#shes just. anyone else to him. and that means everything

[jacquitries]

To The One That Got Away | J.P.

Everyone believes James Potter’s greatest regret was Lily Evans, but the truth is, it was you all along. After years apart, he’s determined to prove he deserves a second chance.

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

It was the night before Lily and Severus’s wedding.

The firelight flickered over the group of old friends, their laughter blending with the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation. Empty Firewhisky bottles lined the tables, and half-finished goblets of Butterbeer were left forgotten in the haze.

Marlene slurred out, "Alright, new rule! No more fun memories. Only regrets!" She leaned back against the couch, tipping her goblet toward Sirius. "You go first."

Sirius rolled his eyes but smirked. "Regrets? I regret not stealing the Hogwarts kitchen's secret treacle tart recipe when I had the chance."

The room fell silent for a moment before Dorcas Meadowes reached over and squeezed his hand. "That’s a real one, Black."

One by one, each person revealed their regrets, some deep, some ridiculous, until it was James Potter’s turn. The room quieted as all eyes turned to the golden boy who had everything at his fingertips.

"Regrets, James?" Peter Pettigrew teased. "What could you possibly regret? You’re the most successful auror and the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world."

James let out a short laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching it reflect the dim light. Then, after a long pause, he murmured, "I regret not fighting hard enough for her."

The room stilled. All around him, people exchanged knowing glances. Remus raised an eyebrow, and Marlene mouthed, "Of course."

It had to be Lily. Everyone had always assumed James had been in love with her. That he had been too late, too proud, too everything. But Lily herself stiffened beside him, because she knew better.

She let the conversation play out as James fell into silence, lost in thought. It wasn’t long before the murmurs behind his back began.

"It’s obviously Lily."

“Of course, it’s Lily.”

“She’ll say yes if he asks, right? I mean, she has to.”

But Lily simply stood, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the group. "James, let’s talk."

They stepped outside, the cool night air sobering them both slightly. James leaned against the railing, running a hand through his unruly hair. "So, you think I’m pathetic?"

Lily shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Not pathetic. Just a bloody idiot."

"Cheers for that," he muttered.

She hesitated before speaking, choosing her words carefully. "They think it’s me."

James let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. They do."

"It was never me, though, was it?" Lily pressed.

James exhaled slowly. "No. It never was."

"It was her."

James felt a weight in his chest, his mind drifting back to those moments. The memories flashed through his mind, sudden and vivid, each one as clear as if it were happening all over again.

You and James had been exact opposites from the start. Where he was the easygoing, charming Gryffindor, the one who made friends in every hallway; you were the precise, no-nonsense Slytherin, always top of your class, always holding yourself to standards no one else could even imagine. You had never let anyone get too close. You were respected and feared in equal measure, your quiet, poised demeanor never betraying the intensity behind your eyes.

It wasn’t just a difference in personality. It was a battle of worlds. He was spontaneous, a little reckless, quick to charm his way out of anything. You were meticulous, controlled, someone who always followed the rules and made sure everyone else did, too. 

From the moment they were both elected Head Boy and Head Girl, the whispers had started. People had doubted the pairing. The professors themselves had seemed unsure, raising an eyebrow when the announcement was made, probably wondering if it would even work. "Are you sure this is the combination you want, Headmaster?" had been asked more than once.

And yet, surprisingly, it did.

James could still remember how strange it was at first. You both worked together, a strange partnership that no one had expected. But slowly, the walls between the Head Boy and Girl crumbled. There were nights spent together in the prefect room, going over plans and laughing over inside jokes that no one else understood. Quiet moments between classes, where you just were — no titles, no rivalry — just two people becoming something more.

There were no grand gestures, no declarations. It was subtle. Unspoken. You never voiced it. Neither of you did. You didn’t need to. You began to fall into a rhythm, your relationship developing in the quiet spaces between words. And as the weeks turned to months, he found himself thinking about you more, caring about you more than he should have. And you… you were there, always there, a constant presence. The tension that had once existed between you now simmered beneath the surface, invisible but undeniable.

Lily had noticed.

One afternoon, she’d walked into the prefect’s room, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of you and James. You two were closer than usual, an unspoken intimacy in the air. A touch of your hand on his shoulder, the way he was looking at you, his eyes soft, a look he’d never shown anyone else.

The next time she saw him alone, Lily didn’t even need to say much. Just a raised eyebrow. "Hmm. So, you and her, huh?"

James had gone red. He hadn’t known what to say; hadn’t expected to be caught like that. But Lily had just smiled, her voice gentle as she added, "Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. If it makes you feel any better… I think I’m falling for Severus too."

And so it continued, every moment with you, every conversation, every look that lingered too long, brought him closer to something he had never expected, something neither of you dared to acknowledge out loud. You talked about your pasts, your futures. He talked about becoming an Auror, about his dreams. You told him about your aspirations to become a textbook writer, your passion for education and research. He loved hearing your voice, the way you spoke with such quiet confidence.

But then, things started to change.

Little by little, you became distant. James started noticing it. How you seemed to be pulling away, just a little bit more with each passing week. It wasn’t obvious at first, but he could feel it in the air between you. The touches grew less frequent, the glances shorter, more guarded. James could feel it. But he never said a word, too scared to ruin the delicate balance you both had found.

Lily had noticed too, of course. She had been there when he started pulling back, confused, frustrated, unsure what to do. And, as always, she was there to comfort him, to remind him that everything would be fine.

But deep down, James knew something was wrong.

And then, graduation night arrived.

James sat beside you, both of you finishing up the last of the paperwork for the Head Boy and Girl duties. It was supposed to feel like a victory, like an accomplishment. Instead, it felt like the end of something precious. He kept gathering the courage to ask you, to ask if there was a way for you to stay in touch, to continue this… whatever it was. But when he finally spoke, the words were wrong. He had waited too long.

And then you said it.

"Let’s not keep in touch."

It felt final. It hurt. But he didn’t fight it. There was no point. It was over and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Snapping back to the present, silence hung between James and Lily. Then, she folded her arms. "You should go to her."

James laughed bitterly. "And say what? ‘Hi, I know I haven’t talked to you in ten years, but I never stopped thinking about you’?"

"Yes, actually," Lily said simply. "James, you should’ve told her back then. You should tell her now."

"Lily, I don’t even know where she is! And even if I did, what would she think? I let a whole decade pass without a word."

Lily sighed, shaking her head. "You’re a bloody coward, James Potter. I took the leap with Severus, and I’m happier for it. Maybe it’s time you took yours."

James hesitated. Then, as if on cue, the rest of the group stumbled outside, still caught up in their drunken chatter.

"Oi, where’s the emergency?" Sirius drawled.

Lily just smiled. "We’re going on a trip."

They arrived outside the grand estate at the edge of the countryside, the mansion standing proudly against the moonlit sky. James’s heart pounded as he took in the familiar sight, every detail steeped in memories.

"Wait, where the hell are we?" Peter whispered.

Marlene, slightly more sober now, blinked. "Oh, Merlin. I’ve seen this place in the Daily Prophet. It’s her house."

"What?" Sirius spluttered. "The mystery girl—?"

James barely heard them. His legs moved on their own, his breath shallow as he knocked on the grand wooden door.

Moments passed. Then the door creaked open.

And there you were.

The air left his lungs. Ten years. Ten years, and you were still the most breathtaking sight he had ever seen.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "James?"

He swallowed hard, his mind blank. "I—"

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossing. "Why are you here?"

James opened his mouth, but no words came out. You sighed. "If you're done wasting my time, goodnight, James."

You started to close the door, but James caught it. "Wait, wait—please."

Something in his voice must have softened your resolve because you hesitated. He had always been your weakness, after all.

You stepped aside. "Fine. Come in."

He couldn’t sit still, pacing the elegant sitting room. You remained near the door, watching him with guarded eyes.

"So, uh," James said, clearing his throat, his voice awkward. "How have you been? It’s been... a while."

You didn’t answer right away, your expression unreadable. James fumbled, shifting on his feet. "You look... good."

You raised an eyebrow. "So, now you’re here, trying to make small talk?"

James exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I... well, I didn’t know where to start."

You folded her arms, your gaze sharpening. "Right. So, are you going to keep dodging around whatever this is, or are you going to get to the point?"

James stopped, exhaling sharply. "Why did you end it?"

You blinked. "End what?"

"Us. Whatever we were. Did I ever even have a chance?"

Something flickered across your face. "James—"

"Was it ever real for you?" he pressed, his voice cracking with a mix of anger and desperation. "Because it was real for me. And I’ve spent the last ten years trying to understand why you just walked away."

You scoffed, arms crossing tighter as your expression hardened. "You were never serious about me, were you? I was just—"

"What?" he cut you off, the words strangling him. "What do you mean?"

Your voice dropped to a cold, bitter whisper. "A placeholder for Lily."

He staggered back as if your words had physically hit him. "What?" His breath catches as disbelief washed over him. "How could you think that?"

You let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "Don’t pretend you don’t know. Everyone saw it. You always after her, always putting her at the center of your world. I was just... convenient. Just there. Waiting."

His heart pounded, the pain raw and fierce. "No. No, that’s not—how could you think that?"

You shook your head, your voice soft but firm. "Because you never told me otherwise. You never made it clear."

His words slammed into him like a punch, and he realized, too late, that you were right. He never told you. Never made it real. Never fought for you when it mattered.

He inhaled shakily, taking a step closer. His voice was low but intense. "It was always you. Only you. You were never second. You were... everything."

For a moment, you didn’t speak. You just looked at him, the weight of the silence pressing down on both of you. He could see the hesitation in your eyes, the conflict there, but you didn’t pull away.

"James—" you started, but then stopped, biting back the rest of your words.

He waited, his breath caught in his chest. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he asked softly, "Are you seeing anyone?"

You didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, heavy and uncertain. You lowered your gaze briefly, then looked back up at him, as if weighing something inside before finally shaking your head. "No."

The word seemed to hang in the air longer than it should have, and for a split second, James wasn’t sure if he could believe it. His pulse quickened, but something inside him softened. He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "I haven’t been with anyone either, you know. Not since… since everything happened."

You blinked at him, and for the first time, there was a flicker of curiosity in your eyes. You didn’t immediately respond, but the question hovered between you.

After a beat, you finally asked, your voice quiet but sharp. "So, you’ve really never moved on? All this time?"

James looked at you, eyes wide with honesty. "Never. Not once." He didn’t have to think about it; the words came easily, painfully true. "It was always you."

There was another pause, just long enough for it to feel like he had said too much. Too soon. But he couldn’t take it back now.

You stood there, lips pressed together, your expression unreadable. The silence between you stretched longer than before, each second louder than the last. James held his breath, waiting, afraid that saying anything else would ruin it all.

Finally, he spoke, his voice softer now. "I—" He paused, hesitation thick in the air. "I know this might sound crazy, but would you come with me? Tomorrow. To Lily and Severus’s wedding. As my date."

You blinked, the weight of the request landing somewhere deep inside. There was a pause, a moment where it felt like everything hung in the balance. You studied him, not quite sure if you could trust what he was offering.

The silence stretched on, but then something in your chest softened. Slowly, you let out a breath, your eyes never leaving his. "You really want that? After everything?"

James looked at you, his eyes steady but full of something deeper, something raw. "I don’t want to keep going without you. I can’t pretend like everything’s fine when it’s not. I need you. Not just for tomorrow, but for everything after. Please... let me show you that we can make this work. 

You looked at him, the weight of his words sinking in. The air was thick with everything unspoken, and for a moment, you just stood there, letting it all settle. Slowly, you took a breath, the resolve in your expression shifting.

Finally, you nodded, your voice quieter, but sincere. "Okay. Show me you mean it."

[arcadia-smith]

Note: Fluff. Because I feel like I've been doing this boy dirty.

Bucky watches you from across the bar, swirling the whiskey in his glass as Sam chatters beside him. He barely hears a word. His focus is on you—laughing, leaning close to some guy who’s all charm and easy smiles.

His jaw tightens. He’s got no right to be jealous, but that doesn’t stop it from curling hot in his chest.

“She doesn’t love me,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone. “She’s not that stupid.”

Sam stops mid-sip of his beer and raises an eyebrow. “Right. And I’m Captain America because I love spandex.”

Bucky shoots him a glare. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Sam sighs. “Man, you ever consider that maybe you’re the stupid one?”

Bucky scoffs. “She deserves better.”

“Let her decide that.”

He wants to believe it could be that simple. But what kind of future can he offer you? A man built for war, dragging a past of blood and regret? You were light—sunshine in human form. And Bucky? Bucky was still learning how to live in it.

But then you glance over, catching his eye across the room. And the way your smile softens, the way your gaze lingers—hell, it makes something dangerous flare in his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, he’s the stupid one after all.

Bucky’s heart beats a little harder, tt’s only a moment, but it’s enough for him to feel a shift in the air. He can’t help the pang in his chest—something raw and hopeful, despite his best efforts to push it down.

He doesn’t think you’d ever look at him like that. You’re smart, funny, warm—the kind of woman who deserves someone who’s not broken. Someone who could give you everything. He can’t do that, and even if he could, there’s always the nagging thought in the back of his mind: She doesn’t love me.

But still...

Sam watches Bucky’s face soften when you laugh, the sound of it carrying across the room, and he clears his throat. “Yeah, I don’t think she’d be looking at you like that if she didn’t care.”

Bucky flicks his gaze to his friend, irritation flaring. “She doesn’t.”

Sam grins, unimpressed. “Yeah, that’s why she makes every excuse to spend time with you. Why she’s always the first to check in on you when you’ve had a rough day, right? Real smooth, Bucky.”

Bucky doesn’t have an answer to that. He can’t refute it. You do check in on him more than anyone else. You’ve been there when he couldn’t sleep, when his nightmares got too loud. You never once backed away, even when he tried to shut you out.

But that doesn’t mean you love him.

It just means you’re kind.

A movement catches his eye, and he sees you standing up, the guy still holding your attention. But something’s different. You look… frustrated. Not with him, but with the situation. A second later, you excuse yourself from the conversation.

And just like that, he’s on his feet, against his better judgment. Sam’s chuckle is muted by the buzz of the bar around them, and Bucky makes his way toward you.

You’re standing by the bar, drink in hand, face soft with the kind of smile that could knock the breath out of him. “Hey,” you greet, almost shyly.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice is gruff, though it’s not intentional. His brain’s already scrambled, trying to come up with something to say that won’t make him sound like a fool.

“Want to talk?” You gesture toward a quieter corner, your voice gentle but firm.

“Uh... yeah. Sure.”

You lead the way, and Bucky follows, taking a slow breath as you both settle into a secluded booth. The music is still loud, but here, the noise feels muffled, like the world has slowed down for just the two of you.

You take a sip of your drink and then look at him. “You’re tense.”

Bucky laughs bitterly. “It’s nothing. Just…” He rubs a hand over his face, then focuses on your eyes. “I don’t know. The usual.”

“The usual?” You tilt your head, eyes narrowing with concern. “You’ve been a little off for the past couple of weeks. Something’s bothering you.”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. “I’m just… I’m fine, okay?” He almost sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

But you aren’t having it. “Bucky,” you say softly. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

It stirs something deep in his chest, a tenderness he’s not sure how to process. He doesn’t want to open up. Not when it’s so damn easy to say nothing and keep it all locked up. But looking at you, he can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

“Why do you even bother with me?” His voice cracks slightly, and he hates it, but he doesn’t care. “I’m not the guy you need. You’ve got better options. People who are better for you than someone like me.”

You blink at him, clearly thrown off. “Bucky…”

“I’m serious. I’m broken. I don’t—” He stops himself, the words hanging in the air like a confession he doesn’t want to make.

But you reach out, placing a hand over his, grounding him with the warmth of your touch. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be anything other than who you are.”

Bucky looks at you, his breath catching in his throat. “You don’t get it. You deserve someone whole.”

You hold his gaze, unblinking. “You’re more than whole, Bucky. You’ve been through things no one should ever have to go through, and you’re still here. That makes you stronger than anyone I know.”

A silence settles between you, thick and laden with something unspoken. He’s about to say something—he doesn’t know what yet—when you squeeze his hand gently.

“I don’t know why you think I don’t love you,” you say softly, the words a whisper but clear enough to make his heart stop in his chest.

Bucky freezes, his mind scrambling for a logical response. His voice barely escapes his throat. “You… you love me?”

You smile at him, a soft, knowing smile that melts the edges of his doubt. “I’ve always loved you, Bucky.”

It’s like the room blurs for a moment, the realization crashing down on him like a wave he didn’t see coming. You love him. You actually love him.

And maybe, just maybe, for once, he wasn’t as stupid as he thought.

Without another word, he pulls you into his arms, the weight of everything lifting just enough for him to breathe, to finally believe in the words you just said.

“I’m an idiot,” he mutters into your hair.

You laugh softly. “Yeah, but you’re my idiot.”

Bucky grins, his heart full for the first time in years. “And I’m never letting you go.”

He doesn’t care if it’s foolish. He doesn’t care about anything except the fact that, for once, he’s the one who’s finally loved.

[suzukiblu]

Third 1k of the thank-you 5k I promised y'all behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I can inquire as to her willingness to attend,” Red Tornado says, and Kon ducks his head a little more; half-hides his face against the collar of his jacket. God, he’s being so weird and pathetic about this, but . . . 

“I mean, like . . . maybe,” he says. “If she’s not . . . busy, or whatever. I don’t wanna, like . . . not if she’s busy.” 

He has literally never in his life cared if someone was busy–

( the whole stupid WORLD needs Superman. so he can’t. and he DOESN’T, but–but he just can’t. 

couldn’t even if he actually . . . DID. )

–but like, it’s just–it feels like such a stupid thing to bother her over. They’re not even pack or anything. Like–they’re on the same team, sure, but Young Justice isn’t even a tertiary pack or, like, any kind of pack at all. They just punch bad guys together and talk shit about supervillains and particularly asshole-ish Leaguers and have the occasional team sleepover. They don’t, like–they’re not–

They’re not a pack, is all. 

But Suzie also–she’s stray too, and really sweet and takes basically everything in stride, so if anyone wouldn’t be annoyed by this . . . 

At least, he hopes she wouldn’t be. He doesn’t actually need, like–attended to or whatever, but if she’d just come hang out with him for a while . . . like, not even the whole time or anything, just maybe a couple hours . . . 

He really wants that, he thinks, and swallows roughly. He really–he really, really wants . . . 

“I will ping her communicator while I source nesting options and provisions for you,” Red Tornado says. “Is there anything else you require at this moment?” 

And Kon feels–Kon feels weird, and maybe like crying some more, and–and it’s stupid, he’s asking too much already, but–but Red Tornado asked. Like–he literally doesn’t even know what else he could ask for, what else do presenting omegas even need besides, like, heat snacks and whatever and somebody around. Like, is there anything? 

