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matryosika · 9 months

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Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth.

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?”

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway.

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?”

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”.

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”.

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished.

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind.

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”.

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”.

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung.

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”.

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”.

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to.

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder.

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back.

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards.

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees.

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”.

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you.

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”.

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches.

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”.

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit.

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations.

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it.

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it.

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?”

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”.

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”.

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you.

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time.

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up.

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable.

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there.

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you.

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?”

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast.

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile.

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #han smut #jisung smut #bangchan smut

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pickingupmymercedes · 8 days

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All these little things pt.2 - Lewis Hamilton

The other 9 snippets of fluff (as promised) - If you want here's the first batch - All these little things

Also there's 20 more fluffs just like these ones here - Ways to say I love you and Ways to say I love you pt. 2

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +3k

a/n: More fluffs, because we need it! Also, some of the prompts I used here were requests, so if you'd like a specific drabble do send them in and I'll put them in a potential new part?!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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Adventures

The crisp autumn air danced through Y/N's hair as she tossed a worn leather satchel into the back of Lewis's sleek car. A mischievous glint twinkled in her eyes as she turned to face him, holding a folded roadmap in her hand.

"Okay, champ" she declared, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Ready for an adventure?"

Lewis, not yet totally used to her spontaneous ideas, raised an eyebrow. " What kind of adventure?"

"The kind where you're in charge," Y/N announced, thrusting the map towards him. "Today, you're the navigator, and we're going wherever you point on this map."

Confusion flickered across Lewis's face. "No destination? You serious?"

"Absolutely serious," Y/N confirmed, her grin widening. "I drive, you tell where to. Consider it a chance to reconnect with your inner explorer."

Lewis chuckled, the challenge sparking a competitive glint in his eyes. "Alright. But don't blame me if we end up lost in the middle of nowhere."

With a playful swat at his arm, Y/N climbed into the driver’s seat. Lewis unfurled the map across his lap, his brow furrowing as he studied the intricate network of roads.

"Let's head for the mountains. Looks scenic." he announced, pointing at a winding route that snaked through a vibrant green patch on the map.

Lewis, tried to meticulously charted their course. Y/N, on the other hand, reveled in the unexpected detours – a charming roadside diner with a menu scribbled on a chalkboard, a hidden waterfall cascading down moss-covered rocks, a winding country road lined with vibrant yellow leaves.

They got lost, of course. Inevitably, they took a wrong turn, the map momentarily betraying them with its two-dimensional representation of a world full of surprises. But instead of frustration, a shared amusement filled the car. They stopped and asked for directions at a quaint gas station, the attendant drawing a squiggly line on their map with a permanent marker.

As the day wore on, he realized they weren't just exploring new places, they were rediscovering each other.

They talked about everything and nothing, their conversation flowing as effortlessly as the winding roads they traversed. Lewis, usually focused on the finish line, reveled in the simple joy of the journey. Y/N embraced the freedom of not knowing what lay ahead.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the landscape, they found themselves at a secluded beach, the golden sand kissed by the retreating waves. They sat in comfortable silence on the hood of the car, watching the fiery hues paint the sky, a shared sense of accomplishment settling over them.

"So" Lewis finally spoke, his voice tinged with wonder, "lost or found?"

Y/N turned towards him, a smile gracing her lips. "A little bit of both," she replied. "We might not have known where we were going, but we definitely found something."

Lewis leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. The journey, with all its twists and turns, had been a reminder that sometimes, the most beautiful destinations were the ones discovered along the way.

Naptime Cuddles

The roar of the crowds had faded into a distant memory, replaced by the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic rise and fall of Lewis' chest beside her. A street lamp illuminated the room in the late afternoon, painting dappled patterns across the plush white duvet. Y/n snuggled deeper into Lewis' embrace, the familiar scent of his bodywash a comforting balm.

The post-race adrenaline rush had finally subsided, leaving behind a pleasant exhaustion. The flight back from had been a blur of cramped airplane seats and fitful sleep. But in the quiet sanctuary of their home, true relaxation finally claimed her.

One of his arms was draped possessively across her waist, his fingers unconsciously tracing circles on the small of her back. The warmth of his body was a comforting weight against hers, a silent invitation to surrender to sleep.

Y/n shifted slightly, her head burrowing into the crook of his neck. A contented sigh escaped her lips, and she felt Lewis stir beside her.

"Still awake, love?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/n hummed in response, nuzzling closer. The sound seemed to be all the answer Lewis needed. He wrapped his arm tighter around her, his breathing falling back into a steady rhythm.

Silence settled over the room once more, broken only by the soft sounds of their sleep. The weight of the trophy he'd secured earlier that day seemed insignificant compared to the quiet comfort of this moment. For Lewis, victory wasn't just about the checkered flag; it was about the moments of peace that followed, moments shared with those he loved, where he could simply be Lewis, and the world could wait.

As sleep finally claimed Y/n, a single thought drifted through her mind – this, the quiet intimacy of a shared nap after a hard-fought win, was a victory all its own.

Season Calendar

The crisp scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of toast as Y/N fumbled with the calendar sprawled across the kitchen island. Lewis, a gentle smile playing on his lips, watched her wrestle with colored pens and sticky notes.

"So, Australia's a definite yes" Y/N declared, highlighting the season opener in Melbourne with a flourish. "Suzuka, is my favorite" she added, etching a bright pink heart beside the Japanese Grand Prix. "Miami for the after-race parties."

Lewis chuckled. "Since when did you become a party animal?"

Y/N winked. "Don't underestimate the allure of a good poolside DJ after a long race weekend."

Their fingers brushed as she reached for a blue sticky note, marking their planned trip to New York just before Monaco. "Monaco it’s…well, it’s Monaco," she continued, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Maybe another European race before Silverstone?" Lewis suggested, tracing a finger across the calendar. "Spa or Monza?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment. "Hm… I’d say Monza. Oh, and Silverstone's too," she declared, scribbling her name beside the British Grand Prix. "Promise to your mom"

A grin spread across Lewis's face. "Right"

"Monza," she added after a thoughtful pause "because it's your first race in Italia, as a Ferrari driver."

Lewis's eyes softened. "It is."

She nodded, a mischievous glint returning soon after. "Singapore, too. Night race fix."

As she marked Interlagos in São Paulo with a heart even bigger than Suzuka's, a blush crept onto her cheeks as Lewis smiled at her antics. "It’s your second home race and that little beach vacation before Vegas is too tempting to resist."

Vegas, the season finale, received a quick tick with her name next to it.

"Abu Dhabi for the closing ceremony?" she mused, tapping the last race tentatively.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You're practically attending the entire season, love" he teased with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Y/N looked up, feigning innocence. "Am I? It doesn't seem like that many."

Lewis laughed, shaking his head. "Babe, you've mapped out nearly the whole calendar”

"Well, someone has to support you, champion," she replied, a playful jab disguised by a loving smile. "Plus, there's the cultural immersion, the delicious food, the..."

"The endless supply of post-race champagne?" he finished her sentence, a knowing grin on his face.

Y/N winked. "There might be some of that too."

Tough Race

The air in the motorhome hung heavy, a stark contrast to the usual pre-race buzz. Lewis sat slumped on the plush couch, his helmet resting dejectedly on the coffee table. The screen of his phone displayed the stark reality – a disappointing qualifying position and a car that no one understood.

Y/N watched him from across the room, her heart heavy with empathy. She knew Lewis thrived on competition, on pushing himself to the limit. Seeing him so dispirited was a sight that tugged at her soul.

Placing her laptop aside, she walked over to him. Without a word, she sat beside him on the couch, her hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders. He flinched slightly at the touch, as if startled from his introspection.

"Tough day, huh?" she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

He sighed; the sound heavy with disappointment. "Yeah," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. "Just feels like everything's going wrong."

Y/N remained silent, allowing him to express his frustration without words. She knew that sometimes, the most comforting thing was a quiet presence, a silent acknowledgment of his struggle. After a moment, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. They held a vulnerability she rarely saw, a glimpse of the man beneath the champion's mask.

"Come here" she said gently, opening her arms for him to fall into. He leaned closer, his head resting on her chest. Instinctively, her fingers reached for his scalp, their gentle pressure working their way through his braids. It was a routine they'd developed over the years, a silent language of love and support.

As her fingers began a soothing massage, kneading away tension at the base of his skull, a soft sigh escaped Lewis's lips. His muscles, which had been coiled tight with frustration, started to relax under her touch.

"You have the talent, Lewis," she began, her voice barely louder than a whisper but filled with warmth "You have the dedication. This is just a bump in the road."

They sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the rhythmic hum of the motorhome and the gentle ministrations of her hands. Slowly, a spark of his usual fire began to return to his eyes.

"Next year can’t come soon enough" he finally murmured, his voice regaining its strength. "I’ll be the one in red waiting for you” her lips close to his ears, attesting to her loyalty to him.

Workouts

Sweat beaded on Y/N's forehead, blurring her vision slightly as she pounded the treadmill. The rhythmic thump of her feet echoed in the home gym, the only sound competing with the pulsing techno beat blasting through her headphones. She was lost in the zone, pushing herself further with each passing minute. Today's run was all about endurance, a long, slow burn to build her stamina.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She glanced over, momentarily breaking her focus, to see Lewis bent over a weight bench, curls glinting in the afternoon sun streaming through the window. He was shirtless, his muscles flexing with each controlled rep.

Y/N looked away, forcing her gaze back to the treadmill display. “Great”, she thought, cheeks burning. “Now you're distracted.” She tried to refocus on her breathing, on the rhythm of her run, but the image of Lewis, sculpted and confident, kept intruding on her thoughts.

A mischievous glint entered Lewis's eyes. He knew he had her attention, even if she wouldn't admit it. With a slow, deliberate movement, he placed the dumbbells down and reached for the hem of his workout shirt. A slow peel, a suggestive glance thrown in Y/N's direction, and the shirt landed discarded on the floor.

Y/N let out a groan of frustration, more with herself than anything else. This was supposed to be a focused workout, not a session in ogling her impossibly attractive boyfriend. She cranked up the volume on her headphones, willing herself to ignore the blatant display happening across the room.

But Lewis wasn't done yet. He sauntered closer to the treadmill, a playful grin on his face. "Need anything?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Y/N gritted her teeth, refusing to make eye contact. "Nope, all good here" she mumbled, her voice strained.

Lewis chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Alright, but if you do, I’ll be right here" he teased, leaning against the treadmill console, effectively blocking her view of the television and forcing her to acknowledge his presence.

Y/N glared at him, a flicker of amusement battling with her annoyance. "Seriously? I'm trying to work out here."

"And I'm trying to offer some motivation," he countered, his eyes twinkling. A small smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's lips. "Fine," she conceded, a playful challenge in her voice. "If you're so good at motivating, why don't you join me for a run?"

Lewis's grin widened. " Was just waiting for you to ask."

Grocery Shopping

Jet lag, like an unwelcome koala clinging to their luggage, had followed Y/N and Lewis all the way from Europe to Australia.

Yawns punctuated the silence as they stood in the brightly lit grocery store aisle, their usual meticulous list forgotten somewhere in their luggage.

"Alright," Lewis announced, rubbing his eyes "Essentials: Bread, milk, some fruit..."

Y/N's stomach rumbled loudly, betraying her fatigue. " chocolate… " she mumbled, grabbing the first bar her hand encountered, a garishly pink confection with a name that promised "explosive berry flavor".

Lewis chuckled. "Y/N, love. Maybe we prioritize some greens? " He reached for a bag of pre-washed salad mix.

"Fine." she conceded with a sigh, "But we're getting ice cream. My brain cells need a sugar rush."

He shook his head fondly, adding a carton of plant-based milk to the basket. "Alright, sugar monster."

Y/N scanned the shelves, her eyes landing on a display of colorful cocktail umbrellas. " Lewis" she said, her voice tinged with mischief "think these would look good on an Almave cocktail?"

Lewis raised an eyebrow as she shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "Just planning ahead"

Alright" he conceded, tossing a pack of the umbrellas into the basket. " Healthy stuff now, babe. We need to get through the week"

Y/N groaned dramatically. "Ugh. Let me get some of those roasted chickpeas they have by the checkout, at least. They're practically healthy, right?"

Lewis laughed, pulling her close for a quick kiss as she reached for some sort of processed sugar. "Roasted chickpeas it is."

Weird dreams

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the bedroom floor. Y/N stretched luxuriously, the remnants of a strange dream clinging to the edges of her consciousness.

"Lew" she mumbled, reaching for him on the other side of the bed. His side was cold, the sheets neatly pulled back. She sat up, a frown creasing her brow. "Lewis?" she called out a little louder.

He emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hip, a face cream in his hand. "Morning, love" he greeted with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning" Y/N replied, her voice laced with a hint of confusion. "You were gone?" She gestured to the empty space beside her.

He paused, a puzzled look replacing his smile. "Gone? I haven't left the bed all night."

"Oh" Y/N said, feeling a wave of disorientation. "Must have been the dream then."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. " What kind of dream?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the strangeness of it all making her smile. "Well," she began, "It was the weirdest thing. We were both at the factory, but you were giving a motivational speech... to a room full of chickens."

Lewis burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the room as he doubled over, wiping tears from his eyes.

Y/N couldn't help but join in his laughter, the absurdity of the dream washing away the lingering confusion. As they lay back down in bed, Lewis pulled her close, y/n laying her head on his chest.

"So," Lewis said, his voice tinged with amusement "what motivational speech did I give to the chickens?"

Y/N snuggled closer, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, you know, the usual," she said, her voice laced with laughter. "Conquer the coop, dream big, peck your way to the top."

Lewis chuckled, nuzzling his face into her hair. "Sounds like something I’d say"

Y/N swatted him playfully on the arm. "Hey, maybe even chickens need a little inspiration sometimes.” a smile playing on her lips and he squeezed her softly.

Sickness

A crumpled ball of tissues lay discarded beside Y/N on the couch, a relentless battle she'd been waging with a head cold all morning. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and her entire body ached with a dull misery. Across from her, Lewis, usually thinking of what to do next, sat slumped on the armchair, a mug of lukewarm tea clutched in his hand.

"Alright," Lewis declared, pushing himself up from the chair with a grimace, "I'm going to tackle those emails. You just relax on the couch some more."

Y/N croaked out a protest. "Lewis, you look like you could use the couch more than me. Those dark circle under your eyes look awful.

He swiped a hand across his forehead, a frown creasing his brow. "Nothing to worry, love. Probably just didn’t get enough sleep."

Y/N sighed, a weary smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Ever the workaholic, even a mild illness couldn't keep him from his commitments. "Alright" she conceded, her voice hoarse, "but promise me you'll rest too?”

He flashed a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course, lovely." He retreated to his office, leaving Y/N alone with the sniffles and the blaring silence of the weekend they'd both been looking forward to.

She tried to sleep, to watch tv, to lose herself in a book, but her eyes burned in their sockets. Frustrated, she finally reached for the thermometer. The red mercury climbing far too high for comfort.

Panic clawed at her throat. Lewis couldn't be getting sick too, not with his packed schedule for the next two months. Steeling herself, she pushed off the couch and made her way to the office. Lewis sat hunched over his laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Lew" she said softly, her voice thick with concern.

He looked up, startled. The feverish flush on his cheeks was undeniable now.

"What’s up babe?" he mumbled, his voice raspy

"You're burning up," she declared, placing a hand on his forehead. "We both are."

He let out a shaky sigh, finally acknowledging the truth. "This is the worst timing." he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N hugged his shoulders from behind his desk chair, her heart softening at his dejection. "All we can do is focusing on getting better" she said gently.

Lewis turned to look at her, his eyes filled with a grateful vulnerability. "Yeah" he conceded, a tired smile gracing his lips. "Let’s go back to bed then, we're watching all the cheesy rom-coms we can handle.”

Y/N laughed a bit before suddenly turning her head to the side to sneeze, a chuckle coming from Lewis as he got up and embraced her. "Deal" she finally agreed.

Morning rituals

A faint sunlight danced playfully across the open space of the kitchen; Lewis’ heavy steps caught y/n attention as the aroma of brewing coffee gently invited him to greet the day. A soft groan escaped his lips as he stretched, muscles protesting.

"Rough night, champ?" A voice, laced with amusement, drifted in from the kitchen. Lewis cracked open an eye mid-stretch to see Y/n leaning against the island, a steaming mug in hand.

"Just a bit" he admitted, a smile tugging at his lips as he flopped down on the sofa "That car is giving me a real workout."

Y/n chuckled, padding across the room and placing the mug on the coffee table "Well, here’s some fuel." She leaned down, brushing a kiss across his forehead, the scent of her minty shampoo lingering in the air.

Lewis inhaled deeply, the familiar scent a welcome comfort. He reached out, his hand landing on hers. "You shouldn't have gotten up so early" he mumbled, squeezing her fingers gently.

"Nah" Y/n replied, settling onto his lap "Early mornings are my secret weapon. Peace and quiet before the world wakes up."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me Roscoe snoring and the fog outside are your weapons?"

Y/n laughed, caressing his beard. "It might not be perfect, but it’s mine."

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the soft clinking of mugs against the table’s glass. Lewis took a sip of his coffee, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

"So," Y/n began, a thoughtful look on her face as she slid to the sofa and rested her head on his shoulders "what's on the agenda for today?"

Lewis set down his mug. "Just some online meetings with the engineers in the afternoon. We can have a lazy morning if you’re not busy" his hopeful tone hung in the air for a beat too long.

Y/n took a slow sip from her mug, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Actually," she said, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "I woke up feeling surprisingly productive. Maybe I'll finally tackle that mountain of emails I've been putting off." A flicker of disappointment crossed Lewis' face, until he realized what y/n had actually just said, quickly stamping a playful smirk and a light grab of her ass. "The hell you are."

______________________________________________________________

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#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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marvelousmando · 2 years

Text

"The Game is Afoot, Indeed"

Sherlock x Reader

A/N: So here's my first attempt at a one shot - the idea for this popped into my head not too long after watching Enola Holmes 2. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff with a sprinkle of mutual pining. Reader is wearing a dress.

"Here we are," Sherlock said after you exited the carriage, walking up to the side of the building to peer through the nearest window.

Looking around with awe at the large home decorated with beautiful flowers and twinkling lights, you wished for a moment that you were here to enjoy the lively music and celebrate like the other guests. You could see them through the window, dressed in all their finery, dancing the night away.

Taking a breath to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand, you looked around the corner to the front of the building. More guests were lined up outside along a winding path, and - yes, as you looked closer - were holding slips of paper in their hands.

