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roosterforme · 9 months

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Champ, Sport, Buddy | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You decide to try out a few new nicknames on your husband. He's quick to remind you that there is a short list of names that are acceptable.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, smut

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Based on an ask. Beautiful banner by @mak-32

"Okay, okay, I know it sounds crazy, but I had the best sex of my life the other night. It actually worked."

You were leaning up against the bar at the Hard Deck on Friday night, waiting for Penny to hand you two of your favorite beers, and you couldn't help but overhear the women next to you chatting.

"What exactly did you do?" the brunette asked the redhead.

The redhead grinned and said, "I called my husband 'Buddy' a few times, and he got annoyed at first, but then he fucked the absolute shit out of me."

"I can't believe it worked!" the brunette replied.

You looked over to where Bradley was throwing darts, losing abysmally to Hangman. Your husband looked hot. He always looked hot. He was always good in bed, too. But you were curious.

"Excuse me," you said as you turned toward the two women. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I couldn't help but overhear. You called your husband 'Buddy' which led to amazing sex?"

"Yes!" gushed the redhead again. "Are you married? Dating someone?"

"I'm married," you told her, glancing again at Bradley as he raked his finger through his hair. He turned and caught your eye, winking across the room.

"Listen, I'm sure you love your husband, but the male ego is fragile and can only handle so much."

You snorted and shrugged. "Makes sense."

"So all you have to do is play into his insecurities a tiny bit. Make him feel like you've pushed him into the friend zone until he snaps a little. He'll be dying to show you that he's not your 'Buddy', he's your lover."

You pondered that for a moment as you picked up your beers. "Thanks," you told both women. "I'll give it a try."

"Good luck!" they called after you as you took both beers back to the dartboard.

"What took you so long?" Bradley rasped as you handed him one of the bottles. "I missed you."

You rolled your eyes with a smile before you kissed his scarred cheek. "I was just across the room."

He was looking at you like he was almost ready to take you home. "Across the room? That's too far, Baby Girl. I like it when you're right next to me. Where you belong."

"Right here?" you asked, rubbing yourself against his side.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Right there."

"The two of you are absolutely disgusting these days," Nat informed you as you kissed Bradley and tangled your fingers up in his hair. "I don't know who let you get married, but this has become distressing." She was smiling at both of you as Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist.

"We'll just head out then," he told his friend, handing her the bottles of beer you just got. "Have a great night."

Then he scooped you up and carried you outside to the Bronco as you squealed. "You wanna do this here or at home, Baby Girl?" he murmured next to your ear as you clung to him and giggled.

"Are you serious?"

He sucked on your neck while he unlocked the Bronco, and you ended up having sex on the backseat. You kept your bodies down low, and Bradley had one big palm planted over your mouth. When you looked up at him as you licked his hand, he groaned.

"Baby Girl. Fuck, Sweetheart. You feel so perfect."

The sex was very good. It was always good. You liked the rush of knowing you could get caught. And when you came on his cock, Bradley filled you with his cum before quickly zipping up his jeans. He looked around, and then helped you climb into the front seat. Once you and he were both buckled in, he pulled out of the parking lot to the sound of you and he erupting into laughter.

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But the next day, you were still thinking about those two women from the bar. You wondered if it would work. Because if Bradley was leaving you satisfied nearly every single time, what would the next level be like? Getting him a little extra wound up was always fun for you. You shivered a bit as you thought about it while you made lunch.

You glanced out the window to where he was pulling weeds in just some gym shorts, occasionally pausing to throw a tennis ball for Tramp. He looked sweaty and delicious, and you knew that he would walk back inside soon, ready for lunch and expecting you to take him to bed. Because he was irresistible to you like this, and he knew it.

So you made him a grilled cheese sandwich with a little side of carrot sticks, and you waited. When you heard the sliding glass door open and the sound of his shoes on the floor, you took a deep breath to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape.

"Hey, Baby Girl," he grunted from the doorway.

"Hey, Buddy. Can you get the hot sauce off the dining room table for me?" You glanced at him over your shoulder, trying your best not to laugh. His brow was furrowed as he leaned against the wall with his forearm, sweaty and shirtless.

"Buddy?" he muttered under his breath before turning back to the dining room. You bit your lip hard, trying to get composure as he brought you the bottle and set it on the counter right next to your cutting board. He was very much in your personal space, palm planted on the edge of the counter, waiting for you to look at him. When you glanced up, he asked, "Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart?"

"Nope," you replied, shaking your head slightly.

"Right," he whispered, taking his plate of lunch when you handed it to him. "Right." You watched Bradley wander into the dining room, and you followed him, pulling out a chair for yourself instead of sitting on his lap.

After you ate quietly for a few minutes, he set his sandwich down. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

"What do you mean, Champ?" you asked, taking a sip of lemonade to hide your smile as his eyes went wide.

"Champ? Baby Girl, are you mad at me?"

"No," you told him, finishing your sandwich as quickly as you could and standing up.

He was immediately on your tail as you took your plate to the kitchen sink. "I don't want you to be upset with me," he said, caging you in at the sink. "Tell me what I did wrong." He looked a little worried as you shrugged.

"I'm not upset," you promised. He leaned in and kissed you. It started out sweet, and slowly but surely it progressed to some tongue and his body pressing against yours. He was warm and sweaty, and you wanted more. But you broke the kiss, gave him a peck on the cheek and said, "I need to go get the mail, Sport."

"S-Sport?" he stuttered, following you for a few steps until he was standing in the middle of the living room with his hands planted on his hips. He looked like a confused puppy as you glanced back when you closed the front door, and then you laughed all the way to the mailbox.

"I called him Sport," you said, cackling to yourself as you emptied all the junk mail and bills out of the mailbox. You took the time to make your face neutral again as you walked back into the house, only to find that Bradley hadn't moved at all.

You were sorting the mail in your hands when he closed the distance to you. Apprehension was flowing off of him in waves. "What the hell did I do?" he rasped, and you looked up at him.

"I already told you, Buddy. Nothing."

He ran a nervous hand through his messy hair. "So, I'm not doing enough? Are we- are we getting divorced or something, Sweetheart?"

You had to try so hard not to touch him or laugh. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you're calling me Buddy! And Sport!"

You bit your lip and shrugged again, taking in his muscular form and shocked expression. "I'm just trying out some new nicknames."

"New nicknames? The fuck? You never call me those things!"

"I just thought I might start calling you things that I would call a friend."

He took a staggering step away from you before gesturing to himself with both hands. "A friend? Do I look like your friend? I am not your friend."

"I thought you said you were my best friend, Champ," you whispered, trying to hold it together as the flushed color on his cheeks grew darker.

"Of course you're my best friend, Baby Girl!"

You pressed your lips together before you said, "Then I don't see the problem?"

His eyes were wide and his lips were parted as he closed the distance to you and grabbed you a little rough. "You don't see the problem, huh? You ride your friends' dicks like you ride mine? You moan for your friends when you're a horny mess?"

His hands were on your hips as he held you against his semi hard cock. "Well, no-" you gasped.

"No. You don't. I'm your husband. I'm not your friend."

You bit your lip and then whispered, "Okay, Buddy."

And then he snapped. His lips were on yours in the roughest kiss. You had to grab for his shoulders so you didn't trip as he pushed you back against the bannister. His body was heavy against yours as the wood dug into your back. "That's enough," he growled. "There are four names you call me, and Buddy isn't one of them. Neither is Champ. Neither is Sport."

"Four names?" you asked softly, moaning as he sucked on your neck until you squealed. And then he wedged his thigh between your legs, and you whined, "Roo!"

"Yeah, Baby Girl," he whispered against your neck as he started yanking your shirt up. "That's one of them. Keep going."

You looked up at him as he peeled your shirt off and unclasped your bra. When you started to ride his thigh, he brought his hands up to your nipples, stroking softly at first. Then he was dipping his head down and brushing you with his mustache until you cried out, "Bradley!"

"Yeah, I'm your Bradley. Keep going, Sweetheart," he commanded before sucking your nipple into his mouth and unzipping your denim shorts. You were whining so loudly as he ran his tongue in lazy circles and looked up at you. Then he kissed his way down to your rooster tattoo as your shorts and underwear slid down your legs.

He licked your tattoo before turning his attention to your pussy. When he guided one thigh up over his bare shoulder, you met his eyes and whispered, "Daddy."

Your husband groaned, dragging his tongue and mustache through your wet slit before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. "Daddy!" you screamed, digging your fingers into his hair and scalp to keep yourself upright. The wood against your back was painful where every other part of my body was drowning in pleasure as Bradley ate your pussy.

"Say it again," he demanded before licking from your opening to your clit over and over while you told him he was your Daddy. "I'm your Daddy," he growled, getting to his feet and scooping you up as well. You were whimpering as he carried you to the steps and set you down on your hands and knees. You could feel the warmth of his body behind you and over you as he gently kissed along your bare back until you were practically in tears, needing more.

When you wiggled your butt back against his shorts, you could feel him pull his cock free. "You're forgetting one name," he rasped, dragging his tip through your wetness before resting himself right at your opening with a little pressure. Then one big hand wrapped around to your clit and the other found your breasts as he said, "I'll help you remember it."

And then he fucked you, so hard and so good, filling you with each fluid snap of his hips. He bottomed out until you were rocking forward against your hands braced on the steps.

"Oh god, Roo!" you screamed. He was so rough and yet so fucking sweet when his lips met the back of your neck.

Then he filled you all the way and stayed there, pushing a little harder still as he wrapped his hand around your hair and pulled. "Fuck!" you screamed as your back arched, pressing him to your g-spot until you were panting and ready to beg. "Please!"

He licked your neck and rasped, "I'm not Buddy. I'm Roo. Got it?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"I'm your Daddy, Baby Girl," he whispered as you whined, stroking his fingers along your clit and yanking on your hair. "But you're forgetting one name."

He started fucking you again in earnest, fingers tapping your clit until you were babbling nonsense. The slap of his thighs against the backs of yours was mesmerizing as he hit every spot just right.

"Come on, Sweetheart. You're my good girl. So smart," he grunted. "You know what to call me when I'm in charge. You know what to call me right now. You pinned it on my chest."

You were keening as you felt that first delicious clench around his cock, but when you didn't answer him, he eased his fingers away from your clit. "No!" you gasped.

"Say it," he growled, thrusting a little harder. "Fucking say it."

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw!"

Then his fingers were right there, and your pussy was clenching as you moaned every variation of his name as you came. But he kept it going, almost to the point of over stimulation, extending your orgasm until your eyes were filled with tears. His fingers were still stroking you as your legs shook, and then finally he was groaning your given name and grabbing your hips as he fucked you until he came in your pussy.

He collected you in his arms, pulling you up so your back was against his sweaty chest, and he kissed your shoulder. You leaned back as you caught your breath, and he pressed his lips to your ear. "I never want to hear any of that shit again. Got it?"

"Yes, Daddy," you told him with a smile playing on your lips. "Never again."

He kissed you and stroked his hands all over your body. It worked. The women from the bar were right. That was absolutely next level.

Then Bradley pulled his cock from your pussy as you whined, and he slapped your ass. "Okay, Sport. Let's get a move on. We've got chores to do." You looked back at his smug expression as he pulled his shorts up. "You coming, Champ?"

"Bradley," you groaned, glaring at him.

You managed to stand on your shaky legs and chase after him, but he scooped you up. "I got ya, Buddy," he whispered with a grin, and you smothered him with kisses until he couldn't talk.

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cheeekycharchar · 10 months

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The Forbidden Fruit, Choices and Fear

[A GOOD OMENS META ANALYSIS OF AZIRAPHALE POST S2] I know everyone is still upset about that gut punch of an ending to GO S2.. and many are also extra upset at Aziraphale.. I'm in so much pain over it too but.. I have to rationalize that damned "I forgive you" line that broke all our hearts to comfort me until we get S3.. I basically overanalyze our favorite cocoa loving Angel to explain his reaction to the kiss and why we all need to be a lil kinder to him.

2500 BC in the Land of Uz.. Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, had the fear of God put into him. And this affected the rest of his immortal life up until that kiss.

Angels, after the Fall and the great war between Heaven and Hell, had the fear of the Almighty's wrath put into them. They all fell in line and stayed in line. Or else they'd end up like their fallen brethren.. or worse. But there was one lil Angel that had since toed that line..

"Didn't you have a flaming sword? Yeah, it was flaming like anything." "…Gaveitaway.." "You what?" "I gave it away!" As far as we've seen, this is the first time Aziraphale did something "bad". And he's already feeling the pressure. The guilt. The fear. He didn't follow the rules. He didn't do exactly as he was told. And suddenly, here's a Demon slithering up next to him and making him doubt his choice even more. The same Demon that snuck past the guardians of Eden and tempted the first human's into eating the apple, breaking the rules and getting them kicked out of paradise on Earth.

"Bit of an over reaction if you ask me. First offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway. "Well, it must be bad.. [..] Otherwise.. you wouldn't have tempted them into it." "Not very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a 'Don't Touch' sign. Makes you wonder what God's really planning." "Best not to speculate. It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand. It's ineffable. It is beyond understand and incapable of being put into words."

Already the seeds of doubt are tinkering in his mind. Stay in line. No more questioning the Almighty's plans. That's what got all the bad Angels thrown out of Heaven and then Adam and Eve exiled too.

"I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing." "Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing." "Oh, thank you. It's been bothering me." "I've been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." *chuckles* "..No. It wouldn't be funny at all!"

And then we get to season two's opening reveal. Crowley and Aziraphale had actually met before the wall of Eden.

"But that's idiocy!" {…} "It's not our job to advise the Almighty on the details of creation." "Well, then whose job is it?" {…} "Well, if I was the one running it all, I'd like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

And thanks to Aziraphale mentioning the Great Plan to Angel Crowley.. it put seeds of doubt into his mind. Making him question the Almighty's plans.

".. I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." "Thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice. I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

And then 10 million Angels fell. Kicked out of Heaven and marked as evil, unforgivable, and without God's love for eternity. Then we get the flashback to the story of a a prosperous man of outstanding piety named Job and how his life was destroyed because of a bet between God and Satan to test his faith even in adversity.

"What did he [Job] do? "Job? Nothing. Job's the nicest man in the world. That's why he's so perfect for the bet. You see, God was saying how righteous Job was and how much Job loved God. And Satan pointed out-- that maybe that was just 'cause God's been so nice to him. ..God's letting Satan destroy everything Job has. And then we'll see."

Now remember, the great flood wasn't too long ago. Where the Almighty wiped out nearly all of the human race with a big storm cause they were tetchy aka simply irritable, bad-tempered and annoyed. So this time, Aziraphale actually questions Heaven about this bet when he finds out that Job's children will be killed.

"Trust in God's plan, Aziraphale. Always." "Of course. So, once Job's trials are over, everything is restored to him?" "Even better than that. God will reward him with twice as much as he had before." {…} "I think they quite like the old ones [Job's children].. And if.. we kill them-" "-Aziraphale… we are the good guys. We're not killing anyone. What we are doing is simply not stopping hell. What they do is up to them."

His faith is wavering. He can hardly believe that Heaven would actually destroy a good man's family without truly understanding the fragility and consequences of human life/death; all to test him on a bet.

"Are we sure that Sitis wants to give birth four more times?"

Furthermore, they would be forcing Job's wife to give birth 7 more times despite Aziraphale's warning of them loving their original 3 children and that Sitis may not actually want to give birth to more children at her age. Hence taking away her choice. But thankfully, good ol' Crowley is the worst demon ever and is secretly protecting Job's children and goats. Something they're keeping between the two of them. And then during this deception… Crowley tempts Aziraphale with his first bite of food.

"Have an ox rib." "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Not at all. Angels can't be tempted, can you?" "Certainly not." "Well, there you are then. You're free to try the food."

A temptation he quickly falls into. A choice to eat the food and enjoy it to gluttony. Another sin under his belt. In the end, Virtuous Job passed his test but had the shit reward in return. Except Crowley and Aziraphale secretly saved the children.. which lead to Aziraphale lying straight to Heaven.. again.

And this is where he finally falls apart.

"I'm ready to go." "Go where?" "To Hell." {….} "But you have to. I'm like you now.. A demon.." "You think you're a demon?" "I'm a fallen angel! I lied.. To thwart the will of God." "Well yeah, you did, but I'm not gonna tell anybody. ..Are you?" *shakes head no* "No. Then nothing has to change, does it?" "…But what am I?" "You're just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can." "That sounds um.." "Lonely?" "Yeah. But you said it wasn't." "I'm a demon. I lied."

As Crowley always tells him- Demons lie. And Aziraphale lied. Again. And now they're keeping this huge secret between the two of them. To never be spoken of or else possibly face the wrath of God. THIS scene right in this minisode here is SUCH an important part of Aziraphale's character and his future choices. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Choices? The ability to choose between good and evil.

"Look, I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice. You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked." "Yeah, that only works if you start everyone off equal. You can't start someone off like that and expect her to do as well as someone born in a castle." "Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have."

What we learn from this wee Scottish body snatching story is that something can be seen as evil but could actually be a good deed from a different perspective. And that Aziraphale truly believed that the lower you start, the more opportunities you could have. But he also believes in divine punishment. Punishment that can be dealt at any time for any thing. Big or small. From a few questions that make you lose God's love to selling corpses for survival money and accidentally getting your best friend killed or just having too much faith in God could destroy everything in your life for a bet. All of which he has witnessed with someone good (Crowley, Job, Elspeth, etc) losing everything that's important to them in the most horribly way. But Aziraphale remembers the hard lessons he learned; of inequality and responsibility of your actions and the choices you make.

Someone born into poverty doesn't get as much out of life as someone born into a rich lifestyle. Or.. a lowly snake and a lowly principality falling in love and being forgiven may not be as easily dismissed as a Duke of Hell and Archangel finding love in one another and simply being allowed to run away to the stars together without any punishment. It's all of these moments, these lessons that Aziraphale learns throughout the years that change his view on life but he still remembers the wrath of God throughout existence. Something as little as a question could get you kicked out of Heaven, eating an apple could get you banished from paradise or you could be the most faithful perfect and loved person and still have your entire life destroyed over a bet. What does he know most about the Almighty? They're "tetchy" and unpredictable.

"Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the Gate of Eden?"

He then conceals the truth to God themselves of the choice he made to give humanity a fighting chance of survival by giving his holy sword away. And is left alone without another word. Forced to walk on egg shells for the rest of his existence out of fear.

"So, giving the mortals a flaming sword. How did that work out for you?" "The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again.." "Probably a good thing."

That fear of the unknown consequences to his past actions.. his lies.. for good or for bad.. he could fall at any moment or lose everything he holds precious (aka his Angel-ness and Crowley).

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I'd be in if.. if they knew I'd been fraternizing? It's completely out of the question." "Fraternizing?!" "Well, whatever you wish to call it. I do not think there is any point in discussing it further."

So what does he always do? Deflects.. to protect himself. To protect Crowley. Not saying the real truth out loud. Keeping the reality of their relationship an unsaid secret like always.

But sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

"Should I say thank you?" "Better not."

Yet again, he breaks the rules. Doesn't even want to hear a thank you. Again, it must all go unsaid.

"You go too fast for me."

Crowley has always been one step ahead of him. Asking questions, falling, breaking the rules, etc. Aziraphale isn't ready yet. He's not ready to lose everything he holds dear to him by admitting out loud all of his sinful choices or else face the punishment he's been fearing for thousands of years.

"Go off together?" "How long have we been friends? Six thousand years."

Aziraphale starts panicking here. Crowley is saying too much out loud. Deny deny deny.

"Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don't even like you."

This bandstand breakup was literally Aziraphale freaking out about doing too many bad things dealing with the whole anti-Christ situation and Crowley getting too close to saying what they truly are to each other. But the fear is too much and he lies again. But this time to himself. Aziraphale has only ever wanted to do the good thing. To make the correct choices. To be on the right side. But he's always faltered. Made choices that he was sure were the bad ones. Lied on occasion. Kept secrets from Heaven and God. Given into temptations. And has always had this fear of God's Almighty wrath hanging over his head for millennia. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, everything will be taken away. But what could be the last straw? The straw that finally breaks the camel's back? To garner God's attention and punishment. It has to be something big. The biggest and most important part of his life. Something that matters to him more than anything in the world. His relationship with the Demon, Crowley. But he's learned. If you don't say it out loud.. if you keep it to yourself. Then you won't be punished. It's worked out for him so far. So why should he think otherwise? And then in the end of S2E6, Metatron gives him the opportunity to make a change to the Heavenly system. His chance to restore his best friend to his former holy glory. A chance to relieve all the suffering he's seen throughout history. A chance to make a difference. Despite all his secret sins, he's being given an unbelievable opportunity- one that proves that maybe he isn't as bad as he always thought he was. He's actually seen as worthy. But then Crowley gets angry about all this. He's against it all. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be an Angel again. He doesn't want to return to Heaven. He just wants to be with Aziraphale. And he finally says their best kept, unsaid secret out loud. With a love confession and a passionate kiss.

"You idiot. We could have been… us."

Aziraphale wants this more than anything but every instinct inside of him is screaming to stop it, to not let anyone see, to not let anyone know the truth. This final temptation. His one and true forbidden fruit that is the Demon Crowley.. and it's the one he knows he must resist at all costs.

The fear is overpowering. And the only words that come from his lips…

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for letting our unsaid secret out. I forgive you for trying to tempt me. I forgive you for refusing to join me in Heaven as a renewed Angel. But can he ever truly forgive himself for the choice he just made? Remember, in the end, Aziraphale is just afraid. Afraid to lose everything. Afraid to lose Crowley. Fear of punishment can be traumatizing after all. And it will all be fixed in S3. ;) HAVE FAITH IN GAIMAN!

..Sorry this was so long and drawn out but… I NEED SEASON 3 ALREADY.. (everyone! keep re-watching GO2 on Prime! and no more threats to the creators plz ^-^) Honestly, this was very cathartic to write and help me come to terms with the most heart wrenching painful TV kiss of all time D: But I need to see how their story unfolds. I need to see Aziraphale allow himself to make the choice to be with Crowley without fear of punishment. I NEED MY INEFFIBLE HUSBANDS. TOGETHER. T^T

PS. Literally as I was finishing writing this, I saw Neil Gaiman himself say this on his Tumblr, "But the story of Job is pretty central to the whole Good Omens conversation, including Aziraphale's bit of it." OMG I KNEW IT lololol

#Good Omens #Good Omens meta #good omens analysis #Good Omens 2 #Aziraphale #Crowley #ineffable husbands #Good Omens theory #go2 spoilers #character analysis #“I forgive you”

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vigilvntes · 1 year

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Jason Todd x Reader | On again-off again relationship hcs

A/N: lisTen. i'm incredibly sleep deprived so this is gonna be very messy and i have a whole ass book to read before my class at 9am and i probably won't sleep tonight so let me have this. let me have my low-key volatile relationship with jason todd where we love each other so deeply that we can't even stand to be around each other sometimes because we frustrate the fuck out of each other but we also can't live without each other. as the great lorde once said: let me live that fantasy.

