#while still technically ‘accommodating’ them

[izzibeeb]

sometimes seeing the accommodations my school offers is like. genuinely insane. one of the accommodations for test-taking is bathroom breaks which really only leads me to wonder why were bathroom breaks banned in the first place? why is drinking water “an accommodation” and not just like. a basic right

[dollfacefantasy]

billy butcher x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fingering i am so down bad i had to get this out of my system

Everywhere he went, you followed Billy around like a puppy. Always watching him with adoring eyes, lingering by his side to see what he was up to. At first he pinned it on you looking for reassurance as the newbie in the group, but after a few weeks, it was obvious that your attachment ran deeper. You obviously had quite the crush. 

You spoke to him with more nerves in your voice. Followed his orders down to the letter and damn near saluted him when you received them. He could scowl at you or scold you, and you might scurry away with your tail between your legs for the hour. But give it some time, and you'd be back.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Sure it was... flattering, and technically, you were still doing your job well, performing on missions as you should. But at the same time, it was distracting having a sweet young thing like you prancing around him at all times, seeking his approval with each breath you took. He was supposed to be focusing on revenge, justice, saving the world and all that. But fuck, one look at you and that's all a distant memory.

At the end of the day, he's just a man. He needs to have a taste. One night when the two of you are out scouting, he gets you alone in the van. It only takes a tender look and a few words in a lilted tone of his voice to have you cumming on his fingers and your panties in the pocket of his coat. A few days later, you blow him in a public bathroom while you wait for a target to show up. After that, he eats you out at your desk in the office.

Tonight he gets you back to his place. He's sat on the sagging couch, thighs spread wide enough to accommodate you between them. He holds you there. You're bent in half with your legs up in the air. One of his arms is hooked around them for support while his other is curved around your bottom to get at your dripping pussy.

His thick fingers pump in and out. He works at a moderate pace for now, not enough to break you just yet, but the perfect rhythm to make you squirm your ass against his solid bulge. You have your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with droopy, glazed eyes. All he can do is smirk in return.

"Feel good? You like gettin' that little cunt stuffed full?" he teases.

His voice comes out hushed despite the fact that it's just the two of you. The words rumble up from his chest against your back. You just nod in response. Any words that would have been suitable have turned to mush in the pit of your belly.

The wordless gesture doesn't stop him at all. It only spurs him forward. His entire hand is coated in slick by now, your arousal seeps out with each pump and slips over the expanse of his palm. Wet, erotic noises emanate from your center while soft whimpers pour from your lips. He squeezes your legs up tighter, smooshing your breasts down.

"I know you do, pup. Such a needy thing," he says, "Following me around like I got you collared and leashed."

You moan at the image of that filling your mind. If he wanted you to, you would. You'd kneel at his feet, bound and pretty, displaying your devotion to him around your neck. You'd rest your empty little head on his knee and zone out while he pet you and called you his good girl.

"Oh, she likes that," he chuckles as your walls clamp around him.

You nod eagerly before arching your back and yelping as his thumb starts swiping across your puffy clit.

"Atta girl. Panting like a bitch in heat for me," he murmurs and nuzzles your temple.

You whine like one too, trembling in his arms as the coils of pleasure tighten in your tummy. Your eyes flutter, lashes dusting your cheeks as you look up at him. He watches on with his own lust blazing in his eyes.

He fucks his fingers into your tight heat faster, curling them a bit to stroke that sweet spot inside you. Some drool slips from between your lips at the onslaught of stimulation. His fingers were just so fucking thick. Only two of 'em were in right now. He hadn't let you take his cock yet, but you could only imagine how snug of a fit it would be if this was any indicator.

"There you go, love. You're getting there," he praises as he continues sliding his fingers in and out while massaging your bundle of nerves.

"F-fuck," you whimper, "Gonna cum soon."

"I can tell," he rasps, "Go head and do it. Wanna see you come apart for me."

Soft noises of ecstasy bubble from your lips. You were nothing if not dedicated to pleasing this man, so you give him what he wants. It only takes a few more flicks and thrusts of his digits to get you to crash into bliss. 

Your head tilts back as you cum. Your legs kick lightly in the air, but he keeps you in place. You squirm against his broad, warm chest. Your cunt locks tightens around his fingers, wishing so fucking badly that it was his cock.

He kisses you as you start to come down. His lips land on yours and capture every delicious sound you make. Your breathing calms and returns to a normal pace along with your heart rate slowing down. Your legs bend over his forearm before he lets them down gently and allows you to just sink back into his body.

You're soaked between your legs, inner thighs slippery with release. As he withdraws his fingers, your pussy is already aching for another part of him to fill it up again. You turn and slide your grabby hands beneath his shirt, but he simply boosts you up to sit fully on his lap.

"You're insatiable, sweetheart," he teases before pecking your lips.

"Cause you keep teasing me," you mumble.

"Yeah? Think so? I think I'm just taking my time with you."

"Takin' too long," you huff in response between kisses.

"Maybe you're just greedy and spoiled," he says.

You're about to reply with another bratty comment, but he flips you over and spreads you out on the couch. You hear the zipper on his pants slide down, and you're almost certain it's the most thrilling noise you've heard in your life. One look up at his eyes tells you you're not gonna be complaining in a couple more minutes.

[queers-gambit]

Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader -> technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[shortnotsweet]

This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

# day 1 — dp 1 hole.

s. having the attention of two of liyue's strongest women isn't so bad when they keep you as their pretty pet.

cw. fem!reader, sub!reader, dp 1 hole, threesome, squirting, pegging, use of strap-ons, cervical stimulation, overstimulation, multiple rounds & dirty talk.

wc. 2154

You’d never really enjoyed attending the high-end parties that were hosted in Yujing Terrace, seeing as how a good majority of them were held for business reasons. Those were the absolute worst, with the suffocating stiffness drowning out any possibility of having any real fun. Thankfully, tonight’s party had been one of the rare occasions where no one was concerned about the other's so-called “status” and the mood was a lot more livelier. Even the normally stuck-up elites seemed to be more relaxed, though you suspect it’s because of the plentiful amount of champagne they’d indulged in.

Beidou hadn’t taken her eyes off of you the entire night ever since she’d seen you wearing that beautifully exquisite dress which perfectly accentuated your body in all the right ways. It was a gift from Ningguang, and an expensive one at that, so it’d be a waste to not show off. You’d seen her watching you with playful smirks and sending winks your way, to which you gave her your best coy smile and pretty flutter of your eyes.

Beidou always likes it when you tease her back. It always gets her all riled up, and you quite like it when your pretty little smiles get the captain all hot and bothered. It makes everything so much more fun.

Nigguang was much more subtle than the captain, her methods far more sneaky and sensual, but just as exciting and fun. When everyone was too busy enjoying themselves and chatting up a storm, she appeared by your side, sporting her usual sultry smile. Her voice is like a siren song, gloved fingers gliding along your shoulder as she whispers about how badly she wants to take you, how she wants to utterly ruin her sweet little toy, and so many other intoxicating words that make your head woozy with need. And just as quickly as she arrived, she left your side, only giving you another smile as she sauntered off.

Ningguang always likes it when you react so nicely to her sultry words. Knowing that you’d be stewing in your arousal with no relief until she provides it, gives the Tianquan quite the tantalizing thrill.

And of course, they cornered you when you’d least suspected it, exchanging knowing looks while they murmured sinful words and caressed you with enticing touches as they ushered you away so they could act on their intentions—

Beidou is under you now, barely moving, lazily grinning as she watches you quiver rapidly. You’d just let out a shrill cry, eyes now puffy with fat tears staining your cheeks as you so desperately tried to accommodate both of their sizes in your cunt. The strap-on that Beidou sports is thick, heavy, and brushed up against your g-spot without any effort; and Ningguang’s is long, slender, and a little too curved in a way that meant she hit your cervix each time.

“Hey, you gotta keep your voice down sweetheart,” Beidou chuckles heartily, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Don’t want anyone hearing ya and walking in on us.”

She’s right, as the party is still technically going on outside. Just barely above the loud buzzing in your ears, you can hear the clamor of the crowd and flowing music. But you could care less about the crowd outside and any potential intrusions on your sweet little afterparty. All that is on your mind is Beidou and Ningguang, and being their pretty little toy.

“M’sorry, f-forgive me…” Despite your timid plea, you were bursting with joy—you were just so happy to have your cunt filled to the brim—as evidenced by the woozy grin on your face.

“Oh my, you’re such a needy little whore aren’t you?” Ningguang croons, amused at the way you unconsciously grind your hips against their shafts, and she even thrusts into you—and oh, does she love how you moan when she does. “A shame I couldn’t arrange a punishment for you. But I’m sure that a toy like you would enjoy it.”

Beidou snorts so loudly that you jump in surprise—and you squeak in reaction to the movement of the two lengths that slide in just a bit deeper.

“Ugh, always on about punishments and whatnot. If you’re always doing that kind of crap, then it just gets boring after a while.”

“You’re one to complain, Captain Beidou.” The aforementioned woman rolls her eyes hard at the use of her title.”Don’t think I haven’t forgotten all of those times you would fuck (name) relentlessly just because some of your crew had flirted with her. Or when you’d done it in a public place. Such insolence.”

“You’re no fun at all, Tianquan. You sometimes gotta live a little.” Beidou huffed. Ningguang just smiled at her. “Besides, (name) enjoyed it, pretty girl even begged for me to do it again.”

“Did she now?” Her attention is back on you and you can feel the smirk growing on her lips before she hums. “As expected of our sweet pet, she even enjoys it in public, of all places. I suppose I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

“Make sure to invite me. I might get a bit jealous if you hog her the whole time.” Ningguang just snorts in response.

Having paid little attention to their quarrel (they’d always go back and forth like this even when you weren’t involved), you’re far too focused on rolling your hips, testing your body’s readiness for what is to come. It doesn’t matter that your cunt is still aching a bit—you need to be fucked like the little slut you are.

“Oh? Want us to move now?” The pirate beneath you raises her eyebrows, lips upturned with mirth.

“Y-yes, please move, I want it s’badly..”

And move they do. Their movements are a bit awkward, what with how they're positioned and how you try to grind against both lengths simultaneously, but they seem to get the hang of it. With your clit smooshed up against Beidou’s groin, the friction gets you even wetter, allowing the two women’s movements to be smoother. You can’t see what kind of face Ningguang is making, with how she pushes into you deep, deep enough for the slender tip to be giving your cervix little love pecks; and Beidou has a good view to watch your pussy swallow up her strap-on greedily, grinning at how soaked you are.

“Can’t believe you’re taking us so well. It’s like you were made for us,” she marvels, delivering the compliment with a playful squeeze of your thigh—she knows that your thighs were a weak point and had no qualms about teasing you just for you to whimper and jolt from sensitivity. She enjoys your yelps, loving the pleasured faces you make with hardly any shame. “You’re so wet. You must’ve really wanted us that badly huh?”

You blink back tears and nod fervently. Your panties were practically drenched by the time the two women had dragged you away. “M-mhmm, I wanted you s’much, felt like I’d die if you didn’t fuck me.♡”

And it’s the truth; if they hadn’t whisked you away when they did, you might’ve really died from how aroused and pent-up they’d left you. You know, that might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration on your part, but it was really hard to keep a straight face while you were dripping enough arousal that it had already begun to drip down your legs. And of course, Beidou responds positively like she always does, grinning her usual wide smile, though much sexier (if that was even really possible, she was already super sexy as is).

“You’re so cute, y’know that? You’re such a doll. Makes me wanna fuck you senseless until you can’t walk anymore,” she tells you, looking as if she wants to kiss you because you’re such a cutie. You do her the favor and sloppily kiss her yourself, having to lower the weight of your trembling body on hers. She doesn’t seem to mind, with her hums of amusement vibrating into your mouth as she dominates the kiss.

Beidou was always more fond of kissing than Ningguang, claiming that you were simply too cute for her to resist and she really couldn’t help herself. Not that Ningguang was one to indulge in such an intimate action, but when she did kiss you, it was the best feeling in the world. Kissing her was a very special privilege if you’d been especially good for her and she was feeling rather generous.

But it’s a bit hard to focus on the kiss when Ningguang pushes forward with a particularly deep thrust, and you have to break away so you can gasp and moan. Sometimes she gets a bit irked if you pay more attention to Beidou than her (no, no, not jealous, that’s not the correct word even if it’s kind of the truth), so she just angles herself to bully all your sweet spots—because she knows that you’ll be a goner if she keeps grazing your cervix.