“Um,” he says. “No. I–no, that’s . . . no thanks. I’m . . . I’m good, man.” 

( Superman didn’t ask him that. just–he CAME, and he asked if everything was alright, and he asked if he could . . . could get himself “home”, but . . . 

but he didn’t ask him anything like THAT. )

“Very well,” Red Tornado says, and then he turns to walk out of the garage, and Kon sees his back and the light sway of his cape as he turns and–

And he feels–weird, again. 

“Can I have your cape?” he blurts without even thinking, and Red Tornado . . . pauses, and turns his head just enough to look back at him. Kon boils in embarrassment. He didn’t–he didn’t mean to–“I–s-sorry, I–” 

“You may, yes,” Red Tornado says, turning back around as he reaches up to the braided collar that keeps his cape fastened and tugs it apart, and Kon immediately forgets literally every ounce of embarrassment he’s ever felt in his life. 

Red Tornado comes over; holds out his cape to him; doesn’t hold it out far enough to cross over the side of the Super-Cycle, like . . . like if he were being polite about not . . . not coming into an omega’s nest uninvited, or . . . or something like that. 

Like he thinks–like he really is giving an omega something for their nest. 

Kon has this weird second of thinking that if he tries to take the cape, Red Tornado’ll just take it back, but–but– 

Fuck, he is way too oversensitive and just–just weird right now. 

He swallows, and then he shifts to the side of the Super-Cycle’s nesting pit and reaches out to–he means to just, like, snag the cape and toss it into the nest with everything else, but what he actually does is, like . . . just . . . 

He takes it carefully, is what he does: takes it with both hands and pulls it to himself . . . carefully, again. Just–carefully. 

It’s weird. He doesn’t know why he does it like that. But he’s also–he’s also kinda–like, he’s a little–

Kon can’t stop staring at the cape, for some reason. It’s just lying in his hands and all spilled down over the side of the Super-Cycle and into his lap, long and a bright, saturated blue with gold trim and a heavy collar. He doesn’t–get it. Why he’s–staring, he means. Just  . . . 

Red Tornado gave him this. And like, it’s not, like . . . a “packmate’s bequeathment”, or whatever the girl in the video called it, but . . . but Red Tornado still–still gave it to him. For his nest. Gave it to him on purpose, knowing what he was gonna do with it, and . . . and . . . 

Kon maybe wants to cry a little over that, in that weird, gut-twisting, elated way again. 

“Um,” he manages, and swallows a lot harder. Can’t really bring himself to look up again, for . . . for some reason. “Um–thanks, Reddie. For, uh–thanks.” 

“It is nothing,” Red Tornado says. “I did offer to provide you with additional nesting material options.” 

Kon feels a flash of embarrassment again and finally glances back up at him, his face feeling hot and probably wearing a stupid expression. Red Tornado’s own face is exactly the same as always, because, like–obviously it is. He looks a little weird without his cape on, though, which makes Kon realize he’s never actually seen him without it before. So that’s, like . . . a thing. 

Red Tornado gave him the cape he always wears. Never takes off. Just–always has on. So maybe–so maybe Red Tornado doesn’t think he’s a bad omega, if he . . . if he’s okay with letting him borrow his cape for this. 

Kon’s chest feels–tight, for some reason. Really, really tight. 

Not in a bad way. 

“. . . thanks,” he repeats lamely, because he doesn’t really know what else to say. Red Tornado looks at him for a long moment, then just inclines his head. 

“I will return shortly,” he says, and then turns back around and walks away and out through the garage door.

[moonsonder]

TRUE ROMANCE 夏油 傑, GETŌ SUGURU

synopsis: five years has passed since getō suguru, your best friend since junior high, left to pursue his career in music in los angeles after being signed to a record label. as time went, what remained of your fading friendship slipped away—but your feelings for him never did. with suguru returning home to perform a homecoming concert, you’ve held onto your ticket, uncertain what everything will mean once you see him again.

warnings: normal au. no jujutsu. angst/emotional angst. implied unrequited love. feelings of self-doubt and anxiety. feelings of loneliness and isolation. getting a tattoo as a coping mechanism. musician!suguru (plays piano, keyboard, guitar). famous singer!suguru. suguru has tan skin and piercings (earlobes, nostril, and snakebites). reference/mention of underage drinking. reference to smoking (shoko). proofread-ish (apologies for any mistakes or inconsistencies). inaccurate concert experience (never been to one, so i wrote what i thought would be correct).

word count: 3.6k

author’s note: hey, so, i formerly wrote jjk fics for a few characters on a previous, now sideblog, main blog known as @/solarenchanting (went by the pen name sunnie; not so different to sonny lmao). long story short, i found myself favouring to write for suguru more than anyone else. so, this is me, in the middle of starting over, with writing for my favourite jjk character <3 (also, i do not condone underage drinking and suguru has tan skin because i say so).

now playing: true romance by pinkpantheress.

mp.3: ❝i got a tattoo just to show how much i care, but there’s so many girls around you that i’m scared.❞

“SO, ARE YOU EXCITED FOR TONIGHT?”

shoko had asked, her raspy voice drawing your attention from the café’s window and back to her, with a ghost of a smile tugged on her lips and an arch of an eyebrow. she was sitting across from you with an elbow propped onto the edge of the square table. her other hand held the handle of her teaspoon, with motioned practice, and stirred her coffee in the mug as the steam swirled. the morning sun casting a glint over her features.

“y—yeah, i am!” you shifted in your seat, the chair screeching against the floor. your leg bounced, vibrating up and down underneath the table. your right hand wrapped the ceramic teacup, fingers right below the rim, and the palm of your left hand supporting the base. “also, i heard that satoru wasn’t going.”

“not surprised,” shoko said, shrugging her shoulders. she removed the teaspoon from her mug and tapped it against the rim to let a drop of coffee drip back into the mug. placing it on the saucer, she lifted her mug to take a sip. “but, you know that wasn’t what i meant, right?”

“i know,” you muttered in defeat. with your hands cradling the teacup, you set it down onto its saucer. turning your head as you glanced around the café.

it hummed with a quiet energy today. the warm glow of the sun spilling through from the windows and the scent of freshly brewed coffees and teas mingled with the faint sweetness of the pastries in the display case. a soft tune played through the speakers, seamlessly blending in with the clinking of porcelain and ceramic cups and the hiss of the espresso machine.

there were only a few customers in at the moment. they were either absent mindlessly scrolling through their phones or reading the newspaper or a magazine while they lingered by the wooden tables. the air carried out the occasional murmur of conversation or the scrape of the chair against the floor.

outside, the streets of shibuya were waking up and coming to life. people walking on the sidewalk, the engine of cars purring as they drove past. it was a stark contrast to the atmosphere to the highly anticipated night you were going to experience. the thought of caused your heart to race widely as you gulped, beginning to feel a tad bit uneasy.

your focus shifted back onto your cup of tea, refusing to meet shoko’s gaze. after a second, you glanced up at her with a weak smile, fixing your posture to sit up straight.

“i guess i’m kinda nervous,” you admitted sheepishly.

“as expected, frankly.” she murmured, not at all surprised.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you pulled back, creating distance between yourself and the smoothened edge of the table. your back almost hitting against the wooden surface of the backrest. your eyebrows furrowed, the skin above the hairs bunching up to form faint lines, and your lips twisted in a slight frown.

“really?” shoko deadpanned, sarcasm laced in her tone. she stared blankly at you. her eyes narrowed, the grey eyebags — a feature that came from being enrolled in med school, sheʼd always jest — scrunching up. “need i remind you that you stupidly got a tattoo instead of just confessing your feelings to suguru? why wouldn’t i expect you to be nervous?”

“hey!” you exclaimed, offended.

your arms came back to your side, abandoning your teacup, as they found refuge underneath the table. you pulled onto the cotton material of your sweater, tugging it down further, gliding it down to stretch it over your palm. your fingers curled into a fist with your nails digging through the cuff to keep it in place, hiding where the indelible design was punctured into the skin of your inner wrist.

“it’s not stupid!” you retorted, your voice raising a little bit, just loud enough for you to realise. you cleared your throat, glancing around to see if anyone heard.

“i never said the tattoo was stupid,” shoko clarified. she gazed down to where your arms were hiding, specifically the arm that had the tattoo, and gestured with her coffee mug in hand. “i said getting the tattoo was stupid.”

“semantics,” you huffed, leaning back in your chair and readjusted your legs into a figure four. you crossed your arms over your chest, burying your hand deeper into the crook of your elbow.

“uh huh, keep telling yourself that.” shoko tilted her head back, drowning down the last of her coffee and dropping the mug back down. she let out a relieved sigh, using a napkin to wipe away any sticky residue around her mouth. “if i may ask, why did you do it?”

you froze, your arms dropping lower against your chest. “because… i just wanted something to remind me of him, of us—” you paused, considering you words carefully as you shuffled. “of… our friendship—to commemorate it.”

you turned your head away, facing the window nearby to watch passers-by before hearing whatever shoko had to say. being under her scrutiny was the last thing you wanted. it’s bad enough that you’re in your own head about it—about everything when it comes to suguru. maybe even worse knowing that you’ll be seeing him tonight.

to your surprise, the silence broke at the sound of shoko’s laugh filling the space between you and her. you whipped your head, maybe even experiencing a second of whiplash, not even bothering to mask the disbelief on your face.

“friendship, huh? it that what you’re still calling it?” she asked, shaking her head. she run a hand through her hair, pushing it back before it fell into the exact same place, framing her face. “i don’t understand…”

you bit back at your bottom lip, mulling her words over. a hint of frustration in your tone. “it’s not for you to understand, shoko.”

“i see…” she mused, leaning back in her seat and mirroring your pose. her thoughtful stare made you tense, expecting more prodding from her. “oh, well, i’m heading out.”

shoko pushed her seat back and got up, your head tilted. she smirked, pulling out a fresh pack of the familiar, classic white and red box of marlboro cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her pants.

you nodded absent mindlessly, not even registering that she was going to have a smoke break. you didn’t even watch her leave the café as you stared blankly ahead at the table, still hurt over the fact that she laughed over the reasoning of your tattoo. on top of that, she even had the audacity to question it.

you barely heard the sound of the soft thuds of her footsteps or the café doors opening and closing, leaving you to sit there alone with your thoughts. immediately, almost mechanically, you unfolded your arms and uncrossed your legs. leaning forward, you slid the forgotten teacup to the side. placing it right near the edge of the table where shoko’s coffee mug was.

it was half-full and the tea was probably cold—not that you knew, but you weren’t going to risk worsening your mood with a sip. still, as your fingers rested around the rim, you hesitated. on second thought, you slide the teacup back to its original place in front of you.

as if you were reeled back into reality, you scoffed with a shake of your head. “god, what’s the matter with me? you’d think i would’ve learned by now…”

you groaned inaudibly and hunched over, deflated. propping your arm on the table, you rested your cheek in the palm of your hand — a grave mistake, considering your eyes automatically peered down and gazed to where the tattoo was — while your other arm rested flat, your fingertips tapping against the table.

if you had five yen for every time you’ve been in this position — ending up doing something stupid and utterly foolish, as shoko would say, instead of facing and owning up to your… feelings — you would’ve been rich enough to relocate and change your name right after you graduated high school.

but how could you?

this was suguru you were talking about!

suguru, who you meet when you were fourteen-years-old. he lived in the same neighborhood as you, his family home was a walking-distance from yours—and you met his parents. you’d walk home with him after school and club activities wrapped up, stopping by a vending machine or convenience store for snacks.

now, he was getō suguru, the famous and talented musician who composed his own songs and even had credits for a bunch of other artists. five years into his career, and he already won many title-worthy awards.

not like you were surprised, after all, who was the one who lingered too long by the door of the music club’s after hearing him singing a melody while playing the piano? albeit, you never said it out loud.

you’d guess that was because it was once something sacred. whether it was listening to him sing his own songs while strumming his guitar or keyboard whenever you hung out in his bedroom, or laying on your bed in a comfortable silence when you shared your earphones with him and listened to music together. even the times when he’d quietly ramble about his favourite songs and artist, while you found yourself staring at him as if he hung the stars and the moon.

you never thought that one day you’ll never be able to hear from him anymore. the time zones used to be your excuse whenever he couldn’t reach out in the first few months. after that, you reasoned that maybe he was at the studio or at a concert rehearsal. maybe shooting a music video? photoshoot? currently doing an interview?

but then you’d see him plastered all over billboards in the city. you’d hear his songs play on the radio, see his music videos play on the tv whenever you tried looking for something to watch. you’d see magazines on display with him on the front cover. you’d overhear conversations with his name, showering him praises—just like you used to do.

and yet, here you are, five years later and sitting in a café and reminiscing. enrolled for postgrad and having worked extra shifts at your part-time job just to have earned enough money to purchase a vip ticket to his concert for months just to see him. with a tattoo dedicated to him that you didn’t even have the heart to tell him about for some reason—as if he wasn’t your best friend.

yeah, the same best friend who you shared your first kiss with at seventeen-year-olds when you were in third-year of high school on a hot, summer’s night in august 2007. both of you were drunk, face flushed from cheap liquor with heavy-lidded eyes.

you and him found a brief moment of respite in satoru’s bedroom where satoru threw another infamous party in his family’s home while his parents were absent. you couldn’t even remember how one moment led to either of you washing away the line of your friendship drawn onto the sand.

however, you did remember the countless times you hesitated to bring up the topic or avoided it days later. either making up excuses, beating around the bush to say something completely unrelated, or walking in different directions to avoid talking to him at school—not once ever bringing it up directly and instead tried to move on from it like he did, seeing how completely unbothered he appeared to be about it.

cringing, you buried your face in your hand, lips twisting in a frown. fuck, not even satoru—judging from how he has been lately—seemed to be this affected by suguru’s absence. especially since they had a falling out right before suguru left for los angeles after signing the contract to a record label and haven't spoken to each other since.

if anything, you expected him to probably understand where you were coming from since he and suguru were each other’s best friends too; ever since high school. but maybe satoru was better at hiding his emotions than you were. because it clearly seemed that you wore your heart on your sleeve—more like, the tattoo on your wrist.

you rolled your eyes and snapped yourself out of your reverie, shaking your head as means to wake you up from continuing to walk down memory lane. you sat upright, your eyes fluttering close for a second; inhaling through your nose and exhaling out your mouth. you didn’t need to be doing this. besides, what’s happened has happened, and you need to leave it in the past—yet the bittersweet memories linger like an aftertaste, and no amount of water could wash it out.

opening your eyes, you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your pants. unlocking it, you were immediately met with a message from shoko. wincing, you hoped it was nothing urgent or important since you kept your phone on silent. tapping on the screen, it opened the message.

ieiri shoko: meet me outside once you’re done just read

you let out a breath of relief, smiling softly. sliding your—still half-full—teacup next to shoko’s empty coffee mug, you stood up from the chair and pushed it in gently. adjusting your sweater and smoothening your pants, you casted one last glance at the window to see your faint reflection. satisfied, you made your way to the front door, smiling and bowing your head in respect to the workers present.

once outside, the fresh air filled in and you were met with the sight of shoko leaning against a streetlight pole while applying a coat of clear lip gloss on her lower lip, rubbing her lips together for a few seconds as she screwed the lip gloss shut. shoko turned to you with a half-smile, tucking the tube into her pocket, and strided towards you as you both began walking down the sidewalk amongst the growing crowd of people.

“still excited?” she asked, turning her head to look at you.

“yeah, can’t wait to see him again,” you replied, forcing a smile, unsure if you meant it.

there was only one time in your life that you could vividly remember being this anxious. that being in mid-spring 2004, when your family moved and you were transferred to a new junior high school. it was embarrassing, sticking out like a sore thumb. everybody was already in their cliques and aligned with the syllabus by the time you stood in front of the class and introduced yourself.

your heart pounded against your ribcage, threatening to burst out. everybody probably saw how your legs were shaking, knees buckling and ready to give out. it didn’t help that the tremble in your voice decided to come through, undoing all your efforts to appear confident to your new peers.

if only the classroom floor would’ve swallowed you whole then, you wouldn’t have had to experience everything else that followed—just like you wanted the floor beneath you to do right now ever since the show started and suguru appeared on stage.

you’d say that life enjoyed making cruel jokes, having you be in the same position from years ago, but the joke was on you this time around. you’re the one who bought the ticket furthest away from the stage—not that it helped, you were still able to see his performance on the enormous projected screen behind him for the fans even further away to enjoy the show.

seeing him now on the screen, you could tell; gone was the cute, class president—who your homeroom teacher delegated the task of getting you acquainted with the school—with sun-kissed tan skin, and his thin, violet eyes that seemed to smile in unison whenever his lips tugged into one as well.

with short black hair neatly combed with bangs over his forehead that never had a single strand out of place. who wore his full school uniform down to the pressed blazer—it was no surprise that he was perfect in every single way even back then, almost as if he was destined for it.

on stage, suguru was seated on a chair, dressed in an all black outfit with his right leg crossed over his left and his guitar perched on his lap as he strummed and sang an acoustic version of one of his recent popular songs, with a plush white towel wrapped around from the back of his neck.

his hair was styled partially in a man bun while the rest cascaded down his back. he still had his signature bang, from his high school years, covering his left eye. He was thoroughly pierced too, having fairly large black circular earrings in each ear lobe, with a silver eyebrow piercing on his right, a nostril piercing on his left, and snakebites.

the lights shining down on him from the stage illuminated the glint of sweat on his face and neck. his eyes glanced around the arena, taking in the sight of his fans that swayed and sang along to the melody with their arms in the air and their phone’s flash on, while others had posters and banners in his name.

and the hopeless, unrealistic part of you wondered if he could see you in the crowd.

if he could see your hand.

this was a mistake. you should have never come here. what were you thinking? you probably weren’t, is the answer shoko would’ve said if she was here with you. she’d probably watch you, bored and amused, panic and fidget with the vip wristband as you stood in the queue with other fans.

despite you never admitting it out loud, she’d be right.

she was right about everything she’s ever pointed out about you, and you hated that you were agreeing with her.

you have been ever since you stormed over to her place the day after that drunken kiss happened and ignored her advice to simply just tell him that it meant something—he meant something; that he was more than a friend to you.

naively, you thought that the worst had already happened. but, that was only the beginning of convincing yourself that your relationship was explicitly platonic.

even when you embraced him tighter, refusing to let him go as you bunched up the material of his hoodie, and felt the vibrations of his chest against you as he chuckled dryly and made a teasing remark about you.

reluctantly, you let him go, and watched longer than you should’ve when he walked away to the terminal gate of his flight until he disappeared into the throng of passengers boarding too—it was still platonic, is what you told yourself.

maybe that’s when you should’ve said something; told him how much you loved him. that the kiss, and every moment leading up to it, held value because it was with him. and you wanted to do that again and more; to experience something real and intentional with him.

you could’ve freed yourself.

and deep down, you knew that’s why you wore yourself out at your part-time job, picking up extra shifts whenever you could.

because a broken clock is right twice a day, isn’t it?

could you really do it this time? it wasn’t as if you could ask to have a private moment with him. he’s surrounded by the backstage staff, his manager, security and fans. forget wondering if he still viewed you as a friend or potentially return your feelings, would he even recognise you?

you shook your head vehemently, starting to do a breathing exercise to ground yourself to be in the present. you were over exaggerating. while much can happen in five years, hopefully that much didn’t occur for you to slip out of his mind.

right?

