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aemonds-fire · 3 days

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The Sapphire Spell Ghost Aemond x Female Reader Part Two - Cabinet of Curiosities

Summary: Can a spell cast by Alys long ago bring Aemond Targaryen back to life centuries later in Westeros? When the remains of the Kinslayer are found and put on display in a Cabinet of Curiosities, the ghost of Aemond discovers the proprietor’s beautiful daughter is the only person who can see or hear him.

Word Count: 2290

Warnings: None

The Sapphire Spell Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Enjoy! Reblogs and Comments are much appreciated.

Centuries later

“Good morning, father,” you say cheerfully, leaning down to kiss his cheek before joining him at the small dining table. Once you are seated, he says a short prayer before beginning to help himself to breakfast. “What are your plans for today?” you inquire while taking a sip of your tea.

“Ah, my lovely girl, today is the day,” he exclaims, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye and a happy smile on his face. This morning, I will receive my latest additions to the collection. We have a great deal of work to do, much of it to prepare for our newest arrival.”

You stare at him with surprise. ”Oh, I finally get to know what this wondrous item is." You truly cannot remember seeing your father more excited than he has been recently. He still has an almost childlike wonder for new things, an enthusiasm unmatched by most for the curiosities of the world. “Will you at least give me a hint? You have tormented me long enough,” you ask him playfully.

Smiling mischievously, he says, “I suppose I could tell you that a former resident of the Red Keep will be brought to their new home today, but that is all I will say."

“The Red Keep? I didn’t think there was anything left in that old ruin,” you say, looking at him curiously. “What could have possibly been found there?” you ask him.

“Let’s just say that everyone in this city knows my reputation for paying good money for interesting objects,” he smiles, finishing his meal. As he gets up to leave, he tells you, “I’ll be next door; I’ll see you there after your lessons.”

After he leaves, you continue to linger over your tea, intrigued by your father's excitement. Long abandoned, the Red Keep had fallen into ruin for well over a century. New rulers had built palaces and government buildings. A fire several months ago mostly destroyed what remained. Workers have been toiling away for weeks, clearing through the rubble. What could have been found to cause him this much excitement, you wonder?

When you hear your tutors' arrival in the front hall, you hurry off to begin your lessons. While you are grateful for your father’s insistence that you continue your education, focusing today will be a struggle.

After seeing the tutor out, you rush to find your father in the adjacent building. Walking past the numerous displays of natural and man-made artifacts and oddities, you cannot help but smile, thinking about how your family’s fortunes changed in less than two generations.

Your family originally came from Flea Bottom, eking out a meager existence for generations. Your grandfather was born as one of six children. As a young boy, he dreamed of the sea, spending as much time as he could outside the city's old Mud Gate, where ships docked. Willing to learn anything he could about sailing and willing to do any task, he managed to gain favor with a ship's captain, who took him on as a cabin boy. At a very young age, he began a life at sea, steadily working his way up, taking on more responsibility with each voyage, and eventually meeting the great explorer, Lord Swann.

He was a member of Swann’s crew when the lost treasure of the Stepstones was found. With his share, he bought a respectable home in the city, away from Flea Bottom, married a pretty widow, and began a family of his own. He continued sailing with Lord Swann for several more years. During his sailing years, he amassed a number of unusual items he found during his travels to far-off lands. After an injury ended his career at sea, he dedicated his time to his growing collection, eventually buying the property next door and opening the first Cabinet of Curiosities Museum in King's Landing.

Your father inherited everything when he passed. Growing up with a love for the collection, he also possessed a flair for the dramatic and a sharp mind. He saw opportunity in the public’s fascination for things never seen before and kept expanding the collection. While he acknowledged the authenticity of most items in the collection, he also acknowledged the inclusion of a few forgeries.

There was still quite a bit of work to be done before the grand reopening of the collection in two days. Since your family had been adding oddities and artifacts for over fifty years, the assortment was getting quite large. It now takes up the entire first floor of the building. The new exhibit is part of an expansion to the second floor. Flyers had been distributed throughout the city, promising something new and exciting. The collection's temporary closure also allowed your father to have renovations done to the building. The major improvement is the installation of the new innovation of electric lighting, not only in the Cabinet of Curiosities Museum but in your own residence next door.

Once you find your father, you immediately understand his excitement these past few weeks, because this particular display is like nothing else in the collection.

He sees you standing back with a look of shock on your face and laughs. Coming over to put his arm around you, he says proudly, “I’d like you to meet the Kinslayer, Prince Aemond Targaryen."

The Kinslayer is the infamous second son of King Viserys. He claimed the dragon Vhagar as a boy and started the Dance of the Dragons when he murdered his nephew. He was named Prince Regent when his brother, King Aegon II, was seriously injured. After his half sister, Queen Rhaenyra, took Kings Landing, he went on a rampage, burning the Riverlands.

Besides his horrific deeds, not much is known about him. It’s as if he was a stain on House Targaryen that they tried to erase from memory.

The remains of a man are on display before you; his bones lie on black velvet within a specially crafted glass coffin, his skull still bearing the damage from the sword strike from Dark Sister. The suit of night black armor he wore, sword and dagger attached, has been cleaned and reassembled next to the case, as if standing a ghostly guard. Hanging on the wall over the case is a somewhat damaged painting of a young man wearing an eyepatch. He has the trademark silvery-white hair of the Targaryens.

Stunned silent for a moment, you finally manage to ask, “How did you find this? I thought the Targaryens always burned their dead."

Your father explains, "While clearing the rubble from the fire, an underground chamber was found." As you continue to examine this new display, you glance at him. "Most of it had collapsed, but one corner of the room remained unscathed. They had placed these remains in a stone sarcophagus and stored the painting and armor nearby."

“Why his body was not burned, I cannot say, but the fact that he was found under the Red Keep, along with the research I’ve done, convinces me that these are the remains of the Kinslayer,” he continues. “Now we have him, his armor, and his portrait. Once word spreads, people will be lining up outside to see him. He is going to make us a fortune.”

"The only thing missing is the sapphire he reputedly wore in place of his eye," you remark, noting that the prince was a rather tall man by the looks of his skeleton.

"That remains undiscovered, likely in the depths of the God's Eye." Small chance of anyone ever seeing that again,” your father sighs.

You chuckle. “If it is ever found, I’m sure you will find a way to acquire it.”

Smiling, he says, “I would try.” Gazing at the empty crates and packaging that the artifacts arrived in, he declares, "I'll assign the boys to tidy up. We still have a lot of work to do if we are to be ready to reopen.”

Taking a last glance at the portrait of the Targaryen prince, you follow your father to see what you can help with.

The next two days go by quickly as you spend most of your time making sure everything is in perfect order. Your father’s enthusiasm is contagious, making the work more enjoyable. You are both optimistic that more people will be eager to see the new and improved museum, and they will be willing to pay the increased admission price. While you are not wealthy, it is a profitable business that affords you a very good living. Despite society’s expectations that you should be looking for a husband, you are happy with your life.

You also find yourself drawn to the painting of Aemond Targaryen, standing in front of it several times. You can’t help but notice how regal he is, unsmiling but strikingly handsome; he has a strong jawline, good cheekbones, and a natural curve to his lips. His characteristically Targaryen silvery-pale hair, pulled back from his face, is long and straight. The eye patch over his left eye, with the scar trailing above and below, gives him a rather dashing appearance, you think.

As you remind yourself there is work to be done, you become aware of the freezing cold air around you, and you swear something grazes your hand. Startled, you whirl around to look behind you, only to find yourself alone in the exhibit. Nervously brushing back the tendrils of hair that have escaped your loose chignon, you sense there is another presence here with you.

Trying to steady your breathing, your eyes dart around, but you see no other person near you. You can faintly make out the voices of some of the staff you employ, but they are distant. With a quick shiver from the cold, you shake it off and head downstairs.

Finally, the time has come to reopen the Cabinet of Curiosities Museum to the public. With a glance out the window, you can already see that a crowd has begun to line up for the ticket window. Joining your father just inside the entrance, you can’t help but think he looks rather distinguished today. Your father is a natural showman, which is one of the reasons the collection has remained a popular attraction in the city. You love watching him, dressed elegantly in a tailcoat tuxedo, enthrall an audience with history and somewhat embellished tales of artifacts.

Playing your part as well, you are dressed in a fashionable gown with your hair styled up and adorned with jeweled combs. You act as a hostess for the collection, guiding visitors and answering questions.

You smile, knowing your father will be in rare form tonight, telling the tale of the Kinslayer from the Age of Dragons.

The afternoon and evening pass by in a blur. The grand re-opening is a stunning success, with high society rubbing shoulders with common folk. It seems that regardless of one's status in life, all share a fascination for the unusual and mysterious.

Several times, your father holds court, telling the tale of Aemond Targaryen. He captivates the crowd with the tale of the villainous prince who murdered his nephew to begin the Dance of the Dragons, declaring himself Prince Regent, mercilessly burning the Riverlands, and consorting carnally with a witch.

It was long past nightfall when the last patrons were ushered out and the doors locked. Your father brings out a bottle of the finest Arbor champagne for you and your small staff to celebrate the night’s success.

By the end of the week, you're exhausted from the nonstop activity and the throngs of people surrounding you, and you're relieved that the museum will close tomorrow for the weekly day of worship of the Seven. After you and your father visit the Sept in the morning, you look forward to a more peaceful day with a pleasant walk if the weather allows. However, as you get ready for bed, Prince Aemond occupies your thoughts once more.

Whenever you are in the museum, you feel compelled to visit his display. You’ve found yourself looking down at his remains that lie on black velvet, staring at the bones of his hands, noticing how long his fingers are and how much larger his hand would be compared to your own. You've even had the strange urge to open the glass case, reach in, and touch him. But it is his portrait that captivates you the most. While his angular features may not be considered conventionally handsome, you see a strikingly unique splendor to his image. His scar and eye patch only deepen his mystery for you.

You confess to yourself that you find it difficult to reconcile this portrait with the accounts of the cruel monster he was said to be. The story of his short life and terrible deeds should repel you, but they intrigue you more. You have an intense curiosity about him. 'What was he thinking as he sat for this portrait? What did his voice sound like?’ Questions like these have been going through your mind all week.

Also on your mind are the odd feelings you have when in the museum.

Many times, you have the feeling of being watched. You experience sudden, icy cold drafts that come out of nowhere and make you shiver. A few times you feel as if someone is standing beside you or behind you, much closer than would be proper, and each time you are alone with no one around. And tonight, as you were preparing to leave, you thought you heard a hushed voice whisper your name.

As you drift off to sleep, your final thought is that everything started when the museum received Prince Aemond's remains.

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lisbeth-kk · 1 hour

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May prompts

Today's prompt: familiar.

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 3)

Summary: A trip to the seaside leaves a vivid memory, forever etched into Rosie's mind palace.

Three Years Old

My first memory I remember vividly, occurred when we were at the seaside. I do recall bits and bobs from before this particular memory, but it’s a bit of a blur, not crystal clear like the one at the seaside near Brighton.

The pebbles fascinated me endlessly. How they sounded when we walked on them, the different shades of colour, their shape, the salty and stony taste.

I was trying to find flat pebbles to build a tower, and that’s when I heard Dad speaking. He uttered the same words to me on a daily basis, but not in that tone of voice.

“I love you.”

It was hushed, sincere, and I felt a warmth set in my chest. I was about to turn my head to reciprocate, when Sherlock spoke. His voice was deeper than normal.

“I love you too, John.”

Can a three-year-old be as considerate as I picture me in my mind? If my memory serves me right, the answer is yes.

Dad and Sherlock didn’t realise that I turned carefully to watch them, and when they came back to reality, I had continued my tower creation.

What I saw, is forever etched in my mind, and sometimes that, by now familiar image, brings tears to my eyes. It always makes me happy, so yes, the tears are the happy kind, or sentimental if you will.

Dad was sitting on the blanket and had his arm slung around Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock’s hand cupped Dad’s face and the look in his eyes was so soft. It was reminiscent of how he looked at me, but there was more to it. Another kind of love, I realised later. He closed his eyes when his lips met Dad’s in what looked like a soft kiss, but there was nothing chaste about it.

Somehow my instincts told me that this was a private moment, so I turned around to give them privacy. I managed to stack six pebbles before the tower fell. My cry of frustration made the two men in my life come to the rescue.

We walked down to the water to throw pebbles, and Dad managed to make his pebble bounce five times before it sunk. He was quite proud of that. Particularly because Sherlock only managed three.

I think I had decided to keep my mouth shut about catching Dad and Sherlock kissing, but can a three-year-old keep a secret? Clearly not me. Evidently, subtlety wasn’t quite my forte either. Every single person in the train carriage learned that I, Rosie Watson, had caught the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, kissing my dad, Doctor John Watson.

“But that’s ok. Because they love each other!” I exclaimed with a flourish, not unlike one of Sherlock’s gestures.

“It’s the West End next for you, young lady,” Sherlock stated dryly, seemingly undeterred, while Dad blushed profusely.

“What is West End?” I asked, curious about my next destination in life.

“Antics and escapades,” Sherlock murmured, which left me none the wiser.

Also available on AO3

Taggings in the replies, for reasons...

#may prompts 2024 #may 3: familiar #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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demigods-posts · 15 days

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currently writing a fanfic where thalia reflects on taking zoe's place as lieutenant. and the zoe and thalia parallels in the original series are so strong. i mean. both of their deaths were caused by their fathers. both of their deaths end with them staring up at the sky. both of their deaths lead to them being a symbol of sacrifice and heroism. both of them joined the hunt because they lost faith in a boy they cared for. both of them were trapped between a rock and a hard place. how am i just now realizing this?

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bluebellhairpin · 4 months

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Katsuki Bakugou X Secretary!Reader

Summary: Working as the secretary to the famous designer Katsuki Bakugou hasn't been easy - however you find out you have it easier than most. Soon after that, you find out why.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Power Dynamic (VERY inappropriate boss/employee relationship). Swearing. Smidge of making-out. Bakugou probably gives off manipulative yandere vibes. Reader; wears a skirt, is called 'baby', otherwise is g/n (unless I've missed something T-T).

Listening to: 'Donatella' by Lady Gaga - "I wanna dress you up in silk taffeta, tailor these clothes to fit your guilt, what's your size?"

Masterlist || Ko-Fi || Art inspired by the fic

The Bakugou brand was known all over the world. From Gucci to Balenciaga, Bakugou was a name everyone in the fashion industry respected - and when it came to the man behind it all, it was also a name to be feared.

Katsuki Bakugou, with his grown wealth, fame, and the power that went with them, was practically a god on earth.

You were the one lucky (or pitied) person chosen to work closely with him. A secretarial assistant job to none other than the man himself was a job so many people would die for. It was also a job many before you had almost died while enduring. No one had lasted longer than a year. It barely took a week for you to figure out why.

Katsuki wasn’t just a diva, or a bitch (although he certainly was those things too) - he was the devil in Christopher Goodyear Welt’s.

By three months working under the blond tyrant, you had decided your life could be worse. You weren’t sure why all his previous assistants weren’t able to handle it - not until you walked into work this morning.

Katsuki was already in his office - a situation you hadn’t come across yet since he had a strict nine-to-five schedule he adored - and was practically roaring at someone down the receiver of his landline. He had a temper on him, sure - he was as famous for it as he was for his designs - but you’d yet to see him quite this angry before.

“You wouldn’t know corduroy if you spent your nine months in the womb with it!” you heard as you set your bag aside and hooked your coat up. “Get me Eijirou you shitty prick!”

You settled at your desk, eying his shadow through the frosted glass as he paced back and forth as you powered on your computer. Your eyes flickered down to the phone on your desk - if you picked it up you’d be able to hear the person on the other end - however if Katsuki caught you eavesdropping more than you already where (not that you had much of a choice right now) you would be in a whole new world of trouble.

“Put me on hold, I dare you.” Was the final thing Katsuki said before slamming the phone back down. It became eerily quiet. You barely dared to breathe.

Hearing his footfalls softly stalk across the carpet of his office, you tucked your head down and opened a random email to look busy.

“Where the fuck have you been all morning?” Your eyes rose to meet his vermilion ones. He had on that black button down that made his shoulders seem extra wide. For a moment words failed you - but you kicked your brain into gear quickly.

“Sir, it’s only eight thirty?”

“I’ve needed you here since six.” he said, leaning forward with a hand sprawled across your desk, looming over you in a way you had become quite accustomed to, and sending a dizzying waft of his cologne in your direction.

“I was very unaware of that,” you said, almost apologizing, but then thinking otherwise. You had been learning quickly the things Katsuki liked people saying, and the things he liked less so. “What can I do now?”

“Absolutely fucking nothing. You’re useless now.” he leant back, waving you off and sighing. “I need a coffee.” he said, turning on his heel back into the office.

“Useless my ass - who else gets you coffee?” you mumbled, quickly clicking through the email so you didn’t forget to later. Katsuki could be an absolute bitch, but at least he hadn’t yelled at you specifically - yet.

The little kitchenette across from your desk made coffee runs very easy - the only issue was that it still took a while. No instant or pod coffee’s for the great Katsuki.

Ten minutes later and you were pushing the door to Katsuki’s office open with one hand full of cayenne pepper infused coffee, and the other holding the latest Vogue magazine that had just been dropped at your desk.

You wordlessly placed the coffee on a coaster, and the magazine went from the table into his hands before you could even put it on the table. He likewise silently started flicking through the pages - but you had things to talk about.

“What was the issue this morning?” You asked, straight to the point. He didn’t look up at you when he answered, instead stayed focused on the pages as he fingered through them.

“Some extra who can’t get his head out of the twentieth century.” He said, taking a large mouthful of his drink. If he liked it he’d say nothing - often the only time he gave his opinion on things was when he didn’t like something. “He won’t call back.”

“They always do.” You said, standing firm until you had the answers you sought - coming back to ask the same thing twice was such a hassle for the both of you. “I’d appreciate knowing what to say when he does.”

“I don’t care,” he said, flicking the magazine down in exasperation to look up at you with a heatless scowl. “If it’s Eijirou you can patch him through, everyone else is a complete waste of time.”

Your eyebrows raised in something akin to surrender as your hands smoothed down the fabric of your skirt.

“Don’t forget your meeting with the seamstresses after lunch.” You said, then left to return to answering your emails and phone calls.

You always took your lunches with Hanta - a seamster two floors below Katsuki’s office. You found him extremely chill after having to deal with your whirlwind of a boss. He was like your lifeline - better yet, he could keep secrets like it was nobody’s business.

“I walked in this morning and I swear the glass for the whole floor was rattling.” you said, looking down into your cup of canteen-supplied orange juice. “If I wasn’t so sure he wasn’t going to hurt me I’d probably quit.”

“You know I’m like ninety percent sure you’re his favorite.” Hanta said. Your eyes shot up to his, but he wasn’t looking at you.

“I doubt that would be hard,” you said slowly, “His past secretaries sounded super incompetent for a job this fast-paced.”

“No, not just a secretary, but a person. I think your his favorite person in the whole world.” he said, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. “He can scream at me, hell he’s thrown punches at Kirishima, and he’s Kirishima - you though? He acts like you’re porcelain.”

You felt your face scrunch up into a frown, and a huge smile cracked over Hanta’s face. “I can see why he likes you - you look just as scary as him when you make that face.”

“Hanta Sero, you take that back!” You said, voice almost too shrill besides the hum of the lunchtime cafeteria rush.

“I will do no such thing,” he said, leaning back in his chair, and crossing his arms and legs in a slow, cat-like manner. “I think it’s hilarious. Needed something new to tease you over anyway.”

“I am simply going to ignore you then.” you said. You felt your face scrunch even more, before you took a deep breath to relax. “You don’t deserve my attention right now anyway.”

Hanta huffed a laugh, leaning forward on his elbows. “I think we both know who really wants your attention, and I’m not going to be the person to fight him for it.”

Katsuki’s afternoon meeting had gone smoothly - you thought that it must mean some catastrophic hurricane was due later that afternoon. Or maybe you’d get hit by a car on the way home. Either way, the pleasant meeting meant Katsuki was either in a really good mood - or a really bad one.

On his way back into his office, he threw an order to call Eijirou at you over his shoulder, before throwing the doors open and entering his office.

“It’s important.” he said, and that was where the conversation ended. When you dialed the number only to be met with the receptionist - not even patched through to Eijirou’s assistant Denki - you practically rolled your eyes.

“I’ve got Marcel!” Silence was the stern reply. You’d spoken to him a few times - not the nicest guy in the world, so in your opinion Katsuki’s hatred of the man was valid/ You didn’t want to speak with him either, so you hung up.

Then there was a call of your name.

“Come here!” You sighed, but obeyed and walked around your desk and into Katsuki’s office. You were met with a sight that wasn’t foreign to you - but it made your heart stutter all the same. He was leant back in his chair, a large drawing pad against his folded knee, and a pencil pressed into his cheek. He was watching you closely as you walked in, red eyes partially covered by a set of half-rimmed reading glasses.

Your boss was mean, but his looks could make the devil cry.

“I am… Promoting you.” he said. You felt your mouth fall open in shock.

“I - Sir, I don’t -”

“Katsuki.” he said, voice now as hard as his stare. “No more ‘Sir’. You call me by my name. Understand?”

“Okay…” you said, voice breathless as joy swirled in your chest (finally, your hard work and patience had paid off!), “Katsuki.”

At the sound of you saying his name, he declined further back in his seat, and smiled - wide and showing off both canines.

“That’s much better,” he said, as if he’d been waiting for the change of title formalities, “Now sit down, we have a lot to talk about.”

You went to sit at the chair in front of his desk but he shook his head, almost jumping to his feet like he’d had hot coffee spilled on his lap. His suddenness had you freezing.

“No no, not there,” he said, waving the chair away with disgust, “Over there.” He pointed over to the chaise as if it was the most obvious place in the room to sit, then sat back in his own chair again.

Turning, you took a tentative seat on the sofa, and looked across at him expectantly with your tongue between your teeth. His pencil had found a new home on the open page of his sketchbook, and you quickly realized he was going to be multitasking this impromptu meeting. However he was making little to no effort at starting this ‘talk’ he seemed so urgent to begin only moments ago.

“So is there anything else to this promotion besides being able to call you ‘Katsuki’, or is that it?” you asked. His eyes flicked up at you, pencil stopped, and the side of his mouth quirked up, before his expressions changed completely to one of disapproval again.

“There’s more.” he said. You could see how tempted he was to not say more, if only to push your patience and see just how far it went. “You probably should know about it, considering just how personal things are going to get around here.”

You felt your heart beat pick up as he stood to stalk around the desk.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to need to find a new you, let's start with that.” he said, and pushed your shoulder back with the eraser end of the pencil. You fell back against the couch, and the pencil moved to guide one arm across the back of the chair - then crossed one leg over the other - then moved your other hand on top of your knee. Before you knew it you had been moved to pose like a sketching doll.

Katsuki gave you a once over, looking very pleased with himself (or how easy you were to manipulate), then walked back over to his desk. The pencil started again.

“You want a new secretary?” You finally heard yourself ask, voice coming out far too weak for your liking.

“More like you need an assistant.” he said, attention clearly divided between whatever he was designing, and your conversation, “Your schedule is going to be a lot busier as of now.”

“What do you mean?” you asked again. His head shook.

“If you ask that question again I’m going to have this conversation with you some other time.”

“You do know how badly you’re explaining this ‘promotion’, right?” you asked, voice coming out a little harsher than you knew was appropriate. But being proper can be damned, you wanted answers.

He just looked at you for a long moment with a knowing, albeit smug, smile. The sketchpad was dumped on his desk, pencil and glasses dropped on top.

“I’ve been hit with a new wave of ideas.” he said, “They’re amazing. New. Iconic. These designs fly off magazine racks and clothing store hangers like nothing else before. I couldn’t tell where the inspiration came from, not until I thought of when it all started, and the only thing notable about that was you starting to work for me.”

As he explained he stood slowly, came to stand before you again, now with the side of his leg pressed to your knees. Katsuki’s hand rose, and the backs of his fingers trailed across your cheek in a manner that was almost too soft, and too shy, to be an action coming from the harsh man before you.

“I need you with me, everywhere, from now on.” he said, voice low, softer than you’d ever heard it before. “I need you with me, and I don’t know how else to make sure of it besides making it your job.”

“Everywhere?”

“Of course, what use is an artist without their muse?” You had to admit, that forked tongue of his was making your knees weaker by the second. Was he truly saying you inspired him?

“You couldn’t have just asked?”

“I don’t need to ask,” his hand came down to grip your chin, thumb momentarily pressing on your bottom lip, “I get what I want.” Where his voice was getting stronger by the second, yours was sounding even weaker.

