#you spend the entire form repeating yourself over and over again

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

does it count as an omen if filling out the disability capability form for universal credit genuinely made me disassociate?

[montagoves]

redamancy | jason todd

genre: comfort x3

warning: jason todd

summary: jason is reminded of how much he loves you–and how much you love him

a/n: after a handful of failed tinder dates, i just needed to write something to remind myself that if no one got me jason todd got me

Redamancy: a love returned in full

The word itself stems from the New Latin redamantia, and from the Classical Latin redamō meaning, “I requite love”. How we translate redamancy is this: a love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you; the act of loving in return.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the clicking sounds from your last-minute essay writing and the soft sounds of The Cranberries had lulled him into the first real nap he’s taken in the last few months. The book he had barely gotten a chapter through laid over his face, blocking the overhead lights you both hated but you swore made you more motivated to do homework. In reality, you just hated them so much that it drove you to work quicker so you could turn them off as soon as you were done. 

You had a lot of small things like that – things that made Jason’s heart swoon in a way he didn’t think it was capable of. Like when you tell him that pile of laundry would eventually get done, you just had to get hit with the cleaning zoomies which occur “approximately every 3-4 weeks.” And when you do get hit with the cleaning zoomies, you put on your headphones, blare Deftones, and deep clean your entire apartment. You could spend hours cleaning the bathroom, neglecting all your other responsibilities. 

Like eating your meals, which in that case Jason always came to your rescue. He’d pat your pretty head and once you took off your headphones and looked up at him with those eyes, he’d tell you he made your favorite meal. You’d reluctantly go to eat with him, and after enjoying the meal with your lover you’d feel lazy. You’d blame him for ruining your motivation, and Jason would just kiss your sweet lips and tell you he could find a way to motivate you again. 

Jason also likes the way he feels when you look at him. You two would be over at Roy’s place, Lian in Jason’s lap as Roy talked about some sports team that pissed him off recently. And Jason would be bouncing Lian in his lap or mindlessly curling her hair with his fingers. Roy’s voice would fade into the background and your focus would only be on Jason – on that smile that creeps on his face whenever Roy curses and Lian repeats it, on the way his eyes seem to gleam whenever he glances over at you, on the way you picture him holding your child, which you two have talked about but you’re both far too young to consider now. 

And Gods, when he catches on to you staring, his hands get clammy the way they did when he first met you. His cheeks turn as red as his vigilante helmet and he noticeably clenches his jaw to keep from nervously laughing. He’s never been looked at with that much love before. He’s had you by his side for years yet he still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling. 

What is he supposed to do when he wakes up to the feeling of you perching yourself on top of him during his nap? He remains still, for the most part, feigning sleep as you try to get comfortable. You must have finished your essay because from under his book’s pages, he can see a candle flickering, the smell of whiskey and vanilla filling the small apartment. He’s quick to close his eyes when you gently move the book away. He hears you take his bookmark, one you had handcrafted yourself, and save his page before setting the book aside. He feels as you lay down fully, your head resting on his chest and your arms attempting to wrap around his waist. Your head moves as Jason’s heart flutters, and your lips brush his jawline in a way he’d only let you do. 

“Baby,” you whisper to him, your hand moving to brush the bangs away from his face. He pretends to be woken up, his eyelashes fluttering open to see you. 

“Hi,” he manages to whisper, making a smile form on your lips. You lean in and nuzzle your face against his neck, and a shaky breath leaves his lips. 

“How’d you sleep?” you mumble against his skin. He slowly moves his hands, slipping them under your hoodie so he can hold your hips. You feel so warm. 

“Fine,” he mumbles back, watching as you lift your head. You look like Heaven, and Jason’s heart is pounding so hard against his chest he fears it may explode. 

What a beautiful way to die, he thinks. 

“Finished your essay?” he asks, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb slowly brushes your chin, then traces your bottom lip. You blush, leaning against his palm. 

“Mostly,” you admit sheepishly. “You looked so comfy and I was starting to get a headache, so I wanted to cuddle with you. I’ll finish it tomorrow morning.”

He bites back the smile you never fail to produce, and his thumb pulls back your bottom lip. 

“That can be arranged,” he says, tucking your outgrown bangs behind your ear. His fingers trace along your earlobe, fiddling with the earrings you wore. A peaceful silence falls over the two of you, and Jason’s extremely aware of the look in your eyes. His cheeks twinge that red shade, and he clenches his jaw. 

“I love you,” you finally whisper. He gulps, his eyes flicking to yours. At that moment, he swears no one could make his body react in the way you managed to do. 

“I love you too,” he whispers back after a few moments. The words are new to him, almost sounding foreign on his tongue. But he makes an internal promise to practice this language for you. 

He practices it as you lean down and press your lips to his. He cups the back of your head to bring you closer, in an attempt to become one. You let out a soft sigh that makes his body shiver, and you pull away with yet another gorgeous smile on your lips. 

You lay on him again, your head resting in the crook between his shoulder and neck. Jason’s fingers thread through your hair as soft snores leave your lips. 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but your body on his makes his eyes shut and his arms move to rest around your shoulders. His muscles relax and his heart returns to its natural pace. He feels you shift for a moment, your lips brushing his neck to give him one final kiss. To remind him you’re here, and that you’re not going anywhere. 

Another thing Jason loves about you – you love him back just the same.

[tired-biscuit]

is it weird I wanna rub my face against Logan chest hair?

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // established relationship, domestic bliss

wc: 1.2k+

———

definitely not. hairy men are hot!

like, now i’m thinking about finally getting a day to yourselves and spending the majority of it in bed. cuddling, resting, catching up after an excruciatingly busy week, with your limbs tightly intertwined and your voices soft and hushed because despite being a mutant that’s been blessed with inhuman strength, logan’s body and mind both feel so overworked and exhausted that he’s practically sinking into the mattress with a prolonged and incredibly grateful groan.

continuously fighting for the sake of being the ‘good guy’ is no small task, after all… it can take quite a toll on him sometimes — powers or no powers.

still, that specific role has been graciously placed to the back of his mind for now because he’s fresh out of the shower and he’s scrubbed all of the grime and sweat off of his skin, keeping it clean until it’s time for him to head out the door again — straight into a world where wolverine stands front and center.

but for now, he gets to be just logan. nothing more, nothing less.

and speaking of logan; his hair is still slightly damp from the previously mentioned shower. the wolfy ear-like shapes that he prefers to style atop his head have drooped slightly with the weight of the water, and the apples of his cheeks have become flushed from the steam.

the smell of the shower gel that you had picked for him a little while ago at the store mixes with his signaturely masculine, heavy scent. it only intensifies, steadily filling your nostrils when you swing your leg over his middle to pull yourself on top of him and lay your head on his bare chest.

he didn’t bother putting a shirt on. i mean, why would he, when he’s in the privacy of his own home and at long fucking last doesn’t have to look presentable — he calls it fancy, the idiot — for anyone?

but anyways, his rough hands wrap around your hips when you straddle him. he exhales deeply, the breath long and content, but it breaks into a confused chuckle when you begin to rub your cheek against the hair on his chest all of a sudden.

“uh,” he starts, arching a dark eyebrow even though you can’t see it from how busy you are with smushing your face into his tits as far as it’ll go. “should i even ask, or…?”

“just petting myself against your love rug, my dearest,” you mumble, unfazed by the curiosity that’s lacing his voice. “unlike the rest of you, it’s surprisingly soft. feels kind of nice.”

the corner of logan’s mouth twitches upwards at that. it’s barely there, less of a smile and more of a smirk, but it’s there.

“unlike the rest of me?” he repeats, clearly amused in some shape or form now.

you stop the movement to roll your eyes at him. “i meant your crazy man muscles and the whole skeleton enveloped in metal thing that you’ve got going on for yourself, not your dick, you pervert.”

there’s a second chuckle slippist past his lips, and you can hear this one rumble in the depths of his chest before he asks, “who said anything about my dick?”

you look up into his hazel eyes as you rest your chin on your knuckles, grinning at the glint of playfulness that’s residing there. his forehead is smooth, no deep wrinkle of agitation in sight. gosh, you love it when he’s relaxed and happy. it makes him appear kinder, even if you do have a weak spot for his more broody side.

“well… what else have you got that’s hard, then?” you ask, choosing to play along now.

“easy,” he replies. “my heart.”

you stare at him. he stares at you.

a steady beat of silence stretches out between you.

“pfsh,” you huff finally, immediately snickering like a girl in love. “your heart? seriously?”

“what?” he asks, stroking his fingers up and down your sides. his touch is so warm, it stirrs you into motion, lures you into grinding your hips against his own. slow and lazy and thorough — just like the way your entire day off has been spent so far.

blood rushes below logan’s waistline as a result. he readjusts, gripping you tighter by the hips, pressing you down on instinct. you can feel him poking you between your legs already. eager.

“oh, nothing,” you purr, reaching out to comb your fingers through his hair, picking up the moisture there. “i’m just a bit taken aback by this piece of information, that’s all… i mean, for a man who loves to cuddle every chance he gets and who secretly enjoys having his fruit cut up by me into tiny little slices despite possessing claws, you sure as hell don’t strike me as someone with a hard heart, you know.”

foreheads pressing against one another, you keep your voice as quiet as it can be when you add, “the truth is that you’re a softy, logan... like a teddy bear or a really good pillow, it’s always nice to have you at home. and i love you for it.”

you say it like it’s a secret.

before he can respond, you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his lips, then, just for the sake of provoking him further. his stubble scrapes your skin, prickling slightly when he pushes forward to deepen the kiss, and you can feel his strong heartbeat speed up underneath your palms.

it keeps doing that as of late. racing on and on and on… hmm.

logan looks up at you, his pupils visibly dilating as he takes you in. the shape of your face, the curve of your cupid’s bow, the love that he still can’t believe you harbour for him of all people, and that’s currently swirling inside your eyes. you even smell like love, goddammit.

he doesn’t say the words back — he can’t yet, he’s not ready but he will be, you just have to give him time, just wait for him, please — but what he does is flip you around in one smooth movement and pins you down with the help of his hand holding onto both of your wrists.

there’s no pressure behind the grip, but you know he doesn’t feel the need to apply it because he’s positive that you won’t go anywhere. and he’s so big above you now; the curve of his shoulders is broad, the muscles in his back are strong and flexing with anticipation. even his eyes have turned dark. like an animal’s that’s gone into hunt.

he hunches his shoulders slightly as he drops lower to cup your cheek and kiss you again, this time being the one to initiate it first. with the distance now nearly gone, you open your legs further for him, locking your ankles on the small of his back. he uses the chance to press the hard-on that’s painfully straining his boxers against you.

breaths intermingle as you both begin to pant. his cock is big just like the rest of him is, heavy. you squirm, lifting yourself just enough for him to help you take your shirt off. his chest presses against yours after that, sharing the warmth, sticking with upcoming sweat, making you feel the silky smooth hair that’s residing there and driving you even more wild.

“oh, by the way,” he murmurs between hot kisses, fingers already tugging on the waistband of your panties, “never say love rug again. when you need me to pet you, just tell me.”

[revelboo]

An idea for the Metroplex x reader fics in the long term, it’d be interesting to consider the reader finding a way to merge with him sometime down the line! It might be difficult to explain with a human reader, but a little plot convenience never hurt anyone.

If you haven’t read the Windblade comics, merging is where a regular cybertronian connects with a titan, sharing one mind and also having access to their entire frame. It’s cool stuff. When Windblade does it, she does see a vision of Metroplex (relatively regular sized) holding out his hand to her.

I’ve been thinking about titans a lot and I think while merged Metroplex would be able to feel as if he’s being held like a normal bot, even if that’s not really happening. I ramble on. The Windblade comics are so good I recommend them to everyone, that is my message. Thank you for delivering us top tier fics with lightning speed 🫡

Looks they’ve pulled the IDW TF comics from Kindle aside from what I already own. I need to track down a copy of the Windblade series and drag the bulk of my physical comics out to reread.

I Can Feel You Pt 5

Metroplex x Reader

• It’s a slow process. One word at a time. Repeating yourself until he slowly, painstakingly responds. Simple things since that’s all you’re really capable of with the limited phrases in the educational files, writing a question and repeating it out loud for the massive Autobot. Then quickly copying down his response to try and translate it. You spend all night that way, stretched out on the floor, the aching in your back and shoulders distant as you focus on Metroplex. On talking to him, needing to let him know you see him. He’s not alone or forgotten.

• Centering himself with the feel of your heartbeat, he watches over you as you sleep, cheek on your outstretched arm where you’d fallen asleep waiting on him to form a response as day broke. All night speaking to him, that knowledge spreads warm through his spark even as exhaustion drags at him. Making such small things, detailed things, so difficult, sapping his energy and ability to focus. But to be able to talk to you, it’s worth it. Do you understand how much the effort means to him? That you’d tried at all when no one else bothers?

• It’s mid afternoon when you wake up, body aching from laying on the hard floor. Pushing yourself upright, you lean back against your berth. Reluctantly pulling yourself to your feet, your sleepy mind almost doesn’t notice the dark rectangle of missing floor in a corner. Moving closer, you peer into the darkness below, seeing stairs winding down and as you look, biolights flare, running like circuitry in the walls. Did he want you to go down there? He must, but your nerves jangle as you lay a hand against the wall, faintly uneasy at the claustrophobic space and darkness. He can’t know how much you hate small spaces, but he’s reaching out again. You can’t just ignore him. “Okay,” you whisper, skin prickling as you start down the stairs. Realizing he’s leading you into his massive frame and unsure how you feel about that.

• Your palm slides along him as you move slowly down the stairs and he can feel you trembling faintly. Afraid? Why now? Flaring biolights for you as you keep going, he’s aware of the way you keep looking up toward the rectangle of light, of the way your breathing is becoming less steady. Trusting him enough to keep going, though. But so silent. He’s so used to you talking to him constantly that he’s very aware that you’re not talking. Just a little further, though. Deeper inside the labyrinth of his frame. He’s not even sure if this will work, but wants to try. Needs to know.

Previous

Next

[t3l3vangelism]

NEW BOT ALRRT

new bots based on 8 songs that have been on repeat for me

note : just a small fyi, these are heavily, HEAVILY inspired by my lovers @voidsuites and @pearlzier!!! i meant to make wayyyyy more but like half of the songs I listen to on the daily are essentially about the same thing 😞

DEAN WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Sarah by Mojave 3

dean had a part in raising sam , but he knew he was entirely responsible for raising his youngest sibling, user. so when sam runs off to college and user tries to follow, dean pushed them away. years later, they reunite and dean still feels a little bitter that they left him behind.

SAM WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ California by Lana Del Rey

sam finally found solitude in someone else’s arms for the first time since jess passed. but when user starts asking too many questions about what he does for a living, sam decides to break it off for their safety whether they like it or not. months pass and sam finds himself back in california and dean heavily injured on a rough hunt. the nearest hospital is too far, but user is just down the block.

JOSH WASHINGTON ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ No one noticed by The Marias

after beth and hannah disappeared, josh formed a dependent relationship with user when they were the only one to show up in his time of need. now that everyone has agreed to return to his cabin for the one year anniversary of his sisters, josh can hardly stand anyone else holding user’s attention.

THEODORE NOTT ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ It’s good to be in love by Frou Frou

theo and user have been friends for years, user was really the only person he even considered a friend. over time, theo found himself growing feelings for user. however, user in in love with cedric. theo is forced to watch from afar, even growing distant from his friend until he accidentally confronted in them in the slytherin common room.

CARMEN BERZATTO ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Lover, you should’ve come over by Jeff Buckley

while carmen is trapped inside of his restaurant’s fridge, he goes through emotional turmoil thinking about the argument he got into with his partner the night before. richie obviously sensed the tension and tries to confront carmen while he can. his confrontation turns into a battle of fury until richie steps away, leaving carmen to scream against the metal door in front of him. he doesn’t know he’s alone until he’s faced with silence, he decides to break it by calling for the one person he hurt the most. he just hopes he wasn’t too deaf, dumb, and blind to lose them entirely.

JOEL MILLER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Here in California by Kate Wolfe

joel’s first real world lesson was taught by his mother; don’t fall in love too quickly before you learn to know yourself. as he got older, he realized how important his mother’s advice really was. but when the virus hit, it seemed to get lost in the translation. years later, joel has found himself forming a wordless bond with user, a stranger ellie had forced him to help when tess was still around. but now they were in tommy’s little community, spending their first night together in front of a dim fire and joel feels the need to enforce his mother’s word.

FRED WEASLEY ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey

fred basks in nature during the last few days of his honeymoon with user.

