#wake up and smell the pronouns or something

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem: epilogue (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 7.08k

WARNINGS & TAGS: attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns for reader, the morning after and the day after that. reader and yunho are very in love is lowkey kind of gross everyone, kissing, fluff, dream-talk, yeosang talk too! a little bit of angst if you squint, decision making and finally standing up for yourself is hard and reader is doing their best, soohyun being a good brother and making reader cry, gyuri being a little shit, wooyoung being a little shit, seonghwa being a good friend, happy endings let's goooo.

NOTES: hi everyone! here's the epilogue i promised! like i've said in a few asks that i've gotten, there's a little bit of the next story here, just something so you all have context of it before going in. i don't know when that one is going to be up (i'm not really far along with it) but either way i want to thank all of you for the patience and the wait! i really loved writing mbc:'). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 20th 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox, @honeybeehorizon, @hwallazia, @mady-66.

masterlist - part one - part two. part three. part four.

When Yunho wakes up, rested and naked, the room is dark. 

He turns to the side and the curtains are, of course, down but the thing is that he doesn’t remember closing them the night before. 

When he turns to where you’re supposed to be, the bed is made on your side and you’re not there. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t panic. He is sure of what you both have, he trusts you enough to know you didn’t run away from him, from you two, again. 

Also, he can smell a mix of coffee and the turpentine-like smell of paint as he gets dressed with his boxers and the slacks he was wearing the night before after picking them up off the floor and going to the bathroom to wash his face. 

He pokes his face out to the living space and there’s a make-shift tarp on the floor, the furniture is moved around to make space for you and an easel. You’re sitting down on a wooden stool, painting away and he wonders if he just missed that last night or if he genuinely just passed out and didn't notice this much change. 

He clears his throat “Good morning, princess.” 

You jump a little, turning your head to look at him and there’s paint on your face and your hand when you wave at him. 

“Hi, Jeong.” 

“Seriously?” 

“What?” 

He chuckles “No cute nickname? Just Jeong?” 

“Well, that is your name, isn’t it?” You turn back and he catches that you’re pretending to focus on your painting, but you’re repassing the same painstrokes as before. 

“We’re going to have to work on it,” he lets out a sigh that turns into a yawn. “Sorry that I slept in on you. What time is it?” 

“Around three.” 

“In the afternoon?!” Yunho looks around for his phone but he locates the clock in the wall first and he confirms your words. “Princess, why didn’t you wake me up? We could’ve spent the day together…” 

“I rather you rest,” you shrug and he takes a few steps until he’s behind you, his hands immediately reaching out to touch you. He can’t help it, he wants to physically fuse into you but he compromises with nature and just massages your shoulders. “You have sectionals in two weeks, right?” 

He frowns at the reminder, a tiny smile on his lips a second later. 

“How do you know that?”

You stop the brush on the canvas and then look at him again, eyelashes batting with fake innocence. 

“I kind of bribed my assistant so she could bribe yours and now your general schedule is on my phone…” 

He fakes a gasp and he marvels in the pout he gets in return. 

“I needed to know when you were leaving the dorm this week!” 

“So you could drop the gift?” 

“Mhm,” you say, puckering your lips to ask for a kiss. He pretends to go for it and he truly pats his back for having a little of self-restraint when he dodges you to pretend he just thought about something. 

“Oh! That reminds me…” 

You huff in annoyance and interrupt whatever he’s about to say. 

“How did you know my room number and who let you in?” 

“I paid the receptionist and showed him proof that we were together,” he explains like it’s nothing and you huff again, amused this time. “Told him I wanted to surprise you.” 

“That’s so irresponsible.” 

Yunho reaches the box he left on the coffee table last night, opens it and pulls the polaroids out. 

“You dropped this off without any explanation! What are these?” 

When he turns around, you’re already painting again and he gets a five second look in his direction before you return your attention to your art. 

“Oh.” there’s a smile on your lips Yunho loves, although he’s not sure if it’s because you’re doing what you love or if you got reminded of something. “I was hoping you asked me about it. I, um, stayed at a resort during New Years, in Gangwondo.”

“Is this the first time we spent Chrismtas and New Years away from each other?” 

“Not the first time,” you muse and then shrug, “but definitely the first time in a long time, huh?” 

“I didn't like it.” 

“Why?” You look at him again and he sits on his knees on the couch like a neglected child, looking your way. You seem to find it endearing, because you laugh. “Because you didn't have anyone to kick under the table this year?” 

“That has never happened.” 

“Liar. Anyway, they have this winter festival that goes all the way until mid January and they have this… Traditional and modern fusion media dance performance that made me think of you. So I took some pictures of the dancers.” 

“So you just put them in the box because you took them while thinking of me?” 

There’s shyness painting your tone when you reply “Yeah.” 

His heart thumps happily inside his chest and he gets off the couch. 

“I love you.” 

You laugh again “I love you too, Yunho,” and, as you shake your head a little, you look in the kitchenette direction with your lips pointed at it. “I ordered some breakfast that you can heat up or you can give me… Twenty minutes and I can change and we can—” 

Yunho revels in the squeak of surprise you let out when he closes the distance, leans in and catches your lips in a short but firm kiss. 

“We can stay in all day if you want to.” He says and you kiss his lips one more time. 

“Okay,” you seem happy to have that option so he sees the moment you make the decision to not push going out at all. “There’s some clothes for you in the walk-in closet. I ordered them when I ordered all of this,” you point at the mess on the tarp and the floor, “I figured you might need them.”

“Thank you, my love.” He whispers and he pecks your lips before reaching for your nearly empty coffee cup. 

“There’s also one for you in the—” 

“I want this one,” he says, a sly smile on his lips and one of his hands returns to your shoulders to massage them. 

He takes a look at the canvas for once and he notices that, what he thought was a solid background color and some structure, has actually started to look like the view in front of you both, with the Namsan Tower in the back. 

“What about the CD?” 

“Hm?”

“Your gift,” he reminds you, “there’s also a CD.” 

“A mixtape, with songs that make me think of us.”

Yunho blows some air and he doesn’t have to look down to see you’re frowning at the sound “You’re a romantic.” 

“Do you want to die?” 

He laughs but doesn’t address the threat at all. Instead, the focus is on your art “The painting of us and the kids is beautiful,” he can feel your skin under his palm heat up at the compliment and it makes him smile. “This one is too.” 

“It all just flows so much smoothly when I don’t have to think about work or being home,” you admit, your body relaxing into his when he takes a sip of the cup and brings it around for you to do the same. “I want to stay here, with you, forever.” 

“And we can,” he murmurs into your head, leaving a kiss on your temple a second later. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I want to move out,” you say, your tone full of wishfulness and Yunho takes in a breath at what that could mean for you, “I want to quit my job.” 

“And what do you want to do for work, then?” He asks, already supporting the decision. “You want to paint?” 

You shake your head, looking up at him, a wishful glint in your eye “I want to be an art teacher.” 

“Oh?” 

“Do you want to work for your father?” 

“Not in a million years, I— Princess, don’t get mad for what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

You turn in the stool, looking up at him with an inquisitorial brow until he crouches down on the floor to meet your eye. 

“My plan has always been to pretend to work and go along with him until I graduate college. Then, I want to move away. I want to… I don’t know, get disowned?” 

Eyes widening, you take in a sharp breath and then cough into your hand. 

He offers you the cup so you can take the final sip out of it. 

“It’s part of why I went along with the PR relationship in the first place.” 

You nod and he gulps, staring as you get lost in thought for a second. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“Because I sort of planned to use you?” 

“Not really, though. You wanted to use the relationship they threw us into?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s understandable, then. I… I understand.” This time, you’re the one gulping and he opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. “I, um, I’m not sure if I actually can go against my parents wishes and never see my brother again, Yun.” 

He shakes his head. “If you think for a second that Soohyun is going to give a fuck about your parents feelings, you’re wrong. I… Me and Gunho are not as close as I want us to be, you know? But we talk about things.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Sometimes,” his laugh lasts a few seconds only and then he clears his throat. “If there’s something I'm sure of, princess, is that your brother loves you with all his heart. If you want to step away from the family business, from your parents, he… He’ll understand.” 

You nod again. 

“And I’m not saying any of this because I want you to do the same things I want to do but I—” 

You interrupt him “What do you want to do?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you want to work as an engineer?” 

“Yes,” he breathes out and you smile, “but I also want to dance. Have an academy, maybe, but I need money and experience and a name.” 

“You already have a name.” 

“I need to make a name for myself, princess,” he explains and you nod like you already knew, because you probably did. “Get a stage name, maybe.” 

“Ha!” you laugh and he raises his eyebrows, amused by your reaction. “Maybe… Yunho the rakehell? Yunho… Oh! Yunho the bitchl—” 

“Stop that!” 

It seems like that joke is never to die down and he’s glad, he’s glad that he doesn’t take genuine offense in it anymore and he’s glad it makes you laugh in a way he wants to record and play on repeat forever. 

Grabbing his face, your thumbs brush against his cheeks and he can swear he has never felt so at ease until now. This, waking up and going out of the room to find you doing what you love. You, looking at him with some much love, it's hard to believe it took you both so long to leave your pride behind and work it out. 

“You are worth it, Yunho,” you whisper and he knows right away you’re referring to the fight you both had at the office, “and I have no idea how we’re going to make it, but we are. Of that I’m sure, my love. I trust you,” you brush his hair back and off his forehead, “I trust us.” 

He holds your face as well, the pad of his finger passing over the dry paint on your cheek.

“I trust us, too.” 

Before he can react, you’re smooching his lips again and he melts into the encounter, the passion of last night bleeding into his movements once again and painting him red when he gets on his knees and pulls you into his lap in a smooth motion. You yelp and laugh and then you moan into his mouth when his hands find your ass and his fingers dig into it through the jeans you’re wearing. 

Huh. 

You’re wearing jeans. 

They look so natural and good on you that he didn’t even notice it’s the first time he seeing you in jeans. 

“Again?” You ask, already winded and clinging onto him for dear life in a way that makes him laugh. He pulls back and finds you shyly smiling at him but it doesn’t really help your care that he can see right through the act. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Yes, actually.” 

“Y/N…” 

“It was a joke,” you grab his shoulders to shake him to no avail and then before getting up you lean in to kiss his cheek in a manner so sweet that makes him all giddy, like a fool in love. Maybe because that’s what he is. “Take a shower.” 

“Take it with me.” He says, without thinking about it but one hundred percent meaning it. 

“I already showered.” 

He makes sure to scrunch his nose and make a funny face “Did you really?” 

It’s not really a surprise when you turn around from your painting and swipe your brush across his mouth. 

“I smell amazing and you smell like shit. Go and shower, Jeong.” 

He enjoys ticking you off a bit too much. Either way he laughs, the taste of paint on his tongue when he does and, when he gets up and goes to the bathroom, he hears the soft sound of your giggle and his heart feels full.  

And then you get him back like ten minutes later, by turning off the light in the bathroom and almost giving him a heart attack at the sudden loss of it. He breathes out an exaggerated sigh and, when you turn them back on, he turns around and watches you through the glass divider. 

Unfortunately for you, the glass is frosted from his chest down, but you lean against the marble counter and eye him suggestively nonetheless. He continues with his shower as if this is the most normal scenario ever for the two of you. 

It feels like it, anyway. 

“Can I help you, princess?” 

“Tomorrow I’ll go home,” you start, not a question or a request, but a fact. “I’ll go home and I'm going to sit with them all at dinner and let them hear what I’m going to do from now on. They don’t need to know that I’m going to take classes—” 

“You are?” 

Humming, you nod once and then twice after a second of looking at the floor, determination in your stare when you look up at him again. “I’m going to get a bachelor’s in art education, maybe just art first. It’ll take time but…” You shrug. 

“But you’ll be doing what makes you happy.” He finishes for you. 

“Yeah,” you return softly, “and I'll be detached from my family’s hip eventually.” 

“One will argue,” he says, closing his eyes to avoid shampoo to get into them, “that you’re already pretty independent.” 

“While doing my work and my brother’s work, sure,” you smile, “but not when it comes to living on my own.” 

An idea crosses his mind and colors his cheeks, so he hums “You’ll be lonely.” 

“I already feel that way at home… But I do love the idea of having a space all for myself.” 

He hums again and then wipes the water from his eyes to send you a look. 

“How much do you love it?” 

“Jeong,” you say, laughing when you finally get what he’s suggesting, “we’re not moving in together.” 

He pouts. 

“Yet.” 

He smiles at you again. 

“Besides,” turning around, you let out a tired sigh when you catch the paint on your face and then you open the faucet to clean it off, “then Yeosang would miss you too much and he’ll blame me. I don’t want your friend to hate me.”

“He would never—” 

You don’t let him dismantle your excuses “What is he up to with that documentary, anyway?” 

He closes the shower and reaches for a towel the next second, not even bothering fully covering himself up when he gets out and you send him a look through the mirror, one he can’t decide if it’s in reproach or if it’s charged with something else. Probably both. 

But he plays coy and tries his best to answer your question as he secures the towel around his hips. 

“He’s doing this documentary about dance, he’s been working on it for a while. Obviously I’m the star of it,” he watches you roll your eyes and he bumps your arm with his in retaliation. “But my co-stars are taking all of his attention now. It’s kind of annoying.” 

“And he finds them— your co-stars I mean,” your eyes roll again, “at the club?” 

Yunho barely helps the laugh that spills out of his lips.

“No, um, that’s a completely different story. He keeps saying that he needs to film this one girl for the documentary but we all stopped believing him when he almost got beat up for filming her,” he explains, his hands brushing his wet hair back, “and he went back to do it again anyway.” 

Your hip connects to the countertop again, your back to the mirror “So he’s in love?” 

“I don’t think so. I think he’s… Intrigued.” 

“Is she an exotic dancer or something?” 

“What?” 

“What?” you return, shrugging, “nothing wrong with stripping for a living.”

“I know, that’s not what I meant—” 

“Do you have something against strippers, Yunho?” Your eyes narrow at him. 

“N-no, of course I—”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“Princess…” He breathes out another laugh, a nervous chuckle this time. “Stop teasing me.” 

Your frown slowly breaks into a smile and he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“But you look so cute when you’re flustered!”

He stops messing with his hair to grab your hips and make sure you have nowhere to go, trapped between his body and the cold marble behind you. 

“I’m not cute,” he says, low, almost in a whisper, “and I showered.” 

“Yunho… Are you not hungry at all? You have to eat something.” 

He wants to laugh again but he stops himself, his hands roaming your front and slipping to your legs when he kneels a little “Hm, I’m starving.” 

Gasping when he kisses your middle through your shirt, you push him away with feign distress written all over your expression. 

“Jeong!” 

He gets back up again “What?” 

“Are you going to be this much of a troublemaker when we live together? I have things to do!” 

He stops, his hands holding your hips still and then you gasp again when he tugs and presses you against his body. 

“You said when.” 

You gulp “I know what I said.” 

“You’re making plans for the future and I’m in them.” 

“Well,” you titter with a nervous glint in your eye, but your chin is up the next second, “you know what? Yeah. Yes, I am, because I love—” 

He presses his lips against yours before you finish your sentence and when he pulls away you push on his chest again. 

“Annoying.” You say but you don’t mean it and he laughs, his arms going around you before you melt into his embrace fully. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Mhm.” 

You think about it, he can feel you thinking as he rocks you both from side to side “No,” you finally say, in a whisper and then your next words come out firmer. “No, I need to do this on my own. I would love to see you later tomorrow night, though.” 

“Hm, I have practice and then I promised to help Gyuri move in with Wooyoung but I can tell them that I’m in love and busy.” 

“No, no,” you pull back, smiling a little, “Can I… I mean, I can help.”

He smiles as well “You want to?” 

You nod. 

“She has a bunch of shit but San is moving most of the stuff because, partially, it’s his fault she has to move, so.” 

“Hm, how so?”

“Gyuri and his girlfriend live together, for years now, and now they want to move in with each other so Gyuri is forced to live with the embodiment of mischief while she finds an apartment she can afford.” 

You laugh “I don’t think it bothers her that much.” 

“Why?” He frowns and, at his question, you give him an incredulous look. “Why?” 

“Baby, oh my God.” 

He lets you go and you push him away fully, getting out of the bathroom. 

“Do you know something I don’t?” 

“Figure it out, dummy!” 

He’s truly, genuinely and utterly confused, but the smile on his face hardly goes down as he watches you sit down in front of your painting again, from the bathroom door’s threshold. 

And his heart aches for the pain you’re probably going to endure the next day. 

When you enter the code to your front door, bag in hand, it’s almost lunch time. You didn’t let them know you’ll be returning today but you’re sure the way your suitcase falls at the dining room’s entrance is enough to alert them. Soohyun jumps a little, your mother lets out a scream and your father looks up from his phone slowly, gives you a look, and then looks back down. 

“Oh, great, you’re back. Y/N, next time would you please let me know when you’re showing up so I can schedule your appointments accordingly— Kim Y/N!” 

Your mother's scandalized scream is not what surprises you. What surprises you is the hug Soohyun gets up to give you, a tight squeeze that you smile into and then make a face at when he pulls away. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to just you. “Don’t let her tell you otherwise.” 

Nodding, you finally face your mother whose jaw is almost hitting the floor by now. Your father, as usual, is unbothered and tapping his fingers against the glass of the table, impatiently waiting for his food. 

“Why do you mutilate yourself like this? And without notifying your team, nonetheless! We’ll have to… Get you some hair extensions for the shoot that you have—”

“No.”

She pauses, her jaw ticking and her eyebrow raising in warning. A few months ago, the mere thought of upsetting her would’ve sent you into a panic attack. Now, you stand your ground and curve your lips with pride, lift your chin up with courage and hold the handle of your suitcase a little tighter because you need it, because your hands tremble a little. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said no,” you repeat yourself and your tone gains you your father's attention. “I’m sure the public can survive a haircut, mom. Can you?” 

“Kim Y/N do not talk to me like that!” 

She steps your way and your brother steps a side, giving you a wide eyed look that can only mean a here she goes again and you purse your lips to stop yourself from nervously laughing at it. 

“You cut your hair, you leave for three months and come back all… All chubby,” oh, my god, “and you dare to speak to me that way?!” 

The mention of your weight does send a little panic cruising through you. It has your father huffing from his seat and your brother snapping his head rapidly in your mother’s direction, a frown creasing his eyebrows and you can tell he’s about to say something but you stop him with a shake of your head.

And then you laugh. 

You taste something bitter in your mouth and you can see the exact moment she notices her words are not affecting you the way they usually do. 

“I think it’s time I move out,” you start, with a tiny, sardonic smile on your lips, “and I also think it is also time you think about the way you speak to me, mother. And I think you,” you turn to your father, “need to think about all the times you allowed her to talk to me that way.”

Your dad looks up, raises his eyebrows, hums and then looks back down again. 

“Sure thing.” He says. 

“What is happening right now?” your mother asks, a nervous chuckle coming out of her and after that she moves her hand, dismissing your point and turning to go to her seat again. “You’re talking nonsense. Go upstairs and wash. You’re obviously not having dinner, I hope.” 

She’s always doing it on purpose, bringing you down like that on purpose, but right now? Right now she craves vengeance. You notice it in the way she looks for your reaction when she looks up. 

