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irndad · 1 year

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in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair.

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind.

But he wanted her.

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her.

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life.

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure.

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question.

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness.

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility.

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists.

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his.

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up.

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way.

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time.

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.”

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete.

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers?

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him.

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy.

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded.

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please.

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god.

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again.

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality.

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does.

Ben, is not in fact, going away.

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore.

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.

But her cup says Ben.

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have.

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes.

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison.

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is.

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.”

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition.

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess.

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile.

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp.

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.”

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his.

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company.

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it.

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem.

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben.

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face.

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights.

Ironic, really.

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself.

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering.

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known.

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for.

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this.

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.”

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold.

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to.

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from.

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass.

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time.

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation.

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot.

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together.

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting.

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance?

Wasn’t it romance, though?

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror.

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks.

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry.

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment.

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire.

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her.

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion.

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him.

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness. “There was never anyone else to pick.”

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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trashywritestrash · 3 months

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Short and Sweet

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 853

Warnings: Best friend’s brother— is that a warning? This is just a short lil thing for Valentine’s Day

A/N: The poem and response in this came from Thomas Richardson’s “Gentleman’s Valentine Writer” which wasn’t actually published until 1828 but I needed ideas, okay? Also, I wrote this when Bridgerton was still the lead in the poll lol

Living beside the Bridgerton household had many advantages. Being close in age to Daphne gave you the perfect excuse to spend time with her. However, spending time with Daphne meant also spending time with the rest of her family, which allowed you to form a close bond with them all. One Bridgerton in particular being Benedict.

Benedict was a few years older than you, but within a perfectly reasonable range that made it acceptable for you to fancy him. How could you not? He was sweet and sensitive, but he had a playful side that brought joy any time you were fortunate enough to witness it. Although, you never dared to dream that Benedict might return your affections. You were the best friend of his younger sister, surely he would not think of you in that way.

Initially, you had been excited to be presented before the queen and sent out into society. But while Daphne had been deemed the season's incomparable, you had fallen into her shadow. You were happy to see your friend receive many visitors and gifts, but some days it would hurt to see a line of men outside her door while you waited in an empty sitting room.

Waking on Valentine's Day brought nothing but sorrow. It was only one month into the social season and you already felt that you were destined to become an old spinster. With no prospective husbands in sight, you would likely have to face a second season. You did not expect that you would receive any callers that day, yet you waited in your sitting room in a fine dress, as you did every other day. Your mother sat in a chair at the far end of the room, leisurely reading until something would happen.

Early into the day, your butler entered the room with a calling card in hand, "A Mister Bridgerton is here to call upon Miss Y/L/N."

"Send him in," You replied, feeling your chest constrict. It was possible that one of Daphne's brothers had come to pass along a message for her, but a gentleman visiting while you were accepting callers still brought you a shred of hope.

Moments later, you saw Benedict step through the doorway, holding something behind his back. He smiled, "I see I have gotten here before the rest."

You returned his smile, nervous, yet calmed by his presence. "I think you will find that the gentlemen are coming to your door today, not mine."

"Then they are fools and I am lucky to have you all to myself."

"What can I do for you, Benedict? I find it hard to believe you would be here as a suitor." You spoke the words in jest, but felt your throat tighten as you said them all the same.

Benedict's smile fell into confusion, "What is so hard to believe about that?"

Taken aback by the genuine confusion in his tone, you clarified, "I only mean to say that I would not have expected it."

"If that is the case, I hope that you find this to be a good surprise," For just a moment, you heard a bit of nerves in his voice as he tried to present a confident image. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay long. But I wanted to bring you these and to officially declare my affection."

Finally, Benedict moved the hand behind his back to reveal a beautiful bouquet of morning glory and myrtle. You smiled wide at the sight, "Thank you, Benedict. They're lovely."

Shortly after, Benedict had to take his leave, although he promised to come back the following day. Once he had left, you reached for a book on the language of flowers. You found that morning glories are used to represent affection, meanwhile myrtle is used to represent love and marriage. Learning that brought a blush to your cheeks, finding the meaning to be a little bold, but not unpleasant.

It was then that you noticed a small folded piece of parchment beside the flowers. When you unfolded the paper, you could see the painted design done in watercolors. A man and a woman stood beneath a tree, which was situated between a lovely cottage and a church. The image was small, but you could tell that the couple was you and Benedict. On the other side of the parchment was a simple note.

I boast not eloquence, dear Miss, Nor do I write exceedingly fine; Therefore, I bluntly ask you this-- Pray, will you be my Valentine?

As you looked down at the note, you felt your heart swell. You held it close to your chest, feeling as if you could burst from happiness at any moment. Your mother then looked up from her book. "What is that, dear?"

"It is nothing!" You responded quickly. Luckily, your mother did not push the issue further.

That night, you folded the note once more and placed it in the drawer of the nightstand beside your bed. As you attempted to fall asleep, all you could think of was that you could not wait to see Benedict again.

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#nel writes #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfic

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astrologuzzy · 10 months

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★ MY ASTRO OBSERVASHUNS ★

Disclaimer before I start: I’m no professional astrologer so don’t come for me, mkayyy? MWAH 💋

♡ 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, more specifically those with Gemini placements in their personal planets loveeeee playing around with their voice a lot. Just utilizing their voice to be a silly goobert. Like making voice impressions or funny sound effects is very natural for them. Which is why I think so many Geminis are comedians, artists and actors. Whenever I see someone who makes goofy sounds or is very into voice acting I instantly know they must be a Gemini/have heavy Mercury placements and up until now i was 100% correct each time lmao. (As someone who has Gemini placements myself: I love to make funny voices or impressions, sometimes I do it without realizing lol)

♥︎ Which actually brings my to my second point on 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 but those that are musicians; I noticed they frequently love to play around with different genres of music and different styles of singing/rapping in general, even all in one song simultaneously. Good example would probably be Kanye West or Kendrick Lamar. Their music and style tends to be very versatile and they tend to incorporate even very random notes/effects/sounds to it as well.

♡ Oh my goodness, all the 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 I’ve ever known have this damn thing where if you don’t ask them specifically for what you wanna know, they’ll never even tell you it. I had a friend with a full blown Libra stellium that I finally caught up with after months of no contact and this girl only told me about her having a girlfriend and getting into a car accident only 3 days later!? That was thanks to me for randomly mentioning romance and cars, otherwise she wouldn’t have even shared it. So if you wanna hear a Libra disclose something specific with you, just be direct with it.

♥︎ I haven’t met an 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 that wasn’t impulsive and would jump from one relationship/project into another and then complain about how everything turns out a mess (but then get back up and repeat the cycle again smh).

♡ 𝟏𝟐 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒 and their hidden enemies is actually very fukkin real. I got to witness it closely for the first time and oh boi am I shook lol. My boyfriend has a 12H moon and I’ve witness multiple times strangers come up to us, start a conversation and then just become insanely rude to him outta absolutely nowhere as if they been having beef with him since kindergarten?! Randoms tend to get mad or hostile so easily at him even if he doesn’t say anything bad... it’s so weird.

♥︎ Every person with an 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 in their big 3 has this feistiness to them. Even when they’re super sweet and chill type of Aries I still notice that they have moments where they’re quite direct or don’t really care about what you think. They’re gonna say what they wanna say one way or another and it’s honestly so natural to them, I don’t think they even notice. Even the quiet Aries in my life have this demeanor to them that you just don’t fuck with because they’ll bite back at some point.

♡ In my experience, every 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 that I’ve ever known always expressed their appreciation and affection in letters/poems/metaphors very frequently. Very romantic, very abstract, Shakespeare who? Every time they’d send a whole ass paragraph like 🥀”you are like a rose that fell in this chaotic ocean and turned it into a tranquil lake” 🍂 just to describe my eyes or something. I don’t think my Aquarius moon is cut for such stuff lmao, it makes me cringe a bit but I do appreciate it! Although every Pisces mars guy I ever knew had additional water placements in their big 3 (like Cancer sun or a Pisces moon) which probably only doubled that sentimentality they had.

♥︎ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 and their anger issues is something and that something is very real... That’s it, that’s the Tweet lol

♡ Idk what it is about 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 men but they always make me wanna take care of them and like baby them when they’re in their feels and retract and act like they aren’t on the verge of tears... Make me wanna go and cuddle them lol. Especially Cancer moons for wtv reason really soften my Aqua moon when I’m around without them even doing/saying anything.

♥︎ Also 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 are insanely great at faking their true state of being. I’ve met so many Libras that on the outside look like they’re having a blast but when you actually get to know them you see that their house burned down, their granny died, they almost choked to death twice last week and their partner broke up with them for 15th time that day and now they’re homeless... And you’re like damn bro, I’d literally never guess. They really know how to mask everything, put up a great front for others and do it insanely convincingly. You literally would never guess what that Libra is actually going thru, it’s probably worse than you can image. Please check up on your Libra friends and Libras - it’s ok to ask for helpppp. You guys deserve it <3

♡ 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 are one of the funniest mothafukers everrrrr, they always make me laugh so much! Double points if they have Gemini or other Fire placements with it. Just hilarious individuals.

♥︎ 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 are actually pretty chill people, you won’t see them angry often (but they make sure you know when they do). Usually our anger and passion is more so hidden and works backstage. Compared to 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 that are loud with it and don’t hold back.

That’s it for todayyyy ☀︎

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chososdiscordkitten · 5 months

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Boyfriend!Choso♡

Pairing: Choso x Gn!reader

Content: Fluff, sfw, no use of y/n or pronouns, readers appearance isnt mentioned, talk of marriage, sooo many cuddles, Choso's love language is acts of service, mentions of skin picking from anxiety, John wick movies mentioned lol

Word count: 3.5k

(a.n) I wrote this bcs I miss him sm, I shed a few tears while writing this btw. He's my pookie bear. finally putting my endless amount of books of love poems to work! I wrote this while listening to 'We'll Never Have Sex- Leith Ross' if u were curious:3

When I think about Choso as your boyfriend, I picture him being so gentle and delicate whenever it comes to you. Always a small sweet smile on his lips whenever he did something for you. As small as it was- all he needed was a simple “Awe, thank you Cho.” from you and a kiss on his cheek and he was set for the day. If you were studying for your college final, he’s the kind of person to bring you a warm cup of fresh coffee, “Careful-” he’d urge, seeing your hand reach for it. “It's hot.” Warning you, even if he was holding it from the bottom before he came to give it to you. I see Choso adoring kisses from you. Small pecks on his cheek or his forehead. In his mind it was your way to say thank you, even if it wasn't needed. But he loved how his chest swelled when you'd say, “Oh, Choso. You're so sweet.” your hand going to your chest and your eyebrows pinched together. Early in your relationship Choso noticed how much he liked hearing you praise him. Even if it was a quiet “Thank You.” followed by a warm smile. He liked knowing that you enjoyed his acts of service. It was his form of showing affection, thinking that he wasn't good with his words. And feeling like hugs and kisses weren't enough to make you feel his love. The best way Choso could describe it is wanting you to keep him in your pocket, when you commented that to him he liked the idea so much that it got stuck in his head. The idea of him living in your pocket so he was always with you, always there in case you needed a warm hug. He liked seeing your face light up when you came home from work after having a bad day. Only needing to see him in order to feel better. It also helped that he always greeted you by the door with a warm smile on his lips. Always taking your coat off for you, and asking how your day was.

Choso feels things so deeply, even mentioning the day you might break up made him nervous. Making his hands clammy and his eyebrows furrow. “If I tell you this, you have to promise me that you will never tell anyone.” You tell him, the two of you sitting faces inches apart, legs criss crossed like two children sharing secrets. He opened his mouth to talk, his hand going to his chest and laying flat against his oversized white t-shirt. “I promise, I will never tell anyone.” serious look on his face as he vowed to you. “Cho, I'm serious, even if one day you hate me- you cannot tell a soul.” you smiled, seeing Choso’s eyebrows furrow. “I would never hate you. Never in my life will I ever hate you-” he promised, his hand reaching down to hold yours as his eyes went wide with worry. “And if one day I tell you that I do- that is not me.” he smiled. Making you laugh as you clutched his hand. Smiling before leaning in to kiss his forehead, Choso’s eyes blinking shut as his cheeks turned warm. Pulling away and looking at his now calm eyes, “Okay-” you smiled, before pulling his head to your lips and whispering in his ear.

I think the way Choso loves is pure and unconditionally. The kind of love that was shown by his actions rather than his words. Like when you cut your finger while mincing some vegetables for lunch. Choso would wipe it gently with hydrogen peroxide. Wincing with you as though he felt the sting on your finger. Mumbles of “You have to be careful.” as he wrapped it delicately. Placing a gentle kiss on the bandage before cleaning up. Any time he saw a bruise on your calf, he hissed as his fingers pressed it. “Where'd that come from?” he asked, his voice pained as he rubbed it gently. “No idea. Didn't even know it was there.” you smiled, feeling him press a soft kiss to it. To Choso, all wounds and bruises are healed with kisses. He knew that if you treated something with love and care, it would heal quicker. His theory made you smile as he swore that it was true. Remembering his theory when you'd hold his hands, your soft fingers examining his calloused ones as he watched a show you had put on. Almost feeling the pain in your own hands when you saw the sides of his fingertips bright pink. Small scabs forming at the sides of his fingernails, sharp pain in your heart as your eyes scanned them. Knowing he picked at the skin anytime he got anxious. Choso turned his head to look at you to see what was wrong. Seeing your saddened eyes on his fingers. Lifting them up and placing kisses to the tips of them one by one. Your eyes closed as he felt his heart swell.

The way Choso loves is an adoration only seen in movies. The kind of love that teenage girls write about in their diaries. The kind of love that no matter what you've gone through, he will stay by your side. Feet planted to the ground and arm wrapped around you. The kind of man who would defend your actions- no matter if they're wrong, with an iron fist. The kind of love where if you were lost at sea, he'd sail through the endless salt water till he found you. Love so pure, you were unsure of it at first. Only ever seeing this kind of love in movies and tv shows. But he assured you quickly, this wasn't any movie or tv show. His warm hands on your face always reminded you of that. You'd close your eyes and feel him kiss your cheeks, placing one onto your brow bone, onto the bridge of your nose. However many kisses it took to make sure you knew that this wasn't some fairytale. Choso would get tears in his eyes when he heard you speak about the trials you were put through growing up. Crumbling completely at your words, hearing your voice started to shake and your eyes turned red with tears. Not being able to understand how anyone could hurt you. To him you were precious. Even thinking about the tears you’ve shed over your pain, made him sad. He never understood how people could be so cruel, especially to you. He hated seeing you sad. He hated seeing you in bed all day, he hated seeing you pick at your food. Choso hated seeing your lips chapped and cracking while you tried to assure him that you were okay with a smile. He is such an empath when it comes to you, always trying his hardest to cheer you up.

Choso’s favorite moments with you were the ones where he would hold you close. Slow dancing in the living room by candle light when the lights went out. Violent rain and thunder outside as he hummed the tune of a song. Stumbling feet as you both tried to figure out the movements. And every night before bed when you held onto him as though he would disappear in your hands if you let go. Feeling your fingertips press into his clothed skin, face nuzzled to his chest. His chin on the top of your head, his hand rubbing your back as he lulled you to sleep. Even in deep slumber, he never lets you go. Most nights going to sleep in each others arms and waking up still clinging to each other, somehow feeling like two puzzle pieces coming together. Most of the moments you shared together were spent in silence. Only in eachothers arms. Eyes closed as you felt the feelings of stress and the worries of life fade away in his arms. His hand caressing the side of your face as you drifted to sleep. Choso loved hearing your heartbeat, feeling your warmth against the side of his face as he tried counting how many times you breathed per minute. To him it was like counting sheep before going to bed. I don't think Choso would be the type to use pet names, preferring the intimacy of calling you by your name. But he loved hearing you say his name, the way your voice always said it so sweetly. He loved your voice. Just hearing you whisper, "Good morning-" before kissing his cheek made him giddy in the morning. That's why he would insist on you reading out loud to him, caressing your knee while listening to your voice.