“next!”

the security guard called out, snapping you out of your thoughts, your eyes widened dramatically, turning your head with lightning speed. you realised that you were near the door, only three people away from him.

from your vantage point, you watched suguru hug the fan whose. as they parted, he smiled at them and listened attentively as the fan spoke, pouring their heart out to him, as suguru signed something for them while nodding along. flashes of light were going off throughout the interaction, capturing every moment.

for a split second, you were transported back to the hallway of your junior high school. where mr. class president, suguru, patiently showed you the directions of your classroom, giving his own commentary on what he thought about the teachers of each respective subject.

he checked-in on you throughout the interaction, if you were comfortable or needed anything, and made small talk. soon enough, you had begun adding to the conversation. and you left school that day feeling grateful that you possibly had suguru in your corner.

unshed, hot tears brimmed in your eyes, a hurting pang filled your chest. you swallowed the lump in your throat, one that you didn’t even realise had been forming. with a shaky breath, you blinked the tears away, eyes darting everywhere before finally landing on suguru as he hugged the fan one last time.

a wobbly smile etched upon your face as you watched the next person enter, receiving the same treatment. there was no doubt in your mind that you were happy for him, proud of him for pursuing his dreams.

that’s why you couldn’t do it. thus, like a fool, you stepped out of the queue and walked off to the exit door, grasping onto your wrist with the dedicated tattoo, before you could second guess yourself more and have tears streaming down your face.

if only you could’ve turned your head over your shoulder for one last time. you would’ve seen the way suguru’s face morphed into concern, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned into a frown.

the way he froze after taking one step forward with his hand stretched out in mid-air, as if he was going to grasp onto something—to you, perhaps—before composing himself to resume engaging with his fans; eye’s glancing towards the exit, wondering if you’d come back.

[kettles-posts]

"Perfect"

A/N:

-fyi guys, It's not spell checked, so please ignore any mistakes. <3

John Price x Reader

"Y'real lucky Cap, got y'self the perfect bird, dont' ya'?"

John rolled his eyes and clicked his tounge in annoyance, he had invited the rest of 141 over for dinner before going out to the pub down the street because he wanted to properly introduce you all.

Now, they had heard of you briefly in casual conversation and vice versa however they never met you, not formally at least, perhaps seeing each other in the halls of the base (when you can to drop of Price's lunch he so ~conveniently~ forgot about) but nothing more than that.

What the great John Price himself didn't forshadow was the way all of his team would fawn over you, yeah you were a doll, HIS doll, he was quickly getting annoyed by the amount of compliments they were giving you, Gaz's especially, so he did the onlybthing he knew to do, deflect.

"The lass has dolled her self up because we have company, normally shes slouching 'round the house, Gaz, they only ever looked like this in the begining, ya know, so dont let yourself be fooled, y'know how the girls are these days,"

What he didn't account for in his little outburst was the effect his words would have on you, who was waiting outside the door...

-----------------------------------------

You had always had problems with your looks, always feeling inferior, comparing yourself to others never feeling enough. It was a habit that stemmed from your mother, and her constant need to nitpick at everything little thing about you.

It then progressed to your constant need to be "perfect". To always look presentable no matter who or what was going to be there. A full face of makeup, hair done, and outfit hiding whatever you deemed to be the "problem" parts of you today.

You never trusted anyone enough to show yourself in these moments where you didn't deem yourself to be presentable enough. Always terrified of being judged or ridiculed by someone else just like you did yourself. Always terrified that someone would validate your fears of not being enough.

Thats why when John had first asked you out you thought he was joking, you looked around trying to find his group of friends snickering between themselves. You didn't, of course, but that still didn't stop your hesitation, nor did your hesitation stop his determination.

I mean can you blame him? You were gorgeous standing there in the grocery line looking like the perfect little house wife, sweet and kind, how could you not expecting him to snatch you up before anyone else had the chance.

He was an amazing boyfriend constantly telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked, how loved you were.

He was the first person you managed to be properly comfortable around, able to be less "perfect", you thought that he never judged you for it.

That's why as you when you began to walk to the dining room with a tray of freshly baked lasagne in hand, you were horrified to hear your boyfriend, the one person who you thought didn't care how you looked around him, the one person that made you feel loved. Telling his friends how you "fooled" him into dating you and you were not as "perfect" as you used to be.

In all honesty, you wish you were more shocked. That this senario hadn't played through you head countless times before that you hadn't had a small voice in the back of your mind telling you how you didn't deserve him, how he was only still dating you out of pity.

You had hoped that it would never happen, that it was all just made up in your head. You wished in that very moment that this was all a dream that you could wake up and find John besides you, not talking about you negatively but instead kissing your forehead softly before leaving for the base.

--------------------------------------------------

But that wasn't the case, you weren't dreaming, he wasn't waking you up sweetly by kissing you on th forehead, and the rest of your boyfriends squad was sitting in the room infront of you.

You had no time to think about that, you needed to be "perfect".

•The "perfect" girlfriend.

•The "perfect" host.

•The "perfect" person.

Always kind and caring, always looking "perfect"...

Before you knew it you were stepping through the threshold of the door to the dining room, a "perfect" smile plastered on your face, your body going through the motions. Your mind was racing but you can't let it show on your face, you have to be "perfect"

--------------------------------------------------‐

You...you, HAD to be... you had nothing else to give, no matter how many times John has compliment you, no matter how many times he told you, that you were enough it's obvious you weren't because if you were then why was he saying that?? Why would he be saying you weren't good enough??

You had let yourself get too comfortable, too happy, you had lost your control, you had forgotten that you needed to be "perfect". You felt sorry for John, he had to deal with you when you weren't.

No wonder he was complaining! It's okay, though, you can fix it. You can ALWAYS fix it. John won't need to feel cheated, like you fooled or tricked him. You just need to get back into your routine.

You just need to be perfect again...

[th3cadav3r]

I saw a meme the other day with Daisuke with hibiscus' tattoo on his upper arm, it gave me FEELINGS😤 Can you write nsfw for fem reader seeing it for the first time and just showing Daisuke how sexy she finds it, and just body worshipping him in general please? If not I understand, thanky 😊

Hibiscus Tea

Daisuke X Female Reader

summary: you see Daisuke’s tattoo for the first time and you think it’s the hottest thing ever

content: fluff+smut, porn with minimal plot, praising, mention of birth control, reader has female anatomy

author’s note: this was such a cute request! I’ve never seen the meme that you’re referencing but I wish that I could see. ALSO SORRY THAT THE PICTURE IS A PALE WOMAN’S ARM I REALLY COULDN’T FIND A GOOD REF PIC THAT MATCHED HIM

You only happened to see it by chance. Daisuke was hard at work fixing something or other when you decided to pay him a visit. You were greeted by the sight of him with his shirt pushed over his head acting as more of a headband. His skin was glistening with sweat and oil

Oh. My. God

You stood in the doorway dumbfounded for a good six seconds before your mouth could finally form words. “H-Hey, Dai”

His attention was taken away from the engine that he was fixing and he turned completely towards you. “Hey!”

His face always lit up when he saw you. You knew that Swansea had been giving him a tough time that day, so he really needed some good quality hang out time

Daisuke stopped working for a while just to sit down with you and talk. He didn’t bother rolling his shirt back down, though, which made it very difficult to pay any attention to what he was saying

Your eyes flickered down to his figure almost involuntarily as you talked to him. And upon one of these brief glances, you see a small tattoo of a pink hibiscus on his arm. This is the first time you’ve seen it of course since his short sleeves always covered it. It was such a cute tattoo that rested perfectly on his toned arm; you couldn’t help but fixate on it while he talked. Eventually, he noticed that your gaze had drifted from his eyes to his arm and he chuckled a bit

“Never saw it before huh?” he asked

You snapped out of your daydream instantly and fumbled to find your words

“I—No I haven’t,” you stutter. “Sorry for staring…”

He gave you a reassuring smile. “No worries. I don’t blame you I mean it is pretty awesome”

You playfully rolled your eyes at his prideful remark. He always made a joke about everything; you loved that about him…among other things too…

“It looks cool,” you say shyly. “It really suits you, honestly”

Daisuke expected you to come back with a snarky or playful response like you usually did. He was genuinely surprised when your cheeks turned pink as you timidly complimented him. And he couldn’t be happier

“Ahhh~!”

You moan loudly into his ear as your head rests on his shoulder. He should be worried about how much noise you’re making considering that it’s entirely possible that anyone might hear you. But he honestly doesn’t care—the sounds that you’re making coupled with the sensation of his cock deep inside you is making him feel dizzy in the best way possible

You’re both on the couch in the living room while everyone else is—hopefully—asleep in their respective quarters. You and him started with just cuddling, which then turned into kissing, which then turned into you eagerly stripping each other’s clothes off. And now here you are, riding him like there’s no tomorrow

Your half-lidded eyes once again land on his tattoo. You were more turned on by it then you wanted to admit. You had no idea why this simple small tattoo of a pink hibiscus flower made your heart quicken and your pupils dilate. Perhaps it wasn’t so much the image itself and more so who’s hot body it was on

“You feel sooo good, Dai,”you whine. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling his body against yours

“You too,”he managed to say in between pants. His hips buck into you wildly as he grips onto your waist. He’s definitely close by now and so are you

“You’re so fucking hot,”you mutter mindlessly as his pace quickens. “So fucking good for me”

Fuck. You can feel his dick twitch inside of you each time you praise him. He’s living for this

“Mmm” Daisuke can’t even get any words out at this point. His mind is thoroughly melted from the combined pleasure of you bouncing on his cock and praising him

“I’m gonna—!” you blurt out, feeling your orgasm fast approaching

“Me too!” he says as his fingers dig deeper into your flesh. You bite down on his shoulder as you finally come undone, clenching and unclenching around him. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he cums inside you. Thank god you’re on birth control because he did not have the self control to pull out of you

Neither of you even have time to come down from your high before you start planting kisses all over him, worshipping his body like he deserved

“Such a good boy”

He groans softly as you kiss him, reveling in the feeling of you obsessing over him. His cock almost immediately starts hardening again inside you

“Hehe…fuck…”

[madridfangirl]

But what if?

(Plot: Jude's girlfriend mentioned a threesome as her fantasy during a couple intimacy quiz. He goes mad, loses his shit, and she makes up to him, in more ways than one.)

1.5k words. Mature language.

..................................................................................................

After a rambunctious session on the couch, Ananya laid in Jude’s arms. Exhausted. Like she’d fall apart if even a feather touched her right now.

Jude surveyed her spent form, with a half-satisfied and half-guilty look. Her body bore the signs of his emotional upheaval, more than usual this time. She was still panting a bit, still sweaty, despite him cleaning her as gently as he could.

Both were silent for different reasons. She was trying to regain coherence while he was partly lost in his head.

A few minutes later, she recovered enough to open her eyes and saw his faraway look. Her fingers traced his cheek softly, bringing him back.

‘Hey.’

She smiled lazily at him. Stretching her arms & legs tentatively & sighing at the soreness. His observant eyes watching every move.

‘Sorry.’

She snuggled closer, while continuing to smile knowingly.

‘Liar, you like making a mess of me.’

He did. A lot. It was a reminder of their passionate bouts. He liked her having to use make-up or dress smartly to hide his marks. Or walk funnily a bit. But just a bit. Not too much. Never too much. 

The sincerity & turmoil in his eyes tugged at her heart. She leaned in to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

‘Baby, I’m ok. More than ok actually. Really, don’t worry about it.’

He nodded. But didn’t kiss her back like he usually would have, something she noticed. Plus he was still avoiding her eyes.

She understood he was still not over the threesome comment. In hindsight, it was monumentally stupid of her to even mention it. Especially when it wasn’t so much a fantasy but a random idea she had thought of, just once or twice. For someone so measured with her thoughts & her words, who was supposed to be the smart one, she acted like a complete idiot here & made a royal mess of things. Jude would take it badly, it should have been clear as day to her!

But the damage was done, and she’d do whatever it takes to show him it didn’t mean anything.

Ananya held his cheek and turned him slowly to face her, gazing straight into the deep bottomless pool that were his eyes. 

‘I love you. So much. More than I can explain. You know that, right?’

He didn’t say anything, which turned her more desperate to get through to him.

‘Oh Jude. Have you ever felt anything else but absolute loyalty from me? You’re everything, honey. More than that. You’re so good to me. Just the best boyfriend, hands down. Pls don’t let one stupid mistake play on your mind.’

‘But you don’t make mistakes, not really. You say what’s in your heart, what you really, truly mean.’

And therein lied the problem. Jude always put her on a pedestal - to say the right thing, to do the right thing, to handle things the right way. To him, she was the personification of all things good, pure & real in the world. Something like this coming from her was more than a low-blow or a bodyblow. It nearly shattered him.

‘Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone. Some lesser than the others but no one is flawless. Today was my turn to fuck up. And man did I fuck up.’

‘You really did.’

‘I know. And I’m so so sorry.’

He didn’t acknowledge the apology, not because he wanted to tease her or get something in return (that would have been so much easier), but because he was still stuck on something. She could see that clearly.

‘Do you…think about this….when we….when we are…’

She cupped his face with both hands, mustering all her love in her voice.

‘Jude - I am barely coherent when we are together. When you touch me like that. Can’t think of my own address, how would I think of anyone or anything else?’

Now this assuaged him immediately. Because he knew this to be true. Once they were together in her room, indulging in each other, when Roma had walked in. Their door was unlocked, she heard her walk into the apartment but forgot her name and Jude had to prompt to understand what she was mumbling. So far gone was she with him so perfectly seated inside her. Later, she had begged Jude to never mention it to Roma, else her best friend here would get offended. Ananya had also added that if he does mention it, she’d flat out deny & call him a liar. Her word against his.

The hint of smile on his face was all the wiggle room she needed.

Ananya leaned closer, relishing his breath on her face, and covered his lips with hers. A soft, slow, lingering kiss, which he grew into, finally relaxing into her mouth.

‘My prince.’

When they parted, she rubbed her cheek against his, just the way he liked. Jude relaxed further.

‘It’s just that….the image…of that….can’t get it out of my head.’

She saw that coming.

‘I can help with that.’

‘How?’

‘How about a different image?’

He looked at her, confused, mouth partly open. So cute & adorable like that. She traced his plump lips with her fingers lovingly, slowly, then tapped on them.

‘What if instead of another guy, there’s another girl…’

Jude’s mouth fell open in real time. She could barely suppress her smile at how well she had predicted this. 

‘…another girl, touching me like that, our bodies squished together, naked…..’

It was his turn to pant & sweat now, with that deliciously open mouth. His hot breath fanning her face.

‘…but you can’t touch either of us…’

Jude felt like someone was murdering him & reviving him simultaneously. He was speechless, not even a half-sound out of him, just staring at her gobsmacked.

‘…you can watch though. As we, you know, do stuff. How’s that for an image?’

He was still silent. That sinful tongue of his had made an appearance between his lips, as he tried to process that, mouth still hung open.

She felt particularly playful, strangely powerful in that moment. Ananya leaned in and slowly touched his tongue with hers, then tugged on it lightly with her teeth, quickly breaking away.

That brought him back to reality.

He looked in awe at his girlfriend, who was slowly batting her eyes at him, cheeks flushed, a picture of innocence and demureness. If he hadn’t heard this himself, he would never believe she was capable of saying such things. Or thinking such things.

But the sly smile was giving her away. Fully aware of what she was doing to him.

‘Not such a good girl anymore, are you?’

Oh she was. 100%. Compared to him & everything he had done, she was a saint. But the playfulness from earlier was still brimming in her.

‘Never said I was. You just thought of me as one.’

‘You little vixen.’

Jude looked her up & down. And debated in his head how feasible it would be to show her right now who was in charge. She may have cracked a few levels of this game but Jude was the absolute undisputed king of this dynamic, something he would never let her forget. Something that she needed to be reminded of. Against a wall maybe. 

But unfortunately, she was in no state for such a teaching right now. Jude wasn’t going to miss the chance to make his point though.

He locked his eyes with her, then inserted two of his fingers into her mouth. She was surprised, but slowly got used to the intrusion, and swirled her tongue around them, making him groan gutturally, like a wounded animal.

He grabbed her face, fingers digging into her soft skin. But his voice was calm, even. 

‘Sweet girl, I’m gonna ruin you. I’ll take everything from you. Everything that a man can take from a woman. And you’re gonna want to give it to me. Heck you’re gonna beg. I’ll make you.’

She suddenly felt hot & bothered, like her skin was on fire, making her whimper as his grip tightened further.

‘No man will ever see you like that. Touch you like that. I won’t let them. No one but me. NO ONE. Is that clear?’

‘Yes.’

‘See - I know how to turn you into a good girl. Just like that.’

She wanted to push him away for that patronising tone but somehow it just made her feel even more hot.

‘You can play all you want. Till I let you. Coz when I take my turn, doll, you have no idea the things we’ll do. The things I’ll do to you. This sweet little mind of yours can’t even imagine what all I have planned for us.’

With that, he picked her up slowly, minding her cramps & soreness, and carried her to his bedroom. She clung to him, hiding in his neck to cover her fluster, while all the previous irritation in him was replaced with the thrill of this game he had just discovered her to be capable of.

......................................................

Continuation of Couple Intimacy Quiz and Intimacy Quiz gone Awry. Can be read separately as well.

As always, let me know what you thought of it :)

[ghostgirl-22]

Can you write Tashi losing her virginity with Patrick?

I think I can!

Cw: 18+ NSFW First time

——-

She just says it so matter of factly that Patrick has to sit up mid makeout session. “Seriously?” He’s down to his boxers, she’s in a t-shirt and panties. He’s thinking this is just the next step, since she’s so… confident about everything. He can barely believe it’s her first time. 

It’s late summer. She’s in Florida for a brand opportunity not far from Mark Reballato. Her mom is out shopping and she's snuck him into her hotel room. 

