#that first month they meet really is a Month

[woso-dreamzzz]

If You Were My Little Girl II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Things are looking up

Alexia watches from the stands.

They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.

Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.

But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.

Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.

A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.

Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.

There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.

They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.

You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.

The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.

A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.

She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.

It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.

You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.

You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.

"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."

You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."

"I'm managing expectations."

Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."

She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.

"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.

"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."

"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.

You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.

You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.

Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.

You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.

A toe pokes you in the leg.

"Move."

"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."

"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.

"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."

"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"

Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.

The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.

Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.

It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.

All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.

Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.

She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.

She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.

Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.

"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.

"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"

"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"

Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."

"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."

You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.

If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.

But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.

"Thanks."

Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.

You stop.

"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"

"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Possibly..."

"And there's no getting out of this?"

Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."

You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.

Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.

It's just a fleeting second.

Just a moment.

But your good mood plummets as the door opens.

Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.

Between you and Jenni.

[sourprada]

୨ৎ─ 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲.

Prompt:⤷ Wanda's obsessive nature unravels the truth about her dark, hidden identity, with her girlfriend becoming the sole focus of her fixation.

Warnings:⤷ (+18) Dom wanda x sub reader, degradation, strap-on, spanking (if you squint) possessive wanda, jealousy, slight rough sex

word count:⤷ 1.6k

Wanda didn’t really know where everything began. It was all a continuous blurry line to where her desire for you started and her obsession ended. Between failing to bringing her twin boys back and stretching out countless nights toying with different realities and versions of herself, you were the “something” that kept her tethered to this world, a radiant anomaly in this shitty town.

She remembers the first time she’d met you, your warm smile accompanied by an equally delicious cake in your palms, covered with duck patterned oven mittens. You hadn’t stayed on her doorstep for long, but it had taken all of her control to not wrap you in her scarlet magic, trap you in her home and make you smile like that again. She had resolved herself that day that you’d be hers. And she did. —

Wanda blinked away her memories at the sound of your laughter. In her hand, with ring clad fingers she held a glass of wine, slick with condensation. The sound that usually brings her so much joy now hitting bitterly, because it wasn’t directed to her. Agatha Harkness, that was the name of the woman who was the center of your attention and laughter right now. She had moved in a month ago, across from you, another single woman looking for a place to rest, or so she said — But Wanda felt shivers every time she looked towards the woman’s doorway, and especially whenever she spoke to you. Your eyes seemed to sparkle at Agatha’s conversation, and she nearly cracked the glass of wine with the force she held it as the other woman ran her hand up your arm.

“Slut” she cursed beneath her breath, although she wasn’t sure if she meant you or Agatha. Blood thundered in her ears, stiffed and stilled only by her own breath. “Found a new friend?” Wanda asked raising a perfect sculpted brow at your form waltzing back to her, drinking a mouthful of liquid courage as your eyes met. “She’s settling in well, maybe we should invite her over for dinner. Don’t you think, baby?” You trailed off, choosing to ignore Wanda’s question, looking back to Agatha’s threshold and stealing sideways glances at Wanda, hoping for a positive answer. The older woman merely grumbled, eyes narrowing and lips curling into a snarl. Setting her glass of wine on the side table with a sharp thunk, her gaze burned into yours, intense and unwavering. “No.” She said firmly, voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want her in our home, poking her nose where it doesn’t belong” Wanda didn’t trust her, there was something off about the new neighbor and she would be dammed if she let her anywhere near you.

“You didn’t even met her, she’s just friendly” Wanda’s brows furrowed, she took a step closer to you, crowding into your space, manicured hands grasping your chin. “Don’t be foolish. You don’t know her, she’s a stranger.” How could you be so naive? So easily swayed by a few pleasantries? Didn’t you see the danger lurking behind Agatha’s friendly facade? She knew her type all to well, Agatha was a hawk, a hunter to people like you. Just like Wanda. The witch knew she couldn’t outright forbid you from talking to her. That would only make you more determined to rebel, to seek out her company. She needed to be smarter than that. “Listen to me, milaya. I just want what’s best for us. For you” her gaze was soft, voice turning honeyed and sweet. “Maybe you’re wrong” you pulled back slightly, meeting Wanda’s intense gaze with a gentle but firm look. Heart racing as you foolishly stood your ground, not backing down from her possessive hold.

That was your first mistake of the day.

A flash of anger ignited behind Wanda’s eyes, your defiance was feeding the dark hunger that she tried to keep hidden within her soul. Intoxicating her. In one swift motion, her free hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as it wrenched your head back, forcing you to meet her gaze. Eyes blazed with an otherworldly power stared down at your form, the scarlet glow of her magic swirling around you both and disappearing the next second. “You dumb, fool little mutt” she hisses in your ears through gritted teeth. Wanda’s control was slipping, the darkness within her clawing to break free. Pressing her hips on yours, she let you feel the hard length of the faux cock, that wasn’t there before, insistently against your thigh. “You think you can ignore my words and make your own decisions?” A sarcastic laughter tracked her words. Her warm hand slid down to grip your ass, squeezing the supple flash possessively, her mouth nibbled at your earlobe, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Think again”. The older woman knew it was crossing the line, pushing too far, too soon. But the thought of losing you to Agatha’s claws drove her into madness. She’ll do whatever it takes to keep you by her side, even if it means shattering the fragile illusion of normalcy she had built between you. So Wanda releases you suddenly, stepping back with a sneer. “Kneel.”

“What?” it came in a chuckle, you didn’t mean to, but your words betrayed you as they hit Wanda’s ear with a hint of defiance. You were playing with fire, goading a woman like Wanda.

And that was your second mistake of the day.

Fisting your hair tightly in her hand, she yanked your head forward, forcing you to your knees before her, with a snap of her fingers, her pants vanished freeing the faux cock, springing hard and heavy before your eyes. “Isn’t so much more fun being my cocksleeve than mouthing me off?” The older woman didn’t give you a chance to protest, to pull away, with a rough thrust of her hips, she shoved her cock past you lips, earning a muffled whimper from you. Your nails dug into her thighs as your throat bulged obscenely, cheeks hollowing to take her deeper with saliva dripping down your chin and pooling on your chest — Wanda didn’t let up, her grip on your hair tightened fucking your face with brutal thrusts making your head spin with desire as she used your mouth deliberately. Despite the warning bells ringing in your head, you couldn’t help but be thrilled, pussy dripping and clenching around nothing by her possessive display. It was filthy and sick, and Wanda loved it.

As quick as Wanda started, she stopped. The younger girl gasped as Wanda's cock slips from her mouth, a string of saliva connecting the tip to her swollen lips. Before the girl can catch her breath, Wanda spins her around, slamming face-first against the side table. The rough wood scrapes against her cheek, the glass of wine trembling beside her head as wanda presses her body against her back, pinning in place with her weight. “Are you gonna stop talking to Agatha?” Her hands roamed your body, groping and squeezing, mapping out every curve and dip. The question was a trap, only her could keep you safe from the dangers.

“I don’t know i-“ you had fallen right into it. Head fuzzy and breathing ragged was no state to play Wanda’s games, and you knew it. “Wrong answer, milaya” she purred, voice dripping with seductive promise. Yanking your panties down, baring your ass to her hungry gaze, Wanda delivers a harsh smack to your cheek, watching with delight as the flash jiggles and reddened beneath her palm. She lined up her cock with your entrance, the blunt head nudging against your slick folds. With one brutal thrust, she buried herself inside you, stretching, as your cunt gripped her like a vice.. The pain and pleasure mixing, turning into a exquisite sensation. In no time Wanda’s thrusts became unforgiving, each powerful stroke drove the breath from your lungs. Her hips slammed against your ass, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room. The witch knew you could feel every ridge and vein of her faux cock as it filled you to the brim. She reached around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in rough circles. — She could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering close around her cock as you teetered on the edge of orgasm. “Let me ask again. Are you gonna stop talking to Agatha?” She leaned over, her breasts pressing against your back as she growled the words in your ear. “yes. I will, please” you practically screamed the words desperately — With a final, devastating thrust, she buried herself deep inside your cunt, you came undone, orgasm crashing over like a tidal wave. Wanda hears you scream as your body convulsed wracked with ecstasy.

You both collapse onto the table, legs giving out beneath you. Wanda follows, draping her body over yours. laying there for a moment, panting and twitching as you come down from your high. As you relaxed from the intense climax, you feel Wanda’s strong grip on your hair again, yanking your head back sharply.

“Now say that again to our friendly neighbor.” Wanda whispered sickly proud in your ear. Through the haze of lust and pleasure, you blink your eyes open, trying to focus on the world around. That's when you noticed Agatha, standing in the window of her house, her eyes wide as she takes in the lewd scene before her.

Blood drained out of you face after Wanda had essentially parade you naked just for her.

[callmecoke]

Thinking of the first time the 141 discover you on a website for Sugar Babies (P3)

cw: sexual content, reader sending nudes, mention of sex work (Sugar babies), NSFW Gender neutral reader

Thinking about the first time you sent more…risky photos to your mystery account of four men. For the first few months it was going really well for you. You were financially stable enough to

pay your tuition fees and your bills on time. You could finally treat yourself to things you couldn’t previously afford, and the boys love receiving little pictures of the things you buy yourself. Honestly, you were stable enough to quit this and apply for a “proper' Job, but there was a big part of you that didn’t want to leave this all behind. In a weird way, you grew very attached to these strangers on the other side of the world who paid you just to talk to them. They helped you during your toughest moments, even when they didn’t have to do anything. In a way, you were grateful for opening this account on a whim and meeting these little strangers.

And so, you considered maybe it was time to give them a little gift for all they've done for you.

You knew that a big part of this website was exchanging nudes and dirty pictures for money, but you had never really taken advantage of that specific service before. Infact, the men didn’t even seem to initiate anything sexual with you at all, and were perfectly happy just chatting with you and every now and then getting a cute selfie to tell you how gorgeous you looked. 

But because they weren’t going to ask for more, you decided you had to make that plunge yourself. You weren’t sure if you knew what you were doing. You didn’t go out to buy any expensive costume or underwear for the photo, just stripped down to your cheap everyday undergarments and…posed. Or at least tried to. There was an awkward phase of switching to random positions to try and find one that didn’t look too forced. You weren’t too sure if the photos you took were any good. In fact, your critical mind was telling you that they were horrific. You had picked the one photo that you considered to be ‘less bad’ than the rest and your finger was hovering over the send button as you considered giving in to embarrassment and turning around now. But, you swallowed the lump in your throat and clicked. All that was left for you to do is wait.

Switching to the 141s pov, There was some downtime after completing a rather difficult mission. John was sending a report to lasswell about the details of what went down, reporting back on the intel and the status of their target. Simon was in his corner, per usual, dulling his knife on a block of wood to carve it into shape. Kyle had found a spot on the floor he could lie down in without being disturbed, absolutely buggered after the whole ordeal. And then there was Soap…

The boys decided to rotate shifts on who gets the laptop per day. As of right now, Johnny had it open beside him while he patted dust and sand out of his shoes, not focusing on the screen until a little ‘Ding!’ noise signified you had sent something. He finally looked over and scrolled to your new message, his eyelids shooting open and his mouth hanging open as he releases a very audible “Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” Suddenly he had the attention of all three other men in that room, heads turning in his direction as if a gunshot went off. Johnny rushed to close the laptop in a desperate, possessive attempt to keep his comrades leering eyes of your body. Simon tried to wrestle the laptop from Johnnys, as the latter told him in many colourful words to “fuck off and mind your own business.” 

Between the two tusling each other, Kyle getting up and manoeuvring to see what the fuss was about, and John attempting to break up the fight, the laptop slipped from Soaps hands and on to the floor in front of them, screen open and revealing the entire image to all four of them.

Any “Flaw” You had perceived in the photo was entirely nonexistent when it met their eyes. They stood and stared at the picture for what felt like hours, just admiring the form they had only seen in their imaginations. The soft curves of your uncovered chest, outlined by the stray light of the window making you look like an angel from heaven. Their eyes traced down your chest to your abdomen, down to your clothed core that you displayed with shyly spread legs to them. They didn’t even notice, nor care about the cheap piece of cotton; too enamoured by the outlined imprint of your sex against the fabric that they swore was calling their name.

On your side of the world, you were thinking yourself into a stupor as the little “seen” status appeared on screen but no one was saying anything. So much anxiety coursed through your veins that you had bitten your nails until there wasn’t much left of them. You wondered if maybe you made a mistake. Was it too far? Did you potentially ruin the few people who cared about your day and your only source of income? 

Just as the thought of deleting your account and getting a one-way ticket to another country out of embarrassment started to play at your mind, the laptop pinged. Messages popped up on your screen. Four, exactly.

“Jesus christ you are a proper sight to behold.” (Gaz)

“The things I’d do to those pretty fuckin’ thighs of yours if I got the chance…” (Soap)

“Fuckin’ Gorgoeus.” (ghost)

“You’ve caused quite a stir here, love. Never seen the boys this pent up before. Can’t say I blame them. You’ve got me a little stiff here as well.” (Price)

[uravitypng]

soulmate hanta who is completely oblivious to that fact that he is your soulmate. everybody is born with a soulmate mark, a scribble of words that are the first words your soulmate utters to you placed somewhere along your hip. hanta sero who is nonchalant and chill about things that he doesn't realise he's already met his soulmate. they met on the first day of ua and he didn't even notice, and you... well you noticed but how could you tell him.

everyone's going around introducing themselves, he doesn't introduce himself though. your bag was neatly tucked away under your desk, already ready to start class when hanta somehow tripped over it, he caught himself in the last minute

"fuck, that could've gone really bad." he grinned at you and you were too stunned to speak, your body felt warm, like fireworks exploding and the warmth left over from sparklers their bright vivid colours flowing through you, you found your soulmate. you didn't get the chance to reply to him, an authoritative voice started speaking, aizawa sensei, and then class started.

you tried really bad to talk to him but he oozed of confidence and friendless, if the roles were reversed and you tripped over his bag you don't even think you would of been able to say something, you'd probably just rush off in embarrassment. he jokes around with everyone and you fade away in the background, you didn't even mean to, it wasn't your intention, you told yourself that when you started ua and started the hero course you'd put yourself out there more but that changed when the idea of talking to your soulmate was so daunting.

soulmate hanta who lays in his hammock with his arm of his face, groaning because you are just so adorable! and you won't talk to him, you're quiet anyway but around him it's like you don't say anything. he doesn't even know if he's ever heard you talk. he frowns at the idea that you won't talk to him because you don't like him, he wants you to like him, he wants you to talk to him! everything about you leaves him in a tizzy- the way you smile, your laugh, your anime pins stuck to your bag, how you got bakugou to open up to you even before kirishima. he can't explain it but he just wants to be near you.

you want to be near him, you want to ask him about his favourite manga, you want to know more about him but you conclude your soulmate wants nothing to do with you. you've only spoken to him once, a month into meeting each other, and he didn't say anything about your mark. he didn't have any reaction. you were talking to bakugou, arguing over who did better in the practical today out of the two of you and you're too involved in proving that you were better that you don't realise hanta and kaminari have walked up to you both. you've spoken to kaminari on a couple of occasions he's nice but a bit too complimentary to girls for your liking and you haven't said one single word to hanta, overthinking every little thing. "oi, you two which one of us was stronger today in our practical?" bakugou shouts over to them.

you don't remember kaminari's response, you remember hanta's, "i mean you're good bakugou but she's miles ahead of you." your heart soars, you don't think you've ever been so happy in your life. shouting ensues, lots of shouting, bakugou calling hanta blind and various other insults.

over all that you say, "thanks sero, you were great too," the end of your sentence gets quieter and you stutter more. they can barely hear you over all the shouting. hanta doesn't look at you or make any acknowledge of what you just said, like 'oh hey, that's what my soulmate mark says' nothing. he heard you but he didn't want anything to do with you. the rejection hurt but you knew something like this would happen, you never expected him to like you but you would've liked him to say something like 'i'm not interested but i still want to be friends with you.'

the lack of any acknowledge on his behalf made it clear to you and you don't want to disrespect his wishes, if he doesn't want to get to know you then you won't force yourself into his life. what you didn't realise is your soulmate didn't even hear what you said... he didn't reject you at all he just didn't hear.

five minutes beforehand he was almost dragging denki by his sleeve over to you and bakugou because he wants to talk to you. he's had this warm fuzzy feeling from the first moment he's seen you and it's just grown and grown.

soulmate hanta is buzzing now that everyone is moving into dorms because surely that means you'll have to talk to him.

soulmate hanta who inserts himself into your life. that anime pin on your bag? he's asking if you've read the manga. he's making teasing jabs at bakugou with you about how his cooking for everyone gives it away that he loves all of the class, bakugou always tells him to fuck off and you have a fit of giggles. he gives you ideas when he can see you're struggling and hit a road block with your hero costume support items. he'll swing you with him to the roof of tallest towers in the city and talk for hours until the sun comes up about the future and plans for being a pro. he's loud and sociable and brings you out of your shell to speak up when he can see that you want but are too afraid to, he's there to give you a push but also relax with you in the dorms when he can tell that you don't have the energy for everyone. he'll bring snacks and you'll watch films and he'll speak to you gently and soothingly that puts your mind at ease when you get overwhelmed. he'll read you manga while you rest your head on his lap and you'll get overly competitive when it comes to mario kart.

you don't understand why your soulmate had this change of mindset about you, maybe it's because you're all living together but now you have him in your life you're not jeopardising that. the time you share with everyone is amazing, and the time you and hanta share with everyone is amazing but when you're just together alone that amazing turns into perfection. you want to bottle up those moments with a glass and keep them forever.

falling in love with hanta didn't surprise you, you knew it would happen sooner or later. you never spoke to each other about being soulmates or relationships (you thought you knew why) you didn't engage in conversations with the rest of the class about it either. you didn't want to put hanta on the spot like that, 'yeah, i've found my soulmate guys, i spend every day with him but he rejected me. oh look! here he comes now, hi sero!' you were wrong though. it didn't happen like you thought it did.

soulmate hanta who isn't just called 'hanta' in your head but when you speak to him or about him, after eight years of knowing each other you've gotten past the use of family names. the first time he heard you speak it his heart skipped a beat. your heads were pressed together and you were under a blanket asleep. you both drifted off at some point during film night, it was time for you both to start joint patrol so you woke him up, whispering his name. you joined the same agency so that meant you liked doing as much joint patrol with each other as possible.

soulmate hanta who's never been in a relationship before and is a complete virgin. he doesn't care about other girls, not even to look their way for a night, all he cares about is you. the idea of even dating a girl riddles him with guilt over how he wishes it was you. hanta is fully aware that you've never been in a relationship either.

soulmate hanta can't bare to look you in the eyes and hear about the person you love or how you're yearning to find your soulmate. he couldn't bare that pain. the idea that you have someone out there- it kills him. in that sense he's insecure, he knows he should be supportive and ask about your soulmate, it seems that every other person has had at least one conversation about it but he just can't. you've never even had a relationship and he knows he should ask why but then you might ask him the same question and the reason would be- you.

the thought that his words may be written on your hip never cross his mind, he's never been in denial that he loves you but he never thought it was reciprocated.

the thought that he himself has a soulmate never, even for a second, flits through in his mind. he doesn't think he's met them and he doesn't care if he does. they won't be you.