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to?” Katsuki asked, hand slightly releasing pressure on your chin - as if shocked at the thought of someone willing, and unafraid in telling him no. “Everyone wants to. Don’t you?”

“No,” you said quietly, completely letting your heart take over, no matter what could happen after. “I do want to.” His face broke out into that same wolfish grin as before - his hand snuck around to the hair at the base of your neck and found a firm home there.

“Then why not get paid for it while you do.” he said, an air of finality about the matter, and then leant down to capture your mouth in a searing, hard kiss. Hard enough that you could almost feel his teeth and jawbone trying to meld into yours - searing enough that you could feel heat swelling in your stomach and knees at how fierce and needy it all was. It took your breath away completely.

After a few long moments - long enough to have your eyes fluttering closed and your lungs burning - he pulled away.

Katsuki didn’t even look at you as he walked away, acting as if what he just did was a casual kiss on the cheek - while you were left feeling flushed on the sofa. Only once he sat down again with his sketchpad and glasses on did he look up at you. He licked his lips, as if making sure to taste whatever of you was left. His smile this time was very smug indeed.

“See baby, now you look perfect.” he said, then went back to drawing.

“What?” you asked, still breathless with your nails digging into the fabric of your seat.

“The lighting in here is foul, absolutely horrendous.” He said, “You needed a glow about you. Now you’re all flustered. it's perfect. With you finally in front of me, these designs are going to be breathtaking - just imagining them on you -” he looked up at you, quite suddenly stopping his train of thought, before wordlessly returning to his sketch.

From the way your heart felt like it was going to beat right up and out your throat you guessed he accidentally said too much. Had been too sentimental. Maybe Hanta was right - perhaps you were his favorite person.

You took a deep breath and stood to leave - only to be stopped.

“Where are you going?” Katsuki asked, voice almost a bark. “I need you here - you can’t leave now that I have you right where I need you!”

“I need water.” you replied, awkwardly pointing towards the kitchenette with wide eyes as if you were a child caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. He shuffled in his seat, huffing.

“Be quick,” he said. You could swear you saw the skin of his cheeks flush a tinge of pink as you turned away. He liked efficiency, and it was something you were pretty good at, but you hadn’t moved quite that fast before.

When you had agreed to your ‘not-so-little’ promotion, you were sent home with a whole new list of Terms and Conditions and - the more alarming of the two - an NDA.

With your lips still tingling from your apparent kiss from Katsuki, and your knees still weak, you weren’t able to do much more than graze your eyes over bits and pieces before deciding it was all okay. You should’ve taken the time to read it all.

You should always read the fine print when making deals with the devil.

The next day, almost as soon as you stepped into the building, you were met with Katsuki’s not-quite-other assistant, Mina, and whisked away to the seamstress floor. There you met Hanta, who himself had been up for the most part of the night - slaving over the newest design Katsuki procured as of just yesterday.

When you were told to get into a change room and strip - the carcass of a new dress in your hands - you were just shy of shocked.

“What - why?”

“Like I know how the mind of Bakugou works.” Hanta said, waving his hand around tiredly, trying to push you to close the curtain. “You know normally I have models in for this sort of thing - I mean you definitely fit the bill. The measurements, the dress is practically made for you. But it’s weird to me too that he got his secretary to do this job instead.”

“I’ve never done this before.” You whispered, clutching the covered mock-up to your chest.

“You’ll be fine,” Hanta replied, just as quiet, with his hand ready to close the curtain on you, “I’ve seen it on a mannequin - it’ll look fantastic on you. Just be confident.”

You tried your best to be confident - as pretty as the dress was, even unfinished with an unfinished hem and seams half-done - but it was leaving you feeling more exposed than you were used to.

The small changing cubicle had a mirror on one side - what for you weren’t sure. You’d seen plenty of models walk out of them only to have most of it adjusted with pins and cut off with scissors - often by Katsuki himself. You supposed it didn’t matter how bad it looked - you’d get manhandled until it looked the way it was supposed to.

With your hands smoothing the fabric on your hips - a nervous habit you showed too often - you took a turn in front of the mirror. It did look nice, even if it was only ivory muslin.

“ - Taking so fucking long!” Quite suddenly Katsuki’s voice could be heard - and even more suddenly you felt a great need to curl up somewhere and hide. He’s going to see you like this. He’s going to hate it. You are not prepared for this.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out your chest and leave a little blood trail all across the floor.

A hand curled around one side of the curtain divider and pulled it back. You let out a small startled yelp, bringing up your hands to cover your chest as if someone had dropped glass over a marble floor.

It was him.

“Oh shut up, no one else can see you.” Katsuki said, rolling his eyes before they laid on you in a hard stare up and down. He was right, besides the half-open curtain, you couldn’t see anyone through his broad chest and shoulders - not to mention the cheshire grin that was taking up half his face. “But I wouldn’t blame them for wanting a peek, give me a turn.”

You stood gobsmacked - where you seriously still processing what was going on? - and watched as his hip cocked to one side and his hands landed on his hips below the huge coat over his shoulders.

“You are starting a habit of forcing me to do things for you myself.” He said, taking hold of your hips and turning you slowly. His hands were warm as they moved you around in a small circle, leaving almost a burning trail behind over your hips, lower back and stomach. “I’ll let you know that’s not why I decided to fuckin’ like you.” he said.

His voice was soft, almost completely without its usual rough baritone. It shocked you, and as you looked over at him he wasn’t meeting your eyes - instead focusing on how a seam at your hip wasn’t seeming to sit how he wanted it to.

“What?” you asked quietly, aware there were probably others outside - Hanta even - and you supposed both yourself and Katsuki didn’t really want to let other people know exactly what you were talking about. Especially since it definitely sounded more personal than Katsuki ever had been.

“You did things for yourself. I liked that.” he said. Then, as if you didn’t just share what was most likely the most intimate moment of Katsuki’s adult life, he pushed the curtain back fully and grabbed you by the hand - exposing you fully to the handful of seamstresses waiting.

With a few barked orders, a flurry of people were at your sides, making adjustments. The neckline loosened, waist was made tighter, the blade of a scissor made another slit up your legs on the opposite side to the one existing. Your hands almost rose to clutch at the fabric at your chest in case it all fell away. Katsuki's hands rose to knock yours away.

“Don’t get in the way,” he mumbled, standing back. The others backed off too, apparently all taking a moment to look at what remained of the dress. “What do you think?” he asked, looking you right in the eyes. Your mouth parted, as if to answer, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t even talking to you.

“One of your best.” Hanta said, barely needed to look up from where he was taking final notes to read his long-time associate. “Probably will be once it’s done. Beautiful.”

“You mean fucking divine.”

“You’re joking.” you said, carelessly holding the new dress in one hand as you stood angrily looking down at Katsuki.

“Does it look like I’m joking?” he asked, looking at you over the rims of his glasses.

He’d brought you back up to his office after the fitting downstairs, only to demand you change into another dress. The reason this time was completely unknown, and he was refusing to elaborate yet - worse, there was nowhere to change up here.

You’d have to strip and change here (with him in the room), or out behind your desk (right in front of the elevator anyone could use).

“I can’t believe…” you said, scoffing, now slightly gobsmacked along with your anger. “I’m not doing that.”

“If you think it bothers me, you’re mistaken.” He said, standing slowly and leaning over his desk. “Get changed. If you’re so protective of your modesty you can run along into the kitchen, see if I care. Just whatever you do, do it quickly. You’re making me wait long enough as it is.” Then he reached across and squished your cheeks between his fingers, pulling you closer so you leant over the desk too.

“If you really thought I was the kind of man to mix pleasure and professionalism then I’ve got news for you.” he said, wobbling your chin back and forth in his hold. “The only time you have to worry about that is if I invite you home, okay baby?”

While half of you was wanting to continue to defy Katsuki, you knew you were treading a fine line.

Letting out a huff, you pulled away, turned on your heel and held the dress out in front of you. It honestly wasn’t much more than a silk slip, but you’d had enough of an interest in fashion over your time to know this was very tame compared to many other dresses. Even compared to the one you wore not even an hour earlier.

Grinding you jaw in thought for a moment, you thought ‘fuck it’. Katsuki said so already but you knew someone getting almost naked in his office wouldn’t bother him - why should you let it bother you too?

The dress was thrown onto the chaise, and you pulled off your shirt as you slipped out of your heels. Your skirt shimmed off, and the dress came on. Despite refusing to look behind you to see what Katsuki was doing, you couldn’t help how your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest.

At least your underwear was matching, thank god.

You were about to do up the zipper when he made it clear he had indeed been watching you.

“No, take that thing off.” Your head whipped over your shoulder.

“Excuse me?” If looks could strike someone dead, a lightning bolt would’ve shot right through that window into Katsuki’s back. “I am not getting changed again.”

“No you bitch, I mean the bra. Take it off, it’s making the dress look daggy.” The way he said it made your face heat up. Duh.

“You could’ve said that before I put this much on, you’d think you’d have known that before now.” You grumbled, shoving the sleeves down again to unclasp your bra and toss it aside. Turning around again as you did up the zipper, you looked at Katsuki again, and the red of his eyes seemed darker than ever. You wondered if you’d said something wrong. Then his lip quirked up a bit.

“There’s my favorite secretary.” he said, and imminently tilted his head down to start sketching.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo x reader

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disillusioneddanny · 5 months

Text

If It Makes You Happy (then why the hell are you so sad?)

Tim took a bite of his ravioli and looked around the table at his family. It was Sunday dinner. A monthly tradition where every member of the family adopted or otherwise came to spend a few hours together. It didn’t matter who was arguing with whom, or how estranged from the family you were at the time. You still had to attend the monthly family dinner. However, there were times when Tim wondered if anyone would notice if he stopped attending. If he no longer came to the dinners where he sat mostly unnoticed by the rest of his family. Where he typically sat in silence, having not uttered a single word throughout the entire event. Would they ever realize he was gone? Did they even realize he was there in the first place?

A part of Tim truly doubted it, if he was being completely honest with himself. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to share with the family his upcoming exhibit.

Tim was in his fourth year of college. Where he was getting a degree in Art, Technology, and Culture. It was a major that allowed Tim to immerse himself in photography, video art, creative coding, and so much more. He had gotten to work in traditional analog and digital photography. Played around with film and art in ways he had never thought of before while also learning about cultural theory, the expression of ideas, and cultural practices which gave him the chance to truly discover himself. It was the first time he had ever chosen something for himself.

His entire life he had been groomed to run a business. To at first take over Drake Industries one day and then later Wayne Enterprises where he was unfortunately CEO. But then he had learned about the ATC program at Gotham University and he had fallen in love with it. He had always been obsessed with photography and even film later on as he grew older and spent his days alone in dusty old Drake Manor. And he had always loved to learn about cultures, he ate up the stories from his parents and their trips abroad. Had spent countless nights watching the people of Gotham and how they did things, and had absorbed it all like a sponge to make up for the fact that he was just a lonely boy living in a manor by himself.

Even when he had joined the Bats and had made his tiny little place with them, he still fell back on his love for learning about others and his desire to tell their stories. It had just become an intrinsic part of Timothy Drake.

And now here he was, slowly creeping to the finish line. He had his senior showcase coming up. A requirement for all students who were receiving a bachelor of fine arts. He was to show off all of his best work from the last four years. It was a chance for him to show everything he had learned, and to display his work with pride.

He had toyed with the idea of inviting everyone to it. To let them see the love that Tim had cultivated over the last four years. He was set to graduate in just a few months and the pride he felt for himself was tremendous. And if Tim invited the Wayne family to his senior showcase, then maybe they could come to his college graduation and share the achievement with them then too.

It was a big time in Tim’s life and he wanted to share it with them.

He listened as a lull came in the conversation and carefully cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the others.

“I have a senior showcase this weekend for my BFA. It’s at six in the evening in the Wayne Arts Center on Gotham Campus. I would be happy to see you all there,” he said hesitantly, eyes firmly trained on his plate of food.

“That sounds nice, Tim. I’ll try to be there,” Bruce said politely before going back to his conversation with Jason and Dick. Tim felt eyes on him, though, and slowly looked up to find his little brother giving him a curious look.

“What?” He asked, still trying to calm his heart just a bit. He still wasn’t sure why he came to these things, why he was even here. Just talking to the Waynes gave him anxiety. Just being here reminded him how much he didn’t belong. How other he was compared to the rest of the kids that Bruce had adopted?

Damian tilted his head to the side. “I was not aware that you were getting your Bachelor's in Fine Arts. Will you tell me about your degree program? I have been thinking about getting an Art History degree but have been torn between that and a business degree.”

Tim gave him a small smile and rested his chin on his hand as he started to tell Damian all about his degree and how he was enjoying the program at Gotham University. The rest of the family went on to their own conversations while Damian listened with rapt attention to Tim describing the ATC program at Gotham U.

The rest of the week was a whirlwind as he prepared for his senior showcase, he had sent out invitations to everyone he wanted to come see his work. The Team had already made a reservation to take Tim to lunch before the showcase before helping him get everything ready. And as the day came to be, they had made good on their word, taking him to his favorite Vietnamese restaurant in Gotham before taking him to the gallery. He blushed as he listened to his three best friend gush over his artwork, as they listened to him explain each piece. They asked questions and made remarks about what their favorite pieces were and even tried to buy a few pieces only for Tim to promise to give each of them prints of his photos.

The three had left with quick goodbyes, each one giving Tim a hug and congratulating him before they made their way from the gallery. The rest of the evening dragged on as people came by and asked Tim about his photos and the small films that played on the movie screen on one wall. He smiled and explained each photo to anyone who asked. He had wanted to showcase his vigilante photos of the bats and birds but it had been too much of a risk to do so.

Instead he had shown off his photos that showcased all of his favorite parts of Gotham. From the beautiful gothic architecture, the gargoyles that looked out over the city. He showed the photos from the last time Ivy had thrown a fit in Robinson Park and covered the entirety of the grounds with flowers. He showed the pictures of community from Crime Alley and the beauty of the strength of Gothamites who had managed to survive the worst of the worst.

He also featured pictures of his family, of Dick hanging from a chandelier, of Damian training Titus to do a trick. He had a picture of Bruce, Alfred, and Jason sitting side by side as they each read a different book. One showed Cass as she posed for the camera in her favorite ballet form. They were some of his most treasured memories, there for everyone to see and enjoy. Tucker between the one of Damian and the one of Dick was a photo of Tim. He had taken forever to set up the camera and get the timer right. Alfred had simply chuckled the entire time as he continued to offer to take the picture for Tim but no one was meant to be behind the camera for that picture. It was the only family portrait of his entire family. Cass, Damian, Tim, Dick, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, they all sat smushed into a single couch together, wide smiles and laughs on each of their faces as Tim beamed from the far side, leaning into Alfred’s side.

The gallery was meant to showcase culture that was important to Tim. To showcase the life that he loved and treasured. And even if he never felt like he quite fit in the Wayne Family, even though he knew that he was the expendable one, the replacement, he still treasured his family. It was why he had invited them, he had wanted them to see just how important they were to Tim. And maybe they would realize he was important to them too.

Only, the rest of the evening seemed to drag on, and not a single person from his family ever stepped through the door. He waited, shoulders tensed and smile polite. Every bit the gentleman that Janet Drake had trained him to be as he stood with his hands clasped in front of him. He kept glancing at the clock, waiting for Bruce or Dick or someone to walk through the doors, to say hello and look at all the work that Tim had put in the last four years in college. The hours ticked by until it was nearing ten pm and the gallery started to clear out, custodians came in and started to clean up around him.

Tim cast one final look at the doors before he turned to his photos and started to take one off of the wall.

“Master Timothy! I am so sorry that we are late,” a voice said and Tim quickly to find Alfred and Damian walking through the doors of the gallery. A small smile spread on Tim’s face as Damian bound forward.

“I apologize,” Damian said softly, staring up at Tim with disgruntled eyes. “I got into an argument with Father and then Titus scared Alfred the Cat and we spent the last three hours searching for that blasted cat and when we realized the time we came straight here,” he said. “What did the others think of your exhibit?”

Tim’s smile fell and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “They uh, they didn’t show up,” he said quietly. “But if you’d like, you guys are the last ones to show up. I’d love to show you everything.”

Alfred’s face fell at that as he stepped forward and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “That is their loss, my dear boy. I would love to see your work,” he said. Before he could stop himself, Tim pulled Alfred in for a tight hug, burying his face in the old butler’s chest as he held him close.

“Thank you,” he whispered before pulling away. He glanced down at Damian and smiled. “How about I show you my work and then if my advisor is still here you can meet her and talk to her about the ATC program.”

The fourteen-year-old nodded his head once. “I would appreciate that,” he said before grabbing Tim’s hand hesitantly. He followed quietly as Tim showed them his pictures of Gotham, explaining the stories behind each one before he showed them his favorite pictures. His pictures of home and both men let out soft gasps as they looked at them.

“Master Timothy, these are beautiful,” Alfred said, stepping forward to take in the picture of him, Bruce, and Jason.

“The lighting for this is amazing, I did not know that I even smiled like that,” Damian said softly as he took in the picture of him smiling at Titus.

“Oh Tim,” Alfred said quietly, losing all strict politeness that Alfred held so dear to his heart as he took in the family portrait. “This is amazing, Timothy. So absolutely perfect. I remember when you took this photograph. It was right after Thanksgiving dinner last year.”

“I was so irritated, Todd had gotten mashed potatoes in my hair,” Damian said with a huff, a small smile tugged on his face.

“I did not even realize that Master Richard and Master Jason were hugging in this picture,” Alfred said, a soft smile sti on his face as he took in the way Dick had his arms wrapped around Jason’s shoulders, a wide smile on his face as he laughed at something Jason had said. A small smile sat on Jason’s face, his eyes brighter than Tim had seen since the older man had come back from the dead.

Alfred tore his eyes from the picture. “How much?” he asked.

Tim blinked. “What?”

“How much for the picture?” Alfred asked him, turning back to the family portrait.

“For you?” Tim asked, blinking again in surprise. “Free of charge, considering it a thank you for coming to my senior showcase.”

“I would like this one of Titus and me,” Damian piped up. “It would be lovely on my desk in my bedroom.”

Tim sniffed, his chest tightening slightly. “I would be more than happy to give you both the original copies.”

“Timothy,” Alfred said, turning back to Tim, that soft, kind, smile on his face once again. “I am so incredibly proud of you.”

The vigilante’s eyes burned furiously. “I-I thank you,” he said, a soft sob slipped out of his mouth before small arms wrapped around him. Damian hugged him tight, his face pressed against Tim’s chest.

“I am so sorry that our family forgot to come to your showcase, Timothy,” he said stiffly. “You are incredibly talented and it is their loss for missing out on this.”

Tim pressed a hand to Damian’s back, feeling tears building behind his eyes that threatened to spill over. “Thank you,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he looked around and spotted his advisor. “There’s Professor Maheshawen. She’s my advisor. We can go talk to her and you can ask your questions, okay?”

Damian nodded and pulled away carefully, smoothing down the front of his sweater before he followed after Tim to meet his professor. Leaving Alfred to continue staring at the pictures with a kind smile on his face.

Alfred Pennyworth looked at the smiles on his charges faces and let out a breath. One of these days, Bruce and the others would realize just how important Timothy was to their family, how he was the one who held them all together. He only hoped that they would not realize that lesson too late in life. At the very least, Damian was now starting to understand just how wonderful Timothy Drake was.

#Tim Drake #Detective comics #Red Robin #Drabble #Damian Wayne #batfam #Batfamily #alfred pennyworth #dis writes #dis dreams

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incorrect-hs-quotes · 6 months

Text

ROSE: I recently found out why my mom would never sleep around me when I was a kid. Like, she'd never let herself take naps or sleep if I was awake, ever. Or, if she did, she'd lock her bedroom door.

ROSE: So. When I was six, I was asleep in my bed in the middle of the night when I heard a loud bang, like a pot being dropped. I came out to the living room to see my mom standing by the window, with... just, a huge pile of spaghetti all over the sill, and a pot on the ground. And I go,

ROSE: "Are you going to eat all that?"

ROSE: She gets MAD. Yells at me, chases me to my room. But then, a little while later, a bunch of cops show up and ask me a bunch of random ass questions about my art? Like, this one cop lady kept asking me to draw wizards for her. They seemed mad as hell.

ROSE: I didn't want to get arrested, so I just... never asked my mother for spaghetti after that. Lesson learned. Don't ask mom for spaghetti or she'll call the damn police on you.

ROSE: I have this memory in my head, and it goes unquestioned until I say it out loud for the first time a few months back, and as soon as I say the words, "When I was six, my mom called the cops on me for asking for spaghetti," my adult logic slams into place and goes, "Hang on. Your mother definitely did not call the police on a six year old asking for spaghetti."

ROSE: Obviously, that's not what really went down. I call up my mother to tell her how I remember it, and on top of her figuring out why her kid has always been really cagey around spaghetti for the last couple decades, she tells me what really happened.

ROSE: On that night, a man tried to break into our house through the front window. It was just my mother and I, so she did what she felt she had to do and shot him in the head. He'd been wearing a helmet, which landed on the floor under the window.

ROSE: Now. I just... want you to put yourselves in my mother's shoes for a minute, here. This woman has just taken a human life. The trauma of that--the instant agony, the panic, the guilt, the fear--all of it hitting her at once, her only solace the knowledge that her child is safe. She protected her daughter. No matter the cost to her soul, her child is safe.

ROSE: Then she looks up and sees her six-year-old staring at the inside of this man's head before saying,

ROSE: "Are you going to eat all that?"

DAVE: .........................what the fucking

DAVE: ok. you know how it is with spaghetti

#source: @nealashitposts #at this point im just going through the shit ive reblogged and mass quoting #there isnt anything in the inbox . post spaghetti rose story #homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #incorrect quotes #long quote #mod dave #rose lalonde #dave strider #mom lalonde

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darlingvernon · 1 year

Text

always been you [M] | yoon jeonghan.

Author: darlingvernon

Pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem reader

Genre: royalty au, arranged marriage au, smut

Rating: 18+

Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex

Word Count: 10,521

Summary: you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall in love but jeonghan just had to go ahead and ruin everything

Author’s Note: this is my piece for the @svthub collab: Pink Eros. i’d written it differently to the way i usually write due to the concept and i'm sorry it's so long lol. please make sure you check out the other works in the collab and support my fellow writers as well! please let me know your thoughts and i hope you guys enjoy!

You were six years old when the Duke, your father, told you that you were engaged to the Crown Prince.

Back then, you had no idea what it all meant. But, being the obedient daughter that you were, the words ‘Yes, Father’ came out of your own mouth with no hesitation. That was when your whole life changed.

Almost immediately, your etiquette, history and dancing lessons increased, especially when compared to your older brother Joshua who was also taking advanced lessons as heir to the Kidrey Duchy. On top of that, you also had to learn various other subjects that would shape you to be the Crown Princess and future Empress, the Empire required.

Gone were the days when you sat back and enjoyed being a regular noble six year old and you didn’t even have the time to say goodbye.

A year later, you met Jeonghan.

On your seventh birthday, you and the Duke went on a week-long journey to Lombardi, the Capital of the Attacca Empire. As soon as you arrived, your presence was summoned by the Emperor, who had wished to greet his future daughter-in-law himself.

Your eyes were glued to the floor as you stood beside your father in front of the Emperor. To others, it would’ve seemed that you were greatly intimidated by the presence of His Majesty, which was true to some degree, since you were busy trying to remember whether you should bow, curtsey or do a mixture of both.

However, to the boy who sat next to His Majesty, it appeared that you were far more interested in the tiles that adorned the Great Hall than him. Speaking from experience, the other girls usually stared at him and giggled to themselves, mumbling about how good looking he was. The fact that you were acting differently had his curiosity piqued.

“Lady _____, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” His Majesty greeted and you managed to finally look up at him, thanks to your father’s reassuring hand that was on your back. “Blessings to you on your birthday. As a gift, I’d like to present my son, Crown Prince Jeonghan, who’ll be your playmate and fiancé.”

You finally noticed the boy who was sitting next to the Emperor when he stood. Despite being the same age as you, he was much taller. His jet black hair made his porcelain skin stand out and his clothing made his build deceivingly lean.

When your eyes met, there were no sparks, no butterflies fluttering in your belly like in the novels your nanny used to read to you. Though there was fire in his eyes as he continued to stare, you continued to feel nothing.

That same day, you decided that you would never fall in love with Jeonghan.