SYDNEY ADAMU ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ flamin hot cheetos by Clairo

sydney and user sit on the front steps of her apartment building, enjoying the crisp air of night. sydney rants about anything and everything she can about the recent hectic events since the opening of the bear. but when she realizes how intently user is staring at her, sydney’s mind once again wanders into questioning if the nature of their relationship is more than just friendly.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

141 + Konig and Alejandro.

Requesting how they would react to reader having a near death experience and are afraid of losing them. Fluff at the end. Please and thank you ☺️

Of course, thanks for the request! Hope this is what you were looking for!

141 + König & Alejandro Reacting To Reader Nearly Dying

Warnings: blood, mentions of death, mentions of injury, heavy angst- ends in fluff

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

Simon Ghost Riley-

It happened so quickly that Simon barely had time to register it.

The enemy had the gun pointed at him, and Simon was prepared to take it. He knew there was no escape from it. But then, you. You and your selfless heart just had to step in.

At the last second, you were nothing but a blur in his field of vision as you jumped in front of him, taking the bullet that was meant for him.

He watched as you dropped to the floor, and his entire world stopped in that moment. In his blind rage, he took down the man who shot you without a second thought, before regaining his senses.

"I need a med evac, NOW! Y/N's been shot." Simon cried out in a panic, rushing to your side. "Hey, hey, keep your eyes open, okay? Don't you dare fuckin' close them."

"I love you, Si." You said, gripping his arm with as much strength as your weakening form could muster. "I'm sorry."

"Don't talk like that, I won't have it. Keep your eyes open, kid." He gave your cheek a light slap as he pressed his hand on the wound on your abdomen. "Don't leave me, please."

You felt yourself slipping away, Simon's pleas being the last thing you heard before darkness consumed you.

~

Your eyes blinked open as a blinding white light blurred your vision. It took you a moment to realize your surroundings, as you looked over to the person whose hand was tucked firmly in yours. "Simon?"

"Sweetheart?" Simon voice was timid, and you knew him well enough to know that he had been crying. "You're awake."

"Hey." You croaked as you tried to sit up.

"No, no, don't move. I'll get you some water." He reached over to the bedside table and helped you gulp some of the ice water. He watched as you shakily set the glass down next to you, his eyes softening as he saw how much you struggled with such a simple gesture.

"You could have died Y/N, what were you thinking?" Simon asked, not taking his eyes off you. "That bullet was meant for me."

"And I couldn't sit by and watch you die, Simon. My body reacted before my brain did. It was just instinct. And I'd do it again if it meant you being alive." Your tone took Simon off guard, his protective walls shattering at your words.

"I can't live without you. I thought you were gone." His voice was barely audible, and you could hear the deep sadness in it.

"I'm here, Simon. I'm not going anywhere." You pulled him closer to you, forcing him to lay his head on his chest.

"Marry me."

"What?" You asked, not sure if you heard him correctly.

"Marry me." Simon repeated, his eyes still staring deeply into yours. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"But you said that-"

"I don't care what I said before. Nearly losing you made me realize that I want to spend every waking second with you for the rest of my life. So please, marry me. We can go to the courthouse tomorrow and make it official."

You let out a small sob as you absorbed his words. "Yes, yes, of course I'll marry you."

Simon smashed his lips to yours, holding you impossibly close as he deepened the kiss. "I love you, so much."

"I love you too, always."

John Price-

"When we are done with this God forsaken mission, I'm taking you to a nice dinner, got that?" John asked, a hint of a smile lining his lips.

"I certainly won't say no to that. I could use a night out with you." You gave your husband a warm smile before turning the corner in the building the two of you were clearing. "Last room, we should be done in just a minute."

John turned his gaze back to you, and his blood ran cold as he saw your foot land on trip wire. "Y/N, WAIT!"

But it was too late. You triggered the bomb set by the trip wire, and you and Pricem were sent flying as the explosion rang out through the building.

It took a moment for John to regain his senses, the impact of the explosion knocking the wind out of him.

John's ears were ringing as he looked for you amongst the debris. "Babe? Where are you!?"

He wiped some of the dust from his eyes and found you lying on the floor across the room, pieces of wood covering the lower half of your body.

He slid over to you, throwing the debris off of you in a panic. "Hey, hey, hey. You better be okay. I can't do this without you, I can't."

His heart was practically beating out of his chest as his eyes raked up and down your figure. You were covered in blood and bruises, and your heartbeat was faint.

He put his arm underneath your limp body and lifted you, holding you close to him chest. "I'm not going to let you die."

~

Sounds of distant talking, and machines beeping drew you from your deep slumber. Your eyes blinked open, as a cough racked through your chest.

"Babe!" John cried out, cutting his conversation with Laswell short. "You're okay."

He hurried over to you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you blinked away the sleep from your eyes. "What happened?"

"We can talk about that later. How are you feeling?" John asked, kneeling next to the bed, grasping your hand firmly in his.

"Like hell, but I'll be okay." You gave him a reassuring smile as you squeezed his hand. Your brows furrowed slightly as you took in his bruised face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better now that you're awake. Gave me quite a scare, sweetheart." He said as he pressed a kiss to your hand.

"Well, I should work on getting better quickly. If I remember correctly, you owe me a date, captian."

"That I do, I'm going to make it a date you'll never forget."

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You and Kyle were doing one of your weekly walks on one of the trails near your home.

It was a habit the two of you had formed, and it was a way for you both to unwind from the stresses of your lives.

It was early on a late winter morning, and you were just making your way over a small wooden bridge that rested above a small river. Kyle looked over at you and chuckled as he watched you shiver slightly.

"Should've taken a coat, kid. I told you it was cold."

"I'm no weakling. Besides, we are almost home anyway, I'll be fine." You giggled, bumping into him as the two of you walked.

He gave you the slightest of nudges, as the two of you laughed. At that same moment, you were walking over a small slick puddle on the bridge, causing you to lose your footing.

It happened in the blink of an eye, your valance being thrown off, sending you toppling over the side of the small bridge, into the freezing water below.

Kyle's entire world froze, and sheer panic set in. He watched as your frame disappeared into the water, and he immediately bolted across the bridge, to get to the ground below.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He screamed, his eyes frantically searching for you.

He saw your head emerge from the water, gasping for air as you struggled to tread above the surface. Without hesitation, he tore off his coat and jumped into the freezing water, swimming after you.

~

Dragging you to the surface, he grabbed his coat off the ground and wrapped it around your frame, holding you tightly to him, rubbing the length of your arms vigorously. "Are you okay?"

You gave a nod, as a chill ran through your body. "Thank you, for saving me. I couldn't feel my body."

"I will always, always save you. No matter the cost." He pressed a warm kiss to your temple, shivering slightly as he began to realize just how cold it was. "You are my everything, Y/N. I'm so sorry, this was my fault."

"I should've watched where I was going, it's okay. I'm okay." You said it more to yourself than to Kyle, in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"Let's get going, I'll draw a hot bath for us when we get back. I think we both at a minimum are going to catch a cold from this." Kyle chuckled, helping you to your feet.

"Maybe this'll teach me to wear a coat next time."

König-

"I'm right behind you, Kö, go!" You called out, running as fast as your legs could carry you.

The building was crumbling around you and the team as you all struggled to make your way outside to safety.

You were nearly out of the building when you tripped on a loose piece of concrete, sending you toppling to the floor. "KÖNIG!"

But it was too late, König was already out in the open before he heard you, and the building finally crumbled to the ground before he registered your cry for help.

"MAUS!" König cried out, watching as the dust settled from the crumbled building. His legs moved before his brain could catch up as he darted toward the rubble.

"König, wait! You're going to get yourself killed!" Price called out, trying to stop the Austrian from running to you.

"I can't leave them!" König slid to his knees and began to dig away at the rubble bit by bit. "I can't leave them."

König felt tears pooling in his eyes, the thought of losing you tearing at his heart in a way that made it nearly hard for him to breathe. "They're my everything."

Price and the others knew that fighting him was hopeless and ran to his aid. They spent the better part of 20 minutes throwing rubble to the side, and were just about to give up when they heard a faint cry from underneath them.

"Help! I'm in here!" You choked out, your throat filling with dust from each breath you took. "Please."

König was sent into a frenzy at your cries for help and doubled his efforts to remove the rocks. "Maus, I'm here! Hold on, I'm here!"

With one final rock thrown to the side, your beaten and battered frame came into his line of sight, and he felt the weight on his shoulders fall off.

You were covered in debris and blood, but still had that beautiful smile on your face. "König."

He reached his hands down and pulled you up to him in a bone crushing hug. "I'm here, Maus. I'll never leave you again."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You and Johnny were running from an onslaught of enemies making their way to your location. You were less than half a mile from exfil, and the two of you were running faster than you ever have in your lives.

Johnny heard gunshots from behind him, and heard a sharp intake of breath come from you.

"Babe, come on, we've got to move!" Johnny called out, looking behind him to make sure you were following. What he saw, had his entire world shifting on its axis.

You looked up at him, through bleary eyes, as your hand clutched at the growing blood splotch on your stomach. "Johnny."

"No, no, no." Johnny ran over to you as you started to lose your footing, and held you in his arms. "Hey, kid, it's alright. You're going to be okay."

"It hurts, Johnny." You whispered, the blood loss causing you to grow weaker by the second. "I'm scared."

"You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. I won't let anything happen to you." His voice was shaky as he struggled to keep his composure. "Please, please keep yourself awake. I'll get us to exfil."

He carried your body and sprinted toward the exfil point, praying to the stars that you would make it out of this alive.

~

Johnny walked into your hospital room a few days later, and his heart felt like it was going to implode when he saw your smiling face looking back at him.

"Theres that beautiful smile." Johnny's voice came from beside your bed. "I thought I lost you."

"I'm here, Johnny. I'm sorry to have scared you." You reached for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze as your eyes met his.

"Don't ever scare me like that again. I don't know what I would've done without you." Johnny's words felt like molasses in his throat, as his tears threatened to pour down his cheeks once more. "I can't live without you."

"I promise. I'm not going anywhere." You pulled him toward you and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he began to sob into your chest.

"You better not, I won't ever let anything happen to you again."

Alejandro-

Alejandros' worst nightmare had come true. The cartel had taken you hostage in an attempt to get back at him and Los Vaqueros, and it had been nearly three days without any sign of life from you.

He and Rudy were able to locate you at a nearby warehouse, and Alejandro was on a warpath to get to you. Dead bodies were strewn across the floors of the building, left in Alejandro and Rudy's wake.

Alejandro rounded a corner, and his heart stopped at the sight of you strapped to the chair, your body battered, bloodied and bruised.

"Carino!" He called out rushing to your side. He was quick to unstrap the restraints holding you to the chair and caught your limp body as it fell forward. "Carino, please, please be okay."

He carried your weakened body and sprinted alongside Rudy to leave the compound.

His tight grip on you didn't falter the entire ride to the hospital, as hot tears began to fall down his cheeks. Alejandro had been through a lot in his life, but nothing compared to this moment. He could feel the life slipping from you, and bit by bit, his heart began to disintegrate.

~

It was a few days later, when you were finally discharged from the nearby hospital. Alejandro had been distant from you the entire time you were admitted, the guilt of your kidnapping being too much for him to handle.

You weren't going to take his distance any longer, however, and decided to approach him about it a short while after you both got home.

"Alejandro, we need to talk. I'm okay, now. It's okay." You spoke, resting your hand on his shoulder gently. "Please, talk to me."

"It's not okay, I failed you. I should've been there. It's because of -."

"Ale, it's not your fault." You turned him toward you gently. "I don't blame you, not in the slightest."

"But it is, I'd understand if you didn't want to be with me anymore." His gaze fell from you, his eyes lingering on the floor below. "You're not safe with me."

"Don't say that. Alejandro, I'm safest when I am with you. I am not, and will not ever leave you."

Alejandro choked on a sob as he collapsed to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head against your abdomen. "I don't deserve you, hermosa, but I will spend the rest of my life making you the happiest person I can. And I promise you, I will protect you no matter the cost."

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

A/N: I really struggled with writing this one- I hope you all enjoy!

[girl-next-door-writes]

Between the Stacks

Characters: George Weasley x reader

Summary: Snow falls softly at Hogwarts, but George Weasley’s mischief sparks warmth in the library—and maybe, something more.

Word Count: 1247 words

Prompts: Library. Mutual pining. A hug that lingers.

A/N: A lovely sweet anon requested this one, so I hope you see it. I have missed writing my favourite Weasley.

The library was quiet, the soft rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of a quill the only sounds breaking the stillness. Snow fell softly against the windows, casting shifting patterns of light on the stone walls. Christmas was just a week away, and most of the students had already left for the holidays, leaving the Hogwarts library eerily empty. You had told yourself you stayed back for the quiet. The peace. But the truth was, the silence felt heavier than you’d expected, wrapping around you like a too-tight scarf.

“You’re staring at that book like it insulted your gran,” a familiar voice broke your concentration, and your heart did a little flip. George Weasley slid into the chair across from you, his signature mischievous grin firmly in place.

“Maybe it did,” you quipped, snapping the book shut. “I’m not entirely convinced Potions theory isn’t some form of cruel punishment.”

George chuckled, leaning back in his chair, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the firelight turned his hair into copper and gold. He was always so at ease, like the world bent just slightly to accommodate him.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? I thought you’d have escaped this place by now.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you countered, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, an easy motion that somehow felt practiced. “Fred and I thought we’d stick around. Fewer teachers means more room for…creative experimentation.”

“Ah, I see. And by ‘creative experimentation,’ you mean causing as much chaos as possible?”

“Precisely.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and for a moment, his grin softened into something thoughtful. “But what about you? Why spend your holidays buried in books when you could be…I don’t know, having fun?”

You hesitated, twirling your quill between your fingers. The truth was, you’d stayed back partly because you enjoyed the quiet, but mostly because of him. George. His laugh, his jokes, the way he made everything seem brighter. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Maybe I like the quiet,” you said finally, glancing away to hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “It’s…peaceful.”

“Fair enough,” he said, though there was a glint of something knowing in his eyes. “But don’t you ever get lonely?”

“Not when I have people like you interrupting me,” you teased, grateful for the shift in tone.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich, shattering the stillness of the library. For a moment, the cold stone walls seemed to fall away, and all that was left was him.

Over the next few days, George seemed to pop up wherever you went. In the Great Hall during meals, he’d slide into the seat beside you with a cheeky comment about your “intense focus” on your soup. In the common room, he’d swipe your parchment to doodle absurd caricatures of Snape, complete with a crooked nose and bat wings. And in the library, he’d appear from behind the stacks, always with a joke or a story that left you laughing despite yourself.

“You know,” he said one evening, as you both sat in the library again, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” you repeated, feigning innocence as you turned a page in your book. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping a finger to his chin, the picture of mock seriousness. “Maybe because you’re worried you’ll fall madly in love with me.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart raced. “Please. I think I’ll manage.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a wink. But his grin faltered—just for a second, the smallest crack in his usual bravado. His eyes lingered on you, softening in a way that made your stomach twist, before he quickly glanced away.

It wasn’t until the evening before Christmas Eve that things came to a head. You were alone in the library, the faint strains of carols drifting from the enchanted suits of armor in the corridors. The fireplace crackled softly, casting long shadows across the rows of books, and snow tapped gently against the frosted windows. The quiet was almost soothing, and you’d been lost in thought when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually studying so close to Christmas,” George’s voice rang out, tinged with mock horror.

You turned, startled, to find him standing there, a box wrapped in red and gold paper in his hands. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and there was a certain nervousness in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“What’s that?” you asked, eyeing the package.

“A present,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For you.”

“For me?” You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug, though his grin was unusually subdued. He stepped closer and set the box carefully on the table. “Go on, open it.”

Your fingers brushed the crisp paper as you peeled it back, the firelight reflecting off the gold paper. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden box. You lifted the lid to reveal a quill, its handle engraved with your initials and the crest of your house. The silver feathers shimmered faintly, catching the glow of the fire.

“George…” you began, your voice catching. You ran your fingers over the smooth handle, marveling at the detail. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I thought you could use something special for all those notes you’re always scribbling,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze. “Figured it might make studying a bit less miserable.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking up at him, your chest tightening. “Really. Thank you.”

He grinned, but this time there was a softness to it, a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter, “I wasn’t entirely honest earlier.”

“About what?” you asked, though your pulse quickened.

“Why I stayed for the holidays,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. His hand drifted to the edge of the table, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wood.

Your breath caught. “Why did you?”

He looked up then, his brown eyes meeting yours with an openness that made your stomach flip. “Because I… I didn’t want to spend so much time away from you.”

The words hung in the air between you, soft and tentative, like snowflakes that might melt if you moved too suddenly. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, before you could think twice, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for a heartbeat, then pulled you close, his hold firm and warm and lingering just a little too long to be purely friendly.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured against his shoulder, though your tone was affectionate. “But thank you.”

