#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?

[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.”

[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

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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."

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

[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.

[thus-spoke-lo]

An Education [NSFW/18+] Dracule Mihawk x afab!reader x Roronoa Zoro

cw: afab!reader [no pronouns used]; implied D/s relationship between reader/Mihawk; mention of Shanks x reader; vaginal fingering; oral sex [reader receiving] wc: 2.1k // Read on AO3

The afternoon sun filters through the tall windows, long columns of light stretching across the cool, stone floor. Zoro stands in the middle of the room, a sword held tightly in his large hands, and he repeats the same motions with it again and again like a meditation, a mantra with a rhythm and cadence that only your master could have taught him. You stand in the doorway, observing his movements, almost grateful that he is so deeply focused that he doesn’t seem to notice you. Beads of sweat trail down his temples, thin rivulets running down his neck and dampening his shirt so it clings to him like a second skin. His biceps strain against the fabric with every swing of the blade, and he grunts softly with each movement, a noise that registers as almost lewd when hits your ears; your legs press together almost on their own as you continue to observe him from the shadows, and a slow, aching heat begins to build.

You’d watched him for months, day after day, sometimes forgoing your afternoon chores just to observe him; gardening and doing laundry seemed far less interesting in comparison. Zoro barely acknowledged you when he wasn’t training, merely grunting in appreciation when you served dinner and took your place beside Mihawk, curtly nodding at you as he passed in the halls, not even raising his head to look at you when you left clean clothes in his quarters. He even ignored your occasional intrusions during his weekly bath, avoiding your gaze entirely as you muttered some flimsy excuse that you were dropping off fresh towels, never even looking your way no matter how long you lingered.

There was something odd about the way he elected to ignore you; he had no qualms about engaging with Perona, spending his free time quarrelling with her as if they were siblings separated at birth, but with you, it was different. It would almost seem as though he was avoiding you, perhaps denying his own passing fascination with you, just as you did with him.

“You’ve taken a liking to him, haven’t you?”

You stiffen at the sudden low, quiet rumble of Mihawk’s voice; you had been so captivated watching the moss-haired swordsman that you hadn’t even heard Mihawk approach, a mistake for which you silently scolded yourself. His large hand comes to rest upon your shoulder, fingers sinking into the fabric of your shirt, and your heart drums guiltily in your chest.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you mutter, barely above a whisper, as you turn towards him. You drop your gaze to the floor—he hasn’t yet required it of you, but you suspect this is not a time that you should try to meet him as an equal.

“It’s alright, darling, you needn’t worry.” He places a thumb and forefinger under your chin and tilts your head up towards him, golden eyes quickly darting over your face to understand the apprehension etched into your expression. “As I’ve told you before, your eyes may wander so long as your heart belong to me.”

“Then yes,” you finally admit after a moment—quietly, shakily, despite knowing that there were no consequences for honesty. “I have… taken something of a liking to him.”

“I see.” He trails his fingers down your neck, and the beginnings of a smile form at the corners of his mouth. “Then perhaps I shall have to see about accommodating your desires.”

Your pulse races at his suggestion, a detail you’re certain Mihawk would quickly pick up on. “…Oh?”

“I had been thinking that it would be wise for young Roronoa to have a more, shall we say, well-rounded education. A life worth living involves more than more than wielding a sword.” Mihawk’s hand moves to the back of your neck, and he leans down, pressing his lips softly to yours for a moment far too brief. “Wouldn’t you agree, mi amor?”

You run your tongue over your lips, tasting him still, and allow yourself a grin. “I couldn’t agree more.”

**********

This wouldn’t be the first time that you’d entertained another man since becoming Mihawk’s close companion. But that red-haired pirate who unabashedly calls you his lover when he comes to visit, whose tongue tastes like ale and sweetness, whose hands learned your body with a startling swiftness, is nothing like the young swordsman who now stands at the end of your bed. No, that man who Mihawk begrudgingly calls his friend knows exactly how to please you and spoil you, gives into all the desires and whims that Mihawk insists you earn with patience, undoes all the hard work that Mihawk puts into your own education with just a few nights of debauchery.

Zoro, who stands nervously before you, shifting from foot to foot as a blush settles on his tanned cheeks, will be nothing like that—not yet, anyway.

Mihawk presents you to Zoro like you’re a prized possession, a bottle of fine wine he pulls out only for special occasions or an antique piece of furniture that requires careful handling. He leans down now and again to kiss you tenderly as his hands roam your body and he points out all your most sensitive spots, elucidating on just how you like to be touched, how responsive you can be, what sweet little sounds to listen for to know that he’s hit the right spot. He runs his fingers down your neck to demonstrate and you shiver, your nipples hardening, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Despite the guest in your bedchambers, your focus is on the way Mihawk handles you, and how all this slow, drawn-out teasing is only making you more ravenous.

“Look, I’m not that inexperienced,” Zoro interrupts as Mihawk’s long fingers begin to spread your pussy lips open, showing off how drenched you’ve become from his long, slow tease. “I know what to do.”