"Alright! This is simple. All I need is one of those invitations," you exclaimed with a mischievous grin, turning towards him. "So, what's the mystery item you're after?"

His dark brows immediately furrowed.

"You're not taking it."

You crossed your arms and stared back in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"This item that I am taking is of high value to my case. It is not something I can entrust in anyone's hands but my own," Sherlock stated matter of factly. "I will slip in, break into the viscount's office, grab it, and slip back out."

You let out a soft snort.

"Sherlock, we are at a ball. Do you really expect me to believe that you won't be attention grabbing?" you said while studying the crowd through the window again. "There are a great deal of ladies in there with what looks to be barely any gentlemen. All the ladies will be constantly surveying the dance floor for their next match, waiting to sink their claws into the most eligible bachelor, and you are so very …"

Your words trailed off. You pressed your lips together, with a blushing glance back at Sherlock.

He returned your gaze, waiting, his features painted with slight curiosity.

"... tall," you finished lamely.

Silence.

A heated tension gathered between you both.

After a few moments, Sherlock released a small smirk.

Clearing your throat and breaking eye contact, you continued on, "The point being, I would attract far less attention, and as you know, I have plenty of experience breaking and entering, among other things."

Sherlock stepped towards you.

"Two things. First of all, that was a one-time occurrence that will never happen again. You caught me on a very rare, off day." Still moving closer, he finally stopped, with barely any space remaining. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, drawing his eyes to the source of the sound.

"Second of all," his voice lowering into a gentle tone, "how could you ever think that you would not be the most eye-catching woman in that ballroom?"

Lifting his hand to turn your face up towards his, you could feel your stomach doing somersaults. Resting your hands on the sides of his coat, you began to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, framed with the most -

-"Even if you're not … tall, was it?" he teased, interrupting your runaway thoughts.

You huffed, glaring at him while taking a step back, causing Sherlock to drop his hand.

He immediately offered his arm. Upon taking it, you two strolled over to the front to join the moving guest line.

"So what exactly is my purpose in accompanying you this evening, if not for helping you with your case?" you questioned with a raised brow while waiting for your turn along the path.

"You are simply my date,'' he answered. You immediately opened your mouth in retort. Before you could pose another objection against him, he smoothly continued, "I don't deny your skills, but I believe your beauty will attract too much attention for you to break into the office successfully."

A smile broke out on your face at his attempt at flattery with a double compliment. He watched you closely as it slowly turned into a more sly expression.

"Well, I guess that just means I'll need a big distraction." By this time, you and Sherlock were a bit closer to the head of the line, with a few more guests waiting behind you.

In a loud voice, you suddenly gasped and stared at him in pretend shock, "Oh my goodness! I can't believe it! You're Sherlock Holmes!"

Not a second had passed and the guests ahead and behind craned their heads to get a look at the famous "Sherlock Holmes" who was attending the party.

Stunned into silence, Sherlock stared at you as you pulled out two invitations you had hidden within your dress. His mind flashed back to the heated moment you shared at the side of the building, when your hands had rested right by his coat pockets. At least he wasn't wrong about your skills, he thought.

Murmurs began to break out amongst the guests remaining in line, staring more openly at him.

"What's the item?" you asked again. "If you tell me, I'll give you back your invitation," you offered with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

He sighed in defeat.

"It's a silver compass with a chain. Engraved on it are the letters, H E G." He held out his hand impatiently for his invitation, as people were beginning to break away from their spots in line to talk to Sherlock.

"I didn't say when I'd give it back," you laughed, moving farther away as more and more people approached him and started to surround him. "You're Sherlock Holmes, you'll get in!"

He wasn't worried, he knew everything would be fine with your level of talent and capable hands. Lately, Enola had been telling him that he needed to be better about giving up control when it came to working with others. He guessed this was as good a start as any.

Sherlock couldn't help but admire your cunning and quick thinking as he watched you hand the invitation over to the footman, shooting a quick glance and flirtatious grin back at him as you entered the ballroom scene.

Hardly listening to the people now crowding around him and attempting to introduce themselves, he returned the smile as a thought entered his mind.

He would just have to get to the compass first.

"The game is afoot, indeed."

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes one shot

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yeeterthek33per · 9 months

Text

Girls Like You (Katrina Gorry x Reader)

A/n y'all wanted part 2, so here she is 😊

Warnings: teeny mention of bad times. Little bit of mention of some violence, not much, though. Mentions of mental health. Some mention of illness.

Also, buckle in, guys. She's a long one.

Part one

Katrina was sure she'd left her favourite shirt on the top shelf. That way, it was away from grabby hands and accidental spillages. Of course, now that she actually needed it, it was missing.

Harper's sat on the bed, playing with an electronic drawing pad. (She made the mistake of giving her actual non-toxic markers one day. Never again.)

As she digs through the large pile of clothing now on the floor, there's a small knock at her bedroom door.

"Hey, Min, just me and Kyra, you need help with anything?"

She sighs softly, standing up again and walks to the door, pulling it open.

"Yeah, I can't find my favourite shirt. Have you guys seen it?"

Charlie thinks for a second.

"You mean that blue sleeveless one?"

"No, the white button-up."

Charlie frowns for a second.

"Don't you own like ten of those?"

Katrina shakes her head. "No, Harper keeps spilling things on them, and at the rate she's doing it, my washing machine can't keep up, so I'm pretty sure I'm down to one again."

She rubs at her face softly. This really wasn't helping her nerves now. Charlie sighs softly before pushing the girl to the bathroom.

"Just put on your other clothes, and get ready. I'll have a look while you finish up."

"Thanks Cha."

She waves her off and continues digging through the mess that she'd probably end up having to lock in the wardrobe and clean up when she got back.

She puts on a pair of blue denim shorts and a simple tank top, so she's not wearing nothing when she steps out.

Twenty minutes of makeup, and another twenty for hair, later, and she walks out of the bathroom.

She can see Charlie sitting on the bed beside Harper, chatting with the small girl, keeping her occupied while she draws as well.

"Oh wow, is that a soccer ball?"

The girl eagerly nods her head.

"That's so coool. I love it. Who'd you draw it for?"

"Mummy! Soccer makes her happy, I made it for her."

Katrina's heart just melts that little bit more. Charlie turns to Katrina with the same expression, hand over her chest.

"Any luck?"

"Yup, it was on the top shelf in the corner still."

She rolls her eyes, and Charlie tosses the shirt to her.

"Of course it was."

She puts the flowy white shirt on and checks her reflection, huffing slightly.

"Nerves?" She hears from behind her.

Charlie's watching her with a small smile.

"Little bit. Nothing I don't normally deal with. In theory, this should be the easiest thing I've done all week."

The blonde only leans her head into her palm. She knows that's not really the case.

"Buuuut?" She prompts gently.

"But.. ugh, I don't know. She makes me a little nervous, is all."

"A little? Min', you've been jittery all week. What's making you so nervous? She obviously has the hots for you, and she set this date up, despite the fact you asked her out, so she obviously wants to go out."

"I know, but like, what if I end up being a disappointing date or something?"

Charlie gives her a pointed look.

"You're kidding, right? Min', I love you and care about you, and I'm gonna say this in the nicest way possible while your child is currently crawling all over me." Harper grins up at the defender.

"You are the nicest, sweetest, protective, and most caring person and a brilliant mother and one heck of a footy player. If you're disappointing to her, she's losing out on a world of love that she won't ever find elsewhere."

Katrina looks down, fighting a small flush creeping up her neck.

"Okay, but what if the fact that I have a child scares her off?"

"Are you serious? You better not be."

Katrina only blushes more at that. Charlie sighs softly.

"Min', aside from the circumstances you both met in and the fact she met your child before meeting you. She said yes to a date, knowing full well you had a kid. In fact, she messaged you just yesterday, asking if the date went well enough, Could you both spend your second date doing something with Harper. It's been four days, and she already loves this little human being. And I certainly don't blame her."

She trails off, giving Harper a big kiss on the cheek, making the girl giggle.

"Yeah, okay, I get your point." A smile makes its way onto her lips at the sight.

"You better. I'm serious Min', you're too good for her not to know what she'd be missing."

She gives her a grateful smile.

The older woman sits back on the bed, and Harper jumps out of Charlie's arms and into her mother's.

"Hi!"

"Hello, little miss."

It makes her little one giggle again, and she hugs her tight, Harper is very much happy to do the same. She's so grateful to have her. She's been light in her life for the two years since she'd been born.

A ping on her phone pulls her back to reality. It's from you.

"Hey! I'm on my way, be about twenty minutes or so? Say hi to Harps for me.😊"

There's a tingle that runs through her when she reads the message.

Charlie just gives her the I-told-you-so look.

Katrina gives her a small shove and texts you back.

"Hey, all good 😊See you soon 😉. Also, will do!"

-------

"I'm still nervous, Ash, It's my first date in like four months. What if I fuck it?"

"Dude, just don't fuck HER on the first date and it's fine."

Your sister's voice plays over the speaker in your car. You'd called her the moment you left the house, nerves grating you down a bit.

You roll your eyes at her.

"Yeah, there's no chance of that happening on the first date. You forget she's got a kid that she still has to go home to. Plus, she doesn't seem like the type to have sex on the first date and take off."

"She doesn't have to stay the night for you both to-."

"Alright! Jesus, I get the point. But still, she seemed genuinely nervous about asking me out."

"Wait, so why are you arranging the date then?"

"I don't know? I messaged first, she was happy to let me take the lead on that one, I'm assuming she's just a little busy, that's why I jumped in. Figured it would be nice for someone to take her out."

She pauses for a second.

"You said she's a professional football player?"

"Yeah why?"

"What's her name again?"

"Ashley, I'm not letting you stalk her, you already scared my last date off, I'm not letting you scare this one off too."

She gets defensive.

"I was not going to stalk her, I was just curious where she plays is all."

"Uhuh, right. Thats exactly what you were looking for."

"You want my help or not?"

"Not if you're gonna internet stalk the poor woman."

"I'm just making sure she's genuine and not some serial killer."

"Oh my fucking god, Goodbye Ashley."

"I was just looki-."

You hit the hang up button. You were just about to pull up at Katrina's place anyway.

You pull over on the side of the road and quickly check yourself in the mirror.

You went with a rolled up white rolled see-through button up tucked into a pair of black jeans and a black bra underneath. That and a pair of your lucky white skate shoes.

You try and steel your nerves a bit, wiping your palms on your pants and spray a quick bit of mint breath freshener in your mouth.

You get out of the car and make your way to the door and hit the door bell.

----------

"Ooh, shes heerrreee." Charlie takes off down the stairs.

"Charlotte Layne Grant! Do not answer that door!"

By the time she tells Kyra to watch Harper and runs down the stairs she's already got the door open.

"Hey, Y/n! She's just coming down now. Now, no funny business, we want her home by no later than ten and- Hey!"

She gets shoved away from the door by a very annoyed looking Katrina.

You watch on, biting your lower lip to hide a laugh, flowers in hand.

You hear her scold the blonde mildly and then she returns to the door a little flustered.

Her hair is down straight but tucked back just over shoulders. The white flowy shirt, rolled back to just below her elbows, shows off her wrist tattoos and her collarbone. Your eyes trail over it before meeting her eye again with a small grin noticing her having done the same.

"Hey, you."

"Hi." She says it with a grin of her own.

You offer her the flowers, and she pulls you towards her into a hug. Your arms wrap around her, keeping the flowers from being crushed. She's only a little bit shorter than you, so you're able to rest your chin on her shoulder as her arms wrap around you.

It's a short embrace, but she leaves a lingering touch to your waist as she lets go looking up at you.

She takes them inside for a second while you wait and returns swiftly.

You step back, holding out your hand for her's.

"Ready?"

She takes it, her hand warm in yours.

"As ever."

As you both walk down the drive and you open the passenger side door for her to step in, she gives you a grateful smile and a small peck to the cheek. You hear one final yell from behind you.

It's Charlie at the door, sporting a glare. "Home by ten." And gives you an I'm-watching-you gesture. You chuckle and salute at the blonde while Katrina yells back.

"You better be watching my daughter, Charlotte Layne."

Charlie's eyes widen slightly, and the front door slams shut behind her when she takes off inside again.

You close the door once she's settled and return to the driver's seat.

"Alrighty, Clicked in? Let's go."

As you pull away, she watches you carefully, waiting for an explanation as to where you guys are headed.

You hum softly. "So, I wasn't sure entirely as to your preferences, so I've got a few places we're going to, if you agree that is, we don't have to go if-"

Her hand rests on yours, your arm having been leant on the centre console.

"I'll go where you've picked for us. Im not fussed, I'm just here with you."

You smile and nod, her fingers intertwining with yours for the rest of the ride. When you pull up in a spot beside a blank modern style building, there's a little confused look on her face that's adorable.

"C'mon, you'll see once we get inside."

You nod your head towards the place. Katrina raises a brow slightly but decides to trust you as you both step inside.

It suddenly makes sense to her as you both step into a crowded bar.

It's an open mic night. In a gay bar.

It's somewhere you're a regular at, to the point where the bartender, Aiden, yells out to you the moment you both step in the door.

"Ayyy, look who's here, ladies, theydies and gents!"

There's a few cheers around the bar as some of the locals spot you. The bar isn't packed, there's only maybe forty or so people in the room, but there's a stage and a mic setup where the current half tipsy singer has stopped to cheer as you come in as well.

Your face flushes as you turn back to Katrina, a really curious look on her face now. "I'm a bit of a regular... for the karaoke, that is." You rub the back of your neck.

"Well then, miss singer, sign me up, let's see what you've got."

You smile and lead her over to the bar.

"Ms L/n, the usual?"

You shake your head at Aiden.

"Virgin tonight, and another entry for, oh, Katrina, this is my best man, Aiden. He's the one who built this bar from the ground up."

He shakes his head as he fills a glass with some lime juice, sprite, mint, and a little soda water.

"Not on my own. Your girl here runs the place when I'm not in town."

Katrina raises her brows at that. You just smile sheepishly. It certainly explained why you were a regular then.

"Okay, I may have lied a little bit about only coming for the karaoke. But it definitely is a highlight, I swear."

She just gives you an amused look.

"What about you, love, anything to drink?"

"Just a soda water, thank you." He nods and pours her drink. He processes the drinks, but when you go to tap your card, his hand jumps in ahead of yours with another.

"Little bugger, you're gonna get me in trouble, man. Paying for my drinks."

"Who said I was paying for yours?"

He playfully winks at Katrina beside you, and you tut and whack him softly, knowing he's joking with you.

"Don't mind him. He can't keep a husband, so he steals my dates instead."

He puts his hand to his chest, giving you a mock offended look.

"How dare you? I'll have you know, it's husbands, not husband."

You stick your tongue out at him. "Too bad none of them could teach you to finance either."

He raises his hands in surrender, with a small laugh. "Got me there. What's getting added to the queue tonight ladies?"

You look at Katrina, but she just gestures for you to take your pick.

"You're the karaoke expert."

You raise your brow but take the tablet from Aiden. Putting in an intrumental that you know well enough and she'll probably know.

"Up for some gender bent Maroon 5?"

Katrina nods and you both grab your drinks.

You take a seat at one of the open tables.

As you both wait for the queue to progress, you talk about what led you to take over part ownership and what Katrina's life is like playing professionally.

"Honestly, he was desperate for someone to babysit the bar at the time. He knew me from back in Uni, knew I'd graduated with some certs in business management, finance, and accounting. So he calls me up and asks me to take over for a few weeks. I kind of latched onto the place after that, and now I do his yearly taxes for him in exchange for a few free drinks and a lifetime entry to the karaoke. What about you, what's the league like?"

"It gets kind of busy during the season, particularly during the summer months. I get asked to play in other spots, and it gets complicated. I play for the Brisbane Roar currently, so media duty is something I get asked to do regularly."

You raise a brow at that. You knew she played professionally, but to what level? You had no idea.

"That's really cool, and that's November through April, right?"

She nods.

"I was in Sweden for a bit with Harper, but I wanted to come home again. At least for a while."

You nod in understanding.

"I was actually in Sweden for about six months doing international work for a company I used to work for."

She tilts her head slightly.

"Really, when was that?"

She takes a drink.

"I came back about a year ago, so June through November."

"Was it meant to be that long?"

"No, it was supposed to be a permanent move, but I got homesick too quickly, didn't know anyone, and I was living on my own for five out of six months."

"So you told them to bring you back?"

"Ha, no, I just quit. They refused, so I left and never turned back. They were underpaying me anyway, I don't regret it whatsoever. Life is less stressful when you work for yourself."

"So what do you do now?"

"Well, when I'm not here doing Aiden's paperwork, I work as a freelance financial advisor/accountant, it pays decent but the residential market in Brisbane is kind of crap, so I live with my sister and her wife in the meantime, do you do anything between seasons?"

She kind of hesitates for a moment, but as she goes to speak, next in the queue is called up.

"That's us." You take a long sip of your drink and hold out your hand for Katrina to take.

She looks a little nervous, now suddenly overcome with a little stage fright.

"C'mon, these guys aren't scary, just drunk and happy to listen to us sing gay shit all night."

She puffs out her cheeks and takes your hand.

You lead her ip the stage and the small audience in the room cheers.

You take the mic for a second.

"Evening everybody, another night in for me. Bringing you Girls Like you by Maroon 5, covered by yours truly, aand."

You gesture to your date.

"Katrina, my new partner in crime."

You nod at Aiden to hit play.

It's a soft piano based melody compared to the usual guitar intro she's used to, but she knows the song.

Spent 24 hours

I need more hours with you

You spent the weekend

Getting even, ooh ooh

You start out singing, hoping to calm the girl's nerves and let her get used to the atmosphere as well.

She's pleasantly surprised by your singing voice, although given the cheers you got, she'd suspected you weren't exactly terrible either at that point.

We spent the late nights

Making things right, between us

But now it's all good, babe

Roll that Backwood babe

And play me close

You gesture the mic to her, grabbing her hand to pull her closer to you and nudge her to sing with you.

'Cause girls like you

Run around with gals like me

'Til sundown, when I come through

I need a girl like you, yeah, yeah

You grin when she sings into the mic with you. She's pretty good, actually. It shouldn't surprise you, though. The smoothness in her voice makes your heart jump a little.

Girls like you

Love fun, yeah me too

What I want when I come through

I need a girl like you, yeah, yeah

You start to sway a little, and her hand squeezes yours as you meet her gaze. You use the moment to watch her sing. Her blue eyes are sparkling under the orange-yellow lights. Her eyes crinkle slightly, and her nose scrunches when the guys in the audience cheer and whistle.

