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viennakarma · 18 days

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My dearest friend and enemy (2)

PART 2 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I was wondering doing a bonus part about Fernando POV throughout everything (to show he was ALSO miserable), but I don't know if i have the time and energy for it. Let me know if you guys would be interested in it and I'll do it in headcanons/topics.

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was taking way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter!

PART 1 | FERNANDO'S HEADCANONS

You were moping and crying in the living room when the phone started ringing. Looking at the little screen that showed the number that was calling, you knew it was Fernando. You had memorized his number at some point in your lifetime. Your parents weren’t home, so you hesitated. You took so long that his call went to voicemail.

“I know you’re there,” he said, voice sounding tired, low and inpatient, “please pick up the-”

You pulled the phone cable, unplugging the call and silencing him. Wiping your tears, you stared at the unplugged phone on the little side table for what felt like hours, until your parents returned from work, when you got up to plug the phone back and pretend like you didn’t spend the whole day mourning a friendship you always thought would last forever.

After two days ignoring all calls, even Flavio’s, you decided that you’d shield yourself from now on, and you wouldn’t give Fernando any more ammo to hurt you. You met with Flavio at the next race, face heavy with makeup to cover up the sleepless nights you had gone through. You put your bag down and stared at Flavio across the table.

“Good morning. Let’s go back to work,” you said, gently pulling the stack of papers from his grasp. He called your name in that tone, of someone wanting a heart to heart.

“We should talk about the f-” He started but you cut him off.

“No, I don’t want to talk about that,” you said.

“I talked to Fernando and he-”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it. He’s dead to me.” You repeated slowly, finally looking up at him. Flavio must’ve seen something in your eyes because he let the topic go.

You didn’t see Fernando for two more days, and when the weekend officially started, you avoided him like the plague. Even when you two were in the same place with other drivers, you’d ignore his existence for the most part. Whenever you were in a little circle chatting with other drivers and he arrived, you’d leave immediately. Press conference, you convinced Jenson to switch places with you so you could be as far from Fernando as possible. Even with team debriefs, with Flavio trying to make you talk to Fernando, you refused.

The rest of the season was insane, during team meetings and debriefs you were cold and barely talked to him. He didn’t try to talk to you either, and the silent distance only grew.

You were head to head in a race, you were P2 and Fernando P3 right behind you.

“Switch with Fernando,” your engineer said on the radio.

“He won’t fucking pass me,” you said into the radio, holding your position and pace. He was less than a second behind, and you refused to let him pass.

“I repeat, let him pass,” That was Flavio.

“If he manages to overtake me, he can go.”

He didn’t. You knew you had more pace, but still he insisted, and through the mirrors, you could see him closing in behind you. He tried to overtake but you pushed the car fast, and when he couldn’t anymore, he turned into you, touching his front right tyre to your rear left tyre. You were too fast. The mere touch of his tyre bursted yours. You couldn’t even get angry as you lost control of the car in a millisecond, the speed making your car fly into the air as it hit the gravel. With your car overturning a few times in the air, you watched your sight going ground, sky, ground, sky, ground, sky.

Then you blacked out.

When you woke up, you were on a stretcher being placed carefully inside the ambulance, you tried to get up, dizzy and someone handed you a bag where you threw up inside.

You had an insane headache as they took you to the medical center. Apparently, everything else was alright as you checked your own body for any injuries or problems. The doctor checked you but still made you through a round of tests and injected saline solution diluted with pain medicine in an IV drip. They also decided you’d stay overnight to make sure nothing was wrong.

Your dad, who was watching from the garage, was the first to find you in the medical center, visibly worried and crying. He hugged you for a whole minute, before taking a step back and touching your face to make sure you were really alright.

“I’m ok, Papá. Just passed out when the car was spinning in the air,” You smiled softly, wanting to dissipate his worry.

“When you didn’t answer the radio-” He choked back tears.

“It’s ok, I’m ok now.”

“What are you feeling, darling?” He pressed, holding your hands to look for injuries in your arms.

“I’m all in one piece, Papá. Just a little sore, but that’s normal whenever a racing driver crashes,” you let him know, and he nodded.

“Let me just call your mother. She was so worried she wanted to get into the first flight here,” He told you.

“Tell her I’m alright and I love her,” you whispered and he nodded, going outside.

You sighed as you were left alone, trying to find a comfortable position where you didn’t have to move too much, since your whole body felt like it had been run over by a truck. The door opened and you thought it was Flavio, but you were faced with Fernando, still sweaty and in his overalls. He looked disheveled, but he was full of worry, even his eyes looked a little misty as he stood there a few meters from you.

But you couldn’t look past the anger when the memory of him diving into your car came back. He had gambled with your life, out of pettiness, out of envy, he couldn’t pass you, so he decided the next best thing was to take you out, not even caring about the danger he was putting you through.

“Leave.” You said, with gritted teeth.

“Please,” he begged with his voice softer than you had heard for almost a year, “let me just-”

“Leave! You could’ve gotten me killed, Fernando. Get out!” You said, louder. “Do you have any idea that you could have ruined my life in a moment of anger?! That you could have gotten me seriously injured or worse?! I would have never done that to you!” You pressed your index finger to the nurse button repeatedly, and a few seconds later, a nurse came in, “Ma’am can you escort him out please?”