I see Choso as the kind of guy who would try to convince you he knew how to tell someone's future, “Oh really?” You asked, sarcasm in your tone as his hand held yours. “I swear I do-” he started, a smile already on his face as he looked up to the sky. It was late, two, maybe three am. Both of you had lost the want to sleep that night, Choso had asked you if you had noticed how bright the stars shined at night. Seeing as you were on the outskirts of Tokyo and high in the mountains, the stars shone so brightly. So close you felt like you could touch them if you reached your hand out to them. Laying on the grass as you looked over at him, the full moon gave you a clear look at his face. “Then tell me my future.” You said, turning to your side and holding your head up with your hand. He closed his eyes, And let out a ‘hmmm’ he let go of your hand, mirroring the way you laid, opening one eye to look at you. “You have to close your eyes too or it wont work.” He smiled, looking at you. Sighing as you closed your eyes, knowing he was just trying to be funny. “Alright now I can see.” He laughed, you exhaled sharply hearing his tone. His hand reached for yours again, guiding you to hold your hand flat against his, “Ohh i see. This makes sense.” He exaggerated. “Tell me.” you smiled, keeping your eyes closed. Choso opened his eyes to look at you. Admiring your features, taking in the image of you. He thought you looked so beautiful. The way you smiled, waiting for him to tell you the future. Practically melting at how your yes shut tight in anticipation, he smiled. Leaning over to kiss you, pulling away as he watched you open your eyes. You looked at him, eyes squinted, “I knew it.” you said, dropping your hand from his as he smiled at you. He turned to lay on his back, laying your head on his chest hearing his heartbeat quicken. His hand went to you back, holding you close as you closed your eyes. “The only thing I see when I think about my future is knowing it will be with you.” Choso whispered, his free hand behind his head as you rubbed your hand on his chest.

I see Choso not liking horror movies, always dreading when you brought home a dvd from the 5 dollar section at the gas station. It wasn't because he was scared or anything (his words not mine) he just didn't like seeing the violent things people thought about to make a movie. Not understanding what cruel childhood the director must've had to think of such disgusting gore. Choso's hands clothing your arm, closing his eyes anytime he sensed a scary scene was coming. His body involuntarily jumped as a loud bang flashed on the screen. And everytime you laughed he'd say, “I was falling asleep- the noise surprised me.” Defending himself to you like he had to let you think he was strong. And after the movie was over and you'd be getting ready for bed, in the kitchen getting a glass of water. You'd say, “Did you hear that?” voice quiet and feigning fear. Seeing him flinch, shoulders stiff and turning around to stand in front of you, protecting you from any ghosts that dared step into the light. You couldn't hold in your laugh when you saw him get into his ‘fighting stance’ as he liked to call it, seeing him look back at you with a deadpan face. Taking a step forwards toward your bedroom. “Wait, don't leave the ghosts might get me!” you'd laugh, seeing his hand fwip up and down. “They can have you.” he mumbled, waiting for you at the doorway, secretly afraid of a ghost actually being there. Choso loves you always, even when you feel like complete garbage as the flu ate away at you. “Don't come near me- you'll get sick.” You'd say stuffy nose as he tried to hug you. “I don't care.” he’d reply, his hands wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Spending the few days doting on you, holding you close while you shivered in his arms. Whispering to you "Gimme a kiss." before bed. Knowing he won’t go to sleep if you didn't grant him his wish. It didn't take long for Choso to catch it. But like he told you, he didn't care. As a matter of fact- he preferred being sick. It only gave you more reasons to stay at home with him, loving how you’d make him hot soup. How you'd scold him when he didn't take the flu medicine you had bought him. Choso didn't care, he liked knowing that the next morning you'd have to call into work to take care of him. Even long after it had passed, early in the mornings asking you to feel his forehead. That he doesn't feel too good. And you'd always check, pressing your hand to his forehead, “Cho, you feel fine.” you'd say, “Well my stomach hurts too-” he'd say, watching your hands grab your coat with pained eyes, seeing his eyes full of desperation. You placed a kiss on his lips, “I will be home soon.” you'd say through your teeth, seeing him pout in response. Always looking for a way to keep you home with him.

I see Choso being jealous and possessive. Not in the way you’d think, more in a “I'm jealous of the wind that blows through your clothes.” kind of way. Possessive in the “I want you here with me till the sun rises in the west and sets in the east.” manner. I could never picture Choso willingly being toxic, a few pinkish flags but nothing that could ever really bother you. He was thrown into the new feelings of a different kind of love, so it was understandable when he would say something that was a thought straight from his head. Not bothering to think about it before telling you. But you always knew he meant his words, no matter how jumbled they were. When Choso had brought up how he could never forgive himself if he ever made you cry, you felt your heart strings pull at your chest. How he was so blessed to be with you. Loving him even when he was a mess. The kind of lover that draws you by candle light, telling you- “You look so beautiful- I have to show you.” his hands picking up a napkin and a stray pen from the living room coffee table. Drawing you slowly as you looked at him, thinking about how you were the blessed one to have such a perfect partner. Choso feared very few things, always making sure that you're safe in any situation. Didn't matter how small the danger risk was, you always came first. But what he feared most was your death, he had seen the movies about a perfect love that was shattered by the death of the other. While watching movies Choso liked picturing the two of you as the characters in his mind. Movies that were stupid romcoms, but he still watched them while daydreaming the couples were you and him. When you had brought up if he'd like to watch the John Wick movies, “They're just action movies about a guy who never dies.” You'd say as he nodded his head yes. After watching the first one he thought heavily of what he'd do if you were taken from him. What would become of him if you weren't here anymore. Choso’s heart clenched as he started breathing heavily. Turning over to see your back as you slept, fearing you had died in your sleep he pulled your arm so you'd flip to your back. Placing his ear to your chest, focusing on trying to hear your heartbeat as you slept. A relieved sigh leaving his lips at hearing your heart. Feeling the sudden weight on your chest, stirring awake as you squinted down at him. His eyes look up at you, whispering a small “Sorry.” Before pulling the shared blanket back on top of you. Laying on his side as you turned back around. His hands find their designated place around you, spooning you while you go back to sleep.

Before you came into his life, Choso didn't have a home. He didn't have something to call home, even if he had a place to lay his head at night. Reading about how people consider their partners home. He didn't know what the feeling felt like till he was in your arms. The tingling feeling in his cheeks as you held onto him, thinking back to a poem he had read a while ago. He'd look up at you, “I get it now-” he'd say propping himself up on his forearms. Looking at his face that was lit up as though he had solved a puzzle he was putting together for years. Your eyes scanned his face in confusion as he jumped off of the bed and walked to the office of your apartment. Sitting up as you heard him rummaging through the drawers. Walking back to the bedroom with a smile on his face and a small book in hand. Fingers flipping through the pages in search of something. “It's the middle of the night-” you said, feeling him plop onto the bed, his eyes widening when he found what he was looking for. He cleared his throat, eyes on the text. “If I were to build a house, I'd have your arms as the walls,-” Choso read, eyes looking back up to you to make sure you were listening. “Your eyes as the windows, your smile as the front door, your heart as the fireplace.” Toothy smile on his lips as he read the words to you. “And your soul as my light.” his voice shaking, watching your eyes tear up. “And in this house, I'd place my faith, knowing I'd finally found a home.” He finished, closing the pages and setting it down. Your eyes struggled to keep the tears at bay, eyebrows pinched together as his eyes looked to yours, small smile on his lips. “I read this before I met you-” he said, eyes sparkling even in the dim lighting. “And I finally understand it.” He confessed, placing his head back to your chest, his eyes shutting in content, feeling you held his face. “I finally know what a home feels like.” He mumbled to your skin, hand flat on your rib. Smile on your lips while a single tear fell down your cheek. Choso didn't think he was the greatest at explaining his feelings, relying on his actions instead. But when he would say small things like that, it would always make your heart warm. Knowing that there was someone in this world who truly loved you. Unconditionally and without restraint. Never feeling shame in telling you loved you, even if he had told you 10 times that day.

I see Choso as the kind of person who says things without thinking of them first, but only with you. Often preferring silence with strangers. But when hes with you, he would blurt out the thoughts that had popped into his head while he listened to your ranting about your coworkers. Staring into your eyes, listening to the colorful string of words leave your lips. Heard in his pupils, chin in his hand, low eyes when you noticed his staring. He let a hum fall from his closed lips. “Marry me.” He hummed, eyes going wide hearing his own words leave his mouth before he could stop them. You smiled, relaxing your shoulders. Letting a small laugh fall from your lips seeing him start to stutter trying to save the conversation. Silence falling between you as you watched him realize he couldn't make you unhear his words. “I messed it up again, didn't I?” he asked, his hand on his forehead while he looked down. “Like when I messed it up when you told me you loved me-” He asked, looking up to see you smiling. Sighing, feeling embarrassment flush his cheeks. “It's okay.” You smiled, holding his hand and placing a kiss on his forehead. Feeling his stiff shoulders soften. "It's okay." You repeated, lacing your fingers with his as you soothed him.

a lil shorter than usual but I wanted to post this for anyone who was looking for Choso fluff, knowing that there isnt a whole lot of it on here🫠

#jjk #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso x you #jjk x reader #choso my beloved #jjk fluff #choso fluff #jujutsu kaisen choso #jujutsu kaisen #choso jjk #jjk x gender neutral reader

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thefandomthings · 6 months

Text

𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Middle Brothers (Separate) x Gn!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Suggestive in both (🤭), fluff,

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I am so sorry this took so long, and I apologize is Asmo is ooc, I'm not good at writing him lol

Tags: @veethewriter @demon-master-zero

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 Part 2

I believe Satan is a sucker for old school romance, you can't tell me otherwise.

He loves the idea of sending each other love letters and poems.

He often writes about you, by often I mean everytime he writes, it's about you.

Satan even uses an ink pen and paper, his penmanship is extraordinary.

He isn't really into romance novels, but in some of his mystery/murder-mysterys there is romance

You've read a handful of Satan's books, plus your own collection.

You've recently started reading an older Novel, it's written very poetic, the main characters have started exchanging small love notes to one another.

That gave you the most brilliant idea, you'd start writing notes to Satan, leaving them on his book marks and on the inside cover of his new novels.

Satan is very witty, it takes a lot to make him get flustered, but the first note he received from you, he blushed.

You've never been one to openly talk about how you are feeling, you express yourself in different ways, such as gift giving or quality time. You've also noticed Satan has a hard time expressing himself, instead resorts to poetry and writing love letters to you.

You are currently sitting in the HoL library, your current novel sitting on your lap. You messed with the spoon in your luke warm tea while reading the poetic lines. You smiled as the main characters declared their love for each other, a warm feeling flooding in your chest.

You are desperately waiting for Satan to come back from his meeting with Diavolo and his brothers, wanting to see his face when the little folded piece of paper slips out from his new book.

It took you quite a long time to think of this note, it's a poem. It probably sounds lame next to Satan's poetry, you've read famous poets work and they are nothing compared to The Avatar of Wraths'.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Library door opens. Satan gave a small smile, his teeth aren't showing it's just a small curve of his lips.

"Hello Kitten"

He leans down and kisses your forehead rather gently before grabbing his book and sitting next to you. You instinctively stretch your legs out into his lap, his slender fingers brushing against the skin of your ankle and shin.

Satan uses his other hand to open his book, and just as you planned the small piece of paper slowly falls into his lap against your legs. You shyly hide behind your book, pretending to read. You could feel his chest and torso rumble while he read the poem to himself.

It's hard to remember what you wrote, the adrenaline making you loose your memory and only focus on now.

You do remember how hard you thought about all the write words, and what kind of poem it would be. To make his heart flutter the way he makes yours leap and soar. To make him feel the tingling sensation that spreads into your finger tips when you feel yourself falling in love more and more.

Goosebumps erupted on your skin, his hands gliding further up your legs before gripping under your knees and bringing you into his lap.

Your nose was pressed to headband of your book, the delightful smell of the old paper pages filling your nose. Your cheeks are on fire, you could feel the tingling of the blush spreading down your neck and to your ears.

Satan could only chuckle and remove the book from your face and set it on the sofa beside him. His hands set themselves on your hips, his glowing green eyes shining like brightest star in a dark night.

He gently kissed you, his hands moving to cup your face and rub your cheek bones. The kiss was full of love and passion, slow and steady. Both of your hearts pounding in your chest, skin on fire from each others touch.

He pulled away and hugged you, his head rested against your neck and shoulder. Your chest fluttered, your heart was in your throat as Satan's lips brushed against your pulse then he spoke.

"I love you"

I strongly think Asmo designs clothes, and you are his muse and model.

He absolutely loves when you agree to be his inspiration.

And he also loves when you let him take your measurements. He likes how your body feels in his hands.

Asmo is very observant, it doesn't seem like it cause he's utterly obsessed with himself. But he knows everything about everyone. (Gossip King)

He especially knows every detail about you, you decide if that's creepy or sweet.

He absolutely loves when you tease him when working, it gives him excitement!

"MC, My darling muse I need your beauty." Asmo falls against his bed next to you, his delicate skin pressed against his silk pillowcase. You hum setting your phone down and moving his hair away from his eyes the way he likes. He smiled looking at you with stars in his eyes.

"What are you thinking and what was your inspiration?" You asked leaning on your arm. Asmo was quiet, his eyes scanning your face and down your body.

"You are always inspiration Darling." He smiled before hoping out of his bed and opening his fabric closet. You giggled and stood next to your boyfriend admiring the hundreds of fabrics.

"Stand over here." He points to the large wood box coated in glitter and pink paint. You nodded slipping off your clothes, leaving only your undergarments.

"MC, you devious human." Asmo giggled, suddenly appearing behind you. His slim hands glided around your body adjusting the measuring tape at your hip. "Always so beautiful..".

Your skin erupted with goosebumps, your shoulders shaking with a slight shiver at his touch. He giggles, he nails running over you rub cage.

"Hold still MC, or my measurements will be wrong." He pressed gently kisses along your skin, your face was rosy staring down at his thick, pink hair.

"Asmo, the tape is loose." You teased watching him adjust the tape.

"You little Minx.." He bit the soft flesh of your hip making you yelp. He giggled loudly before walking over to his sowing machine and writing your measurements on his note pad.

You reached down for your clothes but his voice stopped you, "Keep them off Love, I still need more measurements." His smile was sweet, but devilish.

God, he loved looking at you. So comfortable in his presence, just helping him gives him joy he hasn't had since the fall. You help him in more ways then one. And he loves you more than anything, including himself. And he never lets your forget that.

#obey me headcannons #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #obey me fluff #obey me smut #gender nuetral reader #thefandomthings

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straykeedz · 8 months

Note

dear god i just read your chan x virgin reader smut and I nearly had a stroke. it was so good, i feel like you rly got chan’s personality down so perfectly 😭 can you please please please write one for hyunjin x virgin reader? i wanna cry thinking of how sweet and gentle he would be and how much he would praise/worship you and how passionate and sensual it would be ugh ♥️

thank you!! 🥹🫶 sure i can!!

