#sometimes i just want to read something with more substance :’) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osarina · 3 days ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?

(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.

Dazai is not a jealous man.

He’s not.

In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit.

The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.

Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.

He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.

“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.

“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.

Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now.

Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-

You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.

“What do you think?” you ask after a second.

To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.

Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”

The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”

Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”

Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”

The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.

You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”

He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.

He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies.

Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.

He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”

“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”

He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.

His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.

“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”

He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.

“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.”

“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”

“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”

“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.”

With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.

“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”

He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.

“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.

“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?”

Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.

You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.

“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.

“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”

“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”

“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck.

“How do you-”

“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.”

Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.

He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn’t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy.

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out.

He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.

He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he’s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”

He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone.

Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room.

He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.

His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…

His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.

Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive.

Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.

Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.

“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”

Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.

His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.

Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks.

Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his.

He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.

His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.

It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”

Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his.

“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.

Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens.

The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.

But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?

Absolutely not.

Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.

The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”

Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”

You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.

“A… date?”

“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”

It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”

Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”

When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.

“Where are you taking me then, hm?”

“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.

A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet.

A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it.

“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”

Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.

“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”

For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-

“Dazai?”

Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”

You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.

As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.

… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.

“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”

You laugh in his face. “As if.”

You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.

He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs smut

602 notes · View notes

mochamadeleines · 4 months ago

Text

Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for.

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much.

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed.

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft.

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open.

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him.

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry.

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead.

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you.

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.”

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay.

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?”

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless.

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you.

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal.

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow, he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.”

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him. “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.”

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured.

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.”

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore.

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible?

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.”

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross.

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you.

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him.

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now.

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts? I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.”

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about.

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door.

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.”

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys.

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match.

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock.

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color. He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.”

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with.

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand.

“Darlin’.”

“Right.”

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?”

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other.

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.”

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat.

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city.

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.”

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you.

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you.

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.”

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress?

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. “As long as youre quiet.”

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you.

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down.

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-”

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.”

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head.

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.”

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt.

“Oh fuck-”

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum.

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath.

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless.

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well.

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel- Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw.

“Hhah- No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me.

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect.

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.”

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead. “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.”

#joel miller #the last of us #hbo joel miller #the last of us part 1 #the last of us season one #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x you #fanfic #mocha writes #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #modern au #smut fic #might cross post to ao3 idk...#pleeaaaase tell me if u guys like this #glaze me glaze me glaze me #Lie 2 me and say u love it...

454 notes · View notes

avelera · 25 days ago

Note

following up on my last ask about misconceptions, what is something in each viktor and jayce that you find very interesting/apparent that you think people shouldn’t overlook? or rather, something you wished people talked about/acknowledged more?

(i love reading your analyses/rants lol)

Thank you! I think overall for me it's Viktor's kindness and Jayce's competence which are both really almost superhuman and often overlooked.

1 ) For Viktor, I think his kindness is actually really interesting! So often, scientist characters are written as misanthropic and even cruel. I think that's why Viktor is often tarred with that brush.

But actually, Viktor is pretty scrupulously polite. For example, even while he disappoints and dismisses Sky, he's not rude or cruel about it, he's just focused on what he's doing. The meanest he arguably is to Jayce is when he quips that Jayce might be egotistical for signing his notes (implying that Jayce believes that what is in there is sooo valuable and important that he wants it to be attributed to him), but it is clearly teasing and once Jayce talks about how beautiful magic is, Viktor never teases him like that again.

Viktor is even incapable of framing an invention that could save his very much at-risk life as anything but a way to help others. He's so incapable of bringing harm to others or wishing ill on them that he struggles to ask for help and is ashamed of the idea that he could dedicate valuable cycles of their ingenuity to anything but making the world a better place, something he believes in passionately. He loathes the idea of suffering and the senseless waste of conflict. Once he has otherworldly power, he seeks out those most in need and tries to heal them, then works to establish a community of safety where everyone is welcome.

Honestly, one reason I push back so hard on cruel takes on Viktor, especially takes where he strikes people (like with his cane) or where he directs personal insults at Jayce is because he is not shown to be like that very tired scientist trope. He's arguably the kindest, most pacifistic character in the show. He reacts with anger at just the idea of scientific progress being turned towards weapons to hurt others but even when at his most enraged, he never raises his voice and he never makes attacks personal, he always focuses on the substances of the argument and keeps his discussions intellectual, even when he's deeply hurt or scared or angry himself. He's a fascinating character for this reason and it feels like a disservice to ignore this.

2 ) For Jayce, I think his competence is often overlooked. He's frequently thrown into situations that are far outside his experience but, all things considered, he succeeds far more often than he fails in a way that is almost superhuman. If anything, I feel like people should be more annoyed with him for how naturally good he is at things than how he sometimes makes mistakes!

- Jayce isn't a politician, but he does manage to broker a peace, tackle systemic corruption, and head off a potential civil war (to the best of his abilities before it all goes to shit for reasons largely outside his control) within weeks of getting the job. He has an absolutely meteoric career for the little time he spends there and the very little preparation he had. He also executes a coup against the founder of the city that is successful within weeks of getting there and regardless of how you feel about him deposing Heimerdinger just to save Viktor, that is pretty impressive lol that he managed to get a unanimous vote on it from people that just a week or so before were ready to sabotage him for his aforementioned crusade against corruption.

- Jayce invented Hextech. Viktor is the innovator and he pushes its boundaries, but Jayce is still the one who invented it from scratch (or rather, from one acceleration rune) with a dream and a box of scraps.

- Jayce (with Viktor) invented the Hexgates and championed them. He would have changed multiple industries with that move. Like, him getting canonized as the Man of Progress isn't crazy, something like the Hexgates would change the world even in our world with all its technology.

- Jayce isn't a fighter but he holds his own against Shimmer berserkers, some of the most fearsome fighters in Arcane, pretty much by just being physically gifted and knowing the abilities of his hammer very well since we didn't see him train with it or anything. On this count it's almost infuriating how lucky/good he is as something at which he has little or no practice, compared to say Vi's lifelong fighting ability. Jayce is able to watch others and pick up cues quickly.

The fact he killed a child is a tragic accident but, there he also learns quickly, realizing faster than others, even arguably Vi, where his own morals stand and taking that unwavering stance that he will do everything in his power to avoid civilian casualties from that point on. (Many people get mad at him for making weapons for Cait but, I would argue, we have no evidence that she hurt civilians outside the Chem Barons' organizations AND her strike team helped avoid a larger invasion, which would align with Jayce's goals after the death of Renni's son). Honestly, all the child-killing Jayce memes annoy the fuck out of me because of how impactful it was on him and how hard he worked from that point on to make sure it never happened again. No one gives Viktor the same shit about killing Sky even though they were similarly accidents.

Basically, Jayce is super good at almost everything he touches. He reason he's seen as less competent is because he goes outside his field of expertise more than I'd say ANY other character does in the show and even then, after some initial flailing, he gains mastery in an astonishingly short time. Jayce is actually a mental and physical genius and I think that gets overlooked a lot in fanworks that make him out to be some incompetent puppy.

#jayvik #arcane #arcane meta #jayce talis #viktor arcane

241 notes · View notes

tossawary · 27 days ago

Text

There has to be a term already for when stories accumulate this... "narrative debt" that they end up not paying back. When stories fail to stick the landing when it comes to character development or thematic development, a mismatch between what the beginning of the story apparently constructed and what the final scenes ultimately ended up being.

I want to compare it to "The Empty Mystery Box Problem", almost, where the story lays on twisty element after twisty element to pull you into some great mystery, only to ultimately reveal that the writers never had a cool explanation for any of this and were pretty much just jerking the audience around to keep them watching for as long as possible. It has a similar feeling of investing your attention, only to get nothing satisfying and to feel betrayed for caring.

There's a disconnect between author and audience. A sense that perhaps the author, who has their own visions in mind, is not even aware of what they ended up depicting in the execution. As an audience member, I do sometimes have to ask myself, "Was I just projecting my own arcs onto this while the author wanted to do something different? Am I upset just because I didn't get the resolution I anticipated?" And sometimes I come to the conclusion that, no, if the author always intended for the story what they claimed, then they did it badly, and the parts that I found resonant were definitely there, just... perhaps done accidentally and/or carelessly.

Like, let's say that there's some show that ends up depicting a protagonist who has substance abuse issues.

The show repeatedly shows the audience that the protagonist feels dependent on alcohol, we see lots of shots of them drinking, often at very inappropriate times. As the plot goes on, the show even appears to be showing us the consequences of this addiction, in that the character's relentless over-drinking apparently negatively affects their job performance, their love life, their relationships with friends and family. The character is miserable, perhaps even explicitly expresses some of their depressed feelings, and it seems obvious that taking a known depressant is a big part of this tangle. There may even be some looming threat that if the protagonist doesn't get this issue under control or get help, there will be even more serious consequences.

So, we've spent aaaaall of this screentime dwelling on this obvious character problem, but then... well, one way for the story to handle it poorly is to just not handle it. It's just never really addressed. A potentially great character arc about someone struggling with addiction just fizzles out because the plot climax takes up so much space that you think... maybe the writers... somehow forgot that they made unhealthy alcohol dependence an enormous part of the character's life? Maybe???

Like, there's not even a visual cue at the end that the character is now making an effort to tackle their addiction or something. There's not even a single line of dialogue in the epilogue to tell us that the protagonist went through rehab and they're sober now or something. What you may have read as a very serious problem just vanishes overnight. A story element that ate up aaaaall that screentime just never gets any satisfying resolution.

I'm not saying here that I need to see the story handhold a character through the rehabilitation process. It's not a requirement that all characters overcome their addiction by the end of the story. Sometimes, a story ends a little sadly, yeah, or is an outright tragedy. Sometimes, one problem is solved and another sticks around. I just think it's disorienting when I THOUGHT that the story was trying to actually say something about substance abuse, they spent all this fucking time showing us scenes that revolved around that element, and it turns out that the writers were like, "Oh, yeah, I guess! We weren't really thinking about that as a serious problem. We mostly just had the protagonist drinking all the time because it looked cool, and I guess that part ties in pretty well with how they were fucking up their life, actually, but we dropped it because we didn't think it was important."

The OTHER way for a story to handle an arc like this poorly is to do a total reversal at the end. The author is not only blissfully unaware that they have been telling a nuanced story about substance abuse until now, they don't even think that addiction is real. The ending yells really loudly: "Not ONLY is this character's drinking actually NOT a problem! It helps them save the day! And also every other character has been super mean to them about this; everyone else needs to grovel at the protagonist's feet and apologize for saying super mean things like, 'Don't you think it's inappropriate to show up drunk to a child's birthday party?' Because the WORLD would have ENDED if the badass protagonist hadn't been doing the objectively correct thing of being hammered all of the time."

At which point, the only thing to do is leave the show behind, because caring about it is a waste of time. But it's hard to stop thinking about it because the show paid all of this time... into a narrative element that felt SO obvious and crucial and like it was going somewhere... and it was an accident??? Like, the story was good when it was making all of these interesting promises, until the end came around and it turns out that it couldn't pay the bills and/or never had any intention of paying.

"The Empty Mystery Box Problem" except the box is wide open the entire fucking time and there's cool stuff in it, but the writers apparently aren't paying attention to the box or what they're putting in it!?!?!

#tossawary reading #tossawary watching #tossawary fandom #substance abuse #alcoholism #used as an example of badly executed narrative arcs #long post

199 notes · View notes

crookedteethed · 11 days ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 Beautiful Destruction . • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- Some addictions aren't found in powder form. Sometimes they're found in the way he says your name between midnight fights and morning regrets. A toxic love story.

warnings -- 18+-mdni, allusions to smut, mature/dark themes, mentions of blood, substance use, domestic abuse (from both parties), jealousy, toxic relationships, angst, no happy ending...

disclaimer -- with having read said warnings please note that this is a work of fiction, and as a writer, I do not condone or romanticize toxic relationships, substance abuse, or any form of physical/emotional abuse. This story explores dark themes for fictional purposes only. Please proceed with caution if these themes might be triggering.

main masterlist(s) | taglist | wc: 1.4k

The moonlight catches in his hair as Rafe Cameron stares at you across his bedroom, and you hate how beautiful he looks in this light—all sharp edges and barely contained rage. Your lip is still bleeding from where he kissed you too hard, punishment for the marks you left on his neck, visible enough that everyone will know. That was the point, after all.

The residual high from the lines you both did earlier is wearing off, leaving that familiar hollow feeling in your chest. It started as just a party thing, but now neither of you can seem to face these conversations sober anymore. The powder traces on his credit card mock you from the nightstand.

"Stay," he demands more than whispers, and there's that dangerous edge to his voice that should make you run. Instead, it makes you want to push harder, see how far you can take this before something breaks. "Just fucking stay this time."

You don't turn around as you pull your torn shirt back on, trying not to remember last month when you ripped his favorite button-down to shreds after finding texts from another girl on his phone. The fight that followed left a scar on your shoulder from where you hit the corner of his desk, and a matching one on his forearm from your keys. You both swore it would never happen again, but that's what you always say.

"Why? So we can pretend this is something it's not?"

"Don't do that," he says, and you hear him stand up, the sheets rustling. "Don't act like this is just sex when you're the one who showed up at my door at three AM last week, drunk and crying about seeing me with that girl at the Wreck."

"I wasn't crying," you snap, but your hands shake as you button your jeans. "And I don't care who you fuck."

He laughs, that hollow sound that means you've hurt him. Good. That's what you do best. "Right. That's why you made sure to let the whole party hear us tonight? Why you kept saying my name loud enough for everyone downstairs to hear through the walls?"

You finally turn, a cruel smile playing on your lips. "Maybe I just really enjoyed myself."

"You're such a liar," he growls, crossing the room in three quick strides. His hand finds your throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a reminder of how he held you earlier. "You're so scared of actually feeling something that you'd rather destroy us both."

"There is no 'us,'" you say, but your pulse races under his palm. "There never was."

His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling just hard enough to hurt. "Then why do you keep coming back?"

"Because you're convenient," you lie, watching the words land like punches. "Because you're always so desperate for it, aren't you? Poor little rich boy, so starved for love he'll take whatever scraps I throw him."

You expect him to push you away, to finally give up. Instead, he kisses you, hard and brutal, tasting of bourbon and blood. When he pulls back, his eyes are darker than you've ever seen them.

"You want to talk about desperate?" His voice is dangerously soft. "You're the one who begged me not to stop last night. Who cries my name when you come. Who shows up at my door every time you're lonely because you know I'll let you in. Because you know I love you, even though you don't deserve it."

The truth of his words feels like drowning. You shove him hard, needing space, needing air. "I never asked you to love me."

"No," he agrees, letting you go but not backing away. "You just made sure no one else could. How many people have you scared away from me? How many times have you shown up just when I was starting to move on?"

Your hand cracks across his face before you can stop yourself. The sound echoes in the quiet room. It reminds you of that night three months ago—the one you both pretend never happened. When the coke and jealousy and rage all exploded at once, leaving you both with bruises you had to explain away to concerned friends. He'd grabbed your wrists too hard; you'd thrown a bottle that shattered inches from his head. You both ended up on the floor, somewhere between fighting and fucking, leaving trails of blood from the broken glass neither of you had bothered to avoid.

"Fuck you," you spit, but there are tears in your eyes now.

"You already did," he says coldly. "Multiple times. Loud enough for the whole fucking house to hear. Was it worth it? Did it make you feel better about the fact that you're in love with me too?"

His smile is all teeth. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"I don't love you," you say, the words scraping your throat raw. "I don't even like you."

"Keep telling yourself that." He grabs your wrist as you reach for the door. "But we both know you'll be back. You always come back."

You jerk away from him. "Not this time."

"Right," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair—the same nervous gesture he made the morning you found him passed out in his bathroom, nose bleeding, pulse too fast. You'd stayed then, nursed him through the comedown, only to steal what was left of his stash before leaving. "Give it a week. You'll get drunk, see me with someone else, and show up at my door pretending you just want sex. And I'll let you in, because I'm stupid enough to keep loving you even though you're destroying me piece by piece."

"Then stop letting me in," you challenge, even as your chest constricts at the thought.

His laugh is bitter. "Maybe I will. Maybe next time I'll have someone else in my bed. Someone who isn't afraid to stay until morning. Would that finally make you feel something?"

The image hits you like a physical blow—Rafe with someone else, someone who deserves him. Someone better than you. The jealousy rises like bile in your throat.

"Do whatever you want," you say, proud that your voice doesn't shake. "I don't care."

"Prove it," he dares you. "Walk out that door and don't come back. For real this time."

Your hand finds the doorknob, and for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself imagine turning around, confessing everything. How you've been in love with him since that first night. How you push him away because you know you'll only break him in the end. How you'd rather hurt him on your terms than wait for him to realize you're not worth staying for.

Instead, you say, "Goodbye, Rafe," and step out into the night, leaving behind the only person who's ever seen through every lie you've told yourself.

Through the door, you hear glass shatter against the wall. Then another. And another.

You make it to your car before the sobs tear free from your chest. Your phone buzzes—a text from him.

I hate that I still love you.

You type back through blurred vision: I hate that I let you.

You drive away, your hands shaking as you resist the urge to dip into the baggie in your purse—the one you bought with money stolen from his wallet while he was sleeping last week. He probably knew; he always knows. Just like you know about the times he's followed you to parties, watched you flirt with other guys just to hurt him, waited for you to break down and come crawling back.

Next week, or next month, one of you will break. You'll end up back in his bed, adding new scars to your collection, both physical and emotional. You'll share lines and lies and bruising kisses, pretending the chemicals in your blood are the only reason your heart races when he touches you. Because that's what you do—you break each other apart and call it love.

Maybe one day, one of you will be strong enough to end this for good. Maybe it'll be when one of you finally goes too far, pushes too hard, breaks something that can't be fixed with apologetic kisses and promises you never mean to keep.

But not tonight. Tonight, you're already calculating how long to wait before texting him about the coke you just bought, knowing he'll let you in even though you both swore last time was the last time.

It's never the last time.

a/n -- Thanks to anyone who made it to the end of this fic! As always, all likes, comments, and reblogs keep me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore @madzig @thatdesigirl17 @drewstarkeysrightarm @seqhyvnz @romantasyreader2024 @luizaelias @rafe-cameronswife @emmavzlsblog @aileenunfiltered @swe3theart-succubus @511rkive @morrrrphin @xcinnamonmalfoyx @obxrafeandjj @rafegf-real @theeternaloptimistt @iluvvmeeee @ecliptide @mrsdrewstarkeyy @blaustappen @disaster-rose @neslayuh @justdamnpeachy @rafecamlovr @lhhlver @upsidedownjill @niyalovests @cl4uus

156 notes · View notes

anomaly-hivemind · 4 months ago

Text

Love me Lonely ☆ Frankenstein Monster! Tomura Shigaraki x Reader | Kinktober Day 22

Summary: You take in an injured vagabond who needs some much-needed affection that you are gladly ready to give out to him.

Word Count: 1071

Tags: Dry humping, no-quirk au, Vaginal fingering, fluff

You didn’t think you’d have any company in your home; however, you readily accepted the strange man you found getting rocks chased out of town by an angry mob. You knew the townspeople weren't too receptive and kind to those they didn’t understand.

So you took him home, washed him up, and fixed his stitches. You weren’t sure why he was so banged up aside from what the townsfolk did, but you weren’t one to judge. He wasn’t much of a talker, but he was good company; in fact, he didn’t leave your side all that much. He didn’t eat or sleep all that much, but he stuck by you. When you were eating, and he wasn’t, he’d still sit with you while you ate. Granted, he didn’t walk, but it was the thought that counts.

You decided to make a poultice for his skin since it’s so dry. You found him sitting by the window staring out at the rain.

“I have something for you," you said, holding up the glass jar for him to see.

“What is it?” He asked; you screwed off the top and showed it to him. He leaned forward and sniffed before scrunching up his nose and jerking away.

“Yeah, the smell is a bit strong. But, um, it’s for your skin,” you said, dipping your fingers into the thick substance.

He flinched away momentarily but eventually relaxed and let you apply the poultice. His stitches really were everywhere, and parts of his skin seemed so different than the other parts.

You finished by applying it to his face, but when you pulled your hands away, he brought it back to rest on his face.

That surprised you, the same man flinched from your touch and was not readily leaning into it.

In the following weeks, he had eased into human touch. Honestly, he was a lot touchier than you originally expected, but you didn’t mind showering him with affection. But lately, the touches had changed.

Holding hands, soft little kisses, caresses. But you got the impression that he wanted a bit more from the way you caught his hands drifting sometimes or the lingering gazes when you changed clothes.

You didn’t think there was anything special about what’s under your skirts but I guess he did when he tried to look take a peek under them one day.

At this particular instant, you found you and your guest, whom you, at his request, began calling Shigaraki, cuddled up on your bed. You were reading a book when he became touchy. So you put your book down and decided to indulge his curiosity.

You climbed atop his body to grind into him, slowly as if holding on to his shoulder, rocking into Shigraki’s lap for a fiction that just didn’t seem to be enough for you at the current moment. You lean up to pull him into a kiss. It was messy and uncoordinated, but it felt so right in the moment. Shigraki helps you with a quiet gentleness as his red eyes start into your own. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter as you moved up his lap and against his crotch. You could feel him hard against him, and he was moving against you like he didn't want you to leave, even in just the slightest of distance.

His hand moves to hold on to your thigh, gripping you tight and trying to pull you more against him. You were looking down at him as he looked up at you expectantly, tilting his head to kiss you again. You kiss him back, running your lips against his dry lips, and smile against him.

You grab his hand that was resting on your thigh and pull it upward to your core; you bring his hand to your pussy. His fingers twitched against your damp panties, and you pressed yourself against his hand, moving slowly against his hand. Your hand was over his as you guided him to rubbing his fingers between your cloth folds. You let out a soft moan as you pushed his fingers against your clit. It wasn’t good enough, and you wanted to feel him fully, but you didn't want to overwhelm him too quickly.

