#that when they're in each other's arms ... everything falls away. And all that remains is them.

[yeyinde]

waking up after a night out drinking in a foreign country only to realise that the bed you're in is not your own. no one is beside you. you try to leave but the doors are all locked. the windows won't open. you're trapped. a pretty bird in a cage.

nothing is in the dressers except large, old shirts. the clothes you were wearing when you woke up disappear after you take a shower. no panties. no bra. food shows up on schedule. you never see who leaves it.

they don't answer when you scream. when you bang your fists against the door until they're bloodied. passing out on the floor when the drugs finally kick in. but the mess you make in the daytime is cleaned up. your hands bandaged. disapproval heavy in the air along with the stale scent of tobacco. smoke.

when you're good, you get things. books. magazines. treats. your favourite food. a laptop arrives when you sob yourself to sleep after screaming yourself hoarse about loneliness, and how this isn't right. this isn't okay. it's restricted, of course. you log into Facebook but the moment you try and ask for help, the internet is turned off. you're being watched. monitored closely.

you learn your lesson slowly, giving nothing away to your family and pretending you're enjoying your holiday. being good. quiet.

instead of treats, gifts, recipe books arrive—some pages dogeared. you start making the food. leaving a plate in the fridge. it's gone the next morning. more recipes appear. you make them, too. an expensive chain comes next. a pretty gold necklace for a pretty bird in a golden cage.

(each meal gets you a strange rash on your cheek, jaw the next morning. beard burn, you think, and try not to shudder.)

lingerie comes after. silk, lace. all of it fits perfectly. you try to avoid it. the idea, the implication, is a knife between your ribs, but the next morning, your laptop is missing. the books are gone. food, too. your clothes disappear until all that remains is the lingerie set and a little black box. one you pointedly ignore. throw out with the trash. chew on gum to make the ache in your belly go away until that vanishes too.

your world is narrowed down to hunger. loneliness. isolation—

(in the corner of the rooms, a red light glints in the dark. lonely, but not alone.)

it persists until you relent. give in. another lesson you learn. you wear the set to bed, and try to think nothing of it—

you wake up to something heavy around you. a warm, thick body pressed against your bare spine. coarse chair tickling the skin between your shoulder blades. a burly arm under your neck, elbow bent to wrap a rough hand around your neck. the other slung over your hip, shoved between your thighs. something hard presses into your ass. a bruising pressure. it aches. you stifle a gasp, but with his long, thick fingers wrapped tight around your throat, he feels it.

everything goes still. quiet. just the faint rustle of sheets. the scratch of coarse hair on silk. a breath. you tremble. fight back another gasp when lips press into your crown with a sharp inhale. scenting you. nuzzling into your scalp. warm breath that smalls of malt and honey. woodsy. tobacco.

your eyes adjust slowly to the dark, and fall on a black box left on top of your end table. velvet, you know. you've felt the softness between your fingers when you threw it in the trash with a sob. no escaping it, after all.

the hand between your thighs twitches. when he speaks, it shudders through your spine, makes your hair stand on end. it's a growling purr. the low roar of an old engine. more grit than comfort in the midnight dark.

"jus' close your eyes, love," he rasps, pushing his thick body tighter against you. coiling around you like a big, hungry bear. "an' go back to sleep for me."

and you do.

[chimielie]

girlfriend

summary: Iwaizumi x F!Reader. you might be his girlfriend—but she's his girl.

word count: 2.4k

cw: hurt/comfort. a lot of reader insecurity. fear/mention of emotional cheating but there is none

a/n: this actually fills @akimind's request for my 500 follower event one million years ago but the formatting is tooo hard so. here it is!!! iwaizumi + angst + college au + "that's not what i said." LOVE YOU SORRY HOPE IT HURTS AND IS ALSO ENJOYABLE. <<<<3333333

You didn't mean to fall in love with your boyfriend.

You hadn't gone into this expecting Hajime to become your boyfriend at all, actually. You liked him. Liked how easy it was to be with him. How warm he was when you let your touch linger on him and pretended it was more than a flirty friendship. You hadn't ever predicted it would become so, because Hajime was hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

They'd traveled over oceans to be together, coming to Irvine from the same prefecture in Japan. They had still been together when you met him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around her waist. Your first thought was "oh, he's beautiful." Your second thought was "they look like they're made for each other." You shoved the first thought deep inside a secret crevice of your brain and stuck out your hand to introduce yourself with a bright smile.

The strain of new adulthood got to them, though, or so you assumed: you were never privy to the gory details of the breakup. They remained friendly, in the same friend group, and it just always seemed obvious to you that they would someday reconcile. It wasn't until two years after their break that you were able to start showing regular, platonic affection to Hajime without feeling like an attempted homewrecker.

It was just before graduation, having dragged him away for a late-night bite to eat so neither of you would starve to death studying for finals, when everything flipped on its head. Your plan to energize the both of you had backfired; you were yawning every other sentence and came close to laying your head on the table before Hajime put his palm down in front of your face.

"Come sit next to me," he'd said, so you maneuvered around into his side of the booth and been promptly pulled into his side. You had looked up at him, murmuring a sleepy question that was more wordless noise than actual English, and that was it. Something you didn't understand softened his gaze, and then he tilted his head to the side and brushed his lips over yours.

It was a perfect first kiss.

In the weeks following it, you had bounced violently between insisting to yourself that he hadn't meant for you to read too far into the kiss and your natural instinct to go after what your heart wanted. And the more he proved that it wasn't a one-off anomaly, that he could kiss you right out of drought into a superbloom, the more you were convinced. Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart.

When Hajime asked you to be official, wildflower bouquet in hand, the lights of the now-empty graduation pavilion shining down on the both of you, you said yes, your whole heart and none of your brain in the matter.

As you entered your apartment hand-in-hand with him, greeting all the friends who had gathered there to celebrate the end of undergraduate school, you remembered that the key modifier in "Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart" was knowingly. He seemed happy enough announcing the development to everyone else, and then she had walked in, carrying a bottle of wine that almost slipped from her grasp when she saw your proximity. He had dropped your hand—just for a second, but it had happened, and then picked it back up like his sentence hadn't died in his mouth at the sight of her.

He'd always gotten a little defensive when people mentioned their relationship, his features shutting down into a blank, tight expression. Though they obviously weren't as close as they had been for most of their lives, they were still both part of your friend group, and he always seemed to laugh just a little harder at her jokes, kept eye contact a little longer, got embarrassed more easily around her. You didn't want to be jealous or insecure or possessive, but it just felt more increasingly obvious that you were a rebound, a cheap, temporary dupe meant to fill in until Hajime realized and returned to the love of his life.

It was hard to be angry at him, though, because you knew with every fiber of your bleeding heart that he wouldn't do this to you on purpose. You knew he thought he cared for you, that he thought he had moved on. He did a good job almost every day coming very close to persuading you of it, enough to keep you from breaking up with him and leaving him behind, but never quite erasing your insecurities for more than a few weeks at a time.

One of the first mornings you woke up in his bed, well rested and sore in all the right places, he was missing. You got up, mourning the softness of his sheets and the scent of him on the pillowcases, and slipped into one of his shirts before leaving his room to explore.

He was cooking, shirtless in the kitchen, and if that wasn't one of the yummiest things you had seen in your life.

"Good morning," you said, leaning against his counter.

"Very," he returned, flipping an egg in the pan. "Looking like that. I think—I mean, it seems like that shirt always gets chosen to be the boyfriend shirt." He had narrowly avoided saying her name, but you had heard it threatening to tumble out of his mouth. You bit back a response, but your smile still dropped, and he spent the next hour making allusive, sorry overtures without either of you actually acknowledging the slip.

You never wore that shirt again. He gave you another one, you accepted it, and life moved on.

Except you had somehow become mired in the past with a relationship that was long over, and without university or a job to distract you—you were starting at the end of September, which felt aeons away—it was eating you alive, especially as Hajime left for a preliminary return trip to Japan.

"Did you hear how Mattsun and Makki greeted him when he landed?" You sit in the car on the way to the airport, packed in with Hajime's ex, successfully hyping yourself up to see him again until she addressed the group.

"Oh, yeah," you laugh. "So funny." You haven't had a conversation with Hajime that had more depth than "how are u? miss u" for the trip's duration. She's your friend, too, though you've never been close, but there's something unbearable about admitting it to her now, when you're so unsure of your relationship's current status. It has to mean something that he was keeping her updated and active in his life, didn't it?

You find solace in knowing that you don't blame her at all. If you could find an ounce of resentment for her in your heart, you would probably have left Hajime by now—isn't that the mark of a truly evil plot-pushing girlfriend?

You cry when you see him again.

"Happy tears," you assure him, and hide your face in his shoulder.

Later, alone in his apartment, you bite your lip when Hajime asks if you want to sleep over.

"Okay, babe, I don't want to pressure you," he says, and you can feel yourself tensing up as he speaks. "But I feel like you've been—off all day. Is everything okay?"

You blanch and focus on the cowlick on the right side of his head, the one that's endeared him so much to you, so you don't have to look him in the eyes. Too much is bubbling up in your throat, your brain thrown into overdrive, and he's staring at you with so much worry in his eyes it's just not right to leave him hanging:

"No."

Hajime makes a noise you don't understand, low in his throat. "Is it because I didn't call enough while I was gone? Because I can explain that, I promise."

"No," you rush to explain. "I don't—it wasn't you, exactly. I've just—ever since we started dating—I think you still love her."

You're picking at your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were small, and he takes your hands in his, smooths his thumbs over the torn cuticles.

"I don't," he says, finally, neutrally, though his face hasn't formed into the cold mask you're used to seeing when she's brought up. "Ever since we started dating?"

"Before," you admit. "I always thought you would get back together. You just seemed so made for each other."

"But we weren't," a little pucker between his eyebrows forms. "So—what did you think when we started dating?"

"When you first kissed me," you say, "I thought maybe it was a one-off. That you wanted something casual. And then it got more serious, and I thought maybe I could just suppress my insecurities until they went away, and I mean, I really thought you liked me."

"I do," his voice grows more agitated, his lips thinning out.

"Yeah, but..." You trail off. "You would do things that made me think, oh, he's just the perfect guy, they just looked so amazing because I was jealous, and then every so often I'd see you interact with her and it wasn't like how we are at all. I know the insecurity is my own fault, that's not on you, but I feel like it's holding both of us back."

"What do you mean holding us back? You don't think you make me happy?" He snaps, and you wince.

"Not like you are with her! Every time she comes in the room you get this look on your face, like you're speechless. Like-like the songs, Haji, I just..."

He lets go of your hands, crosses his arms.

"Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

"No, Haji, I know you'd never cheat. That's why I fell in love with you! You're a good guy, but I don't want you to wake up one day and break both our hearts because she's meant to be your girl and I'm just your fucking girlfriend." Your eyes sting, your chest heaving by the end of the sentence.

"You love me?" He's quieter now, giving you a little more space to breathe.

"What? That's not what I said."

"Yes, it is," he says, a little smile growing at the corners of his mouth, as though he can't control it. "You love me."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're focusing on that," you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's true, I just don't get it."

"Because you make me happier than she ever did," he promises, crowding you up against the counter and motioning for you to jump up to sit on top of it after you can go no further. "I'm weird when she's around because she's my ex, sure, but not because I still want her. It... ended badly. It's a miracle we didn't pull the entire friend group into it, and I never wanted to make her look bad to them, so I'm always trying really hard to look, uh, normal around her. We're on better terms now, but I haven't wanted her in years, honey."

"She knew about what you were doing when I didn't," you mumble, feeling small in the stormy release of emotions. "And she knows so much about you I don't in general."

"We grew up together," Hajime reminds you. "It would have been one of the guys. I know I didn't tell her anything. You can check my call history, my texts."

You shake your head. "I believe you."

"Really?" He arches a brow, and you laugh and push gently at his shoulder.

"Yes, really."

"You know how long I had a crush on you before I did anything about it? I thought you weren't interested, and then you finally started being even more affectionate with me than you were with our other friends, and I took the chance."

"Rookie numbers," you preen under his gaze. "I liked you... pretty much as soon as I met you. But I suppressed it 'cause I didn't want to be a homewrecker."

"You're sweet," he chuckles. "I promise, you have nothing to worry about there. I'm never gonna wake up and not be grateful to see you drooling on my bed."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he looks at you fondly, swiping his thumbs under your lower lashes. "You love me, though."

"Oh," your lips part. "And the not calling in Japan?"

He scrunches his nose. "I was trying not to spoil anything. I wanted to, uh, discuss it with you first, but you should know my friends and family are all waiting to embarrass me if I have to turn everything around now."

"Okay? I'll consider your dignity, but I make no promises," you tease. He drops his head to your shoulder for a moment, taking a deep breath, and you wind a hand into his hair, petting him until he straightens.

"So, you know how I have that paid internship opportunity back home?" You nod, not wanting to be reminded. You'll do it for him, but... long distance sucks. "I went to their office and turned it down. I want to go through with my doctorate."

"Oh, that's huge!" You gasp. "That's incredible, I'm so happy for you!"

"So the part that has to do with you is, um," he says, "you're planning to stay here, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "my next step is like a twenty minute commute, thankfully."

"I want to finish my schooling in the States," he tells you, "and then after that, I want to go wherever you go."

"Hajime," you start, but he puts a shaking hand on your knee, and that shuts you up.

"I love you," he says seriously. "It's like I said, okay? You make me happier than anyone else. I know you're the one for me, if you'll have me. If not, I get—"

You grab his face and smash your lips into his, and if that doesn't get the message across? You don't know what will.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Hell's Coming With Me

Summary: There's only one way to stop the war now.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 8.3k

You find yourself in the Red Keep, where Aemond Targaryen, the younger son of King Viserys I, and the younger brother of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, is standing tall and imposing. His face hardened with anger as he spots you. "You dare to come here after what you've done? After you betrayed my family?" He snarls, his dragon-like features becoming more pronounced as his rage builds. "I should kill you where you stand for your treachery! But instead…" Aemond's eyes gleam dangerously, "…you will earn your keep by telling me everything that has transpired since we last met. And if you lie or withhold information, so help me, I'll have your tongue. Now speak!" Your gaze does not falter at Aemond's threats. Instead, you lift your chin and meet his blazing eyes with an icy composure. As he demands answers, you respond with a voice laced with cold conviction. You stare back into Aemond's eye with your unwavering gaze, you do not back down nor shame away from his threat. "Do not think I fear you or your threats, kinslayer. I will speak, but only if you promise to listen and hear my words without blind rage and anger. A skill you don't seem to have mastered yet. You speak of betrayal, Aemond as if your own actions have not been those of a turncoat. But very well, I will indulge your curiosity. Since our last meeting, I have done what I must, to protect my claim and my loved ones."

