple in embarrassment until he corrected himself.

"I mean yes- like no as is in you - like - yes I want to marry you but- just get up from the floor Jagiya..."

You stood up and you held the box in your hands, and they were still trembling, and he wrapped his large hands around yours.

"I meant no as a reaction to you proposing instead of me. I wanted propose to you. I mean...I'm the man in the relationship and-"

"I'm breaking societal norms, Minnie. If we both love each other why does it matter?" You ask bluntly, earning a laugh from Seungmin.

"And I'm proud of you for that, even if it'll earn me relentless teasing from the guys." He laughed out, a few tears falling from his face in happiness, as he rested his forehead onto yours.

"These past few weeks," Seungmin started, "Have made me realize that it's me who is clingy to you." He says, kissing your nose, lightly. "I felt that I lost myself when the prospect of losing you was in front of me."

You looked at him and knew this was his apology.

"I don't want to leave you. And I don't ever want you to leave me. That's why I got this for you." You said taking the ring out. Seungmin pulled back and stepped into character, placing a hand over his mouth in mock shock and daintily putting his hand out for you to slide the ring onto his finger.

He couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face as he watched your face be completely painted in a blinding happiness. He couldn't help but kiss the lips that were stretched so wide.

"Do I have permission to break the news to Stay via instagram post?" He hums. "They've been suspecting we broke up due to your concert absences..." He looked at you, his eyes wide and bright.

"Yes of course, as long as you tell the guys in person. I want to see their reaction. I'm sure both Stay and the guys will be amused that I proposed." You winked.

"Yeah," Seungmin chuckled as he looked at the ring with a deep admiration and love. "They will be...speaking of this though. You must have paid an unecessary fortune for flying here, buying the ticket, hotel stay...and you request off work during concert season so you aren't getting paid. Where did you get the money? If it was from your saving let me fill it up again." His top lip curled in as he waited for your answer.

"Uh...you could say I made a profit of sorts..." You mumbled, thinking about the slightly illegal act of scalping the ticket price.

Your fiancé tilted his head to the side, waiting for an explanation, but the deciding to forgo it with a chuckle and just kiss the woman he loved and missed so much. The one he'd spend the rest of his life clinging to.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JEONGIN|

You stood there the needle in your hand as Jeongin slowly walked towards you.

"Y/N? What are you...?"

You disposed the needle and adjusted your shorts to cover up your thigh.

"I was taking insulin." You said walking past him out of the bathroom, to go grab a paper towel since the towel in your bathroom was in the wash.

You felt the presence of your boyfriend behind you.

And you could instantly tell he felt bad, so you turned to him, his dark eyes wandering over you as his lips turned into his recognizable pout.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Innie..." You said standing there. "It wasn't right for me to ignore your calls. Or blow up your phone in the first pla-"

"Stop." His voice was firm and missing the playful undertone it almost always had. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me."

He swallowed. "I was embarrassed because of the guys and their teasing. And I called you childish when it was really me who was being childish for caring so much about people recognizing how much we love each other. How much you love me..." He's within arms length and you can feel his cool breath hit your face. "How much I love you. I'm sorry."

For the rest of the day you and Jeongin lounged around your house, him taking a nap on you lap at one point due to the pent-up exhaustion of the previous week.

You had shake him awake gently when you realized it was time for you to inject youself once more since you had finished eating a while ago but pushed off medicating yourself so Jeongin could get some rest.

He opened his eyes and whined as he shut them again, burrowing further into you.

"Baby, I have to get up and take my medicine."

He immediately shot up and the expectant yet worried look on his faced caused you to grin.

"Do you wanna help?" His head bobbed up and down as you got up, pulling the mischievous eyed boy with you towards the bathroom.

As you got everything, he observed with a bubbling anxiety.

"You won't like...die from this or anything right?" His voice was soft, lacking the confidence it usually carried.

"No, Jeongin, I won't die from my diabetes." You laugh. "Do you think I would let it take me before I get married and have kids, and grandkids and live." You say this purposefully to hint to Jeongin that it was him you imagined this with. Hoping it solidified his assurance in your forgiveness; since he had been asking all day if he was truly forgiven.

As if its his fault I have diabetes... You laughed to yourself.

You placed the glucometer in his hand and held out the container of strips.

"Just place that in there." You instruct softly, and he does so showing it to you to double check.

"Okay, so now we have to put the lancet in...here..." You say, your boyfriend focusing on placing it in correctly.

He takes your hand in his and when he presses the button to prick you he winces rather than you.

"Are you okay?!" He frets, looking at the extremely miniscule - too miniscule - drop of blood on your ring finger.

"Mm. Squeeze a little more out?"

He gently squuezed enough blood out of your hand and tested you blood sugar - then measuring out the appropriate amount of insulin and pulling your shorts up slightly to give you your injection with gentle hands after cleaning the area.

You watched him focus on the task at hand so seriously; his brows furrowed, and tongue sticking out of his lip slightly. He was so close you could smell his shampoos and count his eyelashes if you wanted to. You felt a strange longing for him even though he was right here. You missed him even if his body was right here next to, gently making sure he didn't leave any marks.

And you couldn't deny how much you loved him. So much that you had to express it.

"I love you forever, Innie..." Through his lashes he studied your expression. Feeling the love exude from you.

"I love you, forever and even longer." He said, his face breaking out into a smile. "My beautiful princess."

You laugh and that causes Innie to laugh as well.

"You're too sweet, love." You said placing a kiss under his eye.

"Does that mean I need to get you another dose of insulin?" He asked, looking up at you with a devilish grin.

This time you place the kiss on his lips his eyelashes fluttering shut as he sighed with contenment.

"I think I can manage."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

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#skz imagines #skz x reader #skz angst #skz stay #skz seungmin #skz jeongin #skz jisung #skz felix #seungmin angst #han angst #jeongin angst #felix angst

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maidragoste · 3 months

Text

Something wrong with me

Jacaerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader

Summary: Jacaerys comforts his wife after she tells him her worries.

I hope you have a good read. If you like it, don't hesitate to like, comment and reblog. These three things serve to motivate the writer to continue writing 🥰💖

My inbox is open if you want to make any requests or share any headcanon.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Something had happened. Jacaerys had no idea what she was but she knew something had happened because today you seemed distracted all day and during dinner, you barely spoke and you didn't eat much either so your husband was worried. First, he waited to see if you would tell him what the reason for your distress was, but now that you were both alone and in the shelter of his bed, your head on his chest and his arms hugging you, even so, you still didn't seem to dare to tell him so. He decided to ask you directly.

“Today I noticed you were distracted, my lady,” he said as he caressed your waist with one of his hands. “Do you want to tell me what is worrying you? That might make you feel better” he asked softly making you look at him.

“I'm bleeding,” you noticed the panic in your husband's eyes so you hurried to clarify. I mean my moon blood” You felt his body relax again.

Jacaerys thought about getting up and asking the maester to bring you some tea to alleviate any discomfort you had but when he was about to ask you to please move so he was going to look for the maester you surprised him by talking again.

“Are you disappointed?” You asked, abandoning the warmth of his chest to get a good look at his reaction, not wanting to miss any small-expression or movement. But your husband didn't look angry or sad but rather he seemed confused.

“Why would I be disappointed?” he asked, feeling lost. You hadn't done anything to make him or his family feel bad nor had you broken your marriage vows so he didn't understand how you could have let him down.

“Because I'm not pregnant!” you responded with obvious frustration and eyes full of unshed tears. You looked away and sat down feeling ashamed of yourself, for having lost your temper and especially for not fulfilling your duties. “And there's obviously something wrong with me,” you said, finally saying out loud what you had been thinking all day since you saw your red-stained clothes.

You hid your face in your hands, not wanting the prince to see that you were starting to cry. Barely a few seconds passed when Jacaerys was in front of you, gently removing your hands from your face. He felt pain in his heart when he saw your beautiful eyes full of sadness and tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Hey, don't talk about yourself like that. There is nothing wrong with you, my sweet wife. Your value is above the children you can give me” he said while carefully wiping away the tears. “You are more important than that, you are the one who gives me love and joy every day” he gently takes your face before kissing you on your forehead, his lips soon land on the tip of your nose and then on your cheeks, he begins to spread kisses all over your face until finally the tears stop and a smile forms on your lips and Jace finally kisses you like a husband should kiss a wife. You feel like you are melting from the sweetness of his kiss and from all the love he transmits to you. You feel so lucky to be his wife. He is so kind, sweet, and attentive to you. And you just want to make him as happy as he makes you feel every day. That's why you're so angry and disappointed in yourself for having your moon blood again.