You move back and take off your panites which were sticking to yourself. Shigaraki watches you the whole time, looking like he was going to get up and grab you to put you back in his lap.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming back” You walk back over to him and jump back in his lap. This time, he takes the initiative and moves his fingers back to your folds and repeats what you were doing before when you were wearing underwear. You let out another moan as you feel his fingers sliding against your arousal. It causes you to shiver, and you feel him pushing into your entrance.

“So… wet,” you hear the hoarse voice whisper to you as he pulls his fingers out to mess around your slit and poke at your clit. You let out a moan and nod at his words, and you feel him push his digits back into you.

You grind against his fingers, and he gets the memo quickly, he takes his other hand and holds you in place so that he can push his fingers in and out of you. You let out a moan as you lean against his shoulder, as you let him finger you, and enjoy the feeling. He rocked his hand into you, thrusting his fingers into you, feeling him pushing against your g-spot.

“Touch me here, please” You grab his thumb and place it over your clit.

He moves his thumb against your clit slowly, it is already wet with your juices, and he then thrusts into it at the same time. Your walls clench and flutter around his fingers as you get close to climax. You move to kiss him a few more times between moans as you litter his face with affection. You tense up, letting out short moans in quick succession as you reach your climax. You fall on top of him and with your legs shaking. He works you through orgasm.

You pressed a few kisses to his face and hugged him in your arms. You would have to clean yourselves up later, but for now, you would make sure he felt as loved as possible with your touch.

198 notes · View notes

contentloadingandstuff · 2 months ago

Text

Smut Headcanons - Furina & Navia

A/N: While I have the Furina stuff I promised (smut + relationship + parenting headcanons) ready, I decided to split them up in three posts to go with another character. This way, the reader can enjoy exactly what they want. Anyway, enjoy! CW: Nothing, just vanilla ice cream here.

Furina de Fontaine? Yes, of course she is nothing if not the best at this whole “sex” thing! There are hardly any things she struggles with less than marital fornication, she'll have you know!

Please go easy on her. She has no idea whatsoever.

While it's true that throughout her long life she had read through many explicit books and brochures, mostly without pictures, her lack of personal interaction with the male body leads to her being quite clueless the first few times around. She doesn't really know how to please you, more - she barely even knows what she likes herself.

It's natural for gods to be less sexual than humans, which is all the more unfortunate for Furina. She kept the lifespan, but was left with a human set of emotions and needs that was doomed to wither over the centuries. But not all is lost - now that her days of godhood are over and she could finally become human - with a human lifespan and the ability to fully express her emotions. It will take time, but, with enough practice, she'll catch up.

Communication is key. Don't hesitate to “order” her around. Tell her what feels good, what doesn't, what you'd like her to do and more. Furina will follow your example and share what she can - although the storm of moans and whimpers should serve as more than enough of a pointer.

Furina is surprisingly confident in the bedroom. When she finds something she likes, she'll definitely let you know. She will, between shivering and gripping the sheets, encourage you or give you some pointers, as much as her state will allow. She's not scared to initiate and when she does, she always goes in with a plan. Knocking her off balance with some teasing of your own is sure to leave her in tatters though…

Furina is quite the fan of plays and works talking about romance, so her view of the subject is much closer to “making love” than to any other way to describe sex. As such, she enjoys plenty of prep before the main event - a romantic dinner, some proper foreplay, some teasing beforehand… She enjoys working yourselves up to the main thing. Getting in the right mood is a must for her, and when she's there, there's no keeping her hands off you.

Don't let her outspoken and loud way of carrying herself fool you - the closer you get to her, the more shy Furina becomes - especially if no clothes are involved. She'll have you believe that it's completely natural for a small girl like her to be intimidated by a taller and far stronger man, unwilling to openly state that she happily lays back and lets you do whatever you want to her most days.

On the occasion that she has something specific in mind, it usually involves a bit of dressing up - she's quite fond of theater, after all. She can afford costumes and dresses galore, both for you and herself. It does take quite a bit of time, getting herself perfectly dolled up for the occasion, but it's no problem - seeing herself so disheveled, undressed and messy after you're done with her is totally worth the effort.

A nice session of light play-acting is Furina’s favourite way to spice things up. She can be whoever you want - a damsel in distress, longing for the body of her noble knight, an actress getting some more hands-on rehearsals, or perhaps her favourite - the shy, freshly taken bride. Furina never parted with her wedding dress and takes it out for a spin, from time to time. It fits her perfectly, and thanks to Chiori’s expertise in material selection, is also easy to clean from… certain substances.

But sometimes all Furina wants to do is let loose, be herself and just get some lovely, passionate pounding. Doggy no doubt has its bonuses in that regard, but she’d much rather see your face twist in pleasure as her slick hole pleasures you to completion. She enjoys missionary the most, with her hands clasping around yours for support or desperately clinging onto the sheets below. Furina is all about kissing, so expect your mouth to be occupied, and remember - nothing is hotter for her than you looking her straight in the eye as you nut inside. She won’t complain if you boast about how much you’ve filled her up - after all, you’re quite the lover, and it’s only right for you to be proud of what you can do to her.

Don’t be alarmed if you find Furina shedding a few tears while her guts are being rearranged - that’s just how she responds to overstimulation. She doesn’t want you to stop any time soon, of course… But a kiss and a squeeze of her hand would surely motivate her to take you further in!

She spends a lot of time grooming herself to perfection, with most of the time going towards shaving herself. She enjoys nice, smooth skin everywhere below the neck. Furina does mind hair, and you would make her very happy if you kept yourself like that as well. Why would she want to have all this nasty hair obscuring the goods?

Furina is aware of how unlucky she is, to be created with not much of a cleavage. She tends to be hyper aware of her deficiency - or at least that’s how she views it. Your girl tends to skip out on nipple or boob play for that exact reason. She’s yours, and so is her body - if her body can’t offer you all it should, she’s not a good wife, is she? She would love you to be able to slide your cock between them and fuck them to completion, but they are, unfortunately, very flat. Over time, however, your love and encouragement helped her dismiss these harmful beliefs of inadequacy. So much so that she's grown to cherish her form.

She's proud of what she has, and loves to show herself off with expensive sets of lingerie. Unlike, say, the extendable cutlery she bought, these come in use regularly. She always picks those one size smaller to accentuate the nice fluff around her thighs and belly - a woman must have some plush on herself, after all! Couple that with long gloves and thigh highs, one darker and one brighter to match her eyes of course, and you've got yourself an outfit Furina feels beautiful in.

And desired, too. They are nice, yes, but not as much as the feeling of you stripping them off her. She likes passion, and very much enjoys seeing you lose control of your desire for her. Don't hold your moans, say whatever comes to mind - even if it is her name over and over and over again, she will listen intently and whine your name in concert.

The bed’s your stage, while you and her play the main roles.

For her, you are the main attraction of the show. You and your glorious, male body. Navia? She's a big fan of that.

The straight posture, the beautifully flat, strong chest, these powerful arms, the big hands, the meaty calves… You're incredibly handsome, so why wouldn't she spend her nights worshiping and touching you?

When it comes to herself, she doesn't mind most things. Sure, she likes being the center of your attention, but being the receiver excites her much less than giving. While she'll take a long while to cum with your tongue, just sucking you off is enough to make her squirt on her fingers. Sex is all good, but she'll be more passionate if you just lay back and let her do the work.

Let her take the lead - here, you're the star, and she's more than eager to see you enjoy yourself. Navia loves servicing you and bringing out those delicious, deep moans and sighs. She gets absolutely soaking at the thought that it's all the doing of her skillful hands and abundant body.

Navia Rich cleavage, fat butt and a spacious pussy - Navia has it all, and you're more than welcome to help yourself. She'll be thrilled if you make good and frequent use of her, as - surprise surprise - women have needs too. It's unfair - why can you be absolutely horny for her, but it's improper for her to drool over you? Well, that's how it is in public, but behind closed doors, you're game.

Navia is the unchallenged queen of handling your manhood. Learning about you, memorising the shape of your cock, adjusting her insides to fit you like a glove, learning where to touch to make you shiver… It was great fun, and Navia enjoys having the chance to explore you further with various kinks. She's not going to say no to anything when it comes to your hefty package, that's for sure.

While not having much for herself, Navia owns a host of toys to use on you in the sheets. Would you like her to tie you up? Maybe edge you with a pocket pussy? How about tying the base of your cock for some extended sessions? Whatever you want, whatever you need, she likely has it in her collection - and if she doesn't, it won't be for long. All she needs is your word.

Navia is known for her positive and energetic approach to her role, but every girl needs a pick-me-up once in a while, doesn't she? Navia won't mind if you come over and sneak with her into a closet or let her get under the desk for some naughty time~

Nothing turns her on more than your pleasure. Seeing your hand tighten around the armrest as she edges you, feeling your hand push her head up and down as you use her throat as a toy or hearing you struggle to get all the cum out when she milks you for all your worth is something she greatly looks forward to. So much so that, if you give her this privilege, she'll whip out a Kamera to keep that moment for years to come.

Of course, it will be focused on you. She wants to capture what she loves the most - your pleasure. She'll let the Kamera roll as you rail her into the bed, capturing all these lovely moans and expressions of bliss, as well as your grunts as you selfishly chase your own pleasure, uncaring if she will handle the pounding. One of her favourites is recording your balls as they slam against her cunt in doggy or missionary, capturing your voice and the obscene noises her pussy makes as your fuck her to completion. She'll return to them when she’s away, rubbing and fingering herself to the image of you in careless, primal bliss.

That's another thing she loves to see - primal lust. The sight of you senselessly and violently fucking a toy is her favourite thing to get off to, especially that she knows she's going to be the toy next. Be rough with her - she can take it. Just don't you dare go silent on her, now! You have a voice, so use it - moan, whine, sigh and growl for her. Navia wants to know just how much you enjoy using her body.

But sometimes she's in a more needy mood, especially when you've been quiet the last few times around. Navia knows that there's nothing worse for a guy than denial, so she'll strap you down and play with your dick, edging you without pause until you cry and beg for release. Or, alternatively, she'll work your head and prostate, forcing you to give up everything in your balls to her. The longer it goes on, the more you struggle, and the more frantic your pleas become. Music to her ears.

Navia finds it so hot when you act needy, even when it's as simple as asking for some attention. Want a handy? She'll give you a helping hand, no questions asked. Need your balls emptied with some mouth work? Navia is on the case. You're in need of a quickie? Feel free to bend her over and yank those panties down - she's on the pill, so cum away. Be ready to zip down your fly for her too - sometimes, a quick suck can really lift her spirits. When she has a day off, expect lots of messing in the sheets.

Morning sex? Yes please! She'll gladly have you wake up to lewd sounds of slurping and her lips wrapped around your cock, if you'll let her. And once you fully wake up, you'll get to feel her ride you in the rays of the morning light.

She's the type of girl that loves cum. Expect lots of positive encouragement to blow your load, no matter if it comes quickly - it's a compliment for her doing a great job, right? When you finally give in to her talented ministrations, she'll make sure to put on a show for you. Each part of her (except the hair, cum is quite annoying to get out of there without taking a shower) is fair game when it comes to coming. If you feel like giving her a mouthful, she'll swallow it up and show you a clean mouth as proof. Her favourite spot, though, is the face - it might mess with her make-up, but its warmth and smell feels so naughtily good on her face, and she'll make sure you're watching her gather it up and lick it off her fingers with a proud, smug smirk.

Navia isn't a fan of condoms, not at all. She’d much rather take a pill or slap on a patch than wrap you in rubber. Besides, Navia always wanted to have plenty of kids, so when the time comes, she'll passionately encourage you to knock her up. Having her stomach swollen with a baby - that you put into her, which she will make sure to praise you for - makes her feel beautiful, even if she has to buy bigger clothes. Luckily for her, she can still suck your cock with a big belly, so it's not much of a problem in that department.

With Navia, it's cowgirl all the way. Not only do you get to see her tits swing and her beautiful face, but you also get a taste of her excellent riding skills. She likes this position as it allows her to see your face contorted in pleasure. She will adjust the pace and depth to better milk you, or keep you on the edge of orgasm and enjoy seeing you lose your mind to pleasure.

Thanks for reading!

274 notes · View notes

heartcereql · 1 year ago

Text

tommy shelby x finn's teacher!reader

when you first read his name on the class list, you freezed, a shiver running down your spine. of course you weren't oblivious as to who the shelbys were or what they did. but he was so young. twelve. you actually had a tiny bit of hope that finn shelby would be different than his brothers were. you were soon proven wrong.

finn and what he called "his boys" soon started doing their business around the school, and, before you knew it, inside the school as well. bringing cigarettes, picking on younger students, terrorizing girls...

you had had enough. it was one thing for adults to get their hands dirty doing whatever businesses. but a kid? hell no. and while you couldn’t do anything about what they did outside school, you could try to correct their behaviour in school.

so that's how you found yourself one grey and cloudy evening in front of the shelbys' door, mustering the courage to knock.

you knocked three times. nothing. as you were about to knock again, you heard the lock and then the door opened, revealing a man with the same ocean eyes as finn.

thomas shelby.

you knew him, naturally, but this was the first time he was so close, let alone about to talk to you.

“good afternoon” you greeted as you tried to ignore the way your chest was tightening.

“afternoon. may i help you?” he asked, hand resting on the doorknob.

“yes, actually. i’m y/n y/l/n. i’m finn’s teacher, and i wanted to discuss certain behaviours of his with you" you explained firmly. “if that’s okay” you added in a mumble.

he just stared at you for an instant. an instant that felt like eternity to you. then he nodded, letting you come into the house.

he led you through the betting house to his office.

he sat on his chair; you took your place on the other side of the desk.

“so” he said, pulling out a cigarette, “is he getting in a lot of trouble, eh?”

you smiled timidly, admiring his sharp features.

"more like he's the one creating the trouble." you watched as tommy lit his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke before resuming. "he and his presumed gang sometimes drink beers or smoke cigarettes, torment some younger kids maybe. mr shelby, i understand that he spends a lot of time at the cut, and that ... um, that..." you were suddenly at a loss of words. you didn't want to say it, but that's how you felt it: he had grown up in a similar environment.

thomas smirked, knowing your thoughts. he knew what your mind instinctively told you. but he didn't feel enraged. quite the opposite, your concern seemed genuine, and you looked like a lovely young woman; even if your thoughts were a bit tainted by the reputation that preceeded him, he knew you meant no harm.

he also took a moment to admire how off place you looked there. your clothes were rose golden, which seemed to accentuate the soft aura that surrounded you. even with the dim lights and the greyish ambience of the office, your skin appeared to glimmer.

"i guess i'm okay with whatever he does outside school, that's what i'm trying to say. but as of late, finn and his boys have been taking their businesses around the school area. and that is of my concern. we can not afford to have children intimidated, girls harassed; hell, if a child were to try substances because of your brother and his friends, and the parents found out, we could be- the school could be sued and-"

"miss y/l/n" tommy interrupted your ramble.

"y/n." you corrected, offering a smile. "please, no one calls me miss y/n/l; it would feel weird"

"i see then. y/n" you tried not to feel butterflies tingling on your stomach as your name rolled off his tongue. he smiled as well, more to himself than to you.

"finn is his own man now" tommy continued. "i will talk to him about this, but i can not guarantee that he will do as he is told. truth is, i don't have much power over him now."

he took another drag of the cigarette, eyes finding yours through the smoke.

"what do you mean? i'm sure there's something you can do"

"not really, much to my displeasure. i assure you, y/n, that i will do what i can to correct finn's behaviour at school. he used to want to be like me, y'know? but now he's... he's him. "

"i don't think that's entirely true. you know, one of the only assignments finn turned in this semester was an essay about the person they admired most. not only finn excelled in the task, handing a beautiful composition, well structured and showing a wide range of vocabulary; but the essay was about you, mr shelby. it professed how he wanted nothing but to be like 'his brother tommy'. he truly looks up to you. he still does, mr shelby. so, i think you will succeed at getting him to change his mind."

now it was tommy who seemed to have run out of words, only inhaling from his cigarette. his eyes studied you meticulously. how your eyes fluttered around the room, unable to settle, refusing to meet his; how you clutched your hands in your lap; how your chest rose and fell as you breathed.

“i’ll give it a try, eh?” he finally spoke.

a smile lit your face.

"wonderful. well, thank you for your time, mr shelby", you showed him your appreciation to him listening to you as you stood up.

"tommy"

"what?" you asked, genuinely confused; you thought you hadn't heard correctly.

"if i am to call you y/n, it is only fair for you to call me tommy. i suppose" he stated. though he refused to look directly at you, a smile was tugging at his lips.

"very well, then. thank you for having me this evening, tommy" you offered a tight-lipped smile.

he just gave you a curt nod, taking another drag of the cigarette. you smoothed some wrinkles on your clothes and, after giving him one last grin, you made your way to the door, ready to leave.

"wait" he uttered, his voice low, as if he was rethinking his decision.

you turned to him, hand resting on the frame of the door.

"would you- maybe, consider going for a drink with me?" he hadn't looked at you as he posed the question; but his gaze locked with yours when he was expecting your answer.

you felt heat creep up your neck and cheeks, praying to whoever was listening that he didn't notice.

"only if you stay true to your word, tommy" you responded before heading out, smiling like a fool when you were finally out of sight.

#heartcereql #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy

2K notes · View notes

samkerrworshipper · 10 months ago

Text

the monsters gone

part 3 of beautiful girl series -> part 1 -> part 2

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader (wobbs as moms)

warnings: drug addiction, drug abuse, talks of illicit substances, depression, intrusive thoughts, would not advise for people in a bad mental headspace

You wanted her to leave, or you were desperate for a fix and well aware that it wasn’t going to happen until she was gone and you could retreat up to your room like normal.

You scratched at the incision on your forearm, it was hidden underneath your hoodie but you could feel it all the same, it made you feel guilty.

You’d never felt guilty for taking drugs, why would you? It was your choice, your body, your brain that you were fucking with. Yet for some reason, the little mark that you knew was sitting right on top of your vein was making you feel guilty. You didn’t want to admit it, but it felt oddly like the start of something, you weren’t sure what though, whatever it was though, it didn’t feel good.

When the door clicked open around 2 o’clock you felt far more at peace, watching your mom hobble through the door with Lia following her. Jordan stood up almost immediately and if the room hadn’t already been awkward then the awkwardness found a whole new definition as the two women looked at each other.

“Hey Jord, thanks for hanging around, you’re looking good.”

Your mom looked relieved to see Jordan, your ma on the other side looked slightly terrified as she eyed up the two women.

“It wasn’t an issue, you know I love spending time with my chick.”

Leah smiled, looking down at you on the couch, you buried your head in your phone, ignoring her gaze.

“Whether she admits it or not she likes seeing you as well.”

Your ma laughed awkwardly, it took everything in you to not burst out laughing at all of the tension between the two of them.

“Look I’ll be heading off, gotta me back in Birmingham for game review tonight but can we talk for a minute though Le?”

Your mom’s head cocked to the side, a look of curiosity evident on her face.

“Yeah sure, come with me.”

Lia watches them with the same look of curiosity as you, your eyes meeting as the trail back from the doorway to Leah’s office that they both step into.

“They’re talking about me.”

Lia doesn’t bother trying to ignore you or deny what you’re saying, she nodes her head.

“Probably, that’s what most parents do.”

It’s a absentminded answer, and for a second your aware that maybe Lia is in on whatever is happening, that she knows exactly what is going on behind the door. If anything important came from the phone call earlier you know Lia would be the first to know, she was like the third parent you never asked for nor wanted, but somehow ended up with.

“Ma thinks that Mom’s parenting is shit.”

Lia cocks her head, she’s harder to read then your moms, more calculated, more clean, less obviously emotional.

“She just disagrees with some of the things that your mother does, so do I. Nobody else is in her shoes though, she makes the decisions that are necessary and best for you.”

Lia sounds convinced of her words, even though you doubt them.

“Ma doesn’t think so.”

Lia bit down on her bottom lip, finishing with tucking her kit bag away so she could focus her attention on you.

“She worries about you.”

You did your best to suppress the eye roll, it didn’t work.

“She worries that mom is too nice and isn’t strict enough.”

Sometimes you thought that your mom compensated for the void between the two of you by letting you do whatever you wanted, other times you were reminded by your grandma that she’d told Leah she needed to go easy on you and that not everyone could be as perfect as Leah Williamson.

“Your mom knows what you need better than anybody else.”

The conversation paused, the two of you flinching at the sound of yelling from the other side of the door, you couldn’t make out what was being said, both of them were yelling though.

“Set the table for lunch for me, kiddo?”

You couldn’t pull your eyes from the door, you hadn’t hear your moms yell in a long time, it took you back to when they were breaking up, when they tried to act like they weren’t, when they saved the fighting and yelling for when you’d been tucked into bed and they’d thought you were asleep.

“Kiddo, table.”

You stood up from the couch, your eyes staying stuck to the door, even as you pulled cutlery from the drawer and laid it out with the placemats on the table. Eventually, the yelling ceased, and the room was over come with a silence like no other, only being broken by the door opening and your two moms walking out, both of them looking far more content considering that it had sounded like they were screaming at each other, not thirty seconds ago.

“Bubba, Jord is going to head off, if you want to say bye.”

Jordan’s arms opened up to you and as mad and confused as you were, you weren’t going to deny her. You walked around the table, leaning into her hug, wrapping your arms around her the same way she did for you, letting her hold on for a little bit longer.

“I’ll be back when I can chicky, I love you so much.”

You wanted to tell her she was lying, that they were all lying, they didn’t fucking love you, it was so fucking obvious. But for the sake of keeping the peace you didn’t.

“I love you too Ma.”

Jordan let go of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The same way she had when they’d adopted you when you were eight, the same way she had after your first game when you were 12, the same way she had when you were 14 and you’d been top of your form and given an award, the same way she had when she’d left for good when you were 16. It was the same kiss, yet everything about it was different, the meaning, the purpose, the intention, it was all different.