W/C: 2500+ (help me i basically just outlined a whole story </3)

likes, rbs and comments are all very much appreciated <3

SOME NSFW UNDER THE CUT! ALSO BONUS BATFAMILY GETTING INVOLVED IN THE DRAMA AT THE END BECAUSE ,, FUNNY!!

you and jason have known each other for three years, and you've been together for around two years and two months of that time, if damian's calculations are correct. it's electric and heated and frantic and loving and frustrating and soft and infuriating, all at the same time. you just can't seem to stay away from each other. it's a 'cat and mouse' kind of situation, one where you just can't seem to stop chasing each other despite how ridiculously awful it always seems to turn out in the end. the longest you've managed to really hold it together is seven months, but you can't stay away for more than a month at a time.

you make out like teenagers. make love almost every night. laugh at his dumb jokes or funny comments. patch up any mild injuries he comes home with. tickle each other until you're on the floor breathless, surrendering and begging him to show you mercy. you spend lazy mornings together in bed. bicker and shit-talk each other over breakfast. cuddle on the couch late at night. it's perfect in theory, and he's admittedly an amazing boyfriend. he's caring and attentive and he loves to love you and be loved. but your tempers get the better of both of you.

fights break out because you're both kind of impulsive and hot-headed. neither of you can help your snark or cutting comebacks sometimes. you run your mouths about something – anything, and you run the risk of everything breaking down within the hour. you know his weak spots, know how to push his buttons when he's really pushing yours; and as you know his, he knows yours just as well. you'd never go as far as to bring up anything too personal or out of pocket, but you still know just how to get on each others nerves perfectly. how to manually detonate the ticking time bomb before it blows up on its own accord.

you frustrate the fuck out of each other, and he has a tendency to just walk out of your apartment mid-argument. he puts the suit on, tells you he'd rather be out on the streets getting his ass handed to him by a gang of drunks dressed up as teletubbies and then have bane rush in and pummel him into the concrete than have to deal with you when you're feeling particularly prickly, and you tell him to go fuck himself on his way out. the battle to get the last word in commences, and you've often found yourself yelling at him from your apartment window whilst he yells up at you from the street below because you both just refuse to give up the fight.

most times he comes back, but sometimes he doesn't. when it hits 8am and you haven't heard him rummaging through your kitchen cupboards or refrigerator; he still hasn't crawled back into your bed, kissed your forehead softly and buried his face into the crook of your neck, you shrug your shoulders, tell yourself everything's going to be okay. and then sob violently into your pillow because it's over. he's gone. but with jason, it's never really over. by some weird twist of fate (love, but jason prefers to call it coincidence, although it's anything BUT that) you always end up finding your way back to each other. you break up and even DATE other people but it's never serious and it just never feels the same because for some strange reason whenever you're apart you both miss the chaos of each other and even though you can literally be the worst when you're together, you would rather be together and be the worst than be without each other.

jason turns up at your door at 2AM when he hears you might be seeing someone new after a breakup the month before, demanding to be let in and when you relent (pretty quickly) and open the door he immediately has you against the wall, desperately grabbing at your hips and kissing you like there's no tomorrow whilst mumbling that no one could ever compare to him so don't even think about trying to replace him.

he has you naked and spread out on the bed in ten minutes tops, his tongue swirling against your clit in all the right places, big hands gripping on to your thighs. he grins like a fucking maniac when he makes you cum in record time, just under a minute if he was counting correctly. you cum on his face again, his fingers, his thigh and eventually his cock, until you're laid on his chest with his cum leaking out of you, breathless and all fucked out, mumbling 'i love you'. he says it back, reminds you again that no one could ever be him, and you know he's right. you knew this would happen and truthfully you were desperate to have him back which is maybe, possibly why you made a point to mention to roy that you were seeing someone else because you just knew he'd tell jason.

on the flip side, you send jason a risky picture of yourself in a brand new lingerie set when you find out he's going on a date with someone. you immediately apologise and claim it to be accidental and that it was meant for someone else. you watch your phone blow up with calls and texts from jason, listen to each and every angry-horny-frustrated-infatuated voicemail he leaves and grin the whole time because you know you have him wrapped around your finger, as much as he denies it.

you turn your phone off, unlock your door and wait patiently by the open window until you hear angry footsteps coming from below, stomping up the stairs of your apartment building. he busts through your door and demands that you tell him what the fuck you think you're playing at. you feign innocence and tell him that it was a genuine mistake but he knows you're lying and he has you on the couch, straddling his lap almost immediately. your pyjamas have been torn off, giving him an up-close, in-person view of the pretty new set from the picture earlier. the view is much nicer when it's not on a tiny phone screen; pictures do the real thing no justice. his phone vibrates while you're trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck, and you tell him he should take the call because it's probably his date wondering where the hell he is but he just turns his phone off and tosses it to the side. why the hell would he go on some shitty, awkward first date when he could have you?

the reunion is always sweet. there's always that honeymoon period with him no matter how many times you've broken up– upped and left each other following an argument. when it's good, it's really good. but you just can't seem to escape the inevitable. eventually one of you pushes it too far and the whole thing blows up in your faces. he walks out, you cry yourself to sleep and then you find some way to worm your way back into the others life, depending on who picked the fight that left everything broken once again. neither of you are exactly sure why you fight like cat and dog. you're perfect for each other on paper; you understand each other on a far deeper and more intellectual level than anyone ever could. you get on like a house on fire on your good days (which are admittedly most days), but somehow the bad days always seem to outweigh the good. he once made a joke that it's because you love him so much that you can't live with him, but you also can't live without him. he was probably right.

one night, after a particularly nasty breakup the week before, he stumbles into your apartment clutching at his side, barely able to breathe. he's been so uncaring lately, letting himself get caught up in his own head and his emotions regarding you and your relationship and it's lead to him taking a few more blows than he normally would. tonight he paid the price, took what he thinks might be the final hit, and he needed to see you one last time just in case things don't work out for him. you don't even have the chance to ask him what he's doing in your apartment before he's collapsing on to your living room floor, blood dripping through his fingers and on to your carpet. you drop to your knees next to him and whisper his name so softly, inspecting the wound and feeling guilty when he hisses in pain when your fingers brush against it. it's deep, and yes you've patched him up before –you know how to stitch up cuts but you're not a medical professional and this is a serious wound to his abdomen. there's not much you can do about it alone. you're already crying but before you can start freaking out and trying to fix things he takes your face in his hands, his grip weak, and tells you very sincerely that he loves you deeply, and he's sorry for all of the fights he's caused and all of the times he walked out on you and that it's always been you and it always will be.

he's in and out or consciousness and you're begging him to wake up, to be okay; telling him that you love him and you can't lose him. you try your best to stop the bleeding, pressing towels and old shirts against the wound but it just won't stop. so you call alfred from jason's phone, explain to him what's going on and soon enough you're playing host to a batfamily gathering in your tiny living room. dick quite literally has to drag you away from his body kicking and screaming while bruce and alfred assess the situation. they decide to take him back to the manor, and of course you follow them. you spend days by his side, waiting for him to wake up. alfred has to take you by the elbow and walk you away from him to eat dinner or shower or sleep in jason's old room.

it's just so typical that you're not there when he wakes up. you're sleeping, bundled up in his bed sheets when alfred comes to wake you. you literally leap out of bed, almost tripping over your own feet as you run into the room jason's in. that stupid grin, although strained, spreads across his lips as soon as he sees you through half-shut eyes. you're crying already, rushing to his side and resting your head on his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. he chuckles at your reaction, teases you for being so worried about him as if he hasn't already kicked death in the dick before, and he mocks you lightheartedly for admitting that you can't live without him (it was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness). you giggle through your tears, letting it slide because when you look up at him, he's crying too.

it literally takes jason almost dying on your living room floor for you to both realise how much you actually mean to each other, and that having a connection and a love like this isn't something that you can and should just walk away from every couple of weeks. you both decide to start working on things; learning how to control your temper and when the appropriate time to shut the fuck up would be. how to talk things through maturely, without the yelling and constant breakups. of course, you still bicker and shit talk each other. and sometimes one of you will take it too far. jason will glare at you for a moment until you give him an awkward grin and mumble 'oops', and you'll give him the silent treatment for fifteen minutes (which would feel like HELL to him) until he makes you laugh. you're happier this way, knowing that it doesn't have to be that difficult and you can just be. you're not constantly waiting for something to go wrong or for one of you to fuck up, that anxiety has dissipated and you enjoy feeling calm and content with him.

+ bonus: batfamily getting in on the drama

the first time jason stormed into the batcave at 3am, fists balled and eyes red and puffy, bruce was immensely concerned. he sat jason down, put on his best dad™️ voice and asked 'what's wrong?'. jason told him it was nothing, just a little relationship trouble and that bruce didn't have to worry it, he just needed to get away and he thought the batcave would be the perfect place to brood for a few hours before going back home. the second time jason stormed in, he was still concerned for his emotional state, but not all that surprised to see him. bruce left him alone, let jason sit next to him, listened to him curse under his breath. the seventh time? bruce sat at his desk, jason beside him, listening to him ramble on and on about what had happened and how he took it too far again but it's not entirely his fault because you pushed his buttons but he shouldn't have said that to you because he loves you but you just get on his nerves sometimes. bruce nods occasionally, murmurs 'uh-huh' just to prove to jason that he is listening. kind of. sort of. not.

dick receives frustrated, angry texts at ungodly hours in the morning from jason telling him that the relationship is over. jason isn't sure why he vents to dick. it's definitely not because dick gives good advice, jason doesn't even open the texts dick sends back full of agony-aunt type solutions. one night, he receives one of these texts from jason, telling him that you're done with him and he can't ever go back to your apartment. all he can do the next day when he sees you and jason walk into the manor, grinning at each other like you're the sun, moon and stars with his arm wrapped around your waist, is shrug his shoulders.

listen, if damian is going to be forced to sit through the weekly couples quarrel at the manor, he's at least going to make some sort of profit from it. it starts out as a secret, damian makes everyone place bets (with real cash) on how long it'll take you and jason to piss each other off when you come over for dinner. tim wins the first time, and is less than amused when he only receives half of what everyone put into the bet, damian citing that he's the organiser so he gets half of the profit. eventually, he branches out. he starts taking money for bets on how long it'll take for a fight to break out, what you'll be fighting about, and which one of you will leave the dinner table first. everyone joins in (even alfred), and when you find out about damian's little scheme, even you can't help but slide over a $20 bill with a declaration that it'll take jason 45 minutes to say something that'll have you glaring him down. you win that bet, because you know him better than anyone else, and you split the profits with jason. everyone thinks this is unfair, and you're both promptly excluded from participating in the betting.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #dc comics #dc x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd hc #jason todd headcanon #batfamily x reader #batfamily #batfamily headcanons #batfamily hc

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buckets-and-trees · 10 months

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Hehe I’m here with a dare 😏

So I’m such a sucker for angst but with a happy ending - I’d love to hear how you would go about writing a forced proximity meets the one that got away fic, from what I’ve read of your writing I feel like you’d really do those tropes justice

Alright, Em... let me stretch my fingers and get ready for this one...

I THOUGHT about this.

Ari Levinson

Modern AU - college and then mid-to-late-30s Ari

We're going to call this... er... maybe an "imagine-novella"? It kind of ended up being a 2500-word plot exploration. No content warnings, only some language.

You meet Ari in college. He’s tall and toned and tanned, always in a baseball cap unless forced otherwise, and he’s already sporting a full beard and looking good with it. He’s a couple of years older because he worked out of high school before for a couple of years - long enough to put enough away to pay for tuition without being a burden on his parents. When you meet him, it's when there's the huge club rush out on the quad your junior year. It's in the middle of campus in the first weeks of the semester so everyone does wander through by the nature of when and where it is. You see the table for the radio station on campus. Truthfully you don't even notice him at first. You're standing twenty feet away looking at the sign and thinking about whether or not it's worth it, maybe shake things up, you love music - you're that friend always making the playlists, discovering new songs and bands, dying to go to big music festivals, etc, and your campus has a radio station...

Someone else was talking to him as he's running that table, and they leave and then he sees you standing there, and, "Hey! You!"

It jolts you out of your thoughts and you're caught off guard for just a half a second, and go, "Me?"

He grins, "Yeah, you."

Your feet move before you even really think about it because ... that's just what you do when people call you over. It’s an instant crush for you but you try and reign it in, because he's excited that you're actually interested in the station, and you genuinely are excited about it. He's a Journalism and Communications major and the station manager, and so he gives you the pitch to come to an info meeting they're going to have, he'd love to see you there.

And you do go. Because... it doesn't matter that he's cute. The more you keep thinking about it, you decide it would actually be fun. You get a show, you make a lot of new friends with the other station people - some of them are total nerds, but they're all fun or nice or a little bit irreverent, and so station meetings once a month are fun. You're a good DJ. You have fun with your shows. Ari takes note - he appreciates it. The station is his baby. He puts everything into it. He's not outgoing, even though he's charismatic, but he can't help but gravitate to the people who really fucking love it like him. You don't get to know him super well that first year, but when it's time for him to appoint new directors to run the station the next year, he pulls you aside and says he loves what you've done with your show and wants you to think about applying for a director position.

You do. It's going to be your last year of college, the DJ gig hasn't been work, it's just been fun, and ... you love being part of the team, love to work on exciting projects, dig your hands into the dirt and make something great, so yeah. You throw your hat in the ring, because why not? And it could be an extra thing to go on your grad school applications.

Ari not only picks you for the team, he actually ends up picking you to be the director of programming, his number two, the one who oversees the DJs and putting together the roster for shows each semester. And that's what launches everything to a new level.

You lock down DJs that you want to come back the next fall, you both go away for the summer, but now you're texting somewhat regularly about ideas for the next year, things you'll work on, and the real working friendship develops. When fall semester starts and it's full speed on the ground, you and the team of directors really work to make the station great, but it's A LOT of you and Ari.

And to say he becomes one of your best friends senior year? Maybe. You tread that line because there's still that part of your heart that crushes on him, but the part that loves doing everything station and music and working on this big beast together? That's big. You let that be the focus. Because it's fun. And he's fun. And he's brilliant (like you, which is why he likes you) and ambitious (like you) and he's got this great, rich laugh that you get to hear a lot. And a lot of your other friends are busy with their senior years, too, and so are you, and so you don't mind any of the time you spend working on the station with Ari and the other directors and the DJs who are just this pack of a couple dozen people who come and go. But a lot of you and Ari.

And he doesn't date anyone. Not the entire time you know him. You heard/thought maybe there were some hook ups he indulged in during your junior year, but not that year before you both graduate. He clearly doesn't have time for a girlfriend and doesn't love anything more than the station, but you do think - just a little bit - just in the back of your head sometimes - that maybe you don't hear about him with anyone this year because... he's not going to date you - that would be unprofessional for you two and the station - but maybe it's because you are close. And maybe as you get closer to the end of the year... maybe he's going to make a move. He's always said he's already a confirmed old bachelor, but the way he smiles at you, the way he values your opinion, how often he says how amazing you are and how he appreciates you... you're going to be the girl who finally gets him.

But time is running out. And even though you both pour your hearts into the station together, there are never any late nights (those are given to studying, passing classes, etc). The last month, he says stuff like he's never going to see any of you again. Jokingly. You all laugh as directors because how could he mean it? He's made you all a family.

He makes more comments like that in the last weeks and days, and when he says he's going to shut down all of his social media, because he only had it to run and promote the station, you call him on his bullshit. And he says no. He's serious. He's going to go into journalistic photography, and he's going to create the network he needs where he needs it, but he's not playing the PR games to do it - the dream is wild nature photography, work in remote locations, never talk to humans again if he can help it. And it's so stupid. You tell Ari he's being ridiculous. He can't want to live so far off the grid.

"I'm sorry," he says, kindly but matter-of-factly. "But when we graduate, I'm never talking to any of you ever again."

You scoff. But this conversation is now just you and him in the station on a Saturday afternoon. But then you look at him for a half a second and really see his face. And you think he means it. "Ari, I did not give my fucking heart and soul into this station for the last year as your friend for you to never talk to me again. You at least owe me a lunch five years from now."

He smiles. "Okay. Maybe in five years. You find me in five years and I promise I'll take you to lunch."

And you graduate a week later, and he says goodbye, and you're not sad about it. Maybe just a bit wistful for what might have been. But after that specific "five years" conversation, you realize it was only you who was maybe a bit foolishly hopeful. He'd really never led you on. You never told him you had a crush (you had tried to keep it professional, because you did genuinely love the friendship) and he'd never given you or anyone else any illusion that he was there for anything other than working on the station and that bonding and camaraderie. If he had led you on, if there had been late nights, maybe you would've been hurt. But aside from being secretly hopeful, there really wasn't much harm done by your pining. But maybe in five years, you'll look him up for that lunch he agreed to.

He does fall off the gridl You take a busy summer job and then a paid internship in the fall, and you try and track him a bit, but you do just… get busy and move forward. You think of Ari a lot, but less and less as the time goes on. You know the name of the newspaper he was going to start off with right after graduation, and although he got rid of social media, he did have a beautiful website he set up for his photography. And you check that once in a while, but less and less. You get a fulltime job after the internship, and your life becomes even more full with the things that aren’t Ari, and sometimes you think about him, but most times you don’t.

When that five years rolls around, you start to think of him more again.

But you let it come and go.

You didn’t necessarily feel like you were living your best life, and if you were going to get one lunch to win over the one who got away and make him realize you were the love of his life… maybe you’d feel a little better – a little more accomplished, go to the gym more, be really something – in ten years.

Fleeting thought in ten years. Though you do think of him when you realize it’s that ten year mark. And you just kind of smile because ten years ago you was so wildly for him, and five years ago you was still a touch foolishly hopeful, and wouldn’t it be something if you did look him up now? But you really don’t need to anymore.

Then a couple of years later, you move to a new place, and without ever even trying, who else should somehow be living two doors down from you but Ari fucking Levinson?

And he sees you first. He’s just gotten home, opened the door from the garage into the house to be reunited with his good girl – a beautiful golden retriever who’s waited for him all day, walked with her trotting along at his side out to his mailbox, and looks down the street to see who’s just sending off the movers out of curiosity for who’s moving into the neighborhood, and he does a fucking double take because it’s you.

His god damn jaw drops and he laughs and then calls out your name.

You turn, hardly believing it but knowing that voice anywhere, and you laugh and shake your head. “Ari Levinson?”

You push the messy hair from the long day’s work of moving out of your face and are glad you’re not besotted for this man anymore, even if he does look like even more of an Adonis now, because you do know you look a mess, but you don’t even care. Having moved out of state for this dream job, you couldn’t be any more happy just to have someone from your past right at your new home base.

“’Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world!’”

He meets you halfway, and he pauses a beat away from you because he’s not a hugger, but somehow there’s just this draw to hug you, and so he does. Only surprising to you for a second, but you’re so tired and it’s been a good day but a long day, and you were excited for this move, but you can’t deny a familiar face just feels good, so you melt into him just for the comfort of it for a moment. It’s just nice.

And when you pull back, the obedient but attentive dog draws your attention, lighting your face up with a beautiful grin. “Can I pet your dog?!”

But the two of you are already drawn to each other and bonding before he gets the, “Sure, of course,” out of his mouth.

He doesn’t wear those old baseball caps every day anymore, so he pushes his hand through his hair, and that move has practically made women drop their panties for him over the years, but you don’t even notice, too busy showering affection on his sweet golden girl while the two of you exchange the kind of words two of the oldest friends do when they haven’t seen each other in ages. Why is his chest so tight and warm all at once. Why does he have the thought cross his mind that you showing up here feels like home? Why are you falling in love with his dog and not with him? Wait, why did he think that?

This feels like a slippery slope.

But maybe he doesn’t fucking care.

When he is back inside his house, starting to pull something from the fridge to heat up for dinner, he remembers that he promised you a dinner.

It’s later than you two made the deal for, but… he’ll start there.

Just old friends who are new neighbors.

That night when he’s plugging his phone in to charge before bed, he remembers that he never did get rid of your contact in his phone. You might have the same number.

What he doesn’t know is that when he left the harbor, sure, you waited with that boat hopefully for a bit, but then you finally took your ship and sailed – everywhere really – and you may be eager to fall happily in love with his dog and genuinely grateful to know you’ll have someone in your corner on this new adventure, but you want nothing more than that good friendship in your life. He was one of your greatest friends all those years ago. But you finally got over that pining crush, and here’s no way you’ll be foolish enough to fall for him again, nor do you want to. You couldn’t ask for more than to have your old friend as your new neighbor, with his gorgeous golden retriever.

Ari does text you that night… just a welcome to the neighborhood again, and that he thinks he owes you a dinner, if he remembers correctly (he does, he’s just being casually clever), so he’s gotta take you out tomorrow night.

And it is still the same number, but you fell into the blissful rest of your bed, exhausted after move in day, so you don’t even see it that night. It will wait until you get to it in the morning.

Just like Ari will have to wait for what he wants. And work to try to even bring you around again.

Will he have waited too long and you’ll be the one who got away?

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson imagine #aspen's extended anniversary sleepover #em/writing for marvel #sleepover dare

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

Hi I like your blog ^_^ I was wondering if I can request a soft NSFW oneshot of Aemond feeling insecure about his eye and scar, but (fem!) reader lovingly rides him and gives him all the attention? I just want him to feel good 🤧

Hi guys! I love the idea of Aemond and his wife overhearing some ladies gossiping about Aemond's eye and what horror may lie beneath...upsetting him and it's up to the reader to pull his thoughts back to her...it does get smutty towards the end so 18+ only (also this somehow became a continuation of my Lannister!reader fics...must be the wine.)

word count: 2500

Medieval insults here

Aemond x fem!Lannister!reader | upset Aemond | comforting Aemond | smut | first time sapphire reveal

“That’s Lady Beesbury.” You took a sip of wine from your golden goblet, leaning closer to Aemond as you spoke. “She’s a horrible creature. Called me a ‘crooked-nosed fopdoodle’ just yesterday.”

Your betrothed, who had also taken a mouthful of his red wine, choked. You patted him heavily upon his back several times as he coughed and laughed. A tear streaming from his lilac eye, Aemond looked at you incredulously. “She…she did not.”

“On my honor as a Lannister, she did.” You tilted your glass, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you nodded.

“I don’t disagree entirely on the ‘fopdoodle’ aspect.” Aemond chuckled into his drink. “However, your nose isn’t crooked.” He reached out, tweaking your nose between two fingers.

You made an undignified squeaking noise, rearing away from him, pushing his shoulder playfully. “If I am a fopdoodle, you are a mandrake mymmerkin!”

“Hmm. Harsh.” Aemond cut you a sidelong look. “Yet you seem more than satisfied with how I attend to your desires.”

You ignored his mischievous glance, instead gesturing toward a group of foreigners, their furs still draped about their shoulders despite the heat of the Keep. “Who are they?”

“Northerners by the looks of them. Botons perhaps, due to the unsavory pallor of their cheeks.” Aemond sniffed, his brow furrowing in distaste.

“Yes. I’m none too fond of the North, myself.”