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Please do a jayvik x reader where reader is their assistant and constantly glances at the both or them while they're working and either Viktor or jayce catches her in the act

YES OF COURSE! I think this idea is so good!

A/N: This is a little bit suggestive but very minor. Mostly just jayvik teasing reader.

---

You've been assisting Jayce and Viktor for many months now. You've learnt many things about them, like how jayce enjoys a cup of milk late at night and when viktor is tired he'll hum to himself. You've brought them Drinks and food and helped them out with their blueprints and stacks of paper. You were their doting and loyal assistant always happy to lend a hand.

But you thought you were subtle in your actions, how you always snuck glances at jayce when he was flexing his tanned muscles while hammering something, or how you always gazed perhaps too long on viktor's nimble fingers working on small cogs.

Late one night in the lab as you sorted through a stack of diagrams as per viktor's request, You snuck a small glance at the two males at the desk working and conversing. Jayce's arms sat flexed and heavy against the table, his white button-up shirt rolled up his arms. Beside him, viktor was giving much darker vibes, his lips are close together in a line and he's got a slight arch in his brow. His red tie is loose and his sweater vest is undone by one button.

Safe to say you were pretty entranced by them.

Both are illuminated by a dim Amber light coming from the evening sky outside, and it only adds to their beauty.

"Is there something on my face?" Jayce knocks you out of your trance, his face decorated with a boyish smirk.

You scoffed and looked away. "You're really funny talis," you said sarcastically, your eyes rolling back in the process.

"I think you're pretty funny too." Two large hands sat on your desk.

You looked up to see Jayce. His dark eyes are boring holes into you as his square jaw clenches slightly. You see and feel something in his gaze that makes you feel on fire.

"I think it's funny that you think we don't see how you look at us"

Jayce's face grins when he sees the beet red tint blanket your face, your jaw hangs low as the two of them begin to laugh.

"I didn't mean to make you both uncomfortable I jus-"

"You're scaring her, jayce. Relax, love, it's okay. " viktor held up his bony hand with a small smile. "Were not interrogating you, ignore him"

You took a deep breath and stood up to find a new pencil. You could feel the two scientists' eyes still on you. One like honey one like midnight, but both equally as enthralling.

"If I've done something wrong, please tell me"

"You haven't done anything wrong, love. Why didn't you mention you had a crush on us? Were not that scary, are we?" Jayce finishes his sentence with a deep chuckle.

"No, of course not, but your both-", you fixed your glasses. ",well your both quite attractive and a bit out of my league, so I just decided to stay quiet,"

Both jayce and viktor stepped closer to you, the two of them putting a hand on either shoulder for some kind of comfort. You first looked at viktors honey golden eyes. They were gentle and encircled by dark tint.

"You weren't very quiet with your eyes movements, dear. Infact I'm surprised you didn't notice either of us also looking at you, we've caught you staring many times"

"What?" Your mouth fell agape.

Jayce laughed. "Of course we noticed. You were staring when viktor was fixing his tie earlier last night before we left for the meeting"

Viktor interrupted. "And at that very same meeting, I caught you drooling over jayce when he was giving his speech"

By now, you were bright red and hiding behind your hands. You could've died right then and there of pure embarrassment. You couldn't believe that your secret endeavours of glancing upon your superiors had finally been noticed.

"Oh my gosh I had no idea!" You exclaimed.

Trying to help with your blushing but failing deeply, and really only making it worse, jayce put his hand in yours. It was rough and calloused and warm and felt like home. You were at home with them and you hoped that they would be understanding about this all.

"How would you like to upgrade from assistant to partner? It's a full-time position,"

Viktor grinned and ran his free hand through his hair, the other holding his cane.

"Are you... serious?" You looked at the both of them. Eyes darting back and forth.

They both nodded eagerly. "You've been deeply loyal and loving to us for many months now, and you've become more to us than just an assistant," jayce spoke as he held your hand tightly.

Quickly, almost embarrassingly so, you said yes. Viktor planted soft kisses to your cheek.

"Come with us dear"

[syoddeye]

consequence / needling

price x f!reader | 1.9k words series directory | ao3 tags: tattoos, feelings, social media, shitty exes a/n: good news and bad news. ☕

you’ve never been much of a dancer, but you find a rhythm all the same.

john divides time between work and leave. grouses about tying up loose ends and mountains of menial paperwork about said ends, but he’s with you more often than not. you think you’re handling his comings and goings well until he sits you down for a talk after informing you he’ll be gone for two and a half weeks.

at first, it feels like critique all over again, the kind that makes you shrink into yourself. your instinct is to freeze up, say little, agree with him, and promise to do better next time he’s away. but john doesn’t let you fold into yourself, and he doesn’t take easy answers either. he’s calm and direct and speaks with disarming clarity. for someone who can’t discuss what his job involves, he’s honest about its realities. there’s no judgment in his tone, just a measured precision that leaves you feeling exposed, then immediately comforted. for the first time, you’re not left twisting in the wind.

he wants you to make informed decisions. to minimize the surprises you’ll inevitably experience. no more gut reactions, no more panic.

i need to know you’ll be alright. with or without me.

and he isn’t simply referring to his deployments. he speaks about a future without him, should you choose to walk away. 

this isn’t for everyone.

john’s right, of course. you know in your bones but don’t want it to be true. instead, you let yourself believe in the possibility of things working out, following the moments that feel good and easy, however fleeting. winter helps—the light snow smoothing over the ugly edges of everything outside, making it easier to laze about with him. he spends more time at your flat than his own, though he won’t even hear of you merging households yet. you don’t press him. rushing things is what got you here. a deep bruise always prepared to remind you of its ache.

99+. terrifying. absurd.

the espresso machine hisses as you wipe spilled milk off the counter with the edge of your apron. the rectangular shape in your pocket taunts you. you haven’t looked at your phone since you clocked in, and the impulse grows harder to ignore with every flat white.

it’s stupid. it’s not like you drew anything groundbreaking—just a sheet of cats with coffee mugs modeled after old-school greeting cards. a cute warm-up, nothing serious. you wrote a corny caption, meowcchiato or catpuccino, posted it, and went to sleep. you considered it a modest success when you woke to a dozen comments and new followers. then, some big-name tattoo page shared it, and it ballooned.

your fingertips dip into the canvas only for a group order to pop up on the screen, signaling the start of the mid-day rush.

on break, you step out back. the cold air hits like a reset button, your breath visible in cloudy puffs. shivering, you stare at the tower of notifications on your lock screen and swipe.

your eyes saucer at four figures. a thousand and some change likes. hundreds of comments and shares. two hundred more followers. you scroll through the new names, quickly following a few artists and legit-looking shops back before you feel weird.

one account catches your eye despite a sea of requests in your messages. a local studio you’re familiar with.

>> hey, looks like we are neighbors. i like the cats. i don’t think i recognize your work. are you an apprentice somewhere?

rechecking the post, you flinch. you neglected to remove the geotag. shit. so much for total anonymity. you respond before you think too hard about it. embarrassment rolls off of you like the vapor from your breath.

> hi, no i’m not. this is just a hobby.

another chance to check your phone doesn’t arrive until you’re off, due to meet john.

>> really? if you’re at all interested, i’ve got a friend opening apps in a month or two. >> happy to chat if you want to drop by the shop.

it feels like a trap. something oddly shaped like hope makes you walk into it anyway with a reply.

~~~~

she’s in a rush, already glancing at the clock before she’s even out the door. her scarf is half-tied, her coat slipping off a shoulder as she reaches for her bag, but john can’t help himself. he leans in and kisses her cheek, then the line of her jaw, quick and light like a thief. she huffs a laugh but doesn’t pull away.

“you’re going to make me late.”

he kisses the corner of her mouth, the scar on her wrist when she tries to push him off, the warm skin beneath her ear. his hands crawl under her open coat and up her sides to reel in for another. he fixes her coat, fastens the buttons, and ties her scarf, all without letting her up for air. when she finally pulls the door open, winter funneling through the crack, he lets her go with a goodbye. she steps out mid-laugh, and he’s left standing, smiling to himself like a fool.

with nothing but time to kill, he makes himself useful. 

cece follows as he tidies. he knows exactly what his girl buys at the shop now, what brands, what alternatives. he parks outside her building and catches himself smiling, almost laughing, at how far this has come. how it started with that dent in the car he now leaves at her curb, the little heart she’d drawn on the note that came with it, an act to placate an angry stranger. now, she draws them on the back of his hand when they lie in.

later, he fixes supper, the cat weaving between his feet. greets her when she gets in with a thin slice of parmesan with honey balanced on his fingers. before she bites the morsel off its perch, she holds up her phone with a frown.

“what am i looking at?”

“he fucking painted it.”

~~~~

you find out through an old classmate, an acquaintance utterly ignorant of everything.

of course, ben painted the breakup, the prelude, and the aftermath, repurposing it all for artistic expression. you picture him pretending to suffer, draping his self-inflicted misery over their history like he’s the victim. the sheer audacity of it—painting your pain as if it’s a fucking concept—makes you want to scream. you don’t even know what’s worse: the paintings themselves, his self-congratulatory smugness in the captions, or the fact that you feel anything when you see them. the nerve to twist everything into his own narrative. it’s infuriating, his reduction of everything into a palette of pity. you know that temporarily unblocking him to spy helps nothing, but you can’t help yourself.

ben reinterpreted everything, made it about his genius and his torment the way he always did. and what bothers you most is that you’re still trying to find yourself in his work, even now.

at least hannah stays out of the literal picture for once. bad enough ben depicts her as some sort of savior. a heavy-handed and garish fucking pieta-like feature. 'ben wanted to paint it, you know…had it all mapped out. i convinced him not to.' the rat.

you stare at the hard line of john’s jaw as he scrolls, barely able to appreciate his culinary efforts because his predecessor ruined your appetite.

“my offer stands.”

“what?”