“What? Are you one of those guys who doesn’t like that or something?” She says it like she doesn’t care but her expression betrays her. Her brows are knitted together and she’s searching his eyes for any hint of rejection.

“No, of course not, I guess I’m just—- I didn’t expect it.”

She rolls her eyes. And Patrick smiles and slides his palm up under her t-shirt. “No its…So I’m like… your first?”

“Dont be a freak,” she says.

“I’m not, I just… wow. Hottest girl in the world.”

“Shut up,” she says but she’s smiling. “It’s not that big of a deal so don’t make it into one.” Her hair is tied up loosely, shorter strands falling down to her shoulders. She’s holding his gaze with her big brown doe eyes as she moves to get on top. Even when they’re just making out she likes to be on top. Patrick sits up and cradles the nape of her neck to bring her closer. She settles into his kiss. 

“You sure you’re ready?” He asks, gently against her lips. He’s been with virgins before and knows better than to push. Hell he remembers his own first time a couple years ago… awkwardly fumbling around.

“Yes Patrick, I said don’t make it into a thing.” She says, nonchalant. “You bought that stuff right?”

“Mmhm.” He rolls over to reach into his backpack.  He would do anything for her at this point. Since the moment she texted that she’d be in town he’d been scrambling to find a way to see her. He borrowed Oliver Morgan’s beat up old car since he lives in the area, had to practically give away his entire weed stash to keep it for an afternoon.  

And then of course the awkward stop to buy condoms. Now that he thinks about it Tashi was so specific about the kind of condoms she wanted he first thought it was her experience now he wonders if she researched it. No, she definitely researched it. 

He opens the box and pulls one out. She cradles his dick with her palm. She’s felt it before. Jerked him off right after he beat Art at the junior us open. She’d been such an expert at it that all he could do was think about her afterwards. He was going crazy. Calling her everyday for a month, phone sex late at night when Art was asleep. He'd never actually been this into someone before. In fact he would never even consider long distance with anyone else. His attention span is too short.

“You know you have to keep it secret,” she says as he’s pulling the condom on. 

“That you’re a virgin?”

“No shut up about that,” she leans over and he sits up to kiss her lips “I mean all of it,” she says licking her lips and sitting back to rub his bare chest. “don’t go bragging to everyone that you fucked me.”

“I would never do that,” he says and she gives him a look that says she knows he’s full of shit.

“I mean… obviously I would never do that now that you asked me not to.” He smirks.

“You’re so annoying,” she bites down on a smile. 

“You like it.” He grins lifting her shirt up. She helps by pulling it off and she’s not wearing a bra. He cups her tits and she moves his hands to his sides and kisses him her tits pressed up against his chest. He’s so hard, he knows she can feel him pressing up into her tummy. 

“Come on virgin,” he sighs, grabbing at her ass, fingers tugging at her lacy black panties. “Lemme fuck you already.” 

“Don’t. make. it. A. Thing.” She punctuates by gripping his dick and jerking it roughly.

He groans as she does it and smiles up at her. “I wanna make it a thing. Cause it’s so fucking hot. My dick stretching your virgin pussy.”

She rolls her eyes but she’s anxious, wiggling, and then sits up on her knees, gazing at him. He tugs her panties down and slips his fingers in. And boy do they go in. She sighs.

“Fuck, you’re eager, aren’t you?,” he breathes, his fingers are wet when he pulls them out. 

She doesn’t even push back, she just slides her panties all the way off and straddles him, taking a breath as she eases herself onto his dick. He’s sinking in so slowly it feels incredible. She’s got her eyes squeezed shut and she’s holding her breath he rubs her tummy. “You can breathe, sweetheart,” he says, barely breathing himself for how heated her pussy feels, deliciously enveloping his length. 

“Shush,” she whispers, like she doesn’t want his help.

He rubs her pelvis as she basically cockwarms him, trying to get used to the feeling. Shes so fucking pretty. “How’s it feel?” He asks, praying he can last.

“Weird.”

“Does it hurt?” 

She shakes her head and wiggles her hips, lifting and lowering again, slowly. He watches her, biting his tongue, gripping her thighs as she gets her rhythm. It’s so desperately hot he knows he needs to control himself or he’s gonna lose it before she even gets into it. “God… that’s it…good girl,” he whispers.

“Shut up,” she breathes. He can tell it’s starting to feel good and soon she’s moaning and he closes his eyes so he won’t come apart. 

It doesn’t really make a difference. Eyes closed and there’s the slick sound of her riding, the slap of their skin as she bounces and he meets her with his hips, he knows he’s not long for the world when she’s moaning his name. And then she’s rubbing herself, coming hard, clenching and squeezing him so tightly that he can barely hang on through the entirety of her release before he’s unloading into the tip of the condom. 

“Oh fuck,” she giggles.

He smiles at the sound. “You like that?”

She shrugs climbing off his lap and settling on the bed next to him, like she expected it to be better. But she’s breathless and squirmy. He puts his arm around her and she rests, her soft hair on his shoulder. “Good enough I guess.”

“Yeah right you’re gonna fucking remember me forever.” He teases. “I mean I’m your first. Even your grandkids will hear the story of the great Patrick Zweig.”

She laughs. “Shut the fuck up, loser.”

“I’m so not a loser,” he grins, and kisses the top of her head.

“You are,” she sighs, rubbing his tummy. “You have to go. My mom’s gonna be back in like 30 minutes and I have to clean up.”

“Naughty girl. Are you gonna spend the rest of the night pretending you didn’t get penetrated in the bed right next to her?” Patrick teases.

“Of course I am. For all she knows you were never here.” She smiles, pulling on a t-shirt that just o happens to be the old Nirvana one he wore over. “Except for this,” she says, gazing down at the shirt. “Can I keep it?”

“I mean… that kinda means I get to keep something of yours.” Reaching for her panties.

“Only if you wear them out, you freak,” she teases. 

“You think I won’t?”

She bites her lip and he laughs. “Are you imagining me in them? Freak.”

“No. Loser.” She shoves him playfully and he laughs some more.

“It’s okay I’ll wear them later. Just to satisfy your freaky little mind.” He smirks as sits up and removes the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash. She watches him carefully sitting on her knees. “It’s kinda big right?” She says softly.

He smiles.

“Oh god, shut up.” She mutters. “I’m sure there are plenty that are bigger.”

“You’ve just never seen one.”

“Get out.” She says tossing his jeans at him. He gets dressed and bags his things as she pulls on a pair of short shorts. “Gimme another kiss,” he says when he’s standing by the hotel room door. God. He’s not even over it. Fucking her for the first time just makes him want her even more. She leans in for him.

“You better not tell anyone. I’m so serious.” She says softly. 

“I won’t.” He promises. In his mind he’s not planning to say anything. But Art’s not just anyone. It might be fun to tell him how he took her virginity just to see his eyes light up with jealousy. And even better… with desire.

(Oh god anon, I’m so sorry for this delay if you’re even still here 😭😭 My response time is in hell. I’m still in December 🫣)

[kittynugg]

pacifica joining the pines family is not slept on at all but i love thinking about like,, her and ford's dynamic and just the dynamics in general

their only interaction is in lost legends where she calls him hot so i think i'd like to play into that in a way that isn't weird like she'd make him try on all kinds of outfits or force him into a skin/haircare routine (i feel like she'd do shit like that for every member of the pines family-- buys dipper like really high-end deodorant ["The cheap stuff is NOT going to do anything for THAT," she says, pinching her nose] or throw stan a bottle of sunscreen citing that he should at least try to save what little of his face there is left) she would supply him with coconut-scented shampoo and threaten to sue anyone else in the family if she smells it on them because she specifically got it for *his* kind of hair (whatever that means. nobody in the pines family knows what shes talking about)

i don't think ford would mind it because pacifica knows how to get his hair to be nice and fluffy via this strange magic called.. "self care"? he's not too sure about it but it works!

she'd definitely start wearing more sweaters. her parents would be pissed about her wearing mabel-made clothes because "it's not even designer!" and "you're taking HANDOUTS!?" but she wouldnt give a shit. mabel sweaters are made with pure love and also mabel's shockingly good at making fashionable clothes

stan and ford would just take her under their wing and raise her as their own like dipper and mabel (did i ever say they move in with stan and ford in my brain. their parents get the divorce) and ford tries to murder preston after hearing about the bell thing (stan robs them)

honestly i used to ship dipcifica hardcore but nowadays ehh. its a great ship i love it but im just not as into shipping anymore im thinking more of a "dipper, mabel, your grunkle stan and i stole this child from its parents. you have a new sister now" situation. you know when that happens.

and she would INSIST on spending money on them at every opportunity she and ford would fight (almost physically) to foot the bill if the family eats at a restaurant

god forbid she catches one of them looking at something for a second too long in a store. they are walking out with that object if she has to glue it to them. (this is especially terrifying for ford who i can't imagine liking it when people spend money on him)

she'd force dipper and ford at credit-card-point to take a day off from whatever lab work or paranormal cryptid bullshit they're doing to have a spa day and ford hates everything about it

stan is determined to give her the working class experience so he takes her to mcdonalds and like normal people grocery stores and allow her to say "what the fuck" while trying to withdraw from an atm

dipper obviously gives her the paranormal investigator experience (drags her into the woods, gets lost for six hours, reveal that he actually knew the way back the whole time and was just testing what she'd do in the situation and she passed the test this was totally his intent)

anyway what the fuck am i talking about im done bye

[slaymitchabernathy]

His Darling Dancer

Tears burn in Soarynn's eyes as she closes the front doors to her apartment. She knows that in order to successfully sneak into the bathroom without being spotted, it will require stealth and not running into the one person she really doesn't want to see right now.

She sniffles, quietly padding down the hallway toward her room. If luck is on her side, he's in his study right now, working hard to bring home the bacon. She can hear their hurtful words echoing around in her head, piercing her heart like bullets.

"She's got two left feet."

"She's so uncoordinated."

"I pity her husband, if she can't learn the steps, imagine what else she can't learn."

Soarynn chokes back a sob, stopping it at the top of her throat so it doesn't escape and alert anyone who might be listening. She's already decided that she'll have a proper cry, then take a shower and pretend to be sick.

She hurries into her bedroom, shutting the doors behind her and lets out a small sigh of relief. The hardest part, making it down the hall without being seen, is over with. She goes to walk into the bathroom, head lowered in shame and embarrassment over what happened today when she collides with a large wall that smells like roses.

Coriolanus.

His hands immediately fall to her waist, steadying her so she doesn't trip. She's always been a bit clumsy.

"Darling, you're home from class early," he notes.

Soarynn stares down at his shiny black shoes. Since the day she met Coriolanus, he's always known exactly who he is. A businessman, a successful businessman who's never stepped out of his lane. Perhaps she should heed his actions and stop trying to be something she's not. At least she'd stop wasting his hard-earned money with her silly little hobbies like ballet.

It's almost funny how different their attire is today. Him, dressed in an expensive suit with his shiny shoes and gelled-back curls. And her, dressed in her black leotard and light pink skirt, with pink tights and ballet slippers.

It looks like she's playing pretend.

She doesn't say anything and she doesn't dare look up at him for she knows that if she stares into those bright blue eyes, she'll finally burst into tears.

All she does is nod.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" He presses, worry seeping into his tone. Coriolanus has always been protective over Soarynn and her sensitive heart. She sometimes worries that he must be tired of her overreactions to every little thing that goes wrong in her life. Perhaps he wishes he married someone else. He certainly had his pick of the litter.

But he chose her and that has to mean something.

Right?

Soarynn shakes her head with trembling lips and shaking hands, more shameful memories flood into her head. She remembers how she showed up to her ballet class today, with her little bag and her hair tied into a bun. She got to class a little earlier than usual today, wanting to have some more time to warm up and stretch.

Soarynn has been taking ballet classes for a few months now, she thought it would be fun and Coriolanus was more than encouraging for her to try something new. He thought it would be good for her to put herself out there, "make friends," he had said.

She hasn't particularly been doing too well on that front.

She tries, she tries to make friends with the other girls in her class but they all know each other which makes it hard to connect. But she didn't let that stop her from learning ballet. She enjoyed it immensely, even if she was always singled out, always without a partner.

She never mentioned that to Coriolanus when he asked her about class.

She enjoyed the classes, why would she mention that one little tidbit of information, useless information in her opinion?

Until today when most of the girls were also there early, stretching by the mirrors that covered the entire left wall. She saw them looking at her, whispering about her.

"Look at her tights."

"Look at her skirt, it's so ugly."

Soarynn had just pretended not to hear them, deciding to stretch out in the hallway instead. Then came the actual lessons. Soarynn wasn't doing as well as she had last class, messing up counts, stumbling, and tripping a few times. It was when she fell down that it all went downhill.

In a theatrical cliche, the music stopped and everyone looked down at her on the ground. While her teacher asked if she was alright, her classmates whispered about her, sharing rude comments and gossip.

"She's got two left feet."

"Maybe she needs to practice with the little girls instead."

Soarynn was willing to look past all those comments along with the ones made previously at the beginning of class. She'd tell herself that they were all having a bad day even though she was having the worst one.

But then came the lowest blow, right as she was pushing herself off the ground she caught the quietest whisper.

"It's like we're all graceful swans and Soarynn is the ugly duckling."

Soarynn couldn't bear it any longer, she grabbed her things and fled the class, telling her teacher that she wasn't feeling well after that fall.

"Soarynn? Soarynn what happened? Who did this to you?"

He gently grabs her elbow, lifting it up so he can properly see the bruise forming on it. Turns out the fall was both emotionally and physically painful for her.

Finally, the dam breaks, and her tears fall freely down her face. "I...I fell," she cries, burying her face in his crisp white shirt. Coriolanus pays no mind to the cleanliness of his shirt, all too focused and worried about his crying wife. He lets go of her elbow to cradle the back of her head, his large hand easily covers it.

"Darling," he says in his softest, gentlest tone, only reserved for her, "darling tell me what actually happened."

Soarynn squeezes her eyes shut, the memory is too painful to bear right now. She just wants to go to sleep and possibly never wake up again but she knows that Coriolanus won't allow it. He wants answers.

She hears him sigh, feels it too when his broad chest expands and then contracts under his shirt. Even fully dressed he feels so strong, like he's capable of fixing anything for her.

"Let's come into the bathroom and get you cleaned up hmm?"

Soarynn doesn't say anything to protest his suggestion which leads to her sitting on her vanity stool while he crouches down in front of her, tissues and first aid kit in hand.

"Are you bleeding anywhere?"

She can't bring herself to talk right now so a simple headshake will have to do. "Ah, well, let's fix these tears then," he says, gently wiping her face with a soft tissue. Soarynn closes her eyes again, so embarrassed that he has to see her like this. She wishes she weren't so fragile and sensitive. Coriolanus never lets anything get to him.

Soarynn sits there quietly in her stupid ballet clothes that she's never going to wear again. Maybe she can sell them to someone. She'd been so excited to go buy clothes for her class, even gave Coriolanus a bit of a fashion show which he loved, complimenting every leotard and skirt.

Once her tears are gone and her sniffling has stopped, Coriolanus asks her one more time.

"What happened darling?"

She wishes she could forget that today ever happened.

"I um, I went to class," she starts, her voice so soft that he has to lean in to hear her better, "and I um, I got there early, so I could stretch." Coriolanus nods, he helped her do her bun today after breakfast, slicked it back with some of the gel he uses for his curls.

Soarynn usually opted for a braid or ponytail but after seeing how the other girls did their hair, she wanted to fit in. So she asked him to help her and he did, he took the time out of his busy morning to help her do her hair.

And now it's all ruined.

More tears threaten to spill but he's quick to wipe them away with the brush of his thumb, "It's alright," he says, "it's alright darling."

Soarynn whimpers, it’s not alright. Nothing is alright. She’s ashamed of how easily she lets others get to her, how a handful of words can ruin her entire day, especially when she knows that Coriolanus actually has real problems to deal with.

From what she’s heard and what he’s told her, his job as a businessman can be very stressful with people talking at him from every direction. He’s constantly in the spotlight, criticized for every move he makes. Soarynn had vowed to herself that she’d never give anyone a reason to criticize him because of her.

She would always be good, sweet, and quiet. Which she mostly is, to begin with but now her acts of kindness hold more weight to them. She cannot afford to act out if she values her husband’s reputation.

She dares to look into his eyes, like a calm sea after a storm. Her eyes are a more stormy blue mixed with gray, always filled with tears whereas his are calm and stable, steadying her with a single glance.

Coriolanus has been nothing but good to her since they first met. Soarynn had been attending a gala as one does in the Capitol. She had gotten overwhelmed by the noise and the people, the judgmental glances and whispers she’d grown used to.

Being beautiful is a gift but also a curse, if people can’t give you flack for your physical appearance, they’ll dig hard and deep to find something else to hate. In Soarynn’s case, it was her timid nature and her sensitive heart.

She had escaped to one of the many grand hallways in the mansion where the gala was being thrown, desperate for some fresh air. She walked down the long hall, breathing in and out, glad to be away from the prying eyes when one of the many doors opened, about ten men flooding out of the room they were just in.

It must have been a quick meeting or something from what she’s gathered, unplanned but at the same time, perfectly planned for her to meet Coriolanus for the first time.

She had stood by the window as they all walked out, her eyes drawn to the tallest man in the group. He looked so handsome in his dark blue suit, with his curls perfectly styled. He had merely glanced over at her for a second before he broke away from the group to inquire if she was alright.

From the very start, he’s been so sweet, so gentle, and caring towards her. He’s never yelled, not even raised his voice. He’s taken things extremely slow with Soarynn who hadn’t courted anyone before him. Even on their wedding night, he was so patient, guiding her through the scary steps of losing her virginity.

He had kissed all over her face to make her laugh, tickled her sides, and held her so delicately. Having sex was something Soarynn knew nothing about but she liked it, liked how close she was able to be with him when they did it.

She often wonders if he'd prefer some girl with more experience, someone willing to take the initiative when it comes to doing things in the bedroom. Soarynn rarely has the courage to kiss him let alone undress him.

But that's not important right now, clearly not to him since he looks so very worried for her well-being. "I fell," she whispers, "I fell and they said terrible things about me. They said...they said I was an ugly duckling."

It sounds so silly now that she's said it out loud but she can see in her husband's eyes how angry he is, how those words have now affected him and their small family. Coriolanus might be the calm in the middle of the storm but he doesn't mind going out into the terrible weather, she's seen it before, how he's not scared of putting his neck on the line for the people he cares about.

More tears fall down her face, Soarynn wishes he'd just leave her be since she already has a full day of crying planned out but he stays right in front of her, a more hardened look in his eyes now that she's told him the length of what happened.

"How long has this been happening, darling?"