You watched as she walked out the door, the same as every time, you listened to the sound of her car starting and the sound of gravel underneath her tires as she pulled out and onto the road.

Once you were sure she was gone you turned around, sliding into a seat at the table, across from your mother, staring at her.

“What were you guys talking about?”

Leah looked at you, poker face as good as ever.

“Football, some other stuff.”

It was a obvious lie, both you and Lia knew it.

“You were talking about me, what about me?” Leah rolled her eyes at you.

“It was a conversation between your Ma and I, not for your ears.”

You didn’t bat an eye as Lia set lunch down in front of you, to fixated on your mother.

“You don’t yell over nothing, what were you talking about.”

Leah pushed her tongue out against her lips.

“Your ma had some concerns about you, that’s it, I told her she had nothing to worry about and that we were doing just fine.”

You knew that even if you didn’t want to admit it, Jordan probably had some valid points, your mom seemed unphased though.

“That’s it?”

Leah looked at you, and you could tell that she was holding something back.

“She told me that you’d told her you smoked weed last night and that you were vomiting this morning.”

You tried to keep your face from changing, keeping the confident exterior even if you were slightly scared on the inside.

“I got drunk, I had some fun, it was no biggy.”

Leah’s eyebrow rose in the trademark question.

“It’s a biggy to me because you told all you were doing was vaping and a little bit of drinking, you said you’d be honest with me and it’s clear you haven’t been.”

You hesitated for a second, the air thickening around you as suddenly the tension was between you and your mother.

“I was just having some fun mom, I didn’t do anything stupid, I was safe, just like you asked.”

Leah’s face shrivelled up as you used her words against her.

“You were out with friends I’ve never met, at a house on the opposite side of town that I’ve never been too, Jord said you looked like you’d been on a three day bender and I told her that I didn’t believe her but now you’re here admitting it.”

You reached into your pocket for your vape, desperate for something to take the edge of the conversation off, to make you feel calmer.

You pulled it out and Leah’s face immediately pointed inwards.

“How many times do I have to say no vape at the table?”

You frowned, shoving it back in your pocket.

“It was just a bit of weed mom, it’s what kids my age do.”

Leah shook her head.

“It wasn’t just a bit of weed, I’ve been smelling it on your clothes for weeks and trying to tell myself I was being delusional because you’d told me you were just on the vape, that you had no interest in drugs and yet you were lying to me, you have been for a while bubba and I don’t know how to feel about it to be honest. I thought we were closer than most parents and kids, I thought we had boundaries and that I was giving you enough space, and now I don’t know what to think.”

You pursed your lips, struggling to find words.

“And if you’re lying to me about weed then what else is there? What else is there you aren’t telling me because there has to be more. I let you drop football, I relaxed on the school because I know you were struggling but this doesn’t work if you aren’t honest with me.”

You really didn’t know what to say, your mind was in a million different places, the container underneath your bed, the joints on your windowsill hidden behind the curtains, the three vapes in your bedside table, the drug dealer numbers in your phone, what had happened last night, the meth track mark on your arm.

“Nothing, it was just some weed, I just wanted something to take the edge off, it was no big deal.”

Leah’s eyes closed for a second and you knew this was all about to get a lot harder.

“Except it was a big deal because you’ve been doing it behind my backs for weeks, I’ve tried to be understanding bubba, I have, I know it’s been tough for you with me and Jords breakup, you’ve had a really hard year, I let the vaping slide, I let your attendance drop at school, but drugs bub, it’s no joke.”

You took a deep breath.

“It’s just some weed, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

Leah wants to say that if you’re this relaxed about being caught doing weed then she doesn’t want to know what else you’re hiding from her that would make you less relaxed, but she keeps it to herself, or for this moment at least.

“I want you to bring me whatever you have of it, I won’t have you smoking illicit and illegal substances underneath my roof.”

You figured there were worse things that could happen, she could find your stash, she could take your vape, she could ground you or make you go to school.

“Okay.”

Your mom nodded, happy she had at least won a small battle.

“After lunch.”

You nod again in agreeance, looking down at the caesar salad in front of you and stabbing your fork down onto it, picking up the different pieces of lettuce and chicken scattered throughout.

You make it through half the meal before you grab your bowl and pick it up, walking into the kitchen to do you washing up, your mom follows behind you, her bowl empty.

You take the dish from her, cleaning it out and stacking both of them in the dishwasher, knowing whats to come now.

You slow yourself down on the stairs giving her the time to follow behind you as she dragged her bad leg up every individual stair.

Leah had been putting in hours everyday for her rehab, it was her main focus, over everything else.

Eventually the two of you made it to the top of the stairs, and eventually to your bedroom door.

You hesitated before opening it, you couldn’t remember the last time Leah had been inside it, way before her acl, ever since she’d gotten injured she’d been avoiding the staircase.

You opened the door, hand pausing on the cold metal doorknob for a split second before pushing it open.

Your room was still freezing, you didn’t miss how your mother shivered from the breeze that hit her face immediately, coming straight from the open window.

“Jesus kiddo, you trying to replicate antarctica in here? You know I pay good money for heating, right?”

It’s a lighthearted joke, yet somehow it hurts for you, you don’t know how or why, you just know that it does.

“I like it cold.”

Leah looks at you, both brows furrowed inwards.

“Alright then polar bear.”

You try not to flinch away when her hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, it’s something she’s done to you since you were a kid, it feels wrong now though.

“Let’s just get this over and done with.”

You walk over to your windowsill, reaching behind the curtain and reaching for the bag of joints that you have stashed behind the material. Leah frowns as you walk back over to her, shoving the bag into her hands before she can even ask.

“This is all of them?”

She looks completely unconvinced, you probably would be too, most kids don’t give up their drugs willingly.

“Yes.”

Leah looks at you, eye to eye, like she’s trying to reach into your soul, or read your mind.

“Bubba, this is your chance, I’m giving you an opportunity to be straight with me, and whatever you tell me or give me I won’t be mad about. I might want to sit down and question your decisions, but I won’t be mad. Teenagers are stupid, they make mistakes, they try new things, I get it. Be honest with me bubba, please.”

You didn’t really know what Leah was insinuating, but it was clear that she knew there was a bigger picture here.

“That’s it mom.”

You had to tear your eyes away from her, you couldn’t handle the way that she was looking at you, the mix of disappointment, resentment and worry mixed into her blue irises.

“Bubba, don’t make me search your room, don’t make me have to ground you, don’t make me have to call Jord and get her to turn the car around to help me out.”

You brought your eyes back to Leah’s.

“That’s it mom, I don’t know what you want me to tell you, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

You were lying through your teeth and the fact you couldn’t look eye to eye with Leah would have been enough of a warning sign of that.

“Drugs bubba, that’s what I’m talking about, you’re lying straight to my fucking face right now, I don’t know what about or why but you are.”

You didn’t know what to say, you weren’t going to admit it, you couldn’t, but you needed to say something. Fuck, you were so fucked.

You tried to spin it in your head, tried to think about how you could make this work out. You were caught, you were done, this was bad.

Your eyes darted to below your bed, rookie fucking mistake.

Leah caught your line of sight, and you knew as soon as she did that it was all about to go to fucking shit, that you were done for.

“Lia.”

Your mom’s voice was urgent, a yell that had the swiss woman bounding up the stairs in a matter of seconds.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were so fucking fucked.

You were frozen in your spot, your mom’s eyes looking at you like she’d just been stabbed in the heart.

“Bubba, you can get whatever you are hiding from me or I will get Lia to tear this whole room a part, I’m not fucking around.”

You felt torn down the middle, your brain couldn’t think, you felt the same sickness sink in from this morning, instead of it being withdrawals from drugs though it was the realisation that your whole life was about to be turned upside down.

You tried to think, tried to think about how you could spin this, make it a little bit better than it really was.

Lia looked more uncomfortable then possible, you wished a blackhole would randomly pop up and swallow all three of you.

Something hit you, it wasn’t a full resolution but it was better than what you currently had going for you.

You walked over to your bed, with unsteadier legs then last night when you were so drunk the world was spinning, crouching down when you got to the edge, feeling for the familiar container that held all of your deepest darkest secrets, or at least that’s how it felt.

It took you back to a time when you’d made Leah check under your bed everynight for the monsters under your bed, now though she was looking for the monsters in your head, the monsters that had turned her little perfect girl into whatever you were now.

Your hand eventually met the hard plastic, you pulled it out, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you stood up and sat down on the edge of your bed.

Leah took a couple steps closer to you, standing directly in front of you.

“Look, it’s not mine, I only did it twice, my friends bought it over, I swear.”

Half of it was true.

“Open the box, bubba.”

You felt your throat tighten, you felt like you were going to vomit, or pass out, or have a heart attack.

“Mom, I didn’t want to, I don’t even like it, I just did it because my friends were, I swear.”

It was also another half truth.

“Bubba, open the box.”

You bit down even harder on the inside of your cheek, reaching for the edge of the plastic box and opening it, revealing the two baggies of white powder inside of it.

Leah’s face fell, in a way that you’d never seen, you’d seen her disappointed before, this wasn’t it, it was something else entirely and you weren’t sure what.

“Bubba.”

Your mom was a overly emotional person, you couldn’t handle her crying right now though, you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t deal with her pretending she gave a shit when this was the first time in months that it felt like she cared, and it was all because of Jordan, not on her own volition.

“I swear mom, I swear, it’s not mine, I promise.”

It wasn’t a lie, it hadn’t started out as yours, you’re friends had left it behind after a weekend hangout and had never asked for it back, so it technically wasn’t yours, technically.

“Bubba, what is it?”

Leah reached for the box, picking up the two bags, the bags that you felt like held your whole life together.

“Cocaine, it’s just a little bit of coke, my friends were using it before parties, I didn’t like it, it made me feel dizzy and it hurt my head.”

The cocaine bit was a lie, but the fact you didn’t like cocaine wasn’t, it was the kind of stimulant which put you into over drive, the high lasted no where near as long and it made you feel like you weren’t making sense.

You were hoping she would believe the cocaine, inevitably, cocaine was a pissy drug. Leah would have been at thousands of parties were cocaine was handed around, hell, you were fairly certain your mother had taken plenty of it. Cocaine was less addictive, good cocaine was also stupidly expensive, the value of it was fucked. Meth was cheap but a thousand times more addictive, cocaine was a better like.

“Lia, get rid of it.”

Your mom handed the bag of joints over to Lia, as well as the bags of drugs, shoving them into her hands like they were burning her hands. “I don’t even know what to say to you bubba.”

Your mom looked genuinely at a loss for words, her eyes kept darting between your eyes and your hands, which were shaking in front of you.

“Mom, I promise, it was only a one time thing, really, I was just keeping it for my friends.”

As soon as the tears started spilling down Leah’s face you knew it was about to get bad.

She walked over to your desk, pulling the chair out from it and dragged it across the room until it was directly in front of you, your mother taking a seat.

Her hands came out to rest on your knees, they were shaking like yours, not as badly but still shaking, though for different reasons you assumed.

“You told me the weed was a one time thing, that was a lie. I don’t know what to believe anymore, you’ve put me in a impossible situation, bubba. On one hand, I want to believe you. I want to believe the kid I raised, on the other hand you haven’t given me reason to. You broke my trust, you lied to me, you broke the house rules. I don’t ask a lot of you, I let you get away with more than your ma would let you, and I was fine with it because you were showing me you were a good kid, but now I honestly don’t know what to think. You told me it was just the vapes, I thought you were using a little bit to much nicotine and now it turns out that you’re smoking pot and doing drugs. You’ve been hiding and lying and I just don’t get why. Why bubba? Tell me why.”

Big tears were dripping from your mothers eyes, big, wet, fat tears pooling in her icey blue eyes.

“I don’t know, okay? I’m sorry mom, I’m really sorry. I’m sorry. I love you, I didn’t mean it, it was just some fun, it was a one time thing, I promise.”

Leah pursed her lips, the same way you were, the sleeve of her shirt was pressed to her face, picking up the tears that were dripping down her jaw.

“I’m going to go and call your ma, this is a discussion we need to be having together, I need her here for this.”

Little did they know how bad it really was.

Leah stood up, you thought she would just leave, heading back down to make a call to your ma that would inevitably change your life, instead, she sat down next to you, her arms opening up.

You leaned into her side, letting her wrap both of her arms around you.

“I’m sorry mom, I’m sorry.”

It was the only thing you could think of saying, the only thing that sounded right coming off the tip of your tongue.

“I love you so much my beautiful girl, we’ll figure this out, your ma and I, we’re all going to figure this out.”

Leah held onto you for a little bit longer, her arms tightening onto you like you were holding her down to earth, like she would float away if she didn’t.

Eventually she let go, her face was puffy and red, her sleeves were red and she sounded all sniffly.

“I’m going to go and phone Jord, we’re going to sort it all out, we’ll figure this out, okay? We’re both here for you, we both love you so much, you’re our little girl.”

You found it weird how easy it slipped off of her tongue, you wondered if she actually believed that she meant it, you wondered if when your mother said it that she meant it without really meaning it. There were words but there were no actions to support those words, just empty syllables and letters all formed together in a intricate lie.

You watched as Leah limped her way out of your room, her bad leg trailing behind her good one, rule number one of parenting a child you now know is drug addicted, never leave them alone in a room they can escape from when you’ve just confronted them.

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan and leah #jordan nobbs #wobbs breakup #its painful #trauma dumping #tears were shed #woso imagine #woso angst #sammykworshipperfics #pain sweet pain #fluff is coming #maybe

523 notes · View notes

slxtarchive · 1 month ago

Text

IGNITED SOULS ⍟ JAKE WEBBER

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. your childhood best friend introduces you to more than just learning how to shotgun smoke.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. yes, you can find it here.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. SMUT ! innocent!reader, smoking [marijuana], foreplay [oral f!receiving, fingering], edging [if you squint], unprotected sex !?, loss of virginity, non-established relationship, best friends to lovers trope.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. i got carried away writing this but this has to be one of my favorites ive ever written.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 4.8k

you and your best friend have always been opposite each other. you liked things like school, reading, and learning … but he was the more street-smart type not book-smart like yourself.

you didn’t go to parties or really have many friends, it was just jake — and you were okay with it being that way.

you and jake were just fine by yourselves. you liked each others company more than you liked anyone else’s. jake liked to party but he’d miss a party if it meant spending time with you. so, you and your childhood best friend were currently laying in bed together watching a movie when he spoke up. “wanna get high?” he turned to you propped up on his elbow.

you nodded agreeing with his idea. one thing you admit you had taken a liking toward was smoking. it really helped with how anxious you had become because of high school and jake knew that. when he offered to teach you how to smoke he was hesitant, not wanting to think he was a bad influence on you but then he realized it could do good for you sometimes.

jake brought everything out for you two passing you the rolling tray and sheet of paper. it was like clockwork. jake took the grinder taking the earthy substance that filled the air with the aroma. the rhythmic crunch of jake’s work filling the air before he passed it to you so that you could pool it in the center of the paper and roll it in place. as you did the final seal and twist of it jake smiled leaning back against the headboard.

he took the tin and rolling tray placing it back where he got it from before grabbing his lighter. you passed the blunt over to him so he could light it up. the lighter sparked, briefly illuminating jake’s face before it connected with the end catching on fire.

jake slowly inhaled holding the smoke for a moment then leaning back and blowing it out into the air. he sighed as he looked lazily at you placing it between your fingers as you reached out.

you grinned, taking the blunt into your own hands. you both sat there as you took a hit, knees touching as the faint glow illuminated your face for a split second. you inhaled deeply holding it just as jake taught you to before a swirl of smoke was exhaled out of your mouth. you sighed softly feeling relief.

you both continued those actions repeatedly as the haze of the smoke began to thicken. the silence in the room, comfortable and not at all awkward. it was calm. your most favorite part of the day.

the movie played softly in the background when a thought crossed your mind. “you know… ever since i started smoking, i’ve always wanted to try shotgunning the smoke.” your voice casual but carrying a hint of something else jake couldn’t help but notice.

jake paused as he was mid-inhale blowing out the smoke immediately almost coughing. “shotgunning? like.. blowing the smoke into someone’s mouth?” the smoke flowed between his lips as he spoke.

you nodded with a small smile playing on your lips. “i mean yeah, i’ve seen it be done in movies and shows you know and well, i kinda thought it would be fun to try.” you shrugged, trying not to be so … nervous.

jake laughed lowly his head tilting back slightly. “i mean sure, yeah i get it. uh… but you sure? i mean… it’s me.”

you rolled your eyes grabbing the blunt from his fingers and taking a hit. “yeah, i mean i trust you the most. you’re my best friend.”

jake nodded, feeling internally nervous for some reason. “yeah…” his heart was thudding in his chest but he continued to show a tough front. “you uh… you wanna do it now?”

your heart jumped. now? yes now. you nodded passing him the blunt. “yeah, it should be pretty easy right? um… you blow it into my mouth.”

he nodded bringing the blunt to his lips facing you. “okay, ready?”

you took a deep breath and nodded. you watched as he took another drag from the blunt, the flare of the tip lighting up both your faces as you leaned closer wanting to be prepared.

he exhaled slowly leaning closer, centimeters apart — the smoke streaming toward you. you leaned further in but not quite close enough causing jake to pull you by the waist so you didn't fail. your faces closer than ever before now jake continued his actions — and let the smoke pass your lips.

in that moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. the space between you both feeling euphoric as the smoke continued to pass through — both your breathing mingling in between.

you felt butterflies in your stomach as he pulled away slightly. “that.. was.” you whispered softly then smiled trying not to make it awkward. “cool.”

he gulped mumbling. “yeah…” his gaze was lingering on your lips for a moment, tension filling the room. “really cool.”

you didn’t realize that line of friendship could be blurred but when you felt it was you didn’t know what to do. all you did was grab the blunt from his fingers and continue to smoke it to try to defuse the tension of the situation.

you put your attention on the movie playing now even though you had no idea was was going on.

multiple minutes passed before there was a scene in the movie that made everything even more awkward. they were in the car sharing a soft and passionate kiss. they too looked like that environment was new to them.

another thought crossed your mind as the tv flickered across the room. you bit your cheek before speaking very quietly. “i’ve never had my first kiss.”

your confession lingered in the air when jake’s eyes widened slightly. he turned toward you. “wait really?” his voice softer than usual. his voice was always soft speaking to you… not rough like how he spoke to others but this time … it was way different.

you looked down shyly, your gaze fixed on your lap as you fiddled with the strings of your hoodie. “yeah.. never.”

jake blinked slowly still trying to process the information. “i mean … i just thought you would’ve…” he trailed off not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. “it’s not a bad thing though. i was just surprised.”

your cheeks flushed thinking about how jake most likely has kissed a girl. “i guess i'm just falling behind? i don’t know. everyone else has and i haven’t even tried.” you hesitated before speaking once more. “even if… i just wouldn’t even know how.”

jake swallowed harshly getting a hint of what you were implying but choosing to ignore it. “it isn’t weird…” he said carefully, thinking of how beautiful you were. “i mean you’re—” he stopped himself from saying what was on his mind.

you fiddled with your fingers before looking at him and then away. “would you… maybe teach me?”

his breathing hitched. “m-me?” he was confused at why you asked him. “i… are you sure?”

you nodded trying to seem confident even though your hands were shaking. “you’re my best friend. like i said earlier i trust you with everything. it’s… it’s only a kiss right?” the question was more to convince yourself. he noticed the way your voice faltered and the way you forced yourself to maintain eye contact. you were extremely nervous. he thought to himself.

he let out a deep exhale as he thought for a few seconds then nodded. “okay, if you’re sure.”

you smiled lightly. “positive.” you were still resting on your knees as he was still sitting back against the headboard.

a silence rested between you both before he turned slightly toward you and you moved closer toward him. your legs were practically touching as he finally settled on a good spot where you could lean forward comfortably.

your heart was beating out of your chest as he began to lean forward. his eyes flitting between yours and your lips. you felt he could practically hear your heart beat as he got closer and closer. you stayed perfectly still feeling frozen. oh my gosh, i’m about to kiss my best friend, you thought to yourself. eyes widening a bit before fluttering closed as you felt his breath against your lips.

when your lips finally met, it was soft and unsure. a very hesitant touch that you weren't sure you could handle. there was no movement as very few seconds passed. he pulled away looking at you for approval. “was that okay?” he whispered, still so close to you.

you blinked slowly mesmerized by him and nodded. “yeah.” your voice was breathless as your lips stayed parted.