“i’m inclined to sort him out for you. i know a man or two who owe me.”

~~~~

she makes him promise he won’t sic someone on the ex, and he obliges. he makes her feel better, and she draws another lazy heart on his skin.

cheek pressed to his chest, she sighs.

“you gonna to say anything to him?” 

“what’s there to say?”

“i can think of some words to make a sailor blush.”

she flicks his nipple. “i already cursed him out and threw wine at him.”

“think he’s doin’ this because you told hannah to fuck off?”

rolling to her side, she toys with the hair creeping down his chest. “i think hannah and i are irrelevant. swap us out with anyone else, and he’d come to the same, self-centered conclusion.”

“for what it’s worth, i think his work is…trite.”

a tired laugh rattles out of her, and she pats his stomach. “oh, wow, someone check on the sailor. must be blushing.”

cheeky.

he sweeps over her in one fluid roll, pushing her to her back and sticking his mouth to her neck. he ignores her squeals and her half-hearted battering. she protests, something about him leaving a mark, and he lifts.

“put one on me?”

“a hickey?” her chest heaves from their game.

“no. a tattoo.”

the meticulousness john admires translates into everything, that much is clear, given his girl’s stringent cleaning and the amount of ppe. he didn’t think he’d be treated to some gutter punk special, but it feels as professional as an amateur can get. considering the other places he’s spent time with open wounds, her flat feels like a spa.

the amount of shit he’ll catch from the boys, however? that worries him.

they discuss the design again. it already took the better part of an hour to select one from her burgeoning collection—she refuses to call it a portfolio, despite all evidence—and placement took another fifteen. shaving, regrettably, took only a few minutes. odd and intimate. when she brushed the shorn hair off his left pec and swept it into a dust pan, he forced himself to breathe.

“are you sure about this? i’m not a professional. this is permanent.”

he readjusts and pats the naked patch of skin. “i’m aware.”

the bite of a needle is nothing. compared to the puckered scar from a knife wound in his right thigh—it’s a pleasant burn. helps that the hand guiding it is light, the pressure deliberate and contained. plus, her tongue wets the corner of her lips so often, and that, paired with the pinch of her brow? he’d endure worse. cute.

he will not embarrass her and say it out loud. he doesn’t say a word. she’s finally distracted from ben’s paintings.

but she speaks when she switches to color, dabbing excess ink onto a paper towel.

“alright?”

“never better.”

“because i’m not a mind reader. if you’re regretting this now, say the word.”

“i’m not regretting a thing. are you?” 

she doesn’t immediately look up from the needle, fiddling with it. when she does, she shakes her head. “not a thing. moving onto color now.”

she carefully drags red into the design, then gold. the firm, short strokes spark a brief flare of discomfort but let nothing slip. he can take it. the silence lingers, shorter this time, and again, she breaks it.

“remember that silly cats and coffee sheet?”

“yeah?”

“i’ve been, uh, chatting with a local artist about it. he wants to meet. talk shop, i guess.”

his attention snaps from his chest to her. sly thing, biting her cheek to keep her expression as flat as possible. “go on.”

she meets his eye for a second, pulling her hand back to swap to green. “he wants me to bring my collection, if you can believe it.”

that ugly, possessive monster in his head cocks an ear. focuses on the wrong detail. he wrestles it into the thick mud of his thoughts and resurfaces with—”sounds like he thinks you have a knack for it. we have that in common.” good show.

“he thinks i might be good enough to try for an apprenticeship.”

this time, she holds his gaze. uncertainty writ large on her face. seeking.

“is that something you want?”

“yeah,” her lip twitches. a flash of something crosses her face. a wince? “yeah, it is.”

[russo-woso]

This wasn’t planned || USWNT x pregnant!teen!reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning Teen pregnancy, morning sickness, cravings, long painful labour and delivery

Summary You fall pregnant very unexpectedly and feel like your falling but your teammates are there to pick you up

A/N I’ve done three different versions of this now with different teams but this is the final one 🫶🏻

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Y/N, what’s wrong hun?” Emily asked as she walked into the bathroom, heating your wracked sobs.

Emily was like your sister, having known you from the US team and Arsenal. You two even lived together in England.

You showed her the pregnancy test, her jaw dropping as she saw pregnant.

You weren’t surprised at her reaction, after all you were only sixteen. You don’t think anyone really expects you to be pregnant so young, but here you were.

“I did it once, Em. I was at that stupid party I told you about and I hooked up with a guy. It wasn’t even that long. Twenty second if that. And he wore a condom! I don’t get what happened.” You sobbed, Emily holding your shaking body.

“I know, hun. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Emily whispered repeatedly, stroking your hair. “The girls will be with you the whole way through. I promise. I’ll help you.”

You didn’t believe her at first, thinking that everyone would judge you.

But surprisingly, Emily was right.

You had no choice but to tell the team, some of them bringing up that you were constantly sick, especially in the mornings.

“Y/N, are you okay? I saw you run in here.” Sophia asked as you continued to throw up in the toilet.

She rubbed your back as you threw up, holding your hair back too.

“Hun, you’ve been sick every single day this week. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You debated whether to lie or not, but you figured you’d be telling her soon anyway.

“I’m pregnant.” You revealed.

“Oh my god… hun, this is big. I’m here for you, okay?”

“Thank tou.” You sent her a weak smile before hugging her.

The reactions of the others was similar, promising they’ll help with whatever they could.

There was one person though who you had to tell, Alex.

Alex Morgan was like your mum. After growing up without a mother, Alex took on that role when you joined the USWNT.

In the year you played together, the two of you became so close.

Since she’d retired, you rang her to see if you could meet her somewhere and you agreed a small coffee shop.

You were nine weeks already, the party having been nine weeks ago, so you were starting to show the most tiniest bit hence why you had started to wear baggier clothes.

“Hi, hun!” Alex cheered as you walked though the door.

“Hey, Al.” You sighed, melting into the hug.

You got caught into a conversation when you finally got the confidence to reveal the pregnancy.

“So… I have some news and I don’t really…” you began, feeling tears well in your eyes.

“You’re pregnant?” Alex guessed, your eyes widening in shock.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I know you, Y/N. The Y/N I know doesn’t wear baggy clothes and she certainly doesn’t not order coffee.” Alex explained, looking at you noticing how emotional you looked. “I’m so proud of you. You’re so good with Charlie, I just know you’re going to be a good mama.”

“Thanks, Alex.” You said between cries

“I’m pregnant too.” Alex revealed

“Are you actually?”

“It’s still really early. I’m gonna announce it when I retire from club football.” Alex said. “So, we’ll have each others backs, huh?”

—

“Em?” You shouted from the living room to Emily who was stood making lunch for you both.

“Yeah?”

“Can you please get the marmite for me. Bubba’s really craving it.” You said, rubbing your now seven month bump.

“Eww, marmite?” Emily replied, grabbing it from the cupboard anyway and bringing it through to you.

“Not my fault.” You told her and she nodded, understanding.

Just as you opened the lid, a knock was heard at the door.

Emily got up to answer it, Alessia and Lotte’s voices filling the house.

“Hiya, Y/N, hiya bubba. They’ve got so big!” Alessia exclaims as she settles on the couch next to you.

“Hi.” You greet back, your mouth full of marmite.

“New craving by any chance?” Lotte asked and you nodded.

“This is the fourth jar this week.” Emily added as you grinned cheekily.

“It’s not my fault the bubba wants it.”

Your phone started ringing and you picked it up to see it was Alex ringing you.

“Hey Al.” You said, lifting yourself off the couch and walking towards your room.

“Hey hun, how you feeling? Emily said bubba’s been kicking you every night.”

“Alex, they won’t stop. I swear, it’s like they do it at night on purpose.” You said, collapsing onto your bed after the difficult journey up the stairs.

“What’s wrong? You sound out of breath.”

“I’ve just walked up the stairs.” You replied, Alex humming, also agreeing with how you were feeling. “Anyways, how are you?”

“Broke, but I’m okay.” Alex said

“Why are you broke?”

“Because I’ve just booked plane tickets to come see one of my favorite girls in England.” Alex responded, a clear smile evident in her voice.

“Alex… no.” You said, shocked.

“Yes, I’ve missed you so much, hun. I want to come see you before bubba is born.”

“Oh my god! When do you come? I’m canceling everything.”

The conversation carried on about when Alex was coming and what you were going to do.

—

You were now approaching the nine month stage.

You were exhausted to say the least. You were tired of being pregnant, you just wanted your baby here already.

You had asked Emily if you could go with to Colney today, wanting to see the Arsenal girls before you have birth.

She said yes, knowing she’d been making you coop up in the house for weeks now.

Maybe it would be good for you to get some fresh air.

“Hey, hun!” Alessia said, watching you waddle into the canteen where all the girls were sat. “You ready for bubba to come?”

“No. I’m dreading it but I can’t wait for them to come.” You responded, still making your way over to where alessia was sat.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Well, you’re not going to wait much longer. Not much longer at all. Maybe today even because by the looks of it, bubba wants to come out now.” You said, looking at the puddle by your feet.

“Oh my god! Your water broke? Emily!” Alessia shouted, clearly panicked.

“Less! Calm down.” You laughed

“Yeah? Y/N! Your water broke!” Emily exclaimed, noticing the puddle at your feet.

“Wow, I hadn’t noticed.” You replied sarcastically, Emily rolling her eyes.

“Come on, hun, let’s get you home.”

—

It had been a long day.

You went home after your water broke, getting changed before timing your contractions.

After three hours, your contractions were bad, but not close enough to each other to go through hospital.

Emily suggested you went on a walk, to try speed up the labour.

You went around the block, waddling along as you walked.

But when you got back, they were only six minutes apart.

It was three o’clock when you finally went to the hospital, five hours after your water had broken.

Your contractions were close together now and were painful. Very very painful.

Emily drove to the hospital, holding your hand for support and comfort.

When you arrived, the nurses guided you to your room, allowing you to settle first before coming back to check how dilated you were.

“So, you are four centimetres dilated. How long ago did your water break?”

“About five hours ago.” You tell her

“Okay, so normally you would be a lot more further on in labour but there’s no need to worry. Slow labour could be affected by anything. Your age. Your athleticism. Anything.” The nurse explained and you nodded along, trying to focus on her words but it was hard to with a contraction hitting. “I’d recommend trying to get to sleep. It’ll be a long night for you and it might speed things up a bit.”

You took into account the fact that you might not be getting sleep with a newborn so you managed to get a few hours sleep, which actually helped speed up your labour too.

—

You were now nine centimetres dilated.

You had declined the epidural, having a massive fear of needles and after reading the negative effects an epidural could have, you definitely didn’t want it.

You were given gas and air instead, trying to decrease the pain as much as possible.

It was coming close to midnight, your body tired and achy now.

Emily still stayed by your side, rubbing your back and holding your hand.

You were currently knelt against the bed, your head in your arms as they rested on top of the bed.

“I think you’re ready to push.” The midwife announced as she checked how dilated you were.

“Thank god. I don’t know if I can do this for much longer.” You said, letting a sigh of relief out.

“Ready to meet your baby, huh?” Emily asked and you nodded, feeling a contraction coming.

“Ready to push? On three. One, two, three.”

You pushed with all your might, gripping onto Emily’s hands as you did.

“Okay, another one.”

Similar to the first push, you tried your hardest but there seemed to be no improvement.

Emily stroked back your sweat drenched hair, placing a kiss to your forehead as you pushed.

“I’m never having sex again.” You revealed after a push.

“Okay, hun.” Emily laughed

You had now been pushing for over half an hour, but still there seemed to be no sight of your baby.

“Y/N, if we can’t see your baby after this push we’re going to have to rush you in for an emergency C-Section.” The midwife said, and you nodded, knowing it would be for the best.

You were fully exhausted now, having used all your energy on the pushing.

“Hun, you’ve got this.” Emily said, panic on her face.

You groaned into the bed as you pushed, this time, using your whole body to push.

“I can see a head! Keep going, Y/N!” The midwife announced, as you kept pushing. “They’re heads nearly out. One more push and your babies head will be out.”

You pushed once more, this one more painful more than ever as the babies head crowned.

“They’re heads out. Take a breather if you want.” The nurse told you, rubbing your back in support.

“Tissue.” You mumbled to Emily who reached over to the box of tissues, bringing it to your forehead and wiping the sweat off.

“Whenever you’re ready, Y/N. One more big push, and your baby will be here.”

At them words, you pushed, using all your energy.

“They’re here! Your baby girl’s here.” The midwife said, catching your daughter and passing her under to you.

You held her to you chest, looking down at her as you both cried.

“Hi, bubba. I know that was tough, hey? Oh, I know.” You cooed as she cried her little lungs off.

“She’s perfect, hun.” Emily said rubbing your shoulder as she looked down at the baby in your arms.

“I’m gonna take her over here to check her vitals. I won’t be long.”

Whilst your baby girl was being checked over, you pushed the placenta out and moved to the bed.

Your daughter was being passed back to you, this time she was wrapped in a blanket with a small hat on top of her hair, covering her small tuffs of hair.

“She looked like you, Y/N.” Emily said

“You think so?”

“Same nose, same mouth, everything. A mini you.” Emily pointed out

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked Emily and she nodded, an emotional smile taking over her face.

“Hi, bubs. I’m your aunt Emily.” Emily cooed, stroking her finger up and down your daughter’s cheek. “What’s her name?”

“Florence Alexandra Y/L/N.”

“Oh my god, Alex is gonna be so happy.” Emily said

“I’m hoping she is, just like I’m hoping you’d be happy when I ask if you’d be Flo’s godmother?” You asked, Emily’s face lighting up.

“Of course! Oh my god thank you so much, Y/N.” Emily exclaimed, getting up to hug you.

—

After a while, you’d fed Florence and she was now fast asleep in a milk coma on your chest.

Emily was also fast asleep on the seat next to you.

You’d decided to FaceTime Alex to tell her about Florence.

The phone rang a few times before Alex finally picked up.

You’d angled the phone onto where Florence was laying, Alex’s jaw dropped as she focused on what she was looking at.

“They’re here?” Alex asked, you kidding with a tired smile.

“A girl. She’s perfect, Al. I’ve never felt a love like it, I’ve known her for an hour or two but I love her more than anything in the world. I guess you know what that feels like, huh? With Charlie.”

“I feel it with all my kids. Charlie, this baby, and you.” Alex said through tears.

“Al… you’re gonna make me cry.” You told her, blubbering.

“You’re my daughter too, Y/N. Since the moment you came into my life, you’ve been my daughter. Charlie loves you like a big sister too. Anyway, enough crying. What’s bubbas name?”

“Florence Alexandra Y/L/N.” You replied

“Oh my god, forget what I said about the no crying. You named her after me?”

“How could I not? You’re my mom Alex.” You said with a smile

“I love you two so much.”

“We love you too, Alex.”

[vervainandspritz]

TASTE

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: Once you're taken to the Arrow house, you can't seem to understand the reason for which he brought you here. Maybe Mr. Shelby just appreciates your company... Or maybe not.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: non-con, oral (m receiving), Dark!Thomas Shelby, humiliation, degradation, straight up abuse, human t*

A/N: That's straight up abuse y'all LOL. Written for an amazing @novashelby

~~

"My sincere apologies, Mr. Sotheby," His voice came out smooth, butter like, as he slowly raised from his chair. His facial expression remained completely emotionless, the only sign of the fact he actually cared at all were his slightly furrowed eyebrows. The other man's eyes widened suddenly, as a gun came into his view, aiming directly between his eyes from a short distance, mere two feet. The older man's heart began pounding in his chest as an embodiment of a death threat looked him dead in the eyes. "For arranging my words in a way that gave you the false impression that you had any choice." A loud gunshot cut through the air, stunning the frightened man as his body trembled like a blade of grass. Pure fear, Thomas saw in his eyes, as he moved the gun, once more aiming it at the man's forehead. Mere inches from his head was a hole in the wall.

"Sign the contract" He eventually added, calmly, with a gaze as dead as his opponent would be if he didn't immediately listen. Which he did, of course, not being able to afford bargaining with the devil not a second longer.

Gripping the pen with his shaky hand, he signed the contract so evil, he could barely breathe. Giving up the horse so dear to his heart, along with his only daughter. Y/N.

~~

If someone asked, Y/N would tell that life was... Weird. That was the exact word she'd use. Weird. Months following her.. forceful moving were misleading, to say the least. She braced herself for all kinds of impact, whatsoever, coming from the hand of a gangster who wouldn't bat an eye on becoming the death for hundreds of people. He was indifferent, cold, never faltering to wordlessly remind people of who he was.

The first couple days, Y/N spent purely in the room she woke up in for the first time. Heart violently thumping whenever she'd hear muffled steps behind the door.

…and so she waited, and waited, until one of the maids brought her dinner with a smile gentle enough to bring some sense of safety, but not enough to reach her eyes. After that... She left the room, silently walking through the dark corridors of Arrow house. The cold and silent air occasionally cut with little Charlie's laugh or chatter, whenever someone would visit on the rare occasions Mr. Shelby was home. She didn't dare talk to him, hell, even look him in the eyes. The energy and power he emanated with was enough to make her understand her position.

Not worthy of even looking at him. And so she avoided him at all costs, like a little mouse would with a big scary cat. Even months after moving in, once the maids established the rules with her in Tommy's name, she was focused on being... As little trouble as possible. Despite the comforts of the big mansion, she constantly felt in danger.

Especially when the source of that feeling would stare at her across the room when she wouldn't manage to leave in time. Feeling his heavy gaze on her back, or hearing a snarky remark as she wouldn't dare to turn around.

So she knitted, attended horses, went on walks around the property and even indulged in meaningless talks with the only young woman she'd occasionally meet, Ada Shelby. Sister of a man so scary, yet not resembling him one bit. Y/N grew to like her.

"Does he talk to you at all? I never asked you before." Ada asked, letting out a cloud of smoke in the air as Y/N's eyes remained focused on the tea she was preparing.

Shifting from one leg to the other, Y/N tensed lightly, not wanting to talk about him.

"Not really, and... And I think it's okay." She finally stuttered out. "Mr. Shelby is a busy man and I don't want to get in any sort of trouble. Life has been treating me well ever since I'm here." Her voice was confident, yet gentle, just like always, not daring to speak about the humiliations she was dealing with on daily from him.

Ada looked at her cautiously for just a second, before taking another puff.

"He wasn't always like this." She eventually said, her voice low and quieter, almost as if he could hear it.

As if she knew

Y/N's eyes met hers, exchanging the knowing look which held something heavier. Something she couldn't put a finger on.

"I believe you," She breathed out, nodding.

~~

"Y/N" She heard, looking out of the window. Voice muffled through the thin wood of her door. "Please, come in" She offered kindly, seeing one of the older maids come in, offering nothing but a small smile on her thin lips.

"Mr. Shelby asked you to come to his office" She stated calmly, but the uneasiness in her eyes shone through the façade. Y/N froze for a second, her hand gripping onto the side of her nightstand.

"W-Why?" The usual gracefulness and

minimalistic confidence she carried herself with, gone, giving way to fear. She watched as the older woman let out a sigh, gently tilting her head to the side with a small smile.

"I'm sure you'll find out once you get there, Miss."

When she left, Y/N cautiously came closer, her head peaking out of the doorway to look at the door office. Dark wood, almost black. So fitting to the personality it hid days and nights.

He asked her to come, and so she did. Lazily making her way through the doorway, occasionally hearing the creaking beneath her white shoes.

That's what he was getting her. White shoes, white dresses, white everything. Y/N never dared to ask whether it was Ada, maids or himself choosing the type of underwear she wore. At the idea, her cheeks turned dusty pink just when her hand grabbed the handle.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed lightly, slipping into the room and closing the door behind. It took a few seconds before she moved at all, immediately feeling like she was caged in a lion's den.

As he flipped through the papers, she looked up, finally seeing him. Thomas didn't bother to look at her, continuing his work with a cigarette lying in an expensive ashtray, smoke seeping seemingly all the way to the ceiling.

"Mr. Shelby" She spoke up quietly, fumbling with the hem of her dress as her heart loudly thumped, perhaps trying to escape her ribcage.

Breathing through her mouth, Y/N tried to calm herself down as he seemed unbothered, as if she wasn't there.

So she waited, because he asked her to come. So she did.

"Sit down, Y/N" He finally said after several moments, not bothering with a quick response. He could afford to make people wait for him.

...and so she did, following his request which always sounded too demanding to officially call it that. Sitting on the chair in front of his desk, she leaned back, keeping her hands neatly folded on her lap. Waiting for a reason he called for her. All the dark and even darker thoughts ran through her mind one after the other.

Is he going to kill me? Have I done something wrong?

Five minutes turned into ten, ten into fifteen before finally, Y/N couldn't stand the tension as it turned into a pounding headache. She was.. scared.