Soarynn bites her lip. Coriolanus doesn't like it when people lie to him, and she doesn't want to lie to him but she hasn't exactly been telling the truth either. She's really just been leaving out small parts of the story if she's being honest, only parts that have to do with her being an outcast and left out of everything they do in class.

Nothing important.

Coriolanus gently cups her face with his large hand and Soarynn leans into his touch, feeling as though all the problems in the world can be fixed by her husband.

"It's been happening for quite some time," she quietly admits, looking back down at her lap, "I try to make friends but they don't like me."

She hears him sigh, it's not an angry sigh which is good, she doesn't want him to be angry with her. "Why didn't you tell me about this darling? We could've fixed this problem months ago, I hate that you've had to go through all of this by yourself."

Coriolanus unfortunately, has a point. If she just had a little courage, a bit of a backbone then this could've been resolved a long time ago. But she doesn't want him to worry about her, and about these little things.

Soarynn shrugs, "Maybe they're just having a bad day."

Coriolanus leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, "Oh my darling girl, you're too good for this world you know that?"

Soarynn blushes at the petname, he's always called her darling since he insists that it's exactly what she is. "You're just such a darling little thing," he had told her when she asked him about it.

"I don't want anyone to get in trouble," she adds, looking into his eyes when he pulls away, grabbing her skirt and nervously tugging on the fabric, "and I...I also don't want to go back to class anymore, if that's okay with you."

Coriolanus could easily say that she still has to go. He already paid for all the classes up front and there's to be a small recital in about a month. And he paid for the clothes, the shoes, Soarynn is starting to realize how much of a burden she is for Coriolanus.

His brows furrow, confliction evident in his face, Coriolanus Snow is not a quitter, but his wife might be. "But you've worked so hard darling," he reminds her, "and there are other ways to fix this problem besides running from it."

Ouch.

He means well, she knows that, but Soarynn is all for giving up and not looking back. It's that damned determination that makes him so charming and noble in her eyes, never backing down from a fight.

Soarynn sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand now that the tears seem to be coming to an end, "Like what?"

He gives her a small smile, "Don't you worry about a thing darling."

꧁ ꧂

꧁ One Month Later ꧂

Soarynn navigates her way to the front of the theater, adrenaline rushes through her veins after the performance she just put on with the other girls in her class. She still can't believe how well it went and most importantly, how she didn't fall.

Soarynn finally reaches the lobby of the theater where tons of people are milling around, all offering their congratulations to the ballerinas they came to support. Soarynn gets a few looks from some of the girls, but they don't say anything mean to her and that's all she can really ask for.

Soarynn carefully weaves through the crowd, looking for the one person who promised he'd be here. It would be one thing to fall during their performance, but another thing entirely to be without anyone supporting her in the audience.

Soarynn is beginning to worry that he wasn't able to make it, that a meeting ran late, or that something came up when someone taps her on the shoulder. Soarynn turns around and breaks into a grin when she sees her husband, her handsome, lovely, supportive husband with a bouquet of roses in his hand.

"You came," she gasps, throwing her arms around him. Coriolanus chuckles, wrapping his free hand around her frame, "Of course I did darling, I had to come see my darling little dancer." Soarynn beams at his words, nothing else matters when she's with him, not the mean words or the nasty looks.

They're already getting a few looks from some of the other ballerinas and their husbands but Coriolanus glares right back, standing firm in his support for his wife. Soarynn doesn't know what he did exactly after he found her crying and found out what was happening to her.

She just remembers him helping her change into her pajamas and carrying her to bed. He brought her tea and smoothed down her hair, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before promising to take care of everything and not to worry her pretty little head about it.

He never told her what happened, what he did, what he said, but class became much more bearable and Soarynn even managed to make a friend in the process.

"You were terrific by the way," he adds, "practice truly does make perfect because you were the best one on stage." Soarynn blushes at the compliment, she certainly wasn't the best but she wasn't the worst one on stage and she's okay with that.

"Well thank you for coming," she says softly so he leans in to hear her over the voices filling the room, "you really didn't have to." Coriolanus firmly shakes his head, almost looking offended by her words, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Well, that's sweet.

The roses smell sweet as well, an intoxicating scent that overwhelms her entirely and reminds her of Coriolanus. Despite the expensive colognes he uses, he always smells of roses.

"I say we got out and celebrate tonight," he suggests, guiding them through the thick crowd, "we can even stop by the petshop afterward." Soarynn perks up at the mention of the petshop, one of her favorite places to drag Coriolanus to whenever he has the time.

Soarynn often visits the cute white kitten in the shop but she only goes inside when she's with Coriolanus since he has no issues asking if she can hold the small feline. Soarynn is far too shy to ask so she settles for looking through the window, dragging her finger along the glass for the kitten to follow and try to catch.

"Can we get that little white kitten? She's just so sweet and it would be the perfect end to the day," Soarynn tries, feeling a bit of courage after conquering the stage and the gossiping ballerinas. If she can handle this, she can handle anything.

Coriolanus chuckles, rubbing her side and she knows he'll say yes, it's moments like this where she has him in the palm of her hand. Coriolanus might be stern and cold to the rest of the world, but Soarynn knows that he'd also burn it if she asked him to.

As they're stepping out onto the street he answers her question, once again solidifying that so long as she stays by his side, he'll stay by hers.

"Anything for my darling dancer."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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[castleskies]

just want a reason to write rook visiting all of the veilguard post game, like imagine –

she goes to visit the professor while he's teaching, slipping into his class while it's in session. it's manfred who spots her first "rook!!" and the enthusiasm is unparalleled. almost too much since manfred's hands burst into flames; but it does make the hug a warm one. (ha ha ha – she's a de riva the puns are hereditary.)

she visits davrin and neve's "minrathous monsters and murders", the detective agency that they've set up in dock town. it's neve's full time interest, and davrin's secondary job (he splits his time between dock town and arlathan with the griffins). there's always something going on in dock town – she's barely crossed the threshold of the agency before she's pulled out on a mystery to solve; there's fried fish at the end of it, so she can't say she didn't get rewarded.

assan gets plenty of pets. manfred learns to hug from watching assan actually–

she visits bellara in arlathan and surprising no one, she's put to work (bel's busy! can't sit still! and can't deny that rook's glad to have something to keep her hands occupied.) rook's got her steps clocked in and by the end of it she's tired, exhausted, and there's a persistent hum in the back of her mind that mirrors the elven artifacts they've fixed all day. strife makes tea and she recognises it from emmerich's blends, and it makes her smile as they sit around the campfire.

visiting taash in rivain and SOMEHOW isabela manages to get her to solo a round in the hall of valor. it was hard enough as a team and it's harder alone – but it gets done and it's taash who picks her up at the end of the fight and they do a victory lap. isabela buys them drinks, after; taash and rook toast one out for harding.

there's a bonus pitstop to the cantori diamond, where teia is; and viago who seems to have forgotten the way home to salle and seems to be permanently situated in the cantori diamond (hm hm hm!) and both of them don't buy her bullshit that she was 'in the neighbourhood' but go drinking, anyway, draining viago's very expensive wine collection.

it's when they're deep in their cups when viago finally says point blank what's the truth: all these visits are visits but rook's running from something, and it's not very de riva to run from your problems –

(teia, in the corner, also drunk but not too drunk to say: yes de rivas prefer to bring the snake that bit them HOME–)

– and it sucks, but viago's right (he's smug about this) and rook's done her rounds because it's a distraction, and it's good to be distracted. it makes everything easier.

it's another very expensive wine bottle later before it spills out: she doesn't know if she's allowed to be happy, after everything; and that grief comes and goes in waves and there's no expiration date, it's there, persistent – and one day she's with lucanis and she feels happy and the guilt that comes after is immeasurable; after everything and everyone they've lost, she feels happy and she feels it's wrong and it's made worse, she thinks, because she's sure lucanis is going to propose and isn't that a happy aftermath that she doesn't deserve.

(viago makes a choking noise. teia smacks viago on the back of his head; it seems to make him rethink what he wants to say.)

they might have said something, but rook doesn't remember. she falls asleep right after.

she means to go home, eventually. but instead, home comes to her.

it's rook, waking up to the familiar face of lucanis who's sitting by her bed (it's nice of viago to have put her in one; she'll have to [sigh] thank him). he looks like he hasn't slept; he probably hasn't, knowing him – rushed right over to the casino after he's completed his mission, dressed in the leathers she'd seen him leave in.

how strange it must seem to anyone else: the first talon, on his knees –

(is this a proposal?) (only if you want it to be.)

and she knows, then, that viago and teia's told him everything. the marvel is this: that he knows it all but is still here, anyway, because the promise he made to her has always been this – he'd never leave her, and she has him by her side.

his fingers are laced with hers. this is how her heart remains whole; because he holds on to it so tightly.

(in the end, it's rook who proposes, in the end. the grief and guilt persists; but it does not mean she cannot be happy, all the same.)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The Many Languages of Love - Familial (Ordon Fam)

Summary: When Uli gets run down, Rusl and the boys step up to help.

Setting: Post-Twilight Princess

Rusl always knew that whenever he came home, there would be warm food and an even warmer hug waiting for him. Whether it was from working in the forge, delivering something to Castle Town, the more covert affairs of the Resistance, or more recently the shroud of darkness that had engulfed Hyrule, Rusl could always rely on Uli to hold the fort at home.

Of course, he tried to pitch in as best he could. When he wasn't doing any of the aforementioned activities, he at least tried to maintain cleanliness in the house, and of course he always looked after the children when he had time to do so. Uli generally managed the home happily on her own, though, and he thanked her for it every day.

So it was a strange and concerning thing when, one evening, Rusl returned home to find Uli sitting on the sofa, no fire crackling in the fireplace, no food to be seen or smelled, and a general dark atmosphere to the space.

"Uli?" he questioned, walking towards her. "Are you alright?"

Uli jumped, startled, having been lost in thought. "Oh! Dearest, I--I'm so sorry, I just--"

His wife paused, sighing and sagging a little in the sofa. Rusl knelt in front of her to be at eye level and looked her over. She seemed very out of sorts. "What's wrong?"

Uli shook her head. "I'm just tired. I'm sorry. I'll work on dinner."

Rusl laid a hand on her knee. "If you're tired, then rest. I'll take care of dinner."

Uli's posture changed, stiffening a little as she shot him an uncertain, questioning glance.

Rusl tried not to be offended by the look. "Just because it didn't quite go that well last time doesn't mean I can't make something for you. Go rest in bed. I'll take care of everything."

Uli watched him a moment longer before sighing and nodding. Rusl kept an eye on her until she vanished into the bedroom, and he nodded to himself, setting to work. The cleaning could wait until after dinner. As for the children, he knew Colin had Hana as he usually took babysitting duty around the evening. He saw them outside just a moment ago. So that just left dinner.

Nothing was really laid out to be utilized, but as Rusl walked to the kitchen area, he saw some usable items. Eggs, some goat milk and cheese. That was good. Uli usually loved eggs boiled, but...

Well, to be honest, Rusl got tired of peeling them and mutilating them. Besides, he was cooking now, which meant they could have something different! Uli might appreciate a change. Also, boiled eggs were usually served for breakfast. He needed to make something a bit more substantial.

What else can I make with all this? He wondered, growing steadily more baffled at the prospect.

He would need some help.

Gathering the ingredients, Rusl stepped outside and headed towards the outskirts of the village. Colin took note, following him.

"Is dinner ready?" his son asked as he traipsed along, his baby sister bundled in his arms.

"Not quite," Rusl answered. "Your mother needed some time to rest, so I'll be making dinner."

Colin paused, expression growing worried. "Is Ma okay?"

"She'll be fine," Rusl assured his boy. He had to smile at the child's concern; Colin had such a big heart. Although it was a valid question since Uli usually never faltered, Rusl did know his wife had her slumps just as much as anyone else; women seemed to suffer from it more than men (Rusl had to marvel how women endured so much mentally and emotionally - he admired Uli all the more for it). He was more than happy to take care of her and the family until she recovered. "But we can make the load easier for her for a little while."

"Where are we going?" Colin questioned next.

"Well..." Rusl paused as they found their way to the last house in the village. "I figured I'd recruit some help."

Rusl and Link had both been on their own journeys now, after the attack on Hyrule. Rusl usually got by with scrounging together something somewhat edible, but he could just as well go a day without eating until he reached a settlement. Link might have better experience - the boy used to help Uli cook when he was younger.

Rusl was humble enough to admit he was a terrible cook, after all. But he was certain they could make something together.

Link was inside munching on a carrot (Rusl sincerely hoped the boy wasn't just going to eat that for dinner). After a brief explanation and another assurance that Uli was, indeed, going to be okay, the three put their heads together on the matter.

"What about an omelet?" Link offered. "It's better than just boiling them."

"How about egg stew?" Colin picked up a glass of milk and shook it. "Ma always says milk is great for stews."

"I've never heard of egg stew, I'm afraid," Rusl laughed. "Is that something you had in Kakariko?"

"I had omelets in Kakariko," Link noted.

Colin shook his head. "No, there weren't egg stews in Kakariko Village. But it has to exist, right? And Ma makes lots of stews for dinner."

"But we ain't got any of the ingredients for stew," Link sighed. "There's usually other stuff in it. I can see if I can get some pumpkins."

"Uli needs dinner sooner rather than later," Rusl interrupted the train of thought. "Let's use what we have. She could make something out of it. How about the omelet idea?"

Link rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I don't know how to make omelets."

"Well it can't be too hard," Rusl supposed. "I've had plenty in my travels. We'll figure this out. We know it takes eggs."

"But how do they end up like that? Uli always boils them."

"Maybe it's after you boil them?" Colin offered. Hana giggled in support of the suggestion.

"Omelets are yellow like the yokes. Maybe it's just made out of egg yokes?" Rusl muttered, thinking about it. That had to be the case. But the yokes varied in texture from watery to powdery depending on the degree of boiling the egg. They were never soft and fluffy like omelets.

"Maybe we could ask someone in the village," Link offered with a shrug.

Rusl was humble enough to admit he needed help, but he wasn't that humble. "No. We'll figure this out. We're all smart lads, we can get this done."

After intense debate, the group decided that a omelette was their best option. They tried to boil the eggs so they could separate the yolks more easily. Rusl lamented it was good they needed the yolks and not the whites as he seemed to shred them while peeling the shells. Colin managed to peel them perfectly, at least until he and Link made a competition out of it. Rusl eventually had to slow his rowdy children down before they destroyed the eggs entirely. Then they mixed the yolks in with milk and boiled that, slowly adding cheese as the milk warmed.

The family looked at the bubbling, semi-soupy mixture in bewildered silence.

“I don’t think we did it right,” Link finally noted.

Colin suggested, “Maybe we just need to boil it longer?”

“We’re gonna burn something.”

Rusl ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. If he really wanted to help Uli, he should probably—

“Rusl?”

Startled, Rusl, Link, and Colin jumped and whirled to see Uli at the entrance to Link’s home. Hana cheered happily, hands in the air in greeting of her mother.

“Uli!” Rusl looked guiltily between the strange cheesy soup they’d made and his wife. “I—we’re still working on—”

“Is that dinner?” Uli asked, her tiredness fading in lieu of amusement.

Rusl felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he puffed his chest out somewhat defensively. “It’s still a work in progress.”

“Pa,” Link argued halfheartedly, and Colin looked pleadingly at Uli for assistance.

Their mother sighed good naturedly. “What were you trying to make?”

“It’s fine—”

“Omelets,” Colin answered.

Rusl looked grumpily at his boys. Traitors.

Uli burst out laughing.

After catching her breath and wiping her tears of mirth, his wife said, “Let’s go home and I’ll make an actual omelet.”

Rusl was not going to make her work when she’d been too tired to do so earlier, but despite all his insistence, she nudged him gently until he relented. The compromise was t the would help cook.

And honestly, Uli’s smile was brighter than it had been in a while as she giggled about the home, as Colin helped clean dishes, as Link gathered supplies.

Rusl swallowed his pride, settling to clean up after his wife, happy that, despite his fumbling, she was still feeling better.

[baby-blue-skyy]

Too Sweet // R. Grimes (TWD) Part 2

Second part of: Too Sweet

I’m still getting familiar with writing on Tumblr, it’s going to take time to get used to, but I am determined to keep up this little series. Feel free to give me suggestions, ideas and feedback! Once I get a little more experience on here I will definitely be taking requests!

Warning: age gap, smoking

Summary: After arriving in Alexandria, Rick is still on high alert, uncertainty about the people who live within the walls of his new, unfamiliar home. But one person has caught his attention.

•••

It had been a few days since Rick's awkward encounter with Daisy. Days filled with constant vigilance and a haunting undercurrent of thoughts he couldn't quite shake. It wasn't that he wanted to dwell on her—he had more important things on his mind. His group needed him. He had a job to do. But every time he tried to focus on something else, her smile, the way her presence had thrown him off balance, was all he could think about.

The only thing that had given him some relief was that he hadn't seen her again. Maybe she was just a distraction. Maybe she was a complication he didn't need in his life. Rick didn't know, but he was trying not to care.

Then, Josh showed up—the next day as promised.

Rick hadn’t expected to meet him so early in the morning, and honestly, he didn't care to. The second Rick opened the door to find Josh standing there with a bag of clothes for Judith, his first instinct was to size him up—and Josh didn't pass the test.

The guy was a walking contradiction. Tall, built like a man who thought he could outfight anything—if only he wasn't too busy looking at himself in every reflective surface. His eyes were too sharp, his smile too wide, his words too loud. Every word that came out of his mouth was like a hammer, like he was so sure of his own importance that he couldn't help but drag the conversation on longer than necessary.

Josh talked about everything: his old life, his job (before the world ended, of course), the way he used to pick up chicks in the old world. Rick didn't care about any of it, but Josh didn't seem to notice Rick's lack of interest. Rick's gaze kept flicking to the side, his thoughts constantly returning to the discomfort of being this close to someone so... self-absorbed.

Josh made a big show of how "lucky" Rick was to be living in Alexandria. Of course, he didn't know Rick's situation, didn't understand the kind of weight he carried. Josh was the kind of guy who had probably always gotten what he wanted, with little effort. And Rick hated it. He hated the way Josh assumed everything was easy, the way his words filled the room like noise that had no purpose.

But Rick smiled thinly and nodded, trying to keep it together. He didn't trust Josh. And if he were being honest, he didn't trust anyone in Alexandria.

The day had drifted into the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky, but Rick couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him. The police uniform felt wrong against his skin. It was new, crisp, and clean, and he hadn't worn a uniform in a long time. It was a reminder of who he used to be. But it didn't make him feel any more like the man he once was.