“Snow doesn’t befit a lion?” Aemond teased, pressing his shoulder affectionately against your own.

“Nor a dragon.” You smiled at his familiar touch, savoring the smokey scent of him.

You lapsed into silence, both watching as the Bolton group, tousled of hair and wan of face, shuffled from the great hall.

Aemond placed his hand at the small of your back, his fingers probing the scarlet silk of your dress. He caught your eye, opening his mouth to speak but the chatter of young women cut him off as a group of them swept into the hall. “…what’s beneath.” The tallest of them was saying, her auburn hair shining straight, lit by the setting sun. “He wears that eyepatch at all times.” You glanced at your prince, noting the sudden tension in his jaw as the girl continued. “Some say there’s ghastly ball of flame where his eye used to be.”

“Others say it is rotten, and not to get too near for the smell of it.” Another girl piped up, her friends nodding at her shrill words.

“It’s obviously the reason he keeps to himself so much.” The red-haired lady spoke again. “He’s a cripple for life. He would be handsome otherwise I dare say. No one desires him.”

You felt Aemond leave your side, the absence of his presence sending a cold chill down your side. Turning, you saw him departing, his long silver hair swishing against his rigid back as he strode from the hall, unnoticed by the gaggle of gossiping girls.

“I desire him.” You said firmly, making a split-second decision, walking purposefully toward the group of women.

A dark-haired lady scoffed at your words, her expression mocking as she looked you up and down. Her brown eyes registered the scarlet gown you wore, your golden hair and fierce green eyes, the lion pendant upon your chest. She decided better than to speak, biting her words down as she closed her mouth.

You appraised her down your nose. “Wise choice, girl.”

“Who are you?” The leader of the pack, the redhead, half-snarled at your unwelcome presence.

“Y/N Lannister.” You answered, your fiery gaze flicking to her face. “Betrothed to Aemond Targaryen. I won’t ask for your names as they are sadly irrelevant.” You leaned forward, imposing as you stood taller than any of them. “Mark me well, ladies, for this will be your only warning. Speak ill of our prince again and I will make sure you and your families are cut off entirely from the Lannister coffers.”

“Is that a threat?” The most vocal of the women spoke, trying to mask her fear.

“It’s a promise.” You tilted your head at her, a smirk tugging your lips. “You’d be lucky to get away with simple poverty.”

With a swirl of your silken gown you departed, leaving the girls gaping at your retreating form.

You found Aemond in his chambers. Entering unnoticed, you closed the door quickly, bolting it behind you. He was seated before the fire, the window behind him framing a darkening sky of deep blue streaked with the last orange rays of the sun.

You knew he heard your entrance but did not raise his head to meet your gaze as you approached where he sat. “Aemond.” You lowered yourself to the cushions beside him, reaching out to tuck a gentle finger beneath his chin. “My dragon.” You tilted his head up, meeting no resistance as at last his eye met your own. “They’re nothing, Aemond.” You tactfully ignored the redness around his purple iris, the dampness of his cheek. He moved away from your touch, you lowered your hand to your lap, still keenly studying his face. “They’re ignorant young women with wicked tongues. Give them no credence.”

Aemond was silent several long moments. He stood, approaching the fire, staring into the dancing flames. “It was the night I claimed Vhagar as my own.” He spoke low, almost a whisper. “My nephews…attacked me. I fought them off, but one brought a knife and, well…” He turned to face you, gesturing toward the side of his face covered by the eyepatch.

“Why did they attack you?”

Aemond shrugged. “They felt entitled to claim Vhagar. They feel entitled to a great many things. Even my eye.” His face darkened. “I should have fed them to my dragon.”

“No, Aemond.” You rose fluidly to your feet, taking his forearms in your hands. “Kinslaying would have had dire consequences this world would never recover from.”

“Yes, I know.” Aemond sighed, pressing his forehead against your own. “I can promise you, however, that there isn’t some ghostly flame where my eye used to be.”

“May I see?”

The prince was silent again, his fingers gripping your own forearms tightly as he looked down at your upturned face. “Yes.” His expression was solemn, guarded, as if he expected you to recoil the moment you saw him unmasked.

He made no movement, so you took it upon yourself to slowly reach up, hooking your fingers beneath the band of his leather eyepatch. You carefully removed the fabric from his head, revealing the vertical scar in its entirety. Where his eye had once been now sat a sparkling sapphire cut with many facets that reflected the firelight.

Your fingers traced along the scar as Aemond watched your expression carefully, he made to turn his face away, but you caught his jaw in your hand. “Aemond…you’re beautiful.” You giggled at the slack expression on his face. “This is beautiful.” You rose up on your tip toes, placing the softest of kisses against the cool stone eye. You felt Aemond’s breath catch as your palms pressed against his chest. “You’re the loveliest gem in Westeros.”

His violet eye narrowed at you. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not.” You gasped in mock outrage. “Lannisters don’t get drunk on so little wine.”

“You’re raving then.” Aemond turned away from you, back to the fire. “My disfigured face inspires fear and disgust, nothing more.”

“Aemond…” You reached for him, gently touching his elbow.

“Loveliest gem indeed.” He made a movement, ducking his head and reaching for his face with both hands. You couldn’t see what he had done until he turned back to face you. The sapphire now lay in his upturned palm, the socket of his eye now an empty blackness. His one eye burned with the intensity of his gaze. You schooled your expression, reaching up once more with light fingers to caress under the empty eye.

“You infuriating, hard-headed man.” You kissed him again, this time just below his gaping eye. “What will it take for you to understand I am not going anywhere.” Your kisses trailed down his cheek to the column of his neck where you nuzzled into him.

You were gratified as you felt his arms wrap around you, drawing you closer as you continued to press your lips against his warm skin. “I choose you because I want you, Aemond.”

You reached back, undoing the lacings of your dress, shuffling off the rich fabric so that it pooled around your feet. Aemond’s eye dilated as he watched you, he caught your hand as it made to unlace the ties of your undergarment. “Y/N…we shouldn’t.”

“We should.” With little effort, you moved his hand to cup the swell of your breast.

He palmed you beneath the thin fabric of your shift. You arched into his touch, unbuckling the dark green tunic he wore until it fell to the ground alongside your discarded dress. Your fingers explored the planes of his defined chest and torso, dipping down to the waistband of his trousers, untying the lacings there as well as you backed him toward the waiting bed.

“Y/N.” Aemond groaned, ducking to capture your parted lips with his in a searing kiss.

You pushed him back upon the mattress, pulling his remaining clothing off before crawling atop him, your hair falling to frame your faces. Aemond’s long silken hair was spread atop the mattress, you couldn’t resist running your fingers through it, tugging slightly to elicit a small moan from his lips.

“Is this alright?” You sat up straight, your thighs gripping Aemond’s trim waist as you looked down at his flushed face. “Me being on top?”

You felt his cock twitch against the inside of your leg as he rose against you, seeking friction. “Yes.” Was all he seemed able to say in the moment, his fingers grasping the flesh of your hips with bruising intensity.

In one movement you raised your shift over your head, tossing it aside, baring yourself completely to Aemond’s lustful gaze. You massaged your own breasts, tweaking your nipples gently as you ground your wet heat along his hard arousal, coating his length with your slick.

Aemond steadied you with firm hands as you rose up, taking him in hand and aligning him to your ready entrance. The both of you moaned in unison as you sunk slowly down upon him, his long cock burying itself deep within your quivering walls.

“Aemond.” You gasped, the overwhelming feeling of his girth stretching you causing you to lean forward, pressing your hands against his chest for support.

“Move.” He pleaded, catching your lower lip with his teeth as you brushed your mouth against his.

You began rocking up and down, back and forth, savoring the feel of being in control, angling yourself so that Aemond’s manhood stroked against your most sensitive spots. His breath filled your lungs, his tongue sliding along yours to the rhythm of your love making.

You broke the kiss, straightening once more, fucking him faster, allowing his cock to hit against the deepest part of you. Aemond reached up, securing your bouncing breasts in his hands, kneading the sensitive flesh as you arched your neck back, a sound of pleasure caught in your throat.

Your name spilled from his parted lips, you looked back down to his face, reveling in the beauty of it. “I want you.” Your words were uttered like a prayer between gasps for breath. “I want to be yours. I need you to be mine.” You shuddered, your core clenching tightly around Aemond’s cock. “Aemond.”

“Lean against me, my love.” Aemond’s hands gripped your waist as you pressed your chest flush to his, your lips connecting in a sloppy kiss of tongue and teeth. Aemond rose his hips to meet you, pumping his length into you with wild abandon. His moans mingling with your own, the lewd slapping of flesh and musky scent of sex permeating the night air.

“Aemond I-” You panted, pressing your forehead against his, your eyes closed in rapture. “I’m going to…I want you to come inside me.”

You were still atop him now, letting Aemond take control as he set a punishing pace, the head of his cock hitting your cervix with a jolt of electric pleasure. He groaned at your words, biting down upon your shoulder as he neared his own climax.

You felt him begin to twitch inside you, the feeling of his teeth marking your flesh sending you crashing over the edge. Aemond drove himself deep into you several more times before seating himself to the hilt inside your cunt as it milked the seed from him.

He rolled you over onto your back, his silver hair tickling your chest as he leaned over you. “You are a wonder, Y/N.” Aemond kissed you softly upon your slack lips. “A creature apart from this world.”

Aemond rutted himself into you several more times, loathe to leave your silken heat. When he did pull out, you felt oddly empty, the evidence of his orgasm leaking from you onto the rumpled sheets. He kissed you deeper, slanting his mouth over yours, drinking down your weak mewls of lingering pleasure, his hands still groping the ample flesh of your thigh.

You remained locked together like this for many blissful moments, savoring the warm embrace of the other. The taste of his lush lips moving with your own, the feel of his heartbeat against your chest, his arms cradling you against him as your leg was lifted over his waist.

“I want to give you something.” Aemond murmured against your searching lips, brushing his nose against yours.

“Something else?” You teased, your eyes opening to take in his adoring expression. “You’re so generous, my prince.”

He rewarded your wit with a dry chuckle, disentangling himself as he moved off the bed, walking over to rummage through the nearby dresser. You stretched languidly, admiring the view of his bare body before you.

Aemond returned to your side, a small box in his open palm. A small smile traced his curved lips as he watched you undo the small ribbon, pulling off the lid to reveal what lay inside. A gasp escaped your lips, your eyes flicking from his face to the ring that sparkled in the lowlight. It was delicately crafted, wrought silver bands entwining to hold an exquisitely cut sapphire gemstone.

“I know it is not of the traditional make.” Aemond explained, still watching your expressions. “It was cut from the same stone that made my false eye.” He hesitated only a moment before continuing. “I would be honored if you would wear this to signify our union.”

“It’s…” Your voice caught in your constricting throat, unbidden tears welling in your eyes. “Aemond it’s…lovely. Yes, I will wear it.” You allowed him to slip the ring onto your finger, admiring the beauty of it as Aemond held your hand in his.

“Now you will always have a part of me with you.” Aemond kissed the top of your head as you drew him down into an embrace.

“Hopefully more than one now.” You guided your interlocked fingers to rest atop your womb, where you could still feel his release warm inside yourself.

“Hmm.” Aemond agreed, tucking your head beneath his chin, his legs entwining with your own.

Your breathing steadied; heavy eyes unable to tear themselves away from the shining gemstone that adorned your finger, signifying your belonging to Aemond Targaryen.

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aneveningsword · 6 months

Text

𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭 𝑨𝑳𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑩𝑬𝑻

pairing: Jordan Li x gn!reader x Marie Moreau warnings: not proofread words: 2500 summary: just a poly fluff alphabet for what it is like dating Marie and Jordan

masterlist

a = affection; is anyone more overly affectionate than the others? when it comes to physical vs verbal, who prefers what?

Jordan is large on physical affection, holding hands in public, kissing on the cheek, and a hand on the small of the back to guide you two. Marie is better with her words, telling you both how much she loves you two with bright smiles and lingering touches. You get the best of both worlds with these two

b = bed; what’s the sleeping situation like? are there regular sleeping arrangements - does anyone like to sleep alone?

You all sleep in one bed, and though it might be a bit squished you all make it work. Most nights Marie is in the middle with Jordan and you on the outside. But one hand would be touching each person, joint hands with Jordan over Marie while your other hand is wrapped around Marie's waist.

But this is up to change, if one of you has a bad day they are instantly in the middle of being smothered with love.

c = comfort; when someone’s feeling down, how do the rest look after them?

It really depends on who is upset, if Marie is upset Jordan and you make her something sweet to eat. What is better than homemade cookies made by your two lovers? You'll put on some classic movie that Marie has never seen but you have seen a million times, cuddle together and just eat cookies.

With Jordan, it is slightly different, when upset they tend to get angry and need a moment to just cool down by themselves. But as soon as they are calm property brothers are on and a cuddle pile is being initiated on the bed.

When you are upset, the pair do whatever they think is best. Just want to cuddle and forget about the day? Count them in. Want to go do something to try and forget about the shitty day? Awesome, let's go to the carnival that has just popped up. Just want to be by yourself for a bit? That's totally fine, message them when you want them.

d = dates; what do dates look like? who usually plans them, or are is it a group affair?

Dates can vary from going out to the movies, to carnivals or to the beach. But you all aren't opposed to staying in, setting up a pillow fort with movies and sweets. As long as you all are together and having a good time, it's a good date in your eyes.

You tend to organise these dates, making sure they fit within the busy schedules of your lovers. But you all try to take a day once a month to just go on a date and have fun.

e = events; who drags everyone else to their family/friends’ events?

You are the one who tends to drag Marie and Jordan to family events. You already view them as part of your family so it is only natural you invite them to a big Halloween bash with the cousins your age. To Marie being dragged to these events makes her feel like she has a family again, awaking some small memory fragments of large birthdays she has forgotten. To Jordan, it is refreshing to see a family that does not judge them. Of course, some of your uncles or Aunts might make a comment, but you tend to be quick to shut it down with a glare and a few words.

f = fights; are arguments something that happen often? what are they over, and how are they resolved?

Serious fights are not something that happens often in the relationship, you all tend to be rather open with one another. But when it does happen it can span hours. There tend to be two fighting parties and one neutral ground, picking sides only ever ends in trouble.

There'll be a period of just animosity, people needing to cool down by themselves for a moment and think over the issue. Then the neutral party comes to check on each person asking if they need anything, being a shoulder to cry on or an ear to rant to. They give some advice and help bring the pair together to talk it out.

g = getting together; how did it all come about? were there any pre-existing relationships between them?

You and Jordan were together first, you had been dating for some time but you both could not help but feel there was something missing. Bringing Marie in took a bit of time, you were the first to warm up to her, while Jordan was a bit more reserved. You felt a similar spark with Marie that you did Jordan, the small rise in your heartbeat and pink that dusts your cheeks when you are with her. But it seemed Jordan was not feeling the same way, almost pushing her away from you both.

It would be a large conversation with Jordan after Marie and you almost kissed after some heated words. You had felt horrible and were quick to ruin your partner to confess. You explained everything, how you had the same feelings for you as you did them. The fear of being called a slut and Jordan breaking up with you was almost debilitating. But Jordan was quick to confess a similar feeling for Marie, while still holding feelings for you.

The conversation extended to Marie, who thought the worst, that Jordan had come to yell at her for what happened between you two. But she was surprised to hear a confession from their mouth followed by one from yours. The beginning was rocky, but your relationship finally feels complete.

h = hobbies; does anyone share any hobbies/passions? how do they include the rest of their partners in them?

Despite all having different hobbies you all find a way to integrate each other into it. Jordan will be gaming on the couch, trying out a new video game they brought. Marie is beside them finishing a drawing she has been working on. And you're relaxing on a beanbag making the perfect friendship bracelets to gift to Emma. You're all doing your own activity but what makes it perfect is just being near each other doing it.

i = in sickness and in health - when someone falls ill, who’s the carer and who’s the germaphobe? is there anyone that resists being looked after?

Marie is the more doting of the pair, the one who actually does things to get you better. Going to buy some medicine for you. Making some soup. Make some tea at the perfect temperature for your sore throat. But Jordan believes quality time with you is the best medicine, cuddling you in bed, putting a comfort movie on. They could not care less about getting your sickness. Despite that, they whine when they do get sick from you.

j = joker; who’s got the best sense of humour? do they like to tease and banter with everyone else?

Jordan is banter royalty, teasing you and Marie over anything and everything. Struggling to lift something? Jordans there with some teasing words and strong arms. Accidentally said a word wrong, be prepared to hear it for the rest of the day. Their words come from a place of love and if someone ever expresses it being take too far they are quick to rectify their mistake.

k = knowing; who can read their partners like a book? is there anyone who’s got their walls up, even around their partners?

Marie is the best at reading you both, from a small shift in your attitude or body language. Growing up where she did, one has to hyperalert, picking up on things before everyone else. If she notices a negative shift she is quick to try and rectify it, asking you about it softly. But she won't pry if you don't feel like talking about it.

There is nothing you two can hide from Marie, especially after she gets a better hang on her powers and can feel your heart rate speed up.

l = lavish; is there anyone who really likes to treat their partners/show them off? how do the rest tend to react - who revels in it, and who’s made shy by it?

Jordan has the money to give Marie and you the best gifts they can get their hands on. Looking at a nice dress but expressing that it's a bit too expensive? It's on your bed the next day with a small note. But while Jordan's presents are brought, Marie's gifts are made. She never grew up with a crazy amount of money and after her parent's death, she had nothing. She learned the best way to gift people things is to make them. Beaded necklaces. Charmed bracelets. Collage of you three together. She pours a lot of love and time into the gifts she makes and you treasure them.

m = memories - is anyone more on the sentimental side?

You all are sentimental people when it comes to your relationship. Jordan has a Polaroid picture of you and Marie in bed in their wallet, something they love looking at. Marie's lock screen is a picture of you three on your first date together. You still have all the tickets from any carnival, movie or event you have all gone together.

n = nights; what’s the nighttime routine like when they’re all together?

You all complete your separate nighttime routines, moisturising, removing makeup, taking off jewellery etc. You tend to be the first in bed, snuggling into the covers and enjoying the space you have before your lovers come to bed. Marie loves to slink in next to you, stealing back some covers as she wraps her arms around you with a small smile. Jordan tends to just jump into bed, pulling the covers from your grips so they have a reasonable amount. They'll pull Marie and you closer to them, saying something about feeling left out. Before you all settle for the night.

o = open; how open is everyone with one another?

You all tend to be open with one another about how you feel, what you want, and what's going on. But there are some things you all keep private, viewing it as good to have some things for yourself. If they feel comfortable with sharing something from their past, you are all happy to listen and provide support if needed.

However, if something is making someone upset or stressed you have all spoken about just talking about it save a possible argument that might come from it. The last thing you want is an insecurity to ruin your day when you can just talk about it.

p = pda; what’s pda like with them? is there anyone who loves it, and anyone who’s less fond of it? what actions/words does it manifest as?

Jordan is the biggest on PDA, they love showing you and Marie off, showing that you both are theirs. But there are limits on what happens in public, hand holding, quick kisses, hand in back pockets as far as they go. Anything else is behind closed doors and only for the relationship's eyes.

q = quiet; who prefers to spend their time with their partners out and about, and who likes to spend it at home?

Marie prefers to stay home together, spending the day watching popular movies everyone but she has seen. She enjoys just spending time with her partners in a familiar area, cooking something together and just relaxing.

Jordan on the other hand prefers going places with their partners. Visiting new attractions, going to a club or just taking a hike somewhere. It is not about where you go but more about experiencing things together.

r = romantic; is anyone a bit of a sap for their partners?

In my eyes, Jordan can be a bit of a hopeless romantic. You both just make them feel accepted and safe that they want to be able to give back that feeling of love to the pair of you. This can be in the form of randomly sending flowers with cute notes. Surprise dates to a cute coffee shop. A day in, filled with everyone's favourite movies.

s = sharing; is there anyone who’s particularly territorial of their partners?

Many might think it is Jordan but to me it is Marie. She's grown up with nothing, no family, no personal possessions, no nothing. It's caused her to get a little territorial due to the fear of losing you both. You both are the most precious things she has and the thought of losing you crushes her. That you may fall out of love with her at some point and just leave her like everyone else.

t = terms of endearment; nicknames! who’s crazy on them, and who do they make cringe? what’re the go-to’s?

You all have different nicknames for each other, it is something you all love. Marie tends to be called beautiful, princess, and honey. Jordan is darling, sweetheart, and sugar. They call you baby, love, sweetie.

u = urge; who’s the most impulsive? who do they loop into their plans, and who entertains their antics?

You are the one to rope Jordan and Marie into your antics all the time. Half the time the others come just to see what happens, if your plan will actually work or if they have to help you out. They happily watch on the sidelines with a goofy smiles, placing small bets on what will happen

v = vacations; how do holidays go? are they big exotic trips, or the occasional staycation?

You're all College students with no money, so staycations are the typical go-to. Travelling around pretending to be tourists, going to typical tourist attractions, taking photos of everything, eating out. Despite it not being much, you three make it worth it.

w = worthy; how are insecurities handled? is anyone more self-conscious than the others?

You all have your own insecurities that you each help each other through. Helping Jordan is full of soft touches and kind words, their insecurities make them feel weak and stupid lashing out at those around them. It is best to allow them a moment before carefully bringing them into an embrace, whispering praise in their ears.

Marie needs more physical affirmation, to be smothered by the love of her partners. To be brought into such a tight embrace she just forgets about her worries.

x = xoxo; who checks up on their partners a lot when they’re apart? do they call, or are texts enough to make them feel close?

Ever since she was given a phone, Marie is constantly texting you both. It's full of emojis and hearts, and at times she sends gifs. She loves checking in, if you are a part expect a good morning and good night text. Small messages throughout the day asking how you are, and what you are doing. She loves to hear about your day.

y = yearn; who misses their partners the easiest (ie, calls them to hear their voices when all they’ve done is run to the grocery store)?

Jordan is a massive sap, while Marie may text a few times a day just to check and make sure you are fine, Jordan is ringing you whining about wanting to hear your voices, demanding to Facetime while they run to the store. They are just so obsessed with you and Marie that they physically yearn to be close to you both.

z = zealous; who was especially eager in their pursuit of the relationship? was anyone more reserved in their want for it?

You were the most eager to pursue the relationship and are the one who brought it up. The idea of a poly relationship was foreign to the pair, something they did not think they would find themselves in. Despite being very nervous about bringing it up not to seem desperate and Jordan to believe they are not enough, it turned out to be the best decision of your life.

#jordan li x reader #marie moreau x reader #gen v x reader #gen v #jordan li #gen v imagines #jordan li headcanons #jordan li imagines #limoreau x reader #jordan x reader x marie #marie moreau imagines #marie moreau headcanons #gen v jordan li #gen v marie moreau

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fillinforlater · 5 months

Text

Blonde: Chapter III

Female Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 2500 words

Tags: angst/fluff, another bad day, losing your dignity, illness, someone who cares, there is a fever dream, Gaeul's relationship, struggling with your identity, we got a twist at the end

Inspiration: "Why Am I Like This?" by Orla Gartland

(A/N: Finally, another chapter to this slowly developing plot. I jope you enjoy it. @firagaarmor for obvious reasons)

"Didn't you say 108,000?"