“d’ya wanna try again?” he questioned, hesitantly and unsteadily.

your nod was smaller this time somehow becoming even more shy than before. you knew you wanted more. you wanted more than just a peck, that’s what made you so nervous. what if.. if you didn’t want to stop?

regardless, this time you leaned in feeling hypnotized. he understood the cue and met your lips in the middle, his left hand resting on your cheek. this time your lips molded rather than just touched. it was euphoric.

this kiss was different. way different. it was longer, deeper — impossible to pull away from. your fingers experimentally touched his arm needing to gain balance as you found yourself pushing against him a bit harsher — neither of you realizing that you had been instead sitting on your knees, kneeling on the bed making yourself a bit taller than him.

the kiss kept going to the point where you placed your hands on his shoulders as his hands went to your hips helping you straddle him. you could taste the remaining flavor of the marijuana you smoked prior on his tongue.

the time felt slow as if the rest of the world stopped. you kept sensing that feeling as your breaths mingled together.

when you both finally pulled away he swore he could hear a tiny whimper come from your mouth. “fuck — you’re so…” he couldn’t finish his sentence feeling himself become stiff in his pants.

you noticed and found yourself mindlessly grinding on him, your actions eliciting a moan to escape his lips. you stopped, “m’sorry. m’so sorry.” you apologized.

he shook his head leaning his head back against the wall as he tried to control his breathing. “n-no. don’t be… it feels — feels really good.”

you took those words and ran with them as you then picked up your actions once more grinding your center over his hard-on. like jake, you moaned at the sensation it brought you.

he pressed his lips together trying to stifle his moans but decided he would do better with your lips on his so he pulled you by your neck to connect them once again.

you gasped at the sudden move, still mindlessly grinding over him. the kiss was no longer hesitant at all. it was passionate and fast-paced — like you both have been holding it in for so long. it held a deeper intensity.

his hand went from cupping your cheek to your jaw then your neck squeezing slightly. you don’t know what about it turned you on but it did.

your fingers gripped the collar of his shirt tilting your head to gain more access and wanting to deepen the kiss. his hand then moved from your neck to your face along with his other hand wanting to memorize how soft you felt, how gentle.

your movement felt so natural like this is what was meant to happen. your hearts were racing so fast they felt they might burst. every second his warm lips were on yours was another second you were grateful that you were put on this earth.

how long have you felt this way? you didn’t know but you knew it didn’t just come out of nowhere. you’ve felt like this for a while but somehow some way those feelings were buried inside.

later on, his hands found themselves on your waist pulling you harshly so that you were grinding harder on him. he let out short breaths and low groans loving that feeling of your clothed centers rubbing against each other. the space in between you guys disappearing by the second.

your nervousness was completely gone and replaced by something you’ve never experienced before. you felt so helpless and uncomfortable down where your centers were colliding and you wanted to fix it. you wanted to satisfy and pleasure it. you wanted him to satisfy and pleasure you.

in that moment you found your hands clutching at the collar of his shirt desperately — more than before. jake pulled his lips off yours causing you to lean forward but he placed a hand on your shoulder.

confused you opened your eyes looking at his flushed cheeks and pink lips. “yn..” his voice spoke up, low and rough.

you didn’t respond with words. only by wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

he found himself lost in you once more before he snapped out of it. he pulled away once again leaving you breathless snd needy. “yn…” he whined, his voice still low and raspy. “i… we… fuck.” he stuttered, unsure of what to say.

you felt his hardness beneath you desperately wanting him inside you. “i want you, jake.” your hands found themselves back on his shirt fiddling with his collar.

he was hesitant. “i… we can’t. you’re my best friend i don’t want to ruin things and… i don’t have anything. shit…” he groaned, the words you spoke making him want you even more.

you hesitated but at the moment just didn’t care. “jake… i want to do this with you more than anyone else…” you both were so close to each other, it was like a dream “and also i’ve been on birth control since sophomore year… it’s okay.”

he seemed conflicted so you quickly wanted to reassure him. “if you don’t want to i understand, i promise. i don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.”

silence filled the room as he thought about everything that happened in the past minute. he looked at your lips then your eyes exhaling quickly before speaking. “fuck it.”

his lips crashed into yours harshly and strongly. he wrapped his left arm around your waist laying you on your back. the make out going from 0 to 100 in milliseconds.

it hadn’t even been a minute before he was taking off his shirt. when he made eye contact with you he saw the panic in your eyes. “i’ll be gentle for you. i promise.” he caressed your cheek earning a soft nod from you.

after kissing your lips for a few seconds he pulled away pulling up your sweatshirt. you knew what he was trying to do and lifted up your arms to make it easier for him. a few seconds later it was off and his lips were on your neck.

your head was thrown back against the sheets while jake’s hand was roaming your body and the other was propping himself up. one of your hands made their home in jake’s hair just loving the way his lips peppered kisses on your skin.

further, he started lifting up your t-shirt and brought his lips lower. he was kissing your stomach the sensation surreal. you’ve never been kissed anywhere… so feeling how you felt now — it was unbelievable.

you let out a small sound egging jake on causing his right hand to start lifting up your shirt more and more fully removing it and revealing the daintiest white bra. jake noticed how you avoided eye contact and how your hands retreated back to your sides at the feeling of being exposed in front of him.

he grabbed your hands moving them away continuing to look at your body. “you’re so fucking beautiful yn.” he said before leaning down and kissing all over your chest. “most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen.”

those words reassured you bringing a small smile on your lips.

following those kisses jake began to trail his fingers lower and lower to where you felt you craved touch the most. jake was no stranger to intimacy but with you he felt so nervous. he wanted to be good for you — he wanted to be the best for you.

his hands made their way to the waistband of your sweats starting to pull them down. your breathing hitched before calming yourself down. you kept telling yourself, you can do it.

you lifted up your legs so he was able to pull them off your body leaving you in your underwear and t-shirt. he slowly made his way down your body his lips following his trail.

goosebumps came to the surface of where he touched your delicate skin bringing shivers to you. you looked down propping yourself up on your elbows. he kissed your stomach, then hips, then all the way to your most intimate area.

you gently trailed across the waistband of them, loving how pretty and dainty they were. the way they showcased those tiny bows that he found so adorable. he was fighting the urge to just rip off your underwear right now. alternatively, he looked up kissing above your waistband before speaking, “gonna let me take these off?”

you took in a shaky breath. “i…”

he rubbed your upper thigh. “promise… i’ll make you feel so good. if you want me to stop i’ll stop but if you want me to keep going, i swear ill make you feel good. i’ll do anything to make you feel good.”

his words reassured you instantly, showing how much trust you actually had in him. you nodded. “okay." you took a deep breath. "yes, you can.”

he nodded rather quickly beginning to tug them down revealing what he’d been craving. he just wanted one taste… to get you wet enough so that the whole thing would be easier and more comfortable for you.

your underwear was taken off and thrown to the side revealing that pretty pussy that hadn’t been shown to anyone and now he was the one that would be able to pleasure you for the first time. he wanted to make it unforgettable.

he parted your thighs with his hands looking up at you for approval. your eyebrows were furrowed just thinking about how it would feel but your imagination didn’t even come close.

jake used his fingers to part your lower lips and took one small lick. your lips separated feeling that tiny ounce of pleasure. your breathing was still level but was speeding up slightly. you then felt another lick, harsher than the first. then, you felt his lips wrap around you sucking as he groaned against them eliciting a tiny whimper from you. “oh my fuck…” you cursed, the pleasure you received insanely unreal.

the noises you made spurred jake on to keep his actions up. he made sure to put his tongue to action flicking your most sensitive part causing you to go feral.

you couldn’t keep your eyes open allowing them to flutter closed at the sensation. you bit your lip reluctantly allowing your head to fall back against the bed. your hand found its way to his fluffy hair gripping it harshly as he kept his actions going.

he groaned against you, the vibrations sending a shock up your body. you couldn’t… it was so much all at once. it felt so good. “yes… mph.” you groaned with a clenched jaw.

jake smiled against your pussy. “does it feel good?” he questioned getting no response from you as you were in your own little world. “yn.” he spoke louder catching your attention. “c’mon, tell me. does it feel good?” his eyes made eye contact with yours.

you nodded quickly. “yes jake.” your mouth was agape looking at how he completely devoured you. “so so good… holy shit i feel — i feel…” you couldn’t finish your sentence as your thighs started to shake.

jake knew if he kept it up you would cum on his tongue but he found the will to stop. as soon as that pleasure was ripped away from you your head shot up. “why… why’d you stop?” you choked out.

jake leaned up kneeling on the bed in front of you tugging down his sweats. “want you to cum on my cock.” his tone was hoarse as he felt the sweats he was wearing tight on his waist. he got off the bed pulling them down along with his boxers not realizing this would be the first time his best friend would see him vulnerable like that but he didn’t care.

he just wanted you. he’s been wanting you.

he kicked off his boxers climbing back on the bed in front of you. your eyes widened at his size. “oh God…” you gulped. “how… how is that… jake—” you cut yourself off.

he pumped himself noticing you started to panic. he leaned down over you trying to reassure you. “hey… hey it’ll be okay. i’ll go slow i promise. i…” he bit his cheek. “we don’t have to do this yn. we don’t…” he shook his head with furrowed brows genuinely worried about how you’re feeling.

you looked him in the eyes seeing his intentions, how he was worried for you, how he wanted to make you feel as comfortable as possible. you closed your eyes trying to calm yourself down. it will be okay.

you slowly nodded lying back down staring at the ceiling. “okay..” you whispered to yourself. jake leaned more over you wanting to know what was going on inside your head. you looked him in the eyes noticing the worried look on his face. “you’ll go slow?”

he nodded searching your face. “i’ll go slow, i promise.”

after a few moments of silence you nodded grabbing onto his shoulders. “okay i’m ready. just… just do it.” your eyes were shut tight afraid of what was to come.

jake didn’t like that.

“please, look at me.” he begged. you made a tiny noise before opening your eyes. “just keep your eyes on me, yeah? it’ll be okay” you had no idea why you were so nervous but reluctantly you nodded trying your best to keep eye contact with him.

jake nodded eyes moving in between yours looking down quickly to line himself up. you felt his tip touch your clit then lower slightly nudging your entrance. he shifted a bit pushing slightly to make sure he was doing okay before he looked back up at you. “going slow, baby. going slow.” the pet name genuinely calming you down.

you nodded showing you were understanding. it felt like your breath was getting knocked out of you as he entered slowly — so tortuously slow.

then you felt the sting. you couldn’t speak… couldn’t do anything but grunt, clench your jaw, and lean your head back as he pushed further in. you squeezed his shoulders before feeling tears prickle in your eyes. finally, you were able to utter something. “jake…” you groaned your mouth opened wide but nothing, only tiny whimpers of pain coming out.

“m’sorry… sorry i’m going slow im going slow. almost there baby almost there. you can tell me to stop.” he repeated in panic. he hated seeing you in pain especially when all he was experiencing was pleasure. “fuck..” he groaned trying to hold himself back.

you whined and whined before jake decided impulsively to just do anything to distract you. he placed his lips on yours softly allowing you to start kissing him back first. when you did he kissed sensually and slowly, not like earlier. it was soft and passionate as he pushed in further and further.

you still felt the immense sting as he stretched you out but it wasn’t as bad when his lips were on yours. you didn’t even notice that he had pushed all the way in before he pulled away. “i’m in.” he said breathlessly, the veins in his neck prominently popping out.

you look down at your centers connected before resting your head back. “feel so… full.” you groaned, still feeling that sting. the worst was over though. you thought. you decided to move your hands more towards jake’s neck as you moved your legs further apart. “you can move jake.”

he raised his brows. “are you sure? i can… i can wait.” he cleared his throat. you nodded with a verbal yes not wanting to be still for much longer. he took a deep breath. “okay… okay. m’gonna move.” he agreed before pulling out slowly and pushing back in.

you groaned, feeling that sting you thought was gone but it was less uncomfortable. he repeated his actions again and again and each time the sting slowly simmered. still there, but not as strong. your head tilted back as one particular thrust reached deeper inside you making you a strange sensation.

jake found his lips on your neck kissing gently as he fucked you slowly. he was holding back the urge to cum wanting you to reach that peak first. his groans sent butterflies in your stomach.

you opened your eyes looking down at you both once more not getting enough of just watching him disappear inside you over and over again.

you were at the point now where you were starting to feel extreme pleasure. that feeling of him stretching you out over and over again. you couldn’t get enough. “y-you can move faster.” you gasped clutching jake’s shoulders.

he groaned shortly gulping trying to keep himself from falling apart. “you sure? don’t wanna hurt you..” his mouth was open at the pleasure he was receiving as well.

you nodded. “please… please.” you moaned as he hit that same spot inside you. “fuck — feels so good please just — just need more.”

breathing heavily jake obliged moving faster carefully looking at your face to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable in any way only to find the opposite. your jaw was slack as he picked up his pace, your forehead sweaty, and tiny little whimpers and moans escaped your mouth. it was heaven on earth for jake.

he took that as his sign to move faster and faster, nothing but the sound of your skin slapping together and the movie playing in the background. your hands moved to his back trying to grasp anything as his thrusts became relentless. you still felt that simmer of pain but somehow it didn’t bother you in the moment. all you felt was that repeated nudge inside you over and over causing your stomach to tighten.

jake felt you clench around him. “fuck yn — are you… are you gonna cum? i’m really close, please. just… just give it to me.”

you pressed your lips together as you cried out feeling yourself contort in pleasure. you ended up clutching onto jake harshly leaving scratches that you were sure drew a bit of blood. your back arched as you fell apart beneath him.

a few seconds later, jake followed you. his thrusts staggered before he went still finishing deep inside you coating your walls. his head dropped onto your shoulder as he let out a loud groan.

the silence in the room was comfortable afterward. the air electrified by what occurred.

jake lifted his head up and gazed down at you with tender eyes as his heart was still racing. he hoped it was everything you imagined.

you looked up at him with the same intensity refusing to believe what actually happened. many emotions rushed through you before you smiled lightly.

he reached out brushing the hair out of your face. “you okay?” his voice was quiet, comfortably whispering.

you nodded your smile growing wider a quiet laugh escaping your lips. in that moment you felt like you both were in sync. “yeah.”

he let out a sigh in relief. “was i okay?”

you fought the urge to laugh once more. “more than okay.” your hands were still wrapped around him. “thank you.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “for?”

“for being gentle and patient with me.” you said quietly.

a look crossed over his face that you didn’t recognize. “you don’t have to thank me. i care about you yn… a lot.” he said, barely above a whisper.

you fought the urge to tear up as he said that. “i care about you too.”

in that moment, you realized you felt more and wanted more than just a friendship.

as if jake heard your thoughts, he slowly leaned down and connected your lips in a soft kiss.

#𖦹°‧★ 𝑺𝑳𝑿𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑬 #𝑱𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑩𝑩𝑬𝑹 ᝰ.ᐟ #jake webber x reader #jake x you #jake webber fanfic #jake webber au #jake webber smut #jake webber imagine #jake one shot #jake smut #jake webber #jake x reader #jake webber angst #jake webber one shot #jake webber fic

130 notes · View notes

drdemonprince · 3 months ago

Note

I’ve only just read your Burnout piece on Substack and it made me think of the anon you answered awhile back about anti depressants and anti anxiety medications.

I’m Autistic and am on anti anxiety medication which basically masked all the warning signs and symptoms of Autistic burnout. Those usual indicators I usually can pick up on which indicate I’m doing too much and not resting enough weren’t present on the medication.

I felt good (although very numb like the anon said) so I kept on taking on more and more and initially thought it was great! I’ve never been able to commit to things or work on multiple projects at once even ones that super interest and excite me because I get overwhelmed and burnt out quickly.

But without the warning signs I kept going and going until I started to feel really weird. Disassociated, not sleeping, upset stomach, drinking a lot. I thought everything was great so it took awhile to piece together that this is maybe what Autistic burnout results in when it’s covered by meds.

I’m now slowly withdrawing from the meds. I figure the authentic anxiety is better than false measures of “success”.

So just a warning to Autistic people I guess, I don’t know if what I’ve experienced is common or just subjective but it’s worth being aware of.

This is pretty much how I feel about psychiatric medication for myself, as well. I want the warning signs. I want to notice my body and brain rebelling. A lot of psychiatric drugs are somewhat effective at making us feel more numb, for a while, which is why they are used as a stopgap when a person's situation is unmanageable. I'm a big believer in the "Affect as Information" Hypothesis: when we feel like shit, that means something about our circumstances simply has got to change. Often that means giving up responsibilities, letting people down, letting things go.

I even feel the same way about weed. I have a lot of friends who use weed daily to manage their overwhelm, and it seems to work great for them, and potentially I should be doing the same thing. But I am terrified of having a massive dependence on a large quantity of weed in order to function, and when I *did* use weed daily, it became a baseline need and made me dissociate even further from myself. I now take the desire to use weed or otherwise get blasted as a signal that something is amiss and that I'm overwhelmed and seeking escape -- that doesn't mean I don't listen to that desire some of the time. I get high and/or drunk on the weekends pretty often. But I don't want to lose touch with my body's warning system. AND I have the immense luxury of being able to change my life circumstances when things get to be too much. If someone doesn't have that freedom, well, sometimes substances are the best thing you can get - be that psychiatric or off market.

146 notes · View notes

shadamyheadcanons · 27 days ago

Text

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Amy insists on bringing Shadow out to enjoy his first winter on Earth. Although she seems excited to do so at first, Shadow senses that something’s wrong.

Cross-posted on AO3.

This was written as a gift for @thequeenofspace for the 2024 Shadamy Secret Santa event. Huge, huge thanks to the mods who worked so hard to organize it!

Shadow was awoken by the buzz of his phone on the nightstand next to him. His eyelids blinked open lazily, and he peeked at the screen.

The notification at the top read “Amy Rose.” Shadow’s heart fluttered oddly as it always did at the sight of her name, but when he opened the notification, his eyes were met with a perplexing message.

>Morning, Shadow! It’s finally time, just like I said, remember? Don’t look out the window! :D

Shadow just frowned at it for a few moments, mind bleary, but then his brain caught up and replayed a conversation he’d had with Amy about a month prior.

“Oh my God, I hadn’t realized this was your first winter on Earth! Hmm...oo, I know! I have a surprise for you! I’ll text you in the morning sometime. When I do, don’t look outside! There’s something I want you to see!”

If those words had come from anyone else, Shadow would have rejected them outright. He’d always hated surprises.

He stretched and yawned, reluctantly dragging himself out of bed. He went through his morning routine, taking more time than usual to make sure his quills sat perfectly on his head. He kept his gaze trained on the floor as he pulled on his shoes, gloves, and the red scarf Tails had given him recently, resisting the urge to look out the window.

A knock at the door jolted Shadow out of his thoughts, but he still averted his gaze stubbornly as he jogged over to answer it. Amy’s warm, bubbly voice floated in, making his heart jump once more.

“Shadow, I’m here! Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Shadow replied, unlocking the door.

“Great! Don’t open it quite yet, okay? Close your eyes!”

Shadow shook his head but obeyed without hesitation. “Alright. I’m ready.”

“Okay!”

The door creaked open, and a rush of cold air whistled through Shadow’s fur. A pair of gloved hands took his and guided him gently forward. “Watch your step!”

“With my eyes shut?”

“Oh, you know what I mean!”

Shadow chuckled under his breath. He shuffled his feet forward, found the edge of his doorstep, and stepped carefully over it onto his porch.

Amy’s voice dropped to an excited whisper. “Okay...now you can look!”

Shadow cracked his eyes open, only to squint immediately, temporarily blinded by his bright surroundings. “Why is everything so...”

Then, realization hit him, and he blinked his eyes open wide.

Every surface around him was white. Roofs, streets, cars, and lawns hid under a fluffy blanket three inches deep. Children laughed and frolicked in the substance while parents pushed piles of it off their driveways with shovels, grumbling all the way.

For once, though, the voices didn’t overwhelm Shadow’s senses; the sounds were muted, distant, seemingly deadened by the soft white cloak coating every surface.

Shadow looked around, mystified. A flake of the substance landed on his nose, making him cross his eyes to get a look at it. He tilted his head toward the sky and blinked as more bits of it fell on his face, tickling his cheeks. He held a hand in front of him, palm up, and watched as a few more landed on his glove, lingering for a moment before disappearing.

His mouth hung open for quite some time as he observed his surroundings. A puff of air escaped his lips, appearing equally white before fading out. “Is this...snow?”

Shadow could see Amy’s giant grin out of the corner of his eye. She bobbed her head, drawing his gaze. “Yeah! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Her eyes were sparkling and hopeful, as if her entire day were hinging on his response. As he ran his gaze over the streets and buildings, he couldn’t help but oblige her. “Yes. It really is.”

Amy let out a happy whine and hopped in place, and her smile somehow widened further. “YES! I knew you’d like it!”

It’s not the only thing that’s beautiful, he thought, hoping the fondness on his face wasn’t too noticeable. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It means a lot.”

Amy squealed happily and clenched her hands in loose fists under her chin, her expression turning determined. “And that’s not the only thing I’m sharing with you today. There are tons of things to love about snow!”

If Amy were anyone else, Shadow would immediately snap at them, indignant that someone would demand his time without warning.

Instead, his heart leapt. To hide his excitement, he looked for a distraction and noticed Amy’s outfit for the first time. He raised a brow. “You seem...prepared.”

Amy glanced sheepishly down at her huge parka and snowpants. She appeared to be about twice her normal size, indicating that she was wearing more than a few layers underneath. A dark woolen hat completed the outfit. When she met his gaze once more, though, she shook it off and smiled again. “And you seem unprepared! You’re going to need more gear than that in this weather.”

“Hmph. That won’t be necessary.”

Amy smirked and wagged a finger at him. “You won’t be saying that in a few minutes!”

Shadow adjusted the cuffs of his gloves and shook his head curtly. “As the ultimate life form, I was built to endure extreme temperatures. Unless it’s approaching absolute zero or hotter than boiling water, I’ll be fine.”

The smirk on Amy’s face morphed into a petulant pout. “That’s so not fair!” Her childish reaction drew a rare smile out of Shadow, and she sighed. After a moment, though, she wrinkled her nose and pointed a mitten-clad hand at the scarf around his neck. “How come you’re wearing that, then?”

Because I wanted to look nice for you, but I didn’t want to overdo it.

Shadow averted his gaze by staring down at the red fabric. “...Because Tails has good taste.”

Luckily, she just laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“You have to try this at least once in your life,” Amy insisted, pulling Shadow along with one hand while she held a red plastic sled in the other. “Vanilla used to bring me and Cream every time it snowed!”

Several families were watching the two of them, smiling at the way Shadow was letting Amy drag him around. He ignored them. “This is the one where you slide down a hill, right?”

“Yup! And the bigger the hill, the better...like this one!”

Amy let go of his hand when they reached the crest, and she gestured to the slope before them. Laughing children raced down the hill on plastic sleds of all shapes and colors in ones and twos, with occasional groups shooting down in long wooden toboggans.

Shadow’s eyes darted over the hill, spotting tracks and bumps that could cause trouble. The biggest obstacle, however, was the multitude of humans and Mobians alike who zipped down below them. “Seems like a lot of people had the same idea,” he muttered, mentally plotting out the safest route he could find.

“Yeah. This is the best sledding hill around. It’s always like this.” She was tapping her foot and scanning the area below them, apparently planning a route herself. She cringed, then gave an embarrassed laugh. “One year, Cream and I almost slammed right into another pair of kids. I swerved away just in time!” She visibly shuddered.

Shadow could see her jaw clench. Something about it made his stomach turn. “Did something else happen?”