He was supposed to patrol, to keep the streets secure. But instead, his eyes darted everywhere, scanning for any sign of trouble, any sign that this place wasn't as perfect as it seemed. Alexandria was a different world, but that didn't mean it was safe. Not yet. Not until he figured out exactly what was going on here.

Rick walked the streets, his steps heavy, his mind preoccupied with a thousand things—his group, the community, the job he had to do. He found himself circling back—his steps falling directly infront of his home. But something caught his eye. Something, or rather someone.

It was her.

She sat on her front porch, casually holding a cigarette between her fingers, exhaling thin streams of smoke into the air. She sat in a white wicker chair—her legs pressed to her chest—her eyes were fixed on something beyond him, but when Rick's gaze met hers, it felt like a jolt of electricity shot through him.

The moment dragged out, and Rick stood still for a few beats, watching her. He hadn't expected to see her again, regardless of the close proximity of living courters they shared. She wasn't like anyone else in Alexandria. She didn't belong to this world in the way the others did. Her beauty was like an ache he didn't know how to place, and every time he let himself think about it, it made him feel exposed, vulnerable.

She had a toddler with her, a little girl playing on the steps with chalk, oblivious to the world around her, drawing swirls and shapes on the pavement with innocent joy.

Rick swallowed, trying to calm the sudden rush of adrenaline that coursed through him. His mind screamed at him to keep walking, to focus on his patrol. But before he could stop himself, his feet were moving toward her. There was no logical reason for it—no good reason at all.

His legs felt heavy as he approached the porch, the quiet creak of the boards beneath his boots amplifying in the otherwise still air.

He wasn't sure why he'd walked over there. It wasn't like him. He didn't go looking for distractions. But her presence—her softness—had drawn him in, like a magnet.

"Thank you," He rasped, his fingers flexing at his sides. "For the clothes," he said, the words coming out without thought.

Daisy's eyes snapped to him, quick and sharp, like she hadn't expected him to be standing there. She inhaled deeply, the smoke from her cigarette curling around her in thin, lazy spirals. She studied him for a moment, her lips parting slightly as if deciding how to respond.

"No problem at all," she said, her voice lighter than he remembered, a hint of something playful in her tone. "How're you settling in?"

Rick nodded, trying to shake the odd feeling crawling up his spine. "Good," he muttered, his eyes drifting involuntarily to the toddler, still absorbed in her drawings. The little girl's chubby fingers worked furiously at the colorful chalk, oblivious to the world around her. Rick felt something stir in him—some quiet ache that had nothing to do with the apocalypse and everything to do with the future.

But his thoughts were immediately pulled back to Daisy as she untangled herself from the chair with a fluidity that was too easy, too graceful for the world they now lived in. It shouldn't have been so disorienting, but it was. She stood a couple steps above him, her proximity—so close to him—it should not have made him feel so... nervous.

He forced his eyes back to her face, but his focus wavered when the faint scent of vanilla and stale cigarette smoke wrapped around him like a blanket, invading his senses and pulling him deeper into the haze of her presence.

It was strange. The smell. He hadn't thought about it in so long—vanilla, perfume, something soft. It hit him in waves, disorienting him. He hadn't smelled something that normal in a long time. A sharp rush of dizziness caught him, and for a moment, he didn't know whether it was the world shifting beneath his feet or just the effect of her.

She moved down another step, the faintest rustle of fabric—the oversized t-shirt she accompanied brushing her thighs. It shouldn't have made him as anxious as it did, shouldn't have made his pulse pick up, but it did.

He had to get control of this. He couldn't let her get under his skin.

"So, this your job?" Daisy asked, her voice lighter now that she was standing directly in front of him, just a step above him. not that far away at all. "What are you, a cop or something?"

Rick swallowed, his breath caught in his throat for a second as he stared up at her, trying to keep his expression even, trying to keep everything in check. "Just helping out," he said, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

She smiled at him, but it wasn't the playful, easy smile from before. There was something softer in it now, something that tugged at him in ways he wasn't ready to deal with. "I see," she said. "Well, the uniform suits you...I think you look real professional.”

Rick's breath hitched, but he forced himself to look away.

His chest grew tight at her words, even though they fell mindlessly from her lips. The way she spoke, the subtle playfulness in her voice—she was so casual, so effortlessly confident, it felt like she was holding some secret that Rick couldn’t quite figure out. His pulse quickened as he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself.

“So, Deanna’s throwing a party?” he asked, the words feeling like a lifeline to something that wasn’t this strange tension between them.

Daisy hummed, leaning back against the porch railing as she took a long drag from her cigarette. She flicked the ash, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then her tongue darted out, dragging across her bottom lip. Rick tried not to notice.

“That’s what I hear,” she said, voice low, teasing, like she wasn’t fully invested in the conversation, but was enjoying his company nonetheless.

Rick looked down momentarily, shifting on his boots, trying to steady himself. His eyes darted up, catching her delicate form again. The soft curve of her neck, the way her fingers grazed her shirt. His gaze lingered before he spoke, unable to keep the question from escaping.

“Are you gonna be there?”

She pulled the hem of her oversized t-shirt down, her movements graceful, as if she had all the time in the world. She glanced briefly at the child still scribbling on the pavement with chalk, a moment of soft focus before she turned briskly, walking a few paces onto the porch, her fingers gently stubbing the cigarette into the ash tray. Her movements were like something Rick couldn’t quite place—effortless and fluid, like a dance he hadn’t been invited to.

“Josh,” she said, her tone casual, “he really doesn’t like those sorts of things.”

Rick stiffened at her words. It wasn’t the content of her statement, but the way it made him feel. The sudden, cold undercurrent that seemed to leak into her tone. There was something there. He could feel it, even if she wasn’t saying it outright. But he decided not to press. Not his business. She was none of his business.

He nodded slowly, the unease settling in his gut.

Daisy shifted on her feet, but her smile was soft now, a different sort of warmth to it, one that made his chest tighten. Her hands wrapped around herself, and she leaned against the railing, eyes on the horizon for a moment, as if contemplating something, before she turned back to him.

“For you,” she said, her voice warm, light, and playful, “I might make an exception.”

Rick’s heart skipped a beat. The words sounded innocent, but the way she said them made him shudder. There was a subtle shift in the air around them, like the temperature had gone up by a degree or two. Her voice, the soft smile—Rick’s body was already betraying him, responding to the unspoken invitation in her tone. But she wasn’t looking at him like that.

“And I have to meet your little one. I’ve been dying to get ahold of her.”

Rick’s chest tightened even more. His breath caught, and he stepped back instinctively, feeling the weight of the sudden pull in his stomach, that hot, unfamiliar pressure. It was like his mind and body were at war, his gut screaming at him to stay focused, to turn away, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

“Well,” he rasped, forcing a smile, “I should get back to it.”

He could feel the heat of her still lingering, the weight of the conversation heavy in the air between them. His feet moved almost reluctantly, but his eyes stayed fixed on her for a fraction longer than necessary.

A quiet moment passed before Daisy spoke again, her tone a little lighter, almost teasing as she gave him a soft smile. “Right! Well, stay safe out there, officer.”

Rick let out an amused chuckle. He couldn’t tell if the chuckle was more for himself, trying to ease the tension that had wrapped itself around him, or because she had said it in that way, with a wink of playfulness that made his chest tighten all over again.

But Daisy couldn’t help it. She let out a soft laugh, almost like an afterthought, before she caught herself, shaking her head.

Rick felt the strange flutter in his stomach, the sensation unsettling, like the world around him had shifted. He felt exposed—like she’d somehow managed to see something inside him he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

“Stay safe, Rick,” she said, her voice still light, but the faintest trace of something deeper lingered beneath the words. She turned back toward her child, but the unspoken tension hung between them like a thread pulled too tight.

Rick walked away, each step feeling like a battle against something he didn’t understand, something he couldn’t control. His mind was a mess, and every inch of his body screamed at him to forget the moment, to forget Daisy.

But her words, her presence—they weren’t something he could easily shake off.

[aeralux]

"Love Game" - Aegon Targaryen

Modern!Aegon x Reader (pt2 to Wicked Game, but could be read on its own)

Summary: After Aemond discards you like you're nothing more than a "convenient hole to fuck" (according to his words). Who better to make him jealous than his own older brother?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; rough sex; name calling (slut etc...); jealous Aemond; choking; LOUD af sex; alcohol consumption; angst (like a lil); slight Aemond x reaader (?); mentions of infidelity (Aemond)

Words: 8k

Notes: I'm not responsible for the media YOU consume.

Aemond Targaryen deserved to suffer. That was the only thought running through your head as you lived your day-to-day life. Even as weeks passed, the anger and bitterness inside you only grew stronger and stronger.

You wanted to pay him back, not just out of a sense of vengeance but because you felt it was necessary. He was older than you, and to be honest, he seemed to not even have any feelings that could be hurt.

But that didn’t matter; it wasn’t just about him. Hurting him would mean hurting your sister, the one person you cared about more than anyone else. You couldn’t let her find out what you had done—how you had betrayed her trust and broken the bond that held you together. The weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, filling you with a mix of guilt and fear.

He seemed to be doing well enough though, pretending that everything was fine. Looking at your sister with love in his eye, telling her sweet nothings. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, that pretentious jerk. With that same mouth, he had kissed you like he never even loved your sister.

Maybe you just needed another body to warm your bed to get over him, to forget all about that one-eyed freak and move on with your life. You had better things to do, truthfully.

Aemond catches your eye and flashes you a smirk, a knowing glint in his depths. He knows exactly what you're thinking, and can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. He thinks he's won, that he has you right where he wants you - desperate, bitter, and powerless.

Your sister, bless her naive heart, is completely oblivious to the tension between you. She chatters on about her day, laughing at Aemond's witty remarks, oblivious to the fact that the man she loves has been balls deep in her sister mere days ago.

Aemond reaches over, squeezing her hand affectionately. "Darling, you look radiant tonight. The most beautiful woman in the room, as always," he purrs, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

Your sister blushes, preening under his praise. If only she knew the real reason behind his smooth words and charming demeanour. The way he used to call you his 'dirty little secret', his 'convenient hole' to fuck when he needed release.

You feel the bile rise in your throat at the memory, your anger boiling over. You need to get away from him, from the sickening sight of him pretending to be the perfect boyfriend.

Suddenly, you stand up abruptly, the chair screeching loudly against the floor. Your sister looks at you in surprise, concern etched on her face.

"Sweetie? Are you alright?" she asks, noticing your pale complexion and the way your hands shake slightly.

"Yeah, listen I gotta go. Baela just texted she's having some people over at her place tonight. We're gonna pregame there and then hit up this new club downtown. Don't wait up, alright?" You say distractedly, already rising from your seat and grabbing your phone.

You shoot a quick smirk in Aemond's direction, just to let him know this is your way of getting back at him. Two can play his games.

"I'll be Quiet...I hope," you add with a wry smile, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you saunter off towards your bedroom. You make sure to put an extra sway in your hips as you walk away, just so he can get a good long look at your best asset in this tight skirt. 

You slip into your room and begin to get ready quickly, shimmying into the slinky black dress you bought on sale last week. You admire yourself in the mirror, confident and sexy, ready to take on the night and forget all about your sister'slying, cheating, manipulating bastard of a boyfriend.

Let Aemond jerk off to thoughts of you tonight, the dirty bastard. Probably will anyway, even if you're not there, you muse with a smirk, slipping on your silver kitten heels and grabbing your purse.

Aemond watches, his gaze lingering on the sway of your hips as you strut out of the room. He feels a flicker of annoyance at your snide remark, the obvious attempt at getting under his skin. Two can indeed play this game.

He turns to your sister, flashing her a disarming smile. "Ignore her," he says dismissively, waving a hand in the direction you disappeared. "You know how unpredictable your sister can be sometimes."

Your sister frowns slightly, a hint of worry in her eyes. "I just hope she's not getting mixed up with the wrong crowd again," she muses, biting her lower lip in concern.

Aemond laughs, a rich, deep sound that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry about it, my love. I'm sure she knows what she's doing." At least, he hopes she doesn't know what she's in for tonight. The thought of you stumbling home drunk and throwing yourself at some random guy causes an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He quickly pushes the thought away, focusing instead on your sister's lovely face.

The events of the night are hazy, interspersed with flashes of strobing lights, pounding music and the warmth of too many bodies pressed together on the dance floor. You recall Jace shouting something about an Uber, but the details are lost in a haze of alcohol and adrenaline.

Somewhere between the club entrance and the bar, you found yourself getting dragged to the floor by a drunk and overeager Rhaena. Before you could protest, her hands were already gripping your hips as she pulled you back against her. You began to shamelessly dance with her, practically grinding against her on the dancefloor.

Aemond slipped further from your thoughts with each pulsing heartbeat radiating from the speakers. For a blissful, drifting moment, everything else faded away - the betrayal, the anger, the heartache. It was just Rhaena, the thumping music, and the heady, almost electric atmosphere.

You could feel the eyes of strangers on you, but in the darkness and the buzz of the crowd, you didn't care. You let the music take over, let it consume you and make you feel alive.

Rhaena grins drunkenly at you as she grinds against you on the crowded dance floor, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "Woo! You're so hot!" Rhaena shouts over the pounding music, her words slightly slurred. She's a few drinks in, her inhibitions lowered.

Baela bounces up to you both, her silver hair swishing wildly as she moves to the music. She's wearing a tight, shimmering mini dress that shows off her toned dancer's body. "Girl, we need shots!" Baela yells over the pounding beat, her eyes sparkling with excitement and a bit of intoxication.

Jace, never one to miss out on a drinking opportunity, nods eagerly. He's been eyeing the bar, ready for the next round. Cregan just smirks, his gaze flickering between you, Baela and Rhaena. The strobing lights of the club illuminate his chiselled features and the mischievous glint in his eyes as he watches the two beautiful women grind together.

You flash Cregan a coquettish smile, playfully biting your finger as you catch his heated gaze. Wiggling your eyebrows teasingly, you let out a tinkling giggle, enjoying the blatant admiration in his eyes. The strobing lights of the club dance across your beautiful features.

Cregan watches, transfixed by your playful antics with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes rove appreciatively over your curves, lingering on the way your dress rides up your thighs as you dance. He takes a swig of his beer, never taking his heated gaze off you.

You lean in close to Baela, shouting over the deafening music and the chatter of the crowd. "Ooh, let's do tequila shots!" you suggest, your voice lilting and eager. "No, wait, vodka! Neat, no lime or salt!" Jace argues, his own words slightly slurred.

Rhaena giggles drunkenly at your shot suggestion, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Tequila it is!" she agrees enthusiastically, already pulling you off the dance floor towards the bar. Baela and Jace follow close behind, with Jace hollering out to the bartender.

As you reach the bar, Rhaena leans in close, her alcohol-laced breath hot against your ear. "You're such a tease," she accuses playfully, jerking her chin towards where Cregan is watching you with blatant appreciation. "The poor guy looks like he wants to devour you whole."

Baela chimes in, grinning widely as the bartender lines up the shots. "I don't blame him. Look at you, working that dress like it's your job." She winks at you, her own dress riding dangerously high on her thighs as she leans against the bar.

Jace slides the shots towards you both, his own eyes a bit glazed over from drinking. "Alright ladies, bottoms up!" he cheers, already tossing his shot back.

You toss back the tequila shot, feeling the burn of the alcohol slide down your throat and warm your belly. As you set the glass down, you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. Your heart seizes in panic for a moment, fearing it might be him. But as you turn to look, you realize it's not Aemond, but his older brother, Aegon.

Relief floods through you as you meet Aegon's gaze, his smile widening in recognition. You can't help but smile back, giving him a little wave. Aegon is handsome, like all the Targaryen men, but he doesn't have the same intense, almost frightening charisma as his younger brother.

Aegon returns your smile, his grin widening as he notices your relieved expression. He's always found you charming. Not to mention the way that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. He saunters over, the crowd parting easily for the handsome man.

"Aemond's girlfriend's little sister," Aegon greets, his voice a low rumble over the pounding music. "Looking as lovely as ever. What brings a pretty thing like you out tonight?" He leans against the bar beside you, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your form.

Aegon is no stranger to the effect he has on women. With his golden hair, piercing eyes, and the strong, muscular build that comes with being a Targaryen, he's used to turning heads. But there's a warmth to his demeanour that Aemond lacks, a kindness in his eyes that makes people feel at ease in his presence.

He watches as Rhaena, Baela and Jace chat and laugh, already a bit tipsy. His gaze flickers back to you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

You lean back against the bar, casually crossing your legs as you eye up Aegon with a smirk. "Aegon, these are my friends - Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Cregan," you say loudly enough to be heard over the blaring music. You gesture to each of them in turn, noting how Baela openly checks out Aegon's handsome features while Rhaena leans in to whisper something giggling to Jace, no doubt an impressed comment about your sister's 'brother-in-law's' looks.

Turning back to Aegon, you let your gaze shamelessly wander over his muscular frame, taking in the way his tailored shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and the way his dress pants hug his lean waist. "This is Aegon, my sister's boyfriend's older brother," you introduce him with a naughty lilt to your voice.

Aegon knows he's being checked out, and he takes your brazen appraisal as an invitation to do the same. His eyes slowly travel the length of your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, and the way the skirt of your dress rides up your thigh.

"A pleasure to meet you all," he says smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. He turns back to you, his gaze intense and appraising. "And an even greater pleasure to see you again. You look absolutely stunning," he adds, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone.

Aegon flags down the bartender, ordering another round of tequila shots for everyone. "Drinks are on me tonight," he declares, sliding the shots towards you and your friends with a wink.

As the night goes on, Aegon stays close by your side, his hand either resting on the small of your back or holding yours possessively as you dance. He makes it clear he finds you captivating, desirable even. His flirtations grow bolder with each drink, his body pressing closer to yours as the crowd jostles around you both on the dance floor.

You grin as Aegon's hands boldly explore your curves while you move to the beat, a shiver running down your spine as you feel his arousal pressing insistently against your backside. You spin around to face him with a coy smile.

His eyes darken with lust as they meet yours, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks. You lean in close, your voice breathy as you tease, "Careful Aegon, don't get too excited now."

You punctuate your words with a playful swat to his muscular chest, feeling his firm muscle beneath your palm. Glancing over at Baela and Rhaena, you see them watching your exchange with curious eyes and understanding grins.

You roll your eyes at them playfully before turning your attention back to the Blue-Eyed Adonis before you.

Aegon chuckles lowly at your flirtatious teasing, not put off in the least. If anything, your coy smile and the way your hand lingers on his chest only ignite the desire smouldering in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm already far too excited," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slides lower, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. He squeezes the supple flesh, pulling you more firmly against him so you can feel the hard press of his arousal.

"I could take you right here if I wanted to. Bend you over the bar and fuck you until you scream my name."