Somehow Jacaerys must feel that your thoughts are turning dark again because he stops kissing you to calm your fears.

“Now, my sweet wife, I don't want to invalidate your concerns but we have only been married for a few moons so I think it is normal that you are not pregnant yet,” he said as he caressed your cheek. You still didn't seem to be completely calm so he hastened to add. "But if in a few moons, you are still not pregnant and you are still worried about it, we can go talk to my mother or the maester. I'm sure they will be willing to help us."

Jacaerys hoped that the two of you wouldn't have to have that uncomfortable conversation with the maester but for you, he was willing to do anything. He just wanted you to stop worrying.

“To be honest, it doesn't bother me that it's just the two of us for now. “I would like to have you a little more to myself,” he declared shamelessly, making you laugh before rushing you to kiss him again.

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hotd masterlist

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yuuuhiii · 5 months

Text

just with you

includes : mikey x reader , comfort , angst

note : this made me so sad:((( he looks so empty ugh I needed to write smth abt that

Manjiro hadn’t been answering your calls or texts. It worried you to no end.

From the beginning of your relationship with him, even prior to dating, you were aware that Manjiro was struggling internally.

Dark thoughts and impulses coursed through him and his mind. It hurt to watch him suffer from the inside, to see him struggle in silence as he stared off into nothing.

He had grown accustomed to emptiness and nothing until you came and brightened up his world. Though the abyss still lingered, you made everything better.

Your love enveloped Manjiro in a cocoon of emotions, with every kiss, touch, and word. You held his heart with care, mending it with your gentle touch and soothing words. Your promises of unwavering support, love, and protection were like a ray of hope in his darkest moments. You vowed to be his guiding light, saving him from the depths of his own despair.

You had spoken to Draken, but even he had not talked to Manjiro that day, which worried him as well. So, he gave you a ride to where you knew Manjiro would be.

He sat at the edge, holding a taiyaki in his hand and wearing his favorite jacket that you had bought him. You approached him as you heard him talking to the sweet snack.

Your heart breaks at the emptiness pooling in his eyes as he stares at a scenery that’d have anyone’s eyes wide with joy. You bite at your lip, trying to hold yourself back from crying. You run up to him, throwing your arms around his midsection, surprising him in the act.

He turned around, blinked at you, and smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. That scared you, as his eyes were so dull that you couldn't even see your reflection in them.

"Huh? What are you doing here?" he asked softly, without any hint of malice, his tone calm.

The waves crash against the shore. His words linger as you cry into his shirt.

“Why’re you crying?” He mumbles softly and it makes you pout.

You jump up and sit next to him, making him blink at you. He raises a hand, gently wiping at the next tear that threatened to leave your eyes.

"Don't cry," he says in a small voice as he waves the taiyaki.

Manjiro has always made you feel safe, made you feel comforted. You could only hope that he felt the same way.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his hair as more cries escape you. He looks over at Draken and nods, silently asking him to leave.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble and he’s a little confused however he lets you continue.

“I love you, ‘Jiro. I’m here for you, I’ll always—always be here for you. Let me help you.” You whimper and his eyes widen, glancing down at you.

Your eyes meet his and for the first time that day, his eyes sparkle.

“Please, Manjiro, let me have you.” You plead, peering into his eyes with your tear-stricken ones.

He softly laughs, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes and hums softly.

“I'm yours dummy, I—love you too.” He whispers so close to your lips.

Your lips barely touch but there’s something so intimate about it, the way you guys are so close to each other. He finally seals the kiss, leaning into you fully. The kiss is long and deep, it’s like a kiss you’d both share in the early hours of the morning. Or late into the night when the both of you are basking in each other’s arms.

When he pulls away he rests his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat calming his thoughts, filling with just you as he gazes at the water.

“It beats for you.” You say gently, your hands raking through his hair.

For hours you stay like that, Manjiro listening to your heartbeat as you both sat in silence. Admiring just how sometimes, simplistic life can be.

No worries, no problems, no thoughts, just with you.

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samodivaa · 8 months

Text

Bucky with an oral fixation due to his anxiety so you let him suck your big tits (smut)

Bucky’s heart may fail him in so many horrors—both in waking, from his nerves, and in sleep, from his nightmares, because the punishment of his disordered mind is its own disorder. A disorder nobody else has. There is no cure, but he is trying to master it, he is learning to live with it—just as he has learned to live with other storms of his mind. The impossibility of love? He has you now. The past can't be annihilated, it is a part of him. Regret, denial, sadness—it leads to anxiety and his habit of always chewing on something—gum, sweets. He holds his breath, a desperate attempt to slow down his heartbeat, a desperate attempt to get away. One second. Two seconds. The moment he chews on the pencil you gifted him for that purpose, he is feeling better. No amount of him trying to explain himself is doing any good, he doesn’t even know what is going on inside of him—but your observation is the first step of the inner unfolding, of finding a solution to every problem he has. You create so much love, compassion, equanimity and joy in his mind that he doesn’t feel ashamed or judged. But seeing him biting down on that pencil—once you've seen how broken he is, it's like seeing him naked. How can you help now? “Bucky, why don't you suck on my tits instead?”

His gaze, though almost improper, is the most sensual thing he could have done at the moment, and it jolts your heart into a strange rhythm, leaving you unable to speak. There is lust and then there is love. They are related, but still very different things—you surge forward, crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing your lips to his. It is desperate and frantic, but the feel of his mouth against yours sends a bolt of electricity straight down your spine. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed. He gets on top and the gentle, erotic pressure of his mouth on yours, the compelling pleasure of his kiss—the world stops and all the silence, but for your hearts, trying to synchronize your crashing. It is all the thrill of these kisses, of your new naughty suggestion. It is the impatience of the way he tears your shirt from your body, that really turns you on—lust getting the better of him, Bucky is a gentle lover, but not today which makes a jolt of some foreign but not unwelcome sensation pierce you. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out: “I already love that idea, baby”

You let out an involuntary airy moan as he grabs them in his palms, his huge hands palming your tits, kneading gently at first before he rubs his palms in circles. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, humming in satisfaction as it hardens under his touch before he begins to suck on it while massaging your other tit. He's drooling, swirling his tongue over it before biting gently the nipple and he is thankful that your head is thrown back so you don't look how desperate he is. How fucked up he is. He fully embraces the deliciousness of this sin, the calmness that it brings to his mind and all you want to drown his worries. You want him to do something totally unlike himself and it is working—but this lust is something close to anguish, because he needs to stop eventually and he doesn't want to. He leans back a bit, searching for your eyes as he struggles to breathe, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take deep breaths, to soothe with oxygen—the vast ocean of blue that is his eyes, remarkably focused and soft at the same time. “I love it, I love how big they are” he says thickly and completely without shame. He bites down on the curve of your breast, breathing softly on top of the skin “Can’t stop,” he says, the words coming out like a caress. He says it again, over and over. A litany. As your clothed cunt contracts at the friction against his pelvis, his words, you can feel him, hips bucking slowly up into you. He latches his mouth directly on your other nipple, making you cry out as he envelops a part of your breast into his mouth, a hand coming up to play with the other one. “Bucky—enough” Your hands go to his hair as he sucks sharply on the breast, but you can’t pull him away. You can’t help the whimpers that escape you, the long drawn out sobs that punch out of your throat whenever he bites a little harder, giving your other nipple a harsher tug as a punishment every time you try to push him back. Sucking removes any daily existence from his mind, any anxiety, grounding Bucky firmly in the moment and dragging your body with it. Until he had enough. What a beautiful madness, he never felt so relaxed.