His nostrils flare as he takes in your defiant stance, the audacity of your words stoking the fire of his anger. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain of holding himself back from leaping across the room to strangle the life out of this woman who dared to call him a kinslayer. "Your words are bold, but they're empty," he growls, his teeth grinding together in frustration. "You've betrayed us all for your own selfish ambitions. But know this, I won't let you get away with it. I'm going to make you pay for what you've done." Aemond's gaze darkens, his eyes reflecting the fury burning within him. He steps closer, looming over you as he continues to threaten you, promising retribution for your perceived betrayal. Your eyes blaze with defiance as you match Aemond's gaze. You refuse to be intimidated by his towering figure or his threats. Your voice remains calm and firm as you meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "You speak of ambition, Aemond, but it was you and your family who were willing to put my family and me in danger in order to secure the throne. Are you so blind to your own actions that you cannot see? You speak of betrayal, yet it was you who turned on us first." Your words cut through the air like a knife.

The corner of Aemond's mouth twitches as he fights to maintain control, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. The sheer audacity of your accusations sends a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling the flames of his wrath. "I didn't betray anyone!" he roars, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It was you who started this war. You and your scheming mother!" Aemond lunges forward, grabbing hold of your arm in a vice-like grip. His other hand balls into a fist, ready to strike. As Aemond grabs your arm, your instincts kick in, and with a swift movement, you twist your body out of his grip. Your heart races with a mixture of fear and determination, you take a step back, your eyes fixed on Aemond's menacing form, ready to defend yourself. "So it all comes down to this again, Aemond? You resorting to violence when you can't win an argument. Is this the kind of ruler you aspire to be - one who can't handle dissent or differing opinions? This is why I will make a better Queen than you ever will be."

Rhaenyra and Alicent burst into the room, their eyes widening in shock as they see Aemond attempting to strike you. Rhaenyra immediately steps forward, placing herself between you and Aemond. "Stop this nonsense at once, Aemond," Rhaenyra demands firmly, her eyes locked on her half-brother. His other hand uncurls from its fist, but only to point an accusing finger at his sister. "Don't interfere, Rhaenyra," he spits out, his voice dripping with venom. "This is none of your concern anymore. You chose sides long ago." He turns his attention back to you, ignoring Rhaenyra and his mother completely. "Admit it. Admit that you're working with them. That you're just another one of their puppets." Aemond's eyes flash dangerously as he waits for your response, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. Despite the precarious situation, you hold your head up high, your gaze locked on Aemond's intense stare. You refuse to back down, your voice steady and determined. "I serve no one's agenda but my own, Aemond. Unlike you, I don't blindly follow the whims of my parents and the council. I am my own person, with my own ambitions and desires. I do not answer to them, and I sure as hell don't answer to you either."

Rhaenyra and Alicent glance at each other, a silent understanding passing between them as they step closer to you and Aemond. With a mixture of frustration and resignation, Rhaenyra speaks calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. "It was decided that both of you will marry," she says, her voice firm yet measured. "It is not a matter of discussion or choice. You will both be tied together by matrimony." Aemond's eyes narrow suspiciously as he looks at Rhaenyra, then his mother, and finally back to you. Stepping back slightly as he contemplates Rhaenyra's words. "So that's your plan, is it?" he sneers, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Force me into marriage with this traitor?" He glares at you, suspicion evident in his gaze. "Why should I trust any of you? You've all lied and schemed to get what you want. Don't think I'm going to fall for your tricks now." Aemond crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid with hostility.

Alicent places a hand on her son's shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. She meets Aemond's gaze with a calm yet authoritative expression. "This is not about trust, Aemond," Alicent replies quietly, her voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "This is about family. This marriage will strengthen our alliance and ensure the stability of our house. It's our duty to the realm, and to our families, to make this sacrifice." Rhaenyra nods in agreement with Alicent, her expression softening for a moment as she adds her own thoughts. "This marriage is not just a political union, Aemond. It's an opportunity for us all to put aside our differences and come together as a family. The war has caused enough suffering and division. We can end it now, by making this sacrifice." She looks between you two, her eyes pleading for understanding. Aemond's gaze flickers between Alicent and Rhaenyra, his face unreadable. After a moment of silence, he gives a curt nod, conceding defeat for now. "Fine," he grumbles, his tone begrudging. "I'll do it…for the sake of the realm." But despite his outward acceptance, there's a simmering resentment in his eyes. He may have agreed to the marriage, but he certainly hasn't forgotten - or forgiven - any of the wrongdoings committed against him.

As the wedding day draws near, the mood within the castle is a strange combination of excitement and anticipation. The halls buzz with talks of the royal wedding, which will unite two powerful families in an unlikely union. The bride and groom-to-be, you and Aemond, have spent weeks getting ready for the special event. The castle has been adorned with colorful banners and fresh flowers. The air is filled with the scent of blossoming roses, and the distant sound of minstrels practicing their instruments fills the air. As the months pass, preparations for the royal wedding begin in earnest. The Red Keep buzzes with activity as servants and courtiers scurry back and forth, ensuring that everything is in place for the grand event. You, meanwhile, find yourself caught up in the whirlwind of preparations, torn between the anticipation of your upcoming nuptials and the weight of the responsibilities that will come with your new role. As the day of the wedding approaches, Aemond can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. There's excitement, yes, but also unease. He knows this union isn't one born of love or even mutual respect. It's a political necessity, a pragmatic solution to a complicated problem.

Despite his reservations, he does his best to play the part of the dutiful groom-to-be. He attends countless meetings and rehearsals, tolerating the endless discussions about seating arrangements and flower arrangements. But beneath his composed exterior, a storm of feelings brews, churning up memories of past betrayals and present uncertainties. Aemond stands outside the Septon's Hall, staring off into the distance as he prepares to enter the room where his fate - and yours - will be sealed. Despite his outward appearance of calm indifference, inside he is seething with rage and disgust. He had never wanted this, never wanted you, and yet here he was, about to become your husband. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door and steps inside, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. There you stood, looking more beautiful than ever in your white silk gown, your hair coiffed into intricate braids adorned with fresh flowers. For a moment, he almost forgets why he hates you. But then he remembers your betrayal and the hatred resurfaces.

You stood in a simple yet elegant white dress, the fabric flowing around your figure like water. A small crown of flowers rests atop your head, their vibrant colors adding a touch of warmth to your cool demeanor. As Aemond enters the room, your eyes meet him, and a mixture of emotions flickers across your face. Despite the tension between you, there is a sense of resignation in your eyes, a feeling that you have reluctantly accepted your fate. But your gaze remains steady as you stand tall, facing him without an ounce of fear. As the ceremony begins, Aemond can't help but feel a mixture of revulsion and resignation. He repeats the traditional vows in a flat, monotone voice, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of hatred and resentment towards you. Your voice, on the other hand, is soft and clear, your words spoken with earnestness and determination. When it's time to say the seven sacred pledges, Aemond glares at you with venom in his eyes, his lips curling into a sneer. But you hold your gaze, refusing to show any sign of weakness or hesitation.

As the vows are exchanged, Aemond's heart feels like lead in his chest. Each word that leaves his lips tastes like ash in his mouth. But he forces himself to continue, knowing that this is what must be done. His gaze remains fixed on you, watching as you speak your vows with sincerity and conviction. The sight makes him sick to his stomach. Yet, he knows that he too must give his all, if only to save face in front of all loved ones. So, he swallows down his hatred and bitterness, replacing it with a mask of compliance. And when the final vow is made, he feels nothing but relief. Aemond grits his teeth as he utters the final vow, his voice barely above a whisper. The very thought of being bound to you in this way fills him with loathing. As the High Septon declares them wed, Aemond can't suppress the bitter laugh that escapes his throat. 'So this is how it ends,' he thinks to himself, a twisted sense of irony tainting his dark humor. You stood next to Aemond, your palms sweating and your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, you force yourself to hold your head high and maintain a façade of composure. Inside, however, your mind is racing with thoughts and feelings that you can't quite untangle. As the high Septon declares you both man and wife, you gaze up at Aemond, your eyes searching for any hint of warmth or affection, but all you find is his cold, indifferent gaze.

After the ceremony, the reception begins. Aemond finds himself in the crowded ballroom, surrounded by nobles and courtiers congratulating him on his new union. He forces a fake smile onto his face, nodding stiffly in response to their well-wishes. All the while, his eyes dart around the room, searching for you. He needs to get away from all these people, to find a moment of peace before he has to pretend for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, you were stuck talking to a group of ladies-in-waiting, exchanging hollow pleasantries, and discussing the latest court gossip. However, you can't help but feel suffocated by the small talk and false smiles. After making your excuses, you slip away from the group and disappear into the crowd. Aemond watches as you slip away from the group, a grim smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly where you'd go; after all, it was one of the few places he avoided himself. Quietly, he makes his way through the crowd, heading towards the same secluded garden where he knew he would find you alone. When he reaches the arched trellis covered in vines of climbing roses, he stops, his gaze trained on your silhouette bathed in moonlight. "Well, look who decided to join me," he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his piercing gaze. A jolt of surprise courses through you, but you quickly regain your composure and straighten your shoulders, refusing to show any hint of emotion. "I didn't come here for you," you reply coolly, your voice steady and determined. "I came here because I needed a moment of peace from all the insufferable chatter in there." Aemond narrows his eyes, studying you closely. He can see the tension in your body, the stubborn resolve in your eyes. But he also notices something else, something softer beneath the surface. "You're doing a good job pretending you don't care," he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. "But don't fool yourself. You might hate me too, but we are married now…and we will have to learn to live with each other….."Run all you like, my lady. But you are mine now, and there's no escape."

You bite your lip hard, the sharpness of his words cutting deep. You wanted to retort, to spit back a scathing response, but the weight of his words sinks in. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I am not yours," you retort, your voice firm and resolute. "And I never will be. We might be married, but our hearts and minds will always remain our own. I will tolerate you because I have to, but do not mistake tolerance for affection." Aemond laughs a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the quiet garden. His eyes flash dangerously as he steps closer to you, his tall frame looming over yours. "Oh, how delightful," he spits out, his voice dripping with scorn. "You expect me to believe that you've consented to this marriage solely for the sake of the realm? That you don't feel even a shred of fear or dread at the prospect of sharing my bed?" His gaze drops down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before he continues, "Do you think I'm so easily fooled?" You stiffen, goosebumps pricking at your skin as he draws closer. You refuse to let him see your fear, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and defiance. "Is it not enough that I've agreed to tie myself to you for the sake of our families? Do you expect me to be giddy with excitement at the prospect of bearing your children?" You hold his gaze firmly, refusing to back down. "I am not your property, Aemond. And I never will be."

Aemond grinds his teeth together, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The sight of you standing defiantly before him only serves to fuel his anger. 'How dare you speak to him in such a manner? Who did you think you were?' "Do not presume to dictate the terms of our relationship," he growls, stepping even closer until you are mere inches apart. "We are wed now, whether you like it or not. And if you refuse to cooperate, I assure you, things will be far more unpleasant for you." His hands clench into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white under the strain. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. "I am not a child, Aemond. I may be forced to suffer your touch and endure your company, but do not mistake that for submission or acceptance. I will never be your faithful little wife."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his face contorting into a snarl. The raw hatred in his gaze is palpable, his fury barely contained. "So be it," he seethes, taking another step forward until you are practically touching. "If you insist on playing the defiant maiden, then know that I will make your life a living hell. Your days of freedom are numbered." Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. His words send a shiver down your spine, the venom in his voice making your stomach churn. "Is that a threat? Or a promise?" You ask, your voice trembling slightly. "Because I assure you, Aemond, that I will not be cowed by your petty threats. I am not some damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued. I am a dragonrider, and I am not afraid of you." Aemond's expression hardens, his icy lilac eye reflecting the cold, unyielding stone of the castle walls. He studies your face, taking in every flinch, every tremble, every flicker of fear in your eyes. "So be it," he finally murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "We shall see who breaks first."

The days pass with a tedious routine. Aemond and you have an unspoken agreement: you keep out of each other's way, each avoiding the other whenever possible. Aemond spends his days training and strategizing, while you engross yourself in your books or spend time with your friends. The only moments you do speak to each other are brief and polite, both of you keeping up appearances in public but keeping a respectful distance in private. Aemond strides into the Great Hall, his boots clicking against the marble floor. He scans the room, his gaze landing on you seated at the high table. Your beauty catches him off guard, and a sudden rush of heat surges through him. It's been weeks since the wedding day and yet he still finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He approaches you, his strides confident and purposeful. His hand gently grasps your wrist, pulling you close. "Tonight, you're to accompany me to the feast," he whispers into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

You stiffen at his touch, your skin hot under his fingers. "I assume that's not a request," you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice laced with irritation. You glance up at him, your expression impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch affects you. A smirk tugs at the corner of Aemond's mouth, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He pulls away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Correct," he replies, his voice low and firm. "It would be wise for you to remember that." You scoff, rolling your eyes at his arrogant demeanor. "Of course, My Lord," you reply, your tone dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Because heaven forbid I refuse to be at your beck and call." You let out an audible sigh, your patience already wearing thin. "Very well," you respond, your tone laced with resignation. You adjust the loose braid over your shoulder and meet his gaze with a defiant lift of your chin. "But don't expect me to pretend to be happy about it."

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. Despite your protests, he can't help but find your spirit alluring. You were unlike any woman he'd ever met, and he found himself strangely drawn to you. "As long as you understand that I won't tolerate any more of your insolence," he warns, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Tonight, you will behave like the royal you are, or face the consequences." You raise an eyebrow at his warning, your expression defiant as ever. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not some common wench to be ordered around," you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm. "And I will not bow to your every command like some mindless sycophant. So, if you expect me to behave like a 'royal,' you can forget it." Aemond's lips curl into a frown, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He steps closer, invading your personal space. His voice drops to a whisper, his words carrying the weight of a deadly threat. "You forget yourself," he growls, his eyes burning with a cold, fiery intensity. "You are my wife now, and I will not tolerate any further insubordination. You will learn to respect me, or you will regret it."

You hold his gaze, your own eyes flashing with defiance and fear. You try to mask the flicker of anxiety that flits through your expression, refusing to let him see how his nearness affects you. "Is that a threat, Your Grace?" you reply, your voice steady, though your heart hammers in your chest. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to back down. "Because let me assure you, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this miserable union." Aemond's eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he fights to maintain control. His voice lowers even further, becoming a chilling whisper. "It most certainly is a threat," he seethes, his grip tightening around your wrist. "And one you would be wise to heed, my dear wife." His eyes flicker towards the nearest window, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face. He leans in closer, his hot breath washing over you. "I hope you're prepared for what comes next because once I'm done with you, there'll be no turning back."

The Great Hall is packed from wall to wall with guests celebrating yet another lavish feast. Servants weave through the crowd, bearing trays of food and wine. You sit beside Aemond, dressed in a deep red gown, your hair loose and free, flowing down your back. You remain silent, your eyes scanning the room blankly as you sip your wine. Aemond observes you quietly, taking in the way you hold yourself and the defiant expression on your face. Aemond watches you from the corner of his eye, studying your reactions. His gaze lingers on your delicate profile, the soft curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips. He can feel the tension between you, a palpable energy that hums beneath the surface. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, causing you to jump slightly. He withdraws his hand quickly, not wanting to draw attention to the interaction. "Are you enjoying the feast?" he asks casually, trying to engage you in conversation. Your eyes flicker to his hand, then back up to his face. Your heart skips a beat at the brief contact, but you immediately push the feeling away, replacing it with your usual defiant expression. "As much as I can, considering I'd rather be anywhere else," you reply, your voice cold and distant as you take another sip of your wine.