(i wrote this in one sitting too, so please don't hate me if it's bad 😭🙏 it's so hard to focus on writing when uni is kicking your ass lol)

hwang hyunjin x afab virgin!reader

wc: 1086 (😇)

masterlist ♡

chan’s version ; minho’s version ♡

tw: foreplay (m & f receiving); loss of virginity; unprotected piv sex (don't do that at home!!! 🤨); soft lovemaking in a bathtub; creampie; ♡

mature content under the cut, minors dni!

i kind of get the vibe that he’d like sex to be as romantic as possible, especially if it’s your first time we’re talking about;

so just picture yourself in a bathtub with hyunjin - your back pressed against his chest as you rest your head on his chest as he reads you his favorite poems from he book he’s holding in his hand, voice vibrating in his chest - sending shivers down your spine;

there’d be candles all over the bathroom and petals in the bathtub - red roses, hyunjin’s and your favorite flower;

his other hand would be resting on your hip, caressing your wet skin - dangerously close to your groin, but he doesn’t dare to move it any farther;

you’re comfortable with being naked around each other - you haven’t had sex yet, but you’ve done other stuff like foreplay and dry humping, so there’s no embarrassment between the two of you;

as he reads - sweet, romantic and occasionally passionate words would roll off his tongue easily, almost naturally;

a particularly erotic verse would fall from his lips, and you’d feel yourself getting red in the face - you’d feel yourself getting wet down there;

truth be told - you’ve been thinking about finally sleeping with hyunjin for a while now, you’re definitely ready to take the next step, and you want to do it with him;

you’d move your head from his chest, snapping it up to meet his face - eyes focused on the book, his tongue occasionally brushing over his plump lips;

he’d notice your gaze on him and would stop reading the beautiful poem only to place a soft kiss on your forehead;

“hyunjin”, you’d call him - voice coming out in a whisper, but he’d hear you loud and clear, humming a soft “yes, jagi?” to encourage you to tell him what’s going on inside your head;

“i’m ready”, you’d finally whisper - you can immediately feel the way his body tenses, breath hitching in his throat, so you add “i want you to make love to me”;

he almost has a faints lmao;

“are you sure, my sweet jagi?”, he’d ask you - you can feel his already hard cock pressing against your lower back - “i can wait, you know you don’t have to do this if you’re not sure”;

but you are sure, you’ve never been more sure of anything;

“i’m sure, jinnie”, you place one hand on his jawline - fingers brushing against his soft skin, “i want you to be my first”;

the poor man wasn’t expecting it to happen RIGHT NOW, so when he feels your hand gently wrapping around his hard cock he almost drops his book in the bathtub out of shock;

“oh you- you mean right now? here?”, he’d ask with wide eyes and you’d nod, as he leans in for a kiss - small pecks at first, sweet and chaste, that would turn into a make out session, hyunjin’s tongue brushing your lower lip accompanied by the choked moan that’d leave his lips as soon as he feels you tug at his cock gently;

he’d bring one hand to touch the sensitive spot between your thighs - a whimper leaving your mouth when he inserts one of his long, tapered fingers inside of you;

it would happen like that - you’d climb on top of him after spending a few minutes enjoying mutual masturbation - he’d hold you by your hips so that you don’t slip as you position yourself on top of him;

condoms aren’t exactly water friendly - so you’d do it without one, but it’s fine since you’re on the pill and you’re both tested clean;

i kinda get the feeling he’d keep his gaze on you all the time, not wanting to miss a single thing - he’d want to remember everything;

definitely parts his lips and gasps as soon as he feels the tip of his length parting your entrance, squeezing your hips even tighter;

he’d want you to take your time, he’s definitely not the type to rush sex;

his hands wouldn’t leave your hips as you slowly sink on him - it’d probably take a while, tho, his cock isn’t exactly easy to take - long and hard;

once he’s fully inside of you, you’d both need a minute to adjust - you to the new feeling of finally having him inside of you, him to the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him;

i kinda get the feeling he’d be the best at controlling himself;

i’d still be a lot for him too, tho;

he’d help you with your movements, slow and gentle;

he wouldn’t move at first - he’d let you take control completely;

but then he’d start thrusting delicately, meeting your movements with the rolls of his hips;

he’d definitely untie your hair, letting the rubber band fall on the floor;

you’d do the same, untying the bun on top of his head - his hair getting a bit damp due to your wet hands, letting his hair fall down and hide his undercut (😢);

his hands would move from your hips to your face - gently cupping it as he leans forward for a kiss;

artist boy definitely places a few petals in your hair!!!;

“you’re an angel, jagiya”, he’d whisper on your lips;

praise, praise, praise, PRAISE!!;

listen, this man has the habit of reading poems every night before going to bed - you’re really expecting him NOT to praise you? during your first time??? well, you’re wrong;

such a sucker for eye contact as he’d whisper words of appreciation such as “you’re so beautiful”, “my baby”, “i love you so much” 🫠;

“you’re so good to me, jagi”, words would roll off his tongue almost automatically as he feels himself getting closer to his end “my perfect angel, so beautiful”;

99.9% you’d cum together;

i kinda picture him as the type of guy who wouldn’t close his eyes as he reaches his high, he’d keep his gaze on you - wanting to see how fucked out you look;

not so loud when he cums - just a choked moan escaping his parted lips as he shoots inside of you, eyes still on you;

he’d bury his head in between your chest as he pants heavily - head spinning from his intense orgasm, kissing your soft skin;

would definitely praise you even after you’re both finished;

“you did so good, my love”, “you were so good to me, i love you”;

he’d definitely paint the scene as a way to remember the moment!!! (even though there’s no way he’s going to forget it);

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yoonivy · 7 days

Text

gold rush; part 2.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, eventual smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. none.

author's note. i have no poetic bone in my body so oc's poem is taken from mitski's "your best american girl". enjoy!!!!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

This is not how you thought you’ll be spending your first day off in months — with your favorite distressed black tee of your favorite band covered in flour, eggs in your hair, and coloured icing staining your hands. But you suppose there are worse ways to spend your day off, and at least all this hard work will pay off with all the delicious desserts that Sansa is manically making.

And by manic, you are not at all joking in the slightest.

On every available surface of Sansa’s kitchen, there is at least one tray of some sort of baked goods cooling. Cookies on the kitchen table, banana bread and her favorite lemon cakes on the island, three different flavours of cheesecakes by the sink, and macaron shells currently in the oven. And she’s not even finished! While you are currently decorating the cookies, she is frantically stirring something else in a bowl — by hand, because once again for the 9th time this year, she had broken an electric mixer just a bit earlier.

There is only one reason Sansa gets like this. There is something troubling her mind. And by the looks of the disaster she made of her kitchen, it’s pretty big.

She’ll let you know when she’s ready to vent. But for now, you’re just both happy for the company.

Plus, you’re finally getting a hang of this icing piping thing if you do say so yourself. You stand back, picking up the sea salt caramel chip cookie you finished decorating to proudly show off the cute turtle to Sansa.

She laughs, offering an excited, “ Awwww!” before she goes back to mixing.

It’s quiet for a while, both of you concentrated on the task at hand.

Mayhaps too quiet, you start to think…

That is when you smell something… strange.

“Oh no!”

Sansa reacts and jumps on it first, quick to the oven with her mitts, pulling out the tray of charred macaron shells and placing it onto the stove. You stand by her as she slumps in defeat, and you notice she forgot to set the timer she already had ready on the oven.

From this close, it’s easier to notice how frazzled and disheveled Sansa truly is. Her copper hair is in disarray, falling from her tight bun in many places, her bangs messy against her forehead. Her rosy complexion even more flush than usual. And the bags under her eyes… She has not slept well.

Meeting your gaze, she lets out a heavy sigh, and finally comes out with it, “Jon asked me out.”

“ Oh… ” You trail off, eyes shifting from side to side. “That’s… that’s it?”

“What?!” Sansa is so shocked that you’re so nonchalant about it. As if she and Jon haven’t been dancing around each other for nearly two years now. “Isn’t that… Isn’t it…”

You gasp into an over exaggerated worried expression. “Oh no… you’re going to reject him, aren’t you?”

Your poor bestie… Now he is going to be even more sulky than ever. If that’s even possible.

“I— no! I mean, I want —” Sansa sputters, eyes widening wildly. Then she takes a breath to recollect herself, stares at you for a moment before she claims, “You all knew, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly.

“Even… Robb?”

“I’m pretty sure Robb’s the one that gave him the final push to ask you.”

Sansa groans, face palming. “This is so embarrassing…”

“Yeah, it’s so strange. How very Cersei Lannister of you,” you tease, clearly unserious with your reference to the recent scandal of the high profile actress who was caught having an affair… With her own twin brother, the most booked and busy male model Jaime Lannister. Some say the raunchy videos that leaked were just deep fakes and the twins were the ones who leaked it themselves to hide the fact they both weren’t straight, but many others — like yourself and Sansa — think it’s as real as can be. For the first two weeks when the scandal broke out, you and Sansa kept sending the group chat twitter “proof” threads of clips of the Lannister twins throughout the years (on the red carpet, the photoshoots they often were paired up with together, their own content they would post of one another) to convince your other friends. Needless to say, all the guys left the group chat and would only agree to be added back if the two of you shut the fuck up about it.

They’re lucky that the star of the reality television show "Keeping Up With The Martells", Arianne Martell, started dating comedian Pete Davidson a week later or else they would have never been added back.

Sansa’s face falls into a silent gasp, and you quickly have to convince her, “I’m joking, Sansa! You and Jon are nothing like them! And plus, cousins dating is not that weird… Aren’t your grandparents cousins?”

“Yes, but–”

“And they’re the most adorable little old couple I’ve ever seen! How they would always walk around the godswood every morning holding hands… my little heart couldn’t handle the cuteness every time I saw them when we were growing up!”

Sansa giggles, smiling fondly at the thought of her grandparents. “You’re right… They are so sweet.”

You share a smile, but then Sansa frowns suddenly. “But it’s not even that… I mean it was , but there’s also… There’s also the fact I was horrible to Jon when we were growing up.”

You won’t deny that, but… “Well clearly things have changed. You’ve changed. And it’s obvious Jon forgives you… And honestly, if I have to hear him be all sad boy and pine over you and play his guitar while singing some song by Cigarettes After Sex for another night, I think I might really have to K word myself.”

“Don’t do that!” Sansa laughs, shaking her head. You raise a brow at her and then she nods, determined.

“I’m going to talk to him… Right now,” Sansa declares, smiling wide. Then she takes your hands into hers. “Thank you… For being here for me when I’m such a mess.”

“It’s nothing, Sansa,” you say as you pull your hands from her grasp to wrap her into a tight hug. “I’m always here for you, you know that! And I know you’d do the same for me.”

After you both pull away, your finger grazes on her cheek and then you show her the pad now covered in cake mixture. “Maybe shower first before you talk to him?”

You both laugh, and then Sansa leaves you alone in her kitchen. You start to clean up, getting most of it done and only stopping when you pass by the tray of cookies you were working on.

As you stare at one of the chocolate chips you had decorated, you pull your phone out of your pocket.

To Aemond

— are you at school rn?

From Aemond

— Yes. At Barristan Hall.

— Why?

To Aemond

— okay good!

— STAY THERE!! 😡

From Aemond

— Alright.

— Why?

— Oh, so it's okay when you leave me on read?

You laugh at Aemond’s unintentional silliness while you slam close the car door you just stepped out of.

To Aemond — it’s only been 5 minutes you drama queen!! — i’ll see you soon!

“I was promised treats for the ride.”

You roll your eyes, looking across the hood of the car where Theon is putting on his clubmaster sunglasses. You meet him at the front of his car, handing him one of the little dessert packages you had made with Sansa. His eyes light up as he takes it, going ‘ oooh! ’, then he glances up into your eyes more expectantly. Even from behind the sunglasses, you can feel his little beady eyes doing that pleading, wide-eyed emoji look at you.

“You motherf…” You curse him under your breath, rummaging into your tote bag to hand him what he really wanted. The preroll you were saving for yourself later that evening.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, m’lady,” he says with a bow.

“Uh-huh.”

As the two of you walk off the parking lot together, Theon lights it up, takes a hit before handing it to you. “Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn't have classes today?”

“I don’t,” you tell him, after exhaling the sativa from your lungs. You hold up the second tote bag you were carrying to show him. “I’m just being a little dessert fairy! I’m gonna give one to Seaworth, Professor Tarth, and…”

Taking back the spliff and glancing your way, Theon grins and teases, “And your little Targaryen boyfie ?”

Your face twists in disgust. “Ew. Please never say that ever again,” Theon snickers as you continue, “And he’s not my boyfriend… We’re just… friends…question mark?”

You’re definitely not even sure about that. It’s been a week since the party, and you’ve yet to see Aemond in person since then.

But the two of you have been texting. A lot.

Surprisingly, Aemond is fun to text despite his perfect sentence structures, proper punctuation, and no use of emojis. Though strangely enough, you don’t even have to explain the internet slangs you say and memes you often send him, he just somehow knows. You usually get a very dry ‘Haha.’ and you’re not sure if he even finds it actually funny. He still keeps texting you though, so you take that as a good sign.

“ Friends… right. Because you make out with your friends all the time in front of a huge crowd.”

“How many times do I have to tell you: WE DID NOT MAKE OUT! OR EVEN KISS FOR THAT MATTER!”

Theon waves around the phone in his hand. “I have video evidence! And so does Marg! And a million other people that were at the party!”

“And you’re all dumb, like I’ve said before,” you tell him with a pout. You can’t believe the videos of you and Aemond “kissing” gained traction around the students at your school and yet none of your sick dance moves did. The world is so unfair!

As the two of you stop by the doors of the building where his first and only class of the day is being held, Theon steps on the roach of the spliff. Then he turns to you, pulling down his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, enough for you to see his eyes. “How do I look?”

“Like you smoked half a joint.”

“Shit… Mordane is going to kill me.”

You hum, satisfied. “Perhaps it’s deserved… I know it’s your video that’s been spreading around, you little shit!”

From the anonymous TikTok video that Jon showed you that was being spread around the night after the party titled “Vale U’s Ice Prince snogging the weirdest girl at Vale U”, you can hear Margaery gasping beside the cameraman and the cameraman laughing annoyingly. It’s definitely Theon.

Theon now laughs again, the same annoying laugh from the video, and shrugs his shoulders flippantly. Opening the doors, he lilts at you, “Say hi to your boyfie for me!”

With your middle finger up at him, you sing-song back, “I won’t!”

“Theon says hi .”

Aemond eyes you quizzically, brows furrowing together in a way that you would think is cute if he was your boyfriend like Theon teases. But he’s not, so it’s like, whatever…

“Theon…?” He repeats, still confused.

“You know, my friend who I think spread that video of us?”

“ Ah… ” Aemond lets out, finally putting a face to the name. Then he looks up at you from where you are standing just beside the table he is sitting at, clearing his throat. “So… How have you been?”

“Fine,” you tell him with a shrug, glancing around the room. You think this must be the first time you’ve been to Barristan Hall since… Well, since your tour guide of the University two years ago. This building is unnecessarily too bougie , and it’s where the more privileged students (read, nepo babies ) like to spend their time on campus. Even this study hall — if you can even call it that — has a stall of the most expensive coffee store chain in it and a freaking high-end bar . It’s ridiculous!

Aemond is at least studying judging by the book and laptop he has opened in front of him, unlike the other students mingling around.

You then turn your attention back to him, finding his eye still on you. With a soft smile, you return his question, “How about you? How have you been?”

Aemond sits up a little straighter as he says, “I’ve been… well.” He then presses his lips together, before opening his mouth again, “So, what—”

“Oh, ____! Fancy seeing you here!”

You and Aemond glance to where Ramsay, Aegon, and Vis are all approaching the two of you.

Before you can even dodge it, Ramsay has his arms wrapped around you. Cringing, you push him off you with a glare that he takes with an amused chuckle. He leans in close, too close , and inhales deeply, smirking at you when he pulls back, “You smell real sweet, sweetheart.”

You make a face that hopefully conveys your utter disgust for him but then Aegon pushes him aside with his arms wide open towards you with pout, “Where’s my hug at, ____?”

You suppress a grimace, tentatively hugging Aegon back when he steps towards you, patting his back awkwardly. It’s strange for Aegon to be this friendly towards you, but maybe it’s because Aemond and you are sorta, kinda, maybe friends now? And Aegon was the nicer of the two towards you when you were growing up. Daeron and Helaena are still the sweetest though.

From over your shoulder, Aegon smirks at his little brother, the glare Aemond has on him making him tighten his arm around you.

Luckily Vis does not seem to care for you, already sitting down at the table with Aemond with his iced Sunspearino. Aegon finally lets you go and join, sitting beside his brother – bending down to snicker mischievously into Aemond’s ear before he does so. Hidden from view from under the table, Aemond’s knuckles whiten from his clenched fist.

Ramsay stays standing with his hips cocked and arms crossed, his sleazy gaze steady on you.

Ugh.

“So, ____, have you visited our father lately?” Aegon asks, throwing his arm around Aemond.

“Yup, just yesterday!” You tell him. Then to both him and Aemond, you suggest, “You know, you two should visit him more often. He’s always asking about you guys as if I know what the two of you are up to…”

Aegon snorts while Aemond frowns, looking down.

“Last time we visited, we found some very interesting… things , that our dear father has been hiding,” Aegon says, eyeing you closely.

“Like what…?” Your face twists. “... Porn ? Actually — whatever it is, don’t even tell me!”

The boys laugh – except Aemond – and Aegon points towards you, wagging his finger, “You’re pretty funny. I like you!”

“Told ya she’s cute,” Ramsay comments and you almost gag.

“I don’t know about that…” Vis mutters under his breath. “She has egg in her hair for crying out loud…”

With your mouth downturned, you glance down at your hair and find that he is right — you do have egg in your hair. Well that’s embarrassing…

“You’re here to give me something, weren’t you?” Aemond asks, changing the subject.