Ningguang presses a kiss on the small of your back as she presses her entire upper body on top of you. This position seems to be a bit easier for her, especially on her back. The insides of your cunt are going crazy; squeezing, fluttering about from the pleasurable assault on your body—their shafts are compressed tightly in your walls and pressed snugly together. It’s so good, it’s too good..!♡

“Bei..dou, Ninggu—f-feelsh so good, wanna..” You wanna cum so badly. Even if they hadn’t fucked you for too long, you can’t help yourself in begging for release like the needy toy you are. The begging was also required since Ningguang wouldn’t be too pleased if you came before she said so. “Please, m’so full, s’so good…”

“It's alright.” Ningguang’s voice is a honey-sweet melody against your ear, arms wrapped tight around you as if you’re her stability. “You’ve been good for us today.”

And, like the well-trained dog you come off like, you finally cum, and it hits you hard. Your release gushes out from you violently, drenching Beidou’s abdomen and soaking into the bedsheets below. Consequently, you end up collapsing back down for good, tugging Ningguang’s shaft forward with you. You’d been so pent-up from tonight’s earlier events; the anticipation of getting your cunt fucked how it was meant to be having done absolute wonders for you. Even if you had rubbed your thighs together or taken a sip of cold water, none of it did anything to soothe the aching heat of your needy pussy.

But despite your intense orgasm, neither woman slows their movements; they move harder, burying themselves so deep that it doesn’t seem healthy but sure as hell feels good. With your hypersensitivity, the pleasure feels so good that it hurts. And yet you want more.

“You may be done. We’re not.” And Ningguang? She leans up, and nips at the side of your neck. It was pretty typical for Beidou to bite your shoulder when she was getting really into it, but when Ningguang bites, it stings, like the whole point was to hurt. At least it snaps you out of your stupor—you gasp, moan, beg for more (oh they both really like it when you act so needy for them like the dumb whore you are), and do whatever you can to satisfy them. Grind down into Beidou, wiggle your hips to make Ningguang go harder, and show them how good of a pretty little toy you can be for them. Overstimulation and exhaustion be damned; you were getting fucked regardless.

"Little.. more..." Ningguang gasps, and in response Beidou seizes your hips—and if she was adamant about shaping your pussy into her shape before, then now she’s engraving Ningguang’s into your walls as well. She's picking you up, pushing you down, treating you more like a hole to fuck rather than a person as her head is thrown back, and Ningguang buries her face into your neck, moans becoming breathier with a hitch and—

“Fuck, you’re so tight, better not pass out—”

You wouldn’t dare; neither one of them would allow you to just drop out when you were just getting started. You know, on the off-chance that Beidou's thrusting or all that dirty talk or the reminders of how filthy a girl you are for fucking two of Liyue's most renowned women isn’t enough to have set you off already.

Both women groaned in satisfaction, finally pumping their hips, hard, sharp thrusts to make you come for them and finish themselves. When you're freed from the kiss, Beidou looks relaxed. At ease.

They both still, panting heavily as they sink down bonelessly, soaking in the afterglow of the intense session. The air is filled with heavy gasps, faint moans, and whimpers (though most of the noise is courtesy of you).

After a while, Beidou speaks up.

“So, how ‘bout another round?”

🏷. @lakeside-paradise @sakurakiko @arissecretstash

© latimeriafellfromheaven

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do Headcannons for how the Harbingers (Separately) would handle a reader who gets overwhelmed after being around crowds all day and wants physical contact to recharge. Oddly specific but if you feel comfy writing thus I'd love to see it!

this one was interesting to think about so I did only two harbingers for now but you're free to swing back around and request others as well :D i tried to pick two on opposite ends of the scale to show the difference between them, i hope you enjoy!

Warning: This post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behavior, relationship neglect, Dottore being an ass, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Pantalone: 

Your best bet is Pantalone, as he’s the most understanding and affectionate amongst the Harbingers. This isn’t to say he’s an absolute doll, but that he’d be the most accommodating. He understands that not everyone is made for crowds and parties and the large events he typically attends, which is why he always extends the offer for you to simply sit them out. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t want you to accompany him, because there’s no one he’d prefer by his side, but he knows that you don’t do well amongst others. If you do choose to go though, he is more than happy to oblige in your need for comfort. Whether there is a ride back or merely a walk back to your shared quarters, you can expect him to be touching you in some way. 

It could be a hand holding yours as you walk down the halls back to your bedroom, it could be holding you close to his side on the carriage ride back to the palace, it might even extend to him pulling you into a secluded corner and smothering your face in feather light kisses before re-entering the party crowd.

Regardless, Pantalone is the easiest and best to ask for comfort from, his job is one of the more stressful ones amongst the other Harbingers and he’s always more than happy to allow himself some relaxation time with you. 

Dottore:

While Pantalone is the best, Dottore is on the opposite end of the spectrum. This man is too busy chatting up elites for more funding to really pay any mind to your growing unrest. If you try to talk about it beforehand he’ll simply insist you stay, rather than be a burden to him. Should you refuse to back down and go regardless, he’ll brush off any requests you make of him for affection or to leave.

If the event is taking place in the Palace, he’ll simply tell you to wait outside in the hallway and send one of his segments to collect you. If it’s away from the Palace, he’ll tell you to either suck it up or go sit in the carriage and wait for him there.

When the event inevitably ends and he is no longer preoccupied with kissing the ass of those around him, you can still expect to be largely ignored. This man is a genius scientist who is always in the middle of a huge breakthrough! Do you really expect him to drop everything to cuddle up to you because you’re too soft? If you can’t wait for him to become so sleep-deprived that he finally gives in and crawls into bed, which can take days unfortunately, then you’ll just have to make do with being comforted by one of his segments.

It’s happened enough that his segments have come to know you personally. And while they are technically still Dottore, they’re merely fragments of him that have grown into their own partial beings. The comfort they provide doesn’t extend much beyond the physical aspect, but there’s a small bit of comfort in knowing that they’re here for you. That someone is willing to give up their time to be by your side.

[writeaboutit]

Thus With a Kiss, I Die

Firefighter Abby and Reader get trick-or-treaters

Wanted to get out one last Halloween-themed fic before spooky season ends(even though it's technically the 1st). I had a couple more ideas, one including a Halloween party that would bring in the other characters(Ellie, Dina, Jessie, etc.) but idk if I want them in this universe or not so lmk if y'all would be interested in that or not. Anyway, I hope you like it and happy last days of spooky season!!

Series: p1,2,3

Word Count: 945

Warnings: None

You tried and failed to walk down the hallway in a normal way—those damn wings. The costume was cute but you kept forgetting about the wings strapped to your back. You couldn’t really tell if that was a good or bad thing.

On one hand, they were light enough to endure wearing them for the next two hours while you and Abby handed out candy to the neighborhood trick-or-treaters and then three more hours for the Halloween party. On the other hand, you had already lost seven wing feathers to various walls, low-hanging light fixtures, and one door jam. 

You turned sideways and shimmied down the hall to accommodate the small space and expansive wings. You would get used to it… or at least that's what you keep telling yourself as you round the corner into your bedroom. 

Abby was sitting on the edge of your mattress struggling with a buckle on the arm cuff on her fake metal armor. Suddenly you thought you probably shouldn’t be complaining about the wings. You knew that Abby’s costume was a sensory nightmare but she was ignoring it to appease you and your dream couple's costume. 

It was your first Halloween in the new house and you were dying to dress up. You had only lived in apartments previously and being in a house this year meant trick-or-treaters surly. You'd be damned if you didn’t go all out with your costume.

So here you were wearing massive white wings and a long white dress, Abby across from you wearing a grey get-up covered in chain mail and fake shoulder/arm armor, a sword sticking out of her belt loop—the perfect Romeo and Juliet. 

Although you knew Abby was probably more uncomfortable than not you had to admit that she looked hot as shit and by the way she went still forgetting the stupid buckle to drink you in she was thinking the same thing. 

You took a deep breath trying to steel yourself against your wife's burning gaze and walked to the space in between her spread knees. 

“Let me help,” you motioned down to her wrist and loose armor. 

She raised her arm without comment. You could tell she was staring at you but you focused on feeding the leather strap through the buckle and tightening it. You guys did not have time to get…distracted. 

“You look so pretty, baby.” She broke the silence and you could no longer avoid her pulling eyes. 

“Thank you, so do you.” You said softly leaning down to press a light kiss to her cheek. 

She hummed at the contact and bracketed her arms around the back of your thighs, pulling you into her. 

You laughed at the sudden tug and braced your arms on her shoulders for support. The pair of you stared at each other for a long while, in complete silence. You spent the moment—what felt like ten years, debating whether or not the distraction would be worth it. You could just run downstairs and throw the candy bowl out on the porch for the kids to help themselves. 

Yes, that sounded like a very pleasant idea. Just as you were about to suggest it to your wife the doorbell rang. 

You squealed forgetting about that plan. You guys could do that later, right now you were too excited to celebrate the holiday. You couldn’t wait until you and Abby had kids one day and were able to take them trick-or-treating. For now, handing out candy would have to suffice. 

You pulled out of Abby’s grasp and tugged on her arms, “Come on, come on. We have our first trick-or-treaters!” 

Abby laughed at your excitement. She was glad that you were getting so much joy out of the night even though all you were going to be doing was sitting by the door and saying hello and goodbye to kids dressed as Disney princesses or video game characters. 

You guys rushed down the hall, well more like you and Abby just followed at a reasonable pace. You could hear the high-pitched voices of excited children on the other side of the door and you grabbed the fake cauldron full of candy and unlocked the door. 

Abby hung back just slightly from the open door frame making sure your guys' dog Alice didn’t become an escape artist and jump scare the kids. 

She smiled as you gasped and asked a little girl if she was the little mermaid. The little girl squealed excited that someone knew who she was and excitedly exclaimed, “Yes! Do you like my dress?” 

“I love your dress,” you dragged out the love for emphasis. 

Yeah, Abby was fucked. She wanted to make you a mom, like yesterday, despite the logistical hurdle regarding that. 

You finished dishing out the candy and closed the door a smile on your face. When you met Abby’s eyes you knew exactly what was brewing behind her eyes. 

“Nope. Stop looking at me like that, we definitely do not have time for that.” You waved a hand over her form. 

“Not even just a little bit of time?” She grabbed the center of your dress and pulled you in, “I can make it real quick baby,” She whispered against your lips. 

Your heart stalled in your chest. Well… when she put it like that?

Just as you went to answer her the doorbell rang again causing you to laugh and her to groan. She rested her forehead against yours and you answered, “Sorry baby, you’re just gonna have to wait until tonight.”

You pulled out of her grasp once more and placed a light pat on her ass. She groaned again.

[carionto]

Hardcore Space Parkour

Some Humans are worryingly agile. And stupidly driven to endanger themselves. For no reason we can understand.

________________________

Within the Coalition governing station of the segment of the Galaxy where the Sol system is are countless embassies for each member civilization. Each is designed to accommodate their respective species (or multiple in certain cases) to the fullest while also being able to host guests from any other member.

Then there are the communal areas, set for a galactic standard that is viable for the majority - gravity at 0.6 Earth, far less of that dangerous oxygen, and slightly more humid and cooler than what Humans are normally comfortable with. In fact, Humans technically fall outside the Galactic standards and are all equipped with a partial breathing assistance unit and pressurized clothing to stimulate their circulation. While they can function reasonably well despite what we assumed would be too draining without assistance, most Humans do make use of these gadgets.

Some, however, prefer to "stimulate" themselves a bit differently.

There is a small group of individual Humans many have dubbed "Leaping Cortix" after an infamous invasive fuzzy gelatinous centipede-like pest species that always manages to make a hive on any sufficiently large space station or vessel given enough time. Everybody swears they're some kind of magic, and it's hard to dissuade such a notion when there are fairly common reports of ships on deep isolation missions, without making contact with anyone or anything else for years at a time, still one day find themselves with a pack of Cortix skittering about near their nutrition supplies!

This group of Humans, found the title amusing and have embraced it. One of them even made a hooded sweater with the name and a stylized Cortix jumping off the letter x.

The reason for the name is simple - despite becoming integrated into the Coalition just around a year ago, Humans seem to appear everywhere within this segment of the Galaxy. Mostly in small groups for tourism reasons, but the point still stands. And these Humans in particular appear to make it a habit to appear out of the most unexpected places.