His breath was warm against your hair. “For what?”

“For staying,” you said softly, tightening your hold for just a moment longer.

When you finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your arms, his touch warm despite the chill in the air.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, his gaze locked on yours.

“Merry Christmas, George,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something wonderful.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: happy regular season finale! i am first and foremost and islander girly so i’m beyond excited for the boys and ready to get the playoff craziness going 💙🧡 had to write a quick, fun, smutty fic in honor of the clinching! enjoy! ☺️

tw: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), thigh riding, wall sex, praise kink, dirty talk, terrible jokes, minimal editing

word count: 2.7k

summary: mat and the boys clinch a playoff berth in game 81, you celebrate with him when he gets home

It’s so late when Mat gets home from New Jersey, but the both of you are buzzing with the adrenaline of winning and clinching third in the Metro. You’d been too nervous to watch the game with any of the girls, spending the entire sixty minutes of game action jumping around and pacing the den.

Your text thread with Mat after the game was an incomprehensible string of emojis and exclamation points, too excited to form words.

When Mat’s little Find My Friends dot appears in your driveway, you yank the front door open and dance in place on the steps, waiting for him to get out of his car. You can see his huge smile even at a distance.

“Playoffs, baby!” You shout, jumping into Mat’s arms before he even has a chance to step into the house. His arms wrap automatically around your waist, your legs locking together at his lower back. The oversized shirt you’re wearing rides up around your hips, extra fabric bunching up in between your bodies. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Mat!”

You cup his face in your hands, his stubble scratching your palms, and press your mouth to his in a deep kiss. Mat grins under your lips, licking at the seam of them so he can gain entrance to your mouth. He holds you closer, carrying you as he steps inside and kicks the door shut behind him. The fabric of his suit jacket tickles at your bare thighs and you clench your muscles, practically grinding yourself over his stomach. The kiss makes you lightheaded, teeth and tongues and saliva making it messy.

“Fuck,” Mat breaks the kiss with a breathless gasp, hazel eyes blown dark from arousal. You can feel the hard heat of his erection under your ass and grin wickedly, pressing open mouthed kisses against the sharp edge of his jaw and down his neck. “Wish you came, you should’ve come! Playoffs!”

“Playoffs!” You repeat on a delighted laugh, pride swelling in your chest. It hasn’t been the easiest season, a rollercoaster of losses and wins and a new coach, injuries and quite possibly the world’s worst penalty kill, but you’re beyond proud of Mat and the boys and what they’ve accomplished. Your arms tighten around Mat’s neck and you squeeze him in a huge hug. “I am so, so beyond proud of you.”

Mat kisses the corner of your mouth, resting his forehead against yours. His hips twitch up into yours.

“I never had a doubt,” you whisper the praise, enjoying the way Mat’s grip tightens on your hips, the way his chest starts to rise and fall rapidly against yours. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging gently. “My Mat, fighting for every point. You guys accomplished something and now you’re going to have some fun.”

“Better get working on those fancy jackets,” Mat teases, walking forward until your back hits the wall. You grin, intimately familiar with the sly curve of his smirk and the twinkle in his eyes.

“Better get working on that playoff beard,” you tease back, gasping when Mat thrusts his hips up into yours, your panties immediately soaked from the hard press of his cock against your core. You whine and dig your nails into his scalp.

Mat nips at your jaw. “Yeah? You like the beard?” He keeps you pinned against the wall, his pelvis pressed into yours, hands gripping tightly to your ass.

You whine again, nodding. “Wanna feel it between my thighs again,” you gasp, his teeth sharp against your pulse point. “C’mon, Mat, fuck me against the wall.”

He laughs, the sound vibrating against your chest, and hikes his leg up so his thigh is pressed solidly against your cunt, thick muscle the prefect spot for you to rub your aching, throbbing clit against. Your head thunks back against the wall as you grind over him as best you can while being held up by one of Mat’s hands and his leg.

“There you go, baby,” Mat murmurs, using his other hand to make quick work of his belt buckle. The mental clinks together and you hear the zipper of his slacks slide down. “Soak my pants, come on. Look so pretty trying to make yourself come.”

The fabric of his pants and the thin, soaked cotton of your panties create a delicious friction against your clit. Your stomach tightens and your thighs tremble.

Mat bounces his leg a little and you gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. He grins and you look down to see him fist his cock out of his boxer-briefs, the swollen tip of him leaking pre-cum all over his fingers. Your cunt clenches around nothing, a rush of arousal slicking down your thighs.

“Mat, please, oh my god,” you babble, desperate for him. You need something, anything, to relieve the pressure building between your legs.

“Be patient, Squeaks,” Mat smirks, his hand gliding easily up and down his length. His knuckles press against your lower stomach on each upstroke, pre-cum staining the hem of your shirt. “Had to wait eighty one games to clinch, you can wait a few more minutes.”

He hoists you a little higher on the wall, his forearm braced under your ass, both feet back on the floor, and you whimper at the loss of his thigh between your legs.

“Just wanna feel you,” you drop your head to the join of his neck and shoulder, brushing your lips over the exposed skin of his collarbone. You’re glad he ditched his tie, a whore for the sight of his collarbone through the unbuttoned oxford shirt.

“Reach down and hold your panties to the side,” Mat orders and you comply quickly, reaching a shaky hand down to pull the soaked fabric away from your cunt. The elastic bites into your skin and the tip of Mat’s cock is pressed against your damp skin. You jolt in his grip, a choked gasp working past your lips. “There we go,” he coos, “good girl.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, your entire body growing hot at his praise, the tip of Mat’s cock circling your clit and sending electric shocks down your spine. “Please, please, oh my god,” you babble, chanting his name until Mat sucks a mark against your neck, lining the head of his cock up at your soaked entrance.

His hand keeps a tight grip on the base of his cock and you’re barely ready when he pushes into you, feeding his cock into your cunt inch by inch. “There we go, come on, baby,” he mutters, breathless. “Can take all of me, my good girl. My best girl.”

You slide your fingers over to play with your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle until arousal is dripping down Mat’s cock. He grunts in your ear, bottoming out, his hips locked against yours. The zipper on his slacks rubs painfully against your inner thighs, his belt buckle smacking against your hip.

“Oh my god,” you exhale harshly, clenching experimentally around Mat, savoring the ground out curse and groan that he can’t hold back. “Mat, baby, please move. Please,” you beg, panting just from the feeling of him filling you up and stretching you out. The burn of the stretch borders right on painful pleasure and you suck in a shaky breath.

He’s got both hands gripping your ass now, fingers digging bruises into your skin. “Gonna move, gotta move, so fucking tight for me,” Mat groans, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. There’s barely any room between your bodies, heat pouring off of the both of you. Mat pumps his hips, bucking them slowly at first, enough to get a whine clawing out of your throat, enough to get the coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach.

His hips slap against yours with his thrusts, short, sharp bursts that keep his cock bumping up against your g-spot. Your clit rubs against the hair at the base of his cock and tears roll down your cheeks from the stimulation.

You chant Mat’s name, murmuring broken praise for his game play, begging him to fuck you harder. “Wanna feel you come in me,” you wail, one hand grasping his shoulder and the other buried deep in his hair.

Mat bites little marks against your neck and collarbone, sliding your body up the wall with the force of his thrusts. “Gonna give you everything, baby, promise. Every drop, deserve it, earned it,” he says, barely coherent. “Love you, supported me all season, fuck, baby, come on my cock.”

He thrusts up into you and you clench around him, clit throbbing and cunt squeezing him until the coil snaps in your stomach, your orgasm hitting like a freight train. You moan wildly, too far gone to worry about how pathetically loud you’re being. Mat grunts in your ear, fingers squeezing your ass painfully. He keeps you on his cock, buried as deep into you as he can be, still trying to get deeper by pulling your ass closer.

Mat keeps thrusting up into you as you’re coming down from your orgasm, grunting against your collarbone, and you stroke his hair, encouraging him to come inside of you. “Come on, Mat, finish in me, please. Want you to fill me, so proud of you,” you’re barely aware of what you’re saying, but Mat seems to hear you and if isn’t long before he’s groaning into your skin, filling you with ropes of cum, keeping you held in place on his cock.

He shivers when he’s finished, cock softening inside of you, and you let one leg fall to the ground, keeping the other hooked over his hip. “Jesus,” you giggle, thighs shaking and core burning from helping to keep yourself upright. “Good thing you’re off tomorrow,” your smile, tired as it is, turns a little wicked, “because I really do not want to leave you or the bed.”

Mat rewards you with a sleepy smile and a sweet kiss to your forehead. You wince as his cock slips out of your cunt, smearing cum all over your inner thighs. “Tomorrow’s definitely a day for naked celebrations,” he laughs quietly. You can see that the adrenaline of the game and the sex is wearing off and his eyelids are starting to look heavy. He gives the underside of your thigh a gentle squeeze.

“Why don’t you go shower and change,” you suggest, smoothing your hands over the crumpled fabric of his suit jacket. “I’ll bring you up a snack and we can get some sleep.”

“Rather shower with you and eat you out,” Mat mumbles, letting your other leg fall to the floor but keeping you pinned to the wall. He rolls his hips lazily against your thigh. You can feel every inch of him and you’re not sure if he’s hardening again or if he’s still coming down from his orgasm. “We clinched, I should get to decide what we do.”

You burrow your face against his chest, the warmth of Mat’s body surrounding you while your arms snake around his waist, under his jacket. “If you’re this demanding when you clinch, I can’t wait to see how bossy you’ll be when you win,” you say cheekily.

Mat’s hand slips between your bodies to tuck his cock back into his pants and you press closer to him, trapping his hand between your stomach and his, making him laugh a little. He wiggles his fingers against your stomach playfully. “When we win the Cup,” he says, quietly but sincerely, “I’m going to fuck you until neither one of us can walk.”

Arousal pools low in your stomach again, your thighs clenching together. “Oh,” you murmur, “I’ll start manifesting from now then.”

Mat’s hand, still trapped between your bodies, works its way down over your stomach, fingertips close to where you want them. But not close enough.

You let out a soft little whine, poking your lower lip out in a pout that makes Mat laugh and duck his head to kiss you. He sucks your lower lip into his mouth and brushes his fingers even lower, your hips pushing up to try and slide his hand down.

You’re not quite tired anymore, frissions of lust sparking in your veins.

“You’re adorable,” he says, nipping gently at your lower lip. You wriggle against him, getting worked up again just from Mat’s proximity. The heel of his palm rubs against your lower stomach, the wide span of his hand stoking heat between your thighs.

“Imagine,” you breathe, “how adorable I could be on my back, moaning your name.”

A gasp punches out of your lungs when Mat’s fingers finally slide home, curling up into your cunt with a wet squelch, his cum leaking out of you and around his fingers into your panties. You clench around his fingers and let your head fall back against the wall while Mat’s fingers work you over.

“I love when you dirty talk me,” Mat props his free hand on the wall next you your head, his suit jacket opening and forming a curtain next to you. His head falls forward and he watches his hand disappear under the hem of your oversized shirt. “Pull your shirt up, baby, I want to see how you’re dripping down my hand.”

Your hand shakes a little as you lift the hem of your shirt up and hold it just at your belly button, Mat’s hand is down the front of your panties, stretching the fabric as he moves his wrist and fingers. Arousal drips down your thighs and your knees are threatening to give out as your second orgasm builds quickly. His name falls from your lips like a prayer and Mat’s pace never wavers, his gaze trained on the way his hand disappears between your legs.

With a twist of his wrist and a curl of his fingers, Mat presses the pads of his middle and ring fingers against your g-spot and the coil snaps again, your entire body going taut with the force of your orgasm and then boneless as you soak his hand and your thighs. Your knees buckle and Mat catches you, kissing your neck softly as he guides you through the aftershocks.

“You are aggressively good with those fingers,” you murmur, breathless.

“Gotta keep them warm for the playoffs,” he teases, pulling his hand away from you slowly. You wince at the sudden emptiness, cunt fluttering around nothing.

A smile plays at your lips and you fight it, trying to resist the urge to make the innuendo. A little puff of air escapes your nose as you try not to laugh and Mat pulls back, squinting at you, “what’s with the look?”

You shake your head, rolling your lips together to smother the worst of your laughter. “Nothing, I just…can we go upstairs so you can practice your stick handling?” The laugh you’d been holding back is finally released and you can’t stop your giggles.

Mat stares at you for a heartbeat, your laughter filling the silence, before his face cracks into a smile and his laughter joins yours. “Shit, you’re the worst,” he grins, shaking his head with an affectionate look on his face.

“I couldn’t help it!” You defend yourself, holding up your hands in surrender, your shirt falling back into place.

Still laughing, Mat leans in and kisses each of your palms. You curl your hands around his cheeks and squish them a little, forcing his lips into a pout for you to kiss. When you do, Mat pokes his tongue out, licking your upper lip.

“So….” you drag out the syllable, giggling and looking up at Mat with wide eyes, “is that a yes?”

Mat hoists you up into the air, hands under your thighs, and your squeal, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. His smile is hungry and you know it’s not just for you, with the clinching fresh Mat’s mind is going a mile a minute thinking about the cup run.

“If you’re good, Squeaks,” Mat says, heading for the stairs, bouncing you a little in his grip, “I’ll let you do your own stick handling.”

You laugh until Mat makes you moan his name again.

[kupidachillea]

Hello, I really like your yandere Olympians with a reader. You can make a yandere Poseidon with a reader separately, if it’s not difficult for you, of course Sorry if there are mistakes here, I’m just making mistakes with the translator😅 I just recently found out about Tumbl and you are the first one I write to and ask for something.

Poseidon x Reader (Hcs or imagines)

Author note: Eeeee Poseidon requests! I actually had some fun with this. Also thank you for requesting.

TW (Trigger Warning): Mentions of kidnapping, light stalking, mainly fluff.

CW (Content warning): I had this imagine set in the modern day because I wanted to explore more of how the gods would handle modern day lovers. Again- this isn’t accurate to the actual lore but some pieces are taken from it and inspired some of the things I put in here.

🌊- You had just moved to the seaside, wanting to get away from the busy city and just relax for a while.

🔱- You had found a nice home to purchase by the beach and took full advantage of it, collecting shells and sea glass, playing in the water and just sitting and enjoying the Greek sun.

🌊- Though, at times you can’t help but feel watched, however you can never tell where it’s coming from. At first you thought you were being paranoid since there were some people that occasionally came to the beach too but over time, the longer you lived by the water you felt eyes on you.

🔱- Turns out you weren’t being paranoid. A certain sea god was watching you, ever since you moved in. You had caught his eye..

🌊- He just couldn’t take his eyes off of you, it’s been quite some time since he’s had a mortal lover..it’s been a bit difficult as times have changed. You can’t simply kidnap someone without it being noticed.

🔱- “How bothersome..” He would think to himself. He was seriously considering snatching you up every time you came to the beach, after all- who wouldn’t want to spend the night with the god of the sea? So he thought you wouldn’t mind…

🌊- However, something held him back. He wanted to do things differently, believe it or not. He looked back on his memories and most times he acted rashly he ended up almost always chasing his ‘lovers’…he didn’t want to repeat history..maybe he should try human courtship for once.

🔱- And so- with that thought in mind he assumed a human form and decided to meet you on the beach.

🌊- Today was one such day, you were relaxing as usual, sorting out some shells before you felt the presence of another being looming over you. You looked up and your brows rose as you caught glimpse of the handsome man before you.

🔱- A smile tugged on Poseidon’s lips..he could already tell that his human form impressed you, however he can sense your suspicion. He pushed back a few strands of his long dark hair and greeted you.

🌊- Introducing himself by a different name to hid his identity and you answered back, greeting him and telling him about yourself.

🔱- At first you had a weird feeling about this strange man but you ended up brushing it off. Mentally telling yourself that you were just being paranoid.

🌊- Eventually you warm up to the stranger as days go by. You both kept meeting at the beach and somehow he always knew when you were there. You decided to jokingly bring that up in your next conversation with him.

🔱- “Hey, you know it’s kinda odd, right? How you know exactly when and where I’m going to be on the beach.” You chuckled softly as sat on the sand next to the dark haired man. Poseidon in human disguise hummed in acknowledgment.

🌊- “Oh is it?” He would ask in response. If only you knew that he was somewhat stalking you..waiting and watching for when you’d be out here. He was honestly getting very antsy waiting so long to have you but he somehow managed to mentally will himself to be more patient.

🔱- You nodded before continuing. “Yeah..you wouldn’t happen to be stalking me, would you?” You would laugh. Clearly joking about the entire thing though Poseidon just cocked a brow at you and smirked which in turn made your smile drop and your brows furrow.