You could see in his eyes that he was hurt by your words, but in that moment, all you felt was blind rage, for what he did the last time you spoke and because he crashed into you on purpose. You didn’t want to hear any excuses now that he realized he put your life in danger just because his ego couldn’t take a hit.

The next day, after you were discharged, you traveled for a meeting with Flavio at Renault’s headquarters. He met you alone in the meeting room, talking to you about the accident, and after making sure you were physically fine, he went off.

“What you did yesterday was reckless and you went against express orders from the team and from me. This is not happening again, or you will be risking your seat at Renault,” He said, his voice never leaving room for debate, you swallowed and nodded, “When the team orders you to do something, you do. No questioning, and no going against it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fernando was really worried about you yes-”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” You cut Flavio off.

“You two are best friends, it’s really sad to see you lose all that because of Formula 1” Flavio said, gently.

“He put my life at risk, Flavio. This is not something a friend would do,” you stood up, walking away but you stopped by the door, “Kinda curious how motorsports, the very thing that brought us together, is the same that tore us apart.”

Then you went to meet the engineers for the next race strategies.

That night as you laid down at home, you thought that you’d never compete with Fernando solely because he was Flavio’s favorite. If it ever came to Flavio to decide whether you would win or Fernando would win, he’d always pick Fernando. You could’ve been fighting for the championship this year, he had promised you, instead you were being used as a step in Fernando’s path of glory, when you could be fairly racing him for the championship. You’d always come second to him there. That was also the moment you stopped seeing Flavio as a friend, and confined him back to a position of Team Principal.

You reread the Sauber proposal that came to you that year to start racing for them the next season, tempted to just go and make your name somewhere else. Somewhere where you’d be put first.

But deep down, a sense of indebtedness had rooted into your heart ever since the day Fernando told you the truth. You had to pay Flavio back for his trust and for his money, and the only way you thought you could do it was by becoming world champion under his team.

There was still a little kid inside you, a little kid who aspired to prove Fernando wrong, to become a champion and prove to yourself you’re more than him. More than who he wanted you to be, more than a loser.

You turned down the offer from Sauber.

The rest of the season you went almost robotically. You still gave your all every race, but your mood would always damper when you had to follow team orders.

“Ask if me and Fernando can switch, I’m faster!” You said on the radio. You kept driving, Fernando a little less than two seconds in front of you, but you were getting closer and would catch up to him in two laps.

“Negative, protect his position.”

“There’s a McLaren right behind me! They’ll pass us both!”

“Negative, team orders.”

You swallowed and held your position, trying to maintain your P2 and Fernando P1. But when the McLaren got close to you, they managed to pass you after a brief battle, going for Fernando a couple of laps later.

Later, you stood on the podium, looking ahead knowing that P3 could’ve been a P1 if they had let you fight for it. You didn’t look at Fernando on the other side of the podium, you just stood there, eyes watery. You pretended to take part throwing champagne for a few seconds, forcing a smile knowing that it would look bad not to.

The post race interviews were torture, and you wanted to go home and vent to your parents.

“How has it been to manage your friendship with Fernando outside the track?” A reporter asked, and your smile disappeared from your face.

“We were never really friends,” you shrugged, annoyed, you added “Are there any questions about racing instead of my personal life?” The reporter was silent, visibly taken aback by your responses, you had rarely been hostile toward a journalist before, you knew he would have a field day with just those replies, especially when your PR manager gave you a hard stare, “No? Thank you, see you around.”

You finished P2 in the race Fernando became champion for the second time. When you got out of the car, you watched as Flavio and Fernando hugged, jumping from the ground and celebrating. The number one and your team principal. After the podium ceremony, you didn’t bother to stay to spray champagne, just leaving and going straight out.

You got a couple more proposals from other teams, and you were tempted, until Flavio told you Fernando was leaving for McLaren the next year and offered you an extension. You took it under the condition to become the number one driver now that Fernando was out of the picture.

A part of you mourned the death of the dream, the one you had at fourteen to become teammates with your best friend. So many things had happened in between everything, now you would miss it. Only the good, not the bad and ugly. You wish you could go back in time, redo everything, and never allow yourself to lose your best friend on the way.

The next year you ended up striking an unexpected friendship with Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg and eventually the two rookies Lewis and Sebastian, who had been very vocal about being fans of yours.

You didn’t go back to talking with Fernando. You didn’t try and he didn’t either. It felt like the bridges were too far burned to recover.

One day as you walked out of the garage, you saw Fernando with a girl on the opposite side. She was clinging to his side, whispering. You knew he had his fair share of fun with grid girls but he never invited them to watch the race from his garage. You wondered if he was dating again, after a couple of years being nothing more than a player. You also wonder why it made a pang of pain flare through your chest.

You don’t linger too much. He had no reason to tell you. You weren’t even friends anymore.

You moved on, as much as you could. And eventually, you met Kaka, or Ricardo, as you preferred calling him. He was a footballer, a big name in the sport, playing for a big team in Italy. You actually met him at a gala party, the both of you being silly introverts, bumping into each other when trying to find a way out. You two ended up talking for hours on the balcony, watching the city lights.

He reminded you of Nano before Formula 1.

And you actually wanted to smash your own head against the handrail as you thought that.

After exchanging numbers and calling a couple of times, you managed to convince Ricardo to come to a Grand Prix. His presence was calm, funny without being mean, and so gentle. It was actually the calm between the storm your life and job was.