"No, sir, it's 180,500 won."

"Oh, I see."

The old, fragile fingers of this confused, bald man creep back into his purse, trying to find another bill in what is probably a maze of money and plastic cards for him. You wouldn’t mind it one bit, you get paid either way and on usual nights, traffic is so little that barely anyone else gets inconvenienced. However, tonight is rather unusual. Apparently everyone forgot something and is now in a haste to buy said something. There is a long line of impatient stressed moms, annoyed teenagers and everything in between or beyond showing or voicing their disapproval.

It’s not you, you’re not the cause for their stress and discomfort, yet the customer’s toxicity still flies to you like you’re some kind of magnet. It all comes back to stab you, with passive-aggressive remarks or the glances up and down your small frame. Doesn’t really help that you only had cold ramen noodles, sweets and a little bit of bread in the past five days and that the ice cold showers make your nose itch with an impending cold. God, you must look pathetically miserable, even for your standards.

After the man finally gets his cash together, the checkouts are fast, heartless, and your heart aches for her to be at the end of the line. Gaeul—with her bright hair and even brighter smile to greet you when she is out buying drinks again—she could really save this evening. You yearn for her encouragement and presence more than for the next hot meal. Maybe even more than for the next two hot meals.

But there is no blonde angel to save you tonight. With the last customer buying their groceries, the lights die one by one, leaving you in a mostly empty store, alone with thousands and thousands of tasty and not-so-tasty products you’d love to put into a pan and fry. The thuds of your sneakers on the floor almost drown out the grumble in your stomach or the sniffling of your nose as you walk into yet another cold night with nothing to look forward to.

I fucking hate this shit.

You want to vomit, throw yourself off your bed, tear every single strand of your dark hair out as you dial your mother's number again. You hope it’s over quickly, but one can never know with her, especially if she still stubbornly refuses to help you. Take deep breaths, try to keep your head straight though thinking has become more and more exhaustive with every calorie you’re missing.

“What is it?” your mother groans, though you find her tone to be a lot more amused than last time. Someone is cheering and laughing in the background, drowning out even the loud TV.

“The bills, mom. I still have no electricity, no hot water, no heater.”

“Oh right.”

A response colder than your room. You try to straighten your back to speak to her loud and clear, with at least some authority, but you feel yourself crumble when the clanking of bottles loudly booms through the speaker.

“Did… did your boss finally pay you?” you carefully ask, earning an immediate response.

“Yes, he did.”

“Then why didn’t you pay the bills?”

Silence, except for the crime drama running in the back, finding all the suspects and then the killer, as they always do. This case right here is totally clear, no one needs to investigate for more than five minutes to find out that she is at fault, yet it feels like you're on trial, awaiting your parole, which for some reason is still in the balance.

“You know, sweetheart,” your mother cheekily responds, her saliva loudly flopping around in her mouth, mixed with the disgusting flavor of cigarettes and beer. “I really worked hard for that money. It’s my money. In the end I can decide what happens with it.”

Oh God, don’t do that, please for the love of—and don’t call me sweetheart.

“You can’t be serious,” you barely chirp out, your heart throbbing, crumbling like your entire body as you can see your entire foundation, the fragile remains of your fake stability finally falter. You can never cover all of your expenses with this one job and you can’t quit school now, not after getting so close to finally finishing it. You need her money and she seems to finally use it against you.

“It’s just the truth,” she responds nonchalantly, her voice a lot lighter and higher in pitch than usual. You hear someone cackle in the background.

“Sweetheart.

Don’t call me that.

“How about you—

Don’t do this.

“—start begging for my money. C’mon! Get on your knees and beg for it! I’m tired of funding your lazy, incompetent lifestyle. You should be so grateful for my throwing money at you all these years.

“I didn’t hear you! Get your lazy ass out of your bed now, and on your damn knees.

“Beg for it.”

Laughter from behind her. It's not the TV.

A hot shower, warm noodles, a cozy bed—they never felt so wrong, so disgusting. Even as your life objectively improves, it feels horrible, like you had to sell yourself and your soul for it to happen.

Your knees are still drawn to the floor. You might sit in a chair, listen to teachers all day or sit at the checkout, pulling items over the scanner, your knees still feel like they should get on the floor and beg.

Please let me pass.

Please give me more money.

Please leave me alone.

Please ignore my embarrassing existence.

"Hey."

"Uhhh, good evening, ma'a—Gaeul?"

Gaeul's dainty fingers catch your shoulders as you slump forward, against the checkout counter and almost fold over. Your body, devoid of energy, loses all tension.

“Hey, hey,” Gaeul calls out to you, and like the caring mother you never had, the warm palm of her hand cups your forehead. “Oh lord, you’re so hot! You’re definitely sick, what are you doing here?”

“I-I have to work,” you respond, a wave of something hot and heavy pressing down on your brain. This lava burns itself into you and makes every thought process excruciatingly hard. You haven’t even noticed it until now. “I’m not sick, every-thing is fine.”

Your smile is weak, dozy and fake, it cannot fool Gaeul a bit. Her beautiful face falls into deep wrinkles of worry as you can barely lift yourself out of her supporting arms. There is an awkward pause between the two of you, only interrupted by another customer clearing their throat. You try to get back to scanning, but one of Gaeul’s cans slips through your fingers a couple of times.

“I don’t think you should do this,” Gaeul says quietly, softly. “You don’t need to prove your toughness, it’s okay to be sick for a few days. I think your boss will understand.”

“Really, Gaeul, I’m okay.” The final can, straight into the blonde’s bag. Through your blurry eyes you can barely make out the color of her jacket, or sweater, or whatever it is—either way, it definitely suits her. “Thanks for worrying though.”

Why did I push her away like this? Why didn’t I listen to her? Why am I always like this?

Everything is hot and everything is cold. You need another jacket or the cold will get worse, but it simultaneously feels like you could die from overheating if you don’t start throwing away layer after layer of clothes. The way your body feels is close to how the inner mechanisms in your brain work in this fever haze. There is nothing, no thought, no conclusion, nothing that matters—yet everything is suddenly relevant.

Objects and details you’ve never actively released before come into focus of your decreasing sight, that one tile in the corner, just as dirty and unspecial as the rest, the second package of gum, purple and pink, the spooky hum when the door opens that never appears when it closes. So you stumble out of the store, tripping over your feet until the fever finally strikes you down.

The concrete, its gray color, is darker the colder it gets. It’s also harder, torturous to lay upon, scorching hot skin on freezing tarmac. Suddenly, brand new sneakers, black and white, small feet, about as small as your own, though they could be—

“Oh my God!”

—a bit bigger, judging by the length of the stockings covered legs that—

“Here, I’ll help you”

—disappear in a plaid skirt, above a combo of thick winter jacket and—

“I knew this was bad. Taxi!”

—a girl, whose hair is both silver and golden, a blonde close to whiteness, nonetheless it looks like a crown adorning and framing her perfectly formed features.

Gaeul.

You’re lost in a dream. A school full of students, their ages varying drastically and you do not recognize a single face. The teachers seem a lot more familiar, though they float through the room carelessly, gravity not applying to them. In fact, gravity only applies to you, as the rest of the students fly around the room with their chairs and desks.

A frame of an angel, her hands brushing your cheek, scorching hot, so she puts a wet towel on your face. That’s so nice of her, you must be sick. Sick or not, you cannot miss the day you go to the zoo with the floating class.

The zoo is filled with people, nothing but people. People that look at odd people. Those that have to stand on one leg, those that can’t talk properly, those who like weird things. You can hear your whole class laugh hysterically at all of them, so weird, so wrong, nothing better than to laugh at sickos and be glad that you’re not one of them.

“Uhm, hi.” A voice in the far background, damp, behind a shut door. “Care to explain why you have another girl in your bed?”

You feel like you have to explain yourself, but words are nothing more than concepts in your head, also the zoo is calling, you have to watch the lively corpses float through the water tanks. Luckily, someone speaks for you. The angel.

“She’s a friend and she is sick. That’s all there is to it, Yujin.”

"Oh, really?" The other voice is skeptical, eyebrows raised and she looks for a clever response. “I guess she got sick while laying in your bed? Gaeul, don’t lie to me, okay? Just be straightforward with me.”

“I—” the angel stutters and falls silent. You however found a new enclosure in this zoo which stretches in all directions. This one is rather empty and the enclosure is also no enclosure, just a mirror with a writing above it: ‘Sicko girls that like other girls’.

The reflection is you, of course, in all your—

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” The other voice, now a tall woman of incredible beauty, twirls a couple of golden strands of the angel and tugs them behind her ear with a weak—dishonest, you feel—smile. “The long hair suited you better. I really liked that.”

“I know, Yujin.”

The reflection is you, in all your fault and imperfection, far from perfection and any heavenly being. You are no angel, just a sicko girl that likes girls—and the whole class is laughing.

You open your eyes, but the aching, hot pain in your temple and a heavy, wet towel on top of it make actually seeing, realizing anything a pain in the ass. Just the outline of a small face looking down on you, very familiar, very pretty—oh, what a relief to have Gaeul be the first thing you see.

“Wh-where am I?” you ask past dry lips.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Gaeul turns around and quickly reaches for a bottle of water. “Here, drink this, your body needs a lot of water now. You’re in my—my friend's apartment.”

“Damn, then it must have been real fucking bad—”

You cover your mouth, realizing your loud curse in a foreign room, foreign bed, where are your manners, they might have foreign customs. Gaeul’s eyes fall shut when she begins to lightly chuckle.

“Don’t worry, she’s not here right now,” Gaeul says. “You’re all good. B-but you can’t stay here forever. Just rest up and—you have somewhere to stay, right?”

You carefully remove the towel from your face, catching all the drops running down your forehead as you think about home, your home, finally warm because you threw away your dignity. You’d love to not go there, tear up the contract for rent and run away to something new—into independence.

“Yeah, yup, I—I have a place, don’t worry. Sorry for all the trouble, fuck, I don’t even remember what—I did it again.”

Now Gaeul is holding her stomach, laughing, hitting the blanket that covers your legs and you join her. Though you might sit upright, you feel like falling over, the dizziness, Gaeul’s laugh, they make you feel like you’re still in that dream with the angel. The angel, so ethereal, but made fragile by this voice. A woman.

Suddenly, yours and Gaeul’s face are almost touching, her arms are on your shoulders, yours on her side, her petite frame is in your palm. The laughs have faded, smiles remain but you feel your heart racing. The smile fades and you’re tense. Gaeul is right there and she is so, so pretty.

“You sure you’re alright?” Gaeul asks as she sees your blush. You blush even more and avert your eyes.

“Y-yeah, thank you. You helped a lot. But—

“—are you okay too, Gaeul?”

That’s a smile full of uncertainty, a hint of anger, a glow of hurt. Gaeul’s eyes sparkle and you’d love to blow some life into them. Even better, all the love you have for her, you want to pour it into her and give her power. But no, you have no idea nor any plan to do such a thing. So it’s Gaeul who helps you out of the bed and hands you one of her sweatshirts that isn’t drenched in sweat.

“You are the one with a fever, I’m as healthy as ever!” Gaeul is so bright and her smile shines like a star. In a different universe, she is already a celebrity with a perfect red carpet smile. Fake.

“I didn’t mean that.” In a surge of confidence and worry, you reach for Gaeul’s hand and everything's in slow motion. “I-I’m scared that you’re not happy, that something isn’t right, that—Gaeul, I heard you talk to your friend and she seemed—”

“Look, I—she isn’t my friend.”

Gaeul looks at you.

“She is my girlfriend.”

Gaeul still looks at you. Now it’s your turn to fake a smile and get it over with.

...

(A/N2: Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more chapters, though it will take time until the next release)

#kpop fluff #gaeul fluff #ive fluff #female idol fluff #female reader #female reader fluff #kpop angst #gaeul angst #ive angst

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autistpride · 19 days

Text

Autism Acceptance

Prompt day 7: Performer AU

Word count: 2500

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus was so excited he couldn’t stand it. He bounced on the balls of his feet and his fists shook up and down.

“I’d say he likes the gift,” Regulus said to Remus' mum with a laugh.

Remus could see them watching him to make sure he stayed safe as he made his way around the room. He was practically vibrating and he squealed.

“What did you expect? You just waltz in here and announce that you got Remus a way to meet his favourite people and didn’t think he would happy stim?”

“I knew my brother and his friends were his favourite but I didn’t think he would like it that much,” Regulus shot back with a laugh before his hand shot out as if he could stop Remus from across the room. Both Hope and Regulus gasped.

Remus ran into the table and then the doorway but his squealing and movement didn’t slow.

“He’ll feel that when the excitement wears off,” Hope said with a sigh and Regulus nodded.

Regulus left the Lupin home at the end of the day. Regulus had never realised when he became a personal assistant for the Lupin family, that he would meet someone who would become his friend. Remus was not that much taller than him and he used his communication device for speaking, although he did often express himself with facial expressions and the perfect noise to express his sarcastic attitude. Remus was the master of eye rolls, eyebrow raises, smirks, snorts, and scoffs as well as the ba-dum-tsh and wa wa wa noises.

Remus’ room was decorated in bright colours and his bed had a tent over it. He needed help with many life skills still, but none of that stopped them from becoming like two peas in a pod. Technically it was frowned upon for Regulus to have developed an attachment to a patient, but Hope and Lyall had confided in him that Remus had come out of his shell and made so much more progress with Regulus as his aid than he had with anyone else.

Remus also had a cutting dark sense of humour. The number of jokes about body bags and comments on eyes honestly bordered on concern to anyone who didn’t understand the way Remus thought. That alone was enough. But then Regulus found out that Remus loved music. And not just any music, a very obscure small group of people who sang children's songs but in different genres. Hope apologised many times when Remus kept humming the songs while swinging in his hammock chair and yelling in frustration when the older disc would skip or scratch but wouldn’t allow anyone to help him. He listened in his headphones to the same cd anytime he was overwhelmed or tired and so he was often never without the discman. One day when Remus was busy playing in the little pool set up out in the back garden, Regulus opened the old discman and was surprised to see his brother’s face smiling up at him.

Regulus’ relationship with Sirius was strained after all the things they went through growing up, but when he went home that day, he immediately called Sirius up and asked Sirius to meet him and to work through everything. They went to therapy together and over the months things had improved and while they would always have some hard feelings, they were friends again. So when Remus’ birthday came around that year, Regulus didn’t hesitate to ask Sirius if his friend Remus could meet Sirius. Sirius was confused why Regulus had a friend who liked his music, especially one made for children. After Regulus explained that Remus was autistic, Sirius readily agreed. He even asked what things were sensory triggers for Remus and made a list. He sent Regulus to the Lupin residence that day with the good news and ensured Regulus that he would take care of everything.

The days leading up to Remus’ birthday were long and yet too short for Remus. He was so excited the days seemed to drag on, but with every day that ended Remus would ask Regulus how many more days left. Pressing the buttons for “See friends today?” as a greeting. Regulus would laugh and make some sort of comment about how Regulus “could see where he ranked” or “I see how it is, not even a Hi Reggie.” That always made Remus laugh and he would say hello and then ask again. So Regulus helped him make a small calendar and everyday they would add a sticker to it to help count down the days.

The night before, Remus swung in his hammock and listened to his discman. Anytime Regulus looked at him, Remus would push a button on his AAC that said, “I’m so excited!” Regulus watched while working on the paperwork for the week and would always respond, “I know. I know. Tomorrow Remus.”

Remus went to sleep as soon as Regulus left at seven, saying that the faster he went to sleep the faster that it would be the day he met his friends. Then it was tomorrow and Regulus was knocking on the door. Remus opened it and his face dropped and he quickly pressed on his AAC, “its you.” he just held up for Regulus to read. Regulus snorted, “Hi Reggie. Morning.” Remus didn’t laugh this time and he frowned and held up his device again. “Yes, it's just me for now. It’s seven in the morning Remus, they will be here at ten. Okay?” Remus pouted but nodded and immediately went to his timer. Regulus took off his shoes and shut the door before crossing the room making sure Remus put three hours into the timer and set it back onto the shelf to count down.

When the timer went off three hours later Remus threw open the door. Regulus was across the room and dashed to Remus. Remus knew it was because Regulus was worried Remus was going to run into the road, but Remus wouldn't. Remus knew it was to ensure he didn’t leave without someone but it still was annoying that they didn’t trust him. Remus peered out the door to the empty front garden. It was ten. He set a timer. Remus glanced at his AAC. It was actually after ten now!

“I know you’re excited Remus, but they will knock when they get here,” Regulus said softly when he took in Remus’ dejected expression. Remus nodded disappointed and right before Remus closed the door a small blue Volkswagen parked on the curb. Remus gasped and quickly looked at Regulus who grinned, “Ya thats them.”

Remus clasped his device to his chest and shook while swaying on his feet and then froze, dropping his AAC when Sirius stepped from the car. This was why Regulus had insisted Remus keep the silicone case around it, even if Remus gnawed on it sometimes.

Remus held his hand out to Regulus so they could go out the door. Regulus knelt down and picked up the device and took Remus’ hand. Remus squealed and pulled Regulus over the grass to the vehicle and stopped right in front of Sirius. Remus stared at Sirius, unblinking before turning to Regulus and snatching his device from Regulus and quickly finding the buttons he wanted before holding it up to Regulus.

Regulus read it, looked at Sirius, and burst out laughing, “yes they would be perfect in it.” Remus smirked.

“What?” Sirius asked, confused.

“Do you want to tell him or should I?” Regulus asked.

Remus didn’t wait, he pressed play on his communication device and a slightly robotic male voice read out, “I want to add your eyes to my collection.”

Regulus couldn’t help laughing at the expression of confusion and slight worry on Sirius’ face followed by James’ as he had stepped out of the driver’s side while all of this was going on.

Remus narrowed his eyes at Regulus who stopped. “Okay okay I’ll get them.”

Sirius’ expression was one of visible panic and Regulus held his phone to Sirius’ face and took a close up picture of Sirius’ eye and then showed it to Remus. “This one good?” He asked and Remus nodded, mouthing the word wow over and over.

Remus knew people thought his fascination with eyes was odd. Many people had said so, thinking that just because he used an AAC device and needed help with everyday tasks, that he was stupid. They talked about him in front of him like he wasn’t there or able to understand the things they were saying. All his past personal assistants had and Remus had decided that if they were going to treat him like that he would just be like that. That’s all they thought he would be, so he stopped trying to show them otherwise. They had treated him like a burden.

That was until Regulus came along and he took the time to listen to Remus, to understand.

Remus carried Regulus’ phone into the lounge, staring at the picture. Sirius and James looked at each other and Regulus snorted.

“If you guys want to set up in the lounge, that would be great.” Regulus motioned to the fairly small but tidy lounge.

Sirius gave Regulus a small hug and then carried his guitar in. James carried an electric drum kit and his sticks. It wasn't the best, but worked in a pinch, and he could turn the sound down so it wouldn’t be as loud. Mary and Lily brought in the keyboard. Regulus took up the rear and closed the door behind them all.

They all arranged themselves in one area of the lounge. Hope tried to stay out of the way but brought out an extension cord with a power strip for them when they needed to get everything plugged in and they couldn’t all use the one outlet.

Regulus took his phone back from Remus with the assurance he would print the picture out for Remus so Remus sat in his hammock watching everyone setup and get ready. Regulus held out his headphones and Remus put them on as Mary counted them down and began.

Remus rocked in his hammock as he listened. After a few songs Lily sang a soft version of happy birthday as Lyall carried out slices of cake for everyone. Remus ate his cake while everyone chatted. He wasn’t often included in group conversations because there were so many people and they talked quickly, not leaving room or time for Remus to use his AAC.

But Sirius wouldn’t have it. He asked Remus questions or for his thoughts on the topic and waited for Remus to respond.

When the cake was finished, Remus slowly edged his way over to Sirius and gently ran his fingers over the guitar. Remus had watched the way Sirius played. He had this look about it, the same look that Remus felt when he listened to their songs or talked about eyes or cold cases.

“Would you like to try?” Sirius asked next to Remus suddenly and Remus froze as if he was going to be yelled at.

Sirius lifted the guitar off the stand and motioned for Remus to come closer. Remus stayed where he was watching Sirius ready the instrument again. Sirius slowly reached out, giving Remus time to pull away, before gently taking Remus’ hand and placing them on the strings. Remus looked at Sirius and Sirius smiled encouragingly and Remus plucked a string. It vibrated and the sound that it created made Remus so excited he squealed and his hands clenched into fists and shook.

They continued like this for sometime before Mary and Lily started to pack up. Sirius had James take his guitar out to the vehicle. Sirius then asked Regulus if he could stay longer and Regulus told him to ask Remus. So Sirius did and a shocked Remus nodded happily.

Sirius sat talking to Remus the whole rest of the time Regulus was on his shift. Regulus sat nearby watching while filling out the paperwork he had to do for the week.

Sirius asked Remus questions. What song did he like best? Did he have a favourite show? What about movies? What other things Remus was interested in. And he answered his own questions back for Remus to know the answers to.

He didn’t shame or judge Remus and when he found out about Remus’ fascination with eyes he asked what about them was so interesting. And Remus told him.

Remus liked the way the colours in the eyes melted together. He liked how the pupil changes shapes depending on the lighting. But mostly, Remus liked how the eyes held so much depth and emotion. How you could almost see someone's soul when looking at them.

Sirius stared at Remus like he had just said the most profound things and then begged Remus to let him write that down for him, that it was the most beautiful poetry Sirius had heard. Remus flushed with pride.

When seven pm rolled around, the clock sounded and Regulus started to pack up and put on his shoes when Remus darted to his room. Regulus watched from the lounge, making sure Remus went to his room and not out the door to the back garden and when the door slammed closed and Regulus sighed.

Sirius looked shocked and concerned, “Hey what happened?”

“He likely got upset you’re leaving. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him.”

Remus laid on his bed with the door to his tent closed and the blanket over his head. Remus heard the knock and ignored it. Sirius opened it and poked his head in. “Hey. I’m going to come in and just sit here okay. Regulus is in the lounge if you want me to get him.”

Remus bit his nails and picked the skin on his lips before eventually unzipping the tent. Remus looked out at Sirius who was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and Remus’ AAC in his hands. Sirius looked up from his phone and smiled. “Hey, it's okay to be upset, especially when meeting new people and when having a lot of new experiences going on. And because the fun day is over.”

Remus scoffed and rolled his eyes. He knew it was okay, it didn't mean it didn’t suck that the best day of his life was ending and he would never see his new friend again.

Sirius laughed and held his phone up to Remus’ face, causing Remus to flinch. Sirius took a quick photo and then turned it to show Remus. “I think your eyes are stunning too.”

Remus smiled. Sirius pressed a few buttons on the AAC before holding it out to Remus. Remus played it, “see friend Sirius tomorrow?”

Remus beamed and nodded enthusiastically.

“I'll see you tomorrow Remus,” Sirius said brightly and waved goodbye before leaving the room and the house.