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah yeah yeah

I need a girl like you, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I need a girl like you

She blushes when the crowd cheers louder and lets you take over again.

I spent last night

On the last flight to you

Took a whole day up

Trying to get way up, ooh ooh

The mic stays in your hand this time, and Katrina steps back a little to watch you sing. The way you smile brightly while singing, the way your eyes close as you let the music take over you, it has her heart racing a little.

We spent the daylight

Trying to make things right between us

And now it's all good babe

Roll that Backwood babe

And play me close

You motion her back over and she bites her lip, hiding a smile as she shakes her head, wanting to hear you sing instead. You raise a brow as you continue, stepping and grabbing her hand to pull her back towards you.

'Cause girls like you

Run around with gals like me

'Til sundown, when I come through

I need a girl like you, yeah yeah

You brush your shoulder with hers, your other hand settling on her back and you feel hers settle low on your hip, you turn and give her a wink as you continue.

Girls like you

Love fun, yeah me too

What I want when I come through

I need a girl like you, yeah yeah

Your hand is warm on her back, and she can smell your vanilla perfume from her position beside you as it floods her senses. Your voice is soothing, calming her more energetic side and allows her to relax into you as she sings with you.

Yeah yeah yeah

I need a girl like you, yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah

I need a girl like you

The song rounds out and the audience applauds you both, whooping and clapping and you take a playful bow and turn to Katrina to applaud her as well, giving her a proud smile.

You both step down off the stage, a little hot from the heat of the lamps facing the stage.

"So we gonna talk about the athletically talented mother soccer player being able to sing?"

She coughs slightly and turns her head away. "Nope."

You try to meet her eye again, a small pout on your lips.

"No? Aw c'mon, you were so good up there."

Her face flushes as her head whips back to you.

"Says you. When was that gonna come out? Professional singing level talent."

You end up with a blush matching hers.

"I.. never really pursued it. Not worth it in my opinion."

A raised brow in your direction.

"What? Just not something I was interested in pursuing. Was never stable enough for people so.."

Her face softens, realizing exactly what you meant there.

When her hand grabs a hold of yours again, there's a small tingle that runs up your arm.

Instead of commenting further though, you nod your head at the door.

"You hungry?"

She knows you're avoiding it but she's not going to push, not on a first date. She could actually eat though, she hadn't had food since that morning, a little too stressed about the date and also making sure there no possible way for Charlie and Kyra to screw up looking after Harper again.

"Yes, who knew singing worked up an appetite?" It's said in a joking tone, and you laugh with her as you wave goodbye to Aiden and some of the others.

The moment you step outside, the warm afternoon air has set in with a light breeze. You jog over to the door when you get closer to the car again, opening it for her with a cute bow that makes her laugh. God, you could listen to that all day.

"Such a gentlewoman."

You grin and wink at her, before moving to get in yourself.

"Alright, where to next?"

"How's seafood sound?"

Katrina's face lights up.

"And you just became my favourite person. Seafood sounds perfect, lead the way."

Your laugh gives her butterflies and she swears her heart stutters for a second.

"Yes Ma'am."

And with that, you drive for about twenty-five minutes to a place closer to the water. A little restaurant you'd picked up on while out with your sister.

Katrina's hand is in yours the second you pull out onto the road, her fingers interlocking yours. You graze your thumb gently over the back of her hand. You talk about her early days as a player, her days in the academy and you almost get into her being asked to play somewhere when you pull into a spot.

The restaurant is a quaint little spot, beach themed, because of course it is, and a bar stands on the outside facing the water. Stools line the counter and the waft of cooked fish blows your way in the ocean breeze.

"This place is so good. I come out here when I need to process and just get away, even if it's not too far from home."

"Smells good too."

You wander up to the bar and take a seat behind one of the extended counters meant for two people with the bar window to your right and Katrina sits on the other side.

You order from the employee through the window and get your food without issue.

The woman's soft groan from her first bite makes this worth it.

You chuckle. "Good, right?" She covers her mouth slightly, cheeks reddening as she nods.

She swallows. "Seriously, where the heck do you find these places?"

You shrug, "Honestly, I have no idea, I like to think luck has something to do with it."

"Luck?"

"If, and this is gonna sound bad, I don't really do it so much anymore, but, if I'm having a rough day or I'm feeling lost or just, I need a breather, I tend to wander out into the world for a few hours. Furthest I've gone is like, four hours further inland. Exploring has always been my mental stabiliser. Keeps me cool, keeps me calm when I'm stressed. I don't crave it, and I don't expect it when it does happen but it just kind of happens."

"Where's the worst you've ended up?"

"Well, there's been a few and honestly in my younger years I was kind of stupid too, so I've ended up where I really shouldn't. I was down in Melbourne for four months when I was twenty. In the last month I was there, I ended up wondering somewhere on foot. Keep in mind, it was just a crap way to go about it."

You kind of look off into the waves as they crash.

"But, I ended up being fired that day by a contracting company, they decided they didn't like the fact I was so young and that I wanted more for my qualifications than 10 bucks an hour. So I just left my apartment. Ended up with a missing wallet and a black eye. Turns out my dumb ass had walked where it shouldn't have and pissed off some gang members. After that one, I moved back home again to just focus on my studies."

"I'm sorry that happened. What about the best place you've been?"

You wave her off.

"Honestly, I'm past that. That's nothing. I'm lucky, but it was definitely my dumb ass that got caught out. As for the best place? I mean, Aidan's place. We met while in Uni and I stumbled into the bar one night after a rough day about two years later. He picked me back up and we became buddies after that."

"Alright, what place surprised you the most?"

"The four hour one, I wasn't expecting to find much. I found something, though. I ended up going on a hike and found this amazing lake that just went down forever. Massive open mouth cave and a waterfall. It just looked so untouched and peaceful. It was so green and colourful and it just makes everything in the city feel so grey."

You push around your food. Take another bite and then gesture to Katrina.

"What about you? Before you had Harper, what was going on then?"

"Depends, which part?"

"Why have Harper?"

"I've always loved the idea of having kids. At first, I kind of wanted to wait until I found someone to have a child with, but in my profession, that just doesn't come easy enough. I ended up out injured and right before I came back. That was the moment where I was like, 'Screw it, with or without a partner, I want my own child.' So I walked into an IVF Clinic in Norway, picked the donor I wanted, and started right away. My timing was perfect, and the first try was a success, and now I have little Harps. There isn't a single day in my life where I ever regretted my decision."

Your hand slides across the table as she talks, her's sat unoccupied, and as you listen, you slowly grab it. Letting it sit in your palm and without much thought, she let's you.

You toy with her fingers, running the tip of your index down each one. And then half intertwine them. She squeezes your hands closed, and it settles you fully for the first time since you moved to Sweden and back. Or before that even.

"She's been a light in my life, I feel so lucky to be her mother, ya know, it's Harper's world, and I'm just living in it. The girls on the national team are so good with her."

Your head perks up at that. National team? You ask exactly that.

"National team?"

Katrina's expression winces, realizing her slip up.

"Oh yeah, that too. I've been playing with the national team since I got called up in 2012."

Your brows raise at that.

"As in..."

"Australia. For Australia."

Oh. That. Was. Not what you expected.

"Wow, that's really big. Congratulations..? Sorry, that sounded weird. That's amazing, though. I can't imagine how much hard work that is. I mean, for real, a kid right in the middle of that, and you come back to play. That must be some strength you've got."

Her head ducks slightly.

"Honestly, I'm just glad it worked out the way it has. Harper has twenty aunts and two unofficial sisters that look at her like she's hung the stars. That and achieving my dream is all I care about. Harper, more so. I think, if having Harper had taken me out. I would've okay with that. I'm perfectly happy with it, actually. If anything, having Harper actually saved me a bit, too."

"How so?"

"I ended up with an infection, and it ended up swelling up the muscles between my two pelvic points. The pregnancy actually completely took out the swelling entirely. The pain just stopped one day and never came back. Even after Harper was born."

"I really admire the level of resilience you have. To push back on any expectation, to say fuck it, if that's what you want, you'll make it happen. It's actually really attractive. I'm sorry you had to go through so much though."

She shaked her head, squeezing your hand.

"I wouldn't go back and change a thing about how it happened. It's turned me into the person and player I am. I don't regret any of it."

You smile, watching her eyes as they flick down to your lips for a second and then away. You don't know if she noticed she did it, but you did.

Your hand loosens from her grip, fingertips tracing her wrist up to the tattoo on her forearm and then back down to her palm. Her skin tingles with every touch.

It feels mildly intimate, and you realise she's been silent this whole time, watching you do this. You look up to meet her gaze, a small apologetic smile.

"Sorry, little distracted, I am listening though. Continue?"

She just gives you a soft smile in return.

"What about where you grew up?"

You ponder for a moment.

"I grew up in a small town in New South Wales, actually. We moved to Brissy later, but that's another story. A place like a couple hours south of Sydney. It's really gorgeous there, I haven't been since I was a teenager but the place was really nice. Most of the folks living there were friendly. The schools were kind of crap but that's just the public system. We had a place in the more urban side of the region. Small brick house, big gum tree in front. Good sized backyard. The town had yearly markets. They were okay. Mostly to bring in tourists, though. It worked, and the place ended up really busy right before we left. I loved it when storm season came around. The rain was always a relief to have after hot summers. I love thunderstorms. The rain always helps me sleep better, too. Just anything rain, honestly."

While you speak, she repeats your earlier actions, fingers trailing gently over the veins in your wrist or the slenderness of your fingers. They trace the once obvious scars left there. They're subtle, but they're there. Years of healing over the top of what she assumed was a particularly dark time for you. Your hands are soft but are mildly scarred in their own right. A small scar above your wrist. A big one across the back towards your thumb.

"The town was a part of a bigger community region. The next town over was known for the museum there for one of the more famous sports folk of Australian history. There was the cricket oval in town, too. Just an average joe half rural town to live in honestly."

Her fingers continue their path around your hand, tracing the creaselines in your palm and the callus that sits just on the inside of your left pinky.

"What about your home life? What are your parents like?"

"My parents were... okay. Not great to be real with you. Hence why I'm staying with my sister rather than my parents. Kicked me out at seventeen and haven't looked me in the eye since."

She feels a small amount of anger flare up in her chest.

"Why would they do that?"

"Same cliché as any. Found out I was into girls over guys. Tried to have me cured. My sister had already moved out when this was going on. She knew they were strictly homophobic and took off the first second she could. I don't blame her for that. When they realised I wouldn't conform to their bullshit, I was kicked out. To experience the cruel harsh world, they said. The assholes just realised their children wouldn't give them biological and 'natural' grandchildren."

You roll your eyes as you remember the disgust and disappointment in your birth-giver's eyes.

"What the hell kind of parents do that to their own child? The one they're supposed to love and protect. And care for. And-"

Your hand squeezes hers, and you push the now empty plates aside to grab it with the other.

"Hey, I'm okay. Im fine. I dont miss them, and they'll never get the chance to miss who I am. They'll never get to hear about who I meet or who I'm with. I'm dead to them for all I care."

Katrina takes a small breath and uses your grasp on her hand to calm a bit before shooting you an apologetic look.

It's the first date, dude. Chill pill. So she tells herself.

Your heart swells at her protectiveness. She really was born to be a good mother.

"I hope they never get to see this side of you. Or who you are and who you'll be in five or ten years."

You blush lightly.

"Thank you." It's a soft murmur, and you duck your head slightly.

She smiles softly, and her thumb rubs at your hand.

You gesture to the worker and hand back your plates, and move to the register to pay.

There's some bickering, but after a sneaky slip of the card to the worker, you end up paying for it. Though that does earn you a soft shove and a whine when she hears the eftpos machine beep.

You chuckle softly.

"We better get going. I've got one more place for us to go, and I want to be there before complete sundown." You say lightly joking.

"Well, come on then!" She jogs ahead with a grin on her face, dragging you with her.

You play your routine part of valet and it earns you a tip, consisting of a kiss to the cheek that's far too close to the corner of your mouth and it makes you freeze for a second. She just chuckles, and you shake your head lightly and shut the door.

"It's about a half hour there, so feel free to pirate the aux cord."

You dig it out of the console and offer it to her.

"Aye aye, captain." She gives you a wink while she plugs in her phone.

You hear a familiar tune, and you immediately shoot her an impressed look.

"You, Ma'am, have amazing taste."

She smirks and nods as she starts singing along to the lyrics.

The drive passes by quickly with both of you yelling to various songs.

There's a small beach cove that opens up to a really nice view of the ocean. And it allows the sun to come down on the majorly clear water with a nice sparkle, too. You'd only come across it about a month ago, but it was a regular spot for you.

There was something else you'd wanted to do for a bit of fun, but it seems stupid now, considering her profession.

When you pull in to the driveway leading up to the spot, she gives you a funny look.

The driveway is completely surrounded by shrubbery, so it doesn't really surprise you.

She makes a joke, "Is this where I'm supposed to find out you're secretly a serial killer?"

You roll your eyes good naturedly and give her a slight push as you get out. She jumps out with you, and you both make your way up the path.

The dirt path turns to sand, and you stop, starting to take your shoes off.

"It's only getting sandier from here, so you might wanna take your shoes off."

She nudges you softly and does the same.

"Yeah, I did have another thing for us to do, but I'm afraid you'll kick my butt if we do it."

She has a mischievous look on her face.

"It was beach soccer, wasn't it?"

You smile sheepishly and give her a slight nod.

"Oh, you're on now. Go get it."

You raise a brow at her and jog to go get the ball and some mini cones.

The sun's just starting to set as you return with the stuff and a bag slung over your shoulder that you'd forgotten to grab.

Katrina's standing there staring out at the water when you walk up again. You quietly set the stuff down on the sand and move to stand next to her.

"You find places like this all the time?"

"Sometimes, it's a hit or miss kind of thing. This one was pure luck because I hadn't even meant to come down this way. It was the next street over."

"It looks amazing out here."

"Water is pretty good too."

She raises a brow in your direction but doesn't say anything. You move to set up the cones and lay out the blanket that was in the bag you had.

The moment you start, you realise how physical playing with her is. You keep up for the most part, but at one point, she wraps her arms around your waist to try and steal the ball and you both topple over, her landing sitting on you, legs either side of your hips.

The smug grin she gives you makes your heart flutter, and you lean up on your elbows.

"You give up yet, newbie?"

You give her a mock offended expression and accept the hand up she offers when she stands.

"Surrender?" You think for a few seconds.

You stride over to her, a mischievous glint in your eye. You lean down slightly and whisper in her ear. Her head tilts slightly.

"I'll think about it." At that, you take off with the ball.

"Oi, little cheater."

You cackle and try as you might to keep the ball away. She ends up stealing it from you. Her foot sits on the ball, hands on her hips as she watches you. You're practically dying at this point, huffing. Man, you needed to hit the gym more.

"Surrender yet?"

You flop onto your back onto the sand and give her a pleading hands motion.

"I think I'm dying here."

She just shakes her head at your antics and drags the blanket over to you, leaving the ball by the cones.

You both settle on the blanket, the sun finally going down enough to enjoy the view fully.

You sit, leaning back on your hands, and she does the same beside you, legs crossed.

As your breathing calms and the late afternoon breeze sets in, the waves start to crash a little more than the tiny laps at the sand that they were.

Katrina sighs softly, taking in the feel of the open air and the salty wind and the smell of harsh greenery.

The serenity of the scene put her more at ease than she'd felt in a while. She sits up a bit and shuffles closer to you, shoulder to shoulder, and nudges you softly.

"Thanks for bringing me out tonight."

You smile, "Thank you for agreeing to come out with me."

"I feel like I should be saying that."

"Maybe, but I'm the one that planned."

"I still asked first." You poke your tongue out at her cheekily, and she just laughs.

"Goof."

You clutch at invisible pearls.

"So mean."

"Oh, I'm sorry." There's a jested look on her face, and she moves to straddle you. Her hands settle on your shoulders, and yours find her hips.

You playfully huff with a half smile.

"Better be."

Her eyes flicker down to your lips, gaze darkening as the air around you shifts, your brow raised slightly when she meets your gaze again. You let out a shaky breath as her hand slides up to cup your cheek.

"Kiss me?" It's mumbled, but she still hears it.

Your lips are parted slightly.

"Don't even have to ask."

She leans down and captures your mouth with her own, and your eyes drift shut. The noise around you drifts away as your lips move together.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging you closer to her, deepening the kiss slightly. One of your hands slips up to settle in the small of her back, holding her against you.

She pulls away from you with a playful nip to your bottom lip. You steal one more kiss, and her hands settle back on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back.

You raise a brow at the spark in her gaze, and she kisses you again, hands settled beside your head.

You stay there for a while. Until you're both breathless and have to come up for air.

Your pupils are dilated, and her hair is slightly mussed from you, having had your hands in it just seconds earlier. Her fingers are tracing at the hem of your shirt, just barely having dipped under the fabric to feel the skin beneath.

Her hands are cold, but they leave heated sensations where they travel along your stomach. It sends shivers down your spine, and you have to resist moving your hands where they probably shouldn't go. Not here or now, not yet.

She has the same thought and has to pull her hands back slightly, going back to settle beside your head.

Her teeth nip at your lower lip again. And you groan softly, going to kiss her again, only for her to pull away slightly, an amused look on her face.

"We're both gonna get in trouble if we stay out here any longer." You look around, noting the sun's gone down fully now, and the sky has cleared to stars, twinkling brightly.

"I forgot, we're both on curfew here."

She slaps your shoulder, a cute pout forming on her face. You kiss it away, and she groans, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket, and she pulls away again.

"Seriously, those two will kill me if I don't get home before ten. They hate being left alone with each other for too long, I have to play referee to keep them from fighting after a while. They love each other, but they get along about as well as sisters do. Plus, Harper is most likely loaded up on ten tonnes of sugar, so I'll be putting her to bed after that, too."

You chuckle, nodding in understanding.

"Mine's gonna report me missing if I don't get home soon too."

Katrina reluctantly gets off you, and you both pack up the gear and walk back to the car, shoes in hand.

The drive back is pretty quiet but peaceful. There's music playing softly in the background.

Your linked hands sit in her lap for most of the drive, and you get an occasional hum out of her as you sing softly along.

You get her home at about 9:30pm, having stopped halfway back to raid an ice cream freezer in a servo and some more kissing in the carpark. Almost reminding you of your teenage years, sneaking around kissing girls in the back of your parents' jeep.

Only this one feels a lot more passionate. Permanent. There's a lot more emotion behind each brush of her lips against yours, and it leaves you aching for more. To feel her pressed into you.