Aemond watches you closely, his gaze intense and probing. He feels a pang of frustration at your aloofness, your refusal to bend to his will. He knows he must tread carefully. "Regardless, I am glad you decided to join me tonight," he says, his voice holding a hint of sincerity. "You look… lovely." Your eyes narrow at his compliment, your guard immediately going up at the unexpected compliment. You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, your expression skeptical. "Spare me the sweet talk, Aemond," you respond with a roll of your eyes. You take another sip of your wine, your gaze fixed on the crowded hall. "We both know this is nothing more than a forced performance for the sake of appearances." Aemond clenches his jaw, his gaze hardening. He can't deny your accusation; the marriage is indeed a political arrangement. But despite that, he can't shake off the desire to make you his. "If that is how you wish to perceive our situation, so be it," he replies, his voice icy and controlled. "However, do not mistake my efforts to keep you safe and respected as mere pretense."

You meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing slightly at his words. "Keeping me safe and respected?" you repeat, your voice filled with disbelief. You set your wine goblet down on the table with a thud, your hand trembling slightly. "You dare to speak of safety and respect after everything you've done to me? You've forced me into this marriage, held me captive in this castle, and now you expect me to believe you're some kind of benevolent protector?" Aemond grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He knows he should have anticipated this reaction, but your words still sting. Aemond stares at you, his eyes darkening with anger. The room seems to close in around him, the laughter and chatter of the guests fading into insignificance. He had thought he could maintain a semblance of civility, but your constant defiance was pushing him to his limits. "Do not test my patience," he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I may have agreed to protect you, but I am not without my own needs. And I warn you, if you continue to resist me, you might just find yourself facing the true extent of my power." He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "In time, perhaps you might come to understand that I am not the monster you believe me to be."

Your heart hammers in your chest, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts as you stare back at him. Fear dances across your face, but it is quickly replaced by defiance. "And what would that take Your Grace?" you retort, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to remain strong. "For me to see beyond your cruel and controlling demeanor? For me to accept your rule without question, to submit to you and bow down before you like some mindless puppet?" Aemond's nostrils flare, his eyes blazing with fury. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain. He wants to lash out, to show you who is truly in charge here. But he knows he must maintain some level of restraint, at least for now. "I did not ask for your opinion, nor do I require your acceptance," he snarls, his voice echoing menacingly throughout the room. "But know this. If you continue to defy me, I will ensure that you come to understand exactly who holds the power in this castle." You swallow heavily, your own temper flaring as you straighten up in your seat to look him directly in the eye. "And what, pray tell, would you have me do? Shall I follow you like a docile little lamb, fawning over your every command? You may hold the power in these halls, Aemond Targaryen, but you will not break me. I will not be your puppet, nor your obedient little wife."

Aemond's eyes flash dangerously, his temper barely contained. He rises abruptly from his seat, towering over you. His hand tightens into a fist, the veins in his neck pulsating with the force of his rage. "You are treading on very thin ice," he growls, his voice low and threatening. "Your defiance will only lead to your downfall." Aemond's face twists into a scowl, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage. He can hardly believe your audacity, your blatant disrespect for his authority. But he reminds himself that you are young, inexperienced, and easily manipulated. "You are correct," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom. "I will not break you. Instead, I shall teach you your place, and remind you that disobedience comes with consequences." With that, he turns on his heel and strides away from the table, leaving you alone amidst the crowd of feasting guests. You watch him go, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. Your heart races in your chest, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through you. "Arrogant bastard," you mutter under your breath, gripping your hands tightly in your lap. "And an overly dramatic one, too." You sit quietly for a few moments, trying to calm your racing heart. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your goblet of wine. You take a large mouthful, swallowing it down quickly and wishing it was something stronger.

Aemond stalks away from the table, his long strides carrying him swiftly toward the entrance of the great hall. His blood boils with anger, his heart pounding in his chest. He can still feel the heat of your defiant gaze seared into his skin, and it only fuels his fury further. Reaching the entrance, he steps outside onto the balcony overlooking the castle grounds. The cool night air does little to soothe his raging emotions, but he stands there nonetheless, staring out into the darkness, lost in his thoughts. You having regained your composure, decide to slip away from the festivities and seek solace in the gardens. You quietly make your exit from the feast, the noise and laughter fading as you venture into the quiet of the gardens. The cool night air and the stillness bring a sense of peace, helping to calm your rattled nerves. You walk along the cobblestone path, your footsteps cushioned by the grass, your thoughts consumed by the events of the evening. The image of Aemond, his expression twisted with anger and rage, lingers in your mind, causing your stomach to churn uncomfortably.

Aemond remains on the balcony, his thoughts consumed by the encounter with you. His initial intention was to let you stew in your anger, to teach you a lesson about crossing him. But as he stood there, alone in the night, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. He knew he had been harsh, perhaps too harsh. But damn it all, you tested his patience like no other. He had never met anyone quite like you - stubborn, headstrong, and defiant. Yet, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and turned back towards the great hall, ready to return and face whatever challenges awaited him. You had found a quiet spot in the gardens, away from the noise and hustle of the castle. You sat on a stone bench, the chill of the night air nipping at your skin. Your heart had finally slowed to a normal rhythm, and the anger and fear faded into a dull throb. You looked up at the sky, the stars sparkling like diamonds in the inky blackness. A feeling of peace washes over you, the garden providing a peaceful escape from the tumultuous emotions of the evening.

Aemond reenters the great hall, and his earlier anger somewhat subsides. He moves through the crowd with a practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and maintaining the facade of a gracious host. Despite his efforts, his mind keeps wandering back to you, and the defiance in your eyes. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he finds himself making his way towards the gardens. He has no clear plan or purpose, merely a desire to see you again, to gauge your reaction to the earlier confrontation. You continue to sit in the garden, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The quiet ambiance of the gardens helps to soothe your frayed nerves, the sounds of crickets and soft rustling leaves providing calming background music. As you sit there, deep in thought, you sense someone approaching. Your heart rate quickens, wondering if it's Aemond. You turn to look, your eyes widening slightly as you see him walking towards you. Aemond walks into the gardens, his movements silent and stealthy. As he approaches the bench where you sit, he stops suddenly, taken aback by your beauty. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on your face, accentuating the delicate curves of your features. "Forgive me for disturbing your solitude," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could not help but notice your absence from the feast. It seemed…unusual." He takes a step closer, his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart skips a beat as he approaches, his voice breaking the quiet serenity of the garden. You turn your gaze up to him, his presence so close that you can nearly feel the heat radiating from his body. Your guard goes up immediately, your shoulders tensing involuntarily. You force yourself to stay calm, to not let him see how his presence affects you. "I needed some time away from the noise and commotion of the feast," you replied, your voice betraying none of the emotions swirling inside you. Aemond studies you closely, taking note of the subtle changes in your demeanor. There is a certain tension in the air between you, a palpable energy that he finds both intriguing and intoxicating. "It seems we share a similar sentiment," he murmurs, stepping closer until you're mere inches apart. "The noise of the feast can become tiresome after a while." He gazes deeply into your eyes, his own dark and intense. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, the proximity of your bodies causing a shiver to run down your spine. You tilt your head up to look at him, refusing to back down despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your pulse quickens under his scrutiny, but you force yourself to remain calm and composed. "Yes, it can be quite overwhelming," you agree, your voice steady despite the fluttering of your heart. "Sometimes, a little solitude is necessary to clear one's head."

Aemond notices the flicker of defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. He admires your strength, your refusal to bow down to his authority. It was refreshing, unlike most of the women he encountered who were either fawning or fearful. "You are unlike any woman I have ever met," he admits, his voice low and gruff. "Your spirit is fierce, your determination unyielding." His gaze drops to your lips, then returns to meet your eyes. Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, his words sending a jolt of electricity through you. You feel a surge of pride at his praise, but quickly stomp it down, reminding yourself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words affect you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. You can feel the heat of his gaze as he looks at your lips, but stubbornly refuses to allow it to show on your face. You keep your expression neutral, despite the rapid thrumming of your heart. "Is that a compliment or a complaint?"

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. He leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours. The heat emanating from his body is almost unbearable, yet you don't move away. "A compliment, always a compliment," he whispers, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "It would do you well to remember that." You resist the urge to close the gap between you two, your body betraying your will. The sound of his voice, so close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly parched. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, forcing your voice to remain steady as you respond. "And what if I choose not to remember?" A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you. It excites him and stirs something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound echoing loudly in your ears. Your body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the heat from his body seeping into your own. Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, you can't help but shiver involuntarily at his words. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin defiantly, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "Oh, I dare you to try."

Aemond chuckles softly, finding amusement in your daring challenge. His eyes gleam with an unholy light, a predator recognizing another predator. This was more fun than he had anticipated, more thrilling than anything he'd experienced in a long time. "Very well, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Consider yourself reminded." Your heart races, your pulse thrumming in your veins. Your body is a jumble of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, intrigue. You bite your lip, your mind warring between the desire to push him away and the inexplicable attraction you feel towards him. "And what exactly are you going to remind me of, Your Grace?" you say, your voice coming out a little too breathless to sound as defiant as you would like. A devilish smile curls the corners of Aemond's lips as he hears the slight hitch in your voice. He steps even closer, his body almost touching yours. He can smell your scent, sweet and alluring. It sends a wave of desire coursing through him. "That you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "That every inch of you is mine to claim."

Your breath hitched in your chest, your heartbeat quickening at his words. The intensity in his eyes and the possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. But despite the powerful attraction you feel towards him, you're also intensely irritated by his blatant disregard for your autonomy. "I don't belong to anyone," you say, your voice trembling slightly, despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "And you don't own me." Aemond scoffs, his eyes flashing with irritation at your defiance. Yet, there is a spark of admiration in his gaze as well. He respects your spirit, your unwillingness to bend to his will without a fight. "Do you really believe that my lady?" he asks, his voice a soft rumble. "You may think you're strong enough to resist me, but I assure you, resistance is futile." Your frustration mounts, your temper flaring at his arrogant confidence. The fact that he sees you as a mere object to be claimed, despite your protests, drives you to snap. "You're such an arrogant prick," you hissed, your voice laced with anger and frustration. "You think just because you're the Prince, you have the right to possess anything and anyone you desire, regardless of their desires or feelings."

Aemond narrows his eyes at your harsh words, a dark scowl crossing his face. He doesn't like being challenged, especially not by someone he considers beneath him. But he also can't deny the thrill that runs through him when you stand up to him, the spark of defiance in your eyes igniting a fire within him. "Watch your tongue, my lady," he growls, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "Or I might just decide to teach you a lesson you'll never forget." Your eyes flash defiantly, the anger coursing through your veins making you bold. You step closer to him, your bodies almost touching now. "You think threats will make me submit to you? You think I'll bow down and give in because of your status and authority?" you hiss, your voice trembling with rage. "I'll sooner die than submit to someone like you." A flicker of surprise crosses Aemond's face at your boldness. Most people cower under his intense gaze and commanding presence, but you seemed unaffected. If anything, you appeared more determined, more defiant. "Well then," he says, his voice low and deadly, "perhaps we should see just how far you're willing to go." Your heart races, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stand your ground, refusing to back down despite the danger in his voice. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you challenge, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. "I'm not afraid of you."

Aemond studies you closely, his eyes scanning your face, taking in your defiant expression. There's a certain allure to your bravery, your refusal to bow down to him. It's intoxicating, and it makes him want to explore further. "So be it," he murmurs, his voice a low purr. "Let the games begin." A shiver runs through your body at the sound of his words. You can feel the danger in the air, the electricity between you crackling with tension. But you refuse to back down, no matter how your heart may be pounding in your chest. "You won't win," you retort, your voice a defiant whisper. "I won't let you." A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you both. It excites him and makes him feel something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. You clench your fists, your heart racing with adrenaline and fear. you are caught in a storm of emotions, the tension between you thick enough to be cut with a knife. Aemond's predatory gleam makes you shiver, but you refuse to let him see your fear. "Maybe it's time for you to learn the meaning of losing," you replied, your voice surprisingly defiant despite the tremors that were coursing through you.

Aemond's laughter echoes around the air, a chilling sound that sends a shudder down your spine. His eyes, full of untamed lust and dominance, never leave you. "Oh, I don't lose, my lady," he drawls, his voice filled with arrogance and confidence. "Remember that." Aemond's hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. He lets out a low growl, his other hand tangling in your hair as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck. His teeth graze against your skin, teasing you, the sensation causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Just remember, my lady," he whispers into your ear, his voice dripping with dominance, "you started this game." A gasp escapes your lips as his hand encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. His grip on your hair is firm but not painful. The way his teeth graze your neck, just barely touching your skin, makes your heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. You swallow hard, your body responding to his touch despite your determination to resist him. You try to calm your rapid breathing, but it's difficult with him so close to you. "I don't lose either," you whisper fiercely.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest, vibrating against your body. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you. "Oh, I believe you, my lady," he murmurs into your ear, his voice a seductive purr. "But we shall see who truly comes out on top." Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, and you fight the urge to lean into him, a combination of fear and anticipation. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you retort, your voice shaking slightly. "You might be powerful now, but you haven't seen my strength." Aemond's laughter echoes around them, a dark, menacing sound that sends chills down your spine. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you closer still. His other hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your jawline. "Oh, I've seen your strength, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "And I can't wait to break you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. The feeling of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, making your heart pound in your chest. You looked up at him, defiance burning in your eyes. "And I can't wait to watch you try," your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on you tightening. He leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, my lady," he warns, his voice a husky whisper. "Because when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for mercy." You stare up at him, a mix of fear and anticipation. You can feel his hot breath on your face, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flip. "Save your threats, Your Grace," you say. "They won't scare me." Aemond's hand slides down from your cheek, tracing a path along your neck before moving lower. His fingers dipped beneath the neckline of your dress, his touch scorching against your skin. His other hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back further to expose your neck.

Aemond's lips crash down onto yours, his hand cradling the side of your face. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, asserting his dominance. His other hand travels down your body, tracing along the curve of your hip before squeezing your ass firmly. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. His hands continue their exploration, pushing under your dress to find bare skin. Caught off guard by his sudden assertiveness, you stiffen in his arms. But as his tongue explores your mouth, you find yourself melting into him, returning his kiss with a passion you didn't know you had. His touch on your body ignites a fire within you, and you can't help but press yourself closer to him. Despite your growing desire for him, you know you can't give in completely. You pull away from his kiss, panting heavily, your body trembling with need. Aemond's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath you take. He trails his fingers up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your center. "Running away so soon, my lady?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I thought you were braver than that." You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape your lips. You know you should pull away, and put an end to this madness, but your body betrays you, yearning for his touch. "I'm not running," you admit, your voice shaky. "Just… reminding myself of who's actually in charge here." You spoke before taking a deep breath and sat him down on the bench which didn't do much for the height difference other than how much closer you were face to face now.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest as he watches you, his eyes filled with a predatory hunger. He slides closer to you on the bench, his body almost touching yours. "Oh, I think it's quite clear who's in charge here, my lady," he purrs, his hand moving to rest on your thigh under your dress, his fingers slowly edging towards your panties. You swallow hard as you feel his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of your panties. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. "Well then, Your Grace," you say, forcing a smirk onto your face, "I suppose it's time we find out just how submissive you can be…" A devilish grin spreads across Aemond's face as he hears your words. He leans in, pressing his hard cock against your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. "That I did, my lady…" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "And now you're going to get exactly what you deserve…"

Feeling Aemond thrust into you, you let out a sharp gasp. The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. You arch your back, your nails digging into the fabric of the bench as you try to adjust to his size. "Aemond…" you manage to whimper, "it hurts…" Aemond grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your tight walls clenching against his invading cock. He withdraws slowly, only to thrust back in deeper, filling you completely. "It's supposed to hurt, my lady," he groans, "that's how you know it's real…" Feeling Aemond's thrusts, you can't help but let out a series of soft moans. As much as you hate to admit it, there's a part of you that's starting to enjoy this. You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of tears and desire. "Please… slow down…" she begs, her voice shaking. Aemond grins down at you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he relishes in the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you senselessly.