”Mr. Shelby, why am I here?” She managed to breathe out eventually, fearfully glancing into his eyes hidden behind the glasses he wore.

Thomas didn't move, finishing up the contract as he smoked, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and carefully letting it out. As the cigarette came to an end, he stumbled it out before looking up and catching her staring at him. Shamelessly, he watched every small expression on her face, glancing towards her legs covered in white tights before sighing, and leaning back into his armchair.

”To keep me company, why else would you be here?” He responded in a husky voice, stating it as an obvious fact, making her feel stupid. Just like he wanted her to, of course.

It wasn't new by any means, Thomas Shelby he never missed an opportunity to talk to her like she was stupid, or openly mocking her.

Inhaling the smoke, Tommy let his gaze linger on her a little longer before dropping to his documents once more, losing interest in a conversation that hardly happened.

Y/N nodded, obediently which he saw in his peripheral vision.

Good girl

~~

After six days of her daily visits in his office, Y/N grew slightly less anxious. She didn't know why would he want her company since he clearly despised her, showing it on every step he could… besides those couple hours she was spending in his office.

That was the only exception.

One the seventh day, Y/N didn't wait for Frances to come and get her, instead she got ready on her own, bringing the book she was given by Mr. Shelby last time. The less she had to talk to him, the best it was for her own good.

Making her way across the quiet, dark corridor, Y/N sighed deeply before pressing on the handle, as the door opened.

As always, he was sitting by the desk, round glasses on his face as Thomas Shelby didn't spare her a single glance.

He never did whenever she came, even if he was the one who demanded her presence.

Y/N stood by the doorway, holding onto the book before finally, he sighed with annoyance, looking up.

”Take a seat, Y/N” He invited another day in a row, already knowing she wouldn't move if he didn't… allow her.

So good she was, never touching the things she wasn't supposed to. Never asking, never talking if he didn't start the conversation. The innocence was causing an itch, one Thomas couldn't scratch on his own.

Almost soundlessly she walked over to the couch, one that was too expensive to be this uncomfortable, but Y/N wouldn't dare to complain.

She sat on it quietly, putting her book aside as she looked out of the window, falling deep into her thoughts.

Y/N wondered, why was she even here? How did her family react to her sudden absence, did her father say the truth?

Times were difficult, dangerous enough for many young women to just… disappear.

Was that what he told her mother? she wondered, feeling the heartache at the memory of her loving mother. Her travel through the depths of her memory took longer than she thought, when suddenly, Y/N heard that deep sigh along with the armchair moving abruptly. Wooden legs scratching against the floor, perhaps leaving marks.

Her eyes snapped up, seeing him raise from his seat, rolling up his sleeves as he shook his head lightly.

”Books aren't interesting enough, eh? I thought little girls liked little stories,” He mocked, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, stirring it around with a swift move before he turned to face her. Feeling the shift in the air, Y/N shook her head with fear, her heart thumping loudly.

Can he hear it? Y/N wondered,

”N-No, Mr. Shelby I–” She started nervously, trying to explain but he cut her off without a care,

”’Yes, Mr. Shelby, ‘No, Mr. Shelby” His voice came out in a snarl, taunting as he saw pure fear in her eyes. ”I taught you well after all”

It wasn't new, the way people feared him. But the pure, little thing like her, it.. felt different. Addictive even. Taking a couple steps forward, he stood nearby before leaning down, his outstretched hands causing her to wince, afraid.

The impact never came, Y/N felt him tug on her chin. ”You don't have a single fucking ounce of rebellion in you, Dove.” The corner of his lips turned upwards as she closed her eyes, not brave enough to pull away from his touch. ”Doing exactly as you're told, eh?” His words were brimming on the edge of appropriateness because of the tone he was using. Her heart was thumping loudly with fear, and Y/N wondered whether… he heard it.

”I’m d–doing what I have to,” She quietly responded, feeling humiliated with the insinuations.

Suddenly Thomas crouched down in front of her, his rough, calloused hand grabbed her jaw, tugging and perhaps leaving bruises as he made her look into his eyes.

”No,” He hissed, ”You’ll do anything I fucking tell you to.” His voice was rough, a little odd even for him. Y/N tried to blame it on the amount of alcohol he drank. Tommy's eyes danced around her face, searching for any sign of weakness and as soon as he held her gaze once more, his lips turned into a wolfish grin.

The girl… she was completely pure and innocent. Her eyes so clear, he could read every emotion going through her head. His grip became stronger as he leaned closer.

”Are my books not good enough for you?” He snarled, unable to hold himself back from looking on her lips. Y/N squeezed her eyes tightly, trying to shake her head as tears gathered under her eyelids. ”Look at me,” He growled, and she tried, but the fear was overwhelming. ”I won't tell you twice” She sniffled, opening her eyes as she noticed the close proximity he was at.

”Not so fuckin’ stupid after all, eh?” Thomas let out a humoured sigh, leaning forward and leaving a little peck on her lips, before pulling away.

Slowly he walked over to the table, pouring himself another generous glass of whiskey.

”I know girls like you” He spoke up suddenly with a shake of his head, eyes remaining locked on the glass. ”Raised without a firm hand, to be treated as a princess of sorts..” The way his tongue wrapped around the words brought disgust to her mind. ”You think you're too good for us, Y/N? Too good for my house?”

Y/N watched with teary eyes as his head snapped up, meeting her gaze.

”Too good for my books, aren't you, Y/N?” The young girl sniffled, attempting to catch a breath so she could explain…

”N-No, Mr. Shelby.” Y/N stuttered out, but he ignored her voice, taking another glass in a gulp before turning around with a shake of his head. Y/N glanced towards the door, silently analyzing whether she'd make it to the door before he'd catch her.

Quickly giving up, as she realized that... She was very far away from anything she knew. There was nowhere to run from him.

Thomas felt her gaze at his back, as be poured whiskey into the wide glass in his hand. He turned it in his hand, thinking for a moment before he faced her again. Slowly walking across the room, as he pointed towards his desk.

"There's a pack of cigarettes on my desk. Light one for me, Y/N." He demanded out of the blue, not sparing her a single look and the tone of his voice proved to her that... There was no time to lose. He wanted it right away. Immediately getting on her feet, she walked towards the desk, passing by Tommy by mere inches, trying not to flinch as his scent registered in her senses.

Strong, heavy and... Specific.

Taking out a single cigarette out of the pack, she grabbed the little box with her shaky hand. With furrowed brows she finally managed to light it with a match, keeping it directly with the flame.

Tommy watched with amusement at her inexperience, clearing his throat as he leaned on the desk.

”Put it to your lips, then light and inhale. It's the only right way to do it,” He instructed sternly, watching her face. Seeking reaction.

Y/N tried to maintain a confident façade, but internally she felt out of her depth, cringing at the idea of feeling the flavour of tobacco on her tongue. She had never smoked before nor had she any inclination to start. This was certainly a test he was giving her: a test of her obedience and one she wasn't willing to fail.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Y/N lifted the cigarette to her lips, mirroring the way he's always done it. Under the watchful gaze she lit a match, holding the flame to the end, as she suddenly inhaled the smoke as instructed.

Not being able to hold it even for a second, Y/N plucked it out of her mouth as she coughed loudly, struggling to catch her breath.

Thomas couldn't help but chuckle, ripping the cigarette from her grasp and shoving it into his mouth for a long inhale, gaze remaining on her face which turned a few shades of pink darker.

As she slowly managed to pull herself back together, Thomas slowly smoked, one of his hands resting on the desk by his thigh. As her eyes met his, he smiled lightly.

”Do you like it, Y/N?” He asked, eyes narrowing as he watched her carefully, seeking every emotion. Y/N steadied her breath, straightening her dress slowly.

”No, Mr. Shelby” She said with a strained voice. He chuckled, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards her face.

”What’s there not to like, eh? Everyone smokes.” He mocked, raising an eyebrow in the way which made her blood boil.

”The taste,” She responded calmly, ”It’s disgusting”

This time Thomas let out a full laugh, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as his head fell back slightly. He shook his head, looking at her dumbfounded facial expression. Pointing towards the chair by the desk, he motioned for her to kneel down. With wide eyes she silently begged him to let her go, but he didn't.

Only after she did, Thomas scooted closer to the edge, leaning down.

”What do you know about taste, little girl?” He taunted, outstretching his hand to grasp her jaw tightly, too tightly for any sign of comfort. The cigarette was still burning between his middle and ring fingers, making her dizzy with the intense smoke. ”You’ve tasted nothing, Y/N, have you?” His voice was harsh, underlined with the inappropriate desire he held deep in his mind for so long.

The way she… did everything he asked. Despite the burning tears in her eyes, and fear which never left her body around him, she always listened.

”N–No Mr. Shelby” She repeated weakly, as one of the tears ran down her cheek. Y/N tried to nod, to make him happy in anyway just so he would let he go.

”That’s fucking right” He barked loudly through clenched teeth, ”’Yes, Mr. Shelby’, Good fucking girl” He hissed, pulling back, letting go of her jaw.

Looking down, Thomas set the cigarette between his lips before dipping two of his fingers in the glass of whiskey.

”I’ll give you something to try, eh?” He breathed out, looking back up into her fearful eyes. Setting the glass on the desk by his side, Thomas gripped her hair with one of his hands, harshly pulling and keeping her exactly where he wanted, causing pain and more tears to fall.

”Open your fuckin’ mouth” He hissed, as she didn't listen, trying to keep her mouth closed. With another hand he squeezed her jaw just beneath her cheekbones, causing it to open involuntarily. As it did, he shoved his fingers into her mouth, making her taste the bitterness of whiskey on her tongue.

As she surrendered, Tommy relaxed visibly, letting go of her hair as his head tilted to the side.

”You want to be a good girl for me, Y/N.” He said in a voice so odd and low, she couldn't take it in any other way than… threatening. Crying wordlessly, she nodded, tongue swirling around his fingers just like he wanted.

With the amount of whiskey he drank himself, it was easier to read his eyes. The shade slightly changing, pupils dilating depending on what he thought and felt. Her scalp burned, just like her tongue. He watched entranced, moving his fingers in her small mouth, feeling his pants growing tighter around the crotch.

Without missing a beat, he brought the glass to his lips, chugging it in one big gulp before pulling his fingers out of her mouth.

”Did you like it, Y/N?” He asked, petting her cheek with wet fingers, before sighing. ”...and don't fucking lie to me” He growled, causing her to wince in fear as she frantically nodded.

Thomas scooted a little closer, tugging on the material of his suit pants with his dry hand.

”Good,” He added, baring his teeth in a wolfish smile before spreading his lips, and shoving wet digits into his own mouth. Moving them around as he kept eye contact with Y/N, who didn't dare to look away.

”Open” He demanded in a husky voice once he freed his fingers, lifting them to her face. Y/N was too scared to deny him, parting her lips lightly, and it was enough.

Enough for him to slowly shove them inside, his own lips parting as he panted with burning desire. The sight of his spit covered fingers disappearing into her mouth made him completely hard. ”Suck them for me,” He offered gently, but the frenzy in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Obediently looking him in the eyes, Y/N started sucking as best as she could, trying not to choke as he shoved them deeper. It was difficult to focus on the task as he groaned every few seconds, another one of his hand sitting tightly on his crotch, squeezing and tugging.

Her tear stained face seemed to only spur him on, so Y/N did everything to stop crying.

”Please” She tried to speak around his fingers, feeling absolutely humiliated with what was happening.

Hearing it, he slapped her cheek lightly, almost petting as his brows furrowed in mockery.

”You wanted to taste, so fuckin'–taste it!” He growled, choking her as he shoved his fingers deeper once again. ”Ah, that's it” Thomas sighed, taking in the sight of her teary and spit covered face, causing his cock to twitch impatiently in his trousers.

Only then he pulled his hand back, letting her get a breath as he spread the spit all over her cheek, touching the soft skin.

”Can–Can I go now?” She asked quietly, trying not to sob, but as he shook his head slowly with a chuckle, Y/N knew it was far from end. Furious sobs ripped out of her throat, causing him to tilt his head as he watched, leaning back.

”You need to understand one thing, Y/N” His voice turned serious, completely different from the usual mockery he was treating her with. ”You see,” He sighed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. ”I paid for you a small fortune. You and the horse you love, eh? What was his name?” He spoke in a low tone, keeping an eye contact.

”S–Snow” She choked out,

”Ah, yes. Such a smart girl” He praised, petting her thigh and causing her to squirm. ”Which in the adult world means I own you. Fully and completely.” A small grin spread on his face, not reaching his eyes. ”So when I tell you to read, you read. When I tell you to suck, you fuckin’ suck! You hear me?!” He raised his voice with each word, followed by stumbling out a cigarette in the ashtray as he raised from his chair, quickly standing right in front of her.

”Look at me,” He demanded, and the warmth radiating from his body only reminded her of how close he was. Of how easily he could hurt her. So she did.

Looking up, Y/N’s eyes met dark orbs, almost completely black in the dim light of the room and with the desires he was holding deep inside. His fingers lightly grabbed her chin, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the side.

”...and right now, I will teach you another thing that you will be grateful to me for,”

With that, Thomas let go of her chin after pulling it down, making her stare ahead. Her eyes falling on the tent in his trousers, the evidence of his desire and list evident in a way that she was terrified of.

”Please, just–” She muttered out, before another slap landed on her cheek, this time harder, successfully shutting her up.

”I’m growing tired of little bitches like yourself pretending to be all proper, Y/N. Don't make me tell you what to do, because you won't like it, I assure you.” Y/N swallowed her tears, bracing herself for another potential hit as her hands raised in the air, reaching for his belt and slowly unclasping it.

She fumbled for a moment with his zipper, earning an annoyed sigh from him which made her move faster in fear. Pulling down his briefs, Y/N closed her eyes in hopes he wouldn't notice, but of course he did. Chuckling loudly, Thomas tutted.

”You’re ought to be grateful. Thank me for wasting my fuckin’ time on you!” He growled, getting a hold of his erect member and slapping it across her cheek, making her squeeze her eyes tighter. ”Ungrateful little whore,” He added, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her closer.

”Open” Tommy demanded, pressing his tip against her lips, making her internally cringe but fearing his unrestricted violence, she parted her lips once more. “If I feel your teeth even once, I'm going to fuck your worthless cunt so long till you grow fat with my bastards” He growled, pulling on more strands, forcing her to nod her head in understanding.

Y/N remained motionless, not knowing what to do and at the same time, she didn't want to provoke him.

Feeling her obedience and fear, Thomas sighed, letting go of her hair and petting her cheek lightly.

”Good girl”

Moving his hips forward, he stuffed her face with more of his cock, giving her some time to grow accustomed to his thickness.

“Now suck on it, Dove” He instructed, watching her face as she hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper as she sucked on the few inches she had in her mouth. Tommy hummed under his breath, feeling the familiar tingling in his spine at the sight. Such an innocent, pretty girl falling into the devil's embrace. Sinning on his account as he watched, and drank every second. ”Just like that”

Just when Y/N got used to the pace and depth he settled earlier, Tommy pushed on her head, forcing her to swallow him further and making her choke. She fought against his grasp, feeling dizzy with the lack of air as he began fucking her throat, not really caring about the nails sinking into his thighs.

Pulling away, he let out a laugh glancing on the mirror a few feet away from him. Y/N violently coughed, trying to catch a breath but his attention was elsewhere. Mirror which happened to stand by the opposite wall, a few feet behind Y/N’s back allowed him to get a perfect look. Her dress ridden up, revealing her white panties.

”Who knew you'd be such a whore, eh? Maybe I should make a penny out of you, after all. You'd do well in a brothel if that's what you like,” He laughed cruelly, leaning forward and shoving his cock back into her mouth, as he grasped her underwear. Tutting and groaning, Thomas pulled up, causing the material to dig into her pussy and ass. Y/N cried out around his fat member, trying to get out of his hold but he was too strong.

Tommy pulled until he became satisfied with the wet patch on her underwear, which was now evident on the white lace.

Letting her pull away again, Thomas grabbed his spit covered cock, tugging and rubbing as he groaned loudly, throwing his head back. The sight of her kneeling in front of him, with her cunt wet and face tearstained was too much, as orgasm suddenly arrived when he didn't expect it.

Stroking furiously, Tommy shot out load after load, painting her face just like he imagined before.

Silently, Y/N prayed to anything that was willing to listen for it to be the end of this encounter. Her sobbing died down, and gaze became absent as she dissociated.

Eventually seeing the difference in her eyes, Thomas chuckled darkly before running a hand through her messy hair.

”Don’t make me repeat myself,” He said, his voice echoing throughout the room before she raised her dead eyes to meet his.

”Thank you, Mr. Shelby”

~~

@iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @chaimaarouaine11 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @honeymoon8

[syndrossi]

Regnal AU, Chapter 2 (pt 2)

Part one here.

It's Daemon's name day, and the twins are two months old. (Dunno that the two parts really form a cohesive chapter, but word-count-wise, it works.)

x~x~x

One week passed, then another, and another. As the twins neared the second moon after their birth, they were nearly nine pounds apiece. Aemon no longer wailed when he picked him up, though his first coo had gone to Rhea—and Baelon’s to his father. It was a matter of great dispute who had garnered their first true smile. Rhea insisted it had been her, three nights ago, but Daemon had sung a lewd drinking song to them the night before and was confident that their smiles after had been for him alone.

Their new cradle was finished at last, this one with room aplenty for twins and dragon eggs alike, which was good, given how Aemon fussed when he was parted from them. Daemon carefully transferred the eggs to the hearth and then picked up an infant in either arm, holding them while the old cradle was lugged out of the room and the new one brought in.

Their nurse, Denna, lined it carefully with soft padding, then blankets, until finally it was ready. Daemon glanced down to find Baelon chewing on a strand of his dangling hair and couldn’t help his smile. “I fear I am not the breakfast you hoped for.”

He kissed their cheeks, then surrendered them to Denna for feeding, which she handled with practiced ease, one upon each breast. He set himself upon the task of rearranging the dragon eggs in their cradle, then went to the window, gazing out across the green of the fields beyond the castle. Summer continued apace—a long one, nearing three years—which favored his sons. The cruelest fevers came in the cold seasons, winter and spring especially.

And summer would be the best season for dragon rides, which he hoped the twins would be old enough for within the next few moons. Their dragon eggs had not hatched yet, though Daemon could feel warmth radiating from them even when they hadn’t been near the hearth. If not now, then perhaps soon.

Daemon settled in one of the chairs by the cradle and watched the twins nurse. Rhea had wanted to feed the twins herself, but the maester had advised that it was better for a wetnurse to take over such duties after the first week. They nursed so often that it was probably for the best, but watching Rhea nurse them that first week had stirred a warmth in him he had not expected.

Denna paid him little heed, well accustomed by now to Targaryen princes paying audience between Daemon and his father, and when the twins were done, she put them over each shoulder, and gently patted their backs for a few minutes, until a burp emerged from each.

“Is there aught I can help you with, my prince?” Denna asked.

He wanted nothing more than to take them out to meet Caraxes, but Maester Therbold had expressly forbidden them from venturing beyond the nursery until two full moons had passed and he had not garnered the courage to be the first to take them outside. “I wish to play with them for a time.”

The nurse smiled at him and arranged a blanketed space on the ground, where she set them down gently on their stomachs. Daemon joined them, mimicking their position, and Della brought several toys over, yet it was his hair, as ever, that proved the most interesting toy for Baelon. His tugs were impressively strong, and Daemon had to eventually extricate himself to offer a soft doll instead.

Aemon gummed at his finger instead, occasionally locking on as though to suckle, before accepting the substitute of his dragon doll. Infants were not capable of supporting the weight of their own heads until they were nearly half a year old, Daemon had been told, though they did lift their heads occasionally as he moved the horse doll between them, gazes following it.

It did not surprise him when his father crept into the nursery, though the tray of cheese and fruit he was carrying was unexpected.

“I thought I might join you,” he said.

He eased himself down onto the floor more gingerly, and Daemon sat up to grab a wedge of cheese to nibble on, leaning his back against the foot of the nurse’s bed. “What news from the king?” At his father’s raised eyebrow, he added, “I saw a few ravens arrive this morning after my ride.”

“Your grandmother is planning her journey here. I told her that she must wait until the twins have reached four moons, but that has not stopped her from making preparations at least. Your aunt will be joining her, and if she had her way, so would half of the royal court.”