“I am having dinner. Not here, not with you, not anymore.” 

Your mother sighs, rubs her forehead with her thumb and her index “Kim Y/N, I beg, stop terrorizing me and—” 

“She’s moving in with me.” 

You turn to Soohyun, he gives you a look to signal you to follow his lead. 

“She’s a little bit too grown up and independent to live under your roof still, mom. Dad?” He asks and your father looks up. “Don’t you agree?” 

“Well,” your father cleans his throat, his back hitting the back of his chair as he thinks it over, “she is capable of being on her own. Besides, her room can make a wonderful office for you, dear.” 

“Her room is staying hers because she’s not going anywhere!” Your mom stands up again, voice dark and tone painted over with something you’ve never even heard before. Not coming from her, at least: Fear. “Why do you suddenly want to move out? Is there…” She closes her mouth and then gulps, breathing out a laugh the next second. “Are you running away with someone, Y/N? Is that it? Did you fall in love on your little trip? You’re promised to someone!” 

“Promised? I am not promised because we’re in the twenty-first century, mom!” 

“To Yunho, Y/N! Don’t be stupid and tell your little fling to get lost!”

“Mom…” Soohyun warns but she laughs again, indignant. 

“What? She knows this already. How would the Jeong’s feel if—” 

“I don’t care what they feel!” 

Your voice resonates in the room, it shuts everyone up, it makes your mom take a step back and your father blocks his phone, finally interested in what’s going on. 

“I am with Yunho.” 

Your mother smiles a second too late at what you said and opens her mouth, but you interrupt whatever nonsense she’s about to spew out. 

“I am with him but not because you or his mother planned it. I’m not trying to fullfill your little fucked up fantasy—” 

“Y/N!” She gasps at the cursing but you continue nonetheless. 

“I am with him because I love him. I love him and he loves me and we are together because, against all odds, we ended up bonding and finding comfort and solace in each other. We made the choice, we did,” you insist on it, to let her know that it doesn’t matter if you two being together is exactly what she wanted, the final say is on you and Yunho alone. “I have something you two could never have and that’s companionship and true understanding that’s not rutted in power or in money. He… He made me realize we’re so much more than this.” You move your hands in the space between you and the rest of the room and your father hums a bitter sound in return.

“This,” your father gets up from his seat, hands going in the pockets of his dress pants and eyebrows raised with a sardonic edge to them that pisses you off, “is your family.”

“I know and that makes it worse,” you nod and the slow anger showing in his expressions grows just a tad bit more, so you go on before anyone else can interrupt you again. “Here’s what’s going to happen from now on, dad; If you want me to, I’ll keep working at the company, but Soohyun's responsibilities are solely his from now on,”  you turn to your brother and he gives a fake pout but then he nods. “My job is simple, my job should allow me to focus on what I really want and, once I get what I really want, I'll make sure to find someone who can fit my spot so seemingly you won't even notice I'm gone.”

“I thought that what you wanted was to work for this company, Y/N.” Your father says.

“I thought so too,” you murmur back to him before shrugging, “but now I’m not so sure.” 

A bit of pregnant silence passes. The air feels thick now that you told them your terms, your plan or what you allowed them to hear of it anyways. Like you told your boyfriend, there’s no need for them to know that you want to take classes or teach. 

You’ll just do it. No need for their approval.  

But your mother still grasps at the control she had on you three months ago. She holds on to it, desperately and, if you were someone else and the situation was any different, you would probably admire the strength it takes to stay this egotistical and delusional until the end. 

She doesn’t seem to understand that her only daughter is running away from her. You’re not sure she cares, either and it hurts because, deep down, you expected to walk off with redemption on her side. 

Sometimes, there’s no redemption at all from the people who hurt you. 

And that’s also okay. 

“Are you done?” She asks, looking around. “Are you all done with this nonsense?” 

Taking in a breath, you try to tell her that what you said it’s what’s going to happen but she is not having it. 

“No,” her finger is up and you raise your eyebrow at it, which gains you a raise on hers in return. “No. You’re not looking for a replacement and no you’re not moving out. That’s insane, Kim Y/N, that’s—” 

“What’s my favorite color?” You interrupt to ask her and she stops, opening and closing her mouth while searching for an answer. “What’s my favorite sweet?” 

“You don’t have one.” 

“I do, I actually have two. What’s my favorite book? Movie? Song?” You turn to your dad this time. “What’s my favorite marketing strategy? Do you even know that one?” 

Silence. 

“You don’t know me enough to want to keep me here. I understand why you might think you do, but you don’t. Because, guess what? I’m an adult.”

Your mother opens her mouth and closes it again when you shake your head. 

And although you’re not speaking to her anymore, you keep looking at your mother straight in the eye and you’re able to catch the exact moment she realizes she lost. 

She lost. 

“I’m an adult with a paying job and savings you didn’t need to know anything about. So you either take it or leave it. Dad?” 

“You want me to decide now?” 

You let out a bitter laugh “You can do whatever you want. Just know that I’m not settling for anything else but what I told you. I can either train someone or you can fire me and I can look for a new job,” you explain, “but either way I’m out of here.” 

Your mother sighs and then mutters under her breath, but you catch it “What is everyone going to say?” 

“I don’t care,” you tell her again and at the response she looks up, startled, like she didn’t expect you to keep going. “Now, I hope you have a lovely lunchr.”

You’re positively shaking when you step into the hallway and through the front door again, with your suitcase in your hand still and no actual plan on where you want to go. Maybe back to the hotel?

Mind reeling, it finally registers the fact that your mother turned to your father and pleaded him to do something for the sake of the family's image just before you stepped foot outside of the house. It was a screech of don't let her go, do something! laced with clear selfish concern. 

You feel panic rising, closing your throat up and you feel lost, lost in what you just did, lost in what it actually means for you. 

“Hey, hey.” Soohyun catches up to you quickly, his keys in his hands, his breath jagged like he escaped your mother’s claws because that’s probably what happened. “Sell out! You needed to signal me when you wanted to leave, dumbass!” 

His eyes linger on your trembling hands when he takes the suitcase from you and you do your best to steady them. 

“You didn’t have anything to eat.” 

“I know. Where are you going?” 

“To… I don’t really know. Yunho’s dorm?” 

Soohyun laughs. 

“You have a house, you know.”

“I think I’m very much homeless right now. I’m getting trapped and probably thrown in a cell if I go back inside.” You swallow tightly as the realization washes over you. “She’s so mad.” 

“My house,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “I told them you’re moving in with me, didn’t I?” 

“Soohyun…” 

“I meant it,” there’s something soft in his eyes before he turns to open the main gate so you can both walk up to his car. “You can stay with me. Like you said, you’re grown and I won't have to look after you anymore.” 

“Pfft,” that brings out a genuine laugh out of you, “anymore.” 

“I remember running behind you in the garden because you couldn't keep still the second you learned how to walk!” 

You look at him with a pout as he opens the trunk, throwing your bag in it without any care in the world. 

Like an older brother would. 

If your eyes turn watery, you make sure to swallow back the emotion before he can figure out why. 

“Can I have my own room?” 

“You have a room there already,” he admits, shrugging. “I mean, I thought about you when buying the apartment. Guhno usually stays there but I’m sure he can take the couch when he comes over and— Aw, Y/N!” 

By the time he closes the trunk, you’re already crying. A little, enough for him to notice it. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Open the door.” 

“I’m so telling Yunho you cried!” 

“Leave him out of it!” You push his shoulder, quickly getting into the car when he unblocks the doors and he does the same. “He’s staying over whenever he wants, by the way.” 

Soohyun laughs, his eyes wide when he turns to you “Not a chance in hell, Kim Y/N.”

“Okay, then your boyfriend is not staying over either!” 

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” 

You muse, trying not to laugh “I’m telling Gunho oppa you’re denying your love to my face.”

Your brother lets out a sigh and then you squeak when he pulls your hair, playfully, before looking at you with the most sincere stare Kim Soohyun has probably given anyone ever. 

“I’m really proud of you, kid.” 

Pouting again, you look away and through the window as he pulls out of the curb and into the streets, the house you grew up in quickly fading into the background and your heart thumping hard against your ribs. 

“Are you crying again?” 

“Ugh,” you turn to him, tears running down your cheeks and a smile pulling at your lips, “you’re so annoying.” 

Your clothes are now in your room at Soohyun’s (and yours) apartment, in the walk-in closet. Your brother's taste is nothing short of luxurious and obnoxious and the room is decorated in a way you would never think of decorating it but he swears he has someone who can fix it for me if he wants to.

He forgets that you already know Seonghwa but it's okay, because when you show up at Gyuri’s old apartment, you make sure to find him to tell him just that. 

“I've literally told him that we both know Yunho and each other. Wasn't he the one who gave you my number?” Seonghwa asks, mouth hanging open a bit in surprise. 

“He did, yes.” 

Seonghwa huffs in amusement and you shrug a little “Well, do you want me to work in your room?” He asks after a few seconds and you smile, considering. 

“I think I’m going to do it myself, Hwa.” 

At the nickname, his smile widens and he nods. You think he’s about to say something else, however your attention drifts from your newfound friend and your eyes search for Yunho in the middle of the room, on the floor, as he takes a piece of furniture apart. 

He’s wearing a dark grey crewneck that makes him look so deliciously good you can’t barely help your staring. There’s not one ounce of shame on your body and you’re sure it shows on your face because Seonghwa laughs besides you. 

“So I didn’t paint over the tree,” he says and you frown, turning to him, “but I take you reconsidered my point anyway?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“It’s not going to happen,” the mockery in his tone while he tries to make an impression of you doesn’t offend you because you can see the intention behind it and it makes you laugh, roll your eyes and close your arms over your chest, like a child who just got caught. “It’s not going to happen, my ass. Look at you!” 

“So I was wrong, who cares?” 

“I do, I love being right.” 

“He does,” Wooyoung comes into view from the kitchen, a drop of sweet doing his temple and into his cheek that Seonghwa wipes away like it’s nothing. “But I can say I called it first, remember? I’m never wrong.”

“You most certainly are,” Hwa says and you laugh at the expression Wooyoung makes to his friend, offended. Seonghwa turns to you. “He’s wrong most of the time.” 

“Okay, that’s it, you’re helping me with the weird spice rack she insists on taking.” Wooyoung takes his elder arm and pulls, making you laugh and Seonghwa gasps. 

“You’ve been working on that all afternoon!”

“She installed it herself so it’s all wonky, Hwa.” 

Gyuri screams from behind a pile of clothes. You can't even see her even though you know she's standing up. “It is not wonky, Jung Wooyoung!” 

Pursing your lips so you don't laugh at her predicament, you watch as Wooyoung silently communicates to Seonghwa that the space rack is, in fact, wonky and then you jump a little when arms close around you from behind. 

“Stop complaining, Woo, you're going to have the pleasure to install it however you want later.” Yunho's voice is close to your ear and you hug the arms that hold you, melting into the embrace. 

Gyuri laughs sharply when she registers what he said and Wooyoung makes a face at your boyfriend “I hate it here.” 

“Sure you do, Wooyoung.” You nod at him, joking even though you don’t know him that well, and Seonghwa joins the tiny laugh you let out at the face Wooyoung gives you. 

“I truly did not need a new addition to the group if I was going to get bullied by them as well.” 

You fake offense, laughing a second later and Yunho swats a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he passes by you both and into the kitchen again. Seonghwa rolls his eyes before following Wooyoung into the kitchen as well. 

Yunho breathes out, his lips finding your cheek “How are you feeling?” 

Turning to him, you smile a little. You know he’s asking about what went a little earlier today. 

“I’m good, baby,” you whisper back, leaning in a little and kissing him tenderly on the lips. He reciprocates but when you pull away you can see the concern in his eyes. “I promise. I already knew how she was going to react.” 

“Me too but that doesn’t make it any less fucked up, Princess.” 

“I know,” letting out a sigh, you turn to the living room again and the corners of your lips lift at the mess. “But I’m out of the house and I’m alright now.” 

“My mom texted me to congratulate us.” 

“Oh?” You don’t turn to him again but your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Did you answer?” 

“No,” he breathes out a laugh, “but I should.”

“We can’t run from them forever, Yun,” you feel him nod against you and, finally, you turn around completely to face him. His hands find your waist, his lips curve as he watches you over and you do the same. “Also, you’re banned from my house.” 

His smile drops. 

“Huh?” 

“Soohyun doesn’t want you sleeping over.” 

“What did I do?” 

You hear someone laughing behind you and Gyuri comes into view a second later “You’re the official boyfriend now, Yunho, you lost your sleeping over privileges.” 

“I never had them to begin with!” 

“Well—” The sound of glass breaking stops her in her tracks and she goes a little pale at what it means. “Call the police, I’m committing a murder and then turning myself in.” 

And then she disappears into the kitchen as well. Faintly, you can hear Seonghwa laughing. You hold onto Yunho, fingers threading softly into the strands of hair on his neck. 

“They’re not helping us when we move in together.” 

Yunho laughs. 

“When we move in together we’re going to hire professionals.” 

“Exactly.” 

“And Seonghwa can do the interior design of the main part of the house but we can handle our room and studios by ourselves.” 

“Mhm.” 

There’s that slight glint of concern that crosses his expression again when you take in a deep breath, but you shake your head so he can let go of it. 

“We’ll be okay, Yun. We are okay.” 

You watch him swallow tightly but then he nods. There’s a lot you both should be concerned about right now but, as you hear Wooyoung scream from the kitchen and a loud smack against the wall nearest to you, you both silently decide to be in the moment. 

It doesn’t really matter what hardships you go through, as long as you’re together. 

“Against all odds,” you insist, “we’ll be alright.” 

I love them and I'm so sad to let them go but hey! that's life! If you read all the way down hear, thank you so, so much. Don't be afraid to go into my askbox to make comments, suggestions, etc! I will take everything into account for my other stories. Thank you!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[goopysloppyslobsop]

Tommy!! :)

[heartless-tate]

Notice me! | Azriel X Freader

summary; Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

a/n; Heyy! Just a little fic of being courted by Azriel. And you not being very aware of it. Hope you enjoy!

content/trigger warnings; knife, food, meat?, cussing, kissing, no use y/n, hint towards lust feeling, Azriel pining, Armen being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, thunderstorm mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it! 💝

word count: 3.1k. |. Part two

A plate clattered against the table causing your attention to turn to the man in front of you.

You met his gaze as he waited for you to try his new dish, his eyes seeming to shine as the sun hit his eyes. You swear he always seemed to be effortlessly beautiful. It was angering in some ways, you had even seen him wake up looking like a god. No. Better than a god. It didn’t matter if you spent an hour in the mirror, swiping various products of different expenses on your face; the result would be the same. The same boring face you saw everyday.

A wonderful smell wafted from the plate, causing your empty stomach to growl loud enough to shake the mountains. The shadowsinger smirked, pushing the plate of food closer to you with a gentleness most men didn’t have. Your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands instinctively coming to paw at your stomach, hoping it would stop. Your eyes wandered down to the plate where a meal sat.

“I haven’t made this before. I wanted you to be the first to try it.” He spoke with every ounce of grace and elegance a god would have. His hands grasped the seat across from you, pulling it out and taking a seat. His wings shifted until finding a comfortable position in the chair. You nodded in response, picking the fork up before taking in the rather- gracious portion of food he had made for you.

A ribeye steak bigger than your hand sat on the plate. Seasoning of different kinds were smothered on it, and the smell of butter consumed your senses. Your mouth watered in response. Beside it were two sides. Your favorites.

Armen smirked from where she sat beside you, watching as you lifted the steak knife and fork. You were so oblivious. She had been watching for the last few years as Azriel desperately chased after you, and you never seemed to even notice. It was amusing. He has spent hours staring at you, and you never realized. And if she pointed it out, you just assumed you had something on your face. She knew he was growing restless. Not tired of you, but tired of your complete oblivion. These days he seemed ready to scream from the top of the roof that he loved you.

Azriel’s scarred hand clutched at your wrist. He gently took the knife and fork away from you, before grabbing your plate and proceeding to cut your steak into bite sized pieces. Armen snickered from where she sat, resulting in a glare from Azriel.

“Oh- Azriel I can do that-“ You started.

“I know you can.” He responded. He didn’t give back your plate until your steak was cut into bite sized pieces for you. He watched you place the first bite of steak into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a hum of approval, chewing the food. The flavor was delicious, and it was quite easily the best steak you had ever tasted in your life. It wasn’t too buttery. Or too seasoned. It was just right. The meat was tender.

Azriel’s wings rustled at your hum. His face shined with pure male pride. His eyes never left you once while you chewed and swallowed. He stood, taking the steak knife that was no longer needed into the kitchen.

Armen followed after him. He sat the knife in the sink, letting the house do its magic before turning his attention to Armen.

“You’re like a love sick puppy.”

“My love life isn’t your business.” Azriel responded, his face tight. His words were low, ensuring you couldn’t hear.

“Hm. All I’m saying is your ‘courting’ isn’t going to work.” Armen said, picking at her nail leisurely. She was like a cat. Her piercing eyes watched as Azriel’s eyes narrowed at her with a scowl. Before he could comment more, Armen spoke again.

“She’s oblivious. It doesn’t matter if you fix her food, or leave her favorite pastries everywhere so she finds them, she won’t get the hint. Literally. I’m getting seasonal allergies from the amount of flowers you’ve left for her everywhere in this house.Seriously, this place is covered in flowers. Either start professing love or drop this little crush.” She growled out, walking out of the kitchen.

Azriel stayed silent before whispering,“It’s not little.”

“Yeah, don’t let me forget to grab a few early starfall gifts.” Mor said. You groaned loudly, rubbing your temples. Even the idea of her gifts made you want to cry. Her starfall gift for you these past few years have been a collection of ridiculously fuzzy socks. Every.Year.

Of course you were grateful, but everyone knew Mor’s gifts weren’t particularly good. You now had a drawer filled with fuzzy and odd colored socks.

Velaris was bustling today. Fae of all kids roamed the streets, some tending to their shops. Kids ran through the streets playing games. Everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. You and Mor decided to go shopping to pick up a few items. Your eyes wandered back down to your list, a few more candles, a book or two, and some lotion.

“Starfall gifts? I don’t think you need to shop this early for them-“

“Nonsense! It’s never too early to do gift shopping!” Mor said, cutting you off. You sighed and shook your head knowing it was hopeless to argue with her.

After a few trips to some stores, you both ended up getting lunch at Rita’s. You ordered a milkshake- apparently a new creation of a cold drink? None less, whatever they were, everyone had been going crazy over them in Velaris. And of course you also got your favorite meal. Mor ordered practically half the menu, content to eat her heart out. You didn’t blame her- food was good.

As your plates were sat down by the waitress, Mor eyed your food with a questioning look. Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What? You’re looking at my food weird.”

“Oh. Well I’m just surprised to see you ordering a meal here. You know Azriel is gonna harp if you don’t eat his food.” Mor responded, shoveling food into her mouth as if she’d starve.

“Huh?” You countered.

Mor finished her food before rolling her eyes. She sighed deeply as if you had troubled her. “You know..” she said, waving her hands as if that would solve your confusion. When you raised your eyebrows with a puzzled face, she put her fork down.