The leaping portion comes from how this group tends to move around the communal areas. Most Humans adapt to the lower gravity and eventually (rather quickly actually) change how they move around when outside their embassy - the movements seem more relaxed, fluid, some even appear to exert almost no effort at all in their steps. This group on the other hand utilizes the full force of their incredibly dense musculature.

First, they jump good. Real good. Then they bounce and pivot, real fast. After a few days they started a game - get to any place without touching the floor. Not even a day later they managed to always be in the air.

At first it was impressive and quite mesmerizing. Quite a sight to behold as they got better and quicker at chaining their jumps and bounds together into one smooth motion that took them from one part of the station to the other in mere moments.

Then they started getting bored. And one of them had an idea. An "awesome" idea.

Add flying robots and moving obstacles.

Chaos ensued. Naturally.

As the Humans leapt off of one of the maintenance machines they programmed to hover between several distant structures, it could not compensate for the sudden recoil from the movement and crashed down on the floor. Thankfully it was above a small garden and only some artificial plants were damaged, as well as itself, but that was enough to call in the peacekeeping units to put a halt to their antics.

We deliberately brought a Human peacekeeper along to make the reprimand stick. The Leaping Cortix, most of whom are junior staffers and one is a retired military veteran now serving as a consultant, looked ashamed, but also sad. At least they seemed to understand the gravity of the situation (though perhaps not as well as the physics of gravity) as the wreckage was cleared in clear sight of everyone.

After the offending member was issued a token fine (as it was their first offense), the group as a whole became less active. Initially, most people felt relieved, but as the incident grew more distant in memory, the sight of the flying Humans started to become missed by quite a few.

Some from the more physically able races were even inspired to try this "parkour" the Humans had demonstrated and found it quite thrilling. When done in a lower than their normal gravity that is. Trying it at their standard caused a few broken bones and cracked shells.

There is currently a petition by the permanent residents to dedicate a large open indoor field for such extreme physical sports as well as to commission the design of a variety of machines to facilitate, as written in the official documentation - "stimulating courses to improve the physical well being and readiness of all participants".

I.E. - Humans introduced a new sport to us and many are hooked.

[daisymbin]

it's not just a game - yoon jeonghan

word count: 1.2k words

warnings: mentions of alcohol

pairings: yoon jeonghan x afab reader

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, a hint of angst

a/n: this has not been proofread so i apologise if there's some mistakes. also, its been a little while since i posted zzzz

check out my masterlist!

jeonghan's pov 

the bottle spun and landed on me. ''truth or dare?'' as soon as the words left seungcheol's mouth, i knew i was utterly screwed, especially with that stupid sly smirk on his face. it didn't matter what i picked because i know, with both options, the boys would stir some shit up one way or another.

just to be clear, i am in no way a willing participant in this game, especially not when all of us are either drunk and tipsy. but of course, who am i to say no when seungcheol suggested this game earlier to y/n and she just had to drag me by my hand and ask me to play together. it's just a game hannie, don't be such a scaredy caaat

am i going to admit that i am scared? no. but am i scared? beyond that, i am terrified, mortified. why? because 30 minutes prior to y/n arriving at our flat, i had just been talking to seungcheol and joshua about her. after specifically telling them both that i dont think im ready to confess yet because as much as i hate to admit it, i become a stuttering mess in front of her. and i hate it because that's not me. that's not who i am. i am yoon jeonghan. i am confident! i don't get nervous. i don't get shy. ever. so why am i like this in front of her?

‘’hurry up, handsome. you're taking too long.’’ she whined; pulling my heartstrings. ‘’dare.’’ i said without putting much thought into it. ‘’who do you think is the most attractive person here?’’ soonyoung asked. 

‘’myself of course.’’ 

‘’aside from yourself, dumbass.’’ vernon laughed.

‘’im older than you! watch it.’’ i said jokingly as i punched his arm lightly.

‘’so? who is it?’’ seungcheol continued probing. 

‘’i'd rather take the penalty shot than answer this stupid question.’’

‘’ok fine, take the shot then.’’ joshua said dejectedly.

i poured myself a shot and lifted it to my lips, but before i downed it, ‘’come on guys, technically, he did answer the question.’’ y/n came to my defense. I immediately put the shot glass back on the floor. ‘’exactly. i did technically answer your question.’’ 

’yeah you did except, we're playing truth or dare and you weren't telling the truth. sooo……penalty shot.’’ vernon bit back. i gave him a tight-lipped smile and down the penalty shot in surrender.

this time, the bottle landed on soonyoung. ‘’alright, truth or dare buddy?’’ joshua asked soonyoung. ‘’mhmm…dare.’’

‘’i dare you to give y/n a kiss on the cheek'’ seungcheol said with a laugh. a kiss?????????? on the cheek???????? oh hell. ‘’what kind of stupid game is this?? you guys didn't even ask her. what if she doesn't want that??’’ i challenged.

‘’do you not want to y/n? if you don't, its really fine, jeonghan is right.’’ joshua said.

‘’i don't mind it. come on hannie, it's just a game.’’ she said as she looked at me with those eyes. if i didn’t know any better, i would have thought that it was those eyes of adoration..like..she feels something for me too. my breath hitched for a moment. but i do know better; lightweight y/n is just tipsy, maybe a little drunk. those eyes didn’t mean anything at all. 

and with that, soonyoung turns to his side and gave her a peck on her cheek, it felt agonizingly long, that is, until she looks up me while soonyoung still has his lips on her cheek. im conflicted. half of me feels…..feels jealousy. the other half of me feels..light…like im floating almost. ‘’s-soonyoung ah, thats enough.’’ i couldn't stand seeing it anymore. 

‘’come on, lets stop this. its already 230am.’’ i suggested. 

‘’lets just play one more round and then we'll call it a night.’’ vernon tried accommodating.

‘’oh yes! one more round! please hannie! i haven’'t had this much fun in such a long time.’’ how could i ever say no?

this time, the bottle landed on y/n. ‘’dare or dare y/n?’’ soonyoung asked. ‘’what do you mean dare or dare?’’ she pouted as she asked.

‘’come on, it's the last round of the night. lets make it fun! go with a dare please!’’ soonyoung asked her as he clasped his hands together; begging her with his puppy dog eyes. ‘’okay fine lets go with dare.’’ she answered as she patted soonyoung's head. no, i am not jealous.

‘’kiss……jeonghan hyung.’’ my eyes grew big as the words left soonyoung's mouth. is he crazy? has he lost his mind? my eyes glanced over to y/n slowly, trying to gauge her reaction. i watched as her eyes grew wide for a second before it turned into a smile. ‘’hannie, do you mind?’’ she asked me gently, as if gauging my reaction as well. ‘’i..i mind of course. what kind of friends kiss each other?’’ i said nervously as i picked up the penalty shot and downed it, handing the empty shot glass to her. ‘’here. i took the penalty shot for you. game over, let's all go to bed now.’’ i got up as soon as she took the shot glass from me. i'll try to erase the image of her frowning when i got up.

‘’y/n'’ i said as i entered my room and beelined for my closet. i turned around to make sure she was listening, but instead, i found her following me around like a hurt little lost puppy that's been kicked aside. frowning a little, i said ‘’you can take my bed, i’ll sleep on the couch tonight.’’ 

‘’okay.’’ she said softly.

‘’whats wrong?’’

‘’nothing’s wrong.’’

‘’something is clearly bothering you. what's wrong?’’

at that, she hesitates for awhile before she broke the silence. ‘’is kissing me really that bad?’’

‘’no but we are friends! we can't kiss. that would be inappropriate and weird.’’ i tried to clarify, though i know this didn’t make things any better.

‘’well do we have to be just friends?’’

‘’what are you-'’

‘’kiss me hannie'’

‘’you don't know what you're asking of me, y/n.’’

‘’i do. i know what im asking of you so please. unless you really don't want to and the thought of kissing me disgusts you then i-''

i don't know what came over me but before i could register anything at all, i found my hand in her hair and the other on the side of her neck, guiding her to me. no, i did not shut her up with a kiss but my lips are brushing against hers. she's so close i can feel her breath hitching, i felt the beating of her heart speed up as i leaned down to press my lips on hers. i felt her hand come up to my side and fisted my shirt as if holding herself back from giving more into the kiss.

i pulled away slowly to look her in the eyes. the emotions swirling behind them were the same as she one the gave me earlier. ‘’it's not just a game is it hannie?’’ she asked as she looked down. i lifted her chin for her to look back at me, ‘’it’s not just a game, y/n.’’ 

[lockes-woods]

Kinktober '24 Day 1

Request: I cant help myself another kinktober ask: shanks x mihawk x afab reader. overstimulation, bondage, vibrators

Requested By: @motherofbirbs

WARNINGS: smut, overstimulation, MxM, MxFxM, anal sex, bondage, sex toys, degradation, name calling, masturbation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 A deep whine escaped you as you struggled against your restraints. Eyes locked onto your partners making out shamelessly in front of you. Mihawk was reclined against the headboard in your shared bed, his legs spread to accommodate Shanks who was reclining against him. You felt helpless as Mihawk worked on opening up the redhead, while Shanks cupped his face to pull him into a deeper kiss. You felt tears of frustration prick at your eyes. While you could always close your eyes or look away something inside of you made you want to watch. You still felt antsy from the orgasm your partners had stolen from you, when you were teetering on the edge of your peak. While you knew you were technically in the wrong, it didn’t make your current situation any easier to deal with.

It had been a long day in the city where the Red Force was currently docked. You had accompanied your partners into the island to aid in almost an entire restock of all goods from soap to flour to booze. That was until you started to get a headache. Both your partners agreed it’d be best for you to get out of the sun and lay down back in your shared cabin. That’s when you committed a maneuver you’d perfected over your time as Mihawk and Shanks lover. While Shanks was pulling you in for a goodbye kiss you rested your palm on his left side slipping the keys to your sex toy drawer from his belt. You had already planned to pretend you found them on the floor of your cabin and leave them with his things inside your shared quarters. You didn’t do it often, but when you knew you’d need an assist to cum and both your partners were going to be busy you’d succumbed to stealing the keys.

You objectively knew you’d be punished, but you also knew that when nothing else worked to get rid of a headache cumming almost always does the trick. If it were just Mihawk you had to worry about you would have flat-out asked for the keys, but you had to be a bit sneakier when it came to the redhead. Shanks had a few hard stops when it came to sex, but one of his biggest was when anything other than him and Mihawk made you cum. That included not only sex toys, which he referred to as ‘the replacements’, but also you. Since the start of your relationship, you were only allowed to make yourself cum if one of your loves were present and gave permission, or if there were extenuating circumstances. Masturbation was the highest on the list of things to earn you a punishment. Outside of the punishment, there was also the unwanted side effect of how it affected Shanks. He’d start out pissed and domineering, before edging into a pout post punishment. Which while it doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world it was hard to get him out of that mood.

The last time he’d caught you masturbating he looked angry in the moment, before dissolving into what only could be described as a kicked puppy. Shanks was proud of many of the skills he had garnered over the years, but one he prided himself on was always making you cum. When you used toys or touched yourself, he took it as a personal affront to his character and abilities. After being caught you had to not only be punished but also help build up his mood. You had only done this a handful of times and only when you were desperate, like today. You just wanted to be able to nip this headache in the bud and get on with your day. You knew your partners would be too busy to help and off the ship for at least a couple more hours; at least you thought that’d be the case.

You were close, so close. You were spread out on your shared bed, half-dressed, rocking against the thrusts of your favorite vibrating dildo. Your eyes were shut as you focused on the pleasure the toy was giving you. You shamelessly moaned your lover’s names the closer you got to your orgasm. That’s when the door to your cabin was suddenly flung open, your partners mistaking your pleasure-filled moans, for groans of pain. They both stood there for a moment before taking in the situation at hand. Unsurprisingly Mihawk reacted first, quickly closing the door. You and Shanks held each other’s gazes for a moment. You were frozen in fear still stuffed full of the dildo, his eyes sharpening as he took in the situation in a look, you’d only been on the receiving end of a few times. He was pissed.

He marched forward and yanked the toy from its place deep inside you, causing you to let out a stuttered moan. He tossed it aside on the bed away from you, before grabbing onto your ankle and pulling you down to the foot of the bed. You sat panting as your partners silently communicated through a shared look. Mihawk turned to lock the door as Shanks gripped your chin and guided you onto your feet, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, causing Shanks to let out a dry laugh.

