#i don’t think i was there to celebrate its first year so here i am not messing it up this time>:) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lalal-99 · 2 months

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Sweet Thing {s.c.}

9 “ That feels good…” 14 “Spread your legs, sweet thing.” 33 “Please, just let me come!"

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: strangers to lovers, regular hookup turns serious | smut | wordcount: 1.8k

Synopsis: You know nothing about the hot guy you've been hooking up with for months. You're not even sure about his name. Obviously, you need to change that. In the middle of sex is probably not the right time, but so what?!

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Note: Well, I don't know what to say for myself. The prompt event happened in March/April 2022. And here I am, 2 years later. Some requested prompts are still in my inbox, and I do think I will write something for each eventually. For now, please enjoy this one :) Also, thanks @jl-micasea-fics for letting me use your prompts. I know it's been two years, but still, credit where its due ;)

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

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“Spread your legs, sweet thing.”

Against every fibre in your body, you disobey and further the distance to the unbelievably attractive man instead. Much to his dismay.

“Hey,” he tilts your gaze towards himself by the touch of your jaw. A sweet gesture, seeing you were heavily making out seconds before. “What’s going on?”

Hidden away in the small bathroom of your favourite bar, you find yourself perched on the counter. Most definitely the product of the alcohol intoxicating your system.

“Sorry—” you excuse yourself, wiping your hands down the sides of face. “I’m good. Let’s keep going.”

Expecting him to continue where you had left of, you’re surprised to find him leaning against the wall. “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that stunning head of yours.”

A light blush spreads over your cheeks towards your ears and your lip wanders between your teeth. Because the reason for your distraction is so stupid.

“It’s just, we’ve been doing this for a while.” Hooking up at this very bar every weekend for the past few months. For the life of you, you can’t remember how it even started. Possibly with a conversation and his hand on your thigh. Probably with a few shots while celebrating your birthday. “And I don’t know anything about you.”

“Which hasn’t been a problem until now. So, where’s this coming from?”

The first few times were fun. Hooking up in the bathroom, words limited to the absolute necessary. If anything, it made it even hotter. Being with a stranger whose name you hardly remember. But then the comments started. You don’t know which of your friend was the first to say something. It might have been Seungmin, questioning how you could keep hooking up weekly without knowing the first thing about him.

And now you can’t shake the comment out of you if you try. The voice is a constant tenant of your metaphorical head-apartment. Living rent-free.

“My friends. They’ve been asking questions about you. None of which I can answer.” Which is stupid, because it shouldn’t matter. What matters is the incredibly handsome and muscular guy in front of you. Changbin— you think.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t laugh at or dismiss their concern. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you look down at his hands as they begin travelling up your thighs again. Leaving goosebumps as they burn into your skin.

“Do what?”

“Get to know each other. Might as well play 21 questions while we’re at it.”

His lips brush against your jaw before he urges them against your neck. Checking the quickening of your pulse as he licks at the veins.

“Come on. Hit me.”

But you can’t think. His touches are a true distraction, moans tumbling out of your mouth as you finally spread your legs for him. He slots between them, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle.

“You do know how 21 questions works, right?”

His hands grope at your flesh, pulling you closer until you can feel him against your most sensitive part. Why’d you have to speak up? He could have been inside you by now, but you had to open your stupid mouth.

“Yeah— Just— Can’t think.”

“Fine,” he gives in, pulling at your lip as he kisses you. You’re so hot, you wonder whether you’re nursing a fever. “I’ll tell you three things about me, then. Speed things up. ‘S that alright?”

“Please.” You’re begging now, nails digging into the skin of his bulky arms as he’s dragging his clothed crotch against you. “Feels so good.”

“First one.” Changbin pulls your top up over your breasts, freeing your bra. His thick fingers brush against your nipples, forcing a shudder through your body. “I go to the gym five times a week.”

“Obvious—ngh,” you agree turns into a throaty moan as he nibbles at your left breast. Your panties soaked already as you mumble into the night. “Deeper.”

“I’m not even inside you yet.” His chuckle vibrates through your torso. Then he grazes his teeth against your second nipple, and you might as well have lost your head.

“No. Tell me— fuck— tell something deeper. Something not— not everyone knows.”

You’re entering heaven when his hand wanders down your side and towards the hem of your skirt. It wiggles below the fabric, setting flames to your loins. You’re burning from the inside out as this stranger handles your body like he created it himself. Knows how to make you go absolutely insane. And that’s with his clothes still on.

“I call my mom every day.” That definitely fits the category of deep talk. Although, the thought of Changbin’s mother doesn’t exactly fit the moment. “Number three, I’d like to take you out one of these days.”

When the tip of his thumb reaches for your clit, you see the realisation hit his features in real time. You’ve ruined your panties and he can feel it. He has ruined you, and he can see it. From your rolled-back eyes to your tossed-back head. You’re in absolute ecstasy.

Changbin thumbs at your nub, drawing circles with your own wetness. Smirking with pride like a lunatic.

“Your turn, sweet thing. Three things about you, then you get to come.”

No words describe the hatred you feel for yourself when you realise he’s serious. The trajectory of earning your orgasm is as much arousing as it is frustrating. If only you hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m—” You tumble forward as his middle finger enters you. And him? He cocks his head at you, playing confused.

“Sorry? I don’t understand you. Can you speak up?”

Asshole.

“Music,” you mumble, breathless. “I like music. Listening. Making.”

“That’s one. You’re doing so good for me.” A kiss swallows the whine as he enters another finger. Your walls are clenching around him as his thumb practically attacks your clit. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and Changbin knows. “I tell you what. Give me a second, and I’ll give you a third. Sound good?”

You nod, frantic, needing—nay, craving—another one of his fingers.

“I’m good— good at— oh, God.” Hands are clawing at his shirt, the black and red fabric almost ripping from the strength he ignites in you. Your stomach is tensing tight, and he slows down. It’s an alarming promise, Changbin threatening to leave you high and dry if you don’t give him another one. A second fact about yourself. “Maths. I’m good at maths.”

You’re all but howling when he enters a third finger and curls them up against your spot. That’s when you loose the rest of control over your body. None of your movements are under your own command anymore, Changbin’s the sole reason you’re even still sitting upright.

“That’s two. I thought you were good at maths. You’re one short of earning my mouth, sweet thing.”

The promise alone almost makes you fall of the edge. His mouth on you. Coaxing you to your sweet, sweet release. It’s not far, but Changbin is the only one who can make you reach it. You don’t doubt he’ll leave you on the edge if you don’t give him a third fact.

It’s unfortunate that you can’t form coherent sentences anymore. Let alone think of a third fact about yourself. Absolutely pathetic.

“Please—” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stare up at him, begging, pleading. “Please, just let me come.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases with a smirk. A soft kiss hits your nose, then your lips. “That’s not a fact, sweet thing. Don’t you want to come on my tongue?”

Again, the thought alone has you clenching on his fingers. You’re so full, so close, and yet, can’t think of anything.

Maybe if you copy one of his facts, he won’t notice, right? But what was it he said? Oh, right. Gym, mom, date. But, you don’t go to the gym and you don’t talk to your mom daily.

“So, what is it?”

“Date!” you blurt out and he looks confused. “Take me out.” But that’s a prompt, not a fact, so you correct even further, teetering on the edge of heaven and hell. “I’d like it, I mean.”

Changbin debates for a second whether your words count as a fact. You can tell he wants to tease you some more, relishes in it. Thank God, he decides against it.

A sigh of relief escapes you when he finally leans down, pushes your skirt up and connects his lips to yours. And that’s all it takes.

One second his tongue prods against your clit, the next you’re coming on it.

And come, you do. You’re sure you’re squirting all over his face as he swallows up every bit of your release. Cleans you with his mouth until you’re glistening in spit and overstimulation. It doesn’t seem he wants to leave the space between your thighs and you have to drag him away when it becomes too much.

“Sweet, sweet thing,” he teases with a smile when he comes up, licking his lips. His hair is a mess, likely from your hands tugging at the strands and he looks like sex-on-legs. Cheeks dark pink, lips just as, and eyes blurry from arousal. He’s so, so hot, and you’re heating up again already as he’s kissing your lips with pure passion. “So, about that date…”

“Name a place and a time. I’ll be there.”

He chuckles, pulling you from the counter and turning you around. You will never tire from him, treating you like a doll. Bending and breaking you as he pleases. Those damn muscles flex as his arms wrap around your body and he pushes you up against the sink.

“We’ll get there. In fact…” he pulls your skirt over your asscheeks, giving them a delicious squeeze as he hums. Next thing you know, he frees his cock, reaching into his jeans to pull out a condom. And you wonder how Changbin is still so hot while wrapping himself in the latex. “How about you come three more times.”

You gulp at the thought, finding him in the mirror.

“One for a time and one for a place.”

That’s only two. You’re good at maths, or at least you think you are. Changbin might have fucked that brain right out of you.

“And the last one— one— fuck, you’re tight,” he praises as he enters you from behind.

Once he bottoms out, he collects himself, flicking your nipples as he watches you through the glass. And yet again, you’re a chaotic mess in his hands. With your head thrown back against his chest, you’re sent straight back to your own personal nirvana.

That’s when Changbin finishes his prior statement, a proud smirk glued to his face. “The last one’s simply for good measure.”

Masterlist Leave your thoughts!

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Note

ok so given that the oscars just happened, imagine a joel x actress!reader. before everything went to shit joel was a normal human being who loved watching movies and like any basic person had a celebrity crush. fast forward and the world has gone to shit and joel and ellie (and maybe tommy too) go on a patrol that goes wrong and get saved by miss “i just smashed a guys head in with my oscar” or something like that, just a fluff and fun imagine that isnt gonna break my heart in a million pieces like last nights episode

oh my god, your mindddddd - I love this idea :)

Big Fan

Joel Miller x actress!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

Joel recognizes her right away. After all, she starred in his favorite movie of all time.

warnings | 18+ a little angst, nothing wild, this is fluff through and through

Read part two!

.......................

“Are you–”

“I am.”

“You were in–”

“I was.”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

“Alright, somebody better start speaking in full sentences, because I have no clue what the hell is going on.” Joel huffs, glancing at Ellie who's looking at him like he’s gone crazy, her gun still cocked at the woman in front of them.

“What? You don’t recognize her, kid? I just showed you Curtis and Viper.” Ellie’s brow furrows, but then she looks back at the woman and her eyes finally widen in recognition.

“Holy shit.” The woman laughs, eyes still focused on the barrel of Ellie’s gun.

“That’s not usually the movie people recognize me from. But I suppose it was my big break.” Joel nudges Ellie, muttering for her to put her “damn gun away, jesus christ,” and she quickly tucks it back in her belt.

He’s trying to not be weird right now, they did just kill five clickers together, but he’s finding it hard not to lose his cool over the woman who had been a silly crush of his since he first saw that cheap action movie as a teenager. He knows she did much better films afterward, remembers hovering behind the couch one night while Sarah was watching one of those awards shows, lingering just a bit longer when he saw her giving an acceptance speech with a blinding smile in a dress that probably cost more than his house. She’s certainly less elegant-looking now, but even after twenty years in a world like this, he can’t help the quick kick of his heart at actually meeting this woman in the flesh.

He clears his throat, also trying to clear his mind.

“Are you alone?” She sighs, wiping the blade of her knife on her jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“I wasn’t, and then I was. We were headed toward a settlement we heard about, I think a bit further north from here?” Joel keeps his expression steady, but can feel Ellie glancing at him. Movie star or not, he knows they have to be careful about who finds out about Jackson. But apparently, this woman isn’t just pretty, and she seems to pick up on the heavy pause after what she said.

“Do you two know about the place I’m talking about? Are we close?” Joel, sighs, looking at Ellie before making a decision that Tommy is probably going to smack him for later.

“We, um– we’re from there, actually. If you’re talking about where I think you’re talking about.” She huffs out a laugh, and offers them that megawatt smile Joel remembers seeing on his TV screen. Ellie, meanwhile, scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at Joel.

“No shit. Do you think you have room for one more?” Joel’s eyes dart once more to Ellie, just seeing the subtle shake of her head, but he chooses to ignore it. How could he say no to the woman who had, embarrassingly, been one of his first wet dreams?

“You’ll have to talk with my brother, but I’m sure you’ll be welcome to stay on.” Megawatt, megawatt, megawatt. He reckons that smile could melt steel beams.

…

“Joel, what the fuck–”

“Ellie–”

“No, what are you thinking? If not Tommy, Maria’s gonna be so pissed she’ll probably cut your balls off.” He shushes the girl, glancing ahead at the woman hiking further in front of them.

“Look, she’s all alone– hardly a threat– and she’s looking for somewhere to stay–” She scoffs.

“Oh, so this has nothing to do with the way your eyeballs practically popped out of your head just looking at her?” He grumbles, hand tightening around the strap of his rifle.

“You just mind your own business, alright? I’ll take care of it.” Ellie huffs, starting to trudge further ahead of him, but not before muttering out “whatever you say, fanboy.” Joel is stunned still by her words.

“Where the hell did you get that word from?” She turns on her heel, walking backwards for a beat as she smirks at him.

“One of those old magazines. Pretty sure she was on the front page if you wanna borrow it.” Before he can get a word in edgewise, she’s already turning back around and continuing their hike back to Jackson.

…

“Holy shit. Joel, look who it is!” Joel grunts, nudging Tommy out of his starstruck stupor.

“Yeah, I know. Just hiked five miles with her.” Tommy laughs, slapping him on the back before grinning at her.

“It’s real nice to meet you. You know, Joel here had your poster on his bedroom wall–” The nudge he gives his brother this time is a little less friendly, causing Tommy to grumble and rub his arm. She, however, takes it in stride, laughing lightly as she shifts in her boots.

“I’m flattered, really. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes go wide.

“I can’t believe you just said my name. This is crazy–”

“Tommy.” Joel cuts his brother off with a hard look before he embarrasses himself anymore. He clears his throat, seeming to get a hold of himself as Joel continues.

“She had been traveling with a group, looking for this place. She’s the only one left though. Was hoping to join the town.” Tommy grins again, glancing between her and Joel.

“Well, I’m sure we can make that happen. I think Joel would kill me if I didn’t let–” He squeezes Tommy’s shoulder hard, willing him to shut his mouth.

“That little house next to ours is still empty. Why don’t we set her up there?” Tommy’s smile at his brother’s words is all too smug for Joel’s taste, but he still nods, turning his attention back to her.

“If that’s alright with you, ma’am. I’ll let the folks know to turn the gas and electric back on for that place.” She smiles brightly at that.

“That would be amazing. Thank you so much. I owe you all big time.” Tommy snorts.

“I’m pretty sure you can pay Joel back with an autograph, he’d probably cre—“ Joel’s heard enough, resorting to kicking Tommy in the ankle to shut him up. Ellie huffs from where she’s watching their pathetic display.

“Alright, well if you two freaks are done making fools of yourselves, I’ll show her over to that house.”

…

When Joel gets home, the first thing he does is look at that DVD. He had found it a week or two ago on a patrol shift, left in a hollowed-out RV. Ellie was less than impressed and Maria refused to show it at movie night because it’s so gory, but he held onto it anyways. He can still remember going to see it in the theater with Tommy, both of them too young to get in if not for their friend working the ticket booth. He flips the case over in his hands, and sure enough, there she is on the back cover, looking impossibly beautiful while firing a machine gun. What’s not to like, right?

He’s broken out of his revelry by the sound of the front door opening, and soon enough, Ellie is stomping up the stairs to come looking for him. When she finds him in his bedroom, sitting on the end of his bed, she glances at the DVD he’s holding, a grin spreading over her face.

“Just like you remember, huh, old man?” He grumbles, getting up to set the movie back on the bookshelf before turning back to Ellie.

“She settling in alright?” She hums, nodding lightly.

“Yep, made a beeline for a shower. Told me to thank you. I told her you’d be coming around for your autograph later.” His face crumples in indignation while Ellie lets out a cackle.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But in all seriousness, I think she’s interested– in you– which pains me to even say, but, I figure you deserve to know that the woman of your pubescent dreams was asking questions about you.” Joel’s jaw goes slack, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“She– she was asking about me?” Ellie nods around a smirk.

“Mmhmm. And I told her you’re a grumpy old bum who doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” He huffs, but she laughs again.

“Sorry, kidding again. I didn’t tell her much. Just that you’ll be around. But if I were you, I’d “be around” sooner rather than later, before the rest of Jackson gets a piece of her. Snatch her up before there’s sweeter bait to bite down on, you know?” He thinks briefly that he needs to see just what sort of magazines this kid is reading, because he can’t quite believe what’s coming out of her mouth. He grumbles, shaking his head at her antics.

“There ain’t gonna be any snatching going on. Just mind your–” She huffs, already walking out of his room.

“Mind my business, yeah, yeah, I know. But think about what I said, old man. Better cast your line quick for this one. My guess is you weren’t the only one who had her poster in your bedroom back before.”