You were pacing around outside the motorhomes to try and see if he had arrived yet, since the last you had talked to him was when he was on his way. While waiting, your eyes found Fernando’s on the opposite side in front of McLaren, he was sitting down with his girlfriend telling him something. You stared at him for a whole minute, and for a brief moment, the anger left his eyes for something softer, something like-

“Hi, minha linda!” Ricardo showed up out of nowhere, and he hugged you so tight he actually swiped you off your feet.

Once the surprise passed, you hugged him back, your fingers finding their way through his hair. And he laughed, spinning you before putting you down. You talked for a bit, your face lit up as he told you about his day.

Your eyes unconsciously turned to Fernando, because you could feel that he had been staring at you for as long as Ricardo was there. His face was back to anger.

“You want me to give you the grand tour?” You offered, just so you could escape the weight of Fernando’s glare.

You took Ricardo by the hand and showed him all around, even introducing him to part of your team. After that race when you placed third, Ricardo invited you to a date, the first official one. After a couple of months and a few kisses, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You only hesitated for a second before smiling and squealing a yes.

Being the main driver of your team allowed you to live an entirely different season as a racer. You didn’t want to be arrogant, but you had it in the bag. You had the best car, the best engines, and just the perfect amount of boldness. Add insane strategies, and you were unstoppable.

Despite Fernando being your close rival on track, he was way too busy beefing with Lewis, his surprisingly great rookie teammate.

During summer break that year, you were on a trip to Brazil with Ricardo, but still, the night of July 29th, you got up at two a.m., slowly went to the fridge, where you got an ice cream pint. With a spoon, you sat on the handrail in the balcony, and watched the waves breaking on the beach a few meters away.

It was weird keeping the ice cream tradition alone, but you supposed it was even weirder not keeping the tradition. Staring at the stars, you wondered if Fernando had any ice cream to celebrate his birthday that day.

“Hi,” you heard Ricardo behind you, his hands sneaking around your middle and he hugged you from behind, laying his head against your shoulder, “everything ok?”

“Yeah, just wanted a little treat,” you mumbled, closing the lid on the ice cream, because a selfish part of you didn’t want to share the tradition with anyone other than Fernando. It was silly and stupid, and still… you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You put the ice cream back in the freezer and smiled at Ricardo as he pulled you into his arms and carried you back to bed.

You came back from summer break with a renewed sense of focus. Deep down you knew that was your season. Your season to become world champion, and nothing was going to get in the way of that. As you won the first two races after summer, you became first in the standings, this sense of purpose being the one thing motivating you every weekend to give your best.

It was Interlagos that year when you needed only a podium to become World Champion, pretty much the same as Fernando two years before. The race was tough, and it felt like Fernando was out to get you, especially in a moment right in the middle of the race, when you were behind him in P3 and he tried to brake test you again, but this time you were quick to react, avoiding his rear and using his own dirty trick against him, turning sharply to overtake him from outer side, moving past him fast enough to gain some precious couple of seconds.

After that, you managed to smoothly overtake the P1 with a carefully planned pit stop that allowed you to come out first. Later on, you saw a crash, nothing too bad, but you found out it was Fernando and Webber.

“Are they ok?” You asked via radio to your engineer.

“Yes, they are already back on the pitlane.”

You sighed and focused back to your race, keeping your P1 safe, and going smoothly to take the checkered flag.

“Congratulations, Y/N! You’re a Formula One World Champion!”

You felt the tears coming down and dampening your balaclava, as you took one last lap to parc ferme, waving at the crowd that went insane.

It was like a huge weight was lifted from your chest. Because you were now world champion. You were there, and you deserved to be there, among the best. You didn’t need to prove yourself anymore, and you had finally paid Flavio back.

You jumped out of the car straight into your team, jumping with them, and Flavio ran up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. Jenson also found you and hugged you firmly, patting your back and Nico also hugged you, both of them were on the podium with you.

As you looked down from the podium, with a watery, emotional smile, you saw your dad crying like a baby and clapping his hands. Unconsciously, your eyes looked for Fernando, silly hoping it mattered something to him, that at least in the name of your former friendship, he would be there, but he was nowhere to be seen, and you felt like that was another nail in the coffin of your friendship.

Deciding to forget it, you drank champagne straight from the bottle, laughing as both Nico and Jenson paired up to drown you in champagne, looking happy for you.

After talking to your mom on the phone, you stood up, taking your bag and going out to look for your dad. You didn’t make it very far, as you came out in the hallway, you found Fernando, leaning against the wall. You paused, looking up to him while your heartbeat went up.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispered. And you wanted to believe it really badly, but thinking about him brake testing you during the race, trying to take you out, made you roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, you are,” you said sarcastically. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, like he was disappointed you didn’t believe him, “my debt is over now.”

“What?” He frowned, confused.

“I just paid Flavio for his investment,” you explained, “I’m not just here because you asked him to support me, I’m a damn great driver. I’m here because I deserve it, not because you took me out of pity.”

Fernando stared at you completely shocked at your words, something painful stabbing at his chest. He never thought you’d think like that over disgusting words he said in a moment of anger. Words that never meant anything to him, that he didn’t even believe in himself. The hurt in your eyes was the same from the day he said the words, when you cried looking into his eyes and telling him he was dead to you.

You walked past him and away. He wanted to shout that he never meant those words, that you were so much more, so much better. But you just left. Fernando followed you outside, trying to catch you and explain himself, maybe fix things between you, making peace.