Since the Kidrey Duchy was a fair distance away from Lombardi, it was decided by His Majesty that Jeonghan would spend every summer at the Duchy, so that you were both able to fulfill your duties as playmates. Every summer, the only times you ever saw each other were during his arrival and during meal times. Even then, words were barely exchanged between you. Jeonghan spent most of his stay studying and sparring with Joshua and if people didn’t know any better, they would have thought that your brother was His Highness’ playmate instead.

Summer after summer passed by with no incidents and no changes to your relationship, until you turned fifteen and were making preparations to debut into high society.

It was your typical afternoon, nose buried in a book in the library when Tia, your personal maid, came and informed you that Jeonghan had invited you for some tea in the garden. With no good excuse to turn him down, you made your way to join him.

As you walked, you wondered what possessed the Crown Prince to invite you to tea but came to no conclusion. You thought the whole thing was rather strange, especially when he dismissed the guards and maids as soon as they poured your tea.

“Thank you for joining me, _____,” Jeonghan spoke first and the lack of formality took you by surprise, delaying your answer.

“Thank you for inviting me, Your Highness,” you replied after composing yourself.

Jeonghan grimaced, “Please just call me Jeonghan.”

“Your Highness, I could never—”

“At least, while we’re in private. Please,” Jeonghan requested, firmly.

You sat back and took the time to consider his request. Based on the look of determination on his face, it didn’t seem like he would have changed his mind. “I can do that,” you acquiesced, and decided to drop the formality altogether. “So, Jeonghan. Is there a reason we’re having tea at the moment? We haven’t really spoken to each other at all, ever.”

To his credit, Jeonghan didn’t bat an eye. “Father has requested that I escort you to the debutante ball,” he revealed.

With a sigh, you reached for your cup and brought it to your lips. After taking a sip, you realised it was chamomile tea, your favourite. Was this pure coincidence or did he happen to know?

“Of course, he did,” you replied eventually. “I suppose that I don’t have a choice in the matter?”

“I’m afraid not,” Jeonghan answered and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed. “Did you have somebody else in mind?”

“Only my brother,” you shrugged. “I didn’t want any unwanted attention or any targets on my back, which is now no longer the case. I didn’t think His Majesty wanted our engagement to be known yet?”

Jeonghan grabbed his fork and stabbed the opera cake in front of him, taking a small piece to taste. “That would be correct,” he confirmed. “The gesture won’t be revealing our engagement or placing a target on your back. You are the only daughter from the Heads of the Founding Families, it’s only right that I escort you.”

You couldn’t argue with that fact. It wasn’t unheard of from any Empire for the Crown Prince to escort a daughter from a Ducal Family. As you thought about the debutante ball, another problem reared its ugly head. “Jeonghan, you leave tomorrow,” you pointed out.

“I do.”

“How long have you known that you were going to be my partner?”

From the look on Jeonghan’s face, he expected this. “Before I left Lombardi,” he answered nonchalantly.

To say you were irritated was an understatement, but due to the fact that you were in front of the Crown Prince, you had no choice but to keep your composure. “But, you only told me today?” You laughed, humourlessly. “For what purpose—”

“I just felt like it.” Jeonghan shrugged and a smirk plastered itself on his beautifully annoying face.

Would you have been hung for treason for socking him right in the mouth even though he was your future husband?

Jeonghan could have sat there and watched you grow indignant all day. It far was better than the usual emotionless face you showed him every day. He knew you would make him pay for it later but he didn’t know how else to approach the fact that neither of you had spoken properly in all those years you had known each other and it was starting to frustrate him.

Negative thoughts and insecurities festered in his head since the day you met and nothing had satisfied his growing curiosity. He was running out of options and he wanted to at least try and get to know you before your impending nuptials. Resigned to the fact that he had to marry somebody who wasn’t of his own choosing, he’d be damned if he had to marry somebody who was a complete stranger to him.

It was impossible to run the Empire efficiently in that sense, let alone growing old together and spending the rest of your lives together.

“I didn’t mean to displease you,” Jeonghan said, and it finally got you out of your head. “Forgive me, I was only trying to knock down two birds with one stone.”

The revelation surprised you once more and you weren’t sure how many more you could have taken that day. “What was the other issue that you were concerned about?” you queried.

Jeonghan leant forward and placed both arms on the table. “We don’t converse with each other much” —he raised a brow when you were about to question him— “or at all for that matter and that is a problem. For our future and for the Empire.”

Whatever retort you had in mind came up short and you gestured for him to continue.

“We can correspond through letters,” he explained. “You can write to me once you’ve chosen your dress so that I can make sure that we match and after that, you can write about whatever you want. I don’t care if you write about every mundane thing you do. You can even write to me all the swear words and curses currently circling in your head.”

The giggle was out of your lips before you could stop it and in return, you received the view of Jeonghan’s bright smile. “I hope you won’t regret that,” you conceded. He brought up great issues to be considered and admittedly, these concerns were not new to you as they plagued you as well. “However, what are we going to do about the first dance?”

“That’s not a problem,” Jeonghan assured you. “I’ve seen you dance after all.”

“I beg your pardon—”

“Besides” —he interrupted and hoped that you’d forget about his slip— “I’m a Prince. I’ll be able to lead perfectly even if you have two left feet.”

“I do not—”

Jeonghan’s laugh echoed in the gardens and it finally dawned on you that he was just teasing. You forgave him only because he allowed you to stomp on his foot once during the dance.

And that was how your friendship blossomed.

You were eighteen when you broke your promise.

It was rather unusual for Jeonghan to be at the Kidrey Duchy during autumn and more so with such a sombre expression on his face as he stood next to you, especially after the way you both grew increasingly close to each other. But, it didn’t compare to how you looked and felt beside him.

It had only been a week since he heard the news of the Duke and Duchess’ passing and he had arrived as soon as possible. So, your hollowed eyes and sunken cheeks were a devastating shock to him. Even your brother fell to his knees and shed tears next to you as they lowered the caskets into the graves but you continued to remain stoic, showing your strength which allowed your brother a moment of weakness.

Jeonghan almost believed that you were coping rather well, but his fears were soon realised when he saw how your hand trembled as you picked up the shovel, dirt spilling from the way you shook and barely made it to the grave. As he waited for you to stand next to him once more, he tried to think of a way that he could have eased your pain.

Once Joshua gathered himself, Jeonghan took his chance and offered you his hand. A look of confusion flashed on your face and when you turned to look at your brother, he nodded in consent. Jeonghan pleaded with you until you finally took his hand and allowed him to lead you away.

You weren’t sure where he was taking you but it seemed to be the left annex of the manor where he usually stayed during his visits. Without question, you followed him until he led you into the drawing room and pulled you in with him.

“Seungcheol and Mingyu, stay out here and stand at least ten metres from this door,” Jeonghan instructed. “You do not hear whatever sound will come from this room. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The guards bowed and obeyed his directions.

Jeonghan then led you into the centre of the room and you searched his face for an explanation. He took your hands into his, rubbed his thumb across your skin in a soothing manner and said, “I can’t even begin to understand the pain that you’re going through, but it’s just you and me in this room. It’s just you and me in this building. So, go ahead and release the grief that you’re keeping at bay. No one here will think of you as weak. Cry. Scream. Hit me if it helps. Just… don’t keep it inside you like this.”

At a loss for words, all you did was gaze at your joined hands.

“If it helps, I won’t even look at you,” he implored and closed his eyes. “I can even turn around,” he declared and did as he said. When he still couldn’t feel any movement from you, he grew even more desperate. “Look, I’ll leave. I’ll stand with the guards and let you be if you don’t want to appear weak in front of me. I’ll be on my way.”

Jeonghan barely took a step before you grabbed his wrist with both of your hands like your life depended on it. “Don’t you dare look at me,” you begged, voice filled with agony as tears spilled from the corner of your eyes. There was no stopping now that your grief had breached the surface and you hung tighter onto him as your legs gave way.

“It’s a promise,” he assured you, clutching your hands with his free hand.

“Don’t even bother trying to hear me!” you cried hysterically. Jeonghan repeatedly reassured you as your screams echoed through the room.

He didn’t know how much time had passed but eventually you finally stopped crying. When he turned to face you, his heart broke to see you filled with so much anguish. Jeonghan swore then that he would never allow anything to hurt you like this ever again.

“Jeonghan, I’m tired,” you croaked out. “I want to retire to my room, but I can’t seem to move.”

“Forgive me,” he bowed and gathered you into his arms. “I will take you back.”

“I don’t want anyone to see,” you whined like a child, but that was the least of your worries. You didn’t want to appear weak, especially in front of your brother who needed you the most.

“I understand,” Jeonghan nodded and called for his guards. He instructed them to clear the path and asked them to make sure that your brother would be otherwise preoccupied. “I have handled it. All you need to do is close your eyes and hold on to me.”

Far too tired to argue or come up with a retort, you permitted him to accompany you back to your quarters and thanked him for his efforts.

As the days passed, Jeonghan continued to look after you and in no time at all, the air between you had changed once more. Certainly on your end. Conversations flowed freely, even in person and the fluttering butterflies and sparks that had been lacking previously, suddenly appeared.

It was then that you realised that you had fallen in love with Jeonghan.

At first, you tried to deny it. There was no way your feelings had changed so suddenly. But, had it really been that sudden? It was a fact that you started to see him differently once you started to exchange letters, finding him far more interesting after you took the time to get to know him, and since actions spoke louder than words, it should have been no surprise that he eventually carved his presence into your heart.

After you became aware of your feelings, there was no escaping Jeonghan. His presence plagued you day and night, especially since he decided to stay another month to help prepare for Joshua’s succession to the Dukedom. It was starting to drive you mad, keeping your feelings to yourself, so you made the decision to let Jeonghan know how you felt about him.

That was, until you found out how he felt about you first.

It was the day before Joshua’s succession ceremony and you were on your way to see your brother in his office when you overheard their conversation from outside the door.

“I see you and _____ have become rather close lately,” Joshua stated, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Jeonghan laughed a little.

“Have you grown fond of her?” your brother asked and you knew what he meant by his question. With bated breath and heart beating hard in your chest, you leaned closer to the door to hear Jeonghan’s answer.

“You know that I am bound to her by duty,” Jeonghan sighed and continued to speak some more but you could no longer hear what else he was saying. All you heard and felt was your heart shattering into pieces and you couldn’t stand to be there anymore, running all the way back to your room as tears streamed down your face.

You were such a fool for falling in love with him when it wasn’t love that intertwined him with you. Once you were all cried out, you cast your love for him out of your heart and left it hollow as you pieced its parts back together.

That day, you swore that Jeonghan would never be in your heart ever again.

Jeonghan is no fool.

As Crown Prince, he’s knowledgeable when it comes to all important matters concerning the Empire. But, when it concerns the matters of the heart, it seems that he still has a lot to learn.

This is blatantly obvious when it concerns you.

Jeonghan knows that something has changed in his relationship with you, especially if your one sentence replies to his letters are anything to go by. He could write anything between a page to ten pages long about various subjects, but your reply is always the same.

Everything is going well, Crown Prince Jeonghan.

Based on that sentence alone, Jeonghan comes to two conclusions:

You are a terrible liar

Something is definitely amiss

He sits back on his desk, mountains of paperwork long forgotten as he rubs his temple in frustration. The dread and worry within him continues to grow, not just because of the impending engagement announcement scheduled in a couple of days but more so because of his feelings for you.

Sighing, Jeonghan tries to recall when your attitude and behaviour towards him began to change, deducing that it was the day before your brother Joshua inherited the Dukedom and after the conversation Jeonghan had with him.

“I see you and _____ have become rather close lately,” Joshua stated, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Jeonghan laughed a little.

“Have you grown fond of her?” Joshua asked, seriously this time.

“You know that I am bound to her by duty,” Jeonghan sighed.

“And is it still just duty that binds you to her?”

“You’re insufferable and I would’ve hung you if you weren’t my friend,” Jeonghan replied playfully. “Fine, I admit it. I have grown rather fond of her. It’s not like I could help it. She…”

Suddenly, a memory of the faint smell of your perfume from right outside Joshua’s office comes to the forefront of his mind and everything starts to become clear.

You overheard him.

There is no other explanation that comes close to this. Though he’s found the catalyst for the change, Jeonghan still doesn’t understand why you’re reacting the way that you are. Is it because you only heard part of the conversation and had been upset about it? Or is it because you heard everything he had to say and decided to distance yourself since you didn’t return his feelings?

Whatever the case is, though he hopes it isn’t the latter, he has no time to sit around fiddling his thumbs and wallowing in sorrow. With so little time left before the engagement announcement, Jeonghan needs to make amends and work things through with you, before your relationship becomes broken beyond repair.

With that in mind, he summons his butler and organises some gifts to be sent to the Lombardi Estate where you’re currently staying, even though he knows it will be futile since you are someone who is not so easily swayed by such gestures. But, he hopes to at least get a different reaction than the one you’ve been giving him, preferring your anger over your indifference.

Jeonghan isn’t surprised to see the gifts returned back to the Palace a few hours later. However, he is surprised to see Duke Joshua waiting there for him.

“Did _____ send you to have a word with me?” Jeonghan sighs as he pours a drink for the both of them in the drawing room.

“No, though she did say that she doesn’t require this grand gesture and assured that she’ll be performing her duty well,” Joshua snickers before quickly settling down when Jeonghan narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m here with a solution.”

“Admittedly, I’m willing to try anything at this point,” Jeonghan grumbles.

“Take her out to the Valentine's Festival tomorrow.”

“Will that really work?”

Joshua shrugs, “You know what they say, it’s a magical time and Eros always blesses the celebrants with love.”

Jeonghan doubts his chances. “I don’t know if that’s possible for either of us.”

“What have you got to lose?” Joshua challenges, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “I know my sister. Take her to the Festival and it’ll all work out.”

During breakfast the next day, your brother Joshua drops a letter beside you before he excuses himself from the Dining Hall. The Red Imperial Seal on it lets you know that it’s a letter from Jeonghan. Every fibre of your being wants to ignore it and rip it into shreds but you can’t seem to do it.

With only a day left before your engagement announcement at the Imperial Banquet, it could contain something important, so you open it reluctantly.

Dearest _____,

I would be honoured if you would accompany me tonight to experience what the Valentine’s Festival has to offer.

If you are so inclined, I have sent some commoners’ clothing to serve as a disguise and I will be waiting for you at the entrance of your Estate as soon as the sun sets.

Don’t worry, I have permission from the Duke.

Yours, Jeonghan.

With a sigh, you place the letter back on the table and reach for your cup of tea. Placing it on your lips, you take a sip and let the disappointment of the peppermint set in. You haven’t been able to drink chamomile for awhile now as it reminds you of bitter memories with Jeonghan.

As you lower the cup back on the table, you try to come up with a dozen excuses to decline him but find yourself unable to do so. His invitation is far too tempting, especially since you’ve always been curious about the Valentine’s Festival.

The Valentine’s Festival is an annual celebration held for Eros, the God of love, and is one of the most popular and grand events in the Attaca Empire.

Streets in the Capital are lined up with various stalls filled with food, jewellery and other merchandise, and the inns and boutiques are filled to the brim. There are dancers, magicians, actors and singers on almost every corner of the Square and the city is alive for most of the day and well into night. It’s easily the busiest and most profitable event in the Empire, lasting a whole week and ending with a banquet hosted by the Imperial Family.

Nobles and Commoners from all over the Empire converge in Lombardi to see what the Festival has to offer and hope to leave with their hearts full; it is a celebration of love after all.

You’ve never felt that there was a point in you partaking in the festivities and celebrating love since you’ve been betrothed to Jeonghan since before you were even born. Duty is the reason you’re bound to spend the rest of your lives together and not the other four letter word everybody else yearns for. Just like he said all those months ago.

Despite all your efforts, you haven’t been able to forget your feelings for him. Every time you read his letters, your affection for him grows and you can never throw them away, no matter how hard you try. And despite your efforts, Jeonghan refuses to give up, not allowing you to stray far away from him.

Why is he doing this? Is this really all just because of his duty? Is there really no way that his heart beats for you like yours does for him?

He confuses you to no end and you don’t know if this is something you can live with as long as you’re with him. You have to know how Jeonghan really feels and in doing so, you hope that your heart will finally be at peace. Grabbing the pen and paper that Tia had prepared, you write your reply and agree to meet him.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Jeonghan greets you once you’re within his reach.

Dressed in nothing but a pair of black trousers and matching black button down shirt, his top two buttons are undone and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal veins that run from his arm down to his hand. With his hair slicked back, you think it’s rather unfair how dashing he looks in these plain clothes.

Compared to Jeonghan, you’re wearing a red floor length summer dress, short sleeves sitting just below your shoulders and white flowers adorning the whole fabric.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d come,” he says, tearing his gaze away from your exposed collarbone. “Also, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Honestly, I didn’t think I would come either,” you admit with a small smile. “But, the offer of seeing the Valentine’s Festival is far too tempting. Is it just us two or will there be guards with us?”

Stepping closer, Jeonghan offers to hoist you up on the horse and he’s thankful that you don’t decline him. “The guards will be watching from afar,” he answers as he settles you on the horse. “They won’t come unless I call them so it will be mostly just us. I didn’t want to attract any attention to us so we can enjoy everything freely.”

“Jeonghan, you could be wearing rags and the people will still recognise the Crown Prince,” you scoff. Only a blind person wouldn’t see and know who he is, with his perfect handsome face.

“That won’t be the case,” he assures you as he mounts the same horse and seats himself behind you. Pointing to the ring on his right pinky finger, he explains further, “Jihoon imbued some magic in here that helps disguise my face. Only you can see me as I am.”

“The Royal Mage?”

“That’s him.”

“Do you think he can give me one as well?” you ask as calmly as you can, considering your proximity as Jeonghan starts the horse on a light trot. He’s sitting so close that you can feel his breath against your hair.

Jeonghan slightly tightens his arms around you, on the guise of making sure you don’t fall off, even though he truly just wants to be closer to you. “I’ve already asked him to put some spells on the engagement ring I’ll be giving to you tomorrow,” he answers, slightly flinching at the word engagement as he doesn’t know of your feelings yet. “I can ask him for something else if you wish?”

“No, the ring is fine,” you reply, trying to hide your hurt from feeling him flinch against you. The night is off to a terrible start but you promised that you would try to enjoy yourself at the very least, so you push yourself to move on. “So, what exactly will we be doing at the Festival?”

With a sigh, Jeonghan collects himself. The night is only beginning and he won’t lose hope just yet. “There’s lots of shows and dances for us to see along with the fireworks,” he reveals. Smiling, he adds, “We’ll also do lots of eating of course.”

You can’t help but laugh then and if you turn your head slightly, you would’ve seen the relief on Jeonghan’s face. “Well, now you’re speaking my language,” you state, covering your mouth with your hand as you giggle. “Let’s get moving then. There’s no time to waste.”

Bending slightly, Jeonghan whispers in your ear, “Yes, dear.”

The term of endearment takes you by surprise and you have to stop yourself from turning to look at him, not wanting to reveal how much it affects you. You need not bother really because Jeonghan clearly sees the way your hands cup your heating cheeks in an attempt to cool them and he has to spend the whole journey to the town square stopping himself from kissing your adorable face.

It isn’t long until you reach the Capital, the trip feeling shorter than you thought due to the conversation freely flowing just like it used to. Laughs and banters were shared and not a hint of awkwardness was found.

Leaving the horse in an alley, Jeonghan takes you by the hand and leads you around the Festival. Like a seasoned veteran, he takes you around from stall to stall, seeing what the merchants have to offer, before finding you both a seat at the small outdoor theatre where a play is about to begin.

“I didn’t think you’d know your way around,” you mention before taking a bite from the skewer he bought. “Am I correct in saying that you’ve done this before?”

Jeonghan swallows his food and answers, “You’d be correct. I’ve been out and about once or twice before.”

Biting your lip, you decide to test the waters. “Accompanying other ladies, I presume?” you ask.

“You are the first,” Jeonghan clarifies quickly. “I haven’t taken anyone else, nor do I plan to take anybody else but you.”

You accept his answer with a small smile and turn your attention to the commencing performance.

Try as he might, Jeonghan cannot look away from you even if he wanted to, finding you far more captivating than the play. He watches the way your eyes sparkle and the way your smile grows in wonder, etching it in his memory in the off chance that the misunderstanding between you doesn’t get resolved.

When the play finishes, you applaud and join the audience in a standing ovation, telling Jeonghan how great the play was and all of your thoughts about it. He doesn’t have a single clue what you’re talking about since he saw none of it but he listens intently, smiling at how passionate you are about it.

Suddenly, a group of musicians make their way onto the stage and the previous performers work to remove the wooden crates that were used as seats, turning a portion of the Square onto a dance floor. Not wanting to waste the opportunity he’s been given, Jeonghan bows in front of you and offers his hand.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

“Jeonghan,” you whisper so that the crowd doesn’t hear. “It isn’t that I don’t want to dance with you, but I don’t know how to do this kind of dance.”

“I don’t see that as a problem since I can lead you,” Jeonghan assures you.

Reluctantly, you give him your hand which he gladly accepts. “I believe you said that you hadn’t taken a lady here before,” you state, pout growing as he snickers at your miniature tantrum. “How is it that you know this dance then?”

Holding your right hand tightly with his left hand, he places your other hand on his shoulder and rests his free hand on your lower back. “I learnt through watching,” Jeonghan smirks and gently ushers you closer to him until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Besides, I’m the Crown Prince, I can do anything.”

“Including making a fool out of me, I bet.”

“Sweetheart, that would be impossible,” Jeonghan utters and just as you open your mouth to try and say something, the music starts and he begins to lead you.

The dance seems simple enough so far, starting off with the basic steps of the waltz which you’re thankful for, as Jeonghan’s close proximity continues to distract you. “Why do you do that?” you query, your burning curiosity getting the better of you.

To your chagrin, Jeonghan feigns innocence. “I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest idea what it is you are referring to, my darling.”

“That! It is exactly that! Why do you use every form of endearment and not call me by name?”

“We agreed to only do so in private,” Jeonghan teasingly reminds you. “On top of that, I quite enjoy” —his hands travel to your waist and lifts you into the air— “seeing the way you look so flustered.”

At this revelation, he gets a perfect view of your gaping mouth before he has to lift you in the air again.

“I knew it,” you scoff upon your soft landing, thanks to Jeonghan’s sturdy hands. “Two can play this game, you know.”

“Oh, you think so?” Jeonghan challenges as he signals that another lift is coming.

“I do, my love,” you reply coyly just as he lifts you again, and you can tell that you’ve caught him off guard from the way his hands slip slightly, almost dropping you. “Honey, you almost dropped me,” you scold, playfully smacking him on the chest once you’re safely back on your own two feet.

“The fault is yours for surprising me,” Jeonghan mutters, biting back the smile threatening to take over his face.

Guiding you to stand beside him and turning you to face the opposite direction he is, Jeonghan places his arm in front of you to hold your hip that’s furthest from him and you mirror his motion, allowing him to turn you both in a circular motion.

“I didn’t think anything could surprise you, dear,” you tease, feeling his hand tighten on your hip.

“Admittedly, I didn’t think so either,” Jeonghan grumbles, slightly pushing at your hip so you can both change the direction you’re facing. “At least until I met you.”

You’re about to respond when Jeonghan turns you again and you find yourself facing another gentleman. It seems the dance includes a change in partner ever so often until you arrive back at your original partner. It’s unfair of him to say such a thing just before he hands you off, further confusing you and igniting the feelings you have for him once more.

Taking a chance to look at him, you find him staring back at you. His new dance partner is speaking with him and he seems to be conversing with her but his gaze on you is unwavering and you are trapped in his spell. Unable to look away even if you wanted to and even if you have to because of the steps of the dance, your eyes find him again and again through the crowd, feeling even closer to him despite the distance.

And when the dance finally comes to a close, you end up back in his arms like you were always meant to be there. Like Jeonghan was always the one meant to hold you.

This feeling of uncertainty is foreign to you. All this time, you thought you knew how he feels about you, but his words and actions beg to differ.

However, it matters not, until you know the exact reasons for the way he’s behaving.

Is he still only motivated by duty? Or did the premise of the Valentine’s Festival finally open up his heart?

Whatever the case may be, it is something you can no longer ignore and your growing feelings for him is something you can no longer deny.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you ask and Jeonghan is taken aback. “Why do you confuse me so?”

Your inner turmoil is written as clear as day on your face and Jeonghan wishes for nothing more than to be able to gather you in his arms and confess his feelings to you. The thought alone scares him half to death but it’s not as frightening as the thought of spending the rest of your lives together with your cold indifference towards him.

What’s the worst that can happen?