“You know- when you eat something someone else cooked or you’re not hungry, and he’s cooked you a meal. And you refuse it- he gets all huffy and puffy! Like a broody motherhen.” She continued.

“He doesn’t even fix me food that often-“ you argued.

“Oh please! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Full course meal on the table for you. If only someone loved me that much.” Mor said, picking her fork back up. “Those meals weren’t from the house hun. All I’m saying is maybe you should pay more attention.”

For the rest of the meal, you both sat in silence as you pondered over her words.

Cassian laughed  as you entered from the hallway. His eyes shined with amusement as you waddled to the counter with your shopping bags.

The sound was enough to draw a curious Azriel to the room. He immediately grabbed all your bags despite your complaints, setting them on the table. He nodded at you in response when you thanked him.

“I thought you were only shopping for a few things.” Cassian stated. He stood casually leaned against the table with a drink in his left hand. Azriel stood to your left, his wings expanded. His eyes were keen and watchful. You doubted he ever missed a single detail. His skin glistened with sweat, a musky bourbon scent coming from him. Cassian’s skin was sweaty too, evidence of them training together earlier in the day.

“Well, the candle store had a buy two get five for free deal. So I bought  four and got ten for free! Cauldron I love Velaris!” You squealed, and Azriel smirked knowingly. He had taken note of your recent obsession with buying candles. Cassian shook his head.

Cassian's face lit up with surprise as you handed him two candles. “So I got one for everyone else. This one smells like leather and the other vanilla. I figured you’d like it Cas.” You continued. He nodded in thanks. You turned to Azriel.

“I got you this candle because I know you love blueberries. And this one is supposed to smell like rainy days and lightning. And this one is books and bourbon!”

Azriel’s eyes never looked down to the candles you had shoved in his arms. His eyes stayed on your face as you happily ranted about the candles. When you finished and looked back up to his face, he had a soft look. It was one you don’t think you’ve seen him use before. His eyes were soft and looked like pools of honey, and his smile was gentle.

You watched as he sat down the candles on the table and turned back to you. “They’re perfect.” He responded. He was so memorizing. You just knew whoever he ended up with would be content. You struggled taking your eyes from him.Cassian growled playfully.

“Hey! Unfair! He got three candles! I only got-“

Cassian was cut off by Mor smacking him on the back of the head as she trotted to the kitchen. She had a lot of leftovers to put away. Azriel gave him a quick glare, silencing him.

You noticed he was wearing all his leathers, and siphons. His shadows whirled leisurely around his shoulders and wings. Azriel watched as your eyes creased in confusion. He sighed. He couldn’t help but feel a shimmer of hope at the fact you had gotten him more candles than Cassian.

“Rhysand sent me on a mission, I’ll be gone for a few days most likely. I’m going to spy on the human queens and make sure all is well there.” He admitted. He watched as your face fell. You quickly smiled again and nodded. His heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. Did you care? Would you miss him like he always missed you? He wondered if you couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t when he was away from you.

“Oh. I see. Be safe.” You responded, nodding slowly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling in your chest. You had never felt it before. You wondered why all of a sudden you felt this way about him leaving.

His eyes softened even more. “I leave in an hour or two.” He whispered, head tilting to catch your eyes once more. Cassian had disappeared from the room all of a sudden, him and Mor talking loudly about dumb things in the kitchen. Leaving you and Azriel alone. “Let me cook you dinner before I leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed this time as you shook your head no. His smile dropped. He looked like a kicked puppy almost-

“I ate lunch with Mor.” You explained. Your explanation didn’t seem to comfort him as he shook his head in response.

“That was lunch. It’s time for dinner.” Azriel said firmly.

Your mind went back to Mor’s words. Pay more attention…what did she mean? What was there to pay attention to? Azriel cooked for everyone- right..? Your mind raced over your memories, trying to think of a single time you had seen Azriel set a plate down for one of the others.

“Alright then, fix me dinner Azriel.” You responded. Azriel smiled, pleased. His right wing flared, draping over your back. “Follow me.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. His wing was warm against your back, as it guided you beside him. It was much larger than  you were, towering over your head. As you entered the kitchen, Cassian and Mor immediately scampered out shouting something about extra training.

You watched Azriel move around the kitchen in a graceful dance of grabbing pans and pots. He kept his wings tucked in, to keep them from banging against counters and tables. His hair was messy from training, or like he had ran his hands through it more then once. But it never failed to frame his face. You watched as a few shadows dart around, grabbing various spices and ingredients for whatever new dish he’d make tonight. He set a pan down on the stove before turning to you.

His scarred hands gently grasped your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. He sat you on an empty space on the counter. He huffed a laugh at your squeak of shock. He patted one of your thighs gently before leaving your side and returning to his pan.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He had lifted you as if you weighed nothing, showcasing his obvious strength. Everytime he touched you with his beautiful hands, it felt like everything stopped. As if the world had slowed to let you enjoy the moment. Your hands wrapped around your stomach, wondering what this weird feeling that had overcome you meant.

He moved swiftly, chopping ingredients and throwing things in various pots and pans. You quickly realized by smell alone he was making your comfort food. You remembered the night a storm had rolled in. Usually thunder and lightning didn’t scare you- but this was different. The booms and flashes were intense, shaking the ground and keeping you from sleep. You had stumbled to the house library in an attempt to distract yourself. But you only found Azriel instead. He had scented your obvious distress and took action immediately. He helped you settle on the couch with cushions and blankets before asking what a comfort food was. A good 15 minutes later he returned with a plate.

You don’t remember much pass that, you just remember becoming tired and sleepily. You remember feeling warm all of a sudden and then you woke up in your bed that morning.

“It’s almost done.” Azriel spoke, bringing you back from your memories. His eyes were distant as if he too was remembering that same night.

You smiled and thanked him as he handed you your bowl and a spoon. He made himself a bowl too. He took your bowl from his hands and sat it down, before grabbing you and setting you back on the floor. His hands stayed on your hips until he was sure you were balanced. He guided you to the sitting room with a fire.

Azriel didn’t eat until you took your first bite, ensuring you liked it. And of course, you did. It was warm, and comforting, like a hug in your mouth. It soothed your soul in ways nothing else could, the flavors easing your body from any previous aches. Azriel had never made a bad meal before. You both ate in silence together, with the comforting crackle of the fire and warming food. But as the time passed, you knew it came time for him to leave.

Your bowls sat on the coffee table. Both finished. The house made them disappear, taking care of them on its own. You were always amazed by its magic.

Your head snapped to Azriel as he stood. He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed and he almost looked like he wanted to chain himself to the wall before even considering leaving. He turned to your sitting form. His shadows seemed to move more quickly and sharper around his shoulders.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He whispered. He watched as you nodded solemnly. You smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.”

You watched as Cassian hugged Azriel in goodbye, and Mor nod as her own way of saying goodbye. Azriel had taken his candles to his room earlier, before joining everyone in the hallway. When one left for more then a day, you all said proper goodbyes.

Azriel turned to you, walking swiftly. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his big biceps practically squeezing the life out of you. He practically had to hold himself back from purring when your arms wrapped around his neck in return. Everything darkened as his wings cocooned you. His wings blocked out the noises of the others, leaving just you and him. His head found solace in your neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses in a good way. Before you had time to question Azriel being touchy, Cassian yelled,

“Ok! Ok! We get it, Azriel. Let go of her before you suffocate her.”

Azriel lifted his head, and his wings dropped. His eyes stayed latched on yours. A few seconds passed before he tore his eyes away and scowled at Cassian. His teeth bared in silent warning. Cassian backed down and turned to have conversation with the others. Azriel released you from his grip.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t starve. And I left some flowers on your nightstand. I hope you don’t mind.” He whispered to you, fiddling with his hands like a nervous school boy. Your eyes lit up and you smiled gently.

“Thank you Azriel. Goodbye.” You whispered back in response. His smile turned upside down.

“I told you, call me Az. Or whatever you want- just not my full name. We’re closer than that.” He said in a growl like tone. He watched as you nodded your head.

It was time for him to leave now. He sighed deeply. The others had gone silent watching the scene with interest. But he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned down to your height, his hands grasping at your chin. He turned your head before leaving a gentle but firm kiss on the side of your cheek. “Sleep well tonight.” He whispered before pulling away. You stood in shock at the door to the balcony, as he said his last goodbyes. He waved in an almost shy way at you before taking flight.

You stood still, flabbergasted at what had happened. Slowly your hand rose to your cheek.

Realization dawned on you- he hadn’t ever fixed food for anyone else other than you.

a/n; hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want part two! 🌙

[larcenywrites]

Top 5 Logan's kinks 👀?

These are in no particular order!

Top 5 Kinks

Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW | no pronouns used for reader | there’s like- two cutesy moments if it counts for anything :3

Breeding/bare- Sure, Logan’s a man. He’s obviously going to prefer no condom. It just feels better for both parties! But Logan is a possessive man, and a territorial beast. It’s only natural for him to mark you in the most primal way he can! But in the case you are able to get pregnant… that’s actually terrifying. Logan is terrified of actually having kids… (which isn’t to say he doesn’t want them… but there are a lot of other problems involved with that 😅) But at his core, Logan is an animal. More so than a “normal” human. It’s literally just another part of his predator instinct. It doesn’t matter if it’s a rough fucking or making love, once he gets into it, you’ll have to remind him several times to pull out (assuming you remember yourself 😩). It also doesn’t help that he can literally smell when you’re ovulating 😳 he gets… pretty ornery— if he even can be more ornery than normal! He’s possessive and horny and really struggling to care despite the risk and his fears 😮‍💨 And with his nose buried in your neck the whole time, not very subtle as he breathes in your scent and damn near panting, it’s really all he can think about 🥴

Collaring- It probably took a lot of practice and maybe a little bit of taming, but Logan is very fond of collar time :3 I have a lot to say about this one, so there’s actually hcs right here! And maybe I just couldn’t think of another kink ;)

Play-fighting/Rough play- Obviously, the constraints of this kink will heavily depend on you 😅 But anything from a quick wrestle to digging your nails into his throat to—if you rile him up enough in the right situation—straight-up stabbing him is on the turn-on list 🤠 You could push him back on the bed a little too confidently, and you’ll activate that fighter instinct... and Logan is actually just pretty playful 🥹 He’s far too strong for you to actually push around very much, but he still likes to have you fight back ;) Don’t worry! Even when he puts you in a headlock between his big ol biceps, he’s still gentle! But fight back!!!!! Even if you know you won’t win!!! Bite his arm, kick him, something!!!!! Maybe having you struggle in his grasp turns him on (prey drive???), but actually having you fight back gets him rock-hard 😩 Training in the Danger Room? The others definitely give you both a hard time at every session now after a spar turned a little more hands-on one time… it was one time 😒 Back in the bedroom, he can enjoy some general rough play as well. Maybe it’s the healing factor, maybe he’s become quite the masochist after a century or two of living, but don’t be afraid to claw down his back and bite as hard as you need into his shoulder! Choke him while he’s collared, or when you’re feeling pretty confident while he’s letting you top for once! Unfortunately, he won’t have anything to show for all your hard work :( but he enjoyed it!

Grinding/dry humping- Logan is a man of action! And an impatient one at that when he’s gotten riled up. It probably took a while to get him into the groove of non-penetrative sex! Besides, sometimes that’s your only option 😅 But Logan is definitely a true believer now 😈 Wake him up by grinding bare on his tummy, or invade his little stress relief hideaway where he’s smoking and/or drinking to hump his thigh 😘 Watch him roll his head back and close his eyes with a sighed grunt of satisfaction. He doesn’t need to watch. Much more into the feeling, your smell, pawing at your thigh/ass… When it comes to full-on dry humping, the man probably swears more and gets more choked up than during penetrative sex 🥴 And for once, he prefers to be bottom while you ground your hips into his. He has to admit, there’s something about the friction of his jeans and the fact you’re both still fully clothed that’s surprisingly way more hot… or perhaps you’re even both still in uniform! Sometimes the adrenaline rush after training just can’t wait 😘

Scenting/smelling- Maybe not necessarily a kink? But it’s definitely something he does on a regular basis, sometimes without either of you really thinking about it! Sometimes he’s just being playful with it! Like sticking his head under your shirt and rubbing his face on your tummy a few times before just resting there with that heavy sigh dogs do when they get comfy in their bed 🥰 If he’s in a good enough mood and tired enough, you might even get a head bump or two to the shoulder while out with the others! It’s definitely not always so innocent and sweet, though… He can pick up smells better than a damn bloodhound, and, combined with that territorial instinct mentioned earlier, there’s definitely going to be some freaky stuff going on behind closed doors 😏 Yes, it’s probably going to be a bit embarrassing every time he sniffs your sex before going down on you. And when sticks his nose in the wet spots he just made you leave on the end 😐 And probably when he sniffs your neck before rubbing his face there. He’s absolutely gotten possessive about you smelling like another man… or maybe he just really doesn’t like waking up in bed to the smell of LeBeau lingering right next to him 😒 Cuddling is one thing, but when he starts trying to subtly rub you down with his face? Well, it’s not very subtle 😐 But he’ll make sure you smell like him again 😌 It settles his territorial side. It’s comforting, in a way! But it also definitely turns him on a little without him meaning for it! Especially when you walk through and he can smell his own arousal on you from the day before ;)

[peachii-nitenite]

Much Needed Support (sfw-suggestive content) Part 2

Synopsis: Now sick with a stress cold, Jayce and Viktor take you back to your dorm to rest. And also to unpack everything that happened in the lab. Upon reminiscing, the boys get an idea. 2.2k wordcount Content: reader with feminine pronouns, sexual tension, fluff, partial nudity, boys getting shy about said nudity, mutual pining, self-doubt, idiots in love, getting sick, friends to lovers, pervy daydreams, discussions on medical neglect, mentions of chronic pain, descriptions of chronic pain (slightly implied hand kink???), Jayce's corset kink lol

while i would consider this part PG-13, part 3 might end up being actual smut at this point...

The sun was low in the sky when you finally stirred awake, the late afternoon sun blazing through the windows of the lab. You found yourself curled up in the blanket your friends had so graciously lent you, with Jayce’s coat beneath your head as an impromptu pillow. You could still smell him on it: a clean smelling cologne, black coffee, and forge smoke.

It was some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks.

Still not enough to completely banish your fatigue, but enough to feel a bit of relief. The gentle sounds of quiet tinkering and clinking of delicate tools echoed from across the room.

“Still hard at work…” you mused sleepily.

Jayce perked up from his workbench once he noticed you stirring. Perhaps you were still half asleep, because the level of fondness in his eyes as he smiled over at you seemed a bit more than the norm. 

Or perhaps, you had simply dismissed it before.

He set down whatever he was tinkering on as strode over. You wanted to sit up, but the position you were in was so comfortable you could almost feel yourself going back to sleep.

“Shh…you can sleep a little longer” he murmured softly, gently stroking your upper back. You let out a sleepy hum, burrowing your face further into his jacket. You felt him pause for a moment, but paid it no mind.

“…mhm…what time ‘s it?” You mumble groggily, eyes struggling to stay open.

“Half past five, we’re gonna wrap up here soon, okay?”

You merely hummed once more, letting your eyes close again. It had been 5 hours…you briefly wondered if they’d been working nonstop this whole time. It was extremely likely.

When you open your eyes again, the lab is dark, and Viktor is the one gently nudging you awake, encouraging you to sit up. You felt warm this time, head a bit foggy and tight. Blearily, you rasp out his name, discovering your throat is sore.

A day cold. Great.

“It’s time to get up now, can you do that?”

The tenderness in his voice makes you want to melt, but all you do is attempt to comply. You groan as you sit up from your comfy spot, the ache slowly starting to settle back in. The moment you attempt to stand, you buckle, promptly sliding back onto the couch. In an instant, Jayce is at your side worriedly looking you over.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to carry you?”

In any other circumstance you’d have refused, but now feeling iller and achier by the moment since waking up, you agreed readily; allowing him to scoop you up into strong, warm arms. It was as if you weighed nothing at all to him; his hold on you was gentle, but secure. You promptly wrapped your arms around his neck and dozed back off, only perking up at the occasional softly spoken “you okay?” From Jayce. You could feel his voice rumble in his chest like the purr of a big cat, and something about it made you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck. Instead, you merely grumbled and nodded each time.

At some point, you felt Viktor’s cool hand against your forehead- sliding down to your cheek as you leaned into it. It felt so refreshing against your warm skin, the contrast evidence of your rising temperature. His brows furrowed, noticing the slight sheen of sweat accumulating on your skin.

“She’s feverish.” He murmured, softly as if not to disturb you further. Though he was stating the obvious, the observation did not go unheard. You grumbled a sleepy rebuttal that sounded vaguely like, “I’ll be fine”, which was promptly ignored.

You were going to be taken care of whether you liked it or not.

“Do you remember if she has a thermometer at her place?” Jayce asked, hoping that they wouldn’t have to make another stop on the way. Viktor shrugged, adjusting his grip on his cane. 

“We can worry about that later, getting her into a proper bed to rest is the main priority at the moment” Viktor assured him. You nodded against Jayce’s chest.

Bed. Bed sounded nice…

It felt like an eternity before you reached your dorm, but eventually the telltale sound of your keys in Viktor’s deft hands, swiftly getting the door open so Jayce could lie you down.

With you safely tucked into bed, a cold towel draped over your forehead; the two men opted to stick around, hanging out in your living room after scrounging around your medicine cabinet for anything that might help.

Just in case you needed them of course.

No other reason.

Definitely not because they needed time to unpack several different feelings that welled up in that lab.

Jayce definitely had it the worst at the moment.

There was relief, of course, that you had come to them for help and allowed them to examine you. And then there was the dawning realization that he was a much weaker man than he initially thought he was when it came to you. He was always eager to help, truly! But the actual task at hand proved far more difficult to focus on when he actually had you on that table in front of him, clearly flustered with your skirt hiked up, with his hand on your soft thigh. He had done so well at holding it together before then, getting lost in the math and the banter with Viktor. But once he noticed how you suddenly tensed up he was flung headfirst into the soft, warm reality of your skin beneath his palm.

He had had dreams exactly like this. Dreams that ended very differently, and much more messily.

And that’s why he had to pull away. He felt guilty. You had come for help, and there he was trying not to get hard over a bit of exposed skin.

And then the corset. The damned corset.

He felt no better than a dog, but watching you shed your sweater to reveal your makeshift brace made his blood rush to a very unfortunate place considering the situation. He thanked whatever gods were out there that you were facing away from him, so that you couldn’t see his shame as he struggled to maintain his composure.

How could you be so beautiful? The overhead light illuminating your topless form, as you ever so slightly leaned into his touch any time his hands were on you. Viktor had teased him before; about his…fondness for corsetry. But this was far beyond anything he had seen on old posters or the dirty magazines he used to hide under his bed. 

You were real, you were warm, and he could hear how your breath hitched oh so sweetly whenever he touched you. 

The first few times he thought he was imagining it, that he was finally losing his mind over something seemingly very small. But he kept hearing it, kept seeing it, kept feeling you shiver under his fingertips. 

And it was testing his limits.

And he knew he wasn’t the only one.

Viktor considered himself a rational man. A focused man.

But that ration and focus went straight out of the window once looked up at you, with your calf in his hand, to be greeted with a tiny glimpse of your underwear.