But as he got outside, he paused, seeing you jumping in your boyfriend’s arms, laughing at something he whispered to you. Fernando swallowed, closing his fist and jealousy burned through his limbs, with such force that it felt like a fever.

Right after the Brazilian Grand Prix, Ferrari got in touch with you, offering a two year contract to become teammates with Kimi Raikkonen and drive for what was one of, if not the most classic team in Formula 1. After negotiations, it was a no brainer. You didn’t owe Renault anything any more. And that’s what propelled you to meet with Flavio that winter break in a cafeteria in Monaco. When you had called, he said he wanted to talk to you about something, which was convenient.

After pleasantries and small talk, you were ready to start, but Flavio cut you off without noticing.

“I have to tell you something,” he started, carefully, “Fernando is coming back to Renault next year.”

You froze for a second, not wanting to think too much about the implications of that. The fact that Flavio was willing to force you and Fernando to be teammates again even after the catastrophic ending you had before. Sighing, you covered your face for a second.

“I know you have reservations, but I’ve talked with Fernando and he’s willing to-”

“I’m going to Ferrari.”

And Flavio understood, after talking for a while. He knew Ferrari was most drivers' ultimate dream, and you weren’t immune to that either. Unfortunately for you, Fernando released the news he was going back to Renault a week before Ferrari announced you, and the media had a field day with that, tabloids and media outlets doing numbers of articles about you avoiding being teammates with Fernando again, since he was coming back and you were conveniently leaving almost at the same time.

Your races with Fernando kept being dangerous, one always trying to one up the other, dangerous moves and overtakes, close calls of crashing into each other, and more and more jabs publicly. The attacks at each other never stopped, and the media seemed to enjoy it, feeding into it ever so often.

One occasion, you were going for a win, and the only thing between you and that damn P1 was Fernando Alonso. So you kept your P2, biding your time as you tried to close the gap, leaving your chance at overtaking for the last few laps. When a fast turn came, you advanced, overtaking him, Fernando tried to defend his position, but you were getting the lead, and both of you were in high speed. Someone had to back out, otherwise you two would crash. But you were feeding off of anger and hurt, and you didn’t back down well into the turn, but suddenly, Fernando slowed down, giving up defending. You took the P1 and after a few laps, the checkered flag. You knew on the podium that Fernando was seething, his face didn’t hide that. Later, at an interview, someone brought up the dirty move.

“So, a very dangerous move at turn 2 during lap 47, no?” The reporter asked, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“I thought it was a pretty common battle, no?” You said, a condescending tone imitating him.

“Well, it could’ve caused you both to crash.”

“I took a risk, either I would pass and win, or we would both crash and DNF. Alonso was wise and went for the safest option.” I gave the reporter a fake smile.

You knew that answer would piss Fernando off, and a part of you knew he deserved it. Sometimes you acted on pure rage and pettiness, feral and way more aggressive against Fernando on track than you really needed to be. But he just pissed you off. Walking around with his model girlfriend, his attacks at your racing abilities, his pretty eyes that always seemed to find yours at the most inconvenient times.

Then, the race weekend would end, and everything that was left was shame. Your burning shame every time your mom’s eyes shone when she asked about Fernando, hoping you two would have made peace. You, looking away from her face every time you told her you knew nothing about Alonso because you didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

Later that year, after your two year anniversary with Ricardo, you accidentally found a ring box in his suitcase. A proposal ring, a beautiful big diamond ring, probably worth a small fortune. And you tried to feel happy about it, but you could only find dread in your heart. Despite loving Ricardo, you knew you didn’t love him as much as you could. And certainly not as much as she loved you. You didn’t love him as much as you loved-

Closing your eyes, you also closed your heart, and after that just like the coward you were, you broke up with Ricardo the kindest way you could. He was confused, because your relationship was tranquil, without many problems. It broke your heart to break his heart, but you couldn’t lead him on, you knew Ricardo was husband material, and the earlier you let him go, the earlier he would find his true happiness.

Ultimately, you decided to only pursue love after your Formula One career. Having a bit of fun here and there, and a couple of casual relationships even with other drivers, but nothing serious or public. When you found out Fernando was single again, a flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but when you saw him go back to his playboy ways… It died down.

Sometimes you would dream of a different life, of one you never lost your best friend… or even better, one that you never had to suppress the love you felt for him. And sometimes it felt too much, like all this love was just filling up your hollow heart, filling up until it overflowed, until you felt like you were drowning in it, because there was nowhere for this love to go. And you wondered, what do I do with this love, there's no one to give it to, there's no recipient to put it. So you would just ground your teeth and bear it, holding onto anger because that much love, that much longing did nothing but cause you pain.

Every time someone mentioned him outside race weeks, you felt ashamed.

Despite being in a top team like Ferrari, you’d only get a few wins, and some podiums here and there, so it wasn’t like you didn’t achieve anything. But you were a woman so it was obviously not enough, and the media started questioning your career and your place in Formula One.

After two years of you driving for Ferrari, Domenicalli, your team principal, sat you down to let you know Fernando Alonso would be joining the team the next year, and you bit the inside of your cheek, considering just retiring. The criticism was getting to you, and the perspective of living hell with Fernando as your teammate was a broken heart all over again.

When an opportunity arose to drive for Red Bull Racing, with a two year contract, you didn’t think twice before accepting. It would be your chance to turn the tide in your career.