Amy’s eyes widened, as if she were surprised that he’d be concerned, but then she shrank down and held the sled up in front of her, hiding half her face behind it. “Err, yeah...I kind of steered us into a big rock.” She narrowed her eyes, then pointed to a conspicuous, jagged, slate gray edge jutting up out of the snow halfway down. Layers of well-worn sled tracks weaved around the dangerous protrusion. “That big rock, actually.”

Shadow’s attention was immediately torn from the slope to Amy herself. “Did you get hurt?”

Amy’s eyes widened further. She paused for just an instant, expression strained...but then she snorted and waved it off. “Oh, don’t worry. I taught Cream to bail out and fly to safety in times like that so she wouldn’t get hurt. She’s fine.”

Shadow choked. “No, I mean you. Did anything happen to you?”

Who taught you to ignore yourself like this?

Amy just stared for a moment, mouth slightly open, but then she shook her head with a sheepish smile. “No worries! I just sprained my wrist, that’s all.”

Shadow’s throat clenched, and his frown deepened. “Which one?”

“Huh?”

He reached down for her hands and rubbed around her bracelets with his thumbs, as if he could figure it out from touch alone. “Left or right?”

Amy let out an amused huff through her nose. “Left, but it’s not like it matters now.” He held her left hand delicately in his own and tried to look closer, but her sleeve was in the way. Amy rolled her eyes. “Shadow. This happened years ago, and it didn’t even break. Vanilla wrapped it for me and told me to lay off the hammer-swinging for a couple of weeks, and then I was fine.”

At that, the stress finally left Shadow’s muscles, and he sighed. “Good.”

Thank God someone cared enough for once!

After that, though, he examined the hill with new apprehension. A couple of kids tumbled off their sleds at the bottom, rolling to a stop afterward with barely-audible grunts of discomfort. Shadow winced and looked back up at Amy. “Do you feel comfortable doing this?”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well...you know. I’d understand if you didn’t want to after...that,” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely at her wrist.

Amy glanced down at it, then gave him a flat look. “Shadow the hedgehog, do you think a sprained wrist would take me out of commission forever? I’m tougher than that!”

“Well—no, I just meant—”

Amy’s gaze turned sly. “Y’know, I’m starting to think you’re just too scared to try it.”

Shadow’s competitive spirit flared up in his chest, eclipsing his concern. “I’m the ultimate life form. I’m not afraid of anything, especially not an activity for children.”

“Prove it.”

He crossed his arms and stared her down. Most would back off, but Amy’s grin only grew more smug with time, even when a low growl rumbled in his throat. Her refusal to back down and the way she never showed an ounce of fear toward him made Shadow’s stomach flip.

He shook it off and eyed the hill once more, then sighed and took her free hand in his. “Fine. But we’re not going anywhere near that damn rock.”

And the second all these kids are gone for the day, I’m coming back and slicing it clean off with a Chaos Spear. That thing’s never going to hurt anyone again.

Amy skipped forward to keep pace with him, excited smile spread brightly across her face once more. Shadow’s heart skipped a beat.

Especially not her.

Once they were far enough away from the rock, Shadow halted. Amy made an inquisitive noise, but he stayed silent. After nailing down the safest trajectory, he took two steps to the left, then nodded decisively. “Here.”

Amy chuckled under her breath. “Exactly here?”

“Precisely.”

“Whatever you say,” she replied. Even without looking, Shadow could hear the smile in her voice. A moment later, though, she spoke up again...and the amusement was gone. “Hm...this is pretty steep, isn’t it?”

Anyone who didn’t pay much attention to Amy likely wouldn’t have detected the hint of hesitation she was trying to hide. Out of the corner of his eye, Shadow could see the slight wrinkle of her nose and the tensed jaw very few people would recognize as unease.

Shadow turned fully toward her. “We can pick a different spot if you want.”

Amy kept staring down the slope for a moment, but then she shook her head stubbornly and clenched her free hand into a fist. “Of course not! When have I ever backed down from a challenge?”

Shadow admired her cute, defiant expression for a moment, then shut his eyes and sighed. Not once in all the time I’ve known you. He opened his eyes once more. “Alright. I’m ready when you are.”

Amy shooed him to the side and stooped down to place the sled down exactly where he’d been standing. “Do you want to sit in the front or the back?”

Shadow opened his mouth, fully intending to say he didn’t care, but something told him Amy would feel safer if someone were holding her. “I’ll sit in the back.”

Amy’s tone turned sickeningly sweet. “Aww, you just want to hold me, don’t you?”

Shadow coughed and sputtered. “N-no, of course not! I...I just...”

Well...she isn’t exactly wrong...

Amy snorted and sat down on the sled. “Relax, Shadow, I’m just kidding. Come on!” She patted the space behind her.

He crouched down into the sled, awkwardly splaying his legs out on either side of her, and sat on the cheap plastic. After a moment of hesitation, he scooted up right behind Amy. Her hands rested flat on the snow on either side of them in preparation, and he followed suit.

“Ready?”

He nodded.

“Great! Three...two...one...go!”

They pushed forward until they reached the crest of the hill, then let gravity do the rest. Shadow hurriedly wrapped his arms around her before they could gain momentum, finding it somewhat challenging around the bulky layers she wore.

Amy let out a squeal of excitement as they picked up speed. The wind whistled past Shadow’s face, and he could feel clumps of snow flattening and crunching through the thin plastic underneath them.

Even once they were halfway down the hill, though, the speed wasn’t particularly thrilling for Shadow. Instead, he scanned the slope for potential hazards.

In the process of doing so, he spotted Amy’s hands. Even through her mittens, he could see how tightly--how desperately--she was hanging onto the edges of the sled. When they jolted over a larger bump, her body stiffened in his arms, and her initial cheer faded into a whine that she probably thought he couldn’t hear. Shadow’s heart pounded.

She’s terrified.

Shadow’s eyes darted around, searching for any excuse he could find. Luckily, he spotted a toboggan shooting down the slope nearby. It wasn’t on a collision course with them, but it was just close enough to make the argument. He held Amy closer, making her let out a squeak.

“Chaos...control!”

After a familiar yanking sensation, Shadow reappeared at the top of the hill with Amy cradled in his arms. She jumped and reflexively latched onto him like a spider monkey, looking around frantically. At the base of the hill, their sled was sliding unsteadily to a stop, being blown around by the wind without its passengers to weigh it down.

“...Sorry.”

Amy looked up at him, the panic in her eyes softening into confusion. He nodded at the toboggan that was reaching the bottom. “They were getting too close for comfort.”

She followed his gaze, then went boneless in his arms with a shaky laugh. “Thanks, Shadow!” She snuggled up against his chest.

Shadow just stayed put, frozen and flustered, until he was interrupted by a few wolf whistles and amused comments from the strangers around them.

“Aww, how cute!”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Get a room!”

A choked noise got caught in Shadow’s throat. He nearly flailed, holding himself in check long enough to put Amy down. She snorted cutely, and he crossed his arms and looked away. “Is there anything else you wanted to do today?”

Amy glanced back down the steep hill to where their sled sat. She bit her lip, then looked back up and half-smiled. “Yeah. I’ve got a better idea.”

“I know you’ll love this one,” Amy insisted, lacing up her skates beside him on the bench.

Shadow nodded, though he wasn’t really sure what the point was; the rental skates even looked like his air shoes. He stood up once he was done tying them and took a careful step onto the frozen lake. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, testing the difference between the razor-thin blades and his typical flat shoes. With his natural coordination, he adapted easily.

When he looked over his shoulder, however, he found that Amy was having a tougher time. Her whole body shook as she attempted to stand, from her quivering legs to the trembling arms she was using to push herself up. Even her teeth were chattering. Her eyes were wide and focused as she straightened up inch by inch, and Shadow could hear her rapid breathing. At last, she stood up fully, letting out a heavy, relieved sigh.

Unfortunately, her relief proved to be short-lived; just a moment after she’d reached her full height, she leaned too far back. It wasn’t long before her limbs were flailing in an unsuccessful attempt to regain her balance. Soon, she was falling, terror in her eyes—

Shadow zipped into place, having predicted the slip-up. He pressed a hand to her back, tilting her forward to help her stand back up again. She latched onto his scarf and yanked on it to stabilize herself while she planted both skates firmly onto the ice.

Amy panted, staring straight ahead with wide eyes. Shadow waited for a moment, then spoke. “Are you alright?”

Amy looked up, and her eyes bugged out even more when she found his face just a couple inches away from hers. She cringed even more when she noticed she was clinging onto him for dear life. “S-sorry! I’m fine!” she blurted.

“I don’t mind.”

She untangled her fingers from the scarf and took a step back, and he found he missed the contact immediately.

Amy shook herself off. “Phew! You ready?”

Shadow raised a brow. “Are you?”

“Of course!”

Contrary to her confident declaration, though, Amy’s progress was slow. She pushed forward one skate at a time, practically stepping forward, as if she were afraid to glide further, and her arms stuck out stiffly by her sides. Shadow took the hand on her left side and slid smoothly forward, keeping an eye on her. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.”

“Of course I’m comfortable!” she protested. She kept her gaze locked on the ice in front of her, though, apparently too nervous to look up. Shadow couldn’t blame her; if he weren’t confident in his own abilities, the curious, judgmental stares of the couples doing laps around them probably wouldn’t have helped.

Amy stumbled forward, grabbing onto his arm to keep from falling. “S-sorry!”

Shadow’s expression pinched. He knew Amy well enough to predict that inquiring about her wellbeing again wouldn’t be of any help. Instead, he shifted closer. “Straighten up more. If you keep your weight over your feet, you won’t tip over,” he muttered.

Amy looked up at last, visibly perplexed, but she nodded and followed his advice. Once she seemed more stable, he added, “Press your knees forward. Then...” Shadow hesitated and gathered up his courage, then skated closer. He lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Keep your head up.”

Shadow could hear her breath hitch. Her cheeks were red, and he almost fooled himself into thinking she was blushing, but he tried not to get his hopes up. She’s probably just cold. Even her chin is freezing.

Before he had time to analyze it further, Amy winced. Her gaze was fixed ahead, where they were approaching the edge of the pond.

Shadow shook his head, bewildered. She doesn’t even know how to turn! Why did she bring me ice skating if she can’t skate? He stayed close. “Turn your head and shoulders in the direction you want to go. The rest of your body will follow.”

Amy nodded and stared straight ahead, focusing on the turn with almost comical intensity, eyes narrowed. With Shadow’s guidance, though—and the vice grip on his arm—she made it, gliding stiffly around the corner. A nervous chuckle left her lips, but then it grew into a sincere, joyous laugh that made Shadow’s chest feel lighter. She pumped a fist in the air. “WHOO!”

The triumphant display drew the attention of several couples, and her laugh died down into a quiet giggle. After a little while, her grip on his arm loosened, and she held his hand instead. A genuine smile graced her face, warming Shadow’s heart.

At last, they completed a full loop. Amy gazed longingly at the bench where they’d started. Catching the look, Shadow spoke up. “Need a break?”

“Yes!” Amy blurted, startling them both. She smiled shyly. “If you don’t mind.”

Shadow just nodded. Seeing her trepidation as they approached the bench, he guided her toward it, subtly taking on some of her weight to help bring her to a stop.

She can’t turn. She can’t stop. Has no one even tried to teach her?

Amy dropped onto the bench with a relieved huff, then smiled up at him. “Sorry! I know we haven’t been out there very long. I haven’t done this since last year, so I think I just have to get used to it again.”

Shadow kept quiet, sensing it wouldn’t be wise to argue.

Amy frowned. “I don’t want to keep you from it, though. You always seem like you have fun with your regular shoes, so I thought you might enjoy this, too!”

Shadow tilted one of his skates sideways to examine the blade attached to it. “There’s a little more friction with the metal and the ice, but it’s pretty much the same otherwise. I could probably pull off my usual tricks in these.”

Amy gasped abruptly next to him, her face instantly lighting up. “I’d love to see that! Can you try it?”

Shadow gazed at her for a few seconds, knowing he could never say no to that face. He shrugged and adjusted his gloves. “Guess I could give it a shot.” She squealed, and he stepped back onto the ice to take a more active stance. He glanced around between the other skaters, calculated how much room he would need, and launched forward, ice flakes shooting up in his wake.

Shadow raced around the lake, throwing his weight into each stride and weaving between the other skaters. The carve of metal on ice sliced past his ears, crisp and clean. He made a few laps to get the feel of the friction, adjusting his stance to compensate. Then, he lined himself up in the center of the ice, pushed himself even faster, and leapt up high. He twisted his body sideways as he hurtled through the air, flipping forward end over end. He kept his eye on the ground as he fell, then straightened out in time to land on both blades with a decisive scrape. He fumbled a little with the landing, but he was able to lean into it without much trouble.

Around him, cheers erupted from the skaters who’d paused to watch, but Shadow didn’t have ears for them. He returned to Amy’s side, and she beamed as he approached. She was sitting on her hands, shoulders slightly hunched, but she took her hands out to applaud rapidly for him. “Shadow, that was so cool!”

Shadow groomed his quills back, not hiding a smirk. “Hmph. What can I say? I’m a natural.”

Amy brightened up and pressed her hands together. “Oo, I have an idea! You should be in the next Olympics with us! I bet you’d be great at figure skating.”

Shadow wrinkled his nose at the thought of the frilly outfits and classical music he’d always associated with figure skaters. “That’s not really my style.”

The way she wilted made him feel guilty. “Aww, really? But you’d be so good at it! You’re great at tricks, and you’re a lot of fun to watch!”

Amy’s eyes shined up at him, pleading and hopeful. He only lasted a few seconds before relenting. “Fine. I’ll learn one trick.”

Her resulting smile was worth it. “Really? I’d love that! Which one do you want to learn? There’s the toe loop, the lutz, the salchow...”

Shadow stared blankly. “I don’t know what any of that means. Which one is your favorite?”

Amy pursed her lips. “Well, my favorite is the axel, but it’s the hardest one, so...”

“When has that ever stopped me?”

Amy giggled. “I guess you’ve got a point. You have to start skating forwards, then spin around, and...” She trailed off and twirled her fingers, trying—and failing—to demonstrate. “Well, it’s kind of hard to describe with words, but...”

Amy looked out across the ice. Her eyes flicked down to her skates, and she cringed for just a moment before she could hide it.

There’s no way she can demonstrate that. Shadow rubbed his chin. “Is there a video you could look up?”

Amy perked up again immediately. “Oh, yeah!” She pulled out her phone and started typing away on it. “My favorite figure skater, Elise, can do it perfectly! She’s from Soleanna. I’d love to meet her someday!”

Amy kept talking about the figure skater, but Shadow was more preoccupied with her hands. She’d had to take off a mitten to use the screen, and seeing how stiff and shaky her fingers were made him wince. He lifted a hand and opened his mouth to ask, but she interrupted him.

“Alright! Found it! Check this out!” She handed him the phone.

Shadow took it and watched as a slender, red-haired woman skated confidently through an ice rink. She wrapped her arms around herself in preparation. When the music from Amy’s tiny phone speakers reached a crescendo, she launched herself into the air, twirling twice before landing on one foot and effortlessly leading into the rest of the routine.

“You don’t have to do two spins like she does,” Amy added. “It’s better to start small with just a single.”

Shadow replayed the jump a few times. Forward, on that foot, then land backwards... He nodded and returned her phone. “Got it.”

Her eyes bugged out. “Already?”

He crouched down in a starting position and smirked at her. “I’m a quick learner.” Then, he took off.

Shadow looped around the pond a few more times. Several other skaters turned to look this time, but his focus was locked solely on Amy. Worry tugged at his mind when he noticed how she was sitting: shoulders hunched, hands between her knees, and face half-buried in her parka. He pressed his lips together. I need to get her off of that bench to do something. He looked forward again. But first...

Shadow rounded one more corner, then dashed forward and smirked. No one underestimates me and gets away with it. He took stock of where his feet were, pulled his arms in, and launched himself up, spinning three times. The area seemed to grow still after a collective gasp...until Shadow landed solidly on one foot, teetering for just a moment before he regained his footing. Shouts and applause rang out behind him as he skated casually over to Amy, drifting backwards to a stop. His smug smile grew the longer she stared, mouth open wide.

Eventually, she regained her composure and shook her head, smiling. “Now you’re just showing off, aren’t you?”

“Of course. Don’t you know who I am?”

Amy chuckled. “Yeah, we get it, Mr. Perfect.”

Something in her tone stung. Shadow glanced down at her skates again, wondering if he’d overdone it. “All the same, I think I like my air shoes better. Maybe I can pull off axels in those, too.”

Amy snorted. “You actually haven’t landed any axels yet.”

Shadow’s jaw nearly dropped. “Then what was that?!” he demanded, gesturing back at the ice.

Amy’s laughter rang out. The light, pleasant sound tickled his eardrums. “You landed on the wrong foot!”

Shadow stared at her blankly and skated closer. “So it doesn’t count? Really?”

Amy nodded through her laughter. “For the record, though, I thought you looked really cool. Just like you always do!”

In the wake of those words and Amy’s pretty, charming smile, Shadow fell forward into the snow, tripped up by the transition off of the ice. Amy laughed all the louder, and Shadow just stayed face down for a few seconds, hoping his embarrassment would melt away into the snow. When it didn’t, he scrambled up onto the bench next to Amy, hoping to salvage at least some of his dignity.

Amy’s merriment died down at last, and she cupped his cheek, making his pulse skyrocket. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed!”

Shadow sat still, allowing her to brush some stray snow out of his quills and off his face. “It’s no problem.” Once she finished, he spoke up once more. “You know a lot about skating considering you—” Shadow froze, then panicked. “I mean...not that you...”

Amy blew her quills out of her face and smiled wryly. “It’s okay, I know I suck.” Shadow’s blood boiled, but she held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve known for a long time that it wouldn’t work out.” Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes were downcast. “I really did want to be a figure skater when I was young, but, well...” She gestured weakly at the ice. “You know. I asked Sonic if he wanted to be my partner for doubles ice skating last year, and he said yes, but then he saw me actually skate, and—” Amy bit her lip. “Well, he didn’t want me to get hurt. So...he went with Blaze instead.”

Shadow’s heart clenched, then burned. His fingers hurt from how tightly he held onto the bench underneath him, and his voice lowered an octave. “He did what?!”

Amy held up her hands immediately. “No, no, it’s not like that!” She rested a gentle hand on his tense shoulder. “For doubles figure skating, you don’t just skate normally. You do tricks and throw each other around in the air. It’s just about the most dangerous event at the Olympics.” He didn’t calm down, so she kept trying. “Blaze is a really good skater, and they won gold. I’m happy for them, really! I never could’ve done that. I’m just glad Sonic was looking out for me.” When he still wasn’t convinced, she laughed nervously. “I mostly just felt bad for Silver. Blaze didn’t know he liked her yet, and I think he got the wrong impression.”

Shadow’s pulse spiked even higher. Silver? You’re worried about Silver?! Why don’t you ever put yourself first?!

But out of the corner of his eye, Shadow could see worry lines etched into her face, and he knew now wasn’t the time. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and let it out slowly. With that, he met her gaze properly. “I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you all of it.”

The worry lines made way for surprise. “Really?”

Shadow nodded. “If there’s anyone who can teach you, it’s me. Anytime you want.” He stood up and reached out his hand. She looked confused, so he added, “I’m not skating without you.”

Amy stared at his hand for a long time. She started to reach for it, then stopped and looked away, defeated.

Shadow let his own hand fall. “Another time?”

Amy sighed, then gave a tired smile. “Yeah...some other time. I have another idea.”

Amy leapt into the air as she led him away from the frozen lake. “Alright! Feels good to be back in regular boots again, huh?”

Shadow nodded absently, but his attention was drawn toward her hands, which she was rubbing together. When she turned around and noticed he was looking, she whipped them behind her back with a hasty smile. “Have you ever heard of snow angels?”

When Shadow looked closer, he noticed her teeth were chattering again. “Are you alright?”

Amy huffed and crossed her arms, tucking her hands under her armpits with a pout. “Of course I’m alright! Have you heard of them or not?”

“I may have heard the term,” he replied, still unable to focus past her obvious discomfort.

Amy leaned in. “You’ve ‘heard the term?’ Do you know how to make one?”

“Uh...no.”

She wrinkled her nose, then nodded with authority. “Well, then, I’ll have to teach you! First, you hold your hands out to the side, then—!”

“Shoot!” The second she began to fall backwards, Shadow zipped in and caught her. “What are you doing?!”

Amy just froze in his arms for a moment, gazing into his eyes, but she snapped out of it, pressing her hands against his shoulders. “No, I’m supposed to fall back this time! Let go!”

“But—”

“You don’t understand—!”

With one last shove, Amy’s arm strength won out. She toppled the last foot or two to land on her back in the snow, and Shadow stumbled.

By the time he regained his footing, Amy was pushing her arms and legs back and forth through the snow. “S-see?”

She was trying to hide the pain in her face behind a smile. Shadow’s heart stung. He didn’t wait another moment before reaching around her torso to lift her up. Amy made a noise of complaint, but she didn’t stop him.

“What in the world were you thinking?!” he muttered, hurriedly brushing snow off of her head, shoulders, back, and arms.

Amy grumbled and wiggled away from him. She forced another smile onto her face and pointed at the imprint in the snow. “Look! It’s an angel—oh, wait!” She hopped around to crouch above the angel’s head and reached a finger toward the snow. “If you draw an oval here—”

Before Amy could blink, Shadow had dashed to her side and taken her hand to lift her upright again. “What are you doing?!”

Amy looked from her finger to his blazing eyes. “I’m...adding the halo?” Both of them could see the way her hand was shaking between them. She yanked it back. “Shadow, what’s gotten into you?”

“You’re miserable.”

For a moment, she just stared back, as if she felt trapped, but she shook it off with another fragile grin. “What are you talking about? We’re having fun!”

“We aren’t. You hate this.” When she opened her mouth again, he cut her off. “I can tell.”

Amy’s eyes darted around, and her breathing quickened. “B-b-but...I...”