“Oh baby, you will be.” He responded, a dark look in his eye. He settled you down in his desk chair, now naked, and bounding your hands behind your back with his belt in a rushed job. He pulled a whimper from you as he did one final tug to make sure they were snug, but not too tight. He moved quickly as Mihawk stood over you, crossed arms, gazing down at you disappointedly.

“You couldn’t have waited a half hour?” he asked looking down his nose at you.

“N-no,” you whined, thighs rubbing together chasing any form of friction.

“Baby,” Shanks interrupted, pushing your knees apart, before crouching down to your level, “Color?’

“Green,” you panted.

“And your safe word?” he prompted, pressing a vibrator on, teasing it between your lower lips. Your eyes widened, it wasn’t just a normal vibrator, no he chose the one with the remote control.

“Love?” he said pulling you back into reality.

“Marines,” you answered, eyes locked on the bullet-shaped vibrator, covered in different designs of ridges. You moaned as he roughly shoved it inside of you, before he stood up to his full height, towering over you.

“You’ve been a bad girl today. Since you want to use your toys so badly that’s all you’ll be given today. I expect even a slut like you to listen and follow each of my commands; is that clear?” he asked clicking the vibrator on a lower setting. Just high enough to keep you wet, but not enough to make you cum.

“Yes,” you nodded,

“Good,” he responded, tugging Mihawk down for a kiss as the two started to tear off each other’s clothing, before falling into bed.

Which left you here, fully restrained watching as Mihawk jerked Shanks off at a firm, but steady pace. Before he hooked the redhead’s thigh outside of his own, giving you a clear view of all the action. Mihawk then clicked open the cap of some lube, before spreading a decent about on his fingers and Shanks asshole. Shanks melted against Mihawk as he breached into his heat with one hand while the other continued to jerk Shanks off. You rubbed your thighs together desperately; you could feel your slick wetting the wooden seat of the chair.

A surprised gasp escaped you when the vibrator clicked up to its highest setting. A shiver rocked through you as the sex toy pulsed, vibrated, and shook deep within you. You threw your head back as the coil inside of you tightened so fast it was almost painful.

“Love,” Shanks called out, snapping what little of your attention you could spare to opening your eyes and taking him in. By the sound of his voice, he was just as close to cumming as you were.

“Fuck, please,” you begged as your legs began to preemptively shake.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered, you tried your hardest mind already foggy from pleasure.

“Cum,” he ordered, your eyes never leaving his as you hit your peak. You writhed against the chair with what little movement you had. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you came down from your high. You panted, eyes still glued to his, the vibe slowing, but not completely turned off.

“Fuck,” you moaned, finally catching your breath, “Thank you, captain,” you said, well-trained by your more dominant partners.  

“You're welcome baby,” he panted, whining as Mihawk slipped his fingers out of him. Your eyes were hooded from lust, as you watched Mihawk slowly fuck up into Shanks as he adjusted. While there were many ways to describe how Shanks looked from day to day, emotion to emotion only one word came into your head seeing him like this: pretty. From the blush staining his cheeks that matched the irritated head of his cock, to his hardened nipple to his tousled hair. He was just so pretty.

Too enraptured by your partners to even think of the low vibrations still buzzing inside of you. You allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security that you’d be stuck tied to the chair as your loves had their way with each other and then the punishment would be over; you were so wrong. A gasp punched through you as the vibration level jumped up to maximum once again. The stimulation borders on uncomfortable as your body is thrown into another peak. This time you lock eyes with Mihawk, a self-assured smirk plastered on his face as you saw he had one hand on Shank’s hip and the other gripping the remote. You barely have any time to process the situation before your body is once again shaking, slick now pooling in the seat of your chair.

You panted, with your head bowed as you tried your hardest to catch your breath. Only looking up when you heard Shanks moan in the tell-tale signs he was about to cum. This time he locked eyes with you, shaking in Mihawk’s arms as he came spurting cum all over his stomach and Mihawk’s hand.

“T-thank you, Sir,” you stuttered out reminded of Shanks’ orgasm that your lack of gratitude would only lead to more punishments. Mihawk acknowledged it with a small nod, before he threw Shanks on his stomach onto the bed, pushing the redhead’s shoulders down before he reentered him from his raised backside. Despite the almost painful second orgasm you couldn’t help yourself but rub your thighs together at Shanks’ fucked out face. Shanks shared a soft look with you, moments before you were jerked painfully against the chair unable to run away from the stimulation of the vibrator still lodged deep inside you.

Shanks let out a broken moan, just as wrecked as you were as Mihawk hit his prostate over and over again, with pinpoint accuracy. Your mind went blank as an equally pleasurable and painful orgasm ripped through you. You don’t register anything for a moment, only coming back down into your body as you feel Mihawk gently rubbing your wrist with ointment where the friction of the belt has been too much. He slowly spread your legs before tilting your head up to gain what little attention you had left.

“Love, I’m going to remove the vibrator now. Is that okay?” you nodded. He slowly took you step-by-step, letting you know his movements and be able to consent to each one. You let out a broken moan as he finally breached your pussy and felt around for the toy. As softly and slowly he as he could he pulled the toy out of your overstimulated cunt. He gently picked you up and tucked you into bed where you cuddled up with Shanks. Only having to wait a moment before your other love slipped in bed behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

A/N: Okay I did better than I thought I would as far as holding back as much as I can to not overwrite. I'm trying to keep each one-shot as similar length-wise as possible to be fair to all those who requested. This was only 7 pgs and a little over 2,000 words. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed ^_^.

[static-radio-ao3]

jegulus microfic // words: 681

the morning after halloween

Regulus cracks an eye open and immediately squeezes it shut again. “Jamie,” he croaks, voice rough with disuse. “The sun. Make it disappear at once.”

James laughs and Regulus wants to burrow in the sound the way he burrows in the sheets. “You want me to remove it from the sky?” James asks.

“Yes.”

“Anything for you, my love.” The bed dips as James moves to stand, shuffling over to the curtains and tugging them shut. He crawls back underneath the sheets, leaning close to press a kiss against Regulus’ forehead. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” Regulus asks. “A good morning?”

He finally forces his eyes open again, the room still too bright but no longer blinding. He feels stale. A tiredness in his joints that he knows will linger no matter how much he sleeps. He lets his lids droop shut again, unconcerned.

“Well, it’s technically three in the afternoon,” James says. “You slept for about nine hours.”

He starts carding a hand through Regulus’ hair. It’s probably greasy from last night still, but Regulus doesn’t care. Too desperate to be coddled right now to give a shit about anything else.

“Next year, don’t let Barty convince me to sign up for Fright Night.”

Because Barty’s powers of persuasion are terrifying and Regulus always ends up on the volunteer list for Fright Night. This year, he manned the haunted house.

He can’t imagine what would happen to the world if Barty used his powers for good. Or for literally anything beyond defying his father.

”You told me that last year as well but when I tried, you specifically signed up out of spite.”

Regulus sighs. He did do that. “I need to stop doing that.”

“You do,” James agrees, but he sounds fond when he says, “You’re a spiteful little thing.”

“You love me for it.” Regulus nudges his head up against James’ hand, trying to get James to move again. A huff of laughter stirs a few strands of hair, but James dutifully resumes.

“I do.” Regulus suppresses the happy shiver that courses through his body, still unused to the free flow of affection. No strings attached, just provided to him unconditionally. He thinks his body still needs to adjust. Learn to accommodate all that love, even after a few years.

Regulus can hear a smile in James’ voice as he continues with, “Also, you looked really fucking scary this year. I think I nearly punched you in the face when you popped out of the wall.”

“Thank you,” Regulus says, far too pleased.

“I didn’t see the Terror Twins, though.” It’s James' preferred nickname for Barty and Evan, even if they look nothing alike. “Were they in a different section? Or on break?”

Regulus blinks, opening his eyes to look at James. What a sight to behold. His hair is mussed and messy, his glasses sit low on his nose.

He’s shirtless even though fall has been creeping in for a while now. James is somewhat of a furnace, always overheating, but Regulus doesn’t mind as he eyes the hickey that is fading on James’ collarbone.

A book lies discarded in James’ lap. He was probably reading to pass the time until Regulus woke up.

He'd already been asleep when Regulus got home, a light still on and that same book on the floor where it tumbled out of James' hand, Regulus loved him for it.

“No,” he murmurs once he’s looked his fill. “I think they were up to something that is less scary and more traumatizing to witness.”

“Ah.”

Regulus stifles a laugh at the vague look of horror on James' face. “Ah,” he repeats.

James' hand stills again, but before Regulus can complain, James shifts to cup the back of Regulus' head instead. His eyes drop to Regulus' lips, gaze heavy. It drags all along Regulus' face and he feels it like a touch.

“You know,” James starts, “I’ve always been more of a visual learner...”

But he doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. There is no need. Regulus is already climbing into his lap.

[artbyblastweave]

On another note It’s interesting to think about the gray area of Bronze Age Marvel where "comic book time" was only barely starting to be necessary. Spider-Man aged in real time for a while, through high school and then out of college. When the All-New -All-Different X-Men debuted, the members of the original lineup who stuck around were mentioned to be.... about as old as they'd have been if they'd been aging in real time from their first debut, maybe with a little compression? Ten to twelve years or so, which roughly works- 1963 to 1975. In issue 97, set in what I think is supposed to be December of 1975, Jean Grey mentions last having fought the Sentinels in 1969- it would eventually become extremely rare for them to nail their own asses down with a specific date like that. This leads to an interesting thing early in Claremont's run, I'm talking really early, like Banshee is still a full-time member of the team early- there was one arc where the ANAD lineup, from an outside perspective, just drops off the face of the earth for a year. They get brainwashed and abducted and put in a carnival, then Magneto abducts them from there and drags them to a facility in Antarctica, and then they get stuck in the Savage Land for a few months, and then they get waylaid and stuck in Japan when their boat crashes and then they have to deal with a bunch of bullshit in Japan before they can finagle a way back to the States. By the time they get back they're all missing persons cases and the Professor thinks that they were killed.

This arc is fascinating to me because it was told more-or-less in real time, taking the better part of a year with the monthly releases, and apparently taking the same amount of time in-universe. Moreover it's a storyline that's incredibly dependent on the political and technological situation in the late 70s when it was being published. It's a conflict that vanishes the second they get to Japan if the internet exists, if cell-phones exist, if 24 hour news cycles exist. (To say nothing of the datedness of the now-rarely deployed supervillain Moses Magnum.) But it's still technically in continuity, unless someone's said something to the contrary that I missed. It's still the arc where Banshee got permanently benched from the A-list X-Men Roster due to blowing out his vocal cords countering a Japan-wrecking Earthquake machine. They still spent like a year dealing with all that bullshit. One year out of the supposed 15 or 20 that they've all been at this- and it has to be roughly in the middle, to accommodate the veteran hero status of the O5 team members that were involved. That was actually a reasonable time allocation when this came out, when the setting was still pushing forward from the outer edges of realtime. It's so much weirder now.

[adhdbisexualramblings]

Cringe culture is dead. Introducing … Regressor Bill Cipher headcanons!

(May contain TBoB spoilers)

Vent regressor flag and general age regression flag (couldn’t find the source, but is that really needed?)

(Regressing while drunk, general unhappy/vent regression, unhealthy coping, mentions of a psych ward (Theraprism), panic attacks, memory issues, Bill-typical violence (non-graphic))

-I hesitate to call it regression. Being a demon with no technical physical form, and also unfamiliar with human customs, he’s not a typical regressor at all. It’s also due to the fact that Bill doesn’t allow himself to feel things and the blurriness tied to his childhood memories.

-When he’s feeling mentally “smaller”, his triangle form will shrink to accommodate.

-Sleep comes to him easier when he’s small. Bill loathes it.

-Point blank, Bill’s regression is a 80/20 split from angry to sad.

-I do mean angry. You thought his usual pettiness and emotional issues were bad? They’re heightened by ten. He hasn’t caused universe-destroying incidents yet, though.

-Bill being regressed rarely ever impedes on his ability to harm others. He’s gotten very good at ‘separating himself’ from it. Though his deal-making is often sloppy.

-Dissociation. That’s it, that’s the note.

-Thankfully for everyone around Bill and himself, his fits - and regression as a whole - only last a few hours. He’s never regressed for a day, though he has regressed multiple times in a short span of time.

-His speech stays mostly intact, but he can slip up and use more childish phrases or demands.