It sent the motorsport world into a frenzy when your new team announced you and a week later Ferrari announced Fernando as their future driver. The same narrative of you running away from him was passed ahead. And of course, it got to the paddock. Most drivers that were close to you actually congratulated you, but of course, nothing was ever good for Fernando. And despite not fully talking to him, he was always willing to throw a mean comment at you any given day.

“And people said you’re washed” Fernando said right after the news broke, the second to last race of that season, his voice dripping with venom. You knew it was a backhanded compliment, he always did that when he wanted to get a rise out of you. He smirked, waiting for your feral clapback, as you always had one on the tip of your tongue.

But when he looked back at you, your face was stony, and you were looking ahead with your chin raised. You didn’t even look at Fernando, nor answered his taunting. You pretended he wasn’t there but he noticed your eyes were misty.

That had been a low blow, even for him. He didn’t know shit about your feelings regarding your career, but he knew exactly how the world had been treating it, and it made you burn with shame that he could add insult to injury this easily. You wondered why he would say something like that if, just like you, it had been years since the last time he was champion of the world. Two years pushing yourself to the maximum so you could achieve your second championship.

Fernando had been your best friend for so long, he knew exactly what buttons to push when he wanted to hurt you.

When someone else arrived, greeting you, you cleared your throat briefly before answering and plastering a smile that never reached your eyes.

“Are you running away from me?” Fernando cornered you later that same day.

“What?” You paused.

“I went back to Renault and you left, now I’m going to Ferrari and you’re leaving,” he shrugged. You scoffed.

“I’m not sure if you know, but my life doesn’t revolve around you, Fernando.”

“Well, that’s a weird coincidence, don’t you think?”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

Fernando paused for a second, his eyes searching yours, he looked vulnerable, open like he hadn’t been in so long. He looked every bit your best friend from years before.

“I miss you, I-” He started, then cleared his throat.

“I miss the old you,” You swallowed a whole bunch of your pride just to be able to say those words.

“Things are different now…” Fernando started, his eyes full of hoping, of longing, “We could- maybe we could-”

“Fernando, we’re too far gone, what we said- what we did…” You muttered, feeling a lump in your throat, “how do one come back from that?”

“We could restart. Try again-”

“You lost me forever that day, Fernando.” You muttered, the tears holding on to your eyelashes. You didn’t need to specify the day, he knew, he had seen in your eyes the moment he lost you, “I spent so long hearing your voice in my head, telling me I wasn’t good enough, I shouldn’t be here, and I- I hated you that day. And I had to hold onto this hate, because the alternative was overwhelming sadness.”

There was a numbing silence for a couple of minutes, as you stared down at your own feet, trying to stop all the feelings you spent years carefully locking away from breaking free. So much had happened, you believed you and Fernando were too far to recover now.

“I’m a woman here, the first and only woman in so long, and the whole world was against me. You have no idea how it felt that my best friend, the person I trusted the most, was also against me,” You shook your head, feeling the tears drop.

“I’m sorry, Nena… I’ve never- I’ve never meant any of that.” He muttered, and you didn’t look at him to see if he was being genuine. You had formed walls around your heart to protect yourself from heartbreak, and you now had a hard time believing him.

“There are some things… that are not meant to be.” You didn’t look back at Fernando after you said that, choosing to walk away with this broken heart feeling ever present.

It was hard to keep going everyday. You had always faced backlash for being a woman in Formula 1, and you were used to it. But the media took a turn over the next few years. When you didn’t win more championships, when years passed and you were still there, along with other champions and future champions. They started to call you old, washed, telling you to retire and placing bets on when you’d lose your seat. It was baffling because it had been six years since your championship, but it had been seven years since Fernando’s, but still, you were the only one whose spot was questioned all the time. It was unfair, and whenever they came up to you talking about it, you’d ask them if they’d ask the same to older drivers or other champions. They would leave you alone for a week and then come back stronger, ready to throw your whole career under the bus.

Finally, you got another chance at the championship in 2013, after an unbelievable start of the season with five consecutive wins. That had put you first in the standings for the championship, and from there on, your team molded the season around you. Smooth sailing through the season, you became world champion in Suzuka, way too far ahead in the championship to anyone be able to catch up to you.

When you stood on the podium that night, you cried happy tears. You had once again proved wrong years of demerit from the world. As you looked down to search for your family, your eyes found Fernando right beside them, a proud, emotional look on his face as he kept a hand over his heart, listening to your national anthem.

He nodded at you with a small smile, and a part of you healed a little bit.

You enjoyed a couple of days of pure bliss after becoming world champion. Parties, celebrations and trips, they were all you did for the next few weeks.

When the FIA Prize Giving ceremony came, you had another bombshell to drop at the world. You were the most stunning you ever felt that year when you arrived at the ceremony, in a beautiful dark blue dress with little crystals all over the bodice, a beautiful hairstyle and even more beautiful makeup. Never in your entire career in Formula 1, you had felt so fulfilled, so happy.

Hearing your name being called as the winner, the number one, was different this time, and had much more weight, and it made your heart burst with happiness. As you walked up the stairs to the stage, receiving your trophy, you stopped by the mic.

“Thank you so much. I’d like to thank my family for supporting me from the beginning, my team for making the perfect season, and the perfect car for me to be able to achieve this. I’d like to thank all my teammates that, in one way or another, taught me some valuable lessons as a racer. Thanks to Flavio for taking a chance on my career when probably no one else would.” You said, with a smile. You took a good look around, all the people in this sport who made Formula 1 the most important category of motorsport, all your peers, all the teams. “I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1, as of right now.”