His lips brush against your ear, sending tingles down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the sheer masculine power of him. Part of you wants to give in, to let him have his way with you right here in the middle of the crowded club. But a bigger part of you wants to make him work for it, to tease and torture him.

Your eyes glint with mischief as you meet his heated gaze. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you ask, a kittenish smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

Aegon leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "Perhaps we should get out of here and find somewhere... more private," he suggests, his tone leaving no doubt about his intentions.

He glances over at Baela and Rhaena, who are not-so-subtly looking and mouthing 'holy shit' at you. Aegon smirks, clearly amused by their reaction.

Turning his attention back to you, Aegon reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering to caress your cheek. "What do you say, little one? Ready to get out of here and have some real fun?" he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your lower lip teasingly.

You lean in close, your lips brushing against Aegon's ear as you whisper sultrily, "I've been hoping you'd say something like that all night."

Your fingertips dance along his chiselled jawline before giving his earlobe a playful nip, tugging lightly. "My bed sound good enough for you?"

You press your body flush against his, letting him feel every curve and contour. "Tonight, you can do whatever you want with me~" you breathe. Your hand boldly cups the prominent bulge in his tailored trousers, giving it a teasing squeeze.

"Unless you'd rather stay and give my friends here a real show," you add with a coquettish wink at Baela and Jace, who watch your heated exchange with avid fascination.

His eyes darken with lust and he inhales sharply, the prominent bulge in his trousers twitching under your bold touch. He’s already imagining all the things he wants to do to your lush body, the ways he wants to make you scream and beg for more.

Aegon's lips curve into a wicked grin at your teasing offer to give your friends a show. "Tempting," he murmurs, one hand sliding down to grope your ass roughly. "I'd love to fuck you in front of an audience." His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. "But I want you all to myself tonight," he growls. "I'm going to take you home and use this sexy little body of yours in ways you've never been used before."

"Enough to drink? I'm ready to go whenever you are," he says, getting restless by now.

"Come on then," you purr, smirking up at Aegon with a wink. "Call the cab, I'm ready to go."

You blow kisses goodbye to Baela and Rhaena, giggling mischievously as you start leading Aegon out of the crowded club, your hips swaying with each step. The anticipation of the night ahead makes your heart flutter with excitement.

Aegon smirks as you lead the way out of the club, his eyes glued to your backside. He keeps a possessive hand on your lower back as he guides you out into the cool night air. The cab arrives quickly, and Aegon opens the door for you, allowing you to slip inside before sliding in beside you.

As the cab pulls away from the curb, Aegon's hand finds your thigh, his fingers. He starts to slowly slide his hand up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your centre. "Can't keep my hands off you," he murmurs, leaning in close. "You have no idea how much I want you."

Aegon's lips find your neck, placing hot kisses along the sensitive skin. His hand creeps higher, pushing the hem of your dress up as his fingers brush against your lace panties. He can feel the damp heat emanating from your core, making him let out a whine against your neck.

His eyes flash with lust as they meet yours in the darkness of the cab. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. "I can't wait to get my hands on you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, promise-filled kiss.

You can't help but shiver with anticipation, your body already aching for his touch. You know this is going to be a chance to get revenge on your sister's lying boyfriend in the most delicious way possible.

The cab rolls to a smooth halt outside the familiar apartment building, the sudden stillness a stark contrast to the pulsing energy of the club. You gather your clutch and step out onto the pavement, one shapely leg at a time.

Aegon emerges a moment later from the cab with an air of casual confidence. He places a hand on the small of your back as you walk towards the entrance, his touch igniting sparks beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

As you approach the door, you pull ahead slightly, fishing your keys from your purse. With a coy smile, you glance back over your shoulder at Aegon. "You don't have to wait a moment longer," you whisper, the night air cool against your flushed cheeks.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you slip the key into the lock, a thrill of excitement and nerves coursing through you. Over your shoulder, you see the hunger in Aegon's eyes, the way they drink in every inch of your form in the dim light of the entryway. You know he wants you, and the knowledge sends heat coursing through your body.

Biting your lip softly, you step inside, holding the door open and letting Aegon follow you in.

Aegon follows you inside, his eyes never leaving your swaying hips and the tantalizing view of your ass. As soon as he’s through the door, he kicks it shut behind him and immediately pulls you flush against his hard chest. "I don't want to wait another moment," he murmurs hotly, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he walks you backwards towards your bedroom.

His lips find yours in a searing, passionate kiss. It's a kiss full of pent-up desire and hunger, a kiss that speaks to just how much he wants you. His tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours and exploring every inch of you. He tastes like tequila and sin, and you can't get enough.

Aegon's hands roam your curves greedily as he walks you to your room. He squeezes the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against the prominent bulge in his trousers. His fingers dipped under the hem of your dress, teasing the soft skin of your thighs. He wants to touch and feel every inch of you.

Breaking the kiss, Aegon tugs you into your bedroom, his eyes burning into yours. He looks around your room, taking in the feminine space before his gaze lands back on you. A wicked grin spreads across his face as his eyes rake over your body, drinking in the sight of you.

Without warning, Aegon reaches out and grabs you, pulling you back against his hard chest. He kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands grip your hips. He wants to mark you, to claim you, to make you his. He wants to fuck you until you forget your name and only remember his.

Aemond tosses and turns in bed, his mind a whirlwind of twisted thoughts and dark imaginings of you. He can't get the image of your scantily clad body grinding against another out of his head, no matter how hard he tries.

His hand moves faster over his aching cock, stroking himself with hard, punishing grips. He pictures you pinned against the wall of the club's bathroom, your dress hiked up around your waist as some nameless man pounds into you from behind. The thought makes him groan, his hips bucking up into his fist.

Just as Aemond nears the edge, he hears the front door slam open downstairs. He freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as he wonders if it's you stumbling home, drunk and reeking of sex and another man's cologne.

Your sister bursts into the bedroom, fresh out of the shower. "Did you hear the door? Looks like she's finally home...." she starts to say, before noticing Aemond's state of undress and the obvious bulge in the sheets. He exhales heavily, his cock softening slightly at the interruption.

"Oh!" she gasps, a pretty blush spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just thought..." She trails off, biting her lip as she takes in the sight of her boyfriend stroking his impressive erection.

Aemond forces a smile, trying to hide his lingering distraction and frustration. "It's alright, love," he says smoothly. "I think your sister just got back from her little night out. Probably passed out somewhere."

He hopes you're okay because right now, he's in no state to go check on you. Not with his cock still throbbing and his mind full of depraved thoughts.

Aegon's eyes darken with lust as you slip out of your tight dress, the fabric pooling around your feet and leaving you in nothing but a lacy black lingerie set. Your hardened nipples peeking through the delicate material. A thin strip of lace runs between your legs, barely covering your most intimate area.

You step forward as your fingers start to slowly unbutton his shirt. You lean in close, your soft lips brushing against his neck as you whisper sultrily, "You like what you see?"

Your voice is a breathy purr, dripping with seductive promise. You place teasing little kisses along his neck and jaw, feeling his pulse jump beneath your lips. Making Aegon's head fall back, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

Aegon's breathing grows heavier as his eyes rake over your nearly nude form, taking in every inch of exposed skin and curves. The black lace of your lingerie leaves little to the imagination, and he can see the way your nipples strain against the delicate material. His cock throbs almost painfully in his trousers, aching to be buried inside your tight heat.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Aegon growls, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. He can feel every inch of your body pressed against his, and it ignites a hunger in him that he can barely control.

As you slip the shirt off completely, your hands roam over his muscular torso, exploring the hard planes and ridges. You walk your fingers up his chest, feeling his abs flex beneath your touch. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep, sensual kiss, your tongue teasing the seam of his mouth.

"I want you so badly Aegon," you murmur against his lips, your voice ragged with desire. Your hands slide down to his belt, starting to undo it with nimble fingers. "I need you to fuck me, right here, right now. I want you to claim me, make me yours."

In one swift movement, Aegon sweeps you up into his strong arms, carrying you over to the bed. He tosses you down onto the mattress, crawling over you with a wicked grin. "Keep begging for my cock like the needy little slut you are," he commands, his fingers hooking into the delicate lace of your panties. With a sharp tug, he tears your panties off with a rough tug, the flimsy lace giving way easily to his strength.

He tosses the ruined garment aside, leaving you bare and exposed before him. His eyes drink in the sight of your glistening pussy, already dripping with arousal.

"Look at this pretty cunt, so wet and ready for my cock," Aegon growls, his fingers brushing teasingly along your slick folds. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it throb under his touch. "You're fucking drenched, you filthy girl. Are you really this fucking needy?"

Aegon makes quick work of his belt and trousers, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock springs free, the swollen head already leaking with desire. He strokes himself a few times, smearing the bead of pre-cum down his impressive length.

Crawling back over you, Aegon settles between your spread thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He teases you with shallow thrusts, letting you feel how big and hard he is, how much he wants to split you open.

"Beg for it," Aegon demands, his voice a low, dominant rumble.

"Oh god, Aegon..." you moan, your head lolling back against the pillow as you feel his thick cockhead teasing your aching, soaked folds. "Please, I can't take it anymore! I've been dripping for you all night, from the moment we started dancing together at the club."

You lock your eyes with his, desperation and lust swirling in their depths. "I already wanted you to bend me over the bathroom counter and fuck me hard like a nasty slut," you confess shamelessly, your cheeks flushed with arousal and a hint of embarrassment at your brazen words. "I've been imagining how amazing your huge cock would feel splitting me open, filling and stretching me."

You spread your thighs even wider, putting yourself on a lewd display. "Please Aegon, I'm begging you," you whimper, your voice dripping with need. "Use me like the desperate, cock-hungry slut I am." Your voice grew louder and louder, already forgetting that just in the other room your sister and Aemond were probably sleeping.

Aemond's eye snaps open as your desperate pleas ring out, your voice echoing through the apartment. He can hear every word, from the lustful moans to the shameless begging for his cock. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to you reduced to a wanton mess, so consumed by desire that you've forgotten all sense of volume control.

Beside him, your sister jolts up, blinking in confusion. She looks towards the door, her brows furrowing as she hears the obscene noises spilling from your room. "What the fuck?" she mutters.

Aemond grabs her wrist, stopping her. "Don't," he says shortly, his voice strained. He shakes his head when she opens her mouth to protest, silencing her with a sharp jerk of his chin towards the door. "Listen," he says quietly.

Together, they sit in tense silence, your sister's eyes widening as she realizes what she's hearing. Aegon is pounding into you hard enough to rock the bed against the wall, the headboard slamming rhythmically. His hips are smacking loudly against your ass, punctuating every powerful thrust. The room is filled with the vulgar sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your cries of ecstasy.

Aegon is wrecking your pussy, claiming it with ruthless strokes of his thick cock. He's thrusting into you so hard that the bed creaks and groans in protest. The sounds of your pleasure fill the apartment, leaving no question as to what'shappening in your bedroom. Aegon is so deep inside you, stretching you wide around his girth, just as you begged him to do.

Aemond sits rigidly on the bed, jaw clenched and hands fisted in the sheets as your shameless moans and the sounds of carnality fill the air. His heart pounds violently against his ribs, a wild mix of anger, disgust, and a sickening twist of arousal coursing through him. The lecherous symphony of your coupling assaults his ears, each lewd noise a dagger twisting in his gut. 

Aegon's hips piston relentlessly against yours, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed frame against the wall with a rhythmic thud. Slick, obscene squelches and the vulgar slap of flesh against flesh echo through the apartment, punctuated by your whorish cries for more, for harder, begging to be used like the desperate cock-hungry slut you apparently are. 

Your sister's face pales as the reality of the situation sinks in, her eyes wide with shock. She stares at Aemond as if waiting for an explanation. But Aemond remains still, his expression grim, unable to meet her horrified gaze. 

He's never felt such an overwhelming surge of rage, revulsion, and perverse, twisted jealousy. Hearing you degrade yourself for another man, screaming in ecstasy, begging to be used...it's unforgivable. It makes his blood boil and his cock throb in a way it shouldn't, given the circumstances.

Aegon is ruining you, claiming you, fucking you with a ruthless, punishing intensity. And from the sounds of it, you'reloving every second of it. 

Your sister finally finds her voice. "Oh wow... I didn't think my sister liked it this rough..."

Aegon snarls, his hips pounding into yours with brutal force as your begging drives him wild with lust. He hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he looms over you, his muscular frame caging you in. The new angle lets him plunge even deeper, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with every savage thrust.

Your slick walls clench and flutter around his pistoning cock, gripping him like a vice. The obscene squelch of your juices fills the room, mixing with the erotic slap of skin against skin and your wanton cries. Aegon's eyes are wild, blazing with possessive hunger as he ruthlessly claims your body, using you like the cock-starved slut you are.

"That's it, take my fucking cock," Aegon growls, one hand fisting in your hair as he pounds into you. "This is what you wanted. To be split open on another man's dick, used like a filthy little fuck toy?" 

He leans down and crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your screams of ecstasy. His tongue plunders your mouth, dominating you completely. All the while, he never slows the brutal pace of his thrusts, each one striking that perfect spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

"Ohhhh f-fuuuuck, yesss!" You wailed, your voice cracking with raw pleasure as Aegon's massive cock pummeled your cervix with ruthless precision. Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, your hair splayed wildly across the pillow. "Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyou!" You chanted deliriously, too lost in sensation to form coherent words.

Your back arched sharply, pressing your tits against Aegon's chiselled chest as you clenched around him. "H-harder," you whimpered desperately, your eyes rolling back in your head as you surrendered completely to the brutal pleasure radiating from your core. "Please, I n-need...I need..." you trailed off, unable to even articulate what you craved, your mind shattered by the relentless, mind-numbing bliss of Aegon's animalistic rutting.

The obscene squelch of your dripping cunt taking his merciless pounding filled your ears, punctuated by the slam of flesh against flesh and your escalating wails of ecstasy.

"You want it harder?" Aegon taunts, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You want me to destroy this greedy cunt?" Without waiting for a response, he leans down as he looms over you with your legs still on his shoulders. The new angle lets him plunge even deeper, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with every savage thrust.

Your pussy is drenched, soaking his cock and dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly," Aegon growls, his eyes wild with primal hunger as he stares down at your pleasure-drunk face. "Such a good little cock sleeve, taking me so well." He captures your mouth in a brutal kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as he continues to pound into you with ruthless intensity.

His hand moves from your hair to your throat, wrapping around it possessively as he squeezes slightly. He can feel your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his fingers, matching the erratic beat of his own heart. Aegon knows he's taking you to the brink of what you can handle, pushing you to the very edge of your limits.

Aegon snarls like a wild beast as he feels your pussy spasm and clench around him, gripping his cock. Your desperate, incoherent cries and the way you arch your back, presenting your perfect tits to him, only fuel his lust. He wants to ruin you, to fuck you so hard that you'll be ruined for any other man.

Aemond sits frozen as your screams of bliss and the lewd sounds of your coupling flood the apartment. It's like a punch to the gut, hearing the woman he actually wants debasing herself on another man's cock, begging to be used harder. The obscene noises fill him with sickening jealousy and a twisted, shameful arousal he can't deny.

Your sister stares at Aemond in shock, her mouth agape. "Is she...is she okay? That sounds rough..." She looks towards the door.

Aemond jolts as if electrified when he finally registers the name falling from your lips in ecstasy over and over again. His heart stops, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin as the horrible realization crashes over him like a bucket of icy water.

White-hot rage explodes through Aemond's veins, his vision flaring red at the edges. Aegon, his own brother, is violating his girlfriend's little sister in the most degrading way possible. Using her like a cheap fucktoy, pounding into her so hard that the whole apartment knows what a filthy slut she is for him.

Aegon.

Aegon is the one fucking you. Aegon is the one ruining you. Aegon is the one claiming your body in the most primal way imaginable.

Aegon's name falls from your lips like a prayer, a mantra repeated with every devastating thrust. "Aegon, Aegon, Aegon!" You scream, your back bowing off the bed as he fucks you into the mattress with ruthless intensity. The bed creaks and groans under the force of his lovemaking, the headboard slamming against the wall with every snap of his hips.

Your sister looks at Aemond with wide, horrified eyes. "That's...that's your brother, isn't it?" she asks breathlessly. "Your brother is - is he really fucking my sister like that?"

Aemond's jaw clenches, his hands fisting in the sheets as he nods numbly. His mind is reeling, a vicious storm of jealous rage and unwanted, twisted arousal swirling inside him. He can't believe it. He can't believe out of all the guys in the club you could've brought home, you're letting his older brother fuck you stupid.

Your fingers fly to your clit as Aegon squeezes your throat, making your world explode into a million pieces.

"Fuck! I fucking love your huge cock so much," you wail shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care how utterly slutty you sound. Tears stream down your flushed cheeks as you feel Aegon throbbing deep inside, splitting you open so perfectly. His smirk above you only pushes you closer to the edge.

"I-I can feel you, Aegon..." you sob, your pussy clenching and spasming uncontrollably around his pistoning length. "I can feel you in my fucking guts, holy shit!" Your eyes, hazy with lust, can barely focus on Aegon's handsome face as you cry from pleasure.

Aemond feels like he's been punched in the stomach, the air leaving his lungs in a brutal whoosh. Rage, jealousy, and a sick sense of lust churn violently inside him as he listens to you screaming his brother's name, begging for more as Aegon abuses your pussy.

His brother. His fucking brother Aegon is the one splitting you open, claiming your body with ruthless, animalistic fucking. The bed creaks and groans, the headboard slamming against the wall with every devastating thrust. Aegon must be pounding into you with enough force to leave bruises, fucking you like the desperate, cock-starved slut you've become.

The whole fucking apartment knows now what a whore you are for his brother. The way you're screaming, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh...you're not even trying to be quiet.

Not to mention the fucking tears. You're crying from pleasure, sobbing his brother's name like your life depends on it.

"You fucking love it, don't you?" Aegon snarls above you, his hand tightening around your throat. "Love the way my cock is splitting you open, reshaping this hungry cunt to fit me like a glove?" He leans down and captures your mouth in a brutal kiss

Aegon grins wickedly as he feels your pussy clamp down on his cock like a silken vice, gripping him rhythmically as you cum hard. "That's it, cum on this fucking cock," he snarls, his hips never slowing their brutal pace. "I want to feel this slutty little cunt milking me dry."

His intense gaze locks with yours, his eyes burning into your soul as your world shatters around you. You shake and convulse beneath him, a silent scream ripping from your raw throat as your climax crashes through you like a tidal wave of ecstasy. Tears stream freely down your cheeks.