-He still really loves silly straws.

-He tends to regress more than usual when drunk. Bill will absolutely whine and sob and cling to the ‘safest’ person. He regressed (mostly) after his and Ford’s “breakup.”

-The Henchmaniacs have many times been concerned by this.

-If Bill, for once, thinks he needs to regress, he’ll chug a lot of alcohol to ‘do the trick.’

-He gets scared of his own fire powers. Goes into panic mode if he sees any flame at all, really.

-Doesn’t think he needs or wants a caregiver, which is true sixty percent (60%) of the time.

-Calling him “Billy” will either make him attach himself to you or try to kill you, no in-between.

-Bill has memory gaps. He gets confused as to what part of his life he’s experiencing and it’s caused him a great deal of stress.

-Almost all of the Henchmaniacs (usually Pyronica) have had to listen to him cry. Bill never manages to tell them what he’s crying about.

-“I wanna go home.”

“…I thought we already were home, boss?”

“NO!” *cue tantrum*

-Ford managed to unintentionally make him positively regress once. Bill had no clue what to do with this information and shoved it away.

-Even if you know him very well, he hides his regression exceptionally and you’d be unable to tell ninety-nine percent (99%) of the time.

-The Theraprism isn’t ill-equipped to help regressors, but Bill never lets them. He refuses to take the medicine even with the silly straw and has had multiple panic attacks and resorted to attempted murder at the prospect. The staff will leave him to his own devices if it’s a particularly bad day.

-Bill draws lots of red and blue triangles on the bad days.

-His regression has never once been happy or enjoyable. That he can remember, at least.

-The Axolotl was his caregiver at some point, however. A long time ago, when they were friends. Rarely ever did the two meet, but Bill was genuinely the happiest when he was small with the Axolotl.

[lovelyhan]

— inflection point ⟢

pairing: jeonghan x reader x seungcheol

summary: things make a turn for the worse (or the better?) when jeonghan leaves you with the most insufferable person on earth. but maybe a few weeks alone is exactly what you and seungcheol needed after all.

word count: 8.3k words

tags: unresolved emotional tension, established relationship, angst, smut

warnings: implied alcohol consumption, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: here's part two! this is mostly cheol and mc unknowingly picking up the pieces from their past breakup while jeonghan is away. nothing like getting to know someone you used to love all over again, right?

additional notes: the first part has been flagged so it's virtually invisible now :| you can go visit it in my masterlist if it still hasn't showed up in the tags!

part one - part two - part three | masterlist

To say that you’re nervous is a terrible understatement.

Today is the day you’re supposed to meet Jeonghan’s boyfriend, who’s technically your boyfriend as well, now that you’ve agreed to this odd arrangement. You fidget with your phone beneath the table when Jeonghan excuses himself to fetch him from the restaurant’s entrance. 

It should be fine, right? Your boss already took you to dinner before, and he has a knack for setting an atmosphere comfortable for everyone in attendance. Jeonghan just has this charismatic air to him that makes him easy to be with. A mediator of sorts. 

He reassured you before you both left the office today that his lover is the most accommodating person you’d ever meet. Though, Jeonghan hasn’t really mentioned his name at all—saying he wanted his boyfriend to tell it to you himself. 

So there you are, not-so patiently waiting for them to return to your table. 

When Jeonghan finally comes back with another person in tow, you perk up with curiosity, running over all the introductions you practiced in your head.

Hi, it’s nice to meet you! Thanks for letting me exclusively join your relationship!

Fuck. That already sounds so bad in your head, what more if you say the words—

“Here he is,” Jeonghan says, while pulling out the vacant seat on your table, smiling fondly at his lover. “I really do hope you get along.”

Five minutes ago, you hoped that, too.

Except when you finally see the face of the other man you’re supposed to be in a relationship with, your heart nearly drops into your stomach. 

“Hi,” Choi Seungcheol says with that stupid dimpled smile of his. “I’m Seungcheol. It’s nice to meet you.”

What’s the protocol for when you unexpectedly land yourself into a relationship with the same person you spent literal years getting over? You have no idea. What you do know is that, from the hopeful smile that Jeonghan flashes at the both of you, and the obviously practiced grin plastered on Seungcheol’s face, the former isn’t privy to your relationship with the latter.

Erm. Past relationship.

You take a deep breath through your nose—forcing down all those years of heartbreak and longing and loneliness—and give him a smile of your own.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you say, and if either of them notice how your voice cracked, they don’t say anything about it.

“Let’s take care of each other, yeah?”

…

“So what you meant to say is,” Jihoon starts, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep holding his accusatory stare, “the guy who dumped you after taking your virginity, the legendary shitty ex, is the same guy you’re dating with Jeonghan now?”

“Say sike. Like, right now,” Soonyoung scowls once Jihoon lays out his deduction, but you can’t really take the guy seriously with his cheeks stuffed with popcorn.

“I would if I could, and you know it, Soonie.” 

In your defense, you didn’t mean to come clean about Seungcheol’s identity to them during game night at their apartment. But one of the reasons why you begged them to hold your monthly hang-outs here is that Jeonghan is leaving for Busan tomorrow morning, and you’re a little over your head with the fact that you’re spending two weeks alone with Seungcheol.

Sure, he’s become marginally less of an asshole after upgrading the furniture in their bedroom to cater to you specifically, but you’re not about to let your guard down. God knows when Seungcheol will switch back to being the prissy jerk that’s been tormenting you for the past two months. Especially with Jeonghan out of the picture, your sanity is free fucking real estate.

“Okay, let’s skip the part where we talk about how weird that is, and what a small goddamn world we live in.” Thank the heavens for Jihoon, really. Always the logical one. “But why didn’t you tell us your ex-boyfriend is a star football player. What the fuck?”

…Or not.

“Really? After everything I just told you, you’re choosing to focus on that ?” You shoot him a grimace before dipping your hand in the popcorn bowl for a quick bite. “For the record, I haven’t heard anything about Seungcheol until he walked into that restaurant and introduced himself as Jeonghan’s boyfriend. I only found out that he was a big shot athlete a week after we started dating, too!”

“Isn’t that a good thing, though?” Soonyoung wonders before kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Never mind the fact that he’s the same guy that took you ten years to get over, but you’re dating two filthy rich, and ridiculously hot men now! What more could you ask for?”

You groan, burying your face in your palms. “Did you two seriously not listen to a single word I said? Jeonghan has no idea that we’re exes, and we have to act like we don’t hate each other whenever he’s around!”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “But didn’t you say Seungcheol explicitly told you last night that he doesn’t hate you?”

“Oh, so you were listening after all.” You huff.

“We listened to the whole thing, you know.” Soonyoung pouts. “But honestly, all I heard was ‘I’m an idiot who can’t swallow her pride, so I’ll just act like I despise him because it’s easier than having to admit that I’m still in love with him.’” 

Jihoon practically cackles as he leans across the couch to give Soonyoung a high five—like the bestest fucking friends in the universe. You shoot both of them a chilling glare with your tail between your legs, not liking how they dissected your dilemma in under five minutes.

“Okay, okay. We’re sorry,” Jihoon placates, offering you some more popcorn as a peace offering. “It’s just that you’re probably making this whole thing more complicated than it actually is. I mean, yeah, he was kind of a dick for ditching you like that, but weren’t you also a dick for deciding that you could only choose one or the other? Seungcheol or Seoul?”

“Yeah, haven’t you heard of long distance relationships?” Soonyoung wonders before snapping his fingers like an idea just occurred to him. “Actually, maybe you didn’t have to keep up the LDR for long? He ended up living in Seoul just like you did, right?”

Once they’ve laid those ideas on the table, Jihoon and Soonyoung both cast you another round of disbelieving stares—making you want to crawl under their couch and just rot with the dust bunnies. 

“Fine! I was a bit too hasty back then, I admit that!” You chew on your bottom lip, unable to come up with anything in your defense. “But, but…”

Soonyoung rises from his seat with a long sigh, walking over to your spot to engulf you in a tight hug. You resist his affection for a few seconds, not wanting to give in too easily, but you end up caving into his touch either way.

“Hey, you fucked up, and that’s okay,” he murmurs as he smooths down your hair. “But don’t you think it’s unfair for Seungcheol if you keep acting like he’s the only one who messed up? It’s just like Jihoon told me once: relationships are a two-way street. Well, a three-way street in your case, but that's not the point.”

You sniffle, surprised at the tears that are pooling along your lashes. “But he always acts so hostile. It didn’t make sense to me when he said he didn’t hate me because whenever Jeonghan isn’t around, it’s obvious that he still hasn’t forgiven me…”

“What if he’s just giving you back the same energy you gave to him?” Jihoon hypothesizes. “Be honest, who fired the first shot?” 

“...Right after we had dinner at that restaurant, I kind of told him I’m only doing this for Jeonghan. Might not have been too nice about the delivery either.”

Again, your two best friends share a look—like they don’t know what to do with you anymore. 

That makes three of you then.

“Okay, from what you’ve told us, I can say for sure that Seungcheol probably wants to fix things with you,” Jihoon offers with a reassuring smile. “One hundred percent. The only thing that’s stopping him is…well, you.”

Soonyoung nods. “He can’t make things right if you don’t let him, silly.”

“It’s actually better that Jeonghan is going away for a while ‘cause the two of you can have some time to sort everything out.” You’re about to sharply ask how in the world that makes things better, but Jihoon puts up a hand to shut you up. “If Jeonghan is there, you two will be too busy trying to butter him up with lies to actually sit down and hold a proper conversation.”

“Just…just try to hear out what the guy has to say, yeah?” Soonyoung suggests while squeezing you in his arms again. “While you’re at it, you can explain to him that you were young and hasty and overly-emotional—”

“Hey!”

“—and let’s see where we can go from there.”

Silence fills the room as your best friends stare at you with equally expectant looks—hoping that you wouldn’t fuck this up now that a rare second chance has been granted. You sigh as your gaze lingers on the forgotten UNO cards on the coffee table. 

Still, maybe going to them for advice might’ve been the best decision you’ve made so far.

“Okay, I’ll try,” you grumble as you push Soonyoung away. “No promises that I’ll do it without any blunders though…”

“And that’s more than enough for us,” Soonyoung says cheerily before picking the cards back up. “Now let’s team up and destroy Jihoon this round, yeah?”

...

You absolutely despise having to get up and out of bed earlier than the time your alarm goes off. But when the day of Jeonghan’s business trip finally comes, you find it easy to prepare for work despite the fact that it’s only four in the morning, and you don’t have to time in for another four hours. 

Jeonghan texts you that they’re right outside your apartment, and it only takes one glance at your window to confirm the presence of Seungcheol’s car idling by the curb. After going over all the things you’re set to bring to their house, you text him back, saying that you’ll be down in three minutes.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Jeonghan greets from the passenger seat with a relaxed smile. “You really didn’t have to come. I know how much you hate getting up early.”

“I’d hate it even more if I didn’t get to kiss you goodbye, though,” you chuckle as Seungcheol takes your travel bag and helps put it inside the trunk. 

The moment he pulls it shut, you blurt out:

“Good morning, Seungcheol.”

He looks so surprised, you wonder if what you said was remotely offensive. But after reminding yourself of how you’ve treated each other for the past two months, you suppose the reaction is completely warranted.

Baby steps, you muse. You’ll both make things right one day. For Jeonghan and for yourselves.

“Good morning,” he grumbles, and for some reason, his words send a fluttering sensation blooming across your chest.

Okay, what the fuck?

You think you did a pretty good job ignoring the strange reaction that Seungcheol unknowingly pulled from you in the next thirty minutes. Well, mostly because you spent the entire ride to Jeonghan’s station fast asleep, but that’s besides the point.

Though as you drift in and out of consciousness, you can hear bits and pieces of conversation coming from the front. Not like you’re conscious enough to make sense of any of their words, though. 

“You sure you’ll both be okay while I’m gone?” Jeonghan pouts when you’re literally right in front of the entrance—looking more like a needy puppy than the boss of a reputable corporation. “Call me if anything comes up, okay?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Weren’t you the one who insisted that we’ll be just fine, Hannie? Now, get in there before you’re late for boarding.”

Jeonghan continues to surprise you by pulling you closer by the waist, pressing a long, fervent kiss on your lips. Your eyes widen at the suddenness of his gesture, but this is Jeonghan. You can never resist him if you try. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Try to get along with Cheol while I’m gone, yeah?”