"Don't worry, my lady," he murmurs against your lips, "we've only just begun…"

[azrielbrainrot]

When Prayers Fall on Deaf Ears

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: For the first time in his life, Azriel is not ready to accept death.

Warnings: Death, All Hurt No Comfort

Word Count: 1500

Notes: I'm so sorry. I didn't proofread this so I'm sorry for that too.

How could the Mother be so cruel?

After centuries of walking this world alone, of throwing himself at dangerous missions and surviving multiple wars, how come when he finally found something worth living for, his life gets taken away?

Azriel can hear you anguish cries for help, screaming at Rhys to get a healer, can hear your reassurances that he's going to be okay, but the truth is he can barely feel your hands on him, can barely feel his body at all. He's taken several falls like this, but this pain is different. He knows better than to check, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear the sight, - probably wouldn't even be able to complete the movement on his own - but he knows his left wing was mostly ripped off, his arm and leg might be in similar ruined states. The realization that he'll never be able to take to the skies makes him close his eyes for a second, tears gathering in them.

Everything happened so quickly, he had barely reacted in time, sending up a shield around him at the same time Cassian did. He doesn't know what kind of magic that was, had never seen anything like it before, but he knows if it hadn't been for the shield, there wouldn't be any piece of his body left, and his brother would have met the same fate.

His shadows were completely silent, uncharacteristically so, unmoving as they lay under his body, but, even if they weren't singing to him, Azriel could feel them mourning, could feel them disconnect, no longer following his command. They had been with him for most of his life, and he hopes they know how grateful he is for them, for the way they stayed by his side, protecting him and those around him, and they remain until his last breath escapes his body. He truly couldn't have made it this long without them - they were part of his identity.

It's your frantic calls of his name that has him opening his eyes again, blinking a couple of times to try and focus on your beautiful face. This is probably the last time he'll be able to see it so he should enjoy it as much as possible. You send him a relieved look when you notice him watching your face, leaning closer until he can faintly feel your breath on his skin. “Rhys went to get Thesan, alright? You're going to be okay, Az,” you promise, struggling to keep your voice from failing while trying your hardest to choke back your tears, and he struggles to focus on the words, the sound reaching his ears as if he was under water.

He won't be okay, you both know that. No matter how good a healer is, there are some things that can't be helped. Sometimes they forget given their long lifetimes, but fae are still mortals. Everyone around him seems to have come to the same conclusion, but they're all unwilling to accept it, stubborn as they are. Gods, he's going to miss them so much. Azriel almost wants to tell you to call Rhys back, so he can see his brother one last time. No healer is going to be able to fix this anyway, not even Thesan. He's not sure if he can form the words though, even breathing is becoming too much to bear.

Trying his best to pay attention, Azriel tries to focus on his family - the people who have made his life worth living. He can hear the three Archeron sisters crying somewhere at his side, holding onto each other. They've all lost so much in their short lives, Azriel hates that he's going to add to their suffering. After a particularly loud sob escapes Feyre, he realizes his mental shields are probably down, making her privy to his thoughts, but he can't bring himself to care, not anymore.

Amren is studying his body a few steps behind you, staring at him with a conflicted look in her eyes, arms wrapped around herself. This might be the first time she sees someone she cares about die right before her eyes, as she watches on, unable to do a thing about it. Right next to her stands Mor, an uncharacteristically blank look on her face as she watches one of her bestfriends take his last breaths, shock seems to have taken hold of her. Emerie stands behind her, ready to comfort her. He couldn't see Cassian but he feels him kneeling right next to his head, can hear his choked breaths as he desperately tries to keep his tears from coming, can feel the familiar thrum of his power. He had also been injured, but it seems that Azriel had taken the worst of it, his brother would be alright.

And you. He doesn't even want to imagine how much pain he's going to bring you. You, who's trying so hard to be strong for him, to keep on a brave face and make him feel better in his last moments, even though you probably want nothing more than to curse the Mother and any deity responsible for this. If it had been the other way around, he's not so sure he would survive it, or that he would want to, but he knows you're more resilient than him, so much stronger, always have been.

None of you deserve this. To have your family ripped away from you like this. And he doesn't either, after suffering through so much, he knows he deserved a few more good years with you and his family by his side.

“I don't want to die,” the words escape him in a whisper before he has the chance to keep them down. The sobs that escape both you and Cassian almost make him want to take the words back, knowing he's going to give you guys enough pain as it is. Your hands raise to hold his face, bringing a smile to his lips even at a time like this.

He was almost surprised to see that he meant it. Azriel had never been afraid of death, would gladly do it to save the ones he loves, as he is doing now, but that had always been easier when he felt like he had nothing to lose. Aside from his friends and his mother - who he knows should be more than enough reason - Azriel had never truly felt fulfilled or content with his life. Throwing it all away would have been easier then, but now he had you.

He's been waiting for a love that would give his life purpose ever since he can remember, as pathetic as that may sound, and now that he finally met you, he's going to die without ever getting the chance to give you the ring he keeps stored on his nightstand. He had been waiting for the right time to give it to you, it seems like fate had other plans for him. He can only imagine what you will feel when you find the silver ring engraved with both of your initials.

A sudden pressure in the air tells Azriel his brother returned with Thesan. He feels a strange sort of relief at this, not because he thinks the healer can still help him, but because he didn't want to go without knowing Rhys was here as well. His heart seems to echo this sentiment, as he can hear it slow down with each painful breath he takes into his lungs.

Azriel uses his remaining strength to hold up his hand, trying to feel your skin against his rough palm one more time. He can't quite raise his arm high enough, the blood loss catching up to him, but you hold his hand in yours and hold it up to your cheek. You always knew what to do, what he was thinking.

“I love you,” he struggles out.

Your tears are flowing down your cheeks freely as you repeat the words back to him, having no choice but to resign yourself to your cruel fate. Rhys and Mor kneel at your side, the latter resting a hand on your shoulder, trying to give you as much comfort as she can, while Rhys stares at his brother, the normally striking purple not visible behind his tears.

As scared as he was, he could admit this wasn't so bad, dying surrounded by his family, surrounded by so much love. He feels comfort that the last thing he felt before everything turned cold was the warmth of your body against him. Enough so that it almost catches him by surprise, barely registering his shadows moving from his body to yours, covering your body the same way they've been covering him all these years, barely feels his arm drop from your face, his strength completely leaving his body until he can't hear anything, can't see anything as the world goes black, and the last thing he feels is your head falling on his chest as a wail of his name escapes you.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Colic

Pernille Harder x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You develop colic

Magda returns to England after six weeks.

She would have stretched it longer but there were Champion's League fixtures starting up again and she needed to be there to keep the Chelsea girls in check.

So, after six weeks, it's just you and Pernille.

For the most part, you're a calm baby. You don't do much. You cry, you eat, you sleep. Sometimes, if you're feeling particularly active, you try to pull Pernille's fingers into your mouth and suck on them.

You're practically an angel baby...Though you're quite firmly attached to your Momma.

She can't set you down for a nap until you're fully asleep otherwise you'll cry and whine until you can see her again. She can't let other people hold you without being nearby otherwise you panic. There's not a moment that goes by where you don't want to be attached to her.

You're almost equally attached to Magda but it's still a pretty easy transition for you to lean fully into Pernille being your remaining caregiver.

It also means though, that with Magda returning to England, Pernille also returns to training. She's not ready to join the team just yet, not so soon after your birth so she's just gone back to light training.

For the first day back, she had wanted to be well rested but you seemed to have caught a case of colic so were crying for hours on end all night.

You're still whiney and tearful, rhythmically sucking on your dummy (one of the only things that Pernille can use to get you to stop sobbing) when she pulls up at the training centre.

The staff members suitably coo at you before Pernille escapes into the gym. It's mostly empty apart from the trainer that's working with her as the other girls are out training on the pitch.

Thankfully for Pernille, you've slipped off to sleep as she begins her workout.

She's completely exhausted, bags under her eyes and movements sluggish as she uses the machines.

"Rough night?" The trainer asks.

She gives him a tight smile. "She got colic. She wouldn't stop crying until four in the morning." She spares a glance over at you. "We're lucky that she's tired too otherwise we wouldn't even be able to do half of this."

The trainer laughs, clapping Pernille on the back. "My wife and I had our son a few years back. Colic doesn't last forever."

"It feels like it does."

They share a laugh just as the other girls fill into the room.

"Pernille!" Pajor cheers," You're back!"

Pernille drops her weights. "I'm back."

More girls flood in and move to crowd around where you're napping. It's the first time for a lot of them that they've seen you in person. Of course, everyone had known you were born and had seen the picture on the group chat but never in person.

"She's beautiful," Popp compliments as she crouches down to look at you," She's so, so beautiful. Like an angel."

"When she isn't crying, she is," Pernille replies.

The crowd swells for a moment as she moves through and picks you up, swaddling you up tightly in your oversized baby blanket. Everyone coos and looks like they're moments away from snatching you from her arms.

"Alright," She says eventually," Are your hands clean? You can all have a quick hold before we go."

A line forms quickly, girls pushing each other to try to edge forward.

"Just quick holds," Pernille says," She's been very tearful lately. I don't want her to wake up in someone else's arms and start crying."

Thankfully, you stay asleep all through your holds and all through the car ride. It's at home where everything falls apart.

You spit out your dummy and screech and whine and sob even when you're safe in Pernille's arms.

You scream so much that your little cheeks turn an alarming shade of red and Pernille paces the length of her apartment to try to soothe you to no avail.

She tries feeding you, setting you down for a nap, changing you but nothing works.

"Please," She says softly, feeling exhausted and utterly broken and thinking about just how unfair it is that Magda's away in England while she's hanging on by a thread with a colicky baby that just won't stop crying," Please stop. Please, please, please."

But you don't stop. You reject your dummy. You reject a feed. You reject all comfort and you scream and cry until you're red in the face and gagging over your own tears.

Pernille starts crying too. From frustration. From exhaustion. From genuine despair over the fact that you haven't stopped crying for hours.

She thinks about calling Magda after nearly two and a half hours but there's nothing Magda can do to help but offer kind words and encouragement and, if that had happened, Pernille's ninety percent sure she would have snapped viciously at her partner without explanation.

So, it's just you (you who's screaming and crying and nearly throwing up) and Pernille (who's crying and pacing and trying to soothe you to no avail).

"Please," Pernille sobs as you continue to scream, your lips taking on a slightly blue tinge from the lack of oxygen you're getting," Oh, please, princesse."

She does another lap of the apartment. She checks to see if you need to be changed. She tries to feed you. She tries to get you to nap.

"Okay, okay, we're going to try this, alright?"

Pernille wipes her own tears away as she starts to run the bath, stripping both herself and you down and sliding into the water. You lay on her chest as she slowly pours lukewarm water over your back as her other hand gently rubs at your head.

You didn't have much hair (and her doctor had assured her that a lot of your wispy baby hair would fall out soon) but it was enough that Pernille could brush against it as you lay on her.

Your face is still scrunched up, a little crinkle between your brows, but you've stopped crying. You coo as more water runs down your back and you finally look up at Pernille, your eyes no longer glassy or tearful.

Curiously, you reach up and poke at her mouth with you little fingers.

Pernille smiles down at you, playfully biting at them before she readjusts.

Your lips are back to a normal colour again and your red cheeks are fading.

She sighs in relief.

"Why are you crying so much, huh?" She teases," Do you miss your Morsa? Is that what it is? I miss her too but we've got each other to look after now, alright? We're gonna be okay, princesse. It's all going to be okay."

[noveauskull]

Hello! If it's okay, can I please request some comfort fluff for Jiyan, Aalto + any other wuwa man you'd like! With a s/o that's usually very cold but ran away and hid away to cry due to all the pressure and whatever pain they're going through, but then the men come in and comfort them

If you're not comfortable with this I totally understand and thank you for your time. Have a good day/night!💕

WUWA Men And How They Comfort You (SFW)

(Jiyan & Aalto ver.)

AALTO:

You usually have a poker face most of the time. Even when Aalto would do goofy things around you it would take the size of a boulder to make the corner of your lips crack into a smile.

But today is different. Perhaps you believed you weren't enough these days, or that whatever you did waa futile and you'll never improve. Either way, it was just one of those many days where you felt like you were less than a living person.

Though your tears that were pooling onto your eyelids would say otherwise. Despite always having a cold demeanor, eventually you had to give space to letting yourself cry a little, even if it was just for a second.

You were too busy wiping every drop of tear that threatened to leave your eyes that you didn't notice Aalto standing a few feet beside you. The two of you in an alleyway somewhere in Jinzhou where you thought you were away from the eyes of the people there.

It took you some time to notice his presence, flinching a bit to look at the grey haired man, your eyes red from the constant rubbing you were doing.

"..." You couldn't say anything, afraid that your voice would waver while you asked him why he was here, but you couldn't see him opening his mouth to say anything at all.

"...What is it?" You spoke up, your voice hoarse from the attempts of you holding back your whimpers and cries, you watched as Aalto remain standing, unable to distinguish what face he was making since he had his glasses on.

You watched as he walked closer to you, your eyebrows furrowing when he suddenly kneels in front of you, taking off his glasses to finally show his entire face, his eyes had the expression of worry painted on them.

"Why are you crying all by yourself?" He asked, and you sighed, standing up and dusting yourself off.

"It's none of your business" You coldly brushed him off, turning your heels to walk away from him until you felt a grab on your wrist.

You turned your head to look at Aalto, who was now standing, facing you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if he was upset that you walked away from him.

"Hey, if things are too hard for you then just tell me. You don't have to shoulder everything by yourself" He said, his voice was calm, yet his hand that was on your wrist could feel you shaking.

You looked at him in shock, eyes beginning to gloss once again when you felt your tears coming back. You grit your teeth, frustrated that you couldn't keep yourself from crying again, letting your tears fall down to your cheek in defeat.

At the same moment, Aalto pulled you into an embrace, holding you to make sure you wouldn't run off again, or to just comfort you. Either way, the choking pain that was on your heart feels less painful than before, because now you had someone to cry to, and it was Aalto.