He’s not letting that kid read magazines anymore.

…

When he steps out on his porch later in the afternoon, fully intent on what Ellie has affectionately started calling his “adult nap time,” he’s interrupted by someone calling his name. He catches sight of her sitting on the porch of the little house next door, waving and smiling at him like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey, neighbor.” He tentatively waves back, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy her as she motions for him to join her. He sighs, rather stiffly walking over to her porch and joining her on the bench seat, keeping a very respectable distance between them. Clickers, raiders, general imminent danger, he can handle. Pretty lady? That’s touchy. Pretty lady who he imagined marrying as a teenager? Just put him out of his misery already. He knows it’s ridiculous, that none of that matters now. She’s just as worn and weathered as the rest of them by this crumbled world. But that smile she keeps flashing him might just bring him to his knees.

“I wanted to thank you– for bringing me along. I was, uh, starting to lose hope back there a little bit.” He nods, glancing at her.

“No need for thanks. Just the right thing to do in this world. I’m sorry– about your group. I don’t know what happened, but that couldn’t have been easy being out there on your own.” She shrugs, waving off his sentiment.

“It was barely a group to begin with. Just some folks who happened to get out of the San Francisco QZ together.” His brain is quickly trying to knit together the movie star he remembers from the past and this woman who sits before him now, an obvious edge to her.

“Were you in California? Back when everything…” She nods, her face set in a grim look.

“LA, where else? Now that was a nightmare. I bet the only worse place to be when everything went down was New York. Bodies everywhere. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” She lets out a humorless laugh before glancing at him.

“That movie you like so much? I remember when I got the role, I had no idea how I was gonna pull it off. Grizzled heroine with a dark past and a penchant for violence. I was nothing like her. But now, I feel a whole lot more like her and a whole lot less like me.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I dumped that on you.” Joel is quick to shake his head, leaning over his thighs to catch her gaze.

“No, no. I get it– in my own way, I guess. The world changed and– we had to change with it.” That coaxes a crooked smile out of her as she looks at him. A simple silence descends between them as they share quiet smiles. She finally giggles, scrunching her nose at him.

“That girl– Ellie? I think she said something about you wanting an autograph?” Joel can feel the hot blush creeping up his neck as his face goes slack. She just splits out in a laugh, tipping her head back in delight.

“I’m sorry, I’m kidding. But, you know, what I went by, what people still call me, that isn’t my real name.” Joel’s eyebrows quirk up and she sighs, shaking her head.

“Just a stage name. I don’t really mind people calling me that, but can I tell you my real name?” He can feel the smile tugging at his mouth as he nods. Before he knows what she’s doing, she’s taking his hand into her lap, slowly tracing out her name with her finger across his palm. An autograph, of sorts. He’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits, just barely stringing together her name as she finishes. He murmurs it lowly and she offers him her brightest smile yet, still holding his hand lightly in her own.

“And you’re Joel, right?” He’s only a little embarrassed by how quickly he nods.

“Mmhmm. Miller– Joel Miller, yep.” She lets out a breathy laugh, now clasping his hand in a firm shake.

“It’s nice to really meet you, Joel Miller.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #request

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caelivir · 11 months

Text

rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.

#anime #manga #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #rayne x reader #from kor ; ♆

1K notes · View notes

marthawrites · 7 months

Note

"don't shut me out. please"

I hope it is not too late for me to join the celebration ☺️ Congratulations! 💕👏🏼

Thank you sooososo much! You are such a gem and I appreciate all of your fandom love more than you know! I did my best to include a (one shot appropriate) slow burn, angst, and a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this ride MWAH!

Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word Count: 6.3k+

About: A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

Includes: Chance encounter, age difference (references to Aemond x Alys) mentions of cheating, allusions to cheating, angst, second chance romance, and smut featuring vaginal fingering, possessive sex, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is the longest piece I've wrote in quite awhile - whew! I also feel like it's one of the more ambitious one-shot fics I've worked on/completed. Reader is non-descript. As always, please, enjoy!

There were two things tied for number one on your five-year goal list.

First, be out of your city apartment (preferably as a home owner and not a renter)

Second, have a dog.

They went hand in hand. One couldn’t happen without the other. So, it was a hard tie and you weren’t willing to budge on either. Until then, to take the edge off your self-proclaimed animal loneliness, you volunteered at a local shelter two nights a week. Mondays and Wednesdays.

While your day job wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or professional athlete – ones that your family pushed you to have while growing up – it still paid decently and had the potential for career advancement. And! You were able to live on your own. Not having a roommate was worth the dry job description. Besides, your boss was fair and most of your co-workers were friendly; a win win, really.

Tonight, Monday, you finished your shift, went home to change, then headed out to the shelter. Even though it was all volunteer hours you valued punctuality and did your best to get there around the same time each night.

“Hey! You made it!” Arryk called out to you when you stepped inside the building. Chaos sparked all around. He did a great job running and maintaining the schedule, and with the help of volunteers alongside regular staff, it was, more often than not, smooth sailing. Tonight, however, it appeared quite the opposite.

“Hey! Yeah, a few minutes later than usual, sorry!” You said as you walked over to him.

He waved a hand brushing off your apology. “No worries. We had a few people call in today. So, since being short staffed we’re definitely running behind. I know you normally help bathe the dogs with Baela tonight, but can I ask you to do something else instead?” He winced slightly with his question, unsure of your answer. He knew how much you loved Baela and cleaning the dogs!

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, crossing your arms. “You know I won’t administer shots. If I could get over my fear of needles I’d be a veterinarian and not an office worker like I am!” You scrunched your brows before one, all on its own accord, arched up dubiously.

“Ha!” He laughed. “No no no, I know. We have six dogs that need walking tonight. And I don’t think Targaryen can handle all of ‘em.”

“Helaena? She’s back?” You asked, eyes bright with surprise.

“She’s still away for that college trip. It’s her younger brother, Aemond. Have you met him before?”

You’d heard Helaena talk about him, of course, but you’d never met him. Shaking your head, you peered around the shelter looking for anyone else with the Targaryen tell-tale silver-blonde hair. No one caught your eye. “I haven’t. But, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver!” He praised. “He’s down the west hall getting them ready. Depending on how long you're here afterward, there might be another couple who could use a second walk. Terriers. You know how they are.”

“Happy to help, Arryk!” He was a good guy. You’d always liked him.

“Aemond’s tall, towheaded as the rest of his family, and has an eyepatch. You can’t miss him.” And with that Cargyll switched tasks and got right back to work.

Turning and walking down the west hall, you were happy to say, chaos began to fizzle out. This hall had the larger dogs; no wonder Aemond wouldn’t be able to walk all six at once. Even with the slow turn of summer to autumn sunset wouldn’t be for another three hours. Assuming all went well you’d be able to walk the second batch of dogs, too.

Down the aisle were five opened doors with each respective dog ready for their walk. Their leashes were hooked onto the door so they couldn’t run amuck. You patted and scratched them, earning yourself more wagging tails, a few happy barks, and some excited licks. Looking to the end of the hall you saw someone who you assumed was your evening walking partner. He was kneeling, talking soothingly to a great big senior hound, while clasping the final buckle of their harness. “Hello, uh-, Aemond?” You called out feeling slightly self-conscious.

Still kneeling, he turned his head to look up at you. Any softness in his single eye quickly hardened to match the rest of his sharp features. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard by your presence; someone he’d never seen calling him out by name. “Is there something I can help you with?” Slowly, in a single fluid motion, he stood up and the aged dog kept his eyes on him the whole time, panting happily.

Whoa. He was tall. And, at first sight, incredibly good looking: dressed in casual black clothes, long silver hair tied into a braid, with a scar along the left side of his face that you had to tell yourself not to stare at. His mouth was a unique shape, too, and you weren’t sure if he was merely waiting for a response or if he was smirking the tiniest pout at you. “Hi,” you said again with a nervous laugh. You told him your name. “Arryk sent me. Said you could use some help with the walk tonight?” ‘Play it cool, dummy. He’s really handsome, so what? He could be a huge asshole. Play. It. Cool,’ your inner voice said.

Did he have a mechanical eye beneath his patch? The way he looked at you, then, made you feel like he read your thoughts. “Ah. I could certainly use the help,” he said smoothly with a small curve of lip, turning his attention to the three dogs at the front of the hallway. “Wanna take those three?” He asked, looping the big dog’s leash around his wrist. “I mean, you can have any of them as long as I get this guy. He’s my favorite.”

Your pulse raced a little too fast. Clearing your throat, you smiled in an attempt to ease the butterflies in your belly. “I don’t mind. Why is he your favorite?” You turned and began to unclasp leashes from their doors; happy tips and taps of claws growing louder at the pups’ excitement.

“Reminds me of my girl at home,” Aemond replied, adoration clear in his voice. “Big and old, a little stinky, a little slobbery. The best kind, really.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet. I don’t have any pets. I get my fix here,” you laughed. Holding all three dogs in one hand, you pulled the door open with the other. Except, it didn’t open. On instinct, you tried again hoping Aemond didn’t notice.

He strode up next to you with the rest of the dogs in tow, smirking at you for real this time, as he said, “it’s a push door.”

You knew it was a push door. Fuck. He gave you a knowing glance over his shoulder as he walked out, waiting for you to follow along.

II.

You didn’t see Aemond on Wednesday and you couldn’t deny your disappointment when you left for the night. Come to find out you two had been volunteering at the same place for months – only on different days. He tended to be there Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Monday had been a chance encounter. One you couldn’t shake out of your head.

Before leaving tonight, however, you took a selfie with Aemond’s favorite old hound. You’d exchanged numbers but hadn’t an excuse to strike up a conversation. Yet. Now, with the selfie as an excuse, you opened a fresh text thread and sent him the photo along with:

Someone missed you tonight!

While buckling up in your car and getting ready to reverse out of your parking spot, your phone dinged with an incoming message:

Very cute. Will you be there on Monday? Maybe Cargyll will assign up walking duties again.

Your belly flipped. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting him to message back – especially so quickly. Before you could stop yourself you sent back:

Yup! See you then?

And he sent:

I’ll find another excuse to be there.

Feeling a little bold, you replied:

Excited to see you again! You have these adorable dimples when you smile. Maybe I’ll see those, too?

When nothing came through for a few minutes, you feared you might have gone too far. It was just a little innocent flirting, right? Nothing bad? And then:

Maybe so. See you Monday.

Smiling, you didn’t send anything back. It’d be your luck to say something dumb and rub him the wrong way.

During your first walk, as soon as the ice broke, you both clicked really well. Hopefully – just maybe – things would flow like that again. The connection you felt, something akin to a liveware, couldn’t have been one-sided. He had to feel a spark of it, too; even if just a little.

You drove home, made dinner while facetiming one of your friends from uni, and when she asked about the spark in your eye you told her about your friend Helaena’s younger brother.

III.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit trilogy was a little silly, but watchable. But you haven’t even seen that?” Aemond asked clearly aghast at your lack of understanding his reference.

Tonight, you both got walking duty again and neither of you complained. And, this time, he regarded you with a softer look in his eye than his original sharp glance. He was dressed in dark casuals again and you hated (loved?) how good he made them look. His hair was in a bun and his eyepatch stayed firmly in place. You wanted to ask him about it but weren’t sure if you should try it yet. Instead, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re making it sound better and better the more you talk about it.”

“That’s because it’s the best.” The dogs pulled both of you along and you had to walk brisker than normal to keep up with them and Aemond’s longer legs. He seemed unaffected by it.

“So, you recommend I watch it?” You asked playfully.

“No,” he started, very serious. “I recommend you read it first and then watch the movies.”

If you had more breath in your lungs you’d have giggled – not laughed, but giggled. Something about the way he said it, and the totally serious look on his face, tickled you. “Will you watch them with me?”

The question appeared to catch Aemond off guard. He looked at you, lingering over your pinkened cheeks and smirking lips, before finally making it back to your eyes. Just when he opened his mouth to say something in reply, a completely unrelated thing stole his attention. Sometime during your bantering you’d made it back to the shelter, and a tall dark-haired woman called out, “there’s my sweet Aemond. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

If you thought Aemond attractive, this woman made him look like any regular ol' Joe. She was elegant, warmed by a late summer tan, and had raven dark hair cascading down her back; truly a vision of enchantment. When she sauntered to him and pressed her body to his, you felt like a voyeur watching the embrace.

“Alys,” Aemond breathed quietly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” she answered as she trailed manicured fingers across the front of his chest.

She had a timeless look to her, the kind that concealed her age. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty, you thought. You really hadn’t a clue. All you knew, now, is that you should finish your task alone.

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Posture tense. “I told you I was busy tonight–”

Before you could stop yourself you cut him off with an awkward wave. “See you later, Aemond.” And, with that, you walked inside before you overheard anything else they might be saying to each other. Turning to glance over your shoulder one last time, you were met with a look of deliberate triumph from Alys; she had the greenest eye you’d ever seen.

It was haunting.

Driving home, you felt stupid. Aemond was just a guy you just met. It was silly to think someone like him would be single and even sillier to think your innocent flirtations would be working on him. You had half a mind to delete his number. Or, at the very least to delete the short message thread of your texts.

Instead of making dinner like you normally did, you called in delivery and facetimed with your friend as you waited. She immediately knew something was off and you were quick to tell her everything that happened.

Twenty minutes passed and you were starting to feel better. It’s not like you two hooked up or even kissed. It was just a chance meeting with playful banter. Nothing to get shook up about. “Food’s here. Thanks for listening to me. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You said as you got up to answer the door.

When all else failed, your favorite food could always make you feel better.

Turning the tv on and sitting down amongst your couch pillows and blankets, you were getting ready to dig in when your phone rang.

Aemond.

Your insides did a weird flip and hunger disappeared entirely from your mind and belly. Should you answer? Let it go to voicemail? Turn the stupid thing off and completely ignore him? Right before the final ring, you decided. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said, immediately sounding relieved. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t yet ready to call it a night with you.”

“It’s no biggie,” you replied. Lying. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything–,” you paused, searching for something else to say to soften the edge of your voice, “–the dogs were getting tired anyway.” God. It sounded stupid even to your own ears.

Aemond sighed through the phone. You wondered if he slid his hand down his face or through his hair. It sounded like he did. “No. Alys is… it’s complicated. She’s my ex and–”

“ –you don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s fine.” Despite it being a phone call, you tried to smile as if it would blunt the dismissal of your tone.

“I mean it,” he said. “I really wasn’t ready to say bye yet. What do you say you skip your regular Wednesday night plans and grab a milkshake or something with me?”

Your insides flipped again but for an entirely different reason this time. You knew it: the sparks definitely weren’t one sided. The firm set of Aemond’s jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders flashed once more in your mind’s eye. Since your break up with your long-term boyfriend you’d been on a few dates, but none of them lead to anything worthwhile. With how you and Aemond clicked, however? This date might lead to something more than a hook-up (or, attempt at a hook-up. Some men truly had no game). “Are you sure…?” You asked after a moment. “You and Alys looked pretty comfortable–,”

“ –I’m sure,” it was his turn to cut you off.

“Alright then. Let’s do it.”

IV.

It'd been two months since your first milkshake date with Aemond – the first of many dates. It was a guilty pleasure of yours and apparently one of his, too!

Your first kiss, first time meeting his elder dog, Vhagar, and first time meeting his family were all memories you cherished.

The more you learned about Aemond’s relationship with Alys, the more you understood it "complicated". Including Targaryen drama, Targaryen business, and a list of other things you had a hard time following. It didn’t matter anymore, though, Aemond reassured you. Things were done between them and he only wanted you; proving it to you with fingers and mouth until you begged for a break.

A lesson you learned from your last relationship – one Aemond learned from his, too – was to be careful with love. As much as you genuinely enjoyed him and his company, a barrier stood between you that neither dared yet to cross.

Love.

Each day you fell for him a little more; you were scared to admit it. The scar of heartbreak healed slowly. Could you truly trust Aemond with that part of yourself? With the very essence of your heart? It’d been two months and you still weren’t entirely sure.

If he felt the same he’d say something, right?

Autumn blanketed the lands with brisk air, rainy days, and rolling fog. As days grew short and nights long, you and Aemond spent more time at your apartment or his quarter at the Targaryen estate. Your apartment was the clear favorite. Living alone had its perks: never having to worry about nosy family or friends who showed up unannounced.

And thank God you didn’t live with anyone else.

"Mmh… fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day. I can't get enough of you. Let me make my girl feel good," he said against your mouth as one of his hands moved up the inside of your thigh. "Are you wet already? I bet you are," he chuckled, fingertips tracing your slit. "Mmm… I knew it. Your clit is sooo needy, isn't it?"

Shit. Those hushed words, the glint in his eye, his rasped tone… you happily indulged him in whatever way he wanted. And him, you. Fingers, mouth, cock, he quickly learned what tricks made you melt.

As much as he loved having you ride him, or bending you over, his absolute favorite was fucking you into the mattress. You sprawled out beneath him, hair messy and fanned out around your head, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingernails on his body… he could never get enough of your blushed face beneath him, trembling and arching as he pushed you to peak after peak.