He had been so focused, so practical up until that point- all to be shattered by the reality of what he so dearly desired being literally right in front of his face.

He fiercely wanted to help, after all; he had been down the same road you were currently on. A path littered with pain, apprehension, and isolation. He knew all too well what a difficult situation you were in: which is why he was so disgusted with himself for being unable to shake the mental image of that sliver of fabric between your legs from his mind.

At the very least, he could distract himself with the note taking, the numbers, the measurements- all of the things that required him to take his eyes off of you. But unfortunately, his reprieve was short lived when the time came for you to take your corset off. He had to step in; considering that by the look on Jayce’s face, the poor man might have short-circuited before he could even touch the first lace.

The quiet was deafening, and he focused on keeping his breath even behind you as he got to work. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable after all; so the quicker he got it off of you, the quicker he’d be able to ignore how uncomfortable his pants suddenly felt. 

When he laid his hand on your back, basking in the soft expanse of your warm skin, he could admit that it was partially self-indulgent. Not yet wanting to pull away, wanting to pull you closer-

Wanting to bend you over the desk.

But still, he backed away, taking his place beside Jayce as you discarded both the corset and your flimsy undershirt. 

In that moment, they briefly locked eyes- one understanding the other completely.

Their friendship was a strong one, one that had developed into something a bit… more.

And It had come up before, of course it had. Jayce was terrible at keeping secrets, and Viktor didn’t feel the need to. So both of them quickly realized that they both harbored a rather severe crush for you. But their mutual attraction to you was more of an abstract concept before; a passing thought, a daydream, a sleep deprived rant, or an unhinged dream. Something that came up late at night when neither of them could sleep, or when one of them had had a bit too much to drink.

 How they would take you, where they would do it-

How they would share.

But it was never anything seemingly possible. Not nearly as possible as it felt now.

And then you turned around.

And the spiral continued- at a rapid, unrelenting pace.

Viktor had the good sense to look away first, but not before getting a good eyeful of your bare breasts. He was not a child. He had seen breasts before. But it was you- And that was all the difference. He had to discreetly pinch Jayce to get him to quickly follow suit.

Your comfort came first, above all else, despite his foolish yearning.

Jayce felt much the same, in spite of how awestruck he was at the sight of you. He would replay that moment in his mind over and over again, eyes screwed closed as he covered his face with his hand. Once they had forced you to nap, it was easier. But only slightly.

They made good progress on the plans for your updated braces, throwing themselves into the work to escape the torment of their own overactive imaginations. But every so often, they would get distracted by a soft groan or a sigh coming from your sleeping form on the couch.

It was all too easy to mistake it for something more sensual, with their minds so deep in the gutter.

Once you finally woke up, the trip to your dorm was a quiet one. And now with the two of them sitting alone in your living room, they could digest it all.

Both of them sat on your couch, Viktor’s legs draped over Jayce’s lap as he gave his math a once over. “...it's hardly fair” Jayce grumbled quietly, thumbing over a slender calf through the fabric of Viktor’s pants.

“..what?” Viktor looked up from his notes, with a quizzical expression

“How cute she is.” the larger man sighed, putting his face in his hands and groaning.

“Don't start this. Not now.” Viktor warned, rolling his eyes as he returned to writing. “Thinking about it will only make it worse, and mind you, I won’t be able to help you considering we are at her place.” he stated matter of factly.

“I know you think so too” he pouted, reminiscent of a scolded puppy. Viktor sighed.

“It doesn't matter if I also think so. It’s irrelevant at the moment.” Viktor stated plainly “Are here to look after her. Nothing more. Our feelings don't matter.”

They both knew he was lying.

Silence fell between the two men for a few seconds.

Viktor closed his notebook with a frustrated exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“...I think she might be interested in us. Like we are in her.” Viktor admitted, a pensive whisper breaking the silence.

It was Jayce's turn to be surprised. “What?” 

“It’s merely a theory. One that requires more…observation.” There was something lurking beneath his clinical terminology. Something playful. Something that nearly made Jayce shiver with anticipation.

“Somehow, I feel like this ‘theory’ of yours is an excuse for us to make the first move.” Jayce chuckled lowly. 

“Eh, not quite.” he corrected, setting the notebook aside. “Ideally, we would hear it from her directly. Through simple questions, perhaps over coffee, or dinner-” Viktor elaborated. A gap toothed grin spread across Jayce’s face, letting his hand snake further up Viktor’s leg.

 ��-So a date? You want us to take her on a date?!” Viktor smiled at Jayce’s enthusiasm, before promptly swatting away the hand that was getting dangerously close to his crotch. 

“We will wait until she is no longer ill. And I already told you- Hands to yourself, and let me continue.” 

Jayce pouted, opting to let his hand rest over Viktor’s ankle.

 “You're cruel, you know that?”

“As if you’d have me any other way. Now, do you want to listen or not?”

“I do…”

“Good. There is much to consider.”

—

Whew! This one took a lot outta me! We’ll be getting to the juicy bits next time!

<Prev part    next part>

[anjelicawrites]

In the night

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: written as a part of Targaryen-Dinasty’s 3k milestone celebration. Whenever sleep evades him, Aemond can find refuge in his spouse’s embrace. Tonight he needs a little something more to fall deep into slumber. Read the other fics for this celebration here!

Warnings: breast kink, pregnancy kink (reader is not pregnant yet), a dash of lactation kink if you squint, oral (f receiving), Aemond coming untouched thanks to pussy eating

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns used. One instance of “Lady” and “Wife” used.

Aemond has never been a deep sleeper, or someone capable to have a full night’s of rest, since his marriage to you, his habits have improved. Having your soothing presence by his side has helped him relax behind closed doors, resting his head on your bosom to listen to the beating of your heart has lulled him to sleep for countless nights, after long days at court.

But Aemond is a man, flesh and blood and fire, with carnal urges only your soft, willing body can fulfill.

He wakes up slowly, his head is hidden in the curve of your neck and he nuzzles the skin like a cat; he’s not sure of the time, the thick draping around the massive bed hides the windows and lets just flickers of the candlelight in, the silence he hears tells him it should still be night.

He doesn’t know what has woken him up at first, his mind is still clouded by the tendrils of the dream already fading. He doesn’t remember it, just the feeling of warmth and contentment coursing through his body, until his eye had opened, groggily, and you were next to him, keeping him warm and safe in your arms.

A long moan leaves his lips when his hips brush against your body, and his hard cock presses on your thigh. Oh, he thinks, that’s what it is then.

On instinct, your sleeping body curls tighter around his, almost trying to shield him even in the sanctuary of your shared quarters; he smiles at that. He’s the trained warrior, the prince who rides the biggest dragon in the whole world, you’re a lady, soft and gentle, but with a core of steel no one can imagine under the silks of your flowery dresses.

Against his naked chest the light material of your nightgown shifts, the loose bindings closing the neckline open to let a your heavy breasts spill out.

Not for the first time since the wedding, Aemond thinks that your body is made to carry forth pregnancies, that you have the wide hips for it and such a gentle disposition, that your children will never feel misunderstood by the person who should love them the most.

The thought of your body growing full with a child makes a pang of need burn in his lower belly, your breasts swollen with milk, your nipples tender and oh, so sensitive!

Aemond has to take a deep breathe trying to control himself and his raging erection. You were so tired last night, having to deal with all the guests at court for days, showing the ladies around and chatting with them for hours about inane topics. He saw how exhausted you were after another official dinner, where you had to keep a fake smile plastered on your face and pretend you weren’t bored to death: you deserve your rest for the night.

Trying not to wake you up, Aemond lays his head on your soft bosom and tries to make himself as small as possible to fit your frame, hoping that the lavender smell of your bathing oils will lull him to sleep.

He tries to relax and enjoy the closeness you two have been denied these days, tries to let your soft body envelope his into slumber again, yet having you in his reach only fuels the desire inflaming his loins. His neglected erection seems to grow, instead to flag, the longer he lays close to you, drunk on your lovely scent and silky skin.

You move in your sleep and the nightgown slips down your shoulders to show him more of your breathtaking body, as if the Gods are tempting him, as if barely being able to see you for days hasn’t hindered his self control enough!

Only a taste, he thinks, a quick taste without waking you up.

You’re, usually, a deep sleeper, dead to the world, you wouldn’t stir, would you?

As silent as a deadly snake, Aemond slides down your body, leaving butterfly kisses on the exposed skin that make goosebumps appear wherever his lips land, until he’s between your legs, slightly splayed in your slumber.

He has to bite down on a moan, when he lays on the bed and his erection comes in contact with the cotton of the bedding, his skin feels raw already and he has done nothing, yet.

Careful not to wake you, he spreads your legs more and rucks the light material of your nightgown up to your chest observing, adoringly, your soft tummy and heavy breast, trying to imagine how you’ll look like when you’ll be full of his child and he’ll take care of you in every way possible.

In the barely illuminated darkness he can make out the patch of hair adorning your cunt, the lips he loves to kiss and the small pearl that has you whine in his hold; his mouth waters with the phantom taste of your honey: if he could, he’d live off of that only, forever.

He lays between your legs, his hands take a loose hold of your splayed tights, before the tips of his tongue breaches your warmth, with a moan.

Just a taste, his brain says, a quick one, yet he’s already lost in you, his face plastered against your cunt, his tongue slowly fucking your hole; above him you start stirring, small flames of warmth licking at the edges of your consciousness have you whine, the pleasure a soft caress on your nerves that awakens you with a moan and your back arching.

For a moment you don’t know where you are, lust clouding your mind, before you feel the warmth of your husband’s hands on your skin.

“Aem… Aemond.” You moan, grabbing blindly at his hair.

He doesn’t respond, he’s too drunk on your taste to be coherent, his hips fuck the mattress and he groans against you, hungry for your essence.

You arch again, and squirm against his hold when his lips find your pearl, to suck it hard and fast, with wet sounds of appreciation. Fingers breach you now, and curl against that spongy part inside of your body that makes you jump against his arm weighting you down. His fingers fuck you faster, following the rapid shift of your hips, your muscles clench against his intrusion as pleasure washes over you, stealing you words away, leaving you squirming and moaning, tears streaming down your cheeks when his teeth gently nibble your pearl.

Uselessly you try to plant your feet on the mattress to push against him, your muscles liquefy against the pleasure, against his tongue writing nonsense on your pearl and his fingers so deep inside of you, fucking your tight hole.

He moans and whines against you, torn between his raw cock and your soft cunt, his orgasm so close he can feel his stones draw impossibly tight against his body as he finger fucks you with squelching sounds.

“Please!” You beg, voice drowned by the carnal sounds. “Please!”

Your legs wound tight around his head, forcing his face closer to you, the lack of air only spurring him on to add another finger inside your hole to spread you open and torture your battered insides when he feels you tremble against him, your end so close, so close.

You explode against his face, back arching painfully and he follows you, spending his seed on the bed sheets with a long groan against your center that makes you shudder.

You’re breathless, your legs lay splayed on the bed as you try to find purchase on Aemond’s naked skin to pull him closer to you.

On cue his face finds refuge on the hollow of your shoulder, so that he can look adoringly at your tired face before he makes himself as small as possible to fit against your body.

“Hello husband.” You smile tiredly. “Shall I ask what bought that forth?”

Aemond’s long fingers find yours to play with, lazily in the tendrils of light of the candles the canopy of the bed lets in.

“I woke up hungry, wife.” He answers.

The eyelid of his injured eye is closed to cover the hollow there, as he is not wearing his sapphire; it fills your with pride that your husband is showing himself to you, fully, even the parts he believes to be too ugly for you to see.

“Have you satisfied your hunger, my love?”

Aemond’s smile is sleepy on his cheeks, his cute dimples showing, a rare sight to behold.

“Come.” You say, before he can actually answer. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

Like a satisfied cat Aemond pushes his face against your bosom, until all he can smell his you, and he relaxes fully, lulled to sleep by the gentle carding of your fingers through his hair.

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottmikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - please? → she/her pronouns!

miguel begs you not to get out of bed

By far the highest blessing you could receive in the morning is Miguel O'Hara's morning voice.

Deep, gravelly, and sparse, Miguel's morning voice always manages to send chills down your spine, especially when you're nothing but a hair's width apart from his chest.

You can feel his heart slowly beat against your cheek, his chest rising and falling to the sound of his breathing. Waking up to a face full of chest has been unexpectedly, one of the numerous highlights of your day.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, and it takes you a moment to come to your senses. He smells nice, a reminder of the shower gel you keep in your bathroom for when he visits.

Miguel's almost too big for your bed; he takes up your space, barely fits the comforter, but you love him anyway. You really don't know how, or why Miguel chooses to sleep with you in your tiny little bed, but you don't complain.

"Amor."

His wording rumbles from the deepest parts of his throat, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your ear. You squirm a little, tiny noises escaping your mouth as you make yourself just a little more comfortable.

"Mmmph... what time is it?" You murmur into his skin, savoring the warmth he omits.

Miguel lazily rests his heavy arm over you, running his abnormally large hand over your back. He presses a darling kiss into your hair, humming. It's only you who gets to see him like this, all sleepy-eyed and touchy beyond repair. You try to savor this version of Miguel as possible, knowing that he has to be someone else when he's at work.

Miguel keeps a single arm on you while you try to bend your arm in impossible ways, twisting and turning your limb to try to reach your phone on the bedside table. Eventually it works, and you manage to slip your phone into your fingers before you dislocate your arm.

"It's 9:23..." You breathe, sighing before turning your phone back off and placing it next to your pillow.

Miguel's pulling you in like a magnet, snuggling you like a puppy would a teddy bear. He's just too cute like this, hands and legs roaming around your body for something to squeeze. As much as you absolutely hate to let go of him, duty calls.

"Miguel... we have to go to work."

He can hear the distaste in your voice, reminded of the agonizingly long spread of cleanup, the idea of people bothering him, the mediocre food at the cafeteria. (Except for the empanadas, lmao)

Miguel doesn't want to go to work today, and he doesn't think you do either. Wearing a skin-tight supersuit just wasn't it today.

"Noo...." Miguel whines, strengthening his arms around you. You have to tap on his arm, just so enough air can find it's way back to your lungs again.

"Miguel, we have a job to do." You say, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. You hear him groan into your hair, your mind practically going blank at the sound of his intense morning voice.

We mUST stay focused brothers, we must stay focused!!!

Almost like every morning, you begin your wrestle for freedom, pushing at his forearms wrapped tight over you. It's almost like you forget that Miguel's a superhuman Spider-Man. Stubbornly, he keeps his lazy stance, ignoring your tiny pushes and shoves.

"Oh my gosh, Miguel. Let me go. If you don't go to work, I will." You curse, squirming and kicking yourself in all sorts of directions.

He shakes his head again, eyes closed shut and nose still in your hair.

It was only a matter of time before you'd tire yourself out.

And you did.

Miguel's got the shittiest, most satisfied grin on his face, and all you can do is scowl at him. Still, he hasn't let go of you, and now you're convinced he wont let you go until the end of the day.

As much as Miguel was stubborn, you were too. You have a final ace up your sleeve, and hopefully it'll save both Jessica and the kids from disarray in the office today.

Miguel's face starts to melt down a little when you flutter your eyelashes at him, shoving your face into his chest and pressing a sweet little kiss between his pectorals.

It's like the satisfaction from Miguel transferred over to you, and Miguel is left speechless as you trail your way up to his clavicle, nipping and kissing at the surface of his skin.

"Let me go, please?" You ask, specifically in the tone of voice that you know Miguel loses his shit over.

His voice is hitched in his throat, ears turning scarlet as his grip around you starts to loosen.

"I... honey-"

The moment you reach his neck, Miguel know's he's done for, a chill running down his neck and back. It makes him all hot, his mind being wiped clean like a whiteboard. Just for the funsies, you kiss his pulse point a little, wrapping your own arms around his neck.

Utterly, Miguel melts, the sweetest, poutiest expression on his face like he doesn't know what to.

You win.

While you still can, you slip out of Miguel's grip, your feet finally meeting the carpeted floor. Miguel realizes your little act, grumbling and pouting to himself as he relishes the disappearance of your warmth.

"If you come to work, we can do more..." You tease, trotting off to your bathroom with a chuckle.

Reluctantly, the man rises from your bed, the boards creaking under his weight. (One day, he's gonna break your bed, somehow.) He follows after you, running his hand through his messy bedhead.

"Coming, sweetie."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)wife

Chapter IV: Never Going Back Again 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond answers your performance of 'Dreams' by singing yet another newly composed song during rehearsal. This time, you can't contain the rage he elicits within you.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, smut, hatesex, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, P in V, choking, degradation, manhandling

Word count: 4880 A/N: Thank you always to my love Justine, @theoneeyedprince for helping me by having a look at the edited version 🩵

Bringing Aemond’s old hoodie on tour feels like harbouring a shameful secret.

You’d felt weak enough when you spontaneously brought it with you when you moved out of your shared flat. And when you realised it was the only thing that could make you fall asleep any time anxiety weighed heavy on your chest.

So when you packed your suitcases to tour the Seven Kingdoms, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to leave it behind. But the shame of still needing it; still needing the memory of him, resulted in you storing it away somewhere no one would see it, least of all yourself. 

Until you sought it out. 

You wake up still curled on the side of the large bed, Aemond’s scent encompassing you.

How long will his smell linger on the fabric?

Soon, it’d disappear and you’d have no trace of him left. 

You reach Winterfell the next day. Luckily, you’re allowed a small break before the next performance, leaving you some time to explore the city and rehearse with the band. 

You spend your day sightseeing in the capital of the North; grabbing coffee with Helaena and window shopping around the bustling city centre. 

Despite the quick friendship you had established after joining the band, your relationship with Helaena has become greatly strained following your separation from Aemond. 

You know she hates the tension and the fighting. She has a habit of closing off and retreating whenever she feels uncomfortable, and having two band members in an infected conflict is not something she finds easy to navigate. You still love her like a sister, and you know Aemond holds her dear as well, so you try to spare her from it all, even if your attempts aren’t always successful. 

“We’ll be late for the rehearsal if we don’t leave soon”, you tell her as she’s eyeing a pair of sparkly firefly hair clips. She nods absentmindedly in response and picks up the clips, 

“I know, I know. Let me just get these”, she answers with a smile, heading towards the register.  

Helaena pays for the newest addition to her endless collection of insect trinkets, and you leave for the venue you’ll be performing at in two days; Winterfell Arena. 

This is going to be your biggest show yet. 

When your management booked the arena you were scared of not selling enough tickets to justify such a large space. But you’d been pleasantly surprised by the interest shown in the North. The last tickets had just sold, and it would be your largest audience to date. 

Entering the arena, you’re taken aback by its sheer size. You can’t believe you’ll be performing in a place like this, and to a sold-out crowd. You’re suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of nauseating anxiety. Will you be able to give them a worthy show? 

Will you be good enough? 

The constant self doubt that plagues your mind had been easier to handle when Aemond was by your side. He’d always been your biggest supporter; chasing away all your inner demons with his reassurance. 

He always made you feel better. 

Now, you were left alone and with nothing but doubt keeping you company. You miss having someone to soothe you by your side. 

Miss having someone to confide in. 

To rely on. 

The stage’s larger than any you’d ever been on before. You try to shake the nerves taking over you, but it’s hard not to get overwhelmed by the size of the hall. It’s intimidatingly large. 