Shadow sighed and took her hand. “There’s one more thing I want to do.” She hesitated, visibly confused, so he held up his Chaos Emerald.

After a moment’s hesitation, she squeezed his hand and nodded.

Shadow warped back to his house with Amy in his arms. She stumbled a bit upon landing, but he held her upright.

“Sh-Shadow?” Her voice was muffled and shaky against his scarf. He could feel how cold her face was against his neck.

“You’re shivering. Stay put.”

“I’m f-fine! I-it’s not a big deal, I just–”

“Stay.”

Aside from a quiet whimper, she didn’t argue further. He kept her body close, ignoring the damp shell of her coat. Shivers wracked her small frame for a while afterward, but Shadow was patient. In time, they subsided.

Once she’d stopped shaking, Shadow pulled back. He tugged on one of her sleeves. “You won’t get warmer unless you take this off. It’s wet.”

Before she could speak, he’d already warped away to turn up his thermostat and retrieve his warmest quilt, the one that was far warmer than he’d ever need for himself. She barely had time to remove her parka and snow-covered knit hat, revealing the red sweater she’d been wearing underneath. He instantly draped the blanket around her shoulders and guided her down onto his couch, gentle but firm. “Sit.”

“Huh?”

Without waiting for a reply, Shadow teleported to his kitchen and started rooting through the cupboards. Where is it, where is it...ah. He withdrew a box of cocoa powder and a pair of mugs. He swiftly poured water into them, mixed in the powder, and tossed them in his microwave.

Shadow could see into the living room where Amy was settling down on the couch, still wrapped in the quilt. Another shudder made her shoulders hunch, and his foot tapped rapidly. When the digits hit zero on the microwave, he whipped it open and immediately withdrew both mugs.

In an instant, he was lowering himself onto the sofa next to Amy. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

Amy’s wide eyes drifted from Shadow’s face down to the mug he was holding for her. Her nose twitched. “Is this...hot chocolate?” He nodded. Her head tilted. “But this is your first winter on Earth. How do you know about hot chocolate?”

Shadow watched as wisps of steam curled up from his mug. Slowly, he opened his mouth. “Space is cold. The ARK was heated, but there were drafts and cold corners, especially near the windows.” His gaze drifted across the room toward the wide bay window that revealed the street outside; even shut, it couldn’t mute the whistling wind outside. He could see Amy shiver just looking at it. She turned away and took a tentative sip of her hot cocoa, then peeked up at him silently.

Shadow sipped his own as well, feeling the hot liquid burn a trail down his throat, banishing what little chill he felt. He stared into his mug as he reminisced. “I was fine, but the scientists had trouble. I saw them shivering, carrying extra jackets around in case they had to go through a cold spot.” His teeth clenched. “I felt helpless.”

A hand rested on his shoulder, reassuring yet clammy. He took it in his own warm grasp but kept staring straight ahead. “One day, a scientist brought in a rare treat from Earth. Using the stove in the breakroom, she heated up water, powder, and marshmallows, and she shared it with all of us in the cheap paper cups we kept around.” He inhaled deeply, and the scent from his mug brought back the warmth of the memory. His eyes fell shut. “It wasn’t much, but everyone was happy. They were warm and relaxed for once. They smiled and laughed with each other.” Shadow’s eyes fluttered open once more. “I picked some up at the store a couple months ago in case someone needed it. I don’t have marshmallows, but...”

A tiny gasp interrupted him. Amy was gazing up at him admiringly, eyes shining. “That’s beautiful!”

Shadow’s heart pounded. He wanted to feel flattered, but something in his chest still ached. He sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?”

The adoration melted off of Amy’s face, and she huddled farther under the quilt. “It’s...it’s not that bad, I just...”

“Amy. I know you better than that. What’s going on?”

Amy froze, and not just from the temperature.

Shadow didn’t back down.

At first, all he could see on her face was fear, like that of a cornered animal. He didn’t avert his gaze, but he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, and the fear softened. He continued until her muscles went slack and the tension had left her face. She sighed and looked down at their hands. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“What do you mean?”

Amy bit her lip. “Today. All of it. I...I know you haven’t had the easiest time adjusting to Earth.” She squeezed his hand. “Winter is beautiful, and I wanted to be there with you for all of your...‘firsts,’ you know?” She put her mug down on his coffee table. “The first time you saw snow, the first time you went sledding, and skated, and made a snow angel...” Her shoulders rose, and her eyes started to water. “But I can’t do it. I can’t! I want to love winter, I really do! It’s beautiful, and there are so many activities that can’t be done any other time.” She peeked up at him through her eyelashes, then looked away. “And...it’s romantic. That’s why...I wanted...”

Shadow’s heart pounded painfully. “Amy...”

Her chest started heaving, anger seeping into her tone. “But I don’t like winter. I can’t stand it! I’m scared of sledding, I’ll never be a good skater, and I hate, hate, hate the cold! No matter what I wear, I’m always too cold! Everyone else is fine, it’s just me! Why can’t I—”

Unable to take any more, Shadow swiftly put down his own mug and opened the quilt to duck under it with her. He wrapped an arm around her to hold her close, and she cut herself off with a squeak. Shadow found her hand—warmer than before thanks to the hot chocolate, but still too cold for his liking—and rested his chin on top of her head. She made an inquisitive noise, but he stayed where he was, afraid he’d lose his nerve if he made eye contact. Once her muscles relaxed, he took a deep breath. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.” When she remained silent, he paused to find the right words, then spoke.

“I can run at the speed of sound without breaking a sweat, and my motorcycle is faster than any sled. I can skate anytime I want to. And I can’t stand surprises.”

At this, Amy pulled back, looking fearful once more. “I—I’m so sorry, I—”

Shadow pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. He exhaled through his nose. “I can’t stand surprises...unless they’re from one person.” He pulled his hand back, steeled himself, and fixed her with an intense gaze. “I’m not here for sledding or skating. I’m not here for snow or kids’ games. I’m here because I like spending time with you, and if you’re miserable, then there’s no point.” This time, his hand was the one that shook as he lifted it and cupped her cheek. “I never want you to make yourself unhappy for me again. Never.”

Amy stared up at him, eyes wide and unreadable. Nervous as he was, Shadow still didn’t look away, determined to let the message sink in.

The wait felt like hours, but at last, the shock frozen on Amy’s face melted away, leaving eyes watery with emotion. A smile soon bloomed across her face, the brightest one he’d seen all day. She threw her arms around him and eagerly swooped in for a kiss. It was too fast; before he had time to process it or tilt his head, she’d already knocked their noses together. She snorted and giggled at the way his face scrunched up, but she stayed close enough to rub noses with him afterward. Shadow was charmed enough to put up with it for a few seconds, but he quickly grew impatient and tilted his head to close the last bit of distance between them for a proper kiss. Her cheeks were still cool, but the breath she shared with him was warm, and the last of her shivers died down as she relaxed in his arms. Shadow kept up the contact until the pounding of his heart steadied, and then he pulled back. He took a moment to admire her affectionate gaze and the glow of her cheeks, now rosier than ever.

He cleared his throat. “You only had us try activities for me today. Is there anything you do like about winter?”

Amy’s smile was small and secretive. She bit her lip. “Well, I do like to cuddle up indoors with someone I care about and drink hot chocolate while we watch the snowfall.”

Shadow’s lips curled into a smirk, and he chuckled under his breath. He retrieved their mugs from the coffee table and returned Amy’s to her hands. “I think that can be arranged.”

She happily snuggled closer, nuzzling her way into the crook of his neck, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The two of them watched snow blanket the neighborhood for the rest of the evening, enjoying the picturesque view and each other’s warmth.

The trick Shadow does the first time on his skates is this one from SA2:

And the concept of Elise being a figure skater is a reference to this beautiful calendar art from the Sonic Channel website for April 2023:

I like to think she gets to have a more relaxing life now that Iblis doesn’t exist and she can safely shed tears without the world ending.

#shadamy #amy rose #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #fanfiction #clingy #shadamy secret santa #shadamy secret santa 2024

108 notes · View notes

randomdragonfires · 5 months ago

Text

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part Two

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of Substances and Alcohol; Complicated Relationship Dynamics.

PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader

WORD COUNT | 13.2k

Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!

A/N | Not beta read. ;)

She sits at Aemond’s kitchen counter, her eyes wandering over the photographs sprawled out in front of her. Each image captures the haunting beauty of the ruins of Valyria, a place Aemond has been passionate about for ages due to his heritage. The smell of French toast wafts through the air, mixing with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He pours her a mug and slides it over to her.

Just for a second, the domesticity of it all makes her want to blush.

She has been seeing men, yes. Ever since she got to college, there have been no shortage of men who want to date her; but she has been hesitant about letting any of them close. Perhaps it is the idea of being touched once more, or the comfort she has grown for herself that she refuses to let anyone in - she does not know.

But not Aemond, seems like. He’s been her bedrock ever since she moved to Oldtown, and sometimes, he does little things that make her feel warm.

She has a hard time figuring out what it is, but it’s certainly not feelings. She’s had them before, for Daeron - it’s a lot more intense, usually.

This is easy. Too easy. It is easy to be attracted to Aemond, he’s got that about him. But he’s also Aemond - Daeron’s brother. It is quite messed up. It is easy to be infatuated, she feels. But she’s not quite ready to do anything about something so miniscule - especially given what he means to her.

It’s all a bit of fun, really. A mindless little crush. All of it goes away in time.

And there’s also the fact that he seems to like someone else, and not her.

Aemond moves gracefully around the kitchen, flipping slices of bread in a sizzling pan. His expression is animated as he recounts the details of his recent trip. "Valyria is everything I imagined and more," he said, his voice filled with awe. "The architecture, even in ruins… phenomenal.”

She picks up a photo showing a grand, crumbling archway, its intricate carvings still visible despite centuries of decay. "This is incredible," she murmurs, tracing a finger over the image. "Like walking through time.”

He smiles, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Exactly. Every piece of rubble, every shattered column… and the dragons… you can feel their presence, even now."

She looks up at him, curiosity piqued. "Did you find anything related to your family?"

"I did. There were symbols and inscriptions that matched the Targaryen coat of arms. There was this…” He turns quickly to rustle his hands through the photos, trying to find one that he probably intends to show her. When he spots it, he slides it to her by the fingertips. “This old stone tablet with the Targaryen dragon carved into it, still intact despite the centuries.”

"That's incredible. It must have been surreal to see it in person."

"It was," Aemond agrees, his voice tinged with reverence as he went back to the stove. "There were also ancient manuscripts, or what was left of them. The text was almost completely eroded, but you could still make out references to my ancestors. And there was a mural, faded and cracked, but you could see the dragons soaring over Valyria in them, with what we believe were the early Targaryens among them."

He placed the plate of French toast in front of her and sat down, his eyes glowing with excitement. "I even found a piece of what might have been a dragon egg, petrified but still recognizable.”

Wylde takes a bite of the French toast, savoring the warm, cinnamon flavor, but her mind was captivated by Aemond's discoveries. “How’d you end up making the trip? Thought it was closed for like… government reasons or something?”

“Right, so… Aegon-”

“That never ends well.”

The edge of his lips twinges upward and she clocks his faint smile. “He's the creative director of The Kingslander now.” She has heard of it. Aegon Targaryen was quite the flighty boy growing up, with little to no focus on anything low-key. He would always have an eye for anything creative and aesthetic though, and had a unique style. Alicent spotted an early opportunity for her eldest son, and had him intern at The Kingslander, one of the many magazines that Targaryen Consolidated owned. Soon enough, he had something to channel himself into, and it showed. From fashion photography to various directed photoshoots, he was in his element.

But at heart, Aegon was never meant for the desk lifestyle. So when Sara Snow - an archeology professor - tumbled into his life and told him she was to leave on an expedition for half a year, he took the opportunity to let loose and chase her across the globe. She had him enrolled into the documenting team so he wouldn’t be twiddling his thumbs, and he seems to have taken to it quite well.

‘So I’m like, into history now.’ She can clearly hear him say it. “I don’t know. He likes this girl, and he got access, so he invited me to go along because there may never be a chance again.”

“Sounds like such an Aegon thing to do,” she says wistfully as the last bits of her food disappear from the plate.

“What?”

“To put his heart on the line and take risks that involve going halfway across the globe to a restricted area for a girl.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“You wouldn’t do it?”

Aemond pauses, contemplating the question. "It's not that I wouldn't. It's just... different for me."

Wylde raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Different how?"

“He’s so… out of control. I’d not prefer that.”

“Hm. Or perhaps you haven’t had your crazy grand romantic moment yet.” Red blooms over his cheeks as he faces away, taking her plate to dump it into the sink. “Speaking of. You mentioned you met someone months ago! I’ve been here for three months already and you’re yet to tell me anything!”

“It’s very casual.”

“Liar. You’d not be hiding her like your life depended on it if it was.”

“Hm.”

She stands up, gathering her books and bag, ready to go home. She begins to assemble all the photos, carefully placing them back into the box. As she reaches for the last few, her fingers brush against a small, delicate emerald locket she hadn't noticed earlier. She holds it up, admiring its intricate design.

"Is this from the expedition too?" she asks, curiosity evident in her voice.

Aemond turns, scratching the back of his neck as he answers, "No, that's a friend's. She was looking at the photos earlier." A faint blush creeps up his cheeks, but Wylde notices it immediately.

"And is this the same… friend that you're trying to hide from me?" she teases, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Perhaps," Aemond admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

She chuckles, and stores at the back of her mind the observation that whoever he’s seeing comes and goes to the flat, just like her. "Good taste in jewelry, I'll tell you that much. I like her already."

She walks up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug and planting a friendly kiss on his cheek. The tingling feeling is back again, but she ignores it like the plague.

"Food was good. One of these days you'll give Criston a run for his money," she jokes - to lower his tension or hers, she does not know.

Aemond mutters his thanks, his blush deepening. "Don't get your hopes up too high."

She strolls through the lively streets of Oldtown, her phone pressed to her ear. The scent of fresh pastries from a nearby café mingles with the distant hum of conversation, and the old world charm brightens up her day.

“Hey… been a while!” she says, her voice bright with genuine enthusiasm. “How’s everything at KLU?”

There’s a brief pause before Daeron’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Hi, yourself! Things are going great here. Campus is even more lively than I expected, classes are alright. How’s Oldtown treating you?”

You could have found out for yourself if you’d followed through with me, she thinks. She’s quick to kick her bitter thoughts to the curb though.

She glances around at the charming storefronts and the lively crowds. “It’s been a whirlwind. The courses are intense, but I’m getting used to the pace. I’m really enjoying the city - it’s everything I hoped it would be. So different from home, but in a good way. Aemond and I spend a lot of time together, so that’s nice.”

“Yeah, Oldtown is amazing,” Daeron agrees, his enthusiasm unwavering. “I remember going there to visit grandpa often as a kid.””

“Oh yeah!” Her curiosity gets the better of her, and her question tumbles out before she can stop herself. “How’re things with you and Floris?”

There is a moment of silence on the other end of the line. She can almost hear Daeron shifting, his voice a bit more guarded when he replies. “Oh, Floris is… she’s doing well. She’s been really busy with her studies and all. It’s been a bit hectic for her, but she’s handling it. You know how she is - always on top of things.”

No, I don’t know how she is, actually.

Her brow furrows slightly as she walks past the café, where the smell of coffee and baked goods wafts out into the street. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something feels off to her. “That’s good to hear. But you sound a bit... dull. Everything okay?”

Daeron let out a nervous chuckle. “No, it’s nothing like that. We’ve just been caught up in our own worlds lately. It’s a lot to balance with everything going on. But she’s fine, really. We’re fine.”

He’s lying. She knows. She knows him like the back of her hand.

Arianne Martell approaches her in the distance, her bright smile unmistakable. She sighs into her phone, deciding to let the topic drop for now. “Hey, Daeron, I’ve got to go. Catch up later, yeah?”

“Okay, bye. And hey-”

“What?”

“I miss you.”

Much and more has happened between them, but she can’t help but smile all the same. “Me too. We’ll talk soon.”

Heart warmed by the fact that she can have a conversation with him again without wanting to pull his spun silver hair out, she picks up the pace to join Arianne.

They queue up at the cart, their conversation slipping into the familiar rhythm of college gossip. Arianne’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she leans closer. “You won’t believe what I heard about Margaery Tyrell. Apparently, she’s been sneaking off to meet with Lionel Hightower.”

Wylde raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Margaery? Really? I thought she was with-”

Arianne nods enthusiastically. “Renly Baratheon, yes. But my brother saw him and Loras Tyrell making out at one of his parties.”

“Well. Fair enough.”

Arianne grins, clearly enjoying the drama. “Oh, it gets better. Apparently, they’ve been trying to get Cregan Stark to join them but he’s much too prudish for a threesome.”

“Prudish or just uncomfortable with them?”

“Who knows?”

As they walk past the cart, Wylde’s gaze drifts toward the window of a nearby restaurant. For a moment, she spots a familiar silhouette through the glass. She wants to think it’s Aemond, but it would be a reach to assume every tall man in a black hoodie is him.

But she spots Vhagar parked out front, and now she knows for sure.

Aemond is seated with his back to her, and she can tell by his posture that it's him. He’s accompanied by an obscured woman who gestures animatedly as she talks. They seem engrossed in deep conversation, and Aemond’s face is animated, his focus entirely on the woman before him.

Her curiosity is piqued, but she quickly refocuses on Arianne, who is now recounting the latest gossip involving the drama club’s lead actor.

It feels wrong to be peeking into Aemond's life like this.

Arianne’s laughter draws her attention back. “Anyway, I have a date with Arys tonight!”

“STOP! Really?”

“He finally asked me out, thank the Gods. Thought he was going to drag it out forever!”

She laughs, the earlier sight of Aemond slipping from her mind.

“Yeah so, you’ll come in and help me get ready?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They are sprawled on his plush leather couch, the glow from the laptop illuminating their surroundings. The soft hum of a wildlife documentary is heard, the narrator's voice a soothing backdrop to the scenes of the Sarnor savannah playing out on the screen. Bowls of snacks—popcorn and chocolate-covered almonds—are scattered around them, within easy reach.

She is nestled comfortably against Aemond’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm is draped casually around her, fingers idly tracing patterns on her arm. They are so close, their bodies glued together that it’d be so easy to assume that they were a couple, rather than friends who’ve known each other their entire lives. Every so often, Aemond’s hand dips into the bowl of popcorn, bringing a few kernels to his mouth, while she picks at the chocolate almonds. She feels the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the warmth of his body seeping into hers.

As his fingers trace gentle patterns on her arm, she feels a shiver run through her. It’s a simple touch, yet it sends her heart racing. She’s hyper-aware of every point of contact, every subtle shift in his posture. The way he holds her, casually yet protectively, makes her wonder if he feels the same way. Does he know how much these small gestures mean to her?

He’s just being friendly to a girl he’s known almost his entire life.

She steals a glance at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the laptop screen. His sharp features are softened in the dim light, and she notices the slight furrow in his brow as he concentrates on the documentary. She resists the strange urge to smoothen out the lines on his face and help him calm down.

She sighs contentedly, but soon a dull ache begins to build at her temples. She shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the headache persists. She groans softly, bringing a hand to her forehead.

Aemond glances down at her, a look of concern crossing his features. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a headache,” she murmurs, closing her eyes and leaning further into him. “It’s been a long day.”

Without a word, Aemond begins to gently massage her scalp, his fingers working through her hair with practiced ease. His attention remains fixed on the laptop screen, but his touch is gentle and soothing, each movement easing the tension from her temples.

She feels a flutter in her chest, a familiar sensation she’s tried to ignore. The crush she has on Aemond, usually kept carefully in check, creeps up on her as he continues to massage her scalp. His touch is both comforting and intimate, sending shivers down her spine.

Hormones are a nasty little thing, she surmises as her mild feelings refuse to go away. How could they, when he’s holding her like this?

She feels the need to speak if only to calm herself down.

“Daeron and I spoke today.”

His hands stop immediately, and his face hardens as he looks down at her. She looks up to meet his gaze, and she refuses to think of how close she is to his lips. She won’t.

Perhaps she is a little attracted to him.

It’s natural, and honestly? An inevitability. He’s Aemond. Anyone with proper vision and a sound mind would be attracted to him. She’s just lucky that she knows him well enough to be part of his space.

It’s stupid and even a bit silly. She’ll be over it just fine.

She moves away from him, sitting facing him with crossed legs. “What did he say?” He asks, and she spots the defensiveness in his tone.

“Nothing to worry about, it was nice actually.” She smiles, still very fond of her long-time best friend. “We just caught up and he was telling me about KLU. He also said he had plans to visit here in the summer, so I’m quite excited!”

“And how can you be sure that he’s not going to let himself be pulled away again?”

“About that…” She sighs. Regardless of how messy their equation had been towards the end of school, she has grown back her affinity for the youngest Targaryen brother. She supposes all they needed was time. “I asked about him and Floris today, he seemed very hesitant with his answers.”

“Hm.” She hears the pop of each of his knuckles as he cracks them with a concentrated look on his face.

“I don’t know. I think he’s lying.”

“You’re sure?”

“I know him. I know him well, like the back of my hand. I know when he’s lying. He didn’t sound like himself. I worry for him.”

“It’s not your place to do anything until he asks for help.”

“But I didn’t even-”

“You know him and I know you. You’d trip over yourself trying to help him.”

Her shoulders slump as she realizes he’s right. It is in Daeron’s nature to come to her when he’s down, and it is in her nature to be there for him. She’s wired that way, truly. How can she not be, when she’s been that way for as long as she’s known him?

“I’d rather you not be hurt again. Daeron is… careless. He and Aegon never consider anything beyond the next ten minutes, and they leave a big mess in their wake.”

She smirks. “Are you using me as an excuse to take shots at your brothers?”

She sees the corner of his lips twitch, and she brings her hands together as she sighs once more. “I just… I’ve had time to get over the fact that we drifted apart. But it made me quite sad that he felt the need to lie to me and smooth things rather than actually tell me what’s going on, you know?”