Of course, there is a chance that once he finally reveals his true feelings that you may not feel the same way about him. If that is the case, it’s still possible for you to grow to love him, further down the line as you both grow older. But, Jeonghan knows that if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity he’s been given, your heart may close the door on him forever.

“_____, listen—”

“Jeonghan, I—”

“Everyone, the fireworks will begin in a few minutes!”

Sighing, you lower your head onto Jeonghan’s chest. “I know we need to talk but I also want to see the fireworks,” you whine.

Cupping your face in his hands, Jeonghan raises your head so that you can look at him. “We can watch the fireworks and talk after,” he concedes, but it’s worth it when your eyes light up like Christmas morning. Placing his hands gingerly on your shoulders, he instructs, “Please stay right here and wait for me. I’ll be right back with some refreshments.”

“I’ll wait,” you assure him.

“I’ll only be a minute, please stay right where I can see you.”

Gently squeezing your hand, Jeonghan reluctantly turns away from you and heads to find the nearest pub. Every now and then, he turns to check that you’re still right where he left you. This time, when he turns, his brows furrowed in worry when he no longer sees you in his field of vision as the crowd fills the square.

Drinks forgotten, Jeonghan weaves through the crowd in search of you. He calls for you multiple times to no avail and even as he reaches the spot where he left you, there’s no sign of you anywhere. It’s just his luck that the fireworks then commence and it drowns out his voice as he begins to call for you once more. Cursing, he makes his way through the sea of bodies to continue his search.

The thought of something terrible happening to you fills him with dread, making him sick to his stomach. He pleads with Eros to help him find you and his prayer is answered when a gust of wind carries along petals that land in your vicinity. Bristling, he makes his way over to where you are.

“Oh Jeonghan, there you are,” you greet but your smile fades as soon as you see the expression on his face. It’s one that you’ve never seen on his usually bright face, at least not directed at you. “Is something the matter?”

Jeonghan remains silent as he grabs hold of your wrist and leads you out of the overcrowded square. You didn’t dare to resist when it’s clear that right now, he is not one to be messed with. Soon enough, you reach your destination, finding yourself in a secluded alley in the square away from prying eyes and eager ears.

He all but flings you in the alley and your hands brace themselves on the cool brick wall to stop and steady yourself. “What in the world were you thinking?!” he asks, livid. “Or was it that you weren’t thinking at all?”

“I have no idea what it is you’re referring to—”

“I only asked one thing of you,” he states calmly but you can see how furious he is beneath the surface, his eyes blazing with fire. “One direction that even a child could follow and they would have listened.”

Ah, it’s finally dawned on you what makes him so angry.

“I don’t understand why it’s such an issue—”

“You don’t understand why it’s an issue?!”

“—I only went to a better spot for the fireworks,” you finish explaining despite Jeonghan talking over you. “It’s not like you couldn’t see me—”

Jeonghan laughs out loud but there is no mirth to it. “That is precisely it!” he snarled. “I couldn’t see you anywhere I looked. I called out for you so many times and received no response back. I was so worried and I thought I had lost you—”

“And why does that matter?” you argue and the question renders Jeonghan speechless, but you’re not done yet. “Why does it matter if you lose me? Why do you care?”

At this, Jeonghan could no longer remain silent. “I beg your pardon,” he protests. “Of course, I care about you.”

“But, only because of your duty,” you remind him as you roll your eyes.

“No, it goes far beyond that.”

This is a game that you no longer wish to play.

“That’s not what you said that day,” you reveal, finally admitting that you overheard his conversation with your brother that day. “Don’t even think of lying to me because I heard everything.”

Now that you’ve confirmed his earlier assumption, Jeonghan proceeds, so that he can now get an answer as to how you feel about him. “And, what exactly did you hear?”

“That you’re only bound to me by duty.”

“And?” he prods, impatiently.

“What do you mean, ‘and’?” you ask, confused as to where he’s heading with the conversation.

“I did say that” —he crosses his arms— “but what about the rest of it?”

With a pout, you answer confidently, “You didn’t say anything else.”

“Yes, I did,” he declares with a sadistic calm.

“No, you didn’t.” You stand your ground but that is the last straw for Jeonghan.

“Yes, I did!” he yells in frustration, grabbing at his hair. “I admitted that I had grown fond of you and it was something that had been beyond my control.”

“What?” you wonder, more to yourself than anything.

Already having gone this far, Jeonghan doesn’t hold himself back any longer, baring his heart out after coming close to losing you. “I said that you had me falling in love with you with no hopes of ever getting up, ever since the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

No, there’s not a chance that this is real. You’re sure of it. Yet, you find yourself asking, “You love me?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan vows with no hesitation. “Despite everything, I fall more and more in love with you and right now, as you stand before me, I have never been more in love with you.”

No matter how hard you search, there’s no sign of a lie on his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Actually, I did.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I truly did,” Jeonghan says, smug. “I wrote them in every letter I sent you since that day I admitted to my own feelings.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’ve never lied—”

“You have, when you lied about being my partner for my debutante ball,” you remind him, brow raised in challenge.

Jeonghan bites his lip and moves closer to you, eliminating the space between your bodies. “I was merely delaying the truth that time,” he jokes. “But, I really did let you know in my last letters. You would’ve known if you had read them.”

“I did—”

Jeonghan interrupts, taking your hands in his as he says, “Enough about the letters. _____, I’ve finally told you how I truly feel about you. Please, stop torturing me and tell me how you feel about me.”

“I—”

“I don’t think it matters how the young lady feels since she’ll be coming with us and you won’t be alive anymore to see her again,” a stranger interrupts and Jeonghan is quick to shield you behind him. More thugs turn up and Jeonhan slowly retreats until you’re squeezed between him and the wall.

Jeonghan doesn’t miss the way you tremble in fear and he knows that he has to deal with them as soon as possible. He almost lost you once today and he’d be damned if he lets it happen a second time. Especially now that he’s confessed his feelings to you.

“Close your eyes and cover your ears,” Jeonghan instructs but you shake your head vehemently. “Please, listen to me just this once. I don’t want you to see this.”

“Call for Seungcheol,” you plead, holding on to his arm. “There’s far too many of them. We can wait until he gets here.”

“It’ll be too late by then,” Jeonghan sighs. “Close your eyes. I promise that no harm will come to you.”

“What about you?” you caution, tears flowing freely down your face. The love of your life has finally confessed that he feels the same about you but why is fate so cruel to put you in this position?

“There’s no need to worry,” he assures you as he draws out his sword. “Now, do as I say. I won’t take long.”

Eventually, you relent and let go of his arm. Taking one final look at him, Jeonghan places a chaste kiss on your forehead, forcing your eyes closed as he moves your hands to cover your ears tight. When you feel him pull away, you almost defy him once more but ultimately know that you’ll only be in his way, increasing his chance of getting hurt.

So, you stay right where you are and do exactly as Jeonghan says, praying to Eros to return the one that you love safely.

You don’t know how much time has passed but you eventually feel Jeonghan’s warm yet wet hands pull your hands away from your ears, letting you know that the ordeal is over. When you open your eyes, you see his shirt drenched in blood despite the colour of the material.

“You’re bleeding,” you cry out, hands reaching out to check on him, but his hands stop you from doing so.

“It’s not all mine,” he assures you only to be met with the roll of your eyes.

“That doesn’t make it any better,” you scold.

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not!” you exclaim through your tears. “You’re hurt and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t wandered off in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this alley and—”

“If you hadn’t wandered off, I wouldn’t have had an opportunity to finally tell you how I feel about you.”

“Is that even important right now?” you sob unceremoniously into your hands. “Now, I know how it feels.”

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan asks.

“I almost lost you and I haven’t even had the chance to tell you how I feel about you.”

Jeonghan’s heart picks up speed and it feels like it’s about to beat right out of his chest. This is the moment he’s been waiting for and he can’t believe you both had to risk your lives in order for it to happen. “And how do you feel about me?”

“Your Highness!” Seungcheol calls from the entrance of the alley before you can answer Jeonghan. “I’ve finally found you both. My apologies for arriving late.”

“Actually, you’re far too early,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes and you have to cover your mouth to hold down your laugh upon seeing Seungcheol’s confused face. “Did you bring my horse?”

The guard nods. “I’ve also brought a carriage for Lady _____,” he adds. “Shall I summon the physician to their Estate?”

“That’s not necessary,” you decline as you are unscathed. “Please summon them to the Palace instead along with the Royal Mage. His Highness may need some healing magic in time for our Engagement Announcement tomorrow.”

“Yes, m’lady.” Seungcheol bows. “Your carriage has arrived and is ready to escort you back.”

Sighing, Jeonghan lowers his head onto your shoulder and your hand reaches out to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Won’t you consider coming back to the Palace with me?” he entreats and feels you shake your head to decline him. “We haven’t finished our conversation yet. Must I really wait till the Banquet to hear your answer? Must you really torture me again?”

“Must you be so dramatic?” you tease him and he nips at your shoulder in retaliation. You have to commend him, he’s grown rather bold ever since he confessed his love for you. It seems he no longer wants to waste any time and frankly, since you feel exactly the same towards him, you don’t want to waste another second without him either. “You can always come to see me before tomorrow.”

Jeonghan lifts his ahead, adorable confusion on his face and you can’t help but giggle. “How will I see you before tomorrow?” he asks, tilting his head.

“My balcony faces the Glass House in the Estate,” you whisper in his ear, bidding him farewell with a light kiss on his cheek. “You’re the Crown Prince. Surely you’re smart enough to figure it out?”

He is and he can’t wait.

It’s when you’re brushing your hair by your vanity before retiring for the night when you hear the knock on your bedroom window. Spotting his familiar figure through the mirror, you place the brush on the marble surface and make your way to let him in. Pulse racing as you unlock the window, you don’t dare to look at his face and walk back to the centre of room, only turning towards him once he’s let himself in and closed the window behind him.

Jeonghan takes his time studying you, gaze instantly drawn to the way you stare at the floor once more instead of him, just like you used to. Eyes drifting lower, he spots your slightly parted lips and he has to stop himself from reaching out and running his thumb across your bottom lip. His gaze travels lower once more, breath hitching at the sight of the top of your breasts due to the low neckline of your nightgown. Seeing the way your chest heaves from your erratic breathing makes something inside him snap and he shoves his hands in his pockets, taking big strides until he’s standing right in front of you.

“Such a cruel woman you are.” He breaks the silence, pushing your chin up with his finger so that you finally look at him. “Inviting me here and making me wait for your attention. Do you know how agonising it is when you look as delectable as you do? But, we’re not quite there yet, are we?”

Your attempt to look away from him is thwarted when he grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger and you’re forced to endure the intense regard in which he holds you. “If anyone’s waited long enough, it’s me,” you say in hopes to placate him.

However, it has the opposite effect on Jeonghan. “That’s rich coming from you,” he retorts. “Especially after I professed my love for you today. If I recall correctly, I’m yet to hear about your feelings towards me.”

“I’m afraid,” you say truthfully.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t express myself well with words,” you confess. “I’m afraid my words would be insufficient to describe what it is I truly feel for you.”

Jeonghan shifts impossibly closer to you eliminating the space between you. Cupping your face in his hands, he leans in closer and ghosts your lips with his. “Hm, you always were better with your actions,” he breathes, thumb skimming your bottom lip like he fantasised, smearing your lip tint a little. “Would you prefer to show me instead?”

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes immediately closing.

Jeonghan’s lips hesitantly touches yours in a feather light kiss and it’s much too soft and quick for your liking. He moves to pull away, testing the waters but he doesn’t get far when you grab hold of his shirt, pulling him towards you so that you can kiss him once more. This time, the kiss you share is more intense, carrying your emotions with it and when they finally reach him, Jeonghan becomes bolder and returns your kiss with the same fervor.

His kisses grow hungrier and more heated each time, almost devouring you whole but you are insatiable. You crave to taste more of him, sliding your hands up and locking your arms behind his neck, pulling him further into you. Wrapping his arms around your middle, he holds you tight and you pull away in a gasp when you feel him, half hard and large against your hip.

Not liking the separation, Jeonghan dives in and takes the chance to shove his tongue in your gaping mouth, intertwining with yours in a perfect dance. His eager hands travel from your hips to your bottom, groping and kneading its cheeks before venturing further south. When they land behind your thighs, he grabs hold and lifts you onto him as he walks towards your bed.

Jeonghan sits down on the edge of your bed with you on top of him and you shift your legs to straddle him comfortably. You kiss him again and again, timing a third kiss with the roll of your hips and you feel his excitement grow against your centre. Impatient, your hands scramble to untuck his shirt from his trousers, pulling it over his head to toss to the other side of the room.

“Oh fuck,” you swear at the sight of his toned abdomen, not caring for how unladylike you are becoming. Biting your lip, your fingertips glide across his skin as you take him in.

This new side to you is enthralling and Jeonghan feels proud knowing that only he is privy to it. That you are here, completely and utterly enamored by him and him alone. Jeonghan leans back on his elbows watching you with eyes full of aroused curiosity. “Your turn.” He nods in your direction and you comply.

If it were anybody else who asked, you know you would have hesitated to no end. But, Jeonghan makes you feel brave. He makes you feel loved. He makes you feel desired. Grabbing the hem of your nightgown, you shimmy out of it at an excruciatingly slow pace, noticing the way Jeonghan eyes you like a man starved, his breath hitching at every inch of skin you reveal.

“You are beautiful,” he breathes out and it diminishes whatever insecurity existed that was begging you to cover yourself up. Sitting up, he kisses you lasciviously, gripping you tight as he pivots and pushes you into the mattress. His fingers make their way between your bodies, toying with the waistband of your underwear, before pulling the lewdly soaked material down your legs. “Move up on the bed, lie down on the pillows and spread your legs. I want to see you.”

Taking a deep breath, you do as he says, watching with interest as he sheds the rest of his clothing. Jeonghan can’t help but stare too long at your inviting pussy and he doesn’t miss the way your legs quiver in anticipation. Like a predator hunting its prey, he gets on the bed and crawls slowly towards you and fits himself between your legs. He lowers his body until your chest to chest and meets your lips again in a fiery kiss.

This time, he doesn’t stay on your lips too long, desperate to touch and feel more of you, kissing along your jaw and down where your neck meets your shoulder. He marks his place on the juncture of your neck, sucking and nipping until a purple bruise is left in its wake. Lifting his head slightly, he marvels at the view of your breasts, eyes rolling back before diving in and taking your right nipple in his mouth.

His tongue darts out to kitten lick at your wetted bud, blowing air on it before sucking it back into his mouth. Being the gentleman that he is, he dares not to neglect your other breast, palming and fondling it before he switches and pays attention to it. Your ragged breaths bounces off the walls in your room and he uses the sounds to spur him on along with how your body twists and squirms beneath him.

“Relax _____,” Jeonghan coos at you. “I’m just as… new to this as you are.”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you murmur. “But, I guess my education on this was limited compared to yours.”

Sitting back on his knees, he grabs hold of his cock, groaning as he strokes himself a few times before he guides himself to slide between your folds. Watching him with keen eyes, you grow more desperate for him, mouth hanging open in a silent plea. Once he’s well lubricated from your juices, he aligns himself by your entrance, preparing himself to enter your glistening trove.

“This is the last chance you have to refuse me,” Jeonghan rasps out. “If you don’t, I’ll be taking away your virtue and will never let you go.”

“No one is taking my virtue away,” you mewled, reaching for his free hand and guiding it up your body to rest on your breast. “I am freely giving it to you, along with my love. So, don’t you dare even consider letting me go.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jeonghan grits his teeth as he pushes the head of his cock through your cunt, straining to hold himself back from fully impaling you on his cock to avoid hurting you.

“You can keep going,” you nod, breathing becoming ragged even as you try to calm yourself.

His hands reach for yours and intertwine them together, pinning them on either side of your head as he lowers himself until all of his weight is on you. With a shaky exhale, he sinks in further but still not all the way, peppering your chest with kisses in apology as he waits for you to accommodate him.

Tears pool at the corner of your eyes, sliding down your cheeks and you don’t have the strength to hold them back. Jeonghan whispers words of affirmation onto your skin and your heart swells in your chest. You seek out his lips and he gladly obliges you, kissing languidly until the current stretch is bearable.

“With all that I am, I love you and I’m yours,” you confess, whimpering as Jeonghan pushes deeper as a result.

A moan of your name from deep within his chest slips from his lips and he’s unable to hold himself back even if he wanted to, sheathing himself to the hilt inside you. The burning sensation of the stretch makes you tremble but it’s nothing compared to the feel of fullness inside you.

Releasing one of your hands, Jeonghan cups your cheek and kisses you hard, wanting to alleviate your pain. When you feel his cock throb inside your warm walls, you inadvertently clench around him and the last of his control snaps.

“Love, please tell me I can move,” he growls and you respond by shakily hooking your legs around his waist, taking him even deeper with a roll of your hips.

Jeonghan takes this as his cue, slowly drawing his cock out and harshly slamming back in. Crying out his name in ecstasy, your hands move to rest on his shoulders, nails digging in as his pace increases. An intense heat starts to build inside you, arching your back from the mattress as your hips frantically grind against him to match his rhythm.

“Jeonghan, I…” you sob, the intense heat taking all over your body. “I can… feel something… something is coming.”

“Gods, I feel it too,” he croaks and relentlessly drives himself inside you. Winding his arms around your middle, he holds tight and moves your body the way he wants so that you can both have the release you’re desperately seeking.

It’s when Jeonghan’s lips brushes by your ear, whispering ‘I love you’ with a perfectly timed shift of his hips, that the coil inside you snaps, eyes rolling to the back of your head and body shivering as your orgasm consumes you, a litany of his name echoing in the room.

At the feeling of your pulsating walls around his cock, his movements begin to falter. When you profess your love for him, he careens clean off the edge, hips jerking as he comes and a sigh of your name escaping from his lips as he paints your walls with his hot, white release.

Jeonghan buries his face in the juncture of your neck, hot breath fanning your skin as you rake your fingers through his damp hair. You stay together like this until your breathing evens out, not caring about your sweaty skin or the stickiness between your legs.

Then, he slowly pulls out his softening cock, watching your face for any signs of discomfort along the way. Planting a kiss on your shoulder, Jeonghan leaves the bed for a moment, fetching a towel and basin filled with water from the bath. With utmost care, he wipes the mess clean from your body. Once he’s put the soiled cloth away, he joins you back on the bed, dragging your body until you’re tight against his chest, whispering his love for you repeatedly until slumber comes for you.

When morning comes, it is anything but quiet. It starts off with your maid Tia dramatically dropping a basin upon catching you tangled in bed with the Crown Prince and Jeonghan being caught sneaking out the balcony by Joshua who’s having his morning coffee by the adjacent balcony. Jeonghan avoids being scolded because he pulls rank with the Duke, but you’re not so lucky. He bids you farewell with a kiss before heading back to the Palace to prepare for the Imperial Banquet.

It all happens quickly after that, spending most of the day getting pampered and leaving you with no time to even think about the events of the previous night. Upon your arrival at the Palace, you’re quickly ushered to stand in front of the door to the Great Hall where Jeonghan is already waiting.

Grabbing your hand, he gently kisses the back of it before planting another one on your cheek. Jeonghan stares longingly into your eyes before disrupting the connection by breaking into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“Nothing, I’m just happy,” he beams, bending to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “I’m glad that it’s not just duty that binds us together and that we’re actually fated to each other.”

“As am I,” you assure him, turning to kiss him on the cheek. “My love has always been you and it will always be you.”

“Always,” Jeonghan vows, lifting his head so that you can see his sincerity.

You return the promise with a kiss, along with a silent prayer to Eros in thanks and your hearts have never been fuller.

please do not copy/repost/translate my work without my permission

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

Text

All I Want

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Summary: Steve has left you alone for a week with no explanation. Will you let him back into your life?

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. A lot of FLUFF Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. A slap on the face, organized crime, implied violent retaliation, Bucky’s arm injury implied, Steve simping for reader, reader watching porn, sloppy toppy, gagging, swallowing, coached masturbation, oral (m/f receiving) fingering, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is a bonus for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask and any other requests for a part 2 to Try a Little Tenderness. Here it is babes, I hope you like it as much as the first part. Happy New Year! 🍾

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Sam came, and he watched as you paced in your closed store the first day after the dust up at DUMBO. He told you minimal information, just that Bucky was alive and that he was going to stay there per Steve’s ‘request’ until he asked him to leave.

“I’m opening my store today.”

“No. You are not.”

Sam was usually nice, with that beautiful smile on display whenever he picked up Steve’s gifts. But now, he was steadfast.

You were hot. Not only at Steve for not telling you the whole story, but at everyone.

You couldn’t just sit around all day. You walked up to Sam and stood toe to toe.

“Take off that expensive jacket.”

You had an apron with the store logo in your hand.

Hours later, Sam took a break from helping you do store inventory to take a call. You kept working as he stepped into the back room. Then, you walked back to listen.

You peeked around your corner to see Sam letting out a sigh of relief.

“Good. At least that’s progress? He squeezed your hand?”

He paused.

“I know he has a long way to go, but you know Buck’s a fighter.”

“…Yes. Steve. I’m trying, but you know she’s stubborn…She’s okay. She’s a pistol, and she’s working me to death. She’s pissed at you though. At all of us. Yeah… I don’t think I can protect you from that. I’ll tell her it will be a while…”

You went back to your spreadsheet feeling some kind of way. Steve had time to call Sam, but not you. Okay.

Sam stepped out of the back room.

“Bucky’s alive. He was very badly injured, his left arm is…”

Sam paused, looking at you warily.

You looked back at him relieved, yet anxious at the same time.

“Let’s just say that he has a long road.”

You nodded and swallowed.

“What about Steve?”

You hated yourself for asking Sam. You should have been talking to Steve. But you couldn’t help it.

“He’s fine. Just has some… work to do right now.”

Your stomach dropped and you lifted your chin.

“What Steve does with his time has nothing to do with me, Sam. I don’t own him and he certainly does not own me.”

You were ready to fight.

“It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Steve’s fine, Bucky’s alive. So you can go now.”

You looked him in the eye so that he could get the message.

Sam shook his head.

“That’s not gonna happen Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“Tell your Boss that I’m sending you back.”

Sam advanced upon you, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Learn this, Y/N. Steve’s not my Boss. He’s my friend, and just like Bucky, he’s my partner. I'm doing him a favor making sure you’re alright. That’s what friends do. You can’t send me back.”

You two stared at each other. This must be what it was like to have a brother.

“You know you’re very annoying.”

“Same, lady.”

You fought the urge to laugh and wanted to stick your tongue out at him.

“Get back to work. We have the entire stockroom to count.”

Sam shook his head and obliged.

Six days later, on Christmas Eve, the bell rang, signaling someone opening the door. You turned with a smile to greet the customer to see Steve standing there.

It was liked the wind was knocked out of you.

Steve stood there, staring at you, looking very tired, but with those same sparkling blue eyes. And he had the nerve to smile at you.

“Can I have the usual?”

He was a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the week worried and frustrated, in addition to mad as hell. But he looked so damn good.

You walked over to Steve, and gazed up at him as he beamed down on you. You did the only thing you could think to do.

You slapped him.

“How dare you!”

Sam, who was in his apron behind the register, audibly gasped, because it didn’t end well with the last woman who slapped Steve. She’d ended up climbing out of a dumpster where Steve had unceremoniously placed her.

You looked over at Sam.

“Here is your friend, Sam. Talk to him. Because I certainly won’t.”

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he rubbed his face. That fire pent up inside you signaled a need for release. He watched you hungrily as you left, then turned back to Sam.

You stormed upstairs toward your apartment, hearing the beginnings of thier conversation.

“I thought we agreed to keep the store closed, Sam.”

“Well, the store’s owner might have a little to say to that. Have you ever tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do?…”

You went upstairs, straight to the kitchen, reaching for your liquor cabinet. It was only noon, but you needed a drink.

You heard the door open behind you and did not turn around. You heard his steps into the kitchen, but you were immovable.

“Pour me one?”

You reached for a glass and slammed it down on the counter next to you, then poured some Uncle Nearest into it. You still didn’t look at him, but you shivered as he stepped behind you, nearly touching you to reach around for the glass, but only sharing his body heat.

“I deserve your anger, Ambrosia, But at the beginning, I genuinely thought that you knew who I was. I mean….”

You spun around, eyes full of fire, facing down Steve’s desire for you. And there was something else in his eyes. But you launched in nevertheless.

“At no time over dinner, or while you were sweet talking me into bed, did you mention that you were the head of an international crime organization. And then you put my business in danger. And apparently my life???”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his face.

“I know you’re angry, Baby, but you gotta listen to me.”

You closed your mouth and crossed your arms.