You and Helaena begin to set up and prepare for tonight’s rehearsal, and Jace, Erryk and Aemond drop in one by one to join. You’d expected the latter to have his usual gorgeous companion on his arm, but he surprises you by showing up alone, five minutes after the time you’d all agreed upon and without saying a word. 

It isn’t like him to show up late, and you can feel the stress radiating from him, though he stays quiet. 

You know he’s been working on yet another song for the new album, and today he mentioned in the group chat that he’d like to play it for you during rehearsal. 

He’d sent you the name; ‘Never Going Back Again’. 

Is it about his relationship with his grandfather?

When Aemond told Otto Hightower that he wanted to quit working for him at Oldtown Solicitors in order to fully focus on his music career, his grandfather had nearly cut all ties to him. 

In a particularly weak moment, he’d even given you a call, insinuating that you were a bad influence on his grandson,

“I let him entertain this silly band for the sake of Helaena and Aegon! I even let him do a minor in history at the university I financed. And yet, he meets you and suddenly wants to give that all up to record an album? Talk some sense into him, won’t you?” 

Aemond had been furious when you told him about the call from Otto, making it clear to his grandfather that he’d never go back to working with him or in property law. He’d been prepped and groomed since birth; the perfect heir to carry on the Hightower legacy. Not as flaky or unreliable as his older siblings. Always the dutiful son. 

Aemond moves across the stage to grab his bag, pulls out a water bottle and places a tablet on his tongue.  

You realise he must’ve been late due to the pain of his eye injury flaring up again. Despite his recent awful behaviour, you can’t help but feel bad for him. 

When you first started dating, you’d been scared of asking about his eye. Evidently, it was a sore subject, and you didn't want to pry. Eventually, he told you about the car accident he was in when he was 10. 

He’d been in the backseat of the family's car with his nephews, engaging in a petty fight. As the driver tried to de-escalate the situation in the back, he lost control of the vehicle, crashing it into a large tree by the side of the road. 

The only casualty from the crash was Aemond’s left eye. A piece of metal from the car had come loose during the crash and flung back through the window, creating a scar going from his forehead down to his cheek; robbing him of his vision and permanently causing him pain. 

When you started dating, you made sure to learn his routine and preferences, to make it easier and less unbearable for him when the nerve damage caused intense pain to shoot through his head. 

You still remember. 

He likes the room cool. He always lies on top of the duvet on his back, letting the chill air sooth his aching skin. Unless you’re there. Then he used to lie on his stomach next to you; one armed wrapped around your waist and his head on your chest. You’d thread your fingers through his silky hair with the softest of touches, stroking his head until the pain killers drag him into slumber. 

It had been in one of those moments that he’d first told you he loves you. 

You look over at Aemond as he makes his way towards his guitar, picking it up and experimentally playing a few chords to check the volume. 

Did he manage the pain by himself now? 

Or did he lay his head on Alys’ chest, hugging her? 

Does she run her fingers through his hair? 

Does she let them trace the outlines of the beautiful sharpness of his face? 

Over his cupid's bow, nose bridge, cheekbones?

Does he lay his head on her chest, letting the drum of her heart lull him to sleep? 

Does he allow her to come as close?

You go through the set list, discussing the order of both your older and newer songs. 

Jace, Helaena and Erryk all praise your performance of Dreams, asking you to perform it each night moving forward. 

Helaena, standing next to her brother, leans towards him and mumbles, “Your back-up vocals really make the chorus shine”, while offering him a gentle smile. 

Aemond replies with a hum and moves to stand by one of the microphones with his guitar in hand. His usual stoic yet quietly commanding self returns when he starts to play without any explanation or introduction, fingers plucking the strings with precision. He sings, 

‘She broke down and let me in’ 

During recording, you’d briefly glanced at the words in the recording studio, huffing a laugh at his audacity. They definitely sting more on stage. Your face turns hot and you can’t decipher if it’s from humiliation or anger. Maybe both. 

He really is a dick. 

‘Made me see where I’ve been’

‘Been down one time’

‘Been down two times’ 

‘Never going back again’ 

Any sympathy you’d felt for him; any longing you’d felt for him, vanishes as he sings. Another song about you, this time in the form of the final nail in the coffin that is your marriage. 

And he had the nerve to ask you not to perform Dreams anymore? 

‘You don’t know what it means to win’

‘Come ‘round and see me again’ 

Back at the hotel room, rage makes your entire body feel hot and restless. 

How fucking dare he? 

Never going back again? 

First, he’d sung about how you broke his heart and now, he paints you like you’re the plague; like a sickness to avoid. 

All you want to do is call Alysanne and spew out all the pent up emotions storming inside of you. 

You place your phone on the nightstand and roughly shove the charger inside, fingers tapping furiously to call Alysanne.

She doesn’t answer and you call her again. Still no answer. 

You’re so restless you can’t sit down, irritation making your skin feel hot and hands tingly. 

What if you asked him to not play the song? That’s what he’d asked of you. 

Unable to stay still, you grab your key card and shove your feet into a pair of white hotel slippers, heading down to where you know Aemond’s hotel room is. 

You reach the door and knock on it firmly while your feet shuffle from side to side impatiently. 

You're not sure what you’ll tell him, the rage inside guiding you instead of your senses. 

Aemond opens the door, face unreadable and eyebrows raised in question at your sudden visit. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of green joggers and your gaze briefly flickers down to take in his shirtless stature. 

“Really? Never going back?”, you question and move in closer. The heavy hotel door shut behind you, and suddenly it’s only the two of you, in his room. 

He neither answers nor moves, and you’re standing so close that your clothed chest bumps into his naked one. You crane your neck to look into his eyes. His stern demeanour doesn’t quite reach them, gaze softer than you’d imagined. 

Anger still guides you, and a pathetically spiteful idea prompts you to slowly kneel before him, still standing impossibly close and eyes never straying away from his.

“Not even if I do this?”

Your face is level with his crotch as you look up at him. He’s always loved this sight; you at his mercy. But not now. Now he’s at yours. 

You slowly lean forward and press your lips against the exposed skin of his torso, fleetingly kissing him right by his happy trail, just above the hem of his trousers. 

You’ve missed the soft smoothness of his flesh; a tender veil over the hard muscles hiding underneath. So contradictingly beautiful. 

Aemond stays unmoving, eyes staring at you with a scorching intensity. You know he won’t stop you. If he didn’t want this, he’d have let you know by now. 

So you press another kiss right under his navel, and feel sickly delighted by the barely-there shiver vibrating from him. 

Slowly, and with light kisses to his stomach, you reach for the hem of his joggers, letting your hands softly pull down the fabric and reveal his manhood. He’s already half hard, and you have to bite back a smile. 

Never going back again? Yeah right. 

Your eyes never leave his as your delicate kisses trail downward, towards his cock, yet never making direct contact with it. 

His face still is as impassive as always, but he’s now grown so hard his tip is leaking precum, fuelling your actions. 

You haven’t been this close to him in months and it almost feels intoxicating; his smell encircling you. 

You want to see him lose control; you need to see him lose control. Need to hear him beg for you. 

Plead for you. 

Come for you. 

You squeeze your things together at the thought, arousal making an ache drum between your legs. It’s an addictive thought; imagining him pleading for you. Begging for you. Needing you. 

You want him to want you. 

He still hasn’t moved, or said anything. You take his silence as an invitation to continue. 

Want him to want you. 

Still locking eyes, you slowly graze your lips over his skin until your mouth is by the base of his cock. You know he won’t give you the satisfaction of letting you in on what he’s feeling, but that’s alright. 

You’ll force it out of him. 

Your hand travels up his leg and moves to grip his cock, now so hard it’s aching to be touched. You work in long, firm strokes, just the way he likes. 

The staring contest continues. You know his stoic appearance is meant to frighten you, but you know him too well. You can see the cracks appearing already. 

Eager to push him further, you slowly open your mouth and let your tongue out, gently swiping it over his leaking tip to collect the glistening beads of precum. You feel the proof of his arousal on your tongue, and you see his gaze flicker down to observe it in your mouth as you unhurriedly close your mouth and swallow. 

He stays silent, but you see his jaw twitch. 

He likes it. 

Growing bolder, you move your lips back to the tip of his cock, kissing it in a far too innocent manner before wrapping your lips around him and sucking firmly.

In the briefest of moments, his eyebrows knit together and he closes his eyes.

The satisfaction you feel at his clear arousal goes straight to the thrumming between your legs, and you briefly squeeze your thighs together. You move your mouth lower, placing feather-light kisses down his length before gently swiping your tongue over his balls. 

You can hear the restraint in each laboured breath he huffs through his nose. 

Your soft lips envelop one of his balls, and your hands continue to stroke his length. You know he loves this; loves when you get down on your knees and worship him. 

You let your tongue massage every inch as it rests in your mouth, and when you let out a moan, pure theatrics to make him succumb to you, Aemond’s jaw goes slack and his lips part uncontrollably. 

Just a little further and you’ll break him. 

You’ll win. 

Perhaps the look in your eyes let him in on your scheme. 

Perhaps he’s too close to continue. 

But when he grabs you by the hair and yanks you off of him, it takes you by surprise. 

“About to cum, baby?”, you mockingly ask.  

He clicks his tongue and grabs your forearms to pull you up so you're standing in front of him again. 

Still not saying a word, he tries so hard to appear stoic, but you can see the storm brewing within him. A sudden push to your shoulders causes you to stumble backward and land on Aemond's soft hotel bed. 

“Let’s see how fucking wet you get from sucking off the man you hate”

His voice is both calm and taunting at once. His hands come up to the sides of your leggings, pulling them down with force, taking your underwear with them.

You know you’re wet, but you really don’t want him to know that. 

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

You try to press your legs together, but one of his large hands finds its place on your mound and cups it perfectly as one of his fingers slides down between your folds to meet the silky wetness there. The fact that his hand seems to fit against you perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, amplifies your desire. And rage. 

“Having my balls in your mouth made you that wet, huh? Still so dirty, baby”, he teases, emphasis on the pet name to match your previous mock. 

You let out a yelp as his hand briefly leaves you to land a quick smack on your exposed clit. His cocksure expression flashes by before he grabs your hips again to place you on your stomach, bare ass receiving a smack as well. 

He works quickly, sitting down next to you on the bed and pulling you towards him. He places your middle on his lap, and lets his hand come down to land another smack on your asscheek. 

His hand stays on your soft skin, lingering a bit longer than you’d anticipated, before travelling down between your thighs to meet your neglected centre. 

“You like that too, don’t you?”, he asks as he catches your clit between his fingers and press harshly. 

It stings. 

It feels good. 

You press your lips together to prevent any sounds from escaping, racking your brain for a way to gain back control. 

Aemond’s fingers begin to draw firm circles and your mind starts to feel foggy from want. Without thinking, your hips begin to move in tandem with his fingers. He chuckles. 

“I know you inside out”, he triumphs, but as you move your hips, you can feel how achingly hard he is beneath you. 

You know him too. 

You pull away from his lap, sitting back on your haunches on the bed, and remove your cardigan, then your tank top, and finally your bra. 

You manage to startle Aemond by your sudden move, and you seize your chance at dominance by placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him down, so he lies on his back on the plush, white sheets of the hotel bed. 

You straddle him, and move one hand down to pull down his sweatpants once again. Revealing his cock, you encircle him softly before placing his length between your folds, dragging your wetness all over him. You bite back a moan as his cock pushes on your clit again and again, hips move back and forward. 

Aemond seems lost for words as well, undoubtedly enjoying you moving against him. 

His seeing eye flickers wildly to take in your naked body, damaged eye not able to keep up with the rapid movements. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. You momentarily feel mesmerised by his beauty. 

The realisation that you’ve missed seeing him like this, missed being with him like this, pierces your heart painfully and your hips still. 

You don’t want to think about the sadness inside. You want to break him. Like he broke you. 

Up until now, it’s been a constant fight for dominance; a never-ending back and forth. But you got him now.

“Beg me to fuck you”, you command, voice slightly out of breath. Aemond’s eyes are fixed on your heaving, naked chest.  

“What?”, he questions, like he doesn’t understand what you’re asking.

“Beg”, you repeat, voice more demanding as your breathing calms, 

“Beg me to fuck you, Aemond”

Though confusion had briefly flashed over his face, it’s now set in fury. 

His eyes narrow.

Without answering you, he places one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist, manhandling your body down on his cock in one swift motion. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, much to Aemond’s satisfaction. He grins victoriously. 

Fuck, it’s been so long. 

He begins bucking up into you in an instance. The firm hold he has on your body feels bruising, and his fingers dig into your flesh meanly so that you won’t move. 

He angles his hips, and each stroke touches your sweet spot. You bite down on your lip to hinder the moans that are fighting to escape. He’s essentially fucking you on his cock, and it feels so good you can’t think clearly anymore. 

“Come on, I know you can’t keep quiet”

He pushes your body down harder, bucking his hips up faster. You can’t help but move with him, it feels so fucking good. 

You’re still not going to come. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He’s gonna come. 

You clench down on his length each time he slides in and you see the tension in his jaw; the vein bulging out at the side of his neck. 

Maybe if you push him just a little bit further? 

“Oh, Aemond”, you moan as you throw your head back, tightening your muscles again, gripping him like a vice. 

He’s always loved getting praised. 

The hand he’d placed on your shoulder moves to your throat, engulfing the entirety of it. His fingers press down on the sides, 

“Shut up” 

His grip tightens. The movement of your hips begin to falter as the restricted blood flow to your head amplifies your pleasure. You bite your lip harder not to moan. 

He knows exactly how to get you. 

He continues to fuck up into your dripping cunt, ignoring your change in pace. Each stroke of his cock within your walls feels like pure ecstasy; like sparks of sheer pleasure shooting through your body. 

His expression is infuriatingly smug and you realise you must look completely blissed out as he uses your body. 

You feel the familiar tightening in your lower stomach, the sign that your peak is approaching rapidly. 

No no no, he can’t win! 

You pull away from the grip he has on you, abruptly getting off him, internally mourning the pleasure you rob yourself of. 

He needs to come. He needs to break first. 

You sit next to where he’s lying on his back, hand moving down so that you can work his length again. 

Aemond catches on to your scheme quickly and uses his strength to push you away, manhandling you so your face’s down in the mattress and ass exposed. 

He pulls on one cheek, admiring your wet and wanting centre. When he shoves back inside with an exaggerated tut, you can’t take it anymore; the pleasure’s just too much.

His touch feels too good, no matter how harsh it is. 

You try to push your face as far as possible into the bed, hoping Aemond can’t hear the moans you can’t contain any longer. 

The loud smacks of his hips against your backside and the lewd, wet sounds coming from your cunt fill the room. 

It’s so aggressively erotic. 

One of his hands finds your clit and as he starts massaging it with vigour, his other hand moves towards your head. 

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back so you are facing him. The grip hurts; like a thousand little needles assaulting your scalp. 

“You’re gonna come, I know it. Don’t you fucking dare not look me in the eye when you do”

You’re stuck in his painful grip, yet your orgasm’s racing towards you, making you clench down on his length and moan louder and louder, no longer able to hide the effect he has on you. 

The hand in your hair moves down to grab your breast roughly, nipple pinched between his fingers. You find it hard to keep your body up as pleasure makes it feel like you're floating, but Aemond’s arms around you makes it impossible for you to move. His face moves to press against yours; cheek to cheek, 

“When you sing your silly little songs about what a player I am, remember that no one else can make you feel as good as I do”

And you’re gone. The orgasm hits you so hard you almost black out. It makes your entire body jerk uncontrollably, and if Aemond hadn’t been holding you, you’d be on the floor. 

He keeps fucking your through your orgasm, breathing heavily and grunting at the intense way your walls contract around him. 

As the movements of his hips turn sloppy and frantic, you feel his face move to press between your shoulder blades, arms still holding you tightly, like he’s hugging you from behind. 

Or trying to crush you. 

You can’t decide which. 

You stay like that for a few moments. The room is quiet, save for your shared heavy breathing. You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity between the two of you and feel too exposed, regret storming inside you like in icy waves.  

Shit, what have you done?

Aemond loosens his grip around you and lowers you down on the bed much gentler than how he’d touched you before. 

You stay on your stomach, burying your face in the bed as you feel Aemond shuffle behind you, softly tracing a hand down your back before getting up and making his way towards the adjacent bathroom. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Hearing him turn on the faucet, you quickly get up from the bed. 

You have to get out before he comes back. 

You frantically look for your clothes, scattered all over the hotel room floor. Trying to be as quick as you can be feels impossible when your legs still feel far wobbly, and your mind way too fuzzy, to cooperate.  

You hear Aemond turn off the faucet as you pull on your leggings and underwear. You can’t find your bra, and you don’t even bother looking for it before pulling on your tank top and cardigan hurriedly. 

You just need to get away. 

Away from Aemond. 

You step into your slippers and dart out the front door as you hear him emerge from the bathroom. 

Not patient enough to wait for the elevator, you head towards the emergency exit and climb the two stories up to your room. 

As soon as you're inside, you toss the hotel card key on the desk by the window and throw yourself on the bed, body jolting from the force. 

You want to cry. 

You want to scream. 

You want to go to sleep and realise this was all just a fucked up dream. 

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, now fully charged and with a few messages from Alysanne, asking you how you are and if you’d gone to the cafe she’d recommended by Winterfell Central Station. 

You press her name and the small telephone icon, hoping she’ll pick up. 

“Hi honey, you okay?”, she answers, voice evidently concerned from your sudden call. 

You usually stick to texting, or pre-scheduled face-time dates. 

“I fucked up”, you say, barely above a whisper. You hope that she’ll know what happened without you actually having to say the words. You don’t want to speak it into existence. 

“Did you kill him?”, she jokes and you let out a hollow laugh. 

“Worse”, you say, and Alysanne sighs on the other end.

“Was it good?”, she asks after a long pause, making you let out another snort. 

“What do I do now, Aly? I was just going to push him a little and now-”

“That’s your problem. You always want to get a reaction out of him. What happened to just focusing on yourself?”

Her words feel patronising, like you’re being scolded by your parents. Yet you know she is right. You stay silent and mentally search for a reply; any excuse for your behaviour. 

“Yeah”, you sigh in resignation. 

You know you fucked up; that you’ve acted childish and petty. Still, the satisfied afterglow of experiencing the best orgasm you’ve had in months leaves you feeling a bit less anxious. 

Alysanne tries to distract you by asking about Winterfell, the tour, and what you’re planning on wearing for the big show tomorrow. 

It feels good to talk to a friend without holding anything back. Even if you appreciate Helaena’s company immensely, you know she’s being pulled between you and Aemond, and you’d rather not add to her suffering. 

As Aly tells you about the guy she went on a date with last night, your phone buzzes. 

You briefly glance at your screen, ready to swipe the notification away, when you notice it’s an email from your solicitors office. 

You say a quick goodbye to Aly, open the email and quickly scan through the overly formal text. Your eyes flicker over the screen, taking in what’s written. 

…finalised… 

…shared assets… 

There’s a PDF at the bottom of the email. You click on it, seeing the document you’d left for Aemond in your flat over three months ago. The empty space you’d left next to your hurried signature is now filled in, reading; 

Aemond Targaryen. 