Your sheets had never been cleaned so often in your entire life.

It was particularly rainy today and you were both finished with everything on your to-do list. Aemond sat on the floor in front of you as you lounged in your overstuffed chair. You told him you'd read the Lord of the Rings as long as he read it to you. He didn't even pretend to be annoyed by your bargain. He read to you from his own collection, claiming he liked the worn feeling of the pages better than a new book's pages.

Like any proper reader Aemond started with The Hobbit. You enjoyed it more than you thought you would. More so than the story, however, you enjoyed him reading aloud to you – he had the loveliest voice. You were about half way through The Fellowship of the Ring and the story continued to get better.

But, all afternoon, Aemond's phone never stopped going off. It seemed like every few minutes it would ping with some kind of notification. "Who's blowing you up?" You asked, annoyance creeping into your tone.

Stopping mid sentence, he looked. "Alys," he sighed as he scrolled through the various messages.

You tried to not look over his shoulder to the texts. You really did. But there was something about Aemond's shift in posture, and the air around him, that made you suspicious. "What's going on?" You asked in your best nonchalant manner.

"She's asking if I have some of her clothes at my place still," he answered and you swore you saw pink spread atop his cheeks.

That caught you off guard. "Why would she have clothes–"

And whatever else you were going to say was abruptly cut off.

There, in a new string of messages, was the single text line, "I miss you, baby boy," followed by at least three photographs of Alys in lingerie and various stages of undress.

"What the fuck Aemond!?" You asked, anger and hurt instantly warming your blood. "What the hell were those? Are you fucking joking?"

"I have no idea why she sent–"

" –is that why she left clothes at your place? Couldn't let her go for real? Jesus Christ I can't believe you." Anger flushed your face and bittered your words.

"Listen, please. Hear me out, bab–"

" –oh fuck off, Aemond, you don't get to 'babe' me around anymore. In fact, just leave."

He looked as hurt as you. And shocked. A hundred emotions played across his chiseled features. "No, really. Let me explain," he pleaded with eye and tone.

You weren't having it. You were cheated on before and he knew it. It made your own hurt cleave even deeper. You really fucking liked him. Maybe even loved him. And this whole time he had you and Alys? "I'm seriously about to get really fucking angry. Leave. Now."

He stood and left. Silent fury screamed around him like a whirlwind. He didn't even give you one final look over his shoulder.

He shut your door with a deliberate click.

You curled up in your blanket alone as fat ugly tears streamed down your face. You couldn't be bothered to grab a tissue for your snotty nose.

Aemond's leather jacket was still draped over the back of your couch and his book still lay on the floor. Your crying somehow turned uglier at the realization.

Eventually you dozed off. With Aemond, you always had your phone on silent so you didn't hear all his missed calls and texts.

The following month went by in a blur; you drowned yourself in work. You also stopped volunteering because you didn't want to give Aemond the opportunity to meet you there. By some feat of strength you ignored all his attempts at talking – and by proxy, apologizing.

The only thing you said to him was a single text:

I need time. Please understand

Part of you wondered how it affected him. His calls and texts became sparse until they eventually stopped.

Helaena asked where you'd been and you felt horrible lying to her. So, you didn't. After telling her the story she sighed and asked if you'd want to grab tea. You agreed. Meeting her at a local cafe allowed you to air out your feelings; laughs and tears alike. She was kind, and sweet, and supportive without being passive. She loved her brother but knew he had many of his own issues. You'd been friends for over a year and this was the first true heart to heart you shared.

Upon returning home you picked up the Fellowship and tried to read from where Aemond left off. But, it wasn’t the same without him and it only made you cry. Again.

VI.

The following morning, despite your car's newer model, it barely wanted to start for your drive to work. By a stroke of luck you made it there fine. And, made it back home that evening, too. But that was the end of your luck. It needed to be picked up and taken to a shop until a mechanic could see it.

Carless, you had to rely on Uber or public transportation. Yuck.

A few days of stress passed and now you were done for the week. Thank God for weekends. Unfortunately your groceries were extremely low and you would need to make a trip in the morning. You sighed and used it as an excuse to order pizza.

After waking up and a breakfast of (the last, and past its sell-by date) packet oatmeal you got around to make the walk to the nearest grocery store. Knowing you'd be walking home, too, the list was small. Carrying bags up two flights of stairs was hard enough, much less carrying them home a mile!

On the way back it started sprinkling. Great. Just great. You started walking faster with hopes of making quicker time than your leisurely stroll to the store. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard your name called. Was that…? Stopping in your tracks you looked across your shoulder to the side of the road and saw none other than Aemond. You knew his car and voice anywhere. You didn't have to see yourself to know a dozen emotions played across your face.

"Hey," he said gently, his own features a mirror of yours.

"Hi," you said.

"Why are you walking in the rain with groceries?"

Slumping your unintentionally scrunched up shoulders, you sighed. "Stupid car died on me and it's been with the mechanic for almost a week."

He smiled softly. So soft. The outside of his seeing eye crinkled and emotion rushed to your chest. Your gut. "You're way too good to be walking alone. Let me drive you home at least?"

You didn't resist. How could you? "Alright. Sure. Just dropping me off though, okay?" Guilt panged your chest. Did he feel it too? Could he read it on your face he knew so well?

"Alright," he answered, expression falling just slight. You might as well have stomped on his foot with how it affected you.

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. Can we try it again? Can I hold your hand? God I love your hair in a ponytail. You smell good. Did you see the trailer for that new horror movie? I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. It all turned around your head like a fucking rotisserie chicken. It shouldn't be so hard to say any of those things to him. But it was.

You didn't say anything on the short ride home. Neither did he. His right hand flexed a few times and you wondered if he was having a hard time, too.

"Can you get it all upstairs?" He asked as he pulled into an empty spot and parked, looking across to you with horribly concealed emotion.

"Yes, but…," you trailed off momentarily, trying to read his face. "I still have your book and jacket. Wanna come up and grab them?" You asked hopefully.

He killed the engine faster than you could blink. "Yes! So that's where they've been. You could have mentioned it sooner," he said slightly accusingly, grinning at you with a spark of playfulness.

Leading the way upstairs to your apartment, you unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After placing your items down and grabbing Aemond's, you turned to look at him standing in the doorway. He leaned against it. Waiting. Quiet. He glanced around with a wistfulness that made your throat tight. You watched him watching you and your home until the air became awkward – was it half a second, a few seconds, longer? You weren't sure.

Slowly you walked over to him. Your gaze flickered up at him as you handed his things back. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" You asked. "Did you think I really wouldn't find out? Why did you stick around if I wasn't good enough?"

He blinked. Taken back. "You never even gave me the chance to explain." His jaw feathered before it tightened. His eye hardened.

You grabbed the door, fixing to close it on him. Now that you started talking – unloading pent up questions which kept you tossing and turning at night – you couldn't decide if you wanted to slam it on his face or yell. "I told you how I was cheated on! And you did it anyway! I trusted you, Aemond." Your voice thinned, sounding shrill even to your own ears.

One of his hands braced on the door so you couldn't close it on him. "So this is your revenge then, huh? Punishing both of us? Why don't you trust me?" Hurt and fury simmered in the lovely hue of his eye. A storm. No, a hurricane. "Alys and I have been done for months. Months. Even before you and I met. I'm sorry for what she did but I can’t control what she does. She was playing her wicked games trying to sabotage us– you and me. Don't shut me out. Please."

He pleaded, every pore and line of his face begging for forgiveness. As each word came off his tongue they clicked into place in your head. He meant it. He was telling the truth. Before you could stop yourself your fists balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down so your mouth crashed up to his. "You mean it?" You asked through the kiss.

Instantly he leaned down into you, and instantly he held onto your waist pulling you deeper against him. His other hand cradled the side of your face daring to curve along the shape of your skull. "I mean it. Yes I fucking mean it," he answered against the kiss; breath stealing yours away until it left you in a little moan.

You pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it. You moaned as he nipped and bit at your neck. Your heart thumped wildly. He sucked at the sensitive skin, again and again, pulling away just before leaving a mark. "God, Aem,” you whimpered. Goosebumps covered your body. The only thing on your mind was him.

"Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much." His hands were somehow all over you all at once. His mouth trailed, and dragged, and kissed over any exposed portion of your skin. He happily pulled off layers of your clothing to expose more and more of your soft, warm, saccharine flesh; intoxicating him. After weeks of your separation the last thing he wanted to do was to push too far too fast. “Can I take this off?” He asked before taking your shirt off.

“Yes,” you replied breathily. “Fuck it. Take all of it off. I missed you too. So much,” you said as you helped pull his clothes off, too. He pushed you against a wall. You kissed. Heavier, and hotter, and hungrier. You pushed him against a wall.

He gasped as he smirked. “I love when you act all tough when we both know I can have you squirming under me in minutes,” he growled, pupil swelling. The dimples at the very corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement, however, as he once again pushed you against the wall. You were both only in your underwear, now, and his lean body on yours had you aching. “My tough girl… how quickly do you think it’ll last when my fingers are in you?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You asked defiantly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t last long at all. By now you were both down the hallway and your bedroom was only a couple feet away. You needed him. Now. And judging by how fucking hard he was he needed you too.

The next moment went by in a blur and before you could catch yourself you were sprawled out on your back atop your bed. Aemond made quick work of moving you both inside, and made quicker work of pulling your panties down. He groaned as your thighs immediately spilled open for him. He dragged two fingers up your slit and circled your clit with your arousal. “Shit–,” he hissed. “Never make me wait so long to have this pussy again. Do you understand me? Never,” he said as he worked your already swollen clit. He played with it just how he knew you liked it and your cunt’s tiny wet sounds sent his cock throbbing. “Answer me.”

Tension built in the low muscles of your belly. Your legs began to tighten already – one of the tell-tale signs of your approaching climax. How the hell could he push you there so quickly? “N-never! Ahh-h never again!” You replied, voice light, and sweet, and tantalizing as any sin Aemond ever knew. “Please, Aemond, I want to cum…!”

He shoved those same two fingers into you. “Good girl,” he said as he curled those fingers. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine. Give it to me,” he said huskily as he worked them in and out of you. It was sloppy and wet. Borderline obscene. Each time he slammed his hand against you he was mindful to press the heel of his palm against your clit and your mound, knowing how the extra pressure sent your pretty toes curling.

You cried out his name as your eyes clenched shut. The tension in your belly snapped and a wave of glorious bliss washed over you. Sweat sheened between your breasts and along your lip. You arched, quivered, shuddering in the aftermath of his intensity.

Aemond’s mouth crashed to yours and you threaded your fingers through the roots of his hair. It was still in a ponytail and you had no mind to take it out, you just had to pull him deeper into the kiss. He tasted the salt of your sweat and groaned. “Relax your pussy, baby, you’re clenching me really hard. It feels amazing but I don’t wanna hurt you pulling out,” he said tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “Just feels too good.” You tried to steady your breath and relax as he laid beside you, continuing to kiss your neck and shoulders. When your spongy walls finally eased around him you were sad to feel him withdraw. Stress melted away from your subconscious and you wanted to thank him for the pleasure. You wondered if your eyes said it while he looked at you.

Leaning up, he discarded the final piece of his clothing and sighed in relief as his cock sprang free. He got between your thighs and looked down at you hungerily. “Look at you all doe eyed already. See? I knew you couldn’t stay tough for long,” he said, smug, as he lined up with your drenched cunt. He held one of your legs up against him, and you pressed the other against his side.

When you left for the store this morning you had no idea your afternoon would go in this direction.

He pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you and soon he was as deep as he could be. A moan escaped both of you, and a throatier one left him when his free hand tugged at your bra. It was one that clipped in the front. He popped it open and rocked into you as soon as your tits spilled free. "You're so sexy like this."

With your body already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now with Aemond building a rhythm between your thighs, you weren't going to last long. "You feel so good," you purred, eyelids heavy. "Fuck I missed you."

Another sound left his chest and when you wrapped your legs around his slim waist you swore you felt goosebumps pebble all along his skin. Or, maybe those were your goosebumps on your legs. Whatever the case, Aemond leaned forward and kissed you again. "I missed you too," he rumbled. "Gonna let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again?"

You two made good use of your birth control and you weren't about to deny him – or yourself – the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked and stuffed. "Y-yeah," you stammered, smiling.

Aemond mumbled something incoherent into your neck, and if your brain wasn't foggy from his perfect fucking cock you might have caught what he said.

He leaned up and supported himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're my girl. You're my fucking girl. You're my fucking girl," he repeated again and again until the pace of his thrusts grew sloppy. Somehow the sloppiness of it, the neediness and urgency of his voice, sent emotion swelling in all of you.

Heat collected and grew out from your spine, webbing throughout your entire body. You clung to him desperately. You rolled your hips up into him and shamelessly grinded your clit against his pelvis as he drove in and out of you. It was all too much. You crumbled beneath him and let orgasm take control of you. The depths of your body squeezed and convulsed around him, holding him tight and soaking the fullness of his length with your slick. He never stopped or paused his thrusts.

His own peak followed. Once he was as deep as he could be he released everything he had into you. He stayed there, both of you panting through little moans, until he no longer twitched between your stretched walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and slowly, his seed dribbled out of you. Grinning, he rolled onto his back and scooped you against him.

"Let's stay here like this all day," you mumbled happily, fingertips trailing up and down his abdomen and chest.

"You'll get no argument from me," he said.

Quiet minutes passed and the sound of his heart nearly put you into a trance. "I'm sorry for how I acted," you finally admitted.

All the while he'd been petting and trailing his fingers through your hair. He didn't stop as he answered, "and I'm sorry for not trying harder." He kissed your forehead and held you tighter.

"Let's try it again. For real this time. With the titles and commitment and everything."

"Are you asking or telling me to be your boyfriend?"

You smirked. "I'm suggesting."

Returning your smirk, he pulled you atop him so you could straddle him. "You're all mine," he said with a dark eye. "My perfect girl."

Leaning down, you kissed and nipped his bottom lip. "Are you already hard again, Aemond Targaryen?"

A chuckle rumbled somewhere in his chest as his touch dented into your hips to hold you at just the right angle. With a roll of his hips he pushed himself up inside you again. "Whose cock is this?"

You gasped, eyes darkening with another round of lust. "Mine."

"That's right. Yours. Not anyone else's. It's fucking yours."

You rode him until your tits were covered in fresh hickies and you were filled with another load of him.

Yours. His. The second chance you both needed.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @evermorre

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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theywantedplayer · 1 year

Text

Masterslist

NEW MASTERLIST

Smut

All Categories

who i write for

Jamie Draysale

“shit I didn't mean to say that”

Loved so dearly

“Its midnight where the hell were you

obsessed

Doing nothing with you

“my friends are really annoyed about how much I talk about you” “you’re staring”

Sparks fly-Taylor Swift

Thin walls NSFW

Good morning NSFW

Happy Birthday NSFW

"please kiss me" "stay quiet" NSFW

“ it’s okay just breathe” “look at me, please?”

“I’m not leaving”

Trevor zegras

jealousy

“... " " "Wanna make out?" "Sure" “ the second I saw you I couldn't get over how beautiful you were”

“You're kinda cute in this” “only kinda.”"Did you see that?" "You saw that right?"

“someone’s happy to see me” “you bought me flowers?”

Picking fights

he didnt say it

obsessed

“don’t fucking touch what is not yours” “Shh.. I’m here”

“oh hun, i wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard” “you look exhausted”

“first one to make noises loses” NSFW

Just one more NSFW

Moth to a flame NSFW

Long Day NSFW

Auston Matthews

“No, no, please don’t look sad. I can’t handle that.”

“don’t fucking touch what is not yours” NSFW

I only want you

obsessed

I think Your enough

I wouldn’t do that to you” “i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”

“You take me so well.” “Spread your legs wider.” NSFW

You comfort Austin after they get eliminated in the second round

paparazzi NSFW

“I’ve been in love you for years”

Jack Hughes

This is how you celebrate a win NSFW

“Shh im here”

obsessed

All stars

First time NSFW

Jersey NSFW

Shower sex NSFW

Luke Hughes

“ i love you the way you are, okay? you don’t need to change. ”

High and dry NSFW part 2

Bruises

My boyfriends Brother NSFW

Finally alone NSFW

Drunk

“No, no, please don’t look sad. I can’t handle that.”

Quinn Hughes

“im just trying to help you” “Please, talk to me’’

soft spot

“Baby can you please shut the fuck up”

“do you think I dropped my walls like this for anybody?”

"i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”NSFW

you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”“ you’re blushing” “am not”

Submissive quinn NSFW

Flight NSFW

Brock Boeser

andrei kuzmenko

Nico hischier

Captain NSFW

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard”

Golden gold

“come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you” NSFW

obsessed

Fair amount

The purse

Dirty talk NSFW

Little things

HandCuff’s+Blindfold NSFW

Arber Xhekaj

I wanted to see you

Kirby dach

Freezing

Cole caulfield

Feeling lost

“Why isn't he getting up?”