"It's okay, take deep breaths"

You felt his hand pat down your head, his other arm wrapped around your waist. Feeling each time you choke out a breath to cry.

-----

JIYAN:

It was easy for you to talk with Jiyan, since he too had a cold demeanor around him that intimidated everyone else.

However you couldn't help but wonder if he too had days like these, where your tears wouldn't stop drowning your cries, or when you have painful thoughts that wouldn't stop hurting yourself no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself from them.

But eventually, you needed to let yourself loose. Your feet would be stepping over each other in a fast pace, almost running but not quite, you didn't want anyone to suspect anything was off with you, so you had to play it cool.

That was until you finally made sure that no one was around, you hid yourself in the corner of an alleyway letting your tears finally fall down after forcing them to stay in your eyes for so long, mouth choking out small cries that you tried to suppress by all means.

You were too busy holding back your cries to notice a figure standing in front of you, even if you did noticed you didn't care to react. You'll entertain that person later, right now you had to wipe away your tears to confront them first.

But to your surprise it was Jiyan. The moment you made eye contact with him he kneeled down to you and held your shaking body close to his, he didn't bother exchanging a single word. All he did was comfort you until your tears stopped.

Even when it seemed like forever, you continued to cry onto his shoulder. The pain would be unbearable to the point you might've scratched onto his skin a couple of times, yet he never wavered once to stop comforting you.

By the time you were done, all he did was hand you a pack of tissues and sat beside you while you wiped away your snot and tears. Your face and eyes was incredibly red from the amount of times you had to cry onto him to the point you were lightheaded.

"...Are you alright?"

You hear Jiyan's calming voice ask, it was a stupid question, but you knew better than to poke at him for asking about your well being. He was only showing you his concern, that was all.

So you gave him a small smile, it wasn't a perfect one since your face was numb from all the crying, but it was a genuine smile that assured him that you felt much more better than before.

"Yes, General Jiyan. I'm alright now"

-----

A/N: I WANNA DO THIS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS TOO BUT I HAVE SO MANY REQUESTS TO DO HHHHH but it was really fun to write some angst/fluff once in a while so ty for the request!!! (maybe in the near future i'll reblog this post with other characters if this post gets enough recognition 🤷‍♀️)

[shelbgrey]

Okay, hello! I love your work so much and wanted to make a request (if they're open let me know if I've been too rude to you dear) for "being Isabella Swan's big/little sister and being Jasper Cullen's mate." BECAUSE, at first he tried to repress that feeling by acting weird around her, and she hated the way he wrinkled his nose every time he saw her. Another thing, she grew up in Forka with Charlie... That's it, I'm sorry if I threw this too hard in your lap 😔. Kisses 💗

Being Bella's big sister and dating Jasper Hale headcanons

Paring: Jasper Hale X Swan!Reader

A/n: thank you for the request and don't feel bad for requesting, I always love writing for Twilight.

Main master list Emmett cullen story

So first off, I think thst you being Bella's older sister and living with Charlie kinda changes the story a bit. First off there's something special about you, but you living with humans all your life none notices.

You were about two when your parents devorced so when it came to living situations you stayed with your father.

You met the Cullens before Bella even showed up. Like everyone else at Forks High to took notice to the family. You weren't upsets with figuring out their background like everyone else though.

Your first day meeting Jasper was his first day in your history class. The only empty seat left was next to you.

He hesitated as he sat down next you. When he did he tensed up and turned his nose away. You glared at him wanting to know what his problem was. When the bell rang he was out in a flash.

The next few days he didn't show up. When he did he remained silent but didn't turn his nose like you stunk.

Instead of turning his nose away he would silently look at you then turn away before he would get cought. This went on through out the class. You would look at him then look away before he noticed.

The first words you actually exchange words till you had to work on a history project together.

“your name is y/n Swan right?” he asked. You nodded immediately falling for his southern accent. “yeah, and your Jasper”

He smiled slightly. “sorry for being so rued last week” you shrugged. “not a big deal, we all have bad days”

You guys continued to talk and he quickly got comfortable talking to you. He started to fall for everything about you. He knew you were his mate but he started finding small and big details about you that made him enternally thankful it was you.

Jasper took another aproch than his dear brother when it came to relationships. He 'corted' you by becoming friends with you first, you actually became best friends. As your relationship grew you became close to his siblings too, especially rose.

Your first date was the movies and suprisenly you guys just sat there for two hours laughing at the gore in the horror movie you picked.

After your first date he confessed to being a vampire and to his reilef you didn't freak out. He was so scared that you would leave him but he didn't want to lie to you.

“I understand if your scared... But I didn't want to start our relationship with a lie”

I immediately wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tight. “I don't care, I still want to be with you”

You started officially dating about a month before Bella showed up.

You don't get along with Bella or your mother, so let's just say you weren't thrilled when you found out she was moving to forks.

During the time she started to settle in at home with you and Charlie you spent more time with Jasper and his family. You told Jasper that you two never got along and the hate and neglect your mother caused you.

The first time Bella saw Jasper is when he was picking you up for school. She kept pushing on who he was but you bairly awnsered. “he's my boyfriend, bella”

Dispite Bella and Edward dealing with their problems you and Jasper have a very strong relationship.

You two may not have much in common but that doesn't mean you two don't show interest in each other's Passions.

Your a movie nerd so he'll happily watch any movie with you. He's a history buff and he's was around for most of it so if he wants to talk about something you'll always there to listen.

Speaking of history, it didn't take long for him to open up about him training new borns and Maria using him.

He's very gentle with you at first, he would hate himself if he ever hurt you, but later on in the relationship he's more confident and isn't afraid to touch you as much.

Speaking of which, his kisses are always full of passion and love. His favorite place to kiss you is on your forehead beacuse of how much taller he is than you.

He's always holding your hand. He always needs to be touching you and needs to be close to you. Emmett teases him for being Clingy but it's mostly just an anxiety thing, especially if he's around Humans he needs to ground himself by holding your hand or his arms around you.

If your wondering, Charlie loves him. At first he thought Jasper was weird(much like Edward) but he appreciated how kind and and well mannered he was. He knew he could trust Jasper with you.

Through your relationship with Jasper you had also gained a best friend through Rosalie and Emmett.

Rosalie loved you immediately and took you under her wing. Alice is a loyal friend but your not thst close.

Carlisle and Esme are like your second parents and they love you like your part of the family.

During the events of New Moon Jasper refused to break your heart. He knew that was Edward's plan with Bella, but he's not Edward. Yes they did move but you two stayed in contact. He would call you every day and you'll see each other on weekends.

He came to your graduation during the time the whole family moved then proposed to you a few months later.

Your wedding was unfortunately put on hold due to the who new-born army. It didn't bother you, you understood under the circumstances but Jasper was furious with not only Bella but Edward too. It wasn't their fault, he knew that, but then again Bella made it all about her and ignored the fact the vampires were after you too.

During the battle you were hurt causing Jasper to turn you. He didn't want to and he blamed himself for fighting instead of protecting you.

You loved being a vampire and never once blamed him. And it's a good thing he had experience with New-borns beacuse he was with you every step of the way during your transition.

You had your wedding about four months before Edward and Bella's. You went to Memphis for your honeymoon and stayed out till it was time to go home for the other wedding.

Oh I forgot to mention, Bree survived and since you were now an adult you and Jasper adopted her as your own. Your amazing parents and you three make an adorable family.

Later on in life and when everything was peaceful, no one dying or fighting, you two adpot two twins. They were both infants and needed loving parents.

Jasper is very loving husband and even if being a vampire is hard sometimes you wouldn't change your life for anything.

[wolken-himmel]

In which Sam steals (Y/n) away after Crewel and Crowley get into fight on who gets to spend time with the prefect.

So Sam decides to take matters into his own hands.

Request by anon.

"I will take (Y/n) to the amusement park!"

"And why is that?"

"I already planned everything and even bought the tickets. And they weren't cheap! This is just another example of my generosity!"

"But I wanted to take the pup to a fashion show!"

Your two professors have been yelling at each other for the past hour already. You had tried your best to remain patient, but that patience was now slowly running thin — especially since no solution seemed to be in sight.

"Can you... please stop fighting?" you asked weakly.

Grim, whose ears were much more sensitive than yours, let out an aggressive growl. His attempt of blocking out their voices with his paws seemed futile when he removed them from his ears. "Great, they're so busy fighting that they can't hear you..." he grumbled and crossed his arms in disappointment. "And I was so looking forward to doinf something special today!"

"Me too..." A drawn-out sigh escaped your lips when two adults began circling each other, as if this was a brawl. The sight prompted you to pinch yourself, just to make sure that you were still grounded in reality. "But we won't get anywhere at this pace," you concluded sadly after your pinch-test.

"Psh... over here," a scrawny voice whispered.

Your head snapped into the voice's direction — it came from near the bushes and trees that decorated the front of Sam's store. Carefully, you nudged Grim's side and pointed to the flat and black creature on the ground. "Did that... shadow over there just talk?" you asked in confusion.

"Nah, must have been the wind." Grim rolled his eyes in frustration before returning his attention to the bickering professors.

"Over here. Over here..." It was that voice again.

This time, curiosity got the better of you. Your hand grabbed the cat by his arm and dragged him over to the bushes. "I really think the shadow wants something from us, Grim..." you muttered under your breath while narrowing your eyes at the mysterious black patch.

"Shadows don't talk..." Grim clicked his tongue. "You stupid henchhuman."

When your feet came to a halt in front of the shrubbery, you let your gaze wander in search for whoever had called out to you.

You almost screamed when Sam jumped out of the bush next to you. "What's up, little imps," he asked cheerfully.

With your hand resting on your rapidly rising and falling chest, you gazed at him in utter shock. Yet, after a few seconds and with the support of your equally as surprised cat friend, you managed to calm down again. A sheepish smile appeared on your lips as you asked, "Oh, Sam... So that shadow was your trick?" You eyed him curiously.

"You got it! I got curious about all the yelling in front of my store and went to check it out." A few leaves and branches clung to his clothes, which he now removed with ease. Yet, when he raised his gaze and found your eyes sunken with sadness, he let out a concerned gasp. "Are you alright, little imp?"

You lowered your gaze. "Crowley and Crewel are just fighting again..."

His magenta eyes softened in pity after he had quickly assessed the situation — from where you stood, the two professors could still be heard arguing loud and clear. The store owner shook his head in disbelief. "Poor you..." His one hand resting on your shoulder, the other gestured to the small building next to you. "You know what? Why don't you come into the store. I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

You tried your best at a smile, although it turned out a little bit wonky around the edges. "Thanks, Sam..."

"I even have some tuna-flavoured biscuits for you, kitty," the store owner announced, chuckling.

At that, Grim leapt into the air gleefully. "You're the best, Sam!"

Without wasting another second — and without Crowley and Crewel noticing your absence — Sam led you inside his store. The door creaked comfortingly under his touch and barely produced any sound when it fell it into the hinges behind you. A certain warmth came wafting your way, somehow vanquishing the chill from your bones. Without the shouting from the professors, you felt much more at ease by now.

And there were all sorts of interesting things to distract you.

"Try not to touch any of the glowing stuff. Might be dangerous," Sam warned when he found you staring at a crystal ball. "Oh and also— don't put anything in your mouth. Yes, Grim... I'm looking at you."

The cat in question gasped, offended. "Me? I would never!"

Sam and you laughed at the pout on the cat's face. Quicker than you had realised, the three of you arrived in the backroom to the store, accessible through the door behind the cash register. You could barely see a thing since candles were the only source of light. But, the small amount of light allowed you to notice strange forms and masses of complete blackness seated at the table. All of them possessed a pair of glowing eyes.

These looked just like the shadow that had lured you over to Sam a few minutes earlier.

"Here, take a seat," the store owner announced and gently nudged you to the free chairs. "Everyone, these are (Y/n) and Grim."

Your cat friend looked hesitant when one of the shadows began grinning at him. "That one has sharp teeth, (Y/n)..." he muttered and pressed himself into your side.

Sam began laughing upon noticing his fear. "Don't worry, Grim. None of them bite," he trailed off innocently. "They might nibble a little bit, though."

"That's not funny!"

Despite the protests, Grim and you soon found yourselves seated at the table, sandwiched in-between his friends from the shadow realm, as Sam had explained. In front of you, all sorts of biscuits and tea cups decorated the table — but you found yourself too intimidated by the shadows to help yourself to some of the food.

A shadow next to you seemed to have sensed your hesitancy. "May I offer you some beignets?" she asked you and held the plate with the pastries out to you.

"Oh, thank you..." You flashed her a nervous smile and quickly snatched one of the puffy treats for yourself.

"Would you like some tea?" another shadow chimed in and picked up the kettle.

"Yes please," you said, slowly but surely easing up by now.

The other shadows watched you in amusements, none of them seeming to hold any ill intentions. The shadow to your left seemed especially fond of you. "Oh my! Such a well-behaved human!" she chimed and let out a few squeals. "And so pretty, too. You look so... lively."

The joke sent you drowning in laughter.

"That wasn't even all that funny." Grim watched you sceptically as you laughed your soul out.

"Your cat's humour is dead~" another shadow exclaimed.

That remark caused your laughter to increase tenfold. Luckily, you had managed to set down your tea cup just in time before the laughter had overwhelmed you — lest you spilled any boiling tea on yourself.

Sam eyed you in satisfaction. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, impling. That's some interesting humour you have going on for yourself," he mumbled proudly. A few of his shadow friends even extended their arms to give him a high-five.

"Thanks for cheering me up, Sam," you said through your wheezing. "Though I do wonder what Crowley and Crewel are doing right now..."

°

°

°

Bonus:

"I hate roller coasters and you, Crowley... So why am I here right now?"

The wind whipped past the two grown men as they sat in the middle wagon, surrounded by small children to their front and back. Whenever they rolled through a looping, Crowley began cheering and screaming with joy — perhaps a little twinge of fear, too. Crewel, on the other hand, sat next next him with an unaffected visage and crossed arms.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Crowley yelled over to his colleague. "Besides, I couldn't let those two tickets go to waste! I already paid for the full price for them, and there is a rule that says no refunds..."

Crewel exhaled in dread when he saw another looping approaching. "Where did I go wrong in life..."

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 8

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Eddie hears the commotion in the living room, and it takes everything left in him to move away from the door. He just crawls himself forward and onto a pile of nearby clothes because he knows he'll be out of the way there when they open his door.

He knows he should open the door and go out there. Wayne's still out there, confused and concerned, and he needs to call Jeff. He can't just not show up. Yet he remains on the ground, cross-legged this time, face hidden in his hands.

Steve is broken. Because Eddie broke him.

He's been so afraid that something would happen to Steve if he wasn't around but given the track record of Eddie's life, he feels like such an idiot for not realizing the biggest threat to Steve and his safety is Eddie himself.

The commotion beyond his door gets louder, bursting open, and then Robin and Dustin are falling through it, stumbling over each other in their haste to get into Eddie's room. Wordlessly, Eddie points to where he abandoned Steve on the floor, knows that they're here for him.