Remus couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

#mauraders #actually audhd #wolfstar #platonic moonwater #my writing #autistic remus #autism acceptance

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elliesmainhoe · 1 year

Text

PROFESSOR

Professor!Ellie X CollegeStudent!Reader

Summary: After Dina forced you to go to her new physics teachers public lecture, you start developing feelings for the professor.

Contents: LEGAL age gap (21 year old reader and 29 year old Ellie), fem!reader, reader is a blunt person and says what she thinks, pining, anxiety, panic attack, confessions, kisses.

Part 1 (you're here) - Part 2 - Part 3

Requested by @lonelyfooryouonly 🧡

My Masterlist

Dina had told you about her physics teacher. She complained constantly about the old man, who droned on and on about the same shit for hours on end, providing no new information of any substance to his students.

That's why on a random Friday afternoon, Dina rushed into the busy café you frequent and taking a be-line for your usual table.

"oh my god. Y/n." Dina practically yelled making several people turn around from there conversations glaring at the brunette. "This is the best day of my life~" she squealed ecstatically.

"Jesus Christ Dina, a little warning next time please?" As your heart pounded at the sudden appearance of the girl. "You spooked me" you laughed. "So what's up"

"Mr.Robinson retired!!!" She screeched, sitting down on the chair opposite you, laughing at your unamused expression.

"Fucking finally, I was so done of you complaining about that asshole" you muttered between sips of coffee.

" and our new physics teacher is having a weekly lecture starting this Saturday. And I was wondering if you would go tomorrow with me?" She continued deciding to ignore your comment.

"Why don't you go with Jesse? One, he's your boyfriend. Two, he takes physics as well."

"Can't I want to spend time with my best friend?"

"cmon, Dina, what's the deal?" You sigh helplessly.

"ugh fine" she moaned "I heard through the grape vine that the new professor is a woman, hot and a lesbian. And since I know you and your innocent, virgin ways, I was thinking you could... y'know?"

"Let me get this straight" you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the irony of the saying "you want to set me up with a rumoured lesbian, who's probably going to be double if not triple my age?" "Yes, yes I am" Dina smiled sweetly, laughing at the expression on your face.

"no I'm not going."

•••••••••• Saturday, 11th March.

You stood Infront of the closed door that lead into the lecture hall. In usual Dina fashion, she was late, and you were early. You had looked through the small glass pane and peered around the room, a few people were scattered around in the rows of seats. The new professor didn't seem to be in there yet .

If you were completely honest you didn't know why you were here and how your definitive no turned into a reluctant yes.

A flurry of brunette hair rushed towards you, "I'm so sorry, y/n, I got caught up" she panted, out of breath from running from across campus. "Yeah, I noticed." You said bluntly, your eyes following Dina's clumsy form as she swung open the lecture hall door.

She ushered you into the last row of seats, shushing you when you went to complain.

"Shhh, just get out your laptop and pretend your working." "Or I can actually work? I have an essay due on Monday." "Yes, whatever, do that then."

You got out your laptop, clad in stickers, including a few rainbow and lesbian flags, frogs, books, plants and band logos plastered all over it.

You opened up the word document named Analysing the use of language in 'a midsummer night's dream by William Shakespeare'. it currently stands at 2500 words, 500 words away from your goal. Before your hands fell into rhythm across the keyboard. The creak of the door sounded out around the room.

Instinctively you looked over at the door. A very attractive woman began walking down to the front, her hair was short and in a light shade of brown, her skin was sun kissed, freckles dotted along her facial features like constellations. There was a pair of glasses resting on her head, smoothing down some loose strands that fell free from her ponytail. She wore dress pants, and a knitted black and white striped sweater, with simple black doc martens boots.

As soon as she reached the front of the room, her voice sounded out, echoing around the room "Good Afternoon everyone, thank you for taking time out of your weekend to willingly chose to come to a physics lecture. This is the first public lecture I will be holding this semester, and depending on how it goes and how many people attend, I will continue it next semester also."

"Right let me answer some questions I know what your probably thinking. Yes, I know I'm young for a professor, and I'm 29 years old before you start speculating" she spoke with a lighthearted playful tone of voice, captivating you even more.

"My full name is Dr. Ellie Williams, but please just call me Ellie, Miss Williams makes me feel ancient. I have just achieved my PHD, but I've been doing guest lectures for a few years so I'm decently experienced."

She took a few questions, but you weren't paying attention to her words, she was beautiful. The way the sun filtered through the blinds and shadowing patterns in the golden sun that fell upon her freckled skin. Her voice was smooth and deep, soft and alluring, holy fuck Dina was right. She was hot, but was she a lesbian..?

A smothered giggle distracted you from your silent onlooking, you turned towards Dina, and rolled your eyes at the girl whose hand covered her mouth trying to stifle the laugh that involuntarily out of her lips.

"Shut up"

"you love me y/n~" she cooed sarcastically.

"unfortunately" you said under your breath, loud enough for Dina to hear, as a false expression of astonishment and offence fell on her face, making a laugh slip through your lips, much to your dismay.

•••••••••• Saturday, 18th March.

You and Dina walked towards the lecture hall, with a straggler in tow. "Does Jesse really have to come with us?" You whine in Dina's ear pathetically "I don't want to see you guys oogling at each other for two hours" you complain.

"Y'know, you could always sit a bit closer to the front, get a better view of Miss Williams." Jesse joked. "She said that she didn't like being called 'Miss Williams'.' Jesse scoffed "yeah of course you know that"

Deciding to ignore the comment, and walk ahead of the dawdling couple. You lived with them already and you didn't need to see them sending heart eyes to eachother any more than you had to. You finally reached the doors to the familiar lecture hall.

Stopping for Jesse and Dina to catch up to you before you rush into the room, nerves turning to excitement as you scurry into the room. Dina and Jesse filed into the back row again, holding hands and slipping in and out of lovey dovey giggles. No thank you.

Deciding to move closer and shuffling into a seat in the corner of the second row to the front. You brought out your sticker smothered laptop again and worked on a new assignment your English professor had assigned.

"Good Morning Everyone" Ellie chirped as she entered the hall, walking down the steps towards her desk. She wore a white muscle tee, a button-up over the top, left slightly open, she wore simply black pants and the same docmartens.

"Right. Okay... Let's get started everyone" compared to the week before, the amount of people who decided to attend the lecture had almost doubled. Ellie began talking, cracking jokes between facts and equations.

You continued to be mesmerized by her swift movements as she explained certain topics that came up on her pre planned PowerPoints. You didn't like physics, your mind simply couldn't wrap around the complex hypotheticals and various equations. But God did you find Ellie attractive. You didn't mind watching the woman's focused face and commanding voice, talk and explain problems and theories.

Shit.

••••••••••• Wednesday, 22 March

This is the worst day you've ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

First, you woke up on your period, after dosing yourself up on paracetamol and shoving a few tampons in your bag before leaving your's, Dina's and Jesse's, shared apartment.

Second, after ordering your usual latte from the coffee shop you regular, just off campus. The takeaway coffee cups, lid hadn't been put on properly and oops, your new pastel blue dress was now had a large coffee stain right down it.

Third, on your way to your first lecture of the day, it started raining, drenching your hair and soaking the newly spilt coffee into your dress further.

You felt the build up of emotions bubble in your stomach, the overstimulation making everything so so much worse. Quickly, to try and escape the pouring rain, you took shelter in an on-campus book shop. You hid in the corner of the room sitting on a lone couch, as you let the tears fall freely down your face.

Lips wobbling as you tried your hardest to keep the sobs at bay. Fuck. You hated your period. You hated stupid rain. You hated lukewarm coffee. You hated early morning lectures. You hate-

"Hey." A soft voice met your ears, "are you alright?".

You didn't look up, trying your hardest to calm yourself down and not humiliating yourself anymore than you already had.

"yes. M'fine." You muttered.

"It was more of rhetorical question... Can I sit down?..."

"Sure" you whispered, keeping your voice low so it didn't crack.

"You come to my public lectures, don't you?"

What.

The.

Fuck.

No no no no no no no no no no no no.

This can't happen, there is no fucking way that your stupid, stupid, crush is now talking to you while you have a mental breakdown.

Ellie was extremely worried, looking at your hunched over form, now gone rigid at her question. You were pretty, and Ellie's eyes couldn't resist drifting towards you, in your pretty dresses and knitted sweaters.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She whispered, when you didn't reply. "I'll leave you be"

"no."

Your hoarse voice replied before she could leave. "Oh okay... Bad day then?"

"you have no idea" you sniffed looking up at Ellie for the first time, through your wet eyelashes. She looked at the fresh coffee stain on your dress "I have a small idea" she laughed lightly.

She began to shed her coat, handing towards you. "Here take it... Should keep you warm until you dry off, and it'll cover the stain." She smiles at you.

You sit up straighter, wrapping the coat around your shoulders "thanks" you sniffed again, before wiping your nose on the sleeve of you jumper. "What's your name?" Ellie asks, looking at your tear stained face.

"Y/N..." You mumbled, her gaze hot on your face and you sink into yourself.

"That's a pretty name... What do you study?" You knew what she was trying to do, ask you questions to distract you from your tears, and it worked.

"I study English language"

"well, what are you reading right now?"

Shit shit shit. Right be discreet, tell her your gay discreetly. Jack Fucking Pot!!!!!

"Last night at the telegraph club..."

"oh cool... I'm uh- I'm uh reading 'one last stop" she replied a smile slipping into her face.'

"Nice." You say, an awkward grin gracing your features. "Uhm, it was really nice talking to you, I should give you your coat bac-"

"No. Keep it... You can give it back on Saturday."

"yes, yes...I'll- I'll do that." You get up reluctantly, but you did have a place to be... "Bye Ellie" "See you soon, Y/N."

••••••••• Saturday, 25th March

You were absolutely terrified. More terrified than you ever had been in your whole life. You wore a rainbow shirt, denim skirt and basic black converse, with Ellie's brown coat tucked under your arm as you walked on your own to the lecture hall.

Dina and Jesse were out on a date, leaving you to fend for yourself today. You were debating whether or not to actually go or to chicken out. But ultimately, you decided that you would feel too guilty if you didn't give it back on time as you promised.

So you tried to carry on like normal, entering the lecture hall five minutes early, slotting into the corner of the second row, taking out your personalized laptop and opening up the current assignment you had been working on.

A few minutes later a creak of a door followed by a 'Good Morning everyone.' as the older woman walked towards her desk briskly. She immediately began talking, taking questions and answering as best she could. It was incredible, how she talked with so much passion and understanding for her subject, the way she smiled when a student showed a similar amount of intrigue and fascination that she did.

Ellie was a great teacher. She was so lovely, talking to her students like they were humans, showing and explaining theories in different ways so there was more opportunities for those watching to understand. The way she acted, her kindness, her laugh, her humour, it made the uneasy feeling in your stomach increase every second.

Before you knew it, the two hours had been and went and people began to file out, talking and laughing with eachother. You stayed seated waiting until less people were around before you got up and scurried towards her desk.

"Here." You blurted out, handing the brunette her leather brown coat. "Thank you Y/N." She hummed in reply.

"uh no problem, I wasn't going to steal your jacket, that would be rude" you said, immediately thinking to yourself 'no fucking shit, that was an idiotic thing to say'

"so y/n. Why did you decide to come to my lecture? Physics is a big leap from English"

"my friend Dina takes your subject, she wanted to drag me along to kinda see what you were like before her first official class with you."

'A+ lie right there' you thought to yourself proudly. I mean you couldn't exactly say 'my friend has wanted me to hook up with someone for months now and she heard you were attractive and liked girls'.

"Dina... So I'm assuming it's you're last year in university then?",

"uh yeah. Two semesters left..." God. this was so awkward. Fuck your lack of ability to understand social cues.

You looked at Ellie's face, studying it and seeing a hesitant expression written on her face. "I was, uh, wondering how you were doing?... I mean I couldn't stop thinking about the other day and I just, wanted to make sure you were alright..."

"Oh... That's actually really nice of you. Uhm I'm doing okay, I got just very overwhelmed. It happens a lot but I mask I usually mask it better. I don't really know what came over me"

"no no no. I totally get it, I just y'know worry..." She gave a shy smile, her face slightly flushed, not really knowing what else to say.

"just know I'm always here to talk. I can give you my number? if you ever wanted to call me up and talk about things." "Yeah, yeah I'd really like that actually"

Ellie turned back to her desk, grabbing a pad of sticky notes, writing a string of numbers and doing a small doodle in the corner before giving it to you. "thanks, Ellie" you hummed, turning around quickly and scurrying out of the room, note in hand.

•••••••••• Sunday, 2nd April

You didn't call Ellie. You didn't text Ellie. You didn't even show up to her last lecture, despite Dina's pleading.

Confused. That's what you were, so fucking confused. You really, really liked Ellie. You'd only seen her a few times. She was sweet, kind, beautiful, hot and caring. But she was a professor, not your professor but still, she worked for the college you attended. And you were a student.

What in the forbidden romance trope is this? This isn't a romcon or a novel. If you started flirting with Ellie, or Ellie started flirting with you, she could get fired. Her whole livelihood down the drain just like that. Yes, it was legal. But, if it got out, people would view it suspiciously and rumours would start going around.

But you were overthinking. What if Ellie didn't even like you at all? Just gave you her number out of courtesy, feeling sorry for you after witnessing you cry.

Feelings are so useless. This is why you didn't do this type of stuff, you didn't date, didn't hook up with anyone, because it was easy, no emotional conflict, no feelings getting hurt. And now, you had been thrown into the deep end. Crushing on someone seemingly unattainable. Thanks Dina.

"y'know, if you stop sulking in bed and actually texted her, you'd feel a lot better." Speak of the devil.

"no it won't, it'll make me feel worse," you replied voice muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into.

"how would you know? You've never done this before. I, however, am a certified veteran at talking phases, and trust me y/n. I'm right"

"no"

"You text her right now. Or else you have to come with me to my physics lesson with me on Monday and you have to talk to her after."

••••••••••• Monday, 3rd April

Its 9am on a Monday morning and let's just say you are cursing the world... and Dina.

"Just remember y/n the longer you wait, the harder it'll be. Let's just get it out the way, yeah?" She chirped, linking arms with you, a reassuring smile on her face. "No..." You whined in reply as Dina ushered you out of the apartment.

"c'mon."

The walk was excruciating. Your mind was in another world as Dina joked and laughed with you, trying to take your mind off the looming anxiety that began to bubble in your chest. After fifteen minutes of walking on auto pilot, and almost walking into various obstacles (poles, trash cans, lamp posts etc), you finally arrived at the all too familiar lecture hall.

"Ready?"

"no"

"let's go".

Dina shuffled into the background, gesturing you to sit next to her, so you did, hands clasped together trying to swallow down the panic of your fast paced heart pounding in your chest.

"Hey, calm down..." You heard Dina whisper into your ear, as she grabbed your hand squeezing it, trying to comfort you. Breathing in deeply, you pulled out the book you were currently reading, trying to distract yourself.

"Good Morning everyone!" The familiar smooth voice of the woman you had been having a crisis over for weeks sounded out throughout the room as she entered. You're heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat and became irregular.

"Shit. Dina, I-I don't think I can do this." You stammered, feeling tears well in your eyes.

"Okay, okay. C'mon, let's go." She rushed, eyes showing a guilty expression, as she closed her laptop, shoving into her bag and entwining hads with you as she guided you to the door. "

As soon as you left the stuffy hall, it felt as if the weight of the world lifted off of your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry y/n. I really didn't mean to push you, I shouldn't have. Gosh I'm so sorry." She rushed out.

"no, no don't apologize you were only trying to help. " You sighed as you took a seat on the floor outside the lecture hall.

"I need to go to the restroom. Are you sure you'll be okay for a sec?, we can leave once I get back"

"yeah, yeah, go ahead. I'll manage"

You closed your eyes, as you listened to Dina's footsteps become further and further away and tried to regulate your erratic breathing.

"Hey." No , not again.

Ellie shuffled sitting next to you on the ground. "You okay?" "No."

"right, yeah, obviously..."

"Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way... Just don't get the point in lying, y'know?"

"I get it, it's an admirable trait." The underlying compliment caused your cheeks to flush pink, under her gaze. You became more aware of your surroundings, the feeling of elies side pushed up against yours now becoming more prominent.

Deciding to look at your shoes instead of meeting Ellie's warm gaze, you foot began to tap, jittering irritably from the nerves that still hadn't left your body.

"Don't you have a lecture to go back to?" You ask, trying to nurse the conversation back to life.

"I do, but I have different priorities currently..."

"You should go back, what priorities are more important than your job?"

You could practically feel Ellie's smile, even though you weren't even looking at her... "This..." She mumbled, her hand brushing under your chin and guiding your face to hers.

Your lips connected slowly, you could taste her strawberry Chapstick mix with the cherry one you had applied on yourself earlier. You felt her lips twisted into a smile, her hand moved from your chin, across your jawline until finally reaching the back of your head, pushing you deeper into the kiss.

A cough erupted from behind you, making you and Ellie jump apart. Turning around quickly to face the culprit-

"Dina!-" you yelled at the girl, who stood leaning against the wall, a smug grin painted on her face.

"Told you so."

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

Part 2

Here it is. I actually really like this one, I feel like I could've written the ending better but oh well. The ending is slightly different to what was requested, but I started writing and it just kinda happened like that. But I hope you still like it 🧡

NOT PROOFREAD

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sapphirelass · 7 months

Text

In my Blood ~ Will Solace x Sister!Reader

Hi you guys! Wow, it's been over a year😅 I'm still working toward my uni degree (physics, maths and upper secondary school education for those of you who don't know), spending time with my boyfriend, hanging out with friends, and visiting my family as often as I can. I promise I have done a fair bit of writing this past year, just not finished anything... But, here we are! Really looking forward to the PJO-series, but while we're all waiting, here's a Will imagine because Will is great <3

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To read as xOC, click here

Words: 2500 ish

Warnings: injury, blood, wounds, angst (normal demigod stuff really, but you know)

Please note that English isn't my first language! I have studied it for over a decade, and speak it fluently, but there might still be some grammatical errors and a mix of British/American expressions - thanks for understanding :)

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

she/her reader

Enjoy! :)

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“Get down!” she shouted, as a giant, angry, terrifying cyclops approached them. “Listen closely now; do you see that huge pine tree over there? And the statue? Run past them, and you’ll find people who’ll help. I’ll try to buy you as much time as possible!”

The two seven-year-old half-bloods that had just been saved and brought to camp (well, almost anyway) sat off towards the border, as (y/n) Solace, daughter of Apollo, stayed behind and pulled her sword out. She was a way more advanced archer than swordfighter, but the one bow she had brought with her had fallen out of her firm grip as she jumped behind a boulder for cover. She had made an attempt at getting it back, however, that just resulted in her body coming crashing to the ground as the cyclops’ hand collided with her chest, while the bow ended up in between the hard ground and the monster’s massive foot… (Y/n) threw her head back and sighed at the sight of her trusty old weapon in pieces, and it wasn’t until she tried to push herself back up on her feet that she noticed a terrible pain spreading through her left arm from her elbow. It hurt badly, but since she didn’t have much of a choice, (y/n), suddenly feeling slightly dizzy, pushed herself back up with her other hand and looked for another road to victory.

After a few minutes of trying to attack the monster with her sword, but repeatedly failing since getting close enough without getting hit herself proved to be very difficult, (y/n) quickly ran in a circle around the monster causing him to stumble - if only for a second. She wasted no time launching herself at the cyclops with her sword and - *SPLASH*. The sharp, metal blade bore deep into the slimy eye, and the cyclops staggered backwards, slowly disintegrating. (y/n) was just about to take a deep breath when she felt a stinging sensation in her abdomen. Briefly glancing down, she winced as she realized what had happened. The monster must have grabbed one of her arrows from the quiver she had thrown onto the ground, and, rather violently judging by the amount of blood oozing through her orange t-shirt, pushed one into her side.

Being a demigod, (y/n) had obviously suffered multiple injuries before, though never quite ones as bad as this. The bottom half of her shirt was now more red than orange, and she could feel the world spinning slightly. Groaning, she sat down against a tree and inspected the wound carefully. She wanted to pull the arrow out, but her twin brother Will had always strongly argued against doing something just like that. A vague memory of him saying something along the lines of “the weapon possibly being the only thing keeping you from losing too much blood”... Sighing, she started to slowly make her way toward camp but didn’t make it very far before stumbling over her own feet and falling forwards on the cold hard ground. (Y/n) coughed up something that looked like a mixture of spit and blood before pushing herself to her feet again with the help of her sword. It wasn’t a speedy process, but she kept walking in the direction of the infirmary, stopping to catch her breath every few steps.

---

“(y/n/n)?!” She only had a few hundred meters to go when two of her closest friends - Travis and Connor Stoll - came running towards her with worried faces. Typically when the brothers approached someone together in this way it was with mischievous smiles on their faces and usually followed by a prank of some sort, but not this time. “What in the name of the gods happened to you?”, Travis asked, as Connor carefully placed (y/n)’s right arm across his shoulders to help support her. “We ran into some new kids who said you’d picked a fight with a giant?”

“Oh hardly…”, she demonstrated. “If anyone picked a fight it was him! And besides, it was just a normal cyclops, and not even a very big one.” She winced slightly when Travis smiled and grabbed her other arm, but started walking more steadily thanks to the brothers. “But my bow broke, and - friendly advice - don’t try to take out a cyclops with nothing but a sword.”

“You should put that on a T-shirt.”, Travis joked but shut up quickly when (y/n)’s knees buckled and she stumbled again. He sent her a worried glance as Connor spoke up.

“So, what happened? How bad off are you really?”

She told them the story as they walked slowly down the hill and across the volleyball court. They were right by the big house when (y/n) finished the story.

“Gods…”, Connor mumbled, changing his grip around his friend’s shoulder to give her even more support. “You know Will’s gonna kill you himself this time, right?”. (Y/n) was about to answer him when someone opened the door to the infirmary and beat her to it.

“Who do I have to kill? I swear, if Nico is shadow travelling like a madman agai- Oh Gods!”, Will interrupted himself, a look of horror on his face as he was met with the sight of his twin sister barely able to stand up, and covered from head to toe in blood, mud, and dirt. “(y/n/n), what happened?!” He examined her quickly before holding the door open so the Hermes boys could get in and slowly lay (y/n) on one of the bunks.

“It’s a bit of a story, and I don’t know if I feel like repeating it again right now”, she said weakly, wincing a bit as Will swiftly pulled her worn jean jacket off, “but the short version is that a cyclops punched me and I have an arrow through my stomach… And probably a broken arm too. And I might have hit my head when I fell… it, eh, hurts a bit…”

“Gods…”, Will sighed, “Well, do you feel nauseous? Disorientated? Can you see clearly or is anything blurry?”

“Eh… a little dizzy maybe, and a weak headache, but my sight is fine and I’m not feeling sick.”