“Perhaps that’s true, Roronoa,” Mihawk responds coolly, sliding a finger inside you as he speaks. “But you ought to understand that you must learn about every lover individually—they aren’t all equal. Some like to be touched softly, and others roughly, and everything in between. Isn’t that right, darling?”

“That’s ri-ight,” you stammer through a moan as Mihawk adds another finger, and Zoro’s expression of discomfort slowly becomes one of fascination, his eyes drawn to how yours body responds to Mihawk’s measured touch. You look up at Zoro, whose gaze is too fixed on the fingers dipping inside you to notice your stare, and bite your lip as your gaze drifts downwards; despite any protests he had lodged about this private learning session, the way his cock strains against his trousers seems to suggest he’s a willing student after all.

It’s almost unfair how Mihawk so expertly manipulates your body, his fingers crooking up to stroke your walls while his thumb circles your clit. Your hips buck up into his hand almost involuntarily and you grasp for him, gripping his shirt in your fist as a familiar warmth builds in your core, your body tensing. As your eyes clench shut, your mind wanders and you wonder if Zoro is enjoying the way you thrash about under Mihawk’s touch—if his cock throbs at the sight of your wet cunt being toyed with, if he’ll go back to his quarters tonight and fuck his fist thinking of you, shooting hot ropes of spend onto his toned stomach imagining just how good it would feel to be inside you.

The tension inside you snaps at the thought and you let you a sharp cry as you’re seized by an intense rush of sensation. He slows his movements, letting you ride out your waves on his hand as he languidly pumps his fingers in and out of you, not letting you overstimulate yourself. As the last warm waves of your climax move through you, Mihawk withdraws from inside you, leaving you with a sudden feeling of emptiness. Before you have a chance to whine and plead for more, he maneuvers himself behind you on the bed, and lays your limp body back against his chest, propping you up like a doll on display.

“Now, Roronoa—why don’t you give it a try?”

Zoro’s nervousness is surpassed by his curiosity, and the mattress quickly shifts as he sits beside you on the bed. His touch is rough, hands calloused and scarred, fingers wandering over your body hesitantly, as though you might shatter with too firm a touch. His thumb grazes your nipple and he looks at you expectantly, a smile creeping up his mouth when you sigh at the sensation. Mihawk softly strokes the side of your face, always keeping a hand on you as Zoro explores the expanse of your form. You are for Zoro to play with, to pleasure, to enjoy, but only for now, and only with permission—it is abundantly clear you will always belong to Mihawk.

Zoro moves down your body at an achingly slow pace, as if he’s trying to restrain himself from reaching for your needy cunt too quickly, trying to savor the feeling of your softness under his palms. When he finally reaches the heat between your thighs, he tries his best to mimic Mihawk’s earlier ministrations, and his thick fingers glide over your slick pussy lips. He lets out a shivering sigh as your wetness coats his fingertips; his touch isn’t one of experience, but he certainly is a quick and eager learner. The pad of his middle finger lands on your aching clit and starts to move slowly over it, Zoro’s teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watches the way you start to squirm under his touch.

“Why don’t you use your mouth, Roronoa?” Mihawk says, voice tinged with lust. “See what kind of response that garners you.”

Zoro looks to you, as if to ask for permission despite Mihawk’s suggestion; you hastily nod, wondering if he’ll be as apt a pupil when it comes to using his mouth. He lays on his stomach and settles between your thighs, wasting no time in devouring you like a man starved, his tongue darting in and out of your cunt, lavishing your swollen lips. He’s enthusiastic, and his technique lacks the refinement you’ve come to anticipate from a skilled lover like Mihawk, but Zoro demonstrates that he has the potential to become quite accomplished—and you are certainly willing to let him practice all he pleases.

Your thighs begin to quiver as you feel that tension beginning to coil inside you again, and you move your hips against Zoro, grinding into his tongue as he moans into your drenched cunt. Mihawk’s steely arm suddenly wraps around your midsection, pinning you to his torso, and he growls into your ear: “Hold still, mi amor—he won’t learn if you do all the work for him.”

You hold back a defeated whine do as you’re told, holding yourself still and resisting the urge to press against Zoro’s mouth as he greedily laps at your swollen clit, a puddle of his spit and your juices starting to form underneath you.

Mihawk’s clothed cock presses against the small of your back, pulsing every time you moan and whimper, groans rumbling in his chest with every little sigh; it always gratifies him to see you receiving such pleasure, nearly as much as if he were the one providing it. While his restraint is admirable, you feel yourself growing even more heated and ever closer to your climax at the thought of just how he’ll ruin you as soon as Zoro leaves—thoughts of just how he’ll pin you to the bed like prey, your face pressed into the mattress as he mounts you from behind, caging you in with muscled arms, stretching you with his thick column of a cock until he spills himself inside you, claiming you as his.

A strangled moan creeps up your throat, and that strong sensation begins to claim you again as you convulse into a chain of spasms. Zoro licks and sucks at your clit with more fervor as you shudder and cry out for him, almost pushing you to the brink of painful overstimulation. With a low, guttural groan of satisfaction, Zoro finally pulls his mouth away and looks up at you, seeming almost feral as he grins, his face covered in your slick. “How’d I do?”