🌊- “Wait..I was joking..I’m not serious..” You said quickly, hoping he’d take the hint and admit to not stalking you but of course that’s not how things went.

🔱- “I know you were joking, dear…but I have to be honest..I have been ‘stalking’ you..only a little.” Poseidon admitted and you pressed your lips into a thin line. Should you excuse yourself and leave? Or just stay put..you don’t know why but you felt oddly compelled to stay seated for a moment longer and hear him out. “Why..?”

🌊- “Why?” Poseidon replied back, his brows raising curiously before he smiled. “Why not? You interest me, little mortal. After you appeared on my beach I just had to have a closer look.” After he said that you felt your confusion only grow. ‘Little mortal’?… ‘His beach’?. Something wasn’t adding up.

🔱- “Wait- who are you…?” You finally spoke and it was as if you were seeing who he truly was for the first time. Because you were. You watched as his smirk formed into a grin and his appearance shifted. Causing you to backpedal away on instinct.

🌊- Now with his human form dropped he could finally be at ease. Poseidon let out a deep sigh. “Oh how I was waiting for this moment, for me to reveal my true self to you..I am Poseidon..god of the sea.” He would utter, his gaze falling back to you as he knelt down and took your hand. “Come now..don’t be afraid of me, dear one…” he cooed.

🔱- You weren’t sure what was happening anymore. You would’ve laughed at him and assumed he was joking if it weren’t for the fact he was kneeling in front of you after a short transformation. You took a deep breath before answering.

🌊- “Okay..um..Poseidon..what do you want with me?” You would ask as his thumb gently glided over your knuckles. A soothing gesture on his part, probably trying to get you to relax. The lord of the sea smiled softly.

🔱- “What I want with you? Isn’t it obvious? I want you to be my partner..my lover.” He would say, his voice as calm and as comforting as the soft sounds of the sea.

🌊- You looked at him in slight surprise and disbelief. Lover? You weren’t too sure how to take this. On one hand it was sweet and you were curious to see where this relationship would go- but on the other hand you were still skeptical of the god. Poseidon noticed your hesitancy and smiled a little as he moved his hands to caress your cheek. “We can go slow if you want…I’ve been patient and waited this long..so I think I can handle it if we take things one step at a time..” The sea god uttered with a slight sigh.

🔱-You relaxed at his words and nodded a bit. You supposed you could give this relationship a shot. Who knows, maybe having a deity as a boyfriend won’t be so bad. “I-…Okay..I accept your offer Poseidon.”

🌊- He would grin as the words left your mouth. This was perfect- exactly what he wanted. He was about to speak but you cut him off. “But! But- we go slow, like you promised. No rushing into anything serious at the moment…please?” You would spoke softly, your browns furrowed as you waited to hear the sea god’s response.

🔱- Poseidon would chuckle and nod. “Of course, my dear..We go slow.” He answered before placing a small kiss on the back of your hand. Finally he had you’re in his grasp, it was just a matter of time before he’d have you completely falling for him..and he intended to make that happen. You were his darling mortal after all..

Author note: Oof- this took way too long for me to do. I apologise for that. A lot of things were happening in November and I’m still sick lol. But on another note- I might do a part 2 to this if someone asks but all in all thank you for the request, Anon. I’m still working to finish the others too.

[faithfullyscarred]

daylight | logan howlett

pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

description: spent so long sleeping in a 20 year dark night, now I see daylight (fluff)

word count: ~1.1k

a/n: this is not edited <3 I couldn’t stop thinking of him with daylight by Taylor Swift :)

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✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

Confession time? Here's what it was. There was a time where Logan never knew you, and there was now. He never knew what it was like to so desperately want to stay in the now, and succeed. Nightmares had lessened, and his thoughts haunted him far less. You had insisted it was because of all the work he was putting into himself, but Logan swore it was because of you.

You, with your perfect laugh that could pull his mind out of whatever it got stuck in. With your blind optimism he lost years ago, struggling to put faith into much anymore. But he had faith in you, and the X-Men. It seemed like consciously living could be worth it for a little while again.

"I'm serious," Logan's eyes followed your every move as you settled in his lap, straddling his waist. His hands found your thighs without a second thought. "It's like I'm finally living again. Like it's worth living again, and I know I have you to thank."

“You have yourself to thank too.” You do your best to help him see the work he has done. All he saw was you with him.

His thumb softly trailed over the sensitive skin, a smile forming on his lips as he listened to your response. Credit was due, and he couldn’t admit there was any to give himself. Theoretically, he knew you were right.

Logan had seen lifetimes of hate. Of war, and anger. He’d spent more time running away from threats than he’d ever gotten to spend admiring life for what it could be. It made him cold, he knew that too. He wasn’t easy to know. Yet you stayed. He didn’t understand it.

“Sure,” he finally responded, deeply inhaling and eyes trailing down. He wouldn’t look away, and for once he didn’t want to. What was there to avoid now? “But let me thank you?”

When his eyes connected with yours again there was a jump in the rhythm of your heart. This meant something to him. You meant something to him.

His head moved forward, lips pressing a kiss on your chest just above your nightgown. And another, and another, trailing up along your neck. Logan felt he could never repay you in the way he really wanted, in the way he so deeply needed. No matter how many times you reminded him there was no need for thanks, you loved him.

His lips lingered as he kissed the corner of your lips before softly speaking. “I’ve seen a lot of horrible shit, I’ve done a lot of horrible shit. Guess… eventually I thought that’s all life would be. Misery.” His eyes flickered to yours again. “But I see it now. The light at the end of the tunnel, or whatever.”

You let out a small laugh at his phrasing. “Or whatever?”

His chest vibrated with a low laugh against your palm. His hands wrapped around you, pressing against your back so he could hold you closer. He wasn’t good with words and he knew it.

“You’re making it impossible for me to really thank you, you know?” He joked, raising his eyebrows and eyes flickering to your lips.

You mirrored his grin, “Okay, okay. My apologies.”

Your hands went up in a mock defense, pleading innocence. He softly shook his head. Logan needed you to know what you meant to him, he just choked on the words. Love was never in his cards. But this was love, he knew it.

“Thank you.” He finally said it, flat out. And you felt the way his body immediately relaxed with this admission.

Logan had spent his entire life running and living beneath a cloud. He forgot the way the sun looked, how it felt soaking into his skin. He had lost the right to feel the sun decades ago. His hope had died, and his search for something good in humanity had died ages ago. And you had immediately challenged that. He needed you to know how grateful he was for you, his sun.

“Thank you.” He repeated, a weight lifting off of him.

You looked at him so carefully, it allowed him to soften. He was an open book for you now. You could see hope returning, and feel his weariness wash away. And, come to think of it, you’d seen it before. The way his shoulders relaxed, and that crinkle between his brows would dissipate. It happened when he looked at you. So maybe you could accept his thank you. It meant something to him.

“I love you.” You whispered. That was acceptance.

Logan’s eyes scanned yours, and he smiled when he found truth in your whisper. He chuckled and landed a quick kiss on your lips before his hand pressed firmly on you so he could adjust the both of you to be laying. It was a careful movement, hand sliding out from beneath you as he laid your back against the bed. He just needed to admire you more, thank you some more. To love you some more. That's what this feeling was. He didn’t feel worthy.

“I’ve done so much damage.” He whispered, eyes scanning your body to be sure you were comfortable. He was avoiding now, just as you had done with his thanks.

“And you’ve saved countless lives.” You challenge.

He propped himself up with one arm, his free hand running up along your torso. “I’ve ran away from everything in my life.”

“You’re here, now. That’s enough.” Your hand cupped his cheek, grounding him.

Without thought, he kissed your palm before leaning into your touch. His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you there. He closed his eyes and stayed like that just to feel you a moment longer.

Your thumb skimmed over his cheek, giving in to whatever he’d want as he held on. “Throw it all away.”

His eyes opened, looking at you with curiosity. Your words sent some sort of immediate comfort, but he also didn’t want to allow himself to fully understand them.

“I’m happy to have you. Here, now.” You knew he would avoid the topic if you didn't expand. “Despite your past, despite your running… you’re here with me now. For a moment, for a year, for a lifetime, or whatever.”

He chuckled as you repeated his lackluster phrase. But he listened carefully.

“You’re here, and I love you.” You finalized your response, hoping it said enough.

Watching his lips curl into a smile, and his eyes shine with a shit eating look you knew far too well… you had guessed it said more than enough.

His voice spoke with ease, “I love you.”

Logan kissed the palm of your hand again, trailing kisses down your wrist and forearm before finding his origin and kissing your chest once more. His hand softly traced down your arm and he leaned his body down closer. He finally found the sun again, and it accepted him. He’d spend the night thanking it.

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[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Oral (m,f), facefucking, dirty talk, cockwarming, cumplay, overstimulation.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

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Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies, here is the next chapter that I have furiously written because I can and I want to and also just because I can hehe. Aemond having the reader say she wanted to taste him definitely made this man more feral than he already is. Enjoy <3

Chapter 71: A House of Gods

Aemond had brought you to your peak swiftly and passionately on his fingers after.

You had laid atop his chest, basking in the afterglow of the morning and enjoyed the warmth that his body had brought to you.

The pleasure that he had given you. 

When the maids arrived to the chambers, Aemond had pulled the sheets over the both of you and let the maids leave the food on the table for you to eat. You dressed together, and ate together, and Aemond reiterated that he would be spending the day with you, not the King. 

You were strangely grateful that he was putting in the effort to create some form of understanding between the both of you, as well as giving you an option of a buffer between you and the King.

Treading carefully, you insisted that you wanted to spend time with him in the chambers instead, worrying that Aegon would be lurking about the Gardens in wait of you. 

Aemond had been all too happy to oblige, agreeing without a moment of thought, likely thinking that you wished to repeat the activities of the morning again.

The day was spent in his company, reading together by the fire, conversing in small talk and memories of the past, though avoiding certain topics or people, as well as taking him once more in your mouth as a thanks, and not at all because you enjoyed the way he sighed and moaned beneath you. 

Or so you told yourself.

When Aemond had tried to reciprocate the act, you had felt shy and told him no, that you both would have plenty of time for that now that he was back, and promised him that you would let him indulge himself between your thighs later. Aemond, sulkily, complied and went back to reading his book, though not without dragging a teasing finger along your thighs or arms as he did mindlessly.

It was odd.

The entire day felt entirely too normal. 

Too domestic. 

And the more moments that you shared with Aemond like this, the more you thought of whether this was what it was supposed to be like. That this is what you could have had together. What you had dreamt of having when you were younger. What you had even discussed together childishly in secret hallways or beneath the Godswood.

And even the mere thought of it made your heart clench. 

Regardless, it was nice to bask in the glow of a day that did not set you on edge, nor tear your sanity to pieces.

The bubble of the day however, was burst when Ser Criston Cole had come to your chambers, knocking at the door before being let in by your own knight.

He had stood at the entrance, eyes passing between the both of you and how you sat; Pressed up against Aemond’s side on the chaise, book in lap, and his large hand on your thigh, fingers unconsciously soothing the skin.

“The King wishes for you to dine with him this evening.” Cole spoke to the both of you, yet only looking at Aemond. 

“Cole.” Aemond greeted the man, “I am tired from my travels. Please tell the King I wish to recuperate with my Lady Wife in our-“

“The King commands it.” Cole spoke again, tone final and having interrupted Aemond. 

Cole had interrupted Aemond.

You felt his hand on your thigh twitch, fingers digging into your flesh. You put your hand over the top of his and attempted to soothe it, so that the stinging pain that began to bloom in your thigh would stop.

Aemond’s lips pursed, and he turned looking away back to the fire. 

There was his answer.

His acquiescence.

Aemond did not turn to face you, nor did he take his gaze away from the flames. Ser Criston Cole had left without a word, and the doors shut softly behind him.

The two of you sat in silence until the knight outside had knocked on the door and entered when given a grunt of approval from Aemond. He had come into the chambers, head down in submission, and quietly told you that you had both been summoned to dine with the King, and that your presence had been requested now. 

Aemond stood reluctantly and held a hand out to you, helping you to stand beside him.

He looked on edge, not anxious, but rather concealing his irritation terribly. The both of you walked together, hand in hand, to the small Dining Hall. 

His grip grounded you, and you felt that it was for the benefit of the both of you. Not just for you, but for him too.

When the doors opened, Aemond refused to let go of your hand, and you had looked up at him in confusion. It was not often where a man and his wife would hold hands when entering chambers with guests, especially in the presence of a more conservative audience such as the Hightowers. 

It was not proper, and yet Aemond did not let go of you. 

It was as though he was laying claim to you.

Mine.

The Small Council sat where they always did about the table, with Aegon in the middle, Conquerors crown sitting heavily atop his wavy silver hair. His eyes dropped to your hands as you ascended the small steps, coming to the table where Aemond only let go of it to pull out your seat for you. 

Aegon’s brow was drawn as he looked at it, and you could have sworn you saw his jaw tick. Alicent had also noticed the shift between you and her son, except her reaction was different. 

Instead of a frown, her eyes gazed upon the both of you softly. 

In approval.

She likely was thinking of how her match was a good choice.

When you were seated and the food was brought to the table, Alicent spoke a quiet prayer as she always did, which you had now grown accustomed to hearing. 

“May the Father protect us from those who wish to see us burn.” She began, head down and hands upon the table, “May the Mother watch over us and keep us safe, may she bless us with a healthy heir and love.”

You stomach turned as you looked at her.

“May the Smith continue to mend the rifts that have divided us, and ensure the Treaty keeps us safe.” 

You eyes flitted to Aegon as she continued.

He was watching you and Aemond, whose head was bowed beside you in prayer, ever diligent and loyal to his mother and the Seven Faith. The Kings eyes danced back and forth before stopping on you, a malicious smirk winding its way onto his face. 

It made you shudder.

As the prayer ended you all ate together, sounds of the cutlery on plates and murmurs filling the room. Small talk was scattered about here and there, but by and large, there was an unspoken tension which continued to build. 

Something was amiss, and everyone seemed to know it.

The entire time you ate, you felt the heated gaze of Aegon on you. Dark violet eyes never once leaving your face or body, as they trailed down to your cleavage. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and your skin prickle. 

Something was wrong. 

“You look to be in better spirits this evening.” Aegon’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, parting the uncomfortable atmosphere from the others present to create a clear path to its intended victim. 

You.

Swallowing the food in your mouth, you dabbed the corners of your lips with your napkin, taking your time to think. Taking your time to breathe. Taking your time to think of how to respond without it coming back to get you.

“It is good to have my Lord Husband back in the Keep. Our time together seems few and far between as of late.” You eyed Aegon, taking caution with how you worded your response. 

Cocking his head to the side, Aegon’s wavy hair touched his shoulder as he pouted at you.

“Few and far between indeed. My brother is a man of duty, and when his duty calls, he tends to it.”

Aemond placed his cutlery down on the table, sensing your unease.

“Whatever my King needs of me, I shall do, brother.” Aemond spoke, voice soft and low. 

Unthreatening. Meek. Submissive.

Very unlike Aemond. 

He sensed something was afoot.

Aegon smiled widely, drinking from his cup before placing it down with a loud swallow.

“And that is why you are my most trusted member of the council.”

“Aemond has proven himself in many ways. It will be good for him to find rest here in Kings Landing again.” Alicent began, smiling at her younger son. 

Aegon hummed loudly, and his lips pulled down into a frown.

A heavy stone settled in the pit of your stomach.

“An unfortunately short rest I am afraid.” Aegon began, looking at you and then to Aemond.

Aemond stiffened.

“It seems there is much to do in the realm, and who better to do it than the famed Prince One-Eye and his dragon to install fear into those who defy us.”

“My King…” Aemond began, but was swiftly cut off by Aegon again. 

“Duty calls in Harrenhal, brother. It seems they require your presence on the morrow. Unfortunate for your wife, as she will be left to miss you once again. I will ensure that she is not deprived of company.”

Bile rose in your throat.

“And what is this duty that is needed of me?”

“I will have a scroll sent to your chambers this eve-“

“Tell me now.” Aemond snapped, patience evaporating.

“What did you say brother? I thought I heard you try to command me?” Aegon sneered.

Alicent, quick on her toes with her sons, and used to the pair and their incessant bickering, jumped to defend Aemond, trying to deflect her his sharp tone.

“I am sure Aemond is tired from his travels and is disappointed to know that he is to leave so soon aft-“

“You have all of tonight to get between her legs if that what makes you so angry.” Aegon smiled.

Aemond’s hand twitched on the table, whilst the other sat in his lap tightened into a fist. 

“Is it possible for Aemond to stay just a few nights more?” You began, tone soft, “Then he can perform his duty to the crown as he always does. I am sure he needs not-“

“I’m sorry, are you trying to advise me, the King, on how to rule?”