#lord have mercy #drabble #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky x reader

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imthebadguyyy · 4 months

Text

whose afraid of little old me?

pairing : f1 drivers x reader

fandom : f1

series : the tortured poets department

synopsis : your journey as a female driver alongside the rest of the grid.

warnings : angst

a/n : first time writing a platonic drivers x reader! let me know what you think! :)

you don't get to tell me about sad..

The press room was buzzing with anticipation as the Formula 1 drivers filed in for the pre-race conference. As the only female driver on the grid, you were well aware of the extra attention you garnered, but you had grown used to it. Today, you were seated between Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc, both of whom you had become close friends with during your time at Mercedes.

The questions started out as they always did: race strategies, car updates, and general banter about the upcoming Grand Prix. You handled them with the confidence and poise that had become your trademark. Then, a reporter from the back of the room stood up, his tone less than friendly

"Y/N," he began, "there's been a lot of talk about the difficulties you've faced as the only female driver on the grid. Some say you're out of your depth and that your results reflect that. How do you respond to the criticism that you don't belong here and that it's just too hard for you?"

You felt a surge of frustration. This wasn’t the first time you’d faced such pointed and unfair questions, but today, it stung more than usual. Before you could respond, you felt Lewis shift beside you, a silent show of support. Taking a deep breath, you looked the reporter in the eye.

"You don’t get to tell me about sad," you said, your voice steady and firm. "You don’t get to tell me about the difficulties I’ve faced or what I can handle. I’ve earned my place here just like every other driver on this grid, through talent, hard work, and perseverance. Criticism and doubt are part of the journey, but I’m here to stay."

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. For a moment, the reporter looked taken aback, but before he could say anything, Charles spoke up.

"Y/N has proven time and again that she belongs here," Charles said, his tone protective. "She’s one of the most dedicated and talented drivers I know, and it’s about time she gets the respect she deserves."

Lewis nodded, leaning forward to address the room. "We’re a team, and we support each other. Y/N has brought incredible strength and determination to Mercedes, and I have no doubt she’ll continue to achieve great things. If anyone here thinks otherwise, they clearly haven’t been paying attention."

The support from your fellow drivers warmed your heart, and you saw nods of agreement from others around the room. Even drivers from rival teams like Max Verstappen and Lando Norris were giving you supportive looks.

The reporter, clearly outnumbered and outmatched, mumbled a quick thank you and sat down. The rest of the press conference went smoothly, with more respectful and genuine questions.

As you left the stage, Lewis put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You handled that perfectly, Y/N. Don't let anyone make you doubt yourself."

Charles grinned, giving you a thumbs-up. "We’ve got your back, always."

Walking out of the press room with your head held high, you felt a renewed sense of determination. You knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but with the support of your teammates and fellow drivers, you were ready to face any challenge that came your way.

nothing makes me feel more alive...

The roar of the crowd at Silverstone was deafening as you took the final corner, the checkered flag waving wildly in the air. This was it. You were about to win your first Grand Prix, and not just any race—it was Silverstone, the home of British motorsport.

"Y/N, you’ve done it! You’ve won the British Grand Prix!" your race engineer shouted over the radio, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of celebration.

Tears of joy streamed down your face as you crossed the finish line. "Oh my God! We did it! We did it! Thank you, thank you so much!" you screamed, unable to contain your excitement.

As you brought the car to a stop in Parc Fermé, the realization of your achievement hit you full force. You had won. You had really done it. Climbing out of the car, you were immediately surrounded by your jubilant team, all eager to celebrate this historic moment with you. You jumped into their arms, laughter and cheers filling the air.

Lewis, who had finished third, approached with a wide grin. "Incredible job, Y/N! Welcome to the winners' circle," he said, pulling you into a tight hug.

Max, who had taken second place, clapped you on the back. "Amazing race! You deserve this," he said with genuine admiration.

The podium ceremony felt surreal. As you stood on the top step, the anthem playing, you looked out over the sea of fans cheering your name. You felt a wave of pride and accomplishment wash over you. When the national anthem ended, you picked up the bottle of champagne, the weight of it solid and reassuring in your hands.

Lewis and Max joined you, and the three of you shared a look before simultaneously popping the corks and spraying each other with champagne. The cold, fizzy liquid drenched you, but you couldn’t stop laughing, your joy infectious.

Grabbing the microphone for the post-race interview, you took a moment to compose yourself before speaking. "This is the best moment of my life. Nothing makes me feel more alive than being out there on the track, pushing myself to the limit, and achieving something I’ve dreamed about since I was a little girl. Thank you to my team, to the fans, and to everyone who believed in me. This is just the beginning."

The crowd erupted in applause, their cheers echoing in your ears as you continued to celebrate with your team and fellow drivers. This victory was not just a personal triumph, but a statement to everyone watching: you belonged here, and you were just getting started.

As you left the podium, still grinning from ear to ear, you were greeted by more hugs and congratulations from your team. Toto Wolff, your team principal, pulled you into a warm embrace. "I knew you had it in you," he said, his voice full of pride. "This is only the beginning."

Walking away from the podium, champagne-soaked and elated, you felt an overwhelming sense of fulfillment. You had proven to yourself and the world that you could do it. And as you looked out at the sea of faces cheering for you, you knew that nothing could ever take this moment away from you.

so i leap from the gallows and i levitate down your street..

The aftermath of the Spanish Grand Prix was a cacophony of disbelief, exhilaration, and redemption. For weeks, you had been the subject of harsh criticism from pundits and commentators, their scathing remarks suggesting you were a failure, a shame to the sport. They doubted your abilities, questioning your place on the grid. The words stung, but they also fueled a fire within you that blazed brighter than ever.

"So, I leap from the gallows," you whispered to yourself as you took the final corner, the finish line in sight. The car beneath you was an extension of your will, each turn, each acceleration a defiant answer to the doubters. You crossed the line first, your heart pounding as you realized what you had just achieved.

"Y/N, you did it! You won the Spanish Grand Prix!" your race engineer's voice crackled over the radio, bursting with pride and excitement.

"I did it," you repeated, the weight of your victory sinking in. "We did it!"

The cool-down lap was a blur of tears and joy. You had proven them wrong. The people who had criticized you, who had doubted your skill and determination, were silenced by the roar of your engine and the unwavering support of your team.

As you pulled into Parc Fermé, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Stepping out of the car, you were immediately enveloped in the arms of your team, their cheers and tears mingling with your own. You felt a sense of triumph that was almost surreal, a weight lifting off your shoulders.

Carlos Sainz, who had finished second, approached with a proud smile. "Incredible drive, Y/N. You showed them all," he said, pulling you into a congratulatory hug.

Oscar Piastri, who had finished third, hugged you tight"That was one hell of a race. Well done," he said, his voice affectionate.

The podium ceremony was a whirlwind of emotions. Standing on the top step, the anthem playing in the background, you felt a sense of vindication. The crowd’s cheers were a testament to your hard work and resilience.

When the time came to spray the champagne, you did so with a vengeance, soaking Carlos and Oscar as they laughed and joined in the celebration. The cold spray was a refreshing reminder of the moment you had seized, the victory you had earned.

During the post-race interview, you held the microphone firmly, looking out at the sea of fans and reporters. "For those who doubted me," you began, your voice steady and strong, "this is my answer. So I leap from the gallows, and I levitate down your street. I've faced the criticisms, the doubts, and I’ve come out on top. This win is for my team, for my supporters, and for everyone who believes that dreams are worth fighting for."

The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers a resounding affirmation of your triumph. As you left the stage, still soaked in champagne and adrenaline, you felt lighter than air. You had not only proven your critics wrong, but you had also proven something to yourself: that you were capable of greatness.

Back in the garage, Toto greeted you with a proud smile. "You were phenomenal out there. This is just the beginning," he said, his voice filled with conviction.

Walking through the paddock, the looks of respect and admiration from fellow drivers and team members were a stark contrast to the doubts and criticisms you had faced. You had leapt from the metaphorical gallows and soared, showing everyone that you were here to stay.

As you drove out of the circuit later that evening, the streets of Barcelona seemed to glow with a new light. The city's energy matched your own, vibrant and unstoppable. You had faced the gallows and emerged victorious, levitating down the streets of triumph and possibility. And you knew, deep in your heart, that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey

whose afraid of little old me? you should be...