“You did well,” you manage to mutter after a moment, offering him a teasing smirk as you lean back against Mihawk and catch your breath. “But master Mihawk and I still have so very, very much to teach you.”

[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)

Masterlist

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.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[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.”

[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.

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♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

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

[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.”

[pandoa]

sorry for bothering you again, Pandoa! idk if anyone asked for Epel but I dedided to do it myself. Tulips (said by Epel) and red roses (said by reader), theme comfort of home. Only a suggestion but I thought about this in Epel's home, like in the event. He and reader are talking and he just confess himself right there in a moment of confidence. I just... my country boi ily <3

Tulips ~ “so what if i’m in love with you?! is that so wrong?”

Red roses ~ “i’m afraid your existence in my life has tremendously done wonders to my racing heart. i may have to ask for yours in return”

~epel felmier x gender neutral reader~

cherryyyy thank you for another precious request <333 writing for you is always a joy and i really like how this one turned out too lol. hope you enjoy~

♡confidence juice♡

“We’ll never escape your family’s teasing, will we?” a chipper voice coming from your form asked as you sipped on a warm cup of apple juice, making yourself comfortable as you turned your head in all directions to bask in the peace of Epel’s room. Decorating the entire room was apple-accented accessories and lodge-like furniture that gave the room an aesthetic rustic look—one that somehow gave off an entrancing homely aura—while rays of sun coming from Harveston’s sky peeked out to kiss the tips of your fingers resting on the lavender-haired boy’s bed. The two of you had paid Epel’s family a visit at their farm in Harveston to try a new apple-centered beverage the Felmier’s had made; however, with Felmier family’s excitement over meeting you for the first time, bustling chattering had filled the orchard like harmonious critters chirping in the woods. 

“Yeah…prob’ly not,” Epel said as he joined you in your seat at his bed, a fresh cup of his grandparents’ newest apple recipe in hand, “Ever since we got back ‘ere, they’ve seemed a bit nosey, haven’t they?”

“It’s cute.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, in your eyes it’s nosey. In my eyes, however, it’s cute. Almost endearing actually,” you reasoned while the calming aroma of spices from the apple juice tickled your nose. You made sure to take note and send your compliments to Mrs. Felmier on their family’s most recent recipe. It was absolutely amazing.

“Yeah, but I was kinda lookin’ forward to spending time with you alone. Y’know, show you some places from my childhood—things like that,” the Pomefiore first year shifted his body to face you as a light shade of pink glowed on his cheeks in slight embarrassment, “My family does not help at all, too, what with them constantly on our backs when we’re together.” Epel shivered when he swore he could feel the piercing gazes of his family spying on the both of you through his bedroom window, “And they keep starin’ at me like some kind of cicada is about to pop outta’ my chest; it makes no sense.”

“Cicada? Epel, what are you talking about—?”

“Well, I guess I did talk about you a lot to them before coming here. They might’ve figured it out by now…” the boy continued to mutter under his breath as he took a small sip out of his crimson red cup. 

“Figured what out, exactly—?”

“But so what if I’m in love with you?! Is that so wrong?” appearing to be stuck in his own temporary world, Epel had accidentally let his own thoughts that had been boiling within him for quite some time slip out of his mind. His exclamation made sense at the moment, but now that he thought about it, why did he feel the need to say that again? Was it always this easy? Had he been concerning himself over his feelings for you for nothing? Was there something in the apple juice his grandparents had given him that gave him a sudden wave of coolness?

“Wait…” you cautiously looked at the boy as you struggled to believe what you had just heard, “Could you repeat that again for me, please?”

“I…I said that I love you, (Y/n),” Epel’s softened voice contrasted the determined expression coming from his light blue eyes. This was never what he planned to do during your short visit to Harveston, but there was just no going back, correct?

“Oh…” a hesitant mumble escaped your mouth as you fumbled with the now empty cup resting in your hands, “Then I have something to tell you, too.”

"What is it?”

“I’m afraid your existence in my life has done wonders to my racing heart. I may have to ask for yours in return,” you said with an infectious smile that sent shivers through Epel’s accelerating heart. 

“Hey,” the first year then feigned defensiveness at your confession, “Don’t steal my line. That’s rude.”

An amused laugh of yours sang throughout the warmth of Epel’s room, jokingly playing along with the boy’s bantering, “Aw, I’m sorry, is that surge of confidence of yours still working right now?”

“Yes, in fact, it is. Thanks for noticing.”

“No problem~” you said, pulling him into an affectionate side hug from the right, “And I love you too, Epel. Just so you know.”

Since when did you two ever get so bold? Epel wondered. He supposed he would have to ask his grandparents if they really did put something in that new apple juice. Like some kind of confidence juice, or whatever. 