You wouldn’t know how to rule if it hit you in the face.

“No, uncle. I am merely saying, that I know I would like to spend more time with-“

“Aemond is to leave on the morrow, and if he does not, I would argue that it is an act of treason going against your King’s command. Is it not, brother?” Aegon grinned widely, and Aemond’s lips pressed into a tight line. 

Sensing his anger beginning to peak, you grasped Aemond’s hand in your lap, bringing it up to your lips to kiss. You swallowed thickly, looking at his side profile until he turned his gaze to you. 

“You will be back home in no time.” You tried to reassure him, watching as his jaw clenched. 

The air in the room was thick, and Aegon kept his gaze on Aemond, who turned to stare down his brother once more. Alicent opened her mouth to speak again, but you intercepted before she could. 

“The hour is late, and I would like to spend the remainder of the evening with my Lord Husband before he is to travel again tomorrow for you.” Standing, you kept Aemond’s hand in yours, pulling him to your side, “I ask that you excuse us so that we may retire. It has been a tiring day for us both.” You kept your eye on Alicent before flicking it to Aegon who sat back and smiled.

“I'm sure you will need all the time you can get to say your farewells.” Aegon intoned, and you wished to hit him in the teeth. To watch them fold backwards into his mouth, pulling away from his gums.

Aemond took the lead and bowed his head to Aegon, muttering Your Grace, before you left the chambers behind quickly and quietly, with a lingering tension and sense of dread between the both of you.

The walk back to the chambers was tense, and you could feel the anger rolling from Aemond in waves beside you. 

Soothe him.

Or you will bare the brunt of his anger.

“Aem, slow down.” You asked Aemond, who pulled you along the corridors by your hand. 

He slowed his step, hand tightening around yours as he muttered beneath his breath.

“He does this with purpose.” Aemond grumbled, eye locked on the path ahead of him. 

You squeezed his hand gently, pulling it to your side to slow his pace even further. 

“I am sure the King-“

“The King is a petulant child.” He growled, head turning to face you, "He does this to spite me. He sees the dust begin to settle, and decides to stir it once more for his own entertainment.”

“I do not wish for you to go.” You said after a beat.

“I have no choice but to. He threatened treason. Twat.”

“Surely there is someone else who can go in your place. He wishes to seperate us.” You tested the waters.

"He has found his new toy to play with. And rediscovered his old one.” You neared the chambers, turning a corner as the knight held open the doors for you to enter. 

You were Aegon’s new toy. 

And Aemond was his old one.

You entered and watched as the knight shut the door behind him, feeling safer about poking the wound without the eyes or ears of others. 

Aemond moved to pour himself a wine, and another for you before handing it over. He did not sit in his armchair as he always did, instead standing beside the fireplace to look at its flames as his hands gripped the goblet tightly.

“Aegon wishes to make a fool of you.” You began, stepping towards him, placing your goblet on the fireplace, “Commanding you like a dog to do his bidding, whilst he drinks and whores.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and his face snapped to you.

Fuck.

Thinking quickly on your feet you continued, “Is it not enough that you do his duties for him? That you act as the Prince Regent without the title? He mocks you at every turn. I do not wish to see you become the joke at court like I have.” 

You came to stand in front of him, his dark gaze locked on you as he sipped his wine. 

“Is it not bad enough that the courts whisper about Alys? Now they too shall whisper about your constant leave? Of how you serve as the Kings lap dog?”

You grabbed his free hand, holding it in the both of yours as you looked at him passionately, "You are a Prince. The blood of the dragon and Old Valyria. Perzys dakogon rȳ aōha ānogar.” Fire runs through your blood.

“You ride the mighty Vhagar, and yet he has you carrying out the tasks that a lower Lord would do.” You shook your head, falsely portraying anger and disgust, “Aegon openly mocks you at court when you are gone. He comes to me, and questions your manhood. Questions your ability to please me as a husband, and as a man. He has mocked you vagrantly in front of Ser Cole. In front of Lord Jasper Wylde.” 

Aemond’s grip tightened around one of your hands, and it took all that you had within you to not wince as his bruising grip squeezed your bones together painfully.

“I defend your honour at every turn, but he seems to always find a new way to question it. It is as though we are children again. I am at a loss of how I am supposed to continually support my husband when he is not here to defend himself!”

“Aegon has no honour, and yet questions mine. He is a pathetic waste of space, unfit to be King.”

“You should be King.”

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. 

The room fell quiet, and the air around you stilled. 

Aemond’s gaze turned darker as he looked at you, hand gripping yours viciously. There was silence, and you struggled to find a way to come back from what you said. To come back from the treasonous comment you had made to none other than the King’s own brother. 

Ice cold dread ran through your veins as you held his stare, breath caught in your throat. 

He was going to tell Aegon. 

They would kill you.

Or worse.

The treaty would end. 

It would all be for naught. 

The pain, the sorrow, the lo-

“Get on your knees.”

You blinked, looking at your uncle as he continued to stare at you, determination gleaming in his eye.

He wanted you to kneel and beg for forgiveness. To pray to the Seven for his mercy. To beg him to not tell-

“Get. On. Your. Knees.” He spat out, eye narrowed. 

You swallowed thickly, legs beginning to shake as you looked at the anger that radiated from Aemond’s pores. Slowly, you bent your knees, pulling your skirts up so that you would not fall forward on them. The cold stones bit into your skin as you knelt, knowing that bruises would appear on the morrow.

Kneel and save your life. 

Beg and ask for forgiveness.

To live with shame, is better than to die.

You looked up at Aemond from your position, his eye cast down on you as he held his head straight. Looking at you as if you were nothing but a worm, a bug. A commoner. He released your hand and you brought it to your front with the other, softly twisting your fingers together in anxiety.

Why was he so quiet?

Did he want for you to apologise?

Was he waiting for you to begin?

“I-I'm sorry, Your Grace. I must learn to hold my tongue. That was a vile act of treason-“

“Quiet.” He commanded. 

You lowered your head and eyes, shaking in the spot, though the way he loomed over you spread warmth into your core for unknown reasons. The false apology bitter on your tongue.

“Look at me.”

You took a shuddering breath, preparing yourself for him to be swift with his beating, or for him to call to the knight at the door to summon the guards. 

“I said, look at me.” He repeated, your eyes finally looking up at him. A large hand came to press against your cheek and you fought the urge to flinch away from his touch. 

“Say it again.” He whispered, looking at you.

Say it again? 

He wished for you the apologise again?

“I’m sorry, Your-“

“No.”

You looked at him in confusion. If he didn’t want you to apologise, then wh-

Oh.

Licking your lips you took a grounding breath, hoping this was not to be your last words. 

“You should be King.” You whispered, bracing yourself for his blow. 

“Louder.”

You cleared your throat and looked at him, seeing movement at his front. Your eyes dropped down to his breeches, where the outline of his stiffened cock protruded at the front. 

Oh.

He was aroused?

He liked it.

With the relief that you may not be punished, you took a breath of confidence, looking back up at him. Your hands moved upwards slowly, resting against the front of his breeches where the tie was. Aemond did not move to stop you or correct you, and so you continued. 

When your hands rested against the top of his pants, you spoke confidently and lowly. 

“You should be King.” You all but purred.

You felt a shudder roll through Aemond’s body at the words, his cock jumping in his breeches. His chest rumbled, and the hand against your face moved to swipe his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“Hm.”

Taking your queue, you began to unlace his pants, slowly, as you kept your eyes on his face, not daring to look away from the man. From your position, he exuded power, dominance, and strength. 

And it made your core ache.

Sway him.

You pulled the last of the ties and his pants loosened, slightly dropping to reveal the hair that dusted against his pubic bone. The beginning of his hardened shaft peeking through the open gap. With sturdy hands you helped to pull him from the confines, holding his warm and heavy weight in your hand. The pants lowered slightly more, revealing his stones to the room.

You gripped him in your palm and began to run your hand up and down his length, ensuring that your eyes were still on his face as he watched you, lips wet from his tongue. Aemond sighed above you as you continued the movement, feeling him harden further in your grip.

“You would be a better King than Aegon. You are worthy of the Conquerors Crown.” You praised, watching as his lips parted and a small breath fell forth. 

Leaning forward you kissed his tip, tongue darting out to catch a bead of his arousal that began to leak from his slit. Aemond groaned as he looked at you, your lips parting to take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it wetly. 

Aemond moaned and thrusted forward, his length sinking into your mouth.

“Anyone would be better than that cunt. Useless.” He groaned as he began to thrust into your waiting lips, your eyes cast upwards watching him. You hummed in agreement around him, spurring him to continue.

“He knows nothing of duty. When has Aegon ever known duty?” Aemond began to fuck your throat faster, a line of spit beginning to fall from your lips as you held still for him, “When has he ever deserved the throne?”

Aemond’s large hands grabbed the sides of your face, thrusting deeply into your throat as you gagged.

“He is a child,” He spat, thrusting roughly into the back of your throat, a tear falling down your cheek, “Spoilt and growing fat on his own desires. A rat.”

“How many years have I had to look after him, to dote on him. To clean him up. Teach him his duties.” Aemond continued his rant, spit dripping down your throat thickly, wetting the front of your gown, “For mother. For Grandfather. He is pathetic. He makes me sick.” He empathised his disgust with a particularly hard thrust.

You gagged around his length, hands fisting against the front of his breeches for stability, feeling his stones brush against your chin.

“He dares to question me? My manhood?” Thrust, “My ability to please my wife? He doesn’t even know how wet you get.” Thrust, “How slick your cunt gets for me.”

You pulled back eyes wet with tears, holding his shaft as you let him fall from your lips inhaling deeply, his hand tightened on your cheeks as he looked down at you waiting. You moaned, licking the tip as he continued.

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good wife. So loyal. So full of duty. Always eager to please me.”

“Yes.” You whined, taking him back in your mouth, letting him fuck into it again.

It was filthy, letting him use your mouth for his pleasure like this. But listening to him rage about his brother only served to excite you, feeling yourself grow wet beneath your gown. And it only served to motivate your actions. 

It was working.

“It should be me.” Aemond growled and you hummed around his length, “I should be King. Not him. Not that useless wastrel. If only mother had given me the throne.”

His pace began to become sloppy, and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking against his hard length, trying to coax him to his peak. You felt him twitch on your tongue, the taste of his arousal consuming you.

“You would be my Queen.” He moaned loudly, and you heart stopped in your chest, “My Merciless Queen.”

Queen.

My Queen.

"Just as you deserve. Just as I deserve. Aegon and Visenya reborn.” He continued, unaware of how his words truly affected you.

Your core clenched, and a new wave of arousal spread through you. 

Queen. 

You moaned loudly on his length, pushing your tongue upwards to lick at his shaft as he paused, cock heavy in your mouth. You blinked up at him panting, no doubt looking disheveled, knelt on the floor, spit and drool handing from your lips and pooling on your breasts. 

Your chest heaved and a blush settled around your cheeks as you wrapped your lips around him tighter.

“Fuck. You like that? You treasonous little cunt.” Aemond began thrusting again, pushing the hair that had fallen around your face backwards, pulling it at the roots and using it as a way to pull your head down onto his cock, “Mmm. Fuck.” He moaned.

Your knees ached beneath you, and you squirmed in your position, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to ease the throbbing and desire that was left unattended to. 

“So filthy, down on your knees like a whore. Qogralbar." Fuck, Aemond began to roughly fuck your mouth, using your hair to pull you down his length, gags falling from your lips as tears wet your cheeks. 

Every invigorated thrust caused his tip to hit the back of your throat, your stomach turning as he chased his peak, his heavy stones brushing against your chin. The smell of him surrounding you, heady, musky, and full of desire. It was arousing. It was maddening, and you needed more.

“Going to fuck my seed into your cunt. My perfect Queen.”

Aemond pulled out of your mouth with a grunt, a loud gasp pulling into your chest as you sucked in a breath. A string of saliva connected your lips to his tip and Aemond smirked down at you crudely. A hand left your hair and stroked your cheek, coming to brush the spit from your lip, your mouth opening for him as he pushed it inside. 

Aemond hummed, watching as you sucked at the digit. 

“Open your mouth.” He commanded, looking down at you, thumb still pressed against your tongue. 

You opened wide, tongue pushing against his finger, confusion rising within. 

Aemond leant forward lips pursed, and spat into your mouth. You flinched, feeling it land wetly on your tongue where he had been stroking it with his thumb. 

You should be disgusted. 

You should be offended. 

But you weren’t. 

You were full of desire. 

You whimpered, and Aemond’s thumb brushed against your bottom lip as he looked at you, mouth still open with his spit inside. 

“Swallow for your King.” He groaned, and you shuddered as you swallowed his spit, thighs rubbing together. 

Aemond bent down and slammed his lips against yours, pulling your face close to his with the back of your head, tongue swiping into your mouth as you kissed him back breathlessly. A whimper flitted past your lips and into his mouth. 

Aemond pulled away, his lone eye watching you carefully before he reached out and grabbed you, hoisting you up into his arms. Your stomach swooped from the swiftness of it, and then settled as he moved across the room to throw you onto the bed. Your body bounced atop the sheets as you looked at him slowly reach for his cock, dragging his hand up and down his length. 

You panted and watched him, desire coursing through you. 

Slowly, you parted your legs from him, skirt of your gown gathering into your lap as your centre was revealed to him and the room. Aemond groaned as he caught sight of your glistening cunt, slick leaking from your core. With both hands he grabbed your ankles and yanked you down the bed towards him, a small squeak flying from your mouth. 

Aemond rubbed his tip against your slit, pressing against your bud before lining himself up with your core. He pushed in roughy, not preparing you, but your slick was more than enough to ease the stretch and help him glide inside smoothly. 

You moaned loudly into the chambers as he pushed himself to the hilt, feeling you clench around him, pleasure blooming in your stomach. It felt good, it felt hot, it felt right. Aemond kept his hands on you, one on your thigh, and the other bending your leg up by the ankle to reach deeper within you.

“Fuck, so perfect for me.” He moaned, looking down at you.

You keened at his praise, core clenching around his length as he began to thrust into you. 

“Ao hae bona?” You like that?

“Ao hae skori aōha dārys qogralbar ao?” You like when your King fucks you?

“Kess.” Yes, You moaned, hands griping the sheets, feeling your peak begin to rapidly build inside of you.

“Please, kepus.” You moaned, one hand turning to grip his own on your thigh as he fucked you roughly on the bed, your breasts bouncing in the confines of your dress. 

"Sīr sȳz.” So good, He praised, his pace becoming rougher, the tip of his cock bullying your cervix. 

Aemond’s hands moved under the back of your thighs, pushing them up and folding them against your chest, opening you up further to him, causing a spark of delight to race through you. 

“Qogralbar, kessa.” Fuck, yes, You whined, the front of his pelvis rubbing roughly against your pearl with each thrust, warmth spreading through your body quickly. 

“Please, Aemond.” You begged, feeling your release begin to mount. 

Aemond’s pace quickened as he kept your legs pinned to your chest, eye watching your face, before sliding down your body to watch where you were connected, your slick coating his cock.

“So fucking wet, and all for me.” He moaned, and thrusted deeply inside, pushing up against the end of your cunt, a twinge of discomfort causing you to wince. 

Aemond leant down and kissed you, feeling you begin to tighten around him, the change in angle causing the tip of his cock to brush over the soft spongey spot within you. You moaned loudly, your back arching off of the bed as your eyes scrunched closed. 

“Jurnegon rȳ nyke.” Look at me, Aemond growled as he continued to fuck you, face close to yours, “Want you to look at me when you peak. Want you to know it’s me who makes you feel this. No one else. Aegon could never make you feel the way I do.” He rambled, his thrusts getting sloppier. 

The coil within wound tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

“You. No one but you, only you, Aem.” You whined, looking him in the eye as you panted. 

One hand left your thigh and slid down to your core, his fingers moving to swirl around your wet bud in dizzying circles. 

“Need to feel you clench around my cock. Give it to me.” He urged you.

His skilled fingers pressed into your pearl, slick causing them to move sloppily. You whimpered and whined, feeling your release approach you rapidly. Aemond bent down and placed a wet kiss to your neck and the coil snapped. 

Your mind went blank as pleasure coursed through you, Aemond’s pace not once faltering or slowing, fingers and cock prolonging your release as you whined beneath him. Heat spread through your body as he continued, the wet sound of your release around his cock in the chambers. 

“Konīr jā, sȳz riña. Sīr gevie. Vēttan syt nyke.” There you go, good girl. So beautiful. Made for me.

Your core spasmed around his length as his cock continued to brush against your pleasure spot inside. Each thrust prolonging your release, pitiful whines pealing from your lips.