"I'd let you walk me to the door, but I'm afraid Charlie might actually interrogate us both."

It's only half joking this time. Knowing by now, that was well true.

"Let you out with a kiss goodnight instead?"

Her breath is ragged. "Please?"

Katrina's feels like she's addicted to your kisses at this point. A breath of fresh air. Your touch sends tingles through every nerve ending in her body.

You get out of the car, and when you open the door, she hops out and grabs you by the shirt, pulling you down into her, and smashes her lips on yours.

You steady the both of you, one arm leaning against the door frame, the other around her waist while her fingers tangle in your hair.

You finally pull away, leaving one last peck to her lips and a dazed look on both of you.

"Message me when you get home safe?"

"Of course."

She smiles and slowly steps away from you, hands slipping off your shoulders with a lingering squeeze.

"Good night, hot stuff."

"Good night, sleep well gorgeous. Give Harps a hug for me."

She nods and turns back to the house. The door slamming open makes her jump.

"Excuse me, young lady, you're one minute past ten 'o' clock. Why are you late?"

Her face flushes red, and she groans.

"Charlie, I swear to god."

The blonde just shakes her fist at you, still leaning against your car as you watch her go inside. A small smirk appears on your face as you wave to both of them and get back in, driving off.

Katrina brushes past the girl, and she calls out after her.

"You're so grounded"

She rolls her eyes, and as she goes upstairs to find Kyra and Harper, she can't drop the giddy grin on her face as she bids Kyra good night and puts Harper to bed.

Hot stuff❤️🥵

"Hey, made it home, alright. Sister might kill me though 😳😅😂"

Katrina 🔥❤️

"Yeah?"

Hot stuff ❤️🥵

"Yeah, turns out she did some digging while I was out... I forget she's a soccer nut sometimes, annnd... well, you can probably guess. 👀"

Katrina 🔥❤️

"Tell her I'm happy to sign anything she wants as long as she leaves you alive. You're not getting away from me just yet."

Hot stuff ❤️🥵

"I'll arrange something, I like being alive."

Katrina 🔥❤️

"I like you being alive, too."

Hot stuff ❤️🥵

"I like you 👀"

Katrina 🔥❤️

"You better, I don't kiss just anyone on the first date."

Hot stuff ❤️🥵

"Does that mean I get a second one?"

Katrina 🔥❤️

"😉 Ask me"

Hot stuff ❤️🥵

"Aboslutely beautiful, gorgeous, sweet Katrina, go on a date with me?"

Katrina 🔥❤️

"🤔"

Katrina 🔥❤️

"No"

Hot stuff ❤️🥵

":("

Katrina 🔥❤️

"I'm kidding you dork, of course I will. Call me tomorrow too and I'll plan this time?"

Hot stuff ❤️🥵

"Will do 🥰"

Hot stuff ❤️🥵

"Sleep tight, gorgeous 😘"

Katrina 🔥❤️

"You too 😘🥰"

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

#katrina gorry imagines #katrina gorry imagine #katrina gorry x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #Spotify

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temptingfatetakingnames · 10 months

Text

The Last Steve Harrington Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Dinner had been a truly harrowing experience that Steve never wanted to repeat. He would rather fight a horde of Demobats than sit at that table as they all tried to act normal and light and happy. He wanted to scream in their faces or bang his fists on the table – anything to get a real reaction out of them. He was also becoming increasingly terrified of Joyce and her seemingly unconscious need to offer comforting touches to everyone. Get up for a napkin? Pat Eleven on the head. Oh, forgot to get the milk? Rubbed Will’s shoulders on her way to the fridge. The third time she got up, Steve had to grip the table to keep from running. She hesitated for a moment beside him but didn’t reach out, probably because she could see the tension in his posture. He only relaxed when she sat back down again.

Hopper was quiet, but the kids and Joyce kept up a constant stream of conversation, only occasionally trying to draw him in. They failed; he was too on edge to even attempt to speak. The food tasted like ash in his mouth and he excused himself before finishing, doctor’s orders on calorie intake be damned. The silence at the table as he left was deafening. He sat down on the bed in his room and wondered how the hell he was going to do this. He wanted to sink into the floorboards and pretend he didn’t exist. He wanted to run.

Not yet.

He grabbed his backpack from under the bed and counted his canned goods and went over his supplies. The steak knife he had slipped into his sock at dinner when no one was looking was added to the pile. He had plenty of food and could refill his canteen easily, but he needed money.

A knock on the door sounded loud in the quiet of the room. Steve shoved everything in the backpack and put it under the bed before he called, “come in.”

Joyce opened the door, carrying a steaming mug in one hand.

“Tea,” she said as she walked over. “With lots of milk and sugar.”

She set it on the table before sitting down beside him. Steve couldn’t help but bristle at her presence.

“I wanted to ask how you were doing?”

Steve blinked at her. In terms of how he was doing physically, he couldn’t deny that he was better. In terms of how he was doing mentally? He had no idea how to answer that. His thoughts were a messy tangle of grief, anger, guilt, and shame. He thought his feelings on surviving were bad before, but that was nothing to what he felt now – now that he knew what he had done.

He went with the easiest answer, “better.”

It was both the truth and complete and utter horseshit.

“You don’t have to be alright, Steve. I’m going to keep talking to you and asking you questions because I want to get to know you, but you don’t have to answer. I know that you don’t know how to talk to us, and you’re overwhelmed. I guess I just hope that if I keep talking to you like normal, eventually it will be normal. Hopper thinks I should back right off and leave you alone but I think if given the choice, you’ll isolate yourself. So, I’m going to talk and you don’t have to listen and I’m going to ask questions and you don’t have to answer. Is that okay?”

She was right that he would isolate himself if he could. He really didn’t want to talk to any of them. Steve appreciated her explaining her thought process, though. It helped to make sense of why she kept trying to engage with him when he rarely responded back.

He nodded in answer.

There was something he could ask for that would ease his mind more than knowing he didn’t have to talk to her if he didn’t want to. He figured she would want to know if she was serious about making him comfortable.

“Don’t touch me,” he said and after a brief pause added, “please.”

“Of course, Steve.” She held his gaze, projecting sincerity. He remembered his Joyce always being frazzled and stressed… but she had been looking for her lost son and even after she had found him, Will wasn’t okay. This Joyce was calm and… motherly. “I won’t touch you.”

He nodded again and she got up to leave.

“Drink your tea. The green toothbrush in the bathroom is yours when you’re ready for bed and there’s lots of towels if you want to have a shower in the morning. Good night, Steve.”

She left the door open when she left, which didn’t bother him as much as it probably would have before their conversation. He drank the tea, enjoying the feeling of the warm beverage in his hands, and started re-reading The Hobbit for the thousandth time. The evening passed slowly into night. Steve stayed in his room, enjoying the quiet. He was still reading when Will and Eleven stopped in his open doorway.

“Good night, Steve,” they chorused together.

“Night,” he replied and they scampered away.

It took awhile longer for Joyce and Hopper to settle into bed and even longer before he felt sure that everyone was sleeping deeply. He waited in the hallway and listened patiently for any signs of wakefulness or movement before he slipped downstairs and out the door. The hospital had felt like a prison and Steve needed to know he could leave if he wanted to. Needed to take back the autonomy he had lost when he had walked through that portal.

He didn’t see anyone, no people or cars, as he made his way down the street and it reminded him so viscerally of his Hawkins that he shivered. He exited the suburb and turned onto Main Street. Passing the theatre, he saw that there were new releases for movies called Predator and Spaceballs, reminding him that time had passed here. That life had moved forward. He had a year to catch up on… along with everything else. Continuing on his way, he passed the middle school and high school and arrived at the playground. Steve sat on the swing set and looked up at the sky.

It was a clear night and the stars shone brightly. He wished he had paid more attention in school so he could know if they were the same ones from his universe. This Hawkins didn’t seem any different from his, so he figured the stars were probably the same too. Steve wondered again what the hell had made him so different? What had affected him or changed him to make him so catastrophically different from all the other Steves? What was wrong with him?

He didn’t have any answers.

The summer heat had gone with the sun, and a cool wind played with his hair. It was beautiful and quiet and he could almost pretend that he was the only person in the universe. That the past week hadn’t happened and he was still blissfully unaware of parallel universes and he only had his own failure to be guilty of. He sat there for hours. Sometimes swinging, kicking until he was as high as he could go, feet pointing at the sky before falling back down to Earth. Sometimes just sitting calmly and looking up at the sky and listening to the crickets sing. When he could see the sky start to lighten off in the distance he made his way back to the Hopper-Byers’ house.

Hopper was in the kitchen when Steve walked in the door. Standing in front of the coffee maker and waiting for it to finish dripping. He expected him to yell, shout, ask where he had been all night. Instead, Hopper silently grabbed another mug out of the cupboard above him and set it down next to the one already on the counter. When the coffee was done, he poured two steaming mugs and handed one to Steve.

“Milk or sugar?” he inquired.

Steve shook his head and Hopper nodded before jerking his head to the front door. Steve followed him out and they sat together on the porch swing. Hopper didn’t speak again and Steve sipped his coffee and watched the sun finish rising on a new day.

---

Time passed slowly for Steve over the weekend. He mostly stayed in his room, reading or sleeping. He emerged for mealtimes, which didn’t cause him as much stress now that he and Joyce had an understanding. She would sometimes ask him easy yes or no questions that he could nod or shake his to and the kids told him about their summertime days - biking and swimming and visiting the arcade with the others.

When dinner was over, he went to go back to his room but was stopped by Eleven and Will blocking the stairs.

“We are going to watch a movie, do you want to come?” Eleven asked.

A movie could be… nice. Easy.

“What movie?”

“Empire Strikes Back!” Will declared and Eleven glared at him.

“The Breakfast Club,” she argued back.

They turned to look at him, expecting him to choose. He wouldn’t mind watching both, he loved those movies. He wondered if they chose them because they were Other Steve’s favourites… It didn’t matter, he decided. He wanted to watch them.

“We could watch both?”

They smiled and nodded.

He followed them into the living room, where they began setting up the television and VHS player. Empire Strikes Back was put in because Will had said it first, a rule that Eleven seemed to abide by. Steve settled into the corner of the couch, Eleven beside him and Will on her other side. The iconic music started and the text was rolling down the screen when Joyce came in with drinks and popcorn. Eleven held the bowl in her lap so he and Will could both reach it. The popcorn was cooked perfectly, salted and buttery and Steve had never tasted anything so good.

They finished Empire Strikes Back and were watching The Breakfast Club when Steve started to drift in and out of consciousness. He would wake up, watch some teenage shenanigans, then his eyes would get heavy again. He tried to stay awake, but he was always so tired. Maybe the kids would watch it with him again tomorrow night?

“Code red. Over,” Dustin’s muffled, staticky voice came through the walkie-talkie on the table.

Steve jerked, instantly awake as adrenaline rushed through him. Will leapt off the couch and grabbed the walkie. He hissed into the receiver, “Dustin, you can’t keep using code red to check on Steve. Over and out!” He turned the button on the top, turning it off before tossing it on the couch.

Steve was breathing harshly and staring at it like it was a snake that was going to bite him. He closed his eyes tight. Code red. Code red meant The Upside Down. Code red meant monsters and danger and death. He couldn’t do monsters and danger and death again. It was supposed to be safe here. It was supposed to be over.

“Steve!”

He couldn’t breathe. He needed his bat or his fucking gun.

“Steve!”

His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest, and his breathing was out of his control. He clutched desperately at his neck and sweater.

“Don’t touch him. Back up,” the voice sounded far away.

What the hell was it now? Had Vecna found out about the parallel universes? Did he follow Steve through the portal? He was going to kill everyone. He was going to kill everyone again.

“You’re safe, Steve. There is no code red. Everyone is safe. There is no code red.”

He knew he was hyperventilating when a prickling sensation started in his fingers and made its way up his arms. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t watch it again. He couldn’t do it!

Please… Please… Please… Please!

“You’re safe, everyone is safe. There is no code red. Look at me, Steve.”

Hopper? What was he saying? No code red? He had heard Dustin say it over the walkie! Steve shook his head.

“It’s okay, Steve. Dustin has been radioing Will for updates, he’s used code red a few times to get a response. Nothing bad is happening, I promise.” Hopper’s voice was even and calm. So calm. Why was he so fucking calm?

Steve slowly opened his eyes. Hopper was kneeling in front of him, his large body taking up all of Steve’s frame of vision. He smiled when Steve met his eyes.

“There you are. Take a deep breath for me if you can.”

Steve tried but couldn’t do it yet. His heart was still pounding but the panic was starting to subside in the face of Hopper’s calm. He let go of his sweater and flexed his hands. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. He did it again, and again, and again.

“No code red?” Steve finally managed to ask after his breathing had settled.

Hopper shook his head. “Nothing to worry about, Steve.”

“How do you know? For sure?”

Hopper stood and grabbed the walkie from the couch where Will had tossed it and turned it back on.

He held down the button and said, “Dustin, it’s Hopper. What’s the code red?”

Silence. Steve’s panic slowly started to rise again.

“How’s Steve? Over.”

Hopper looked up and shook his head, exasperated.

“You used code red just to ask about Steve? You can pick up the phone, ya know?”

“I radioed all day but Will and Eleven never answered!” a pause and then, “over.” Dustin’s voice sounded smaller, ashamed.

Hopper sighed and pushed two of his fingers into his eyes.

Steve reached up and took the walkie out of his hand. It was the same one they used in his universe. He pushed the button and said, “roll call,” with the strongest voice he could muster.

There was silence for a moment, before their voices all started coming in.

“Dustin. Green. Over.”

“Robin. Green. Over.”

“Lucas and Erica. Green. Over.”

“Max. Green. Over.”

“Mike. Green. Over.”

The longest pause came next before a sleepy voice crackled through.

“Eddie. Green. Over.”

Instant relief. He sagged back into the couch, exhausted.

He looked up at Hopper. “Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle?”

“All out of town. We can call them if you need to hear that their okay.”

Steve shook his head. He didn’t want to bother them late at night. They were safe if they weren’t in Hawkins.

“El? Will?”

“We’re here, Steve,” Will called.

They were standing in the hallway with Joyce, both of their eyes wide and terrified. Steve swallowed down the guilt at causing that expression on their faces.

“El, Will and Steve. Green. Over and out.”

He put the walkie down, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the back of the couch. Sensing them all staring at him, he opened his eyes again. Now he was just embarrassed that he had overreacted so aggressively.

“I’m alright now. Sorry for freaking you all out.”

“Nothing for you to apologize for. It’s Dustin who’s going to be sorry,” Hopper stated with frightening certainty.

“I’ll make everyone tea,” Joyce said and left the room. Hopper followed her out. He could hear them talking quietly in the kitchen.

Steve was wide awake now, still coming down from the adrenaline rush. He wanted to run to his room and curl into a ball under the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Will and Eleven came over and sat back down on the couch, their gazes heavy as they watched him. Probably for any sign that he was going to freak out and scare them again.

“We can start the movie over if you want?” Will asked quietly.

He wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway, and the movie would be a good distraction from his thoughts. He nodded and Will went to rewind the tape before they all settled back down. Eleven sat a lot closer to him than before, and after a moment she reached out and took two of his fingers in a loose grip. Steve had never been so grateful for such a soft and grounding touch. He looked down at her tiny hand and adjusted so their fingers intertwined. She squeezed gently and he squeezed back. Joyce came in a few minutes later with a tray of steaming mugs for everyone.

Eleven and Will were fast asleep before Bender raised his fist in the air, their heads resting against each other.

Steve held the walkie in a tight grip and watched over them, the static from the television flickering in his eyes.

Part 5

@vampireinthesun @just-a-tiny-void

#steddie #stranger things #multiverse #steve harrington #steve x eddie #slow burn #angst with a happy ending

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clownrecess · 11 months

Note

Hi! My son (9) uses an AAC device at school to help him communicate and for teachers to communicate with him. Do you have any advice for parents?

I'm sorry if this isnt very organized, I'll just be listing off and talking about what I wish my parents and adults around me did when I first started using AAC.

I also apologize for the kinda sorta late response. I haven't been doing too well lately, and I also wanted to make sure I said everything in this post how I wanted to say it. Those two things combined slowed down the process a bit.

1. AAC is not a language. However, it functions a lot differently than the oral version of the language that is being used at times, and I feel like thats important to recognize. AAC grammar doesn't need to align with "typical" oral grammar or speech patterns. As long as (most) others can understand what's being communicated by the AAC user, trying to get them to add in words like "The" really isn't necessary. Of course if they want to develop more proper grammar and more language that is super cool. But a lot (of course not all!!) of AAC users I've spoken to, including myself, find it really frustrating when people try to slow down and make it harder for us to communicate by adding in extra words. If its understandable, and the user doesn't want to, it isn't necessary (I also do want to add that I personally do use proper grammar most of the time, but a good portion of the time I don't.).

2. "Encourging the user to use their device" does *not* mean ignoring them when they don't, and/or telling them to "use their words". All communication is good communication. Pointing is good. Body language is good. Drawing pictures is good. Etc. Encouraging use of an AAC device in a good way means making sure it is always available, making sure the user knows it is an option, that the user knows how to use it, and that you respect the device *FULLY*.

3. Oral speech should not be the goal unless the AAC user wants it. All communication is equally good, and favoring oral speech is ableism. If the AAC user WANTS to use oral speech, then that is super cool and then there can be a goal of developing and/or improving their oral speech. If they haven't made it clear that it's something that they personally want, don't try to force it.

4. Stickers!! This one is more silly than serious, and of course it's up to the user, but if they want to put stickers on their device, allow it. Its cute!

5. ACCESS TO VOCABULARY IS IMPORTANT. Limiting someones language to "Eat" "Drink" "Bathroom" "Mom" "Dad" "School" or similar is not okay. I've seen someone on YouTube who didn't even let their kid have a "no" button. I fully understand that not everyone is capable of using complex language, and for a lot of AAC users, only having simple words and an easier to navigate (by having less options) device is important. And that is PERFECTLY OKAY!! But what isn't okay, is assuming one is incapable of using more language than "eat" and "drink". If they can not communicate their wants and needs when they understand that, they need more buttons. If that means starting to SLOWLY add a little more, that's okay.

6. Be patient. AAC takes longer to use than oral speech does. Even if the time we are taking is frustrating, don't show that. And yes, this includes guessing out loud what we are going to say by trying to finish our sentence whilst we are still typing (unless the user has expressed this is okay with them.).