Yeah, that’s right. Confidence juice. 

a/n: it just occurred to me that "confidence juice" could be taken as a reference to alcohol and i would just like to say that that is not what i meant by it at all 💀

[crisalidaseason]

Thirteenth entry: Don't get on your boss's nerves

If you have a close friendship with your boss, remember to separate things. Friendship is friendship and duty is duty. Unless you got temporarily fired, then you can test your boss all you want…just be mindful of the consequences, specially if he is a grumpy sexually frustrated shadow wielder

****

Liam laughed maliciously as he won another round, taking one of Garrick’s churrams and adding to the other two earned before.

“And here I thought Xaden was the only dirty player” Garrick grumbled.

“I learned from the best” Liam replied.

“Let me shuffle them, you’re too sneaky, Mairi”

Liam rolled his eyes but gave his cards anyway. Garrick was a friend he rarely saw outside of important meetings or during formation. It had been a while since they were able to simply relax or play a game. When Liam entered Xaden’s room just to find him there, they did not let the opportunity go to waste.

“Xaden is later than usual” Liam commented.

“Imogen is in land navigation for the night so no weight room for Sorrengail” Garrick snorted “Gives him more time with his obsession I guess”

“Can’t complain” Liam shrugged “at least he’s spending less time snapping at every living form that crosses him”

“Speak for yourself” Garrick’s face soured “try being his executive officer and also share all classes and missions with him. I thought being on little Sorrengail’s presence more often would finally snap that self control of his and give us all a long awaited peace”

Liam laughed audibly. Xaden’s self control was shit around Violet, he was holding on out of pure spite for himself.

“Liam, I’m being serious, they need to fuck. He can’t focus on shit whenever your squad enters a room. Do you know how many times I have to repeat myself at breakfast? Or how many times I have to stop him from strangling Aetos with his shadows?”

“I’d actually let him strangle Aetos”

Their conversation is quickly interrupted by the devil himself barging through his room. His hair was damp from a recent shower but the coldness of the water must have done nothing for the visible frustration pouring out of his face.

“Not a single word” Xaden snarled upon entering.

Liam and Garrick immediately closed their mouths, going back to their card game as if nothing ever happened. Both watched as a tense-shoulder Riorson neatly arranged his weapons on the shelves of the wooden rack. Garrick caught Liam’s eyes, pulling a face that promised nothing short of warfare.

“Why are you in my room anyway?” Xaden spoke again, turning and crossing his arms “we don’t have meetings this week”

“Reporting” Liam replied.

“Giving Liam the moral support he needs” Garrick simply complemented.

Xaden sighed, his chin falling to his chest. He pointed a finger at Liam before looking at them with renewed annoyance.

“You haven’t been on bodyguard duty for almost a month, Mairi” he said “and you, Tavis, are here solely to make me regret my fucking existence”

“Someone is stressed” Garrick mumbled and Liam suffocated a chuckle “trouble with little miss Sorrengail-”

His brother’s audible huff broke both friends into a fit of laughter, which Xaden retaliated by messing their entire deck of cards with a flick of a shadow - something that only fed their amusement.

“Trouble with little miss Violence” Liam smiled wickedly.

“Oh, of course, Liam” Garrick mocked, raising his hand to his mouth in false shock “how could I forget such a personal nickname?”

If there was a highlight on their busy schedules in that deadly quadrant, it was teasing Xaden Riorson after a training session with the only girl that managed to humble his authority. Seeing such a composed and stoic shadow wielder huff and puff over a small woman was their joy of the night.

“I am going to give you two five seconds to leave my sight” his brother declared “I cannot deal with this nonsense right now”

Garrick let his deck of cards fall to the bed, raising his hands in surrender “Calm down, man. I’m actually here to discuss about our next drop”

Xaden pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his weight on his desk chair.

“I’m moving the drop for next week, wingleaders are reuniting every fucking early morning and I can’t afford a flight to Athebyne now”

“You kinda voted for early morning meetings, Xaden, this is totally on you” Garrick smiled.

“I didn’t think Nyra would retaliate by making them frequent. Fucking Voldaren!”

“I could always make the drop, an executive officer being late or missing a meeting is way more excusable than a wingleader”

“No” Xaden’s tone was firm “You either fly with me or do not fly at all”

At that point, Liam was regretting joining Garrick for a quick game. It was irritating when both of them argued - and that conversation could only lead to that.

“Be fucking reasonable, Xaden. We can’t have the fliers wait another week. Let me and Bodhi go, we’ll be fine”

Liam quietly grabbed all the cards, Garrick was definitely not interested in playing anymore.

“Garrick’s right-”

Xaden narrowed his eyes at Liam in a way that made him feel like a 14-year-old all over again.

“I can’t handle your voice of reason now, Liam. No drop is happening without me. End of discussion. I can negotiate anything else, but we’re not making this drop any earlier”

With a stubbornness that only rivaled Violet's, Xaden settled the matter. From experience, they would hardly be able to change his mind if he was that unyielding. And as much as Garrick had his own convictions, he was never one to push Xaden like Liam often did.