Steve’s face softened. At least you weren’t running away.

“I said at the beginning I thought you knew who I was. But then I realized that you didn’t know me as Steve Rogers the big bad dude, I was just that one customer who was sweet on you and sent gifts. And that made me fall for you even more.”

When he said ‘fall for you,’ your eyes went to his.

“Yeah, I said it.”

“Steve…”

You were trying to remain upset, but he was so sincere. Your resolve was weakening.

“Fall for me? You haven’t spoken to me in a week, Steve. You called Sam every day but…”

“I had work to do. Bucky was injured and he was touch and go. And I had to take care of… I had to take care of some things.”

He looked at you and slowed down.

“You had work to do? So did I. But you told me to close my store. You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to call, to text? I figured I didn’t mean as much to you as I thought.”

You looked down at your dirty chucks, and at Steve’s Ferragamos.

Steve moved closer and tilted your head up by your chin. The electricity from his fingers was almost too much.

“No, Ambrosia.”

Steve’s eyes were wild now, and desperate. He wanted you to understand so badly, but he knew it would seem outlandish.

“You mean so much more. I fell for you because there were no expectations. I kept buying you gifts and you kept sending them back. And I thought you didn’t want me. But then when I asked you on a date and you accepted, I realized that…”

“…That all I want is you.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip. Steve could hardly contain himself.

“I can listen to you, Steve. And I would have listened if you called.”

Steve leaned down and kissed your lips softly. He groaned when you yielded to him, opening your mouth and peeking out your little tongue. He wanted to ravage you, but first, you had to understand.

“You’ve got to know. You’ve got to know that you change me Ambrosia. With you I am a different man. I couldn’t call you because you make me weak.”

Steve kissed your frown and started talking again.

“With you, weak is a good thing. I am gentle, I am kind. I am patient.”

Steve looked into your eyes.

“I am in love.”

You gasped.

“Steve…”

“You gotta listen. When I left, all I could think about, besides Bucky, was you. Your smile, your wit, your laugh, your body. How it felt to make love to you. To be inside you. To make you cum. Do you remember, do you remember how it felt?”

You smiled and nodded, playing with the St. Christopher’s medal around his neck.

“Look at me. Do you remember? Use your words.”

You clenched at his command. And you obeyed.

“Yes, Steve. I remember. I was sore for three days.”

Your admission and the new huskiness in your voice made him pull you closer and you could feel the pulsing in his pants. You also felt his heart beating in his chest.

“Fuck, Ambrosia. You make me wanna ruin you again.”

The way you looked at him indicated that you wanted the same. Steve felt his knees almost give out. He chuckled.

“See? You make me weak in the knees. Thoughts of you make me soft. And for what I had to do, I couldn’t be. D’you understand?”

You tried to think rationally. You knew what he was saying without saying it. He had to do horrible things. You watched the news this past week. You knew what Steve was responsible for. But you didn’t care. Bucky was always nothing but kind to you. And he was Steve’s best friend.

You thought about what you would have done in this situation. You looked back up at Steve.

“I understand.”

You bit your lip again.

“And I am still standing here with you because it is too late for me to tell you to leave. I endured Sam sleeping on my couch for a week and protecting me because I love you too, Steve. I think I have been in love with you for months now. And then, last week...”

Your hands moved to slip his jacket off his shoulders, kneading them and feeling the tension there. Steve’s eyes sought yours again.

“You love me too?”

“Yes, are you tired?”

“Exhausted, but… You want me to stay?”

“Yes…”

Your hand was on the outside of Steve’s pants, grasping his hardness and making him groan, knowing that he was leaking in his underwear. His hands moved up your sides and lifted you up to sit on the counter.

He dove into your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you gentle kisses that made you arch your back and your breasts into his chests. Then, he started sucking hickeys into you as his hands came up to knead and grasp you, and to tease your nipples with his thumbs.

“All week I’ve gone to bed and woken up rock hard to visions of you. Didn’t wanna jack off. I need you Ambrosia. Need to see you cum again. Need to bury myself deep inside you. Need for you to hug me in all the ways. Need to see your beautiful body. Need to sleep with you in my arms. I’m tired. Tired of being without you.”

You nuzzled his ear, knowing that the only important thing right now was his need. And yours.

“Sounds like you need me to suck your dick.”

You felt bold because he wasn’t looking at you.

The man literally growled in your ear and then picked you up, still wrapped around him like a vine, and carried you to your bedroom. He sat you down on your bed and looked down on you as you looked up at him.

“What did you say?”

Steve made sure to hold your head up so you could look him in the eye. Your eyes watered as you licked your lips and took a deep breath.

“I said, I want to suck your dick.”

“That’s… what I thought you said.”

Steve continued to hold your head by your chin, and stuck his thumb in your mouth as he undid his pants. You squirmed as you got wet at the sound of his belt clanging on the floor and sucked his thumb like it was going out of style.

Steve could hardly catch his breath for anticipation and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He looked down at you as he pumped his massively hard cock in your face.

“I want to be very, very rough with you, but I’m not going to hurt you, Baby. You want this?”

Steve moved himself to within an inch of your lips.

“Please…”

You made to move closer, but he held you fast. You almost felt his dick jump when you saw it. You squirmed again.

“Can you take it?”

You managed to extend your tongue and collect the drops of precum on his tip, making Steve shiver as his blazing eyes looked down on you.

“Fuck my face…”

“Holy!”

Steve grabbed both sides of your head as you opened wide and accepted him into your mouth.

“That hot little mouth, holy shit, Ambrosia. How do you…”

You concentrated and allowed him to push past your tonsils to your throat, then suckled him as he pulled out, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. You ran your hands up his sides, tracing his v cut and abs upward under his shirt. Steve scrambled to take it off, and then pulled you off of him to take your shirt off.

“Where did you learn that?”

Steve raised his eyebrow as you grabbed for him again. He tried to be gentle, but you wouldn’t allow it, as you bottomed out again.

This time when you pulled off, gasping you said one word, “Porn,” and then started slurping sloppily again.

Steve stood there, head thrown back as you took his hips and went to town.

“Thank goodness for technology.”

You hummed your agreement, and then went for the gold.

“Ho-ho-holyyyyy. I’m gonna, fuckkkk Ambrosia, I’m gonna…”

You started gagging louder and finally, Steve took your head in order to use your mouth for his pleasure.

“It’s gonna be a lot… “

Steve was looking down on you with lust and you basked in it.

“You gonna swallow?”

You nodded eagerly, as Steve bared his teeth with an effort to hold back. You played with his balls, and he couldn’t anymore.

“Swallow like a good… fucking… girl…”

With those three thrusts, Steve sent a torrent of spend past your lips. You gulped it down and Steve thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He fell to his knees and you hugged him, assenting to his kiss so that he could taste himself on you.

“Thank you for that. Now I can think straight.”

He moved to push you back on the bed.

“So, my sweet Ambrosia has been watching porn, huh?”

“I missed you Steve. Missed your cock.”

Steve shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve was now taking off your shoes, pants, and panites. He kissed your thighs and spread your legs with his hands. He was looking deep into your intimate parts.

“My little sweet flower. Still so beautiful. But now she’s so sloppy.”

Those blue eyes looked at you, and your cheeks warmed.

“What happened?”

That deep voice.

“You know, Steve…”

“You like sucking my cock, yeah?”

“Yes, I do. Been dreaming of it.”

Steve grunted. His cock coming back to life at your words.

“You been touching yourself?”

“I have, but nothing compares to you. Didn’t know if I would see you again. Was thinking of getting a toy.”

Steve looked angry for a second.

“Never doubt, as long as I have breath in my body. You will see me again.”

His eyes flicked down your body, reminding you of possession.

“Show me how you touched yourself. I wanna watch. Will you let me watch you cum?”

You squirmed at the request.

“Ssteeevvveeee!”

“Don’t be shy. Look. I’ll join you.”

Steve leaned up on his elbow and started stroking his dick, making you wetter than you already were.

You bit your lip and slid your hands from your tits down your sides, one moving back up to play with your nipple, and the other finding your clit. You licked your lips as your fingers played in your slippery slit and lubricated your button. The sound was pornographic as your movements indicated how wet you were.

You watched as Steve opened his mouth and moved his hand faster.

“Put your fingers inside, baby. Pretend they’re mine.”

You shivered as you obeyed and your thumb tuned your body to a marvelous frequency with Steve watching. It was so erotic. You started to cum when Steve started moaning.

“How pretty. Y’look so pretty getting off. Pretty little fingers in that gorgeous hole. My sweet Ambrosia…”

He was descending toward your center, breath hot on your cunt. He inhaled deeply, taking in the essence of you.

“Let me be your toy…”

And his lips wrapped around your vibrating clitoris, sliding it between his lips quickly at first, causing you to jump, then, when his strong hands held your thighs open, he suckled it completely into his mouth and used his tongue to try and suck the life out of you.

You screamed and Steve slipped a finger inside your tight hole, thrusting gently at first, and then adding another finger and becoming more insistent in the quest for your orgasm.

You came very quickly, knees around his head before he pried them off and then held you open. Steve blew on your cunt to extend the sensations, and thrummed your clit while you begged him to stop. The quivers were extended as he came up and sucked your nipples, and pulling his hair only spurred him on longer.

When you finally, finally came down, your hoarse voice complained to,

“All my stars and heavens, Steve!”

“How can you be so fucking cute and so damn sexy at the same time. My dream girl.”

Steve kissed your forehead as you grabbed his cock and started pumping.

“Gimme.”

Steve tried to frown at you.

“So demanding.”

“Steve please.”

“You want this dick?”

Your breathy “Yes!” almost made him almost cum in your hand.

“You. Are going to be the death of me.”

Steve held your thighs in your hands and pushed them up beside you.

His stiff cock seemed to know the way home as he positioned himself at your entrance. He slid the thick head inside you as you keened as you knew his shaft was almost as thick.

“You okay, Baby?”

“Hnnngh.. Oh Steve…give me more…”

Steve almost exploded at your face and the way you were squeezing him.

“Okay.. I don’t really wanna… hurt…”

“Hurt me pleaseeeee.”

“Shiiiitttttttt.”

Steve slid into your very wet canal and stayed there as you wrapped all of your limbs around him as you got used to his girth again.

“I-I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum… inside… I can’t… you’re gripping me so… so so tight…”

“Mmmmmmghhh! Give me!”

And Steve started moving, slowly at first, and as you urged him on, faster and deeper.

“I had plans for how I was gonna… fuck…”

“Oh my god… Steve, I’m…”

“I wanted to go nice and slow… ohhhhhh…”

When he felt you quiver around him was when he started cumming.

“Fuck! It’s too soon… oh my god you feel so good…”

Steve buried his face into your neck, huffing and puffing as his cum spurted out of him and into your warm goodness. You felt every splash of his hot ejection inside you and briefly considered the consequences.

So did Steve.

“Oh shit, I came inside you.”

Steve looked pretty pleased with himself. You had to laugh.

“I can’t with you, Steve.”

“I believe you just did.”

You both chuckled as he kissed you and collapsed on the bed.

Steve pulled you close.

“Sam is probably down there dealing with customers…still got bills to pay. The lights, the mortgage…”

You were dumping the last thoughts out of your head as you were falling asleep.

“Not the mortgage anymore. Valkyrie bought it from Wells Fargo…”

Steve sighed and kissed you on the forehead, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

“Oh, ” You replied as you snuggled closer to him.

And both of you fell into the warm embrace of deep sleep for an afternoon nap.

READ Part three I WONDER

If you liked it, please reblog!

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itsjusthockey · 2 months

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Maria - Jack Hughes (pt.1?)

I’m back from the dead. It’s spring break

Part 2?????? (prove to me u want it)

I’ve missed you guys. Enjoy

w.c: 1,218 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

In the year and a half of your life that you spent dating Jack Hughes, you found out that he was great at two things. One, he’s nasty with a puck. Two, he’s fucking fantastic at pissing you off.

Six days post break up, you learn that he still dramatically possesses this particular set of skills.

You’re trying your absolute best to ignore the set of blue hues that you currently feel burning into the back of your skull. You know he’s watching, and you know he knows that you’re avoiding.

“He’s not being very subtle, is he?” Claire, your fellow media personal and work best friend, motions her head toward Jack.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. “No, but that’s never been his MO.”

She gently pats your shoulder twice, and you force yourself to focus on the task at hand. You’re technically on the clock, and you have duties to attend to.

You try to blackout and put yourself in the headspace that you and Jack aren’t even on the same planet, let alone the same red carpet-event. So you grab out your phone, plaster on a wide and grateful smile, and look for the man you actually came for.

You and Claire spot Mat making his way toward the entrance to the All-Star events, stopping to sign a few photos and greet some fans. You watch him throwing smiles left and right, and when he finally escapes, he sees you two standing with your phone and all but rolls his eyes.

He makes his way over to you, letting you both film some media, and once you’re satisfied with what you've got, you both place your phones down. The second your job is done, you are no longer distracted, and you feel yourself tensing up a bit.

“Do you wanna start drinking?” Mat asks, noticing your state.

You bark out a laugh, and once your boss gives the all-clear, you take him up on the offer. Minutes later, you’re nursing a cute NHL-themed cocktail and gossiping with the rest of the Islanders staff. You’re feeling better, knowing Jack is nowhere near your protective bubble, and you relax. It’s fleeting, however, when your boss struts up, drink in hand, giving you a puzzled look.

“And here I thought Hughes would be glued to your side.”

Mat snorts beside you, and you dig a quick elbow to his side and throw on a weak smile.

“Yeah,” you pause. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

You trail off awkwardly, and thankfully, your boss understands the message. She’s quick to apologize, but like everyone else you tell about the recent breakup with the golden boy of the NHL, they’re very curious.

You dive into brief detail. Telling her about the situations at hand. You explain that it was a mutual agreement because of conflicting schedules and distance, and you’re both deciding to act as amicable as possible with both of your careers.

As you explain the breakup with as little detail as possible, the rest of the table shifts uncomfortably, and you’re quick to change the subject. You bring up all the events about to unfold over the weekend, and soon enough, the energy levels out, and you hope that’s the last conversation you’ll have about him. You’re not going to let your Jack ruin possibly the biggest weekend of your career. He’s already ruined enough.

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

It’s late in the evening, and you’ve just finished your skincare when a knock sounds at the door to your hotel room. You’re confused as you spit some toothpaste into the sink and wipe your mouth. You make your way to the door, checking the peephole, and your heart drops out of your body.

Jack is standing outside your door, hair half hidden by a backward Devil's cap and looking directly at the peephole.

“(Y/N)?” He knocks again. “I know you’re standing by the door.”

At lightning speed, you open the door, and he looks a bit startled to actually see you as if he wasn’t knocking on your door.

“Can I help you?”

He smirks at you, and his eyes flick behind you to your room.

“Absolutely not.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Fine, we can do this out in the hallway in a public space.”

You roll your eyes at the boy and walk inside, leaving the door open for him to follow. Of course, he does.

He steps into the room like he owns the place, and as soon as he crosses paths with your bed, he sits on the side he usually sleeps on.

“What do you want, Jack?”

He stretches out on the bed, and you hear a couple of cracks and pops from his joints.

“To talk, obviously.” He leans forward a bit. “I didn’t love how our last conversation ended.”

You scoff at him.

“You mean when we broke up?”

He cringes at the word and shakes his head at you.

“I don’t think we really broke up. I think we’re just going through a rough patch.”

You’re genuinely shocked by the boy in front of you. You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure despite the frustration bubbling inside you.

“Jack, let me make this clear. We are broken up. We aren't getting back together. And you have no business showing up uninvited like this." You pause, locking eyes with him. "I need you to leave. Now."

He chuckles, dismissive. "You can't be serious."

Frustration boils within you. “Dead serious Jack. I’m actually done this time.”

He gives you another slight smirk, and he gets up from the bed. You put some distance between you to let him walk toward the door, but he stops right in front of you, taking a step toward you.

You meet his stare with a stern glare as he stands in front of you; you can feel the tension crackling in the air, his presence almost overwhelming. Before you can react, he leans in swiftly, capturing your lips in a kiss that's both familiar and electrifying. It’s quick, soft, and a harsh reminder of the last years of your life, but it’s also a jolt back to reality.

Breaking away, you push him back away from you, your heart racing. "Kissing me doesn't change anything. We're done."

He steps back, his expression the same arrogant, cocky stare as before, but with a hint of determination glinting in his eyes.

“We're not done, (Y/N). We’re just getting started.”

With one smile, smirk, and a wink thrown your way, he exits the hotel room like he was never there. You let your gaze linger on the door, and you’re left standing there, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions his unexpected visit has stirred up.

You know he’s doing this on purpose. He’s messing with you and your emotions. You know he isn’t going to stop, and this is a long weekend.

Jack Hughes wants your attention. Fine. You’re going to make him regret it.

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rosesaints · 11 months

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help wanted ! chapter one.

pairing: miguel o’hara / f!reader summary: a chance encounter after your life falls apart leads to some unexpected consequences. rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: unprotected sex, age difference, pet names, size kink, public sex series masterlist / next chapter

Thousands of dollars in debt later, you were officially graduating from college one degree hotter–-that’s right, for one, blazing moment of glory, you got to gloat about your fancy new degree on social media and flaunt your newfound education to all of your followers, popping champagne and exchanging clueless smiles with the other soon-to-be alumni in your graduating class as if you all spent even a single dime actually learning something useful.

Nevermind the fact that over half of your followers were meddling friends of your parents from your hometown’s PTA, insistent vultures that kept tabs on you from afar despite your repeated pleas that no, Sharon, you did not want to date her deadbeat son, no matter how good you claim he is at Madden. The point was, you had a tight and secure future within grasp.

You were coming out of college with an engagement ring, a spotless portfolio, and an impeccable internship, courtesy of your fiancé and a little help from his family. Your beloved sat in the stands of your university’s stadium at graduation, alongside his family and yours, the very picture of spotless suburban perfection straight off the pages of Good Housekeeping. You let yourself smile and believe that this was it.

Dear god, how could you have been so clueless?

You met your fiancé during your first year of college at a required gen-ed, while he served as a Teacher’s Assistant, three years your senior. At the time, like a fool, you let the red flags pass you by. He was attractive, ridiculously unattainable, and somehow you maintained his interest. Six months of dating passed you by, and suddenly you were moving into his place and agreeing to a joint bank account at the mature age of 19.

Slowly, you let him take over your life and for all that you gave to him, he still wasn’t satisfied. Nevermind the fact that you were completely–emotionally, physically, financially–dependent on him, he had to drive the knife so much deeper into you.

It sears and burns the pits of your stomach–your future coming aflame right in front of you.

The evidence was littered all over the entryway of your shared apartment with your fiancé. Kitten heels that were two sizes too small for you, a tacky, blue color reminiscent of ones you wore to Disneyland as a child. You imagined her prancing about your doorway in those heels, giggling like a little teenager as your fiancé murmured words of affirmation into her ear, “ yes, I made sure she left before you came over, she’ll never even know–-” putting her shoes in the place where your shoes usually rest.

On the counter, an equally tasteless purse. It was all just so insulting.

From your spot in the kitchen, you could hear, clear as day, her pathetic little mewls and praises and the way your stupid, stupid fiancé would pant loudly right before he was about to finish. Looking back, you had no idea why you let that slide.

Your fists clench at your sides.

The clock kept ticking on the wall across from you. 9:06 PM . Only six hours after your graduation, after he pushed you off towards your parents and insisted on you having the night off with them. Your parents had gushed and remarked how lucky you were, how truly blessed to have such a thoughtful and kind partner.

For one moment, you deliberated upon the next best course of action. You imagined several scenarios in your head. Your first instinct was to barge in sobbing, yelling words of betrayal and anguish at your partner, hurling that ugly blue purse of that wench’s at his face and reveling in the tragedy of it all. Your next instinct was to get his parents on FaceTime and show them what a little bitch their son was.

Suffice to say, you decided upon the latter and things, decidedly, did not go very well.

From there, it was a blur of screaming, crying, and yelling, from all parties involved. Blue kitten heels girl began covering herself up upon your entry, covering her face in shame as your fiancé started panicking and scrambling to get his shit together, clearly shocked by your early arrival. His parents were blowing up your phone’s speaker as he urged his side piece to leave and let him explain.

An hour later, you were out on the streets with your belongings.

Apparently, he had been waiting for a proper time to break up with you for the past few months, some unintelligible nonsense about how the spark just isn’t there anymore, you’re just… not fun anymore and how he felt taken advantage of and only felt like you were using him. Nevermind the dubious way in which you met while you were a freshman and he was some upperclassman blowing through his trust fund, giving you attention only to take it away hastily.

You ended up moving back to your parents’ place with no money, no prospects, and no friends. Whatever friends you had at the beginning of your relationship with your ex-fiancé were long gone–the consequence of having a partner who insisted that they were all you needed. In hindsight, you realize that his insistence on staying in and watching movies with pizza instead of going out with your friends were not actually all that romantic. He mostly sat on his phone while he scolded you for even considering going out.

Your fall from grace became well documented on your parents’ social media, as your mother regretfully laments how her precious baby girl lost it all and was forced to move back home with her tail between her legs. It just made the sting of losing everything all the more worse. Your mother’s friends no longer slid into your DMs with their sons’ contact info.

Several days in your childhood bedroom were spent watching rom-coms and throwing various objects at the screen, decrying false promises of eternal love and pointing out the stupidity in so many of the main characters. It was actually quite therapeutic. You let your hair remain unkempt and your room to pile up with takeout orders, courtesy of the engagement ring you had pawned off in a fit of rage after the breakup.

Your ex’s texts about the whereabouts of said ring was your future self’s problem.

On the tenth day of your self-isolation, your mother had had enough and barged into your room, opening all your curtains and dragging you out of bed to join breakfast with the rest of the family. You knew that this discussion was coming, dreading the inevitable conversation where your parents poked and prodded you for information about your next job. Your student loan bills were waiting, despite blocking it out and pretending they didn’t exist.

The energy in the dining room was tense and strained, silence hanging thick in the air as you prepared a bowl of cereal. Your parents looked at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to come up with a brilliant proclamation that you were going to move out of their house. Instead, you let the silence hang thicker in the air, awkward silence stretching impossibly long.

Finally, your mother cleared her throat. “So–-”

“I’m heartbroken,” The half-rehearsed statement dripped lazily off the tip of your tongue before she could continue further, as you took a spoonful of stale cereal. “I just need more time to recover.”

“We don’t doubt that at all, sweetheart, you take all the time in the world that you need,” Your mother exchanged a nervous glance with your father before continuing. “But we thought it would be beneficial for you to… get out of the house for a little bit. Maybe try running some errands with me or helping out around the neighborhood? There’s a new family that moved in next door, the O’Hara’s, and I believe that they’re looking for a babysitter! Think about how impressed they’ll be with your fancy degree!”

“As wonderful as that sounds, like I said, I’m just not ready.” Glancing back down at your bowl to avoid your parents’ gazes, you couldn’t help but swallow down the disappointment that threatened to overcome you. Your degree was now being relegated to a babysitting gig. You feel small, like a child being scolded at dinnertime. The rest of breakfast was a relatively fast and uneventful affair, save for the pitiful looks being thrown your way.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

More days pass, and for the most part, your parents have eased off your back. Your feelings towards your engagement had soured and festered the longer you stayed within your room, and your fingers itched to call an old flame from high school and get the rebound stage out of the way, but you didn’t know if you could handle that amount of shame in such a small period of time.

Two glasses of wine pushed you to hastily get ready on a Friday night (stirred by the shame of how quickly you became buzzed), you resigned to finally get out of the house and do some prowling around your hometown. There were only five legitimate places to go at night around the area, only two of which you’d deem acceptable, as in, trashy and good for dancing. The time it took for you to decide on an outfit came close to being embarrassing, but you ultimately decided on a short, skimpy dress that you were sure to attract some eyes.

A little ego boost certainly wouldn’t hurt your predicament at the moment, as you applied some dark lipstick and shimmery eyeshadow on your eyelids. You hadn’t gotten ready on this scale for such a long time, as a result of your ex rarely allowing you out, and the experience only furthered the uninhibited spirit you hoped to exude tonight.

One last glance at the mirror, and you smiled. Dressed to kill, indeed.

Fifteen minutes later and your Uber drops you off at the steps of a dingy and busy nightclub. Too late to back out now, you thought, as you hastily pulled the hem of your dress down, avoiding the furtive gazes of some people you knew from high school standing close by the entrance.

Some trendy pop song was blasting at full volume as you walked in, bass reverting immediately throughout your skull, as you giggled and made your way to the bar. You ignored the fact that the last time you had taken a Fireball shot was during your freshman year, and you resolved to remedy that, ignoring the searing burn down your throat as you finished your first shot of many for the night.