The glitz and glamour of the post-race party in Monaco was in full swing, with drivers, team principals, and VIP guests mingling in celebration of another thrilling Grand Prix. You were enjoying the night, surrounded by the camaraderie of your fellow drivers and the electric atmosphere of the event.

As you made your way through the crowd, chatting with Carlos and Lando, a random guy who clearly wasn’t part of the usual racing crowd approached. He had a smug look on his face, his steps unsteady from one too many drinks.

"Hey, isn’t this the famous female driver?" he said loudly, drawing the attention of those around him. "Nice of you to join us, sweetheart. Shouldn’t you be somewhere polishing your car or something? Or maybe you’re just here because you look good in a dress."

His words were met with a few awkward chuckles from those who didn’t know how to react. You felt a surge of anger but kept your composure. Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer, your eyes locking onto his.

"You know," you began, your voice calm but laced with steel, "it’s funny you mention polishing cars. Considering you probably have never even seen the inside of one that’s been on a racetrack, I’d say your expertise on the subject is pretty limited. As for my looks, let’s just say I'd rather be known for my talent than for crashing parties and making snarky remarks to people I don’t know."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. The guy’s smirk faltered, replaced by a look of surprise and irritation. Before he could respond, you continued.

"I’ve worked hard to get where I am. Every race, every victory, is a testament to my skill and dedication. You can try to demean me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that I’ve earned my place here. And by the way, the only reason you’re even noticed right now is because you’re making a scene. Maybe next time, you should think before you speak."

A ripple of laughter and applause broke out among the onlookers. The guy’s face reddened with embarrassment and anger, but he had no retort. He muttered something under his breath and turned away.

Lando, who had been watching the exchange with an amused grin, stepped forward. "You should be afraid of her," he said to the group, his tone light but sincere. "She’s not just fast on the track, she’s got the sharpest tongue in the paddock."

You smiled at Lando, appreciating his support. "Thanks, Lando. Sometimes people need a reminder."

Carlos nodded, clapping you on the back. "You handled that perfectly. That guy didn’t know what hit him."

With a sweet, innocent expression, you tilted your head slightly and asked, "Who's afraid of little old me?"

Carlos turned to the retreating guy, his tone serious and unwavering. "You should be."

The random guy's pace quickened as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you, Carlos, and Lando laughing and feeling victorious. The atmosphere lightened, and you found yourself surrounded by friends and allies who respected and supported you. The sting of the random guy’s words faded quickly, replaced by the warmth of genuine camaraderie. You knew that the road ahead would have its challenges, but moments like this reminded you that you were more than capable of facing them head-on.

Later, as you stood on a balcony overlooking the glittering Monaco skyline, Lando joined you, offering a glass of champagne. "To standing up for yourself," he toasted.

You clinked glasses, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "To proving them wrong," you replied, taking a sip and savoring the sweet taste of victory and vindication.

is it a wonder i broke, let's hear one more joke...

The opulent ballroom of the Monaco casino was alight with the energy of a sponsorship party, a glittering event where drivers mingled with sponsors, team principals, and celebrities. You were making your way through the crowd, putting on a brave face despite the whispers and stares. It was supposed to be a night of celebration, but for you, it was quickly turning into a test of endurance.

One of the sponsors, a man named Richard, seemed to have taken a special interest in making snide remarks at your expense. His laughter echoed through the room as he made yet another joke about you. "Oh, look, it’s the token female driver! How many races did you have to finish to get this seat? Or is it more about how you look in the team’s gear?" he jeered, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

The people around him chuckled awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. You forced a smile, trying to brush it off, but inside, you felt your confidence crumbling. You excused yourself, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom, and quickly made your way to the nearest bathroom.

Once inside, you locked the door behind you and let the tears fall. The pressure, the constant scrutiny, the never-ending need to prove yourself—it all came crashing down. You sank to the floor, sobbing quietly, feeling utterly alone in that moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Lewis Hamilton had been watching from a distance. He had seen the way Richard had been treating you all night and noticed the moment you fled. Concerned, he made his way to the bathroom, hesitating only for a moment before gently knocking on the door.

"Y/N? It’s Lewis. Are you okay?" he called softly.

Hearing his voice, you tried to pull yourself together, wiping at your tears. "I’m fine, Lewis. Just… give me a moment."

But Lewis wasn’t about to leave you alone. He opened the door slowly, stepping inside and closing it behind him. When he saw you sitting on the floor, tears streaming down your face, his heart broke. He crouched down beside you, his expression one of deep empathy.

"Hey," he said gently, his voice soft and soothing. "I’m here. Talk to me."

You looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears. "It’s just… it’s too much sometimes, you know? The jokes, the comments… I’m trying so hard, but it feels like it’s never enough."

Lewis reached out, taking your hand in his. "You are more than enough, Y/N. You are an incredible driver and an even more incredible person. Don’t let anyone, especially not some ignorant sponsor, make you feel otherwise."

His words brought fresh tears to your eyes, but this time they were tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Lewis," you whispered, your voice trembling.

He sat down beside you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "I know it’s hard. I’ve been there, too. But you have to remember why you’re here. You’ve earned your place on the grid. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. And you’ve got so many people who believe in you, including me."

You buried your face in his shoulder, taking comfort in his presence. "I just don’t know how much more of this I can take," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Lewis pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "You are stronger than you think. And you don’t have to face this alone. We’re a team, remember? We’ve got your back."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing the pain and fear. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded. "Thanks, Lewis. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

He smiled, brushing a tear from your cheek. "You’ll never have to find out. Now, how about we go back out there and show them what you’re made of?"

With his support, you felt a renewed sense of determination. You nodded, allowing him to help you to your feet. As you both left the bathroom, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you weren’t facing them alone. You had friends, allies, and a team who believed in you, and that made all the difference.

i was tame, i was gentle, till the circus life made me mean..

The press conference room was packed, the atmosphere buzzing with anticipation. You sat between two fellow drivers, trying to maintain your composure as the questions came one after another. Lately, the questions directed at you had become more personal and offensive, straying far from your performance on the track.

As the reporters took turns, a journalist from the back raised his hand and was given the microphone. He stood up, a smug look on his face. "Y/N, there's been a lot of curiosity among fans about what kind of underwear you wear under your race suit. Care to enlighten us?"

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt a mix of anger and disbelief. This was the final straw.

You leaned forward, your eyes blazing. "Are you serious? I'm here to talk about my performance on the track, not my underwear. The fact that you think it's appropriate to ask me such a disrespectful and invasive question speaks volumes about your professionalism—or lack thereof."

The reporter's face turned red as he tried to stammer a response, but you cut him off, your voice steady and strong. "I have worked incredibly hard to earn my place here, just like every other driver on this grid. I will not tolerate being reduced to such trivial and sexist remarks. If you can't treat me with the same respect you show my male colleagues, then you have no place in this room."

You stood up abruptly, the microphone falling silent as you walked out of the press conference, your head held high. The room was stunned into silence, the other reporters unsure how to react.

Lewis, who was sitting beside you, took the microphone next. "That was completely unacceptable," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N is a talented driver who deserves respect. It's disgraceful that she has to deal with questions like that."

Carlos, seated on your other side, nodded in agreement. "We are here to discuss our careers and our performance, not to entertain inappropriate and sexist questions. Y/N handled that with grace, and she has our full support."

The room remained silent, the gravity of the situation sinking The other drivers on the stage exchanged looks of solidarity, making it clear that they stood with you.

Backstage, you leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. The door opened, and Lewis and Carlos walked in, their expressions filled with concern and support.

"Hey," Lewis said softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You did the right thing. That was completely out of line."

Carlos nodded, giving you a small, encouraging smile. "You handled it perfectly. We're all behind you."

You smiled weakly, grateful for their support. "Thanks, guys. I just couldn't take it anymore."

Lewis shook his head, his eyes filled with determination. "No one should have to deal with that. We're going to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Feeling a surge of gratitude and strength from their words, you nodded. "Together, we can make a difference."

As you returned to the paddock, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. You knew that you had allies who respected and supported you, and you were determined to continue proving yourself on and off the track. The road ahead would still have its challenges, but you were ready to face them head-on, with your head held high and your team by your side.

then say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did?...