Your wide, glazed eyes stare up at Aegon in helpless, mindless rapture, seeing nothing but him. You're utterly lost, drowning in the overwhelming pleasure that's consuming your every sense and thought. You can't speak, can't form a single coherent word or syllable as your trembling body surrenders completely to the exquisite agony of your release.

You can only feel - the scorching heat of Aegon's skin, the slick, obscene slide of his thick cock pounding into your fluttering, grasping pussy, the way your ass jiggles and bounces with every relentless thrust. Your breasts heave and strain beneath him, your nipples grazing his chest with each devastating surge of his hips.

Aegon doesn't let up, fucking you straight through your climax with ruthless intensity. He's merciless, pounding into your spasming cunt like a man possessed, forcing you to take every thick, throbbing inch of him. The sensation of his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with each thrust only prolongs the mind-melting ecstasy.

You're just a vessel for his pleasure now, a set of holes for him to use and ruin as he sees fit. Your body is no longer your own as you writhe and thrash beneath him.

Aegon leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growls filthy words. "Fuck, look at you. Coming apart so beautifully on my cock. You were made for this, made to be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure."

He pistons his hips at a brutal pace, the obscene slap of skin against skin echoing through the room. Aegon is fucking you right through your climax, not letting you come down from your high at all. Each thrust rocks the bed frame, the headboard slamming against the wall with enough force to leave a dent.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," Aegon snarls against your throat, his thrusts becoming erratic and uncontrolled. "I'm going to fucking fill this hungry little hole. You want that, don't you? Want me to pump you full?"

With a roar, Aegon buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock jerking and pulsing as he finds his release. He grinds his pelvis hard against yours, making sure you can feel every hot, thick spurt of his cum painting your insides.

Aemond lunges to his feet, a snarl ripping from his throat as he starts to storm towards the door. His girlfriend jumps up and grabs his arm, stopping him cold. She stares at him with wide, shocked eyes, her face pale and stricken.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demands, her voice shaking. "They're literally having sex in there! Does it really bother you that much, hearing them..." She trails off, biting her lip as another lewd shriek echoes from your room, followed by the crude slap of flesh against flesh and the rhythmic creaking of the bed.

Aemond's jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with a chaotic mix of rage and jealous lust. "Yeah, it does," he grits out, his voice low and dark. "You're my girlfriend, not her. I should be able to fuck you harder and make you scream louder, not listen to my brother ruin the little slut."

He shakes his head, his expression grim and unforgiving. "I can't stand the thought of Aegon touching her, tasting her..." He squeezes his eyes shut, the obscene sounds still filling his ears. 

Aemond's hands clench into fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with barely restrained fury and a sick, twisted arousal he can't comprehend. He's never felt so violently possessive before, so consumed by jealous rage.

His girlfriend looks at him with a mix of anger and betrayal in her eyes. "Well get over it, 'cause it's happening. Your brother is the one fucking her stupid, not you," she points out coldly. "Maybe if you treated me half as good as he's treating her..." she trails off bitterly.

"A-Aegon... I can feel you, oh god, I can feel you pumping me so full..." Your voice is breathy and weak, your body trembling as you feel Aegon's hot, thick seed flooding your insides. "Mmmnh... it's so much, I can feel it leaking out..." You bite your lower lip, a shaky moan escaping you as the rivulets of his cum start to seep out from where you're still intimately connected.

"Thank you... for ruining me..." You gaze up at him with hazy, adoring eyes, your hair splayed messily across the pillow, your cheeks flushed and dewy. "Mmm... I feel like I'm your personal cum dump now." You clench your walls around him and giggle, trying to milk out every last drop of his release.

"I love feeling your cum leaking out of my fucked hole... I'm so happy I let you use me like this." A soft, dazed smile plays on your lips as you savour the intimate feeling of your bodies remaining joined. "I've never felt so full."

Aegon's expression softens as he looks down at your dazed, blissed-out face. He brushes a few strands of hair from your forehead, tucking them gently behind your ear. "You did so well, taking my cock like that," he murmurs, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I've never felt anyone as tight as you before."

He leans down and presses a surprisingly tender kiss to your lips, his other hand sliding down to squeeze your ass possessively. "Look at you, covered in sweat and my cum," Aegon says with a smirk, trailing his fingers through the mess leaking from between your legs. "I've marked you as mine now."

Aegon carefully scoops you up into his strong arms, cradling you against his bare chest as he maneuvers you both to lay on your sides. He pulls the blanket up over your naked, trembling body, tucking you in like a precious treasure. "Get some rest," he orders softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "You earned it after that performance."

Aegon holds you close, letting you bask in the afterglow of your intense coupling. His heartbeat is slow and steady beneath your ear, a soothing rhythm that lulls you into a state of tranquillity.

Outside the bedroom, Aemond is still arguing with his girlfriend, his expression dark and stormy. He's pacing back and forth, his fists clenched at his sides as the sounds of you and Aegon's coupling still fill the air.

"Why can't you just let it go?!" his girlfriend argues, her voice rising. "Your brother is in there fucking my sister into a coma! Who cares?! She's an adult!"

Aemond whirls on her, his eyes flashing. "Of course I fucking care!" he snarls. "I'm just - I can't believe she'd let him do that to her. In your shared fucking apartment." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, his jaw clenching.

Aemond's girlfriend glares at him, her eyes flashing with anger and betrayal. "Oh, you mean like how you haven't fucked me into a coma in months?!" she snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've seen the way you look at her, Aemond. Like she's some prized piece of ass you wish was yours."

Aemond recoils as if slapped, his face paling. "That's not - I would never…" he starts to protest, but she cuts him off with a bitter laugh.

"Save it," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You think I haven't noticed? The way your eyes follow her every move, the little glances you sneak when you think I'm not looking." She steps closer to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Face it, Aemond. You want to fuck your own girlfriend's little sister. You're just pissed it's Aegon doing it instead of you."

Aemond's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he glares down at her. "Watch your fucking mouth," he grits out, his voice low and dangerous. "That's not - I'm not - " He breaks off, gripping the back of his neck as he turns away from her.

His girlfriend laughs again, a harsh, grating sound. "You can't even deny it," she points out coldly. "You're jealous that Aegon is the one fucking her, not you. Well, get over it. She's not your property, Aemond. She can fuck whoever she wants."

With that, she turns on her heel and storms off towards the kitchen, leaving Aemond alone in the bedroom. He stands there for a long moment, his chest heaving with angry breaths as he tries to collect himself.

You peek up at Aegon through your lashes, a playful smirk tugging at your kiss-swollen lips as you hear the muffled shouts and a female voice rising in anger in the other room. You nestle closer to Aegon's warm, muscular body, relishing in the intimate feeling of your sweat-slicked skin still pressed together.

"Mmm, by the way, I think your brother's out there losing his mind," you murmur, tracing idle patterns on Aegon's chest with your fingertip. You giggle softly. "Poor thing seems pretty worked up about you defiling the 'precious little princess', hmm?" You tease, your voice breathy and low.

Aegon chuckles, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face as he hears the muffled shouts and angry voices coming from the other room. "Sounds like he's in quite a state," he remarks casually, seemingly unfazed by the drama unfolding outside the bedroom door.

He rolls onto his side, facing you with a smirk playing on his lips. "Poor, dear Aemond," Aegon mocks, his voice dripping with disdain. "Probably wishing it was his cock splitting you open instead of mine."

Aegon reaches out, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes burn into yours, intense and possessive. "Let him be jealous," he growls. "You're mine now, not his. I'll make sure of that."

With that declaration, Aegon crushes his lips against yours in a searing, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth with a fierce hunger. It's clear he has no intention of letting his brother have you, no matter how much Aemond might want it.

[mxtantrights]

Beggin' on my knees, baby won't you please

paring: Johnny Storm x fem!reader a/n: okayyyy so like I watched the trailer like everyone else and remembered how much of a crush I had on the human torch. and I would say that while writing this I could envision both the new and old castings so you can read it as who you want! I might come back to this with another piece or two. (I write with a black reader in mind but this piece doesn't specify race, only gender)

Johnny Storm has stopped at almost nothing to get you to go on a date with him. He's persistent, he's flirty, and most dangerously he's not too far off from his goal.

You had been Sue's intern since you took her class a couple of years ago at the university. She had seen in you what she knew she had in herself when she was a student. The grit, the knowledge and the courage to ask why.

She took you under her wing fairly quickly. You found her to be more of a friend than a boss. She always listened to your ideas, though she never played favorites. And she valued your input on important things.

Such as the specs for the flight she, Reed, Ben, and Johnny would be on in the coming months.

You don't really have time to be going on dates with anyone, let alone with Johnny, when you were going to be sending him along with the others into space. It kept you up at night sometimes. If your calculations were triple checked. If you had tested every hypothetical.

That is why for the past week you've been avoiding Johnny. If you see him in the caf, you go the other way and get lunch from outside. If you see him hanging around your lab you wait him out. You're quick to leave with the other workers so he won't offer you a ride.

It's been going well.

Up until now.

You manage to take another peek into the lab. The glass window that appears across from your desk. And there he is. He's sitting in your rolling chair, waiting for you. He's playing with some sort of pen. rolling it between his fingers.

If you avoided him now, he would know for sure. And you have to get to work on a quick fix on confirming the materials needed for the rocket's fins.

With about as much confidence as a cactus in a ballon party. You roll your shoulders back and tug down the white coat that shrouds you. Then you walk over to the door.

As if he's got a heightened sense, he looks up at you as you step through the threshold. You duck your head down and walk over to him. On his face is a growing smirk.

He leans back in the chair, leaning a bit, meaning he totally un-stabilized it. You'll have to re-stabilize it once he's gone.

"Where've you been?" he asks.

You huff a bit at that. As you make it over to your desk you see that's he's rearranged some stuff. You make to move past him but he just rolls with you.

"Johnny, I've been around." you answer finally.

"I know, but just not around me. Which is a same." he pouts.

You chortle, "Oh my god. You can't be serious with that one."

"About as serious as you avoiding me, Specs." he says.

You rolls your eyes. There goes that nickname. To this day you still don't understand why he calls you that. You don't wear your glasses all the time. So what gives?

"I'm just trying to get everything right, Johnny. You are going to space in a few months." you explain.

Johnny opens his legs wider and rolls the chair closer to you. At this angle he's looking right up at you. It's warm and fucking dizzying and you have to remind yourself that even though it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the lab, there are other people here. Your coworkers. His coworkers.

Sue's coworkers.

"I know, but I miss seeing my favorite girl." he admits.

And it shouldn't like it does when he says it. Like he's sharing a secret with you in the middle of the night. Like he's telling you something that is treasured and safe. If only you could tell your stomach that.

"I want you to get to and from space safety, Johnny. If I hang out with you I'll worry myself about it." you confess.

Johnny nods his head, "Okay give me a day then."

"A day for what?" you ask.

"A day where that stress is less. A day where you don't itch to be sitting at this desk and working out things in that beautiful mind of yours." he continues.

The truth is there is no day that is less stressful for you. At several points in each day since this project was announced and your name was attached, you've felt the stress of it. While cooking dinner at home. While doing laundry. While trying to get sleep so that you could get to work.

It's always there.

It's going to be there until the crew comes home from space.

You can't let Johnny know that. He has his own things to worry about. You would hate to add to his plate.

"Sunday." you answer simply.

He nods his head again. And with a smile he gets up from his seat in your chair. It's slow and agonizing how he seems to go from looking up at you to being eye level with you. His gaze never leaving yours as he does.

"I'll see you Sunday." he adds.

[okaysonny]

business advice ╏ hudson ahn

★ summary: hudson gets a noise complaint ─ from one person.

★ details: fluff, f! reader, spoiler free.

★ wc: 1.4k

★ A/N: who else has a crush on him

"YOU! YELLOW HEAD!"

hudson's eyes widen, looking around.

but no, jay isn't here. and everyone else has dark hair. which can only mean…

hudson turns to face the girl approaching him, who looks comically angry. he can practically see steam coming out of her ears.

his eyes narrow. "are you talking to me?"

she's now right in front of him, pointing aggressively. "yeah i'm talking to you! don't you own this place?" she gestures to ansan's night club just ahead of them.

"i do. are you here to talk business? although…" he eyes her hoodie and sweatpants. "…you don't really look the part"

she blinks, not expecting a belittling so soon, but quickly shakes her head. "no i'm not here to talk business" she mimics his voice at the 'business' part. hudson feels a vein on his forehead throb.

"you need to turn the music down at night!" she huffs. "i can hear it from my window…" she points at an apartment building in the distance. "…all the way over there! some of us are trying to sleep, y'know?!"

he waits to see if she's finished her piece, before simply saying:

"0 points"

she blinks again. "…the fuck?"

"0 points. that's the score i give you. one…" he starts counting on his fingers. "…you show up sloppy. two. you disrespect me. and three. you start complaining about music when we're doing nothing wrong. where's your decorum?"

"...what- you-" she stammers, clearly speechless at his obviously correct evaluation.

she grits her teeth in frustration. "you wanna talk about decorum? it's not very um…decorum of you to play such loud music in the night!"

he sighs in disappointment. "bad grammar too. - 1 point"

"who gives a fuck?! now you're just nitpicking! and tell your employees to turn the music down!"

"…you're the only one complaining. why should i lower it for one person?"

she pauses, unable to think of a counterargument. "…um…"

hudson doesn't wait for her to finish. "ansan is critically acclaimed for its nightlife. it's what everyone comes here for. the loud music, which isn't even that loud by the way, is to be expected. if you don't like it, then move"

her jaw drops. "you…you ignorant, naive little─" she exhales slowly, composing herself.

"…can you just please turn it down?" she mumbles.

he runs a hand through his hair, getting tired of this argument now. "…like i said, you're the only one complaining. i'm assuming you didn't take this higher up, right? so, i have no obligation to lower it. come back with a court order and then we'll talk"

she sighs in defeat and starts walking back, flipping him off. "fine! but this isn't over, yellow head! i'll be back with that court order!"

hudson shrugs. "go ahead"

she can try, but it won't make a difference. channing can wrap anyone around his finger.

he shakes his head, heading back into the club. what an unsophisticated lady.

he hears her footsteps stop. "…your drinks are crap, by the way"

hudson hates that he can't hide his surprise, but the comment catches him off guard. "…what?"

she clearly notices it, because she wears an evil grin before continuing. "well…my friend likes to go clubbing a lot. she likes everything here, except the drinks"

now it's his turn to blink. well…the drink sales have been down lately. but everything else is in tip-top shape. he just put it down as an anomaly in the market.

he waves a hand dismissively, recovering from his brief surprise. "we take great care in analysing these things. we know what we’re doing. not that i'd expect you to understand"

she rolls her eyes and looks away for a moment, second-guessing herself. "...i'm not saying i know how to run a business or whatever. i’m just saying...my friend complains about the drinks all the time. and not just her ─ her other little clubbing friends say the same thing"

hudson tilts his head slightly, her words starting to pique his interest despite himself. "...what do her and her friends say?"

she shrugs. "i dunno. i don't really pay attention. she just says they’re kind of…boring, i guess? same old classics, nothing new or exciting. um…" she pauses, trying to remember. "oh yeah! seltzer's. they wish you had seltzer's here"

a flicker of curiosity crosses his face. "...seltzer's? you mean..."

"yeah, like the fruity, canned drinks everyone’s obsessed with these days" she speaks with less hesitance now.

"i work night shifts at the convenience store nearby, so i see what people like...and it matches up. everyone loves them. so i dunno, maybe there’s something to it"

he doesn’t respond, his mind starting to piece things together.

it's bizarre. they were just arguing a few minutes ago. now they're discussing alcoholic beverages.

she looks at him cautiously before continuing. "and uh...customers buy soju obviously, but they take a lot of fruit to go with it. strawberries and watermelon, stuff like that. it seems trendy these days. do you do soju cocktails?"

...they don't.

hudson stays quiet, arms crossed as he processes her words. she's not an expert, but she isn’t completely off the mark.

he hadn’t considered the problem might be the drinks themselves. ansan had always stuck with the classics, assuming they’d appeal to everyone, and it's worked for ages.

but maybe tastes were shifting. if soju cocktails and seltzers - which they didn't sell - were in demand...it could be worth researching what else customers like. lighter, trendier options…freshening up the menu could attract a whole new crowd, even boost overall sales.

the girl sighs, annoyed by his lack of response. "anyway, sorry. i went off on a tangent. keep serving whatever you want"

she turns, walking away again. "but i was serious about that court order, yellow head!"

hudson closes his eyes, feeling irritated. how has this not crossed his mind before? why does this random girl in sweatpants unknowingly know more than him?

her words stay in his head, and hudson knows he won’t be able to let it go.

"...wait" he says, sighing.

she turns around once more, her brows raising in confusion.

he pinches his nose bridge, preparing himself for what he's about to say. "that was...helpful. i suppose i could ask my guys to...turn the music down"

she stares at him, taken aback, before smiling. not the weird evil grin she wore earlier, a real one. "...you will? seriously? i just...really need some quiet, so i can study"

huh. "...yes" he says, a bit softly.

her smile grows wider, flashing her teeth at him. "wow...thanks a lot. really. i know it's a nuisance for you, yellow he-" she pauses, looking sheepish. "hey, what's your real name? i'll stop calling you yellow head now"

"hudson ahn...sun of ansan"

weird. he's talked to plenty of girls, all of them more beautiful than she is. why are his cheeks heating up now?

"...sun of ansan?" she covers her mouth, perhaps trying to stifle a laugh. "that's...cool"

"what's yours?" he can't help but avoid eye contact.

she looks pleasantly surprised. "me? i'm─"

─ beautiful. her name is beautiful. she is beau─ actually, what's he even thinking? is central seoul's romantic guy rubbing off on him?

hudson rummages in his pocket, handing her a business card. "here. it's my contact details. just in case you want to...point out anything else you notice"

she eyes it peculiarly, before shaking her head in disbelief. "i guess all business guys just have these handy, huh?"

still, she doesn't give it back, or tells him to get lost, or rips it up. instead, she keeps it.

she turns and starts walking away ─ for the final time. she looks back at him, waving the card as she speaks. "bye hudson ahn sun of ansan" she giggles. so, she was in fact, laughing at his title.

he watches her figure get smaller, the tiny dot turning into nothing.

a girl giving him business advice...and it's useful? he never thought he'd see the day.

he only saw her smile once, but he wouldn't mind seeing it again.

hudson heads back into the club, getting preparations ready for the night ahead.

she still lacks etiquette. she also giggled at the title he's so proud of. but...that doesn't stop him from muttering to himself.

"100 points"

A/N: okay...i know his hair is more light brown than yellow, but "brown head" doesn't have the same ring to it. just imagine...the sunlight makes it seem yellow, because he's the sun of ansan bye

divider: @thecutestgrotto