“Careful” Garrick had a menacing look “Someone might think you’d be eager to see Cat”

Liam could not hold a grimace of his own. Fucking Cat. Xaden’s face soured in a very similar way and a discreet shudder ran over his tall frame. He couldn’t be blamed for that, their interactions were…messy. Liam was very much a Violet apologist, specially in the sense of his brother’s pathetic love life.

“Like I don’t have enough problems without her joining Syrena at every fucking drop”

“Well, you did break the betrothal over a letter to Aiseregh - of all people” Liam commented “It makes sense that the mind fucker would chase you out of inconvenience”

Xaden’s face contorted into utter annoyance and Liam wondered if he would begin to breathe fire.

“Don’t even mention that bastard” Xaden pratically growled “he’s been getting on my fucking nerves about it”

“He’s trying to mend - no pun intended - the mess you caused last time, Xaden. I also have my disagreements with the guy but we can’t blame him for trying to find a solution” Liam continued “besides, he’s just extra nervous about his sister”

What brother wouldn’t be? Liam surely would be a walking anxious creature if every news that came out of Basgiath were how his sister almost died for the millionth time.

“Still doesn’t make it less stressful” Xaden sighed again “Sorrengails are the bane of my miserable existence”

Liam chuckled, almost pitying how tired his brother looked sprawled over a small wooden chair.

“You’re so dramatic” Garrick countered “as if you don’t enjoy a certain Sorrengail getting on your nerves”

A death glare was Xaden’s only reply. He was not in the mood for teasing at all, but it never stopped Garrick from being a nuisance and Liam had much respect for it.

“Which prompts my question and reason for being here” Liam began “could you not steal my friend tomorrow night?”

“Weren’t you the one constantly insisting I train her?” Xaden countered.

“I know, I know” Liam gave Garrick a knowing look “but don’t hog her all for yourself, I know it’s difficult due to your obsession-”

“The two of you. Out!” Xaden said through gritted teeth, sending shadows to pull at their feet.

Liam and Garrick left in a matter of seconds, choking down their laughter on the way out.

***

“Sorrengail” Xaden’s voice echoed through the hall,

His tall frame was leaning on the wall, the wind swept hair and the twin swords strapped to his back indicated he had been on a mission that day. Liam sent him a look of annoyance, which his brother did not acknowledge at all. Yep, seemed like he was too fucking obsessed not to steal her. Or maybe he just did it as payback for all the teasing last night - Xaden was fucking petty like that.

Violet sighed and simply turned around, following Xaden to another training session “See you later”

They waved her a brief goodbye and resumed their walking to the common room - planning to study for their latest history test.

“Could you tell your scary brother not to steal my girl during study sessions?” Ridoc complained while sitting on their usual table.

“I did ask. You might have a better chance at asking him yourself next time” Liam grimaced “I’ve been getting on his nerves lately”

His three squadmates stared at him curiously, something that still surprised Liam. He sometimes forgot that they were actually invested and interested in knowing him outside of the bodyguard duty - was he still Violet’s bodyguard? Xaden had kind of fired him.

“Just brotherly teasing” he explained.

Teasing was not doing justice to the absolute pestering him and Garrick were putting Xaden through. The man stressed about her daily but would not waste a single second of free time away from her. Liam had gotten what he wanted at the cost of witnessing the utter chaos and pathetic behavior of his foster brother.

“Well, we sure can survive studying without Violet for once” Rhiannon said, pointing at Liam “besides, there is brain to the brawl of our handsome guy here”

He tried not to flush at her comment, but failed miserably. The laughs echoing on their table was pleasant and Liam rejoiced in the ease of it all. Violet was safe under Xaden’s watch, he had a squad who accepted and wanted him around, him and Deigh were getting stronger together. Everything was falling into place and he never felt more at ease in months inside that quadrant. Studying with his squad was a mundane action, but satisfying in many ways.

“Fuck all those names” Sawyer huffed “why is every infantry expedition named? Look at this one! Montserrat; Bryden, K; 11; In; F.”

Liam groaned. He also hated studying nomenclature, it wasn’t difficult but it was too detailed. All of those letter mixed up at some point.

“Scribe shit, I believe” Rhiannon explained “something to do with ease cataloging and archiving. If you want to read on an expedition those names are the only way to find the document faster”

“Alright, enlighten me because I can’t understand shit” Ridoc sighed.

“First is the outpost where the expedition happened: Montserrat. Then comes the expedition leader’s complete surname and first letter of their name, the number 11 is referring to the month of said expedition: November. ‘In’ means it’s not classified - ‘S’ would be classified - and ‘F’ is the expedition status as ‘finalized’ ”

Sawyer looked at her as if she had grown another head and even Liam could not help but stare.

“Damn, Matthias” Ridoc whistled “You might give Vi a run for her money”

“She was the one who taught me that” she shrugged “besides, we all should learn this for life. Who knows when we might need to dig through infantry expeditions in search for information? Specially if we want to reach a leading rank”

“I highly doubt we’ll actually need to read infantry reports” Ridoc scoffed.