“I’ll never be good enough”“I wish you could see yourself how I see you”

Talking to yourself

“No panties?” NSFW

In every room NSFW

Sidney Crosby

“Will you dance with me? Please, pretty please!”

“I missed you so much” & “ you bought me flowers?”

“i love you the way you are, okay? you don’t need to change.

obsessed

“Don't listen to them” “Because I know you”

“Hey…..be safe” “ you’re not even listening”

Juraj Slafkovsky

“I just wanted to be held for a while”

"everything about you amazes me"

“don’t yell at me in a language i don’t understand!” “please don’t cry, i’m sorry”

Mitch marner

“you’re crying” and “i missed you so much”

“you were crying.” “you’re warm.”

obsessed

Second Chance

“I get so hard when i’m around you“

Needy Mitch NSFW

Carter Hart

Mat Barzal

“You smiled! I saw it, so no denying it.” and “You’re definitely the only person I would do this for.”

andrei svechnikov

Fastest Skater goes to?

“i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name” NSFW

leon draisaitl

“first one to make noises loses”

“come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you” NSFW

"so, how much longer do you plan on using me as your personal space heater?"“Please kiss me.”

Jeremy Swayma

“no panties?”“Do you want my fingers?" NSFW

Morning kisses

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mistydeyes · 11 months

Text

𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽!

click me for asks + requests :)

2k celebration! submit an au/prompt from the list now until halloween :)

requests: open! i am in uni tho so it takes me about 1-2 weeks to answer!

pairings status: closed atm!

rules for requests - i love when you send things 💌

note - message me or comment on any one of my works if you want to be added to a tag list :)

I usually post on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays

izzie's fic recommendations - updated daily!

some things about me :)

the basics: 21, she/her, from the us :)

i'm a second year pharmacy student! also minoring in justice, law, and society

along with writing, i also intern at a perfume company and work at as a pharmacy intern

so naturally my pharmacist series is my absolute favorite to write and research!

𝓶𝔀𝓲𝓲 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 - the full masterlist

don't know where to start? here's a few readers' favorites :) ❤️ - izzie’s favorites

💌 if you want to peek at all of my writings

S E R I E S

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - 141 x pharmacist!reader

all of my works and our pharmacist reader

a panacea❤️ - 141 meets the cure to all their ailments

sick day visit - you prided yourself on never getting sick but the day has finally come. as you’re resting in your quarters, a certain group pays you a visit :)

fake hypochondriac ghost x reader (sequel to “a panacea”) - ghost goes to extreme lengths to see his favorite pharmacist

pain-killer fueled thoughts price x reader (sequel to “a panacea”) - price landed himself in the medic tent and his pain killers are making him tell the pharmacist his feelings.

keep your weapons hot and bodies hotter (18+) - stripper!141 x fem!reader (codename: Phoenix)❤️

hunk-o-mania 141 edition - feast your eyes on Delilah's Den's newest male dancers

playboy bunny phoenix edition - an unforeseen guest complicates the mission, now you have to get ready to act as the distraction on stage

the joys of civilian life - 141 x civilian!fem!reader

opposite occupations - while on leave, the boys each meet a civilian that makes their time deployed and defending their country worth it

family moments - 141 x fem!reader

little moments and little voices - precious moments you spend in your home with your husband and children :)

oh, darling, don’t you ever grow up - your husband leaves this world too early and now you have to pick up the pieces with your children

secrets and pointed fingers (requested!)❤️ - simon "ghost" riley

behind locked doors - when the 141 thinks you're the mole, they make sure to extract the information in whatever way possible

empty apologies and avoiding glances - when you return back to base, everything is far from normal

half empty glasses and unchanging perspectives - you try to run away from the trauma at the pub but with a glass in hand, simon finds you

O N E - S H O T S

odd hobbies - 141 x reader everyone has their own hobbies, yours are just unique to 141’s perspective

butterfly effect - 141 x fem!reader they say "a butterfly flaps its wings in the amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of europe." what once was a silly quote now has implications as one action leads to your death.

opposite of a meet cute❤️ - 141 x civilian!reader most people have a cute story as to how they met their significant other but yours is a little more eccentric

V I S U A L S + R A N D O M

random things in pockets and bags❤️ SERIES - what does the 141 carry on them when they’re on leave?

pt i- kyle “gaz” garrick

pt ii - simon "ghost" riley

pt iii - johnny "soap" mactavish

pt iv - john price

E X P L A I N S my series of explaining the various timeline's of the games and characters

simon "ghost" riley's backstory

which modern warfare game should i play first?

some writings from the inbox

medication mixup - the medic unknowingly prescribing you a penicillin has disastrous results due to your allergy

141’s dossier - see what the dossiers laswell gets at the end of mw 2019 looks like! + template

ghost’s doppelgänger - how does the 141 and los vaqueros react to you joining the team? their reactions are even better when you share an uncanny resemblance with ghost

running mascara - 141 x fem!reader harsh words are said and you try your best to run away from the cause. however, everyone needs to face the issue eventually and now the 141 is left to pick up the pieces. initially part of my 1k celebration but i added a sequel as it was highly requested! PART I and PART II

mw2 x reader - my ongoing series of pairing y'all up and writing a short lil blurb about how you met and your relationship

izzie’s 1K celebration! - closed now :) but feel free to look and see some of the prompts + how i answered them

𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼

#tag list #masterlist

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skzpvol · 1 month

Text

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ THE BRIGHTEST STAR - bang chan ࿐ྂ

pairing: nonidol!bang chan x gn!reader

genre: angst, no comfort (i warned you)

warning: mentions of suicide, cursing, the entire drabble is full of hurt

words: 0.8k

synopsis: Chan visits you again. What will you say to you this time?

a/n (1): this drabble is triggering, so please if you are sensitive to the warnings DO NOT read. Your health is my priority and remember that you are not alone, you will never be. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. English is not my first language, so tell me if I made some mistakes.

«hi my love, i’ve missed you. Do you remember what day is it? It’s our anniversary and I really can’t believe that we’ve come this far. The younger me would be so proud to hear I’ve been with the love of my life for six years now. And I would do anything to spend this special day with you. Actually I don’t really want to celebrate. It would be useless if I’m alone.

«I bought your favorite flowers today. Hope you will appreciate them. Do you remember the first time I bought you flowers? They were roses and you were so scared to tell me you were allergic. I felt guilty but when I saw you laughing I thought it was all worthy. Even tho I tried to kill you, hearing and seeing your laugh for the first time was like being transported to heaven. I immediately felt lighter and happier. You’ve always made me the happiest. It’s a shame that happiness is gone now. But it’s not your fault, if anything it’s mine.

«the boys miss you too. You know, one week ago we met all together for the first time after the accident and I tried, I tried so hard to distract myself. I did everything I could, they did everything, but it was all pointless. I told them I was fine, that I felt like I was already moving on, but they were all lies. I can’t help it. I don’t want them to be worried. They’ve already suffered enough and I don’t to be another burden.

«I wrote you a song. Yes, another one. It seems like you are still my biggest inspiration. I really want to sing it to you, but it’s not finished yet. You need to wait just a little more. I promise you, the next time I’ll come with the lyrics. Just wait for me.

«why y/n? Why did you do this to me? Was I not enough? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust me? Why? Why did you not search for help? I would have been there. I would have listened to each of your worries. I would have stayed with you. I would have told you that everything was going to be okay, that you were not alone. So why did you never told me how you were really feeling? Fuck- why? I know that it’s anyone fault, but I feel like I’m the only culprit. I know that i should not be mad at you, but I am. I’m madly angry. I wanna scream, cry and at the same time let everything go. But you will still not come back to me. So why should I try anyway?

«I’ve always seen suicide like a way to die for cowards. I’ve always thought that people who chose it were selfish. But who am I to think about it like that now, if I wasn’t even capable of helping you? I’m the real selfish because in 6 fucking years I wasn’t be able to look into you, to look through you. You were suffering and I didn’t do anything. I tried to blame you when you told me you needed me, so who am I to fucking say you are the selfish one? I’m a mess. I’m a disaster.

«the last time I saw you, you were happier. I remember that I even asked you why. You just told me “today is a beautiful day” and before I left you said “I love you, always will” for the last time. If I only knew. I read somewhere that a star burns brightest in its final moments and I get it now. Every time I look at the sky I always wonder if you are finally happy. When I look at the glowing stars I always think it’s your way to tell me that you are there. You are there and you are okay. You are protecting me.

«I cry. A lot. Even now, I can’t stop crying. The guilt it’s really hard to bear. I can’t even look in the mirror without feeling disgust towards myself. And you would probably be disappointed too if you saw me like this. You want me to be happy, but I can’t. Not without you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t look out for you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when I was supposed to. I’m sorry that i was the worst boyfriend you could ever ask for. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

«will I ever be able to see you again? I really hope so. But I’ll make sure to look at the sky every single night and look out for the brightest star. Because you are there, aren’t you?

«please wait for me, I still have to sing you a song. You will be proud of me, I promise.

a/n (2): hiii, how are you? I’m finally on school break! Sorry if I’m being inactive BUT, apart from school that is really stressing me out, I’m working on a bunch of things (a long ass fic and a smau :)) ). I probably already said this, BUT I’M GOING TO SEE MY STRAY KIDS IN JULY AFTER TWO YEARS, AND I’M THE HAPPIEST. I cannot really wait. Btw, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed it. I also ask you to like it and tell me your opinion about this to help me to improve. Have a good day / night 🫶🏻

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hypermania · 8 months

Text

transcript of the full thread:

"A very long thread: To the League fans, We found out this news along with you on Friday. I see the pain and anger and worry out there, which for the LGBTQIA+ fans of the show is of course compounded by what’s happening across the country right now. #ALeagueOfTheirOwn

So the first and most important thing to say is: Before anything, before you fight for the show or each other, please take care of yourselves. Reach out to your community and ask for help if you need it. You aren’t alone. Please be kind to yourselves.

As I’ve been thinking about what’s happened, I come back to a quote from Penny Marshall’s film: “The hard is what makes it great.” Making this show is so hard and so great. There’s quite a bit to say about what’s been hard, but at this point that’s in the past.

Of course, if we have an avenue to do it well, we will continue the show, and I love seeing the noise you’re making in support of that. The noise matters!

And it’s hard for me to imagine there wouldn’t be a home for a show that thanks to you was in the Nielsen Top 10 for three weeks, was the top show on Amazon for a month and in the top five for six, that was recognized by critics as something special, that’s been recognized…

…with awards from GLAAD, HRC and a million other organizations, that was on a million year-end top ten lists, and that has a built in and deeply passionate audience.

Amazon is pursuing different kinds of programming, but to the rest of the world this show is a hit and has huge value and even greater potential. But first things first, we have to win this strike and get a fair deal before we can explore what comes next.

But for a moment, I want to talk about what happens if the world didn’t quite change quickly enough for you to have all the seasons of this show that we want to give you.

If we don’t find a good path forward, I will still know that League did what it came here to do and, in its own small way, changed the world.

And that’s because of all of you, and the light you continue to shine on the show — How you let it matter to you, how you let it become a mirror, how you let it change you.

I’ve never experienced a response to a show that’s as deep, personal, creative and meaningful as what the fans have done with League. When we were making the season 1, we all wondered and worried about whether people would accept it on its own terms next to the film.

They have, and you did that, and so much more. You lit up the internet on your first watch throughs of the show, when you realized where it was going (and made all of us laugh in the process).

You wrote enough fan fiction for 100 novels and created an outpouring of art and creativity that could fill its own museum — I’ve truly never seen anything like it.

You lifted up a 95 year old who had just come out of the closet and made her into a celebrity who gets recognized wherever she goes. Every time any member of the cast appears at anything, you turn it into a convention.

You stop Abbi wherever she goes, and though I’m a happily inconspicuous person, and you constantly find me and stop me and give me gifts that now have a shelf in my house.

When thousands of you appeared to see D’Arcy at the stage door of The Thanksgiving Play over its run, you turned it into the hottest queer bar in New York. You made Max’s suit and Chante’s beautiful performance into a movement.

A mob of you went to Pittsburgh and saw all of our locations. You dressed as the characters and made our characters into one of the biggest halloween costumes of last year.

You came out, you changed pronouns, you started living more openly, you gave sermons in church about the show, you opened bars, and you got a truly mind boggling number of tattoos that say “to the five” and “rob the bank.” What else am I forgetting? I'm sure you'll remind me.

But most importantly, you made a community, you found each other and found joy, which of course is what the show is about. In many more ways than I would ever have let myself imagine while we were making it, you literally bring the show to life every day.

Thank you for making our work mean something bigger. We’ve heard from so many different kinds of people around the world who are watching League.

But, in a time when all queer people are personally and politically under attack across the country and HRC has declared a “state of emergency,” my biggest fear is that the many queer fans of League will take this reversal as one more invalidation, one more blow, one more…

…effect of the general politicization of our identities. Most of us grew up feeling invisible, and as we gain strength, the predictable backlash forces are trying their hardest to get us to go back underground.

In case anyone needs to hear it: You are not small, niche, modest, off-putting or marginal, and neither are your stories. You are multitudes, you are building, and your stories are universal. You are the most rapidly growing audience and consumer group in this country.

You are powerful. You are the future, and the people who don’t recognize your importance now will feel be clamoring to catch up in a few years. As Chante said so beautifully when we received the Human Right Campaign Visionary award, you are the main characters. Be proud.

Be angry if you that’s how you feel, but know that we are going to win, and don’t ever let this moment or any other make you small. The biggest lesson of the characters in this show is that, in a world that had no space for them at all, they LIVED. (Continued)

They found love, they did the things they loved, they won. You’re doing the same thing, and just like them, you are heroes. We are still fighting for League. But whether we win or lose this one, I’m so proud.

From the time when we began working on the season, Abbi, Deta and I said to each other — Let’s not hold anything back, for as long as we get to be here, let’s do this the right way.

We got so many notes wondering if the exploration of the queer world of the 1940s or Max’s world would be better saved for season 2, if people needed to start somewhere a little more familiar. I’m so glad we didn’t listen, cause now I’m sitting here without any regrets.

And no matter what happens, the people behind League aren’t going anywhere. Give us a minute, we will be back with more for you to watch and read and feel. We’re going to win.

And you’re not going anywhere either, because what you’ve built and what you are is bigger than this show. It’s the story of our community, that comes to us through the hidden history that League shows just one small part of: The bars got raided and shut down.

But the people didn’t go anywhere, and they opened a new bar, and out of those spaces came music, cinema, dance, culture — What we now see as mainstream was birthed from the spaces our predecessors were forced to hide in. They made joy there."

#aloto #a league of their own #will graham #mp #long post

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pedrithink · 1 year

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childhood lover ✩ kylian mbappé

summary: about getting married and having a life with your first love.

faceclaim: julie tuzet

Liked by k.mbappe, ethanmbappe, and 1.203.012 others

ynusername allez les bleus 🫡⚽️

View all 2.349 comments

k.mbappe Mon porte bonheur 😍 (my lucky charm)

ynusername @k.mbappe heheh 🙈

user1 so pretty

user2 i want a love like theirs

user3 you’re so sweet

user4 i don’t know if i want to be kylian or y/n

user5 loving how you guys support each other 😓

Liked by ynusername, leomessi, and 7.625.233 others

k.mbappe Merci d'être à moi et d'avoir accepté de passer le reste de ta vie avec moi. Tout en toi m'enchante et je suis reconnaissant de t'avoir à mes côtés. Je vous aime 😍 (thank you for being mine and agreeing to spend the rest of your life with me. everything about you enchants me and i am grateful to have you by my side. i love you!)

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ynusername je n'ai pas de mots pour décrire à quel point je t'aime. merci de m'avoir choisi comme épouse 🤍🫶🏻 (i have no words to describe how much I love you. thank you for choosing me as your wife!)

user1 @ynusername i’m fucking crying i love you guys so much

user2 @ynusername happy two years married, happy for you guys 🥺

user3 now we want a mini mbappé

user4 you are made for each other

user5 love is real and it was created by you guys

Liked by antonelaroccuzzo, k.mbappe, and 1.893.973 others

ynusername celebrating two years of the best day of my life, it was literally my dream come true! <3

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antonelaroccuzzo 😍😍

k.mbappe Je n'oublierai jamais ce que j'ai ressenti quand je t'ai vu dans cette robe marcher dans l'allée, inoubliable. 😵‍💫 (i’ll never forget how I felt when I saw you in that dress walking down the aisle, unforgettable.)

ynusername et je n'oublierai jamais ce que j'ai ressenti quand je t'ai vu m'attendre là-bas 🫶🏻 (and i’ll never forget how i felt when i saw you waiting for me there)

user1 i hope one day 😭

user2 the most beautiful couple in the world

user3 it moves me to see how much you love each other

user4 honestly this is way better than romeo and juliet

user5 this is true love 🥹!! omg i can’t hold back my tears.