The news hit you like a freight train. Mercedes had decided to drop you from the team for the next season. The decision came shortly after Lewis announced his departure to Ferrari, leaving you feeling isolated and abandoned. You had poured your heart and soul into your racing career, and now it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you.

The paddock was a whirlwind of activity as the season drew to a close, but you felt like a ghost moving through it. Every smile, every cheer, felt like a reminder of what you were losing. You tried to put on a brave face, but inside, you were struggling.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, you found yourself wandering aimlessly through the paddock. Your thoughts were a chaotic mix of anger, sadness, and confusion. You ended up in a quiet corner, away from the prying eyes and constant noise, trying to hold yourself together.

Charles noticed you standing there, your shoulders slumped and your expression distant. He approached you cautiously, his concern evident. "Y/N, are you okay?"

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears. "They dropped me, Charles. Mercedes just dropped me. And with Lewis leaving too... I feel so alone."

Charles stepped closer, his expression sympathetic. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I know this must be incredibly hard for you."

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure. "Why did they do this, Charles? After everything, why now?"

Charles gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "They didn't do it to hurt you. Sometimes teams make decisions that are hard to understand, but it's not always about us personally."

His words were meant to comfort, but they only made the pain sharper. "But what if they did?" you whispered, your voice breaking. "What if they did it to hurt me?"

The dam broke, and the tears you had been holding back spilled over. Charles pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried. His embrace was warm and comforting, offering a safe space to release the torrent of emotions you had been keeping inside.

"It's okay, let it out," Charles murmured softly, his voice soothing. "You're not alone, Y/N. We're all here for you."

You clung to him, the weight of your grief and fear pouring out. "I gave everything to this team," you sobbed. "I don't know what to do now."

Charles held you tighter, his heart aching for you. "I know it's hard, but this isn't the end. You're an incredible driver, and there are other teams out there that would be lucky to have you. Don't let this define you."

His words, filled with sincerity and belief, began to cut through the fog of despair. You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "Thank you, Charles. I just... I just needed to hear that."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a gentle smile. "You're stronger than you know, Y/N. And whatever happens next, you're going to come out of this even stronger."

As the night grew darker, you found a glimmer of hope in Charles's words and his unwavering support. You knew the road ahead would be challenging, but you also knew you weren't alone. With friends like Charles by your side, and the rest of the grid, you could face whatever came next. And as you stood there, taking comfort in his presence, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could rise from this setback and prove everyone wrong.

I want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me...

The atmosphere in the Mercedes factory was tense as Toto Wolff stepped up to the podium, his expression somber. You stood among your colleagues, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for the announcement. Deep down, you knew what was coming, but hearing it confirmed in front of the entire team was another blow altogether.

"Toto, are we ready to go live?" a technician whispered, adjusting the cameras to capture the moment.

Toto nodded, his gaze scanning the room. "Yes, let's begin."

The room fell silent as the live broadcast began. Toto cleared his throat, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. "Good afternoon, everyone. I come to you today with news that is difficult for all of us to hear."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you braced yourself for what was to come. Toto continued, his words echoing through the factory.

"After much consideration and evaluation, we have made the decision to part ways with one of our drivers," he announced, his tone measured. "It is never an easy decision to make, and it is one that we do not take lightly."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Toto paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You glanced around, noting the somber expressions on the faces of your colleagues. They were your teammates, your friends, and the thought of leaving them behind felt like a knife to the heart.

"And so, it is with a heavy heart that I must announce that Y/N will be leaving the team at the end of the season," Toto said, his voice faltering slightly. "We want to thank her for her dedication, her hard work, and her contributions to the team. She will always be a part of the Mercedes family, and we wish her all the best in her future endeavors."

The room erupted into a mix of stunned silence and whispered conversations. You stood there, trying to process the news, trying to swallow down the bitter taste of disappointment and betrayal. It was all you could do to keep from exploding in anger, from snarling and lashing out at the injustice of it all.

As Toto stepped down from the podium, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning, you met the sympathetic gaze of your teammate, Lewis. His eyes were filled with understanding and compassion, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you were feeling.

But as much as you wanted to scream, to demand answers, you knew that now was not the time. You had to swallow down your anger, to keep your composure in front of your colleagues. You had to be the bigger person, to leave with dignity and grace.

So you stood there, your jaw clenched, your fists tight at your sides, as the reality of the situation sank in. You would leave Mercedes behind, but you would carry the memories, the victories, and the lessons with you. And as you walked out of the factory for the last time, you vowed to channel your anger and disappointment into fuel for the next chapter of your racing career.

you wouldnt last an hour in the asylum where they raised me..

The news spread like wildfire through the paddock: you had been signed by Red Bull Racing for the upcoming season. As you made your way through the bustling crowd, you could feel the weight of judgmental eyes boring into you. People whispered behind your back, calling you a traitor, questioning your loyalty to your former team.

But you held your head high, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. You had made your decision, and you weren't about to let the opinions of others sway you. After all, this was Formula 1—a cutthroat world where alliances shifted like the wind, and loyalty was a luxury few could afford.

As you approached the garage, you heard the murmurs grow louder. "Can you believe she signed with Red Bull? What a traitor."

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face the source of the comments. It was one of your former colleagues, his expression filled with disdain. "You're a traitor, Y/N. How could you do this to us?"

You met his gaze head-on, your eyes flashing with defiance. "It's a cutthroat game," you replied coolly. "You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me."

The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the ruthless world you had grown up in. You had fought tooth and nail to get to where you were, and you weren't about to apologize for seizing an opportunity to further your career.

Turning on your heel, you continued toward the Red Bull garage, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over you. You may have ruffled some feathers, but you had made the right choice for yourself. And as you entered the garage, surrounded by your new teammates and friends who had stood by your side through it all, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

that I'm fearsome, and I'm wretched, and I'm wrong..

You sat in your motorhome, scrolling through Instagram after the chaotic Monza Grand Prix. The race had been eventful, to say the least, with a tense moment between you and Hulkenberg that had sparked controversy among fans and pundits alike.

As you scrolled through your feed, you couldn't escape the barrage of comments and messages directed at you. People were blaming you for the incident, calling you fearsome, wretched, and wrong. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on your shoulders, suffocating you with guilt and frustration.

But you refused to let the negativity consume you. Taking a deep breath, you opened the camera app on your phone and snapped a quick selfie. In the photo, you wore a determined expression, your eyes flashing with defiance.

You typed out a caption to accompany the photo, your fingers moving with purpose. "I'm fearsome, wretched, and I'm wrong," you wrote, the words a defiant declaration of self-acceptance and resilience.

With a sense of satisfaction, you hit the share button, knowing that your message would reach far and wide. It was a reminder to yourself—and to the world—that you were not defined by one moment, one mistake. You were a force to be reckoned with, flaws and all, and you weren't afraid to own it.

a/n : first ever platonic driver story! should I look into a romantic angle with anyone? any suggestions etc would be highly appreciated! happy reading and much love! as always, likes, reblogs, comments etc are always appreciated ❤️

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ttpd series - @ateezseonghwanot @khaylin27 @imgondeletedis @jj-ever-lovely-jewel @stylestastic

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brokenmenswhore · 2 months

Note

Hey hey! I love your Aegon fics so much that I want to know if you would write a story where after your kid with Aegon passed away, he promised never to touch you again so you wouldn't have to endure bearing more of his kids and witnessing their death. But you yearn for your husband every night and will act dirty to make him touch you again. By acting dirty I mean doing sexy things to instigate him when he's alone with you.

of all the things in this life that i’m good at, being intentionally sexy is NOT one of them, so i’m hoping this isn’t awkward :) my biggest fear is that someone’s gonna not like what i write for their request i’m on my knees pls don’t hate me

all in | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targeryen x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of a deceased child, smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

It had been three long, dark, and lonely months since the death of your son.

He passed away at only a few weeks of age due to health complications, and both you and your husband, Aegon, were left devastated.

Aegon had a tendency to blame himself for anything negative in his life, his self hatred running through the depths of his soul. Your son was his heir, and he felt as if he lost a piece of himself, and blamed himself for the health issues your child was having. “It must be from me,” he would whisper to himself, almost incapable of accepting that some things he could not be faulted for.