You shoot him a puzzled look before pressing another kiss on the corner of his lip. “What do you mean? We get along just fine.”

He flashes you a tight-lipped smile before turning to Seungcheol. “You, mister, are going to take care of our princess here. Got that?”

“Copy,” Seunghceol lets out a low, deep laugh before pulling Jeonghan closer to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Take care over there. Earn us enough money for a comfortable retirement for three.”

“Oh, you bet I will.”

You and Seungcheol linger by the entrance until Jeonghan disappears into the bustling crowd of commuters en-route to other, far-away places. But you only notice how closely you’re standing next to each other when he catches your attention by tapping your wrist.

“What is it?” you ask, swallowing awkwardly. 

Seungcheol takes a moment to glance at his smartwatch, 5:24 A.M flashing on-screen.

“You want to grab breakfast before I drive you to work?”

If he asked you the same question a month ago, you would’ve spat something along the lines of in your dreams before stomping off to the nearest taxi bay. But you remember that you’re a fully functioning adult who still has mistakes to make up for. 

So, with a deep breath, you say:

“Sounds like a plan.”

…

By ‘breakfast’, you expected Seungcheol to just drop by a McDonald’s Drive Thru so you could both munch on burgers and stale french fries in the parking lot. But you’re reminded of the fact that he literally earns about seven digits’ worth of won whenever he’s playing in a season. 

You’re suddenly grateful for having enough foresight to dress smart casual—not the oversized hoodie and sweats you intended at first—because Seungcheol thought it was a good idea to bring you to a five-star restaurant at the crack of dawn. 

“Mister Choi, it’s nice to have you back,” the waiter at the front desk greets with a bow. 

Seungcheol nods. “Table for two. Al fresco.”

“Understood. Some of our staff will be with you shortly.”

You’re not completely unfamiliar with all these fancy settings. Your line of work requires you to follow Jeonghan and his secretary, Joshua, around for a lot of pretentious business dinners. This is just one of the many places you’ve felt out of place, but you like to think you’re already used to blending in.

When a waitress leads the two of you towards the balcony, where you’re granted a panoramic view of the city just before dawn, you nearly forget to breathe.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Seungcheol’s voice suddenly snaps you out of it as he helps you into your seat—making your cheeks glow red with embarrassment. “Our coach likes coming here whenever he needs to meet us. Thought you’d appreciate the ambience, too.”

“Gotta say, it’s a huge upgrade from those old ice cream parlor dates,” you tell him a bit too loosely, and when you realize what you just said to him, it’s a little too late. 

You try to gauge Seungcheol’s reaction from the corner of your eye—looking for any signs of offense—but if anything, he even looks pleased by the reference. The lanterns hanging overhead bring forth the small smile on his lips, and you don’t like how Seungcheol is starting to make your heart race the same way Jeonghan does.

The same way he used to all those years ago. 

In a poor attempt at dismissing these strange sensations, you bury your nose into the menu instead.

You wonder what’s wrong with you all of a sudden. You’ve spent weeks fueled by anger alone whenever you and Seungcheol are at each other’s throats. But now that you’ve psyched yourself out with the determination to make things right, you’re at an impasse.

With the disdain that you wore like armor having been stripped away, you’ve never felt more vulnerable. Seungcheol isn’t even doing anything except scrolling through his phone, but you feel like your heart’s going to explode in the next few seconds.

Suddenly, you’re a teenager again, but this time the boy you're catching feelings for is actually a fucking football player who can buy out your entire existence.

“Stare at me any more, and you might just put a hole through my skull,” Seungcheol says without glancing up from his screen—making you flinch and hide your face behind the menu again. “Oh, and if you can’t decide on what to eat, their waffles are pretty good.”

That makes you raise an eyebrow, lowering your makeshift shield. “How would you know? Don’t you hate waffles?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “Don’t you love them? I’m just saying because one of my teammates gave me a bite last time, and it wasn’t too bad.”

You try not to think about the implications of why both of you still remember that about each other, flipping through the pages of the menu instead. When you do spot a delectable preview of the waffles, though, you’re immediately sold.

The waitress comes by to take your orders a few minutes later. As she asks if both of you wanted to order coffee in advance, Seungcheol speaks on your behalf.

“Just one coffee and your best hot chocolate.”

Your mouth hangs agape even when the waitress makes her leave, and Seungcheol glances at you with brows raised. “Oh, shit. Do you not prefer hot chocolate over coffee anymore?”

“No, I still do,” you mumble. “I was just…surprised you still remembered.”

Seungcheol doesn’t reply, but you don’t miss the way his ears turn red as the dark sky begins to light up behind him.

There’s nothing remotely romantic about that breakfast run, really. The waffles are good, so is the hot chocolate. But not even those little recollections from the past could ease you and Seungcheol back to normalcy so easily. Worst part is, this is the first time you’ve eaten outside without Jeonghan, so the entire meal is spent in the most awkward of silences.

But…when the sun finally rises in the far east, you and Seungcheol find a momentary common ground. Both of your gazes are trained on the way it peeks above the high rise buildings and skyscrapers—the iridescent rays breaking through both the clouds and the darkness of the night.

Before you knew it, it was a brand new day.

The fascination brought about by the sunrise doesn’t last all that long. You and Seungcheol are back to finishing your food in the ear-splitting silence like usual. However, you can’t help but sneak a few glances every now and again—especially with how the sunlight makes him look even more vibrant than he already is.

No one would catch you admitting to it, but he looks gorgeous like this. Gorgeous enough to make you wonder where everything went wrong.

Except you do know, and you’re hell-bent on fixing…whatever this is before Jeonghan comes back.

“If you don’t mind me asking…”

Seungcheol’s dark eyes flicker to meet yours with an inquisitive stare. “What?”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you continue, “When did you move to Seoul? Actually, when did you even start playing professionally?”

He swallows down his food before reaching for a glass of water. You try not to pay too much attention to how his throat bobs with each gulp. It’s way too early to get your head into the gutter—

“Right after college, I got scouted to train under the professional league in Seoul,” he explains. “I only started playing in official games about…three years ago, though.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, unsure of how he’ll take your next question.

“Why didn’t you come find me then?”

There it is—silence even more awkward than the last. Seungcheol affixes you with an unreadable stare that makes you want to squirm beneath his gaze. But instead of prolonging your suffering, he simply lets out a soft sigh. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me again after what I did,” he says honestly. “Besides, it’s been…years since we split up. I thought you would’ve already moved on by then.”

It took me ten fucking years to move on from you but okay.

You nod before taking a sip of your hot chocolate. “I see. How did you meet Jeonghan?”

“Friend of a friend,” Seungcheol tells you. “Kind of thought he was a nuisance at first, but you know how he gets when he wants something.”

That, you can agree on. “Unstoppable.”

“I was at his mercy,” he attests with a soft laugh. “It took a while, but I fell in love with him eventually. Then we moved in together. Then—”

“He suddenly brings up the fact that he’s attracted to one of his employees?” you supply with an uneasy smile.

Seungcheol shakes his head. “Jeonghan has more tact than that, you know. But he was honest about how he felt about you, and asked if I was open to the idea of going for the set-up we have now.” 

“Were you?”

You thought he’d exercise some caution answering that. Or at least show you a hint of hesitation. But Seungcheol is surprisingly not taken aback by your question, and answers with, “Strange enough, yeah. Normally, I’m really possessive of him, but when he came up to me that day and proposed the idea…I was completely alright with it.”

Your brows scrunch together. “Is it because you knew it was me?” 

“God, no,” he sighs. “If I knew it was you, I would’ve disagreed right away. When I saw you at the restaurant that day, I had to keep myself from running back outside.”

“Ditto,” you chuckle. “It was like the universe giving me the biggest fuck you in existence.”

For the first time in years, the two of you share an easygoing laugh—the morning light making you feel even warmer than you already are. 

You and Seungcheol finish up with the rest of your meals after that. It’ll take a while for you to reach the office since this particular restaurant is a bit out of the way. You don’t blame Seungcheol for his urgency as he leads you back to the parking lot, seeing as you only have about an hour left before Joshua marks you off as a latecomer.

The drive back is quiet, but it’s, by no means, awkward or uncomfortable. Seungcheol talks to you every now and again, asking if he should sort out your stuff for you once he takes your suitcase home or if you wanted to organize it yourself. His thoughtfulness flusters you so much, you end up not giving him an answer at all.

When you’re finally in front of your office building with ten minutes to spare—never underestimate rush hour traffic—Seungcheol tugs on your elbow before you get out of his car.

“Did you mean it?” he asks. 

You tilt your head, confused. “Mean what?”

“When you said you were only doing this for Jeonghan?”

Oh. He still remembers what you said at the restaurant, the first time you saw him after years.

You consider it for a moment—only a moment, since you’re burning daylight here. Back then, you’re sure you meant every single word. You were shocked and hurt by Seungcheol’s mere presence in front of you, but because you loved Jeonghan so much, you were willing to make a few compromises just to be with him.

Now, though?

“I…don’t know,” you admit. 

There’s a first for everything—and this is the first time you’ve ever seen Choi Seungcheol’s face light up in the face of uncertainty.

…

Your arrangement is pretty simple. 

Seungcheol drives you to and from work whenever he doesn’t have games, and you agree to cook him some dinner as compensation.

Tonight, though, your chaperone has a practice match that’s running a little late, so you decide to hang back in the office even later than Joshua, who’s usually the last person who times out for the day. You reassure him that Jeonghan is going to keep you company through FaceTime while you wait for Seungcheol to come pick you up, and it seems that your boyfriend’s secretary is more than convinced with that line of reasoning.

“He took you to that fancy breakfast place?!” Jeonghan squawks from the other side of the screen. “He hasn’t even taken me there!”

“Well, whose fault is it for going on a sudden business trip?” You stick your tongue out at him as you do some last-minute paperwork on your laptop. “Better luck next time, Hannie.”

“Hmph. I’ll go there by myself when I get back to Seoul! Who needs companionship anyway?”

You roll your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. “That’s funny coming from a guy who has two partners.”

“...Okay, good point.”

Jeonghan always proves to be excellent company even when he isn’t physically here with you. Your boyfriend does an excellent job in keeping you entertained—from stories about who’s having an affair with who in the conference he’s attending to all the delicious food he wants to eat with you and Seungcheol one day, he tells you all of it.

But about an hour into the call, Seungcheol still hasn’t texted you, and your eyelids are starting to droop. 

“I think you should take a nap first, sweetheart,” Jeonghan suggests, concern lacing his delicate features. “Go on, I’ll keep watch.”

“As if you can do anything if some lunatic tries to murder me in my sleep.”

“Hey, I’d still be an important eye witness if that was the case.” He chuckles. “Now go to sleep. I’ll tell Seungcheol to text me once he’s there so the guards can let him up.”

Normally, you would’ve argued but…

“Fine…”

…

Seungcheol has only gone inside yours and Jeonghan’s office building twice in his life. The first time was to surprise him on his birthday, and the second was after an argument so bad, they almost broke up.

On his third time, the other employees have long since left the building. It’s only the security guards and…well, you.

He didn’t mean to make you wait so long, really. But what was meant to be just one practice match turned into three as extra preparation for his game tomorrow evening. Seungcheol felt a familiar bout of déjà vu at the thought of having to make you wait longer than you’re supposed to. 

In short, he didn’t like it, and when his teammates requested for a fourth match despite it already being ten o’clock in the evening, Seungcheol was ready to bail. 

Even the guilt that roots itself into his chest once he sees you dozing off in front of your laptop is familiar. He doesn’t deserve your patience, really, but he’ll gladly accept it.

To his surprise, he notices that you’re in a FaceTime call with Jeonghan, who he just texted a few minutes ago so he could come fetch you from the office. His lover waves at him from the other side, casting him a smile that Seungcheol has grown to miss with each day he’s away.

“She waited for two hours, you know,” Jeonghan scolds.

“I know. I’ll make it up to her later,” Seungcheol laughs before leaning closer to wake you—

“Cheol?”

Perking up at the sound of Jeonghan calling his name, Seungcheol glances at your phone with a puzzled expression. “Yeah?”

He opens his mouth as if meaning to say something, only to close it again and shake his head.

“It’s—it’s nothing,” he laughs, almost like he’s embarrassed. “I love you. Both of you.”

Seungcheol feels his chest pang with warmth, eyes flickering from Jeonghan then to your peaceful form, hunched over the desk. 

“I love you, too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Both of you.”