7. Make sure teachers and other people know not to take away their AAC device under any circumstances! Doing so is the equivalent to duct taping someones mouth shut or removing their vocal chords. It's scary.

That's all I could think of. If other AAC users (not parents of them, not friends, etc. ONLY AAC USERS) want to comment or reblog with more tips that would be greatly appreciated! <3

#tw ableism mention #actually autistic #neurodivergent #autism #aac user #nonspeaking autistic #nonspeaking #aac device #disabled #aac users #nonverbal #speech loss #actually nonspeaking #actually nonverbal #actually mute #level 2 autism

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split-spectrum · 8 months

Text

Four Hours

Chapter 2

(Complete)

Pairings: Din Djarin/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: explicit content, swearing, mild violence, SMUT, 18+ minors please DNI

Description: A quiet day in the repair bay goes sideways quickly when the Mandalorian next door catches you stealing his tools.

☆☆☆

It's been one hour, now.

He's standing in front of a makeshift table built of cargo containers, cleaning his weapons and glancing at you every few minutes. Four hours. Four hours is what you'd told him when he'd asked how long you'd need to wait out the poison. Time is ticking by agonizingly, and you can feel every second of it. You'd spent most of the first hour watching hyperspace streak past in the cockpit before your eyes had started to ache and you'd followed him down below, into the main cargo hold.

"Can I give you a hand?" you ask him from across the room where you're seated on a smaller cargo container. Based on the rest of his ship's inventory, you can guess the containers are either filled with weapons or ammunition. It seems to be the recurring theme.

"No." He answers quietly, then adds, "Thank you."

The silence starts up again, and you want to fight against it. It's not uncomfortable silence; it's just a blanket that seems to follow him. But you want to talk, now more than ever. You want to be occupied.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He says nothing, but it's an inviting sort of nothing.

"Why did you help me? Why are you helping me?"

He places a piece of the blaster he's currently disassembling onto the shelf. "Because you asked."

That catches you so off guard that you don't respond for a moment. "There has to be more to it than that."

He clicks the firing mechanism back into place, holding the blaster at a distance and tilting his head to inspect it. You wait, then give up on a response.

The poison edges a little deeper into your bloodstream...

Or does it?

Your eyes close briefly as you try to push the thoughts from your mind. You'll either live or die, or you'll live in a different way. One way or the other, these hours will end. The only way to get there is to pass the time.

When you draw your gaze back over to the table, he's finished with the previous blaster and picked up a different one. You sink back into your seat, trying to come up with another reason for him to speak to you, and look down at your arm, still purple. The dark, blurred mark on your skin is starting to form into the distinct outline of his hand.

"You still haven't apologized for this," you say, holding it up.

He glances over to what you're indicating, making you a little self-conscious. Your arm drops back into your lap while he looks at you.

"Where I come from, thieves are punished."

Your lip quirks. "I'm not a thief. I explained everything, remember?"

His helmet angles back down to the weapon. "You took things that didn't belong to you."

"And I brought them back," you point out.

"Yeah. That's why you're still breathing."

Your chest flutters a little, and your face heats. You've known a lot of hunters, and you've heard a lot of the same empty threats. This Mandalorian, you're starting to realize, is in a class all his own. His comment isn't careless; he didn't say it to intimidate. He means it. And it stirs something in you.

You don't have anything to say in argument, and after a moment, you try a different subject.

"You know, I can't afford to pay you much for this," you admit softly. You can't afford to pay him anything, really. You'll hardly be able to cover his fuel costs.

"You don't need to pay."

It's your turn to be silent, now. You bring your eyes back up. "Why would you do this for nothing?"

His visor lowers from your eyes down to the side of your body again. "Your... arm. It's... something I try not to do. Hurt people who aren't deserving."

You shift in discomfort and despite his serious tone, you let a little smirk escape. "Might be in the wrong profession for that."

He doesn't answer, and he doesn't move his gaze from your arm for a while. Slowly, he goes back to his work.

You know a joke probably wasn't the right response, but it makes you uncomfortable when people are too sincere. Unfortunately for you, sincerity seems to be his default setting. "Besides, have you considered I'm more deserving than you think? You haven't asked why he was trying to kill me."

He still doesn't ask. But you tell him anyway, after a moment's hesitation. "I killed his brother."

He stops looking at the blaster. You squirm again. Is he... angry? Surprised? Is he judging you? You don't like it.

"Everyone is somebody's brother, Mando."

"I know."

He says it quietly, softly, and you can hear in his voice that he means it. He knows. The same way you know.

"Something you should know about me, though..." you offer a more genuine tone. "I try not to hurt people who don't deserve it, either."

From the way he slows his movements, you can see he's listening and he takes your meaning, but he says nothing in return. It really makes you want to tell him the whole story - to prove that you're more than a ruthless killer - but you bite back the words. You don't know why you feel you owe him an explanation.

Instead, you just stand up and walk closer. "Another thing you should know: I pay my debts. So..." You hesitate, pulse quickening as you lower your voice. "Maybe there's another way I could show you my appreciation."

Both his hands go still. "You don't owe me anything."

You bite your lip nervously, then decide to take another chance and push further. "Maybe I want to, anyway."

You watch his helmet for any sign, any reaction. Nothing. Your heart is thrumming wildly now, but you force yourself not to look away.

He places the gun down flat on the table and his helmet tilts just slightly in your direction. "What you're thinking... is a bad idea."

A jolt of excitement runs through you. You'd expected an immediate "no".

"Oh? I don't think so. Why do you think so?"

When he turns to look at you properly, in this close proximity, it's the first time you realize how big he is. His shoulders dwarf you on both sides. "Call it intuition."

"Maybe your intuition isn't as good as you think it is."

The broad chest in front of you slowly rising and falling is the only movement between the two of you. "Kept me alive this long."

"So what is your intuition telling you about me, exactly?" you press, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

You catch the faintest shift beneath the fabric covering his neck.

"That you're as likely to fuck me..." He leans his head down, lowering his voice even further. "...as you are to kill me."

Your whole body tingles with electricity, his velvet voice raising the hair on the back of your neck. You can hardly breathe your words back at him, but you force yourself to speak. "So you're afraid of me?"

He pauses, and you wait. It's a line you've used before on many a hunter, and you can't wait to see the effect it will have on him. They love to assert dominance. You can tell it'll drive him where you want him to go.

But you keep waiting, and his hands don't move. His body remains where it is. He finally shifts his weight to his other leg and speaks.

"What is it that you want from me?"

This throws you. You're pinned beneath the intensity of his black stare, and you open your mouth just to close it again with no response. You mentally cycle through several lies and irreverant, vulgar comments. Finally, you settle on the truth. "A... distraction."

Another pause. You know it's impossible to see, but his expression behind the metal seems so clear. Somehow, you know his eyes are fixed on yours, and that his brows are dark, and that they're raised at you. "That's it?"

You swallow. "That's it."

He shifts almost imperceptibly closer to you. "And if the poison hits you? What then?"

"I told you, that won't happen for another couple of hours."

"That's why I asked."

Fuck. That shoots straight to your core, making you bold enough to carefully, tentatively reach out a hand and graze his armored stomach with your fingertips.

He lets you drop your fingers lower to where his belt hangs, and then he speaks again, voice a little thicker, a little more breath behind it.

"How do I know you even know what you're doing? It could be affecting you already."

You're distracted with tracing a line across his belt, slipping your fingers behind it to feel the fabric padding his armor. You don't answer right away. He stops your hand when it slides behind his belt to remove it.

"I asked you a question."

You look back up at him, loving the way his voice surrounds you, up close like this. "You want to know if I'm drugged? I'm not. That's not how it works."

His neck rolls to the side a bit as he inspects you, clearly weighing whether or not to believe you. He's still holding your wrist, but you push against his grip and unclip his belt, grasping it with one hand. "If you don't believe it, ask me a question. Test me."

His belt makes a heavy clinking sound as you set it down on the table next to his blaster.

The Mandalorian says nothing.

You slowly and carefully lift up the fabric covering his stomach, giving yourself access to his waistline.

The Mandaloran says nothing.

Your breath is getting quicker and more shallow with every second. You slowly separate a line between the bottom of his armor and the top of his pants, revealing a strip of beautifully tan skin.

The Mandalorian says nothing.

Your fingertips glide over him, almost working of their own accord, and you hear a whisper of a breath through the modulator when you dip your thumbs first upward, to briefly feel the muscle beneath his shirt, and then down to stretch his waistband and allow you to get into his pants properly.

His stomach pulls inward and the contact seems to jolt him into finally speaking. "What star system was the hangar in? What planet was it orbiting?"

You're holding up his shirt with one hand as your other one is moving steadily downward, underneath his clothes.

"I don't know," you answer. "Some scummy little backwater."

You press closer to him to get the angle you need. "Can't remember the name," you murmur absently as your hand brushes the warmth of him, half-hard and growing harder.

He stifles a modulated inhalation when you brush your palm softly over him, his helmet falling forward.

"Good enough."

You feel a wild thrill run through you at his permission, but you're too fixated on the feel of him to look up. He's getting harder now, the front of his pants straining to keep him contained, and as you drop your hand lower, you start to realize you may have asked for more than you can handle. He's thick, and as the palm of your hand brushes over his head, your eyes widen at his size.

You look up at him inquisitively, a thought crossing your mind that hadn't before. "Human... right?"

He gives a single low puff of air that sounds almost like a laugh, and he pulls your hand back, stepping to the side and crowding you up against the table.

"You want a distraction," he says, placing a gloved hand over your hip. "I can give you that."

He uses the other hand to start unclipping your belt, not looking down. "But that's all I can give you. Understand?"

The belt gets set down next to his own, and you look over at it, then back up at him. You swallow, trying to keep the arousal out of your expression and forcing a smirk instead. "That's all I need, Mando."

His voice tightens up, low and in the back of his throat when he grabs your hips and twists you around to face the table, yanking your pants down.

"Good."

One of his gloves drops beside you onto the floor and the next thing you feel are his bare fingers dragging through your wet cunt. Your shoulders immediately go slack and your back arches before you can really think about it, giving him better access when you spread your legs. You let out a little "ah," and cut your own air short when he turns his hand flat and slides his open palm from your ass down between your legs, middle two fingers lying flat against your pussy.

He hums low in his chest, the modulator turning it into a noise so deep it's almost grinding, as he palms you. He doesn't come close to your entrance, doesn't let his fingers wander. It just seems like he wants to feel as much of you as he can, all at once. Like he's claiming you, mapping out territory he intends to own.

You're seeing stars with the slow brush of his hand, wishing his fingers would spread out and tease you properly, and finally, blessedly, they do. The thick pads of his fingers are surprisingly soft. It makes sense, you think absently - they're always covered in gloves. His hands would be soft, his fingertips smooth.

But you're wrong - the tips of his fingers glide against your skin, but when he shoves them deep inside you, burying himself to the knuckles, you can feel the coarseness of his hands. He's got callouses across all his knuckles, a testament to the brutality of his fists. His fingers were made for pulling triggers. The rest of his hands are worn by years of less civilized use. You moan when he twists them inside you, making you ache for more as he drags them slowly in and out.

He holds you down like this, pressing you into the makeshift table and pumping his fingers deftly, methodically, in perfect pace with the arches of your spine. You're pressing your own fingers down against the metal surface in front of you, eyes closed and focused only on the way he's effortlessly drawing the pleasure out of you like it's his job. Like it's something that comes to him so naturally that he's just silently absorbed in the pattern of it. You can feel the way he flexes his wrist against your inner thigh each time he presses up and into you and his rhythm is relentless, measured and perfectly in control.

Your eyes pop open of their own accord, your vision slightly blurred when he suddenly changes the pace to curl one finger further than the other, finding the perfect spot inside you, brushing over the bundle of nerves that makes you want to howl. Instead, you grit your teeth and take in a shallow, sharp breath.

"Fuck, Mando. That's so- you're gonna make me..."

You're already panting for him and it's only been a few minutes. He's about to shatter you, with only a single, steady hand.

"Shit," you squeeze your eyes closed again, a whine entering your tone. You're nearing the edge when a soft beeping starts to drift down from the cockpit.

"Shit," Mando says, in a tone completely different from yours.

He slows his movements as you buck against his hand, embarrassingly desperate to keep him touching you. But as the alert continues to go off, you feel him pulling back, and finally stopping altogether. You suppress a noise rising in the back of your throat, blinking and looking over your shoulder. His palm flattens over your back, pressing you down.

"Stay."

His single instruction sends electricity through your every nerve - and it's not just the way he delivers the word. It's the sound of his voice. It's deeper, fuller, richer. It's heavy with everything he's not saying aloud. When he stood behind you silently pulling you apart, the heat was building in him, too, and now you've heard the evidence.

You feel him adjust himself before walking away, leaving you bent over, spread for him. As soon as he disappears up the ladder to the cockpit, though, your nature of disobedience wins you over and you decide not to be left alone. You remove your boots, stepping out of the pants that were left around your ankles and shrug out of your vest, leaving only your untucked shirt to cover your naked body down to the tops of your thighs. You follow him up the ladder and back to the cockpit.

He's sitting, looking a bit uncomfortable, when you find him at the ship's controls. He doesn't turn around.

"Thought I told you to stay."

A grin emerges as you softly roll your eyes. "You did."

You round the side of his chair and his helmet tilts in your direction, then abruptly tilts the rest of the way when he sees what you're wearing. Your shirt is low-cut and the full curve of both breasts is visible through the thin fabric. You clasp your hands behind your back and shrug, then release. "I told you to distract me. Guess we both didn't get what we wanted."

You're standing at his knee, now, and he's looking at you while pressing a few buttons on the side. "Needed to change coordinates. Fuel consumption is too high. We won't make it to our original destination."

He's still working at the controls, but as you press nearer, he turns his seat toward you and starts to spread your legs with his knee. "Would have been back in a minute."

Your eyes flick down to what he's doing, and you place a hand over the metal covering his leg. "Didn't want to wait."

You watch him continue to input new coordinates as you lower yourself down onto his thigh, eyes fluttering a bit when the heat between your legs makes contact with cool metal. You've gotten wetter just standing in front of him, and the slickness covering both of your inner thighs is now wrapped around his leg.

Your clit pulses with need when he leans back in his chair, broad and stiff, muscles tensed as he takes you in. His left hand is still punching in coordinates, but his right one falls to your leg, holding you on top of him.

You start to grind into his armor, searching for contact any way you can get it. You drag your pussy across him, over and over again, riding him, working yourself up as he gives you half-attention, still typing instructions into the ship's computer.

Somehow his casual indifference makes you burn more, and you start to rock your hips down, grinding over the cool brown metal. When he finally finishes his work, both of his hands shoot up to unfasten the clasp at the top of your shirt, revealing more of the smooth skin of your chest.

When he realizes that the clasp doesn't open your shirt all the way, his motions are laced with impatience, almost irritation, as he drops his arms down and grabs the bottom of your shirt. You give no resistance when he pulls it over you, leaving you naked, breasts inches from his face.

...from his helmet.

It's unnerving, not seeing a reaction of any kind. It makes you feel like prey. And although you didn't think it was possible, it makes you wetter than you already were.

He drops one ungloved hand to squeeze your breast and drags it across your soft skin. Then he palms himself, watching you.

"That feel good?" he rumbles, dark visor fixated on your movements.

You arch your back more, displaying yourself for him as you rub your slick pussy up and down the length of his stiff thigh. "Mm." You can't give a proper answer at the moment, too lost in the thrill of riding him.

He gets your attention, though, when he drops his hand from an open palm down inside his clothes, pulling out his cock and starting to stroke it for you. He's slow, languid with his movements, jerking himself softly and with a focused intensity.

It's all you can do not to moan at the sight, your eyebrows pushing together in a pathetic expression of need.

"Stars, you look good, Mando. Let me sit in your lap." You watch his grip tighten. "Please."

His lazy strokes become more intentional, more heated. You try not to let your movements become ragged the same heat pools in your stomach. "Pl-"

You're about to repeat the word "please", but you only get half of it out before he's grabbing you by the waist and pulling you off of himself. He stands up and turns your body, standing you next to the chair and forcing your shoulders down, bending you over it.

He slides the head of his cock through your wetness, pushing up against you, pressing inside. You almost choke at the relief after spending so much time rocking against him, feeling so empty, but you choke instead at the fullness of him stretching you open.

Gasping, you grip the hand rest of the seat that's in front of your face. As he presses in further, you suck in a string of curses through your teeth. He pauses, holding your hips still and letting his swollen head sink slowly, slowly deeper. After only an inch or two, he pulls back out, letting the muscles of your legs relax. He lets you breathe for a moment before he pushes back in, sliding shallowly back and forth, as your pussy gives him more room.

It takes a long few moments for you to stop clutching the hand rest, but once he's slicked with you and starting to push in all the way, his movements become more even, more fluid, and your eyes roll back in your head as you feel every inch.

"Oh, fuck-" you groan, head tipping forward as he starts to move his hips at an even pace, burying his cock deeper and deeper with each thrust.

He splays one hand flat over your back, pounding into you and striking up against the spot that makes you shudder with bliss. You're starting to hear soft grunts escaping the strangle of his modulator, barely audible but enough to send you over the edge.

He fucks you perfectly, giving you exactly what you need until you're almost begging for the relief of orgasm to pull you back from the brink of losing your mind. And then he lets you.

"Shit, shit. Shit."

You grind out the words, barely registering that you're talking at all, and you tumble over the edge, groaning and squeezing at the chair to keep yourself upright as he steadily pounds into you, not stopping, not slowing until you sigh, shakily pushing yourself up and turning to face him.

"Fuck," you smile, wiping the hair from your eyes. "Fuck, that was good."

He's still inside you, sliding in and out, slow and controlled. He doesn't answer you right away, just keeps fucking up into you, waiting for your shaking breaths to subside. Then he grips the side of your hip and pushes, letting you feel every part of him inside you. "Yeah?"

You nod, blinking up at him, drained and delirious. "Yeah. So fucking good."

His voice is so deep it sends a shiver up your spine when he leans close. You could swear you actually feel the bass in his tone as it rumbles through the muscles of your back. "Then why are you smiling?"

"Hm?" You're caught so off-guard you can't even form a word in reply. You're still buzzing from your orgasm as he pulls out of you, yanking you up from the chair and sliding back into the chair himself. He drops you into his lap, making you gasp when he positions himself back at your entrance and shoves you down on his cock in one hard thrust.

"Let's get rid of that fucking smile."