When Grand Maester Orwyle proclaimed your son dead, Aegon broke. He was hysterical, unable to speak, the only sound from his lips was an occasional scream of anger and sadness. You grieved in private, the joy you felt from your son’s birth still so recent that your stomach was still not yet back to a normal state.

The first few weeks were hard on both of you, but you at least attempted to lean on each other. However, Aegon was difficult to console when he got in his own head. You were both laying awake in bed, comforting one another when your hand ran across his chest, toying with his shirt. As difficult as the week had been, you were desperate to feel close to your husband in some capacity other than sadness and grief.

Aegon sighed and moved your hand away, rolling over on his side and turning his back toward you. You stayed stagnant and stared at him for a moment. “Aegon?”

“We can’t.”

“I know this grief is still very new, but I-“

“We can’t, ever.”

You sat in disbelief. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes at his words. You were in need of comfort, as was Aegon, and his declaration frustrated you. “And why not?”

“I refuse to risk putting you through this again.”

You were speechless. You tried to think of something to say, a few small noises leaving your lips as you tried to begin a sentence, but to no avail.

Aegon could hear your attempts. “What you have been through these past few weeks- I cannot watch you bear another one of my children, only to endure the pain of losing them again. I have never seen you happier than the day our son was born, and now-“ Aegon’s voice trailed off, “It is not worth the risk.”

Tears of sadness and frustration were now freely falling, Aegon’s back still to you as you spoke, “you do not seriously intend for us to never be intimate again. For the rest of our lives, Aegon, I need you. I am all in. Are you not? Do you not need me as well?”

“I need to relieve you of this pain more,” he responded, “and there are more than enough whores in King’s Landing.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his final comment. You couldn’t believe he said such a thing. You knew he was hurting, and oftentimes pushed you away when he was, and you decided to assume it was an intentionally harmful comment meant to do just that. You chose to believe that he didn’t really mean it, but you still wished he didn’t say it. You understood his pain, but that didn’t make it alright to take it out on you.

You didn’t dignify his comment with a response, you simply rolled out of bed, fighting to maintain your composure as you walked out of the room, slowly shutting the door behind you.

The next morning, you returned to your shared chambers to ready yourself for the day, and Aegon was already up and dressing.

“Where did you sleep?” he asked.

You untied your robe as you approached the outfit laid out for you by your handmaidens. Handmaidens stopped assisting you and Aegon without being called into the room, as per your marital request.

“Elsewhere,” you stated.

Aegon sighed. “That is not an answer.”

“Why should it matter to you? If you get lonely, you can simply bed your whores,” you spat, throwing his comment from last night back at him.

Aegon didn’t handle you being mad at him very well. He needed everyone to like him at all times, but he didn’t cherish anyone’s opinion of him as much as he did yours. Knowing you were upset with him killed him.

“Do not be upset with me,” he pleaded, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Oh? I thought we were not to touch each other any longer?”

Aegon retracted his arms, moving directly next to you so he could catch your eyes. “I don’t want you to be upset,” he said.

“Then do not promise to deprive me of something you and I both want and need.”

“I cannot put you through this again. Do you not understand that? Whatever is going on within me, it passed something bad down to our child, and if we remain intimate I risk you falling pregnant with another child we will inevitably lose. As your husband, it is my duty to ensure you do not have to go through such a thing again.”

“It is out of your control, Aegon,” you said, your voice low as you held his face in your palms, “and it is not your fault.”

He held onto your wrists, but didn’t move your hands. “This decision is not meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” Aegon was set in his decision, which meant that there was no point in arguing with it right now. You did not have the energy.

────── ☾ ──────

The next several weeks were filled with longing, your heart and body yearning to be close to your husband, now that it had been three whole months since your son passed.

You didn’t press the subject with Aegon, allowing him room to breathe. It was difficult, and you found yourself needing him more and more the longer you went without him.

You knew that despite his decisions, you always had power over Aegon. He was completely enamored with you, and oftentimes changed his mind to match yours. When he made decisions you didn’t agree with, it took a hell of a lot of fighting to get him to falter, but it was not always impossible. This particular instance couldn’t be impossible- you couldn’t survive without him.

“We we supposed to depart last hour!” Aegon called out to you, waiting by the door with his guards for you, the hour getting later and later. House Dondarrion was hosting the Targaryen family for supper at Blackhaven as a gesture of appreciation for the King’s assistance in the Stormlands.

Your handmaidens tightened and tied the final strings of your corset. It was new, and made specifically for you, only this time, you made special requests. It was the standard green and gold, and still kept you covered, but less so than usual. The garment left your chest nearly exposed, just as you had planned.

“They must have forgotten your measurements, Your Grace, there is not nearly enough fabric,” one of your handmaidens spoke, fidgeting with the seam on your cleavage.

“It will do just fine, thank you very much,” you said, “we must be going.”

You were escorted to meet up with your husband, who couldn’t look away from you the moment you came into view.

“What the fuck is this?” he whispered the moment you were next to him.

“What ever do you mean?”

“Everyone here can see too much of you in that,” he continued.

You shrugged your shoulders, playing nonchalantly dumb. “They must have forgotten my measurements.”

You gazed up at him, and he could tell you were playing him. He knew you well enough to tell.

“What are you trying to do?”

You brushed your hair from your neck to behind your shoulder, making even more skin come into view. “Waiting to leave. We are already behind, are we not?”

You started to walk away, but Aegon grabbed your arm and pulled you back. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to let you leave in such a thing.”

“It is not your choice.”

Aegon knew that despite the roles placed on both of you from a very young age, he couldn’t control you if he tried.

Throughout supper, Aegon was on alert to the gazes of other gentlemen upon his wife. Many approached you two to offer their condolences for the loss of your son, making you tense up and your breathing quicken from stress, which only made your chest more obvious.

You could tell Aegon was bothered, but that’s what you wanted, so you made no effort to be modest.

“Rather lewd tonight,” Aemond said, standing behind your chair, greeting you for the first time all night, “don’t you think?”

“Perhaps,“ you responded, taking a sip from your cup.

Aemond leaned down next to your ear and whispered, “What’s he done then, hm?”

You giggled at the question, Aemond smiling as he stood tall and moved to greet the people next to you, ending your interaction. Aegon couldn’t hear what Aemond said, but Aemond being so close to you and whispering in your ear angered him.

“What did he say?” Aegon asked, unable to help the curiosity.

“Nothing of importance,” you said, remaining stoic.

Aegon’s nostrils flared as another member of House Dondarrion approached the table.

Aegon remained observant the entire night, a possessiveness consuming him as he intentionally stared at anyone who gawked at you, his gaze intimidating them into looking away.

When you returned to King’s Landing, you retreated to your shared chambers.

“It does not befit a queen to dress in such a vulgar way. I cannot fathom why you would do such a thing tonight,” Aegon said.

You poured two cups of wine as you replied, “you cannot fathom? Dear husband, I think you can. Take a guess as to why I may behave as such.”

You handed Aegon one of the cups, taking a sip from your own and intentionally tilting it too far upward, the red liquid spilling down your neck and onto your chest.

“Fuck, what a shame,” you spoke, placing the cup down and moving your hair behind your back.

Aegon watched you swipe a thumb over your bottom lip and suck the wine off of it.

“Stop it,” he warned.

“Stop what? You cannot expect me to just stand here covered in wine,” you quipped, “do you happen to have a cloth?”

Aegon retrieved an used cloth from the table next to you, holding it out to you, as if to say ‘here’s the cloth you absolutely knew was there and only made me grab to mess with me.’

“I can’t see my own neck,” you said, “help me?”

Aegon sighed in frustration, moving the cloth to clean your chin, then your neck, moving it lower and lower. He watched the muscles in your neck flex as you swallowed, and he didn’t even think about holding his actions back before his lips were on your neck, cleaning off the wine with his tongue.

Your mouth opened and a small sigh left your lips, the feeling of his mouth on you after so fucking long making you needier than usual.

Aegon moved down to your breasts, licking and kissing the top flesh of one of your breasts before jolting back and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “No.”

“Aegon-“

“Please, I don’t think I’m strong enough for this.”