“I’m so glad to be a part of the same squad as you and Vi” Sawyer said “it balances the fact Gamlyn here is a lost cause”

Ridoc narrowed his eyes at his squadmate, giving him the middle finger “Fuck you, Henrick”

“You’d love to”

Rhiannon sighed in annoyance and Liam simply smiled at the usual bickering. He could not help but agree with his squadmate, a good understanding of infantry missions directly impacted riders. With that line of thought and her quick learning, Rhiannon would make a great leader next year - way better than Aetos. The only thing that tainted that moment was knowing that she - they - did not know anything about the dangers lurking outside the wards. He felt guilty teaching about old battles while hiding what was relevant - from people who were becoming important in his life. Liam wanted more than anything to have them by his side when the real war began - and he knew they would follow. There was honor in them. In Violet’s sense of justice, Rhiannon’s strength, Sawyer’s perseverance, Ridoc’s bravery.

Liam wanted to fight alongside them just as much as his apostasy comrades.

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[carusocarousel]

On community care, mutual aid and self-preservation

This might come off as rude, but I promise, it isn't meant to.

Over the last couple of months, I've been engaged on mutual aid initatives, especially those concerning palestinian families. The level I've been involved wasn't intentional, but a consequence of the decisions and roads life took me in. It has been an enriching and throughtful experience.

However, as everything in life has its ups, it also has its downs. Community care and mutual aid are as powerful as they are mentally, emotionally and phisically taxxing. What might've started as something small can quickly and unexpectedly become something bigger than you ever thought. Again, mighty, but overwhelming as well. It can be worsened if you work on your own instead of a group effort (note: group efforts also have their challenges, but I've not had too much experience to confidently speak on it).

Whichever your role, personal issues are bound to come up. One is only human. However, in the case of CC and MA, there's a big compromise with the persons and/or group you're working with such that the boundaries between your personal space(s) and your activism become blurred. The personal is political, but does that mean you should spend every waking minute of your day entirely devoted to CC and MA work? The answer will vary on who you ask. All organizers and volunteers have different lived experiences, boundaries, necessities and priorities. I've met people who are fully devoted to their cause and live by it in any sense imaginable; they'll risk it all. At the same time, others will not or cannot fully embrace it; there's too many things at play that could endanger their well-being. Our identities, education, lived experiences and current situation inform how we tackle those difficulties.

We can't also deny that privilege plays a part in it. Even us who are marginalized in one way or another can cause harm. Not all harm is equal, but it exists and we must constantly work to unlearn damaging attitudes and ideas, relearn from those who have suffered from injustice and keep ourselves accountable, where understanding, reparations and growth are possible.

A lot of these things are learned as you go, as you succeed, as you fuck up. There are resources, but they will never account for every experience imaginable that might happen. And I believe one of those that hasn't been accounted for as much is taking care of yourself as you work with community. I feel there's a bit of stigma around it. Nobody wants to admit sometimes you're too tired, busy or struggling to help others. It feels shameful even thinking it. What excuse do I have to be "too tired" for CC/MA when others are suffering worse and still try to aid? That's very privileged on my end, isn't it?

I want to make something clear: being tired/busy/struggling is not the same as purposefully ignoring, devaluing movements and excusing yourself for constantly partaking in harmful actions (ie. not making any effort to boycott fast-food or restaurant chains actively partaking in occupation and genocide; giving excuses for these companies; not educating yourself and others; not speaking out and/or shifting your consumer habits, especially if you're privileged enough to find less-harmful or ehical alternatives). When you're involved in CC and CA, a lot of your thought-patterns, values and decisions, even unrelated to said work, still align with them, even unintentionally. It bears repeating that accountability, reparations and growth form a core in how you move through life.

Coming back to the stigma, I feel alienated from some leftist spaces when it is expected you simply push through or keep doing the same but supported by others. While it might work for some, it could be absolutely disastrous for others. Every person is different and our limits are going to vastly differ. What might be doable for some could be the breaking point of others.

As we work through these feelings, there's a lot of shame and guilt attached to our thoughts. We punish ourselves instead of being kind. We put up a mask but end up retaining all of our feelings. You can become ill from emotional and physical stress, it should not be glossed over. I also want to clarify that I do not believe illness is inherently negative, but untreated symptoms can affect how you survive and thrive through your daily life, for which our spaces aren't always equipped to help them through it.

This is why I believe this topic should be destigmatized and discussed more widely, as well as be less judgemental on how people decide to process it. Taking time off does not mean you're uncomitted, ignorant or uncaring. It doesn't mean you've broken up with community. Making spaces unrelated to CC/MA does not you're uncomitted, ignorant or uncaring. It does not and should not define you as a person.

On top of this, we should not erase our boundaries to be perceived as "selfless" and "good". Boundaries are essential in any form of interaction, whether human, non-human, with the environment or our objects. Healthy communication and collaboration cannot exist if we don't know our boundaries. We need to define our negotiable and non-negotiable boundaries. It is my responsability to know, hold my own and respect yours, as it is to know your boundaries, convey them and respect mine.