“Happens.” His replies are curt and his disposition is rougher. She doesn’t know why, and she refuses to let it grow. “Nothing you can do about it,” he adds.

“Hm.”

The sounds of the documentary keep the room from being pin drop silent, and she gets off the sofa to go to the fridge. “We’ve run out of cheesecake.” She says, coming back to where she was sitting before.

“Yeah, I need to get more.”

“You could have gotten some when you went to Moonbloom a few days ago.”

Aemond’s nervousness was almost imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him well. But to her, the subtle shifts were as clear as daylight. She noticed how his jaw tightened just a fraction, the way his eyes seemed to flicker with an almost invisible tension. His usually steady hands would still, fingers curling ever so slightly into his palms. He’d draw in a slow, controlled breath, his chest rising just a bit higher than usual.

“When did you see me?”

The eyebrow of his functional eye lifts just a little, almost as if he’s asking her how she knew. "I saw Vhagar parked outside. Figured nobody else had a bike that looked similar. Thought you may be with someone, so I didn’t want to intrude."

"Professor Rivers," he replies, his tone dangerously neutral. "I was working on my papers about the expedition, using them for my semester submission, and we bumped into each other."

"Oh, okay. Weird, isn’t it? To bump into professors outside of campus. Like people let out of their natural habitat."

"Hm. Perhaps." His cheeks take on a faint pink hue, and she can’t help but smile.

"Why are you blushing?" she asks, laughing heartily, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "You don’t have a crush on her or something, do you?"

"Gods, no," he replies quickly, the words almost too quick. It’s a lighthearted quip to her, nothing more, but the slight tilt in his tone lingers in her mind, a small seed of curiosity planted.

“I mean, she is pretty. I wouldn’t blame you.” She laughs, trying to tease him further and he disappointedly nods side to side.

A few hours go by as they continue to pass the time, but Aemond seems a little tense from thereon out. He’s quieter - if that’s even possible - and his responses, more measured. She notices the way he occasionally bites the inside of his cheek, a habit he has when something's bothering him. His fingers tap lightly against his knee in an uneven rhythm, betraying his otherwise calm demeanor.

When she asks him a question, he pauses just a moment longer than usual before answering, as if carefully choosing his words. The slight furrow in his brow, the way his gaze occasionally drifts to the floor, and the almost imperceptible sighs he lets out - they all speak of an unease that she spots effortlessly.

These are the times when she hates knowing the Targaryen children as well as she does.

She watches him closely, feeling a pang of guilt. He’s not the kind to take these things to heart usually, but something about her teasing seems to have unsettled him this time. She no longer feels welcome, and she knows he’d rather be left alone now and to find her when he’s ready for her again. She doesn’t like that it has to be this way, but giving him his space is the most she can do.

She stands abruptly, murmuring something about an early class in the morning and how she has to go. He immediately softens then, and stands idly with his hands in his pockets as she packs her bag.

She doesn’t like leaving him like this, but just as she moves to the door, she turns at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand, holding onto her wrist. With his other hand at the back of his neck, his look is almost sheepish. “Listen, sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable-”

“I’m sorry too. It wasn’t funny to tease about your professors. Didn’t realize you were quite touchy about it.”

“I’m not, just… I don’t know what happened.”

Her gaze is fixed at his strong hand holding hers, and she looks at it for too long before he notices it and drops it like hot coal. She misses the warmth of him immediately with a strange overwhelming feeling she cannot put into words. It’s not her silly little crush on him, it’s just a natural physical reaction, she tells herself.

She softens and melts immediately at his peculiar attempt to smooth things over with her, and it is heartwarming to her that he tries. “Aemond, it’s okay. You’re fine. If anything, I should apologize and I am sorry.”

“Neither of us should be apologizing, this is a non-issue.” He says, and she recognises the finality of his tone. There is no space for debate; and in all honesty, she doesn’t know why a throwaway statement became a big deal anyway.

“Okay.” As is her habit, she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him on his warm cheek before saying bye. Tonight however, neither of them seem to want to leave each other as they continue to be glued to where they stand. She notices the ring on his finger and remembers Daeron, her mind racing to the conversation they had once more. Her mind travels to every word he said on their phone call, and the words rush out of her before she can help herself.

“You wouldn’t ever lie to me, would you?”

He sighs, leaning on the doorway with his hands folded into his chest. She cannot deny how effortlessly good he looks right then.

“I’d never hurt you.”

“Okay.” She absentmindedly nods as she repeats the words to herself and she bites her lip. She clutches onto her sling bag as she finally moves away.

She doesn't quite dwell on the fact that he promised not to hurt her but didn't exactly promise never to lie.

The thrum of music pulses through the packed house, every beat vibrating through her bones. She scans the crowd, trying to spot Arianne, but her friend has disappeared into the sea of bodies. She shrugs, taking another sip of her beer. The alcohol has dulled her senses just enough to make everything feel a little softer around the edges.

As she leans against the wall, Willas Tyrell saunters over, a confident smile playing on his lips. They’ve been eyeing each other all night, and now, with eight rounds of beer warming her veins, she feels bolder than usual.

"Hey, lost your friend?" he asks, his voice smooth and warm.

"Yeah, Arianne's somewhere in this madness," she replies, laughing lightly. "But it's not so bad. I found you."

He chuckles, taking a step closer. "Lucky me. What are you drinking?"

"Beer. Not my first choice, but it does the job."

"Well, if you're up for something better, I’ve got some whiskey upstairs," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Interested?"

She arches an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Whiskey, huh? That does sound tempting. Is that all on offer though?"

"Why don’t you come and find out?" he teases, holding out his hand.

Without hesitation, she takes it, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrap around hers. They weave through the crowded living room, climbing the stairs to a quieter part of the house. The music grows fainter, the air cooler, as they reach an empty room at the end of the hall.

He closes the door behind them, and she turns to face him, her heart pounding with anticipation. They are inches apart, the charged energy between them palpable.

"You know," she says, her voice low. "I've always thought you were kind of cute."

"Kind of cute?" he repeats, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I was hoping for more than 'kind of.'"

"Well, you might have to work for it," she challenges, stepping closer until their bodies are almost touching.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small flask, unscrewing the cap and offering it to her. "How about some of this?"

She takes a sip, the burn of the whiskey warming her insides and adding to the haze in her mind. She hands it back to him, their fingers brushing in the exchange, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Not bad," she says, licking her lips. "Maybe you do have good taste."

He laughs softly, his eyes darkening with desire. "Glad you think so. Now, where were we?"

"Right about here," she whispers, closing the distance between them.

He doesn't need any more encouragement. Willas cups her face with one hand, the other sliding around her waist as he pulls her in for a kiss. It is slow and deliberate at first, but quickly grows more intense, their mouths moving hungrily against each other. She can taste the faint hint of whiskey on his lips, mingling with the lingering taste of alcohol on her own.

Her hands roam over his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles through his shirt. He responds by sliding his fingers under the hem of her top, lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. His touch is electric, sending shivers down her spine as he deftly unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the floor.

"You’re full of surprises," she murmurs, her breath hitching as he kisses down her neck.

"You have no idea," he replies, his voice husky with need.

He pushes her onto the bed, the world around them narrowing to just the two of them. She lands on her back, looking up at him with a mixture of desire and haziness, the room spinning slightly around her. Willas hovers above her, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of her bare skin. He leans down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss, his hands exploring her body with a desperate urgency. She arches into his touch, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulls him closer.

Their kisses grow more frantic, each movement a testament to their mutual need. He trails his lips down her collarbone, pausing to nip at the sensitive skin, eliciting a gasp from her. His hands slide lower, brushing against her waist, before moving to undo the button of her jeans.

She’s caged between his strong arms, with nowhere to move. For a fleeting moment, the sensation is thrilling. But then, as Willas's hands slide lower, the room spins faster, and the walls seem to close in. Her breath catches in her throat, and she’s suddenly transported back to that night in school with Jason Lannister, his oppressive presence, the helplessness, the terror.

A cold sweat breaks out on her skin. The memory floods her mind: Jason's hands on her, her desperate attempts to push him away, the fear that froze her limbs. The room spins more violently now, and the warmth of Willas's body becomes suffocating.

"Stop," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her ears.

Willas doesn't hear her, his kisses growing more insistent. The panic rises in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Stop," she says again, louder this time, but it still feels like she’s shouting underwater.

Her heart races, and her vision blurs. She tries to push him away, her hands trembling. "Willas, stop," she says more firmly, her voice cracking.

This time, he hears her. He immediately pulls back, his eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle but edged with worry.

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I can't... I can't do this. I'm sorry."

He moves away quickly, giving her space. "Hey, it’s okay. It's okay," he reassures her, his tone soft and understanding. He sits beside her, not touching, giving her the room she needs.

She sits up, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. The room still feels like it's spinning, and her thoughts are a jumbled mess. Willas watches her with genuine concern, not pushing, just waiting.

After a few moments, he reaches for her discarded top and hands it to her along with her bra. "Here, put this on. Take your time."

"I'm so sorry," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Don’t apologize," he says softly. “You’re good, just breathe. You’re fine.”

She nods, focusing on her breathing, trying to regain control. The panic begins to ebb, replaced by a shaky calm. Willas stays beside her, offering quiet support.

"Thank you," she finally manages to say, looking at him with gratitude and a lingering hint of embarrassment.

"Anytime," he replies with a gentle smile. "Do you want me to call someone?”

“No, I… I think I’m gonna just… go.”

“Let me help you.”

“It’s okay. Can you just… I need a moment, if that’s okay. I’m so sorry if I ruined tonight for you.”

“You’re alright. I don’t feel good letting you go off alone like this though.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

She steps out of the house, the cool night air hitting her like a splash of cold water. The noise of the party fades behind her, replaced by the quieter sounds of the street. Scattered red cups and empty beer bottles litter the front yard, remnants of a night that feels distant and surreal now. A figure lies passed out on the lawn, oblivious to the world as others continue to mill about inside.

She walks to the corner of the pavement, her steps slow and unsteady. The streetlight above her makes the world feel too bright and too stark. She sits down, her knees drawn up to her chest, and tries to steady her breathing. The cool concrete is a small comfort, grounding her as she struggles to calm her racing heart.

With trembling hands, she pulls out her phone and dials Aemond’s number. The ringing seems to echo in her ears, each tone stretching into what feels like an eternity. Finally, the call connects, and she hears the distant, muffled sound of conversation.

“Aemond,” she says, her voice cracking and barely more than a whisper. “I—I need you. I’m… I’m outside Margaery Tyrell’s party.”

There’s a brief pause on the line. She hears the faint hum of a cheerful woman’s voice, laughter floating in the background. A pang of guilt hits her hard. She feels like an intruder, her mind racing as she realizes she might be interrupting something important.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. “I—I’m really sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t mean to interrupt… whoever you're with. I just— I’m so scared. Can you… can you come get me? Please?”

Her breathing comes in ragged bursts, her words tumbling out in a breathless, almost incoherent rush. The panic clawing at her chest makes it hard to focus, and the alcohol hasn’t worn off one bit.

“Wylde?” Aemond’s voice is suddenly urgent, cutting through her frantic apologies. There’s a concern in his tone that makes her stomach clench. Don’t move. I’ll be there soon. Just breathe, okay?”

She struggles to calm her racing heart, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her voice trembling with desperation. “I’m really sorry… I just… I can’t… One minute we were kissing and the next I’m crying, I can't breathe...I-”

“Wylde, listen to me,” Aemond says firmly, but gently. “It’s okay. I’m on my way. Just stay where you are. I need you to breathe and stay calm. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

The call ends abruptly, and she is left in the cold night air, clutching her phone with shaking hands. Her breaths come out in shaky, uneven puffs as she tries to focus on Aemond’s calming words. The street feels both stark and surreal, the shadows around her stretching long and foreboding. She pulls her jacket tighter around her, trying to find comfort in its warmth while waiting for him to arrive.

As they arrive at his apartment, the familiar rumble of the motorbike fades as he turns the keys. Aemond helps her off the bike with a gentle but firm hand, guiding her carefully up the stairs and into his apartment. The door swings open to reveal a cozy space, bathed in the dim, warm glow of a few scattered lamps.

He holds onto her with one hand, using his free hand for everything else. Her head rests under his chin, and she can’t help but nuzzle herself into his neck and make herself at home as his warmth pervades her dulled senses.

He leads her inside and guides her to the bathroom. With a tender touch, he helps her sit on the edge of the tub. The gentle hum of the apartment and the soft rustling of his movements are a soothing backdrop to her foggy consciousness. He rummages through a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of water and painkillers.

“Here,” he says softly, handing her the water and pills. “You should take these. They’ll help with the headache.”

She nods weakly, managing to swallow the medication with a few sips of water. Her head feels heavy, and her thoughts are a jumbled mess, but the care in his voice and his steady presence offer a small measure of relief.

Aemond helps her to her feet and guides her to the bedroom. The room is dim, the only light coming from a small bedside lamp. He pulls out a clean pair of shorts and one of his t-shirts from a drawer. Gently, he helps her out of her clothes, the fabric of her dress feeling foreign against her skin as it’s removed. He helps her into the comfortable shorts and oversized t-shirt, the soft material a welcome contrast to the night’s chaos.

As he tucks her into bed, pulling the sheets up around her, he is both careful and attentive. She shifts under the covers, trying to get comfortable, but her eyes are heavy and her body feels weighed down by the evening’s events. She feels his warm lips on her forehead once more, and she reaches out to hold onto his wrist before he goes away.

“Stay. Please.” she murmurs, her voice barely audible as she begs.

Aemond’s gaze softens. “I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures her, settling down on the edge of the bed. He sits there for a moment, his hand gently stroking her hair, the motion soothing and familiar.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice wavering slightly. “I’m sorry for all this.”

She hears the faint ticking of a clock as her heartbeat calms down. The rustling of sheets as Aemond adjusts himself to join her. The warm golden glow of the bedside lamp. The warmth of her hand in his under the sheets. The feel of his thumb gently moving over her knuckles. The softness of his hands as he brushes off stray hairs off her face. The strength of it as he cradles her head like it’d break if he pressed further.

Aemond wakes in the middle of the night, his hand instinctively reaching out to the empty space beside him. The cool, undisturbed sheets where her warmth should be jolt him fully awake, a sudden surge of concern piercing through the remnants of his sleep. He sits up quickly, the room around him still cloaked in the deep shadows of night, and listens intently. The faint glow emanating from the kitchen draws his attention, a small beacon in the darkness.

He slips out of bed, his bare feet silent against the floor as he pads softly toward the light. Each step feels measured and deliberate, his senses heightened in the quiet stillness of the early morning. The corridor seems longer than usual, the dim light at the end creating an almost surreal atmosphere, as if he’s moving through a dream.

As he approaches the kitchen, the scene gradually comes into focus. She’s sitting at the counter, bathed in the soft, warm glow of the single dim yellow light over the countertop. The rest of the kitchen is enveloped in darkness, the contrast making her appear almost ethereal. Her presence is both comforting and concerning.

She’s wearing one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of his shorts, her bare feet resting on the lower rung of the counter-height stool. The loose fabric drapes over her frame in a way that makes her look even smaller and more vulnerable. Her posture is slightly hunched, and she’s absently stirring the contents of a mug, the soft clinking of the spoon against the ceramic creating a gentle, rhythmic sound that fills the otherwise silent space.

He takes a moment to observe her, his heart aching at the sight. Her hair falls messily around her face, and her nose looks flared. She seems lost in thought, her eyes focused on the swirling liquid in the mug, as if trying to find answers in its depths. The tension in her shoulders is palpable, and he can see the strain of the night’s events weighing heavily on her.

He doesn’t yet know what’s happened. All he knows is that she’d been in a bad time once more, and it’s one too many times for someone as sensitive as she is. Her eyes are downcast, lost in thought, and she seems miles away, even though she’s right there in front of him.

Aemond watches her for a moment, noticing the way she grips the mug tightly, as if drawing strength from its warmth. Stepping into the light, he moves towards her with a quiet grace, not wanting to startle her. She looks up as he approaches, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and relief. He pulls out a stool beside her and sits down, their knees almost touching, creating an intimate, comforting space amidst the darkness.

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly, concern evident in his voice.

She lets out a small, tired sigh, her fingers tightening around the mug. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything just… it feels too much.”

They sit in silence for a while, the atmosphere thick with unspoken emotions. She slowly sips from the mug—warm milk, he notices. His eyes wander to the honey bottle at the far end of the counter, suggesting she had been stirring it in when he came in. The soft clinking of the spoon against the mug fades into the background, replaced by the quiet, steady rhythm of their breathing.

His hand rests gently on her thigh, his fingers making slow, soothing movements that help to calm her. She feels the warmth and comfort of his touch, and instinctively, she settles her hand over his, drawing strength from the simple contact. Time seems to slow down, and they remain like this for a while, enveloped in the stillness of the moment.

He looks at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, and he remembers the first time he realized he had some sort of feelings for her - fleeting, if not definitive. Back in King's Landing, in her bedroom, he had been so close to her that he’d had half a mind to kiss her. But she had been so troubled, and he knew from seeing Aegon and Helaena, that no good comes from entering into anything when you're not quite yourself.

He thought he would ask her out when she came to Oldtown, imagining a fresh start in a new place. But by then, the distance had played its part.

His feelings, once intense in the way that only teenage introverts could experience, had started to dissolve, replaced by the new experiences and people that college inevitably brings into one's life. And then there was Alys. With Alys, there was no power play or domination that one would expect from a relationship with the age gap that they have - just two people who understood each other's interests and passions deeply, like no one else in their lives did. They were kindred spirits, and being with her felt easy and right. Alys was good to him, and their relationship felt solid and mature - regardless of how shaky the existence of it would seem to everyone around him.

Yet, as he sits here with her, he takes in her soft face, framed by her hair and lit up by the golden dim light. It is then that he realizes that his feelings - no matter how mild, how fleeting - never completely went away.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice gentle and full of concern. “What happened?” he asks, his eyes searching hers for answers.

“I was at the party, and Will Tyrell and I were flirting.” His hand tightens over the smooth expanse of the skin of her thigh. “I’d had like… ten rounds of beer or something. One thing led to another and next thing I know, we’re making out in an empty room and…” She exhales with more effort than is required for her to live, and he encourages her to go on. “It just took me back to Jason Lannister for a moment and I started panicking. Couldn’t breathe for a moment there, really.”

“Hm.”

She leans her head down to be eye level with him, and she takes his hand in hers before she lets out a playful smile. “You’re like… my knight in a black motorcycle now, you know? Twice now I’ve had weird things happen to me at a party, and you've come to the rescue both times.”

“It’s not funny,” he says. He’d genuinely felt his heart stop when he heard her panicked voice over the phone at Alys’ house.

“It’s not. Sorry, I’m just grateful for you.”

Her hand leaves his to cradle his cheek. She’s the one who was found reeking of alcohol and vomit, and somehow he’s the one that needs comforting. “You’re always so serious, hm? So serious…” He grunts in response.

“Thank you. For being with me.”

He’s never been good with compliments, and this is a heavy one that he cannot wrap his mind around. He lets it wash over him like a calm evening breeze.

When her mug is empty and they come back to his bed, neither of them are in the right mindspace to wonder about how easily intimacy comes to them.

Instead, she chooses to watch him, his silhouette. She’s still tired and hazy from the alcohol, and given the moment they’ve just had and the complete darkness of his bedroom, she can’t help but say it.

“You’re pretty.”

He doesn’t react, so she feels emboldened enough to continue. “You have such pretty eyes too. I always thought about it, but you always hated talking about your eyes so I never quite bothered with telling you.”

“Hm.”

Her quiet knight on a black motorcycle.

How the fuck is she supposed to get over him now?

She wakes slowly, the world coming into focus as the soft light of morning filters through the blinds. She feels the warmth of Aemond’s chest against her back, his arm draped loosely around her waist. There’s a quiet comfort in the way they’re entangled, as if this is exactly where she’s meant to be. She’s still wearing his clothes - his t-shirt and shorts - and somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Her gaze drifts over to the bedside table, and she spots his reading glasses resting on top of a copy of Ten Thousand Ships. She thinks about how she never wants to see a table without his glasses again.

The thought lingers, surprising her with its intensity. She tries not to move, not wanting to break the spell of the moment, and instead lets her eyes take in the little details around the room.

The leather jacket hanging neatly on a hook behind the door catches her attention, standing out in what she could only describe as clinical cleanliness. The pale walls, the simplicity of the space - it’s all so Aemond. Everything is meticulously arranged, no clutter in sight, just like him. Every little thing in this room reflects who he is, and she finds herself memorizing it all, as if trying to hold onto this feeling for as long as she can.

Before her thoughts can go further, she hears him stir behind her, his voice low and groggy. “Morning,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of her neck.

She turns her head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of him. “Morning,” she replies softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

Aemond tightens his arm around her waist, pulling her just a little closer, and she feels her heart swell with a warmth that she isn’t ready to let go of. This, right here, feels like everything she didn’t know she needed.

She shifts slightly in his arms, just enough to face him. There’s a comfortable silence between them, one that feels both familiar and new. She traces lazy circles on the back of his hand with her finger, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

“This is nice.” she says with a playful grin, trying to keep things light despite the weight in her chest. “Girlfriend behavior. Waking up in your bed, wearing your clothes… I’m basically halfway there.”

Aemond raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement. “Is that so? You’re already planning our future together, then?”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “We’d probably spend our weekends at bookstores and museums. You’d drag me to some obscure historical sites, and I’d make you try every new coffee shop in town while I move around taking photos.”

“Sounds terrible,” he deadpans, though the warmth in his eyes betrays him.

“Absolutely dreadful, the most boring couple ever.” She agrees, her tone just as teasing. “But, hey, I’d get to borrow your shirts all the time, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Aemond smirks, but his expression softens as he looks at her. “Are you alright?” His voice is gentle, laced with concern.

She nods, trying to brush it off with a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He doesn’t let it go, though, his thumb brushing lightly against her side. “Really?”