Slowly, but surely, you got reckless.

You lost yourself soon in the swirling vortex of bodies, moving in synchrony with the next trashy song that had been queued up, dancing with strangers all around you with no mind to the way your dress rode up to expose more of your thighs, thin spaghetti straps slowly coming down your shimmering shoulders.

Across the room, in the midst of dancing, you caught someone’s eyes. His gaze locked onto yours, as if daring you to look away. Look away, little girl. A small smile played at his lips, as if daring you to look away from those intense, almost dark black eyes eyes that you swore gleamed red in the lights of the club. Tall, brooding, and definitely older than you. He wore a tailored button-up that perfectly accentuated his downright criminal waist (swallowing down the immature jealousy that rose in your chest) and the broad expanse of his shoulders, seemingly dwarfing the people close to him at the bar in comparison.

Striking and distinctive from everyone else you had seen at that point, he was just the right remedy for the night.

Foolishly, you maintained his gaze under half-lidded eyes, beckoning him to come closer, closer, just a little bit. Catch me if you can. One raise of his eyebrow, watching as he downed another shot, and you were game.

Mustering up the confidence of your glory days, you swayed and shook your hips to the current song that blasted through the speakers, mesmerized as he began coming your way with confident, almost arrogant steps.

Taller, almost towering over you as he looked down at you from underneath long lashes, a small smile still playing at his lips. “You don’t look like you’re from around here, hermosa .”

“Oh? I could say the same for you.”

Under closer inspection, you could see that a five o'clock shadow adorned his defined jaw, adding a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. His hair, jet-black and sleek, screams business, accentuating the contours of his face in the red and purple lights, while a few rebellious strands occasionally fall across his forehead. Even in the midst of a heavy dance floor, his hair remained almost meticulously in place, a testament to his unwavering composure. He did not look like someone who would frequent this part of town at this time of night, but all the better for you.

Impulsively, you reached up and locked your hands around his lean neck, starting to rock and move along with him to the music, ignoring the goosebumps that overcame your skin as he started running his rough, calloused hands down your waist, down to the small of your back.

You didn’t mind it one bit, finding yourself leaning into his touch with impressive ease. “What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

Your smile grew deeper.

Feeling his hands begin to explore farther down, taking more initiative, taking control. Letting him set the pace as you both plunged deeper into the night, giggling and spinning as Miguel hummed lowly into your ear, hot breaths fanning your face.

Your senses were overloaded by the smell of him; bergamot and crisp green leaves, patchouli and vetiver. It was intoxicating.

One of you leaned in first after what seemed like hours of orbiting each other’s faces, looking down at your lips, glancing up at his dark eyes; there was a blur of movement and all you could focus on was his hand around your throat, one around your cheeks, cupping you like delicate china and kissing you deeply, truly. There was no one else but him, at that moment.

Pulling away, briefly, as he lets out a low chuckle. “Keep your eyes on me, hermosa.”

He nudged your thighs apart with his impossibly large legs, holding your chin with one hand as the other slowly traversed your waist. “Do you want this, cariño ?” He had murmured lowly into the shell of your ear as he continued to rock your body with his, forcing you to move exactly to his rhythm. Here you were, straddling and riding the line of public indecency in the middle of your hometown bar. Of course, you wanted it.

You wanted it so, so bad.

Miguel’s hands traveled back down to the small of your back and before you could even think twice, the words were tumbling out of your lips and onto his attentive ears, “What do you say we leave this dance floor and go somewhere else?”

His hand was so much larger than yours as he led you out of the middle of the bar, looking back at you every so often as if to make sure you didn’t disappear. He felt like your secret, your own treasure, all yours.

It was well past 2 AM at that point, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as he pressed you up against the cold tile wall of the bathroom, giggling, and asking if he even locked the door. He hummed in response to your neck, indifferent, before licking a searing stripe up your neck to bite the lobe of your ear and you moaned, nails clutching his white button-up like a lifeline.

Dear god, he was gonna eat you alive.

Rough, calloused fingers made its way underneath your dress and the room suddenly felt a lot hotter as he grinned wolfishly at what he found beneath. “My, my, my. Who’s got you all excited like this?

“You, Miguel,” You wanted him to fuck you now, fuck you fast and hard. “Only you.”

“So good,” His voice dropped an octave. “Good girls like you deserve a reward, hm?

You could only nod as you felt the pads of his fingers trace your hipbone and then squeeze your thigh, waiting in anticipation as he finally hovered one finger close to where you needed him the most, so fucking warm and wet and eager for him. “Jesus christ, you’re soaked. Wanna make you feel good. Do you wanna feel good ? Use your words, you can do it.”

Empty pleas and whines escaped your lips as he laughed, almost cruelly if it wasn’t so goddamn hot, teasing and rubbing you through the soft fabric of your underwear. Miguel pushed the fabric aside like it was nothing and suddenly he was pushing in, until one finger was completely buried inside you. Hot, you felt so fucking hot .

You shuddered and looked over his shoulder at the mirror, and the scene in front of you was just downright criminal, moaning, despite yourself. His back seemed to ripple in his white button-up, muscles tensing as he worked your body exactly how you needed him to. He used the opportunity to add an extra finger to your sopping wet pussy, murmuring low praises and Spanish in your ear.

His palm applied rough pleasure to your clit as he began to suck and bite at your neck while you whimper, completely at his mercy. You can still feel him chuckling into your skin. “What do you want chica?”

“Want you—Want you so bad, Miguel, need you to fuck me.”

“You’ll let me take you in this bathroom right now?” Miguel tutted. “What a filthy, nasty girl you are.”

You roll your hips faster onto his hand, chasing what you were so close to. Heated and heavy under his gaze, squeezing your eyes shut as you came, him letting you ride out your high until you were panting and recovering from your orgasm. Filthy.

As the haze starts to dissipate from your vision, you take a moment to look at him. Miguel brings his fingers to his lips and moans . You’re —looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. You’re hanging onto every one of his actions with your desperation dripping off his fingers. “Got you all ready, cariño. You ready?”

Nodding, you watch as he slowly positions you to bend over the cold, porcelain sink, nerves coming on fire as you watch the scene across from you in the mirror. Miguel’s a mess—and you are too, hair in a flurry around your shoulder, dress at the verge of ruin, just barely hanging on but what you can’t stop focusing on is his heated gaze, pupils blown wide and looking down at you with something akin to hunger. Your throat tightens when he grazes his fingers over his hard dick through his pants, slowly unzipping and revealing himself to you. Getting dizzy as he peers at you through dark lashes, stroking his cock as if appraising your reaction.

“You’re so big,” you murmur despite yourself, and Miguel sighs, so hard and hot as you reach out and wrap your fingers around it, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I need you inside me right now.”

(You’re not sure if you’ll be able to take him—all of him—but you still want it bad, so bad you could taste it.)

Time slows to a crawl as he spits onto his cock, spits on your clit and begins pressing the head of his cock to your entrance, other hand slithering around your waist to begin his attack on your clit again. Skin to skin, messy and filthy, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

“You’re gonna feel me in your stomach, dulzura , ” Miguel’s low voice seemed to echo in the tiny bathroom, words weighing heavily on your shoulders. Was it a promise or a threat? “No turning back now.” God, you wouldn’t even dream of it.

When he pushes the throbbing length of his cock forward, it feels like something within you has shattered, both of you moaning in perfect unison, pupils blown wide and crooning under his touch. He’s barely in yet and you’re gritting your teeth, it’s like you didn’t just cum a few minutes ago.

Miguel watches you struggle to keep your moans contained, has to gloat as you melt around his cock. “You like watching me stretch it out, don’t you? Say it.”

You can only babble helplessly in response. “Yes, yes—yes, please, God—”

When he pulls his cock all the way out, it feels like a breath you’ve been holding has been released. And then he’s plunging back into you, fucking you harder, fucking you faster, and you can see the way your pussy starts dripping around him uncontrollably, one orgasm blending into the other, squeezing your eyes shut—

You feel a rough hand cupping your jaw, forcing you to look at the mess you made in the mirror. “Don’t look away.” He slips in deeper, so sensitive, and you can hear him groaning from above you, just a constant flurry of Spanish, praises, and oh Gods.

All you can do is bend over the sink and take it as he pounds into you unrelentingly, fingers stimulating your clit ceaselessly. It’s so intense and your pussy squeezes around him, only asking for more.

Your breath fogs up the mirror as you whine and Miguel gets more careless, growing wild from above you. Can’t give up on pulling back, and pushing back in, determined to give you all he has. And then—the curve of his cock hits just right and you’re splitting in two, tip reaching that sweet and delicate part of yourself not even your fingers could reach, and suddenly he’s pulling out and cumming, pulsating as he strokes his dick above your back, massaging your hips. You took it so well, you were so good, mi hermosa.

The world around you blurs into insignificance, as you and Miguel slowly come down from your highs.

You relish in the warmth and the silence, heavy breaths mixing with his as you look in the mirror to meet his gaze. For a moment, the world stills.

And then he turns you around to sit facing him on the sink, and you wonder how his smile is so sharp, a menacing row of perfect white teeth as he nuzzles your neck, brushing his teeth on the skin. By now, your body must be littered in bruises and love bites, but somehow, you don’t mind.

The both of you recollect your senses side by side, and you let him slip the spaghetti straps of your dress back up to your shoulders—which you’re sure is falling apart, but who cares?---let him tug the dress down your thighs, ignoring the warmth that spreads when he kisses you once more. “Gorgeous.”

Smiling wide when he rests his hand onto the small of your back yet again as he guides you out of the bathroom, ignoring the one or two people that have been waiting in line outside the bathroom. You feel like you’re on top of the world. He holds you in his chest as you wait for the cab that he’s picked up for you by the side of the street, his chin resting on top of your head. You feel safe, you feel warm, and you want to stay in this moment forever.

As the cab arrives, he’s careful to guide you into the back, kissing the back of your hand as he lets you go. “Sweet dreams, cariño .”

You wake up in your room in one piece, having effortlessly snuck back in without bringing attention from your parents. God knows what they would’ve done if they had seen you in your current state, looking like the losing end of a brawl. As you inspect the damage in the mirror, you can’t help but smile. The bruises will darken and likely become sore in the days to come, but that was an otherworldly experience.

There’s a pep in your step as you saunter into the kitchen, greeting your parents with the most cheerful of good mornings, ignoring how they glance at each other with optimism as they watch you fill up a cup of coffee for yourself. It was going to be a good morning, you could feel it.

Your mother, always the opportunist, takes the time to clear her throat. “Honey, I mentioned this before, but the O’Haras next door, well, Gabi is this cutest little five year old–you know, the one who always rolls her soccer ball into our backyard–anyway, his old babysitter can’t work any more days next week and he’s asking if we can help.”

The cheery mood in the room sours just slightly, and gears are turning in your head about how to best let your mother down. But then she hits you with a scalding look that says, we’ve given you enough time. Go be a dear.

“Of course, mom,” You relent, sighing in your chair as you take a sip of your coffee. How bad could it be? You had seen Gabi learning how to ride a bike or kick a soccer ball around during a few occasions down the block, seeing the vague outline of her dad coaching and directing her. They seemed harmless enough. “I’ll pop in after breakfast.”

Your parents flash you a megawatt smile. “Great!”

That’s how you found yourself at the front steps outside of the O’Hara house, along with a plate of muffins your mother insisted that you brought along. You fiddled nervously with the collar of your turtleneck. Not even your best concealer could cover up the marks from last night and you had given up altogether, despite the fact that it was 80 degrees out and searing. You just hope that whoever Mr. O’Hara is, he buys into your excuses.

You ring the doorbell with a resigned sigh, mustering up a well-rehearsed smile as you wait.

The door is answered by a little girl, who has to be less than five (you’re not entirely sure, you’ve never really been that good at guessing), gingerly opening the door slightly ajar as she raises an eyebrow at you, your turtleneck, and the plate of blueberry muffins you held. “Can I help you?”

“Hi! Yeah, I’m your neighbor, I live just next door and my mom sent me over to bring these to you guys. You like blueberries, right?” You sneak a peek at the house behind her, curiosity getting the best of you as the small child begins salivating at the sight of the plate. “Is your dad home?”

Big, doe eyes still focused on the muffins, Gabi nods. “Dad! Someone’s here.”

“Gabi, what did I say about opening the door to random strangers—Oh.”

Your heart drops in your chest and you’re hit with the urge to run. It’s Miguel. Miguel is the single father your mother has sent you over to babysit for.

No fucking way.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #mdni #miguel o'hara smut

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lionlena · 10 months

Text

Unforgivable mistake (JoelMillerxreader) Part 3

Summary: Reader is much younger than Joel and is in love with him. One night, after arguing with Tess and getting drunk, Joel spends the night with a reader, but in the morning he breaks her heart… She runs away from Boston hoping that she will never meet this cold bastard again in her life. But almost six years later, she unexpectedly sees Joel in Jackson. She decides to hide herself and her little secret from this asshole.

Warnings: age gap (reader is about 28 years, Joel 58), strong language, swearing, past trauma, bullying, attempted rape, memories of sexual abuse, unprotect p in v, dom!Joel, Joel is asshole, ANGST, hurt, sadness and heartbreaking

Part 3

Joel stared blankly at your door. His breathing was heavy, and his hands moved restlessly and clenched into fists. He wanted to start knocking, banging on the door, and screaming. He wanted to know more about his baby boy. He wanted to argue with you, but at the same time, he didn't want his son to associate him with evening arguing. He didn't want Teddy to be afraid of him.

He finally came home and locked himself in his room. He slept little in the night, still thinking about what he had learned and… He didn't agree with you. He was Teddy's father. Whether you wanted it or not, you wouldn't have gotten pregnant without him. No matter how small and bad a part of him was, he had a part in it. And he knew he would be a good father to his son, just as he was to Sarah. He may not have always been perfect, but he could love and show fatherly love. He wanted to look after Teddy. He just didn't know how. He suspected you'd stop him every time he tried to get close.

So all he had to do was watch the boy from a distance.

Almost 3 weeks after he found out about his son, he saw a scene that made his blood boil.

He had just returned from a patrol with Barbara. He was beginning to suspect that Maria kept connecting him whit this idiot on purpose because she could see how much he hated her.

Suddenly, the woman laughed and murmured, "This little son of Y/N is such a weakling."

He shot her an angry glare, then looked at the scene that was playing out a few meters away. Two boys, older and taller than Teddy, laughed at him as he tried to take his stuffed bunny away from them.

"Weakling? Is that what you call a child who is the victim of two bullies?!" He looked at her with contempt. "But what do you know about children? You're too old for your own. Which is lucky, because you'd obviously make a terrible mother!"

The woman opened and closed her mouth, and he moved quickly to the children. He snatched the stuffed animal from the boy's hands and growled: "Are you having fun? Why don't you try it with me."

Only then boy's mother appeared, who had previously been standing with another woman a few meters away, step in.

"What's going on?! They're just having fun."

"Play? Rather, they bully the younger child."

The woman snorted and looked at him indignantly. "How dare you." She reached out to her sons. "Boys, we're going home."

Joel snorted, then looked softly at Teddy. The boy ran to him and with a big smile took his bunny.

"Thank you," he said and looked at him like a hero.

Joel patted his head, but their interaction was interrupted by the woman who was the mother of the little girl.

"Teddy, we're coming back too."

The boy shook his head and suddenly snuggled up against Joel's leg, taking him completely by surprise. The woman winced slightly.

"Your mom asked me to take care of you. Come on."

"No," the little one moaned.

Joel bent down and picked the boy up. The toddler immediately wrapped his arms around his neck and it was the moment when Teddy, completely unconsciously, took over his dad's heart. Joel cleared his throat and confidently said, "I'll take care of him. I live next door to Y/N."

The woman looked uncertain, but she did not have the strength to face the childish tantrum. She shrugged and finally said, "All right."

Joel smiled and patted his son on the back. "Teddy, do you want to meet Ellie?" The little boy nodded enthusiastically. "Let's go. Do you want me to carry you?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

When Joel entered the house, Ellie gave him a surprised look. He walked past her and sat Teddy in a chair in the kitchen.

"Wait here. We'll find some crayons and paper for you in a moment."

Ellie grabbed his arm as he tried to cross the threshold. "What happened witch keeping distance?"

"Maybe it's time to break the ice." Seeing her shocked expression, he laughed a little and added: "Two boys were bullying him and I chased them away. And he stuck with me. What was I supposed to do?"

Ellie looked at the boy, who sat politely and waved his legs rhythmically. "Yes, he's cute, but what about Y/N?"

"Leave Mama Bear on my head."

"As you wish." She spread her arms and ran to the baby. "Hi, Teddy!"

The little one smiled widely and started talking to her, and Joel… Joel felt proud and happy. He had a wonderful, beautiful, smart son and he was not going to give up being his dad.

You were furious when Joanna told you who she allowed to take your treasure, your precious little one. You wanted to yell at her, scratch her eyes out, but at the same time, you knew that she often helped you by taking care of your child. Plus, how could she know about your hatred of Joel, from what she said, Teddy really wanted to go with him.

Ellie opened the door for you and gave you a sharp look. You knew he didn't like you, and you guessed why.

"Where is he?" you asked trying to contain all your rage.

The girl nodded and led you into the living room, your heart skipping a beat at the sight you saw. This could be the cutest picture in the world if it wasn't for the fact that your son fell asleep in this asshole's arms. Teddy looked so calm that your heart trembled. Joel was sitting on the couch with your little one sleeping on his chest, Teddy's little head resting on Joel's shoulder. You saw how protectively he held the little one and you wanted to break his arms. You moved towards him and hissed, "Give him to me."

Joel sighed heavily and whispered, "Calm down. I'll take him to your house in a moment."

You shook your head. "Give. Me. Him. NOW. And never touch him again," you hissed.

Joel rolled his eyes and muttered, "I won't hurt him."

You felt a wave of rage wash over you, and you didn't even care that Ellie was standing next to you. "You already hurt him. The moment you conceived him. The moment you ignored the fact that your dick was causing me pain."

Joel felt as if someone had punched him in the face. You took advantage of this and quickly took your son, who sleepily purred, "Mommy?"

You rubbed his back and whispered, "Shh, sleep baby."

You looked at Ellie who stared at you in shock. " I'm sorry that you heard this," you said as you walked past her and left their damned living room.

Ellie looked at Joel sadly. "Teddy is your son." he nodded. "And you hurt Y/N?"

Joel immediately stood up and walked over to her, but she backed away sharply, so he stopped. "What? No, Ellie... It's not like that. Y/N was an adult and... She wanted it."

She looked at him. "Really? Because it didn't sound like that at all!" He reached out to her, but she pushed him away and ran out of the house.

Joel rubbed his temples and sighed heavily. Why did he have to screw everything up? But he didn't do anything wrong. He just wanted to spend some time with his own child.

You put your son to bed when you heard a soft knock. You swung the door open and growled, "What the fuck..." You stopped mid-sentence. "Ellie? Sorry, I thought it was Joel.”

"Can we talk?"

Her behavior disturbed you. She didn't look like the saucy, rebellious teenager you used to see. She was more like a scared child, and your maternal instincts took over immediately. "Of course. Come on." When she came in, you put your arm around her and led her to the kitchen. "Would you like some lemonade?"

"Hmm."

You sat across from each other at the kitchen island. Ellie was silent, and you decided to break the silence. "Look, I'm really sorry. I lost my nerves. I just told Joel not to go near Teddy and..."

"Did he force you to get pregnant? Did he rape you?"

You froze at first. Ellie stared at you with sad eyes, and you realized there was something more in this question. You grabbed her hand and calmly asked, "Ellie, did someone hurt you?"

She nodded at first, but then said, "No... I mean... He tried."

You swallowed, afraid to ask if it was Joel. Part of you absolutely didn't believe it. Joel was a bastard, he was an asshole, he was a complete dick, but... Not a pedophile. You didn't know how far you could go and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

There was silence for a long time and you wanted to apologize to her when she took a shuddering breath and started saying, "It was after we left Jackson. Joel got hurt and (...)"

You listened patiently to her stories about David and his cult, how they ate people, and how he wanted to use Ellie, even force her to have children with him. You were scared and angry at the same time. The dude was worse than Joel. He was a hundred times worse dick. If it weren't for the fact that he was already dead, you would have found him and killed him yourself.

"Then Joel found me and I thought... I thought I was safe with him."

You wanted to hit yourself when you realized how Ellie read your words to Joel. You squeezed her hand tighter and said, "You're safe with him. I can say a lot of bad things about him, but Joel is not a pedophile, cannibal, or rapist."

"But you said..."

"I know what I said." You took a deep breath. "Listen to me. I was young and naive. I was in love with him and he... He didn't act like a decent guy, but he didn't rape me. I went to bed with him of my own free. Sex with him... He wasn't gentle, and in the morning he thought our night together was a mistake. He said a lot of nasty things to me and left me with a broken heart."

Ellie nodded and muttered, "He was an asshole."

"Yes."

"He's acting like that less and less." You smiled slightly at her words. "And Teddy?"

"He didn't know about him. I left Boston the next day and found out about the pregnancy while traveling."

Ellie looked down and mumbled, "I'm sorry that I thought you were a bitch."

"It's okay. I even understand you a little."

Suddenly Teddy appeared in the kitchen. He was still sleepy and rubbing his eyes with a small fist, but when he saw the teenage girl, he immediately woke up. "Ellie! Will you play with me?"

The girl looked at you, and you said, "Go ahead."

You were surprised at how well they got along. You didn't know if Ellie was affected by your son's charm or the fact that he was Joel's son, but you didn't care. You enjoyed their good relationship. By evening, Teddy had told you about how Joel helped him, and you felt a little silly. Maybe you needn't have been so hard on him. Your son obviously already loved him, not even knowing it was his dad.

You heard Ellie's quiet grunts and turned your attention to her.

"It's getting late," she said, and you nodded. "Could I stay here tonight?"

You were really surprised how quickly the relationship between you two changed.

"Of course you can, but Joel won't really hurt you."

"I know, but I'm still mad at him, for cheating me. He said you were getting revenge because he didn't want to leave Tess." You snorted annoyed. "He left out the rest."

"Okay. But you have to tell him." Ellie winced, and you sort of automatically added, "Okay, I'll let him know."

You didn't really know why you suggested it. Did it was, your motherly instinct to protect Ellie? Or did you want to stick another pin in Joel, letting him know that the teenage girl prefers you?

You couldn't back away from your words and you made your way to his house with heavy steps.

It was even funny to see how stupid Joel looked when he opened the door.

"Y/N?"

"Ellie wants to stay with me for the night. I agreed."

Joel leaned back slightly. He blinked once, then twice before he understood your words. He was sure Ellie stayed somewhere in town. When he realized she was with you, he felt uneasy.

"She talked to you?"

"Yes. She told me about David and wanted to know if you raped me." You could easily see the horror on his face. "You care about her?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"I told her the truth that I went to bed with you willingly. And that you were an asshole in the morning, but... You're not a pedophile or a rapist."

Joel's shoulders slumped and he breathed a sigh of relief. You had the opportunity to hurt him deeply. Ruin his relationship with Ellie, but as always you had a good heart.

"Thank you and… I'm sorry I took Teddy."

He surprised you, but you didn't show it. You calmly replied, "Teddy told me what you did. He thinks you're a hero."

Joel smiled slightly. "These kids were teasing him and I..." He looked at you confidently. "I am his father, Y/N. No matter how hard you try, you won't change it. And I won't abandon him. I will protect him, love him, and take care of him. You can fight me or accept my help in raising him."

You shook your head and replied, " And here is old Joel. You're trying to fix the whole world, even though you're destroying it yourself, but fine. I'll let you date him but on one condition."

"What?"

"You're not allowed to say you're his father. You can be his friend or uncle, but not 'dad'. Do you understand?"

Joel clenched his jaw and looked at you angrily. He thought you were playing unfairly, but at the same time, he really wanted to look after Teddy.

"Alright," he murmured.

"Great" you replied and smiled. Then you turned on your heel and went home pleased with yourself. You knew your requirement would hurt Joel, but you thought he deserved it. Yes, he defended your son and took care of him, but that didn't mean your wounds were healed. You still felt that Joel didn't understand how much he hurt you. So you had every right to attack him.

A/N: I really think after what happened in episode 8, Ellie should talk to someone.