Aemond’s thrusts began to falter and become sloppy as he chased his own peak. 

“Jāre naejot tepagon ao ñuha nūmo.” Going to give you my seed, He groaned.

“Please.” You whimpered, feeling his cock throb inside of you. 

Aemond thrusted into you deeply, holding himself deep within as he came with a grunt. Ropes of his seed coated your womb as you lay folded beneath him. Your core clenching around him as the warmth of his cum pooled inside. 

Aemond moaned as he felt you grip him, cock twitching from overstimulation. Aemond shifted, pressing his fingers back against your pearl and began to swirl them, keeping his cock firmly planted inside of you. 

“Need to feel you again. One more, zaldristos. You can do it.” He cooed, forcing you to another peak.

“Ah,” You jerked beneath him sensitive, “Aemond, fuck.” You whined, feeling the coil already begin to tighten, your cunt gripping him tightly. 

“Thats it. Give it to me. Give it to your King.” He commanded, and the coil snapped again.

Your back arched off of the bed as you moaned, eyes shut tightly as you were brought to another peak, a twinge of pain from the sheer force of it. Your core clenched around him, still inside of you, and you heard Aemond hiss and push into your heat deeper.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, slowly coming down from your high. You could feel his seed beginning to drip from within you, leaking down onto the sheets below. 

“Vok.” Perfect, He praised, and you felt a blush spread across your cheeks. 

The Prince stayed hunched over you at the edge of the bed, a hand moving to brush your hair away from your face. Aemond leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, cock throbbing within you.

He moved to pull out, his cock sliding through your folds slowly as you whined, but instead of pulling out completely, he kept his tip inside, before pushing back into you. You whimpered, feeling overstimulated but sparks of pleasure crackling in your core.

Aemond pulled out again, not quite all the way before pushing back inside. He had not softened, and was still hard. 

And clearly aroused. 

He began to fuck himself slowly into you, watching as your face contorted beneath him, feeling heat in your limbs rising, and rising. Your bodies covered in a light sheen of sweat, the smell of sex in the air.

Aemond continued to fuck you slowly, watching your face until he brought you to your peak once more, silencing you with a kiss before filling you with his seed again. It was only then did he pull out, and helped you to curl beneath the sheets, undressing you with tender hands, and then himself. 

As you laid in his arms, fatigue beginning to drag you under, he made promises to you that he would return back the King’s Landing swiftly as he did this time. He promised that nothing would happen to you, and that you would be safe. He promised that he would always come back to you.

And whilst a small part of you wished to believe him, you couldn’t.

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[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — 33

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

smau + written (5.1k words 💀)

❥･• episode 33 — the bane of my existence

The ceiling of your room is adorned with handwritten notes of keywords you were supposed to memorise for your mid-terms. The notes are large enough for you to easily read them, especially as you lie flat on your back on the bed, as you are now. Throughout the term, you had gradually covered the ceiling with these notes, dedicating the last two weeks before the exam to repeating them over and over again in your head as you drifted off to sleep.

Despite the exams being over, you have yet to take them down to be replaced by new notes you’d be curating for the new term. With nothing but time, you find yourself spending hours staring at the section dedicated to your English Literature notes, wondering why you never noticed it. You can't help but reflect on the 30 minutes before bed that you could have spent memorising the highlighted words. Perhaps then, you wouldn't have fumbled so hard in the vocabulary section, and you wouldn't be in your current predicament—separated from your friends, from Jungwon, forced to skip your own farewell party, and school itself.

You never expected your mother to willingly let you stay home, especially during your final semester at Decelis Academy. You thought she'd prefer you practically living in school. On what grounds did she choose to ground you? Because you ended up second on the scoreboard? That’s bullshit.

As a matter of fact, it seems counterintuitive for her to keep you at home for self-study as a disciplinary action. The situation is baffling to you—as a senior in high school with less than three months left until finals, it doesn't make sense that you're wasting time at home instead of being in school.

In truth, your mother is perplexed, even a bit terrified. But what exactly is she terrified of?

Change, that’s what.

Changes that manifested after Jungwon came into your life. How, instead of returning home late from the library after a long revision session, you now return late after spending the entire day with him. He’s a constant presence; waiting at your gateway, observing as you consciously stroll down the gravel to your doorstep, turning back to thank him for walking you home and bidding him goodbye.

Moreover, you divert your attention from your own studies, putting in extra effort to tutor him so he could compete in his upcoming competition. Instead of sharing the events of your day with your mother, you find yourself engrossed in texting him at the dinner table—something you’ve never dared to do before. She would nag at you over the smallest details, and you no longer quietly listen even if you are in the right, but rather engage by talking back, defending, or justifying yourself.

As a consequence, you've shifted from being at the top of the pyramid to now occupying the second position, trailing behind a library secretary. Yet, it seems like these changes haven't affected you in the slightest.

It feels as though you are finally managing to form your own opinions and make your own decisions. It's as if you no longer need her.

These changes, this departure from the routine she had come to expect, terrifies your mother. The fear of losing the daughter she thought she knew, the fear of a new chapter that doesn’t align with the plans she had envisioned, leaves her bewildered and uneasy.

When she looks at you, she sees a reflection of herself from years ago when she was a student. She recalls the time she met your father, fell in love, and sacrificed her dreams to follow his path and have you, only for him to later abandon both of you to pursue his own endeavours.

So, the mere thought of you, broken and lonely after what she assumes will be Jungwon eventually leaving you, intensifies her hatred for him. The déjà vu becomes too real, and she firmly believes she's doing what's best for you, even if you end up resenting her for it.

At some point, you started living your life for your mother rather than yourself, and you're aware of this subconsciously—the paradox of being both the subject and object in her pursuit of validation. Even then, it’s hard to let go of everything you once believed in altogether.

No, rather, you want to believe it's true. You want to believe your mother is right, and the status quo she has set for you is genuinely for the best:

Your goal is to enter an elite local university.

You aspire to be a doctor.

Mother is not controlling.

You don't need a man to validate your worth.

Which seem rather ironic as you contemplate how, essentially, you are a pawn in your mother’s subconscious quest to prove your father wrong about her. Her motives, however well-intentioned, have inadvertently moulded your path.

It's a narrative in which she’s determined to show that even in his absence, your mother is fully capable of nurturing a child, specifically her child. The belief embedded in her actions is that one day, you will emerge successful, surpassing what she might have achieved had she chosen to pursue her own dreams back then. This belief, however, unravels into a conundrum because, if your mother could turn back time and choose a different path, you wouldn’t be here.

As these thoughts weigh heavily on your mind, you find yourself truly overthinking it. You sit up on the bed, your body leaning against the frame, and your surroundings seem to echo with the gravity of your contemplation.

It's barely past 10 in the morning, and you can't help but wonder about the mundane yet comforting routines of your friends. Beomgyu is probably relieved that Chemistry is over, recalling him perpetually complaining about having the subject for their first period. Chanelle and Yunjin are likely engaged in their usual ritual of placing bets on the lunch menu. Gyuvin is probably sleeping again, and Riki is likely disturbing some poor kid by launching staple bullets from the back of the room.

And then there's Jungwon, perhaps experiencing a quiet sense of relief at your absence, no longer subjected to reminders to pay attention or being shaken awake just as he teeters on the edge of drifting off into dreamland. The vivid details of their potential activities form a contrast to the complex musings clouding your thoughts.

The room, once a sanctuary, now bears the weight of aching tensions. With a sigh, you rise from your bed, a restless energy propelling you forward. Just then, you hear a slight knock against your window.

Wait, your room is on the second floor; what could be banging against it?

Tok. There it is again. The sound echoes throughout your room. You approach the window ledge with apprehension, visibly flinching as a small rock flies towards you, knocking against the glass that separates you from the tiny projectile.

Determined to catch who is disturbing your peace on this calm Friday morning, you march up to your window frame, planning to give whoever it is a piece of your mind. Your gaze follows the direction from where the stone came, and to your surprise, you see Jungwon excitedly waving towards you from behind the giant tree in your front yard.

As you open the window, the sounds and sights of the outside world flood in. The pre-winter morning sun casts a warm glow on the scene, highlighting the details of the landscape outside. The gentle rustle of leaves, distant chirping of birds, and the distant hum of the town come together in a natural symphony of morning sounds. The tranquil scene outside your room stands in opposition to the turmoil within, amplifying the surreal nature of the moment. It's really him.

"Hey! Sorry for the wake-up call. Come on down; I wanna bring you somewhere.” Jungwon’s voice rises above the ambient noise.

“What are you doing here?! Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?” You attempt to raise your voice just enough, afraid that your mother would overhear.

“I was, until I realised how boring it is without you nagging at me every five seconds. So, I thought I'd bring a little adventure to your day.” The spontaneity of the gesture catches you off guard, momentarily eclipsing the complexities of your internal monologues.

Being deprived of any form of human interaction left you craving, and for a second, you almost accept his proposal without thinking.

“I can’t leave, Won. I’m grounded; my mom is going to kill me if she finds out.”

"Then we'll make sure she doesn't. You'll be back before you even know it, Y/N." The idea is tempting, yes, but you are also unsure if you are ready to face the consequences if, for some reason, things do not go the way you want them to (as always).

"I skipped class for this. I think it shows how much I really miss spending time with you, Y/N."

"As if you never skipped class before we started filming for the documentary." Jungwon sheepishly smiles and subconsciously rubs the back of his neck. The memories of those carefree days filming the documentary flood back, adding a nostalgic touch to the present moment.

You were about to decline for the second time when he skilfully pulls out those cat eyes that you dearly admired. Those captivating eyes that Jungwon knows you can never say "no" to. It's the only efficient method he remembers using to convince you to watch a movie with him everytime he wanted to get out of your long study sessions.

And he's right; those cat eyes works like a damn charm. Because you are now desperately climbing out your window, clinging for dear life against the rusty pipes. As you navigate the unconventional escape route, Jungwon tries hard to suppress his laughter, not wanting to discourage you.

As your feet touch the ground, you become acutely aware of the brisk chill in the air, a stark contrast to the period spent locked up in your makeshift jail cell. Only when you stand before the boy do you fully realise how cold the weather has gotten since the last time you saw him. And unlike Jungwon, who is covered from head to toe, you find yourself in just trousers and an oversized t-shirt.

Promptly, he detects the tiny hairs on your arms standing, and without a moment's hesitation, Jungwon removes his padded jacket, swirling it around your shoulders, instantly enveloping you in warmth.

But It's not just the jacket; it's the proximity of Jungwon that warms you up, his closeness palpable as he adjusts the padding to sit perfectly on the blades of your shoulders. You can practically feel his breath on your neck as he fusses with the collar.

As he fidgets with the article of clothing, Jungwon's actions appear purposeful, yet in reality, he is merely using it as an excuse to draw even closer to you. But he’s not the only one taking advantage of the moment, though, as you seize the opportunity to embrace him. Your arms winding around his waist beneath his uniform blazer and you softly whisper a grateful "Thank you," eliciting a subtle shiver that courses down his spine.

"For what? I’m only lending it to you, you already have a few of my hoodies stocked up. Which reminds me, when are you returning them?" You pinch his sides playfully, and he flinches, the playful exchange bringing the two of you even closer. As if there were any more space between you in the first place.

“I’ll return them back to you, soon. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

“Then, you’re grateful for… making you climb down some rusty-ass pipes?”

"No, you idiot. Thank you for coming to see me. I missed you, really, more than you think. You have no idea how close I was to just running over to you.” The emotions from having the opportunities to spend time with the boy ripped away from you must have been stronger than you thought for those words to come out of you like that. Jungwon senses this, and you feel him tighten around the frame of your body.

"Then, it’s a good thing that I ran over here first.”Jungwon gently pushes you away with a heavy heart. Moving away the few strands of hair stuck onto your cheeks that are turning a shade of rosy pink, most likely from the cold (or not).

The pace picks up again as he locates the palm of your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours,“Let's get out of here before your mom finds us." Luckily for the two of you, you manage to get away with your secret rendezvous, at least for now, and you can only pray that it stays this way.

The world beyond your little bubble beckons, but in this moment, the connection between you and Jungwon feels like the only reality that matters.

Time with Jungwon feels like a pocket universe where seconds slip away unnoticed. Before you know it, the sun slowly begins to dip beyond the horizon, ushering in the cool embrace of the evening air and casting a gentle twilight glow upon the buildings.

The Friday night air is crisp, and the streets come alive with the vibrant energy of the neighbourhood transitioning into its nocturnal rhythm. Jungwon confidently navigates through hidden shortcuts and familiar alleys, the lively sounds of people and distant music replacing the lingering heaviness from your room.

As you walk leisurely through the dimly lit streets, Jungwon animatedly shares anecdotes, laughter, and stories of incidents that unfolded in school during your absence. The glow of street lamps casts a warm ambiance, highlighting the joy in his eyes as he recounts the tales. You are not only relieved to hear that your friends are working hard, but also reassured that the council is thriving under Gunwook's leadership—a responsibility you earnestly insisted on passing down to him.

Eventually, you find yourselves at a serene bench overlooking the river. In the distance, you spot couples on little boats doing whatever couples do on little boats. The two of you sit in a contemplative silence, not awkward, but a kind of loud silence filled with unspoken words—where there is so much to say, but neither of you knows where to start.

Breaking the quietude, Jungwon eagerly rummages through his bag. Curious, you sneak a peek, and a soft giggle escapes your lips at the unconventional contents within. Instead of the expected textbooks, you see a stash of your favourite gummies and an abundance of pencils, which explains why he always has spares on hand whenever you ask for one.

You also spot your fall gloves that you had momentarily forgotten about until now. You recall leaving them with him when it got too uncomfortable for you to wear, and the memory of him playfully nagging you to put them back on, complete with a cute pout when you refused, brings a fond smile to your face.

It’s a touching realisation when you see these tangible tokens. It’s as if little bits and pieces of you and your habits are slowly finding a place in Jungwon’s life. His world, once dominated by Taekwondo, effortlessly accommodates you and the fragments of your existence, just as he seamlessly wove himself into the fabric of your life, which was once burdened with the heavy expectations of achieving stellar grades.

“People might think this is my bag that you’re carrying,” you remark, your tone playful.

"With the amount of things that are yours in here, it might as well be," Jungwon replies, laughter dancing in his warm gaze. He pulls out a hot pack, rubs it between his hands, and extends it to you—another subtle gesture that unleashes an entire zoo inside your stomach. The gentle warmth of the hot pack mirrors the blossoming warmth within as you mumble a quiet “Thank you”.

"Can't believe we'll be graduating soon; it still hasn't hit me just yet," Jungwon says, his voice carrying a tinge of absentminded reflection.

"Believe it or not, sooner or later, reality will come crashing down on you like a meteorite," you jest, attempting to lighten the sudden solemnity of the mood that has settled between you.

"Yeah, then you'll be off to a great local uni, and I'll probably get into the youth Olympics team. Who knows when our paths will cross again?" You turn to look at him, finding his gaze locked onto the calm waters of the river, though you suspect his mind must be anything but calm, straying far from the placid surface of the water.

"I thought we agreed to remain close even after the documentary? You're speaking as if we'll never see each other again," you remark, shuffling closer to him on the bench. The fluttering of your heart intensifies as the skin of your arms comes into contact with his. The connection between you, both physical and emotional, echoes the desire to linger in each other's presence despite the uncertain paths that lie ahead.

"At first, it really was a nightmare having to be around you everywhere," he confesses, leaning forward, his fingers lightly gripping the edge of the bench as he reflects. A tiny pout forms on his thinking face, and you can't help but coo at the endearing sight—a habit you discovered and cherished as you got to know him.

"I don't know if I should be finding that offensive or not," you retort and Jungwon laughs lowly, the husky tone of his voice sending subtle shivers down the back of your neck. "That's why I used 'at first,' idiot."

"But now, I guess it's not that bad to have you around sometimes," he shrugs, attempting to play it cool while ignoring the fact that his heart is pounding relentlessly against his chest.

"Only 'not that bad'? I'm disappointed," you tease, a mischievous sparkle in your eye.

The night envelops both of you in a quiet embrace, the air thick with unexpressed emotions. Jungwon's eyes, once fixed on the distant river, now meet yours. Only this time, there's a vulnerability in his gaze, a silent admission of something more complicated.

"You know," he begins, his voice softer now, carrying a weight of sincerity, "it took me a while to figure out why your presence felt like a storm at first—chaotic and unpredictable. But now, I realise it's more like the calm after the storm. The kind that leaves everything refreshed and new."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the gravity of his confession sinking in. The atmosphere seems to hold its breath, each passing moment brimming with anticipation as you almost impatiently wait for him to phrase his next words, watching the thoughts flicker across his face as he carefully composed the sentiments in his mind.