Everywhere he touches, her heart seems to follow. It skips a beat at the sincerity in his eyes, and she feels the familiar tug of emotions she’s not quite ready to name. “I promise, Aemond. I’m fine.”

He studies her for a moment longer before finally nodding, though the worry doesn’t entirely leave his face. “Hm.”

She can’t help but laugh at his persistence, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly. “I’m alright, I swear.”

She presses a hand to her forehead, feeling the dull ache settle behind her eyes. “I’ve got a slight headache,” she admits, her voice a little groggy. “And I could really use some food.”

Aemond nods, concern flickering across his face. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

They both slide out of bed, and she follows him to the bathroom where they keep spare toothbrushes for each other. It’s a simple, unspoken thing - having brushes at each other’s places because they often sleep over - but this is the first time she’s woken up with his arms around her. As she brushes her teeth beside him, the domesticity of it all makes her blush. It feels so natural, so easy, and yet there’s something about it that sends her heart racing.

After rinsing her mouth, she drinks a glass of water to ease the remnants of her headache before heading to the kitchen. She takes her usual place on one of the bar stools behind the counter, turning on the coffee machine. The sound of it humming to life is oddly soothing, and she watches as Aemond walks in, already rolling up the sleeves of his black sweatshirt to get started.

He pulls out the ingredients, his movements efficient and practiced. Wylde offers to help, and he nods her over without hesitation. As she steps closer, he lifts a small slice of cut avocado to her lips, eyes not moving away from the chopping board - habitual, it all seems habitual. She grunts, leaning in to eat it straight from his hand before taking over with slicing the bread.

They work together in comfortable silence, moving around each other with the ease of familiarity. Aemond cooks the eggs while she toasts the sourdough, and before long, they’re sitting at the counter with plates of food in front of them. The avocado is perfectly creamy, the eggs just the right amount of runny, the toast crisp and warm and her coffee is just right.

Then she remembers he found her a right mess last night, and he’s simply being nice to a friend who had a bad night.

She wonders if the girl he’s hiding from her is perfect for him. She wonders if she ever embarasses herself in front of him like she clearly did last night. She wonders if he’s made her toast. She wonders if she’s woken up to the warmth of his lean arms wrapped around her waist. She wonders-

“What’s on your mind?”

She nods from side to side, a reassuring smile that is convincing enough that he doesn’t push further.

They eat in peaceful silence, exchanging small smiles as they enjoy the meal. It’s a quiet moment, but there’s a warmth in it that neither of them can ignore. When they’re done, they clear the dishes together, and for a brief moment, she lets herself imagine that this is what it could be like - easy and comfortable.

She wanted to catch him by the shoulders. She wanted to hug him till it hurt and her feet left the ground. She wanted to tuck her head into his neck and breathe in the smell of him, bask in the warmth of him.

Choose me, choose me, choose me, choose-

She wants him.

Gods.

She says thank you and leaves instead.

The next few weeks pass in a series of moments - each one small and seemingly insignificant, yet all of them add up to something much larger in her heart. It’s as if the universe has conspired to put Aemond in her path at every turn, and with each encounter, she finds herself falling deeper into feelings she’s not quite ready to name.

In the university hallways, she always spots him first. He’s usually leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a book he seems completely absorbed in. The early morning light filters through the tall windows, casting a golden hue over him. She notices the way his hair catches the light, the soft strands glinting silver against the dark fabric of his jacket. He looks so focused, so utterly engrossed in whatever he’s reading, that she almost doesn’t want to interrupt. But then he glances up, meeting her eyes, and a small, rare smile pulls at his lips.

“Morning,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

“Morning,” she replies, feeling her own smile spreading as she walks over.

The rest of their walk is silent until their hands reach out to graze at each other for just a few moments before they go their separate ways.

A few days later, she finds herself in the library, hunting down a book for one of her Foundation of Art in Essos assignments. The place is quiet, the scent of old paper and ink filling the air, and she’s completely lost in the stacks when she hears a familiar voice.

“Looking for something?”

She turns to find Aemond standing just a few feet away, a small stack of books in his arms. His eyes flicker to the title in her hand, and she swears she sees a hint of amusement in them.

“Yeah, just…this one,” she says, holding up the book she’s just found.

He nods, stepping closer. “That’s a good one. You might also want to check out the one by Mallister - it gives a different perspective.”

She takes his word and joins him at his table. She lets herself blush and be bothered by their feet touching under the table occasionally.

In their one shared class, she finds herself sneaking glances at him more often than she’d like to admit. Aemond always sits a few rows ahead, his attention fixed on the professor. She watches the way he takes notes, his handwriting neat and precise, and the way he occasionally pushes his hair back when it falls into his eyes. It’s such a small thing, but it makes her smile every time.

One day, he catches her looking. Instead of brushing it off or ignoring her, he turns slightly in his seat and raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. She feels her cheeks heat up, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she raises her own eyebrow in response, a silent dare.

After class, they walk together, discussing the lecture and the points that stood out to them. Aemond’s insights are sharp and thoughtful, and she finds herself hanging on to every word he says. There’s something about the way he sees the world - so different from anyone else - that fascinates her.

Then again, he could tell her that the dragons have come back to life - and she’d find a way to believe that too.

Cafe Moonbloom - her favorite cafe at Oldtown - becomes another place where their paths cross. It’s a cozy spot, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and soft, ambient music. She often comes here to study or relax, and more often than not, Aemond shows up too, as if drawn by the same comforting atmosphere.

One afternoon, she’s sitting at a corner table, sipping her usual lavender latte, when he walks in. He spots her immediately, and after ordering his drink, he joins her at the table without hesitation.

She smiles. Seems it’s all she’s capable of doing in his presence these days.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, each of them absorbed in their own work. But every now and then, she finds herself looking up, catching glimpses of him as he reads or types on his laptop.

At one point, he reaches across the table to take a sip of her drink, curiosity in his eyes. She lets him, laughing softly when he makes a face at the taste.

“Not a fan?” she teases.

“Too floral,” he replies, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes her heart skip a beat.

“You say that each time.”

“That’s it,” she declares, looking over at Aemond, who’s deep into his notes. “We need a break. A real break.”

Aemond glances up, raising an eyebrow. They’re sitting in her flat, surrounded by textbooks and empty coffee cups. She closes her laptop with a decisive snap. “A break,” she repeats, leaning back against the couch and stretching her arms above her head. “We’ve been drowning in work for weeks. Let’s take a day off tomorrow and just… see the city. No papers, no studying. I can’t anymore.”

He considers her words for a moment, then slowly nods, a small smile forming on his lips. “Alright.”

When tomorrow comes, they’re on his motorbike - and she has no idea what he has planned.

The decision is made in a heartbeat. Aemond’s nod is all the confirmation she needs, and by morning, they’re zipping through the streets on his motorbike. The city blurs around them as the wind whips through her hair, the sound of the engine filling her ears. She clings to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, trusting him completely as they speed through the early morning light.

They weave through the streets, bypassing the usual morning traffic as the city slowly begins to wake up. The cool morning air carries the scent of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby river. Her excitement only grows as they approach the Honeywine, the river shimmering under the pale sunlight.

Finally, Aemond guides the bike down a quiet lane and comes to a stop near the edge of the river. She can see the Quill and Tankard ahead—a tall, timbered building leaning slightly southward, the dark wood exterior glowing in the morning light. The pub is nestled on an island in the middle of the Honeywine, connected to the rest of the city by an old plank bridge.

Aemond parks Vhagar, and they both dismount. She removes her helmet, her hair tousled and windswept, and follows Aemond as he leads the way to the bridge. The wooden planks creak slightly underfoot, adding to the charm of the place. She glances over the side, watching the water ripple below, the sound of the river soothing after their wild ride.

“You brought me to the Quill and Tankard?” she asks, her voice filled with pleasant surprise as they reach the other side of the bridge, her fingers brushing against his arm.

Aemond glances at her with a small, knowing smile. “Good spot to start,” he replies.

As they step inside, the warmth of the pub wraps around them like a cozy embrace. The common room is inviting, with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and sunlight filtering through the tall, narrow windows. The smell of bacon, eggs, and freshly baked bread wafts through the air, making her stomach growl in anticipation.

They find a table near the window, the perfect spot to enjoy the view of the river and the old apple trees outside. Aemond shrugs off his leather jacket, draping it over the back of his chair, his movements casual but undeniably graceful. She follows suit, but can’t help but notice how effortlessly he commands the space around him.

When their breakfast arrives - thick slices of sourdough toast topped with peanut butter, peaches, and pomegranate, alongside a pot of rich, dark coffee—she sighs in contentment, her eyes sparkling as she glances at Aemond. “This is perfect,” she says, her voice soft and sincere.

He nods, the corners of his lips lifting into a faint smile as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m glad,” he replies, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. She thinks her heart actually skips a beat.

They eat slowly, savoring the food and the easy conversation that flows between them. Every now and then, their knees brush under the table, sending a little thrill through her that she tries to ignore, though the faint flush on her cheeks might give her away. Aemond seems to notice, a small, teasing smile playing at his lips whenever their eyes meet.

After they finish, they linger for a while longer, sipping the last of their coffee and enjoying the calm, the comfortable silence between them punctuated by the occasional shared glance and knowing smile. When it’s finally time to leave, she feels a reluctant tug in her chest. She doesn’t want the morning to end, but she knows they have the whole day ahead of them.

As they cross the old plank bridge again, she reaches out and takes Aemond’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. His skin is warm against hers, and she can’t help but notice how naturally their fingers intertwine. He glances at her, his expression softening as he squeezes back.

“Where to next?” she asks, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she tilts her head, her eyes searching for a clue.

Aemond smirks, his eye glinting with the hint of another surprise. “You’ll see,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

When they finally arrive at the Starry Sept, she hops off the bike, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the towering structure before them. The sept stands like a sentinel over the city, its seven-pointed star gleaming in the sunlight.

“This is incredible,” she breathes, her excitement palpable as she hurries ahead, eager to explore. She glances back at Aemond, who trails behind with a small smile on his lips, his phone in hand as he quietly captures the moment—the soaring architecture, the play of light and shadow, and her own vibrant enthusiasm as she moves from one point of interest to the next.

She leads the way, her steps light as she marvels at the intricately carved statues and the colorful stained-glass windows that adorn the sept. Every now and then, she turns to share her excitement with him, her voice animated as she points out something new—a particularly beautiful mosaic, a hidden alcove, the way the sunlight pours through the windows, casting rainbows on the stone floor.

Aemond, as usual, is quieter, but she can see the way his gaze softens whenever he looks at her, how he pauses to take photos not just of the sept but of her too, capturing the way her eyes light up with each discovery. There’s something in his expression, a quiet contentment that makes her heart flutter whenever their eyes meet.

They wander deeper into the sept, through narrow corridors that twist and turn like a labyrinth, the ancient stones cool under their fingertips. She is in awe of the place, her footsteps echoing in the silence as they venture further inside.

When they reach a section that is clearly marked as restricted, she hesitates, looking at him with a raised brow. “Are we allowed in there?” she asks, a mix of curiosity and caution in her voice.

Aemond’s response is a single word, spoken with quiet confidence. “Otto.”

She laughs softly, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor. “Of course. Should’ve guessed.”

With a smirk, he pushes open the heavy wooden door, leading them into a part of the sept that few ever see. The air here is different, almost sacred, and she feels a shiver of reverence as her fingers brush against the rough stone walls.

At one point, her foot catches on an uneven flagstone, and she stumbles, a startled gasp escaping her lips as she feels herself begin to fall. The world around her seems to tilt, the ancient stones rushing up to meet her, but before she can even process what’s happening, Aemond is there. He moves with a speed and grace that never ceases to amaze her, his strong arms enveloping her in a firm, protective embrace.

His hands settle on her waist, fingers splayed wide as if to shield her from the world itself. The sudden, intimate contact sends a jolt of electricity through her, making her pulse quicken and her breath hitch in her throat. For a moment, they are frozen like that, their bodies pressed close together, and all she can hear is the rapid pounding of her own heart.

Aemond’s chest is solid against her back, the warmth of his body seeping into hers, calming and steadying yet igniting something deep within her. His breath is warm and steady, ghosting across her ear in a way that sends shivers down her spine. She’s hyper-aware of every point of contact—the way his fingertips press gently but possessively into her sides, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the subtle scent of leather and pine that clings to him.

She turns in his arms and for a moment, she thinks he might kiss her. The thought is dizzying, and she’s caught between hope and fear, between wanting to close her eyes and lean in, and wanting to pull back before everything changes. But then, almost as quickly as it began, the moment shifts. He blinks, the intensity in his gaze softening just a fraction, and she sees the flicker of restraint, the conscious decision as he takes a step back, putting a small but significant distance between them.

The loss of his warmth is immediate, almost jarring, and she feels the absence of his touch keenly, like a missing piece she hadn’t realized she was holding on to. He’s still close, still within reach, but the spell between them has broken, the moment passed, leaving behind a lingering sense of what might have been.

She gives him a small, grateful smile, though it feels a bit shaky, her heart still pounding in her chest. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice quieter than she intends, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile understanding they’ve just shared.

He nods, his lips curving into a faint smile, though there’s something in his expression that she can’t quite read, something that leaves her wondering if he’s as affected by the moment as she is. His hand drops from her waist, but not before his fingers trail lightly down her arm, a touch so fleeting it’s almost like an afterthought, yet it leaves a trail of fire in its wake.

Eventually, they reach a small, secluded courtyard, open to the sky and bathed in golden light. She lets out a soft sigh as she looks around, her eyes wide with wonder.

Something has shifted. This much they both know.

The ride back to her flat is quiet.

They’ve spent the entire day together, yet there’s a weight in the air between them, something that hangs in the silence. The Starry Sept, the Quill and Tankard, the moments that lingered just a little too long - all of it circles in her mind, and she wonders if he’s thinking about it too.

She holds onto him just a little tighter.

As they near her apartment, she breaks the silence with a light-hearted comment. “You know, if someone told me a month ago that I’d be exploring the Starry Sept with you, sneaking into restricted areas like we’re in some spy movie, I’d have laughed them off.”

Aemond chuckles softly, the sound almost drowned out by the bike’s engine. “Guess you’re more adventurous than you thought.”

She grins, resting her chin on his shoulder as she speaks into his ear. “Or maybe you’re just a bad influence. You and your… Otto connections.”

He smirks, though she can’t see it through his helmet. “I prefer ‘resourceful.’”

She laughs, a light, musical sound that makes his chest tighten in a way he can’t quite explain. “Resourceful, huh? I’ll keep that in mind the next time I need to get into a restricted section of the library.”

He shakes his head, amused. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re too serious,” she teases, nudging him gently with her knee. “You need to loosen up, Aemond. Enjoy life a little.”

“I enjoy life just fine,” he counters, though there’s a trace of defensiveness in his tone.

“Oh, really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you could use a bit more fun.” She tilts her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well. I bring the fun, you bring the… brooding?”

“I do not brood,” he says, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She raises an eyebrow. “You totally brood. It’s your thing. That, and being all mysterious and - ”

“And what?” he interrupts, genuinely curious now.

She pauses, the words hanging in the air between them as they finally pull up to her building. He turns off the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. Slowly, she slips off her helmet, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders as she considers her next words carefully.

“And… thoughtful,” she finally says, her voice softer, more serious now. “You notice things about people. You’re observant, and you care. Even if you don’t always show it.”

Aemond is quiet for a moment, processing her words. He steps off the bike, standing close to her as she sits on the seat, their proximity making her heart race. His voice is low, almost vulnerable.

“More than you might think.”

There’s a moment of silence as they look at each other, the air between them thick. She bites her lip, her usual playfulness replaced by something deeper, more intense. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Aemond takes a step closer, his hands resting on either side of the bike, his body inches from hers. “You do?” he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She nods, her eyes searching his, looking for the truth in his words. “Yeah. I do.”

Aemond’s eyes hold hers for a long moment, the violet of his iris darkening as his gaze drops to her lips, then back to her eyes. She can see the conflict there, the way he’s holding himself back, the tension in the air between them charged with tension every passing second.

She inhales deeply, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the heat spreading through her body. Her fingers flex slightly, still gripping the edge of the seat, a lifeline to steady herself as she teeters on the edge of something she’s been avoiding for far too long.

He shifts closer, the space between them shrinking to almost nothing. His hands hover just above her thighs, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of her dress. She can feel the roughness of his breath against her skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he fights the same battle she is.

Pull him in, or let him pull away.

And then he’s moving, slow, deliberate, one hand lifting to trace the line of her jaw. His thumb brushes over her bottom lip, the contact so light it sends a shiver down her spine. She parts her lips slightly, instinctively, her breath catching in her throat.

Aemond watches her, his gaze intent, burning, like he’s committing every detail to memory. Her flushed cheeks, the way her lashes flutter as she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, the way her breath hitches as his thumb drags down, grazing her chin.

She’s the one who leans in first, just enough for their noses to brush, for his breath to mingle with hers. “Aemond…” she murmurs, barely a whisper, a plea and a question all at once.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, his hand slides to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he closes the distance between them. His lips meet hers in a kiss that starts slow, tentative, like he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far she’ll let him go.

But she’s not holding back, not now. Her hands move to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as she pulls him closer, her lips parting to deepen the kiss. He responds in kind, a low sound escaping from the back of his throat as he presses against her, the kiss turning heated, urgent.

It’s not a gentle kiss, not after all the tension, the words, the stolen glances. It’s everything they’ve been holding back, all the frustration, the longing, the need crashing together in a tangle of lips and tongues and breathless gasps.

She shifts on the bike, her knees brushing against his thighs as she pulls him closer, needing more of him, needing to feel him everywhere. His hands slide to her waist, fingers digging in as he lifts her slightly, positioning her so she’s sitting on the very edge of the seat, her legs parting to make room for him.

Aemond steps between her thighs, his body pressing into hers, the kiss deepening as he takes control, his mouth claiming hers with a hunger that leaves her dizzy. Her hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping tight, as if she’s afraid he might pull away, that this might be a dream she’ll wake up from.

But he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he presses closer, his hands roaming over her back, her sides, mapping out every curve, every inch of her that he’s been dreaming of touching. His mouth moves against hers with a desperation that matches her own, a need to make up for all the lost time, all the moments they could have had but didn’t.

She tilts her head back slightly, giving him better access as his lips move to her jaw, then down to her neck. He kisses a line down to the hollow of her throat, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp, her nails digging into his clothed shoulders.

“Aemond,” she breathes out, her voice shaky, needy.

He pulls back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark, intense, filled with something she’s never seen before. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice rough, barely controlled. “Tell me, and I will.”

“I thought you were seeing someone.”

“Tell me to stop.” The sentence holds no space for argument, almost as though he knows for certain that she wouldn’t stop him.

She couldn’t even if she wanted to.

Instead, she shakes her head, her fingers curling around the nape of his neck as she pulls him back to her, her lips finding his in a kiss that says everything she can’t put into words. She does not want to think, she simply wants to be.

The world falls away. There’s no more fear, no more doubt, no more holding back. It’s just them, tangled together in a mess of heated skin, breathless kisses, and a desperate need for more.

Time seems to slow down and speed up all at once, the kiss stretching on for what feels like an eternity and yet not nearly long enough. She feels like she’s drowning in him, in the way he tastes, the way he feels pressed against her, the way his hands hold her like she’s something precious, something he’s afraid to lose.

And when they finally pull apart, gasping for air, their foreheads resting together, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, she realizes that this - whatever this is - was inevitable. They were always going to end up here, at this moment, with everything they’ve been holding back finally spilling over.

The streetlamp glows, the light flickering over them. The air is cool and crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of rain, though the clouds have long since parted to reveal a sky dotted with stars. They hear the occasional whoosh of a car passing on a nearby street, tires hissing against the damp pavement, the sound growing louder before fading into the distance. Somewhere nearby, a dog barks once, twice, before falling silent, leaving the night to its quiet.

The scent of the city surrounds them - a mix of wet asphalt, a hint of exhaust, and the faint, lingering aroma of coffee from the cafe on the corner. But there’s something else too, something she only just notices now - the subtle, clean scent of Aemond’s cologne, mingling with the smell of leather and the faintest hint of smoke, clinging to his clothes and skin. It’s comforting, grounding her in this moment, making it feel all the more real.

The soft thud of her heart is almost louder than the ambient noises around them, each beat echoing in her ears as she takes in the scene - the way Aemond’s hair catches the light, the way his eyes seem to reflect the stars above them, the way his breath mingles with hers in the small space between them.

You’re seeing someone else, she had said. He hadn’t disagreed.

She wants to reach out, to shake his shoulders, to demand that he tell her what this all means. She wants him to choose her, to see her in the way she sees him - more than just a fleeting moment, more than just this night. The urge is so strong it almost frightens her, this need to make him say it, to make him admit what they both know is simmering between them. But she holds back. She swallows the words before they can form, feeling them burn in her throat, a quiet ache that spreads through her chest.

She could ask him, right now, what this means for them, whether this is something real or just another moment that will fade with the dawn. But the fear of his answer, or worse, his silence, keeps her rooted in place. The thought of hearing him say that this is nothing, that they are nothing, is more than she can bear. So she says nothing.

Instead, she stays silent, feeling the weight of a barrier that she both wants to break and keep intact. Because asking him, forcing him to confront whatever this is, might ruin it. Might turn this into something complicated, something messy.

She’s not sure she’s ready for that. Not yet.

She decides, in that moment, that she would rather have him like this - halfway, uncertain, but here - than risk losing him entirely. So she bites her tongue, swallows her fear, and chooses to stay in the safety of their unspoken connection. It’s easier this way, she tells herself. Easier to take what he’s willing to give and leave the rest unspoken, untouched.

“This is real.” He nods.

She leans into the warmth of him, feeling the press of his hand on her thigh, the steady beat of his heart against her own, and lets herself have this.

For now, it’s enough.

MASTERLIST No tag lists. Please follow and turn on notifications for @randomdragonfics to get fic updates! :)

324 notes · View notes