“Right”, Will mumbled as he wiped a small amount of blood from his sister’s forehead and briefly inspected the small wound. “Something positive I suppose…”. He put a small bandaid on it to slow the bleeding down at least momentarily, before moving to look at his sister’s arm which was indeed bent in a rather weird way. “Well, head-related injuries are always scary, I’ll have to examine it further to know how bad it actually is. The arm is absolutely broken - annoying, but fixable - though this arrow…” He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through her T-shirt so that he could get to the wound. “Jeez, (y/n/n)… How long have you been bleeding?”

She took a deep breath before answering. “I’m not sure, it feels like an eternity, but an hour maybe?”

“AN HOUR?!” Will tried to stay calm, but his now pale face told another story. “Holy… Okay, eh, (y/n/n), I’m gonna… I have to get the arrow out and stop the bleeding as fast as I can, you- you’ve already lost way too much blood. Let's just hope that it missed anything vital.”

He whispered the last part, but (y/n) hardly heard the rest either, as she slowly but steadily started drifting off to sleep. “Sure thing… You do that, I’m just gonna doze off for a quick sec…”

“Oh no, you’re not!” Will dropped what he was holding and grabbed her shoulders to shake her gently. “(Y/n/n), I get that you’re exhausted, but you have to stay awake. As I said, you lost a lot of blood, and you may have a concussion. Sorry, I’m not even gonna argue with you - you’re not falling asleep.”

He turned back to the brothers who were watching from afar, wanting to know what happened but also not being in the way. “Connor, Travis, you have to keep her talking while I work, okay?”

“Sure”, Travis nodded, as Connor grabbed (y/n)’s right hand again. “Wanna tell us about the new kids?”

“Yeah”, Connor added. “They seem cool!”

“They are…” (y/n) moved a bit, carefully letting Will remove the piece of her T-shirt that he had cut off to get to the wound. “Only seven years old, fighters both of them. They ran away from different orphanages in Vermont and took down a basilisk together in Albany and have taken care of each other si- AHHHHH.”

She let out a harsh scream as her brother swiftly pulled what was left of the arrow out of her chest, and would probably have rolled off the bed if not for the Stoll brothers holding her down as Will apologised profusely.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n/n)”, he mumbled sadly, as he handed Travis a big piece of ambrosia, “but that was the worst of it. You’re doing really well, just hold on. You should try to have some ambrosia now that the arrow’s out.” She struggled to take a few shallow breaths as the extreme pain slowly began to fade again, but nodded and accepted the small piece of godly food Travis was offering her. The pain instantly lessened even more as the flavour of her mother’s gingerbread cookies combined with a touch of magic consumed her whole being. (Y/n) finally took a really deep breath, but when she exhaled it felt as if every single drop of energy she had been grasping onto left her at once. She allowed herself to close her eyes and immediately began drifting off to sleep, the worried voices of Will, Travis, and Connor simply fading into silence.

---

(Y/n) was desperate for a few hours of peaceful rest, but unfortunately sleep and nightmares tended to almost always go hand in hand for demigods. She relived the last 24 hours in her sleep, everything from leaving camp in the early morning feeling excited to bring some new kids back to the exhausting battle that could have ended badly if not for the cyclops’ inability to stay on its feet. During the actual fight, it had happened so quickly that she hadn’t even noticed it at first, but this time she could clearly see how the monster roughly yanked a sharp arrow from her quiver and began making his way back towards her. She lay flat on the ground, desperately trying to move out of the way, but she couldn’t. It was as if all her muscles suddenly decided to to take any more orders from her brain. The cyclops lifted his arm, getting ready to deliver the final blow, as (y/n) closed her eyes, starting to accept her fate.

It felt as if time itself stopped. All she could hear was her own shaky breathing - until suddenly it wasn’t… There was a also voice, far away, sure, but still clearly there…

“(Y/n/n)? Please wake up! C’mon!”

It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint who it belonged to. She focused and tried to listen for the voice again, but she was so exhausted… Giving in to the darkness felt so inviting… And simple. She could do with simple for once.

“No, no, no!” The voice cracked, panic and desperation shining through. “Don’t you dare give up now! C’mon, (y/n), I’m here, I’ve got you! Don’t give up… please…”

She was so close to slipping away, but something about that seemed wrong, and the reassuring words plus the comforting feeling brought to her by the sound of the familiar voice gave her precisely the boost of energy she needed. Shaking herself out of the nightmare, (y/n) inhaled sharply before shooting up, her eyes darting around the room until someone gently placed their hands on her shoulders, causing her to meet their gaze.

“(y/n)!”

She blinked a few times, shaking violently as she began realizing where she was. “Will?”

“Oh Gods!” He hugged her tightly, perhaps a bit too tight, but it didn’t matter in that moment - the 16-year-old was just so incredibly relieved to see that his sister was alright. “You’re alive!”

(Y/n)’s breathing evened out again as she leaned into her brother. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t let go of her arms, but moved back slightly and sent her a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“I… I just… I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Gods, (y/n/n), I always worry.” He moved closer again. “I’m just happy you’re okay! I mean, it’ll be a while before you’re back doing quests of course”, he sent her a serious look, “but the fact that you woke up is a good sign”.

(Y/n) accepted the ambrosia piece Will offered to her before answering. “All thanks to you.”

“Well”, he shrugged, “your body did most of the hard work...” (Y/n) shook her head at Will’s modesty before starting to push herself off the bed to stand up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!! Stop! What do you think you’re doing?!”, Will exclaimed, swiftly pushing her back down. "You have been unconscious for over four days and lost so much blood, and that’s not even mentioning your head, arm or other random scratches. You’re staying here at least until Friday, no discussion.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, secretly feeling very lucky to have a brother as caring as Will. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just need to stretch my legs for a second, please? Help me out?"

Will didn’t look too happy with the idea, but understood how stiff she must be feeling after so many days and nodded. It wasn’t like (y/n) wanted to get up and run, she still felt really tired and weak. However, after that horrifying moment of helplessness that she experienced in her dream, just the confirmation that she could in fact still move her arms and legs was incredibly comforting. When everything felt normal, she tried a few careful steps and immediately stumbled, but didn’t fall thanks to Will’s support.

“Light-headed?”

“Yeah, a bit…”

“Alright, that’s enough, back you go.” He guided her back to the bed, and she lay her head back down on the pillow.

"There we go!", Will smiled, "can I get you anything?"

"A cup of tea, please? Red, no honey?"

"You’ve got it!"

Five minutes later Will returned, balancing two cups of tea and a cheese sandwich on a tray. "Who ordered the tea and sandwich?", he asked jokingly as he sat the tray on the bed. He placed some pillows against the wall and slowly helped his sister sit up against them. “That would be me", she smiled. Will also sat down on the bed and put an arm around (y/n). She took a small bite of the sandwich and leaned her head on her brother's shoulder. The siblings drank their tea in silence, enjoying the feeling of being together and safe, if only for the night.

//L masterlist

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ramblingoak · 8 months

Note

On my way in your ask box oakie for the kiss prompt: confessing in the heat of the moment, leading to a kiss (if you squint enough it definitely be angst 👀) with Copia

Alright Birb I leaned heavily into the angst but hopefully I made up for it with some extra kissing 😘

Don't Go

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader ~ While trying to convince Papa to cancel the tour you end up confessing how you feel about him...

Warnings: angst, brief (sexy) angry Copia, grinding, fluff, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 2500 words

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

“I don’t want you to go.”

Copia froze at his desk at your words. He opened his mouth a few times but seemed at a loss as to how to respond. You looked back down at your laptop but the words on the screen started blurring together when your eyes teared up. This had been eating at you for weeks now and it should have felt better to say it out loud to Papa. Instead his silence at your confession hung heavy in the room. Finally his chair creaked and when you glanced at him he had set his pen down and was leaning back watching you.

“Cara…why do you say this?”

You took a deep breath to collect yourself, crying in front of him wouldn’t help the situation at all.

“I’m worried, Papa. I’ve been worried.”

His chair creaked again and you heard his soft footfalls as he rounded his desk to come closer. You stiffened in your chair because if he got too close you were afraid you’d throw yourself into his lap wailing. He either didn’t notice your body language or didn’t care because he stepped right up to your chair. His gloved hand rested over where yours was gripping the chair’s arm and he kneeled down to look up at you. You couldn’t help but laugh when he groaned as his knees popped, Copia muttered something in Italian before smiling.

“Look at you, laughing at your Papa.” He clicked his tongue as he shook his head. “There are far better ways to get me on my knees for you, cara mia.”

“Papa!”

It was his turn to laugh and despite how much his comment made your cheeks heat up you rolled your eyes. You needed him to be serious right now! If he started talking about being on his knees in front of you, well…

“Hey, stop thinking those dirty thoughts now and tell me what’s wrong.”

He squeezed your hand while bringing his other one up to rub your shoulder, doing his best to soothe you.

“I think something terrible is going to happen on the tour.” When he gave you a curious look you decided to go for broke. “You need to cancel it. You need to stay here.”

You left off the ‘with me’ because despite how much you wanted to keep Copia at your side you just wanted him to be safe. It didn’t matter where or with who.

“Why do you think this?” His voice was gentle as he spoke but his eyebrows were furrowed like they got when he was confused. “Have you seen something? Has someone said something?”

“Papa, no, I haven’t…no one has said anything. I just, no wait, Papa!” You clutched at his hand when he stood up and took a step back. He didn’t look angry thankfully, but he was certainly confused. “Copia, please, I know it sounds ridicul—“

“Si, it sounds very ridiculous. So what, you want me to cancel an entire tour because you have bad feelings?”

He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms. You ignored the way the fabric of his shirt pulled tight around his shoulders, something you regularly enjoyed looking at, and stood up to face him. With your hand in the air you started to tick down all your reasons for asking him to stay, lowering your fingers as you went.

“I have heard rumors, don’t roll your eyes! Rumors from everyone, both human and ghoul alike. I’ve seen Imperator and Nihil schedule meeting after meeting without inviting you.” When he muttered that he ‘was busy’ under his breath you scoffed at him. “You are not that busy, I make your damn schedule Copia!”

“There are always rumors, always! And who cares if Imperator and Nihil are having meetings together? Do you really want to know what they get up to in her office? Alone?”

Your frustration bubbled up at the teasing tone in his voice and when the corner of his painted lips curled up in a smirk you lost your composure. With a growl you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him. He stumbled back against his desk with a grunt, cursing as the edge dug sharply into his hip. You instantly regretted it, your aim was to keep Papa safe, not lose your temper like a child.

“Copia, I’m sor—hey!”

With a growl he straightened up and stalked your way, grabbing your elbows and propelling you backwards until you met the wall. He planted his fist next to your head and glared at you. Some of his hair had fallen over his forehead, the graying strands in desperate need of a trim. They laid across his eyes, both of them filled with anger.

“It’s Papa, cara mia, Papa. You forget yourself.” You gave him a stiff nod, once more desperately trying to hold in your tears. He sighed suddenly, reaching up to stroke a thumb across your cheek. “I appreciate your concern, but you’ve told me nothing that would even have me consider canceling a meeting, let alone a whole tour.”

“What about your brothers?” When he just raised his eyebrow you decided to keep going. “None of your brothers lasted this long, the Ministry always found something wrong and demanded a change.”

“The title of Papa doesn’t come with an expiration date.”

“Not an official one, but look at what they did to Terzo! Not even Omega knew that was going to happen.”

“Si, because if Omega knew he would’ve stopped it. If anyone had known we would have demanded it happen behind closed doors. Terzo might’ve lost sight of what it meant to be Papa, but he deserves his dignity.”

“And so do you!” The tension in Copia’s body seemed to leave him and he relaxed his posture a bit. He still hovered over you but his anger had at least dissipated. “Do you want to be dragged off the stage in the middle of a song?”

He let out an incredulous laugh and wagged a finger in front of your face as he responded.

“If you think any of my ghouls would let that happ—“

“But what if they want it to happen? What if they’re told to let it happen?”

“You are mistaken, cara. I trust my ghouls, all of them, with my life. Anyone that raised a hand towards me would be eviscerated and probably eaten. Especially if Cumulus got a hold of them.”

Copia’s brow furrowed again when he looked you over, he must’ve noticed your hands had started to shake. You couldn’t help but let your emotions, your fear, take over. It didn’t help with how dismissive he was being. When he took your hands in his own you let out a broken sob, shaking your head angrily to try and get yourself under control.

“Papa please, I know it sounds crazy.”

“Do you? I’m not sure you’re hearing yours—“

“And I know you don’t believe me, I know you don’t see what I see.”

“There’s nothing to see! You haven’t shown me anyth—“

“I just care about you so much and the thought of losing you is unbearable. I can’t stop worrying about you.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, cara mia. Except maybe the heat at all these damned outdoor ven—“

“I just wish you’d take me seriously! I wish you’d just stay.”

“Then give me an actual reason to!”

“I love you!” Copia’s mouth fell open and he took a step back, dropping your hands as he went. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest to see him move away but you decided to keep talking. It was too late to take it back anyway. “I love you, I’ve loved you for so long now. Even before you became Papa, before you became a Cardinal!”

“But…all this time? Why did you never say anything?”

You snorted, angrily swiping at the tears on your cheeks.

“Because out of all the siblings and ghouls in the congregation Copia Emeritus would choose me? I’d rather be realistic, Papa. It’s better than being heartbroken.”

“Well, what about me?” When you looked up at him he gave you a gentle smile. “What about my heart, eh?”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

You held your breath when Copia stepped closed again. Only shakily letting it out when he brushed your tears away once more.

“Can I show you how I feel? Is that ok?” You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. “Okie dokie.”

Slowly, so very slowly he leaned in close and pressed a kiss along your brow. He cradled your head in his hands as he kissed you again, a little further down this time onto the tip of your nose. When he moved so his lips hovered over yours you couldn’t stop yourself from whispering his title.

“Papa, I—“

“Copia, per favore. I want you to use my name.” You nodded, your trembling hands coming up to cover his own. His name escaped your lips, barely louder than a whisper, but it made him smile all the same. “Bene. Now, where was I?”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“Si, I’ve been wanting to for quite some time.”

“Oh.” He pressed another kiss on your nose, laughing when you frowned at him when he moved his head away. “For how long?”

“Ah, probably since my days as a nervous Bishop.”

“Seriously?! Since you were a Bish—mmph!”

His lips were warm against yours as he kissed you. He was gentle at first, like he was afraid he’d scare you off, but your mind was still stuck on him having feelings for you for so long. For as long as you had them for him!

You didn’t want gentle kisses.

Your hands left his and you reached out to grip his vest. With a tug you had him stumbling against you, pressing you back against the wall. His knee slipped in between your legs and you found yourself rubbing against it embarrassingly fast. He pulled his mouth away to sweep his thumb along your bottom lip before leaning in again.

His kisses were hungrier this time, more demanding. You met each swipe of his tongue with your own, nipping him back when his teeth got involved. One of his hands dropped to your waist, kneading your flesh through your top. When the fabric rode up and he was able to press his leather glove against your skin you moaned into his mouth. He pulled away with a groan you felt rumble under your hands.

“Look at you, so needy for me.” You huffed and narrowed your eyes at him, but he just laughed and pressed against you. His hips were flush against your own and your mouth fell open when you felt his hard cock. “Do you feel that? I’m needy for you too. I have been for so long, for too long. I should’ve said something sooner.”

“I should have too.”

“We will just have to make up for lost time, eh?” He ground his hips against you and your head fell back against the wall with a thunk. “I need to show you how much I love you.”

You felt embarrassed when you started crying again, but it felt so good to hear those words. To hear him tell you that he felt the same. With a shaky breath you looked up at him, smiling as you took in his messed up paint and wild hair.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Ah, there’s nothing to be sorry for, amore. But I have an idea that might make you feel better.” You couldn’t help but let your eyes fall down to his crotch, it was only for a moment but by the sound of that dirty chuckle of his you knew he saw it. “Besides that, of course. Although I promise there will be plenty of that.”

“What’s your idea?”

“Come with me.” Your head snapped up in surprise, looking over his features for even a hint that he was joking. “I should have planned on bringing you from the beginning. I’d be lost without my assistant. Without you.”

“Is that, I mean, will Imperator be ok with that?”

“Who gives a fuck what she thinks, I am Papa and I am demanding you come. That is, if you want to?”

You let out a squeal and threw your arms around his neck.

“Yes! Yes of course I do!”

“Bene, you can help keep me safe, huh?” He hissed when you tugged on his hair. “I’d take you as my bodyguard over an army of ghouls any day.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you, not as passionately as before but you could feel the emotion behind it. You tried to convey how you felt as you kissed him back. The worry was still there, but at least you’d be with him. You could keep an eye out when he got distracted by whatever new sparkly jacket he decided to order. After a moment he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours and humming softly.

“Thank you, Copia.”

“You deserve my thanks more.” He huffed out a laugh and kissed your forehead before pulling away. With a groan he reached down and adjusted his pants, biting his lip when he looked at you while he touched himself. “I have big plans, I can’t wait for you to see them!”

“Oh yeah, like what? Are you going to play baseball again?”

“Something better, I promise.”

He mimed throwing a few punches, bouncing on his feet as he did. With a laugh you stepped forward and grabbed his hands out of the air. It was his turn to pout and you kissed his knuckles in an apology for spoiling his fun.

“How about right now?” He raised an eyebrow and you stepped closer, letting his hands go so you could trace the patterns on his vest. “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Si, si I do.” Copia leaned his face close while he waggled his eyebrows. “Big ones.”

You snorted when he did a few of his famous “mummy thrusts”, shaking your head at his antics. Your heart ached because you loved him so much, you wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything happened to him.

“Promise me, Copia. Promise me everything will be ok.”

“Better than ok, amore.” He leaned forward to kiss you quickly, nipping at your bottom lip when he pulled away. “Everything will be okie dokie, I promise.”

You nodded, trusting him because you had no reason not to.

“Good. Now…” He groaned as one of your hands slid down to rub his cock through his pants. “How about you show me this big plan of yours.”

He reached down and covered your hand with his own, encouraging you to rub harder. Copia’s eyes met yours as he gave you a wide smile.

“Okie dokie.”

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

my masterlist

my ao3

#my fics #my writing #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x gn reader #copia x gn reader #the band ghost fanfic #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #copia fanfiction #popia fanfiction #papa emeritus x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years

Text

That dress

Pairing : Aemond x Fem. Reader

Summary: Aemond gets a little hot and bothered when he sees you in a daring dornish dress, then finds out it was just a little scheme of yours, to get him all hot and bothered. In public. He decides a little punishment is in order.

Themes : Soft | Smut | Aftercare

Word count: 2500 + words

Minors DNI

This one shot is a follow up to this list of HCs.

Translation

Kēlītsos - Kitten

The scent of your perfume, all orange blossoms and summer days, preyed on his mind.

The sight of you, his wife, in that dress of yours, preyed on his mind.

Aemond stood at one corner of the dance floor, waiting for the music to start.

It finally did, much to his relief. Aemond and the rest of the lords that stood up took the first step forward, to bow. You and the other ladies who stood at the opposite end, curtsied. Then, at the next beat, dancers on both sides of the floor moved toward each other.

At the first twirl, Aemond took a deep breath as soon as you reached him. "What is that perfume?" he whispered.

"Something my mother sent me," you whisper back. Aemond took another deep breath and moved again. This time to where the ladies were all standing before. At the next change in the music, the men came forward to join the ladies in the center. There was another twirl around each other, another question.

"And that dress?" he mumbled as his eye feasted on your body. "From where did you get it?"

That dress. Cut in the Dornish style, with a deep neckline, flowing silhouette, and intricate embroidery. The neckline plunged so much that it required smaller pieces of fabric held together with thin straps tied at the back to conceal the wearer’s breasts.

"A Dornish seamstress," you said quickly, as he took your hand in his and twirled you again. "You know, the one Helaena and I visited a few weeks ago?"

He did remember, very well in fact. He remembered the trip you and the queen took, and the scandal the queen caused when she donned a Dornish dress for the first time. Aemond’s eye went over you again. That dress was quite eye-catching. And not just eye-catching. Beautiful it was, making his mind wander to other things, made him want the night to end quickly and take you to bed. Aemond’s eye went dark when he saw you standing there, in a dress guaranteed to make the most resolute of men go weak in the knees. He quickly took control of himself and shook his head.

But his control didn’t last long. It took another hammering on the next change. Aemond could feel his mind going hazy at the sight of you. His body was heating up with lust. He shook his head again. No. Aemond was a man of control, of discretion, a man not given to overt displays of feeling of any nature. It was who he was, who he would always be, but seeing you standing there, a vision in that dress, fuzzed up his mind, dredged up the baser urges he would rather save for more private moments.

And that was when he caught it, the upward tug of your lips. His eye, that blazing amethyst purple poets wrote about, narrowed to a thin slat when he caught you struggling in vain to hide a victorious grin. Understanding dawned.

This, all of this, the perfume, the revealing dress, was solely for his benefit, and done to rouse him a little. While dancing. In public. Aemond had always been a discreet man, and you wanted to see how less discrete you could make him. It worked. His eye had been on you the entire time. You could hear him take deep breaths every time you got close to him.

At the next change, Aemond took you by the arm and gently escorted you to a dark and private corner of the hall. After making sure the two of you were alone, he said, "What are you playing at, kēlītsos?"

You give him the most innocent look you could muster. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

He shook his head and tutted. "Yes, you most certainly do. And I must say, it worked." Aemond took another deep breath, felt his mouth water. He let his gaze wander all over your body. He then remembered your triumphant grin, the mischievous glint in your eyes. He wasn’t going to let you have the whip-hand tonight.

"But still, such efforts are unnecessary." He swallowed and felt blood draw to his loins with the next breath you took. Now he definitely wanted to end the night early and take you to bed. Aemond hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you to him. He leaned in closer, his mouth just a hair’s breadth over yours. "If you want to ride the dragon that badly, kēlītsos." He crooned huskily, "You need only ask."

Your cheeks flushed and grew heated. Aemond had caught on to your little scheme. Your head dropped, only to be lifted again when a finger curled under your chin and tilted it up. This time it was Aemond who was grinning triumphantly, it was he who had the mischievous glint in his eye. "Well?" he asked, very much the image of a man who had taken back control. "Do you want to?"

Goosebumps rose over your flesh when he dipped his head to the crook of your neck. You felt a hum at the back of your throat when his tongue ran over your skin. You looked around, praying that no one would wander this way and see what your husband was doing to you. Your eyes grew heavy when Aemond’s hold on you tightened. “Aemond,” you mumbled softly.

Aemond, meanwhile, had been blinded to all else but you. Feeling your hands bunch in his hair, hearing his name rolling off your lips like a whispered plea intoxicated him, making him back you up against a column. You were caged now, with his body flush against yours. You felt him, all of him, thick against your belly, every time he moved or even breathed. "Tell me, kēlītsos," he crooned again, this time more than a little roughly and quite directly. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

His hands streaked possessively over your waist, making you quiver as they drifted over your exposed skin. It was like a drug that seeped into you and made you feel dizzy and weak. When skilled fingers drifted higher, you nearly buckled. You were filling up with this glorious ache, an ache only he could satisfy. And you still hadn’t answered him.