Daemon pulled a face at the thought of having to entertain even a subset of the courtiers that had attached themselves to the queen’s court. “I am glad you convinced her to see reason.”

Baelon was trying to roll onto his back, a feat he had been working on for the past two days without success, though that had not deterred him. Aemon watched his brother with interest while he sucked on the tail of his dragon doll. 

“I remember when you were that small,” his father said. “You also favored your dragon doll.”

Daemon shrugged. “I was a discerning infant.”

“Your mother was convinced that you were a daughter,” his father continued, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “So much so that Viserys announced to any who would listen that he was going to marry you, just as I had married your mother.”

It was not the first time he had heard that story, though it had been his uncle telling it last time. “And when I was born, he swore instead that he would protect me, like Uncle Aemon did you.”

His father’s arm tightened, drawing him close for a kiss to the temple. Daemon’s token wriggle found him locked in, the embrace unyielding. “You are not too old for me to hold. That day will never come.”

Daemon bit back a sigh. He was a man of eighteen now. He did not want to be protected and coddled.

“Happy name day,” his father said, releasing him at last. “You did not think I would forget, surely?”

“Of course not,” Daemon said, though a part of him had wondered, given how taken he was with his grandbabes. His father had forgotten only once, in the hazy weeks after his uncle’s death.

“Your gift will be arriving with your grandmother. For today, I thought we might take a ride together, and then have a few bouts in the yard.” His father grinned at him. “I have picked up a trick or two since your last victory.”

“It shall avail you nothing,” Daemon assured him, managing a small smile in response.

It was an idyllic day that his father described, but it did nothing to calm the restlessness in his heart. He had thought that a visit to the nursery would help, which it sometimes did, but it was particularly strong today: a sense of urgency, but without purpose.

His father sighed, seeming to read his thoughts, then kissed his hair again. “Do not rush to glory, Daemon. It will find you readily enough.”

Daemon thought about Viserys, appointed as master of law on their grandfather’s small council to better study the administering of the realm. Then he thought of all the distant realms he had yet to visit across the Narrow Sea. “I do not see what glory there is to be found here in Runestone.”

“There is little glory in tourneys either, and that was all I had acquired by your age,” his father said. “When I was eighteen, I was trying and failing to make a proper swordsman of your uncle Vaegon.”

“But you and Aemon had flown throughout the realm by then. I have gone no further north than the Eyrie. Is this truly the only way I can serve our family? By siring heirs and flying Caraxes in circles around the Vale?”

“You assist Lady Rhea in her duties, do you not?”

He had, especially the first few weeks after her pregnancy, when she had been recovering from the long, difficult birth. But— “This is hers. Nothing here is truly mine. I am obeyed because I am her consort. The coin I spend is hers. The castle, the lands, the sheep fed to Caraxes—all of it hers. We are amicable now, but that is all.”

“Give it time.”

“You did not need time,” Daemon said sharply. “I want to matter to someone the way you did to Mother, to Uncle Aemon.”

Viserys had visited Runestone once in his first year, and only because Daemon had sounded so despondent that their father had sent him. It was as though he had not cared that Daemon had gone from his life. He knew that Viserys had struggles of his own, and a wife and child of his own now, but—do I not matter anymore?

“You matter to me,” his father said, hand coming to rest on his hair, gently tilting his gaze to his twin sons. “And you will matter to them.”

It is not the same. Daemon already knew what a father’s love felt like, now that he had sons of his own. He knew that it resided in the very soul, kindled as they grew in the womb and brought to roaring at birth.

“I feel like a blade left to tarnish in the damp of Runestone.” He turned back to his father, hurt rising in him. “You left me here.”

His father had known that he did not desire this match, yet he had not even tried to sway the king. He had stayed long enough to see the wedding done, and then taken off on Vhagar, back to King’s Landing.

He caught a flicker of guilt in his father’s eyes. “I am sorry, Daemon. Your grandfather insisted that you be wed, and Lady Rhea was the best of the choices offered. I cannot give you Dragonstone when I am king, but I hoped that Runestone could be a home for you, and a legacy for your children.”

“So long as nothing happens to Viserys,” Daemon said cynically. He knew what his grandfather’s motivation had been.

His father paled. “Do not say that.” He clutched Daemon so close he could feel the quiver of tension vibrating through him. “I cannot lose anyone else. Not you, not your brother.”

Daemon swallowed, regret overtaking his resentment. It was so easy in the aftermath of the twins’ birth to forget how dark the malaise that gripped his father’s spirit could be, how deep the hurt that lingered. “I did not mean it.”

“You do not know how difficult it is,” his father breathed into his hair. “How great the temptation to keep the two of you close at hand, beyond harm. Were I king—” He pulled back, hand catching Daemon’s cheek briefly before dropping. “I would clip your wings, even if you hated me, if I did not know that doing so would douse your fire.”

You already have, Daemon wanted to say, but that was not true. He had not yet found his place in Runestone, and still did not know what he wanted, let alone how to achieve it, but he knew that his father would not stop him once he did.

“You will have a place on my council that allows you to roam,” his father said, squeezing his hand. “But you must promise always to return.” He nodded toward the twins. “For them as much as me.”

“I do not want to leave them,” Daemon said weakly. “Not for very long.”

They grew so quickly; it was difficult to imagine missing the memories his father had of him. Their first laugh, their first food, their first word and step. He needed to be able to tell them those stories, when they were older.

“Good.”

Baelon had given up his rolling attempts at last and was suckling at the horse doll in solidarity with his brother. Both their gazes were on Daemon and his father, and he leaned over to pick up Baelon, passing him to his father, and then Aemon, who maintained his grip on his dragon doll, though his eyes shifted to focus on Daemon.

“I wanted to introduce them to Caraxes,” Daemon said, and Aemon cooed as though he had understood him. “Do you think it is safe?”

“For their health? Yes.” His father rocked Baelon in his arms, earning a smile. “From your wife? Likely not. Fortunately, it is your name day, and you can do as you wish.”

x~x~x

Caraxes was napping when they arrived at the enclosure, head stirring as they entered, then eyes opening to full alertness as his gaze fell upon the wrapped bundles Daemon held in either arm. Rhea hovered a few feet behind them, a condition of the twins meeting the dragon, and Daemon could nearly sense her nerves as he brought their sons closer.

“This is my son Baelon,” Daemon said, angling to bring his eldest close for Caraxes to smell.

His dragon’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, as though committing smell to name, and Baelon returned the dragon’s stare, undeterred until the dragon let out a low rumble of approval, at which point he and his brother both wriggled in surprise.

Caraxes looked toward his father, as though questioning whether Daemon was aware that he had used his name for the tiny creature in his arms. “He is also called Jon,” he said begrudgingly.

Daemon rotated then to bring his other son close. “And this is my son Aemon.”

Caraxes blinked twice, seeming to sniff the infant extra hard, as though seeking a different scent than the one he found. Daemon felt a hint of sorrow trickle through their bond, and he placed his hand on his snout.

“They are not the same. He is new.”

Aemon cooed up at the dragon, and Daemon was startled to find that he had somehow worked a hand free of his blankets. He extended his tiny fist toward Caraxes, feeling the scales of his face, looking between the dragon and Daemon with huge eyes.

“You will have a dragon just like him some day,” Daemon told him in Valyrian, knowing his son preferred their mother tongue.

Caraxes opened his jaw wide, exposing his massive teeth and tongue, and let out a ground-shaking roar of approval. Just audible in the background was a scream, and Daemon turned to find Rhea clutching his father’s arm, looking horrified.

“No, no,” his father said, patting her shoulder, “that means he approves.”

Both babes shook slightly in his arms, wide-eyed and silent as they looked to him for reassurance, and he kissed their cheeks, commending them for their bravery.

“I am not allowed to take you riding yet,” he said. “But do not let your kekepa convince you that Vhagar is the superior mount. He lies.”

Rhea all but snatched their babies from him when he returned to them, stiff with tension as she hugged them to her.

His father gestured toward the space outside the enclosure where Vhagar was kept. “Now we must introduce them to—”

“No,” Rhea said, walking briskly enough back to the castle that they both had to trot after her. “It is Daemon’s name day, not yours.”

[aleixis]

how do we feel about harem boy!ness x empress!reader !!!

okay so !!! imagine reader who's the ruler of an empire the size of an entire continent and half, she and her ruthless soldiers charging into battle after battle ! ness was a gift given from the emperor of münchen, michael kaiser ( ruler a recently conquered empire ), as a symbol of respect to your empire. ( u even make THE kaiser shiver in his boots omg just who are u !! )

you never really cared for partners, both romantically or in bed, but the gift was accepted as a courtesy. you were hesitant to accept at first, but your political advisor, ( isagi ) recommended you to accept. ness seemed compliant, almost eager to be gifted (honestly, he was just ecstatic that kaiser viewed him valuable enough to be a gift) ! he was so sweet and kind to you ever since your first meeting, even if you paid little to no attention towards him ! that just pushes him to yearn for your validation even more <3

soon enough, ness realizes that he's not the only one desperate for your affection. your harem of 4 other men ( i have no idea who to pick so just imagine its ur other favs ) haven't SLEPT in the same bed as you in a couple months, and they're all yearning for u :( ness has to join the 4 to win your heart over, but how ?!

the others have tried pretty much every trick in the book; seducing you ( which never works, you're always too busy drowning in work ), trying to make you jealous ( you don't care enough to be jealous ), winning you over with gifts ( nothing they gift you can compare to the entire world you have in your hands ), everything ! every move they'll make will spare nothing more than a glance and an occasional laugh from you, never anything more.

so, ness is desperate to change that ! he'll do anything in his power to catch your fancy <33

[bestreadfanfic]

Landscapes

Summary: Johnny and Simon are both done with their military service and now live in the English countryside. However, Johnny's time in the military left him disabled and with a lot of unresolved issues. You and your boyfriend moved into their sleepy town and Johnny just knows you need saving.

Pairings: Ghoap x reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse, Soap has PTSD, Violence

A/N: So, I was supposed to writing part two on my other story, but I got writer's block. This just popped up in my head.

Johnny wasn’t a creep. Majority of people that came across him would describe him as a good guy that's just a bit intense. In fact, Johnny was such a good person that he risked and was willing to sacrifice his life for his country. While his time in the military didn’t kill him, although sometimes he wished it did, he did lose a leg and got some brain damage. The point is that Johnny sacrificed enough to indulge himself once in a while.

It’s not like he was causing you any harm. No, he was just keeping an eye on you. Despite the fact that he’s only ever really seen you from afar and never even spoke to you he felt this overwhelming protectiveness over you. He knew that your boyfriend was no good. 

Boyfriend

Not your husband. Neither of you two wore a ring. Not to mention that when the two of you moved into the small house down the road and Johnny and Simon went to introduce themselves he very pointedly said that his girlfriend lives with him as well. Johnny didn’t have the chance to speak to you then. It’s not like he really wanted anyway. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t a very pleasant person to be around. It only worsened when he found out that Johnny and Simon were in a relationship. Johnny figured that only a woman that was as unpleasant as him was able to put up with. But they say that opposite attracts. 

It was nearly a month after meeting your boyfriend that Johnny finally saw you. In that month Johnny had plenty of interactions with your boyfriend. None of them that Johnny enjoyed. 

Every morning Johnny would go for a walk. At first Simon would walk with him, but Johnny needed to go alone. It’s not that he didn’t love Simon. He did with all his heart. But he needed the freedom. Needed to prove that he was capable. Even if that meant going for a walk by himself.  

Johnny knew that the only reason Simon allowed him to go on these walks was because they lived in the British countryside. Crime rarely ever happened in their small town. Johnny also knew that despite being in such a safe town Simon would follow him on these little walks. Of course when he first figured this out he was furious, but Johnny had lost the will to fight over most things. He needed these walks for his sanity. If the price to pay was having Simon follow him from afar he would gladly take it. Besides he sacrificed way bigger things before.  

He often zoned out of these walks. That’s probably why he didn’t notice you at first. It was your sobs that brought him out of his daydreams. You were sitting on the side of the road in front of your house just bawling your eyes out. It took him a while to register that you were that asshole’s girlfriend. 

By the time that his foot started to move towards you the front door to your house swung open. The loud noise caused him to stop in his tracks. He hated loud noises now. It caused him to freeze and retreat back inside of his head. His comfort space. He could still see and hear what’s going on around him. He just couldn’t process it. 

He saw your boyfriend stomping outside of the house right up to the two of you. He heard your boyfriend yelling at you and then at him. But he couldn’t understand the words that were spewing out of his mouth. He couldn’t move his foot. His crutches seemed to be buried into the ground keeping him glued to the spot. He wanted to move so bad. Or at least tell him to stop. But he couldn’t. 

His unresponsiveness only seemed to make your boyfriend madder. So mad that he came up to Johnny chest to chest. Johnny was taller but he was in no shape to fight. When your boyfriend lightly shoved Johnny's chest he toppled over like a domino. 

Although that only served further paralyzed Johnny it put you into motion. You put yourself in between Johnny and your boyfriend begging. Johnny couldn't understand what you were saying but did understand that you were attempting to defend him. 

It wasn’t needed however, because in the next 30 seconds your boyfriend was flat on the ground with Simon on top of him pounding his face in. You knew better than to get in between Simon and your boyfriend so you just stood to the side begging him to stop. 

Simon turned his head toward you and for a second Johnny was sure that you were next. But he knew that Simon wasn’t one to hit women. Instead you and Simon exchange a few words. Johnny didn’t understand he could see your mouth move and hear the words, but his brain refused to translate the words.  

Johnny groaned in frustration causing the two of you to snap your heads towards him. The rest was a blur. When Johnny came again he was in his bed. The whole ordeal was a mess but Johnny came out of it with a strange fascination with you. 

He was more aware of you. For someone that he’s never seen around before you seemed to be in a lot of places. He never approached you though. Simon had warned him to avoid both you and your boyfriend at all costs. 

However, Simon never said anything about watching you. It’s not like he was stalking you. No, it just so happens that the two of you rarely had anywhere to go and often enjoyed taking walks through the English countryside.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

tattoo artist azriel

Notes: possibly pervert azriel but y/n’s a pervert too. Dirty lines. This wasn’t gonna be smut but it is now. Sub Azriel but also, he’s a power sub. This derailed so fast. I promise we will go back to the tattoo stuff eventually. Plus size reader. Lots of run on sentences. I can't write smut so I tried my best. 

funny enough this is probably one of the fics that’s nearest to my heart. 

Word count bc this is the longest thing ive ever written at a whopping 4k

Pls listen to motivate by little mix for this. 

-You met each other because your friend worked at a tattoo shop with him. 

-When you walked in the door and saw this man that looked like a greek god standing there you almost bolted in the opposite direction and was going to text your best friend to just meet you outside. 

-You knew about Azriel from your best friend. Kind but introverted. He didn’t talk much aside from jokey comments. But he was a man that your friend had deemed a safe one. You knew he was attractive based on photos, but the first moment you saw him in person, you didn’t expect him to still be so attractive. 

-Little did you know, he also knew about you. 

-He had seen a picture of you because on your friends desk there’s a collage of you and all of your guys’ friends. Anything that gives her motivation in such a touch and go industry. 

-It was a photo where you were laughing at something your friend had said. Mouth fully open, nose scrunched and eyes squinting. 

-He was enamoured with you. Something about you just put him into a trance. He didn’t want to sound like a stalker, because he sure felt like one. But he thought you were really pretty. 

-He got to meet you because you had come to pick your best friend up for lunch. She was finishing up with a client as you sat at the front of the building. 

“You can walk back there with her, you know.” Azriel leaned against the counter.

You shook your head, “nah, I’ll start yapping and oversharing with her client. She doesn’t need that.” 

He chuckled, “I’m Azriel.” 

“I’m Y/n.” You beamed and he felt his heart squeeze. 

-Your best friend interrupted you two ten minutes later to drag you to lunch. He couldn’t help the blush that formed on his face when you waved and smiled with your big pearly whites. 

-After a few months, he got the nerve to ask your best friend about you. He saw you about once a week now to pick your friend up for her lunch break. And every time he tried to work up the nerve to ask you out or ask your friend about you. You guys would chat every single time you saw each other, slowly getting to know each other more. 

-”Hey.” Azriel started. 

“Hey!” Your best friend chirped. “What’s up?” 

“Is Y/N single?” 

She had stopped sketching completely and looked up at him. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be asking this as a joke.” He blinked in surprise. 

“Azriel, she’s a serious type of girl. She’s not into hookups, and if you break her heart I have a slew of inappropriate things to tattoo on you.” 

His stomach sank, this wasn’t going well. “I’m serious. I really like her, she's funny and cute.” 

“She’s also queer. You need to be okay with that in order for me to let you date her.” She narrowed her eyes at Azriel, vetting him for you. “Oh, that doesn’t bug me. As long as she’s into men right?” He shrugged. 

“In her words, she unfortunately is.” He knew she was testing him. For homophobia, or if he was okay with men-bashing.

Considering he knew he wasn’t the problem, he was totally fine with men-bashing. 

“Lucky for me.” He said determinedly. 

That’s when your friend smiled, and began forming a plan. 

-Your friend through a summer solstice party. It was a bonfire in her backyard. You and Azriel had been briefly seeing each other all night. But at the end, you two were by the fire and began talking. 

-He looked up to your friend's house and saw her give him a big thumbs up. He appreciated the encouragement but he was wigging out. 

-He had brought you two s’mores and a blanket for the cool summer air. 

You two happily munched on the snack, then he decided to get it over with before he threw up into the fire pit. 

He looked over and saw you looked ethereal in the warm hues of orange and yellow as the fire crackled and popped. You had just licked a smudge of chocolate from your thumb. 

He took a deep breath, “Y/N, I have a question.” 

“Oh don’t say it like that. My stomach just fell into my ass.” You said exasperated. Fearing the worst. 

“It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you don't think it is.” He sighed, “will you go on a date with me?” 

“You don’t sound too happy to ask me out.” You laughed nervously. “No! No. I’m just so nervous. You’re really pretty and smart and funny. I've been interested for months.” He’s never been so candid towards someone he’s pursuing, but you are special and have the ability to strip him bare without even trying. 

You smiled, “I want to say yes…” 

“But?” He prompted. “It’s really scary for me to date.” You confessed, nervously biting your lip. “Tell me about it.” He shifted more towards you so he was facing you. “What can I do to make you more comfortable?” 

Your heart turned gooey like the melted chocolate you had just eaten. “It’s really me that’s the problem.” 

“I doubt that.” He said earnestly. 

You huffed a laugh out your nose. “I’ve been on two dates. They both sucked and just made me feel shitty. I don’t like feeling like that. And there’s so much pressure to look good and be this person I don’t know if I am.” You shrugged. “Like putting the best parts of myself and not my whole self.” 

“No offense, but only two? Honestly, you’re really attractive. I was expecting more competition.” He quickly realized how bad ‘only two’ sounded. He didn’t want to accidentally make it seem like he was calling you a ‘slut’. Even if you did sleep around, that didn’t stop him from being interested. 

You shrugged. “Nobody wants to date a queer fat girl because they're insecure.”

That sentence pissed him off on your behalf, however he loved that you knew they were insecure and that you deserved better. 

“I think you’re beautiful.” He said. 

You blushed, “thank you. And I know you mean that.” 

“I do.” He nodded, then he got an idea. “Do you feel shitty right now? Is this feeling like you’re performing?” “No?” You answered with your own question. 

“How about this for our first date?” 

You giggled, “we’ve barely seen each other tonight.” 

“This. Right here by the fire. This can be our first date.” He declared. “No pressure. No performing.” 

It was so cute and sweet, he’s so cute and sweet. 

You couldn’t help your answer. “I’d love that. Let’s schedule a second one?” 

He felt like his chest was about to collapse from happiness.  

-Your second date, he drove his motorcycle to pick you up. He had advised against dresses or skirts and to make sure to bring a jacket. 

You felt your heart race the second you saw this hot piece of ass on a motorcycle with a helmet for you.

-At stop lights he would reach an arm around to stroke your thigh. And while it was very forward, it gave you the courage to run your hands up and down his chest. Your nails lightly grazing his pecs. 