He's a bit startled when the two finally untangle themselves and Dustin goes to Steve but Robin drops herself onto his dirty laundry, all but draping herself over him in a hug. His body moves on its own, wrapping around Robin and all but pulling her into his lap in a bear hug. He's not crying, too numb for that now, but he does shove his face into the side of her neck and let out a dry, sobbing noise as she coos softly.

"Shhhh. We're here. We've got Steve and we've got you," Robin's voice is wet. She's crying, too, silently but tears are definitely falling because one lands directly in his ear.

He feels detached from himself after that. He's aware of things going on around him but doesn't feel sentient. Robin pulls back from him slowly, she says something as she stands up but Eddie's too busy watching Dustin ever so gently pick up Steve's pinky finger and then Steve. He thinks the smile Dustin gives him is supposed to be reassuring but it's mostly just sad.

Eddie's head followed Dustin as he heads out the door and down the hall, at which point he starts to track Robin as she's coming back down the hall, dragging Wayne behind her.

"Can you stand up, Eddie?" she asks, and Eddie feels like he's watching himself shake his head no more than he feels like he's actually doing it.

"That's alright," Wayne says, as he pats one of Robin's shoulders before moving around her. "I'm not so old as to not be able to get down there. I still don't understand what's goin' on, Eddie, but I'm here."

Wayne joins him on the floor, sitting beside him so he can fling an arm around Eddie's shoulders and tuck him into his side. Robin flops down on his other side, once again draping herself across Eddie like a weighted blanket. It's all very grounding, and a little bit jarring, and that's probably what makes Eddie come back to himself sooner than he would have if he were alone in his room.

"You should be with Steve," is what Eddie decides on saying when words return, turning his head to look at Robin.

"Nah."

"He'd want you-"

"No, he wouldn't. I'm Steve's soulmate and I know him better than anyone else in the world. Which mean you don't get to tell me what Steve would want, because I know what Steve would want. And that's me, here, making sure you're okay first."

"What's happened with Steve?" Wayne asks, and Eddie stiffens. Robin starts rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"It's a long story, Mr. Munson. But I promise we'll fill you in once the crisis has passed."

"Is this related to whatever happened last year durin' the supposed earthquake that y'all can't talk about?"

"Well, I couldn't say either way, since we can't talk about it."

"Right. Get one o' the kids to tell me, then. Whatever they signed ain't legal anyhow."

Robin shoots Eddie a look, like she's trying to figure out if Eddie broke his NDA and told his uncle everything. He gives a quick shake of his head, and then Robin looks to Wayne. "I'm certain Dustin would be thrilled to fill you in, then. Now, Eddie, can you tell me what happened?"

He looks down the hall. He can see people crowded into the trailer's tiny living room but none of them look like any member of the Byers-Hopper household. "Uhh, yeah, but where's El?"

"They're in Indy, some family day thing. But don't worry, we went out to the Cerebro and were able to get El on the Walkie, so they're on the way back."

"You went- how long have I been just... sitting in here," Eddie is mostly talking to himself because it hasn't felt like enough time has passed for them to have made it to pick everyone up, get to Weathertop, communicate with El, and come here.

"Well, Nancy called me-" she cuts off, grabbing Eddie's arm and twisting it around so she can read the time on his watch, "-about an hour and a half ago. So, I guess you've been here that long."

Eddie untwists his arm, shaking her off. "You are being scarily calm right now, Queen of Catastrophizing."

"I already had an hour and a half to freak out. You think I need more?" Robin says as she stands up.

"I guess not," Eddie follows after her.

"Hey, help your old man up," Wayne grumbles, hand out for Eddie to grasp and help pull.

They go down the hall and now Eddie can see the full collective of people in his living room. Nancy, Mike, Lucas, Erica, Max, and Dustin, who is still holding Steve. It settles something inside Eddie, that the group he sees before him is the same one that fought tooth and nail to clear his name and keep him alive.

"So, we're all really sure that we can't just glue it back on?" Mike is asking when Eddie, Robin, and Wayne make it to the living room.

"We aren't sure about anything, Mike," Nancy replies, the frustration in her voice clear.

Everyone stops talking, though, as Wayne gives Eddie a thump on his back and wades through the crowd to get back to his chair. "Well, don't stop on my account. If I hear somethin', no I didn't."

That gets a snort of a laugh from Dustin.

Nancy looks like she wants to argue but doesn't. Instead, she wheels on Eddie, full journalism mode seemingly on, "what happened?"

Eddie swallows thickly before answering, "I dropped him. I-I pick him up and something pinched my palm. It surprised me, or something, and I just- I just let go. He landed on his left side before falling onto his back."

Nancy nods, brain processing much faster than Eddie right now, "And the crack appeared before or after you dropped him?"

He tries to remember, "I don't- I think so?"

"You think or you know?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know, Wheeler," Eddie says it more harshly than needed but he doesn't know! He doesn't remember because he didn't even look at Steve for longer than a second or two after Jeff saw him. "I've been having a mental breakdown kind of all day so no, I don't know! All I know is it's my fault because there wasn't a crack this morning, and now he's missing a finger-"

She's not even effected by his outburst, "Eddie! I'm not blaming you! I'm asking for the details because if you didn't do anything to cause the crack, then maybe that's just Steve, breaking the curse or something."

His anger drains from him almost as quickly as it built. "What?"

"I've been reading a lot, researching you know. About magical transformations. But there's not a lot of nonfiction on the subject. Ergo, I've been reading a lot of fairy tales."

"Which isn't really good for research-" Dustin starts, but Nancy just talks over him.

"My point is that, if you didn't do anything to cause the crack, maybe it just happened naturally. Supernaturally? Whatever, maybe it's a sign of whatever curse is on Steve is fading on it's own. That's why I wanted to know," she shifts from one foot to another now before adding, "I'm sorry about your day. I might have broached the subject differently had I known."

"No, you wouldn't have, but that's why I like you, Wheeler. You're a no-nonsense gal and I appreciate that," Eddie says.

Nancy gives him a small, almost shy, smile in return and the room falls into a silence that just this side of uncomfortable.

"Alright, Dustin, since the talkin' seems to be done, you wanna fill an old man in on what the hell's been goin' on around here for the last few years?" Wayne breaks the silence and Eddie barks out a laugh at the look on everyone's faces.

"Uhh, we don't-I don't know what you are talking about," is Dustin's eloquent answer.

Wayne nods and Eddie knows his uncle well enough to recognize the look on his face and in his eyes. Wayne switches tactics, then, and says, "You got any one older than twenty-five that knows what's happenin'?"

The group exchanges looks before Dustin says, "yes."

"Alright. They comin' here?"

"Yes."

"I can wait, then. Anyone hungry? Thirsty?" Wayne asks, and then without waiting for an answer, looks to Eddie and says, "Eddie, get to makin' some sandwiches. What kinda host are you?" Wayne is shaking his head like he can't believe Eddie's audacity.

Eddie sputters out some indignant response, even as he turns to round the corner cabinet to officially be in the kitchen. His first choice is peanut butter and jelly, but when he gets the peanut butter out, he can see there's probably enough for two sandwiches, three if it's a thin layer of peanut butter. Opening the fridge shows a sad amount of lunch meat; the cupboard has two tuna fish cans.

"Guess we're making several different sandwiches," Robin's voice so close to his back makes him jump, which earns a chorus of chuckles from the peanut gallery in the living room.

"Someone needs to get you a bell," Eddie mutters. "Get to work on the PB and J's. I'll get this tuna mixed."

They work in silence, making three different types of sandwiches. Wayne knew they didn't have enough of any one thing to make enough for everyone here, and the ones who will be showing up eventually, but he told Eddie to do it anyway. Asked, but didn't wait for an answer. Wayne's making busy work for him, he realizes. A distraction from what he's done. He's not sure if he should be thankful for that or not.

The only thing separating the kitchen from where everyone is seated in the living room is a counter and cupboards, so when the sandwiches are done, Eddie just shoved them across the counter. "Sandwiches are done."

It's not exactly a rush for the sandwiches on the other side of the counter but everyone does gather to grab one. There's not even an argument about wanting a specific one, except Max, who is offered all three kinds and when she says PB&J, Mike hands over the one he grabbed without hesitation. It's the most mature thing Eddie's seen him do, if only because every other time he does something mature he complains about it, which kind of ruins the 'mature' part.

It's about three minutes into eating that the trailer's front door bursts open and at first no one is there, like a gust of wind had blown it open, but then El comes barreling in and Hopper can be heard shouting something about knocking first.

"Where is he?" El demands.

"Here," Dustin is already holding Steve out to her. She doesn't even approach Dustin, just pulls Steve to her using her mind, grabbing him out of the air with one hand. She examines him quickly, finding the crack. She trails one of her fingers along the crack to where his pinky is missing. Dustin adds, "Do you want his finger, too?"

She shakes her head and turns to Eddie next, and he doesn't even feel the bandana leave his pocket, but he does watch it fly across the space between them. She moves over to sit in front of the TV, Steve in her lap as she's folding the bandana into a blindfold.

"TV," is her final demand as her eyes vanish behind cloth and she's trying off the bandana. Mike moves instantly to the TV, clicking it on to fill the room with static.

Wayne, to his credit, has only the tiniest hint of an eyebrow raised from watching things move about the room seemingly by nothing. El hadn't even stopped to consider someone not In The Know was here. Guess he's In The Know now.

Will, Jonathan, Argyle, Joyce, and Hopper have made it into the trailer, closing the door silently behind them. Hopper finds Wayne among the crowd of kids, eyes going wide, while Wayne just lifts his sandwich in a salute before taking a big bite out of it.

"Steve, I cannot hear you. I do not think you can hear me in your mind. Nod if you hear me now." El's voice breaks the tense silence that had fallen.

Of shit, what did Eddie do?

"Oh, good. Are you okay?" A pause. "He is nodding. Do you know what happened? He is shaking his head. Do you know why you are far away now? Shaking his head again. You can still hear. Can you still see? He is nodding. Steve, there is a crack on your arm-"

"His left arm," Mike interjectes.

"Yes, your left arm. Yes. You are missing a finger on that hand. Do you think that is what is causing the distance? He is shrugging. Do not worry, we will figure this out. I am going to go now."

El pulls off the bandana and uses it to wipe the blood from her nose before setting it on the living room floor. "I cannot get as close to him as I could before. He stays far away no matter how close I walk. But he is okay."

He's okay. Steve's okay. Fucking Christ, Eddie's going to throw up. A couple people call his name as he dashes down the hall. He crashes through the bathroom door and knows he doesn't have time to close it, so everyone gets to hear him lose his sandwich into the toilet bowl. On the third heave of his stomach, cool hands touch his head, gather his hair up and away from his face. He doesn't even have it in him to flinch or jump. "Thanks."

"I'd say anytime, dingbat, but I don't really want to hold your puke hair too many more times. You get, like, two more, tops," Robin says.

"I can't go back out there, Robin," he whispers, "I did this. I cracked him, broke his finger off and now El can't even hear him. I can't- he's gotta go with someone else. I can't-"

"I know. Dustin already asked if you'd be upset if Steve went home with him. I'll let him know you understand he needs to be around Steve right now."

"Why aren't you mad at me?"

"Dingbat. Eddie. You're mad enough at yourself for all of us," she says, reaching over and flushing the toilet. Eddie feels like there's more throwing up to do but he is glad to have the smell of vomit reduced with the flush. He sits up a bit more, so his hair won't fall into his face when Robin lets go. Robin lets go long enough to search the bathroom cabinets for a hair tie, pushing it into Eddie's hands. "Hair up."

"So demanding," Eddie mumbles even as he gathers his hair into the tie.

"Once you're done ralphing just go to bed. I'll get everyone out of your house."

Eddie nods and Robin leaves, clicking the door closed. He heaves a few more times before his body is done. On shaking legs, he makes his way to his room. He feels like he's floating above himself again. He doesn't know if everyone has left yet, or if he hears nothing because he's too out of it.

He tucks himself in and dozes. He wakes up three times; once, when his uncle comes in and puts the walkie near him on the bed, the second time in the evening when Robin wriggles into his bed and forces herself into his arms with a simple I usually hold Steve when I'm feeling bad, but I suppose you holding me will have to do and the final time, almost at midnight, when the walkie goes off.

"Anyone up?" says the disembodied voice of Dustin Henderson.

Eddie's not sure how the quiet voice woke him up, but it does. He reaches over Robin, who has starfished out of his arms in their sleep, to grab the walkie. He doesn't know if he should answer, so he holds out for someone else.

"Hello?" Dustin asks again.

No one answers. So, finally, Eddie does. "I'm here, Henderson. Bad dream?"

"I'm glad it's you, Eddie," Dustin says, something soft in his voice.

"Why?"

"'Cause I wanted to talk to you," says a new voice, a familiar voice.

"Steve?" Eddie whispers, even as his free hand is violently shaking Robin awake.

Robin mumbles something incoherent, head turning to Eddie as the voice on the walkie says, "Yeah, it's me."

[writerscall]

'cause my love is mine, all mine.

It's an ugly feeling, insecurity. Even when it's irrational because she knows her girlfriend would never cheat on her. Sometimes it was just hard being with somebody that everybody else loved almost as much as she did, if not just as much.

author's notes: 652 words. sfw, angst, slightly jealous and very insecure hazel, toothache-inducing hurt-with-comfort sapphicism

"I don't mean to sound... you know, but doesn't that ever bother you?"

Hazel looks up at Josie's words, her trigonometry world problem temporarily put on pause as she follows her friend's line of sight. Towards her, looking lovely as ever while manning the cashier for the bake sale. But the smile on the brunette's face doesn't last for long when Alec from their shared physics class sidles up to her with all the charm of the class heartthrob that he is.

Swimmer guy. A lot nicer than any of the guys in football and Hazel kinda hates how part of her wishes that he wasn't. She'd feel better having her girlfriend coldly shrugging his advances off because he was an asshole instead of her being nice to him even with a flirty (though not serious) quip here and there because, well, because he's nice. And her girl's an absolute saint, bless her heart.

She pushes the icky feeling down and tells Josie it doesn't, that the two of them knew each other long before Hazel knew either of them and to not think too much about it. But her throat feels dry and she's silently wishing the remaining fifteen minutes to four o'clock would run faster so the bake sale would be over and they could finally go back to her place.

It's an ugly feeling, insecurity. Even when it's irrational because she knows her girlfriend would never cheat on her. Sometimes it was just hard being with somebody that everybody else loved almost as much as she did, if not just as much.

"You're so quiet tonight," she hears her say, and Hazel merely hums in reply as she continues to mindlessly make random soothing patterns on her arm. They're in their usual position on her too-big bed, Hazel sitting up and leaning against the headboard with her nestled between her legs, back against her body with her arms around her. "Everything alright over there?"

She twists her body slightly to look up at her. Hazel manages a bit of a smile, saying, "Yeah, of course. Just thinking about... stuff."

And because she knows her well, her expression goes all soft the way it does when she's seen right through her.

She untangles herself, moving and turning around so she can sit on her lap. Hazel's hands instinctively fall on her hips as her hands come up to cup her face. "You know Alec is just being Alec, right? Nothing there that crosses the friendship boundary."