There was a wave of shock and loud gasps in the whole room, flashes and flashes bulbing harder than before, journalists scrambling to take notes… But you kept smiling, hand firm around your trophy as you let the news settle down before speaking again.

“In 2007 I wanted to pay Flavio back for giving me the opportunity to be here today. That debt was paid that same year. After that year I wanted to win for myself, to write my name in the history books, and my dream is now realized. I feel like I should move on and make space for new upcoming talents.” Your eyes were wet with unshed tears, but you smiled, the first genuine smile in a few years.

Fernando felt his heart drop at your words. Things weren’t supposed to go like this, you two should be best friends, drive together, retire together. Go down in history together.

“I’m grateful for everything this sport provided me, the adventures, traveling around the world, the people I met and the people I lost,” there was a calm pause, and Fernando wondered if you were talking about him too, “Now it’s time to go and achieve new dreams. Thank you very much.”

You turned around and walked away under the applause.

Later, after the ceremony was done, you were getting ready to leave when Fernando came to find you. He was dressed in a beautiful suit, looking like a million dollar man.

“Nena…”

It made you pause. It had been a while since he called you like that with that specific tone.

“What? Came here to gloat?” You couldn’t help but be defensive, worried.

“What?”

“I knew you’d be one of the happiest when I retired.”

“No, I would not-”

“You would, Fernando. You did. Many times you said I was done, that my prime was over, that I should retire…”

“I never thought you’d easily give up!” He shouted at you, “Like you did in 2006, not competing against me.”

“That’s because they didn’t let me compete! Do you think I couldn’t have competed with you back in ‘06? I could, but every time, they would tell me to back off, to let you pass, to not fight you, to not overtake you-” You threw at his face, because you wouldn’t stand there and let him look down on you like that. You refused to back down now that you were finally free. “Pat threatened my seat if disobeyed team orders.”

“What?! Why did you never tell me that?” Fernando looked shocked. His fighting stance was completely gone now.

“You were going to be World Champion again. I would never take that from you,” You whispered, voice failing.

“Nena…” He said, like he wanted to drop everything. “Please, don’t leave. If Red Bull don’t want you, you can find another spot with another team, we can think of something.”

“Fernando, I’m not leaving because the team doesn't want me. In fact, they offered me a 3 year extension.”

“That’s not how it was supposed to go, remember? We planned that-” His voice was kinder than it had been to you in many years, “We would go down in history together. Win together, retire together.”

“When push comes to shove, only one wins… We learned that the hard way.” I say, with a sad smile, “Life doesn’t always go as planned. And I got everything I could ever want from Formula 1. Now it’s time for new stuff.”

“What new stuff?”

“I want to have a family, Fernando. People don’t stick around long for this lifestyle, you know that-” You shook your head.

With one last look at Fernando, your eyes watered, and you walked away.

Sitting on the porch, you looked up at the sky, thinking of what’s next for you. It had been months since you announced your retirement from Formula 1. The new season had already begun. It was your birthday, a refreshing new one.

You heard steps coming closer and your heartbeat sped up as you saw Fernando walking up to you. He sat down by your side, holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. He handed one to you and in silence, you started eating ice cream.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“Was it hard to find me?” You asked, with a tentative smile.

“It only took me my whole life to find you again…” He said, wistfully, his eyes shining under moonlight and you didn’t know if those were unshed tears or not, “my best friend, my nena, my girl…”

“I’ve always been here. Right here.” You said, eyes watering. You weren’t sure you could explain what that here meant, but somehow you knew he would understand.

Fernando took your hand, gently placing it on his chest, right above his heart.

“Right here,” he whispered, pressing his hand above yours, over his beating heart, “you were always here.”

Then, he kissed you. For the first time in more than a decade, for what felt like the first time for both of you. As his other hand pulled you closer, the kiss deepened, like a prayer and a promise. Both of you knew there was a lot of resentment to navigate through, and a lot of feelings you’d both have to unravel and understand. But there was one thing that was always there, through hate, anger and hurt… And it was love, unshaken, steadfast love.

As you broke apart, Fernando pulled you into him, hugging you tight for a few minutes, before pulling away to hold your face with both hands, his eyes looking into yours with so much devotion it melted everything away.

“We will be alright.”

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#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 #fernando alonso #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #brocedes #formula 1 fic #formula one fanfiction

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apomaro-mellow · 8 months

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Matchmaking Harringtons 2

Diane wanted to ask more about Steve's interaction with the cashier, but she remembered being a youngin. The more questions she asked, the more Steve would close up. She didn't know what her husband had said to get things started, but clearly they needed a different angle.

She said as much that evening as she and Jonas got ready for bed. He protested, as she knew he would, but it was her turn now.

So right away the next day, she returned to the mall, hoping Steve's intended would be there. And to her luck, he was.

"Hello, hi", she waved as she approached the counter.

"Hi. Did you need help finding anything?"

"Oh no, not really", Diane said. "You see...", she looked to his name tag. "Eddie, I don't know if you remember but yesterday my husband and I were here with our son, Steve?"

Eddie's cheeks got red and his mouth turned to a straight line. Diane would take that as a good sign.

"We really want Steve to find someone special", Diane said in a low voice, leaning in a bit. "Now I don't know what my husband told you, but I'm here to give you a bit of advice."