Before you can say anything back, he puts two fingers into your mouth and you suck them, jaw slack and willing, so overstimulated from the sensation of him fucking you hard and deep like this that you can hardly breathe. He rips the fingers from your wet mouth, dropping them between your legs and stroking, firm and relentless and perfect. He circles your clit until your voice is a high, keening, wrecked thing and you're bouncing on his cock, recklessly seeking a second high. It comes over you quickly, ripping through you without mercy this time, and making you whimper brokenly as you impale yourself over and over on his stiff cock.

When you finally finish - really finish, and you're left panting, completely unable to form a coherent thought, you feel him start to twitch inside you, pulsing with the final few thrusts, and he lifts you off of himself, releasing his cock with a vulgar, wet sucking sound.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-"

He drops you back into his lap with his cock warm against your pussy, your legs spread wide as he shoots hot, thick ropes of cum over the both of you. You reach down to grip him, pumping every last drop out of him until he's spent over your stomach and legs, his chest rising and falling raggedly against your back.

You lie there against him, unable to think, or move, and hardly able to breathe, for a long, long time.

After so much time has passed that you feel guilty for sinking your weight into him, you finally stand up and bend over to pick up your discarded shirt. He extricates himself from you, tucking his softening cock back into his pants as he leaves the cockpit, mumbling something like, "Be right back."

When he returns with a damp cloth, he finds you staring at the chrono behind the second chair, your eyes unfocused but your face concerned. You snap to attention when he enters. He starts to gently swipe up the mess he's made on your stomach, and looks over to where you're staring.

"What?"

"Why does that say 17:00 standard hours?"

He pauses. "Because that's the time."

You tear your eyes from the glowing numbers to look at him. "That's the current time?"

He seems to register what you're saying, and answers more slowly. "Yeah. That's the time."

"Then why does that one say 14:00?" you ask, heartbeat slowly quickening as you point at another chrono.

"Oh," he says quietly. "These are all set to local time."

"Even the one in the cargo hold?"

He nods the helmet once, slowly, then turns back to the one in front of you. "That's the only one I keep at standard time."

A smile crosses your face and breaks out into a wide grin as you read it again, just to be sure. You could kill him right now, but honestly, it doesn't matter. You can't stop smiling.

It's been five hours.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #Mandalorian #mando #pedro pascal

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spacey-xannabelle · 21 days

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Fateful Encounter...

Last month, at around April 10th, I decided to revisit an old project I started months prior which was to polish up a test sketch of a comic page about Lucy encountering Lumi in the dreamspace. And after slowly making progress on this, I'm finally finished with this!

I'm gonna leave some artist notes under the read more, but overall I'm super proud of how this turned out!! This is pretty much my first serious attempt at making comics in general so this has been a very interesting learning experience!

Artist notes: So this is what the original sketch for this whole thing was. It was just me scribbling out a scene I had in my head for Startrails that I wanted to put on paper:

This I'd say was made around 2020-2021 ish. At the time, I didn't really do much with it. Until several months ago, I thought of trying to redraw this page and expand upon it.

But my first attempt at doing this didn't quite lead anywhere. I barely got through the thumbnailing process and just gave up bc I lost motivation (and life/work stuff was Happening so yea I had to put this aside as I figured stuff out). Here's the first draft of the thumbnails:

It was just two pages at the time and was pretty simple. I left this project sitting in my files for a while until I one day just, started binging videos from Thestarfishface on YouTube, primarily her webcomic guide videos. And I decided I'd give this project another go.

It was here where I began making a second draft of the thumbnails and this was what I had to work with:

I wanted to experiment with the panels and get funky with the compositions this time around. The 2 page draft expanded to a 3 page thing. But I thought it would've been better if I added one more page at the end with Lucy waking up as a conclusion to wrap this whole thing together.

And in the middle of working on page 3, my friend had suggested to do a an impact frame page, which I hadn't considered during the thumbnailing, so 4 pages became 5. And this was the result!

I posted the pages as I finished them onto my deviantart so that's where a lot of my thoughts were journaled as I went along dfjsdh. To summarize my ramblings there, this project was a very fun (and a bit frustrating) learning experience! I'm hoping to keep practicing and improving my workflow, and hopefully one day make Startrails a full fledged webcomic :')

Additional ramblings:

The structure that Lucy finds Lumi in is inspired by an orrery.

For page 5, I initially didn't plan for much dialogue but as I drew it, it felt just a liiiitle bit empty, so I kinda just threw in some dialogue for Mira. But bc I was already in the inking process (and I just wanted to have this project completed), I didn't redo the page to even include Mira in it. So Mira's just out of frame sdfjskdh. If I had more time and energy to keep this up, I'd have made a revision of the page so I could include her.

This experience has taught me that I could seriously work on my rendering process a bit more, and that my layer management is just atrocious sdkfjksdfh

This has also taught me that while Medibang has the tools needed for me to draw these pages just fine, it also lacks some stuff that I personally need if I were to do a longer project like this. So I'll be experimenting with CSP next!

The dialogue throughout this whole thing wasn't all that planned out- I really just stuck close to what the initial doodle had which probably wasn't the best idea bc I just have like, 2 pages of Lucy's awkward sounding dialogue aaaa. I might do something a bit more dialogue heavy to help improve this skill next time.

Anyway, thank you for reading through my 1 am ramblings on this little project of mine shdkjhks

#artists on tumblr #Art #Digital art #comic art #original characters #OC lobby #OC art #Xan draws #Lucy #Lumi #Mira #Kinda dfjfkh #Startrails

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crescenthoax · 5 months

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a nightmare before Christmas • pt2

🎄or an Annika, Floris, Willa and Targtowers Christmas tale🌟

Part One

Part two

Part three

Summary: Aemond, Daeron, Aegon and Helaena had different things planned for Christmas, but one same fate: their father’s old cabin.

Basically an i’m never gonna love again christmas modern AU because we need to spread some joy on these times and I wanted to write something fun. Mainly centred around Aegon x Female OC.

Part 2/3. Part 3.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

“I can't believe you convinced me to do this,” says Aegon, shaking his head. “I don't need no game nor excuse to get wasted.”

“Oh, come on. We’re all going to play,” Helaena tells him, amused. “Even Aemond.”

It translates easily to: ‘You can't be more boring than him.’

It’s not that Aemond is the boring type, in fact, he's just so reserved and responsible that he's gotten used to having fun in other ways. But everyone has seen him drink whiskey as easily as soda and smile as if he had two hooks on his face and scarlet–flushed cheeks while dancing during Annika's New Year's party on the yacht in 2019.

Everyone sits in a circle around the coffee table in the huge living room. Logan stirs some logs in the fireplace, trying to revive the flames before sitting down between Helaena and Annika on the couch. Aegon is sprawled on one of the individual and comfy, green velveteen chairs, just like Aemond on the other, and Floris sits with Willa and Daeron on the other couch.

“So, does everyone know how this works?” Annika asks, finishing pouring herself a glass of white wine. On the table, there is an exaggerated amount of drinks to choose from. “Someone says something, and if you've done it, you drink. If you haven't, you don't. It's simple.”

“Never have I ever explained a game we all know just to seem smart,” Aegon laughs. “And now you drink.”

She sighs and takes a sip of wine after flipping him off. So much for the ‘truce.’

“Logan, why don't you start? That way, we can get to know you better,” Annika insists.

He feels a bit pressured with the number of new and curious looks around him, but he seems to handle it wonderfully. “Hmm. Never have I ever... been to a party I wasn't invited to.”

“Easy!” Aegon singsongs and drinks from his beer. Daeron, Logan himself, Annika, and Helaena follow suit. Surprisingly to everyone, Floris also drinks, drawing attention. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why do you sound surprised?” She shakes her head, pretending to be offended. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”

“I love the new Floris,” Aegon mocks, drinking. “Singleness agrees with you.”

Everyone drinks this time, except for Annika and Daeron, and she gets some skeptical looks. She puts her feet up on the couch to get more comfortable, her black ballet flats shining even brighter than the Christmas tree. “What? I find it unhygienic.”

“Never have I ever creeped an ex on social media,” Willa dares to say this time. Helaena and she are the only ones who don't drink, and Floris joins them while she shifts uncomfortably, seeing that Aemond does drink.

Aegon sees the opportunity to create a tense moment and seizes it. “Never have I ever lost my virginity to someone in this group.”

“Are you serious?” Helaena sighs.

“Very.”

The only ones who drink are the broken–up couple and the one that sticks together like peaches and cream. Willa takes a long gulp of her fruit cocktail, probably trying to shake off the embarrassment. She has not yet understood that no one really cares.

“Never have I ever had a crush on my siblings’s friends or on my friends's siblings,” Aemond says, accusingly looking at Aegon.

“All hail Cassandra Baratheon,” Annika murmurs before drinking. Daeron and Logan follow her, and so does Aegon, without any problem. Helaena turns her head trying to make sense of the situation, but Annika quickly adds, “Never have I ever been with someone of the same sex.”

She drinks. It doesn't surprise anyone that Aegon also drinks. It surprises everyone that Floris does.

“What!?” Helaena demands, laughing. “When!?”

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Aemond basically answers for her. Annika chokes on the water she's drinking, and Aegon bursts into laughter when he sees the ex-couple drink, along with Logan and himself.

“Well, I don't have to know everything,” Daeron complains, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He usually is the one who always lags behind when it comes to knowledge about his brothers's lives, and to be honest, sometimes he feels it's better that way.

“Never have I ever broken the law,” Willa says. It's not surprising that everyone drinks this time, except her and Logan. Rich people thing, apparently.

“Never have I ever gotten a piercing,” Logan offers.

Helaena is the only one who drinks, her navel and ears heavily jewelled. And then, Aegon looks at Annika and shakes his head.

“I can't believe it. After all this time, and you still are a fucking cheater,” he addresses her.

“Excuse me?” She chuckles, feigning ignorance.

“You just lied.”

“But she has no piercings,” Floris defends her. Annika tightens the glass in her right hand and shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

“She has her right nipple pierced!” Aegon growls.

“Aegon!” Annika shouts, annoyed. “That's not something yours to share.”

“God, you always do the same thing and cheat on this stupid game. Why did you want to play if you're not going to expose yourself?”

“I don’t need them to know what I have pierced and what I don't. It's not about that,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.

Daeron furrows his brow. “How do you know she has a nipple piercing?”

“And when did you pierce your nipple?” Helaena asks, confused.

Annika bites her lip for a moment, suddenly too aware of the piercing that now seems to be warming up, the sensitive, raw skin against her bra. She was supposed to get both nipples pierced, but she couldn't bear the pain, at least not sober. She would come back someday for the next one, of course.

Aegon had taken her to get it done when she visited him in San Francisco last spring. The last time they saw each other. He promised her it would feel good afterwards. It's not something she has experienced yet.

He notices what the memory does to her. Annika moves again, too uncomfortable under his accusing gaze.

“I saw her naked this afternoon. I found her in the shower when we arrived. It was accidental,” Aegon explains casually. Annika's cheeks flush, yet she's grateful that Aegon thought so quickly to cover his tracks.

Now, that’s kind of a lie.

He had seen her naked since Annika's 20th birthday. She spent some time at the Targaryens’s house in London during lockdown, and there came a moment when they were so bored that one night, after swimming and drinking by the indoor pool, she came out dripping from a dive and went into the changing rooms to dry off. He followed her and didn't say anything; he was so bored that he held her against the wall and ate her out until she cried. He always had a thing for her and knew she was as bored and lonely. That night, she sneaked into his room, and he fucked her until she begged him to stop. Earlier, she had told him not to stop when she asked, so they fucked until he passed, and she had trouble walking the next day.

She had never felt such connection with someone before. They got along so well inside the bedroom that it was almost addictive. When they were alone, they got along even better than they did when they were with the others. And it made sense. It made all the sense in the world for them, but not necessarily for the world.

So when they wanted to have fun, without explanations, they flew to see each other. Or they met in places where they couldn't be found, like the time he fingered her at the Eiffel Tower on a random Thursday night in March.

And no one ever suspected. Until...

“I can't believe you said that,” Annika clicks her tongue. “Okay, if that's how you want to play. Never have I ever used Aemond's toothbrush.”

“You did what?” Aemond grumbles, turning to his brother with unease. “Dude. What the actual fuck?”

“Well, thank you very much, you witch,” Aegon rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer. Then he smiles at the blonde sitting across from him and extends his can to her. “Never have I ever used Annika's toothbrush," he says, finishing the can with pride.

“God, you're such a pig!”

“Now I understand why Aegon's room is always a suite,” Daeron mocks, putting an arm around Willa's shoulders and leaning back on the sofa, pulling his girlfriend towards him. “You never used my toothbrush, right?”

“I once used dad's toothbrush to brush Sunfyre's teeth,” Helaena adds, tipsy as she could be. Everyone looks at her strangely, and they burst into laughter instantly. “I was really mad at him.”

“Why?” Willa laughs.

“I really don't remember. It must have been important for me to decide to brush Aegon's dog's teeth with his toothbrush,” she shrugs. Logan looks at her amused and shakes his head.

“It's such a Helaena thing to do,” Floris adds. “Remember the time Annika released Helaena’s spiders in the classroom and told Cressida they were poisonous?”

“Why would you do that?” Willa asks.

“Because I hated that bitch,” she replies simply. “She was sort of like my nemesis. She hated me too.”

“I fucked with her,” Aegon adds, “in her cabin when we went to that horrible camp with our school, during lunchtime.”

Floris grimaces in disgust. “But she was in our cabin.”

“I know. She insisted on doing it on Annika's bed,” he laughs, and her jaw drops. “She got back at you; you have to give her that.”

“And you participated in that?!” She screams. “Aegon, I can't believe you!”

“Oh, don't be so pristine. It was over the sheets. And hey, we could have put your toothbrush in the toilet of public bathrooms, but we didn't,” he replies.

“Okay. Never have I ever done it in someone else's bed,” Logan intervenes, somewhat familiar with the dynamics of distracting Annika and Aegon from tearing each other apart like wild dogs.

Everyone drinks, except Annika. “As I said, it's unhygienic.”

“What do you not find unhygienic?” Daeron teases her. “Okay, I want to know this, and I think it's the moment. Never have I ever been with a teacher.”

“You're still on that? I already told you I didn’t!” Aegon leans in to push his younger brother's arm playfully.

“You were sober when I asked you! I thought you were lying for my sake,” Daeron defends himself, laughter vibrating through the walls. “I had heard the rumours.”

And everyone's laughter accompanies his, except Aemond and Floris, who remain in a creeping silence, looking at each other.

“I mean, it's something he would do,” Helaena shrugs.

“No, I had heard that...-“ He stops speaking, the smile on his face turning from confusion to more confusion than grace when he looks at Aemond in deafening silence, just like Floris by his side. When everyone notices it, the atmosphere seems to dissipate. “I had heard that... Hum, one of my brothers... That...”

Helaena and Annika look at each other. Then Annika looks at Aegon, who keeps his mouth in an ‘O’ shape and remains motionless, trying not to add more fuel to the fire.

“C’mon,” Floris speaks for the first time. She and Aemond exchange glances, and the coffee table is not the only thing separating them because it feels like there are miles between them. Floris's voice is cold, just like her eyes. Annika knows her well enough to know that she's drunk. “Rules are rules. If you've done it, you drink.”

“I don't understand,” Logan murmurs, a bit lost.

“No? Well, let me try again. Never have I ever found my boyfriend fucking one of our high school teachers in my own bed, only to find out they had been screwing behind my back since we were in high school.”

Floris finishes her glass of red wine in three long gulps. Helaena stays silent, her hand resting on her mouth to hide the surprise. Logan and Willa shrink in their places, while Daeron scratches his head uncomfortably, and Annika bites her inside cheek.

Aegon takes a small sip of his drink with a loud noise. “Aemond… This is fucked up. Really, really bad. The kind of thing I would do.”

Floris leaves the empty glass on the table with so much accidental force that it breaks. Helaena startles, and Floris stands up, swaying. “This has been fun. Have a good time.”

She walks away without even looking back at Aemond, leaving everyone too bewildered to react quickly. He sighs, leaves his drink on the table, and tries to stand up.

“Floris, wait...”

“Haven't you done enough?” Annika spits venom, getting up and pushing him back into his seat. No one understands if Aemond doesn't resist her push or if she really used brute strength. Through gritted teeth, she points at him with her index finger. “No. Don’t you even dare.”

It's she who takes light steps and disappears upstairs, following Floris. Aemond shifts uncomfortably.

“I wouldn't do it if I were you,” Aegon warns.

“Man. What the hell?” Daeron sighs, running his hands over his face. “How long has this been going on?”

"I don't know. It happened a couple of times in our graduation year, and then we met each other last year, and... I don't know. It's been...”

“Aemond, right now, no one has a worse opinion of you than I do,” Helaena tells him, placing a hand over her heart. “Who did you screw?”

He puts his hand on the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Rivers.”

“The health teacher? Seriously?” Aegon jokes.

“And you didn't think, I don't know, to break up with your long term girlfriend before doing it? Or after?” Logan intervenes. Aemond looks at him seriously.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Hey,” Helaena tells him. “He's a friend.”

“He's not my friend,” Aemond hisses. “He's just a stranger who came to our door like a lost puppy.”

Aemond stands up and disappears, not up the stairs but towards the dining room, and Aegon is almost sure he hears him heading to the yard. Surely to smoke a cigarette secretly from all of them because God forbid he lets his friends and family know that he also feels and makes mistakes and drinks and smokes and is not the perfect child everyone thinks.

“Hm, Willa, do you want to eat something? Would you help me clean this up?” Helaena offers to the girl who looks terribly uncomfortable. At the same time, she signals Aegon to check on Aemond.

Aegon shakes his head, and Helaena stiffens her face. She has a look that's too demanding sometimes that reminds him of his mother's, and it gives him chills. It makes him get up from the couch and hit Daeron's shoulder to follow him to the yard.

He obeys, a bit confused. “Where are we going?”

“To see if Aemond is okay.”

“Of course he's okay. He's Aemond. And if we had to be checking if someone is okay, it should be Floris,” he says.

Aegon stops him in his tracks and grabs his shoulders. He looks at his brother, although he's taller than him, he still needs to learn a thing or two. He understands that the age difference between them is enough, but he also understands that Daeron is no longer a child.

“You're a man now, and that means you must learn something about this family. It's a twisted family of fucked–ups, and we screw up every day. I've messed up. Helaena has messed up. Mom and Dad specially, blah, blah. It happens, it's like it's encoded in our DNA. Aemond screws up too, and I'm sure you'll do it someday too. Not necessarily with Willa, it just will happen. And no one understands the feeling better than us,” Aegon explains. “This is what being part of this family is about. And we have an unspoken agreement; no matter what it is, we get through it. We don’t judge. Aemond is our brother, so we are not gonna judge him even though he deserves it.”