-He was glad the light turned green so he could think about something weird to get his boner to go away. 

-You two ended the night at a rooftop bar that your friend advised him on. You hadn’t been there but she knew you’d love it and you did. 

-The warm summer breeze but there was still a slight chill. The fairy lights, the city lights. The appetizers and drinks. Alcohol for you, non-alcoholic for him. 

-You felt peace with him. Like you aren’t being scrutinized or put on display. You felt more comfortable with him than you felt with most people. 

-And you had only known him for a few months. 

-You felt safe and protected. 

-Once he dropped you back at your place. You didn’t want the night to end which was rare for you. Usually, you couldn’t leave a date fast enough. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, he was blushing and nervous. 

“Please do.” You whispered. 

“Trust me, Y/N. You never have to beg when it comes to me.” He confessed before he pulled you to him. 

It was a kiss that made your knees weak. It was intense, it was butterfly inducing. You felt flames in your stomach caress up to your chest. Your chest swooped with adrenaline.  His hands moved from your waist to your cheeks, cupping them as he kissed you deeper. You had kissed others before, you had hookups, but they never made you wet from a simple kiss. 

But this wasn’t a simple kiss. You always thought romance books were incorrect but it was nice to have fantasy. No, this was straight out of fiction. 

You wanted to suck his soul out. You wanted to become so intertwined within each other you wouldn’t know where you ended and he began. 

“Come inside.” You said, pulling away from him, he continued to kiss your neck as you fumbled the keys. 

“This wasn’t my intention by kissing you.” He whispered in between kisses behind your ears. 

Ah ha! You finally got the key into the lock. “Yeah well you got me wet so you’re gonna fix it.” 

He was clearly caught off guard because he snorted a genuine laugh. “It would be my honor.” You finally opened the door. 

The second that door was shut and locked you dropped to your knees. “Y/N.” He hissed. “I was planning on eating you out.” 

“Okay and I’m going to suck your soul out.” You fumbled the zipper.

“Y/N-”

“Azriel I have never wanted to suck a man's dick the way I do yours. Please? Let me?” You made sure to throw on your big puppy eyes and you got him. 

He threw his head back. “I’m not gonna last.” 

“Good.” Your eyes darkened. “Now, unzip your pants for me like a good boy.” 

He sighed, “you’re going to wreck me. But also I’m allowing this because I can’t wait to fuck you till you cry.” 

Oh fuck. Was your only thought as his pants and underwear hit the ground. Causing his cock to spring up and smack his stomach. 

Not only were his words scorchingly hot, but seeing his tattoos up and down his body was a wet dream incarnate. 

He was thick and long. His tip was red and weeping. A fat drop of precum on the tip. 

And he was pierced. He had a jacobs ladder piercing which made you salivate and wonder how it would feel inside you. There was a snake tattoo wrapped around his waist, with its head by his belly button and then the tail ending part way down his left thigh. 

You could not wait to get your tongue on his skin. 

You licked a stripe from his balls to tip. He hissed as your warm mouth enveloped his most sensitive skin. 

You were glad you had blowjob practice before him, his dick hit the back of your throat and you were able to stop yourself from gagging. You could feel he was holding back so you came off of him with a pop. He groaned in annoyance but then somehow felt harder than before when you hoarsely whispered:

“Fuck my throat, Azriel.” 

He swallowed, “tap my thigh if it gets too much.” 

You nodded, smiling. Your swollen lips were a siren’s call. You were practically vibrating to get your mouth on him and be used. 

He grabbed your hair gently, yet firmly and used your mouth like a fleshlight. It was so delightfully filthy it made you grow even wetter.

You’ve never been more happy for a guy to shoot his load down your throat. You swallowed every drop. 

He had a good diet at least because his come didn’t taste like battery acid. 

He shucked off the rest of his pants and pulled you from your knees quickly. He pulled you into a kiss. “Fuck, it should not be so hot to taste myself on your lips.” He murmured between your swollen lips. 

He took off your tank top, showing your sports bra. “Where’s your room?” He said kissing your throat. 

“Down the hallway, the only door on the right.” You whispered huskily. 

“Good, because I’m about to do some multitasking.” He said, then lifted you up as if you weighed nothing. 

“Shit!” You yelped. 

He then dove into your cleavage, however you pulled his head away and ripped your bra off and threw it so he had easy access. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and you moaned. He really did multitask because he began walking to your bedroom. 

“Left of the door against the back wall, is my bed.” You said between gasps. He switched tits. 

You didn't even realize you had moved so fast until your back hit your bed. He ripped his shirt off and you couldn’t help but gaze at his ink. Whorls and delicate lines inked down his chest as if there were shadows caressing his skin. You had seen his arm tattoos constantly and they never failed to take your breath away, but these. 

These were almost as sinful as the snake on his hips. 

He began kissing down your stomach. 

“This isn’t like me.” You whispered as he kissed your chubby stomach. 

“What?”

“I don’t do quick…hookups.” “This isn’t a hookup to me, Y/N.” He nearly growled as he tore your leggings and panties down your legs. You looked down to see him sniff your panties greedily and felt more warmth gush from your cunt. 

“You have no idea what I’ve thought about doing to you.” He said darkly. He grabbed your thighs. “I’m about to make you forget about anybody before me.”

“Well, no one’s gone down on me before so…” You trailed off weakly. 

He shot his head up from kissing your thighs. “What.”

You shrugged, feeling slightly defensive. “No one’s really wanted to.” 

“The day I say I don’t want to eat you out, shoot me. Cause that’s not me.” 

“Well, let’s not go that far-oh!” You yelped as you felt his teeth graze the soft skin of your thigh.

“God, these thighs…” He muttered, biting your thigh gently, causing a sting of arousal to shoot straight to your clit. His warm tongue soothed the light bite marks. 

You moaned. His mouth sucked your clit into his mouth with so much force your back bow3ed off the bed. 

“Fuck.” You cried out. 

He spelled his fucking name in your cunt with his tongue. His teeth ever so slightly grazed against the nub. How he knew you liked some pain you had no idea but you were grateful for such an intuitive partner. 

It didn’t take long for you to get to the crescendo of this symphony. The slurping sounds, his moans as he tastes you, it was enough. 

Your wildest fantasies didn’t live up to this. Your vibrator for once, did not beat the actual act of intimacy. 

He licked you gently as you came down from the high. He crawled up to your face and gave you a sweet kiss where you got to taste yourself. 

“Fuck, you were right. Tasting yourself on your partner's lips is hot.” You sighed. 

He chuckled, “I don’t have condoms, if you even wanted to go that far.” He said sadly. But you knew it was cause he didn’t bring condoms. Not over the fact that you might not want to go that far. 

“Top drawer of the left nightstand.” You whispered. 

He smiled like he was given his favorite candy. He walked over and grabbed it, tearing it open gently with his teeth and rolling it onto his dick. 

“Please tell me if it gets too much, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Please fuck me Az.” You begged. 

When he entered you, he thought he was going to bust right there. You were warm and inviting. Then you clenched around him and based on the gleam in your tear filled eyes, you took great pleasure in torturing him. 

“You know, when you’re used to my size I’m going to make you regret that move.” 

“Oh, so you have an ego?” You said and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your heels digging into the meat of his ass. 

But you weren’t fairing well either when it came to self control. He felt so fucking good. His piercings pressed up against each muscle inside of you. Rubbing against your walls so deliciously that your toes were curling. Your eyes filled with tears because the pleasure was so incredibly intense but you wanted more. You were ready to dive headfirst and drown in all things Azriel. 

He deeply, yet gently, thrust into you, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you (that nobody has ever hit before) causing you to gasp and arch into him, forcing him deeper. 

Your senses were in overdrive. Skin slapping, moaning, gasping, bed squeaking. Feeling his abs pressed against your soft stomach as your tits we’re pressed against his pecs. His head pressed into your neck as he deeply thrusted in and out of you.  

Neither of you lasted much longer. 

-After intense aftercare and very sweet words. You two decided you were a couple because you were insane for each other even after only two dates. 

-It was incredibly impulsive. But it felt good and felt like he was your forever. That’s when you believed in the saying “when you know, you know.”  

-Once you and Azriel began officially dating and calling each other ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. He put a picture up of you at his station. You were looking at the city lights from a rooftop bar you two had gone to. You were gazing out towards the lights with a sweet smile on your face. Your hair was a mess because you had just gotten off of work and needed drinks and appetizers with your man to decompress. 

-You didn’t even know he had taken it. Which made it more meaningful for him because you weren’t posing or ‘making yourself look nice’. You were real, authentic and gazing at something you loved, the city lights. 

-Your best friend saw it and her heart felt like it grew bigger because she knew you had someone who cared for you. 

-His IPad was filled with drawings of you. Some were able to be shown but a lot were just for his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Your thighs and rolls looked like they were sculpted by Greeks themselves. So delightfully plush. 

-He also dabbles in photography. Either with his phone, polaroid or film camera. He makes you put different lingerie on so he can keep the images of you forever. 

-and jack off while you two are apart from each other. 

-This man is loyal. Not only were you at his station, but there was a polaroid in his phone case of you. That one was a bit more risque and you only allowed it to be taken and put in his phone case because his phone case was black and no one couldn’t see through it. It was just in the back of his phone as a bit of motivation to keep working for his hot girlfriend. He’d pop his phone case off and secretly peek at it. 

-it was you in a dark blue lace corset. You had posed with a hand heart against your chest and a beaming smile. It would be seen as innocent if it wasn’t for the clothes you were wearing and the fact that your nipples were seen through it. Your tits were deliciously pressed up tight against the lace cups. 

-On his lock screen was a blurry photo Feyre had snapped of you two at a party. He was kissing your temple, you were half in his arms. Your arm that was wrapped around his waist and closest to the camera. Except it was flipping off Feyre (the live photo you can hear your laugh and Feyre’s and then the camera pans down because Feyre was caught). Your eye was winking from the force of Azriel’s kiss on your temple. Your smile was wide and you were clearly laughing. 

-He stopped letting clients take their clothes off for placement tattoos. Even if in some cases it could be easier to tattoo a cleavage with the person's top off, he won’t do it. -He feels bad enough that his arms have to rest on their chest. 

-The only tits he wants to see are yours. 

-You find it hysterical that so many people fall for your man. It was a bit of masochism in your case, enjoying flaunting the fact that this God of a man was taken and happily invested in you. 

-It helped that your man was totally fine with you being a weirdo. 

-One time he bent over in front of you and you just, “I want to bite your ass.” 

“I mean, you can.” 

-You’ve tied bows around his biceps and taken a picture. You loved that photo because not only does this big buff tattooed man have a little pink bow wrapped around his biceps but there's also red kiss marks all over his arm. 

-That photo alone could get you off. 

-You’re a big fan of marking your territory. You keep red lipstick in your bag just to give him a kiss on his neck or anywhere where anybody could see it. Just to mark your territory. 

-He eats it up. Like “yes that’s my lady, yes she’s hot. and she’s all mine and i’m all hers.” 

-Usually leads to you two fucking in the bathroom. 

-He is your good boy but can also choke you the fuck out. 

“Come on, take it like a good girl.”

“Use your words, baby. I can’t decipher your babbling.” As he overstimulates you with his tongue and a vibrator. 

-He’d happily be used as your personal toy. 

-You sneak photos of him tattooing clients, it’s just so hot to see him so focused and into his job. 

-He definitely offered to tattoo you but you kept declining, then he designed a beautiful sleeve design that incorporated all of your favorite books for your one year anniversary. 

-So you got that sleeve done. 

-It was one of the only parts of your body that had ink. You were a baby with pain but it was satisfying too. The only way you sat through for a sleeve is all the kisses Azriel gave you. 

-He was never the type to like partner tattoos but he gets it with you. He has a heart with your first initial on his right ring finger as a promise to put a real ring on his left ring finger that also belongs to you. 

-At tattoo conventions, tons of artists always want to meet him. You try to encourage them to go talk to him because let’s face it, Azriel is intimidating to just walk up to. His art style is very recognizable and people love him. 

-You’re known as the Shop Sweetheart. Not only does your boyfriend work there but so does your best friend. It’s common that you drop coffee or food off if the team is working late. 

-He treated you like a queen. Nobody had ever treated you so kindly yet also messed with you like a best friend would.

-Peace and love to your girl best friend. But this man was your partner in crime and in love.

[sunfairiess]

𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 || 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration | sarah cameron’s pov | childhood best friends to lovers | brother’s best friend | best friend’s sister | fluff | soft boy jj

synopsis: sarah cameron meets her boyfriend’s sister for the first time, and understands what being soulmates means.

warnings: cursing, slightly mention of violence

wc: 2.9k

it’s my first time writing a character x reader (and actually writing a ff in years lmao) so i really hope this turned out well! also, i apologize for any typos or grammar errors but english is not my first language <3

song rec: about you - the 1975 ♡

“c’mon guys, time to go back. it’s starting to freeze out here.” pope said, placing his fishing rod by his side before getting up and walking towards the helm of the boat, kiara following him to keep him some company. he was right: the temperature had started to drop, and honestly he didn’t even know why the pogues decided to go fishing at the end of november.

they were all there, except for the pogue princess as they liked to call her. she was john b’s younger sister, just by one year; and even though she was definitely a pogue down to her core, she actually almost looked like a kook: she was always composed, never drank too much, never even touched a cigarette or a joint, and she worked her ass off every afternoon at the country club to help john b with the bills and to afford a few of the things she liked.

she was smart, kind, the type of girl to lighten up a room with the sound of her laughter. she was also one of the reasons why the ‘no pogue-on-pogue macking‘ rule was made: everyone kind of had a thing for her, and jj maybank was the first in line.

“i seriously regret coming, i think i’m going into hypothermia.” jj said, shuddering a little bit. yes, it was cold, but it wasn’t that cold. jj just liked to be dramatic.

“gosh, you’re such a pussy.” john b laughed, smacking his best friend behind the head. they’ve know each other for more than ten years now. they weren’t friends anymore, they were brothers. they loved and cared for each other very deeply, even if they were acting like jerks most of the time.

as pope started the engine of the hms pogue, ready to go back to the château, john b took his sweatshirt off to pass it to sarah, his new girlfriend. she was a kook, but she was different. she didn’t care about how dissimilar their lives were, she loved spending time with the pogues because they were real. they were amazing friends, they were funny and smart, and the kind of people you could have a serious conversation with. they weren’t superficial like the kooks, and she loved them for this.

she felt a little tap on her leg, catching with her vision her boyfriend’s sweater. she gave john b a smile and slid the blue piece of clothing on. “so, i’m meeting your sister for the first time today, uh. big step.” sarah joked, slightly pushing his arm.

since the first moment they started dating, john b had always talked about how he wanted her to meet his sister. she was the most important person in his life, especially after his dad went missing at sea during a storm. he actually wanted sarah to meet her right away, but she asked him to wait a couple of months, just to see if they were solid about this relationship. “yup, and trust me you’re gonna love her. she’s like a little ball of sunshine, she wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” he said, smiling at the thought how of sweet his sister was with everyone.

“he’s right. i don’t think i’ve even ever seen her mad.” jj stated, shifting his seat from john b’s right to sarah’s left.

“she seems really nice, but i’m not worried about me liking her, because, by what you guys always say about her, i already do. i’m just worried she won’t like me, you know because of the whole pogue-kook thing.”

everyone bursted out laughing at sarah’s words, her face more confused than ever. “what? what did I say?” kiara left pope at the helm of the boat, and went to sit in front of her, crossing her legs together. “you don’t need to worry about that, she doesn’t give a shit about the rivalry. trust me, she looks like she walked out of a cruise brochure. the only thing she wants is to see her brother with someone who makes him happy, which you do, so she’s totally gonna be fine with it.” sarah smiled at her words, feeling a bit more relieved now.

even though pope wasn’t seating next to them, he could still perfectly hear their conversation and see sarah’s tensed body. that’s why he decided to lighten up a bit the discussion. “you know, one time she made jj dress up as a reindeer.” he said getting out a chuckle at the memory of jj dressed as one of santa claus’s reindeers.

kiara followed him with a loud laughter “oh my god it’s true, i almost forgot it.”

sarah gave them an amazed look. she was enjoying this too much to not say anything. “okay, this is actually the funniest thing i’ve ever heard. did you had a red nose like little rudolph, too?” she said with a smirk, turning her head towards jj’s.

“oh shut up, all of you. i only did it because she asked. besides, she looked so happy when i changed into that costume. i would honestly do it again.” jj let out an involontary smile at the thought of y/n. it was like this all the time: wether he wanted it or not, the only thought of y/n made him feel like he was the happiest man on earth, even if he wasn’t. she just had that effect on him.

“god, it’s sickening how whipped you are for my sister.” john b said, mimicking a gag reflex.

jj rolled his eyes at his words. sarah switching her gaze between the two boys sitting one to her left, and the other to her right. she then stopped to look at jj. “wait- you like y/n?”

“like? hell, he loves that girl. he’s been in love with her since he was six. the random hook ups he has? that’s all for show. he only does it to not draw suspicion, since the only girl he’d like to fuck— and sorry john b— is y/n.” pope said, fully exposing his friend’s feelings.

not that jj cared anyway. everyone knew how he felt about her, he didn’t even try to deny it anymore.

“and you’re completely fine with it?“ sarah asked john b, knowing how protective he was when it came to his sister.

“i wasn’t always. first time he told me he loved her? i punched him. not my finest moment but i was kinda mad.” john b replied, slightly chuckling, reminiscing his right fist hitting jj’s jawbone. “i mean, the day before he tells me he sees her as a little sister and then that he wants to sleep with her? hell nah, i wasn’t having that.”

“and what changed your mind?”

“because it’s jj. i know my best friend, and i know how much he cares for her. i knew he was never going to hurt her, i’m actually pretty sure he would die for her.”

sarah nodded along. the look on jj’s face confirming that what john b had just said was a hundred percent true. in that moment a thought crossed her mind, making her think about how what jj and y/n must’ve been something truly special.

“bubba, we’re home.” john b shouted, as he opened the château’s door. the house was silent, except for a light melody coming from the bathroom and the sound of the shower running. “shower! be right there!” sarah heard y/n shout back, as every one of the pogues sat on the couch: her ending up between her boyfriend and kiara, next to who was seated pope; and a bit far away from them jj. she figured he left the space empty for y/n.

about ten minutes later, while the pogues were having a conversation about an upcoming party at the boneyard, a sixteen year old girl came out of the bathroom, wearing a pink sweater and long white sweatpants. white socks at her feet and long wet hair cascading down her back. she walked up to them, bending slightly to place a kiss on her brother’s cheek, and proceeding to do the same with all the others.

she then retraced her steps and stopped in front of sarah. “so you’re the reason why my brother stopped being a cranky old lady.” she smiled, offering her her right hand. “i’m y/n, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“sarah. it’s a pleasure to meet you too, john b’s always talking about you.” sarah replied, shaking her hand. y/n let out a small laugh, as she walked towards the end of the couch were jj was seated.

she plopped down next to him, tucking her legs under her bottom and leaning into him. he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer and gently leaving a kiss to the side of her head. “he’s always talking about you too. i swear the other night he woke me up around 3am just to tell me how amazing your date was. which, don’t get me wrong, i was very happy to hear about.”

“you literally throw a pillow in my face.” john b said.

“duh, because you woke me at 3 fucking a.m. i love you bird, but for gods sakes let a girl sleep.” she replied, making everyone laugh at her comment.

the conversation resumed pretty quickly, this time through with jj paying way less attention to it, more focused on the girl next to him.

the entire evening, between laughters and bottles of beers, sarah observed how jj and y/n were always caught up in their whole world. jj’s hands being constantly on her body, wether it was a arm around her shoulders or his hand on her leg. they were glued to each other, sometimes even whispering between them words only they could catch.

for the second time that day, sarah thought about how jj and y/n’s bond was special, going beyond simple friendship.