As uncle Ben said

"With great power comes great responsability"

To conclude, we must work through our own stigmas to hold spaces where we can be vulnerable and speak about frustration, fatigue and uncertainty in processes of comunity care and mutual aid. We must allow ourselves to find spaces unrelated to our work. We must allow ourselves to feel joy and freedom.

Fostering guilt and shame in our spaces where the situation doesn't call for it will cause more harm than good. We do not need to encourage anymore savior/god complexes in our community organizing, and we do not need to dehumanize and further victimize the groups we're working to help. If we do, then we have learned nothing from the past.

When I spoke to my therapist about this, they relied to me similar experiences and ended with this: how am I gonna save the world if I can't save myself?

Creating understanding communities, protocols, establishing boundaries and switching out mentality as we aid are all important to establish nurturing relationships and plan actions much more effectively.

Do not feel guilty about yourself. Take a break, lift that weight of your shoulders. You are not alone and the world won't end if you decide to prioritize yourself. You'll comeback stronger and it'll show, it won't go unnoticed.

[ophelianated]

have i ever talked about how much i looooove working in customer service (contact centre agent, to be exact)

to all the entitled bitches out there who treat us like servants at best and dirt on their shoe at worst on a daily basis, please for the LOVE OF GOD:

take five minutes, just five minutes out of your life to do some research by yourself before bothering us. we're not fucking google, and being treated as such gets real tiring real fast. we should be your last resort

we're not therapists either. i repeat, We. Are. Not. Therapists. we understand that you're frustrated, but our job description doesn't include emotional labour. we're here to help you, not listen to you vent. if you need a minute, hour, day to get yourself together enough to shift your focus back on problem solving, you can just contact again later. don't take your anger and desperation out on us. all telling us how you'll have to tell your children now that they can't see their favourite team play because you can't afford to pay a fee will accomplish is make us upset too because we're not allowed to make exceptions - "gesture of goodwill" is not a concept all companies support. all yelling and cursing at us will do is earn you an abusive customer badge and make us feel like shit. one would think that this would be a no brainer, yet here we are. here we FUCKING ARE

nor are we complaint forms. take your spiel where it belongs so it can arrive in the hands of someone in the correct department specialized to deal with more complex issues, like ones that require an official investigation for instance. believe it or not, we have a complaint form for a reason. describe your problem as concisely as you can and don't waste our time, especially because some of us are micromanaged down to how much time we spend with each customer, and we WILL get in trouble if we go over a certain limit

exercise some patience and understand that Rome wasn't built in a day. some processes take time, and no, in most cases we have no way of expediting them, especially if we're escalating something to another department. adding "urgent" at the end only serves to piss people off

if we say we can't do/don't know something because we physically don't have the method or authority to execute what you want us to/access the information you seek, believe us. unless you're being particularly rude, i promise we're not trying to pass you off, we genuinely have no way of helping you

on that note: if we say that our company policy forbids us from doing shit, believe us. and ask yourself if YOU would risk YOUR job for a random stranger before demanding that we do it anyway and getting mad when we say no

if we say that our supervisors can't do anything about your problem either, BELIEVE US. so many of you mfs think that supervisors are above company policy for some reason. i'm telling you, they have waaaaaaay less authority than you think, and if they actually gave us the go ahead to kiss your asses to high heaven and do whatever you ask, them and us would be fired at the exact same speed

if we tell you where you can find the information you seek and more, don't be a lazy piece of shit and actually check it out. if we spell an entire process out for you so it's clear what you have to do and how, don't ask if we can do it instead. you're adults. exercise some goddamn self-reliance. i've had customers asking me to cherry pick and send them via chat only the relevant contents of the page i literally had just sent them the link to a few seconds prior because they didn't want to click on said link and spend TWO MINUTES skimming the page to find what info they needed and within what article. why don't i chew your fucking food for you as well while i'm at it. tie your shoelaces. wipe your ass maybe. this also gets old real fucking fast

if we're communicating via email or chat, read what we send you. yes, even if it's a wall of text. so many conversations could take half the time if you people just fucking read shit*

don't waste your breath. threatening to sue the company will not intimidate us into doing what you want. we get threats like that every day and (unfortunately) they never go anywhere

understand. process it on a cognitive level. make it a part of you carnally if necessary. but i'm begging you please find a way to get it through that thiccc skull: we don't know every single one of our fellow employees personally. neither do we have access to the complete list of people working for the company. i have no fucking clue who the blond guy who was rude to your mother yesterday three countries away is, nor do i have the power to get him fired (refer back to the point about complaints on how to proceed in this situation)

if YOU are the one who fucked up royally and the situation is beyond saving, THAT'S ON YOU. entirely on YOU. don't blame us for not having a solution to any and all mistakes you bitches make. we clean up your messes more than enough as is, because some of you apparently can't even spell your honest to god child's name right. given of course that you don't just forget about them entirely (both true stories)

read the terms and conditions. i don't care if it's long and dry and tedious. it's also sneaky and elusive and contains a shitton of info companies don't shove in your face, which is why you should study that shit like it's holy scripture before you do anything