Aegon dropped the cloth back onto the table and marched out of the room, leaving you worked up and your breasts coated in wine. You let out a disappointed huff as you called your handmaidens in to run you a bath, hoping it would help you relax.

The next morning, Aegon had council business to attend to all day, but he had made an unfortunate mistake when you first wed: he told you that you were always welcome in council meetings, and that he would cut out the tongue of anyone who tried to speak against your presence there.

You swung open the doors to the council room, all heads turning toward you as you walked over to your husband.

“What is it?” Aegon asked, sitting taller and taller the closer you got to him.

“You said I was always welcome in these meetings, Your Grace.”

You seldom ever called Aegon by his title, but you knew that doing so drove him crazy. You noticed him shift slightly in his chair.

“The current matter of discussion is rather important,” he said.

“I would hope so, you’ve been in here all day,” you said, gripping the back of Aegon’s chair and pulling it with all your might, a seated Aegon inching a tiny bit away from the table. You were giving it your all, but could only move the chair a small amount back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as the rest of the council just watched the scene play out. They knew better than to question you in these meetings.

You then sat yourself directly on Aegon, adjusting yourself so that you were comfortable in his lap, but he could still see the table. You were acting immature, but that was the point.

“This is entirely inappropriate,” he whispered into your ear, evidently tense. He was genuinely annoyed at you for sitting on his lap in the middle of a council meeting, but you didn’t care.

“I thought that was something you liked about me?” you whispered back into his ear.

You made brief eye contact. Aegon didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the Lords at the table, so he maintained a whisper. “Get up.”

You smiled, making the council think you were not in an argument, but rather exchanging a few private sentences before returning to duty. You leaned your head back so you were in his ear again. “No.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Commander of the King’s Guard and Hand of the King, Criston Cole, interrupted, “forgive me, but this is rather urgent.”

“Right then,” Aegon said, turning his attention back to the meeting as you remained on his lap.

The men all began to speak of war strategy and politically advantageous pairings, Aegon’s arm instinctively finding its way around your waist to keep you in place.

Every few minutes, you shifted your positioning, intentionally grinding down on his cock. He gripped your waist to try to stop you every time, but it never worked.

When the meeting was finished, you hopped up and left the room before Aegon could catch you.

Later in the day, he caught you walking alone to the library, and he pulled you into an adjacent hallway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he warned, “that little stunt you pulled during my council meeting? Never again.”

“I do not know to what you refer,” you said, slowly pulling up one side of your dress, revealing more and more of your thigh until your entire leg was exposed, giving you room to dip your fingers underneath your dress.

“What are you-“

“It seems as though I’ve forgotten to put on anything under this dress,” you said, looking up at Aegon through hooded eyes.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, watching your hand disappear fully underneath your dress.

“Would not have to, if only I found myself a husband to do it for me.”

“Don’t,” Aegon demanded, grabbing your wrist and stilling your hand.

“Please,” you pleaded, desperation in your eyes as Aegon looked at you, nearly breaking.

Instead, he dropped your wrist, walking away from you again and leaving you alone.

────── ☾ ──────

When Aegon entered your chambers that night, you were already bathing. You were resting your head against the cool metal of the bathtub, your knees visible over the water, your body partially covered by the weak bubbles on the water’s surface. You opened your eyes when you heard the door open, and Aegon approached you, pulling one of your handmaiden’s stools next to the tub and taking a seat.

“What is it, Aegon?” you asked, re-relaxing and closing your eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and you didn’t see it, but his eyes ran up and down the length of your body as he spoke.

“Bathing?” you answered, almost more of a question than an answer. What you were doing was blatantly obvious, so the question confused you slightly.

“If this is another one of your dirty tricks, it won’t work.”

You let out a deep breath. “It’s not, I really just wanted to relax.”

You opened your eyes, and Aegon cocked an eyebrow at you. “I’m serious, Aegon. I’ve tried enough, and it has not worked. I give up. That’s what you wanted, right?”

You meant it. You were tired of trying to work him up, instigate something, or be lustful, if it was never going to work. You were tired of throwing yourself at someone who clearly did not want you anymore.

Aegon didn’t respond, he just continued to watch you as you closed your eyes again, relaxing into the water. He could see most of your body beneath the surface of the clear liquid, the bubbles almost entirely dissipated.

You heard a small whisper of your name, but you kept your eyes closed, allowing yourself to continue winding down for the night.

Aegon reached out to run his hand over your knee, and the feeling made you jolt slightly, your eyes opening at the sudden contact. You gave Aegon a confused, somewhat concerned look.

“You would truly risk experiencing the tragedy of losing our son again?” he asked, his voice the smallest you’d ever heard it, “just to have me?”

You placed your hand on top of his. “What happened was out of our control. If the gods did not intend for him to be your heir, so be it. It cannot be a fault of our own. We did not bring it upon him, Aegon. We have no knowledge of what could happen given another heir, and this tragedy is not reason enough for me to give up on having children. I think it unfair of you to make such a drastic decision on my behalf. If you do not wish to be intimate with me because you yourself do not desire it, then so be it, but you do not get to make these decisions for me. I did not choose to be without your touch, Aegon, and it is unfair for you to choose it for me.”

It was the most you’d said at one time since your son died.

“I miss you,” you added.

A tear fell down Aegon’s cheek. “I never want to see you in pain again.”

“There is no guarantee you would. There is not even a guarantee I will fall pregnant again.”

Aegon knew you were right. He was making decisions for you, and he knew he had no right to, he was just so scared. He hated seeing what losing your first son did to you, and he thought he was doing right by you by not risking a pregnancy and then loss of another. He did not realize the damage he was doing.

He was lost in his thoughts, and you took his silence to mean that he was sticking to his word. “Please just let me rest, Aegon, I do not wish to rehash the same argument again.”

You fell back into your relaxed position, removing your hand from Aegon’s and resting both of your hands on either side of the metal tub.

Aegon only spoke a small whisper of your name again before moving his hand down your leg, sinking beneath the water. You maintained your position. He made it clear to you he did not want intimacy anymore, so why would he actually be doing something intimate?

You were caught by surprise when his hand reached between your legs and he ran a finger between your folds. You inhaled a sharp breath, your eyes remaining shut as the feeling was too good. Even if this stopped right now, you needed to make the most of the feeling while you had it.

Only, it didn’t stop. Aegon continued to feel you, circling his finger around your clit, causing your head to fall back even further as a soft whine left your lips. Aegon hadn’t heard the sweet sound of your whines and moans in ages, and one tiny noise from you made him completely forget why he ever vowed to keep himself away from you.

The water was sloshing slightly as Aegon moved his hand, inserting a finger into your hole as his thumb took residence on your clit, keeping the stimulation there as he began to push a finger in and out of you.

He watched you writhe in the water, your hips beginning to grind up into his hand. “A-Aegon,” you tried to catch his attention, but he was so consumed in you that he took it for a moan.

He leaned over you, his face mere inches from yours. “Say my name again.”

“A-Aegon, I was t-“

Aegon cut you off by kissing you, catching you off guard and making you squeal with surprise into the kiss. He began to move his hand faster and faster, the water nearly spilling out of the tub from the movement of his arm.

You moved to grab his wrist, and he pulled away from your mouth briefly to inspect your face and make sure you were alright.

“As much as I want you,” you breathed out, “I don’t want to do anything unless you do as well.”

Aegon didn’t verbally respond, as he often didn’t, but instead kissed you, hard. You held the back of his head, deepening the kiss as he added another finger into you, a moan escaping your throat into the kiss, only egging Aegon on more.

“Fuck,” you whimpered when Aegon pulled away.

He leaned down to kiss your neck, not caring at all about the water hitting the side of his face and drenching his hair.

You moaned and whined as his fingers fucked you at a violent pace, curling when they hit the sweet spot within you that had your breathing nearly stopping for moments at a time.

“Aegon, I’m-“

Aegon lifted his head so that he was looking directly at you. Your eyes squeezed shut as your climax hit you hard, Aegon removing his hand from you to grip either side of your face and kiss you as your orgasm washed over you, your juices mixing with the bath water.

Aegon softened the kiss as he felt your breathing calm down, only pulling away when your muscles released their tension beneath him.