Part II

Part IV

Taglist: @ajeff855, @anislabonis-love, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi, @i-workwithpens, @milla-frenchy, @quality-lust @liatome @sarahhxx03 @creedslove @jojo-munson @pascalislove @sofiparallel

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel and ellie #ellie williams #joel miller x reader #joel miller and you #joel is daddy #joel is asshole #angst #past trauma

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igotanidea · 8 months

Text

Alternate: Jason todd x fem!reader

summary: I love you in every multiverse.

***

“I wish I've met you earlier…..”

She frowned.

As sweet as that sentence sounded, she could tell there was a hidden meaning to it. Something indefinable, not conveyable with words. Something only someone close to Jason would recognize.

It was a Saturday morning after a intense Friday night. There was no obligation to go anywhere, to do anything, to rush through the task list and Jason and Y/N were laying in bed, tangled in the sheets, their bodies so close together and yet not close enough, simply enjoying each other’s presence and warmth coming from the intimacy. The sounds of rain drops thumping out on the window sill added to the atmosphere of the incoming lazy day as Y/N snuggled closer to Jason, making sure he wouldn’t run away from her.

He was still learning how to be calm and at peace like this.

Barely a second ago, her head was laying on his chest, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin, softly, slowly in the most loving and caring gesture she could produce, almost as if she was trying to tell him to stay, without using her voice. One of his arms were wrapped around her waist, caressing the small of her back making her hum softly in contentment, the other tangled in her hair.

It was so perfect.

And then he said those six words.

“Jay?” she asked a bit confused why he came up with something like that out of the blue. “Is everything ok, baby?” Y/N raised her head wriggling out of his embrace, searching for his eyes, her voice and gaze concerned at the sudden confession.

He knew better than to look at her, instead keeping his eyes focused on the ceiling, hands behind his head now, still laying on his back on the bed, not budging even a little. He knew that the second their gazes met he would break. And he hated being vulnerable.

Yes, he loved her.

Yes, he felt safe with his emotions while being with her.

Yes, he trusted her.

But.

He was an emotional one and pouring his heart out to someone, anyone was still hard.

So he stayed silent, afraid of as much as the possibility of being too much.

“Jason.” She said, her voice more serious now, but he was deaf to her calling. “Jason!”

“Yes, princess?” he asked casually

“Come on! You can’t just drop a sentence like that and go silent on me….”she cooed cupping his face and forcing him to look at her. “baby…..” she caressed his cheek and leaned forwards brush her nose over his. “talk to me, please…..”

“It’s nothing.”

She sighed. God, he could be so stubborn at times.

“Jace…. I love you…. It doesn’t matter that we haven’t met ten years later. Or five…. You hear me? it doesn’t matter…. I love you…. You have all of my affection now and….”

“I could have loved you for so much longer…..” he whispered chiming in and closing his eyes.

“What…..?” her heart hammered in her chest, the slightest blush creeping on her face. Out of every romantic and sweet things he ever said, out of all the poems and sentences he quoted to her this little one might have been the most intimate one. It was a suggestion that what they had was something more than a fling. And even though she knew that, hearing something like that coming from him brought tears of happiness into her eyes.

“Y/N? Oh God…. I’m so sorry, baby….” He changed position, sitting up to hug her to his chest immediately “I’m so sorry, please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to hurt you…..” he started babbling kissing the top of her head repeatedly, holding her tighter. “I just wish I knew you before so I could save you from all the things that happened in your past…. Self doubts, pain, hurt, fear…. I wish I could have been your shield, protecting you from any harm…..You didn’t deserve a single trauma that happened in your life…. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there baby….”

“You know….” she pulled back slightly “all those details you mentioned… all that trauma… it led me to you…. It led me to the only person I know my heart is safe with….. It’s like I loved you before even knowing you….? Does that make sense?

“It does to me.” He smiled softly, wiping her tears “cause I think I feel the same. Hey, I am not good with all that space and time concepts, but do you think we might have met before?”

“Are you asking me if I believe in reincarnation of souls?”

“Do you?”

“Not until now…..” she whispered “I know it may sound stupid, but ….. do you think there is a alternate reality, somewhere, where we haven’t met? Cause I don’t think I could ever be without you…..”

“Baby…..” he smiled brushing hair out of her forehead and kissing her temple, pulling her closer to him, rocking gently back and forth. “Such verse is pretty much impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you in every multiverse…..” he smiles leaning his forehead on her.

And it was perfect.......

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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redvelvettel · 1 year

Text

DRENCHED IN GLORY ☆ CL16

Charles leclerc x f!reader

Warnings: it might be a bit obvious how much I need want Charles to win the wdc, but should be fine other than that.

masterlist

He had done it. He had finally done it.

Years and years of dreaming. Staying up at night wondering where he was going wrong. Spending hours on end in the simulator perfecting every turn and curve until it was etched in his memory. Crying on the phone because he couldn't be with the love of his life when he was most vulnerable and needed her the most.

Midnights where she held him to her chest and let him cry his heart out because he was frustrated with the car. She had been through it all with him. Cried with him when they lost people who were supposed to be there forever. They've never left each other's sides ever since that fateful day his mother came over to the new neighbor's house to give them a housewarming present.

6 year old Charles felt like he was going to throw up. The girl hiding behind her mother's gown in front of him peeked at him with her doe eyes. Yep. There was something definitely wrong with the poor lad. Because honestly, that's what he felt like. He followed her around like a lost puppy, never leaving her side until she reluctantly agreed to play with his toy cars. And they've been trapped in their own little bubble ever since.

His brother, Arthur had tried to steal her countless times but to no avail. It was like there was some invisible string holding them together. And neither of them ever dared to complain.

Charles won his first ever race mere weeks after meeting her. Ever since she learned that her new friend was racing in fast cars, she had been nagging her parents to let her go to a race with him. After some persuasion from the two children, they had finally let her attend a Karting race after being promised by Lorenzo that he wouldn't let her out of his sight.

She was fascinated with everything. She didn't care that it was just a Karting race, she was so happy and amazed that her friend could drive a fast car so bravely.

So she stood with his brothers and his father proudly cheering his name with her whole heart until her lungs burned, and she didn't stop until he started getting out of the little kart after crossing the finish line first. She ran up and crashed into him with the biggest smile and Charles couldn't help but feel like he was on top of the world.

Neither of the kids cared that it was a Karting race, to her he was the best to ever do it and he would always be on top of the world if she was by his side. Charles knew he wanted her in his life forever, then. As much as a six year old could want anything. That still hasn't changed, and he was positive it never will.

Somehow, Charles had convinced himself that she was his lucky charm, and begged both of their parents to let her attend as many races as she could. She was there with him for every single step as he climbed up the ranks and made it to the big leagues. She held his hand in hers as they walked into the paddock on his first ever official day as a formula one driver, with his name and number on the back of her shirt standing proudly.

It was many years later, and the thirst for glory had only deepened in Charles. When Charles told her when they were little that his dream was to be a world champion, she promised him that she would be right there cheering him on like always, waiting for him when he gets out of the car. He had been dreaming of the moment ever since, and it was about to come true.

She stood in the Ferrari motorhome, arms locked with Arthur, and all the mechanics surrounding them. Her and Pascale, who stood on her right, wore bright red headphones and were leaning onto each other, silent prayers escaping their mouths as they nervously glanced at the screens.

There were 4 laps left and Charles Leclerc could be a world champion at the end of the race, and the team was positive that he would be.

She reached out for Pascale's hand as they all started moving out of the motorhome with the rest of the team, excitement and hopefulness filling her. She knew he was going to win. He had to. This was his dream, and everything he has ever worked for was going to come true. She held on to Arthur and Pascale like her life depended on it, praying to all the gods she could think of. Tears started to fall onto her cheeks, out of happiness for how proud she was of the man she loved. She turned to look beside her and saw that Pascale has also started crying, hugging her tightly as they waited for what felt like eternity.

When he was finally a world champion after he crossed the line, she screamed his name at the top of her lungs, exactly like she did the first time he had won a race.

She felt everyone around her hugging eachother and people on the stands roaring out of happiness, and she couldn't see anything from the tears blurring her eyes.

He was a world champion. The champion of the world. He had finally brought back glory to the most historic team the sport has ever witnessed, and he was the love of her life. She sobbed looking at him as he got out of his seat and stood on the halo of his car, arms wide open as he was drenched in glory. His name was going to be written in the books, immortalising him. His name was going to be noted down in the history of the sport. He was finally a world champion.

His feet finally touched the ground, body shaking with sobs and he look around for his family, frantically taking his helmet off.

He ran into his mother's arms, letting her hold her not so little boy. He called out for her, looking around until he finally spotted her. Everyone with eyes could see how his whole face brightened when he saw her, the whole world other than the both of them disappearing.

He crashed into her, just like she did all those years ago. They held each other so tight it made people wonder if they could breathe, and they didn't seem to care. Everything he has ever wanted in his life had come true and he wanted nothing but to hold her in his arms and not let go.

She could feel his tears drenching her shirt, both of them shaking from the sobs they let out. "You're a world champion Charles, you've done it". He let out a snort of laughter, pulling her closer if that was even possible.

"I love you, I love you." He felt so much love for her at that moment that it felt like his heart was gonna burst if he wasn't careful.

As he slightly moved away so he could look at her, he knew he wanted her forever. He wanted her to be there when he wins championships, when he dnf's, he wanted her by his side during all the happy moments, and all the ugly ones too. His lips were on hers in an instant, with no care of all the people and cameras around him. All they'd ever need was eachother, and he would tear hell apart to keep her by his side forever.

#f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine

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mcverse · 1 year

Text

✧ Pairings: Ao’nung x F! Sully! Reader

✧ Requested: Yes/No

✧ Type: One Shot

✧ Word count: 2.8K

✧ Warnings: Angst, Miscommunication, fluff, not proof read, edited to fix mess ups

From an early age, you learned that the line between hate and love could be very thin.

When you were just eight years old, you were the first child of Jake and Neytiri to tell your mother that you hated her. The reason was quite trivial; she had taken away your toy after you had taken it from Kiri. But even at that young age, you understood the gravity of your words when you saw the disappointment on her face. You immediately apologized and spent the rest of the day by her side.

Six years later, when you were fourteen, your brother Lo’ak did something that annoyed you, as brothers often do. He snatched away a beaded necklace that you had been working on all day. You were already feeling frustrated because it had taken you so long to make, unlike your talented and quick sister, Kiri, or your mother. The words came out easily this time: "I hate you, you skxawng."

But deep down, you didn't hate him at all. In fact, you loved him fiercely and would do anything to protect him, even fight to the death. You just hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Fortunately, the spat blew over quickly, just as it had started.

You often had conversations with your father, Jake, who would explain that there was a thin line between hate and love. You remember reading about this concept in one of the books left behind by the Sky People, but your father insists that he came up with it himself. You don't have the heart to tell him you knew, so you just let him have his victory.

Despite this, as you grew older, you became more and more skeptical of the idea that love and hate were two sides of the same coin. By the time you reached 19, you were convinced that the line between the two emotions was non-existent. This belief was only reinforced by the fact that your parents had informed you that you would have to leave behind the life you had always known. The news made you furious and you felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under you.

You had never asked to be caught in the middle of this conflict between your people and the sky people. All you ever wanted was to live in peace and harmony. You had hoped that over the 15 years since the sky people had last visited, your own people would have found a way to prevent another conflict from breaking out. But now you found yourself on the run, fleeing for your life, and wondering whether peace would ever be possible.

“I hate you," you said with conviction as you stormed off, too consumed by your own emotions to consider theirs. The words felt too familiar on your tongue, as if you said them too many times before. Perhaps they knew they weren't true, but that didn't stop you from ever saying it again.

You don't immediately apologize or take back your words. Instead, you pack your belongings to leave, too angry and aggravated to consider the consequences of your actions. Your family is hurt, but you're hurting too so avoiding your parents became your new strategy. But Neteyam had other plans. It’s only when he confronts you that you start to realize the gravity of the situation.

He reminds you that family is forever, even if you don't always see eye-to-eye or want to be around them. The reminder hits hard, and you're filled with remorse for how you've treated your loved ones. Tears flow equally for your family and having to say say goodbye to your home.

The journey to Awa'atlu was awkward, but this time it wasn't because of you. Unlike popular believe aka your siblings and you, the world didn’t revolve around you. In fact, your world was currently with you, lost in their own thoughts, weighed down by the heavy emotions of the past few days. The weight of starting over somewhere new feels suffocating, but you know that you have to try to make the best of it.

When you arrived with your family on the sandy shores of the reef, you had hoped to approach this new experience with a positive attitude. Despite the openly judgmental stares from the Metkayina people who scrutinized the genetic makeup of you and your siblings, you made a conscious effort to focus on the bright side of things, especially when your father informed the chief of your shared goal to seek uturu.

But adapting to this new environment has been far from easy, and you knew it wouldn't be a smooth transition. You were strangers to their traditions and culture, and it was only natural that there would be some difficulties. To make matters worse, you and two of your siblings were considered "demons" by the Metkayina people, further complicating your efforts to fit in.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a dream-like state of acceptance, it was impossible to ignore the harsh reality of the situation. You had been living with the Metkayina people for months now, but every day felt like a struggle to fit in. You missed the comforts of home and the familiarity of your own culture.

The constant reminder that you and your siblings were labeled as demons was a weight that you couldn't seem to shake off. While most of the people in the tribe had welcomed you with open arms, there were a few like Ao'nung and his group who constantly taunted and teased you. It started with your siblings, but eventually, they turned their attention to you, making you feel unwelcome and out of place.

The longing to leave grew stronger with each passing day, but you also couldn't help feeling guilty for wanting to give up. You knew that your parents had made a difficult decision to move to this new place, and you didn't want to disappoint them.

However, the pain of being ridiculed and ostracized made it difficult to stay. You wondered if you would ever truly feel like you belonged here, or if you would always feel like an outsider. The weight of these thoughts and emotions was becoming too heavy to bear, and you longed for a way out.

This feeling was particularly strong on days like today when you found yourself completely alone. Perched on a rock at the edge of the reef, you felt disconnected from the world around you, lost in your thoughts and longing for a sense of belonging. Getting out of your head felt impossible until he comes along and disrupts it.

“You’re alone, sevin.”

The sound of his voice is so distinct, it's impossible to forget it, even if you tried. You hate to admit it, but you could recognize him just by his voice, even with your eyes closed. Sometimes you even saw him in your mind when you shut your eyes. However, the Ao’nung you knew never called you “sevin [pretty]” so you begin to second guess yourself.

However, as you see him standing there, tall and smoldering, you are one hundred percent certain it is him. His face is uncharacteristically relaxed when it comes to you, and you can't help but feel a sense of discomfort. This is him, but not the him you’re used to.

“Huh?” you purse your lips, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you try to make sense of the situation.

He lowers his head slightly, squinting his eyes as he smiles in his usual mischief manner, which is now all too familiar to you. "You're alone?" he repeats, the sound of his voice piercing through the quiet surroundings. As he walks towards you, the water splashes around him, adding to the tension of the moment.

Sighing, you roll your eyes and slump your shoulders in frustration. "No shit," you mutter under your breath, already dreading the idea of spending any time with him.

Ao’nung chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest. He takes a few steps closer to you, the water now up to his waist. "No one’s keeping your company, huh?" he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don’t worry, I’m here."

You clench your fists, eyes starting to sting as you feel your anger bubbling up inside of you. Ao'nung always had a way of getting under your skin, and you were in no mood for his taunts today, nor any day.

"Can't you see I'm trying to enjoy some peace and quiet?" you snap, turning your back to him with crossed arms. Hopefully he gets the hint this time and leave.

But Ao'nung doesn't seem deterred. Instead, he wades closer until he's standing right behind you, his hot breath tickling your neck. You tense up, feeling his presence looming over you like a predator stalking its prey.

His voice whispers dangerously close to your ear, you feel a shiver run down your spine. "Why are you being so hostile?" he asks, peering over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your face. You can practically hear the pout in his lips, "I’m just trying to be nice," his tone dripping with mock innocence.

The rock you were standing on wasn't big enough to allow you to pull away from him without falling straight into the water, but you don’t hesitate as your jerk your body away, hoping to hide your flustered state and escape his proximity.

“It’s a little too late to feel sorry,” you hiss, not that you actually believe him. There was too much bad history between you to even consider it, especially with his behavior now.

He didn't reply, only watching the rise and fall of your back with interest. You had been the center of his attention for a while, but he had only recently realized it himself. He snaps out of his daze when he saw you turn to peer up at him through lowered lashes.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he watches you, the soft glow of the moon illuminating your features in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. The light of the moon seemed to know exactly how to make you look more beautiful than ever, and he found himself lost in the moment. Unconsciously, he parts his lips and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he realized he was caught staring.

You call out his name, "Ao’nung?" as you notice him staring at you. Suddenly, without warning, he splashes water in your face, sending droplets flying everywhere. You frantically try to wipe the water from your face while simultaneously attempting to stop him, "Hey, stop it, skxawng!" you exclaim in annoyance.

Wiping the droplets off your face, you glower at him in frustration as he finally stops splashing water at you. "What's your problem?" you demand, your frown deepening when he simply shrugs with a smug expression.

What a dick!

“Thought you could improve your swimming skills.” He teases, walking towards you again.

Resisting the urge to punch him in the face was a skill, is what you wanted to say aloud. However, you were painfully reminded that he was the chief's son and, from past experiences with him and Lo'ak, you knew you didn't want a lecture from your father. As you turn to leave, Ao'nung grabs your wrist softly and yanks you towards him with the opposite force.

You yelp as you slam into his chest, ready to actually put your hands on him despite knowing you shouldn’t. But you pause after looking up, yellow hues staring into surprisingly serious blue.

They feel intense but warm, almost felt like how you wanted to curl into the one his body provided. It made your chest hurt, thumps wildly like a celebratory drum set. You wish it would stop, but it only intensifies when you catch a glimpse of his lips and watch as his tongue swipes across his bottom lip.

That was expressively hot, you had to admit, and it got even hotter when you looked back into his eyes, only to see them flick up from your lips at the last minute.

Being this close to him makes you feel weird. His stare suddenly feels too uncomfortable, making you look away and focus on other parts of his face, like the cute white freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks, or the smoothness of his skin. But then you stupidly let your eyes wander back to his lips, where you see them part again, this time with words.

“Som [Hot],” he says, confusion clouds your mind once more. But then, his words clear everything up, "You're Txasom [Very hot]." The way he says it, almost breathless, sends an another shiver down your spine.

"Ao'nung," you begin, but he cuts you off, releasing his grip on your wrist and sliding his hand to your hips, pulling you closer to him than before.

"I like you, siven," he confesses, his cheeks flushed to match yours. You stare up at him in awe, your heart out of control in your chest as you listen to his words, "I have for a while."

Your mind is in a whirlwind. You've yearned for him to apologize for his past mistreatment, but never once considered the possibility that he might have romantic feelings for you. You're unsure of what to feel, what to say, or what to do, and the uncertainty leaves you breathless.

“Say something,” he pleads, his gaze flicking back and forth between each eye, searching for a tell sign. He starts to fear that he may have made a mistake by opening up to you. Perhaps it would have been better to keep his admiration a secret, to continue to tease you playfully while keeping his feelings to himself.

You part your lips to speak, but no words come out. Instead, you close your mouth, pressing your lips tightly together as you struggle to process what's happening. How can Ao’nung, the chief's son who once teased you endlessly, have feelings for you?

“You’re a dick,” you murmur after a pregnant pause, looking off to the side. You miss the way his expression falters slightly before shifting to neutral, his hold on your hips gripping tighter as you continue, your voice getting firmer with each jab. “And an asshole who doesn’t know when to stop.”

“[Name]—“

“I’m not finished,” you quickly shut him down, staring him in the eyes now. “You teased my family because we were different. You teased me because I was too. You used your status as the chief's son to get away with it and I can’t forget that.”

Ao’nung's face contorts into a pained expression as he releases his grip on your hips. He feels a sense of regret wash over him as he thinks about how he shouldn't have let things go this far. He should have stopped himself earlier, before he decided to confess. Maybe if he had just left you alone when you first arrived, he wouldn't be feeling so heartbroken at this moment.

Ao'nung's expression transforms from sadness to hope as you grab his forearms before he could fully retreat. You notice how your words have affected him and wonder if he truly is genuine. "But it can be forgiven," you begin, watching as his brows raise and his ears perk up at your statement. "With work," you add, making sure he understands that it won't be easy.

His face lights up with the most winsome smile you've ever seen, and you can't help but laugh at his expression. He's more earnest, and it's endearing. As you look away shyly, he focuses on your laughter.

"I have a chance?" he asks hopeful, giving you a youthful, yearning expression. It's clear he wants to make things right between you.

Your nod of approval is all the permission he needs as he leans down to capture your lips in a frenzy of excitement. At first, the kiss is soft and tentative, but as you reciprocate, it quickly becomes more passionate and intense. You feel his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

When he finally pulls away, your eyes remain closed, trying to catch your breath and savor the moment. You can feel his eyes on you before you even open them, and when you do, you see his hand leaving your hips to rest on your cheek in adoration.

"I just need one chance," he whispers, pulling you back into a sinfully delicious kiss that makes your head spin and your heart race with desire.

You had an epiphany at 20: the line separating love and hate was indeed thin, and you found yourself straddling it frequently. But now, things have changed. You refuse to offer any apologies for the transition from hating Ao’nung to loving him.

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munsons-hellfire · 2 months

Text

Life Eternal | Tamlin

SUMMARY: The last thing you expected was to be mated to the High Lord of Spring. But after the events of losing your husband in the war you didn’t think you could have another chance of happiness.

PAIRINGS: Tamlin x Reader

CONTENT WARNING: Angst, Fluff, SFW.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this sort of follows Life Eternal by Ghost. Tamlin also gets a happy ending in this. Idk I just felt that this idea best fit Tamlin and that's why I wrote it. I hope you like it!

WORD COUNT: 2.8K

The last thing you ever expected was to lose your husband in the War against Hybern. Everything after that fateful day had changed. You had become a widow and a single mother, a six month old babe to raise on your own. You were lucky enough to have friends in the Night Court. You had met Azriel through your husband.

For a short time, long before Amarantha came into the story you and your husband had been a part of the Spring Court considering your family had been a part of Spring. Your husband was an Illyrian warrior, he had met you by pure luck and the two of you fell in love. He stayed with you in the Spring Court for years until Rhysand had sent Azriel to bring him home.

You had discovered that Rhysand was not only his High Lord but his older brother by three years. He was the second oldest above their little sister whom you later learned had been killed by your High Lord’s father and brothers. After learning the truth you no longer wished to stay in the Spring Court and joined your husband. Soon you were introduced to the Inner Circle and Velaris as well.

You had found a home in the Night Court and even before your husband had died you had proved yourself worthy of a title inside the Night Court. That war changed everything. You had agreed to stay back with your son, while everyone went to fight. Your husband had promised he’d be back, that he would continue to teach your babe to slowly take control of his wings even though he wasn’t old enough yet.

It was clear to you that he wanted to be the best father to his son, that he wanted to make sure he knew his son knew that his wings were present in his back. When you and your husband had first learned that your child would have wings you were terrified. You had heard stories of females dying in childbirth because their child had wings and they hadn’t had the proper hips to birth a winged babe.

While the stories were rare they existed. You were lucky enough to have some trace of Illyrian in you. Madja had been the one to confirm that you would be able to carry the winged babe to term and not have any issues. But it still scared you. And when he was finally born, the fear of seeing him fly us held a strong grip on you. You were lucky that he would have his father and uncles to teach him to fly.

But it changed, everything always changes. You were in the House of Wind playing with your son when they finally returned. A smile was on your lips ready to greet everyone including your husband. However it faded the second everyone looked at you with guilty eyes. Mor was the first to step forward, taking your son from your hands and walking out of the room with him. She didn’t want to be there, she couldn’t see the look on your face when they told you.

“Where’s Orin?” You questioned, your voice cracked. Everyone exchanged a look with each other. Then Rhysand stepped towards you. Tears filled in your eyes as you stared at your brother in law.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Rhys said, his voice breaking. He had lost his brother and telling you was the worst thing he ever had to do.

“Where’s Orin?” You repeated your question, ready to winnow away. You knew what was coming and you weren’t prepared for it. You looked at Feyre.

“Watch over him for a few days, please?” You asked via mind. She only gave a soft nod as Rhys took another step towards you.

“Hybern, he killed him. I couldn’t… I couldn’t do anything to save him. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Rhys tried to pull you in for a hug but you disappeared. You had winnowed away before he had a chance. You collapsed into the fields you’d known for a long time before you left. The weather was just as you remembered. A scream left your lips, you held your hands to your chest as tears rolled down your face.