“Oh right!” You exclaim, pulling out a neatly plastic wrapped package tied together with a red ribbon and placing it on the table for Aemond. Inside the clear plastic sheet are different individually boxed sweets in clear small tupperware. It’s a bit extra, but that’s Sansa for you! “I spent the morning baking with a friend and we made too much, so… Here you go!” Then you grin at Vis, holding up a piece of your hair, “The reason why I have egg,” you tell him with a laugh. He smiles tightly, still unamused.

You turn back to Aemond, pointing out the different dessert from outside the package, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I gave you a bit of everything… That’s lemon cake over there, Sansa’s favorite. Oh, the macarons! I think I gave you the pistachio and coffee flavored one. Um… Strawberry cheesecake. The banana bread is pretty fire… and,” Your eyes light up as you giddily talk, and Aemond’s cheeks heats up, “I decorated that cookie myself! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You meet his eyes, and he startles, realizing he has been looking at you the entire time instead of following what you were pointing out. You did not notice, only smiling at him as you let him know “It’s a dragon, like your family—”

“That doesn’t look like a dragon,” Aegon remarks rudely, and both you and Aemond snap at him at the same time, “Yes, it does!”

You throw an appreciative smile at Aemond which he returns with a coy half-grin, while Aegon murmurs with a frown, “Geez, talk about touchy ….”

“Thank you,” Aemond says softly, pulling the package towards himself.

Grinning, you wave him off, “No problem!”

Then you glance at the time on your phone. “I should get going,” you tell him, already backing away. “I’ll talk to you later!”

Aemond stands suddenly, but doesn’t move, just nods as his hands stay pressed on the table. “Yeah, later…”

You throw him one final glance back with a sweet smile on your face and he grins back.

Once you’re gone, that’s when he finally sits back down.

“I guess Aemond has game after all,” Vis smirks. “Didn’t think you had it in you…”

Ramsay harrumphs, now also seated. “She never once gave me a package of sweets…” Then he grins sordidly, “But she did give something else that’s pretty sweet if you know what I mean…”

“Fuck off,” Aegon laughs out loud. “You’re gonna make Aemond blow a fuse.”

“He shouldn’t be getting attached to her,” Vis reminds Aegon, and Aemond in turn with a furrowed look. “Isn’t that the whole plan?”

“Looks like he’s getting pretty attached to me,” Ramsay says with a yawn.

“I’m not,” Aemond says, surely. “I’m just trying to make it all believable. Isn’t that the plan also?”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I have a go again after you dump her?” Ramsay asks, with an innocent tilt in his voice. “I’ve missed that tight cunt …”

Tension clenches Aemond’s jaw minutely, then evenly he says, “Go ahead. By my guest.”

But when Aegon tries to grab for one of the sweets, Aemond snatches it away, and stuffs the package with care in his bag. He then stands up and gathers all his things, stalking away without another word.

Aegon heaves a sigh, incredulously asking, “What’s his problem?!”

Ramsay smirks, letting out a chuckle. “Oh, this is going to be fun …”

You managed to catch Professor Tarth before she left the campus, so your next and final stop for the dessert delivery is your favorite teacher, your literature professor, Davos Seaworth.

You find him in his office and he does not even hesitate to dig into the double mocha cheesecake in his sweets package.

“How many extra credits do you want for this?” He asks, pointing at the cheesecake he is almost finished. “I’ll give you as many as you want.”

You laugh while shaking your head, flipping through a book he had just given you to read at your leisure. “No credits! But I’ll make sure to bring you more of that one next time!”

Knowing Sansa, next time will be pretty soon.

“Hmm… alright…” Davos trails off, dabbing his beard with a napkin. “By the way, have you signed up for the poetry slam I told you about?”

You sink into your seat, the one across the desk he is sitting at, sheepishly grinning at him, “Not yet…”

Davos hums out disgruntledly. “And why not?”

“I completely forgot about it,” you say with a shrug, you know, like a liar.

In truth, it’s all you’ve been thinking about. The poetry slam competition at Moon Door Cafe, where the winner will win a 5k cheque and their poetry collection published in a book — both of which you need and want, respectively.

“You better, ____. I’ve already told my friend to look out for you.”

“Okay, then I will,” you try to tell him, but Davos keeps his skeptical gaze on you. “I promise I’ll send in an email tonight!”

Then, once again like a liar, you don’t.

Two days later, Aemond finds himself standing by your apartment door, his life getting threatened by the muted snarling of the biggest wolf he has ever seen, so early in the morning.

“Ghost, stop… ” Jon Snow frowns at the white direwolf that still has its teeth bared at Aemond. Jon gently pushes the wolf aside, opening the door wider to allow Aemond to step inside. “Don’t worry, he won’t bite… He’s just… uh… I don’t even know what his problem is today…” Jon sends Aemond a weak smile, “He’s usually pretty friendly…”

Aemond eyes the wolf before turning to Jon. “It’s fine. I’m not really good with animals.”

Jon offers him a slow nod, then informs Aemond, “____’s just in a washroom. Getting ready, I think?”

Aemond hums just as Jon presents his hand. “I don’t think we’ve properly met, I’m Jon. ____’s roommate, and uh… best friend?”

Aemond shifts the coffee tray over to hold with just one hand to shake it. “Aemond. Why do you sound unsure?”

Jon laughs softly, “Oh, I don’t know…”

Aemond eyes him for a second then hums again. He remembers you telling him about how awkward Jon is, so that might be it.

Aemond then glances around the small space — a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in one — it’s homely and cozy, and he can definitely picture you in here. Flitting around, watering the plants, dancing to the music playing from the vinyl player, cooking in the kitchenette…

“Oh, hey! I went with ____ to your dad’s place yesterday!”

The smile on Aemond’s face falls just when he turns to see Jon grinning wide at him.

“He’s really awesome! And a hell of a Cyvasse player — I think he beat me in just four turns!” Jon recalls with a laugh.

Aemond exhales heavily, offering Jon a tight-lipped smile. “That’s… great.”

Feeling the awkward tension finally, Jon rubs a hand at the back of his neck. “Oh, uh… yeah…”

“Whoa, hey! What are you doing here?”

Aemond glances over to where Ghost pads to, and his eye widen and balks when he sees you just wrapped in a tiny towel.

You walk around your apartment like this — with Jon just in the room?!

He then swerves his stare at Jon who looks unmoved but looking at you as well.

“I think he brought you breakfast,” Jon tells you all nonchalantly, and Aemond lifts up the coffee tray he is carrying dumbly.

Your whole face lights up, smiling wide at him, so much brighter than the sun coming through the windows, “Aw, that’s so sweet! Wait, let me get dressed first!” You hurry into your room, slamming the door behind you and Ghost who follows you in.

“Is this for the desserts I gave you!?” He hears you call from behind the door. “Because you really didn’t have to!”

“It’s–” he starts to call out, but you are already walking out your room. And although it took you less than a minute, you look absolutely… breathtaking.

Aemond will not admit it, but his heart leaps to his throat; staring at you all slack jawed and short of breath.

You bounce to him cheerfully; Ghost in tow, now happier as well by the way his tail wags. You grab one of the paper bags on the tray, opening it to find an almond croissant. “ Oooh , but I won’t say no!” You smile at him gratefully, “Thank you! ”

Aemond takes a hard swallow, and finds himself smiling back, “No problem.”

As he sets the tray down on the small round kitchen table, you break off a piece of the croissant and offer it to Jon to taste. Aemond watches the interaction with a frown on his face. He shakes it off with a shake of his head, and pulls out one of the cups from the tray, handing it to you, “This is for you.”

You take it happily, but as you read through the label the barista had messily written on the cup, your face begins to falter. “Oh, um…”

Aemond’s expression hardens. “You don’t like lattes?”

“No! I love lattes!” You quickly say. “It’s great–”

“She’s lactose intolerant,” Jon explains and Aemond’s face falls.

“It’s all good! I can just take lactaid!”

“But you hate hot drinks…”

“Jon… You’re not helping…” You tell your best friend through gritted teeth.

“But it’s freezing outside,” Aemond states, so he thought you’d appreciate something warm for this chilly morning…

“Okay, don’t judge me…” you glare playfully at Aemond. “I like iced drinks! Is that such a crime?”

Aemond shakes his head, though he is still frowning. “No, it’s not…”

Your head tilts at the look on his face, confused. “Aemond…”

“Here, give it to me,” Jon says, reaching for the cup in your hand. Once he has it, he goes to the cupboard, pulling out a water bottle. Then from the freezer, he grabs an ice tray, putting ice and the latte into the bottle before handing it back to you.

“There,” Jon says with a satisfied grin. “All better for Miss Fussy.”

“Fuck you,” you huff out, and yet you laugh and your tone fond. “But what would I do without you?”

“I honestly don’t even know…”

As Aemond glances between you and your best friend sharing a smile, a strange feeling stirs inside him.

“Is this your first time taking the bus?”

Aemond glares your way for your senseless question. “Of course not.”

But as he struggles to make himself comfortable on the seat beside yours, you have to giggle to yourself. It’s definitely his first time.

Aemond rolls his eye and ignores your tittering.

Aemond’s annoyed, and rightfully so. You and him had a perfectly good ride to school but you insisted on taking the bus so Aemond let his driver go for the day to accompany you.

“Theon calls her a bus wanker,” Aemond remembers Jon saying earlier with a laugh while you got your school bag from your room.

At the puzzled look on Aemond’s face, Jon frowned, “You know… Like from the show… The Inbetweeners?”

Still confused, Jon finally told him, “It’s one of _____’s favorite shows. We, uh, rewatch it every few years together.”

And there Jon goes, once again reminding Aemond the history between the two of you. How he knows everything there is to know about you.

Now that’s a wanker , Aemond thinks a little too spitefully.

Whatever, it doesn't even matter. Once Aemond finishes what he needs to do, he does not even need to know or remember all your favorite things anymore. All that knowledge will be useless to him in the future.

Crossing his arms against his chest, Aemond huffs haughtily, nostrils flaring. He grimaces; something smells strange in there, and he feels eyes on him. It’s a kid, unabashedly staring at him — or more particularly, his eyepatch. Aemond is sure that the boy is the reason for foul stench also, so he glowers at him, mouth pulled back in the sneer.

He turns to you, about to ask why you enjoy riding on this godforsaken public transit ride, but then his expression lightens when he finds you staring out the window, a sleepy yet faraway look clouding your face. Your brows are furrowed, too deep in thought during such a bumpy ride, for so early in the morning.

“What are you thinking about?” Aemond inquires a bit too softly as if his mouth moved faster than his mind, but it still pulls you out of your haze.

You grin at him, head shaking. “It’s…”

Sighing, you pull out your phone to find something, then once you do, you hand it over to him.

Aemond tries not be bothered by the notifications that keeps popping up —

fellowship of the cool people + theon Jon 🐺— dinner at mine and ____’s tonight??

(Aemond refrains from rolling his eye.)

fellowship of the cool people + theon 🌈MeerMeer 🌼— 👍 — i’ll bring the weed

fellowship of the cool people + theon Robb 🐸— oh hell yeah!

fellowship of the cool people + theon GreyNoJoy 🦑— i’ll bring the best thing… myself 🥰

fellowship of the cool people + theon Margie 🌹❤️— ew

And Aemond focuses on the webpage you pulled up instead.

It is a Poetry Slam competition hosted by one of the best Music and Arts publications in the whole six continents, R'hllor Stone, at the Moon Door Cafe which is close by the Vale U campus. The winner gets a 5k cash prize, a book of their poetry published, and a full double-page feature in the magazine.

And the last day to sign up is… Today, at midnight.

“You haven’t signed up yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p’.

After handing you back your phone, Aemond hums for a moment, in thought. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging. “I guess I haven’t been super confident in my latest pieces, so it’s a bit daunting to send it in to be judged.”

“Do you want me to look over it? Give you my honest opinion?”

You make a face. Because hell no . Aemond is the last person you want to be reading your poetry. Mr. Psychology Major will probably psychoanalyze your musings and deem you crazy – or just plain stupid, which is more likely.

“Well if it’s like the one you recently published on the school’s Instagram page, then I think it’s more than adequate.”

You whip your head to stare wide-eyed at him. Shocked. Flabbergasted. Befuddled.

“ You read that?!”

Aemond flushes bright red, like he had not meant to confess that out loud.

“It’s our stop,” He declares to move on from the subject, standing up suddenly to push at the button on one of the handles for the bus to stop.

“Wait, Aemond —”

But he doesn’t wait, knowing you are following behind him.

Aemond gets off the bus first, then turns to offer you his hand to help with the steps.

Aemond can’t help but note how your hand slips so easily into his. So warm against the cold that he finds himself holding onto you a little tighter.

Once you are both off the bus, Aemond glances around, clearly lost. He’s never seen this area of the campus before…

“Yeah… This isn’t our stop. We still had four to go,” You tell him with a snarky chuckle. When he glares at you, you defend yourself quickly, “Hey! I tried to tell you!”

Aemond huffs a bit petulantly then starts to drag you the same direction the bus drove away at.

He also can’t help but note that you let him hold your hand until he walks you to the building of your first class.

untitled playlist

🎵 dreams tonite · alvvays

The call arrives five days later, when you are studying in one of the libraries on campus.

You step away to pick it up, with Aemond raising a brow at you.

(The two of you have been spending a lot of time together. Too much, maybe.

Margaery jokes they’ve all been replaced. Theon says he’s officially your boyfie . Robb tells you to be careful.

You tell them all to mind their business. And that the two of you are NOT dating.

Aemond is just a friend, and nothing more.)

You find a secluded aisle before you answer your phone. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon… Am I speaking to ____ ____?” The sultry voice from the other side asks.

“Yes, speaking…”

“Wonderful. I’m Melisandre, the editor-in-chief for R'hllor Stone—”

“I know who you are!” You squeal, a little too excitedly. You press your fingers to your mouth, eyelids squeezing shut in mortification. “Sorry, I’m sorry… I’ll, um…”

Melisandre laughs. “It’s quite alright! I’m just as excited as you are… I’ve read through your poetry portfolio for the Poetry Slam contest and I’m impressed…”

“You are…?” You ask, voice small and timid.

“I am,” Even through the phone, you can hear her smile. “I called to congratulate you for making it through the next round.”

You gasp. “Really?!” Earning you a shhhh! from someone an aisle over.

She laughs again and reassures you that it’s no joke. Then she informs you that she’ll be sending an email with more details soon — on what the theme will be, the schedule, etc.

“I’m glad Davos told me to look out for you. I can’t wait to meet you in person, ____,” Melisandre says before saying her goodbye and hanging up.

Your mouth drops in shock.

Oh… Your favorite professor will definitely be getting an earful from you… How many times have you gushed the works of Melisandre to him and he never once mentioned she was the friend he was talking about?

Well, an earful after you thank him profusely.

Speaking of saying thanks…

You head back to Aemond, standing by where he sits and motion for him to stand. His gaze is quizzical, so you do it again — your palm up in an upward motion, nodding as your eyes flutter shut with a cute grin.

As if annoyed, Aemond let’s out a soft huff of hot air. But you think you know him at least a little bit better now, and it’s just a front he puts up. You’re starting to believe that his dad is right — that underneath all that cold exterior is a sweet guy deep inside.

And you want to be the one to melt his icy, cold heart.

As a friend, of course .

As soon as he stands, you throw yourself at him, hugging around his tiny waist. He staggers back with an oof! You laugh, jumping back just as quickly as you were on him.

You think you might have broken his brain a bit by the way stares at you with his eye wide and his mouth open dumbly.

“What are you—? What was that—?”

He can’t seem to choose which question to ask, so you save him the trouble and say, “I made it into the Poetry Slam contest. And I hugged you because you were the reason I sent in my application,” with your hand on your hips cocked to the side, you tease, “I figured if your pretentious ass liked my stuff then what am I afraid of?”

Unsure, Aemond says, “You’re welcome…?”

You chuckle, grinning wide. “No, seriously… thank you.”

He wets his lips then smiles too — that genuine smile again. The one you’ve been seeing more and more of each and every day.

“Congratulations,” he says. And is it weird to say you think he looks proud of you?

Unexpectedly shy all of the sudden under his gaze, you start to shift nervously side to side. “Do you… Want to… come watch?”