it was almost two a.m. when kie and pope left, both returning to their respective houses to avoid their parents storming out on them. sarah instead was going to spend the night there, so since jj and john b were on the front porch smoking a joint, obviously a jj’s idea, she and y/n were the only two people moving around the living room, cleaning up the mess of empty beer bottles and pizza boxes.

the whole night she noticed how jj and y/n acted around each other, so since they were now alone, she just felt like she had to ask. “so what’s the deal between you and jj?”

“there’s no deal, we’re friends.” y/n said calmly.

“bullshit, i noticed the way you look at him and how he looks at you. that’s the look of love, sweetie.” sarah decided not to mention how jj actually felt about her. it wasn’t her place to say tell the truth.

“nah, jj would never go for someone like me. he only sees me as a little sister, besides i’m not even his type.” she replied, giving her a kind smile, even though she felt like a lump was stuck right down her throat. y/n always knew she wasn’t the kind of girl jj would want, the were total polar opposites, and truthfully she never even considered herself that much beautiful to have a chance with him.

“since when jj has a type? doesn’t he hits on every breathing human being?” sarah knew this probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but sometimes people needed a little push to blurt out their feelings. to her surprise though, y/n laughed, most likely because she knew how their friend had a habit of flirting with almost every girl he met. it didn’t matter if they were pogues or tourons, or hell even kooks sometimes. a pretty girl is a pretty girl, doesn’t matter where she comes from.

“kinda, but he always hooks up with victoria-secreys-models type of girls, if you get what i mean. and apart from that, we want different things. he doesn’t do relationships and i don’t do random hook ups. not to mention how the possibility of me and jj being together would probably give an aneurysm to my brother.”

“eh, i wouldn’t be so sure about that, ya know. either way though, you like him, don’t you?“ sarah said, remembering the conversation she and the other guys had on the boat.

busted. y/n stayed silent, sailing her lips in a thin, straight line. she then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, getting ready to spill everything out. she figured it was time to tell the truth anyway, since sarah clearly figured everything out.

“i met jj when i was four, we were in kindergarten and some older boys were picking on me. i was smaller and basically on the edge of tears, until i saw this blonde boy running towards me and putting himself between us. even if he was younger than them he still took my defense. after that he walked me home and told me he was a friend of john b’s. since that day, i don’t think i’ve ever liked someone that wasn’t him.“

she took a small pause, just to catch her breath. but she was so caught up in narrating the whole story, that she didn’t notice john b and jj leaning against the doorframe.

jj’s eyes almost bursting out of his face at her words, not expecting to hear her confession. john b, very aware of how his best friend was going to lose his shit any minute now, he places his finger against his mouth, mimicking him to shut up.

“as we grew older the roles kinda reversed and i started to look out for him: when he would come here bruised because of his father i would hug him and clean him up; even if younger than him i helped him study, you know just avoiding he would fail some subjects. at night, dad used to let him sleep next to me or john b because he didn’t want to be alone, thing that of course dad prohibited when i turned twelve. that didn’t stop him though: he would sneak out as soon as john b would fall asleep and come under the covers with me.”

she let out a laugh. “would sir. freud love this? probably yes, but it doesn’t matter. he deserves someone that cares for him, everyone does. and it’s not pity or mercy, i genuinely want to be there for him, because he deserves the best. yet, because of his father he’s convinced he’s worthless, but he’s not. gosh, he’s so funny and smart, which i know sounds weird but he is. he would die for his friends and cares so much for us. and i’m sure he could make it out of obx if only he wanted to. and he’s always so supportive and gen-“

she could’ve kept going on, but she suddenly noticed the two boys staring right up at her. jj’s eyes were watery, like he was going to cry any second now. he didn’t cry much, only when really fucked up things happened in his life, but for the first time he felt like crying not because he was sad and tired but because he was happy. because finally he could’ve had something great going on in his life. he could’ve had her.

without saying anything he launched himself into y/n’s arms, letting her stumble back due to the rushed impact between their bodies. he hold her tight, his arms around her waist and hers around his neck. his face placed in the space between her shoulder and her neck, breathing in the smell of the coconut soap she always used. he didn’t care about sarah and john b still being in the room, he wouldn’t even care if a freaking zebra walked in the house. she was the only thing that mattered. she was his whole universe.

“you shouldn’t eavesdrop, maybank.” she said with a smirk, putting a bit of distance between their bodies so she could look at him in the face, but still managing to play with the of hair at the nape of his neck.

“did you actually mean it? like for real?”

“every word, jay. you know me, i would never lie to you.”

jj maybank was impulsive. half of the time he never thought before acting, which pretty much resulted in him dealing with the aftermath of his stupid decisions. that’s why he didn’t think twice in grabbing y/n’s face with his hands, pressing his lips against hers.

at first he felt her stiffening, probably surprised by his gesture, and for a moment he really thought he had just screwed everything up. but then her hands went to his shirt, yanking him even closer if possible, and he sensed her relaxing, her lips moving against his.

after what seemed like hours, he pulled back, only because they both needed air. if it was up to him, he would’ve spent hours kissing her without getting a break.

“i’ve been loving you for a long time, princess.” she smiled, her cheeks almost hurting because of all the happiness she was feeling.

“well, you’re very lucky then, because i’ve been loving you for a long time too.”

“i can’t watch this, i think i’m gonna throw up.”

sarah nudged her elbow into her boyfriend stomach, giving him a look that said ‘shut the fuck up or i’m killing you’. john b raised his hands in the air, admitting defeat.

and, as they watched jj starting to kiss y/n again, sarah thought of how her own relationship was truly amazing. but in her opinion? what y/n and jj had was the true definition of soulmates.

[onechicagolife]

little sis

summary: in which you have a protective older brother

requested? yes by anonymous

word count: 1117

warnings: severide!reader

a/n: this was requested and started before jack damon existed... sev’s really got siblings coming out of the woodwork 😅 

want to be tagged? link in bio <3

When you found out that you had a long-lost older brother, you weren’t entirely surprised. Your father, Benny Severide, was notorious for abandoning his family – no, his families. He left you and your mom when you were young, dropping by every other month for a weekend of good old father-daughter bonding. Those visits became less frequent as time went on when he remarried, again, and had two stepsons who you never met. Another new family. You were in your early twenties when your mom got sick and when she was near her death bed, she told you about your brother.

Kelly Severide.

You immediately searched him online once you found out he was a firefighter in Chicago, and after reading dozens of articles about the people he’s saved, you knew you had to meet him. All you had was his name and where he worked, so you traveled to Chicago and showed up at his firehouse. The connection was immediate and the bond you formed was unlike any relationship in your life, one of unconditional love and support. You decided to move there to be closer to him, since he was the only real family you had left, and he let you stay with him while you got on your feet. He was your big brother in every sense of the word. Which meant, unfortunately, he was protective of your relationships. Over-protective, one could say. Scratch that – one would say, because he is.

That is the biggest reason you’ve kept your new relationship a secret from everyone. If you could create the perfect man in a lab, he would be Jay Halstead. You’ve been dating for three months now, and it is without a doubt the healthiest relationship you’ve been. For the first time in maybe ever, you felt seen. The only problem is that you are afraid of your older brother’s reaction to dating someone he knows, someone that is older than you and someone who lives such a dangerous job. Ironic.

Kelly and Jay have worked together before and while they’ve never been close friends, their mutual friends all hanging out together at Molly’s is what led you into Jay’s arms to begin with. Hell, they even dated the same girl in the past, which makes the whole situation even more risky. You valued Kelly’s opinion more than anything and knowing he disapproved of your relationship might actually break you. Because as hard as you are falling for Jay, if your brother told you to choose, you know who it would be.

“Do you want another beer?” Jay calls out from the kitchen.

The sound of his melodic voice pulls you from your wallowing and you call out, “Sure!” You bite at the nail on your thumb, a nasty habit your mom tried for years to break, getting lost in thought again until he settles next to you on the couch. You jump slightly, muttering a thanks and grabbing the outstretched bottle from his hand.

Jay studies you for a moment, “You okay?” Before you can word-vomit all over him, a knock on the door of your apartment sounds. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No,” you hum as you check the time on your phone, “Maybe the pizza is early.” You set your beer on the coaster and stand, shuffling over and peering through the peephole. Eyes widening, you jump back from the door like it’s on fire. “It’s Kelly!” you whisper-shout, spinning around to face him with wide eyes. “You have to hide.”

He lets out a chuckle, “Seriously?” When he realizes you are not laughing with him, Jay arches a brow and lets out a scoff, “You’re serious.” He stares at you for another beat, waiting, but you just arch your brows and gesture towards the other room. Feeling a bit ridiculous but also understanding how nervous you are about your still relatively new relationship with your brother, he relents with a shake of his head, muttering something unintelligible under his breath as he hides in the bathroom.

You let out a shaky breath, calming your nerves before unlocking and opening the door with a forced smile. “Hey bro!” you try not to cringe at the sound of your own voice, clearing your throat. “What’s up?”

The older man studies your face, biting back a smile, “Can we talk?”

Before you can answer, he takes a step forward and gently pushes his way into your apartment. You swallow nervously as you close the door, eyes ticking towards the half-closed bathroom door before turning and following him deeper inside. “Is everything okay?”

“You tell me,” he counters with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. When you simply furrow your brows at him, he clicks his tongue. “I heard a rumor about you.”

You can’t help but snort as you fold your arms over your chest, “Are we in high school?” Kelly chuckles at the sass, still getting used to the whole younger sister thing. “Sorry,” you give a sheepish shrug, “What kind of rumor?”

“Are you dating someone?”

You blink, shuffling between your feet, “Wh-what?” When he doesn’t respond, just sends you a look, you sigh and mumble an answer.

He lifts a hand to his ear, “What was that?”

Narrowing your eyes, you fight a smile at his teasing, “Maybe. How did you know?”

“A buddy of mine thought he saw you at dinner the other night at Rinaldi’s. I thought it was a mistake, since you said you couldn’t have dinner with me and Stella because you had to work. But now that I think about it, you’ve been acting kind of secretive lately.”

Guilt washes over you at the reminder of your lies, “I’m sorry. I—I wasn’t ready to tell anyone yet. It’s still new.”

Kelly smiles softly, “Well, I’ve also noticed you’ve been happier lately. Seeing you happy… That’s all that matters to me. So, I just wanted you to know that I approve.”

Approve? Did he… did he know? No, he couldn’t. If he knew it was Jay that you were at dinner with, wouldn’t he have mentioned that part already? Surely, he would’ve. After a moment of spiraling, you actually digest his words and blink back the sudden rush of unexpected tears. You clear your throat, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he takes a few steps closer, “That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Okay,” you nod back, not turning around as he walks towards the door.

“Actually, one more thing,” his voice cuts through the silence and you glance over your shoulder with a curious look. A devilish smirk tugs at his lips as Kelly nods his head towards the bathroom, “Tell Halstead he owes me a beer.”

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱

Mike Schmidt x male reader

A request that I received from a friend on tumblr. ‘The reader has to leave for a week roughly, when he comes back Abby is obviously excited and wanting to play with the reader the rest of the day. But all Mike wants to do is have you under him writhing in ecstasy. Basically it's Mike having blue balls for most of the fic until the end when it's night and he *politely* hugs the reader while they frantically make love’

Tags: Part 10 of this miniseries of Mike Schmidt x male reader. No use of Y/N. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Mike is missing you deeply. A tiny bit of jealousy. Mentions of phone sex. Smut. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Anal sex.

Words count: 3000 words

Part 1-Part 2- Part 3-Part 4-Part 5-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8 -Part 9

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

The moment you stepped through the door, Abby's squeal echoed through the house. You barely had time to set your bag down before she came bounding toward you, her little arms outstretched. She wrapped herself around your waist in an enthusiastic hug, nearly knocking you off balance.

"You're back! You're back!" she cried, hopping on her toes as if to emphasize the sheer force of her excitement.

You laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Missed me that much?"

She pulled back, her face a mixture of indignation and joy. "Of course I missed you! You've been gone forever!" She tugged at your hand insistently, her small fingers gripping tightly. "You have to see what I did while you were gone. I drew a lot! And I made one for you and you have to see it."

"Abby, take it easy, you're going to knock him over," Mike's voice came from the kitchen, casual but unmistakably warm. "He has been gone a week and you've got him chained to you already?"

"I missed you too," you said with a grin before kneeling down to meet Abby’s eye level. "Have you been good while I was gone? Not driving your brother too crazy, I hope?"

Abby giggled, then held out her pinky. "Promise I've been super good. Except maybe when I made Mike drop the spaghetti last night because I tried to do a cartwheel in the kitchen."

You glanced up at Mike, your smile widening. “Sounds like I missed quite a week.”

Mike rolled his eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Sorry about her," his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "She's been talking about you all week. You'd think you were gone for months." His voice sent a pleasant shiver through you, low and steady but edged with amusement.

"She's fine," you said, smiling. "Honestly, it's nice to be missed."

He leaned against the doorframe, the dim lighting catching the tired creases under his eyes. Black hair messy t-shirt that clung to his lean but sturdy frame. His gaze lingered on you and only now did you realize how much you had missed him.

Abby, oblivious to the silent tension, kept tugging at your hand. "Come on! I need to show you something!" Her excitement bubbled over, her small hands pulling you toward her room with surprising strength. "I drew so many things while you were gone and you have to see them all!".

You glanced over at Mike, offering him a half-apologetic smile as his sister guided you by her room. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his lips twitching between amusement and thinly veiled frustration.

Mike's brow arched slightly as though to say, ‘Really? After a week away, you're prioritizing her?’ But he didn't speak his protest aloud. Instead, he pushed off the doorway with a grunt, muttering, "Guess I'll just... wait my turn."

The room was a kaleidoscope of colors, with crayon drawings taped to the walls, scattered across the floor and piled on her tiny desk. Abby flopped onto the carpet, pulling out a stack of drawings with the urgency of someone sharing top-secret information. "Okay, okay! Look at this one first. It's Chica but I made her of a different color."

You chuckled, sitting cross-legged beside her as she thrust the drawing into your hands. “A total masterpiece."

Her eyes sparkled at your praise. "You think so? Look at this one!" She shuffled through the pile, pulling out another one that she eagerly handed to you.

"This one is us at the park," she explained, holding up a crayon drawing of the three of you surrounded by flowers and trees. "Those two are you and Mike holding hands! I drew it because you're always together."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, feeling a tinge of embarrassment but also a deep sense of affection. "You're quite the artist, Abby. I look amazing here. You're going to be famous one day."

Her eyes lit up at the compliment, and she beamed with pride. "Really?"

"Absolutely," you assured her, glancing at Mike. "Right, Mike?"

From the bed, where Mike had sprawled out with all the ease of a man trying to keep his patience in check, a low sound of approval erupted. He smirked at the question, his gaze flickering between you and Abby. "Yeah, kid. You've got some real talent. Be careful, though. Keep going like this and his ego's going to get too big." His dark eyes watched you intently, softening ever so slightly every time Abby smiled at you.

Abby's grin widened and she immediately dove into her stack of drawings to find more to show you. Mike's smirk softened into a fond smile as he watched her animatedly interact with you. He loved seeing you and Abby bond, though his gaze kept drifting to you, lingering on the curve of your back as you leaned forward, the way your lips quivered when you laughed and the soft glow in your eyes as you encouraged Abby.

A part of him felt guilty for how often his mind wandered, but he couldn't stop the flood of thoughts. He knew he should focus on the moment, but his body's reaction to having you so close after a week apart was impossible to ignore

He clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the mundane but his gaze kept wandering back to you. Your fingers brushed hers as you helped her shuffle through the pile of pictures, your laughter soft and genuine as you let her talk about her latest dream.

‘God, those hands...’ his eyes lingering on the way your fingertips moved. He didn't mean to stare, but the memory of those same hands clutching his shoulders, clawing at his back, sent a flash of heat straight to his core.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, feigning disinterest as his thoughts betrayed him. The view of the way you leaned slightly forward, the curve of your spine visible through your shirt made it ten times worse. He wondered, for the briefest of moments, what it would feel like to have you there on the floor, pinned beneath him, the softness of your moans muffled against his lips.

Abby leaned against your shoulder, holding up another picture. This one was clearly meant to be Mike, his hair a chaotic swirl of black scribbles. "This one's you, Mike! I made his hair messy because it's always like that." she exclaimed, holding up a surprisingly decent rendition of his perpetual frown.

"It's not always messy," he protested half-heartedly. He was leaning against the bed frame, one leg propped up, his head tilted lazily against the wall. You turned toward him with a grin. "She's not wrong, though."

Mike shot you a glare, though there was no real malice behind it. "I see you've both decided to team up on me. Great. Just what I needed after a long week." he muttered.

Abby giggled, unfazed by his grumbling as she kept eagerly pulling out new drawings she made

His eyes softened at the sight of you and Abby together. She was sitting so close to you, practically in your lap, her small hand tugging at your sleeve as she babbled on about her next masterpiece. It was enough to make his heart ache, both from the warmth of seeing you bond with her and the sharp sting of jealousy that you weren't paying attention to him.

He let his head fall back against the wall, staring at the ceiling as he tried to shake the frustration bubbling in his chest. He shouldn't feel like this. Abby was a kid and she deserved every bit of your attention. But damn it, he'd missed you. A week without you had felt like an eternity and now that you were here, he had to sit back and wait?

His fingers twitched at the memory of the previous night at work. Alone in the security office, watching the flickering monitors, the silence stretching endlessly. It had been another slow, uneventful shift, the kind that made every second feel like an hour.

One second he was leaning against the chair, the next he got up and grabbed the nearby phone and dialed the number of the structure you were in.

He'd called you on impulse, not even sure you'd pick up so late.

"Mike?" Your voice had been groggy but laced with concern. "It's, like, two in the morning. Are you okay?"

The sound of your voice had been a balm to his frayed nerves. “Yeah," he'd said, leaning back in the chair, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. "I'm fine. Just... bored. Wanted to hear your voice." His tone had shifted, growing rougher, more deliberate.

There'd been a pause, and then a soft chuckle. "You miss me that much, huh?"

He hadn't denied it. He couldn't. Instead, he'd let the words tumble out, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he told you how much he'd been thinking about you. And God, the way you'd responded, your voice growing softer, breathier, as the conversation took a turn he hadn't dared hope for.

By the end of it, he'd been a mess, stroking himself as your whispered moans filled his ear. He'd closed his eyes, picturing you on his lap, your hands clutching his shoulders, your body rocking against his as he thrust up into you over and over. He could still hear your voice, the way you'd gasped his name when you came. It had been enough to leave him breathless, slumped in his chair with his hand still wrapped around himself.

The memory of your voice, the way you'd whimpered his name through the phone, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him even now.

"Mike, you're not even looking!" Abby's voice snapped him back to the present. She was holding up another drawing, her brow furrowed in mock frustration.

He adjusted his position on the bed, praying Abby wouldn't notice the tension in his body, forcing a smile. "Sorry, kiddo. Let me see."

The hours dragged on, but for Mike, every second felt like an eternity. He loved how natural you were with her, how effortlessly you fit into their little world. But the selfish part of him, the one that had spent countless sleepless nights imagining your body pressed against his, was losing the fragile grip it had on its patience.