Liked by k.mbappe, ethanmbappe, and 2.012.568 others

ynusername our date nights are always the best ones! 💗

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k.mbappe ❤️❤️❤️

user1 we love to see you guys happy

user2 @disney i think you guys lost them but don’t worry!! they are fine and happy in paris 🫡

user3 my dream couple

user4 such a beautiful couple

user5 you both are so adorable

Liked by ynusername, leomessi, and 21.972.146 others

k.mbappe Few months to be 3 of us. We are grateful that you chose us as mom and dad. 💙

(Mommy was grumpy in the last pic because she was hungry 🥹)

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ynusername we love you 🥲🩷

user1 OMFG

antonelaroccuzzo 😍😍

ethanmbappe ❤️❤️

user2 I WANT TO BE THEIR BABY

user3 this baby will be so loved, very happy for you! 🫶🏻

user4 you guys deserve it!!!

user5 BABY KYKY OMG

user6 ITS A BOY?

user7 @user6 i think so…..? BECAUSE HE PUTS THE BLUE HEART

user8 @user6 @user7 YEAH BUT Y/N COMMENTED WITH THE PINK ONE

user9 how to get inside someone's belly google search

Liked by k.mbappe, ethanmbappe, and 9.817.123 others

ynusername happy, expecting a baby boy and in paris :)

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k.mbappe The prettiest mom in the whole world!

ynusername @k.mbappe simp!! 😛

user1 how far along are you???

ynusername @user1 hey!!! 4 months 😁

user2 y/n, we’re so excited and happy!!!!!!!!! please share everything here

ynusername @user2 of course!!!!!!!! i’m so so excited as well

user3 do you already know the name??

ynusername @user3 we are so confused about it 🥲😓

user4 when is the baby due????? 😭

ynusername @user4 october 🙈

user5 the baby bump IM GONNA CRY

user6 ITS A BOY OMGGGG

#kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe fanfic #football one shot #football x reader #football fanfic #football instagram au #kylian x reader #kylian imagines #football imagine

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padfootagain · 11 days

Text

Only an Almost (IV)

Chapter 4: First Time

Hello!! Here is a new chapter! This is one includes sexual themes, even if no explicit descriptions, so no minors here, please!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2435

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Andrew and you didn’t see each other for a few days. You were both busy with work, and an impending fear seemed to hang above the two of you. You were both happy to pretend that you didn’t have time to see each other, it was easier to tiptoe around the line of friendship rather than to cross it for good.

But then Saturday arrived, and with it Andrew’s promise to help you move furniture around your house. You were buying a new bookshelf, and needed to move a couple of things to accommodate the larger shelves.

It was raining, for a change. When Andrew knocked on your door, his hair was curlier than ever, and on its way to get properly drenched. Luckily, you hurried to let him inside the warmth of your house.

“Alright, muscles! Let’s get you dry and warm, and then you can show all that manly strength of yours!” you joked, making Andrew laugh before you had even closed the door behind him.

“Yes, ma’am. I am but your humble servant today.”

It was your turn to laugh. You walked to your kitchen to start a kettle, while Andrew was ridding himself of his wet shoes and coat.

“So, how many muscles will be pulled today?” he asked, walking into your living room to assess the work to be done for the afternoon.

You appeared soon after, carrying two cups of tea; you handed him the one containing two teabags.

“We need to move the sofa, the coffee table, and all the furniture set against this wall,” you explained. “Once that is done, we need to pick up my bookshelf at the shop, and bring it home. We can set up everything now, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Last time we’ve tried to build a piece of furniture together was at Jon’s, and it took us three hours… I expect to be free at nightfall,” Andrew pointed out, but you shook your head.

“No, don’t worry about that. I can assemble the bookshelf on my own.”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You don’t want any help?”

“I can do it.”

“I know you can… I’m asking if you want help.”

“I don’t want to bother you…”

But he merely let out a laugh.

“When did you decide to stop being insufferable?” he joked, making you roll your eyes. “Y/N… I’m here to help, so let me help.”

You grew a little shy, and Andrew tried to ignore the way it made his heart inflate, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course!”

He drank a little bit of tea, before rolling up his sleeves.

“Alright, tell me where we’re putting all these.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

“Pivot! Pivot!”

“I can’t believe you’ve made that joke… Andy!”

“Put it down. Y/N, just put it down, we’ll pick it up again.”

You heaved a relieved sigh as you put down the large cardboard box in your hallway. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to slow down your heart.

You caught Andrew rubbing his back as you turned to him.

“Okay, next time I need help with something like this, I’ll ask someone my height. Are you okay, Andy?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. You should close your door, and then we’ll lift this up again and get it safely to your living room.”

You managed to get the box in the right room on your second attempt, even if your arms and hands were sore by now.

Building the bookshelf was quicker than expected, thanks to Andrew’s help. He heaved a content sigh once you were finally done.

“Not too bad!” you nodded, an excited smile on your lips.

He leaned back on his hands, admiring your work. You were both sitting on the ground, in the mess of cardboard and spared screws that came with building furniture.

“So… that means…”

“I can buy so many more books…”

He let out a bright laugh, shaking his head at you with a fondness that made you look away.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey! How many books did you buy last time we went to the bookstore together?” you asked back, making him roll his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ll have you know my purchases were perfectly legitimate.”

“The first two, maybe. Not the six that came next…”

Andrew laughed again, he couldn’t help it. And it made you break your act, the most beautiful sound in the world…

“Alright, alright. I might have a bit of an addiction.”

“Want some tea before you go?”

“You don’t want help organizing your brand-new shelves?”

“I reckon I’ve bothered you enough for one day.”

“God, stop saying that,” he mumbled, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “You’re never bothering me, Y/N.”

You gave him a smile, the kind that made his heart melt, that illuminated his entire world…

… Christ, he was such a desperate case.

“Even when I steal all your chips?”

It made him laugh again, of course, even if it was silly. Perhaps because it was silly. You were adorable like this, sitting on the ground with pieces of cardboard all around, your hair a mess and wearing your most comfortable clothes. Domestic. That’s how the scene looked. It could have been a moment held in a shared home…

He wanted to make a snarky remark, but his heart was too soft, too warm, a little too painful as well.

“Even when you steal my chips.”

Your smile grew more mischievous, and Andrew’s gaze lingered on your lips.

“Now that you’ve admitted that, you’ll never get the chance to eat chips ever again.”

You both chuckled at that, and Andrew leaned closer to you without noticing, sitting straighter again. He didn’t pay attention to the way you leaned closer as well.

“Alright, that is too much. I like you enough to concede… 1% of my chips. Not one more.”

“One?! And you say you like me?” you huffed. “I deserve at least 25% of your chips.”

“You’re never getting one-fourth of my chips. Have I never mentioned that chips are my passion in life? You’ll get 5%.”

“20%.”

“I won’t go above 7%.”

“Come on, 10%...”

You leaned even closer, so close your shoulder was brushing his arm. So close, he could feel the warmth of your breath on his chin as he bent down a little.

He struggled to swallow. The thought crossed his mind that you were barely a breath away, that all he had to do to kiss you was to slightly tilt his head and lean down some more…

When did the temperature of the room rise so much?

When did the playful atmosphere turn into this longing?

“Alright, 10%.”

“Deal.”

You offered him your hand, and he looked down at your open palm. He shook your hand, his so much larger than yours. When he looked up, you were blinking, lips slightly parted. He didn’t have the strength to pull away, decided to let you break your hold on him. But you didn’t. Instead, your gaze dropped to his lips, and you tightened you tightened your hold on his hand. Andrew’s heart skipped several beats, he glanced at your mouth as well. When your gazes met once more, you let go of him, and Andrew blushed furiously, ready to pull away, to pretend that nothing had happened.

But then your fingers were lifted to his cheek, your thumb softly stroking his beard. He blinked at you, holding his breath.

When you leaned up, he could barely believe it.

“Andy?” you whispered, your lips almost touching his.

“Yes?” he struggled to swallow, voice low and deepened by want.

“Are you still okay with… what we discussed the other day? About… our arrangement?”

Andrew tried to speak, but he merely nodded instead.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

But instead of answering, Andrew merely closed the gap between your mouths.

It was as wonderful as he remembered, just as overwhelming, as perfect… a feeling he never wanted to end. A sensation he knew he would never stop seeking if he lost you…

The kiss, this time, quickly got heated though. Andrew’s lips had soon found the sweet spot over your pulse, and he busied himself gently biting on the skin of your neck, before kissing it to sooth the tickling flesh. You were breathless in his arms, hands lost in his hair, gently pulling now and then.

When you started to unbutton his shirt, shivers ran through his entire frame.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” he asked, voice raw and deeper than you had ever heard, deep enough to make your soul tremble, lust audible in his tone.

His pupils were as dilated as yours when you looked at each other.

You quickly nodded, staggering to your feet.

You offered him a hand, one he knew he couldn’t refuse.

“Just sex, though. We still agree on this?” you asked.

Andrew’s chest tightened, and yet as he looked up at you, your lips reddened with kisses, a mark left by his mouth over the curve of your neck, a lustful look in your eyes… he could never have said no. He would have accepted anything to have you, no matter the consequences for him.

“Yes. Yes, we agree.”

You helped him up, keeping your hand in his as you guided him to your bed.

You were still holding his hand.

There was no sound in the room but your two breaths, heaving across silence, scattering over empty space and furniture and the perspiration across your brow.

Andrew couldn’t look at you yet. His mind was just coming down from its height, from reaching for the heavens and gently landing back into your bed, across the soft cotton sheets that smelled of lilac and you. His thoughts were still a little foggy, a little distant even, hanging above him just out of reach. The dizziness that came with utter pleasure and release was dissipating, leaving some room for the return of realisation and consciousness.

He had sex with you. Andrew had just had sex with you. You had slept with him. And God, what love-making that was…

Your hand tightened slightly around his, and he finally gathered his courage to turn his head on the pillow, blinking and then looking at you.

You were dishevelled, struggling for breath still, your eyes closed. Your bare chest was heaving; he couldn’t help but let his gaze trace your shape, the lines of your skin, the perfect curves of your body, for now still uncovered by the sheets. You looked messy and perfectly content. Glowing in some way only pleasure could bring.

He wished for this to be the only sight he would ever see from now on.

“Wow… that was amazing, Andy…”

His lips curved into a cocky grin.

“So… not as disappointing as expected?”

You chuckled at that, finally turning your head to look at him.

“Barely.”

You exchanged a tender smile, while he raised his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered to cup your cheek, touch gentle, loving even.

“It was amazing for me too, by the way,” he whispered, moving closer, his tone as quiet as a confession.

You leaned closer to kiss him, and you tasted like heaven, something sweet and impossibly you, a taste he would never forget and always crave for…

“Hold me… please,” you asked in a whisper, and he didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him. You rested your ear right against his heart, listening to the steady beat of the organ.

You nuzzled into his chest, one of your hands still holding his, the other resting across his stomach where you drew mindless patterns that lulled him into a peaceful state, one he had not reached in years. He bent his head to kiss your hair.

This could work, he thought. None of what had just happened felt like a mere fling, like some meaningless sex. There had been a connection the second your lips met. It wasn’t fucking, it was making love. And now, you were craving for his embrace as much as he was longing for yours. This could work. For now, your life was complicated and stressful. It was okay, Andrew would wait for you to be available again, for you to be ready to give him a proper chance. It would be alright, all he had to do was to be patient. You couldn’t properly date him at the moment, but nothing that had occurred in this bedroom was mere physical attraction. It was more than just sex. You pretending that it was nothing more than a friends with benefits situation… it was temporary. Andrew was not fooled. You were still holding his hand. It would be fine, it was more than just sex… so much more…

He pressed his lips to your hairline.

“God, you’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered, and he felt your smile against his skin.

His hold on your waist tightened slightly, before he would move his hand across your back, long fingers splayed across the base of your spine. Feeling your bare skin against his was driving him absolutely insane…

“Let’s take ten minutes like this, and then I’ll clean the mess we’ve made in the living room.”

“An hour.”

You chuckled, pinching playfully his side.

“Quit having such a terrible influence on me, would you? I’ll give us fifteen…”

“Why the rush?” he argued, his eyes closing while his lips were still resting against your skin and he breathed in the blooming scent of your shampoo. “This is nice… let’s enjoy the moment, okay?”

You didn’t say anything, remained quiet, went back to tracing patterns against his skin.

It lasted a few blissful minutes, before you were sitting up.

You let go of his hand.

“I’m gonna go clean up everything in the living room, and reorder my bookshelves. Do you want some tea?”

You weren’t looking at him, as if you were avoiding his stare. Andrew wondered why.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

You hurried back into your clothes, and Andrew grew self-conscious, now that he was the only one still naked. He reached for his underwear as well, then his undershirt.

“You’re alright, baby?”

You finally turned to him.

“Let’s make a new rule. No pet names. Okay?”

He blinked up at you from the bed, taken aback, too much so to stop you from leaving the room.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x fem!reader #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier series #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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softlyspector · 1 year

Text

First light

Summary: Hanukkah is coming up. The system has some complicated feelings about that. You aren't really sure how to help them navigate it.

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader

Word Count: ~5.3

Warnings: mostly fluff, anxiety, angst mostly from Marc because he’s just like that

A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoy and happy holiday season to everyone who celebrates one this time of year! I want to note here that I am not Jewish, but I researched as much as I could for this fic. If there's anything wrong, or something that shouldn't be there, please let me know and I'll fix it. The reader is written as non-religious and as having grown up without any religion. And as always, please, please, please let me know what you think!

“Flurries,” you point with a soapy hand out the misted window over the sink. “I think it’s snowing.”

Marc doesn’t even look up, his eyes focused on the puzzle on the coffee table in front of him. “It’s not cold enough for it to stick,” he grumbles.

You roll your eyes and grab a tea towel to wipe your hands on. “So sorry it’s not a blizzard, Spector.”

“I’ll take you to Chicago in January and see how excited you are about the snow then.”

You huff out a laugh and cross the room to sit next to him on the couch, plucking up a puzzle piece to slot near the bottom of the picture. “I didn’t even say I was excited. I was just mentioning it.”

“Just mentioning it means you’re excited,” he says, leaning his chin into your shoulder.

You wrinkle your nose and pick up another piece, quickly locating its location along the border before you turn and kiss his nose. “You’re insufferable, Marc Spector.”

“And you’re better at this fuckin’ puzzle than me,” he grouses, watching you fit another piece into place.

You laugh and tuck yourself closer to him, the weight of his chin on your shoulder a welcome one. “It’s because you don’t have a strategy,” you say. “You do the borders first to get started and then move inwards,” you instruct.

“That’s not a challenge.”

“Are you trying to be challenged by a puzzle?”

Marc doesn’t answer, picking up a piece and searching briefly for its place. You like the slow way he does it, it’s relaxing and good, his hand hovering, fingers twirling the piece. Which, you notice, is not a border piece.

He snaps it down and you frown, “I don’t think that’s where that goes.”

“It is for now.”

You don’t bother trying to hide your smile, glad to see him doing something slow and peaceful and constructive for once.

The snow reminds you of something you’d been meaning to ask him, as the holiday season approached and how you’d celebrate, if he, or Jake or Steven, wanted to do anything at all.

You’ve never been big on the holidays. And so, usually, you just take the opportunity to bake and give gifts to the people you care about most. But this year is different, this year you have the system to consider.

You nudge your nose into Marc’s cheek as he incorrectly places another puzzle piece, and you’re sure he’s just doing it to irritate you now. “So, speaking of the snow,” you venture. “The holidays are coming up soon. Did you want to celebrate?”

Marc doesn’t look at you, his gaze focused on the puzzle. “Thanksgiving? Weird to do it here isn’t it?” He turns suddenly and glances into one of the mirrors propped against the wall. He’s quiet for a moment, head tilting to the side, before he turns to you. “Steven’s okay with it but he’s going to complain anyway. Jake wants pie.”

You are not talking about Thanksgiving, and you’re certain Marc knows it. You suspect too that Steven and Jake are reminding him of that. “Okay,” you agree because you’re sure he’s avoiding the topic and you don’t want to push it at the moment. “We can do Thanksgiving if you want.”

You pause, waiting to see if Marc might mention any other holidays but he remains silent. So you kiss Marc on the cheek and promise to figure something out for Thanksgiving. “Any other holidays you’d like to celebrate?”

He hums, “Don’t think there are any other holidays in November this year.”

“Sure,” you answer. “Thanksgiving dinner it is.”

He grips your hand back when you lay it on his shoulder, squeezing tight. “Thank you, baby,” he smiles, tipping his forehead briefly against yours.

Thanksgiving comes and goes (with a roast chicken instead of turkey and Marc’s favorite sides from childhood, and pie for Jake), and you decide to string up soft yellow fairy lights around the flat in anticipation of the holiday season.