Then a bit more hurriedly, you prattle on, “You don’t have to or anything! Just – If you’re not doing anything! It’s on a Saturday so you probably have better things to do—“

You stop babbling when Aemond shoves his phone screen your way. It’s on the calendar app, and on the last Saturday of the month, in two weeks, he has it marked off as “____’s poetry slam, @ moon door cafe, 1 PM”.

Feeling thrown, you look away from the screen to meet his eye. “How did you…?”

Shrugging, Aemond puts his phone back into his pocket.

“I guess I had a feeling,” He smirks confidently. “You’re too headstrong to not at least give it a try…” The smirk then shifts into something warmer, his face softening. “And of course I’ll come… I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Aemond looks a little hazy then — like a dream.

And your stomach? Full of stupid butterflies.

untitled playlist

🎵 the start of something · voxtrot

The theme for the competition is Romantic Love.

Which makes sense since the R’hllor Stone cover artist for the issue that the slam poetry winner will be featured in is the pop darling, Luvie — the stage name of Myrcella Baratheon.

Yes, the same Myrcella Baratheon who is the daughter of Cersei Lannister. Weirdly enough, the scandal breaking out didn’t affect her career at all. There was a very brief moment that people were making rumors that her and her brothers were really the children of their uncle, Jaime Lannister, and not their late political figure father, Robert Baratheon. But that was squashed rather quickly. It’s impressive. Luvie has got to have the best PR team ever — people did not even realize she was an industry plant and a nepo baby until two years into her career. But then again, her other uncle, Tyrion Lannister, is also the most prolific lawyer of this time.

Enough about Luvie. If you could, you’d talk about it all day. Probably the worst trait about you — your love for celebrity gossip. You’d eat up a cheating scandal between two married daytime news anchors that committed adultery on their spouses with each other even if you’ve never watched their program even once in your life.

Besides, you don’t have time to dwell on celeb gossip. With the competition coming up and the days rushing by so quickly, you needed all your free time to focus on writing the piece for it.

Only problem is, it’s been awfully hard to come up with something. It’s like there is a block in your mind every time you grab a notebook or open up the notes app on your phone.

You already know the main issue for that…

You’ve never been in love before.

Deep infatuation? Sure.

But love love? Never ever.

And it’s not like you’re a closed off and guarded person. Quite the opposite. You wear your heart on your sleeve. Your love languages are the neediest of the five: physical touch and words of affirmation. You date with the intent of making the relationship become something serious, every single time. And still… nothing.

“It’s so bad ...!” You groan, scratching out another line on the current poem you’ve been working on for the past two days. You read the whole thing over – all five stanzas already written – and deem the whole poem awful. You turn the page to a blank one, needing to start over all over again.

When nothing comes after minutes passing, you let out a resigned sigh, slumping on the wooden stool you’re on and say out loud to the room, “I give up. I’m gonna call Melisandre and tell her to pull me out of the competition.”

The only other person in said room with you snorts. You turn to glare at Meera, who meets your gaze for a second with a grin and then continues to water the plants in the room.

The two of you are at the floral shop Meera works at. You thought a change in scenery would be good for inspiration. Clearly not — not even being surrounded by the flowers that people often associate with love helped with anything.

“I’m serious, Meer!”

“Sure you are…” she playfully indulges with a roll of her eyes. “You’re a little too headstrong to give up that easily.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” You cross your arms, pouting to yourself.

“Cause it’s true,” Meera simply says. She then sets herself at the wooden work table in the back of the room and calls for you to join her. Laying on the table is the ugliest flower you’ve ever seen in your life.

She hands you the little printed out online order sheet. As you read it over, she heads over to the flower buckets to peruse the selections.

“ I request a bouquet with kale, it’s the salad my darling ate on our first date, ” you read out loud, face twisting in disgust after the fact. You eye the purple and green monstrosity on the table, “Ew, how romantic . Does this dude even know how ugly kale is?”

“Probably not,” Meera laughs. She comes back with various bunches of different stems of flowers in her gloved hand. “But I wanted to show you something…”

She picks up the kale first, showing you again. “Horrid, right?”

“Yeah. Ugliest fucker ever.”

Chuckling, Meera starts to trim it. “That may be true, but I need it to be the star of this bouquet and find a way to make it… pleasant on the eyes.”

You hum, nodding as you watch her work.

“Sometimes… Something good can come from nothing… I didn’t have any particular feelings about ornamental kale before but the more I worked with it… The more inspired I became… and then…”

Meera adds one last sprig of baby’s breath to the arrangement.

“There!”

You are in shock… Somehow, Meera managed to make the kale bouquet beautiful — bringing out the purple with white hydrangeas, baby’s breath, and heather. You would even spend money on it yourself. No wonder Robb always goes to Meera for flowers whenever Margaery is mad at him. You tell her all that yourself.

Meera laughs in thanks, then concludes, “So what I’m trying to say is… Pick a subject. Embellish your feelings a little. You don’t really have to be in love or have been in love to write about it… Do you really think Taylor Swift had real and genuine feelings for the Owl City guy when she wrote the masterpiece that is Enchanted?”

You gasp, eyes lighting up — everything clearer to you. “Oh my god! You’re so right!” You sniff then, grabbing a hold of her hand and squeezing it, “Meera… You speak Swiftie now.”

She groans, slapping a palm on her forehead. “You, Sansa, Margaery, and Theon have ruined me.”

You giggle a bit, before your face falls to a pout.

“Who am I supposed to write about though?” You ask with a dramatic and forlorn sigh, going back to your little stool by the cash register.

Meera shrugs, wrapping up the bouquet prettily. “Just someone, anyone… Whoever comes to mind first?”

At her words, you think of a violet eye and a face so taut and sour as if they had just sucked on a lemon.

You laugh to yourself.

Then your pen hits the paper, and the words begin to flow.

Aemond arrives at Moon Door Cafe early when there are plenty of empty seats available, but still sticks to the wall at the back of the room. He already caught sight of your friends at a table near the stage and yet he did not make an effort to greet them. It’s not like they’re his friends, he hasn’t even met any of them formally except for Jon. And he does not want to make fake pleasantries with Jon. There’s just something about the guy he does not like.

So he stays at the back of the cafe until the room fills and the lights go down.

He looks over the pamphlet he was given at the door, and sees that you are the fourth to last to go up out of the 15 contestants. Which means he’ll be here for a while. Aemond frowns in discontent.

He’s not really much for poetry — he’ll devour any form of literature except poetry. Which is funny, considering he has a few written about him in the form of a song.

But he supposes after reading a few of yours… Yours weren’t all too terrible. He can ever dare say he likes a few of them.

So that’s the only reason he’s staying… Just to listen.

He has been curious. He didn’t know you did any spoken poetry, all the ones he has seen of yours were written. But you must have at least some experience with it, one of the requirements for the portfolio was two examples of spoken poetry.

Aemond wonders if you’d be clamorous, if your words will be punctuated with cheerful sarcasm like always.

He grins to himself.

And how about the theme? Romantic love… Who did you write about?

His gaze flits to the front of the room at the man with the dark curly hair and unkempt beard and scowls. He watches him smile wide and snap his fingers for the poet on stage. Then suddenly he stands up, clapping and hooting with the rest of his friends.

That’s when Aemond realizes that you were getting on the stage. He didn’t notice that many performers had gone up already, none of them really held his attention. Until now.

He straightens up a little, snapping his fingers with the rest of the room.

You walk to the mic, confident. If you hadn’t texted him about how nervous you were earlier when he texted you to ‘Break a leg.’, he would have bought the front you were putting up.

You’ve already been introduced by Melisandre, so all you have to do now is just go straight into your poem.

You smile at the crowd, disarming them with your charm, before you take a tentative breath and —

If I could, I'd be your little spoon

And kiss your fingers forevermore

But, big spoon, you have so much to do

And I have nothing ahead of me

There is a song-like cadence to your soft voice, as if you were singing. It draws him in, hanging onto your every word.

You're the sun, you've never seen the night

But you hear its song from the morning birds

Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star

But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds

Aemond is enraptured. Enchanted. Beguiled.

Don't wait for me, I can't come

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I think I do

He had no idea that simple poetry could move him like this.

You're the one

You're all I ever wanted

I think I'll regret this

Your stare is fixed, not on anyone. Just a faraway, melancholy gaze on nothing in particular. It makes you look all the more hauntingly beautiful. Aemond finds himself willing you to look at him.

You don’t.

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I finally do

Instead, when you finish, your gaze flicks to the front of the room with a tender smile — at him .

Aemond feels his chest tighten a little.

The room fills with loud snapping as you descend the stage, and once your feet hit the floor, you are being lifted at the waist and hugged tight by Jon Snow.

Aemond watches on bitterly for a couple more seconds, expression pinching at the way Jon joyfully spins the two of you around, then turns to leave.

He waits at the front of the cafe for his chauffeur, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground.

“You’re really leaving without congratulating me?”

Aemond wets his mouth indignantly. He knew he should have texted Podrick to meet him earlier.

“You haven’t won yet,” Is all Aemond says as he turns to look at you, a smirk curling his lips.

You glare at him, arms crossing against your chest.

“Gods. Are you always such a dick? I know I haven’t won yet… I don’t even think I will win. I meant just… congratulating me for even putting myself up there,” you frown, looking off to the side, trying to blink away the hurt.

Seven Hells , Aemond sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He just can’t seem to keep his mouth shut, can he? He always has a penchant to make everything worse.

Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, Aemond takes a step towards you. “You were… Amazing up there,” You eye him warily, disbelieving, so he continues, “I mean it… You got me hanging onto your every word. Congrats.”

“Thanks…” You murmur from the corner of your mouth, bashful. It was your turn then to take a step towards him, still glowering at him when you say, “But you didn’t even say hi, and now you’re trying to leave without even saying goodbye.”

“My apologies. I didn’t want to keep you from celebrating with your boyfriend ,” Aemond says, tone clipped.

Did you hear that right, Aemond thinks you have a — “Boyfriend…?”

“You and Jon are dating, aren’t you?”

You’d laugh if it wasn't so ridiculous. “No! Jon’s dating Sansa! And besides that, he’s just my best friend. Wait a second… Did you think we’re dating cause he’s my roommate ?”

“No, but…” Aemond shakes his head, unable to grasp what you are telling him. He already made this whole story up in his head. “You fancy him, don’t you?”

“No!” You almost gag at the thought. Because, ew.

“You don’t have to lie to me, ___,” Aemond scoffs, taking another step towards you. “You find him attractive, don’t you?”

“I mean…” You think about it for a second. Jon’s your best friend and you’ve never had romantic feelings for him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have eyes! And besides, even if you didn’t find Jon attractive, you’re not about to bash his looks for no reason at all. “Have you seen the guy?”

“I have and I’m not impressed,” Aemond tuts with a roll of his eye.

“Maybe it’s because you only have one eye?” The rhetorical question slips from your mouth before you could even stop it.

You are frozen as Aemond’s mouth drops slightly before it closes to press into a hard thin line. He is mad, and understandably so.

“Wait, Aemond, I didn’t mean it like th—”

“So how did you mean it?” In an instant, he is in front of you, nostrils flared. His violet eye alight with a simmering burning, “So I guess it’s because I only have one eye that I find you attractive?”

Your gaze widens and your cheeks are burning up. Did he just…?

That’s when you notice that Aemond looks just as shocked. But only for a second. If he had not meant to say that aloud, the blank look he puts on carefully hides it well. It is the flush high on his cheekbones and the heavy rise and fall of his chest that gives him away though.

You look up at him, keenly aware of his proximity. A warmth spreads through you at how much he towers over you. He can definitely manhandle you in the way that you like. And the way his domineering gaze pinned you to the spot makes you desperately long for him to pin you against a wall instead.

You start to laugh. Loud at that.

Because you realize an undeniable truth…

You want him. Gods. You want Aemond Targaryen.

Even more now that you know he wants you as well.

The admittance makes you laugh more.

And so, with no preamble at all and just straight to the point, you ask him—

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Aemond stares at you like you’re insane.

Then, as if without any doubt in his mind, he says — yes.

a.t.

🎵 there’s a light that never goes out · the smiths

Even though you were the one to ask him out, Aemond offers to plan the date.

You didn’t mind. Between school, work, and stressing about the results of the competition, you were just going to take him to the movies. Which, looking back now, is lame; and you highly doubt you’ll get a second date if you forced Aemond to sit through a movie about a killer AI doll.

So you let him take the reins — surprise me , you told him with a wink after letting him know which days the next two weeks that you’d be free.

Four days after the competition, Aemond surprises you — or maybe more so Theon, who screams out girlishly when Aemond appeared directly behind him when the silver haired man approached you and your friends during lunch in the southern building cafeteria.

Theon still has his hand over his heart, halfway off the bench, but Aemond disregards him to tell you, “I’ll pick you up at 4 tomorrow for our date. Be sure to be ready.”

Then he saunters off.

“He’s so intense… it’s kinda sexy,” Margaery says.

Your other friends admit their agreement in various degrees of reluctance as you all watch Aemond’s back retreating until he is out of the room.

“Where do you think he’s going to take you?” Sansa asks eagerly, leaning on the table to get closer to you.

You give her an exaggerated shrug as an answer just as Theon comments, “Probably somewhere so fun… The library!”

You successfully shove him off the bench he is still precariously on. He lands on his ass on the floor but he is guffawing at his own joke.

“Nah… He’ll definitely take her to the fanciest restaurant in the Vale, book it all out so it’s just the two of them, and then confess he’s been in love with her since they were 14,” Meera says with a scrunch of her nose. “Real straight people shit.”

“Oh, I know where he’ll take her,” Robb says, straightening up confidently for everyone’s attention. “Into the forest, where there will be a clearing, and then he’ll rip off his shirt to show ____ that he… sparkles.”

Your friends start howling with laughter at that, so loud that students from other tables turn to look. You’re laughing too, but quieter, pouting with both your hands pressed on your face from embarrassment.

“You’re all awful!” You moan. “And you know what?! Maybe I want him to be Edward Cullen, maybe then I can tell him to drain the blood of all my “so-called” best friends!”

“Have fun playing baseball in the forest tomorrow, then,” Jon teases, causing your friends to laugh more.

Sweeping a glare at all of them, you bite out, “I. will. Thank you!”

From Aemond

— Please dress warm and comfortably.

As you read the new text while you are getting ready for the date, a shiver goes down your spine.

Oh Gods.

He is taking you to a forest, isn’t he?

If Aemond is a vampire, you wouldn’t be surprised. But you have seen him growing up, so maybe not.

You groan, shoving off the silky dress you had wanted to wear. It’s so pretty, but you doubt that it will be comfortable or warm enough for a trek through the woods.

So you settle with a white turtleneck under a red cardigan, dark blue jeans, a Sherpa lined shearling leather jacket, and broken-in Docs.

Comfortable, warm, and cute.

You grin at your reflection through the mirror just as you receive another text.

From Aemond

— I’m waiting downstairs.

After giving yourself another once over and grabbing your purse for the day, you text back:

To Aemond

— coming ☺️ !!!

When you step out of your room, three pairs of eyes turn your way, ignoring the Super Smash Bros round they’re playing to annoy you all the way out the door with their comments and shiteating grins.

“You look pretty, ___!”

“Thanks Jon!”

“Have fun and use protection!”

“Take your own advice, Robb!”

“Say hi to your boyfie for us!”

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you, catching the last thing Theon says, “Look! She didn’t even deny it!”

Usually, you’d take the stairs down. Your unit is on the fifth floor (the highest of the building) so it’s not so bad. But you didn’t want to look winded before the date even starts, so the terrifyingly unreliable elevator it is.

Luckily, by the grace of the Sevens, you didn’t get stuck. So you’re a little too chipper when you find Aemond waiting at the lobby — especially since he looks so incredibly handsome in his long black wool coat, cream fisherman sweater, black fitted slacks, and a pair of black leather Chelsea boots.

Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he seems pleasantly delighted when he sees you. Nothing overt, but it’s definitely a change from how he used to be when you got near him before. You remember always sniffing yourself when you were teens, because he acted like you had the strongest BO. You didn’t, you smelled like fresh laundry and maybe on your worst days, fresh cut grass and the sun since you spent a lot of time outdoors when at the Arryn mansion.

You walk to Aemond, and he unclasps his hands from where he held them behind his back to turn fully towards you.

As a greeting, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck that was wrapped in a soft alpaca wool grey scarf.