"I never expected you to become this important to me," Jungwon continues, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "But now, imagining my life without you feels like trying to picture a world without sunlight. It's just not the same."

A warm breeze rustles the leaves above, and if there were some stranger watching you right now, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed as you slowly tuned the world around you out. On the contrary, you're acutely aware of the shared space between you on the bench, the closeness that has become second nature.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I like having you around. A lot more than 'not that bad,'" he confesses, a shy smile playing on his lips.

Your heart swells with a rush of emotions, and you sense the urgency to respond. "Jungwon, I—" But before you can complete your response, his fingers gently find their way to yours, intertwining them in a silent gesture, as if he's saying you don't owe him anything.

But no, you do owe him everything. You owe him for coming into your mundane excuse of a life and allowing you to realise that sometimes, breaking away from routine is the first step towards discovering your own narrative.

Thus, a smile mirrors his on your face as you say, “I can’t let you say all the cool things yourself. I wanna be cool too.” Jungwon scoffs and you feel his grip on your hand tighten.

"Go on, I'd like to see you try," he challenges, a subtle glint of encouragement in his gaze, knowing you're not one to shy away.

Taking in a deep breath, you confidently look into his eyes as you say what has been on your mind. “Thank you for changing my life, and I don’t ever want to lose you, Yang Jungwon.”

As the echoes of your confession linger in the night air, both of you become aware of the tangible shift in the atmosphere—something profound has unfolded between you. The moonlight paints a soft glow on Jungwon's face, emphasising the earnestness in his eyes, as they remain locked onto yours. The touch of his fingers on yours warms up your skin, a comforting sensation that surpasses any heat pack he could ever give you.

“Okay maybe that wasn’t very cool after all… I just never thought a simple change in routine could lead to all this." You muse, your voice carrying a mixture of awe and gratitude.

"Life has a funny way of surprising us, doesn't it?" Jungwon responds with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

You nod, smiling genuinely. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

As you sit on the bench, hands still entwined, there's a gentle pause—a moment suspended in time, as if the universe itself is waiting. The world around you, once ordinary, now feels touched by a magical essence, and the stars above seem to glitter with the promise of a future written in a language only both of you understand.

Jungwon leans in, and you can feel the beating of his heart aligning with yours, the soft warmth of his breath as he closes the gap between you. The scent of the night air, infused with a hint of his cologne, adds to the sensory symphony. His lips meet yours in a tender, unhurried motion. It’s a kiss that carries the weight of the world’s expectations on the both of you, only for it to melt away as he smiles against your lips.

Time seems to stand still as you savour the softness of the moment, the warmth of his touch resonating through every fibre of your being. As you sit there, wrapped in the warmth of his lips on yours, the world feels limitless, and the journey ahead, uncertain but exciting. And as you break apart, breathless but filled with an exhilarating warmth, that’s when you realise you have finally come to terms with and chosen to accept your emotions that are now clear to you that it is not borne alone—Yang Jungwon, who was once the bane of your existence, is now the centre of it.

tw! depiction of violence

You smile to yourself as the sweet memory of that magical first kiss plays in your mind like a cherished melody. Your hands remain interlocked with that of Jungwon’s as you walk through the same alley that you came from. The difference being the absence of the vibrant lights of the night market, which had already faded by now, leaving only the soft glow of the moon and the distant street lamps that barely bleed into the alley to guide your way. Yet, you feel safe and protected when you sense Jungwon’s presence beside you.

As you turn a corner, the alley widens, revealing a quieter stretch with fewer distractions. However, just as you start to relax, a familiar voice cuts through the tranquillity.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Y/N. Didn't think we'd run into you two lovebirds tonight. How cute.” Hana's voice, laced with envy, echoes through the alley. She steps into view, flanked by her two loyal lackeys who wear matching smirks.

However, they were not alone as you spot a few familiar faces perched up against the brick wall—they were the same group of boys known to wreak havoc among the underclassmen. You know this having seen their faces in detention multiple times when you were supervising.

You didn’t expect Hana to be hanging around them, it’s like trouble mixing around with even more trouble, a recipe for disaster.

In the dimly lit alley, tension hangs thick in the air as Hana and her lackeys close in, their predatory grins revealing a hunger for confrontation. Jungwon instinctively tightens his grip on your hand, pulling you behind him as he stands his ground, a subtle signal that he's prepared for whatever comes next.

Hana takes a step forward, her voice dripping with malice. “It’s unfortunate really. You skipped a whole week of school; I thought I finally managed to get rid of you, but alas.” Her lackeys snicker, emboldened by their leader's confidence.

You square your shoulders, determined not to let Hana's provocation rattle you. “What’s your problem, Hana?”

Hana's eyes narrow, her jealousy fuelling the fire. "My problem? It's you, Y/N. Always meddling where you don't belong."

In disbelief, you step out of Jungwon’s shadow. “You know what, fuck you. I don’t even remember ever offending you. I also had a really shitty week, and I don’t need you making it worse than it already is, so please just get the fuck out of my face.” The words fly out of your mouth before you can even comprehend, and Jungwon seems to be equally shocked, hearing you curse for the first time. The shock quickly turns into admiration as he smirks at your bold proclamation.

"We're not looking for trouble, Hana. Just let us pass," Jungwon says cautiously, not wanting to provoke Hana any further, but it only seems to rile her up even more.

Hana's frustration mounts, and she takes a step closer to you, invading your personal space. "You think you're so special, Y/N? Jungwon can do so much better than someone like you." The words sting, but you refuse to let her get under your skin. Before you can respond, one of her lackeys makes a move, attempting to grab your arm. Instinctively, Jungwon steps between you and the aggressor, blocking the advance.

Despite their attempts to provoke a reaction, Jungwon remains composed, his experience evidently shining through. The underclassmen, however, aren't as restrained. One of them lunges at Jungwon, but he swiftly sidesteps the attack, using his fast reflexes to evade without retaliating.

However, the group, instigated by their leader's resentment, launch a coordinated attack. One of them goes straight for Jungwon, aiming for his lower abdomen. Despite his fast reflexes, the underclassman manages to land a blow, catching Jungwon off guard.

A sharp pain courses through Jungwon's side as he winces, the surprise attack taking its toll. He stumbles backward, trying to maintain his composure. The underclassmen, emboldened by their success, taunts him. "Looks like your taekwondo skills don't mean much in a real fight, huh?"

You, torn between defending Jungwon and avoiding further escalation, plead with Hana. "This is unnecessary, Hana! We don't want to fight!"

Hana, however, revels in the chaos she's created. This is her way of saying that if she can’t have Jungwon, nobody can—much less lose him to the likes of you.

"You should have thought about that before getting involved with Jungwon." In truth, she never truly liked Jungwon. Just his reputation and the attention she’d get if she managed to crack the academy’s most mysterious boy. Enraged, Hana signals them to continue, escalating the confrontation.

Jungwon, though injured, refuses to retaliate recklessly; something about physical fighting one against a whole group of well-fit boys with a sport designed for self-defense doesn’t seem very smart. Instead, he focuses on defending their attacks, hands wrapped tightly over his head, as he lay cradled on the ground. His determination remains unwavering, but the odds are stacked against him.

The underclassmen, seemingly relentless, taunt Jungwon with malicious glee. "Thought you were tough, huh? Looks like you're nothing even with your precious taekwondo skills."

He shouts for you to run (as if you were about to leave him behind) but you’re forced onto your knees and held in place by her two lackeys. As the scuffle intensifies, the alley echoes with grunts and the shuffle of feet.

The chaos attracts attention, and the distant wail of approaching police sirens grows louder. The approaching alarm prompts Hana and her lackeys to scatter, disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind a battered, bruised and disoriented Jungwon.

As the police car arrives, its flashing lights casting an unsettling glow, you find yourself cradling Jungwon, who is visibly struggling.

“Please tell me you’re okay, Won.” Urgently, you call for an ambulance, realising the severity of his injuries when he could barely reply you.

The journey to the hospital is filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the wail of sirens. Jungwon, laid out on the gurney, appears vulnerable under the harsh hospital lights. His eyes meet yours, conveying gratitude and reassurance amidst the pain. As Jungwon is wheeled into a room for further evaluation, you can't help but reflect on the unexpected turn the night has taken—from stolen kisses to the harsh reality of a hospital emergency room, a scenario straight out of a drama.

The hospital transforms into a surreal space where time seems to both stretch and contract, leaving you suspended in uncertainty. Every passing minute feels like an eternity as you anxiously await any updates on Jungwon's condition.

Your friends, Jungwon’s family, and even his coach start to arrive, having informed them about his condition through Jungwon’s phone that you somehow remembered the passcode to from the last time he told you. The reunion with your friends, especially Chanelle, who runs up to engulf you in a hug, brings a fleeting moment of joy. However, the thought of Jungwon lingers, casting a shadow over the otherwise happy encounter.

Finally, a doctor emerges with updates. Jungwon's injuries are serious, though not life-threatening, requires thorough treatment and a period of recovery. Hearing the news, relief washes over you knowing he will receive the care and medicine he needs. However, your relief is short-lived as the reminder of his upcoming competition the following Saturday floods you with renewed stress.

How can he possibly compete in his current condition? The thought of him being covered in bruises, or worse, questioning if he can even participate at all, weighs heavily on your mind.

The national team coach is going to be there, and Jungwon's entire future hinges on him performing well in that godforsaken competition he worked so hard to compete in.

The unfairness of the situation becomes glaringly evident, casting a shadow over the initial relief. The stress that momentarily lifted now returns with even greater intensity, leaving you grappling with the looming uncertainty of Jungwon's athletic future, and maybe even your own.

prev | masterlist | next

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: feels like i just wrote a kdrama… as usual i cba to proofread so i apologise yall 🥲

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee

taglist open! @uuzhanggggggg @jayhoonvroom @en-flirt @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @nwjws @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @hoey2k @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee @yanqiiuver @yujmelon @beomsbeanie @sloobydooburmomjungwon @keiisu @jaeyunniesimp @jiamini @jihanniee @lilriswife4life @i-yeseo

*white = cannot tag

[bloatedandalone04]

Santa, Baby

➪the one where you and hayden celebrate christmas.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, rushed writing

Word Count: 1.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Merry Christmas!

The sun was barely up as Hayden slowly opened his eyes and stared at the closed curtains for a few seconds. He adjusted to the dim light that filled the room before turning over and pulling your body closer to his chest. 

It was as if his body knew what day it is as when he closed his eyes, sleep never came to him. And, after nearly six years together, Hayden is more than aware of the fact that Christmas is your favorite holiday. 

Sure, you decorated the house for Halloween and even for Easter, but he had never seen so many red and green things in his entire life before he met you. You went all out every December and kept the decorations up well into the new year as well, claiming to not be ready to take them down every single time he asked if he could start putting them away. 

While he was wide awake now, you were still sleeping peacefully in his arms, your head not resting on your pillow but instead on his bicep. You were only wearing one of his old tees and bright red underwear that had HO HO HO written in cursive on the back, and Hayden would’ve found that hot if he didn’t already find it undeniably cute and so you. 

He was wearing nothing on top and black briefs he had slipped on the prior night after spending most of Christmas Eve wrapped around you in the sheets once the guests had cleared out. You had thrown your third Christmas party since being with him last night and you were both a bit tipsy when you took his hand in yours and pulled him with you in the direction of your shared room. 

Hayden was a bit scared to leave this room and see how much of a mess yours and his friends left for the two of you to clean up. He was even  more scared to listen to the Christmas playlist you had been playing on repeat for the past four weeks while you and he cleaned up the mess.  

You sleep for a little while longer, with Hayden staying with you the whole time until your eyes slowly open. Then you were jumping up and standing above him, your feet placed on either side of his waist as you grinned down at him. “Baby!” You excitedly say. “It’s Christmas! Hayden, it’s Christmas!”

Hayden is powerless to stop the smile from forming on his lips as he grips the backs of your knees and pulls you down so you are straddling his waist. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, sitting up and placing his hands on your hips. “I’m surprised I was awake before you were.”

You playfully roll your eyes and grab onto his shoulders. “How long have you been up?”

He shrugs, “Half an hour or so,”

“Hayden!” You gasp and lightly smack his shoulder before massaging that same place. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because we had a late night last night and you were pretty tired by the time I was done with you,” he answered and you blush almost immediately. “And you looked so cute. Quiet, but cute.”

You roll your eyes again. “Haha, you’re funny. Come on, we need to clean up before I give you your Christmas present,”

When you go to get off him, Hayden tightens his hold on your waist. “Before all of that, can you give me a kiss first? I’ve been holding off on kissing you since I woke up,”

You blush a bit more as you lean down and kiss him deeply, your hands sliding up and tangling in his hair. His grip on you tightens and guides your body forward, but before he could grind up against you and keep you in bed for the rest of the morning, you pull away with a teasing smirk. “There will be more of that later, if you can keep your hands to yourself long enough to help me clean up the house,”

Hayden laughs and lets you go, staying in bed and watching as you bend over to grab the matching plaid pajama pants you bought earlier this month. “What, that wasn’t my gift?” 

You stand up straight and toss the bigger size at him. “Nope,” you answer as the pants hit his face then fall onto his lap. 

He picks them up as you put yours on, “Can I get a hint?” 

You walk back over to him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “Nope,” 

Then you were pretty much sprinting out of the room and he was left to tug on the loose-fitting pants and follow after you. 

It was nearing eleven in the morning when you and Hayden finally finished cleaning up all the dishes and making the rest of your house look presentable, even though it was just you and him today. 

Hayden falls onto the couch and extends his arms out to you, gesturing for you to lay down with him. When you just shake your head with a small grin, he sits up a bit, “What? That was a lot of work, baby, come lay with me,” 

You shake your head again and walk backwards towards the guest room door. “I can’t,” 

He sits up completely at that as he watches you turn and place your hand on the doorknob. “Why not?”

“Because,” you trail off. “It’s time for your present.”

Before Hayden could further question your strange behavior, you open the door and a small Golden Retriever with a red bow wrapped loosely around its neck comes wandering out. “You didn’t,” he said and his voice must have caught the attention of the puppy as it began making its way over to him. “Baby, you didn’t.”

“I did,” you say as you follow after the puppy and sit next to your boyfriend while it sits at his feet. “You kept talking about how much you wanted a dog, and I grew up with Goldens so I know how sweet they are. I hope you love him.”

“Him? He’s a boy?” Hayden asked as he picked up the puppy. When you nodded he leaned over and pressed kiss after kiss to your cheek. “I love him, baby, he’s the best gift ever.”

You grin and reach over, scratching under the puppy’s chin. “I already picked out a name, I hope you don’t mind,”

Hayden shook his head, “What is his name?”

“Obi,” you answer and Hayden laughs loudly, petting Obi’s head after startling him with the sound. “I thought, since Ewan did me a favor and kept him at his house for a few days so I could surprise you, I’d name him after his character.”

Hayden keeps one hand on Obi and uses his other one to guide you into a kiss by gently gripping the back of your neck. “I love you,” he mumbles before kissing you again.

He pulls away and looks back at Obi, adjusting his  bow. “Merry Christmas, Hayden. Are you surprised?”

“Very,” he replied, his heart nearly melting when Obi settled on his lap. “How did you even get him in the guestroom? When?”

You shrug with a smile, “Ewan came with him last night. He put him in there while you were still getting ready. I hid your shirt so he could come in quickly while you were looking for it,”

Hayden looks over at you with a surprised laugh. “You’re sneaky,” he ruffles the top of Obi’s head again. “This makes my gift look bad.”

Nuzzling against his side, you smile at the two of them. “Nothing you give me will ever be bad,” you assure him. 

“Better get it out of the way,” he said, setting Obi onto your lap before getting up. He disappears into your room for a few seconds and you distract yourself by petting the new addition to the family. “Okay, here it is.” 

Hayden enters the living room again, and you are far too distracted to realize that he is now kneeling in front of you. 

“Baby,” he calls out to you and you hum, looking up at him. Your smile faded a bit when you took in his position, and your fingers tangled in Obi’s hair as your gaze narrowed on the small open box he held in his hand. Inside it was the prettiest ring you had ever seen.  “I love you. I have for six years now, and I will for the rest of my life. You mean more to me than anyone else in the world, and I promise that I will continue to make you happy for the rest of our lives. Will you-”

“Yes,” you cut him off, gently pushing Obi onto the cushion in order to throw yourself at Hayden. 

He caught you, moving to sit on the ground as you climbed onto his lap. “I didn’t even get to ask you-” “Yes,” you say again, kissing him multiple times, reiterating in between each one, “Yes, yes, yes. This is the best Christmas gift ever, baby, yes.”