You figure they’re neutral enough, and they make the place even cozier than it already is and ward away the dark of winter, which you count as a win. It might be an idea to keep them up all year. There have been no further mentions of any holidays, and you aren’t sure how to bring it up again, not sure if you were crossing a boundary or inserting yourself where you don’t belong.

When Steven comes home and sees the lights he grins and points. “Decorating already, are we?”

You bite your lip. “For the holidays, yeah,” you prompt, hoping Steven might mention it where Marc hadn’t.

He nods, still grinning at you, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

But he doesn’t say anything either, and you wonder if it hasn’t occurred to him, or if he was following Marc’s lead in not talking about it.

Later that evening, you do a quick google search, to find the exact date that Hanukkah began. You find that you have a little under three weeks to decide how to approach them about it.

You know the system has a complicated relationship with their Judaism, that much you can tell at least.

They don’t talk about it and if they practice in any way, they certainly don’t do it in front of you. Marc’s deliberate avoidance of talking about the holiday season only compounds that fact.

But you know it’s important to them, an important part of their identity, even if they don’t say it.

The Magen David they wear around their neck never comes off. You’ve never seen any of them without it, the one article of clothing that was common to all three of them, even back when Steven hadn’t known about Marc.

You’ve never asked them about it. Because it seems like a closely guarded thing, something kept close to their heart, connected to home and the past in a way you can’t begin to guess at. And Marc’s relationship to his past and his homelife isn’t exactly a good one. You’re not sure that bringing it up won’t hurt him in some way you won’t be able to repair.

So, you’ve never asked. You’d figured that they’d bring it up to you, when and if they wanted to talk about it.

You sigh, listening to Jake puttering around the kitchen, singing in Spanish lowly as he makes a sandwich.

Maybe you shouldn’t say anything about it. Maybe you were assigning undue importance to it, maybe they felt no connection at all to being Jewish and the necklace was just a connection to their past.

Maybe you should just continue as you have every year. But it feels rude, it feels wrong, to just bake and buy gifts and not say anything at all.

You commit yourself instead to learning about Hanukkah.

Just in case.

You get caught the week before Hanukkah begins.

Much of your free time recently had been spent googling Hanukkah, the traditions and history, what foods were popular and whether there are any special ingredients you might need to find.

You’re on one of the more helpful websites you’ve found, rereading the story of Hanukkah when -

“What are you doing?”

You snap your laptop closed as you sit bolt upright and turn. Marc could be so fucking quiet sometimes. He’s peering over your shoulder, an apple with a bite taken out of it in his hand.

When you don’t immediately say anything, he raises a brow at you.

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

“Liar,” he deadpans, circling the sofa to plop down next to you, taking another bite of the apple as he slings one arm over the back of the couch. “You were reading about Hanukkah,” he says, crunching as he chews.

He doesn’t ask why, just tilts his head.

You sigh and lean forward to set your laptop on the coffee table. “I was,” you admit, dragging a hand down your face. “The holidays are coming up and I wanted to be prepared.”

“For what?”

You don’t look at him, tugging at a loose thread in the blanket over your lap. “For Hanukkah. In case you wanted to celebrate.” Marc doesn’t reply and you don’t dare meet his eyes, though you can feel his gaze against the side of your face. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to and I didn’t know how to bring it up. I tried but you just kept talking about Thanksgiving.”

When he still doesn’t say anything, confirming your worst fears that bringing it up would make him shut you out, you barrel nervously on. “I wasn’t trying to pry. You don’t really talk about being Jewish and I know that’s probably for a reason. I just…didn’t want you to feel like I was ignoring it.” You flutter your hands in front of you, “I didn’t grow up with any religion so I don’t have traditions I follow. I’m not pushed about what we do for the holidays. I just…didn’t want to do something wrong. And I didn’t know if it would remind you of your family-,”

His hand drops from the back of the sofa to your shoulder, fingers working into the tense muscle. “I’m not upset,” he says, weirdly gentle about it. “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you sure?”

He nods, taking a final bite of the apple before he tosses the core across the room where it sinks into the bin.

You cautiously move closer to him, fitting yourself beneath his arm. Marc tucks you closer, sliding his fingers over the curve of your shoulder, dark eyes on you. “So…would you like to celebrate?”

“How do you usually celebrate this time of year?” He deflects, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze head on.

You shrug. “Like a vaguely Christmassy kind of way I guess? Y’know, like, the capitalist secular commercial version of it. I buy everyone gifts and decorate a mini tree. I usually do a lot of seasonal baking.”

Marc nods, like he’s mulling it over, and stays quiet for a long time.

He stays silent for so long that you start to doze off as you wait for his reply, curled against the heat of him lulling you to sleep. His hand slides idly back and forth over your shoulder, brow furrowed in thought.

“We haven’t…celebrated in a long time.”

You blink groggily, turning your head up against his shoulder to watch his face. His jaw is tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Okay. That’s okay,” you slide your hand across his belly to take his other hand. “Do you want to celebrate this year?”

It takes lots of questions to get things out of Marc sometimes, delicate prodding and patience were the name of the game, so he doesn’t get lost in his head, so he doesn’t go non-verbal and spiral to some place you can’t reach.

“I’m not sure I deserve to.”

Your heart constricts and you feel just a bit out of your depth. You know virtually nothing about Judaism, besides what you’ve been able to read on the internet over the last few weeks. It’s impossible to tell what he’s really struggling with - his faith, his family, the abuse in his past? “Why?” You ask, sliding your fingers along the vein in his arm, depressing your thumb against the inside of his elbow. You feel the steady pulse of his heart under your hand.

“Serving Khonshu,” his voice is low and dry. “Coming back from the dead. More than once now. Everything else. All - all the shit I’ve done.” He glances down at you, “My mother, my brother…my family. Everything.”

You reach for his hand again and squeeze it tight. “I wish I could be more reassuring on that front but since I’m just now learning about Hanukkah you can imagine how little I know.” His mouth twitches at that, a badly repressed smile twisting the corners of his lips. You slide your hand down his arm and pat his fingers, some tension going out of both of you. “All I can say is that no matter what, I’m glad you’re here with me. However you made it here, whatever you had to do to survive. I’m glad you made it here.”

Marc’s expression is carefully frozen, a look you can read lodged in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, holding your gaze for much longer than he normally would, searching for something you can’t begin to guess at. “Yeah, well,” he clears his throat, glancing away, “you’re the one thing I’ve done right.”

Heat crawls over your skin, the lingering touch of his stare and the intensity of his words make your skin prickle.

You open your mouth to respond when he continues, your words dying in your throat. His jaw ticks, like it always does when he’s pushing himself to talk about something he’d rather bottle inside and never look at again. “Look, we aren’t…I’m not religious,” he says and you nod, squeezing his hand. “Not for a long time, not after everything. But I am Jewish. We are. It’d be nice to…to try again.”

You nod again. “Okay. Yes,” you agree, tracing the lines on his palm, soothing the tension that’s seeped into his voice again.

“I could tell you the stories though,” he says suddenly, eyes latching onto yours. “I remember the stories. So you don’t have to google. I can just tell you what you wanna know.”

You try not to let the surprise show on your face, and you can tell Marc is trying not to look like he’s eager to tell you. And so you both end up with slightly constipated expressions. “I would like that, if you want to share with me,” you breathe.

He nods and looks away, his arm tightening around you carefully. “Marc,” you say, just so he’ll look at you again, just so he won’t go get lost in his own head, like you know he’s fighting not to. “How do Steven and Jake feel about celebrating? Do they remember much?”

The system’s memories were a fickle thing, overlapped and crisscrossed, with huge holes in other places. “Steven, yes. Jake, no not really.” He’s silent for a moment, eyes sliding to the mirror against the wall. He gives a sudden, dramatic roll of his eyes. “Fine, fuck,” he gripes before looking back to you. “Jake says he remembers.” And then, grumbling, “Claims to remember more than me.”

You giggle and pat Marc against his belly. “Okay, good that’s settled then. You didn’t answer me though, do you want to celebrate?”

Marc hesitates. “Can I get a raincheck on that?”

“Sure,” you say. “We have time. Y’know, you can pick what you want to do and what you don’t. We don’t have to do every tradition or-,” You cut yourself off and he doesn’t answer so you continue, still a bit nervous you were fucking everything up. “We can mix and match with the stuff I usually do. I want to do my usual baking stuff. I still want to get you guys presents.”

Marc kisses the side of your head, “Of course you do,” he murmurs. “That sounds like a good enough plan for now.”

“Okay,” you nod. “We have time. We can figure it out.”

He’s silent for a moment, head tilting to the side. “Steven is anxious that you want a Christmas tree.”

An unexpected laugh bursts out of you, and you bury your head in Marc’s shoulder. “I am totally fine without a tree in the flat.”

“Baby,” And you can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s smiling. “I think Steven kinda wants a fucking tree. Like a Hanukkah bush.”

“Hanukkah bush?” You laugh again and nod toward the mirror. “Okay. Anything. We can do whatever. I have a little mini tree that might work.”

Marc smiles at you when you turn back to him, leaning in to press your nose to his briefly. His eyes track you carefully, expression fading when you pull back.

“It was never the same, after my brother died,” he says abruptly. “My dad tried but it was just-,” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Different. Can’t remember the last time it didn’t hurt.”

You squeeze his fingers gently, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand before you cup his cheeks. “I don’t want it to hurt,” you tilt his head down, palms on either side of his face. “What we do is up to you. It’s completely up to you and the boys, okay?”

He nods and pulls your hands away from his face, eyes on your hands where they curl back around his. You watch him, watch the soft, sweet brown that his eyes have melted down into - something curiously rounded about him in that moment, his face soft and open.

Of course, with Marc, moments like those are fleeting.

Marc’s brow goes hard suddenly, his gaze jerking up to meet yours, pressing a palm to your jaw to tilt your face fully toward his. “Were you just not going to do anything this year? If we didn’t bring it up?”

You shrug, a little helpless about it. “I’m not good at this. I would have eventually, I just didn’t want to -,”

“You won’t. Don’t - fuck, don’t cut yourself short ‘cause of us. ‘Cause of our shit. Not ever.” He leans in so you can’t look away from him. “You wouldn’t have hurt our feelings.”

“Okay,” you whisper, patting his fingers. “I won’t.”

Marc’s gaze doesn’t waver from yours, his expression calculating and alert. His voice is wooden, carefully controlled when he says, “So, should I tell you the story of Hanukkah?”

And even though you’ve read the story more times than you can count, you say, “Yes.”

The hard facade of his face breaks, and he smiles at you. “Good.”

“Cariño.”

You don’t turn from the counter where you’re carefully dripping honey into your cup of tea. “Jake,” you answer. You’ve just gotten done baking cookies, some shaped like menorahs and others like Stars of David, with the shapes you usually baked, trees and snowmen and snowflakes thrown in.

“Don’t listen to Marc.” His footsteps are loud as he approaches, a vibrating, irritated energy preceding him.

You start to turn but Jake is suddenly next to you, turning you and pushing you back into the counter. Heat radiates off his skin, burning hot against yours. “Don’t listen to Marc,” he repeats, his head tilting close to yours.

“Well, okay,” you say, trying not to feel crowded and overwhelmed. Jake is always just a little bit intense, but especially when he’s latched onto something he sees as an issue. “But about what, Jake? Marc says a lot of questionable things to me.”

Jake makes a frustrated sound, “About Hanukkah.” He tilts his forehead into yours, eyes boring into yours, “Me and Steven want to celebrate. Marc has to.”

You smile, and lean in to kiss the downward tilt of his mouth. “Jake, honey, seriousness doesn’t suit you,” you say against his lips.

He doesn’t budge. “We are celebrating.”

“You and Steven can celebrate. We can celebrate, me and you and Steven. Marc doesn’t have to if he doesn't want to,” you say gently. “He has complicated feelings about it. I think he feels really disconnected from that part of himself. But you can celebrate. Okay?”

Jake’s shoulders loosen a bit with your words. Jake has never gotten to celebrate, not a birthday, not a holiday. He’s been weirdly packed in about it, and you’re surprised this little outburst has taken this long to occur. “He should though, corazón,” he says, oddly gentle.

“It’s his choice, Jake,” you answer, cupping his cheek in your palm. “We can’t make him. It’s up to him.”

Jake grumbles something under his breath, irritated but satisfied for the moment that he wouldn’t spend another season on the outskirts and in the dark. “You’ll talk to him? He doesn’t listen to us.”

“He’ll come around,” you sweep your fingers over his jaw and Jake leans into your hand. “He’ll celebrate with us, just wait. If nothing else, he’ll help me cook.”

Jake kisses the center of your palm. “You’re probably right about that.”

You smile and reach around him for the plate of cookies. “Look what I made.”

“Saw that, mi amor,” he says quietly.

“What about here, dear heart?”

You turn to where Steven stands, hovering almost nervously near the kitchen window. You purse your lips, “It’s safer there, I think, but it’s up to you.” Steven had suggested one of the other windows to prop the menorah in, but you’d had concerns with the amount of books and paper available to go up in flames.

“But…what do you think?”

You turn to him and eye the nervous shape of his hands. “Baby,” you coo. “It’s perfect. Come here and help me with this-,”

“Oh, not a chance. If there’s any way we’ll get Marc to celebrate with us, it’s helping you with the food.”

You wipe your hands on a tea towel and circle your arms around Steven’s shoulders where he’s fiddling with a box of tapered candles, shades of alternating blue and white. “I think we have everything ready, huh?” You lean your head against his and close your eyes when his head tips back against yours.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” he mumbles, still fiddling with the candles. “Jake wants to light the first candle tonight.”

You kiss Steven’s cheek, “Okay. Is that okay?”

“‘Course. Got no problem with that. Just worried about Marc. Don’t want him to-,”

“You and Jake are both so-,”

“We’re just worried,” Steven interrupts. “He’s not talking to us. We don’t want him to be alone.”

You kiss his cheek again, “He’ll be fine. He’s not alone. You know how Marc is. He just needs a bit of time.” Steven nods, his spine softening when you press yourself against his back, hands anxiously fiddling with the matches now.

“He’ll come ‘round anyways. For you.”

“And you,” you remind him. “He loves you and Jake. He just has complicated feelings about everything. It reminds him of home, you know how that is for him.”

Steven doesn’t answer, and you hate to see him so melancholy. “Look,” you pull away and tug him around, taking the matches from his hands. “I found these cute little decorations at the shops a couple days ago and I haven’t gotten to show them to you yet.”

Steven smiles, fits his hand inside yours. “‘Course, love, please show me.”

The Hanukkah bush, or holiday tree, depending on which of the three you asked, is already decked out in white and blue lights, mini menorahs and dreidels and silver baubles, with a Magen David near the top of the tree.

You show Steven the box of blue globes you’d found, and try not to grin at his obvious excitement, but when he kisses you it becomes a little hard to ignore. “How am I doing?” You ask against his lips. “For my first Hanukkah?”

“Bloody well, I’d say,” he says, carefully opening the box of baubles. “Brilliant. As always, love.”

You glance back at the window, the unlit menorah, and the sun's position in the sky beyond before Steven is nudging his shoulder into yours and handing you an ornament to place on the tree.

You smile at him, and he beams back at you.

Something deep inside you is satisfied by how eager they are to share this part of themselves with you, even if Marc has been mostly silent and walled off since you talked about celebrating.

You hope he comes around.

At the very least to eat with you.

Jake is waiting for you at the window, candles readied, as the sun finally sinks below the line of the earth. The light in the flat is a low glow, and Jake’s normally intense expression is softened.

You touch the small of his back, passing your hand slowly up and down his spine.

He’s trying not to look excited, and you nudge him gently. “It’s okay to be happy, Jake Lockley.”

A bit of pink creeps into his cheeks and he doesn’t answer you immediately. You stand together in the low golden light until it’s fully dark outside. Only then does Jake strike the match without warning, the flame glowing orange as he touches it to the shamash.

You place the first candle in the menorah and wait for Jake to light it, but he reaches for you instead.

“What?”

“C’mere, mi vida, we gotta light it together.”

You hesitate. “Sure?”

“Yeah. Quit worryin’ about everything,” he says, fitting himself behind you, cupping your fingers with his around the helper candle. “You aren’t doin’ anything wrong.”

For a moment, it’s silent, and neither of you move. You know that this is the moment he’s meant to recite three blessings - which you aren’t sure if he’s planning to. So, you wait for him to guide your tangled hands, fingers warm in Jake’s grip, his body snug and comforting behind yours.

The change is subtle, but you feel it, the lax posture of Jake’s chest against your back going a bit stiff. And you’ll never be sure, but you think it’s Marc’s voice that recites the blessings in Hebrew.

You wonder if Jake plotted this, if he even knew the blessings, if he knew Marc would front to say them.

As soon as the words are out, his spine softens again and Jake’s voice is back in your ear, “And now,” he nudges his nose against your temple. “We light the first candle.” His hand guides yours to the candle, holding the flame there until it catches.

Together, you light the first candle and stick the shamash in the center of the menorah. It happens again, Marc behind you instead of Jake, slowly saying the prayer he must remember from childhood.