"Advice....on getting a date...with your son?", Eddie said slowly as if speaking to an alien.

"Yes. Now here's our number. Call today, we'll make sure he answers. And ask him out."

"Your son? On a date?"

"You've got to be assertive, really make use of this...", Diane gestured to his whole being, "alternative look you've got going. Steve's never dated anyone like you so I'm sure he'll get a thrill having a taste of rebellion."

Eddie smirked as he took the paper with the number written on it. "Getting permission to be rebellious kind of takes the fun out of it. Uh, where should I take him?"

"Some place where he'll get a real rush of danger", Diane suggested.

"A dive bar?"

"He's not of drinking age yet and I am still his mother. I've got to act the part." Diane had definitely drunk underage, but her parents didn't know about it. She was pretty certain Steve had partaken while hanging with his friends. But as long as she didn't see it, she could play dumb. "Where do you and your friends normally hang around?"

"Dive bars", Eddie answered.

Diane pursed her lips as she thought of the best course of action. "I've got it. You're going to say you're taking him out to dinner. But when you pick him up, you'll actually be taking him out to a movie."

Eddie was silent as he did the mental math. Tell the parents one thing, but do another, thus the rush of rebellion. Dinner was public and respectable. But two young folks could fool around in a dark theater. It was honestly something he might try to do.

"Okay, I asked your hubbie yesterday if this is entrapment and I just need to ask again."

"Our Steve is a good boy. He...just has trouble holding onto someone. We don't know if it's him or the girls. We just want him to find someone special."

"...How special? Like, should I be making room on my hand?", he asked, wiggling his ring covered fingers.

"Not that special. Just enough to get him on the right track."

Eddie looked down to the number, then this strange woman again. He braced his hands against the counter and took in a deep breath. "Alright. I'm a gambling man. My break's at noon. I'll call him then."

"Wonderful. And whatever you do, don't tell him that we came to you."

"I don't even know how to begin that conversation", Eddie admitted.

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

Diane was staring at the phone like she was the one waiting for a date to call. Jonas and Steve were watching a game on the tv and she was practically guarding the phone, using dirty dishes as an excuse. When it started to ring, she bit her lip to keep from smiling too much.

"Steve, sweetie, can you get that? My hands are wet."

"Got it", Steve said, picking up the phone on the third ring. "Hello, Harrington residence."

Diane was pretty much just pretending to do the dishes at this point, eavesdropping on Steve's side of the conversation the best she could without looking obvious. She fought the urge to jump for joy when she heard Steve confirm that he would be seeing the caller this Friday at 7.

"Alright. See you then", Steve said, the cord twirled around his finger. "Bye."

He hung up the phone, a dreamy smile on his face and Diane knew that look for sure but she reigned in her own expression. She was about to ask but Jonas beat her to it.

"Who was on the phone?", he called out.

"Oh, um, it was...", Steve was clearly debating how much to tell them, if anything. He took a breath as he decided to trust them. "It was that guy from the music place. He wants to grab a bite this weekend."

"Grab a bite, huh?", Jonas sat up a bit in his chair.

"Yes. Just a little something, we'll probably go to Benny's or whatever", Steve crossed his arms like he always did when he was trying to downplay something.

He then quickly excused himself to go up to his room and Diane dried her hands off for real. She went over to Jonas and nudged him, then nodded to the stairs.

"What woman? I'm not psychic."

"Go and listen. I bet you anything he's calling a friend right now to tell about the date."

"Are we really dropping eaves on our son now?"

"Go and listen!", she whispered urgently.

Taking his sweet time, Jonas got up and crept up the stairs. Steve's door was closed of course, but when he put an ear to the door, he could hear him walking about the room and talking to someone on the line in his room.

When he figured he'd heard enough, he came back downstairs to report to his wife.

"Well?"

"He's talking to that one girl he never dated, Robin?"

"About Eddie?"

Jonas nodded. Apparently the other day, Steve thought he didn't make the best impression on him when buying the music. He thought he came off as boring compared to Eddie. So he was surprised to get his call.

Diane couldn't help but be a little smug. Now the ball was rolling.

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

Saturday night was here and at 7 o'clock sharp, the Harringtons heard a loud engine enter their driveway. Steve came downstairs but instead of going to the door, went to the bathroom and did a final check in the mirror as the bell rang.

Jonas opened the door and got a load of date night Eddie. The ripped jeans were still there. But now instead of the uniform shirt and name tag, he was wearing a t-shirt that Jonas was just guessing had album art on it and a ratty denim vest.

"Evening Mr. Harrington. Is Steve ready yet?"

"I am", Steve said, appearing behind his dad.

"You two have fun at the diner. Have him back by 11", Diane said as she saw them off.

Jonas was oddly quiet the whole time. Diane just waited him out, knowing he'd announce any opinions he had once they were alone. In fact the moment he closed the door, he turned to her.

"How sure are we about Eddie?"

"Oh here we go. Were we so sure about Chloe? Or Mary Lee?"

"I just thought he might clean up a little more for a date, that's all."

"The important thing is that Steve likes him."

They spent their evening, drinking some wine and watching a movie. But they made sure to be up in their room before it got too late. They wanted the boys to have just a smidge of privacy when they returned.

All the lights were off when they heard that roaring engine come back at 11:15.

"They're late", Jonas said. "That's a good sign."