“Alright. I understand,” Daeron says and follows his older brother. As they suspected, Aemond is smoking, to the youngest’s impression. “I feel like I don't know you.”

“You don't,” Aemond mutters.

“Are you okay?” Daeron asks, resisting the urge to punch him or roll his eyes. “Why didn't you tell us what happened?”

“Yeah, like I would judge you for it,” Aegon laughs. “I hooked up with mom's pilates instructor while dating Alysanne.”

“Oh my God. I'm not like you, Aegon.”

“Realization sucks, right? It's tough. We've all been there. Fortunately for you, I'm the worst of us,” Aegon laughs. The two youngest ones remain silent, and the sound of crickets is the only thing heard for a moment. “Screw you both. You could try telling me otherwise.”

“Well...” Daeron hisses.

“Fuck you, seriously” Aegon flips them off. “Back to the important stuff. What happened with Floris?”

Aemond gets lost staring at a fixed point on the snow-covered ground, as if he's recalling all the events that led him to do what he did. But he can't. “I don't know,” he confesses sincerely. “I don't...”

“Do you love her?” Daeron asks.

“How could I not love her? She's been with me all my life. And I've been with her all her life. Since we were kids. School, my accident, high school. Birthdays, funerals, parties. She's always been there. We've always been me and her. Just like Helaena and Annika. Or Aegon and… Alcohol.”

“Oh, no. You’re making jokes now?” Daeron panics, and Aegon chuckles. “That doesn't mean you love her. It means you're used to her. And Floris doesn't deserve that. Neither do you.”

“I know she doesn't. She deserves something better,” Aemond says. “And I really care about her, and it hurts to have lost her, and it hurts to think about a life without her.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “She'll always be there. You know, Helaena will never let go of those two girls. They've always been a pain in the ass for us and always will be. That's the fun part of being us.”

Aegon knows they would always be with them because their friendship with Helaena was not going to end. He knows Annika and Helaena would always be friends. But Aegon and Annika wouldn't always be together.

“I guess you're right.”

“Why didn't you invite me to come here with you?” Daeron asks suddenly. “I could have... I don't know. I understand you didn't want to spend Christmas at home, but I didn't think you wouldn't want to spend it with me.”

“Hey, you didn't want to spend it with us either. Otherwise, why did you come here with just your girlfriend?” Aegon questions. “We thought you'd get bored, and honestly... You are still not old enough to enter the casino or drink excessively.”

Daeron rolls his eyes. “You think I don't have a fake ID? I could have come with you.”

“And if you had come, we probably would have avoided this nightmare before Christmas situation,” Aemond says, scratching his good eye. “I don't know, I guess it’s hard for us to think you’re not longer a kid.”

“Sometimes it hurts being left out all the time, you know?”

“Welcome to being a Targaryen in the real world,” Aegon says, patting his shoulder. “You're officially invited to our Christmas getaway in 2024. And this time, it will be just the three of us.”

“No, I think I'll go home for Christmas next year,” Aemond shakes his head. “It's a pain in the ass, but not as much as being here in this situation.”

“I shouldn't have asked about the teacher thing,” Daeron laments.

“You had no idea. I didn't even know either,” Aegon sighs. “Did she tell the girls? Helaena seemed surprised. And I don't think Annika knew either.”

Aemond shrugs. “When it happened, she packed her things and didn't say a word to me. We know Floris; she's quiet, reserved, and she won't show what she doesn’t want you to find out. She wouldn't go with Helaena to tell her that her brother is a liar and a cheater, and she wouldn't tell Annika because she's also my friend. Was. Whatever.”

“I don't think she'll stop talking to you; she'll just give you a hard time. You know Annika,” Daeron reassures. “By the way, is it true about the piercing?”

Aegon smirks. “It's true.”

“Did you see it?” Daeron asks, with a grin.

Aemond smacks him on the back of the head. “Have some respect.”

“Oh, I saw it,” and other things. Daeron wants to ask what he has always wanted to ask, but he bites his tongue, remembering the situation that unfolded because of his questions. Aegon notices and appreciates it. “Well, the party is obviously over. We should eat something and go to bed. If we're lucky, the storm won't be so bad, and you can leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah,” Daeron says, suddenly a bit dejected. He actually wants to stay. “Right. That sounds good.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Annika and Floris made no appearance while the rest had dinner watching a horror movie. The girl went downstairs for some food for Floris and then apologized to Willa and Logan for their absence, going back upstairs with her friend immediately.

Aegon drank more beer with dinner, and as soon as they finished eating, Aemond tried to wash some dishes, then went to his room alone without saying a word. Daeron had looked at Logan and Helaena, who were talking and laughing as if nothing had happened, with a strange expression and asked, “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Helaena pinched his cheek as if he were a little kid. “You are adorable.”

It was her kind way of telling him to fuck off.

And although Daeron invited Willa to swim in the indoor pool, she claimed she wanted to go to bed, too tired to even breathe. If he had to be honest, all the drama had exhausted him too. So, the gang was reduced to Aegon, Helaena, and Logan. Aegon couldn't stand to third wheel with her little sister and a guy who dresses like some dude out of a Netflix Christmas rom–com , so he grabbed some beers and went up to his room with plans to drink until he passed out.

It doesn't happen.

He grunts and gets out of bed, exhausted from trying to sleep. The drunkenness already is part of his natural mental state.

The only lights on the house are the Christmas tree lights tinkling at a strange pace, and besides the muffled music echoing from the pool and the occasional laughter from Helaena, the only thing that can be heard is the squeaking wind. He makes his way to the kitchen feeling utterly cold; the heating in his room was so high that the change is brutal. He's not going to bother looking for the heating controls at this hour, and the fire in the living room fireplace has almost died down.

The refrigerator light beams on Annika's figure. She's sitting on the counter, with a glass of water, a pack of cigarettes, and staring at her dimly lit phone screen. She's wearing a black and pink satin pyjama set, tank top and shorts, and a somewhat warm robe, but she looks frozen. Her hair is wet.

“Late-night swim?” Aegon asks, startling her. “That brings back memories.”

Annika clicks her tongue. “No, I had to shower. Needed to get Floris's vomit off me.”

“Yikes,” he sticks out his tongue. “How's she doing?”

“Well... She... It's going to be tough.”

"You didn't know about…?”

She shakes her head, putting her phone aside. “No. She came to our flat one day with suitcases and teary eyes, and there was no need for her to say anything. We assumed that, well, she would tell us in her own time. She just said they wouldn't be coming back together, not like other times, and we figured it must be serious because she flew from Boston to New York,” she explains. “Did you know?”

“No, of course not,” he shakes his head. “Hey, don't give Aemond a hard time.”

“I couldn't care less about Aemond.”

“Did she fall asleep?”

“Passed out from crying too much, rather. I can't believe he did this to her. I mean... Ugh. It's something we might have expected from you, certainly not from him.”

“Oh, well,” he shrugs as he takes a seat on the bureau next to her. “I know my limitations, believe it or not. For starters, I would never be in such a closed relationship for so many years. They were in a cage, both of them.”

Annika rolls her eyes. “Can you believe they had a threesome?”

“I know, right?” Aegon laughs, and she joins in. “The kind of stuff I'd expect from you. Trying to revive a relationship that's clearly dead by adding a third party.”

She laughs. “Sounds like something I would do. You know how much I tend to cling to things even when the odds aren't in my favour.”

Aegon sighs. “So...”

“So...?”

“Can I see it?” Aegon suddenly asks, and Annika looks at him confused. “Your piercing.”

“I thought you said you saw it in the shower,” she says, placing the glass of water on the marble table. It makes a noise that feels louder than it actually is, and she squirms uncomfortably at the thought that someone might have heard it and finds them there, alone, together.

For someone who claims to be a loner, Aegon has a constant need for attention and contact, especially if it's from Annika. It's nothing new; he used to pull her braids when they were kids to attract her attention. Now he begs her to let him see her boobs. Normal.

He smiles. “I didn't. Everything was full of steam and foggy.”

“But you saw it. You were there when I got it done,” Annika reminds him, embarrassed. “You gave me the little piece of chocolate when my blood pressure dropped. You put a can of Coke on the back of my neck and helped me button my blouse.”

“First of all, it was Dr. Pepper. And second, it doesn't count because I didn't see it properly. And you left before we could do anything...” He shrugs. Annika squints her eyes. “I want to see it. Please.”

“You exposed me in front of everyone and almost got us caught. Why would I show it to you?”

“Because you're good at giving me what I want,” he says, devilishly smiling as he leans toward her.

“And what about what I want, huh? Not everyone can have what they want. I want a unicorn, for example.”

“I'll buy you a horse and pay to have a surgical pink horn put on it. Damn, I'd pay to have wings attached and teach it to fly if you want a freaking rainbow pegasus,” he roars, his voice deep.

Annika laughs and lowers the strap of her satin pajamas so Aegon can see. Not sure why she does it, but Annika loves to give him what he begs for. He doesn't ask for permission to stroke the side of her breast with his thumb, right at the curve. He moves her wet hair back and sighs as he feels the goosebumps on her skin.

“I like it. Although sometimes I catch it with the towel, and it's a little annoying,” she tries to ignore the fact that he's touching her after months and that when he touches her, her skin turns scarlet, just like everything around her. She looks up to find his gaze. “You were right, anyway.”

Annika never knew how, but it was he who had convinced her to get them because she was so sensitive in that area. Maybe she just wanted to please him, or maybe he knew that Aegon, even if he didn't admit it, knew her very well. He always knew better when it came to her.

“Have you tried it?” He asks.

“No, not really. I'm afraid it might still get infected. Besides...” She paraphrases, and Aegon lightly strokes the surface of her skin with his fingers. Another shiver runs through her, and she falls silent. “We shouldn't.”

“It's Christmas Eve. We're both alone...” He suggests, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “I know you don't like being alone on holidays. You always have someone to warm your bed. And your options here are quite limited.”

“You're alone because you want to be alone,” Annika tells him, letting out a sigh. “I might have left, Aegon, but you let me go.”

“And you never tried hard enough either,” Aegon retorts. He pushes her swiftly, standing up and cornering her against the kitchen counter, slipping between her legs hanging from the high stool and placing his arms on the counter on either side of her body. Their breaths mix. “Please, let me do it.”

“I mourned you, Aegon,” Annika reminds him. “It hurt, what you did. How you laughed when that woman at the store mistook us for a couple. How you looked me in the eyes and said that what we had was all in my head. It was humiliating. That's why I left, because you hurt me. And after all that, you blame me for not reaching out for you? How can you say that?”

“I would have hurt you worse if you hadn't left, and you know it,” he says. He doesn't ask for permission either when he delicately strokes the tip of the jewelled nipple with care, and Annika hisses, hypersensitive as ever, melting in his hands. He smiles. “There it is. That’s my sweet girl. My favourite girl.”

She doesn't say anything and covers her mouth when he leans and catches her nipple between his teeth carefully. He knows how she likes it best, and the taste of the soft flesh mixed with the metallic aftertaste it’s exceedingly erotic. It's so intense that she has to close her legs together immediately as she feels that tingling sensation, although his body doesn't allow it. The way she feels stimulated inside and out is almost unbearable, and she unconsciously puts her hand through her shorts because she knows Aegon will spend a while playing with her before even doing anything.

When she tries to ease that discomfort, Aegon grabs her wrist and removes her hand from her shorts. She shivers when she loses contact, but he brings her fingers to his mouth to suck them clean, and Annika breathes heavily.

“Please,” she implores, grabbing him by the neck. He knows she's not asking him to fuck her exactly; she's asking for more. She tiptoes, grabs his cheeks, and tries to make him look into her eyes. “Aegon, please.”

He grunts with difficulty. He shoves his hand inside her shorts, pulls her underwear to a side and, without warning, shoves two fingers in; she's so wet that it offers no resistance.

“Isn't this enough?” He asks, moving the way he knows she likes. Annika opens her mouth and moans against his lips, and through the refrigerator light, he sees her wet eyes and a tear sliding down her cheek. “Why isn't this enough, huh?”

Why am I not enough for you? If I were, maybe we could be.

“I want...”

“No,” he hisses to silence her and prevent her from finishing that sentence. “You want to come on my fingers, that's all. You want my body. And I want yours. That's it.”

No, it's not.

She shakes her head. He doesn't stop, feeling Annika's heart beating against his own chest and how she tightens around his fingers as she struggles to stay still and not make any loud noises.

“I want you,” she tells him, quickly and muffled in a moan, against his lips when she orgasms. Aegon kisses her and swallows the pathetic declaration she utters, holding her with the other hand to feel her close before she goes away forever, but she seems to read his mind. “It's me, Aegon. Me. I'm not going to leave, and I want you. And I want everything from you.”

He wishes he could say yes to her, but he doesn't. He can't do that to Helaena, no matter how much he desires the same. He has to sort out his life first. He's not going to stop drinking. He can't see himself working in his father's company, marrying her, having children. He can't see himself disappointing her over and over when he turns out not to be what she wants.

She wasn't raised for the conventional either. She also has an intense fear of abandonment that would make her do anything for him to stay. This ends in two ways; either she leaves when she realizes she made a mistake and hates herself for letting herself be hurt by him, or she becomes an unknown version that assembles and disassembles for his entertainment.

In both scenarios, he loses her. Physically and emotionally. Two sides of the same coin.

Aemond couldn't stand a relationship of so many years and cheated on Floris. Aemond. The perfect son, Aemond. The perfect boyfriend, Aemond. The gentleman who would propose as soon as he graduated from college, buy an apartment, provide for his family, and have Alicent's first grandchildren...

“Say something,” Annika begs him, pulling him out of the thoughts that have fallen one after the other like a row of dominoes. She clings to him while with the other hand she runs it over his bare torso. He hasn't realized that he no longer feels cold. “Aegon. Anything. Anything, please.”

He can't.

“This is who I am. This is what I can offer you.”

“I'm not a child anymore. I don't want to fly to another country to see each other in secret and act like a couple for two weeks just for you to discard me like trash and go fuck someone else when you’re bored of me.”

He’s never bored of her, though. He just drinks her away. Smokes her away. Fucks her away.

And he knows it's been enough when she sobs.

He puts his hands over hers and separates her from his body. Now he feels the cold of Aspen again. If there was mistletoe above their heads, it's most likely withered. He gives her a kiss on the forehead and wipes away the tears falling down her cheeks.

“I'll leave my door open,” he warns her as he walks toward his room without looking back. But he knows it's useless; Annika won't come.

He leaves her crying in the kitchen, silently, on Christmas Eve. Because that's the kind of person he is. Annika knows. She has always known. She has seen the girls crying in the kitchen before; this time is no different. She has seen the girlfriends he brought on family trips. How he runs them dry. How he breaks their souls.

But Aegon knows that Annika is not like them. He knows that Annika means much more than anyone else. And he knows he can't. He would feel like a bird trapped in a box. He would make her miserable...

He promised to her mother he wouldn’t.

And he knows she deserves something better.

“At least admit it,” she asks him, from the other end of the kitchen when he's about to cross the door. He doesn't turn to look at her. “At least admit that it was real.”

But he leaves nonetheless.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Freya died when Annika was fifteen, and Aegon seventeen. She had been diagnosed with one of those strange and lethal diseases a few months earlier. Aegon couldn't remember the name, but they had told him. He still doesn't know why to this day.

Perhaps because he was the eldest. Because Alicent had pushed him out first, a measly two years before Helaena, and two measly years before Freya gave birth to her daughter. Annika only found out about her mother's illness a month before she passed away. And when it started to get ugly, her parents sent her away. She couldn't be with her when she died, couldn't say goodbye, couldn't ever come to terms with it...

And she never found out that Aegon knew all along.

Alicent had always told him that he had to take care of his younger siblings and, by extension, Annika, who seemed more like a sister to Helaena than he ever was. Annika wiped Helaena’s tears and Annika fought Helaena’s bullies and even Aemond’s at times. Freya said that Annika could take care of herself, but she wouldn't object to having Aegon around. At times, Aegon might have felt that Freya was the only person who still saw him as the golden child and not as the boy who fucked up everything he touched. Freya would entrust Aegon with her most precious possession without a second thought.

But one day, on one of those days when she was pretending to be okay for her daughter's sake, she saw Aegon drinking his third glass of the evening and shook her head. She put a hand on his shoulder and sighed. “I'm not going to ask you to take care of her once I’m gone; it's not your responsibility. But it would hurt me a lot if you were the one who ends up hurting her.”

Two years later, he went off to college and said he wanted nothing to do with that damn debutante ball, but he made the damn mistake of attending anyway.

The rest is a story not fit for Christmas.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

The holidays should be a time of love and peace, and yet, in the Targaryen Aspen retreat cabin, the only festive thing is the fact the atmosphere is as bitter as the mistletoe. Helaena, Logan, and Willa, the designated cooks and the only ones who seem to know how to use the stove and microwave, are the ones preparing breakfast. Floris sits on the windowsill, watching as the snow falls heavily and sticking to the ground outside. The noise of the television and the crackling fire is all that can be heard.

Aemond and Daeron play a game of express chess after setting things on the coffee table for breakfast. Aegon watches them while smoking a cigarette inside, much to Helaena's dismay, as he has no desire to step onto the icy exterior.

Annika is the last to appear, wearing those ridiculous fur boots and a pink Chanel sweater with a Camellia logo. Her steps and the sound of the two huge suitcases being dragged down the stairs make everyone look towards the staircase, desperate for someone to break the ice. She shrinks under the attention, very uncharacteristic of her, and Aegon sees Helaena and Floris exchange worried glances.

“What are you doing?” She asks, watching them prepare pancakes for breakfast.

“Breakfast,” Willa says. “Do you want coffee?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don't want coffee. I want to leave. The night has passed. I thought everyone would be ready to leave. Usually, I'm always the last to be ready.”

“You can't leave. The roads are filled with snow that probably no one will clear until after Christmas. There was a storm last night. It's not safe,” Logan reminds her, pointing to the TV where the weatherman urges residents and visitors to stay indoors until further notice. “Even if you could cross the road, there are no flights available.”

Annika smiles and takes off the sunglasses she was wearing. “No, I'll ask my dad to send his pilot, duh. I'm not taking any commercial flights. I wanted to ski for Christmas, and that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to the nearest place with snow and a sauna.”

Daeron and Aemond look at each other, aware that the unpleasant part of Annika is speaking. Something is wrong.

“Well, I don't want to leave. We're here already, we can make it worthwhile,” Hel tells her. Annika rolls her eyes.