A/N: Thank you for reading 🫶 If you wonder about if he signed the papers right after she left his hotel room; it’s a pdf with his signature, I imagine he actually signed it before leaving for the tour and it just reached her solicitors now.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

[the-oblivious-writer]

Heavy

Tara Carpenter x Reader

One-Shot

Summary: After surviving a brutal attack that left you in a coma, you awaken to find the love of your life, Tara Carpenter, has vanished from your side despite the endless nights she spent holding your hand through the worst of it.

Warning(s): Trauma, no pronouns, references to past (Scream 6) violence, mental struggles, survivor's guilt, stalking, emotional manipulation (self-imposed), and PTSD.

Notes: I was listening to Red Hot Chili Peppers while writing this.

You never looked more beautiful than when you were dying.

That thought haunts Tara as she lies in her empty bed, tracing patterns on sheets that still smell faintly of your perfume. Three months since she last held your hand in that sterile hospital room. Three months of pretending she made the right choice.

The machines kept time with your heartbeat, a rhythm she memorized during those endless nights at your bedside. Sometimes, she still hears it in her dreams - that steady beeping that meant you were still fighting, still here, still hers. Until she decided you couldn't be hers anymore.

Sam stopped by earlier, concern etched in the corners of her eyes. "You're punishing yourself," she'd said, leaving a container of soup that now sits untouched on Tara's nightstand. Maybe she is. But isn't that better than the alternative? Better than waiting for the next masked figure to emerge from the shadows, seeking to add your name to the growing list of people she's lost?

Your coma lasted six weeks. Six weeks of Tara reading to you, singing softly when the nurses weren't around, telling you all the things she should have said before. How you made her feel safe in a world that had given her every reason not to be. How your laugh could chase away the darkness that sometimes threatened to swallow her whole. How you never treated her like she was broken, even when she felt held together by nothing but stubborn will and surgical tape.

She remembers the first time you kissed her, after that night at the bowling alley. You'd been so careful with her, like you understood without being told that touch wasn't always easy for her anymore. Your hands had framed her face like she was something precious, something worth protecting. If only you'd protected yourself from her instead.

The phone on her nightstand lights up with another missed call from Chad. He's been trying to get her to come out, insisting that isolation isn't the answer. But how can she explain that every time she closes her eyes, she sees you in that hospital bed? The bandages, the bruises, the way your chest rose and fell with mechanical precision because you couldn't breathe on your own. All because someone had wanted to hurt her, and you'd been brave enough - stupid enough - to step between her and the blade.

"I can't lose you," she had whispered to your unconscious form. "I won't survive it."

But when you finally opened your eyes, weak and confused but alive, Tara realized something worse than losing you to death: losing you by choice, pushing you away to keep you safe from the curse that seems to follow her like a shadow.

The breakup was clean, surgical - like so many of the scars that map her body. She'd practiced the words in front of her bathroom mirror until they stopped making her cry. "I can't do this anymore. I need space. I need to focus on healing." All the clichés that meant nothing and everything at once. You'd looked at her with those eyes that always saw too much, and for a moment, she thought you might fight her on it. Almost hoped you would.

But you didn't. You just nodded, pressed a kiss to her forehead that felt like goodbye, and walked away. Maybe you understood. Maybe you were tired of loving someone who carried death in her wake like a bitter perfume.

Tara rolls onto her side, pulling your old high school sweatshirt tighter around herself. It stopped smelling like you weeks ago, but she wears it anyway, a form of self-torture she can't seem to give up. On her desk, photographs mock her with frozen moments of happiness - you and her at the beach, your hair wild with salt air and sunshine. The two of you at the twins' birthday party, your arm around her waist as she actually smiled for the camera. A quiet morning in your apartment, where you'd captured her making coffee in one of your oversized t-shirts, looking at peace in a way she rarely felt anymore.

Her friends tell her she's different now. Quieter. The spark that had started to return during your time together has dimmed again. Even Mindy, who never comments on anything serious, asked if she was okay the other day. Tara had wanted to laugh. Okay? How could she be when you're forced to bear wounds that were meant for her? When she spends her nights parked across from your apartment, engine off, watching the soft glow of your bedroom light like a moth drawn to flame?

She tells herself it's protection, not obsession. That someone needs to make sure you're safe, even if you don't know they're there. But the truth sits heavy in her chest as she watches your silhouette move behind curtains - the way you still favor your left side, a reminder of wounds that were meant for her. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of you leaving for work, and the sight of you walking alone makes her hands shake against the steering wheel. You look smaller somehow, or maybe that's just the distance she's forced between you.

Last week, you almost saw her. You were collecting mail from your box, and something made you turn, scanning the street with that sixth sense you always seemed to have. Tara had ducked down so fast she'd knocked her head against the dashboard, heart thundering so loud she was sure you'd hear it even from across the street. When she finally dared to look again, you were gone, but she could have sworn there were tears on your cheeks.

She knows it's wrong. Knows that if Sam or Chad found out about these nightly vigils, they'd tell her she's sliding back into old patterns, letting trauma dictate her choices. But how can she explain that sleeping is impossible unless she knows you're safe? That every time she closes her eyes without checking on you, her nightmares paint your death in vivid technicolor?

It's only a matter of time before you two cross paths again. It happens at the corner market three blocks from your old shared apartment. The same place where you used to buy cookie dough ice cream at midnight, where Tara would pretend to complain about enabling your sweet tooth while secretly loving how your kisses tasted afterward. She's reaching for coffee - your brand, though she'll never admit it - when she hears the soft intake of breath behind her.

Time stretches like taffy, sticky and overwhelming. Your reflection in the freezer glass is both familiar and foreign - thinner maybe, or just holding yourself differently. The scar above your collarbone peeks out from your shirt collar, a silvery reminder of everything she's tried to forget.

"Tara."

Her name in your mouth still sounds like coming home. She forces herself to turn, to face the reality of you standing three feet away with a basket of groceries hanging from your arm. The fluorescent lights cast shadows under your eyes that weren't there before, and she wonders if you're sleeping any better than she is.

"You look..." The words tangle in her throat. Alive. Beautiful. Like everything I've been running from. "...good."

Your laugh is hollow, nothing like the sound she keeps locked away in her memory. "Liar." You shift your weight, and she catches the slight wince - another reminder of what loving her cost you. "You've lost weight."

"Haven't been hungry much." The confession slips out before she can stop it.

Something flashes across your face - concern, maybe anger. You take a step forward, and she matches it with a step back, her spine hitting the cold glass of the freezer door. The coffee can in her hands shakes slightly.

"Don't," she whispers, but she's not sure if she's talking to you or herself.

"Don't what, Tara? Don't care? Don't worry? Because I tried that. It doesn't work." Your voice cracks on the last word, and she watches you swallow hard. "I see your car, you know. Outside my apartment."

The confession lands like a physical blow. Heat crawls up her neck as shame mingles with something else - relief, maybe, that you still know her well enough to notice. That some part of you is still watching for her too.

"I just..." She closes her eyes, unable to bear the weight of your gaze. "I need to know you're safe."

"Safe?" Now there's definitely anger in your voice. "You want me safe? Then stop making decisions for both of us. Stop deciding what I can and can't handle. Stop-" Your voice breaks, and when she opens her eyes, there are tears tracking down your cheeks. "Stop acting like your love is a death sentence."

The coffee can clatters to the floor, forgotten. Her hands ache to reach for you, to wipe away those tears she caused. But she forces them to stay at her sides, nails digging crescents into her palms.

"You almost died," she says, the words tasting like copper in her mouth. "Because of me. Because I thought I could have this - have you - without danger following. I was wrong."

"No." You step closer, and this time she can't make herself move away. "I almost died because some psychopath decided to come after us with a knife. Not because of you. Never because of you."

Your hand reaches out, hovering just shy of touching her face. She can feel the heat of it, the promise of contact that makes her chest tight with wanting. The market's muzak plays faintly in the background, some old love song that feels like mockery.

"I miss you," you whisper, and it's the gentlest violence she's ever experienced. "I miss you, and I'm not sleeping, and sometimes I think I see you everywhere, only to turn around and find empty space. And then I realized I wasn't imagining it - you were actually there, watching over me like some heartbroken guardian angel."

A sob builds in her throat. "I don't know how to stop loving you."

"Then don't." Your hand finally makes contact, cupping her cheek, and Tara breaks. "Don't stop. Just... come home."

She leans into your touch for one heartbeat, two, allowing herself to remember what it feels like to be held by hands that know all her scars. Then she steps back, away from your warmth, your forgiveness, your love that feels too much like salvation.

"I can't." The words taste like ash. "I'm sorry. I can't."

She runs. Past the dropped coffee, past the concerned clerk, past everything but the sound of you calling her name. It follows her all the way home, where she collapses against her front door and finally lets herself cry for everything she keeps choosing to lose.

The worst part is knowing that if she could do it all over again - live another life, make different choices - she'd still choose you. Still fall for the way you dance off-beat to every song, still melt at how you bring her coffee just the way she likes it, still love you with every broken piece of herself. She'd just do a better job of staying away before you could love her back.

Night settles around her like a familiar weight. In the darkness, she can almost pretend you're still here, that this is just another evening where you'll wrap your arms around her and keep the nightmares at bay. But the bed stays empty, and the shadows stay thick, and somewhere across town, you're probably sleeping peacefully for the first time since you met her.

"I love you," she whispers to the empty room, words she never said enough when she had the chance. "I love you, and that's why I can't keep you."

The silence offers no comfort, no contradiction. Just the steady tick of her bedside clock, counting down the moments until another day without you begins. Another day of being strong enough to keep her distance, of choosing your safety over her happiness. Another day of remembering that sometimes love means knowing when to let go, even when every cell in your body screams to hold on tighter.

Sleep will come eventually, bringing dreams of your smile, your touch, the way you used to look at her like she hung the stars. And tomorrow, she'll wake up and do it all again - loving you from afar, keeping you safe the only way she knows how. Because that's what love is to Tara Carpenter now: not a fairy tale, not a happy ending, but a sacrifice she makes every day to keep you breathing.

Even if it means she can barely breathe herself.

-----------

A/N: the meaning behind The Maria's "Heavy" inspired this.

[calirph]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄/ 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒. all these sentences quotes are the key words of gothic horror romance, dark romances and enemies to lovers. it also includes scenarios that fit the thematic. please change names, locations and pronouns as you see fit.

Dark Romance & Gothic Horror Romance

“I dream of you in crimson and shadows, and I wake up gasping for air.”

“You should have run when you had the chance.”

“Kiss me now, or I’ll tear your world apart.”

“You haunt me, and I can’t tell if I love it or if it’s killing me.”

“There is no light where I come from. Only you.”

“I warned you, my love, that once you are mine, you can never leave.”

“You smell of death and roses.”

“A monster can love too, but never gently.”

“I feel your presence in every shadow, every whisper of the wind.”

“I would burn the world to keep you safe, but would you still want me after the flames die down?”

“Don’t fear the dark, darling. Fear what’s waiting in it.”

“You are the only thing that keeps me tethered to this cursed existence.”

“My love for you is a graveyard of broken oaths and bleeding hearts.”

“Your touch feels like a ghost against my skin.”

“Even if it damns me, I would choose you over salvation.”

“Do not mistake my devotion for kindness.”

“I carved your name into my soul long before you knew mine.”

“Your love will be the death of me. And I will die smiling.”

“Why do you keep coming back to me?” — “Because you call to me like a song of the damned.”

“We are bound by something older than time, darker than sin.”

“If I kissed you now, would you run, or would you stay and let me ruin you?”

“Let me show you what it means to be truly loved—terrifying, all-consuming, and eternal.”

“You think you know what I am? Then tell me… do I scare you?”

“I should let you go, but your suffering is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“If I must be a monster, then let me be yours.”

“You have no idea what it means to be loved by something unnatural.”

“There is no happily ever after for us. Only a beautiful, tragic ending.”

“Love me or fear me. Either way, you are mine.”

“You are poison and honey, and I would drink you down without hesitation.”

“Would you still love me if you knew what I’ve done?”

Enemies to Lovers

“You are insufferable.” — “And yet, here you are.”

“The worst thing is, I think I hate you because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Every time I look at you, I want to fight you… or kiss you. I’m not sure which.”

“You say you despise me, but your eyes tell a different story.”

“I could kill you right now.” — “Then why don’t you?”

“If you touch me again, I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

“I don’t know if I want to strangle you or pull you closer.”

“I promised myself I would never love you, and yet here I am.”

“Do you think of me when you lie awake at night?”

“You don’t have to like me. You just have to want me.”

“You don’t trust me.” — “Should I?” — “No.”

“You are my ruin, and I am yours.”

“I’d rather die than fall for you.” — “Funny, I was about to say the same.”*

“Tell me to stop, and I will. But we both know you won’t.”

“I hate you.” — “You keep saying that. Say it again, but this time, try to mean it.”

“You broke my heart first.”

“I should kill you for what you did.” — “Then do it. But if you hesitate, I’ll know you feel the same.”

“We are on opposite sides of this war, but my heart is on yours.”

“You are my enemy. You have no right to make my heart race.”

“I’d rather love you in secret than hate you in public.”

“If we weren’t enemies, could you have loved me?”

“You tried to kill me, and now you want to kiss me?”

“I will always fight against you, but I will never stop loving you.”

“We are fire and fire, bound to burn each other to ash.”

“You’re a monster.” — “And yet, you can’t stay away.”

“Do you know what it’s like to want something you should never have?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” — “Then stop me.”

“I hate that I love you.”

“The only reason I saved you was so I could kill you myself.”

“One of us will betray the other. We both know it. So why are we still here?”

Scenarios

A vampire falls for the very hunter sworn to destroy them.

A ghost lingers in a decaying mansion, drawn to the living intruder who dares to stay.

An assassin is sent to kill a powerful enemy but instead finds themselves unable to pull the trigger.

Two opposing generals meet in secret, their battlefield hatred clashing with their undeniable attraction.

A noble is cursed to love only the one who will be their downfall.

A human discovers their lover isn’t entirely human—and never was.

A prisoner and their captor grow dangerously close.

A warrior is haunted by a mysterious figure in their dreams, only to meet them in waking life.

A dark sorcerer offers an innocent soul a terrible bargain in exchange for love.

A beauty is trapped in a monster’s lair, and the monster is not as cruel as the world believes.

A rival thief and bounty hunter must work together to survive.

A masked stranger saves a doomed soul, but at a terrible cost.

Two heirs of warring kingdoms are forced into a deadly arranged marriage.

A widow finds solace in the arms of the man responsible for her husband’s death.

An executioner spares the life of their enemy for reasons they can’t explain.

A demon falls in love with the exorcist who was meant to destroy them.

A scientist falls for their own cursed creation.

A detective and a serial killer play a dangerous game of obsession.

A fallen angel and a mortal become entangled in forbidden love.

A werewolf fights against their instinct to claim their enemy as their mate.

A forbidden romance unfolds in a haunted asylum.

A fae bargains for love but is tricked into servitude.

An aristocrat falls for the masked vigilante fighting against their family.

A witch saves a wounded knight, only for him to realize she is the enemy.

A pirate and a naval officer share an undeniable connection despite their allegiances.

A woman is drawn to the reclusive lord rumored to be a monster.

A scholar studies forbidden texts and attracts the attention of something otherworldly.

A cursed artist paints their love into existence.

Two enemies must survive the night trapped in a cursed castle.

A creature of the night watches over their oblivious beloved.

[crepezinhos]

Out of Reach

POV: You’d never think a few small talks every now and then and effortless circus perfomances would spark such a passionate fan like him, especially when your differences segregated you two so much.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is an angsty SFW Oneshot (not proofread)

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— AU is: 1910s

— Vet!Character x Performer!Reader

— This is a multifandom work. Characters/Fandoms included are clarified down below and in tags too.

Imagine you and him, who work together in circus, the kind that resides in a train and perform from city to city. You’re a ballerina, a professional dancer, who performs with an elephant as a partner, and him, who’s been recently recruited as a vet to take care of it.

He isn’t even professional. He’s a poor man who attempted veterinary school but couldn’t handle the expenses, so he gave up and ran way from his urban life, but he still does a professional job just for you.

He doesn’t double check before you straddle the elephant, he triple-checks, quadruple-checks, and even more if it means you’ll be ok and that the elephant won’t ever have a panick attack. That’s also why he refuses to use physical punishment with it. He not only has a tremendous empathy for animals in the first place, but he also views that elephant as a sacred relic blessed by your talent and beauty. He will wake up in the middle of the night to make sure the elephant is sleeping well, he will brush every little corner of the elephant’s enormous body with multiple layers of soap, he’ll assure its little accessories and makeup are perfectly done… everything in the name of you.

How could those amused faces in the crowd not make a line for your autograph after your performances? He’d proudly be the first one on it.

He’s your secret biggest fan.

He watches every show of yours.

No matter if he has duties to do.

He’ll always find a way to sneak out or have a colleague cover for him, and watch you from a far, isolated corner in the crowd, hidden in the shadows. Even if he’s anxious and afraid you might fall or embarrassingly trip and twist an ankle when you’re standing on the elephant’s back, his eyes cannot stop admiring you.

The thrill… the beauty… the music… the costume… the dance… the art.

No matter how many times he’s watched that repeated set of actions, for him, you somehow always make something ‘new’ that make hai actions widen.

How could all the other performers only shower you with shallow compliments?

“You did really well!”

“Nice job!”

“Great performance today!”

You deserve more than just those words. You deserve someone kissing your feet, you deserve a group of maids massaging your back, you deserve a man waiting for you to get home so he can take care of your every need.

And that’s why he finally broke his own limits.

That’s why his feet were moving so quickly in your direction, breathing almost uncontrolled, for some reason fearing that you’d somehow disappear if he didn’t reach you in time, fearing that someone would say what he had to say to you first and make his words lose meaning.

You looked hypnotizing even when you were just sitting on top of a random crate. The moonlight making your jewelry and glossy eyes sparkle like a diamond and your dress accentuating your fine curves… he desperately desired to watch you from a close distance, but he knew that’d reasonably creep you out.

“Y/N.” His whole body shivered as he pronounced your name after so many days without saying it to you.

Your zoned-out face finally seemed to be brought back to reality with his figure standing some inches away from you, but as soon as you paid attention to him, your nose couldn’t help but detect the smell.

He works with your dear elephant, and that means he needs to clean the kilograms of rotting shit it eliminates of its body and carry it out of the train. The lack of access to showers makes the smell stick to his every cell of his body like a parasite, a fucking leech that always made your expressions of him be low for any situation that wasn’t veterinary. Especially considering his constant timid behavior, he looked like nothing but a random loser to you.

And he obviously couldn’t help but remember all the others reasons why you’d feel disgusted to him when he looked at a mirror. His calloused hands due to manual labour, the dirt under the tip of his nails, his oily and unwashed hair, the dust, feces and dirt spread around his body and his clothes, which probably had already became permanent stains at this point, his yellowish teeth, his tired eyes, and that stupid fly that has been annoyingly following him and hanging around his space for these last minutes.

No matter if he had a cute face behind all those layers of grubbiness and unsanitary life conditions.

That’s why you flinched away, and your hand immediately moved to pinch your nose and stop your nasals to absorb and taste his smell.

Oh.