And when his voice ceases, it’s Steven there with you, grinning wide and happy. “Jake’s so bloody pleased, love.”

“Me too,” you say, pulling him in close to you, rubbing a hand over his shoulders. “Me too.”

“Why don’t you open a present?” You ask, cracking an egg over the grated potatoes in the mixing bowl in front of you, in what you hope will eventually turn into latkes.

Steven is hovering beside you, nervous, because Marc still hasn’t deigned to speak to either him or Jake. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yours are wrapped in blue.”

“Eight presents for each night for each of us,” he comments. “You’re too good to us, dear heart.”

You smile and kiss him, kissing away the powdered sugar on his upper lip from the sufganiyot he’d eaten earlier. “I think it’s the other way around really. Thank you for sharing all this with me.”

His eyes melt, and he tucks you close. “Thank you for poking Marc about it. He’s right hard headed when he wants to be.”

“You all are,” you correct. “Nearly ripped my head off when I suggested reorganizing the bookshelves.”

“Well - they - I can find them all! I know where every book is!” He protests and you giggle.

“Go open a present,” you say, giving him a little shove with your hip. “Any of them are fine.”

Steven goes, evaluating each wrapped parcel before he chooses one and unwraps it at the kitchen table.

Of course, Steven has picked the one book shaped gift to unwrap - gasping at the title of the rare book. “From the bookshop a few weeks ago! I went back and they didn’t have it. And you were the one that got it! Sneaky minx, you.”

You smile, “I told you good things come to those who wait.” He’d been so upset it wasn't there when he went back for it, you’d nearly given it to him when he’d come back from the shop empty handed. But this - this is far better. You watch him eagerly flip through the book before you turn back to the bowl.

The soft sound of pages being turned fills the flat and you can’t help but grin to yourself, satisfied. You’re happy. They make you happy, this makes you happy.

You hum to yourself, mixing the eggs into the potato. You’re distracted by the peacefulness of the evening, the low burning candles guttering in the window, the shush of pages being turned.

So, you jump when Marc’s voice suddenly sounds by your ear. “You need flour.”

“Marc!” You scold.

“And baking powder. Makes it crispier.”

You huff out a breath. “Would you be a dear and get it for me then, baby?” You ask, only slightly sarcastically.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he deadpans, moving to the cabinet that stored baking items.

When he comes back, he doesn’t say anything to you, adding the flour and baking powder himself, measuring in salt and pepper with his heart. He doesn’t look at you. “You got the onion in here?”

“Onion?” You ask, frowning into the bowl.

“Yeah, we need an onion,” he informs you, voice even, still not looking at you.

His back is stiff, like he’s worried you’re going to comment on his sudden appearance and he’s begging you not to. “Got it,” you nod, turning to rummaging around for one and holding it up for his inspection of the size.

He nods. “Shoulda been grated with the potato, but you can do it now and squeeze the moisture out and it’ll probably be fine.”

“Sorry,” you say, starting on your new task, “I must have missed it when I was reading the recipe.”

“I should have been helping you with it,” he acknowledges lowly.

You smile, dumping the grated and squeezed onion into the mixture. “S’okay. You’re here now.” You don’t mention you know he was there earlier too, co-conscious and then fronting to say the blessings.

You watch him fold the mixture together before he pauses, squinting over at you. “We should divide this in half.”

“Why?”

“So we can do some with cheese. Or spices.”

“Okay. Half it then.”

Marc seems pleased, poorly hiding the twitch of his lips. “Okay. Gimme another bowl.”

You do as you’re told, and then start measuring out the oil you’ll need to fry the latkes into a pan on the stove. When the oil is hot enough and Marc is carefully dropping the mixture into the pan, he says, “This is nice.” His voice is a bit gruff, grating around the edges. “We should go to that menorah lighting tomorrow. The one in Trafalgar Square.”

“You want to?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Why not?”

You grin, watching the oil pop in the pan. “Maybe you could go to the synagogue too.”

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch before he speaks up. “Jake wants to.”

“Jake can go.”

“He wants you to go with him.”

“I’ll go with him, if he wants.”

Marc’s head jerks up, eyes meeting yours. “You will?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

But he seems surprised that you would, that you'd put effort into something so important to him, to them. He searches your eyes for a moment, raven gaze deep and dark. Then, “Would you go with me?” He sounds so hopeful, it almost breaks your heart.

“Yes. Steven too,” you confirm.

Marc nods, and glances away from you to expertly turn over one of the latkes. “Okay. Cool.”

You don’t comment, hiding another grin, kissing the side of his head instead as you move away. “I - we - wrapped yours in silver,” he says to your back. “If you wanna look.”

Something about it makes your throat close, a lump lodging there that you can’t quite swallow away.

Maybe it because he's shared something important with you. And you're not sure you'll ever be able to express what it means that he's opened up to you a bit, that he's let you into this part of himself, that he wants to share this with you, and reconnect to something that should be positive and good and warm.

You turn back to him and yank him into a hug, pressing your fingers up his spine until you can cup the back of his neck. He looks startled before you kiss him.

But he kisses you back, and he doesn’t ask why when you whisper, “Thank you.”

#marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader

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fatesmono · 3 months

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valentines day with yoongi

✮⋆˙ warning : some language + i haven’t written in half a year so.

✮⋆˙ this is an “x reader” so yk insert gender <3

✮⋆˙a.n : so todays valentine’s day (its the 13th at 11:59 posting this, great job me :3). so happy valentines i guess. i’m spending it celebrating jaehyun's birthday and writing abt my husband who’s in the war. i haven’t written in like, six years (six months) so pls go easy on me

✮⋆˙enjoy loves <3333 happy valentines day !!

i never liked valentine’s day. it was always a stupid ass holiday if i do say so myself. am i saying that bc i never had a good valentine ? …maybe so, why are you so nosy ?? anyways, that was before i met him, min yoongi. i never met a man who says he hates a holiday so much but also goes all out for it. our first valentines last year i expected him to not really get me anything or like a bouquet of flowers since it wasn’t that much…i got a bouquet alright, like seven of them (he had said he didn’t know which one i would like so he just got me all of the ones he thought i would want), plus a shit ton of chocolate and just little things like one of his hoodies and this ring i had been eyeing for like months beforehand. so much for “valentines day isn’t really my thing” right ? all men do is lie, even min yoongi.

okay but anyways, here we are now, a year later. i wanna prove myself this year, i refuse to be out-valentines’d by him, no matter what that takes. now just one problem, he’s rich, i work at a coffee shop. shit, i know right ? but we will make it work i don’t care.

so have i had this planned out for the last two months like a gta heist ? yes. but i NEED this day to go perfect. did it ? NO. NO IT DIDNT. first the necklace i got him with his name won’t be ready until the 17th, and then the kiss hoodie i was working on for him GETS BLEACHED SPILLED ON HIM, curtesy of our cat, johnny, and then; if it wasn’t going awful anyway, the cupcakes i made for him burned. and i’m going to his studio as we speak…this is my thirteenth reason. so right now all we have is his favorite flowers, a bleached hoodie with my kisses and a book of poems i wrote for him, sigh. SIGH. and if it didn’t help, he already gave me half of my gift before he left and it’s ten times better. A ROSE GOLD NECKLACE, he got me a rose gold encrusted with the sun because “i’m the sun to his moon”, he makes me wanna bash my head sometimes from how sweet he is.

so getting to his studio, the definition of “shaking in my little boots”. i can hear him practicing his music from outside his studio, it’s like walking into beethoven working on smth if beethoven was your 30 year old idol boyfriend for a kpop group, if that makes sense, which is doesn’t so. anyways, i put in the code for his studio (it’s our anniversary, excuse me while i cry.) and quietly walk in to not disturb him, which isn’t that hard since he has tunnel vision as he invented it, and quietly tap his shoulder gently to get his attention. he turns around, taking off his headphones and noticing me with a small smile on his face, which might as well have been a kiss from him then and then.

“hey love, happy valentine’s day, what are you doing here ?”, god why does he have to have such a perfect voice; it’s like he doesn’t even have to try. i go on to give him to give him his gift and try to explain that i had much more to give him and i knew it wasn’t enough to give and- and he cuts me off. good job if i do say so myself because the yapping i do, i could win a medal.

“honey honey, this is perfect…you didn’t even have to get me anything, and you wrote me poems…that’s like writing me a song, this means the world to me. you remembered my favorite flowers, and this hoodie..i don’t think i’ve ever gotten a gift like this from anyone before, not even the guys. thank you so much…”, and my heart just turns into a puddle then and there. all my worries gone in a second, how does he do it ? he really should’ve become a therapist in another life, but i guess he does that with his music. but anyways, did i expect him to like the gift ? absolutely not. i did try to pay for dinner that night and he still didn’t let me do it, saying it was “an extra gift” as if i needed anymore gifts. remind me next to try and not outgift a rich idol who’s secret love language is definitely gift giving.

i’m still getting next years gifts ready anyways. i’m so winning next year, i don't care.

#yoongi #min yoongi #valentines day #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #fluff #bts #yoongi x reader

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luvendiary · 2 years

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Hello. Imagine like Hiccup and fem reader are dating already about 1 year. Hiccup is a little bit insecure of his body, there are so many massive guys around, and he thinks he looks not good with his skinny body, so he starts training just for her. But she already thinks he looks great with his body. Some story based on this? Reader has night fury too, and she is Gobber's daughter, if it's important for your story. Thank you!

hi dear reader! thank you for requesting. i hope you enjoy this. let me know what you think <3

Better

Dating Hiccup Haddock was great. It came with its ups and downs like any relationship did, however the ups greatly outweighed the downs. The boy was one of the most caring and thoughtful persons you’ve ever met. Sometimes though, that selflessness that characterized him so well could become a weapon to himself.

Recently, he had been acting weird. He had begun to train separately from the rest of the dragon riders and usually ran off to the gods know where. This had been going on for a few weeks now, and it had seemed to start a few days after you celebrated your first-year anniversary.

Concerned for your boyfriend, you decided to talk about it to someone who had known him and his quirks since he was a wee lad: your dad.

“I don’t know what to tell you lass,” Gobber said as he pulled down the rope for the anti-fire system to work. “The boy has been a weird one ever since he was in the cradle.”

“Dad, but this is different. I know it!” you insisted. “He is always tired, he doesn’t train with us anymore, and he’s barely around. Has he said anything to you?”

Gobber brought up his prosthetic arm up to his chin, which at the moment had a wooden spoon hooked on, he seemed deep in thought for a short moment before speaking out a decisive short answer: ”no”.

You sighed as you decided to take this into your own hand. you were going to find that boy if that was the last thing you’d do. You immediately mounted your Night Furry, (Y/D), and flew up to see if you could spot Hiccup somewhere.

After a few hours of flying, and having no success in finding your boyfriend, you decided to rest, for your sake and the sake of (Y/D). As you landed on a clearing in the forest you sighed and dismounted your dragon, “That boy is going to be the death of me,” you hissed as you rubbed (Y/D)’s head.

(Y/D) let out a soft growl, indicating her pleasure and plopped to the ground.

“Rest girl, you deserve it.” Not a moment had passed since the words left your lips and a rustling sound deeper into the forest made her head shoot up. She immediately leaped and dived into the bushes.

“Wait!” you called out as you followed the Night Furry.

When you finally caught up to (Y/D), you had run out of breath, “You…You c-aan’t do that!” you protested as you leaned on her.

She bellowed in a mocking way and just leaped forward, making you fall in your arse.

“Hey!” you whinned, and you would’ve keep on protesting if the words hadn’t died in your throat when you saw the boy you have been looking for all morning standing in front of you with his dragon. “Hiccup?!”

“H-Hi! (Y/N)!” he said with an awkward smile as he shoved an iron chain and ball behind him.

“W-What? What are you doing here?” Hiccup asked as his voice seemed to go an octave higher.

“I should be the one asking that question!” you replied as you plucks out the leaves from your hair. “I’ve been looking for you all day!”

“Well, here I am!” he said, flailing his arms around like he so often did. “So, you can go now!”

“Wait!” you said, dodging him as he tried to push you away. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Going on? Nothing! Nothing is going on! W-Why would you think that?” he protested, scratching the back of his neck.

“Hic, I love you. But you’re an awful liar.”

He sighed in defeat and just allowed himself to fall onto the ground. You furrowed your eyebrows at his actions and joined him by laying on the ground.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“You’ll think it’s stupid.”

You supported yourself on your elbows and glanced at hime before sitting up completely. “I won’t.”

You scooted closer to him so that his hair was within easy access and started braiding a strand.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Hiccup sighed once again and pressed his palms to his eyes while letting out a groan. “Well, ever since our anniversary, I’ve been thinking-”

“Well, that’s never good.”

Hiccup glared at you.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m serious now.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he resumed, “about how you’re wonderful and all. And how you probably deserve better. I want to be better. For you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, you didn’t know where this was going.

“And then I thought, that you don’t just deserve better. You deserve the best, and maybe…just maybe, you’d be better off with a proper viking. Since you know…that’s the best Berk can offer. And you know how vikings are supposed to be,” he continued as he puffed up his chest and lowered his voice, “big and bulky and strong. And I’m nothing of that, so I’ve been here everyday…trying to change that.”

“Hiccup,” you started, the beginning of what appeared to be laughter laced your voice.

“Ah! I knew you would think it’s stupid!” he said, sitting up.

You hugged him from behind and burrowed your chin in the crook of his neck, “Hiccup, hear me out.”

After he remained silent, and you deemed it appropriate for you to continue you spoke again.

“I’m afraid you’re right. You have completely lost it, I think this is one of the most stupid things you’ve done.”

“Thanks, (Y/N), that’s very reassuring,” he said sarcastically as he glanced at you.

“You don’t have to change anything about yourself Hiccup. I don’t love you because of your body, I love you because of who you are; in here,” you said as you pressed your hand to his chest.

“But-”

“But nothing Hiccup. I don’t know who or what gave you that idea, but you can tell them to fuck off, because they are wrong. And if it was Snotlout, I swear-”

Hiccup laughed and kissed your cheek. “No, it was not Snotlout, you can allow him to live one more day.”

A moment of silence passed between you two. “I love you (Y/N),” Hiccup said as he turned his body to face you.

“I love you too Hiccup Haddock. And for the record, I think you are very attractive, buff or not” you said bluntly.

Hiccup chuckled once again before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. There wasn’t a greater feeling than this.

#how to train your dragon #how to train a dragon 2 #hiccup x reader #hiccup haddock #hiccup #hiccup haddock x reader #how to train your dragon 3 #httyd #httyd2 #httyd3 #toothless #night fury

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x-bluefire-heart-x · 4 months

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Dance at a Feast

Happy New Year everyone! The good thing about having two weeks off from work is that I am able to get some writing done! I'm trying to get drafts done for a lot of fics I have plans for, so I can have some things to post when I go back to work.

Also, please feel free to make requests! I have a list of prompts which is linked below, and a master list that has the fandoms and characters I write for. If there is someone and a something not listed that would like to make a request for, feel free to and I will let you know if I know enough about it to write for it. Also feel free to make requests for this verse!

This is another part in the Covered in Steam verse. A fluffy piece between female reader and Thorin, it is set after Covered in Steam.

Warnings: Talks of a sexual nature. Dain being disrespectful - nothing insane just not acknowledging the reader as the Queen *yes I think this should be a warning*

Tag list: @catt-leya @bunson-burner

Master List

Prompt List

Covered in Steam

You fiddled with the sleeves of your dress tugging them down before pulling them back up and then down again. You glanced at the mirror in Thorin’s, no your chamber you hadn’t slept in the chamber that was yours since that night. You wore a beautiful gown in the colours of the family of Durin, the blue almost matched that of your Kings eyes. Your hair had been left down showcasing the braids and beads that Thorin wove into it every morning. You were nervous, this was the first feast since you were behaving as a true married couple. And you didn’t want to do anything that would embarrass Thorin. Which was why you were concerned about the dress, the shoulders of the dress could sit normally or be pulled down to expose your shoulders and collarbones, and the plunging neckline was lower than what you normally wore but it worked the best with the necklace Thorin had gifted you with on the day you got married, and you hadn’t worn it yet.

“Sister?” you heard Dis’ voice call out from the sitting room next to the bedroom where Thorin received any guests that came to your chambers.

“In here!” you called back, shifting the bodice of the dress a little, unsure about the gauzy material that ran in panels down your ribs before forming into the princess style skirt.

“Oh my,” Dis whispered as she laid eyes on you. “I think you may very well kill my brother in that dress.”

“Is it too much?” you spun around eyes wide with concern as you smoothed down the billowing skirts. “It’s a normal style in my homeland but I know it isn’t overly common amongst the women here.”

“You look stunning my Queen,” Dis assured you as she came to stand in-front of you grabbing your hands. “You do not need to pretend as if the culture and norms of your homeland do not exist, my brother would not expect you to only dress as a dwarven woman.”