…

Jeonghan [5:15 P.M.]: love, can you bring cheol his favorite energy drink before his game?

Jeonghan [5:15 P.M.]: it’s kind of his pre-game tradition, but they won’t let food deliveries past the gates. gotta give it to him in person.

Me [5:20 P.M.]: sure thing. cheol already asked me to do that tho, so i told joshua i’m timing out early. 

Jeonghan [5:21 P.M.]: ah, that’s great news <3 take care on the way!

Jeonghan [5:30 P.M.]: wait. cheol ASKED you to?

...

Like Jeonghan had requested, and like you promised to Seungcheol, you handed him his favorite energy drink—a niche brand that wasn’t available in any of the vending machines, picky little bastard—ten minutes before they had to do their warm-ups. He stared at you like he didn’t expect you to actually follow through with what you said, and nearly killed you with a bone-crushing hug.

“Thanks,” he whispered breathlessly into your ear before planting a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’ll clean up quickly after the game so we can go home and have dinner.” 

Immediately after, Seungcheol bolted at the sound of one of his teammates calling for him, leaving you standing there, red-faced.

It’s almost the same thing each time you meet him before all of his games. Seungcheol spends a few seconds convincing himself that you’re not a mirage before taking the drink you personally got for him. Then, like some sort of good luck ritual, he kisses your cheek and heads back to the field just in time for warm-ups. 

You honestly didn’t think you’d be so willing to run all these errands on his behalf. Hell, you didn’t think you’d find yourself seated amongst thousands of spectators as one of your boyfriends kills it on the field. 

You’ve been to Seungcheol’s games back then, so you thought you were already prepared for the audience’s loud cheers once you settled into your seat. But you completely overlooked the fact that the open field in your old high school is insurmountably different from the biggest indoor stadium in the country.

So when Seungcheol’s team rakes in victory after victory, you feel just the slightest bit of pride swelling in your chest. Who knew that the same guy who often ditched football practices to go on dates with you in the past would become such a rising star in only a few years?

On their last game for the week, Seungcheol gets hailed as the MVP of the season, and you tell yourself that he absolutely does not have to know that you nearly screamed your lungs out when his name was announced on the big screen. Definitely not.

Seungcheol ends up finding you before you can find him once the awards ceremony has been concluded—making a show of biting the piece of 24-carat gold hanging from his neck. You roll your eyes before taking out something you’ve expertly hidden in a wide tote bag.

“Congrats on beating their asses, I guess,” you say sheepishly before handing him a perfectly arranged bouquet of—

“Gladiolus?” Seungcheol smirks when he accepts your gift. “You sure did your research, huh?”

“Hey, the info is easily accessible on the internet,” you huff, yet still pose accordingly when Seungcheol fishes out his phone to snap a picture. “Not much effort was required to pull this off.”

“Sure it didn’t.”

When he finally stops teasing you about the present you got for him, Seungcheol proposes to have dinner somewhere fancy—an idea you might’ve flat-out rejected at first, but choose to consider. Just this once. 

But before you can give him the green light, a couple of his teammates come up to the both of you with congratulatory smiles. You recognize them as Kim and Jeon—two players who also caught your eye on the field. Seungcheol introduces them as Mingyu and Wonwoo respectively, and out of the blue, Mingyu invites the two of you to the team’s victory party happening at a nightclub just across the street.

You expect Seungcheol to immediately agree. After all, he’s the star of the season. His presence there is practically tantamount. But instead, he glances at you with a questioning look. 

“We don’t have to show up if you’re tired,” he says. “I know my games have been keeping you up late.”

Wonwoo nods in agreement. “True. Besides, we can have more exclusive celebrations once our coach has given us this season’s payroll. Tonight is more of a free-for-all than a victory party, actually.” 

“No, I’m good.” 

Mingyu cheers at your response, while Seungcheol’s eyes widen just a fraction. “You sure?”

You know he’s only being this way because Jeonghan probably told him about the Myeongdong Incident, A.K.A., an office party from a few years back, where you made an absolute fool out of yourself for downing one weird shot too many. Your boss-slash-boyfriend hasn’t let you live it down since.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Besides, this is your night. What kind of fiend would that make me if I hog you all to myself?”

Wonwoo lets out a very loud wolf whistle that has the tips of Seungcheol’s ears turning pink with embarrassment, and it takes all your self-control to keep yourself from snapping a pic.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Don’t expect me to take care of you if you go overboard, though. Got that?”

…

Except he does take care of you when you inevitably go overboard.

Like in every instance where you find yourself wasted beyond belief (move over Soonyoung, someone has taken the crown), the details are a bit muddled in your brain. You just remember seeing a bunch of women in skimpy outfits crowding your boyfriend right after he gave his MVP-of-the-season speech, and it was all over for you. 

You’re not very sure, but you might’ve put on a bit of a…territorial display out there. You also might’ve done a body shot on Seungcheol before kissing him in front of everyone just to prove a point. 

Again, you’re not sure, so you’re innocent until proven guilty.

“Cheol, ‘sso hot,” you mumble as he props you upright on the king-sized mattress back home. “Turn on the…air conditioner, please.” 

You hear him laugh. What’s so funny?

“Baby, it’s twenty degrees outside,” he says. “That’s just the alcohol. Come on, drink this so you can sober up a little. You can’t take a shower if your head’s still spinning.”

Your eyes are still screwed shut, so you don’t know what exactly it is he’s offering. Still, you say, “Don’t wanna.”

Seungcheol sighs. “Please? Jeonghan said your hangovers get worse when you don’t freshen up before sleeping.”

Jeonghan… The mere mention of your lover has you writhing on the mattress, chasing after the remnants of his scent on the sheets.

“I miss Hannie…” you whine, unconsciously letting Seungcheol prop you back up as he places whatever drink he’s forcing you to ingest in your hands. “When’s he coming back?” 

“In a week or so, baby,” he reassures. “Now, drink. Please?”

You’ve never felt more thirsty at that first drop of water in your mouth, downing the entire glass like you did with those shots back at the party. Seungcheol chuckles again, and you open your eyes a bit to shoot him an unamused look.

“There we go,” he commends. “That’s my good girl. You want some more?”

Oh… You might be in the ninth circle of intoxication right now, but you heard those words come out of Seungcheol’s mouth loud and clear. And they are not doing your poor underwear any favors.

If you were sober, you think you would’ve had an internal meltdown about that…inappropriate reaction you had to Seungcheol’s completely harmless words. But you tell yourself not to overanalyze every single thing for once and just let your not-ex-boyfriend take care of you.

“Yes, please.”

About an hour later, you’re fresh from the shower and tucked in bed—body still weighted by both fatigue and the leftover intoxication. You don’t see it when he does, but Seungcheol’s stare lingers a second too long once he climbs on the other side of the mattress.

King size is huge, especially without Jeonghan sharing the same space with both of you. But Seungcheol hasn’t tried to close the distance that your lover’s absence has introduced. He doesn’t want to be the one to come onto you, especially with the way he left things between you in the past. 

But on nights like this, when he hears your soft snores on the other side, he wants nothing more than to reach out and hold you in his arms. Just like he used to.

Before he lets those introspective thoughts consume him, Seungcheol turns off the lamp on the bedside table—hopefully turning off his brain in the process.

In the right time, maybe.

…

You can’t sleep. 

The burn of inebriation has long been flushed out of your system, but your skin still feels like it’s on fire. When you turn to the side to face the man you’re currently sharing this too-massive bed with, that’s when you realize that your body is being engulfed by a different kind of heat.

Eyes parsing through the darkness, you figure that Seungcheol is still fast asleep as you move over to scoot closer to him—taking your pillow and comforter with you. 

You would’ve been more reserved with your actions on any other day, but now you wrap your arms around the broad circumference of his bicep—breathing in the fresh scent of his shirt like a well-known comfort. It helps you relax a little, but you know this isn’t nearly enough to address the throbbing between your thighs.

Fuck.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” 

Your heart lurches at the realization that you woke him up. Seungcheol moves to glance at you with sleepy yet concerned eyes—wondering what on earth possessed you to cling to him like this. You can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze without crumbling from embarrassment.

“I…”

He hums. “What? I didn’t hear you.”

“I can’t sleep,” you mumble. 

Seungcheol nods. “Okay. Why?”

You press your forehead into his arm, letting out an internal scream.

Are you really going to tell him?

“...’m aching.”

“Aching?” he asks, brows raised. “Well you kinda danced your heart out earlier. Where does it hurt? Maybe I can help.”

You take what might be the deepest inhale you’ve taken in your entire life before untangling your arms around Seungcheol’s—using your free hand to guide him lower, lower, until his hot fingers are resting above the apex of your thighs.

“Here.”

He’s quiet—maddeningly so. 

You don’t think your pride can handle it if he gets out of bed and leaves you again. In fact, you might just flee the country altogether. Change your name, and start anew in some faraway land. But Seungcheol is quick to recover from the absolute stupor you just subjected him to. 

The next thing you know, he’s manhandled you in a way that has you trapped between his broad frame and the bed—gaze boring into you so intensely, you nearly moan.

“Look at me,” he commands sternly. “Are you serious? You’re not still drunk, are you? Do you really want to…?”

Despite yourself, you roll your eyes. “Cheol, if I was drunk, I would’ve already jumped you without a second thought.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

God, you forgot how insufferable he can be. 

Now that the drowsiness has long left your body, replaced by something more untamable, more volatile, you lace your fingers around Seungcheol’s neck—pressing your foreheads together.

“Choi Seungcheol,” you whisper. “I can’t sleep because I’m horny as hell. If you don’t do anything about it, you’re sleeping on the goddamn couch.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Seungcheol smashes your lips together like he’s been deprived of your kiss for lifetimes and more—one hand going to the back of your head, and the other beneath your waist so he can press your hips impossibly closer. You thought those makeout sessions back in the high school locker rooms were the hottest ones you’d ever get to experience from him, but apparently, marinating in ten years’ worth of longing charges the air with enough sexual tension to make you dizzy. 

You breathe his name against his lips as he explores every inch of your mouth—mapping it out with his tongue as if relearning something he never thought he’d get to relive again. When you feel him grinding his hardening length against your thigh, you take his bottom lip between your teeth in heady anticipation. 

You want him so badly. Wanted him all this time, and you’re just realizing how much of an idiot you were for depriving each other for so long.

“Cheol,” you whimper, mouth still hot against his as you roll your hips. “Need— Need you.”

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers. “I’m never leaving again.”

In your lust-drunk daze, you couldn’t completely comprehend the meaning behind those words, but your heart responds in kind—racing in your ribcage so quick, you thought you’d pass out.

However, Seungcheol is intent on keeping you wide awake and completely aware of every single thing he’s going to do to you. He’s quick to take off your shirt, and you’re an all-too willing accomplice. A rush of pride surges through you when Seungcheol groans at the sight of your bare tits. 

“You have no idea,” he starts, voice husky with arousal as he peppers your breasts with hungrry kisses, “how much I missed these. Knowing Han gets to play with them while I can’t drove me fucking insane.”

“They’re all yours now, Cheol,” you chuckle before your breath hitches all of a sudden once he bites down harshly on your skin. 

“All mine,” he growls.

His shirt is gone the next moment, and the reaction you have to seeing him completely shirtless isn’t so different to how he took the sight of your breasts for the first time in a long time. This man is fucking huge—all bulging pecs and rock hard abs. You would’ve laid him down on the bed just to take your time to worship his ridiculously fit body (thank God for their tireless training), except Seungcheol doesn’t look like he has any plans on relinquishing control tonight. 

Not after he’s waited for you all this time.

Even if you tell him you’re too goddamn horny for foreplay, Seungcheol isn’t having any of it. He splays himself between your thighs—a sight that’s all too new to you. Back then, you’d simply experimented on occasional fingering and a handjob, but oral was foreign territory. 

And just thinking of having the mouth that just won’t stop running on you is enough to drive you up a wall.

Seungcheol doesn’t need any words to make you feel good. Once he’s bruised the inside of your thighs with his rough, biting kisses, he tears through your underwear before tossing it to the side. Before you can even utter out a single word in complaint, though, he’s flattening his tongue along your slit—licking a long, broad stripe that has you preening on the mattress.

He spreads you open with his fingers, making sure there’s no inch of your pussy untouched by his greedy tongue. When Seungcheol moves to press a single finger at your entrance, the sound you let out is unholy. You nearly hide your face out of shame, but Seungcheol reprimands you the second you move away.