Hazel nods even though she sort of wants to roll her eyes, then silently curses herself for wanting to be petty. She opens her mouth to say something but gets cut off.

"But if it's really bothering you now then I can tell him to tone it down or just stop all together."

"No, I - I don't want you to feel like you can't still have friends that you can be playful and fun with." Hazel shakes her head and brings the hands away from her face, holding them between their bodies. "I don't want you to be that person who gets into a relationship and then just stops hanging out with old friends because you're in a relationship, okay? It's just... I don't know, I-"

"Hey," she says as she places a hand on Hazel's cheek again, smiling at her reassuringly. "I love you. You, Haze. I need you to remember that and not doubt it whenever you get those ugly feelings floating around your head."

"I know. I know, I'm sorry I get like this." And then she places the softest kiss on her forehead and the dam breaks, and Hazel's crying as there are kisses pressed down to her cheek with a whispered 'love you' between each of them.

She's not sure if she deserves her, but she loves her and is loved in return. Hazel knows that will be enough.

[oletusfragments]

i heard requests were open and i scampered over as quickly as i could, i hope i made it in time 🙏

🌠: joseph, victor and mike (seperately) with a gn! reader who got hurt badly during the match and he has to take care of them (for joseph you could make the injuries be from a nasty fall or getting hit by the trolley or something)

Thank you for your time!

— SAVE YOUR HEART FOR ME; I'LL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED

— JOSEPH

You and an injured teammate are running away from the photographer, circling around the hospital to buy time for the decoder of your team to decode the remaining two cipher machines. One of you has already been sent back to the manor deleteriously early in the game. Your team was quite at a disadvantage especially with Joseph's ability to slow down your decoding progress.

Currently, you're supporting your injured teammate as much as you can by shielding them against Joseph's hits. You and the photographer are aware and has accepted the consequences of loving someone from a faction with an opposite purpose from each other. You are to survive and he is to kill. But your lover can't exactly find it in him to hit you, the love of his life even if it costs him the match. And do you take advantage of it. He loathes you for that sometimes.

He's trying his best to find an opening through your body block to hit the other survivor but to no avail. You are quite persistent in taking the hit for them. Shielding them so closely to the point that it looks like you're hugging them.

The chase of cat and mouse, two mice in this situation, continues between all of you. All desperately aiming for victory even with the given situation. But perhaps Joseph should've paid more attention as to how long your body would last at the repeated jumping off the two-story building of the hospital.

You jump down following your teammate from the destroyed wall of the hospital's second floor. And Joseph follows after. But this time, the sight of you and your teammate running isn't what greeted him but instead the sight of you desperately trying to stand up from the ground with your teammate trying to support you as much as they can. But with the hits they've taken from Joseph's sword, their body doesn't allow them to help you to get off and run as the photographer inches closer to the two of you.

"My dear, what happened?" Joseph kneels beside you. He puts away his sword and inspects your body for injuries and puts an arm around you.

You shake your head "Don't worry, it's not that bad." But the hiss of pain you let out when you try to move one of your legs says otherwise.

He takes your hand away that was wrapped around your ankle to see the injury for himself. Your skin is littered in purple and red. His irises–wait he doesn't have those… He glances on your ankle to your face. "Does it hurt that much? You must have hurt your ankle when you fell."

"Oh we don't know that, my ankle just probably decided to dislocate while I'm mid-air." You replied to his obvious statement.

Joseph gives you a look and you decide to change the topic "So, uh, what about the match?"

"I don't think it's a good idea to continue it when you're in this state… maybe we should just call it a draw and go back?" Your teammate speaks up. Joseph gives an approved hum and picks you up, fighting back a grin when your cheeks turn pink at the gesture.

He carried you to your room and tended to your injury all by himself. But he did call for other medical experts in the manor (such as Emily) to make sure you'd have a stable and speedy recovery.

As much as he'd like to, Joseph would abandon any work or matches he has planned on his agenda just to stay by your side. But let's say due to manor rules, he can't.

The other survivors feel like the photographer has been more aggressive with his matches these couple days. They thought that it might be because you're hurt. Technically they're right, he just wants the matches to be over so that he'd see you again quicker.

— VICTOR

It's not too surprising that you'd get injured. After all, the area all of you are living in aren't exactly safe nor are the people you're sharing under the roof with. Especially when you all are scheduled and obligated to play the "game". In this house, getting hurt is normal.

You weren't feeling it today. The past few days were tireless and you've barely gotten any sleep. But you had a match today. And you can't exactly skip it, even with how exhausted you are. The baron cares only for rules and results you give, they could care less for your lack of rest.

The match was quite peaceful, fortunately. The kiter of your team was doing well and the rest of you three are peacefully decoding the ciphers. Victor was also in the match which gave some comfort in the intense and tiring atmosphere.

But you were tired as hell, and the peace was so boring that it's encouraging you to relax. A bit too much. Your eyes droop and you lose your focus on decoding. You didn't even hear the bell that signifies an upcoming calibration. Your eyelids opened as fast as you closed them when the cipher gave you a shock for your failed calibration.

Luckily Victor has already finished your cipher and was heading to yours when he heard you scream in pain followed by a thud. He rushed to the noise and scrambled beside you to check what had happened to you.

The familiar bark heading your way gives you relief as you lie on the ground hissing and groaning while clutching your wrist. Victor looks at you worriedly as he positions himself beside you. He lets out a surprise yelp when his eyes land on your right hand. Around your palm are black spots and red marks.

"I got shocked…" You say, your voice hinting a slight disappointment towards yourself. "I fell asleep and missed a calibration."

Victor gives you a warm side hug whispering to you "Please don't beat yourself too much because of this. You were too tired and shouldn't have been in this match anyway."

He rubs your shoulders to soothe you. There's no doctor in the match right now and the area the game is set in doesn't seem to have any first aid kits or anything to help to provide. So unfortunately you'd have to sit for now until the match is over to get your wound treated.

A cipher pops from across the map and is followed by another pop. Maybe it was fortunate that there was a certain prisoner in the match to help speed up the cipher progress. There's only one cipher left needed to complete. And yours was more than halfway done. The inventor from across the map sees that too and the light bulb from the switch on the ground lights up signifying that he has made a connection to your cipher to the one near his.

"Stay here, it'll get better soon I promise." His hushed voice says to you and you nod in response. You don't have to do anything but wait right now, seems like the perfect time to take a short nap. But the zap you just had earlier just electrocuted the exhaustion out of you. Well at least you have Wick and your cute blonde lover to accompany you right now and to keep you distracted from what happened. You don't even want to look at your injured hand right now.

Victor doesn't need to take a peek from his letters to speed up his decoding. His love for you and his priority for your health and safety is enough to give him the motivation he needs to slam his fingers on the metal keyboard like his life depends on it (well technically it does I guess?).

When the last cipher popped, Victor rushed you to the nearest gate and typed in the code to get you out of there as fast as possible.

He memorized every advice Emily gave to you for your injury, even writing it down so it won't be forgotten. He also made sure to send a letter of gratitude to the doctor in thanks for her help.

The days you feel insecure or guilty for your accident, Victor was there to reassure you. Saying that any wounds or mistakes you do doesn't make him love you less and that he will always be there and take care of you when needed.

When he's not available or busy with other things, he'd send long letters and gifts to make you feel better while you rest in the meantime you're healing from your injury.

— MIKE

A risky boyo. He literally plays with bombs. As much as it helps to reduce the hunter's abilities and speed, it's still a bomb. A weapon treated as a toy and could pose a threat to the survivors side if handled wrong (ingame it doesn't do anything to fellow survs but I'm talking in a more realistic sense...does that make sense lol).

The match was just utter chaos. Sounds of bombs everywhere that your own eardrums felt like exploding. Even their ticking was enough to make your ears bleed, not just because they're annoying but also because it's the indicator to your upcoming demise of getting flown to the sky by a rocket.

Your beloved acrobat is heading towards you and the hunter, guard 26. A hunter with a seemingly unlimited stack of bombs that can rain upon you. Around you were a handful of bombs threatening to explode as soon as a foot stepped on their area, something Bonbon can also command despite the timer. Making it harder for your lover to rescue you unscathed.

Mike runs towards Bonbon and leaps above him, dropping a fire bomb. He cartwheels to your chair and stands up immediately to untie you from the binds. But as soon as you get out of the seat, bombs explode on the two of you. He missed.

"Oh… oopsies. Sorry." He gives you a strained smile while his eyes display annoyance. You can't even be mad when he already looks guilty enough for the mistake. Ah, well he tried his best. What's fortunate at least is that you didn't get incapacitated and both of you managed to get away with the help of the speed boost of your will to live. The amount of miracles that happened in the overwhelming situation was absurd but you'd take any chance god gives you.

But unfortunately, your luck ends there. You all still end up getting eliminated and receive a loss for the match.

Both you and Mike are treating each other's burns in your room. It wasn't only you who suffered but him as well. He apologized to you profusely for his mistake at the match.

"If it only landed properly, the match could've gone better… damn…"

You use your arms to lift your weight to scoot closer to him, wincing when the burns in your legs brush with the fabric of the mattress. "We all make mistakes, don't beat yourself up over it."

"But look at us! We got cooked." He points at both your legs, which are wrapped in dressings.

"There's nothing we can do to change the past now, no matter the amount of regrets we have right now. We just gotta make sure it won't happen next time."

He hums in contemplation before replying to you, "You're right."

His head shot up as if an idea sparked in his mind and you look at him curiously "And next time, I'll do cooler stunts while I explode a bomb on their face! I'll do this cool flip like…" Mike motions his ideas with his hands in a way that's only comprehensible to him as you nod pretending–but trying–to understand.

"Oh, I have a lot of work to do!" He says, giddy with excitement and an earnest look on his face. Seems that he's recovered from his depressed state. You smile at him, glad that he's shining once again. But there's still one thing he needs to consider…

"Mike, you should let your legs heal first…"

"...Oh, right."

You two spend time with each other while also healing together. He'd caress your injuries and kiss them but they're burns. They hurt when touched so he can't (😔).

Mike makes you laugh by telling jokes and silly stories in return for you comforting him. He's even willing to serve you meals in bed if you want him to and no, he won't let you do any work. See it as a redemption for his undignified rescue, he says.

N: I think I focused more on the scenario than the caring part, especially at Mike's part and you can see very well which parts I gave up on oml 😭😭 Sorry this took long!

[wishamongtheflowers]

Sight

"Look," the officer put his hands in the air in defeat, "we need her to help us with the recent deaths. She's our only chance."

"Fine, I'll get her. Gotta warn you she's," takes a moment to find a word which fits the mold, "on edge."

The law informants disturbances to the home of the dead where creeping up on several weeks. Everyone so far hasn't been able to figure out the series of deaths which have begun to amp up in frequency. The police didn't enjoy having to rely on 'meer teens' for cases which will get them in the light instead of the police force.

Their hands where tied at this point. If everyone who have proper knowledge can't do so then an ultimate who has a good reputation in their work is their last attempt.

Out came Kido. She already knew why the officials were at her place of death and tranquility.

"Ma'am do you mind coming with us to the station. We need your profound skills to aid in several deaths," Kido looked at the policeman then to the sheriff.

She shook her head.

"I believe you'll do well for us," the sheriff held a smile.

Kido didn't like being their temporary whipping dog. Bitter wasn't a word which fits her emotions. Did they actually think her talent would be helpful? Are they that desperate?

"Whatever you say, sir." Kido held her arms crossed.

"Good; tomorrow is when you'll start!" At least she was able to compromise with these people, "Go ahead and head home."

"See you tomorrow." All she could say without her beastly nature coming out.

Kido roamed around the living city. Her resentment mated with envy and misery walked alongside Kido. She was ever so bitter seeing happiness flow through her cold, rotting body. She couldn't stand her own bitterness of life surrounding her with sheer swarms of flies among other parasites.

The world is warm, per usual cause of sun and blacktop. She couldn't complain on what she couldn't control. Just not worth it.

She was free to do what she wanted till night comes. Nothing came to mind. Her UV damaged eyes inched along to each side. The sun helped to see blurry figures all around her. It's the only thing the sun is good for.

"Where did Mistress say to meet again?"

Usual sinking of her acidless stomach came around anytime she mentions her enslaver. The only reason why she stays was to wait and win the war. She will win. She'll cheat to win if needed. It was to ensure his safety and happiness.

Kido found herself where her fall came forward. Her old school.

Rumors and fear prevented any chance of rebuilding the school. It was her fault. She sang. Her voice. Her... everything. Kido looked at the burned rubble without any dead victims remaining in this hellish grave of generations. They're resting in peace now. All but her.

Washed away soot, rotting scorched wood, and other objects a school would have lay to rest. All her fault. The school. The hospital. Fuka's death. It's all her fault.

----------------------[tags]-----------------------

The remains felt undead with her around. So much has been lost. Ravens crowed from the sky before they came to rest. Obsidian beaks picked around old molded books, broken desks, and stray chairs.

@mikado-sannoji @after-neo-world and others are welcome to join.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Pt.6 the +1

Steve's radio goes off again. "Situation at the Munson bar."

Robin gives him a look. "We're going to respond to that right?"

Steve sighs. "We have to."

When he walks in it's definitely not what he's expecting. Gareth runs up to him.

"Hey Steve."

"Hey Gare what's going on?" He's still looking around for Eddie but he doesn't have to look long.

Eddie's drunk on the stage. Performing for karaoke Friday.

"I WAS MADE FOR LOVING YOU BABY" He has a glass of whiskey in one hand and a mic in the other. He's stumbling around.

"I've been trying to get him down for 30 minutes. He keeps saying it's his property so it doesn't matter but look at him, he's a danger to himself and he's scaring the customers."

"I'll handle this." Steve walks up to the stage until he's in Eddie's eyeline.

"Oooohhhh look who it is! Look everyone!" Eddie points at Steve. "The guy who doesn't want to date me!" He's laughing.

"Eddie that's enough. Get down."

"No!"

Steve can't believe he's acting like this over him. He's just some guy. Eddie wouldn't want him soon. He wouldn't want to stay. Steve was saving him from being hurt. He was doing the right thing.

"Eddie. Get. Down."

"No! I can do what I want it's my bar! It's my heart! It's my emooooootioooonnnssss" He sings into the mic.

Steve is silent. He doesn't know the best, safest course of action.

"Of course you're silent," Eddie scoffs. "You were silent when you ran off and I was pleading for you to come back. Why wouldn't you be silent when I'm publicly putting you on the spot."

"Stop."

"No. Not until you give me an explanation."

He waves the mic in Steve's face until he leaves it at his lips.

"So what's it gonna be Stevie? Tell the people? Or leave. Again."

Steve's face is stone. He will remain professional.

"I'm not doing this here." It echoes in the mic.

"Why not!" Eddie yells. "You won't do it here you won't do it when I'm pleading!"

"Can we go somewhere-"

"No!"

"I just don't know what you want to hear. I don't know what you want from me-"

"Why don't you want me!" Eddie's screaming at him. Still on the stage.

Steve stares up at him and it all feels right in that moment. Like he's not doing something wrong. Like he can have what he wants. He's ready now, he's going to put everything on the line.

"Answer me!" Eddie pushes at his shoulders and Steve stumbles a bit.