“I know he has told me as such, but I just don’t want to…embarrass him in-front of his court, especially since everything between us is still so new,” you nibbled your lower lip before yelping a little as Dis pinched your arm.

“You’ll ruin the makeup,”

“Can’t have that can I?” you laughed, your nerves slowly leaving you in your sister in laws presence. Something she has always managed to do.

“Now, come on,” Dis tugged on you before stopping for a moment. “Wait, you are missing something.” She let go of your hand to go back to your dressing table and lifted the small crown from its resting place to put it on your head. “There.”

You lifted your hand to gently touch the crown as Dis went back to tugging you out of your rooms and towards the main banquet hall. You were still not use to wearing a crown, as you and Thorin both only tended to wear them when you absolutely had to. Such as at a feast welcoming Thorin’s cousin Dain. You could hear the celebrations before the door even came into view, you smiled. Dwarrow truly knew how to throw a feast and celebration.

“Introducing her Highness Princess Dis and her Royal Majesty Queen y/n,” the herald at the doorway announced both you and Dis causing the court to become quiet as Thorin stood from his chair and walked around the table that housed the royals. His eyes burned with a fire as he took in your appearance, you could feel the eyes of every dwarf on you as the king walked towards you and Dis quickly left your side to greet her sons. You could only guess the dwarf sitting on Thorin’s left was his cousin Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills. You briefly caught his eyes only to quickly break eye contact and focus on your husband. Dain had the same colour eyes as Thorin only his were cold and calculating, and you did not like the way he looked at you.

“My wife,” Thorin rumbled, this voice bouncing around the room. “You are a vision.”

You dropped into a small curtsy as your body warmed, your eyes locking onto his as you lifted your head back up. Thorin stepped closer to you to place a kiss upon your lips before gently taking your hand, guiding you to stand in-front of his cousin, who remained seated.

“Cousin, my wife, your Queen,” Thorin’s voice was hard as stone as he noticed the disrespect being shown to you. “Greet her.” Dain’s eyes narrowed before a friendly mask fell over his face as he stood and bowed low to you.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Your Majesty,” Dain’s voice didn’t sound overly pleased and you were concerned but you nodded back at him regardless, knowing now was not the time to raise concerns.

“And it is lovely to finally meet you Lord Dain, Thorin has spoken highly of you,” you responded voice soft, your eyes looking at a point over his shoulder as you didn’t want to look into his cold eyes again.

“Come my Queen, you must be hungry,” Thorin’s arm wrapped around your waist and led you away. You smiled gratefully up at Thorin raising on your toes to press your lips to his cheek in thanks. His arm squeezed you in kind, his eyes full of love as he stared down at you.

“Hello aunty mine,” Kili smiled up at you as you walked past. You grinned down at him, unable to resist messing up his hair. Kili pouted up at you as he tried to fix his hair, you dropped a kiss on his head in apology as you did the same to Fili as you walked past. Dis’s sons had been as welcoming as she had when you arrived, always smiling and including you, you were forever grateful for those three Durin’s.

“Aunty,” Fili smiled as you sat down beside him, Dis was in the middle of her two sons, who leaned around her oldest to smile at you. “Don’t worry about Dain. He’s a traditionalist but Uncle doesn’t pay any mind to those old dwarves.” Fili had lowered his voice and leant close to your side. His eyes, the same shade as his uncle was soft and kind as he looked at you. Your heart squeezed at his words.

“Thank you Fili,” you whispered back. “I will keep that in mind.”

“But, should he or any other dwarf look to cause you problems promise that you will let myself, my mother, Kili, Dwalin or Balin know. Of course Thorin should be your first choice but if you cannot find him, you also have us on your side,” Fili added squeezing your arm before letting go and focusing on his food.

You could hear the conversations going on around you as you picked at your food. You never ate much in-front of large crowds, but would always find a plate of food waiting for you in your chambers after a feast. You had always wondered who ensured the staff left it but never thought to investigate it too much.

“Are you alright love?” Thorin asked removing himself from the conversation with Dain to check on you. He had picked up on your added nerves after meeting Dain and wanted to do everything he could to be sure that you were fine.

“I am,” you nodded turning to give Thorin a smile but you could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t buy it. He leaned close enough to whisper into your ear.

“If I had known Dain would show such disrespect to my wife I would never had invited him here,” Thorin promised you. “Tell me at once if he ever does so again or makes you uncomfortable at all. Erebor if your home and you are the Queen.”

“You Durin’s and your need to protect,” you teased nudging your nose against his.

“Oh?”

“Fili just gave me a list of all the dwarves I can tell if Dain or any other dwarf causes me problems,” you explained. “It was pretty much you four and Dwalin and Balin.”

“Hmm,” Thorin hummed his eyes full of pride at your words. “Well, us Durin’s are fiercely protective of those we care about. And once we care for someone it is next to impossible to get rid of us. So I’m afraid my heart, you are stuck with me, and my sister and nephews.”

“Such an imposition that,” you laughed.

“You weren’t thinking I was an imposition this morning,” Thorin growled his eyes darkening as heat filled them. “With my tongue between your thighs.”

“Thorin,” you gasped in shock. “You can’t say things like that here.”

“I am the King,” Thorin shrugged kissing your lips and whispering his next words into your mouth. “I can say such things when I please. And no-one can hear us.”

You playfully glared at him about to say something back when Dain interrupted leaning around Thorin to gain his attention again, sending you a cold look before placing the mask back in place before Thorin could see. Thorin kissed you once more rounding on his cousin, you could hear the harshness in his tone as he spoke in dwarvish. You sipped at your wine, as music started to play, as it always does at a Dwarven feast. The boys beside you quickly stood up looking to find some partners to dance with, Kili raced off instantly looking for Ori. Fili however, hesitated, Dis had left seeking out Balin to discuss some matters.

“My Queen,” Fili said, his voice loud and pointed as he bowed low at his waist holding a hand out. “May I have a dance?”

You grinned up at Fili, standing up and reaching to take his hand but you were pulled tightly against a hard chest. Thorin’s scent surrounding you. Fili smirked, his eyes playfully challenging his uncle, as he continued to wait on your hand.

“My wife will be dancing with me first, nephew,” Thorin’s voice rumbled.

“I think Her Majesty can make that decision, Uncle,” Fili grinned.

“I am honoured Prince Fili,” you grinned, trying to keep your voice regal. “However, I would think you would prefer to seek out someone else to dance…and even maybe court?”

Fili’s face flushed bright red his eyes automatically going towards a dwarven woman that was standing off to the side near Bofur. The look in his eyes was similar to how Thorin would look at you and you knew that maybe you and Dis could do a little pushing.

“I mean…I can’t…” Fili stuttered in an uncommon show of nerves.

“Yes you can nephew,” you encouraged him stepping a little out of the circle of Thorin’s arms but he kept a hold of your hips. “I have seen that young woman look at you, in the same manner you look at her. You are a Durin, take the courage that all you Durin’s seem to possess in enough abundance to take on a Dragon and ask her to dance.”

You felt Thorin’s hands squeeze your hips and his lips pressed into your neck, you could feel the smile that tugged at them. You reached out to squeeze Fili’s hands, forcing his eyes back to yours. The red of his face had calmed down to a light pink.

“Right, yes, true,” Fili nodded.

“You are my heir Fili,” Thorin added reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “You can do this.”

Fili nodded once more before he turned around and strode towards the woman in question. He forced the Durin swagger into his steps as the two of you watched him in amusement. Thorin tugged you close again turning you around, you smiled up at him wrapping your arms around his neck.

“So, that dance?” you asked. “Better make good.”

“Come along then,” Thorin smirked. Pushing you backwards, you giggled turning around and taking hold of his hand and pulling him onto the space in the middle of the room that was used for dancing.

Thorin spun you around before tugging you close, wrapping his right arm around your waist and grabbing your right hand with his left, you placed your left hand on his shoulder. You allowed him to led you around the floor trusting him to keep you from backing into anyone. The tune was a fast past one, your skirt flying out every time he spun you around quickly. He grabbed both of your hips and lifted you up and turning the two of you before putting you back down and grabbing hold of your hand again to lead you around.

You giggled as your dress managed to hit Kili and Ori on your way past them, you threw an apology over Thorin’s shoulder causing the two young Dwarves to laugh. Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off of you, your eyes were bright with happiness and you had not stopped laughing and smiling since Fili had first asked you for a dance. Your face was flush from your wine and from the dancing, you had danced to two fast paced songs before a slow paced song started to play. Thorin wrapped both his arms around your waist pulling you as close to him as he could get you. You looped your arms around his neck, using one of your hands to tilt his head down, he grinned as he rested his forehead against yours and swayed the two of you in time with music.

“You truly do look beautiful tonight, my Lady,” Thorin whispered. “Seeing you in my colours, I wish to take you from this hall and feast on something else entirely.”

“My King, was this morning and last night not enough?” you asked, stroking the back of his neck, his thick hair covering your movements.

“I will never have enough of you,” Thorin answered. “I will never have enough of your taste, of your body, of you. I will always want you in my arms.”

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

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Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, consent, cw: alcohol

WC: 1.7k words, 9/18 chapters

Summary: Set during that one rest between Act 2 and Act 3 -- they talk about consent a bit, establishing their hug-boundaries.

Ao3 | [Hug8][Hug10] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Tonight you’ve set up camp in a fortress, just one sleep away from your final destination: Baldur’s Gate. You’ve never been so anxious, so excited, felt so many different emotions, just from staring at the city you call home.

It’s been a difficult journey, one that your companions have felt just as deeply as you have. So when you see the city illuminated in the distance, you know it’s a welcome sight for you all– a true victory, one that not even the Absolute can take from you.

As their de facto leader, you know this is a time for the group to celebrate its win. And you just know that the view from the battlements is better than anything you can get from your tents down here. “Hey!” you call out to your group. A few perk up from their nightly routines, several start to walk over. “Who wants to climb that tower over there? I bet you we can see all of Baldur’s Gate from up there.”

It doesn’t take long before the entire party is clamoring up the ladder to reach the heights above you. Not even Gale, who’s making the entire climb through groans and cries about his bad knees, would miss this view.

You’re the first to reach the top, leading the pack up and climbing with practiced efficiency. As soon as you raise your head, your breath catches. It’s beautiful, you think to yourself. And it truly is, lit up like the beacon of hope you know it to be. Home.

As you walk to the edge of the tower, you can hear your companions filing in behind you. “There it is! Even after a decade, it’s lovely as ever!” Karlach extols enthusiastically.

“I’ve only been away for seven years, but my heart is no less elated,” Wyll responds, his eye crinkling in excitement.

“I’ve only been away for a few months, and I don’t understand how adventurers do this for years,” Astarion grumbles. “You both must have backs made of steel to sleep on the ground this often.” He easily takes his place next to you, arms-crossed, shoulder nudging yours ever so slightly as he stops. You nudge back a bit, but continue to stare out into the slumbering city, listening to your companions banter.

Karlach laughs a bit bitterly before saying, “Didn’t have much of a choice. Though I will say that you hardly notice what you’re sleeping on when you’re busy destroying demons.”

“Well, I still notice while destroying cultists,” the vampire responds, voice tinged with annoyance. Then to you he asks, “And what are you so enchanted by?” He leans into you more, and your body ends up at an awkward angle.

“We're so close," you say, simply, allowing yourself to rest on the crenellation next to you for balance. As it so often happens with him, you’re reminded of a cat demanding attention. “Aren’t you looking forward to it?”

He scoffs, lightly jostling you as he does so. “Of course I am, Cazador won’t know what’s coming for him.”

You grin at that, recalling your earlier conversations with Astarion, who was so worried that fighting Cazador would be impossible. Your group has faced the impossible now, facing a mad vampire lord seemed right within your grasp. “Damn right,” you say, finally turning to look at him, only to find his face incredibly close, eyes staring at you intently. “What’s the matter?”

Astarion looks back at the rest of your group, conversing amongst themselves, pointing out buildings in the cityscape, otherwise wholly preoccupied. Satisfied, he turns back to you and pouts. “Darling, would it kill you to hug me every once in a while?”

You startle, what is he talking about? Thinking back, you’re certain you hug him quite a bit, more than once in a while. You say as much, “Love, is your head alright? I swear I gave you a hug just yesterday.”

He continues to lean into you, but keeps his arms firmly crossed. “Yes, of course you hug me back,” he starts, tone explanatory. “But you barely ever hug me first. I can only think of one such instance and, while I much appreciated it, I would appreciate more.”

His words ring true, you realize. You’re not sure how much of it is a choice that you’ve consciously made or if it’s born of your underlying worry. It hasn’t been long since you entered this new phase in your relationship, and the past couple of weeks have been a lot of trial and error to get to a place of some comfort and understanding. As such, you know exactly why you’ve been careful, consciously or not. “I don’t want to touch you if you’re not ready for it,” you say, tilting your head toward his, whispering your words away from the rest of the group.

The vampire freezes a moment, his eyebrows knitting into a look of concern. “While I appreciate the sentiment, darling, a hug isn’t exactly carnal.”

You give him a flat look. “Of course it isn’t,” you respond back. “But it’s still… intimate. You should be allowed to decide when that happens. If you hug me, I know you want it to happen.”

Astarion finally uncrosses his arms, only to rub at his temple in exasperation. “Ugh, you’re being disgustingly considerate,” he says, closing his eyes. “It’s times like this that I wonder how we’ve even gotten this far.”

“Hey!” you exclaim in indignation. Lowering your voice again, you continue, “You know you’re the only one I’m this considerate to. I even told Gale we don’t have time for his little shopping trip.”

The vampire opens his eyes and shoots you a wry smile. “Ah, the very epitome of an unflinching leader. Besides, we both know you’ll give in to him anyway.”

“I will not,” you say, without much conviction.

“Regardless,” he says, holding up a hand. “I appreciate your kindness, but I am not a porcelain doll– as much as I may look it.” Astarion tilts his head up, as if to catch the starlight in his silver hair.

Pursing your mouth, you consider his words. Have I been too careful? “I… know that. I’m sorry, love. I’ll work on that, alright?”

“I know how you could start,” his eyes twinkle at you expectantly.

“With a hug?”

“Yes, gods, just hug me already.”

Some part of you still worries, still hesitates, but in the light of Astarion’s pleading expression they melt away a bit. Facing the silhouette of the city you both call home, you wrap an arm around him and pull him into your side. “Like this?” you turn to ask him, noses almost touching.

“Mmm, it shall do,” he answers softly, leaning into your hug, touching his nose to yours for a moment before looking out at the city. “What a romantic scene we've stumbled into. I can see why bards write about it.”

You hum in agreement, tilting your head to touch his. “Maybe if we save this gods forsaken city a few bards will pick up our tale.”

“In that case,” he starts, finally wrapping his own arm around you, squeezing you to him. “We’d best make it memorable.”

You stand in each others’ arms for a while, occasionally pointing at the city as you spot places you’d like to share with each other. You’re not sure how long you spend staring out at Baldur’s Gate together before your companions jolt you back to reality.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” You both turn in unison without hesitation to the source of the interruption, Karlach. Her and the rest of the group have gathered back at the ladder.

It’s Shadowheart that responds, “It’s getting a bit chilly up here. What do you say we pop open a bottle of wine and celebrate our return home?”

“As long as it’s not firewine,” you reply, shuddering at the idea of drinking any more of that swill. Pulling Astarion by the torso, you start to move toward the group.

He tugs you back gently, ignoring your questioning eyes to call to the group, “We’ll be down in a bit, not done here quite yet.”

“Suit yourselves! But take too long and I will drink all the good shit!” Karlach says, laughing as she heads down the ladder. The rest follow right behind her, their words and footsteps fading on the night’s breeze.

Once they’ve left, you look back at your lover, eyebrow raised. “And what aren’t we done with yet?”

“Our hug, obviously,” he says, waving his free hand at you. “Or did you really think a paltry one-armed hug would satisfy a man of such appetites?”

You only take a second to process his words before gladly diving into him with both of your arms. You wrap Astarion in an all-encompassing embrace, a vice-grip full of love and warmth. “Better?” you ask, turning your head to the crook of his neck.

“Much,” he sighs into your hair, reciprocating the hug with no hesitation. A moment passes in a silent buzz of happiness, before he speaks again. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous,” he begins. “But here, in your arms, it almost feels like I’ve already made it back home.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, but you’ve gotten better at surviving his sincere compliments. “You’re right, I should hug you more often.”

“I knew you would see reason,” he laughs. “And if you're ever worried about hugging me, you're quite welcome to ask. Now, since you always ask so nicely, would you allow me to kiss you?”

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you nod. “Yes, please.”

Astarion smiles at you, an unfiltered joy shining in his eyes. His cool fingers cup your chin as he pulls your face toward his. Your eyes close as your lips meet his in a slow, tender kiss. With the city as your backdrop and this lovely man in your arms, the world feels more focused, your purpose clearer. Baldur’s Gate awaits you, and you’ve never been so eager to answer its call.

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