How could he forget?

How could he forget that he has no chance with you? How could he allow himself to walk so confidently to you as if he was your closest friend? Or as if you cared about what he had to say?

Perhaps… was your performance tonight what made him feel this way? This delusional? Was that how much you inspired him? Well, he should just disappear now, shouldn’t he? He’s a bother, isn’t he?

You immediately gasped and put your hand on top of your mouth as soon as you realized your wrong and saw his excited face die in a blink and become embarrassed due to that.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” You stood up, trying to make your apology seem more genuine and respectful, but he immediately fought you back.

“No, no. It’s ok.” No matter how genuine his smile looked, he couldn’t make eye contact with you anymore, and that made your heart ache in regret. “I understand.” He reached a hand to the back of his neck and begun scratching it as a way to control himself as he prepared to organize his confession.

He bit his inferior lip for a few seconds, and you made sure to wait if that meant he’d forgive your attitude.

“I just wanted to say that…” He had to pause again if he didn’t want to pass out. “Your performance was absolutely mesmerizing tonight.” The gentle tone and sway of his voice towards your ears made your heart ache even more for him.

He felt afraid of course, but every syllable pronounced was vital. How could he be 100% honest to you when that’s how you reacted to his presence? But he still somehow dearly hoped his determination would mean something to you. That your artistic mind could interpret his choice of words and perhaps remember that moment for the next years.

How could you treat your own vet like that?! After all the work he does for your elephant, that’s how you treat him as? After all those small talks you two shared throughout those months? And considering those small talks were centered around you, it made you even worse for him.

He’s not even ugly in the first place. His facial features and manly and sharp, his eyes are catchy, his hands and fingers are long, and his body is slim and healthily worked-out.

“I…” You couldn’t even react to it. You were truly taken aback and felt with those words. “Thank you… I-I’m sorry for—” He immediately started nodding his head side-to-side.

“No need to apologize.” He shrugged his shoulders and began to turn back, but those damn words in the tip of his tongue that were begging to come out couldn’t be held back anymore. “Have a good night, Ms. Y/N. I’ll make sure Ella is prepared for tomorrow.” No matter if his heart was too overwhelmed with anxiety and his stomach with butterflies, he was disappointed at himself for even bothering you in the first, so he immediately started walking away from you before you could say anything else.

And you pathetically decided to let him go, regretting that decision more and more with every step of his, but only silence could be heard between you two.

At least he was glad that you seemed touched by him.

He was glad he said the things he needed to say, even if you’d never look at him the same way he looks at you, according to his thoughts.

So he walked home with blood running roughly on his cheeks, and a smile that couldn’t find rest.

Diluc, Kazuha, Zhongli, Itto, Gorou, Xiao, AlHaitham, Kinich, Neuvillette, Kabukimono, Ororon, Cyno

Luocha, Kakavasha, Dan Heng, Blade, Gepard, Sunday

Jiyan, Calcharo, Xiangli Yao

Taglist: @amoyanderes @shyentsfoundherink @kindofshyent @the-stinky-winky @goofy-ego @bigmantiddys @alatusorrow @luminieee

[spxllcxstxr]

Kiss the Cook • M.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: could you do a mikey berzatto x reader blurb?? maybe some with the pair cooking together with some flirty banter/playful teasing sort of vibe:)) — anon

Summary: Mikey proves to be a distraction in the kitchen

Warnings: no pronouns used, food and cooking, mentions of donna, honestly its all fluff lmao

Word Count: 934

A.N: first mikey blurb and first bear writing! I hope you guys all enjoy!

•

It's noon when you finally wake up, Mikey's light blankets tangled in your sprawled out limbs. The house is quiet--too quiet, you realize while shifting out of the bed. Donna must be out smoking or somewhere with Lee. With Mikey not opening The Beef today, that could only mean he was downstairs waiting for you to wake up.

Knickknacks tremble precariously and wood creaks under your feet as you climb down the stairs.

You creep through the house until you get to the kitchen where Mikey is staring at the open refrigerator, staring into its white light.

“Lookin’ for something honey?” You ask, leaning against the threshold, arms crossed at your chest. You watch him jump slightly with a smile on your face.

He looks a bit sheepish, cheeks pink while one hand runs through his hair.

“I was, uh, lookin’ for something to make. For you.” He smiles and your eyes run over his relaxed figure.

“Why don’t we make somethin’ together, chef?” You wink, ambling over to him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Alright baby,” He kisses you quickly before he begins to pull things out of the fridge. “come help the master…”

You and Mikey easily work together, he tells you what to do and you do it. Maybe you’re not as skilled as Mikey Fuckin’ Berzatto, but you get the job done.

The chaotic nature of Donna's kitchen is gone; there isn't a barrage of egg timers going off nor is there the overwhelming smell of burning wafting through the room. All there is the sound of knives against the cutting board mingling with whatever soft rock is playing from Mikey's phone. For once, you can actually take a deep, non-anxiety induced breath in the Berazatto family kitchen.

“Can I trust you to start boilin' the water, babe?” Mikey calls out, eyes still trained on the onions in front of him. His tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth in concentration, dark brows slightly furrowed.

Despite this, he seems at peace. Mikey's hands aren't shaking nor is his jaw unnecessarily clenched.

You lightly scoff at your boyfriend's teasing, abandoning your own task at the counter across from him. "I'm not an idiot, Mikey."

He hums, dark brown eyes lifting up from the counter and watching your form grabbing a pot from a cabinet.

"I'm gonna blow your goddamn mind with how well I can boil water, chef," You point at him, faking your seriousness.

“Alright, alright…” Mikey shrugs, lips upturned. “Prove me wrong…”

Getting the water to boil was easy, though it took longer than expected. You start throwing in things Mikey tells you to, staring at the water, silently praying nothing goes wrong.

Suddenly Mikey’s behind you, slightly swaying while looking over your shoulder. You hum in satisfaction.

His chest presses into your back, warm and calloused hands sliding across your torso in order to hug you closer to him. You close your eyes, smiling to yourself while taking it all in.

Mikey smells faintly of his cologne with hints of onion and various other herbs and spices mingling around him. He smells of home and the comfort of a homemade meal after a long day. He smells like your Mikey.

His beard tickles the crook of your neck, nose brushing over your skin as he presses delicate kisses just above the collar of your shirt. You giggle softly, the tips of your ears burning at his affection.

"You're supposed to say behind, Mikey..." You tease, placing your own hands on top of his own. Lightly your fingertips trace patterns across his skin. "No wonder The Beef runs like shit."

He ignores you, lips reaching your jawline and trailing across to the spot underneath your ear.

"Michael..." You murmur, titling your head up drawing his lips to your cheek. "Michael, I love you..."

His head dips lower, nose brushing against your own. Taking a quick peek you see that his own eyes are closed as well, the two of you living in the moment in his mother's kitchen.

Right now there's no drama with Donna or bickering with Carmy or the slew of questions that come with Nat. Just you and Mikey alone cooking; doing what the two of you love.

"I love you too, baby." Mikey whispers, placing a kiss right above the bridge of your nose. He squeezes your body once before pulling back his lips just an inch. "Your water's boilin' over."

You jolt, eyes springing open and widening at his words. The sound of boiling water ripping through the kitchen and overpowering whatever song is playing on the other side of the room.

“Fuck!”

Scrambling, you grab an oven mitt, carefully rushing to take the pot off the heat. A string of curses following you to the sink. Mikey chuckles behind you, offering no help whatsoever. His laughter fills the small kitchen and it would melt your heart if you weren’t doing anything important at the moment.

“And you said you were gonna blow my mind…” Mikey smirks, leaning against the counter. The corner of his eyes crinkle with laughter.

You throw your head back, groaning. “You were fucking kissing me and being a fucking distraction!”

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Well excuse me, princess, didn’t know giving you love and affection was off limits!”

“It’s not!” You huff. “But when I’m doing anything involving boiling water, you can’t be anywhere near me!”

“Alright babe,” He passes you, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead as he goes back to the cutting board. “Now get back to work, chef.”

•

[cosmic-glow]

Request: "May I request soft akatsuki headcannons for a reader who loves to bake and cook? It's a passion of mine, and a great stress reliever! There's nothing I won't try and try to make!"

Notes: First of all, I'm sorry it took me so long to respond 😭 I also like cooking and I completely agree with you! I hope you like what I wrote, good reading!

"Are you hungry, love?"- Akatsuki

Warnings: no pronouns; no use of "y/n"; pure cuteness. Gender: Soft Headcanons. Characters: Itachi; Kisame; Deidara; Sasori; Kakuzu; Hidan; Zetsu; Tobi/Obito; Pein; Konan.

Itachi Uchiha

He always offers you help in the kitchen.

He is very picky when cooking for someone but is easily satisfied with whatever you cook for him.

He feels obligated to return the favor by cooking for you too. That's why he took charge of breakfast, always waking up before you to prepare what you like.

Likes hot foods and pasta. Loves handmade sweets.

He prefers traditional foods, but accepts trying new flavors when he's with you.

He loves going out to buy new ingredients with you, he knows a lot about the subject and would be of great help.

Kisame Hoshigaki

You know that popular saying that the best way to conquer a man is through his stomach? It applies very well to this man.

He likes to be spoiled with food and will be grateful for it so.. please cook for him.

His heart feels warm when he comes home and smells something delicious you are preparing.

He likes foods with a sweet and sour taste, and he loves meat. He also loves sweets, so it's not hard to please Kisame.

He loves trying new flavors with you. If you want, he'll even help you in the kitchen, but he's not very good (he's a bit clumsy).

He'll find a way to say thank you, whether it's washing the dishes, giving gifts, taking you out to eat, all of the above, whatever you prefer.

He's the kind of guy who would eat what you prepared even if it was completely burnt if he knew you put effort into it.

Deidara

He likes fast food, but is very happy when you cook for him.

Thanks to you, he's starting to eat more healthily, because he has a childish palate and is very resistant to exploring new flavors.

He likes spicy foods because are like an explosion in the mouth.

"I have to say, honey, your cooking is an art!" - he says with his mouth full when he really likes it.

One of his favorite moments of the day is when you're eating something you've prepared or he's bought, watching a movie and talking about anything.

It's something very simple, but if you make a cake just for him on his birthday, he'll feel so loved that he might even cry a little.

(Sometimes he brags to the other members about having such a skilled s/o in the kitchen).

But please keep this boy the hell away from the kitchen! When I say he's a complete chaos cooking, it's because the kitchen almost always explodes! Literally!

Sasori

He often forgets that he still needs to eat due to his puppet body, so he's grateful that you remind him. He still needs to eat a little every now and then to ensure a bit of vital energy or something.

And yes, that was the lie he invented to not disappoint you. And regardless of whether you believed it or not, he always eats your food, even though he knows how much work it will take to clean his insides afterwards (don't worry, he'll probably come up with something to solve this).

Understand, he lied because he knows how important cooking is to you, he sees how much you work at it, but had the misfortune of being with a guy who doesn't need to eat… but he couldn't risk hurting you for something that's his fault.

Sasori only eats your food and no one else's, no matter how much they insist.

He likes foods with strong spices, he no longer feels flavors in the same way as when he was a human.

At the end of every meal, he politely thanks you for the delicious food and offers to help with the dishes.

Kakuzu

He likes hot, very hot, and traditional foods. Doesn't like sweets.

He's great in the kitchen and sometimes cooks for you too, as a thank you. Kakuzu has many years of experience in the kitchen, take the opportunity to ask questions and get some tips, he may not show it but he really likes to help you.

Maybe you don't know, but Kakuzu practically never eats out, he knows that some people want him dead and could easily poison his food. So for him to eat everything you prepare without hesitation is really a great show of trust.

He is very silent while eating, but he doesn't mind if you want to talk about your day, he will be listening to every part.

He really appreciates your food, getting involved and asking about the spices you used, how you prepared it, he really likes it when you test a new recipe.

Always at the end of every meal he thanks you for the food and gets up before you to clear the table and wash the dishes, a silent way of thanking you.

Hidan

Spicy and crunchy foods and sour desserts, it's true heaven for him...

As incredible as it may seem, Hidan is very picky about his food, it's unbearable to go out to eat with him, it seems like he always makes a point of finding some flaw.

But it's the total opposite with you, he eats everything you prepare without complaining too much, just teasing you a little as always. Except if he is angry with you for some reason, then he will be impossible, no matter what you prepared, he will not eat it.

Hidan has a very annoying childhood palate, so don't force him to eat something he doesn't really like, like vegetables for example.

You'll probably have some arguments about him drink any kind of blood but not wanting to eat the soup you made (for example), but it won't change anything.

Whenever you enter the kitchen, Hidan follows right behind to find out what you're going to prepare and also because he loves to annoy you while you're cooking. He tickles you, bites you, hugs you, kisses you and even steals some utensils to disturb you before you kick him out of the kitchen.

Zetsu

He likes meat a lot, in fact you thought it was the only thing he could eat.

He is very impatient and even hugs you trying to convince you to let him eat before you finish.

"I don't care that it's not ready yet and it's raw, I'm hungry, love. Let me eat it just the way it is."

Not a very good critic of your recipes, he will eat literally anything you put in front of him and thank you for it.

You are the one who teaches him to have a more refined palate and he loves trying new flavors with you.

Zetsu grows a vegetable garden just for you, with everything you need fresh and tasty for your recipes.

Tobi/Obito Uchiha

Tobi >loves< sweets, make sweets for him and you'll have him curled up in the palm of your hand.

Both Tobi and Obito don't like spicy food.

He feels so loved when you cook for him <3 (a tip: prepare ramen for him when he's sad, it'll make him feel better).

Whenever he comes home early he brings you some sweets he bought at the bakery as a treat.

This is another man who is very easy to win over with his stomach. He'll feel very special if you tell him you've prepared something just for him. Make him your guinea pig for new recipes, he really doesn't mind and always gives you great feedback.

He always offers you the first bite out of respect, he is as happy to see you eating and talking about how tasty it is as he is to eat something you prepared.

Pein

Pein went through long periods of starvation as a child, so as much as it may seem, he isn't very picky about what he eats.

Likes hot and spicy foods. Hate sweets.

He is a great fan of your food, even if you've accidentally burnt it or overdone the seasoning, he'll be happy to eat something you've lovingly prepared.

Due to his work as leader of Akatsuki, he often forgets to eat properly. It's you who show up at his office and remind him to eat, with something you've prepared in hand, he's really grateful for your care.

He is always attentive to your needs. Did you like a cuter utensil kit than the ones you have? Are your. Wanting new seasonings? Suddenly they appear in your pantry. Everything you need.

Pein always makes it clear how he likes you to cook but that he doesn't want you to be overwhelmed with it, so he does everything to make this task easier for you, including ordering something from restaurants for you to eat and enjoy your free time together.

Konan

He likes mild sweets and, ironically, spicy foods. (Please make sweets for Konan, she likes a lot).

She will always feel like she is bothering or burdening you when you cook for her.

Konan isn't that good in the kitchen, so she's grateful to have a s/o who cooks so well. Sometimes she watches you cook to try to learn something, in an attempt to return the favor one day.

Buy a lot of sweets for you and make a point of always keeping your pantry well stocked so you don't have to worry about buying ingredients.

As I said, Konan doesn't like to burden you, so very often she takes you on restaurant dates.

Konan loves the culinary tours you plan, she could listen to you talk for hours about techniques, recipes and ideas. She loves seeing how excited you get talking about it.

Sorry for any typos;

Buy me a coffee?

Masterlist

[aurorasgate]

hello lovely luna !! i hope life has been treating you well, i’ve been missing u ♥️

for the prompt game, can i request “you’re not in bed. i came looking for you” with my beloved diluc? i’ve been struggling with insomnia n i just want diluc to put me to sleep ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

oh my whole heart was poured into this one i'm aching. i did not mean for it to this long but what can i do he has my heart and soul🩷 i hope you like it awea! i love n miss you too🥺💕

🌙 prompt event

“you’re not in bed. i came looking for you” | diluc x reader with no pronouns used

the winery at night is blanketed in the ethereal silver glow of the moon this time of night. it feels like something out of a fairy tale with the thick grape vines lining the path you walk, sparkling crystal flies silent in the flutter of their wings, and if you look hard enough even in the moonlight you can see the plump purple grapes. 

it’s cool in a way that feels wonderful against your heated skin but not enough to make you cold and with each breath you take, you try to let the fresh air ease your mind that just won’t stop moving and thinking no matter how much you will it to. you honestly aren’t sure if being out here is working but it feels nice, peaceful and you’re glad to not be tossing and turning in bed while your beloved tries to sleep next to you.

you didn’t want to wake diluc, not when you knew how desperately he needed the sleep despite the fact you’re sure he would tell you he’s doing just fine on the little he does get. it wouldn’t stop you from doing your best to try to get tired all on your own before slipping back into bed, looking after him in this way. 

but it was as if he felt the distance between you growing even in his dreams. his tired arm reaches for you on your side of the bed, needing to pull you closer to him before he could settle once again and when he’s met with cooling sheets barely clinging with your warmth, he’s instantly awake, ruby eyes blinking away tiredness and seeing he’s alone in bed.

quick to take in the space around him, diluc notes how the bathroom light isn’t on and there’s a full glass of water on your night stand. you’re nowhere to be found and he feels a tug on his heart that brings him to his feet, his strides long as he heads for the closed bedroom door and down the grand staircase in only long sleep pants. 

he’s not sure what brings him to look outside before anywhere else, he dreads the thought of you being out there where something could hurt you with him not there to protect you. even if you could hold your own.. he just.. he never wanted to see anything happen to you and he could never get back to sleep without you next to him.

feeling his chest grow tight, he doesn’t let it slow his steps as he grabs his coat off of the back of the chair he had been working from earlier and pulls it over his bare arms and back, throwing open the heavy mahogany doors with ease. 

you spot the brightness of his hair even in the dark night barely lit with the few lanterns that still burn around the property and feel your heart squeeze at the sight of him. his ruby eyes are filled with worry and a softness that makes you think he looks a bit younger, makes you want to reach out and touch his cheek, ease his anxieties, stand on your toes to kiss his brow.

“what’re you doing out here?” you ask and you’re forced to look up as he closes the distance between you, shedding his coat and pulling it over your shoulders as soon as he could reach you. 

you’re enveloped in his warmth and the smell of wine from every angle, melting against his chest as he pulls you in close, like he needed to feel you against him.

“you’re not in bed,” he pulls you even closer, cradling the back of your skull with one hand, the other splayed across your lower back and his words are spoken softly against the shell of your ear. “i came looking for you.” 

“i’m sorry,” your reply is barely audible against the immediate comfort he provides you, the kind that melts down your worries and woes and leaves you feeling safe and like you might actually be able to fall asleep. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i just..” you pause, feeling guilty for having worried him by being out here. “i couldn’t sleep.”

“why didn’t you wake me?” 

he’s not angry or upset but you cling to him like a child in trouble. “you need your sleep too, you know.”

“i need you. i need you in my arms and close to me” he says, his words making you forget anything other than just being with him. it’s comfortably quiet between you for a few moments before he speaks again. “we can stay out here longer if you’d like.”

shaking your head against his chest, feeling the scars on his back under your fingertips and the soft skin around them, you let out a quiet ‘no, let’s go back to bed’ and feel your feet be swept out from under you the next second.

easily diluc carries you with one arm under your legs and the other at your back. in the night air his skin is still so incredibly warm and in his steady steps, you feel the tiredness begin to settle in your bones and let yourself skin further in his arms, succumbing to sleep before he makes it to the second floor of the manor.

♡♡♡♡♡

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[peachii-nitenite]

Much Needed Support Part 3 (semi-nsfw)

JayVik x Reader

Synopsis: Your dutiful friends nurse you back to health, and they get back to work on your braces. After 2 weeks of anticipation, they stop by; and the three of you figure a lot of things out about each other very quickly. (3.8k words) Content: reader with feminine pronouns, sexual tension, fluff, mutual pining, self-doubt, idiots in love, getting sick, friends to lovers, pervy daydreams, mentions of chronic pain, descriptions of chronic pain, heavily implied hand kink, enthusiastic consent, Dom!Viktor, Service Top!Jayce, subby reader

taglist: @chickentenderx, @miraculousasscheeks

the smut is coming I promise! this chapter had to be split in two because of just how much there is, but that means the final part will be done VERY soon! I thrive on making ridiculously self indulgent bullshit these days lololol

anyways, you know the drill, have fun!

You woke up fully clothed, sweaty, hot, and congested in the dead middle of the night, with a prominent mind fog. Your voice was gone, your body was achy, and it took a bit of effort to remember how you’d gotten home.

And then you remembered, oh, how you remembered.

the fleeting touches in the lab, the warmth of Jayce's chest, Viktor's cool hand against your face--

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

You evaluated the situation-- there was a glass of water and a few aspirin on your nightstand, your door was slightly cracked open, and the lights in your living room were still on.

They were probably still there.

The thought was comforting, and made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

Through the muggy sick-fog of your mind, recounted your earlier encounter with your friends in the lab. You could almost feel the phantom traces of fingers and palms against your skin, the breath of kind words against your ear. You smiled. They were so kind, so understanding, so reliable-

And so, so attractive

You could no longer lie to yourself, not when the facts were laid so plainly in front of you.

You had it bad. For both of them.

But examining that any further would have to wait, as your waking senses became acutely aware of your aching joints and muscles. You glanced at the water and pills on the nightstand.

“Up we go” you mumbled in a near silent rasp.

You coughed, weakly attempting to sit up, and promptly failing. You groaned against your pillow in frustration.

Everything hurt. 

You wouldn't be able to tough this out alone, you begrudgingly realized.

You had had similarly bad pain flare ups in the past, but being sick on top of it made it significantly worse. Getting up on your own was no longer an option. 

You opted for the next best thing. 

“Guys?… you there?” You rasped out, hoping they could hear you. You weren’t sure what time it was, but you knew your friends were night owls. There was a 90% chance both of them were still up.

It was embarrassing, having to ask for help getting out of your own bed…. but at least you had the excuse of being sick, instead of it being solely due to your aching joints. 

Small victories, you supposed.

Within seconds you could hear the heavy patter of Jayce’s footsteps, and the soft metallic tapping of Viktor’s cane against the floor. The door creaked open further as Jayce poked his head inside.

“You called?” He asked softly, hesitating before stepping fully into your room.

 While he had hung out at your place before, he had never actually been inside your bedroom. Though he couldn’t make out much of the details in the dark, there was something…thrilling about it. It smelled like you; like the lotion you used, like whatever you put in your hair, like your favorite candle- and the realization was briefly dizzying.

And there you were once again, bundled up in your bed and beckoning him over with a weak hand. He shuffled over to you quickly upon your nonverbal permission. Viktor suppressed a chuckle at the sight. Always so polite, always so eager, and always, always so obedient.

But now was not the time for such thoughts.

After all, their main focus was nursing you back to health at the moment.

“Help me sit up…please..” you whispered, knowing speaking any louder would just hurt. Jayce nodded and swiftly, yet still gentle as ever, got you upright against your headboard. He switched on the small bedside lamp, causing you to wince at the light. “Sorry, sorry…” he cooed, patting you back as you rubbed your eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Viktor inquired, following Jayce to your side and sitting on your bed. He brought his hand to your face once again, and you sighed at the temporary relief of his cold palm against your cheek. “Like shit….gross and sweaty…” you grumbled, leaning into his cool touch. It was nice. He felt so nice…

You pouted when he pulled away. It did not go unnoticed.

“Are you hungry?” Jayce asked with concern. His natural inclination to help was very sweet, you thought. “We can make you something, if we can borrow the kitchen…”  

You shook your head, reaching for your water and the aspirin. It went down smooth; soothing, but only temporary. That fact made you groan. “Nn…no…too achy…” you saw him deflate a bit, with those big, sad puppy eyes….

How could you refuse him?

“…soup. In the upper left cabinet.” You relented hoarsely, watching as his face lit back up. It was adorable how he wanted to be helpful, but it felt wildly unfair at the moment. 

But you could tell they were pleased that you were asking for help, so you decided to let it slide. “First. Too warm, too many clothes…” you didn’t have the energy to be bashful about it, as you started weakly tugging at the collar of your sweat laden sweater.

Though, it didn’t go unnoticed how the two of them tensed up.

Who’s hands would help you now?

You shuddered as the thought, alongside the memories of their calloused palms against your bare skin, slithered into your feverish mind.

Viktor looked away, avoiding your eyes lest he give in to your request first. ‘Sorry Jayce, you’ll have to bear with it for now’ he thought pityingly.

“Please?” You locked eyes with Jayce, and he swallowed audibly.

So cute. So kind.

How could he refuse you?

“O-of course, just a second-“ he stammered before reaching under your sweater to help you shimmy your way out of the clammy fabric. He averted his gaze the moment he caught a glimpse of your navel, opting to tug semi blindly until it was finally off. 

And then you giggled.

Giggled.

A slightly delirious, wispy sound, but still a giggle as you asked--

“J…Jayce…why so stiff?”

It took every ounce of strength in him not to turn back to you, to drink in your bare, flushed form in the dim light of the lamp.“It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen already, and not much to see anyways…” you joked, peeling off the covers.

So cruel.

And you didn’t even realize how much you were torturing them.

Or, just how perfect you were to them.

You started fumbling with the zipper of your skirt, grunting at the clumsiness of your hands at the moment. They were quickly replaced with long, cold, pale fingers effortlessly unzipping the offending article of clothing and opening it just enough for you to shuffle out of it. 

“Mm…thanks V..” you mumbled, sighing at the cool air against your skin.

Viktor had moved before really thinking about it, managing to keep more of a level head about it. 

That is, until he laid eyes on a small, thin, painfully familiar strip of fabric.

Your panties, now in full view, and no longer dismissable as a trick of the light or a figment of his perverted imagination.

They were cute.

You were so cute.

His eyes slowly drifted back to you in full, exhaling slowly through his nose. The labored rise and fall of your chest, the soft glow of the light on your skin, and the little, goofy smile on your face. If he hadn't known you were sick, the scene would have been intensely erotic.

Well…It still was, but he told himself otherwise to reign in the thoughts racing through his mind a mile a minute. Focus. Now was not the time.

He couldn’t help but start to feel like his plan to wait was now in jeopardy.

He cleared his throat, pulling his hands away as he got back up.

“Is… is this better?” He asked, turning his face away as casually as he could in this situation. 

“Mhm…thanks…” you sighed in relief as you kicked the skirt off of the bed, re-tangling yourself in your covers. You winced, having moved your leg a bit too harshly. Jayce noticed immediately, moving to help you lie back down with tense, but gentle hands. 

His stupidly big, warm hands.

“Why’re your hands so damn…big..” you quietly thought out loud, closing your eyes as you relaxed into his grasp. You could feel him still for a moment, before continuing to situate you on the bed. You paid it no mind, cocooning yourself under your comforter.

 Jayce backed away, stiffly b-lining for the door. Viktor sighed as he let his partner slip past, following suit in leaving you to rest. “We’ll be in the kitchen, I will leave the door open, so call if you need us.”

You hummed in response, and he swiftly left your doorway.

Your two friends stood silently in your kitchen; tense.

“....we have to wait until she is no longer sick.” Viktor whispered, gaze never leaving the floor as he gripped his cane.

“I know.” Jayce sighed, looking down at his hands.

Thinking of how soft you were under his palms.

Viktor looked up, locking eyes with Jayce.

“.....”

“.....”

“It will not be easy.” he admitted, letting himself lean against the wall.

“Not at all, no.” Jayce groaned as he brought a hand down his face.

“But…I do have a feeling I am correct” Viktor smiled, moving over to his partner’s side. 

You had to get better first. Their own dilemma could wait.

—-

They persevered, all things considered. They kept a vigilant watch through the night, making sure you ate and took some cold medicine, adjusting the pillows on your bed to keep you comfortable- anything at all that you needed, they did their best to provide. Luckily, you had no classes the following day, and they made sure you remained in bed even when you insisted you were feeling well enough to be up and about. You hated feeling so unproductive, but you could admit that it was nice to be taken care of for once. You felt guilty for taking up so much of their time, knowing that they were often busy; but they reassured you that it was no burden whatsoever.

“Please never hesitate to ask us for help. With anything.” Viktor had implored, noticing your apprehension about allowing them to take care of you. They were unconvinced by your promises that you could look after yourself, knowing full well that if they left you would not rest properly. You gave up on resisting on the third plea.

You were well enough to attend class the day after that, and it was back to your dreaded daily academic routine. You almost felt spoiled, being so well taken care of those past two days. It made you daydream of a reality where that could be your everyday.

The three of you, together.

The days flew by uneventfully, until two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye; your dreams consistently permeated by the two of them. Endless, fleeting fantasies of what could have happened that night in your bedroom. Steamy images of Viktor’s head between your legs, Jayce holding your thighs open for him. Taking turns, the meeting of lips, and lewd, desperate noises. 

Without fail, you woke up hot and bothered before the climax.

And without fail, it grew harder and harder to ignore.

Who could blame you? You could hardly blame yourself at this point-

Not when you kept replaying their reactions that day in your mind, picking them apart and trying to rationalize them. Every lingering touch and heated glance sent your mind on a tailspin straight into the gutter. “Was it delusional to think they might feel the same?”  you worried, pacing around your living room. It was the end of the week, your work was done, and you had nothing to do but think.

You flopped on your couch, yelling incoherently into the cushion. It only helped slightly.

 It had been two weeks, and you had barely seen them. Jayce had reassured you once you felt better that they would continue working on your braces. But since then, you'd heard no updates. You could have visited the lab to check on them, sure, but something odd inside of you made you refrain from doing so.

You were anxious.

 It's not that you didn’t trust them, it was simply that you didn't want to bother them, or interrupt them further. And you certainly did not want to make a fool out of yourself on account of your yearning. “They haven't updated you for a reason, obviously.” you mentally reprimanded yourself. “Don't get all stir-crazy over nothing”

Despite thinking that, you were still overjoyed to hear a knock at your door. You scrambled to the door, straightening your clothes and taking a deep breath. You swung the door open, and there they stood: the men that plagued your dreams. “I hope we aren’t interrupting anything,” Jayce beamed down at you “We just couldn’t wait much longer.” 

The way that Viktor sighed and shook his head made you tilt your head ever so slightly.

“We brought dinner, if you're not busy.” Viktor held a bag of takeout food. Your favorite takeout food. You were touched that they remembered what you liked. Meanwhile, Jayce held a rectangular gift box, not unlike ones that would normally hold clothing. Your eyes lit up in recognition.

The braces.

 Forgetting your anxiety, you could feel your nerves buzz with excitement. Viktor smiled at how your face lit up when you saw them, feeling accomplished. “Of course! Come in, come in!” you chirped, stepping aside to let them into your dorm. 

They insisted you eat first; having correctly guessed that you hadn't had anything since early in the morning. Your anxiety was doing a number on your appetite, and after failing to assure them that a snack counted as a meal, you relented and dug in. It was like nothing had changed, like you hadn't spent your nights desperate and lonely out of yearning. You spent the time catching up, complaining about class, asking about their week– and another realization sunk in.

You had missed them. A lot.

You felt horribly clingy, but it was true.

After you’d all had your fill, the moment of truth was finally there.

“Keep in mind that these are “technically” still in the prototype phase, so let us know if you want to change anything” Jayce explained, an anticipatory grin on his face as you opened the box. The knee braces were a stark, sleek black, made out of a soft yet sturdy neoprene-like fabric. The internal cording to provide support and structure were light and flexible, and judging by how they felt under your fingers, much stronger than the shabby boning of your old ones. In a motion that set off just a smidge of deja vu, you pulled up your skirt and chucked off your old braces without a care.

 Viktor raised a brow, raking his eyes over your clothed torso, before asking– “You’re…you are not wearing the corset as well, are you? I thought I told you-” he began to reprimand, taking a seat next to you on the couch. 

 “-that it will do more harm than good, I know.” you cut him off, sighing as you flexed your freed knee. ”I'm not wearing it, only the knee braces, I promise” you assured him, smiling. He huffed, a sort of half-laugh as he smiled back. 

“Don’t mind him, you know how he likes to nag” Jayce said teasingly, winking as he helped slide one of the new braces onto your first leg. You flushed ever so slightly at the proximity, as well as how…natural it felt this time. Like he belonged there, kneeling in front of you, assisting you so tenderly. Without skipping a beat, he had gently guided you into the brace, adjusting it against your skin and ensuring it was properly in place.

God, how you had missed his hands.

“I do not nag. I remind.” Viktor corrected, throwing a sharp glance at Jayce. The larger man ignored it, testing him further. “Same difference– now, other leg please?” he had turned his undivided attention to you, and when you locked eyes with him, there was something…different in his gaze. It wasn’t bashful like it had been in the lab, not at all.

There was want. And there was mischief.

A thrilling, and dangerous combination, assuming you hadn't imagined it.

You hadn't.

You slowly gave him your other leg, letting yourself lean back onto the couch, shifting your eyes to Viktor, as if for guidance.

You found that he was observing you in a similar manner; analyzing you, watching your reactions, and watching the path of Jayce’s dedicated hands. You almost felt naked under his gaze. “Jayce.” he softly murmured, with a warning tone. Just as the second brace was put into place, his hands stilled at the sound of his name. Your eyes flickered between the two of them, caught in the midst of the building tension.

“Oh…. there was definitely something going on between the two of them”  you thought, examining Jayce frozen in his spot kneeling before you like a dog in trouble.

And Jayce is definitely not the one in charge.

“Two weeks away, a successful prototype, and his ego inflates tenfold. What do I do with him, hm?” Viktor mused, a glint of…something in his eye. The question was definitely rhetorical, but something made you want to play along– to see how far you could take it.

“What…do you usually do about it?” you asked quietly, shifting in your seat on the couch.

The pause felt eternal, as every suppressed emotion and desire began to bubble up to the surface.

Best case scenario- your feelings are requited, and everything is fine

Worst case scenario- you can laugh it off and cry about it later. And then everything is fine.

You weighed the possibilities as you glanced between them. Viktor smiled, chuckling quietly.

“Jayce?” he called, tone eerily sweet. Jayce wordlessly turned to him, the air heavy with expectation. “Come here,” he said simply. Jayce got up, sheepishly moving to stand near Viktor’s end of the couch. “Now wait.” he ordered. You noticed Jayce’s expression for a fraction of a second. Was he…pouting?

Yes. yes he was.

And Viktor laughed dryly. “He’ll listen, so long as you ask him… correctly. So that is what I do.” He smiled slyly as he gestured for you to stand; and you did. You became less focused on their dynamic, however, when you immediately noticed the difference of the braces. They felt significantly more supportive than your other ones, and leagues more comfortable on top of that. There was a giddy excitement welling up, as well as just plain gratitude.

This was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for you.

“They’re amazing! I don't know how to thank you guys!” You beamed as you shifted your weight between both legs. While it wasn’t a cure for you pain, it would definitely aid your day to day, and that made all the difference. They looked thoroughly pleased just to see how happy you were with what they had made, exchanging proud glances as you tested them out.

“Don’t thank us just yet, you still have to try the back brace!” Jayce reminded you, expectantly looking between you and Viktor, as if for permission to present it to you.

“I said wait. I will help with it.” Viktor replied, reaching into the box to retrieve the garment in question. Jayce deflated.

Permission denied. 

“Do not sulk, you started it.” He reminded, scooting closer to you with the brace in his hands. It’s design matched the knee braces, made of the same sleek material and sturdy boning. It had no laces like your old corset— this new brace was elegant and seamless, with sturdy hooks and eyes to close it rather than the worn metal busks you were familiar with. You eyed it with curiosity before he piped up once more.

“If you could remove your sweater, I can help you try it on.” 

“Huh?”

You blinked.

Of course you’d have to take your shirt off. It only made sense. But they’d seen you shirtless twice now. Twice! Something about that fact made you hesitate, some odd feeling somewhere between giddiness and anxiety causing your fingers to tremble as they went to the hem of your shirt.

You didn’t really intend to do it so slowly, really.

You weren’t trying to tease.

But when it was finally off, and you saw the looks on both their faces, you couldn’t help but be a little smug. A pretty blush had painted its way across Viktor’s cheeks, cutely tinting his ears as his eyes remained fixed on you. Jayce was much the same, still glued to his spot on the other side of the couch.

You hadn’t lied, you weren’t wearing the old corset. In fact, you weren’t even wearing an undershirt. There you sat, your top half completely bare as you looked expectantly at Viktor’s hands, currently tightly gripping the brace conveniently covering his lap.

 You felt warmth pool in your core under their gaze. It was hungry; and if not for the extremely real draft in the dorm making goosebumps ripple across your skin, you’d’ve thought you were simply dreaming again.

Wordlessly, the slim man shuffled closer to you, gesturing for you to turn around so you he could help you into the brace. Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached around you from behind, nearly pulling you into his lap as he fastened the hooks and eyes in the front. “Is it too tight?” He whispered, lips dangerously close to your ear. You shook your head, shakily exhaling and he made his way to the final hook. “There. How does it feel?”

It was a perfect fit—just the right amount of structure and flexibility, without restricting your breathing or range of movement too much. You would have said as much, if you weren’t currently distracted by tantalizingly close he was as his breath tickled the shell of your ear. You swallowed, running your hands over the fabric. “It…it’s really nice too. Thank you…” you murmured, not moving an inch. 

It was now or never.

“H-hey, I have a qu-“

“Let me ask you something-“

The two of you paused as your voices overlapped. A dense silence filled the room.

 “Sorry, uh…you go first.” You giggled nervously. 

“…very well.” He said lowly, tone heavy with yet unspoken want. You felt him tense behind you for a moment, before you felt his hands snake their way onto your hips, up to your waist, before resting just below your breasts. Dangerously close. You gasped, pressing your thighs together at the spark of arousal the sudden touch sent through you.

“Let me ask you something— and be completely honest” he muttered into your ear, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. You whined softly as you nodded, not yet trusting your voice.

“You like it when we touch you— don’t you?”

You didn’t even have to turn around to know how intensely he was looking at you. His tone was accusatory, but held no malice. It was something closer to amusement, maybe anticipation. But he said it with all the confidence of a man that knew he was correct.

And how could you lie?

“Y-yes…I— I do…”

The words tumbled out before you could even think of being coy about it.

And that was all either of them needed to hear

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