no, you can't get a refund for everything. life doesn't work that way. deal or die

understand that we don't make the policies of the company we work for. yes, we're aware that some (or even most) of them suck, but we gotta eat somehow. we're not the company, and we're not the enemy. i repeat, we are not the company, and we are not the enemy

on the same vein: make peace with the fact that most of us are not malicious. we don't sit around rubbing our hands, coming up with different ways to fuck up your day and steal your money. we're trying to make the best of what we're working with. if you don't like the answer we give you, chances are we don't either, but there's nothing we can do and we feel horrible about it. i know it's easy to feel like we don't help you because we don't want to when you're being told no over and over, but resist the temptation to make us the big bad in your head. i promise most of us would love to help you, and it feels incredibly shitty if we can't, especially since helping people out is the whole purpose of our job

our training can't prepare us for each and every scenario we face on the job. it's just not possible. be reasonable and patient if yours happens to be an extremely tricky case that even our most experienced colleagues haven't encountered. we are people, and we are doing our best

*actual conversation i had with a customer (kept vague for security purposes):

me: We can't do x because the other people with you don't have the necessary thing y. We in the contact centre will have to give them y by [insert explanation about the process].

customer: But they don't have y.

me: Yes, that's the problem. They will need it before we can proceed.

customer. Oh. How can I get them y?

[deafearsdiary]

Hyperboles

I eat a big bowl of regret everyday for breakfast, and make sure to have some for dessert before going to sleep. If you had told me I'd be feeling this way about you again in 2023 (post break up), I would've rolled my eyes out of my head, and laughed until my voice box exploded. There's no way I would go back to a love that made me want to rip my own heart out and stitch it back into my chest every day. I would be caught dead before loving such a charismatic, sexy, smart, funny, charming, soul snatcher of a man for a second time! And then you'd whisper to me, "but it wasn't for a second time, you never stopped". And suddenly it would click. I'd remember that there was 8 million times more emotional pain than physical pleasure that was gifted to me in the form of our relationship, so I had to reach deep down into my heart and gather every last ounce of love I had for you. Which was almost as much as the amount of stars that there are in the sky, so it took a long time to do. My back hurt when I was finished. Anyway I chucked that love into the abyss. Only I went into the wrong direction and threw it into a portal that went to April 2023 me instead. Fast forward to now, all of the love sort of just got put back in to my heart. It didn't all get into my heart at first though. Some of it just stopped in my brain, but every so often it would leak into my heart. It took a long time to load like an old Windows desktop would when you were trying to get onto internet explorer.

And then this one morning I dreamt about you, we were obviously in love. That caused me to wake up and all of the left over love shot into my heart like a bullet coming out of a shot gun. It hit me with the same amount of force and everything. Now everything is about you. Every song, day dream, prayer, thought, almost every conversation, every romance anything. I even constantly see people that reminded me of you. It's a struggle to focus on anything. If we speak then my day is untouchable. It's like you're the bad feelings repellant. But if we go too long without communication, my days are blue. Not like sky blue. Down in the dumps blue. Cloudy skies, harsh attitudes, anxious thoughts. If you take too long to get back to me about something, I'd imagine it was because you quite frankly just hate hearing from me. "Maybe if I just ignore her she'll go away. I should've never commented on her picture and said I thought she was pretty. She's so annoying when she texts me. She's so emotional and always asking about something that has to do with feelings. I don't even want to deal with that, she was just amazing to have sex with, that's all. I really need to leave her alone so she'll get the message. I'll just ignore her for the rest of her life." These are some of the thoughts I think you have. There's probably accuracy in some of them. Whether they were said to me, someone else, or thought to yourself or not, the result of them were the same.

They make me want to stuff myself into the garbage disposal and turn it on. They make me want to delete my existence from your mind altogether. AND the minds of anyone that you know that knows me. They make me want to cry so hard that I would pass out from dehydration, just to wake up, drink a gallon of water, and repeat. 9 times. They make me want to pull of my skin from a hangnail, and keep pulling until my entire epidermis was a pile on the floor. So that I can grow new skin, and become an entire different person.

The amount of love I feel amounts to the type of damage you can do to me. You can make me feel as big as a giant, or as small as an amoeba. You can make me feel as beautiful as the northern lights, or as ugly as a roach being eaten by maggots. (But you've never made me feel ugly). You consume my mind. Every minute of everyday I think about you at least twice. And if I get time to myself, I can spend hours just focused on you. Everything about you or us. How you used to make me feel when we'd kiss or talk. How you still make me feel that way when we talk so it's most likely the same with us kissing. How I love making you laugh. How there's literally no one that has treated me the way you have before. I think about our memories, and every so often a new memory of you gets unlocked. Like since I've been thinking about you and loved you for x amount of time I get to level up and obsess over something else. And thinking about your voice is my favorite pass time. It makes my insides melt, and then I have a mess to clean up;). There is no one that's like you in my eyes. And I'll stand on that until hell freezes over. I want to feel this way with you until we are raisins and talk in slow motion. And if I can't then.. I think I might die.