"Of course I want you! You don't want me!"

Eddie looks shocked. Tears are streaming down his face. He's still so drunk.

"Wha- what. What could you possibly mean by that." He walks leans forward, almost falling off the stage. He holds Steve's face in his hands. The look he gives him- god it cuts through Steve like a knife. He's never been on the receiving end of so much emotion, so much affection.

"I always want you, Stevie. You hurt me."

Steve chokes out a sob.

"No- no you want me now. You're drunk, you don't want me forever. I'm too much I love too much. I'm protecting you. I'm helping. The cop thing is a lot, people can't handle that. I'm doing what's right."

Eddie looks at him like he can tell Steve repeats the mantra in the mirror.

"I've sobered up. As soon as you looked into my eyes I was sober. You make me feel drunk. You make me feels things i didnt know i was allowed to feel. If you ever doubt me know im serious in this moment. I want you Steve Harrington. I love you too much. I want whatever you're willing to give me and I promise I'll give you so much more. Be with me. Date me. Never leave me and I'll be yours forever."

Steve crushes their lips together. He's too happy. There's no way this is real.

He pulls back and kisses all over Eddie's face. Eddie giggles and launches himself off the stage and into Steve's arms. His legs wrap around his waist.

They hear whistling all around them. People are clapping and jeering.

They're too wrapped up in each other to care.

"God I love you I love you I love you-"

"Okaaaay," Eddie pushes his face away and looks deeply into his eyes. "I love you too."

"Do you want to?"

"The good part of owning this place is I can leave whenever I want, plus today's my day off I just wanted to get your attention."

Steve cackles and holds him tighter.

"You have it. You have me."

"You have me always babe. Let's get out of-AAAAH AHAAHAHA"

Steve is still holding him as he runs out the door Eddie scream laughing in his arms.

---

Thanks for reading my second complete fic! Lemme know if you like it:)

I'll probably be editing this for like the next week idk

[kbagraces]

Curious Time - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Singer!reader

Multiple part series where their friendship was easy, their feelings were confusing and the distance was the hardest <3

(3rd person perspective)

PART 3 -

BUBBLEGUM

"It's sad because it just hurts. I'd do anything for you."

The week drawing to a close, a sad vibe lingered between the two of them. They cherished the moments they spent together, but with the final day approaching they both struggled to keep spirits high.

With both of their career paths, it was hard to fit into each other lives, but Lando's summer break ending and you preparing for the release for her next single, she knew contact would fall back to a minimum. They were both the most important people in one another's lives, even if they didn't speak for a year that would remain true, but bitter sweet.

The staycations would become day visits, turning to missed calls and sparse texts until their schedules aligned once more. She hated saying goodbye, she hated leaving him. She wished either of the jobs was less demanding but neither would ever give it up despite the toll it took on the two of them.

The final day was here. They agreed on day in bed as her flight was late and she couldn't be tired and miss it. The day was filled with hugs and sweet nothings, days like today is the only time she blurred the friendship line, when sober that is. Nothing too intimate, they'd never take it that far but her fingers would find their way into his curls as he's lying on her lap. Massaging any stress he has away, knowing it'll come flooding back as soon as she leaves.

"I wish you didn't have to go. Everything is easier with you here." He sighs. His head lifting up, sitting beside her so he can look in her eyes.

"You'll be fine in a week and you know it. Back to normal, you'll busy yourself with work and soon enough you'll be racing, you won't have time to give me a second thought." She smiles, she knows the first week is the hardest, but they're both cut from the same loaf, distract yourself with work and it soon enough goes. Until a hard day hits and all she needs is him.

"You're never a second thought and you know it. You're first in my life, always."

She could cry, she would never not in-front of him that's not fair on either of them. But God does she adore him. She couldn't live without him. "You're my favourite. I wish I could stay."

Silence takes over once more, nothing more needs to be said. An hour more of cuddling this way the sun has set the room dimly lit by the street lamps and the glow of the city.

"I need to make sure I've got all my stuff." She sighs shifting his head off her lap. Slithering out of bed, dragging herself to the room, her bags mainly packed but she likes to check then check again. She drags each bag to the front door, another quick glance over the now empty room making sure she hasn't forgotten anything.

Lando's now stood in the doorway once more, "I'll miss having your mess everywhere."

"It wasn't mess! It was so I was able to see what I brought with me!" She fires back, knowing he was only joking.

She falls into his arms, she has to leave now. He can't take her to the airport it's far too busy for the two of them to both arrive there. A mob at an airport is one way to piss the staff off before a flight.

She breathes in her scent once more, he kisses the top of her heard. "Don't go." He mumbled into her hair.

"That's not fair Lan, and you know it.", she looks up at him with sad eyes, their faces inches apart. His eyes dart between hers, he's leaning in.

He kisses her, she doesn't even comprehend before returning the kiss. Just like them laying together they fit. It's right. This feels right. So why is she pulling away, why is she pushing him away.

"We can't Lando, we can't do that. Please don't do that." Oh but I want to do that again, her heart says but her head is stronger.

He looks hurt and confused, "Why? y/n/n I know you feel it. Everyone says it. Come on." He grabs her hands pulling her close, not to kiss her again but to lessen the distance. He doesn't like how far she pulled away, he needs her close. Always.

"I can't do this Lando. Not now. Not when I'm leaving. I know what'll happen you'll promise me stuff and I'll promise you stuff. But we can't maintain it, not with the distance. And I'll lose you, one of us will get hurt and I'll lose you. I can't lose you." Tears appear in the corner of her eyes but she wipes them away before they can exit. Don't cry, dammit, she thinks.

Lando let's go of her hands now, running his own through his hair in frustration and upset. "You won't try? You won't even try? You'll never lose me no matter what. This could be good, so good and you won't try?" He's aware he sounds desperate, apart of him is. Having her here for almost a month has made him more aware of his feelings than even.

"We've never even discussed this Lando! You can't say all this as I'm about to leave!"

"I don't need to say it! I know you feel the same. It's us, I know how you feel. 'He's not you' that's what you said."

"I'd love it work Lan. I'd love nothing more. We can't even keep our friendship going for months, let alone a relationship. Please don't be angry at me. I need to in my life I don't want to risk losing you in case it doesn't work."

Lando knows in his soul it would work. There's nothing in the world he wouldn't do to make it work. He can't force her mind to change however.

"I disagree. But I can't force you. Im always yours. I'll always be yours, y/n/n. It's you." He pulls her in for a hug, her phone ringing in the background. The Uber having just arrived at the worst time.

He clears his throat, weak from holding back tears and frustration, "I'll bring ur bags down, I'll meet you down there, tell him to wait 5."

Y/n runs ahead, speaking to the Uber driver in her limited French as Lando loads up the boot. The driver gets in, sensing the goodbye should be private.

"Lan, I'm yours but it just won't work."

What does that mean? He wants to scream. He knows she wants him. That's why she rejects every man who's not him. She's shown no romantic interest in anyone else since they met, she hides behind the work excuse, because she wants him, she just won't give herself to him.

"I'll wait." He promises.

"You don't have to."

"Then how come I do?"

They hug for a little too long, the driver visibly getting impatient. They don't care. She kisses him, on the cheek this time, like she always does. He makes her promise to call him when she lands, she does but she knows he'll be asleep, and the drifting apart will begin again. It's only a matter of time.

Masterlist

[theficpusher]

Good boy by 28sunflowers | E | 2768 Harry is startled out of his thoughts by the needle going over one of his ribs. Thankfully, he catches himself and manages to stay still, but accidentally lets out a whimper at the unexpected stronger burn. He exhales slowly when Louis takes the gun off his skin, trying to remain calm. “Good boy,” Louis tells him automatically, giving him a pat to the hip.

Soft Wings by kingsofeverything | G | 4375 Harry is a Dolly Parton fan who wants to get a tattoo in tribute to her. Louis is the tattoo artist.

take your whole life then you put a line through it by sunflower_lwt | M | 5332 an AU with trans harry, an all-knowing cousin, and tattoo artist louis.

lemongrass and sleep by moonshinelouis | E | 5370 Louis is a tattoo artist and Harry wants a rose tattoo.

I See Your Colours and I'm Dying of Thirst by taking_sweet_time | nr | 6244 Harry asks Louis for a tattoo, but forgets to mention that he's got a little bit of a... problem when it comes getting inked. Shenanigans ensue. Or, a very dumb fic about Harry's fucking whale (maybe) tattoo.

Makes Me Feel Alive by hazzahtomlinson | E | 8372 Louis hated when people came in to get tattooed and couldn’t sit still— bunch of fucking squares is what they were. If only that had been the issue for his newest client.

A Simple Twisted Fate by Cyantific | E | 18125 Global rock star Harry Styles has some time to kill between tour dates and stumbles into a Doncaster tattoo shop with a desire for some new ink. He has a few other desires as well, but those he must keep to himself. Louis Tomlinson, owner of Twisted Fate Tattoos, has seen enough of the tabloids and thinks he knows everything there is to know about this world-famous rock star, and he’s not impressed. Harry may be one of the world's biggest stars known for a lavish lifestyle, crazy parties and entourages of women wherever he goes, but he’s more than just what his image and wild reputation suggests. Things take an interesting turn when Louis finds out he’s been helping satisfy Harry’s voracious pain kink. Bet he'd love to know that not only is Louis a gifted tattoo artist, but an experienced Dom as well. Perhaps they both have something to learn from each other, if only Louis would give Harry a chance. Maybe their paths crossing was more than just a twist of fate, but the universe’s plan all along.

Necessity is the mother of invention by words_of_my_own | E | 87502 Louis is the owner of a couple of tattoo studios that are not for tattooing purposes only. Harry works as a policeofficer and infiltrator, currently on a case that really only should be straight forward. What happens when things aren't what they seem, morals come into play, and when you fall in love with the one person you just shouldn't?

no hand on the reign by tempolarriefics | E | 137051 Then, he sees it. His eyes lock on the tattoo and he sucks in a sharp breath, unable to look away. His brain screeches to a halt, and not just because of the sight that is a half-naked Harry. There, on Harry’s outer arm, is an intricate tattoo of a large ship. A large ship which perfectly complements the compass tattoo hidden on Louis’ own forearm. “It’s that one.” Louis breathes, reaching out a shaky finger to point to the ship on Harry’s left outer arm. “You’re sure?” Harry asks. Louis nods. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He has found his soulmate. Or, a twist on a soulmate au where louis is a newly independent tattoo artist and harry just wants his soulmate tattoo removed. Of course, they're soulmates.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

unit 4402, not to be needy in your inbox, but i haven't stopped thinking about the pliskin fic ever since i read it. it's so good. the emotional intimacy. the little snippets of their friendship before they actually meet. the stupid clumsy confession scene(s?). it's SO well-crafted, you should be a licensed writer.

alas i need pliskin!reader and ike to meet again and be horny because i think it'd be funny and endearing. they have all this emotional closeness but when it comes to actually being together irl they're suddenly shy and overwhelmed at the prospect so they act like teenagers again. i don't even need to think about the actual nsfw parts, i just love imagining them navigate this new romantic territory and being in love and making mistakes and laughing about it and being so sweet i get cavities 😔 i love them, they should be together forever i think

- anon 🦝 if i'm allowed a sign off qvq

[non-explicit nsfw under the cut]

oh 🦝 you're always allowed to sign off, i don't mind! thank you for the lovely complim—

HORNY???

🦝. you are so brave for speaking the truth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it’s like this ok. they’re both such sweet people and genuinely want the best for each other, all this time has let them understand how they see one another and how to communicate, especially since they’re miles away from one another. every now and then the stars align and they get roped along into an off-collab with some of their other friends, and find excuses to sneak out by themselves just to spend time with each other and catch up on all the little touches they missed.

hands bumping together here, an arm around the waist there. resting on one another and taking in the scent as you wrap your arms along him. you spend a wintry week in london with half of the luxiem boys and a few other livers that want to visit, but you don’t miss how ike’s fingers brush against your neck as he places his scarf around you. the touch is brief but you have to grit your teeth as he ties the scarf, and the remains of his touch burns like coal under the fabric, unsatiated. you can’t keep your eyes off him but your hands want to explore, make him feel good.

eventually you both make time to meet up for a few days, just the two of you, discreet enough that only a few of your close friends know that you’re housing a guest at your place and your fanbases are unaware. it’s not like it was the whole point of the visit, to be clear! horny thoughts be damned, you really did want to see him again. being able to show him around your town and do the cheesy couple things—holding hands, cute dates, sharing clothes, the whole nine yards—it feels like a dream.

on that first night you agree he'll share the bed with you, and when he makes sure you're comfortable with it, he pulls his shirt up over his head and falls asleep half-naked under the covers. you wake up the next morning with a view of nothing but his chest, which pairs nicely (read: awkwardly) with the dirty dream you woke up in the middle of before you could get full closure.

you bring it up to him that very day. it starts off simple:

"do you ever want to have sex? yeah, i'm ready for it. yeah, i understand. that's what you want? i can do that.”

and it's just so easy deciding it then and there. and then he asks questions, and you're glad to receive them, and that makes you ask him about his preferences, too, and the conversation gets more intimate from there and halfway through it hits you that it's really happening and that, god, you're ready but you're not prepared at all for how bashful you're getting and he's getting bashful too and it's good information that should be out in the open and you're glad it is especially because it's important to know what is and isn't okay and he needs to know too but—phew. the conversation ends when everything's been said but your flustered face is in your hands and ike's been wiping a cleaning cloth at his glasses for the last ten minutes so he doesn't have to make eye contact.

but, well, you're both on the same page now! and the feeling is mutual.

and he's on top of you now. his glasses rest on the nightstand, and without them, his eyes are so, so clear, and bright, even as the red around his cheeks threatens to burn brighter.

"this is okay?" ike asks. one of his hands holds you down by your wrist but you can feel him tremble. he lets go to wipe his hands on the sheets. "sorry, my hands are sweaty. it's just that i've been looking forward to this for so long."

he giggles a little at his own awkwardness, and it spreads to you, too. he sounds so soft and cute. you sound like a weirdo. "oh, me too, you have no idea."

his eyes flit down. "can i take off your...?"

"yeah, you can s-strip me. if you want..."

bad choice of words. or good? you can't tell, just that it's making your heart lurch as he undoes the button. an inch of your underwear peeks out.

"oh, so you're wearing this color? it's really you," he says. it's so matter-of-fact and unsexy that you can't help but laugh. “wait, no, i mean, it’s good! i like it! they suit you—oh, forget it, i give up.”

you stay giggly while he undresses you down to the skin. you meet his lips and kiss him, soft and smiley as he shakes off the embarrassment. "never change. love you."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

ah i got carried away but what if one or both of them are virgins...

they get to explore everything for the first time and with it comes all the anticipation and surprise and pleasure of feeling it all for the first time... you know. how wet it is and where things go. how the actual action is done so soon but how long you can savor the foreplay.

and all the silliness that comes with it! it's trying something new together. every touch runs electric and it's so hard not to beam at how it feels. bonus points if they're ticklish and laugh while fucking, turning the little shivers and thrusts even more intense, all smiles and loose laughter while you enter for the first time

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi