#which is perhaps why I love this summary so much! I can’t wait to see what 2019 will bring :D | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

motherroam-rs · 8 months ago

Text

Unattached

Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’.

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes.

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training.

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there. “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way.

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening.

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink.

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths.

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own.

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on.

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash.

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

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

You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer.

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant.

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay.

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with.

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate. “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder.

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good.

You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail - a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand.

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs.

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

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

You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.”

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement.

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.”

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself.

“No.”

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate.

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth.

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips.

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe.

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. ��Sweetheart, do you want this?”

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it.

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth.

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs.

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation.

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side.

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack.

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him.

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt.

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit.

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.”

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more.

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with.

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him.

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,” You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows.

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours.

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up.

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled.

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?”

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night.

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.”

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

#arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #arc trooper fives #star wars #clone wars #Arc trooper fives smut

701 notes · View notes

remembrancer-of-heresy · 1 month ago

Note

POV: You are five, and are playing hide and seek with your papa. He always beats you in the game, but you are determined to win someday! Right now, he is counting to ten, so you are sneaking around in the hidden tunnels to find a hiding place. You wait for him to come. And he finds you...except it's not your papa. This...person, he looks like your papa, but he's not. Your papa always looked at you with tender eyes, but in this stranger's gaze, you see nothing but demented glee. You don't know why, but you can feel the fright slowly creeping on your back. And then he moves.

Hide and Seek

Summary: You always loved your weird papa. But you didn't know that one day you would be truly scared of him.

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping, dubcon, angst

Word count: 1930

Author's note: It took me a long time to finally reply to this ask. But damn, I'm so glad it didn't get lost on the page. And I was able to figure out exactly how I wanted to write this drabble.

Tag List: @druidwolf21, @kit-williams

And also I want @passionofthesith, @lemon-russ, @moodymisty, @beckyninja, @solspina to see this. Sorry guys, no horny atmosphere. Only fear and angst.

You lived in softness from the moment you were born. The entire floor was covered with warm and plush blankets, pillows. Not to mention the two beds. The entire room was covered with soft cute toys, with which you fell asleep by your side. Even your mommy, a kind and quiet woman, slept with toys in her arms.

You didn't see the world outside the ship. Mommy said that it was very dangerous there. She herself was from a planet that did not want to join the Imperium (you still didn't understand what that was). But daddy came and told them how to live correctly. He fell in love with mom at first sight and immediately took her to his place. To a safe place.

You always thought it was a romantic story. Although mom told you it very quietly. Sometimes she looked sadly at the ceiling and you wondered if she remembered her home planet? Perhaps she missed her parents, but now she has a new home. You and daddy.

Daddy didn't come around that often because he was a primarch. Papa told you that meant he was the most important. He had pale skin, black eyes and slightly dirty hair. His teeth were clawed and he always smelled of something metallic. Daddy said it was blood.

He looked a bit scary, but Mummy said it was because he worked a lot. But thanks to that, you and she lived so well. Your cozy room was soft and warm. Daddy always washed himself before coming in here. He didn't want to "bring dirt into his little paradise," as he liked to say.

He often played with you and had tea party. He told you stories. And he was always touching Mummy. Hugging her, kissing her. One time you woke up in the middle of the night when you realized that strange sounds were coming from the bed. Papa stroked her hair, saying how much he loved her, how obsessed (what does that mean?) he was with her. For some reason, Mom cried.

In fact, you didn’t see the whole ship from the inside (you didn’t even know what it looked like from the outside). Your whole life was concentrated in one room. And yet, when you turned four, daddy started taking you “to a separate compartment”. Especially just for the two of you. You didn’t know why he did it until he told you to hide and you happily ran to explore the territory. You just recently told papa that you and mom often play hide and seek. But there’s so little space that you quickly finish playing.

Then he quickly found you. And the next time. And the one after that. He was so fast and secretive. As if he was born in the dark! But you so wanted to defeat him one day. To hear the cherished “I can’t find you” and proudly come out of hiding.

Now you’re five. And before the next game, you thought about where exactly you would hide this time. In one of the tunnels. When you saw the black depths, you were scared of it and burst into tears. You were still afraid to go there. But… it’s such a good chance to win. Papa will never guess where you decided to hide.

***

It's very dark and creepy in the hole. In other hide-and-seek places, you sometimes giggled in anticipation. But here, you don't want to. It's very dark. And scary. You want to escape from here as soon as possible, but you endure it. You want to beat daddy at the game. And even though you haven't seen him, you felt like more time has passed than usual. But he still hasn't found you. You almost won!

A sudden rustle from behind interrupted your happy thoughts. Your heart pounded and goosebumps ran down your spine. You swallowed, trying with all your might to stay in place. No, you have to win. You can't leave this hole no matter how scared you are. But another rustle makes you squeak in fear. You turn around sharply, hoping to see nothing behind you. To overcome your fear and understand that you can survive this for the sake of victory.

You wanted to scream, but you couldn't make a sound.

There was complete darkness. And yet the black eyes and pale face stood out brightly, as if there was a ghost in front of you. The clawed teeth spread in a smile from ear to ear. The man himself was sitting on all fours, like a dog ready to pounce. Ready to tear you to shreds.

It was papa. No. It was papa's face. But it was not him. He no longer looked at you with gentle and kind eyes. His face was not sad as usual. He was beside himself with delight. Saliva was ready to flow from the corners of his lips, and excitement splashed in his eyes. And something else. A bad word that mom said in her sleep, when she had nightmares. Madness.

“Found.” - the monster whispered softly, as if trying to calm the girl. To make contact with her. To make friends. Before sinking his teeth into her throat. You saw, you saw this desire. It wanted to eat you. To absorb you. It wanted to take you into the darkness of the tunnel and never let you go.

And then it moved.

“PAPA, SAVE ME!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, closing your eyes, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. You were sobbing like a little child. You were a child. Defenseless and abandoned to the mercy of a monster. Which immediately grabbed you in its arms and ran away laughing into the darkness of the tunnel.

Tears and snot ran down your face in disarray, you cried at the top of your lungs. But you didn’t even think about opening your eyes. You didn’t want to see this monster wearing your dad’s skin on its face. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the suffocating embrace of the monster’s stomach. How it giggled at your fear. It enjoyed it. Enjoyed your fear.

At some point, the monster slowed down and you felt it rise on two legs. Imitating a human. You weren't screaming anymore, your throat was hoarse. But you were ready to start bawling again, just so daddy could hear you. He had to hear, he had to save you.

“Here we are, home.” - the monster cooed in your ear. You trembled, but as soon as you heard the familiar creaking sound, hope appeared in your heart. - “Come on, delicious. Come to mommy.”

You slowly open your eyes and see your paradise. Your soft, toy-filled room. Books with children's fairy tales. Star-shaped lamps. And a little scared, but mostly sad mother. She sobs and stretches out her hands to you. Gentle, caring hands that always stroked you before bed.

"Come here, darling. Don't be afraid." - and her voice is gentle too. She looks only at you. Tries to ignore the monster.

But you are scared. And as soon as the stranger puts you down on your feet, you immediately run into the woman's arms. You hide in her chest, trying to ignore the evil giggling. The monster leaves you, locking the door. But you still hear his terrible voice.

“My girls.”

Your mommy gently rocks you on her lap, continuing to stroke you and kiss your forehead. You are still anxious. You want to forget this nightmare. And you calm down, surrounded by the care of a kind woman. Perhaps that is why daddy fell in love with her. Daddy…

“Mom.” - you finally raise your head and look at the woman with red, tired eyes. - “W-who is this man? Why does he look like papa? And where is papa himself?”

Your mother was always as quiet as a mouse. Neat and gentle, she did not attract attention to herself. She was often sad, especially when papa came. But there was light coming from her. Light that warmed and calmed you. You could always rely on her. But now she was silent. And this silence was tense.

You looked into her eyes and to your horror, you saw exactly the same fear there. Sadness. Despair. She was desperate. You hugged your mother tighter, rubbing her skin with your palms. Maybe she got cold? Maybe she needed to be warmed up?

“Mommy?” - you call her softly and she finally looks at you. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

“Oh, honey.” - your mom took a deep breath and you flinched at the way she said those words. As if she had met that person before. And not for the first time.

“You see, it’s… another papa.” - your mom explains to you softly, continuing to stroke your head. - “He doesn’t come often. I’m sorry you saw him like that. He didn’t mean to scare you.”

The woman said the last words so uncertainly, which made you press yourself closer to her.

“Does he hate us?” - you still remember his crazy look. His grin. How he giggled while you cried and called for papa.

“No, honey. He loves us. But he loves too harshly. Sometimes cruelly.” - you hear a quiet sob and understand that your mom is trying to hold back her tears. - “He’s just very lonely. And in pain. So he wants someone to share his pain with him. To calm him down.”

“And he can’t leave? "He can't leave us with our papa?" - you ask naively, expecting your mother to say the cherished "yes". That these are just temporary problems and daddy will cope. He is the primarch, he is the best.

But your hopes are shattered.

"No, dear." - your mother's voice sounds so quiet and hopeless that you want to hug her. To calm her down as she did you. - "This is your papa too. You will get used to him."

A sudden creak of the door scares you to the point of trembling. Your heart starts pounding like crazy and yet you turn around at the sound. You can't help but do it. You can't help but look because it seems to you that if you don't do it, he will get angry.

Absolutely black eyes are full of such universal sadness that a little more and you will suffocate. Papa did not smile and yet you knew that it was him. The ghost that haunted you. Who wanted to swallow you up and never give you to anyone. You wonder, maybe this is the real papa, and you saw daddy so often because you were little? Because he spared you? You didn't see him as often as mom.

And then it spoke.

"Are my sweet ones scared?" - you want to scream, you want to run away, but mom hugs you tightly, kissing your temple. You need to survive this meeting. And he will leave, leave. - "Well, it's okay, daddy is with you. He will protect you."

Night Haunter enters the plush room and carefully sits down with his two girls. He hugs you tenderly, but you want to cry. Daddy always smelled of blood, but he smells of death.

"Papa" - you squeak like a mouse, trying to reach daddy. Strange and sometimes frightening, but careful with you. Who smiled as if you and Mom were his whole life. Who had goodness in him, at least for the two of you. But Daddy is silent. Instead, a monster answers, a terrible creature who loves you just as much, which makes it even scarier.

“I'm here, delicious.”

#konrad curze x reader #primarch x reader #tw: yandere #tw: kidnapping #tw: dubcon #tw: angst #ask reply

151 notes · View notes

lucyandthepen · 10 months ago

Text

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off.

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately.

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.

“You love me, right?”

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.

“You know I love you, right?”

You smile slightly. “No but?”

“No but,” he agrees.

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.

434 notes · View notes

milaeth · 1 year ago

Text

୨୧┊𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒. ( lando norris )

ꖛ ─ you’re reading part one ∿ part two ( coming soon )

✧.* pairings ─ lando norris x fem! football player! reader

✧.* genre ─ social media au ⨾ fluff

✧.* summary ─ in which you're a football player and after winning the champions league with your team, a secret admirer named "L" sends you flowers. everyone thinks it's your friend Lance, but what if it's someone else? perhaps someone who’s also a formula one driver and is known for being a big fan of yours...

✧.* face claim ─ jana fernández (she’s obv around the same age as lando in this)

✧.* warnings ─ none

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ so sorry for the wait, i had to take a little break, but i’m back now! btw i’ve had this in my drafts for literal months, but i finally decided to post it so enjoy :)

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, fcbfemeni and 753,965 others

yourusername We rocked the semi finals, now it’s time for the actual one! We can do this!!🔥

tagged: @/fcbfemeni @/wchampionsleague

view all 375 comments . . .

user1604 massive win! some sick tackles made by you today, wow. so proud of you guys🔵🔴

user693 LETS GOOOO

lance_stroll So proud of you💙❤️

yourusername Thank you Lance❤️

user4635 y’all seeing this???

user8476 the hearts…🤭

user4316 BARCELONA 🔛🔝

user1036 mother is mothering‼️

landonorris Congratulations, you guys were amazing!👏

liked by yourusername

user5837 YOU GUYS WILL ROCK THE FINAL

fcbfemeni best cb in laliga🔥🔵🔴

yourusername best club💙❤️

user3835 devoured and left no crumbs

user8547 who is that girl and why are lance and lando always in her likes and comments??

user9527 girl bffr💀

user1584 “that girl” is Y/n mf L/n.

user5264 @user8547 That is Y/n L/n! She plays for Barcelona’s women's team. She and Lance have been friends for quite a while and I guess he introduced her to the other drivers at some point because a lot of them follow her. She's been to a few races and sometimes still attends them when she's not playing for Barcelona! :)

2 May 2023

landonorris just added to their story . . .

liked by mclaren, fcbfemeni and 97,537 others

private replies to this story . . .

maxfewtrell Off to go see the love of your life play?👀

landonorris Shut up mate

maxfewtrell You didn’t deny it👀

landonorris Dude she doesn’t even know I exist

maxfewtrell Of course she knows you exist. She’s friends with Lance and therefore knows you from the grid.

landonorris Yeah okay but that’s about it. The first and only time we talked in person was in 2020 so she probably forgot about my existence.

maxfewtrell Well then change that😉

yourusername

liked by alexiaputellas, wchampionsleague and 1,846,053 others

yourusername This feels unreal🏆🔵🔴

tagged: @/fcbfemeni @/wchampionsleague

show top comments . . .

lance_stroll I’m literally so proud of you. We have to celebrate this, love you💙

yourusername Thank you so much, can’t wait to see you again💙

user836 @lance_stroll confess to her already🙄🙄

user638 i ship them so hard

landonorris This was the first football game I watched live and the atmosphere was amazing. Great win��❤️

yourusername Our games always have an amazing atmosphere, it’s really worth it

landonorris I could tell! Today’s game won’t be the last one I’ll see live

yourusername I hope so :)

user9526 AYO WHAT IS GOING ON

9 May 2023

yourusername just added to their story . . .

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris and 352,942 others

11 May 2023

∿ taglist ─ @ay7ton @ch3rryknots @fdl305 @chrysanthemonza @remuslupinsbtch @kissesandmartinis @hevburn @noncannonships @quadrisl @dhhdhsiavdhaj @godessstela @hectorr-19 @layazul @bambispostsblog @ferrariloverr @xxenia14 @sigistarkstrom @asparklysoul @dinodumbass @tpwkstiles @our-love-world @sainzluvrr @ophcelia @mcmuppet ( here’s my taglist if you want to get tagged in my future work )

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

688 notes · View notes

azullumi · 2 years ago

Text

alhaitham — pining headcanons ☆彡

summary — he who has long abandoned the reigns of love for the pursuit of knowledge hasn’t expected to hold such affectionate feelings for you. now, he yearns and desires for every inch of you.

pairing — alhaitham/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff; headcanons

word count — 800+

He who has long abandoned the reigns of love for the pursuit of knowledge hasn’t expected to hold such affectionate feelings for you. A person whose interest is only piqued on studying and who only operates purely by rationality, falling in love was out of the image yet it still happened.

Like a sprout of warmth that lingers in his chest when his eyes graze on the knowledge that he seeks, the feeling of happiness and belonging whenever he is with you that he only dismisses as that feeling of what friends—close friends would feel around each other. Not until that sprout soon grew and bloomed, it was an understatement to say this was only the mere feeling of joy.

Those feelings of warmth soon became fire in his chest that burned his heart at the thought of you, its heat slowly making its way to his face and resting on his ears whenever he talks to you. Now, he hasn’t abandoned his search for knowledge, it's just that this chase was only directed at you.

At first, it only started as stolen glances at you which sometimes lingers then the persistent seeking you out in the crowd or anywhere he goes even if it's somewhere far away and you being at that place was just simply impossible. He then eventually finds himself making reasons to call for you or visit you even when it's just the smallest of things.

“A pleasant afternoon.” Alhaitham greeted you as soon as you opened the door. His visit wasn't a surprise but it was unexpected as he would visit you from time to time and would often warn you beforehand but this time, he didn't. “Good afternoon to you too, Alhaitham. What brings you here?” You greeted him and asked. There was the expression of shock on your face before it disappeared and was replaced with a smile. Alhaitham stared at your face, specifically admiring your smile so he took quite a long time to respond. He cleared his throat, gaining his composure before he spoke. "I was merely just walking around and recalled that your residence was nearby. Perhaps it's also because I haven't seen you after a long while that's why I came to visit." He replied with a stoic expression as usual. At times like this, you wish that he would show a bit of emotion so you can tell what he is thinking. It's just hard that despite his brutal honesty, you just can't seem to tell what goes through his head. “I see, would you like to come inside then?” You opened the door wider, an invitation for him to come inside, whilst you wait for his response. He simply nodded and replied, "If you don't mind." As he was about to head and walk inside, he stopped on his tracks and exclaimed, "Oh, and before I forget, please have this. It's a flower I bought from a merchant that came from Mondstadt. It was by chance that I stumbled upon them and remembered that the flowers I had bought you last week might have withered already." Handing you the freshly bought bouquet of white flowers— Cecilias—, you accepted it and immediately caught the comforting and sweet aroma the flowers are giving. For a bouquet that has only been bought, it looks like it was prepared for a long time and costs quite a lot. Nevertheless, you didn't comment about it and only replied, "Thank you, that's really sweet of you, Alhaitham." Strangely, from your own perspective, he seems to be much more talkative and nice to you.

The small yearning of knowing what your laugh sounds like especially when it is caused by him. But he who has been branded by a certain someone to have a bad personality due to his honesty and straightforwardness can’t just simply make that happen. Alhaitham has never, not even once in his life, thought of cracking a joke just to make someone laugh because he wants to hear them so. However, it still occurred. He didn’t crack a joke yet he managed to make you laugh and archons above, he swears it was one of the most—or probably the most beautiful sound he has ever heard in his life.

The feeling that he felt when he heard you laugh can't be compared to that feeling of discovering and getting ahold of what he seeks after a long time of pursuit.

He longs and yearns for you, to simply hold your hand without any reasons and not settling with just accidental brushing of skin. He wants to know the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his, to see you tangled in his sheets, and connected with his soul.

He wants to know everything about you and everything isn't just what your favorites are but what you would look like adorned with flowers and white.

He wants to get ahold of you not in a way that he does with his simple and mere interest of knowledge but as his everlasting promise and life. What he felt was just not the mere feeling of want, he knows that.

But Alhaitham wasn't a man who was easily satisfied. For him, it was never enough for him but it's not like he can do anything about it. You two were just friends and maybe, maybe it will remain that until he makes a move.

Maybe the time will come for him to confess his feelings but for now, he’ll just let the fire consume him for a bit.

— navigation | masterlist

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #alhaitham x reader #al haitham #al haitam x reader #genshin impact #azul.writes

1K notes · View notes

rypnami · 4 days ago

Text

summoning you

characters: leander prewett x house neutral gn!mc word count: 1991 warnings: none! summary: after losing one too many rounds of summoner's court to them, leander becomes suspicious of MC's alleged skill at the game. a/n: for @selenedarling, i LOVED your prompt! i hope you like! this wasn't beta-read but its fine we ball!! ao3 link

“Oh, not again.” MC stomps their foot in frustration as their blue ball slowly rolls off the Summoner’s Court board and thuds into the grass below. Only one of theirs remains on the board, directly in the centre of the 20 point mark. On the other hand, the three red balls are scattered across the board- two on 20, one on 30.

“Aha! I win! I win! Take that!” Leander bounces up and down, throwing his hands in the air. He grins over at MC. “Er, sorry. You, uh, played well, too.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, cheeks going a bit pink.

If it were anyone else, MC might have cursed them into next week, but they can’t bring themself to be very annoyed at Leander. To be quite honest, he’s cute when he’s excited, and he doesn’t get much more excited than when he wins at Summoner’s Court. “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll beat your ass next time, just you wait.”

Leander snickers. “You always say that, and you always lose. Er. Sorry. Again.”

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” MC flicks their wand, resetting the board. “Ready for another round?”

“Um, can’t. Have Herbology soon. It’s really good weather today, would be a shame not to take advantage of it for the plants.” He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it a bit.

The sun is shining, and there’s hardly a cloud in the sky. Leander is right, it’s perfect weather for tending outdoors, especially with winter only a couple months away. Now is as good a time as any to give the plants some last days of sunshine. Suddenly, MC finds themself regretting having opted out of Herbology this year- it seems like Summoner’s Court is the only time they get to be around Leander anymore, and it’s quite frankly not enough. Letting him win over and over is all well and good, but they’d like to do something with him that doesn’t involve being dishonest, even if it’s only a white lie.

“Sounds like someone is afraid of a challenge,” they tease.

“Wh-what? No. Well.” He blushes again, looking away. Merlin, where does he get off being so adorable? MC will never understand it. “Perhaps, but I really do have class.”

“Which you’re going to be late for if you don’t hurry up.” Samantha Dale says loudly from beside the game board.

The pair of them jump. “Bloody hell, where did you come from?” Leander gasps, clutching at his chest.

Samantha rolls her eyes. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past several minutes, actually. Nice to know you were paying attention.”

“Ah, who can blame us? We were in the midst of a gripping competition.”

“I'm sure. You.” Samantha points at Leander. “Come. I will not be late because of you!”

MC frowns. Hmph. What’s she so eager about anyway? “Why don’t you just go ahead?”

Samantha stares at them. “Because whenever I go it alone, Violet McDowel ends up sitting next to me, and I would rather limit how long I’m around her, frankly. Prewett is a step up, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks,” Leander mutters, hopping down from the wooden platform. “I feel so loved." He spares MC a last glance, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. “Er. See you later?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They are not jealous as they watch Leander walk back to the castle with Samantha. It’s perfectly normal and platonic to feel itchy and mildly ill watching your good friend spend time with someone else. Not at all indicative at all of any underlying feelings that MC has definitely not been suppressing since the better half of last year. Nope, just normal everyday things to feel. Definitely. Not like they have a claim on him anyway. He’s perfectly free to hang around whoever he wants, even if it makes MC want to blow up a goblin encampment, just to feel something else.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

“MC really is something,” Leander says conversationally. “Great at everything. Except for Summoner’s Court.”

Samantha gives him a strange look. “Yeah… funny, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Well, yes.” They both take their seats next to each other at their potting stations. “You really don’t find it strange that they practically excel in all their classes, they won every Crossed Wands duel for the second year in a row, and also was champion of Summoner’s Court last year? They beat Professor Ronen at his own game, literally.”

Leander has gone a deep shade of red, so he busies himself poking at the leaves of his Mallowsweet plant in a pitiful attempt to distract himself. “That doesn’t-”

“They stopped a rebellion, destroyed a criminal empire in Hogsmeade, and saved the whole school from a goblin invasion, but they can’t beat you, of all people, at Summoner’s Court?”

“Hey!”

“Just saying,” Samantha shrugs. “It’s all a bit odd.”

As much as he’d like to argue, he knows Samantha has a point. It is odd. MC has never lost at anything else, ever, to the point it’s almost supernatural. From the day they first came to Hogwarts, surviving a dragon attack and then defeating a troll in the village circle, they’ve never been anything but extraordinary. How would they keep losing to him? He’s never been very good at anything at all, especially compared to MC. There’s a voice in the back of his head, almost always whispering that he’s not good enough.

“Oh, Merlin,” He groans, putting his face in his hands as the pieces fall together. “It’s pity. They’re letting me win out of pity because I’m terrible. For the love of-” Leander has never been so embarrassed in his life. It all adds up though, doesn’t it? How could MC ever fail, if not on purpose? Is he really so pathetic? How in the world hadn’t he noticed before someone else pointed it out? His older sister always does tease him for not being the most observant, and he always thought it was just that- teasing. Unfortunately for him, it seems like she couldn’t have been more correct.

“That might not be it,” Samantha says, gently patting his shoulder and looking mildly distressed. “I- perhaps they really aren’t very good! Probably, er, got rusty over the summer holiday, right?”

It’s appreciated, but her words do little to help. They both know damn well MC is throwing the games on purpose, but the question for him now is why? Why in Merlin’s name would they want to lose to him?

He’s determined to find out. Grabbing his Mallowsweet in its hand-painted terracotta pot,he gets out of his seat with it. “I’m going to take Mortimer outside for some proper sun.”

“I believe you,” she says flatly.

Leander sticks his tongue out at her as he struts out of the Greenhouses with the plant. He might not be good at Summoner’s Court, but he does know plants, and he knows how much Mortimer likes to feel real sun on his leaves. Would MC think it’s weird that he gives his plants names and personalities? Is it weird? Why does he even care?

“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” he mutters to the plant. “One way or another.”

He shoves open the castle doors, and spots MC still loitering by the Summoner’s Court board. There’s no other challengers, yet there they are, sat on the edge of the platform and kicking their feet. The way the sun shines down on them, making their eyes sparkle just so… it feels like a whole swarm of lacewing flies have taken flight in his belly. Glad he’s got Mortimer for emotional support (although taking a moment to cringe that he thinks of a plant as support), he walks over to them quickly, before he loses his nerve.

“Well, look who it is,” MC says with an easy smile, which does not help the flip-flopping of his stomach. “I thought you had Herbology.”

“I did. Er, I do.” Leander clears his throat. “Plants prefer, erm, real sunlight though, and Mortimer here really likes when the weather is so nice, so…”

MC tilts their head. “You name your plants? That’s sweet.”

“Y-yes. Er, that’s not, erm, the only reason I came back out, though. Um.” Just spit it out, you idiot! “Are you- have you…” He squeezes the pot to his chest, suddenly feeling foolish. Merlin, but he must look like an idiot, holding a plant and hardly able to get a real word out. “Have you been letting me win? At Summoner’s Court, I mean?”

“Uh.” MC’s face seems to go a bit pale. “Um. Would you be particularly upset if I have been?”

“I…” Leander sits next to them, shifting the pot so it rests in his lap. “Not especially. I’d just like to know… why?”

They shrug. “You always seem so happy when you win, you know? Thought I might let you have a few victories.”

“But so many times in a row? You haven’t won a single round in weeks!”

A silence stretches between them, slightly awkward. “I…” They chew their lip and don’t meet his eyes, which is wholly unlike them. “I dunno, I thought if you kept losing, you wouldn’t want to play anymore.” To avoid looking at Leander, they stare at his plant instead, picking off some of the withered leaves. “I miss spending time with you, is all. We hardly have any classes together anymore, and with Crossed Wands already over for the year, it feels like this is the only place we can really be around each other.”

What what what what what what what WHAT.

“W-we do have some classes together…”

“It’s not the same, though.” They stop fiddling with Mortimer and glance up at him.

Leander forgets how to form words for a moment. “I- I suppose not.”

“I…” MC takes a deep, steadying breath. “I really like you, and being around you, and you’re not like anyone else I know, and I just… wasn’t sure how to ask you to… spend time together. More time together.”

“Could’ve just said that,” Leander says with a light chuckle, although it feels like his chest is constricting. They like him? And being near him? How on earth is that possible? “But I do appreciate winning.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” They elbow him, and he almost drops his plant. “Take that, I win every time, you lose!” They attempt to mimic his voice. Actually, it’s not a bad impression.

“I really like being around you, too.”

Now MC is blushing as well, something Leander never expected to see in all his life. Honestly, it suits them. “So, then… would you maybe want to go to the Three Broomsticks tonight? Like… as a date?”

He wants to jump up and down and say yes yes yes a million times yes absolutely as if you even have to ask, but…

“I would really love to, but I can’t tonight, I have to take care of Percy. But you’re welcome to join me in the Greenhouses… as a date. It could be fun!” A first date involving plants sounds like a grand time to Leander.

“Percy?”

“He’s a moonflower. They only bloom at night, but they’re good for potions and such, so… only if you want!” The burst of confidence has already faded, and the tiny voice is back, telling him that it’s just more pity, that MC doesn’t really want to be with him, of all people, and that his idea for a date is stupid. He tells it to shut up.

“I’d be more than happy to. A greenhouse date sounds lovely.” MC gives him that easy smile again, making his knees a bit weak. How are they so amazing? “You know, I always thought of the moon as a woman. Not a man called Percy.”

“Well, yeah, but Percy isn’t the moon, he’s a moonflower, there’s a difference.”

“Oh, shush, you.”

#i got like 2 hours of sleep and so much espresso writing this #i wrote this kinda quick since i have other wips on the list #but i hope this lived up to expectations!!#leaned a bit into mc being a mary sue since they kind of are in game #hogwarts legacy #leander prewett #leander x mc #leander prewett x mc #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #leander prewett fanfiction #leander x reader #samantha dale

37 notes · View notes

serickswrites · 3 months ago

Text

Lonely Place of Longing II

Master list here (includes bios, summary, and chapter links)

Warnings: captivity of sorts, restraints, torture, unconsciousness, wounds, blood, crucifixion mentioned, collapsed lung, chest tube, medical whump, dislocation, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Halle spent the next couple of days just orienting herself to Tectus as she hadn’t yet completely assumed her duties as Dylan’s keeper, her team’s quarters, and trying very hard to not forget everyone’s names. The latter was proving to be more difficult than she initially thought. Everyone really should have name tags.

The one team member she could remember beside Thomas was Dylan. And who could forget Dylan. The living weapon that she was in charge of. She had not spent any more one on one time with Dylan. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t watching.

Dylan fascinated Halle. In a morbid curiosity sort of way. The weapon only ever left his quarters—which Halle figured was a suite of three rooms: a bedroom, bathroom, and med bay—when Thomas and two other team members came to fetch him. He didn’t even leave to take his meals. Someone always brought Dylan his meal and waited outside while Dylan ate.

Sometimes the team member would speak with Dylan, usually gruffly, but Dylan always murmured his replies. He ducked his head low any time food was brought. He never complained when there wasn’t utensils—Halle realized some team members didn’t feel safe with Dylan having silverware—or when the meager portion was cold. He merely thanked the team member and returned to his room to eat alone.

The most Halle observed Dylan talk was when a team member rolled a library cart into the hall. Dylan was a voracious reader. Halle supposed that was the only thing he could do in his room all day. Dylan gave reviews of each book he returned to the cart whether or not the team member—usually Benjamin—wanted to hear the reviews or not. Dylan made requests each time as well, though some books were harder to get than others.

“I couldn’t find that one here,” Benjamin said as he handed Dylan back the list from the previous week.

“Are you sure? I could have sworn we had the others in our library, perhaps—“

“Well, I couldn’t find it. I asked Thomas to order it. We’ll see when it gets here,” Benjamin snapped.

Dylan hung his head. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” He took his large stack of books off the cart and retreated back into his room, closing the door quietly.

With a pang of guilt, Halle realized that Dylan had no source of entertainment other than books. He couldn’t go outside except for on missions, he couldn’t roam Tectus, and he didn’t have a TV. These were all things that Halle took for granted.

Halle chased after Benjamin. “Wait!” She called as she hurried after Benjamin.

“Hey, Halle,” Benjamin said as he stopped his cart. “What can I do for you?”

“What was the name of the book?”

“What book?” Benjamin raised an eyebrow.

“The one that Dylan wanted. What’s the name of the book?” Maybe if she could read the book it would give her better insight into the weapon.

Benjamin rolled his eyes. “Oh, that one. Honestly, I don’t know why he wants this book so bad. He’s asked for it about six or seven times. I finally had to put a requisition order in with Thomas. Of course it may take a while for it to come in.”

“What’s it called?” Halle persisted.

“Uhhh Third Star? Or something like that. Honestly, I don’t pay too much attention to what he reads. If we have it, I give it to him. If I can’t find it, I can’t find it. Sometimes someone else finds it. Other times we eventually have to order it.”

“Thank you,” Halle said as she went back to her room. She immediately flicked on her computer and placed an order for delivery the next day for the book. She read the summary—Halle was shocked to learn it was a novel written some years ago about angels and demons and the human that they fell in love with. It wasn’t something she wasn’t interested in reading. But clearly Dylan was.

Thomas came for Dylan late that night. Halle was just climbing into bed when she heard the march of three pairs of boots coming down their hallway. Halle rose quietly and went to her door on the off chance Thomas was coming to talk to her. But no knock came. She cracked open her door to listen, telling herself that she needed to hear how Dylan was feeling and what the mission entailed to better prepare to take care of him.

Thomas’s booming knock echoed in the hall. “Open up,” he ordered. The door opened slowly. Dylan stood shirtless in the doorway, his pale hair tousled with sleep. He was barefoot and bleary eyed. “Yes, Thomas?”

“Put your clothes on, we’re expected to be at the rendezvous point with Bravo Team in,” Thomas checked his watch, “ten minutes.” Dylan’s face sobered instantly. “Am I to know what we are going to be doing or am I just to be dropped in ignorant and blind and expected to survive?” It was the first time Halle heard Dylan use anything but a soft, gentle tone.

“The mission is need to know and you don’t need to know,” Julian sneered. Besides Dylan, Julian was the scariest teammate on Alpha Team. It wasn’t his size so much as his energy, though Julian was taller and broader than Thomas. Halle was glad she was on Julian’s team rather than his enemy because she was pretty sure Julian could squish her like a grape.

Thomas glared at Julian. “The Authority has deemed it unnecessary for you to be briefed at this time.”

“Then allow me to be your blunt instrument to wield as you will, Thomas,” Dylan said coolly, giving a mocking bow. “I will be but a moment.”

“Plan to be gone for twenty-four hours, Dylan,” Thomas instructed.

A whole day. What kind of mission takes a whole day? Dylan returned, stepping out into the hall. He rolled his neck as he walked, cracking each joint loudly. “Shall we?” He was even with Julian and Aubrey. He took care not to touch either team member. That was against the rules, or so Halle had learned. Dylan was not allowed to initiate physical contact with any team member unless the member had previously consented, or it was vital to a mission.

Thomas nodded and Aubrey uncuffed Dylan. “Thank you,” Dylan said softly as he rubbed his wrists as though the cuffs were terribly uncomfortable. Perhaps part of their power suppression was painful. Halle needed to research more about it. Dylan’s eyes flicked to Halle’s door, briefly making eye contact. Dylan’s lips twitched but he said nothing. He strode forward, following after Thomas closely. Aubrey and Julian followed after Dylan, forming a blockade from behind should Dylan attempt to escape.

Thomas and the team members he took with him on the mission did not return that day. Alpha Team quarters were very quiet. Halle knew there wasn’t much to do other than wait. The team members that were left behind seemed unbothered by the tardiness of the team.

“Sometimes they’re late, Halle,” Clay said over dinner.

“You get used to it,” Andrea said as she piled more food on her plate.

Halle could barely eat, she was too uneasy. She could be expected to heal Dylan at any moment. And though she knew Dylan was the only member of the team she was expected to heal, Halle knew she would help whoever needed help.

Loud, aggressive banging woke Halle in the middle of the night the following night. The team still hadn’t returned, but the rest of the team was just as unbothered as they were the day before. Halle’s heart was in her throat as she stumbled out of bed and to the door.

“Halle,” Thomas’s low, gruff voice called through the door. “Halle, wake up!”

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Halle said as she pulled open the door. What she saw before her had her freezing.

Aubrey and Maximus held Dylan between the two of them. Dylan hung limply between his two teammates. His head lolled back on his neck, revealing his heavily bruised face. His eyes were closed, though Halle wasn’t sure if Dylan would have been able to open his left eye as it was crusted over with blood. Blood dripped onto the floor from his limp fingers. Halle couldn’t see the full extent of Dylan’s injuries, but what she could see were terrible. Both Aubrey and Maximus were bruised, but they would heal.

“What…What happened?”

“Get them to the med bay,” Thomas ordered. “Hurry.”

Aubrey and Maximus hurried down the hall and to Dylan’s suite. Thomas kicked open the door and they hurried through. Halle rushed to keep up. “What happened?”

“We were ambushed. There were too many. Bravo Team’s been decimated. Dylan managed to draw most of the enemy combatants to him. But then he was overtaken.”

Halle listened as she directed the others to lay Dylan on the exam table. Dylan’s limbs flopped as he was moved to the table.

“Carefully,” Halle said softly as she watched the teammates lay Dylan on the table.

Halle began opening drawers and cabinets, pulling out the implements she thought she would need. “I’m listening. Go on. I need to know everything, Thomas.”

Halle listened as she worked, quickly cutting away Dylan’s tattered clothes leaving Dylan completely naked. Halle was sure that Dylan was used to it, and besides, Halle needed to see all of Dylan to determine what wound needed treatment. Dylan was bleeding on his chest and his hands, his pale skin a mosaic of bruises and varying shades of black, blue, and deep purple. Halle was pretty sure one of Dylan’s knees had been dislocated. Dylan’s breaths were shallow and wheezing, but he was breathing regularly enough that Halle felt that could wait. She needed to conduct her assessment.

Thomas’s words trickled in. Dylan had been captured. And tortured by the look of it. “We found him nailed to a wall and left to hang,” Maximus added to Thomas’s narrative.

Halle’s head jerked up. “How long was he hanging for?” She looked around for a stethoscope. She needed to hear.

“Does it matter?”

Halle turned and glared at Aubrey. “Do you have any medical training? Do any of you have any medical training?”

Aubrey’s cheeks reddened. “If you’re saying—“

“What I am saying is I do have training. You don’t. That’s why I’m doing what I’m doing and you’re doing what you’re doing. And you don’t know what is relevant to my job. Just as I don’t know what’s relevant to your job. So when I say I need to know everything. I need to know everything.”

She put her ear pieces in and put the cold stethoscope to the right side of Dylan’s chest. Nothing. There was absolutely no sound. Fuck. She looked at Dylan’s unconscious face, mouth going dry when she realized Dylan’s slightly parted lips were starting to turn blue.

Halle shoved past Thomas. “Maximus, grab the scalpel set from over there. Aubrey, get gauze. Thomas, I need you to hold this very steady while I work. We’re running out of time.”

None of the team moved. “Go. Now!” Halle said exasperatedly as she prepared the chest tube. “Or I won’t be the reason why the unit loses their living weapon. You all will.”

The teammates moved quickly at Halle’s words. “I’m really sorry about this, Dylan,” Halle murmured as she braced to cut. “Normally, we do this under sedation. But I don’t have time and I don’t know how you’ll react.”

And before Halle could lose her nerve, she cut into Dylan’s chest. “What are you doing?” Thomas asked as he watched Halle work. He held out the tube Halle had requested.

“I’m assuming you found him in the midst of being crucified, yes?”

Thomas nodded. “It was sort of a rudimentary one. The combatants had him for several hours before we were able to infiltrate their compound.”

Halle carefully inserted the tube, breathing a sigh of relief as she watched Dylan’s breaths quickly deepen. Dylan never woke, but Halle was relieved. At least she had taken care of the most pressing wound. “Well, he was tortured before you got to him, that much is clear.”

Thomas nodded again. “We figured they wouldn’t want to kill Dylan. They knew enough about Dylan to carry their own pair of cuffs. Whether they were trying to get information or just enjoying hurting a weapon, we don’t know.”

Halle went back to taking inventory of Dylan’s injuries. She really needed to put an IV in and start fluids, but she wanted to be sure she didn’t miss anything else more pressing. “Aubrey,” Halle said without looking up as she placed the IV, “for your information, crucifixion is a very, very painful way to die. And it takes a very long time usually. Victims typically experience dehydration, blood loss, and most suffocate to death because their lungs collapse. Dylan only had one working lung.”

“That was quick acting, Halle,” Thomas said with a smile. “Good work!” He clapped Halle on the shoulder. “You can give me a full report of all of his injuries and how long it will be before he can get back to field work. I need to get these two to the main med bay and check on the others.”

Halle let them leave in silence. She was horrified at what she saw. And even more horrified at how nonchalant her fellow teammates were about Dylan’s injuries. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,” Halle said as she began to dress Dylan’s wounds.

“This is going to hurt, but hopefully you’ll stay asleep. I’ve given you a nice pain killer in your IV. And a sedative.” Halle lined herself up to pop Dylan’s knee back into the socket.

Dylan woke with a scream as Halle set his knee. Halle jumped back as Dylan thrashed beneath her. How was Dylan awake? “NOOOOOOOO! PLEASE! NO MORE!” Dylan screamed as he moved.

Dylan stopped moving as he blinked up at the ceiling, as though he suddenly realized where he was. “Oh,” they croaked as he went still on the table.

“I am so sorry,” Halle said, trying to breathe through her own panic, “I thought I gave you enough sedation and pain killers.”

Dylan shook his head as he heaved another breath. “You probably did. I….I have a high tolerance.” He winced as he tried to sit up again. “I—“

“Need to stay down, Dylan. You’re really, really hurt.” Halle took a step towards Dylan. Dylan was proving to be a very difficult patient.

“I’ve had worse,” Dylan groaned as he managed to roll on his left side. “Oh,” he muttered as he rolled back onto his back. “Maybe I need a minute.”

“Why did you draw all the combatants to yourself?”

Dylan’s answer made Halle’s heart twinge. “Because I knew they wouldn’t kill me. I knew they would hurt me, but they wouldn’t kill me. They would most certainly kill the others. But not me.”

“Because you’re a living weapon?”

Dylan shook his head as he let out a bone weary sigh. “Because they wanted to exact their revenge on me. Well, my kind. I was a good stand in for whatever weapon hurt them before.”

“I’m really sorry that happened, Dylan.” Halle meant it.

“It’s ok. Not your fault.” Dylan stared up at the ceiling with his icy blue eyes. “How long am I out of commission for?” His voice was flat. Halle couldn’t say if that was because Dylan was hoping it would be a short time or a long time.

“Probably a month, maybe more.”

Dylan nodded as he closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Halle could have sworn she saw a tear track into Dylan’s hairline. “Thomas and the Authority won’t be happy to hear.” Dylan slowly sat up. He rose on shaking legs. Halle held out an arm to steady Dylan.

“Well unless they can get me some accelerator, then they’re going to have to deal. You shouldn’t be up.”

Dylan groaned, but took a step forward. “I don’t want to be in here any longer than I have to be. I’d rather be in bed.”

Slowly, very, very slowly, Halle helped Dylan hobble to bed. By the time they made it, sweat poured off Dylan and he was paler than he had been before. Dylan sagged back into the pillows with a quiet moan.

“I’ll be right back.” Halle hurried back to her room and grabbed the book Dylan had requested. She wasn’t going to read it. Maybe it would give Dylan something interesting to do while he was recovering.

“Here,” she said as she put the book in Dylan’s hands.

Dylan stared down at the book in his hands. “How did you find this?” He looked up at Halle, his icy eyes guarded.

“I heard you were looking for it and this came in the mail for me—delivery service made a mistake,” Halle lied smoothly. “But I heard you were looking for it, so I thought you might want it.”

Dylan ducked his head. “Thank you very much, Halle, for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Dylan. Rest well, please. You really need to take it easy.”

“I will,” Dylan said, still not raising his head, his deep voice thicker than before.

He had to be exhausted. Halle quickly excused herself, “I’ll be in to check on you in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Halle. For everything.”

Tags: @beomsstudio @mousepaw @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @eyehartart @corbytheking

@seysposts @cosmic-butterflys @wormjerky @godnessofmagic

@daddyslittlestgirlll

@thatlittlefirestarter @defire @jthecalmone @shook-skull @sagencrafts

@theforeverdyingperson @bilightningwhumper @cryptid-potato @fox-fox234 @deepfriedpan

@4-err0r-4 @half-duck @bigmiki @amberconnverse636 @penguin4473-blog

@abbyreader23 @lateuplight @firelan @octafi @paingoes

@xo7-parad0x @whumpandcomfort @kazekunai @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe @soul-of-a-local-bard

@dragonkales @kitarajy-kari @carosbee @celestialsoyeon @knightinbatteredarmor

@kay-kayxb177 @alwaysjaywalking @decayanddie @demetercabingreen-thumb @never-enough-novels

@whump-a-bear-workshop @sizzlingtigerwerewolf @urmum-11 @velcrostrip @rattypop

@lexiebiss-blog @whumplump @geozone430

19 notes · View notes

padfootagain · 9 months ago

Text

Where We Kept Our Magic (IV)

How We Parted

Hello lovelies! Here is a new part for my Muggle!Reader AU!! I hope you like this new scene, tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x Muggle!Reader

Warnings: it’s a little sad :(

Summary: You and Sirius meet when you’re still young, and yet you fall head over heels for each other. But everything gets complicated when you learn that Sirius is a Wizard! Now, your whole world has to be reimagined. -This series is made of many independent snippets taken from Sirius and Muggle!Reader’s lovestory –

Word Count : 1792

The weather isn’t so warm anymore. September is upon you and with it, a cool breeze has settled over London. The trees remain green and lush for now, but you know they will soon colour themselves in warmer tones, before letting their leaves fall.

Sirius is lying in the grass, by the Serpentine. His head on your laps, he lets you run your fingers through his hair, heaves a content sigh at the soothing feeling. It’s a quiet afternoon, or perhaps it’s only getting late, and families are home already. But Sirius has no intention to move. After all, you’re here, with your fingers in his hair, why would he want to leave?

Besides, tomorrow morning, he’ll go King’s Cross station, run through a wall and board the Hogwarts Express. And then he’ll be off, just like that. Just like that…

He doesn’t see how this can work. How can he even write to you? He can’t use an owl… Euphemia and Fleamont have offered to go the post office, but Sirius is reluctant. He doesn’t want to bother them…

Still, he doesn’t want this to end. He likes you. An awful lot. Actually, he’s starting to truly fall for you, all the way down towards love, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud or to even think of the word. It’s too hard for him. After living with his family, love is too close to hatred for him to look at you and think of that word. After all, there isn’t an ounce of hatred in his heart targeted towards you.

Anyway, this is not the point. The point is that he’s about to leave for Scotland, and you won’t. The point is that he has no clue how to contact your properly. He’s given you a fake address that will lead to the Potters’ house so you can write to him, but again, he doesn’t want to bother them. He bothers them enough already…

“What’s going in this busy head of yours, honey?”

Honey. You’ve started calling him that about three weeks ago, and he adores it. It sounds so sweet, so much like you in your yellow sundress. So unlike him, in his dark t-shirt and heavy boots. So unlike him, with his name tainted with night…

Sirius merely hums in response, closing his eyes again, the leaves of the oak tree you’re leaning against disappearing beyond his eyelids. You don’t let him get away with it so easily though, he’s almost endeared by it. He would have been, any other day, if the wait of separation wasn’t so heavy on his heart today.

“Sirius? You’re alright?”

He shrugs. He knows he’ll give up in a few seconds, your fingers are too gentle as they get lost in his hair, your warmth too soothing.

He looks up at you again. He’s put his leather jacket on your shoulders about half an hour ago, before he lied down, because he noticed you were shivering. You look adorable. You look beautiful. He never wants this to end. He wants to keep his jacket on your shoulders forever…

“Just… a little sad that I’m leaving,” he admits. “Which is weird, cause I’ve always been eager to go to Hogwarts before.”

You nod, a small smile on your lips.

“Is it because of me?”

“Who else could it be? Certainly not because of Jackie, she’s insufferable.”

“You like her. And she likes you too.”

He can’t refrain a smile at that. He’s surprised when one of your hands leaves his hair to reach for his fingers instead.

“I don’t want us to break up,” you admitted, earnest and suddenly vulnerable, perhaps more so than what you intended.

“Me neither.”

“I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait for you to come back. It’s only a few months before Christmas. Besides, I’ll write to you, daily if you miss me too much.”

Your tone is teasing, but Sirius winces, and your heart shudders at the sight, a crack runs through the porcelain of it, ready to break altogether.

“You don’t want me to write to you?”

You see Sirius hesitate, and you hate it. And he knows you hate it. It hurts him too.

“I want you to write to me,” he finally answers, after a rather long pause, choosing his words carefully. “But you can’t write directly to my school, it won’t work. And I don’t want to bother the Potters too much…”

Slowly, you nod.

“I see. I understand. Perhaps… not too often?”

Slowly, he nods. He looks worried now, sad even. And he is.

You run your thumb across his knuckles, the tip of your fingers grazing his silver rings, the metal cold against his warm skin.

“They’ve already taken me in after I ran away last summer… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Slowly, you nod. You don’t ask anything, even if Sirius guesses that questions are burning on the tip of your tongue. But you don’t ask. About his family, about why he ran away… you never do. And he’s grateful for it, but sometimes he wonders why you don’t.

Are you afraid? Or simply kind?

He sits up without warning, and his back is almost to you now. He heaves a sigh, putting even more distance between the two of you, and you hate it.

Still, you don’t ask.

His eyes drift towards the river, towards the dirty, muddy water filled with lost feathers. A group of swans swims away, without taking a single look back.

“Sirius?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re okay?”

“Of course.”

A pregnant pause. An expectation. You take him aback with your statement.

“I don’t want you to leave. I’ll miss you.”

The ghost of a smile grazes his lips, he reaches for your hand, but doesn’t turn to you for now.

“I’ll miss you too.”

His hold is a little too tight, you know he’s holding back. You’ve grown used to it. Gently, you splay a hand across his spine, the fabric of his t-shirt soft under your palm despite the dust and the dry grass that have clung to the material here and there.

“Please, don’t hold back,” you ask so gently, Sirius’s eyes fill with tears. “It’s our last afternoon together before Christmas. Don’t hold back. What’s bothering you?”

He clears his throat, the tears gone, replaced by a tightly set jaw.

“You never ask.”

“What do you mean?”

“You never ask about my family.”

You shrug.

“I know that it’s difficult for you to talk about it. I reckon… that you’ll tell me more about it when you’re ready. I don’t want to push you, if you’re not ready.”

At long last, he turns to look at you again, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say, anyway…

He hesitates before speaking again. Because it sounds silly. He reckons you won’t understand. And it would hurt a lot more than he can admit. But there’s a weight on his heart, and he wants to lift it, even if it can’t last for long.

“I’m going to see my brother at Hogwarts.”

“Regulus?”

He nods.

“I don’t know how I feel about it,” he confesses. “I miss him. But… I also hate him.”

“Do you hate him? Are you simply angry?”

He considers the question. It’s a little too accurate, and he smiles.

“Yeah… I think I’m angry. I’m angry he chose to stay. I’m angry I can’t protect him anymore. I’m angry he doesn’t have the guts to break free. I’m angry he’s uncertain about my parents beliefs.”

“But you still miss him.”

“Yeah… yeah, I miss him.”

He sets his gaze on the river again, lets go of your hand to wrap his arms around his knees.

“The first time I took the train, my mother was so proud. And I both loved it and hated it. And I think… I’m angry because it didn’t really change. I don’t believe in any of the conservative bullshit my parents are so adamant to defend, and I’ll never forgive them for how much they hurt me and my brother. And yet I… every time I get on that train I see my mother’s face beaming at me and looking at me as if I was the most extraordinary thing in the world, and I long for this feeling again.”

He heaves a sigh.

“I want you to write to me. But the Potters… they didn’t have to take me in, and they did. I don’t want them to regret doing that.”

“I’ll write to you once a month. Would that be alright? That’s not too often.”

Slowly, Sirius nods.

“Okay, I’ll wait for your letter, and I’ll reply.”

“Okay.”

He’s surprised when you wrap your arms around him from behind, when you rest your cheek against his shoulder blade. He loves it though. He feels soothed all over again, his busy mind quietened again. The face of Walburga disappears, and the muddy water is back instead, with its white swans almost disappearing now, in the distance.

“Why do I miss them, when I hate them?”

You tighten your hold on him before you answer.

“They raised you. They loved you, even if it hurt. They taught you how it is to be loved first. You have to rewrite that definition, with better people, better examples. But they’re still your family, even if they hurt you. Your mother still looked at you with pride that day, even if she hurt you only a few hours before. It’s not black and white, like everything else in life. I reckon… it was so familiar a feeling, such a mingling of pain and love, you can’t really tell them apart anymore. Am I wrong?”

Sirius shook his head, stunned.

“I don’t dare asking you questions about your family, because I know it hurts,” you go on, your tone infinitely kind. “But I still care. Do you understand? I care about you, about who you are… I just… don’t want to hurt you. But you can tell me about it whenever you feel ready, okay? I’m… it’s not disinterest, it’s just… caution.”

Slowly, he nods.

“Thank you.”

He holds your hands in his, twisting his neck to press his temple against your hair, closing his eyes.

And his gratefulness tastes like love, but he’s not ready to admit it. You’re right, he needs to redefine the word, before speaking it again, and aim it at you.

When he kisses you, a few minutes later, it tastes like goodbye, but it’s not as sad as you expected it to be. And when he tells you he’ll wait for you, that he’ll wait for Christmas, that you can count on him, it’s easy to believe him…

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black series #series #hp fanfiction #hp #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

33 notes · View notes

milky-fixx · 2 years ago

Text

day 1, dio brando: petplay

kinktobruary day 1

dio brando x reader // jojo's bizarre adventure

summary: pets know better than to keep their master waiting, right? dio has little patience for your other obligations. when he fails to grab your attention, he has other means for persuading you. modern, non-stand AU

tw/cw: 18+ only, smut, petplay, semi-public in a sense (someone hears you two via zoom), rough s*x, degradation, humiliation, dio in this au still has a god complex, dio being a drama queen who has no concept of boundaries, dio being jealous of your homework

word count: 2.5K

—

You liken Dio to a cat.

Not a cute, domestic cat, someone you could leave to his own devices, but a lion. Raw, barely curbed vigor, an intimidating air; he’s someone that can command a room. And just like a feline, he can be downright obstinate when it comes to getting you to play along with one of his whims.

The heat of his ochre gaze typically has you relenting to his desires, but today you are determined. The assignment you’re working on is due at midnight, and it’s your utmost priority to get it done, considering the substantial portion it makes up of your grade. Your keyboard keys continue clacking, even as you can feel his eyes boring into you.

“Dear,” he starts, the rich, sultry timbre voice of his voice one that you know all too well.

You shush him sharply.

You don’t have to look up to see the displeasure curling his lips. “I did not even get to finish—”

“Mm, I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh?” Dio is nothing if not interested in a worthy challenge, when he finds one. “And that is?”

“Entertain me, I’m bored. Something to that effect?” At his annoyed silence, you continue. “Sorry, but I really need to get this done—”

“School. Assignments. Deadlines. Do they really matter in the grand scheme of things?” Distaste sharpens his words to fine edges, edges which you easily duck and avoid as you continue typing.

“They do if I want to pass.”

Dio refuses to relent, a sign, perhaps, of his own relentless contempt for boredom, as he unfurls from his position to stride towards you. He leans down, hovering just inches over you as he observes you work.

“You would not even need to finish this tedious course if you had just accepted my offer.”

“To work at your law firm? Thanks, but I’ll pass.” You can feel the irritation leeching off of him, the hairs on your arms standing on end, so you finally acknowledge him. Dio, even though he keeps you closest to your heart, still refuses to lower himself to you, and as he stands above you, he observes you like a game of chess. Another piece he needs to crack, another victory to earn.

You don’t doubt your lover’s keen intellect, but you don’t take lightly rumors you hear of the corruption at his law firm lightly. What he does in his career is little of your business, especially not when it provided the two of you with a lovely penthouse suite in the nicer part of London, but what is your business was the autonomy you had.

You can’t imagine what being domineered by Dio both at home and work. You quite enjoy the freedom your academics grants you from his wide influence. Well, besides the assignments. You could do without those.

“Sorry,” you say, gentler now, hoping to rectify the damage you’ve done to his ego. “We can do something later, okay?”

Perhaps you underestimate Dio’s hatred for coming second place to anyone or anything.

—

Dio, from his perspective, finds this predicament quite vexing. While he admits on some occasions he finds your dedication to your studies is admirable, as he finds all things in life that people mercilessly chase after and obtain, it does get boringly predictable. The way you lock yourself off to all external stimuli to get something done. A quality he often admires in you, but at the current moment, gives him much frustration.

What can a measly course teach you that Dio can’t? He graduated law school with flying colors, started his own law firm, and was an absolute, smashing success. So, why do you insist on subordinating the knowledge and experience he could offer you, to something as trivial as school? Your dismissal of him has his blood simmering.

Yet, his annoyance manifests itself into scheming, as it often does. Possibilities flash through his mind, ways that he can morph the sight of your frustrated brow and keen concentration into adoration, into you mewling, begging for him, his name a hymn on your tongue. You always do call out his name oh-so-alluringly. As his thoughts delve into more carnal fantasies, yearning stokes the fires in him.

You always do look absolutely divine with your face flushed, your skin dewy with sweat and other fluids. Dio is positive he can paint that picture once again.

You’ll learn to regret rejecting his advances. Because it’s time for him to discipline you, to show you what happens when his pet spurns his interest.

—

You’re tidying up your workspace, in preparation of the zoom meeting with your study group. The three of you are supposed to go over your essays, give each other last-minute feedback, perhaps gripe about your professor’s ridiculous standards.

As you connect to the call, you notice Dio enter the room again. He seats two spaces away from you, before procuring a book for leisurely reading. At your greeting, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Oh, so he isn’t done being upset about earlier.

You redirect your attention to zoom, eyes lighting up when the faces of your classmates pop up on screen. As the three of you began chatting, exchanging pleasantries, you catch Dio placing his book down in your periphery. You glance over at him, but you’re not able to spot the deviousexpression play across his features with him facing away from you.

Little do you know, the perfect opportunity presents itself to him, and who is he to not take it.

Just as you start skimming your peer’s paper, you hear the thump of Dio’s book falling to the floor.

“How clumsy of me.”

Perhaps if you were paying more attention, you’d hear the intention lacing the sarcasm in his ton, a slight change to his usual, condescending manner. As it is, you’re distracted by a comment your peer makes. But just as your eyes trail across the words on your screen again, you feel something brush your leg.

Then two hands, large and firm, grasp you by the ankles and yank your legs apart. It’s a good thing you’re on mute, or else your classmates would have heard your shriek.

You glance down to see Dio under the table, his golden gaze challenging you. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t seem to find where I dropped my novel. Pity,” he says, not sounding at all bothered. “I suppose I’ll have to entertain myself in this measly way.”

The thin shorts you wear prove to be impervious to his efforts as his fingers trail up your thigh. You send him a warning look, your attention dipping between him and the zoom call. While at first, his hands are mere caresses, his actions soon escalated, much like a buildup to the main act. When his fingers reach your panties, and he begins halfheartedly stroking through the give in them, you fidget at the sensation of liquid warmth pooling between your thighs.

“Dio,” you hiss. “This is really not the time—”

“Pet,” he says, deceptively calm. “Is that any way to speak to your master?”

His words, honeyed and cloying, seem to drip from his mouth, and straight between your thighs. Your mouth shuts as you attempt to shut your thighs, but he merely nudges them apart again, the stroking of his fingers unimpeded. You glance at your classmates on screen, noticing that they seemed to be engrossed in reading, before focusing back on him.

“Make it discreet.”

“Oh? I was not aware that you were the kind to give me orders, pet. I’ll do as I please.”

He tugs at the hem of your shorts, and this time you comply, lifting your hips so that the material falls to your feet. Then Dio’s stroking evenly along your panties, his movements uninhibited, and your thighs begin quaking. When he prods you under the material, his thick digits burrowing into you, you let out a shaky breath that you disguise as a cough.

The words on the page before you start to blur, and your attention and bodily awareness converge to the single, burning heat building in your gut. Gosh, you were so close… your eyes clench shut, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. Your breath stutters when—

Nothing. A gust of air fans your exposed parts.

Your eyes snap open. “Dio—”

He’s already standing, brushing himself off. He aims a disgruntled look at the wrinkles on his slacks from kneeling down for so long, attempting to straighten them out.

You call his name out again, and this time he snaps.

“I suggest you turn that camera of yours off if you value your modesty, pet. I don’t,” he says frankly, a cruel smirk curling his lips. “However, you have your own meager reputation you want to preserve.”

You turn off your camera not a moment too soon, as Dio shoves his fingers that were just inside you in your mouth. You choke at the abruptness, your tongue sloppily cleaning his fingers of the mess you’ve made. As he yanks them out, he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue forcing you into obedience. You comply, his mouth muffling your moan as your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. He slaps them away.

“Did I say you could touch me, pet? Look at how you’ve mussed up my shirt.” He chuckles. “First you make me lower myself to you, and now this? Oh, I’ve quite the low tolerance for your behavior today, pet.”

He jerks you up from your seat by your arm, maneuvering you so that your hands are braced along the table, your ass bent towards him. You shiver at the sound of him undoing his belt buckle and of clothes falling to the floor. His hefty length rests against your cheeks, the heat of it causing heat to creep up your own cheeks as you’re face-to-face with your zoom session, your classmates unaware of what’s going on behind your camera.

He doesn’t even bother taking off your panties, simply yanking them to the side before breaching you. As Dio’s girth stretches you wide in one thrust, you bite back your moan. The sensation of fullness is accompanied by the slightest sting of pain, as Dio didn’t prepare you nearly enough for his penetration, but that doesn’t stop him. He slides out before spearing into you again, his hips rocking hard enough that the table trembles.

He chuckles. “Look at you.” He admires your reflections in the black screen, the barely discernible outline of his figure jostling into yours. “Imagine, if your hand slipped… if you let those foolishly naive peers of yours catch sight of you at this moment.... What would they say? What would they think of you, pet? I can only imagine the humiliation you’d experience at being caught as mine to use and wreck.”

You whine, your eyes slipping shut as you arch your back towards him. Dio’s hand comes to press lightly against your throat, squeezing once for good measure. His hips continue to pummel into you harshly, your hips digging uncomfortably into the table’s edges. Your hands dart towards your front, attempting to accelerate towards a quick end, but he catches it.

“You will cum from my touch and my touch alone, pet,” he sneers.

You whimper again, and Dio smirks. He drags your hips back and spreads your legs wider, so that when he thrusts into you, it’s as if you can feel him prodding the very edge of your gut. You choke out a moan of his name, bracing your elbows on the table. The table creaks louder with his every thrust, and the errant slap of his balls against your skin…. God, you need to double-check to make sure you’re on mute.

“Pet, I believe they’re speaking to you.” Dio snickers.

Your eyes snap open, and of course, your classmates are looking in your direction expectantly. You flush; even though your camera is off, it feels like they know what you’re up to, that they can see the depraved things you and Dio are doing. And with the way he’s fucking you, leaving you little room to gather your bearings, much less breathe… you don’t think you can find it in you to continue the session. Your hand hovers over the button to exit the call, but Dio jerks into you again and your fingers miss the button.

“Answer them, pet,” he says suddenly. “I command you to.”

You shoot him a withering look that wilts at the way his hips smack into you, breaking your concentration. You bite down on your lip, turning on your mic.

“S-Sorry guys.” Even you can hear your voice was strained, tight. “C-Camera’s not working. Must be the internet,” you say quickly, before muting again. You hope to God that the audio didn’t pick up on the wet slap of his hips against yours, or the creaking of the table. Dio, on his end, is clearly biting back his own devilish laughter.

As they continue talking, each torturous minute you attempt to stay focused weakens your resolve, and you unmute yourself again. “A-actually I’m really sorry…. I think I need to g-gooo—I’ll send you feedback later, I promise.”

You freeze as Dio lets out a positively sinful groan, loud enough for them to hear, accompanied by a moan of your name. “(Y/N), you feel exquisite—”

“B-Bye!” You exit the call, your face burning. Dio chortles as you reach around to smack his chest. “Dio, you—you dick!”

“Perhaps they’ll think I have the flu, pet. People come up with the most irrational excuses for things they don’t want to believe.”

“You’re so fucking—incorrigible—”

“Mm, you don’t seem to mind.”

“Just make me cum already,” you snap.

“I was not aware I was taking requests,” he remarks just as icily.

Still, it seems he’s reaching his limit as well, aided no doubt by the way you’d tightened around him in surprise at his earlier trick. He pins you to the table, his hips practically pummeling into you. You moan, at each slam of your hips against the table, already picturing the bruises that would no doubt form tomorrow. As Dio’s hips piston into you, you clench around him, feeling heat surge through your gut. You lower your face, his name a gasp on your lips as you ride out your orgasm. Shortly after, Dio is pulling out of you, hissing as his own release splatters onto the table.

You’re panting, already feeling the phantoms aches in your body from holding onto that position. As you flex the stiff muscles in your wrists, your eyes land on your notes and outline for your paper, the ink smudged in several places from droplets of Dio’s release. Your jaw drops.

“Dio!” You smack his shoulder, pointing to your ruined study materials. He merely smirks, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Gross! How am I supposed to read this now?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps you could clean them with your tongue,” he suggests.

He definitely aims with intention.

#dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jjba x reader #jjba smut #tati writes #kinktobruary #not sfw

315 notes · View notes

just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years ago

Text

Caught In A Web ~ 9

CAUGHT IN A WEB MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,815ish

Summary: You end up having to come clean to Natasha and Wanda... but will it end there?

Notes: Please share your reactions!

Knowing that you couldn’t keep your secret any longer from the super-assassin and the mind-reader, you all sat down and explained how you got powers and who you were. You also explained what was happening between you and Tony.

“That does explain why Tony’s been acting less moody and depressed,” Wanda said.

Natasha was still quiet, her piercing eyes studying you. “You’re in love with him,” she stated.

“What?” You questioned. “No! No way. I—“

“Don’t deny it, Y/N,” Wanda smiled, “you can’t hide anything from us. It’s okay. You two would be really cute together.”

You shook your head. “It won’t happen ever. Once he finds out who I really am and how old I am, he won’t go for me.”

“Age has never been an issue with Tony,” Natasha said. “And you clearly don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re around. He either is into you or onto you.”

“Or both,” Wanda added.

You sighed. “I just don’t want to ruin what we have. It’s really good right now.”

“It could still be good. Better, even.”

“Y/N,” Natasha leaned forward for you to better see the seriousness of her gaze, “Tony doesn’t love just to love. Yes, he’s done his fair share of sleeping around but it was never love. His love is so deep and he might show it strangely sometimes, but you know it’s there and you know that you are lucky to be a recipient of it.”

“It’s true,” Wanda nodded. “We feel Tony’s love through the tech he builds for us. It’s strange, but we know he cares. He wants us safe. He may not know the real you or the whole you, but I can tell that he is starting to love you.”

“But he can’t love you fully and deeply like you deserve and you can’t experience loving him either without Tony knowing the truth.”

You sat there, thinking it over. Perhaps it was becoming time for you to reveal yourself to Tony. To take that chance, that leap of faith.

~~~

“Are we any closer to finding that Spider Woman?” Fury asked, standing at the end of the conference table.

“Unfortunately, Director, we’ve had a few bigger issues to handle,” Steve replied.

“Oh, really?” Fury pressed a button on the table causing pictures and video footage of Iron Man and Spider-Woman to appear as holograms over the table. Everyone looked over to Tony who had a blank expression. “Care to explain, Stark?”

This wasn’t Tony’s first rodeo, so it didn’t take much for him to come up with a lie. “I’ve been trying to gain her trust,” he said. Fury rose an eyebrow in question. “She doesn’t trust what we will do to her if she comes to the Tower. I’ve been meeting up with her to try and gain her trust enough for her to come in.”

“It’s a smart idea,” Natasha quickly said. “If she doesn’t trust us, then getting her on our side is pointless.”

Tony turned to face Natasha. “Did you just agree with my plan?”

“I can take it back.”

“No! You said it! You can’t—“

“Despite Stark’s plan, we are running out of time. The government is recommending that we take her in before they do.”

“Is that a threat?” Bucky questioned.

“It’s not an invitation. We need to bring her in before the government goes after her and something worse happens.”

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Clint said. “She’s not doing any harm and Stark clearly is working on her.”

“The government feels that her superpowers are too dangerous for her to be left unsupervised.”

“Dangerous?” Sam repeated. “We don’t even fully know what her powers are.”

“They believe she’s useful,” Wanda noted, disappointed in the system.

“Which is why you have until the end of the week to bring her in nicely, Stark. Or the whole Team goes out to get her before the government can.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Tony tried. “I have a handle on it—“

“One week, Stark. One.”

~~~

Tony was already waiting for you when you arrived at your usual meet-up spot.

“Hope you haven’t been waiting long, tin man,” you said.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” Tony immediately said, his tone incredibly serious. You stopped, not allowing yourself to come any closer to him. “You need to come back to the Tower with me.”

“What? Why?”

“You need to turn yourself in, and become a part of the Team.”

“I told you, Tony, I—“

“Y/N,” he took the steps needed to get directly in front of you. “I’m serious. The government is after you and if you don’t come with me now, Fury is going to send the Team and—“

“Wait? The Team will be sent after me.” You took a protective step back. “I haven’t even done anything wrong.”

“The government is worried about your powers. They’ve seen video footage of you and they want you for themselves or on the Team.”

You shook your head. “But I haven’t done anything!”

“I know, I know, honey.” Tony stepped closer and placed his hands on your arms. “That’s why you need to come with me. I’ll keep you safe, we’ll take care of everything. You don’t even really have to be a member of the Team. It’s just for your safety.”

This was not how you wanted this to go. You wanted Tony to find out the truth on your terms, not anyone else’s. This was forcing you to do something that you weren’t ready for. Your heart started pounding faster and faster as the anxiety and panic began to take over.

“I… I can’t,” you shook your head, almost panting as you spoke. “I’m sorry.” You ran and jumped off of the roof, trying to swing away as fast as possible.

“Y/N!” Tony called, flying after you. Your swinging was no match for his suit, you both knew that. “Please, just come with me.”

You ignored him and kept swinging, just trying to get away. He flew in front of you, trying to block your path, but you swung under him. Tony shouted your name again as you flung yourself around a corner. Tony was doing his best to keep a safe distance so that he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Y/N! Just stop, please!” Tony requested. “Let’s talk about this.”

You swung around another corner, only this time you were unprepared for the drastic change in building heights. In the midst of your trying to find a good spot to shoot a web, you swung too far and slammed your right arm into the sharp corner of a brick building. You cried out in pain.

“Y/N!” Tony shouted, rushing over and catching you as you started falling. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

You curled into the suit as Tony flew you toward the Tower. Due to having a private entry for the suits straight to his lab, the two of you landed in the lab. Tony gently set you down on his couch. Stepped out of the suit and sat beside you. He carefully took hold of your arm and began studying it. You whimpered at the movement.

“You’re going to need to get this looked at,” Tony told you.

“No, no, I can’t—“

“Y/N, you are safe here… Do you trust me?”

You took a deep breath as you looked into his eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

“Then trust me when I say that I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know you won’t.” You hooked under your mask and pulled it off with your free hand.

Tony smiled once he finally caught sight of your face. “I knew it.”

“Yeah? Are you… disappointed?”

“Not in the very least, sweetheart. I had my suspicions.”

“Really?”

He smiled. “You’re not exactly a super spy, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were doing it to protect yourself, I completely understand and was prepared to respect your decision. I’m sorry that it had to come to this.”

“So I am… but it could be worse.” You let out a groan as you went to move your position and your injured arm tried to help you.

“We can continue this talk later. Let’s get you down to the med bay and get everything situated.”

~~~

The available Team members were all called in for a meeting in the med-bay, concerning them.

“What are we doing down here?” Bucky asked.

“Did someone go on a mission that I didn’t know about?” Steve wondered. “And get injured?”

Tony walked into the waiting area. “Thank you all for coming,” he said.

“You called this meeting, Stark?” Sam questioned. “Why?”

“It’s about the Spider Woman.”

“Did you bring her in?” Asked Steve. “Where is she?”

“It’s not that simple, Rogers. I had my suspicions about who she was but today it was confirmed.”

“What are you talking about Tony?” Bruce questioned.

Tony sighed. “The Spider Woman we’ve been looking for is Y/N.”

“What?” / “No way!” / “Are you serious?” / “Really?”

Tony noticed how Wanda and Natasha looked at each other. “And, to no one’s surprise, it seems like Red and Little Red already knew.”

“Can’t keep much from us,” Wanda smiled.

“I can’t believe that FRIDAY wouldn’t have noticed and informed us,” Steve commented.

“I did, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY spoke up. “I told Mr. Stark that I had information on her. Mr. Stark told me to let Miss L/N come clean when she was ready.”

“Uh, Tony?” Bruce got his friend’s attention. “This is good, I guess, and all, but what are we doing in the med-bay?”

Tony sighed and the Team could see a slight shift in their friend. “Y/N got hurt tonight when I was trying to convince her to come clean.”

“You hurt my assistant?!”

“It wasn’t me, Banner, calm down. Helen has her in the cradle, she will be fine. I don’t want anyone bugging her about being Spider-Woman or her powers. This needs to be on her terms.” Natasha eyed Wanda again with a smirk. “Got something to say Red?”

“Nope,” she responded with a knowing smile. “Not a thing.”

“Yeah, well, good. I’m going back to see how Y/N is holding up. One of you needs to tell Fury that we have her. And don’t bother me and Y/N until I say otherwise.” Tony turned and disappeared into the med bay.

Sam looked around the room. “Did everyone catch that? ’Me and Y/N’?” He asked the Team. “Is there more going on than we know?”

“Honestly, I hope so,” Bucky said. “Stark’s been in a better mood for a couple of months now, Y/N has to be why.”

“This is good for him,” Natasha said. “He needs Y/N and I have a feeling that she needs him as well.”

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

#tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x female!reader #tony stark x f!reader #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x fem!reader #iron man imagine #iron man x reader #iron man fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader

131 notes · View notes

aphrodisiac-siren · 2 years ago

Text

Lowborn!Aemond x Highborn!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of Prince Daemon and a close friend of Prince Aegon who, like your father, is notorious for sneaking off to the streets of flea bottom. The one time you decide to join him on his nightly endeavours, you run into a charming yet mysterious someone who’s as beautiful as the sapphire that’s replaced one of his eyes.

Warnings: Indecent ogling, catcalling, harassment, foul language.

Part 1

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You asked in a hushed tone, following behind Aegon as he led you through the dimly lit passageways of the castle "If we get caught-"

"I've done this a thousand times and I’ve never been caught" He waved you off as he assured that there was nothing to be so concerned about.

With Aegon, it did not matter even if he was caught sneaking out the castle after dark, drinking away in ale houses or found in some brothel. It was you who would be ruined. Being born a woman came with a list of terms that you were told you had to oblige to if you wanted to survive in this hostile world; rules that did not apply to men.

Aegon had instructed that you should keep the hood of your cloak on at all times, to avoid anyone seeing the pearly white hair you had in common with all Targaryens.

The streets he led you through were bustling with people selling trinkets at their little stalls, children laughing and chasing after each other. A few drunk men ogled at you which made you a touch uncomfortable, to which you responded to by clutching Aegon's sleeve a bit tighter. The cloak only shielded your hair, not your pretty face.

Aegon noticed and protectively wrapped an arm around you, shooting a sharp look at the men who dared to stare at you with the gaze of a hungry animal.

He led you toward an alehouse from which he wished to purchase a flask of spiced wine. The establishment was filled with men much similar in nature to the ones you'd seen on the streets only minutes ago and you were uncomfortable by the thought of having to waltz in the midst of them.

"I don’t think we should go in" you meekly told Aegon, pulling his arm slightly "I don’t have a good feeling about this place"

Aegon did not wish to drag you into an environment in which you felt unsafe but his response was not one you were expecting.

"Why don’t you wait there, across this street?" he pointed into the distance toward a cart which held a few vegetables "I'll only be a moment"

"You are leaving me alone? Here?" you were taken aback by how he didn’t even think twice before suggesting this. The place was flooded by men who seeked for an opportunity such as this. A frail girl in a foreign environment who could easily be subject to their animalistic wants.

"I promise I won’t take too long"

And with that, he turned and walked into the alehouse, leaving you with no other option besides having to stand by the little cart in the near distance. Your heart was pounding in your chest but despite the nerves, you tried to mask your anxiety as you pulled your cloak tightly around your frame.

'She’s a pretty one, ain’t she'

You ignored the comment that someone made followed by a cackle that made you shiver. Gods Aegon, come back already.

'The money I would pay to have her warm my bed'

'Money? I ain’t paying no one. I simply take what I want'

Your breaths became more ragged when you heard the voices get louder, signalling the people who it belonged to, were getting nearer.

"Lovely thing like yourself shouldn’t be out here in the cold" one of the men grinned as he eyed you from top to bottom, making your skin crawl "How bout we taken you back to ours, warm you up"

You ignored them.

"He asked you something" the second man snapped, making you jolt with the sudden spike in the volume of his voice "can’t you talk? Perhaps I ought to open that pretty mouth of yours with my cock"

"Leave me be" you managed to speak, the tremble in your voice giving away the fact that you were afraid of the situation you were in "I am expecting someone"

"I can be quick" the first guy laughed as he dared to caress your cheek, the touch made you sick to your stomach "In fact, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t be willing to leave for y-"

"The lady said to leave her be"

You were too stunned out of fear to bother turning around to see who it was who had intervened. You were fearful that perhaps it was another drunk who approached to claim you as his property for the night.

The men stood before too seemed to think the same before they tore that lustful gaze away from you and looked toward whoever was standing at a fair distance behind you. Their expressions were hard to read. They seemed disappointed, angry and partly afraid of prolonging their conversation with you. Yet, they did not leave, glaring daggers until the mysterious person spoke again.

"The last man who challenged me was found the next morning without his cock" he said in a monotonous voice "perhaps you two would like to join him? Start a little club of your own, rant about how life was before your little friend was chopped off"

Under different circumstances, you would’ve found this comment slightly comical but in the present, all you cared about was leaving this horrible place.

Without another word, the two men walked off, still quiet disappointed that someone had walked in on their fun.

"Are you alright miss?" The mystery man walked around you until he was stood in front of you, not too close though "They didn’t do anything, did they?"

His tone shifted from cold and heartless to soft and gentle when he spoke to you. He too had his hood pulled over his head and an eye patch covered his left eye. He had sharp features and you could see a few whisps of dusty blonde hair sticking out from under his hood.

"N-no, I-" you were still a bit shaken up from before but you answered him "I'm alright"

"Because if they did, wouldn’t take me long to slice their hands off" he spoke and even though you seemed to take it as a joke, he was being quite serious.

"That won’t be necessary" you told him. I could order for their heads if I wanted to, you thought, I'm the blood of a dragon "Thank you"

"T'was no problem miss" he politely spoke and you could swear you saw a hint of a smile but it vanished just as soon as it appeared "You aren’t from here"

"What makes you say that?" you asked even though you knew his observation was spot on.

"The only women you'd find around these streets are the ones who work in pleasure houses" he stated as he crossed his arms "and you most certainly aren’t one working for any establishment"

"What gives it away?" you curiously asked and saw him heave an amused sigh.

"Apart from the fact you were absolutely mortified by the approach of those two men, quite the opposite reaction a whore would have; you’re wearing silk velvet beneath this sad excuse of a cloak. Fine material like that shows that you are not one of us townsfolk" despite him stating his observations of you, his eye never wandered over your body and stayed fixated on your face "and if that wasn’t reason enough, you’re far too pretty and perfect. No circles beneath your eyes nor crows feet, as if you’ve never had to work a day in your life"

Even though you'd heard it many times before, hearing him call you pretty made you smile ever so slightly. It shouldn’t have made your chest flutter, after all, he was a lowborn.

"Did my honest comment of your beauty make you smile, princess?" He chuckled as he grinned at your adorable reaction.

What- Princess?

"The hood only covers your unique hair" he seemed to understand what your next question might be based on how your smile instantly vanished as your eyes widened "but you failed to realise that your disguise did absolutely nothing to conceal your lavender eyes"

He did make an excellent argument. Still, it surprised you he’d unmasked exactly who you were within a few moments of your encounter. Perhaps the others might’ve too if they weren’t so busy raking the rest of your body with their indecent stares. Despite this man being short of one eye, he by far had the sharpest vision.

"I must commend your sharp and rather accurate observation" you told him in a hushed tone "your act of kindly rushing to my aid won’t go unrewarded"

"I didn’t do it with hopes of gaining any coin, my lady" he politely told you "I do not tolerate men treating women as some plaything they can use and abuse when they see fit. Besides, I only realised you were the princess after they'd left and I moved from behind to speak with you. Though I do beg your pardon, for I do not know which Targaryen princess you might be"

Sharp and respectful, you thought. This was a man you'd met only moments ago and yet he was by far the most courteous person you’d conversed with. He was polite with an authoritative undertone. In fact, you’d go as far as to say he was far more interesting and pleasant than most of the suitors you’d met.

"Y/N" you sweetly introduced "and may I ask your name, sir?"

"Aemond, my lady" he gave you a curt not, taken aback by the respectable endearment you’d used whilst addressing him. He'd heard many terms used while being spoken to: arseling, freak, rat; but never sir.

"Aemond" you repeated. You liked his name, it suited him "you need not use formalities, call me by my name"

"Alright then, Y/N" he called out, offering you a boyish grin at the mention of your name "might I be so bold as to ask what you are doing by yourself in a place like this?"

"Oh I wasn’t-" fuck, you’d forgotten about Aegon "I was here with my cousin. Who promised he'd be here as quickly as possible"

"If you are referring to the prince Aegon, I'm afraid he’s wasted away in that ale house over there" he pointed behind toward the same building into which Aegon had wandered into "I don’t mean to sound pushy, but it would be best if you headed back"

You knew he was right but for some reason you found yourself wanting to spend more of your time in his company. He was polite enough to walk you back toward where one of the castle passageways led to. You wondered why and how he knew of this but you did not bother asking, you were too engrossed in the lighthearted conversations you both were having on the walk back.

Aemond wasn’t much of a talker, he instead liked to listen. He did make a few comments and asked a few questions here and there that let you know he was invested in the conversation.

"Forgive me if I sound like I'm being intrusive" you spoke as you kicked away a small pebble. Aemond was thoroughly surprised by how politely you spoke to him whilst you yourself were a dragon and he, a mere nobody. For some reason, even his scarred face with the absence of an eye did not seem to bother you nor change the way you treated him "might I ask what happened to um.."

He found it slightly adorable how you failed to put your question into words, simply pointing to your eye to hint at what you were asking. Aemond did not like talking about it, simply because the only time people asked him was when they stared at him like he was some circus animal, put up on a stage for the eyes of others to judge and poke fun at his maimed state. But he could sense nothing of that sort coming from you. No, you were just a girl, curious about this mysterious man who came out of nowhere to her aid and was now walking her back home.

"I got into a fight a few years ago when three men tried to inappropriately lay their hands on my younger sister" He earnestly told her as he reached up to take off the leather eye patch "I stole a gemstone a few months after the wound healed, had the sapphire replace the empty eye socket in an attempt to seem less frightening, it did not work"

Aemond didn’t know what possessed him to reveal the sapphire eye to you. He himself was quiet proud of how it looked and for a fleeting moment he was eager to show you as well, momentarily letting his guard down and almost instantly regretting it. He'd just mentioned the stone did absolutely nothing to fix his appearance, then why did he find the need to show you? Furthermore he internally winced upon confessing that he'd stolen the gem, to the princess.

Either you had not heard him or you did not care about his thievery.

"It's beautiful" you smiled as you leaned in slightly to admire the gem before you blurted out "you’re beautiful"

With each passing second, you seemed to surprise him more and more. You, a lady of noble birth, a Targaryen- someone who was closer to the gods than to men had just called him, a commoner with a flawed face, beautiful.

"You’re too kind" he could feel his cheeks heating up as he quickly reached up to put on his eye patch once again. He couldn’t believe that this delicate little princess had managed to make him, the man that most of flea bottom feared, blush.

The two of you finally reached the place where you both would depart from each other. You, back to your warm castle and Aemond, back to his hostile slums.

"I hope you find your way back safely" he gave you a curt nod.

"Will I see you again?" you quickly asked, not wanting this to be your last encounter with the lad.

"Well that depends on the frequency of your visits into the city, though I do not recommend the place where we met" he raised a brow as he smirked, reaching out to gently hold your hand "Maybe the princess would care to meet me right here tomorrow, after supper so that I might take her to a place suitable for a dove as yourself"

Aemond knew he was making a bold move, asking for the princess of House Targaryen to leave the serenity of her castle to meet him, a man who lived a pauper’s life. He looked down at her with an equal measure of nervousness and hopefulness.

You smiled at him.

"I would like that very much" you accepted his invitation.

He brought his lips to your hand, placing a tender kiss to your knuckles without looking away from your striking eyes "until tomorrow then, princess"

"I told you," you chuckled lightly "call me Y/N"

"Of course" he smiled.

Right before he could let go of your hand, you took a step forward and going on your tip toes, you placed a soft kiss right beneath his scar and you could swear you heard a faint gasp escape his lips.

"Goodnight, Aemond" you bid him farewell one last time before you turned to sneak through the concealed entrance of the passageway inside the stone building.

"Goodnight Y/N" Aemond said in a whisper, almost like he was talking to himself. He stayed put, gingerly reaching up to touch the spot on his cheek that your lips had touched- no, kissed, only moments ago.

Part 2 >>

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan nation #world on fire #aemond smut #tom bennett #aemond au #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #prince aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #low-born Aemond #ettore #high life

245 notes · View notes