The High Lord of Spring felt a presence in his court. It had been so long since he’d felt some sort of life. But the scream he heard was gutted and broken. In his beast form he listened closely for the cries that followed after. He wasn’t sure who was hurt but he needed to make sure whoever it was was okay. His court might have fallen because of his ex lover but with the war over he needed to rebuild.

He shifted back into his fae form staring at you from a distance, afraid to take a step forward. He watched you lift your gaze, eyes finding his though you couldn’t be sure who or what you’d seen. As the male stood there in the trees he felt the golden string come to life, tying his soul to yours. He collapsed to his knees, a soft gasp leaving his lips. He wasn’t sure if you had felt it and he couldn’t bring himself to ask you when he had no idea who you were.

A gasp had escaped your lips too. The last thing you had expected when you knew you had seen the High Lord was that he was your mate. You knew he wasn’t who he had seemed to be when Feyre had started to love him. Everything you knew about him had come from everyone else including your husband. Guilt washed over your face as you came to realize the true effects of the mating bond.

How could you be destined to someone so cruel? How could the Mother decide that the High Lord was your mate and not your husband, not the male you’d loved so much. Instead you were tied down to this male before you. He stepped closer to you, and as much as you’d wanted to run away you were too exhausted from the pain, from all the news you’d just gotten. When he kneeled down in front of you his green eyes were soft.

It was odd to see Tamlin act this way. You’d heard the stories from Rhys and Feyre about the way he’d acted. And as he lifted his hand to cup your cheek, there was something that had shifted in him. Finally words spilled from his mouth as he stared at your face, so many emotions resting on it.

“I don’t expect you to accept the mating bond. I can feel your pain, your hurt. And I’m almost certain you know about the terrible things I’ve done. I will never forgive myself for the pain I have caused others. But please, let me have a chance to show you a better version of myself.” He was so sincere as he talked to you. You didn’t understand why you were getting this version of him. Why he hadn’t done better with Feyre.

“You hurt my sister in-law.” You mumbled softly. Tamlin was shocked by the words, but he had been expecting something worse. Instead you hadn’t pulled yourself away from his hand that still rested on your cheek. His warmth was a welcome surprise.

“I did, and I will never be able to take back the wrong I did to Feyre, but I can learn from my mistakes and hopefully be better than I once was. Maybe you can help me.” There was hope in his green eyes as you stared at your mate.

“I have a son.” You whispered softly. “He’s Orin’s son. Rhys is his Uncle, as are Cassian and Azriel. None of them would be pleased to discover the mating bond between us. I can not accept it, but I’m not rejecting the bond. I believe that everyone deserves a second chance, everyone also deserves to be happy.” You paused, placing your hand on top of Tamlin’s and sending him a soft smile. “If Rhys can have his happy ending with Feyre, then you deserve your happy ending. I am willing to put forth the effort, but I need time to mourn my husband.”

Your words ran through his head. He was shocked that you’d admitted to not wanting to accept the bond but not rejecting it either. It meant that there was a chance he could change, and he’d do it for you, he’d do it for your son too. And if you needed time to mourn the loss of your husband then he’d give it to you.

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting when you’re ready, Y/N.”

After that day Tamlin had a better look on life. You’d stayed at his mansion helping to clean up whatever you could. It helped keep your mind off the loss of your husband and allowed you to mourn the way you needed to. Eventually you had asked Feyre if someone could bring your son to you in the Spring Court. You had mentioned how you weren’t quite ready to leave, but you didn’t want to be away from your son.

Tamlin stood near you, while the two of you waited for Rhys and Feyre to show up. You’d be telling them about the mating bond though you had yet to decide if you were ready to accept it. There was a change in the Spring Court, with it being rebuilt others were returning to help and move back to their home court. Tamlin was thankful for the help you’d done in the weeks that you’d been here. You looked back at the male as Rhys and Feyre appeared. Seconds later Azriel and Cassian dropped down from the sky.

“What’s he doing here, Y/N?” Rhys had asked the second he spotted the High Lord.

You only rolled your eyes at your brother in-law walking over to Feyre and taking your son from her. Tamlin watched as your whole expression changed when you saw your son. He couldn’t stop the smile that had fell to his lips as he watched you talk to your son. You looked up from your son and placed your eyes on Tamlin. For the first time in weeks he had a look of love on his face.

The four seemed to notice as well. You stepped away from them, knowing very well they were watching the exchange between you and Tamlin. However the scent of the mating bond between you and Tamlin was there. Rhys could smell it, they all could. You stopped in front of Tamlin, still holding your eyes to him.

“Tam, this is my son, Atlas.” You said softly holding the babe towards the male.

Tamlin was hesitant to be near the babe. But you handed him off to Tamlin so easily. This was the moment you’d make your decision. Atlas cooed as he stared up at Tamlin. You felt your heart swell with pride and love, Tamlin could feel it down the bond which had caused him to lift his gaze from Atlas and look at you. Finally you turned back to your family.

“I know I disappeared and I’m sorry. But I needed to mourn Orin, I needed to move on without you all pestering me. I know I’ll always be welcome in the Night Court but I can’t go back there. As I’m sure you're aware, Tamlin is my mate.” You paused taking a deep breath. You felt Tamlin move closer to you, his warmth hitting your back. “I know that Orin would want me to move on, he’d want me to be happy. And since I’ve come back here, I have been. Tamlin still has a lot to make up for, and I expect him to earn his forgiveness eventually. I know it’ll take you and Rhys a while to fully accept the idea of Tamlin being my mate, but I’m not rejecting the bond.”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged a glance with each other. Feyre was the first to step forward. “Will you be happy here?” She asked, the concern on her face. You knew why it was there, and you understood it. But so far Tamlin had been true to his word, he’d treated you differently, and while it was still a shock you took it with open arms.

“I will. Tamlin and I still have a lot of rebuilding to do. He still has a lot of trust to earn, but I think this is what I was always meant to do. I think I was always meant to be here, that’s why the Mother made Tamlin my mate.” Rhys opened his mouth. “If he so much as steps out of line you will be the first to know. But I don’t think that’ll happen.”

You had high hopes in your mate, you believed that he could be a better version of himself. Already he had made you feel so loved, he helped you mourn the loss of a male that meant nothing to him. He’d helped you in so many ways you were honestly surprised. But he was taking the steps to be better. And it made you happy.

“Do we still get to see Atlas?” Rhys asked, his violet eyes on his nephew who was still in Tamlin’s arms.

“Of course, I don’t think Tamlin would ban you from his court. Just please send word if you're stopping by.” You looked back at Tamlin who gave a stern nod, though his jaw was clenched.

“Would you mind if I spoke to Tamlin alone, dear Y/N?” Rhys asked violet eyes on you. You turned back to your brother in law and gave him a nod. You walked over to Feyre and Tamlin walked with Atlas and Rhys by his side.

“Is this ok?” You asked, staring at your High Lady. Though she wouldn’t be your High Lady for much longer.

“I don’t regret the things I’ve done to Tamlin, they’ve made up for the harm he caused me. I do worry a little that you might regret your actions but I trust that you know what you’re doing. After all he is your mate. I just wished we’d all known all along that he was supposed to be with you.”

“I don’t.” This caught Feyre by surprise. “I loved Orin with my entire being. And as much as I wished he was my mate I’m glad he wasn’t. I was so hurt that he’d gone off to war, leaving me to take care of our son. Then you all returned and said that he’d died. I was so broken, we’d gotten into an argument before he left and I had said some hateful things to him, of which I regret and will always carry with me.”

“He wasn’t mad at you for feeling the way that you did.”

“I know, but I was.” You paused, turned to look back at your mate. Then your eyes landed on your son who seemed to have a small smile on his lips as he stared up at the male. “I know Tamlin has done terrible things. And I will never look past what he did to you. But I believe he deserves a second chance. And regardless of him being my mate, I’m going to give him a second chance to make himself better to learn from the mistakes he’s made. And he’s starting to see the wrong he did. He’s rebuilding his Court, he’s already stated that I will be his High Lady. And I know that’s something you wanted here, and I’m so sorry you didn’t get it.”

“Don’t be. I wasn’t destined to be the High Lady of Spring. You are. You might possibly be the best thing to happen to Tamlin after me. We showed each other the toxicity in the love we had and with our next partner we broke that. I believe with all my being that everything that happened was always supposed to happen. This was for the best.”

You smiled at Feyre, walked over to her and wrapped her in a warm hug. She hugged you back tightly. Rhys and Tamlin now had their eyes on their mates but neither of seemed to care.

“Thank you.” You whispered. The two of you pulled back from the hug, then you and Feyre walked over to Rhys and Tamlin. The smile on your face grew as you stared at your mate and child. An arm gently rested around Tamlin’s waist, you moved closer to him as Rhys and Feyre said their goodbyes. “Let’s go home.” You whispered softly. Tamlin gave a nod of his hair and placed a kiss on your forehead. The two of you turned around and walked back towards the manor.

#tamlin x reader #tamlin #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar #reader insert #x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand

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lundenloves · 8 months

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⇀ ¹ “𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐇𝐒.”

〔 you’re slotted right into the service of doctor john price, an elite head of division and self titled marmite character — you either love him or hate him. you personally can’t quite decide, but he knows for certain that you’re not for him. what will you do after being forced to learn under his wing? 〕

˗ˏˋ and so we start a new series. doctor!price is slowly going to plague the price x reader tag, and i will not be blamed for the thirsty author notes. i’ll create a series masterlist at some point but this is just to see if anyone actually reads it and/or even likes it. but then again, who doesn’t like a sarcastic man?

⇀ 3.1k | mentions of medical procedures + blood | f!reader nicknamed ‘rev’ (later on)

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Another day, another fucking alarm. Another day, another flurry of issues, problems and carnage upon barely setting one foot in the door. It was disgusting really, the way each and every nurse greeted him with an enthusiastic welcome. He wasn’t sure if it was because the shift change was now upon them or if he himself, the ray of unprecedented sunshine, was there. He met their words with a sarcastic smile and nod, shoving a thumbs up toward them before teeming through the busy corridor to reach the scrub room.

“Price, do you mind—“

“No.” He leant against the push door, his back pressed to it with a shrug and a feigned smile of empathy. “Don’t talk to me before six.” The words came blandly, face dropping after rubbing at his nose and taking the step backward to enter the room, the door involuntarily slamming.

Seventeen hour shift today, fucking dreadful. Six in the morning till nine at night. Was this good for his health, both mental and physical? No. Was this morally right? Fuck no. Was this even legal? Absolutely not. Though you were expected to check the boxes, turn up and chuck the scrubs on — by which, half of them had run out — welcome to the NHS.

The depressing scrub room was the feat of many tears, all bad of course. Accompanied by the motivational posters from the early noughties, strewn across the walls about how you’re ‘saving a life’ every day, and Price couldn’t ever help but to laugh at them every shift start. Though, by the end he would be fucking talking to the walls, the small people on the posters now his delirious friends.

“Christ.” He mumbled, tying the knot of the trousers before raking around for a passably clean scrub shirt that wasn’t covered in bodily fluids. Not even the fun kind.

The door swung open with its predicted slam, presenting a bunch of fresh faced med students who had stopped to stare at Price. “What.” He frowned, highly aware that he was standing without a shirt, white coat ditched and raking through an old scrub locker for the dispenser had run out. This was fucking poor.

They all snapped their looks away, reduced to quiet chatter before ditching their bags and rolling their sleeves in preparation for the first day of the rest of their lives. Price would have warned them had it not been quarter to six in the morning, and had he not been half as miserable as he always seemed.

Though all hope wasn’t lost, the clouds parted and a beautifully clean scrub shirt was found and chucked on to solidify that he, in fact, did hate his job. He was head of division, so scrubs weren’t a necessity though he didn’t fancy getting said bodily fluids over his regular clothes. “Ready for today, captain?” His assistant doctor, Mike, loomed by the door, bringing all of the noise from outside in with him. Four years ago he had coined the nickname ‘Captain’ for Price and it stuck. For those brave enough to talk to him anyway.

“I’d rather kill myself.” Came his short reply, shoulders dropped upon eyeing Mike in the mirror.

“Well, that’s just grand.” He held out a clipboard, hands clutched to the top and downsides of the wood. “Did you see the schedule?”

“Why would I see the schedule?” Price’s eyes met his in the reflection before turning around to lazily snatch the board from his hands. “What am I looking at?” His eyes roamed the overly complicated excel sheet, shifting his weight to one foot before flicking through the various pages that had been clipped down. “Eh?”

“New SHO resident.”

“And what?” He lulled, handing him the board back and stretching his back out as if preparing for the fucking olympics or alternatively, a shattering seventeen hour shift. I’ll let you decide that one.

“She’s on your service.”

The look of betrayal struck his face, an exasperated sigh leaving his every fucking fibre. “No she’s fucking not.” Price made it his business to let everyone know he did not like new faces on his service, regardless male or female, fucking worldclass or freshly chucked into the deep end, he did not like it. Therefore wouldn't have it.

That was the strange beauty of being not only a white coat, but also head of division — you were almost encouraged to be a bit bratty every now and then. It was like your reward for going through the last eight years of training, because the money surely wasn’t fucking worth it.

“Chuck her elsewhere.”

“You’re the only senior today.”

Price shrugged his coat back on, momentarily screwing his face while rubbing at his brows. “When is she in?” His eyes remained tightly shut.

“Seven.”

“Till?”

“Five.”

His hand dropped at that, pulling a slight face as if he hadn’t heard his co-worker correctly. “Ten hours?” Tilting his head to lean an ear closer to Mike, gesturing he repeated himself.

“She’s transferring.” He instead said, hitting the clipboard rhythmically against the side of his thigh. “From Central London.” Brows wiggled, as if the mere mention of London was valued. Which for the record it wasn’t.

Price left his assistant hanging, passing by him and holding the door open. “Monday fucking morning.” His face somehow dropped even further to accommodate for a low whistle, brows furrowed after stepping out into the upsettingly bright lights. “Floor five.” Came a mumble, lifting his arm to check the time. Six on the dot.

“Mornin’ Price, looking like death today — spend all your weekend juggling the nurses again?” A fellow white coat teased, John spinning on his heel to walk backwards, his arms wide in feigned offense.

“Morning would have sufficed.” He earned an echoed chuckle from the Doctor who had already turned a corner. “What’s on the books today then?” His voice returned to its flat state, and Mike passed him yet another excel sheet.

“You’re split today. Labour ward and one theater.” He leaned over to run his finger across the paper before Price, eventually landing on an estimated time. “Two till four.” He pointed. “Joint replacement. I’ll be with you for that one, then you’ll be joined by the new SHO for a walk around.”

“Thrilling.” He replied shortly.

Mike nodded, splitting off after they had reached the nurses station to do whatever the fuck it was Mike did when not following Price like a lost dog. John leaned on the reception counter, resting his head against his arms. “Rough night, Price?”

“Every night is a rough night.”

“Heard that one before.” Someone else chimed in from behind, coffee in hand. “Still on the coffee ban, John?” She teased, sliding the shitty paper cup toward him and Price could’ve sworn this was some type of flirting had it not been six in the morning. Which was fine, flirting was fair game, except he was usually the one doing it.

In a dramatic statement, he’d vouched to not touch coffee again after losing a scalpel inside a patient. It was most definitely his fault and not the blend like he had whispered to the nurses after the patient had been taken for re-op by junior surgeons. “He’s still going on about that?”

“I didn’t bring it up.” He scoffed, knocking his knuckles on the counter before leaning back and using the clipboard in his hand as a pointing stick of accusation. “Listen, it’s been rough—“

“We all know. It was the blend.” His deep voice had been mimicked, each nurse laughing and swivelling their chairs to face the man of the fucking hour.

“I’m telling you.” He pointed once more, rounding the counter to sift through various exposed stacks of paperwork. “What’s this?”

“I’m filing it.”

“When? Tomorrow? Pick up the speed.” He kissed his teeth, swiping a paper cup of tea from the hourly cart. “Please.” He smiled, smearing his charm all over them and gesturing his definition of speed by rolling his hands in a continuous motion.

“Away you go.”

“Thank you, gorgeous.” He had a cheek really, pushing back from the station and scrunching a second paper cup to toss it in the bin with force. The reason for his cheek being, his own office. The absolute obliteration of a room that any mother would shake her head at, any sane person would form tears at, and any other doctor would take lethal punishment over.

It wasn’t just the papers. It was the oddity of the whole room, chaotic would be your best description. Littered with miscellaneous clutter, clothes, shoes, half finished food, unrelated books and photos — some familial, some from children on wards and others completely unserious like the framed image of Yoshi on his desk. No one ever bothered to ask.

He sat down with Mike’s clipboard in hand, eyes shifting between the monitor on his desk and the fucking excel rota. Your name was underneath his, scheduled for a mere ten hours, the shift looking like an alternative to heaven had Price not signed the contract that enabled over forty hour working weeks. The frown across his brow was a sight to see, clicking around on screen before reaching the digital rota purely to find your transfer notes. Ones embedded in his higher-ups chat.

He pulled his lip up, eyes skimming through your mere experience — fresh from med-school and training in obs and gynae, though excelled in early neurology modules.

Your reason for transfer wasn’t listed and Price lifted a brow, clicking his tongue against his teeth with a grimace expression. His fingers tapped the desk in a momentous motion, each one in succession of the other after pushing his sleeve up to check the time. Six thirty.

“Price.” Came a rapid knock on his door.

“What.” He replied, patting around his pockets for the vibrating pager that he had clicked off after standing up and opening the door.

“They need you on—“

“I’m going.” The midwife nodded at his cut off, speed walking alongside him to room fifteen where a flurry of doctors had gathered. “Right, clear it, clear it.” He cleared his throat, pulling gloves on and pushing the door open to see another frantic scene.

“What do we have?”

“In determination, sir.”

Price edged his way through a few nurses and introduced himself calmly, ducking to have a look at the issue after rolling his sleeves up. The head was forcing the umbilical cord down and out of mother, resulting in possible fatality if not delivered immediately. “Cord prolapse, page the anesthetics. We’ll need a maneuver.” The midwife nodded at him. “Knee to elbow, prepare for cesarean.”

Even urgent deliveries felt almost auto-pilot for him, like zoning out and entering a catatonic state when washing his hands thrice over and thumbing two separate rounds of gloves on. “Ready?” The scrub nurse accounted for each utensil as usual before nodding to Price who returned one.

Not everyone’s six am, but all in a morning's work for the man who would rather be anywhere else. He left the theater fifty minutes later. Standing for two minutes with his bloodied gloves up, waiting for a junior doctor to assess the stitching he had made. Now, two minutes isn’t a long time but it fucking well feels like it when your hands are up. “Never seen stitches before?”

“Why didn’t you staple?” She asked timidly.

He blinked lamely. “Because we had time.”

The poor girl nodded, apologising for the time and allowing the team to wrap up — Price leaving the room with a sigh. His watch read seven twenty, something he tsked at as bullshit before passing the nurses station. Though, not without attention. “John.”

“Hmm?” He looked up, brows furrowed like always. His scrubs covered in blood spats. “What.”

Non. Fucking. Stop.

“Your SHO is here.” His eyes then trailed to you, stood with fear plastered across your face and arms tight to your chest. “Tough delivery?” She batted her eyelashes at him, making you feel like an involuntary voyeur.

“Tough paperwork?” He replied sharply, leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Where’s Mike?” Eyes giving your entire frame a once over as if determining your worth right there and then.

“Behind you.” She scoffed.

“Great.” Price turned, gesturing two hands Mike’s way for you to wander to. Much like a baby taking their first unsure steps. Though, Mike had already taken off by that point and John sighed, hands placed on his hips before looking back at you.

“S’fine, I can just—“

Though your sentence was cut by nerves.

Nerves and not the six foot something man before you who stood like a disappointed parent. Not that you knew where you were going with those four words anyway. “You’re the SHO, correct?” There was a crease in his brow, one that cropped up upon your bland nod. “Follow me.” He sounded and seemed physically pained by your presence, walking away down a long stretch of corridor that you swallowed at.

Your previous hospital, while being in the center of London, was small. Surprisingly so with the amount of foot traffic that would tumble through the rotating doors every day. You’d supposed to have lucked out with that, finding your feet in one of the only central hospitals to grant you a minute in the day to fucking practice what was taught.

Everywhere else seemed a free-for-all.

Price pushed open a door and leant against it till you had caught up. “Sorry.” Though he shrugged, pulling his foot back and letting it slam against the wood after you had entered.

“Scrub room.” He gestured, rubbing a finger on his upper lip for a second before turning to you. “Brats and Twats, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Obs and Gynae.” His face couldn’t convey nonchalance anymore than it did. If anything, you could trade the word for uncaring but that wasn’t as strong. His arm dropped back down to his side, cutting the silence you had created at the thought.

For god given embarrassment, words refused you and Price nodded. “I read it.” A beat, cocking his head at your daze. “On your transfer form.”

You were out of your element. Which was to be expected, sheepishly following him around after changing into scrubs. Price seemed important, that was easily gathered by his white coat and the nods he received in the hallway, his calm yet demanding tone, the seriousness in his brow and the way he offered little to no emotion in place of sarcasm. It all pointed to vanity if nothing else.

He was doing a walk around of labour ward when you had paused to peer into a room. The sound of screaming was usual, though the open door and team of doctors around one bed was something that caught your attention. Price shifted from behind you, “How many have you delivered?”

You turned to face him, faltering at his stare. Words barely stuttering from your lip, something perhaps a child would get away with. “None.” It felt embarrassing to say amidst the chaos. “I- I never had the chance.” Seemingly grasping at straws to defend yourself under Price’s weighted eyes.

“You’ll get a chance.” He said firmly, pulling his lip upward after leaning to view the patient room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.” Your brows collapsed at his statement after he had begun to walk away again.

“You’re not going to help?”

He shook his head. “They’re fine.”

John had discarded you to the nurses after that. Retreating back to his office to put together not only a schedule but also a mental plan, accepting the fact that you were now his responsibility. Subsequently, you would also now be one of the best doctors in his service. It wasn’t a choice.

You were now a passion project for him. Of sorts.

He’d been busy most of the morning. Darting between sectors and floors without a break of any sort, though you’d come to learn from the nurses that Price doesn’t take breaks. Some hadn’t seen him eat in the five years they had been here.

Fuck that you said, taking someone’s orange and leaning on the nurses desk. Food was not escaping you. “He’s always been like that.” The head midwife, Joanna, would nod upon chatting about Price. Her eyes followed him and his glare. “Morning, John.”

“Mhm..”

“Can I ask you something?” She ticked off a few scribbled ward rounds on her clipboard, shoving it to the counter beside her.

Price stood with his arms crossed to check the measly whiteboard of the ward, one that held all patient information in a shit spreadsheet way. You’d never seen someone look so miserable, the wrinkles around his eyes were rare for the occasional smile, but a permanent crease existed between his brows. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Personal.”

“Even worse.”

You watched from the side, rolling your orange across the counter. The only chance you’d get to eat in the next nine hours. “Must be hard, eh?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Being such an arsehole.”

Price gave her a stiff laugh, his eyes catching yours over her shoulder. “Remember to remove the hard, shiny layer on the outside.” He nodded toward your fruit, arms expressionlessly dropped to his sides. “Need any help doing that?” Should’ve stuck to a fucking apple, maybe it’d have kept him away too.

“Point and case.” Joanna looked at him, flicking through a few pages of her discarded clipboard. “Can you check on room sixteen? I'm concerned she’s making slow progress.”

He sighed, taking all of four steps before he had paused to stare back at you. “Let’s go, kid.”

You ditched the orange, finding a mental note to mark that you had left it by the printer. John cleared his throat, lifting an arm to check the watch for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “Why’d you keep checking the time?”

“Time is important.” He began, “Tell me the time without looking at your watch.”

You shrugged and he tapped the side of his nose, pushing the door open with a grand sigh once you had reached the room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.”

“Now?” At your pointed emphasis of the adverb, Price tilts his head, watching the redness fill your cheeks. He struggled to understand how you hadn’t been given a chance to deliver yet.

It was barely two hours into your first shift and he was already throwing you in deep. You sensed a potential pattern, “I told you you’d get a chance.”

Fuck.

comfortably numb by pink floyd. this’ll be a series of five or so parts, unsure yet, might take it to ao3 instead.

i’m still figuring out how i want to write this world and the characters so give it a chance, the second part’ll probably be better. + one or two nicked jokes from medical tv shows🤺

it’s unedited btw i gotta work but i’ll edit later or smth

as always always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated for boosts. if no one pats me on the head every now and then i’ll sit in a hole.

any and all cod characters taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @luvfromkat @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @mistydeyes @dilfdotgov @sofasoap @bubbyblob

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