“Thank you,” you sighed.

“Get out of this thing,” Aegon said, standing up and holding out both of his hands to you.

You placed your hands in his, allowing him to help pull you to a standing position. You shivered as the cool air hit your bare, wet skin. You stepped out of the bathtub, anchoring your balance on Aegon. When you stepped onto the ground, Aegon pulled your waist against him so quickly that you nearly fell over.

“If you’re all in, I’m all in,” he spoke.

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m all in. Always have been.”

Aegon leaned down to kiss you again, backing your bodies up slightly so that you were standing directly next to the stool.

Aegon then became almost carnal, having been without you for so long that he was too impatient now to wait any longer.

Aegon pulled you away from him and spun your body around, pushing you down until you were bent over the stool he was sitting on mere moments ago.

He undid his breeches and pushed his clothing down, leaving his lower half exposed.

He held a hand out in front of your face. “Spit.”

You did as you were told, giving him the lubricant that he spread on the head of his cock as he lined himself up with your entrance. He began to push into you slowly for a moment, before slamming his entire length into you.

You cried out at the feeling. One of his hands gripped your waist while the other fisted into your hair, pulling your neck back as he fucked you from behind. He was snapping his hips from the first thrust on, the pressure causing your body, and subsequently the stool, to shift forward with each hit.

“F-fuck,“ you moaned, “I missed y-you, Y-our Grace.”

The title only made him more feral, his grip on your hips destined to bruise you as he slammed into you viciously. He growled and groaned behind you, subconsciously trying to make up for months of deprivation.

You came again, the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock like a vice pushing him over the edge, despite the sex not lasting long at all. His body was in desperate need of you.

He bottomed out inside of you as he came, spilling his seed within you as he calmed down for a moment before pulling out of you.

He released his grip on your hair, allowing you to push yourself up. You nearly lost your balance, but Aegon caught your waist with his arm.

“I missed you too,” Aegon spoke, “what a fucking idiot I am.”

“Yeah, but that’s not new,” you teased, giving him a sweet kiss to show your forgiveness.

#aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen fluff #aegon targaryen drabble #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen one shot #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen imagines #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #asks

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sweetkpopmusings · 2 months

Text

cuddly jisung <3

a/n: ahh !!!! jisung is just a sweet babygirl and i love him DEARLY ! i’ve been in my jisung feels all day, so i needed to write this request <333 i also may be definitely am tipsy, so i’m sitting in front of my computer like 🥺💗thinking of cuddly jisung <3333 i wanted to try a different format for this one, so let me know your thoughts ! :-) pics not mine~~

a/n p.s.: i accidentally deleted the original ask where this request was sent (i'm so sorry!!!), so i hope it finds the original requester, wherever you are now :-(((( </3

content: fluff, established relationship | wc: 0.5k | warnings: none really! | pairing: bf!jisung x gn!reader | requests: open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sleepy jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung gets so so so clingy the moment his eyelids droop from sleepiness. if he so much as yawns when you’re nearby, he’ll be glued to your side within seconds. he’s such a whiny baby too. if you push him away, he’ll threaten to cry, his big brown eyes glistening, murmuring why won’t you cuddle me? it does not matter if you are in the middle of folding clothes or working. to jisung, the only cure for his restless state is to be in your arms, and he’ll do whatever he can to snuggle into your embrace.

excited jisung♡‧₊˚

when jisung gets a burst of energy, he is bouncing right at your side. did you get good news? his hands are on your shoulders while he’s jumping up and down, screaming with joy. did they have your favorite snacks at the store? he’s wrapping his arms around you saying i can’t believe it! we’re so lucky! did you smile at him cutely? he’s holding your face in both of his hands, cooing praises of how adorable you are. please return the favor and hold his face in your hands, for that will send jisung to an entirely different dimension of happiness. in the end, any time jisung’s eyes are sparkling, his hand is searching for yours, ready to give an enthusiastic squeeze or pull you into a hug to remind you how lucky he feels to have you around.

stressed jisung♡‧₊˚

it doesn’t take long into the relationship for you to know signals of jisung’s stress. if his shoulders are slumped or his walk is slow, you call his name and outstretch your arms. every time, he melts into you, sighing in relief for the first time in forever. with your fingers twirling his hair and massaging his scalp, he’ll spill all his worries and thank you endlessly. up close and able to hear your heartbeat, he remembers that, with you by his side, he can endure anything. you are his safe space, his cure, and he reminds you every day that he’ll always open his arms to hold you and protect you from harm.

sad jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung gets especially cuddly when he’s feeling down. he appreciates anything you do to lift his mood, but the number one cure is to bury his head into your hair or shoulder or neck or chest, safe from whatever is hurting him. this urge to lose himself in you heightens whenever he misses you. he’ll message you daily, telling you how much he loves you and keeping a tally of how many hugs he owes you. once you’re within arms reach, he’s wrapping his body around you and never letting go. even if there are tears in his eyes, he’s whispering i love you, y/n.

lovestruck jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung is in awe of you from the moment you meet, and that grows stronger the more he gets to know you. when you two have time alone together, he gravitates toward you, settling into your warmth. frequently, you’ll catch him staring at you while you’re watching something together because he cannot believe how real and beautiful you are. he’s a big fan of playing with your hands and hair too. it’s a simple gesture, but it’s his way of appreciating even the smallest details of you. truly, when he is overwhelmed by how much he loves you, he’ll hold you however possible and have the biggest, sweetest, most heartwarming grin on his face because you are his favorite person in the world.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

483 notes · View notes

s-4pphics · 11 months

Text

click! 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes

two. three. four.

A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall

“W-What do you mean you’re moving?”

Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest.

“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”

Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder.

“I got that internship— “

All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek.

“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie.

Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.”

Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought.

“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?”

“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “

“Maya.”

“Hm?”

“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed.

You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person.

People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you.

Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers.

It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming…

“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.”

Oh God. “What?”

She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “

The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.

“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!”

Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick.

“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.”

“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.”

“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”

When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom.

DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization.

DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one.

DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl.

It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work.

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed.

Why are people… so odd?

The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?!

Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!

All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one.

Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty.

They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away.

You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name.

ELLIE WILLIAMS.

Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement.

temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval.

… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.

At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you.

She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it.

But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note.

You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.

“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.”

Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend.

Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.”

A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out.

“Sorry, stink. Not happening.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.”

You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “

“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.”

“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.”

Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.”

“You’re so fucking extra— “

DING!

Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face.

“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.”

Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”

“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup.

You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.”

“The wettest. Go.”

You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers.

You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear.

“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely.

“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected.

Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.”

“Alright.”

More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads.

“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?”

“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.”

More silence. Fuck, this is awkward.

“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.”

She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder.

“What’d I say!”

“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh yeah what.”

“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?”

A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles.

Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish.

Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper.

… Cute.

You’re going to fail statistics over a random.

Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here.

She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable.

Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking.

Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil.

The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention.

Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before.

“Hey. Can we switch the time?”

“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare.

She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?”

You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?”

Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.”

“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?”

A slight wince from her. “… Yup.”

She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge.

“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.”

Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you.

“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.”

Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them.

“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.”

The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face.

“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly.

“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.”

“Sike.”

You scoff in disbelief, “What?”

“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “

You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”

“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “

Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.”

Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.”

“Right.”

“I do, what the he— “

“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.”

“Hm?”

“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “

Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat.

“Wait— “

“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.”

Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee.

Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself.

Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie.

When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word.

You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant.

At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn.

“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.”

“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs.

She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.”

Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.”

“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.”

“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.”

She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?”

“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff.

“Damn… My fault.”

“I’m chilling. I just need head.”

“Go out! Find somebody!”

You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “

“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!”

You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.

“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.”

Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone.

“Hey, Siri… call Abby.”

“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “

Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment.

You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged.

It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night.

Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it.

Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes.

Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be.

You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure.

Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely.

When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing.

Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you.

The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open.

A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—

“I’m here,” She states plainly.

“… Why?” You croak.

Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious.

“To move in.”

“… Why?”

Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that?

“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?”

“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “

“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.”

Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.”

She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?

Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder.

“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.”

Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”

Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit.

…

What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...

For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case.

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