You can tell Aemond is not used to physical affection by the way he stiffens against you —just like the last time. But you hold on a little longer, liking the bergamot and amberwood smell that lingers on him.

Just when you think you aren't going to get anything back, about to let him go; you feel his arms wrap around your waist. A little loose, enough that when you step back you are easily free from his hold, but it’s a start.

You beam up at him, and he holds your gaze for a bit before he looks off to the side, his cheeks a light scarlet. It’s adorable that he is so easily flustered.

He clears his throat then gives you a glance over. “You look… warm.” He gives a nod of approval. “Good.”

“But do I look…” With a mischievous smile, you poke at his stomach, “… attractive?”

His face darkens to a deeper maroon, pressing his lips together. “You’re really going to hold that over my head, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you tell him a toothy grin. Stuffing your hands into your coat pockets, you start to slowly rock back and forth from your heels to your toes as you sing-song your own confession, “If it makes you feel better… I think you look really good today… My jaw nearly fell to the floor when I saw you.”

Aemond’s hand flies to press against his mouth, coughing into his palms. He might be choking, you have no idea. But you’re sure if he wasn’t blushing before, he would be tomato red right now.

He takes a shaky breath, regarding you as his hand falls back to his side. “How are you always this straightforward?”

You shrug with your mouth downturned. “I have no filter sometimes.”

Aemond lets out an amused huff. At least you know.

His gaze falls over you again, flickering across your features in quiet contemplation for a moment or two.

“You look lovely.”

At his soft tone, your breathing hitches and your mouth slightly parts. He tracks the slow movement, wetting his own lips.

But he does not even give you time to respond, turning to glare at the door to change the subject, “I drove here. Are you alright with taking my car or do I need Podrick to pick it up?”

“I’m not anti-car, or anything. We can drive there,” you tell him with no joking lilt or sassiness in your tone, just even. Perhaps still a bit stunned at his compliment.

“Could have fooled me,” Aemond says, chuckling lightheartedly, his fingers touching the metrocard in his pocket. It’s new. You had dragged him to the nearest bus station after his fourth time riding on one with you. You were beyond exasperated of seeing him stuff a ten or twenty dollar bill into the fare slot since he never has any change or anything smaller for the £3 fare. He has used it quite a lot already, and always only with you, realizing just then how often the two of you have been spending time together.

“Let’s go?” He asks, cocking his head to the door.

When you nod, Aemond presses his hand against the small of your back, leading you outside.

The heat of his palm has you flushing and your stomach doing somersaults, even long after he has taken it off you to hold the door open for you to get into his cream Volvo P1800 S Coupe.

You haven’t felt this nervous for a date in quite a while — and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or bad thing yet.

Aemond has the prettiest hands.

Delicate and dainty, yet also spans big and strong. Not to mention the veins that run along his hands are mouthwateringly attractive, bulging whenever he grips the leather steering wheel.

He could be a musician if he wanted — or a hand model. You’re sure he’d have a million Twitter fan accounts dedicated to just his hands alone.

Maybe you should have let Aemond drive you around all those times he had offered.

He looks so effortlessly cool as he spins the wheel with just the palm of his hands, checks the rear view mirror, and keeps his concentration on the road.

You have not stopped staring at him.

Maybe you should stop because he is starting to notice. His gaze flickers to the side at you every so often with that usual low humming sound he makes.

In an effort to distract yourself, you lean forward to turn on the radio.

How did you make it so long without music playing in the background?

Oh right. You were too busy admiring Aemond to notice anything else.

The speaker starts blaring and it’s no surprise that Aemond’s stereo system is only of the highest quality. A sweet, melodic voice resounds in the compact space.

— say, "I'm done," but I'm still confused,

How am I supposed to close the door when I still need the closure?

And I change my mind, but it's still on you,

How am I supposed to leave you now —

Aemond is so quick to turn it off that your mouth parts slightly in mild shock.

“We’re here,” is what he says when you glance over at him, and he is pulling his car onto a parking spot beside the curb of a cobblestones sidewalk.

You let out a laugh, “Oh my god. I was about to ask what did Luvie do to you by how aggressively you turned off the radio!”

“My bad,” he says with a wan grin before getting out of his car.

He’s at your side of the car, opening the door, before you even get the seatbelt off.

“Thanks,” you say, taking his hand to step out. While Aemond pays for parking, you take a look around at where he brought you for the date.

Elation spreads through you as you take in the quaint area with the brick warehouse buildings, pretty stringed lights hanging from street lamps to street lamps, and all beautiful street art spray painted on the walls. It’s the Distillery Village, a hip part of the city just a bit a ways away from the heart of downtown Vale.

You used to love going here when you were younger. But now, not so much. It’s still beautiful there, but it has become a hot date spot for young couples over the years. And it’s not like you really had any partners that you had gotten serious enough to want to take there, less they ruin your fond memories of the place.

You remember going here a few times with the Targaryen family. You wonder if Aemond remembers that too.

“Ready?” Aemond asks, walking towards you.

Smiling, you nod, your hand reaching to catch a hold of two of his fingers.

Aemond pulls away, making your heart stutter dolefully — only for him to intertwine his fingers between yours, his hold firm yet gentle. You flutter your lashes at him, questioning, and he shrugs. “More comfortable this way.”

The two of you walk around like that, hand in hand and with a cup of coffee in the other.

(Aemond ordered for you. He has your latte order perfected now, and you have his. You had him pegged as a Sunspearino kind of guy – black with no sugar – but surprisingly, Aemond has a sweet tooth. He likes his cappuccino with two pumps of caramel.)

You are having a nice time with Aemond. Window shopping, trying out desserts from every cute spot you pass, taking time to admire all the art in the area.

Maybe it’s his hands holding yours, but your nerves eased quickly and you are back to your old self in no time.

Perhaps too comfortable. You are talking Aemond’s ear off about the fluffiness of the cream puff the two of you just had, when you realize he hasn’t said much in the past few minutes. So you abruptly stop to glance wearily towards Aemond, somewhat afraid that you are boring or annoying him with your incessant yapping, but you find his fond gaze already on you.

“I’m glad you’re back to being yourself again,” Aemond says, still leading you on the cobblestone path. “I was worried earlier. You were too quiet in the car.”

“I was nervous!” You confess a bit too shrilly.

“Oh?” The light smile that was on Aemond’s face twists into a cocky smirk. “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “ Was nervous… Past-tense, Aemond.”

The smirk is still on his lips when he replies with a playful and disbelieving mmhmm .

You turn away, laughing to yourself. You’re happy that he is joking around with you more, it makes you feel that the two of you are really starting to get closer.

You end up stopping at the busiest part of the village, where most couples and families conjugate at the plaza square, sitting on the steps that surround a huge reflecting pool. In the warmer months, the shallow pool is a pretty fountain to look at for outdoor picnics; but in the winter, it is frozen over as a skating rink.

Leaning your arms against the railing that surrounds the top of the steps, you watch the ice skaters with stars in your eyes.

You had once wanted to be a professional figure skater because of Val, the Free Folk figure skater that stole the heart of the entire nation when you were younger, when she competed and won all the singles figure skating titles during her first Harrenhal Winter Games.

Your father even paid for ice skating lessons after you begged your parents for weeks to learn. You were over the moon, telling everyone who would listen about it, about how you are going to be the next Val. Your dreams were crushed after a certain 16 year old teenage boy scoffed, “No, you won’t.’ when he overheard you telling his sister.

Remembering this, you whip your head to glare at your date.

Aemond startles at your sudden heated expression, eye widening.

“Do you… Want to go skating?” He asks, unsure.

You turn your nose up at him, grimacing. “Yes. I do.”

Now you truly remember why you didn’t become the next top figure skater and quit your lessons after the 4th class… You sucked at it.

For some reason, your body does not agree with the skates. You’re always off-kilter, that you spent the first ten minutes clutching onto the railings instead of skating.

Aemond, on the other hand, is a natural on the ice — so graceful it’s envious. If you did not know he is from the south, he would have definitely earned the title of ‘Ice Prince’ this way like some sort of Northern Royalty.

He watches as your wobbly legs try to catch up to him in mirthful silence. The bastard looks like he is going to burst out laughing at any given second.

With brows furrowed together, he asks, “Didn’t you take lessons?”

“I quit after four classes…” You tell him through clenched teeth, shaky arms out in front of you to keep your balance.

“Why?” Is the asshole’s next question.

Burning him with a glare that can rival a thousand suns, you wave your hands from your head to your waist, presenting him yourself, shaking precariously like a newborn giraffe. The motion has you slipping and hurriedly catching yourself with a choked out ‘ whoa!’ . You don’t even know how that happened — you are not even moving!

And that did it, Aemond couldn’t hold it in anymore, he laughs so hard that he is throwing his head back.

You sneer at him, and it makes him laugh more.

“I’m — I’m s– so sorry,” he tries, but he is still laughing, so it doesn’t feel very genuine to you. If you could cross your arms, you would. But that would throw you off your balance more, so you just give him a stink face, nose scrunched and mouth pursed in distaste for his lack of common courtesy.

“You’re such an as–” Suddenly, you are slipping again except you couldn’t steady yourself fast enough. But before you could hit the ground, Aemond swiftly wraps his arms around you and catches you. So easily, like he had at the party.

You straighten up quickly, still embarrassed, muttering a thank you under your breath. “You’re still an asshole though.”

Aemond licks his lips, lets out a laugh and nods briefly in acceptance. “Let me make it up to you.”

Aemond takes both your hands in his, and then carefully, he helps you get your footing right, skating backwards as he guides you along the ice. It takes a while, but you think you are getting a hang of it. It’s unbelievable but half an hour with Aemond has taught you more than those 4 lessons you took.

Soon enough, he is only holding one of your hands, skating by your side.

“I guess I’m a better ice skating teacher than you are a dancing instructor,” Aemond declares pompously.

That has you snorting in an unattractive manner. “So you admit you suck at dancing?”

Aemond huffs out a chuckle, walking right into that one.

The turns are the trickiest parts. And as soon as you saw the edge of the rink coming up, you nervously fuck up your footing. Nothing too bad since the two of you were skating at a rather slow pace, but it did cause Aemond to pick up his speed a little so he can turn for you to crash against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist.

In his warm embrace, you peer up at him under fluttering lashes. Aemond is already looking down at you with a hooded gaze. He has you feeling breathless and flushed.

You have his rapt attention when your pink tongue peeks out to lick your lips in anticipation.

You don’t notice him leaning in though, not when you feel something wet and cold touch your forehead.

Looking up, that’s when you notice it, the fluffy white snowflakes falling from the clear blue sky. It is the first snowfall of the year.

You let out an elated laugh, smiling wide, lifting a hand to catch a snowflake on your fingertips.

Aemond then gently grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your attention back at him.

You let out a soft, little gasp.

He is staring at you like you are something so precious. There is so much fondness in his violet eye that your heart feels like it's going to burst with happiness.

Then as if in slow motion, you watch as a tiny, pretty snowflake lands on the dip of his lower lip.

You lean up to melt it against yours as well.

With a pleased hum, Aemond’s hold on your waist tightens, while his hand on your chin slides back to cradle your neck, kissing you deeper. He has your mouth parting with a moan, and his tongue slips in easily. He tastes like caramel, espresso, and vanilla; so addicting in a way that you think you can definitely get used to this.

Aemond’s mouth on yours has you lifting up your foot behind you, like you’re a princess in a cheesy romantic comedy. Embarrassingly giddy as if he is the first and only boy you had ever kissed.

And when you feel him smile against your lips, you start wishing that he’ll at least be the last.

a.t. 💗

🎵 to you · mallrat

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond targaryen #hotd

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crowleys-bentley-and-plants · 4 months

Text

The Paradox of Us - a Good Omens poem

I was happy to know you.

And you are right,

again.

You're an angel,

I'm a demon,

after all.

okay okay i know i know i need to move on from this theme yes i know i promise im gonna make poems from aziraphale's pov i just i, it's getting repetitive i knowwww loll (was i thinking about the final fifteen again? maybe..)

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated💙

hii you expressed interest in this before so now you're unlucky enough to be tagged again :) (pls let me know if i need to stop tagging you lol) @bearthewhipsandscornsoftime @eybefioro @foolishlovers @ineffabildaddy @ficreader500 @di-42 @ghostsparrow @sabotage-on-mercury @seven-stars-in-his-palm @red-sky-in-mourning @lickthecowhappy @crowleyholmes @notagoodlad @crowleys-curl @prettycottagequeer @chaoticgayomens @idliketobeatree @halemerry @fearandhatred @spookyllamatree @goodoldfashionednightingale @crowleybrekkers

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #original poem #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #good omens poem #go2

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animeomegas · 2 months

Text

Ideal Valentines Day - Omega! Aizawa, Mic, Toshinori, Dabi

A/N: For the anon who asked <3 I wasn't vibing with Shiggy today, so I left him off. I feel like these all ended up being home dates, but I think being a hero or villain makes those easier lol. There are hints of n-sfw, but it's non-descriptive and very tame.

Aizawa

Actions speak louder than words for Aizawa, and I think his preferred love language for receiving affection is Acts of Service.

He has no need for material items, and that goes doubly for anything covered in hearts. I don't think he's a massive fan of chocolate. And flowers are just another thing that he has to sort out and try to keep alive as long as he can. No, he much prefers practical care on Valentine's day.

He wants you to pick him up from UA after work so he doesn't have to drive, a warm cup of his favourite coffee, far sweeter than his image would suggest, ready for him.

He wants to go straight home of course. When he walks through the door, he would love to see the house sparkling clean and tidy. It lifts a burden off him that he didn't even know was there.

There's no fancy outfits with him. He wants to immediately get changed into the comfiest clothes he has, and he would love if you did the same.

Dinner should 100% be his favourite takeaway, eaten on the couch, of course.

I don't know why, but I don't get the vibe that Aizawa is that interested in sex on Valentines Day. I think he'd prefer the intimacy to come from a shared bath or a massage.

And ideally the night ends early, so he can face tomorrow well rested, for once in his life.

Mic

Hizashi loves cheesy romance, he lives for cheesy romance! He eats, sleeps, and breathes it!

I think receiving gifts is something he loves, so get him a pink teddy bear, get him a comically oversized chocolate bar, get him a sappy card filled with cheesy love poems (bonus if you write them yourself.) He loves it all.

He also wants to be at home, because he's worried about people recognising him and interrupting the date.

He would love, love, love if he came home to a trail of rose petals to follow, he's always wanted to do that!

I think he'd enjoy cooking dinner together, just making a mess, playing around, listening to music.

Please pull him to dance with you, he will melt.

Once the food is eaten and the mess left for tomorrow, I think he'd want to do some sort of activity. A board game, a video game, painting together, anything! He's having fun as long as he's with you.

And then... well he's certainly not going to complain if one of your gifts to him was lingerie or a new 'toy'. And it would be rude to not try them out 😏

Toshinori

His idea of romance is old school. He developed his taste mostly from films, rather than experience, after all.

He wants roses so badly. He can't decide if it's more romantic to get a dozen roses, or just one, so he'll let you decide.

I think something private would be more meaningful to him because he's spent his life in the spotlight.

He wants you to meet him at the door with a rose/bouquet of roses, and then lead him into the living room of your home, where you've laid out a fancy dinner.

He wants the fancy dinner table to be set to the nines, he wants candles, champagne, and some food that he can eat. He wants classical music playing in the background.

And then he wants you to pull out his chair for him and wine and dine him until he's completely smitten, not that that's hard.

He doesn't mind if you order the food, but he'd prefer if you either made it by hand, or had it ordered from a special place as opposed to just off a food delivery app. He wants everything to feel special.

The best way to finish the night after dinner is with a movie. One of his favourite films, probably a ridiculous American action film or terrible romcom.

He needs some good old fashioned cuddling at the same time of course.

And because he's getting old, he wants to spend the final moments of the day tucked up in bed, talking about feelings and the future, and all the fuzzy things you're both looking forward to in your relationship.

Dabi

Dabi is softer than he will admit, which means Valentines Day with him involved tricking him into feeling loved.

You can't do things that are too typical, because he'll get spooked. If he comes home and sees heart shaped balloons or dozens of roses, he will flee the scene.

Luckily, he is utterly weak for pizza, so if he comes home and you've ordered his favourite pizza and got a video game/film set up, he can't resist.