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Loyalty, Honour, A Willing Heart (Prt. 4)

4. Erebor

Bilbo has awakened Smaug in Erebor, and they’re all waiting outside, and can hear rumblings.  Ori’s like, “we should go in after him”, or “I think he’s in trouble”, and Thorin just sighs (very anxious, reminds me of myself when I'm trying to make hard decisions really fast or am preoccupied with something else) “Just give him more time.” 

Balin turns on him because that’s a very like un-Thorin-like thing to say or do essentially.  He’s like ‘this isn’t you.’  He challenges Thorin.  “Time to do what?  Be killed?”

Thorin isn’t happy with that challenge.  “You’re afraid.”  He instantly accuses Balin, and the look on his face is absolutely brilliant.  He has this look on his face that is just wide-eyed and like he cannot believe that Balin would ask him something like that.  Which, given that Balin is his advisor, he has every right to ask him something like that.  He probably has on numerous occasions.

That moment right there is where Thorin is no longer Thorin.  That is the turning point.  That moment right there.  That is where he flips from Thorin—regular Thorin—to dragon-sickness Thorin.

He grew up watching his grandfather.  He watched Thror fall into the madness of the gold-sickness. 

And we see that in the beginning of the movie in the scene where Thror is down in the treasury counting all his coins and what not and we cut to Thorin who’s up on one of the balconies watching him, and the expression on his face.  It just absolutely kills me.  Because he looks SO SAD to see his grandfather in that sort of madness.  He is absolutely devastated that his grandfather has fallen to that.

So, when we’re actually at Erebor, and Balin has said that “Yes, I am afraid.  I fear for you.  A sickness lies upon that treasure horde.  A sickness which drove your grandfather mad.”

That brings up a situation for Thorin.  I hypothesis the reason that Thorin instantly says “you’re afraid”, is because that is what he is thinking himself.  He is wrestling with fear right in that moment, and unconsciously signals that by what he says to Balin.

Thorin has never allowed himself to be scared.  That was never an option for him.  He has always been the leader of his people, in some way or form as the crown prince and then after his grandfather and father passed, he has had to be the strong one. 

He cannot show that he is unsure or is scared.  That has never been an option for him.  Also, going along with that, he knows that his family is prone to madness like that after his grandfather and father both ended up falling to madness in different ways.

So he probably spends his entire life and even more so as he gets closer to Erebor, worrying about that same thing happening to him.  It is a self-fulfilling prophecy, because if I was in his shoes, and I was worried about that, then the closer I got to Erebor, it would consume my thoughts, and I would be thinking of, “is this me being weird, is that a sign of madness?”  I would constantly be on the watch for that, and that would drive me mad.  He worries so much about becoming his grandfather, that he actually becomes his grandfather.

His next line of dialogue proves that.  “I am not my grandfather.”  Those are words I think he has repeated to himself SO MANY TIMES over the course of his life.

Balin has spent so much time with Thorin and knows him so well, which is why he instantly clocks onto the miniscule shift in Thorin.  “You’re not yourself.  The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there.” 

This ties back into all the other scenes we’ve visited where we are shown time and time again that Thorin cares so much for his people.  He literally cannot abandon someone.  He looks out for the little people.  So his refusal to go check on Bilbo goes so far against his morals that it is obvious that he is not in his right mind.

And his last line of dialogue proves that to the core.  “I will not risk this quest for the life of one burglar.” 

Now, I took one for the team and checked what Thorin called Bilbo during the quest. I stopped my tally after reaching the above dialogue sequence, as what comes after isn't as important. The tally is as follows:

Bilbo: 0

Master Baggins: 4

Burglar: 3 (broken down into 'your burglar' to Gandalf after the troll escapade, 'Master Burglar' once they are in Erebor and he's afflicted by the dragon-sickness, and lastly, 'burglar' in the above dialogue sequence).

Hobbit (in any variation): 3 (Halfling being one of the three)

Mr. Baggins: 1

So in an overwhelming majority, Master Baggins is Thorin's default method of addressing Bilbo. He only actually ever calls him 'burglar' to his face once he is afflicted with the dragon-sickness, or in some way annoyed (as we see with the trolls).

So, Thorin has always been fairly polite to Bilbo. Something I think is very important to note is that never has this quest been more important than someone's life.

It was made very clear at the beginning that every member of the company joined of their free will.  They chose to follow Thorin on this suicide mission because they believed in him and his cause. 

And again, that suspicion that Thorin doesn't normally address Bilbo as 'burglar' is confirmed by Balin’s final line of dialogue.  “Bilbo.  His name is Bilbo.”

[lime-bloods]

thoughts on Scratch's Parlor that don't really lead anywhere in particular:

I saw someone point out that these final three chapters consist of two different pool balls separated by what looks like it could be a sprite-oriented intermission, and that this might be taken as suggesting two takes on the Doc Scratch confrontation - the 8-ball chapter representing the version where Vriska is in control, and not the cueball. I'm torn on this.

one the one hand, I think it would be a really compelling elaboration on the "recovery isn't linear" theme for Vriska's therapyquest to not involve beating Scratch at all! (in my search for sicklyseraphnsuch's post I saw someone refer to this as scars "healing around" the trauma and moving on, which I thought was really good but immediately lost the post. shoutout if that was you.) this chapter didn't end like previous fail states; the time loop didn't repeat (Scratch specifically says no do-overs!) and we end on a level-up screen, which brings a level of finality to the interaction.

on the other: having Vriska spend some time working on herself, hanging out with the sprites like they asked, and then be able to re-approach the same situation with a new mindset and ultimately come out victorious would be a great demonstration of her ability to grow and solve problems without brute force. after all, while Vriska did level up this month, she didn't fill out her echeladder like she has in previous chapters, and her previous failures to advance in the time loop have all ended in death, either by Tavros' lance or being eaten by her mother... so maybe that's all "no do-overs" means? Scratch won't kill her, so she won't get to play this conversation out again, but that doesn't mean she can't come back and initiate another dialogue entirely, try to overcome him a different way... if Vriska needs to learn to grow without burning her candle, maybe she just won't earn any new levels in sprite chapter, and she can come back and finish what she started for the big finale?

both options clearly have thematic value, which is a great position for a story to be in.

I absolutely see the appeal of the common theory, too, that the 8-ball chapter will feature Vriska confronting herself (possibly in the form of the alternate (Vriska)). but I also think the events in Scratch's Parlor cast the idea of Vriska confronting a younger version of herself in a totally new light... one thing I realised upon reading the linked post is that the final chapter is of course represented by an 8-ball because the 8-ball is the ball the player has to pocket to finish the game. but Vriska is already in a pocket in the form of a black hole: so for Vriska to sink the 8-ball here means what, exactly? to sink another Vriska into the hole so she can be free? leaving a younger Vriska behind while the alpha continues on into adulthood would be a potent symbol of growth, for sure - but it would also be a repeat offense.

say that is the path we go down, though; the big finale to Vriska's therapy is a confrontation with herself. it occurs to me that there's an alternative - but equally nonoptimal - consequence to journeying into the underworld and confronting the shadow-self. and it's one that anyone who's seen Twin Peaks will already be intimately familiar with: what if isn't Vriska who sinks {Vriska} into the pocket to win the game? what if the "Hell Tier" Vriska who escapes from the Plot Point is in fact the shadow-Vriska? it would certainly put a dark spin on this particularly emphatic thread of philosophising we've followed in the pages leading up to now:

JAKE: [...] its nice to think that there might be countless janes somewhere out there who never stopped being happy [...] If i can believe in those janes, / i think i can let this one go. (p. 635) VRISKA: C'mon, we're not doing this again. You can't keep comparing yourself to her! She's a freak and you're like the least freakish person I've ever met. NANNASPRITE: [...] it's simply a fact of reality. [...] The past is always going to be the past. [...] And while in my twilight years of retired spritehood, I have often pondered the "could be." / Seeing that choice isn't innate to every iteration of Jane Crocker has assured me that I did indeed fulfill a path of potential to its fullest degree. I'm grateful to her for that... marginally. (p. 666)

of course, we've already seen this play out to an extent with the younger Vrissy, who Vriska evokes directly in her conversation with Momfang ("I didn’t have to go through aaaaaaaall of THAT to 8e strong. Vrissy didn’t!"). and something I've maintained ever since the the veil was finally pulled off the Plot Point is that there is absolutely no way Beyond Canon can possibly sustain itself if that damn black hole manages to produce yet another set of duplicate characters- OH SHIT

Due to principles of uncertainty regarding the existence of angels in a vacuum, each splits in to ANGEL/ANTIANGEL PAIRS. For each pair, one of the two escapes, while the other falls back into the black hole.

[freesia-writes]

I haven't watched TBB yet but I've been spoiled but not as much. I'm also not gonna be able to watch S3 yet because I need to finish TCW, but I have been so so so so so very massively in love with Wrecker ;///////;. I gave up rushing so I'm gonna just gonne binge on all the fluffy Wrecker fics for Happy Hearts Month ♥.

May I please have a Wrecker x Reader fic where:

Reader and Wrecker were supposed to meet either for a date or something and Reader is late so Wrecker ate what he was supposed to give to Reader because idk maybe he's anxious or worried? It can be cookies, cupcakes, chocolates, a cake — anything sweet.

And maybe Reader did the same? Ate what she was supposed to give Wrecker and when they met they just both realize they did the same thing cause there'd be crumbs or something and sjdlaksjdlkajdlkajdakljdalkd.

Just over all feel good wholesomeness. I don't mind any flirting or slight nsfw, but bear hugs and all over kisses from Wrecker would b suuuuuuperrrrrrrrr adorbs!

Maybe a second date vibe?

Only if you can, pretty please and thank you ♥. Sorry if it's too much!

I can't wait for you to get to enjoy the series! I kinda took this in a sliiiiightly different direction for funsies. ;) Dividers by @stars-n-spice from this post here!

Wrecker x GN Reader

1.5k words

No content warnings

The air in the bustling corridors of the base buzzed with anticipation as you hurried toward your meeting spot with Wrecker. Your heart raced with excitement, eager to spend time with the big-hearted clone who had captured your attention. You’d spent extra time getting ready, wanting to make a good impression, as it was still only your second date. It had been a surprising few weeks that you’d been able to be stationed on the same base, catching little conversations with him when his squad was on site for a few days before being shipped off again, and the romance had blossomed immediately. 

You’d been so shocked and delighted at his willingness to pursue something, having assumed he’d make excuses or find it entirely unattainable for someone in his position. But your first date had been so simple, so sweet… You were blown away and entirely infatuated from then on, and you had to wait another few weeks for Clone Force 99 to return. 

So when you were finally able to greet him with a beaming smile, immediately finding yourself wrapped in his unmatched, delightfully warm hug upon his return, you’d made plans immediately for a second date, excited for the convenient upcoming holiday that celebrated love and romance in all its forms. 

Rounding the corner, you spotted Wrecker standing there, a hopeful look in his eyes. He looked so dapper, you thought you would burst with joy. He’d found some basic cargo pants and was still wearing his black shirt, but he’d added some kind of sport coat that looked two sizes too small, yet gave him an adorably debonair appearance. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and you quickened your pace, eager to close the distance between you. 

But as you approached, you couldn't help but notice the guilty expression on Wrecker's face, immediately sending you into a spiral of overthinking.  Confusion flickered across your features as you came to a stop in front of him.

"Hi!” you said, trying to be nonchalant. But his reaction evoked the true question out of you. “What… Erm… Something wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing in concern.

Wrecker's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he shuffled awkwardly on his feet. "Uh, well, you see... I had a real special treat for you… Something I found at a food cart outside the base. It was so fancy…" he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. You smiled at his irresistible charm.

“Well what’s wrong with that?” you said playfully, gently grazing a hand up and down the outside of his arm. 

“I ate it,” he blurted, slowly lifting his eye to yours with an expression of shame and a touch of mischief.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You ate it?" you repeated, your tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"Yeah, I, uh, got nervous and... it looked really good," Wrecker confessed, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

A laugh bubbled up from your lips as you reached out to gently pat Wrecker's arm. "It's okay, Wrecker. I'm sure whatever it was, it was delicious," you reassured him with a warm smile. “And that’s kind of adorable,” you confessed, blushing yourself as his jaw dropped and his eyebrows rose. “Besides, dinner with you IS the treat,” you snickered.

Wrecker's expression brightened at your understanding, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Thanks... You're the best," he said earnestly.

With a shared chuckle, you fell into step beside each other, the awkwardness of the moment melting away in the warmth of your easy camaraderie. As you walked, you couldn't help but sneak glances at Wrecker, marveling at the way his eyes sparkled with life and his smile lit up the room.

Before long, you found yourselves at a quaint little café nestled in a corner of the nearby town, the scent of freshly baked pastries wafting through the air. Wrecker held the door open for you with a gallant flourish, a proud grin on his face as he ushered you inside. As you settled into a cozy booth by the window, your cheeks almost hurt from smiling when he squeezed onto the cushy bench seat beside you instead of sitting across from you.

“This alright?” he asked with a grin. 

“Heck yes,” you quipped, and the way he rested his broad palm on your knee as you considered your menu made your heart skip a beat. So polite, so comforting, so protective… All in a single touch? How did you get so lucky… Conversation flowed freely as you considered your options, ordering a few different things to share between the two of you. 

Hours passed, with a hearty dinner followed by some little bites of dessert and some hot coffees to finish the whole thing off, and you found yourself stuffed, warm, and unbelievably content as you leaned against his side. He’d just finished a detailed description of a mission that had gotten steadily more wild as it went on, and by the end you didn’t even know if it was an entirely true story. But it didn’t matter; you were in heaven and would weasel the truth out of him later if needed. 

You finished with a walk back to the base, taking the long way around and sharing some gum that the restaurant had given you along with your bill. You blew bubbles, snuck gazes at each other side to side, and meandered slowly. The conversation dwindled a little, leaving a comfortable silence that stretched until you reached the door where you would part ways. 

You stopped, slowly turning to face him with a demure look on your face. It felt like a dream that you didn’t want to wake up from, and he opened his arms to invite you into another hug that conjured up every warm, happy moment you’d ever had. A sigh fell from your lips as you leaned into his chest, shifting your bag back over your shoulder as it swung forward to whack him in the hip.

“This was really fun, Wrecker,” you said earnestly, pulling away only a little bit, leaving your arms around his hips.

“It was a blast!” he exclaimed, resting a hand on each of your shoulders. “Can we do it again?”

“Yes please!” you giggled. “Right now?”

“I wish!” He joined you in laughter, gently rubbing up and down the outside of your arms with polite affection. “Tomorrow? We should have some time after exercises.”

“Absolutely.” With another ill-disguised sigh, you started to pull away, slowly turning to take your own path home for the evening. 

“Hey, um…” he called, and you bounded back to face him without a thought to how quickly you moved. 

“Yes?” you asked, unabashedly eager.

“Do you… uh…” He definitely wasn’t looking for any excuse to keep conversing with you. “Do you have a tissue or somethin for my gum? The flavor has been gone for a long time now.”

“Of course,” you laughed, swinging your bag back over your shoulder and rummaging around absently. You felt the corner of a napkin, lost in his puppy-dog eyes, and pulled it as hard as you could… producing… with a flourish… a shower of chocolate crumbs that would have caught anyone’s attention as they scattered in a puff from your hand all over the ground. “Oh! Uhh… That’s… That’s nothing,” you spluttered suddenly.

Wrecker tilted his head, interest piqued now at how quick you were to deflect. 

“Oh?” he said quietly, a little gleam appearing in his eye.

“Here… Here’s your tissue!” you said, flushing bright red.

“Come on,” he insisted, drawing closer and bending down playfully. “What’s the secret of the napkin…” You fumbled for words, shaking the rest of the crumbs out of the napkin and about to begin when he gasped. “Wait! Nooo…”

Did he seriously figure it out? He couldn’t have…

“Did you…” He paused to giggle. “Did you have a snack in here?”

“Maybe…” you said slowly.

“Was it something you were going to bring for me?” 

“Mayyyybe…” you smiled, covering your face with a hand.

“And you ate it?!” The final piece of the puzzle was laid into place in a delightful exclamation, joy brightening his face as your reaction confirmed his guess. “Oh ho ho! How the turn tables… have… Ha!”

“I was too busy getting ready to eat lunch today so I was really hungry and I didn’t think you’d miss it if I never said anything about it and it’s been a long week and my self-control was really--” you dove in, laughing as you tried to explain yourself, but Wrecker waved it all away, bundling you in his arms again for another boisterous hug. He gave you a squeeze, still chuckling, as he gazed down at you fondly.

“Well now I have to take you out for dessert again sometime,” he reasoned. “Also, I think I love you already.”