“Don’t make me use other means to get an answer, kēlītsos," he growled.

Other means. You knew what those other means were. Not here. Not where someone could see and hear. "Yes,” you mumbled softly. “I want you to fuck me.”

Aemond chuckled wickedly. Seeing your flushed cheeks and darkened eyes thrilled him. "Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?"

You nod, just like he expected you to do. "Yes."

"Good, my little kēlītsos. And when we’re in bed," Aemond leaned in again, gripping your chin with one hand, while the other was still on your waist. "I expect to hear more than just yes, understood?"

You nod again. This time, he smiled sweetly and kissed you softly on the lips. "Go." Aemond looked around to make sure the doorways were clear. "I’ll make our excuses to the king."

*****

More than an hour had passed since the both of you left the feast.

Aemond had you under him, grinding his hips against the insides of your thighs, taking you to the brink, then stopping. He wanted you begging and pleading, as if to make you pay for your attempts at fogging him up with that dress of yours.

Beads of sweat gleamed on his skin. His breath was but ragged pants. He felt it again, you squirming, your slick, velvety walls pulsing around his cock, your hips moving in rhythm to meet his thrusts. Aemond’s own body was screaming at him, begging him for release, but he needed to do this, to turn you into a quivering mess before he made you cum. He stopped again and pulled out. When he took another brief respite, his body resting heavy on yours, you couldn’t help but mewl in protest. “A-aemond,” you begged. You couldn’t take it anymore, being brought to the edge of orgasm, only to be denied again. “P-please… no… no more… I ca--”

His eye glinted in the light of nearby tapers as he put a stop to your protest with a sharp spank to your thigh. “Keep protesting, kēlītsos, and I’ll make this night drag on for as long I have to. And you forget yourself.” Aemond then propped himself on one arm, his free hand gripping tightly at your chin. “What should you say instead of my name?”

You felt so frustrated, for being so weak and under his spell like this. Aemond would always do this, and you always willingly conceded to him.

Another spank made you gasp, made you writhe. You heard him groan when you moved beneath him. You couldn’t delay, he needed an answer. “My prince…”

Aemond dipped his head, and moved lower, his lips latching onto the soft flesh of your belly. This was where he left his mark, in places only he could see. Your breath hitched when teeth gently nipped and pulled, when his hair tickled your skin. “Giving up so easily,” He crooned before moving even lower, letting his lips trace their way over your hip bones. “Pitiful, my little kēlītsos.”

Your back arched when he moved his kisses from your hips to the insides of your thighs. Your fingers struggled for purchase against the sheets and nearly ripped into them when his mouth finally settled over your throbbing cunt. “My prince,” you whimpered when his tongue flicked against your clit, softly, gently, at a controlled pace. “Please…”

Aemond lapped up your juices, moaning deeply when your legs moved over to his shoulders. He didn’t bother to look up, for he knew he had you exactly where he wanted you. He placed an arm over your tummy, to stop you from squirming so much.

He was doing it again, taking you to the brink. You could feel it, your muscles coiling, your body tensing. You tried to move, but that arm over your belly kept you pinned to the bed. You felt like you were being pulled under the waves again. Too much. It was too much. You wanted to sob. “M-my p-prince,” you plead this time as you felt him slowing down again. “I--I c-can’t take m-more.”

Aemond chuckled into your trembling folds, giving one final lick before kissing his way back up again. “So weak,” he crooned as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your slick heat. “But you know you deserve this, yes? For teasing me the way you did?”

He teased you by entering you, making you feel full, then leaving you empty and aching by quickly pulling away. You mewled again, and the spank that followed ripped a moan right out of you. “Y-yes my p-prince,” You almost sobbed. “I deserve this.”

A callused hand cupped your cheek. “Look at me.”

You did as you were bid. Your eyes looked like they had glazed over to him. You had reached your limit, Aemond could see it. He wasn’t going to deny you anymore. He entered you again, slowly, going in bit by bit.

You felt like your breath was sucked right out of your lungs when he filled you, keeping still, letting your walls throb around his cock. “Say the words, kēlītsos,” Aemond rested his temple over yours, sighing dreamily when your arms circled his shoulders. “Say the words, and I’ll take you over.”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please what?”

Another sharp smack to your thigh reminded you that Aemond never liked to be kept waiting. “Please finish me, my prince.”

Your eyes nearly rolled back when he started with slow, shallow thrusts. “This is what you wanted, yes?” Aemond growled into your ear. “This is what you wanted? My dirty little kēlītsos?”

His fingers raking over your thigh made his name roll off your lips in a sinful whisper. “Y-yes my prince,” you choked on a sob when he went in deeper, hitting that sweet spot of yours and making you see stars. “This is what I wanted.”

Aemond chuckled breathily before crushing your lips with his, forcing your lips apart with his tongue. Your mouth felt so warm, so delectable, it made him want to weep. His tongue flicked against yours, and his breath grew even shakier when your fingers dug into his shoulders. When you threw your legs over his hips, your heels digging into his back, he moaned and pressed himself into you, fitting his body against yours until there was not even a fraction of space left between you both. He could feel you trembling beneath him, your hips bucking to meet his thrust halfway.

He held on, not stopping until you sobbed into his mouth. You could do nothing but cling onto him and arch your back, your body shaking violently. Please, you plead silently. Please let it be now.

Aemond had no plans on stopping again. He wanted to feel your cunt tighten around his cock when he made you cum. He kept up a pace you liked, bucking into you, growling every time he heard his name part your lips. “Cum for me, kēlītsos,” he rasped. “Cum for me.”

It felt like you were pulled under a wave when your orgasm ripped through you. You felt like your world had skidded to a halt. So pulled in by your own bliss, you didn’t even hear Aemond groaned as he lifted your hips, his eye never leaving you until his coiled muscles snapped and he thrust deep, burying himself inside you. Feeling your throbbing walls clench against his cock as he spilled his seed dragged out a deep and guttural moan from him. Exhausted and trembling, he let himself rest atop your still-shaking body. He sighed dreamily again when your hands moved around to circle his waist and glide up and down his spine. So good, it felt so good.

You barely felt the heaving body rest against yours, the callused hands gliding over your waist, the lips that grazed your shoulders, your neck. Aemond moved, rolling you over until you were on top of him. He pulled your head up, plundered your mouth. This time his kisses were soft and sweet. His hands rubbed your back, glided over your bruised thighs, as if to soothe. “Easy kēlītsos” he crooned as he gently rubbed down your aching thighs. “Easy.”

His gentle caresses and soothing, reassuring words put you at ease. In a whisper, you manage, “thank you, my prince.”

“You’re welcome, little kēlītsos,” he mumbled sleepily, a smile tugging at his lips when he felt your own brushing softly against his cheek. “Now get some sleep,” he mumbled again. This time he cradled you to him and pulled up the pelts. The room had grown cold despite the fire and he didn’t want you to feel the chill. Aemond then hummed softly, trailing his fingers over your spine, lulling you to sleep. “I’ll have a hot bath ready for you in the morning.”

And he made plans to buy you more dornish dresses, for that dress now lay on the floor, a ruined heap.

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #house of the dragon #reader inserts #fanfiction #writeblr #aemond imagine #aemond x you

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mikeysbabygirl · 2 years

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅

(Black dragons edition)

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 : 𝑊𝑎𝑘𝑎𝑠𝑎 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑆ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑜 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

( might write other characters if this doesn't flop)

WARNING : 18+, minors DNI. Guys it's obvious from the title 😭 masturbation, accidental nudes, voyeurism, smut.

WORDS COUNT : around 2500

𝑾𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒔𝒂 𝑰𝒎𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊 :

Showing your best friend Lisa your new lingerie should have never went that far. Why did you even kept Wakasa's number in the first place ? It has been nearly four months since you two broke up, and you made it clear you would not come back. But fate had another say in the matter, and God was it a coincidence that his phone number and your best friend's looked so alike ?

The dying sun rays were seeping through the window of his office kissing his skin, the warmth and calm around the gym that afternoon weighing down his eyelids. Sore muscles left him on the verge of sleeping there, no clients, only Takeomi smoking right outside the gym, wouldn't it be the perfect time for a little nap ?

Unfortunately, some notification from his phone seemed against it. Sighing, Wakasa grabbed his phone, already knowing he would be ignoring the text message.

Except it was a video, and the sender's name had his usual stern expression turning into a frown. A text from you and his heart missed a beat. And for a second he'd wonder if he didn't actually fell asleep and it wasn't just a dream. You were nothing but a thought after all, the one keeping him up at night, the one creeping in everytime he holds a woman close, and the one having him hurrying to open that damn video.

To earn a single reaction from Wakasa Imaushi, someone would need to burn the candle at both ends, yet for you... You didn't even needed clothes to got him all-

-" Holy shit... " He stiffened.

The video started with his end, seeing you in front of your bathroom mirror, wrapped in what must have been the sexiest lingerie he has ever seen.

-" I bought it yesterday, and when I tell you I'm in love with this embroidery!"

You switched to the front camera and before he could comprehend anything, you started zooming on the black bra. His pants tightened at the same time, seeing how your slender fingers caressed the see-through embroidered fabric, accidentally making your breast pop up even more.

-" Fuck-"

With each inch of your skin a new fire was born in his guts, and as you flashed those perfect teeth in a smile, the blast was inevitable. He couldn't take it anymore and immediately slipped his hand in his pants, freeing his cock from its restraints, pumping the length slowly and drinking in the sight of your soft skin and how the fabric embraced it perfectly.

-" and bestie you gotta see the panties! "

As you lowered the camera, a grunt left his mouth. The panties were just as transparent as the bra, slight flowery embroidery to hide the lesser modesty. The plush of your thighs was poking out from the black garter belt, the skin he once upon a time loved to squeeze until bruising...

-" Uh... Baby" he panted, feeling the precum leaking along his shaft. Your body was displayed in front of him, and he was so ashamed but nothing in this world nor another could have stopped him from jerking off to the thought of your skin under his digits.

-" Oh my god, look how the curve of the ass is-"

-" Right... Be a doll and do a spin f'me, you just look-... So fuckin' adorable"

You were smiling, biting that pink lower lip while showing the back of the panties through the mirror, God help him through the heat he was feeling, God help him through the thoughts he was having.

-" I'd die... To bend you over that fuckin' sink. Goddamn, want that pussy clenching 'round my cock as it used to..."

Chasing desperately his high, his palm stroke his length faster and faster, not even focusing on the words you were saying as much as he tried remembering the sound of your voice screaming his name, he needed it, what you just made was straight forward sadistic because if previously he couldn't take you out of his head, currently he was desperately tightening his hand around him in order to fake the clenching of your pussy.

-" Gonna- shit... Gonna fuck my cum inside ya.Tie you to my damn bed so you're never leaving-"

-" right, I'm waiting for your review, see ya later !"

Just as the screen showed your smiling face again, you sent a kiss to the camera and also sent Wakasa Imaushi to cloud nine, dug his grave long before his time to come.

-" Hell-"

He came even faster than usual, throwing his head back, painting his hand white and breathing through an open mouth. His cock was still twitching in his hand, still hard as concrete when the screen turned black and showed him how much of a mess you made of him.

And the devils on his shoulders wouldn't stop crying one single thing, one single name. Outraged, they were, screaming at him, reminding him he was the white leopard, how come did he let what he wanted slip between his fingers that way ? Was he really in need to see what he had lost to actually realize how much of a wreck he had been since the break up ?

Wiping his hands clean on paper tissues, he tossed those ones on the trash and quickly grabbed his phone.

- This better be for me and only me, I'd hate to think you'd let someone else see those pretty tits ?

Delivered.

Read.

Could he eventually sense the hurricane that shook you to the core ? Could he have guessed the shock you've been through ?

A heart attack, a denial state and fifteen minutes later, he received your answer.

- I am profoundly sorry, this was addressed to my best friend. Ignore and delete it please, as well as my number.

Delivered.

Read.

A smirk adorned the pretty lips of the white leopard, too bad, he was already outside.

-" Hey loser?"

Takeomi turned toward his friend and deadpanned, watching as he walked toward him.

-" Close up the gym for me."

Takeomi's hands received the keys Wakasa threw just in time to not let them fall to the ground, as that one began making his way to his bike, the scarred face man asked.

-" Got something to do ?"

Placing his legs on each side of his motorcycle, his hand reached for his phone, as the other took out a lollipop from his pocket. Eyes on the screen, he didn't even peered at Takeomi while answering.

-" something I should've done a long time ago. "

His friend frowned then sighed , knowing he wouldn't get any answer. The one who received that answer was you, actually, some seconds later after his fingers tapped on the screen and pressed the send button, he started his bike.

- Daddy let you have enough fun, princess. Time to come back home.

𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒐 :

Now who's fault was it if both of you were suckers for late night rides ? He would ride his motorcycle with you on the back everytime you'd ask for, even when the rain was pouring like that night. At some point, you would probably catch a flu, and your childhood friend would never let you fall sick, right ?

Shinichiro Sano was a lot of things, but don't you ever dare say he is not a gentleman. Seeing how soaked you were from head to toe, he brought you back to his house, to his bathroom exactly and gave you one of his t-shirts and pants so he could drive you home in dry clothes, since the rain had stopped.

Secretly, he was dying to drive you back home. He was none but a man after all, you could've never imagined how hard was it for him to see your shirt turning transparent, your lips glistening and eyelashes wet from the rain. He wanted nothing more but to get as far as possible from his biggest temptation, you.

Satan's plan was simple, in order to lure you both in the third deadly sin. You would only remember you needed a towel once you got rid of your shirt and your pants.

-" Oh shit..." Where did he put the towels again ?

-" Shin ?"

Next step, he would hear you and think you were done. Stupidly, and too fast he would grab the door handle and walk in the bathroom, your mouth would fall agape and his eyes would widen.

-" Fuck-"

Even ice cubs were less frozen than you at that moment, and Shin was as paralyzed as a dead. His eyes trailed down your body, from your breasts poking out from your bra, to the seemingly soft skin of your belly. Then inevitably would meet your panties, and only when he'd see your thighs squeezing together would he finally get snapped out of his trance-like state.

-" forgi- I'm so sorry ! I- I thought you... Thought you were done-"

- " Shin, hey ! " He looked so pathetic, all red and fidgety that you couldn't help but make a step toward him.

-" I'm not a pervert, I promise... You, I mean... I swear I'm not enjoying-"

-" Shin, calm-"

-" No that's not what I meant ! Yeah, sure I'm enjoying the view, I mean... You're hot as fuck, but I don't- "

-" Stop !"

You voice rose up at the same time you grabbed the door handle and closed the door on both of you, thus finding yourself almost pressed against him, your faces only inches away from each other. That way, you couldn't miss how he gulped down, how his pupils dilated and his chest almost touched yours with his jerky breaths.

-" Please don't think of me as a creep... "

He whispered, lips almost grazing yours with each words. You licked your lips instinctively and his gaze fell on them, swallowing hard before he looked back at your eyes when you spoke.

-" It's okay, Shin. I know you didn't meant to."

Your soft voice all but sent shivers down his spine, then you chuckled, and he swore for a minute he forgot your body was so exposed in front of him.

-" and, do you really think I look hot ?"

Was it a question or a trap hole for him to fall into ? The fire burning his guts could not be compared to anything right now, he had seen them pretty pornstars, but never has he gone through such an arousal.

His heart stumbled on its own beats, mouth opening and closing several times and wheels obviously turning in his head.

-" Hell yeah !... " He couldn't help his gaze drifting toward your breasts again, mesmerized by the way they rose and fell with each breath you took. His gaze curiously built a fire in your lower belly, a confidence you only felt under your childhood friend's eyes. You tilted your head to the side while asking him-

-" Do you... Wanna touch it ?"

God how was he cute, with those dark eyes widening and his cheeks heating. You almost felt guilty for making him go through such a state of denial, almost because when he shook his head so fervently only seconds after realizing, God how cute was he...

-" Yes... I mean, really ? Isn't it-"

Your bra fell to the ground along with his last working braincells, if he already wasn't rock hard, now he was nothing more than a cigarette burning from lust, in the devil's mouth.

Shin gulped down, eyes stuck on you, and he would've died to be able to say something, to tell you how perfect you looked, but damn-

Damn you took his hand, and damn you put each of them on your bare chest and he should have been ashamed of the shaky breath leaving his mouth at the same time.

-" Can you feel my heart beating ?" Your whispering voice made him look back at your eyes, he bit his lip slightly and nodded his head.

-" You're so, so fucking soft" he praised, squeezing gently on your breasts. The small gasp he brought out of you was enough to make him drop his last spark of sanity and nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck.

-" What the fuck are we doin', hm ?" As he asked, one of his hands left your breast to caress your thigh, you immediately wrapped that one around his waist, making him breath loudly, your most secretive part rubbed against the bulge in his pants, he swore he felt precum leaking on his underwear.

-" We're... Best friends right ?" you panted, began grinding your clothed cunt against him. " We gotta know everything about each other... "

-" Fuck...don't stop, please, this feel s'good ".

-" Yeah ? Am I making you feel good ? " You felt him nod against your neck's skin,bringing your body even closer and grinding himself against you.

Your hands reached for his neck, his squeezed your thigh and breast harder, and what a sight, both of you moaning and grinding against each other just as if you both have been dying internally for this...

-" Shin, here ! "

A particular thrust of his hips against you reached your clit over your panties, making your panties dampen under his adoring gaze. With each passing minute, he discovered his balls could grow even heavier, and when the lust reached an impossibly high spike, his other hand left your breast to lift you from the floor, lock eyes with you.

-" Fuck friends, need to be inside ya. Would you let me, please ? For me ? "

And who were you to deny your best friend anything, when his breath was so hard to catch ? When your own guts were burning and you were soaking his pants with your arousal?

-" Fuck me, Shin. Please, take me...hm ! "

Enough was enough, his lips met yours just like he always daydreamed about, when you would go for hours and hours speaking. It felt like flying on a cloud, your soft thigh on his hands, wet panties against him and lips devouring yours, even in his wildest dreams never has it been so perfect. And those dreams he had made a lot about you...

-" pretty girl, you're so good t'me. You don't even have to beg, gotta take this pretty pussy 'til you're dripping with my cum".

As carefully as with an eyelash on his eye, he carried you until his bedroom where he placed your body on the mattress and lied on top of you as soon, locking his dark gaze with yours.

-" But please, keep in mind friends don't know the way you taste ".

Ayoooo this was so shitty 😭 I straight forward hate it but you know me when I have an idea in mind, especially on late nights...

Anyway hope it's not too gross to read, gotta come back to writing that Mikey's baby girl sequel.

I don't know if anyone's gonna like this but if you do, and if you want other black dragons or even Tokyo rev characters accidentally seeing you naked, just name the character and I will write it !

@tokyo-ballroom @downtown-roponggi

#tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers spoilers #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo rev fluff #black dragons #shinichiro sano #wakasa x reader #tr wakasa #wakasa imagines #wakasa x y/n #wakasa imaushi #wakasa smut #tokyo revengers wakasa #tr shinichiro #tokrev shinichiro #shinichiro x reader

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thoseboysinblue · 1 year

Text

Midnight

Christian Pulisic x reader

You and Christian find yourselves hosting a New Year’s Eve party for your closest friends.

Word count: 2500+

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Smut, fluff

New Year's Eve, the night Chelsea typically held their annual charity gala. It was an excellent excuse to get dressed up, spend an evening with friends and eventually end up at someone's house for an after party.

Early in December, Christian had surprised you by having his stylist bring over a selection of designer gowns for you to choose from, all of which complemented the suit he was planning to wear.

"I can't, Christian, it's too much" you'd protested.

"It's not, please let me spoil you like I want to, baby, consider it a Christmas gift" he grinned at you.

"Fine, but nothing else, got it?" you'd given into him, unable to deny him anything when he flashed that dimple at you along with those honey colored eyes.

"Sure, sure" he held his hands up feigning innocence even though he knew he had a stack of overly extravagant gifts for you already hidden.

The evening of the gala had arrived, you and Christian getting ready separately with the help of his stylist and a hair and makeup team he'd also surprised you with.

When you step into his foyer, the sound of your heels on the marble tile catching his attention, his stylist made one final adjustment to his suit before turning to smile at you and muttering a "I'll leave you two alone" patting him on the shoulder as she disappeared to begin packing up her things.

"You look, wow" was all he could manage to get out as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss.

"God only knows what you've paid for this make up, Chris, don't ruin it before we get out the door" you chuckled at him as he moved to kiss down your exposed neck and shoulders.

"I'll pay them double to fix it" he whispers along your collar bone as you tilt your head back letting out a faint moan.

As his kisses trail back up to your lips, you place one more, delicate kiss to his lips, resting your forehead against his and placing your hands over his chest, "What about you, Christian? You look.." your words cut off as you bite your lip taking a step back to look him up and down again.

He blushes slightly under your attentive gaze. "It's gonna be hard for me to keep my hands off of you all night," you whisper against his lips, kissing him softly again until you hear his stylist clear her throat behind you.

You both turn to face her, Christian wrapping a hand around your waist. "You've outdone yourself tonight," he smiles at her, pulling you into him a little closer and giving your hip a squeeze.

"Just as you asked" she hands him a red leather box, you instantly recognized it as matching the box to the Cartier bracelet and drop earrings he'd given you for Christmas which you were now wearing.

"Christian, I thought we'd discussed this" you look at him shaking your head. "No, it's too much," you once again protested but knew it was another battle you would lose.

"We did discuss it, but you know I'm not the best at listening sometimes" he winks at you.

"And what if I refuse?"

"You won't" he says, just above a whisper, turning you around to slip the dainty necklace around your neck.

"I might" you quip, your voice a bit shaky.

"You won't" he whispers again, placing a kiss to the nape of your neck once he was finished with the clasp.

He knows you aren't a big fan of extravagance, and that you really only wear jewelry on special occasions such as tonight, but he was determined to gift you with a few timeless and elegant pieces he knew you could wear with anything from jeans and a simple shirt to elegant gowns like tonight. And you knew, once he had his mind set on something, there was little use in arguing with him.

"You know I don't need all this from you?" you turn around, motioning with your hand down your body.

"I know, but you spoil me every single day, y/n, and I just want to do the same for you" he says with a shy smile.

"I appreciate it, I really do, but you know I don't expect these things from you, I just want you to be happy, Chris."

"And what if spoiling you makes me happy?" He slides his hands back around your waist pulling you into him.

"Then I guess, I'll have to get used to it," you smile, bumping your nose against his and placing a feather light kiss to his lips.

His stylist takes several photos of the two of you, adding any final touches you might need before you hop into the car Christian has arranged for the evening.

You enjoy the gala, happily sipping on glasses of wine as you and Sophia chat the night away, her complimenting the German that she, Kai, and Christian have been helping you to learn.

The two of you end up drunkenly bidding on a trip before announcing to the boys that they are not invited to join you.

Kai mutters something to Christian in German, "I heard that, and almost understood it" you quip.

"See, CP, I told you teaching her was a bad idea," they both laugh.