"This isn't some weird Valentine's shit, is it?"

"It's just pizza, Dabi, but if you don't want any, I'll eat it all."

"What? In your dreams, knothead."

Once you've lulled him in with pizza and games, you can start putting the moves on him.

He's almost always down for sex, so that part is easy. The hard part is stopping him from escalating it into something rougher, and keeping it gentle.

He gets frustrated at first that you're being too soft on him, and it's at this point that you start lavishing him in praise and body worship. His frustration turns into bashfulness and Dabi gets kind of shy.

Let him know how much you love him.

And then, right when you're both about to drift off, wish him a Happy Valentine's Day.

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devilmayfamily · 1 year

Note

Can I request a shy S/O who has a crush on Vergil/Dante/V and they draw the boys secretly in their sketchbook with little notes like "saw him in those dark blue jeans again he's so beautiful" or "how do I tell him I love him?" etc. The boys stumble upon this and they're so flattered they blush to their chest.

Why is this literally me lol. Hope you enjoy!

Dante

Your sketchbook was filled with sketches of him mostly during training since it was the only time his focus couldn't ver towards you at any given moment

You've indirectly gotten better at drawing action poses and the male torso because of this and the fact that this man goes full Grey Fullbuster and takes off his shirt to train

The other time you're able to draw him is when he's asleep, a magazine covering his face

One particular position you found him laying in had you write a note of "Idk how he's sleeping like this" next to the sketch of it.

Dante has noticed you with this sketchbook and hadn't thought anything of it until he realized he never sees you drawing him in it

His curiosity got the better of him one day and decides to take a look while you left it unattended.

The first few pages were as he expected, sketches of Shadow when she was around, the girls of the team, and even some of the orphanage kids playing from when you would visit Nero and Kyrie

Towards the middle of the book, he found all the sketches of him you'd been hiding

He looks over every single one and reads all the little notes you've left behind

He finds the whole idea of you sketching him cute and endearing

Seeing a particular sketch of him asleep, face facing you, with the note "He looks like he gives nice cuddles" has his face a flame, red tracing all the way down his neck

You drew this scared up man so soft, it was like he was looking at someone else

Vergil

You find going unnoticed by Vergil to be easy

He's always either reading or beating up Dante when not on missions

Vergil finds your sketchbook when he mistakes it for his collection of poems on a particularly sleepy morning

Opening it, he's taken back by all the drawings

It's obvious you have some skill

As he turns the page, he finds an entire spread dedicated to him reading

At the very bottom of the page it reads "he's always reading this thing, i wonder what secrets it holds"

Vergil softly smiles, a faint heat resting across his cheeks wondering if he could share a piece of himself with someone again

He was ready, wasn't he?

Flipping the page he finds a spread dedicated to him cooking, fighting, even simply being dressed up in a suit

"I'll admit, he's sexy in a suit"

Vergil's face sets a flame, the man shutting the sketchbook and replacing it finally with his poems

You become curious by the new sets of suits in the coming days but never complain

Griffon stole the sketchbook when you left it unattended

He scolds the bird for digging in your private processions but with a little coaxing from Griffon he looks inside

He's not surprised to see sketches of Shadow and Griffon, the bird boasting about how good he looked

As he turns the page, Griffon teases him for the bright pink blush that spreads across his face upon seeing sketches of himself

"My beautiful muse" is written in a beautiful cursive next to a sketch of V smiling

He flips the page expecting to find something different but it's more drawings of him

"May he ever know how he sets my heart a burning"

V can't help but adore you right then

He smiles, closing the sketchbook as you approach

He looks up to you, his smile causing one to spread across your own face

Griffon makes some comment about leaving you two to it before disappearing

#dmc #dmc5 #devil may cry 5 #dante dmc5 #dmc vergil #dante sparda #devil may cry #v #dmc v #dmc5 v #vitale #dante x reader #vergil x reader #dmc v x reader #vitale x you

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tmntxthings · 1 month

Note

YOU 🫵 *points directly at that mean y/n, you, and that anon that asked for ansgt against rottmnt Raph* how very dare you !!!!!!

(If you have time and if your asks are open (didn’t see any warnings that it was close)) can you PLEASE do something fluffy and that reader is ABSOLUTELY head of hells for raphie? I’m talking flowers, I’m talking spending hours on a claw machine to get a plushie he wants it, I’m talking admiring and tracing his features slowly with the most stupid and hopeless in love expression the turtles have ever seen, im talking speaking up for him against anyone that mistreats him, doing his fav dishes, preparing balanced meals, paintings, little love notes, lipstick marks, poems under moonlight, I want devotion!!!! I want that sweet Puppy love !!!!! EVERYTHING. 100% a simp and isn’t afraid to show it, until Raph returns their actions, then they get bashful/blushing up a storm lol

thank you and have a good day

∑一Wherever You Go・゜・。

author’s notes: ain’t no way I’m doing that whole list we’ll be here forever, BUT don’t worry I’ll make sure he feels the love nonetheless

warnings: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, bordering on a crack fic that’s purely just to show a character love ^ twas asked of me, unedited

Song: Never Getting Rid of Me by Christopher Fitzgerald

—————————————————————————

It was no secret that you adored Raph. And it didn’t bother you one bit that everyone, big red turtle included, knew that you had heart eyes for him.

Your love language for him couldn’t be restricted to just one kind. You exhibited all kinds of love for him. You hoped it wasn’t overwhelming. It was hard to stop yourself once you had an idea though.

One time you saw a beautiful bouquet of red roses. Instantly you had them in your hand, and a receipt in the other. They reminded you of his bandana. So bright, eye-catching! And down to the lair you went, shooting off an incoming text to Raph to give him a last-minute notice.

Earlier occasions where you hadn’t sent a text left you waiting around at a manhole cover forever. If Raph was asleep it would be hard to rouse him with just a notification. He’d need a full on blare horn. Or worst case scenario the boys weren’t even at the lair! Thankfully, most of the time they were home. Raph buzzed back with a text saying he’d be right up to open the cover for you. Sewer covers were heavy!

When the round slab of stone was lifted you offered up the bouquet to the darkness below instantly. It was quiet for a moment, before Raph emerged, cheeks tinted a darker green. “For me?” He questioned, his tone held a quality as if it was unbelievable for him to receive flowers.

But you didn’t chide him for it. In fact you only smiled warmly and nodded your confirmation. “I thought of you the moment I saw them. What do you think? Aren’t they pretty?”

His hands finally went out, accepting your gift. Holding them gingerly and away from his plastron. He seemed to not want any of the petals to snag on his sharp edges. “Raph loves ‘em” he murmured, his eyes entranced by the blossoms now that he could get a closer look.

This moment right here was picture worthy! You wished you had Donnie’s ability to just record everything, that way you could screenshot this later. Maybe put it as your screensaver. Instead you just watched, hands clasped as you waited for Raph to come out of his stupor. Which he did, and started asking you about your favorite flowers and invited you down to the lair.

You don’t know how they got the arcade machines down there. But it sure as hell beat going to Chuck-E-Cheese! Nothing against the place but it costs so much and all the games down at the lair are rigged to play for free! Which was awesome because you had finally decided, you weren’t leaving the claw machine until you won Raph’s dream plushie.

The poor turtle had played this game constantly ever since they mysteriously got the machine. He was able to get two plushies but they weren’t the ones he really wanted. The ultimate prize was a brown teddy bear with a little red bow tie. He was absolutely adorable. And Raph’s obsession with winning his prize was even more endearing. So when Raph texted you a picture of his defeated expression against the glass of the claw machine, you had to take matters into your own hands.

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ <image> 🥺 it’s hopeless ]

Y/n - [ omw asap, don’t worry raphie i’ll get you teddy! ❤️💪 ]

Well, easier said than done is a term of phrase for a reason. You banged your head against the glass or you tried to at least. But Raph’s calloused palm was in front of the glass before your forehead could make contact. Still you drew back to bang it against his rough skin anyway. He knew your frustrations, the claw machine was merciless. You had been at the lair for well over two hours. The first thirty minutes in had been fine. You had chatted with Raph easily, confident that eventually you would get the hang of the mechanism.

But then an hour went by. And then another. Your concentration on the game had dried up the easy conversation between you and big red. The atmosphere was intense as if the two of you were in battle together. Currently you were both defeated. His other hand patted your back, knowing exactly how you felt. “It’s okay, maybe Teddy isn’t meant to join my pile of plushies.”

You took in a deep breath. Stopping your frustrated head thumps and turned to look Raph in the eyes. “You’re right, Teddy is meant to sleep right next to you! And I’m gonna make that happen!” You harrumphed as you turned back to the evil machine. It was your enemy. It was working against you. All you wanted to do was this one thing and make Raph happy! This time for sure, you thought to yourself as you hovered the claw over to where Teddy lay amongst the other plushies.

“Like a boss!!!” You yelled as you smacked the button that lowered the claw. Both of you watched anxiously as it dropped, its metal fingers enclosing around Teddy’s brown fur, and it started to rise. But you had been here before and didn’t dare to celebrate pre-maturely before the damn stuffed animal was in Raph’s arms. The grip the machine had on the animal was shaky at best. The claw swayed from side to side as it carried the plushie over to the drop box. You were sweating bullets and could smell Raph’s anxiety stink.

But before the claw reached its final destination, the plushie tumbled out of its hold. You turned to Raph who let out a breath he had been holding. You expected to see disappointment in his eyes but it was quite the opposite. He looked happy as his snaggle-tooth dug into his lower lip. “Nice try,” his eyes crinkled shut with his smile. “Wanna go play DDR?” You sighed, letting the claw machine have the win for now. Happy to see Raph’s eyes light up with a burning passion as he raced over to his favorite spot, the left side, for DDR. “Ready to face the master??” He goaded but it was pure excitement to play one of his favorites of all time. “So ready!” You laughed, hopping up on the dance pad to get absolutely demolished because you didn’t have any rhythm. But you played regardless because when Raph was having fun so were you.

And yes, later that night you did bribe Donnie with twenty bucks to replace that damned claw with one that would actually work. So next time you were able to win Teddy and present Raph with the ultimate present. It costed you another twenty to keep Donnie’s mouth shut about ever having any involvement so you could have all the credit and look like a hero in Raph’s starry eyes. He sent you pictures of him and the stuffed animal almost every night with his goodnight message.

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ <image> Teddy says goodnight! ]

Y/n - [ gnight teddy, and goodnight raph-a-la 🤗 sweet dreams ]

“What did you say?!” Your voice raised as you stepped into the lair’s common room. Shelldon had just so kindly lifted the manhole cover, since no one else from the group chat was responding! You thought it weird since usually someone was on their phone *cough* Donnie *cough* but sometimes they were busy! Which you understood. Until you had seen Shelldon’s worried pixelated expression as he urged you on down the sewer system to the abandoned subway station.

That was when you heard it. Heated arguing. It was hard to listen to especially when it was Leo and Raph. You knew how much all of them loved one another, a love that even harsh words couldn’t damage. But sometimes, things were said in the heat of the moment that weren’t meant to argue a point. They were said to hurt the other person. That’s where you drew the line. That’s where you felt the need to step in, even if you weren’t family.

“Leo, if you’d just try, even a little, at accepting the role as a leader. It’s not that bad-“

“If it’s not that bad then why don’t you just take it back huh?”

“You know why. Dad said you-“

“Dad said this! Dad says that! What are you his little pet? Since when do we do whatever Dad says?!”

“Leo, c’mon,”

“Raph if you don’t wanna be the leader anymore. Then fine. But don’t push it on to me.”

“I never said that, Dad thinks-“

“For someone who’s catchphrase is ‘boss’ you really like being someone’s little bit—“

And that’s when you stepped into the room. Eyes hardened as you marched in between the two turtles. “What did you just say?!” You dared Leo to repeat. But as he studied your stance and the way you got in front of Raph, as if protecting him from Leo, the blue turtle started to duck his head into his shell. Feeling remorseful for getting so heated. He made a ‘tsk’ noise before heading off to his room. Mumbling sorries as he passed by.

You turned to Raph to check the damage. It seemed like just the two of you now. You wondered if they had started fighting because Mikey and Donnie weren’t around. Raph was rubbing the side of his head, looking drained and it tugged on your heart strings to see him that way. You knew brothers argued, sure they even fought sometimes. But it was hard to see them go at it like this.

“I know you’re not okay, so I won’t ask. But just know Leo didn’t mean any of that. I know he didn’t.”

Raph gives you a weak smile in return. Like he doesn’t believe you. But doesn’t have the heart to say it aloud. So you go to him, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards the couch. He goes without resistance. Once seated, you turn to him and he turns to you. Your hands go up and you cup his face now that he is within your reach.

“He’s scared. Just like you are. I know it’s hard to tell right now when he’s saying anything but that. But you know Leo, he’ll spew just about any nonsense to not say how he truly feels.”

The words turn over in Raph’s head as he thinks. He sighs, softening in your hold as he nods. He looks a little better now. But you don’t let him go. You trace the contours of his face. Lovingly. Letting the tension in the room ebb out until the early argument has left both of your minds completely.

“It’ll be okay. I know it will.”

You murmur. Your hands finally letting go as Raph’s breathing deepens. He fell asleep to your touch. Leaned back into the couch as his snores start up. You scoot over until your head can rest on his arm, pulling up your phone to text Leo to get his ass over here. A portal silently opens up on the other side of you and as Leo sits next to you, you pull him closer with your arm.

“Dummy.”

You chide the blue turtle as tears fall down his green cheeks. He huffs at the insult but knows you mean well. When you leave the lair that night the two brothers are tangled together in a pile that will surely be four later on, alls forgiven.

Raph eats just about anything. His stomach knows no limits. So you could char the meat on accident and he’d still wolf it down like it was the best meal he ever had. While that was kind of him, you wanted to really impress his palate. So on the topic of food one late night text session, you asked of his favorites. To which a long list was sent over. So you had to ask him again.

Y/n - [ Okay, that’s really cool that you have so many. But which one is your favorite among the favorites? 👀 ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ that’s a hard one… uhmmmmm ]

With a lot of encouragement he managed to get the favorite list down to five choices. To which you just decided to hell with it, you’ll have a feast! It took a lot of preparation. And more time than you thought you’d ever spend in your kitchen. But five meals were cooked and prepared perfectly on your round table. Now, you wished you’d told Raph of your plan sooner and hoped to the moon above that he didn’t have plans tonight.

Y/n - [ >image< hungry? C: ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 [ 😱 always! headin ur way ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 [ hereeeeeeee open ur windowwwww ]

And yes somehow he fit. He was good at wiggling around. He cleared each and every plate once you had tapped out after trying to keep up with him. Food comas hit the both of you soon after as he got up and claimed he would do the dishes. He was so cute as he wobbled up sleepily from the kitchen chair. Arms full of plates and platters as well as cups for not only water but various sodas/juices had been served that you knew to be Raph’s favorites as well. When he had asked what the occasion was you didn’t have any in mind.

“I just wanted to!”

You chirped. Happy to feed him. Happy to have made his day. Now he was as careful as one giant turtle could be with your plates, but to his dismay the bottom one from the pile ended up breaking due to the clatter when he placed them in the sink. He wouldn’t know it until he was practically done with cleaning, feeling so good about himself for not breaking any of the— oh there it was. The last one. In pieces.

“Raph is so so sorry! You made a nice meal only for Raph to break your plate!”

No matter how much he wished he could fuse the remains back together, he’d need glue. And you apparently didn’t have any in your apartment. He sighed to which you hushed all his worries away.

“Raphie! It’s just one plate, I’ve got more! Plenty more as you can see!”

You, who had been drying the dishes he washed. Gestured with the damp towel towards the pile of neatly stacked plates that were all dry. The force of which you whipped the towel was more than you had intended and you both watched as that perfect stack fell over, onto the counter and off on to the floor.

“Well. I may need to go buy some more.”

You admitted sheepishly. Raph didn’t know whether to be upset for you or laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“Yeah, let’s go get some now!”

After picking up and sweeping to make sure all the shattered pieces were in the trash. That’s exactly what the two of you did. It was little things that Raph did, like worry needlessly over you accidentally cutting yourself with one of the broken plate pieces. Or him getting shy at every compliment and gift you had to offer him. His humble nature. How he readily takes on responsibilities. His love for his family. His diligence when it comes to crime fighting and working out. His carefree side. You loved it all. You told him all the things that enamored you to him. And the two of you were happiest, when you could just spend time together like this. Doing little things.