“Fine, you stay. Floris?”

She opens her mouth and sighs. “It's not that I want to stay, but flying in these conditions... I don't know. It's only two more days. Maybe even tomorrow we can leave. I'm not going to risk it.”

“Great. I guess it's just me,” Annika grumbles, grabbing her suitcases. “Well, have fun, I suppose. Au revoir. Arrivederci. Goodbye. Chau.”

“I'll go,” Floris says, resigned, and walks behind her. Daeron does the same, and Aegon follows them out of pure curiosity. “Annika, you can't leave!”

“She's right, it's not safe!” Daeron shouts from the door. She has started to drag her suitcases down the stairs with difficulty, the stupid boots slipping on the ice. The car is covered in snow, and it will take her a while to clear it, not to mention that the snow keeps falling.

“Watch me!” She says, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the first suitcase. She holds onto the railing and makes the ascent again, slipping several times. Then she grabs the other suitcase.

“At least let me help you,” Daeron offers. He shakes off the cold and takes Annika's suitcase. She struggles for a moment, insisting she can do it, but he prevails and lifts it.

“Be careful,” Floris says, putting a hand to her mouth. “Annika, would you call when...?”

“Fuck!” Annika yells when she slips down the stairs. Aegon sees her lose balance and fall to her ass, hitting herself several times before reaching the stone path.

If he weren't concerned because he heard her hit her head against a step, he definitely would have burst into laughter. Floris also screams, shocked, and Daeron drops the suitcase in the snow to rush to help her.

“Annika!”

“Daeron, don't throw my suitcase in the damn snow!” She reproaches him, holding her head with one hand.

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Aegon deduces, descending the porch steps carefully. Annika doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

“What happened?” Helaena asks, coming out with the rest through the front door. “Oh, God. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine. I tripped,” she admits, defeated. Daeron and Floris take one of each arm and help her to her feet. When she stands and puts her weight on her feet, she begins to whimper in pain and holds onto both. “Ouch, ouch!”

“What's happening?” Daeron asks.

“My ankle!” She complains. “It hurts, hurts! Oh, God. What if it’s broken? What if I can't walk ever again?”

“Calm down. I don't think it's broken; if it were, you'd be crying,” Logan tells her, quickly descending the stairs. He replaces Floris' grip on one side of her body. “Can you put weight on it?”

“No, it hurts like a son of a bitch. Shit,” Annika moans, and Logan lifts her into his arms to take her back into the house. “Daeron! Bring my suitcases!”

He sighs but obeys. The last thing he wants is to bother her more than she already seems. Everyone enters behind Logan, and he takes her to the living room while Floris cleans the melting snowflakes from her hair.

Logan leaves her on the couch and sits in front of her on the coffee table, resting her foot on his lap. Without asking for permission, he tries to untie the boot, but he doesn't understand much about its operation. He tries to remove it with pressure, but she screams and writhes in pain.

“No, no! Don't do that!” She scolds him. “Damn it. I can't believe it.”

“I don't want to say I told you so, but I told you so,” Floris says, arms crossed. “Those boots are the death of you.”

“Maybe we just need to cut the boot off,” suggests Aemond.

Annika throws a cushion at him for the brutal idea.

“Not the Moschino. No!”

“It's probably just a sprain. But either we cut it off, or I could still trying to take it off and hurt you even more,” Logan tells her.

“I would sacrifice the boot,” Helaena tries to reason. “We can get another pair. You can't get another foot; that's for sure.”

“Kill me. Kill me now,” she says, bringing a cushion to her face and screaming into it. “Fine. Cut them. Kill them. Just do it quickly. I don't want to see.”

Helaena squeezes her shoulder, standing behind the sofa where Annika has put her head on the backrest and taken the cushion to her face. Willa hands Logan a knife, who puts it through the boot and tries to cut the material with considerable difficulty while Annika whimpers. If one were to see the scene from a distance, they would probably think they were cutting off her foot.

When he removes the boot and the thermal sock, everyone analyses the extremely swollen ankle with disgust.

“Is it bad?” She asks, removing the cushion from her face but not daring to speak. Aegon puts it back on her face, wrinkling his nose, but she hits him. “Don't touch me. Logan. Is it really bad?”

“Well...”

She opens her eyes wide. “Oh, my God!”

“Hey, don't worry,” he tries to calm her, patting her knee gently when she starts to cry. “You'll be fine. Painkillers, rest, and lots of ice. Everything will be fine; you'll be walking in—“

“Give it to me,” she reaches out her arms.

“What?” Logan asks, confused.

Aemond lightly hits his arm. “She means the boot.”

“The... The boot?”

Aegon nods. “Yes, she's crying over the boot.”

“It was so beautiful!” She exclaims when Willa hands it to her, and she hugs it with distress. “It's not fair. I bought them on our trip to Milan. They were the last pair. Do you remember, Flo? Do you remember how we were walking, and I saw them in the shop window, and...?”

Logan looks around, not understanding how no one seems surprised or confused by the girl's attitude. It's Daeron who whispers in his ear, “She cries over trivial things to avoid crying about what she really has to cry about. The odds of her being incredibly sore are very high, but she won't admit it.”

“Oh, well,” he scratches his neck, uncomfortable. “Bring her some ice. Try not to put weight on your foot for a while and keep it elevated.”

“Hey, look on the bright side. At least you didn't ruin your cashmere sweater,” Helaena says cheerfully. Willa frowns, observing her pink sweater for a moment.

“I want to go home,” she protests. “Why does everything have to happen to me?”

“It'll be okay. We'll have breakfast so you don't take a painkiller on an empty stomach, and you can try to leave when the swelling goes down,” Logan reassures her, getting up from the table and walking to the kitchen. Then he turns to Floris. “Yeah, she's not going anywhere. Not today, at least.”

Floris bites her lip, a little amused, and shakes her head. “A Christmas Eve to remember,” she says, and then helps everyone set the table for breakfast.

By mid–afternoon, everyone has had a few drinks and taken a dip in the indoor pool. Floris and Aemond maintain an incredibly mature distance, astonishing Aegon as he discusses it with Willa. Daeron seems to have become very friendly with Logan.

Annika didn't want to move, and in a sour mood stayed on the couch watching some stupid Christmas movie.

“They are cute,” Willa says, referring to Helaena and Logan. Her red curls are dripping water, and she holds onto the edge of the pool while sipping a sip of a daiquiri Aegon made for her.

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Don't you like someone making her laugh? Daeron always says she's a pretty lonely person and has a hard time getting along with others.”

“Aren't we all?” He chuckles. “I guess... It's always us who bring our girlfriends home. I mean, if we don't count the little friend Daeron brought home at seven years old who started crying when he showed her Aemond's snake, and his mother picked her up half an hour later, you would officially be the first girl Daeron brought. And Aemond and Floris have been together forever. And I...”

“Bring a different girl to every gathering?” Willa laughs.

“Yeah, as pathetic as that sounds,” he continues. “The point is, Helaena has never brought anyone else but Annika. She's her person. We got so used to it that now it's weird to see her with someone else. I don't think any of us realized that one day we would meet her partner.”

“It's weird. They seem to have that confidence that makes you think they've known each other forever,” she ponders. “Anyway, it's nice that they get along. She can't be with Annika all the time, I think. Eventually, they'll have to find a significant other.”

He dips his head in the pool to avoid hearing the last words and then emerges, leaning his elbows on the pool's edge, rubbing the water off his eyes.

“And that will be a great day for everyone,” he sighs ironically. Willa inspects him carefully. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “I mean... I'm very observant.”

“Yeah, I remember. A very curious little mouse, I told Daeron.”

“When we went to your house in San Francisco, do you remember the day it got really cold, and the airline had lost my luggage?”

“Hm, vaguely.”

“You gave me a sweater to wear while Daeron and I replaced my clothes.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You told me to be careful not to ruin it,” Willa tries to make him remember. “It was a pink cashmere sweater with a Camellia. Like the one Annika's wearing.”

Aegon bites his cheek. He knew he shouldn't lend the clothes Annika had forgotten at his apartment. Man, Annika never lends her clothes. How could he be so stupid?

“Sure... It's… It was mine. We bought it on sale. You know, two for the price of one,” he says, nervously laughing. He’s more worried about Annika finding out he lend her sweater. “It's very soft, much softer than any other fabric. I like wearing it. Yes. And I love pink. I have that sweater at home, and a lot of other pink clothes. I'd show you...”

“Aegon,” she sighs amused. “I'm not going to say anything.”

“You're not going to say anything about what?” He asks, trying not to sound mortified.

“You and Annika,” she murmurs, so only he can hear.

Aegon laughs. “There's no me and Annika.”

“You knew about her piercing, and she looked too worried when you mentioned it, but not surprised. Come on. I think everyone knows; they're just waiting for you two to say it and pretending not to know,” Willa tells him.

“There's nothing to say. It was... Nothing. Just something physical. It didn't mean anything.”

“What didn't mean anything?” Daeron asks, appearing out of nowhere behind Willa and hugging her around the waist. “Is Aegon bothering you?”

“I think I'm bothering him,” she says playfully.

He climbs onto the pool's edge, coming out of the water dripping, and walks to grab a towel without saying a word. After almost completely drying himself, he goes to the living room where Annika watches the Grinch, sitting in the same position they left her, with a blanket over her lap and ice over her head.

“He looks like you,” he tells her, ignoring the fact that he left her crying in the kitchen the night before. He always does that.

“I'm not in the mood,” she says, not moving her eyes from the screen. He peeks behind her and shakes his head to wet her. “Bite me.”

“Aren’t you a delight,” he says, taking a seat next to her. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” she replies, arms crossed and clearly a bit drowsy from the painkillers, without even looking at him.

“I thought we called on a truce.”

“I think we shouldn't talk at all,” she tells him. The indifferent tone stirs something acidic in Aegon's chest, and he squirms with sadness. “Oh, sorry. Was I too harsh?”

“I don't understand why you're angry. I should be angry. You gave me the blue balls. At least you got to finish.”

She looks at him and lets out a laugh. “I can't stand you.”

“Where do you think you're going?” He asks when he sees her trying to get up.

“Far away from you,” she says, being careful not to put weight on her foot. Aegon takes her arm and throws her back on the couch. She lets out a groan and wriggles, trying to escape his grip, but he holds her by the waist and presses her to his chest. “Let me go.”

“There’s something you need to know. Willa knows about us,” he warns, putting his mouth to her ear. She shifts uncomfortably. “It's just a matter of time before everyone finds out.”

“Then you kill her to keep the secret. God forbid someone finds out you touched me, or even looked in my direction.”

“Do you think that's the problem?” He asks, his palm resting on her stomach, lips against her neck. “You think I care if anyone finds out?”

“You made it pretty clear.”

“Do you want me to make you come again in this sofa where anyone could walk in and see us?” He asks, kissing her under the ear as he moves his hand from her navel to her centre. “You might understand that’s not what I’m worrying about, then.”

Annika hits his hand off and lets go of his grip. “No. I want you to leave. I'm serious. I don't want you to talk to me, look at me, or breathe in my direction. I don't want you near.”

He smiles crookedly. “Definitely harsh.”

“Go away. I can't go up the stairs, so I'm asking you to leave.”

She leans back against the backrest and covers herself with the blanket, resting her cheek on her hand. Aegon sighs in defeat. He’s not used to being rejected by her, if she ever got complicated usually some sweet talking and his fingers worked like charm to remedy her.

“Annika...”

“I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses,” she says. “You can take your blue balls and shove them in the snow as far as I’m concerned. And if you feel lonely, you have two hands.”

He looks at his hands.

It would hurt me a lot if you hurt her.

If he stays, he'll hurt her. If he leaves, he'll hurt her.

Freya was wrong. His mother, too. He can’t take care of her.

“Can I stay here and watch the movie at least?” He sighs, noticeably tired. She looks at him sideways and doesn't answer, but gives him a piece of her blanket. He settles a bit closer to her and curls up in his place, feeling a bit cold. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I want you to shut up.”

He nods. “Okay. Deal. I'll shut up.”

But he can't. He glances at her certain times, focused on the movie and looking as unhappy as ever. He clicks his tongue.

“You know...”

“No. I don't want to know.”

“Fine,” he nods again. Moves his leg frantically and manages to keep quiet for two full minutes. “But, if you think about it...”

Annika puts the TV on mute and turns to look at him. He stays silent when those green eyes haunt him. “It was real. It wasn't a waste of time. I wasn't just another one of your girls. It was different. It always has been. You were there, and it was real.”

“Of course, it wasn't a waste of time,” he starts saying. Freya's voice drills into his head. It would hurt me a lot if you hurt her. “And it was real.”

“And why don't you admit it?”

“What do you want me to admit?” He sighs, tired, and rests his cheek on the back of the sofa. Silver hair wets the green fabric, but he doesn't care.

“That you want me.”

“I can show you how hard I am so that –“

“That you love me,” she corrects.

He tries to escape, almost panicked, but she takes his cheeks and forces him to look at her. Her eyes are hypnotic. Her cheeks. Her skin. Her hair. The nose and eyelids reddened from crying so much because of him.

Of course, he does.

She's so close that their lips almost touch. He has leaned over her, because he does love her. Because she's right. And she no longer wants to run away... But he can't say it. However, he finds another way to be honest.

“I knew when your mother got sick,” he says, delicate as if confessing a sin. “I always knew. And she told me I shouldn't take care of you because you could take care of yourself, but that the idea of me hurting you would sadden her. I can’t do that to her.”

She leans back even though he tries to kiss her. She moves back so much that it cuts through his chest.

“What?” She gasps, not understanding. “What... What are you talking about? What does that even mean?”

And there's more. And there's so much you don't know. Because I've loved you since we were kids. Because I've taken care of you since we were kids. You don't have the right to treat me like a villain. I've always taken care of you. This time is no different.

“Aegon,” she calls him, in a sob. But he doesn't react, so she hits him in the chest. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why would you say something like that? Why would you even –“

“Because it's the truth. You wanted to know the truth. There it is,” he says. “We can't be together, Annika. I've learned to live with that, and you should too.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Floris pours herself a glass of water while Aemond looks at her with a dangerously careful gaze. He has always been tough, since they were kids, and it worsened after the incident with his eye. The sapphire only makes him appear tougher, ruthless, even.

But Floris cannot see anything other than his good side. His heart. The way he cares about his family, even Annika, with whom he always had a somewhat distant relationship. He cares.

That's why it was strange when she found him with their professor. It wasn't strange to have packed her things and taken the next flight to move from one state to another in less than six hours though.

He didn't object.

It's the first time they see each other, and there's a lot to say. He sent her things, and everyone moved on. She doesn't know what happened to the apartment or that damn snake of his that wouldn't let her have a puppy because it might eat it.

“Floris,” he finally calls her. She can't look at him. She can't see the person who cares and matters to her, who would never have hurt her. It's a different person standing beside her. “Please, look at me. We need to talk.”

She shakes her head. “We don't need to talk.”

“We need to clear things up.”

She smiles ironically. “What do you want to clarify? You slept with a teacher multiple times over these past few years and brought her to my house, to my bed. Do you have a valid reason? Other than the fact that you obviously no longer love me?”

Aemond weighs it for a moment. And then nods.

“I do love you.”

She laughs. “Sure.”

“You're my best friend. The best I've ever had in my life.”

“And then? Why did you do this to me?” She asks. There's no anger in her tone, as if the anger had dissipated after the exhaustive conversation with Annika, who she covered in snot and vomit. It's curiosity, no more, no less. It's intrigue.

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know I have my issues, but I firmly believe I've never done anything to hurt you. Not intentionally at least. I haven't been a bad girlfriend or a bad friend either. So, I ask you again, if you love me, why did you do this to me?”

“Because I love you,” he nods. “It's easy for me to love you, Flo. It's warm, and you feel like home to me. But I'm not a kid anymore, and neither are you. Adults have to leave their homes to create their own paths.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “I thought we were happy.”

“We were. I am. And I really don't want to lose you... But I cannot keep doing this,” he sighs, and gently takes her hand. “I'm sorry. It was stupid. And I don't think you can forgive me, but...”

“You're right, I can't,” she tells him, sniffing. “You should have told me what you felt when you felt it. You shouldn’t have let me waste all this past years. We could have found a solution; we did when, you know… Or we could have... –“

“Flo, there was nothing else to do. We tried everything,” Aemond tells her, a bit firmer now. “You don't love me in that way either. I know you, and I'm sorry. I've felt this distance between us for a while. You're not happy in Boston. You're happier with Annika and Helaena in New York. You would be happier if you had a dog instead of a snake. You would be happy if you explored a bit of who you are and what you want to be besides me.”

She sobs. “How am I supposed to go on after this?”

Aemond knows she might not, but maybe, after all, it's the only way for her to understand that between them, there's nothing but the love they've outgrown. Childish, puppy love.

“I'm sorry. It was stupid. And I'm not even seeing her. I guess I needed a getaway car, and that's the one I found... I guess you'll have to be the better person here and forgive me. It will take time, but I hope you know that I really mean it when I say I regret what I did to yoy.”

Floris clicks her tongue and rubs her face with her hands. “Well, you never apologized for anything. So I guess you are saying the truth. But it only makes me feel worse because this means you screwed up big time and you’re aware of it.”

He lets out a little laugh and leans in to kiss her on the forehead. “You taught me a lot. More than anyone else in my life. You gave me everything you could, and it's time for both of us to move on with what we taught to each other. When you're ready, when you're at peace... I hope I can be your friend again. Because I can't bear the thought of you not being in my life anymore.”

She understands what he means. Not in a romantic way, but they know each other too well. No one will ever know him so much, and vice versa. No one will ever live what they lived together.

“I’m always gonna love you,” she confesses. Again, not in a romantic way, but there's no need to clarify that.

Aemond tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m always gonna love you, too.”

“I need time. A lot. When I go back to New York, I'm going to transfer a university there. I fell behind a bit, but I'll catch up. I'll go to therapy, and I'll learn to forgive you. But I don't want to see you for a while.”

It hurts him almost as much as the pain that sometimes paralyzes half of his face.

But he knows he deserves it.

“You'll be fine,” he tells her. “You were always… Resilient. More so than me.”

“I know,” Flo smiles. “I’ll be fine. I got my girls with me.”

#aegon ii targaryen #fanfic #hotd #christmas au #aemond targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aemond x fem!reader #team green #aegon targaryen fanfic #Aegon Targaryen smut #im never gonna love again #hotd modern au #daeron targaryen #daeron the daring #helaena targaryen #asoiaf #got #aegon x oc #annika lannister

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