“Keep those eyes on me, baby,” he growls. “Watch how I fuck you on my fingers. Watch how I’ll make you fall apart with my mouth.”

You practically buck your hips along with the shallow thrusts he makes with that long, thick digit. You can’t even begin to imagine how good it’ll feel once he sticks his throbbing cock inside of you, but you tell yourself that patience is a virtue. Seungcheol has always had a mean streak, and you’d rather not get teased to death tonight.

When he slides in the next finger, you can already feel the stretch. Seungcheol distracts you from it with his tongue—flicking it against your clit in a way that has your toes curling with the preciseness of his movements. It makes you wonder how many women he’s done this to get this good, but the thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Still, you can’t complain. After all, you’re reaping all the benefits from whatever past experience he’s had over the last ten years. You’d be a fool not to take complete advantage of that.

“So fucking wet for me,” Seungcheol sighs before spitting on your cunt—lathering his spit with your dripping essence—and the sight makes you tug at his hair in your horny delirium. 

“You’re going to kill me,” you whisper hoarsely.

Seungcheol snickers condescendingly before pulling out his fingers from your sopping cunt. Then, he raises them to your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips to make way for his fingers a bit too easily, lathering the underside with your tongue as the tangy taste of your essence fills your senses. There’s a dangerous look in Seungcheol’s eyes as you lick his fingers, and something tells you that, despite the heavy fatigue from his past games, this one still has a lot more vigor to offer.

Seungcheol moves to discard his boxers, and you try not to look too desperate for his cock—pressed firmly against his toned stomach before he pumps it with his fist. 

“On your knees, sweetheart,” he sighs. “Raise that ass for me.”

“No.” 

He frowns, obviously not used to his authority being tested in bed. “And why is that?”

Like a bullet straight through his skull, you rest back on the plush comfort of the pillows, spreading your legs so tantalizingly, Seungcheol almost pounces at you without thinking. You’re posed so sexily on the same bed he’s dreamed of taking you on countless times—offering your sweet cunt for him to take.

“I want to see you, Cheol,” you tell him with a bossy undertone that makes him fall in love with you all over again as you beckon him closer.

“So are you just going to stare at me all night, or are you going to fuck my soul out of my body?”

You’re so fucking daring. And Seungcheol is so fucking whipped.

There’s something so new yet so familiar with the way Seungcheol handles your body. Each touch is imbued with all the time he wishes he could have spent with you; each moan, a timeless rendition of all the words he wanted to say to you. You can’t even let yourself go to the feeling of him ramming his thick girth into your pussy because you’re overwhelmed by the surge of emotions he quietly imbues into your body.

When Seungcheol notices you crying, he immediately halts each and every movement—panic eclipsing the hunger he’s been keeping down for weeks. But when he realizes the tears aren’t from pain, his eyes soften.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, tugging him back down into a messy kiss. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Fuck. He isn’t sure what to feel right now. Bliss because you’re clamping down on his cock so deliciously tight? Relief because he doesn’t seem like the only one who’s still tormented by the past? 

I love you, he wants to say. I never stopped, and I never will.

But he won’t say it. Not yet. He doesn’t want you to think he’s saying it in the spur of the moment, or because his emotions are especially high-strung now that he’s balls-deep inside you. 

He’ll tell you when Jeonghan is back, and the three of you can all start this strange, strange relationship from scratch. 

When you finally reach the high you’ve desperately been clawing after—as evidenced by the angry red marks on Seungcheol’s back—he commits the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head in the pinnacle of release into memory. It renders him completely fucking wrecked for you, spilling into your awaiting heat as he fucks himself into completion.

You’re both sweaty and sticky by the time Seungcheol collapses back on the mattress, but you don’t care. Though he’s frayed every single nerve-ending beneath your skin with that blistering orgasm, you let yourself bask in the encompassing warmth of his body. 

For the first time in years, you fall asleep in Seungcheol’s arms—like a quiet forgiveness you’ve decided to afford both him and yourself.

…

Jeonghan arrives back in Seoul a week ahead of schedule. 

After hearing about all the records that Seungcheol has broken for himself this season, he wanted nothing more than to hop on the first train back home and be with the two people he cherishes the most. 

So, like the natural schemer he is, he asked his beloved secretary if there was any way to cut this gruesome business trip short. Long story short, after learning (through completely legal means!) that his annoying business partner has a troublemaking son that’s been laundering money behind his back, Jeonghan is quick to pull some strings. 

Once the news reached said business partner, he was immediately apologizing to Jeonghan for having to postpone the deal because of a personal matter. 

Now, he’s back home—closing the front door to their house as quietly as he could. 

It’s no later than six in the morning, and while you’d usually be up and about as you got ready for work by this time, he remembers that it’s Saturday, and how you loved to sleep in. 

As Jeonghan places his luggage somewhere in the living room, however, he notices that the flower vase on the coffee table—strategically placed for aesthetic, yet is usually empty—has an assortment of colorful blooms spilling out. 

Gladiolus flowers. Seungcheol’s birth flower.

When he opens the door to the bedroom with curious eyes, his heart is put at ease at the sight before him. You and Seungcheol lie there without an inch of distance separating you—limbs tangled together with the sheets in a way Jeonghan has only dreamed of seeing.

He breathes out a soft laugh, smiling to himself.

“It’s about time, my two beloved idiots.”

part one - part two - part three | masterlist

[anerdynerd]

Mycroft has this worry about a person who won’t let him help them, no matter what methods he tries to accommodate them with as best as he can, while he had still been the only person who looked out for them for a long time and tried to keep them safe from their own stubbornness and their tendency for self-destructive behavior, he’s got his long nose, his nostalgia through movies, everything, there’s probably more that hasn’t come to mind yet or that I’m not putting into words properly rn, but that about sums up what I find so intriguing about him

and then we have Sherlock, who’s one smart guy👍

(obviously extremely oversimplified and I’ve got so many more thoughts on him too, but you could technically break it down to that)

[autisticlenaluthor]

Maroon

“That’s what you’re wearing?” 

It’s the first thing Kara says when she opens the door. Her eyes go wide and her brows shoot up– an involuntary response to the sight in front of her. And immediately, Lena retracts. She smiles, the way she always does when uncomfortable, and lifts her hands in defense. 

“Shoot– I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that,” Kara stammers.  “You look great– I mean, you always look great, really! I- I don’t know why I said that. Like– you could step on me, and I’d probably thank you.” 

She doesn’t know why that last bit slips out either. But it does. And for a solid five seconds, she freezes, beet-faced as she stares at Lena, who stares back, with brows raised so high her forehead creases to accommodate them. 

“I am… so sorry for that,” Kara murmurs after what feels like an eternity. 

She steps aside so her friend can enter the apartment and awkwardly adjusts her glasses, mentally kicking herself for, well, everything.

Because really, Lena doesn’t look bad. If anything, it’s the opposite. In a black button-down and plaid dress pants, Lena remains the most stunning woman Kara has ever seen. For embarrassing as they all were, not a word of Kara’s ramblings had been dishonest. 

“I just…” Kara shuts the door and fidgets uncomfortably as she approaches Lena. “It’s like a million degrees out, are you gonna be comfortable?” 

“I just came from work,” Lena responds. Her voice is flat, her posture stiff. 

“I- I know,” Kara says. “You do look very good.” 

Lena smiles. “Thank you.” 

She sucks in a breath and glances down at herself. She’d had a feeling this wasn’t the most appropriate attire. Kara had invited her to a baseball game at Aztec Stadium- not to a dinner party or board room. Now that she sees herself next to Kara, she does feel pretty ridiculous. 

“Could I…” Lena sucks in a breath. “Do you have something I could borrow?” 

“Oh– yeah, of course. Come with me!” 

They spend the next fifteen minutes in Kara’s bedroom, Lena perched on the edge of the bed while Kara digs through her closet. 

“I can’t wait to get nachos,” she says. “I know technically liquid cheese is kind of disgusting. But I feel like the rules don’t really apply at baseball games.” 

Lena hums and nods. 

“I’ve actually never been to one,” she says. 

Kara turns around, holding a few hangers and pairs of pants. 

“Any kind of sports, thing, really. Unless you count high school fencing.” Lena laughs as she says it. “But, I was the one doing the fencing.” 

“You fenced?”

“Yeah. For about three years.”

Kara pauses and folds the clothes over her arm. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

Lena shrugs. “I guess I got bored.” 

“You got bored sword fighting?” 

“Yeah, well…” Lena gives a teasing smile and raises an eyebrow. She’s going to make a remark about how she is a Luthor and after a while, the weaponry in fencing begins to feel a bit juvenile. But she keeps it in, unsure of how a joke like that will land. 

Thankfully, Kara doesn’t seem to notice the hesitation. She stays in the swing of things and holds up two pieces from her pile– a maroon tank top and jeans. 

“What about this?” She asks. 

“I don’t know…” Lena stretches out the words.

She tilts her head and scrunches up her nose as she says it. Kara can pull the look off. She’s nothing if not beautiful in her National City Warriors t-shirt and ripped denim shorts. But with her, it’s different. Because Kara’s muscular and tall. She’s got a sunshine smile and the softest golden waves. And as goofy as she may be, with her baseball cap and fanny pack slung across her body, she’s still her. She’s still perfect.

“Don’t you think I’ll look silly?” 

“No, I think you’ll look cute,” Kara answers without an ounce of hesitation. “But it’s up to you.”

Lena rises from the bed and steps forward to take the outfit from her friend. She wants to ask if Kara has another one of those big tees but the words escape her.

“Okay,” she says after a moment. “I’ll try it.” 

She strips and changes in front of her (with Kara, it’s never felt strange) while Kara talks to her about everything going on at CatCo. The new intern who Ms. Grant brought to tears on her first day (she brought her a mocha instead of a white mocha) and the techie who was fired for trying to steal one of the company tablets. 

“Lena!” Kara exclaims when she’s done. 

“What?”

Instinctive arms wrap themselves around Lena’s abdomen. She’s so exposed in this. Her stomach protrudes over the waistline of the jeans and the unfaded stretch marks she normally covers with concealer are visible. She’s too casual, she’s too sloppy, too–

“You look so good!”

Kara claps her hands together. She’s smiling so bright her eyes get all squinty and dimples appear on either side of her mouth.

“Wait- can I do something? Can I touch your hair?” She asks. 

Kara's s so happy Lena can’t help but oblige. She nods and smiles, letting her friend come over to her and carefully take the bobby pins out of her bun. She moves slowly with hands so gentle. It’s a welcome break from the nights when Lena gets home and rips them out fast enough that they take clumps of hair with them. 

“You look so nice,” Kara softly reiterates as she removes the first hair tie. “I don’t know what it is but you just… you feel so human, I guess.” 

The bun collapses into a ponytail and Kara carefully pulls out the second hair tie. She rakes smooth fingers through Lena’s hair, pulling it all back behind her shoulders. 

“Human?” Lena chuckles. 

“Yeah… I guess I’ve never really seen you outside of your work clothes. You’re always so put together but you just– I mean, you’re always beautiful. And now…” Kara hesitates. She needs something to do with her hands, so she goes back to combing out Lena’s hair. She can feel her face filling with heat, thankful Lena’s back is to her. “You feel less… less far away. Like, you’re less of an entity and more…” 

Lena turns around. Her expression is relaxed, save the knit in her brow, like she finally released the breath she’d been hanging onto. 

For a moment, she waits, clinging to Kara’s every last word, needing to know where she’ll land. But Kara falls quiet. She’s too focused on the inch of space between them. They’re so close she can smell Lena’s warm vanilla lotion and the faint scent of coffee on her breath, see the scab from where she chews her lip, and the freckles under faded foundation. 

“You…” She tries again but the word gets caught in her throat. 

“Kara?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I…”

Lena takes Kara’s hand in hers, intertwining their fingers as she steps forward and closes the gap between them. When their lips touch, she waits to feel the fireworks. The butterflies in her stomach, fluttering and pouncing with glee. But instead of an explosion that overtakes her, it’s a calm that washes over her body. Warmth that starts where Kara’s body meets hers, radiating all the way down to the tips of her toes.

It feels right. It feels safe. 

When she finally pulls away, Kara’s sunshine smile instantly returns. 

“You good?” She asks with a laugh, giving Lena’s hand a squeeze. 

“Yeah,” Lena says, smiling in a way that causes her nose to get all scrunchy and small. “I’m really good.”