The entire evening, you and Christian haven't stopped touching one another. Nothing over the top, but a constant hand on each other's thigh, his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him, fingers intertwined, or a hand placed softly on the small of your back.

Your dress had a mostly open back, so anytime Christian's hand was around you he found himself softly drawing circles on your exposed skin with his thumb.

As the gala comes to an end, Mason leans across the table and whisper shouts, "so after party at yours right, CP?" to which Christian nods.

Thankfully this wasn't a shock to you and when you arrived back at yours and Christian's home, you began sitting out the snacks and drinks you'd prepared earlier in the day.

As you are pulling out chilled bottles of champagne for a midnight toast, you hear the rest of the group arrive. Unsurprisingly most of the Chelsea team have come, with and without dates, preparing to ring in the New Year together.

Mason immediately syncs his phone to the speakers that run through the entire house "to avoid having to listen to Christian's horrible taste in music" he winks at you, to which you only shake your head.

As the time approached midnight, the girls seemed to be getting tipsier and tipsier while the boys, in mid season, are being relatively tame. However, everyone had shed their jackets and ties by this point, Christian's tie tied lazily around your neck, Mason and a few others had theirs wrapped around their heads like ninjas.

You'd managed to pull Christian onto the makeshift dance floor in your living room more than a few times, neither of you able to keep your hands off of each other. He'd unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves, exposing just enough skin to drive you mad.

As you were dancing, you slipped your finger between two of the buttons, using it to pull him closer to you as he dipped his head and groaned into your neck. "You are killing me, baby" he mumbles into your ear as you turn around to grind your ass against him, throwing one arm up and around his neck to pull him even closer to you.

"It's almost midnight, can't miss our New Year's kiss," you smile at him, turning back around to face him while still grinding your body against his and he drops one hand to grab at your ass, clearly no longer caring if anyone is watching the two of you.

As everyone starts counting down the last twenty seconds or so before midnight. You find yourselves completely lost in each other. Someone hands both of you glasses of champagne which you absentmindedly take, neither of you breaking your gaze.

At five, Christian mutters "fuck it" and presses his lips to yours, you giggle and return the kiss, gripping into the back of his hair and pulling him in to deepen the kiss. He moans into your mouth as he presses his semi hard bulge into you.

You pull away from him slightly as you hear everyone around you cheer, and mutter against his lips "Happy New Year, baby, I love you" pressing another kiss to them. "I love you too, y/n, so damn much" he smiles at you, giving you another loving kiss.

You look around the room at the people you are surrounded with, in awe of a life you never dreamed of living, with a man you knew was made especially for you.

You make your rounds toasting your champagne glasses with everyone and wishing them a Happy New Year before Christian whispers into your ear to meet him upstairs in 5 minutes. You nod to acknowledge what he's told you, without giving away the fact that it made your stomach flip and heat flood your core.

You notice when Christian slips upstairs, continuing to talk to a few of the others before you make sure you can also slip away, hopefully unnoticed, in search of him.

As you make your way up the stairs, you are met with a pair of hands that pull you quickly into your bedroom, pressing you against the door in one swift move as he locks it and attaches his lips to your neck.

"Been waiting all fucking night to do this" he moans against your neck as he feels your hand graze over his hardened length.

"I've got a surprise for you too," you whisper, "but if I show it to you, you have to promise to help me get this dress back on" you give him a wicked smile as you turn for him to pull down the zipper of your dress.

You turn back around, shoving him towards the bed as you let the gown fall to your feet. His eyes widen at the sight of you, stood in front of him in a black lace corset style backless lingerie set with black lace thong.

"Fuck me" he whispers as you edge your way towards him.

"That's my plan" you stare at him hungrily. "But we have to be quick, and quiet, we have guests you know"

He nods slowly as you move to straddle him. Both of you working in unison to finish unbuttoning his shirt and quickly working to rid him of his pants.

"The top has to stay on" you mutter, "I have no idea how your stylist got me into this thing and I'm certain it will take both of us to figure it out later" you giggle against his chest.

"Fine by me" he says with a wink. He flips both of you over, pressing you into the mattress as he quickly pulls your thong down your legs and tosses it to the side, doing the same with his boxers.

He leans down to kiss you feverishly as he uses one hand to line himself up with your entrance, running the tip of his cock through your already dripping folds.

"Didn't take much" he whispers to you as you shake your head.

"Just shut up and fuck me Christian" you mutter as you buck your hips up towards him, lacing your fingers into his hair.

"So needy" he groans as he pushes into you with one long and slow thrust.

You let out a moan as he begins to pick up the pace and catch a glimpse of his tattooed arm as he circles his hand lightly around your throat.

"Shhh, baby" he says as he buries his head into your neck in an attempt to muffle his own noises.

"Can you be quiet?" He asks as he loosens his hold on your neck when you nod.

You throw your own hand over your mouth as he slips his hand between your bodies to rub circles over your clit.

"You gonna cum for me?" he says as he feels you clench around him.

You nod furiously, afraid that anything you try to say will come out as a loud moan.

"Shit, me too" he pants, biting his lip to suppress a moan as your back arches off of the bed and you cum hard around him.

He throws a few more thrusts into you before pulling out and spilling himself all over your pussy and thighs.

"Jesus Christ" he sighs breathily as he collapses onto the bed beside you both of you trying to catch your breath. He then gets up and grabs a towel from the bathroom, slipping his boxers back on in the process.

"Why'd you pull out, you never do that" you question him.

"Couldn't exactly send you back downstairs with my cum dripping out of you could I?" he grins at you.

"Such a gentleman" you laugh as he finishes cleaning you up.

"Also, if I have to sit around and talk to people knowing my cum is running down your legs, I'll go fucking mad" he flashes you a much darker smile.

"There he is, the man of my dreams" you giggle again as you grab your thong and slip it back on, picking your dress up off the floor and stepping back into it and gliding it back over your frame.

Christian makes quick work of zipping you back up before you dip into the bathroom to check your hair and makeup to make sure it's not too messed up before you return to your guests.

When you walk back out of the bathroom he's dressed and standing by the door waiting for you. He's left an extra button undone and his hair is definitely a bit more disheveled. He holds his hand out to you pulling you into his chest. "I think we managed the quick part, not sure about the quiet part though" he mumbles against your forehead.

"Well I'm certain we weren't that sneaky, and I'm sure they all know where we've gone" you lean back to look him in the eyes before pressing another kiss to his lips as he shrugs.

Sure enough as you make your way back downstairs and rejoin your group of friends, you hear Mason say "let's give a round of applause to our hosts for this evening" grinning at the two of you "who apparently couldn't even wait for us all to leave to ring in their new year judging by the way they snuck off and Christian's hair."

Christian buries his face into your neck and you hide your face in your hands as he pulls you in closer to him.

"That was just round one" he laughs back to them, grabbing you and kissing you to the cheers and cat calls from his best friends.

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic smut

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liebgottsjumpwings · 2 months

Text

AUGUST AFTERNOON | FAYE FISCHER | MASTERS OF THE AIR

Summary: Faye Fischer and her newly acquired friend Ken Lemmons spend a sunny afternoon at Thorpe Abbotts, Faye thinks about the past few years and is then (not so) rudely interrupted by a certain curly haired pilot. Who had managed to make her blush several times some days ago.

Warnings: general war violence, implied minor (and not canon) character death.

Word count: a bit over 2500

Note: this was meant to be a little less than 1k word blurb, turned into way more. I hope it isn't too boring as most of it delves into Faye's experiences before the mota canon. That is also because I use my ocs to study certain historical events, so this really is just self indulgence. Please pretty please let me know what you think of it! (This fic is also posted on AO3)

AUGUST 21, 1943, 16:32

“What kind of name is ‘Just-a-Snappin’ even?” Faye Fischer wondered out loud, only half expecting an answer from the man in front of her as she came to sit up from her lying position in the grass. She squinted, just about able to make out the text on the B-17 Ken Lemmons was working on. Her squint disappeared as he came into her sight, blocking the warm ray of sunshine she had been enjoying moments prior, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “You’re gonna have to ask Blakely that one,” answered the curly haired man standing in her sun. Looking at him, she wondered why he would hide those curls under that beanie. Probably so all that working grease wouldn’t get into it.

Faye shrugged, letting herself fall back into the grass. “Whenever I ask Blakely a question, the man answers with a goddamn riddle,” she let the end of her sentence continue into a sigh. Ken just laughed, his hands firm on his hips. The sun made the edge of his curls shine, almost like an aureole. Visually, him standing in her sun wasn’t so bad, it looked quite pretty. Her skin was starting to miss the warmth of the sun rays, though. Faye’s fingertips tapped on the cap of her camera lens, the Contax II had been laying on her stomach, under one of Ken’s work rags, to shield it from the sun. “Keep standing like that,” Faye ordered him as she removed the cap from the lens, turning on her camera.

“Aren’t you only supposed to use that for… you know… work purposes?” she heard him ask as she fiddled with the exposure settings. A scoff escaped past her lips as she lined up the viewfinder with her left eye. “Shut up, they made me pay for my own film rolls when I arrived in England, so they’re mine technically anyway” Faye deadpanned in response, snapping a photo of Ken. “Besides,” she continued, putting her camera back under the rag again, letting her head fall back into the grass, “don’t you think the photo I just took wouldn’t go over well with all those war bond leaflets?” She held up her hands, reading an imaginary leaflet “Purchase a war bond so our curly haired cuties can maintain our bomber planes!” she sarcastically called out. It earned a belly-laugh from Ken, who then turned around, readying himself to get back to his maintenance work as he continued laughing, “I hope to God not.” Faye smiled in response, “Yeah, well, I’ve taken more leisure photos on this camera than the OSS would be comfortable knowing. It is only fair because nearly all film rolls were mine anyway,” she trailed off, closing her eyes again as the warm August sun blanketed her.

The warmth took her back to August, nearly three years back, 1940. To the emerging hills behind Mulhouse, in the occupied region of the Alsace in France. Back then, she too had snapped a photo that the OSS would turn their noses up at. She couldn’t help it, though, the sleepy little cottage the, back then, above ground resistance she was attached to used as their base of operations was too pretty against the sunny hills. Plus, the whole rule against taking photos that do not directly aid the war effort was bullshit anyway. They increased her morale, no? Surely a heightened sense of morale would aid the war effort. Just like her friend, and resistance member Isidore was aiding the war effort by developing the photos Faye had taken recently. His girlfriend, Julienne, a distant cousin of Faye’s neighbors back in Louisiana, the Klotz family, laid next to her in the grass, yelling at her sweetheart to stop working so hard and join them in the warm sum. She still remembered the minty smell of the Ground Ivy that tickled against her cheeks in the field near the cottage as she watched Isidore exit the cottage, some of the successfully developed photos under his arm, he dropped them above the two women. The photographs whirled softly down onto them, like those propaganda leaflets that had recently been dropping from planes over the region. The association made her chuckle. She much preferred these photographs over those leaflets.

Oh, how she longed back to be in that sleepy little field just behind Mulhouse. Unknowing and indifferent to what was about to wash over her. Over her dear friends. Over her distant relatives, up north in Sélestat. How she wished to gain that sense of unknowing and indifference once more. The fleeting feeling of walking back home from the shul on those warm August evenings, taking the train from Mulhouse towards Sélestat, being greeted by her grandmother’s second brother, the one who stayed behind in Alsace. Being taken in to his family, learning about their extensive history and connection to this land. It made her feel proud, like her family here. All of that despite the impending feeling of calamity. That feeling grew more and more with each news item about the Germans inching closer. Forcing themselves back into the territory they’ve claimed as theirs for eras. This time, it came paired with a terrifying venom against a group of people so deeply rooted in this region.

After the annexation of the Alsace into Nazi-Germany, the resistance group Faye had been attached to by the OSS was forced to go underground. Her work, instead of reporting back to the OSS on current events in the border region between France and Germany, became a high-risk operation that aided the Alsatian resistance in its activities against the Nazi occupier. When it happened, the OSS had forbidden her to associate publicly with her family and the community she had built up. They deemed it ‘too riskful’. And because Faye had no choice, she listened to those orders. And just like that, her growing connection with her ancestral home region, her family, the core of her very identity was snapped away. Just as quick as it had flourished. She watched the treatment of her people become more and more dire every day. She watched and she could do nothing but watch. Nothing outward anyway. In secret, she was doing more than she ever had done. Risking everything to make it harder for the Nazis to spread their hatred and evil. In return, she got the gnarly gift of having to distance herself from the recently cultivating bond with her family that lived halfway across the world from her.

Yes, she still had Isidore, Julienne and the rest of their group. Though, as they were forced to become underground, a painful strain started to form on their friendship. Understandably so, tensions were high, risks were always there and the imminent feeling of doom never stopped looming over the group.

Which ended up being for good reason. Come the early February days of 1943, Faye found herself with her left cheek pressed into the cold ground where the minty Ground Ivy once grew. The barrel of a Karabiner 98A straight against her right cheek. She still wasn’t sure who gave up their activities to the SS. She wasn’t sure if she cared enough by then either way. Or now, for that matter. In the two and a half years that spanned from that first summer in Alsace to February of 1943, Faye had grown disillusioned to the point that she wasn’t even sure if she cared about living, or dying. Maybe it was for the better that death seemed so close. That it came to her in the form of a German rifle.

That was until she remembered why her family decided to migrate to the United States. Back in the late 19th century, the Jews of the Alsace were already facing hardships. And it was those hardships that made her grandparents decide that from there on out, their family line would not suffer under those hardships anymore. So they set sail to Louisiana, because their children, and their children, and their children (and so on), deserved a life of flourishing. So it was there, February 1943, with the cold barrel of a Karabiner 98A pressed to her face, that Faye decided that she would honor that wish. She would not die at the hands of those who wished her dead.

She wasn’t sure how, but she ran, she ran until her feet gave out and Isidore made them duck into a dense shrub. His face stained with dirt, much like hers. And through the dirt on his face, tears traced their paths. Then it dawned on her that Julienne hadn’t made it out with them. Faye hoped with everything she had in her dear friend wasn’t left out, alone in that cold field. But there wasn’t much time for hoping. They had to make it to safety. To a place where they couldn’t be reached by those who were looking for them.

Switzerland. Within a few days of frantic fleeing, both of them somehow made it to Basel, just over the border. Isidore’s previously tear-filled eyes had turned empty by then. And Faye feared for him. She feared for everyone they had to leave behind. The fear didn’t leave her when she walked away from the hospital she had helped Isidore to, so his wounds could be looked at. Not caring much for her own, and after the OSS had been made aware of her whereabouts, they had arranged a route to England for her. To ‘escape’ the risk she found herself in, according to the OSS. She still scoffs at the mention of ‘risk’, the OSS would never fully know. And so, after a goodbye ‘for now’ and a promise to keep in touch, she departed for the train station of Basel, on towards Bern, and from there, hopefully England. She watched the fields roll by, they were barren, empty of life. She tried to not let it remind her of Julienne too much. Hoping that her friend had somehow made it to safety, like her sweetheart and Faye.

Her memories were disturbed by the warm sun once again being taken away from her. This time, it wasn’t because a certain crew chief by the name of Ken Lemmons was standing in between her and her blanket of warmth, it was because Faye hadn’t noticed the time pass by and the sun having moved behind the officer’s buildings on the air base. She let out a groan at the feeling of her back cracking as she sat up, her camera falling into her lap. Slowly opening her eyes, to her surprise, ‘Just-a-Snappin’ had been exchanged for a different airplane. Though, her eyes were too blurry from the sun shining onto them, to make out the name. These damn pilots and their airplane names.

What she did make out was Ken and what seemed to be a pilot, standing by the plane as Ken pointed out several things on the wing. The pilot nodding, seemingly intently listening to Ken. Faye, after rubbing her eyes intensely, was able to make out more of the scene in front of her. Her sight darted towards the plane again, reading. ‘Rosie's Riveters,’ she mouthed the words. Way better name for a plane than whatever Blakely was thinking with his one, Faye thought. Her gaze moved over to Ken and the still unknown pilot again. Squinting, she could make out the brown curls, kept small and neatly arranged on top of his head. The 100th and their tendency to hide their gorgeous curls irrationally annoyed Faye to no end. She eternally cursed Ken for hiding them behind his beanie, too. She looked back to the nose of the plane, ‘Rosie’s Riveters.’ Oh. Robert Rosenthal. The man that had made her blush the other night without even knowing he had. Robert Rosenthal had arrived at Thorpe Abbotts some two weeks after Faye herself did. She had been sitting with Helen and the other women as she watched him come into the officers’ club, his feet carrying him, dancing towards his crewmates. It was his little twist and the way his jacket moved in the air flow created by it; itt had been the first time she smiled that day. And Helen noticed. Sending Faye a teasing look as she dug the nose of her shoe into Faye’s shin. The action made Faye’s cheeks turn bright red, sinking deeper into her seat, disappearing into the shadow of the curved wall as she let out a soft, intoxicated giggle.

It wasn’t much later, after Nash had successfully achieved a dance from Helen, that Rosenthal’s eyes locked with Faye’s. The same red from before creeping up from her throat to her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile. His returning smile was beaming, like a direct ray of sunlight across the room. She would receive a few more of such smiles from him throughout the night.

Now, with his pilot’s hat snug under his arm, Faye could see him smile at Ken, a thankful smile. And who wouldn’t be thankful for Ken Lemmons. The man worked tirelessly to send them up safely into the air. But, oh she was sure it was Robert Rosenthal standing there, alright. Yeah, that smile, of which she had been on the receiving end several times now, she recognized it. The familiar, uneasy yet welcomed feeling creeped up in her stomach again. She could feel the flush in her throat. Combined with the hours of direct sunlight she had received over the afternoon, remembering their shared looks made her slightly lightheaded as she rose to her feet. Hoping to quietly leave, as to not gain the perception of both men standing some feet away from her.

Mission unsuccessful, though, damn it. “Fish!” she heard Ken call her. Her arms dropped beside her body as she turned around, her camera swinging with a little delay. She caught it, so it wouldn’t hit her on her stomach. For some stupid reason, her breathing increased in frequency as she watched the two men walk over to her. She had to consciously try to not take a step backward everytime they took one forward. She tried to keep her eyes strictly on Ken.“You think that is a better name for a plane?” he asked, pointing towards the B-17. Her eyes followed his pointing, reading the text on the nose of the plane for a third time. Before she realized, she already voiced her opinion. “I think naming anything but a pet or a human is a weird thing anyway,” she retorted, eyes dead set on Ken. Next to him, she heard a chuckle. “I’m actually quite proud of ‘Rosie’s Riveters’” she heard the curly haired brunette next to Ken say. There was no fighting it anymore, she had to actually look at him now. And she was sure you could compare the color of her cheeks to the apples they served in the breakfast hall, bright red. Still, like she always did, she came up with a retort; “Well, it’s better than Blakely’s, I guess,” she said, a sly, yet slightly shy smile appearing on her lips. The brunette in front of her let out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling. It tugged at Faye’s heartstrings, “Yeah, I’ll take that.” he said. And there it was again, that goddamned smile.

#masters of the air #robert rosenthal #ken lemmons #hbo war #oc: faye #masters of the air x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal #mota #my writing

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writingquestionsanswered · 4 months

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Hi, I wanted to ask if you have any tips on how to put together a time schedule for writing a book. I tried to create one several times but always ended up with task paralysis since I didn't know what to do and how to time it. Do you have any advice? One of my goals is to at least write one book next year and without a schedule, I'm afraid I will lose sight of what I should do.

Schedule for Writing a Book

There's no universal timetable for writing a book. There are a million variables that play a role into how fast someone can write a book. Their personal writing speed, their level of experience, what they're writing and how long it will be, how much time they can put toward writing, and what they're aiming for (finished first draft, polished final draft, published book...) That said, there's really no way to come up with a timetable that will be reasonable for everyone.

Plot and structure are more important than a timetable. Even if there was a reasonable timetable for writing a book, that wouldn't really help you if you don't understand how stories work. If you were trying to build a house, I could say it will take a week to lay the foundation, and another month to frame the house and install the roof, and another month to install plumbing and electrical, and another month for insulation and drywall, but if you don't know how to do any of those things, that timetable doesn't help you. You need to learn how to actually lay a foundation, frame a house, install a roof, etc. if you want to actually build the house. Writing a novel is the same way. Before you can worry about a timetable, you have to learn how stories work.

Consider utilizing a book that will teach you plot and story structure while also helping you to plot out and structure your novel. There are all different ideas about how stories work and how to best plot and structure a novel, so there are a lot of really great books and workbooks out there that will help you do this. I'm a big fan of Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody. Structuring Your Novel by K.M. Weiland is another good one, and it has an accompanying workbook. The Plot Whisperer by Martha Alderson is another one and it also has a workbook. You can also find printable novel planners on Etsy, often for less than 10 or 20 dollars.

If I had to give you a ballpark, totally arbitrary timetable, and assuming you have at least 3-5 hours a day to spend on writing, I would say you should probably plan to spend about a month plotting and planning, another month or two writing a zero draft or rough draft, another month or two reading through and revising that draft, another month or so with betas, another month or so revising, and another month or so editing and polishing. That gives you some wiggle room if you overshoot any of those estimates.

You can also "Weird Science" a timetable for yourself by taking a week or two to time yourself on various stages of story planning and writing. Start by finding a writing prompt that really inspires you. Then, time how long it takes (how many minutes spent) planning what you're going to write. Then, time how many minutes you spend actually writing. Finally, time how many minutes you spend editing and polishing. Now, math that out in conjunction with the length of your story. So, let's say you wrote a 5k word story and it took you 180 minutes to plot, 240 minutes to write, and 120 minutes to edit. So, for example, you plotted at 28 words per minute, so it would take you roughly 2500 minutes (41 hours) to plot a 70k word story. You wrote 21 words per minute, so it would take you roughly 3,333 minutes (56 hours) to write a 70k word story. And again, this is super rough, super ballpark but it can help give you a general idea of how long it might take you to actually do these things. But, again, it also depends a lot on what you're actually writing, what your level of experience is, etc.

My biggest tip for getting the work done is to use time blocking to help make sure you get the writing done. Essentially, each week you'll look at all your waking hours each day and block out the ones when you know you won't be able to write, such as the hours when you're at work or school. Then, schedule yourself for writing time in the available hours and make sure you stick to it. You may find yourself having to be really honest with yourself and do some serious prioritizing. For example, if you normally spend 2-3 hours a night playing video games, but you only have 3 hours of free time each night, you're not going to be able to spend 2-3 hours playing video games AND an hour or two writing.

Above all else, be gentle with yourself. Probably one of my biggest writing-related takeaways of 2023 was the brain science behind being overwhelmed by writing. So often, we put so much pressure on ourselves to meet goals, and get so frustrated with ourselves when we fail, that we end up making writing time something that fills us with anxiety. So our brains perceive that activity as a threat, which makes us want to avoid it. That said, make reasonable goals and set a reasonable timetable, but be very gentle with yourself if you struggle to stick to the timetable or meet your goals. Focus on the things you did accomplish, no matter how small and celebrate those accomplishments. Know that every little thing you do helps to move the needle forward a bit.

Happy writing and best wishes!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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