Night had finally fallen and Abby, despite her earlier determination to stay awake and keep playing, had succumbed to exhaustion. She lay nestled inside the fort she had spent the better part of the evening constructing, pillows stacked precariously, blankets draped over chairs and furniture, her breathing slow and steady. Mike had taken care to tuck another blanket securely around her, brushing her hair back gently before stepping away.

You stood near the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with a fond smile. There was something endlessly endearing about seeing Mike in dad mode, his gruff exterior softening as he ensured Abby was warm and comfortable.

"She's out cold," he murmured as he joined you at the door, his voice low to avoid waking her. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he gently shut the door behind him.

When he turned back to you, there was a shift in his expression. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his arms around your waist in a firm but measured embrace. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his stubble brushing against your skin as his breath came hot and steady.

"Finally," he murmured, his voice husky. "My turn."

You chuckled softly, though your breath hitched at the weight of his tone. "What, you missed me that much?" You tried to keep your voice light, teasing, though your heart raced as he held you.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his dark gaze smoldering. "You have no idea." His fingers pressed into your lower back, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush. "No more interruptions. You're mine now."

Mike's hand never left your waist as he guided you down the hall toward the bedroom. His grip was firm but not rushed, his thumb stroking small circles through the fabric of your shirt. Once inside, he kicked the door shut with a soft thud, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

He turned to you, his eyes tracing over your face before sliding lower, drinking in the sight of you like a man starved. "I've been waiting all day for this," he said quietly, voice low and rough. "All week, really."

He leaned in and captured your lips with his own. The kiss was deep and consuming, tongue brushing yours, coaxing a soft moan from your throat.

He broke the kiss only to press his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven. "God, I missed you," he muttered, his hands sliding under your shirt to touch the bare skin of your back. "Every damn second you were gone, I was thinking about you."

Mike eased you onto the bed, his weight settling between your legs as he kissed you again. His hands worked your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before his lips moved lower, trailing down your neck, your chest, each kiss deliberate and hungry.

His fingers skimmed the waistband of your pants, pausing for a moment to look up at you. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

He leaned down, his lips pressing against your collarbone, your chest, the soft skin of your stomach. Each kiss was hot and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His stubble grazed your skin, a delicious contrast to the softness of his mouth.

When he reached your waistband, he paused, glancing up at you through his lashes. "Can I?" he asked, his voice rough but laced with tenderness.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his hands worked your pants and boxers down in one smooth motion. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but that sensation was quickly replaced by the warmth of his hands as they smoothed over your thighs.

He took his time, his gaze never leaving you as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, his stubble brushing against the sensitive skin.

"So perfect," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his breath hot against you. "I've missed this so much."

His hands spread your legs wider as he continued his exploration, his lips and tongue teasing you until you were trembling beneath him.

When he finally pulled back, his pupils blown with desire, he reached into the nightstand for the small bottle of lube you both kept there. The sound of the cap clicking open sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

He poured a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it aside. His eyes met yours as he coated his fingers, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

Your body was trembling with anticipation as you felt his hand slide between your legs, his fingers gently parting your thighs. The first touch of his slick fingers against you made you gasp, your hips instinctively arching off the bed as he began to prepare you. His movements were slow and careful, his fingers working you open with a patience that made your heart swell with affection.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near-growl as he worked you open. "God, I've missed feeling like this."

He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure, every touch sending sparks of electricity through you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, your body aching for more.

He reached down to unbutton his own pants, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until he was just as bare as you were.

He settled between your legs, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh.

His words sent a flush of heat through you, your hips moving involuntarily as you chased the feeling of his touch. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he added another finger, his movements deliberate.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice softening for a moment. "So good."

The first stretch was intense, a mix of pressure and pleasure as Mike slowly pushed inside. He let out a low, guttural sound as he buried himself to the hilt, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck," he muttered, his head falling forward against your shoulder. "So tight. Feels even better than I remembered."

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his breathing ragged as he fought to hold himself still. "Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice low but tender.

"It's good," you whispered, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. "Go on."

You clenched around him, drawing a sharp groan from his lips. His movements started slow, his hips rocking gently as he let you adjust. But as your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging in slightly, he couldn't hold back any longer.

Mike's pace quickened, each thrust deep and deliberate, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel so good," he rasped, his voice raw. "God, I've missed this. Missed you."

Your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his ragged breathing and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Every movement, every touch, felt electric, the built-up tension of the past week spilling over in waves of pleasure.

Mike leaned down, his lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, "You’re taking me so well... so perfect."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he drove into you with a newfound urgency. His hands roamed your body, touching, gripping, as if he couldn't get enough.

By the time you both reached your peak, you were a mess of tangled limbs and breathless moans. Mike collapsed beside you, his hips stuttered, grip on you tightening as he buried himself to the hilt. His groan was deep and guttural, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you, pulling you close against his chest as you both tried to catch your breath.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his lips brushing against your temple. "Don't ever leave me for that long again," he said quietly, his voice still rough from exertion as he tightened his arms around you, his breath evening out as he held you close.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3. Up next i’ll post another Mike Munroe fic ;)

[ducktoo]

Cold Food, Warm Heart

Kwon Eunbi x Reader

Note: waaaaa my first ever ult bias. I missed writing Eunbi fics sooo tyty

(IZ*ONE Eunbi is still in my heart 💙)

The first time Eunbi cancelled on you, it was easy to shrug off. Work comes first—it always has for her. She called you an hour before she was supposed to show up, apologizing profusely about an unscheduled meeting with her management team.

“Next time, I promise,” she’d said, her voice warm and familiar, the kind of voice that could melt even your worst frustrations.

You’d smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. “It’s fine, Eunbi. I get it. Don’t stress about it.”

And at the time, you had meant it. One canceled date wasn’t the end of the world. She was busy; she had responsibilities. You admired her drive, her passion for her work. It was one of the reasons you fell for her in the first place.

But then it happened again. And again.

Dinner plans were rescheduled. Weekend meetups turned into fleeting visits. Late-night calls were cut short because she was too tired to keep her eyes open. You stopped planning anything altogether because you knew there was always a chance she’d cancel.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care. You knew Eunbi loved you; she told you in every quick text, every kiss on the forehead before she rushed off to her next schedule. But the words were starting to feel hollow when her actions said otherwise.

You couldn’t even pinpoint when it started hurting so much—when the excuses and the apologies began to feel like cracks in the foundation of what you’d built together. Maybe it was the night you waited up for her, a plate of her favorite pasta going cold on the counter, only for her to text at 11 PM: Just got done. Heading home. Sorry.

Or maybe it was the day you saw her on TV, laughing and smiling during a variety show recording while you sat at home, wondering when she’d last laughed like that with you.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was working hard, chasing her dreams, achieving things she’d always talked about. But somewhere along the way, you started feeling like a footnote in her life, an afterthought buried under schedules, photoshoots, and fan meetings.

You told yourself you’d wait it out, that things would get better once her workload lightened. But weeks turned into months, and the ache in your chest only grew.

By the time Saturday night rolled around, you were already bracing yourself. Eunbi had said she’d come over after work, but you weren’t holding your breath. You tried to distract yourself, cleaning the apartment, scrolling through your phone, turning the TV on and off. None of it worked.

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, the name lighting up the screen like a beacon.

Eunbi.

For a second, you think about letting it go to voicemail, but it’s not a call. Just a text.

I’m on my way. See you soon!

it should have brought relief. Instead, it felt like a bandaid on a wound too deep to heal.

The thing is, it’s not that you don’t want to see her. You really want to see her.

It’s that every time you do, it feels like a reminder of how much you don’t deep down. Weeks turn into months, and the glimpses of her you get in person feel like water through your fingers—fleeting, impossible to hold onto.

You’re tired of pretending it doesn’t affect you.

The knock at the door snaps you out of your spiral. You rise slowly, dragging your feet toward the entrance. When you open it, she’s there, bundled in an oversized coat, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Her smile is dazzling as always, but instead of warming you, it feels like a spotlight, too bright to look at for long.

“Hi,” she says, stepping inside and shrugging off her coat. She’s carrying a bag, which she sets down by the door. “I brought food! And I got those cookies you love from the bakery near my shoot.”

You nod slightly, shutting the door behind her. “Thanks.”

She glances at you, her smile faltering for just a moment. “You okay? You look… tired.”

“Yeah, just tired,” you mutter, moving back to the couch and sitting down. She follows, sitting close enough that her knee brushes yours.

“You didn’t eat yet, did you?” she asks, rummaging through the bag. “I got your favourite. We can eat now if you’re hungry.”

“I’m fine…” You groaned, the annoyance oozed out more than you wanted.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Finally, she set the food down, turning to face you fully.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she asked, her tone firmer now. “You’ve been like this for weeks, and every time I ask, you just say you’re tired. I know there’s more to it, so talk to me.”

Her words should have been comforting, but they only made the knot in your chest tighten.

You hesitate, your eyes fixed on the floor. This is what you always do—swallow the words, bury the feelings, let them rot inside until they’re nothing but bitterness. But tonight, the weight of it is unbearable.

“I don’t know, Eunbi,” you say, your voice low, almost to yourself. “I don’t know if I’m…fine.”

She frowns, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, and her hand withdraws. “What’s wrong?” you repeat. “What isn’t? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. And when I do, it’s like you’re here, but not really here.”

Her brows knit together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I’m here now, aren’t I? I came straight from work—”

“That’s the problem!” you cut her off, your voice louder than you intended. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You’re always coming straight from work, or going back to it. When was the last time you spent more than a couple of hours here? When was the last time we just… talked?”

“We’re talking now,” she says softly, but there’s a tremble in her voice. “I know I’ve been busy, but this is my job. This is what I’ve always wanted—”

“And what about what I want?!” you snap, your chest tightening with the weight of everything you’ve held back. “I want us, Eunbi. I want to feel like I’m a part of your life, not just some afterthought squeezed in between schedules.”

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks like she’s about to cry. “You’re not an afterthought,” she says, her voice trembling. “You’re the most important person to me. You know that.”

“Do I?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m competing with everyone else—your fans, your managers, your career….And I’m always losing.”

“That’s not fair,” she said softly, her brows furrowing. “You know how hard my career is—”

“Hard?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You know hard it is to just swallow it. I’ve been trying to be understanding, to support you, to tell myself it’s okay that I’m always second—no, third—to your career. But I’m not okay, Eunbi. I’m tired. I’m so damn tired.”

She stares at you, her mouth opening and closing like she’s searching for the right words. “I… I didn’t know you felt like this.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” you say bitterly. “Because I never say anything. I knew that before we start dating. I’ve been sitting here, telling myself it’s fine, that I should just support you no matter what."

Your knuckles turned white from the frustration. "Call me a hypocrite all you want, but I’m-“

You swallowed a sob. “I’m so tired of pretending I don’t feel like I’m slowly disappearing from your life.”

Her hands clench into fists on her lap, and tears well up in her eyes. “I’m trying,” she whispers. “I’m trying so hard to make this work. Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you think I don’t miss you every second I’m not here?”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one breaking under this?” Your voice cracks, and you hate the way it sounds—so raw, so vulnerable. “I don’t want to feel like this, but I don’t know how to stop.”

She reaches for you again, her fingers brushing yours, but you pull away, standing abruptly. “I can’t do this right now,” you say, your voice hollow. “I’m exhausted.”

“Wait,” she says, standing as well. “Please don’t shut me out. We can figure this out. Just… don’t walk away.”

But you’re already heading toward the bedroom. The weight in your chest feels cold and unbearable like the untouched food, and all you want is to escape it, even if just for a little while.

“I’m tired, Eunbi,” you say without turning back. “I need to sleep.”

The door closes behind you with a soft click, and the silence that follows is deafening. You collapse onto the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion and regret. As your eyes close, you think you can still hear her muffled sobs from the other room. But the pull of sleep is stronger, and soon, it drags you under, leaving the echoes of her voice behind.

-

The sunlight streams through the cracks in your curtains, landing uninvited on your face. You blink awake, your body heavy with the lingering weight of last night’s exhaustion. It takes you a moment to remember why the air feels so suffocating, why your chest feels so hollow.

Then it hits you—her face, tear-streaked and trembling, her voice breaking as she begged you not to walk away.

You sit up slowly, rubbing a hand over your face. Guilt lingers like a bad taste in your mouth, but you push it aside as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. The apartment is silent, eerily so, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s gone. When you open the door, your heart sinks.

She’s still here.

Eunbi is curled up on the couch, her body barely taking up half the space. Her coat is draped over her like a makeshift blanket, her head resting on a pillow she must’ve grabbed from the armrest. Her face is peaceful, but even in sleep, there’s a faint tension in her brow, as if her dreams haven’t quite let her escape the weight of last night.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do. The sight of her like this tugs at something deep in your chest—a mix of guilt, sadness, and the faintest flicker of warmth. She stayed. Even after everything, she stayed.

The bag of food she brought is still on the coffee table, untouched. You glance at it, then back at her. The urge to do something—anything—gnaws at you, but you’re frozen in place, your feet rooted to the floor.

She stirs slightly, her brows furrowing as her eyes flutter open. For a second, she looks confused, her gaze darting around the room before landing on you.

“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse from sleep. She pushes herself up slowly, wincing as she stretches. “You’re up.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. The weight of last night’s words hangs heavy in the air between you.

“I… I was going to leave,” she says quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the coat. “But I thought—no, I hoped—you’d want to talk in the morning.”

Her eyes meet yours, searching for something—an answer, a sign, anything. You look away, your hands shoved deep into your pockets.

“I didn’t think you’d stay,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her lips press into a thin line, and she nods slowly. “I thought about leaving. I didn’t want to make things harder for you. But I couldn’t just… walk away. Not like that.”

You let out a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair. “Eunbi, I…” The words catch in your throat. You don’t know where to start, how to untangle the mess of emotions swirling inside you.

“I’m sorry,” she says suddenly, cutting through the silence. Her voice trembles, and her hands curl into fists in her lap. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I thought—I thought I was doing enough just by showing up, but I wasn’t really here, was I?”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You shake your head, swallowing hard. “It’s not just your fault. I should’ve said something sooner. I thought if I just kept quiet, it would be easier. For both of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” she says softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And now it feels like I’ve ruined everything.”

“You haven’t,” you say quickly, the urgency in your voice surprising even yourself. “We’re not ruined, Eunbi. We're never ruined…."

You paused for a moment, scrambling your head to find the right word. "We’re just… stuck. I don’t know how to fix this, but I don’t want to lose you.”

Her gaze softens, and for the first time since last night, she smiles—a small, tentative thing, but it’s there. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, the tension in the room slowly giving way to something softer. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

“I’ll do better,” she says after a while. “I’ll make more time for us. Real time, not just whatever scraps I can manage between schedules. You deserve that much.”

You nod, the knot in your chest loosening slightly. “And I’ll be more honest. I’ll tell you when I’m struggling instead of bottling it up.”

She reaches out tentatively, her fingers brushing yours. This time, you don’t pull away.

“We’ll figure it out,” she says, her voice steady despite the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Together.”

You squeeze her hand lightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Together.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s no longer suffocating. Eunbi's hand lingers in yours for a moment longer before she pulls away, brushing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“So…” she begins, her voice still a little shaky but carrying the tiniest hint of warmth, “should we eat? I mean, if the food’s still okay.”

Your gaze flickers to the bag on the coffee table, and your stomach gives a low, traitorous grumble. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, the weight of last night masking everything else.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “We should.”

She gives a small, tentative smile and gets up, grabbing the bag and bringing it to the dining table. You follow her, sitting across from her as she starts pulling out the containers.

“I got your favourite,” she says, a bit shyly now, as if unsure of how you’d react. “It’s probably not as good reheated, but…”

“It’s fine,” you cut in gently. “Thank you.”

She looks up at you, surprised, then nods. Carefully, she opens the containers, the familiar aroma wafting through the air. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, and she lets out a soft laugh.

“Guess we should hurry before you pass out from hunger,” she teases lightly, sliding a plate over to you.

You shake your head, but there’s a faint tug at the corner of your lips. It’s small, but it’s something.

As you eat in silence, the tension that had clung to every word between you starts to dissolve. The food isn’t perfect—slightly cold and a little soggy—but it’s enough.

You two could’ve microwaved it, but last night was too draining for it to think about the obvious.

She watches you carefully, taking small bites of her own meal. Every so often, your eyes meet, and she gives you a faint smile.

“You know,” she says softly, breaking the quiet, “this isn’t how I imagined last night going.”

You pause mid-bite, glancing up at her. “Me neither.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But… I’m glad we talked. Even if it hurt. I needed to hear it.”

You nod, chewing thoughtfully. “Me too.”

The weight in your chest feels lighter now, not gone but manageable. The food, her presence, the fragile understanding between you—it’s not a solution, but it’s a start.

As the last of the food disappears from the plates, she leans back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head. “Okay,” she says with a mock groan, “I think I’m officially in a food coma.”

You glance at her, the faintest hint of a smile crossing your face. “That’s what happens when you bring too much.”

She sticks her tongue out at you, the playfulness in her expression making her look years younger. For a moment, it’s almost like nothing’s changed.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, your eyes meeting hers.

“For…what?”

“For staying.”

Her smile softens, and she reaches across the table, her fingers brushing yours again. “I’ll always stay.”

The warmth of her words settles over you, filling the cracks that had formed over time. You don’t know what the future will bring, but for now, this is enough.