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pepperonidk · 18 days

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roads diverged || h.js

pairing: joshua hong x reader warnings: super self-indulgent. some crying, life decisions, joshua is my comfort member word count: 759 summary: life is full of diverging roads, but it's okay as long as joshua's walking beside you

a/n: i'm definitely projecting lol. instead of crying for 3 hours, i decided to cry for 1 hour and write this for 2 hours :) problem solved

main masterlist

It’s not that you’re particularly a neat freak, but you’re pretty sure you read somewhere that cleaning your living space can help clear your mind.

It isn’t until you’re on your knees on the bathroom tile at 2 am, scrubbing between tiles with a pink toothbrush and a dream that you finally question the scientific validity of that Buzzfeed article. You let out a huff and pull the rubber gloves off your hands and throw them down onto the floor.

“Damn,” you hear a hoarse voice call from the bathroom door. “What did those gloves do to you?”

“Shua,” his name comes out as if you’re surprised at the shakiness in your own voice. Once he hears it too, his smirk falls into a frown and his eyebrows come together in concern. In the next instant, he’s on his knees beside you, pulling you into his arms.

“What’s wrong angel?” he whispers against your hair, rubbing his arms soothingly down your back.

His question is all it takes for the dam to break and not long after, the sleeve of Joshua’s light blue pajama shirt is soaked with tears. He shushes you as he pulls you tighter against him, and he wishes he could lift whatever burden was weighing you down.

It takes a minute before you can finally give him an answer. “Do you remember that really weird thing I asked you about a few weeks ago?” you managed to get out between hiccups.

He pulls away and shifts his hands down to hold yours. “Yeah,” he nods. “When you were reading that Robert Frost poem and you asked what happens if you don’t like the road less traveled and you want to go back and take the other one?”

You nod back at him, pulling your lip between your teeth to fight back the tears. “Yeah… that.”

“What about it?” he asks quietly, prodding you to continue.

“I think I’m going to quit my job,” you answered, unable to fight the second wave of tears.

“Oh, honey,” he began, his hands instinctively coming up to your face to wipe away the streams of tears. “What brought this on? I thought you liked your job.”

“I do,” you answer. “Well, I did. I’m not so sure anymore.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” you confess, dropping your head into your hands. “It’s just not… I just feel like I’m stuck, you know? Like what if I missed out on something better because I’m afraid of leaving something that’s familiar?”

Joshua hums thoughtfully, choosing his words before he continues. “That’s something I wish I knew the answer to,” he sighs and lifts your chin to look at him. He hates seeing you sad, but even more so knowing that this isn’t a problem he can fix for you. “But just think, honey, if you didn’t walk down this path, we wouldn’t have met.”

You nod and break out a small smile that mirrors his. “Yeah,” you agree. “That is pretty great.”

“See?” he continues. “I think you know, no matter which path you take, it’ll be lined with good things and bad things, and that’s okay.”

“I know, I know,” you affirm. “But I like it better when you tell me.”

Joshua lets out a chuckle before standing and holding his hand out to you. “I’ll keep telling you if you finally come to bed with me,” he offers and you take it, gathering your cleaning supplies into your free arm and setting them onto the counter.

Once you’ve both finally settled into bed, Joshua shuts off the lamp on the bedside table and pulls you flush against his chest. His fingers trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the steadiness of his heartbeat.

“As I promised,” he began. “There’s gonna be lots of diverging paths, you know? Lots of different ways to go. And they won’t always be as scenic as the ones before, or as neatly paved, or as—”

You playfully swat at his chest and smile at the rumble of laughter in his chest. “I get it,” you prod.

“My point is,” he drags out the last syllable, tilting his neck down to smile at you before yawning. “No matter which path you end up taking, I’ll be walking right next to you, holding your hand.” True to his word, he pulls your free hand into his before bringing it up to press a light kiss against your palm. “And every step is going to take us exactly where we need to go.”

taglist: @yksthings @iamxelia @coveyland @xuimhao

#caratwritersclub #seventeenweeklyarticle #joshua hong #joshua hong x reader #joshua x reader #seventeen fluff #joshua hong fluff #joshua fluff #seventeen × reader #seventeen angst #seventeen imagine #ioshua honq imagine #svt ioshua #seventeen joshua fluff #hong jisoo #hong jisoo x reader

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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years

Text

mommy’s little girl

pairings: older!natasha romanoff x innocent!reader

warnings: huge age gap, masturbation, slightly dark!natasha, dirty talking (heavily implied), mommy kink, and praise. 18+ MINORS DNI

notes: mommy natasha who’s also a big bear and i just want to post my fantasies lol enjoy x

masterlist | navigation | kinktober masterlist

“Sweetheart, please turn off your computer. You have school tomorrow.”

I sighed, putting away my book as I turned off my computer with a small smile on my face; showing that I wasn’t ready to go to bed. I recently turned eighteen this month, and I hoped that I’d have a bit of my freedom but that was no longer the case when it comes to my parents. I live in a conservative, religious, and highly respected home. Having a boyfriend or a girlfriend would never be a faith of mine; most certainly having the life that I truly want that isn’t even that stupid. Just a bit of my freedom would be appreciated.

“Mom?”

“What’s wrong, baby?”

I hesitated, but I knew it must be said. I took a deep breath and whispered, “When will I ever leave the house? Like… explore?”

She sighed through her nose and I could immediately tell that she was not having this mere conversation. Every week, I’d ask her about this. And she would ignore or find another topic to talk about so that we would forget about it. But there was no escaping this time; surely, she cannot escape this conversation.

“When you’re ready, Y/n.”

I only nodded and felt her lip kissing the crown of my head and turned off the lights in my room; I felt my own heart grow heavy and lay comfortably on the mattress where I think about another reality. Where I’m happy. When will I ever be satisfied? When will I get to have a life of my own?

Then, I grabbed my phone under my bed and began to download this app that my friend told me, it’s where you chat with strangers. Like Omegle. But she said that this app was different, you get to call and meet them – which is a little strange, but I don’t mind. It was hard to make a profile picture since I don’t take photos of myself; so I chose a photo of me that was almost a year ago and used it instead. I gave it a few minutes and saw an account trying to add me, making my heart beat a little.

At least from an online world, someone could appreciate me.

I clicked on their profile and I almost squirmed underneath the blanket. This woman was a beautiful-looking redhead. She had her hair short, her lips matching the shirt that she was wearing. Pink; is a great color. I smiled when I read her bio, it says: I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading – treading – till it seemed That Sense was breaking through – which I understood immediately. It’s a poem by Emily Dickinson, making my heart swell with joy. Finally, someone like me. Someone that I could relate to.

I decided to add them back and waited for their text; I rested my phone against my chest.

I felt my phone buzzing, I immediately threw myself up.

Natasha: Hi! :)

At this point, I didn’t know how to respond. I could do two things; ghost her, or don’t ghost her and face the person who is texting you right now. I chewed on my lower lip, watching the clock tick at its new number whether I should respond to her or not. I know I should, it would be rude enough not to say a simple hello. I began typing quickly and sent my message.

You: Hiiii! I’m surprised you texted me.

Natasha: I saw you here and I immediately had to add you. You’re really pretty, so so pretty.

You: you’re making me blush. thank you, fellow kind ma’am. :)

Natasha: how old are you? You seem extremely young.

I put my phone down and thought intensely if I should give her my age. If she knew I recently turned eighteen, she might block me and never speak to me again. And if she doesn’t talk to me again, that means I can’t have a friend. But being honest is also a good trait when it comes to these things; I have to tell her or else I’ll just keep pushing her away.

I sighed, sending the message of my age.

You: I’m eighteen. I hope you don’t mind.

Natasha: no, not at all! You’re so cute.

You: you’re giving me too many compliments, I can’t take it :(

Natasha: well, if we are going to be friends, you might expect me to tell you these things. Where are you from?

You: Queens!

Natasha: Really?! I’m from Queens too! Well, I just moved here recently. Business stuff.

You: how old are you then?

She’s probably twice as old as me, which makes me a little sad. If she was my age and I was allowed to have a girlfriend; she would be the perfect fit. Even though I only met this person not even an hour ago. It took her a while to respond, but she did and it made my heart drop.

Natasha: 38. Are you okay with that?

You: you’re the same age as my parents.

Natasha: I’m sorry, cutie. If you want, we could stop talking. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore :( but I’ll be very sad…

I don’t want to break her heart, I thought with a sigh through my nose. She must be so kind.

She’s probably the kindest person I’ve ever had a conversation with; I decided to keep going, which made me create a smile on my face like a stupid little girl.

You: I want us to keep talking, don’t go!

Natasha: Okay. We will keep talking then. :)

You: why are you in this app?

Natasha: Because I’m going through a really tough time and I wanted some company… hehehe.

Usually, whenever my friends would talk about guys online, they immediately want to have sex. They tell me it’s a turn-off, especially when the conversation is smooth and delicate until shit has been replaced. I haven’t experienced it myself, and I most likely wouldn’t want to experience it. So I decided to type my thoughts, getting a reply from her before a minute.

You: is sex your catch?

Natasha: you made me laugh, on a fond matter. No, sweet girl, that’s not my catch. I just want to make some friends, can’t I do that? :(

You: of course, you can! I was a little scared that you would want sex with me.

Natasha: sweetheart, I wouldn’t. We haven’t built a relationship, hahaha. Isn’t it late for you? Pretty little girls like you need their sleep. :D

You: you’re a flirt, aren’t you?

Natasha: It’s in me, I can’t help it. Plus, you’re not a minor. You won’t report me to the police, right?

You: what would be the reason for that?

Natasha: I don’t know, it seems like you would. :( Wouldn’t that be juicy?

You: I think I’ll go to bed :)

Natasha: lol. Okay, sweetheart. Get some rest, let’s keep talking tomorrow, okay? Goodnight. :)

You: Night!!

I brought my phone back under my bed and closed my eyes, as I think about the night that I made a friend. It’s a swelling feeling, a good swelling feeling. She was beautiful – too ethereal – and was the sweetest person I’ve talked to, even though she’s a big flirt. Though, that didn’t seem to mind me at all. If I would let her stay by flirting with me like that, then I wouldn’t care. I’d let her flirt all day long until I was bored.

I slept humbly like a babe.

Natasha and I began to have a strong bond a few weeks later, which caused a ruckus in the house since I’ve been on my phone too much. My mother, who’s too strict in everything, demands to have my phone and I would simply give her by not worrying (Natasha taught me how to hide our chats, which I’m grateful for) and she would give it to me back with a defeated face – knowing that I’ve won the fight. I would tell Natasha that her plan had worked and she would give me a response that sounded too flirty but also supportive at the same time.

And there was this gnawing feeling inside of me that wanted to roar out. Sometimes, when I’m in bed, I can’t help but think about her lips on mine. Would we be a great couple? Does she see me as her daughter? She’s older than me, she’s smarter than me, and I feel so young and innocent having someone to talk to someone so… mature. I know deep inside of me that she probably is a good kisser and would touch me delicately; but I also want to experience that and not with my dreams.

I was having a small conversation with her while doing my homework, laughing and giggling whenever she would imitate Mickey Mouse from my favorite TV show in the world.

“Natty, you sound exactly like him.”

“I try,” she laughs faintly, hearing herself flop on her bed. “Too bad I can’t see your face. I would be thrilled and blushing if I did.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, knowing that we wouldn’t able to have a video call. “This app is stupid anyway, I wish I could text you properly.”

“When you have your own life, then you will. For now, this is what we have to work with, m’kay?”

“M’kay.”

“God, you sound so cute. I wish I could kiss your cute face.”

My face flushed, and I immediately stopped writing down in my notebook as I repeated the words she had said in my head. A woman like her wants to kiss me. It felt surreal; different. Yet, it’s a great feeling that I cannot describe whatsoever. I gulped and responded quietly under my breath, “What does that mean, Nat?”

“Would you be angry if I asked you to call me your Mommy?”

“H-Huh?” my breath hitched; I could hear her groaning from the speaker of my phone, and I had to ball my hand into a fist so that I don’t let out a suppressing moan that my mom could hear behind my door. “Nat, what are you talking about?”

“I think about you all the time,” she whimpers with a deep voice. “You’re my sweet little girl, my pure innocent girl. That fuckin’ turns me on so much, you make me so wet.”

“T-Tasha…”

“You want me to keep talking, baby? Yeah? Fuck, I’m touching myself right now. Mmph, call me Mommy. Please, baby, call me Mommy.”

“My parents could hear me if I say that,” I whispered close to the speaker, closing my eyes as I imagined her hands underneath her panties. She must be so insatiable, which I find attractive. I took a breath and whispered close, moaning: “Mommy.”

She groans as I can hear squelching sounds from the background. “Fuck! O-Oh god, you make me so horny. You don’t know what I can do to you, little girl. I can fucking lick you like I’m hungry for you, I can fuck you so hard that you might beg for help. Oh, I’d love to hear you beg, fuck baby fuck.”

“Are you–”

“I think you’ll love my cock much more, don’t you think? Please, baby, let me see you soon. I want to lick you, I want to kiss you so much. I love you, I love your little body. God–I know you’d be so little, and your pretty pussy must be so tight.”

“Keep talking to me, Mommy,” I whispered with a whining moan as I slipped my fingers into my underwear to touch my clitoris, shutting my eyes tight; not having an idea what to do next. “M-Mommy, I’m touching myself…”

“S-Shit, you have no idea what you’re doing, huh?”

“Mhm,” I continued to rub my clit, biting my lower lip to keep quiet. “I can’t be loud, they could hear me.”

“Imagine me going to your room as your parents are downstairs, thinking about their daughter being so innocent. I’ll take your virginity, I’ll keep you quiet. Do you think about me kissing your lips? Baby, talk to me. I need to hear you.” Natasha thrusts her fingers into her rapidly, as she thinks about the naughtiest imaginations about fucking me in her head. The things I could do for her.

“I-I can’t be loud,” I rest my forehead against my desk and continued to rub my clit in circular motions, counting how many times I should do it in my head. I heard her groaning from my speaker and heard something, but I couldn’t figure it out. “Mommy, I feel so icky…”

“Mommy wants to help you out so bad,” she whines as she creates a rapid pace into her cunt. “I love you, my little girl. Keep it down for me, sweetheart… I’m going to cum soon. I wish I could cum in your mouth.”

“My mouth?–Oh god–”

“I wish I could fuck you in the ass, I wish I could taste you. Mommy’s cumming baby… yeah, I’m–Oh SHIT!” she lets out a strangled moan and arches her back, whimpering and whining out my name multiple times as she has the orgasm that she wished would last forever; it felt too good for her, especially when she thought of her strap-on inside of my little pussy, as she says.

I pulled my hand out and wiped it on a paper towel near me, I waited for her to calm down before hearing her say: “We have to meet, okay baby girl? I really want to see your face.”

“I want to see your face too, Tasha bear.”

She chuckles deeply as I hear a ruffling sound that was coming from her sheets, I was guessing that she was changing or getting herself comfortable; the sound lasted for a minute. When silence hit us both, I realized that I was about to fall in love with an older woman. And I wished that she felt the same way; otherwise, it would be embarrassing enough to have feelings for someone else who wouldn’t give them back to you.

But she has said I love you to me multiple times; she must love me then, right?

“I’m your bear, alright.”

“You’ll always be my bear.” I responded shyly, tucking a strand of my hair in my ear. I hear another chuckle again that churns my stomach; she really has that effect on me that I don’t understand.

“I want us to meet at the Avengers Cafe, can we? Please?”

“But what if my parents find out?”

“They won’t,” she reassures desperately. “I love you, I want to see you. I promise I’m not a pervert.”

It took me a while to respond, and I could tell that she was losing hope. I knew immensely that Natasha wasn't a pervert nor a threat; it was more of how will I survive when my parents know about her? Especially when I live in such a conservative home, it's really damn hard. But I knew, deep inside, that it was worth it. Meeting the possible love of my life would be the greatest challenge I'll ever do.

I decided to give in and nodded, smiling through the phone.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Let’s meet then.”

“Good,” she sighs happily and closes her eyes; her hand still in her panties. “Tomorrow sounds good?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Goodnight, my dearest.”

i’m serious. should i post part two where natasha fucks reader in her innocent bedroom? ooooo

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x reader #black widow x you #a's oneshots!

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