Diane smiled. They were both listening hard for any sort of sound that might tell them how the night went. They heard the front door open. It was about two minutes before it actually closed. Another good sign. Steve tiptoed up the stairs but in the quiet of the night and them holding their breath, he was easily heard.

The door to his room closed and Diane gripped Jonas' arm tight. "Do you think it went well?"

"Are you gonna go knock on his door and ask? Or should we tap his phone line this time?" Jonas chuckled at his wife's pout. "We'll hear about it in due time. Good night, Di."

"Good night."

They both settled in, officially this time. If things kept going well like this, they'd be inviting Eddie over to dinner soon.

Part 4

Don't worry, we're gonna get some actual steddie focus soon. And Jonas still needs to warm up to Eddie all the way.

Tag Team

@tartarusknight @swimmingbirdrunningrock @estrellami-1 @potato-of-the-lord @dragonmama76 @m-owo-n @sticknpokelightningbolt @somegirlsomewhere @tinyplanet95 @samsoble @runniem

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #fanfiction

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hyukalyptus · 7 months

Text

focus on me — yeonjun x fem!reader | besties to lovers. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. reader has a vagina/clit, cunnilingus, hair pulling, pet names (love, babe, baby), nipple play, kinda emotional and sensual (not angsty), kinda cringe but whatever, yeonjun kinda guides reader lol notes. my first lil fic on my new blog! for those of you finding this in the tags, this is bibibinnie! i had to make a new blog, but it's me! it probably would've made more sense for my first post back to be kai related but oh well, i'll get em next time. anyway- this is supposed to be a really slow, sensual, romantic-ish smut. i hope y'all like it. smut under cut! wc. 1.2K

“I’m nervous…” you trail off, closing your legs, but his hand still caresses your hip.

“Love—” he says, his smile dropping at the sight of the awkward expression on your face. “Can I call you that?” You nod, ensuring to smile because, well, the nickname does warm your tummy. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to though.”

Your name falls out of his mouth in a whisper, “I’m not doing anything unless you’re one hundred percent sure.” It was a fair point. You’ve been best friends for forever and feelings, while they grew over time, all seemed to make themselves known so suddenly this evening during a typical friend date.

“Yeonjun,” you sit up straight, using your elbows for support. “I’m one thousand percent sure. It’s just—I’m nervous. You know I’m shy…and it’s a lot of pressure—”

“If you feel like I’m pressuring you, then I don’t—”

“Nonono, you’re not pressuring me at all,” you say, relief written all over his face. “It’s just a lot of pressure to…y’know…make you feel good too.”

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I will. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I was going down on you, love. I just wanna taste you—actually, I wanna make you feel good. That’s all I care about.” Looking down at him, he has the cutest smile on his face and you can’t help but return the smile back. “Yeah?”

“Listen to me, okay?” You nod. “I want you to really feel me.” Ghosts of fingertips brush against the inside of your thighs. The most delicate of kisses placed right at the top of your thighs. “Close your eyes,” he says. Following his instructions, you let your lids fall closed, laying your head down on your pillow. “And just feel me, baby.”

The smallest prod at your wet center makes your heart race, waking your entire body up, your pussy clenching around his fingertip. He’s simply gathering your wetness to softly slide between your lips. Just barely missing your clit, your hips roll with his finger.

When he finally does rub against your clit, though, you gasp, reaching for his hair, but, “No,” he halts. “Don’t touch me. Feel me. Feel how I’m making you feel.”

“But—” your chest rises and falls with your breaths.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Arms at your sides.” Your body rolls again. “Feel it all in your body. Pay attention to your toes…your fingertips…your chest…everything.”

Woah. This is definitely something new for you—someone so focused on your pleasure and your pleasure alone. And it’s magical to say the least.

Something new finds its way to your clit—his tongue. He glides it devastatingly slow across you and you gasp again, earning a nice low groan from him. “Feel good?” You nod. He’s talking to you, tongue replaced by his thumb. “Control your body. Take deep breaths, focus on me, love.”

“Fuck, Yeonjun…” is really all you can make out, drawing a chuckle from him.

“Feel the difference between this…” he flicks his tongue over your clit delicately and slowly, sending shivers down your spine. “And this—” then he glides his wet lips over your sensitive bud, a completely new feeling to you, forcing you to buck your hips up into his mouth. “Breathe,” he whispers before gently sucking, releasing you with a wet pop.

This is just so…you don’t know what to think. He’s making you pay attention, making you feel everything, making you feel things you’ve never felt before. The way your muscles react to his movements, how heavy you’re breathing, the spinning in your head.

“I feel those goosebumps,” he chuckles, his tongue continuously flicking your clit while his hands graze your bare thighs. “Feel how the air feels on your skin.” You’re noticing more and more things—you can feel the hardness of your nipples without touching them, sweat dampening your back, his nails barely digging into your squishy thighs. “God, you’re delicious.”

Your pussy flutters with his words. And for a moment, his tactic changes—he’s just tasting for himself for a bit. It’s no longer slow and delicate, it’s deep and intense. But when your fingers find his hair, it wakes him back up and he slows back down. And it’s absolutely delicious.

Everything is heightened—you’re hyper aware of everything—how your toes barely wiggle, your pussy barely fluttering, how trapped your tits feel in your bra.

“Stop—” you blurt and he stops immediately, asking what’s wrong with a worried face. “Sorry, I just need to take my bra off,” you chuckle with an eye roll before quickly slipping it off from under your shirt, keeping them covered by your thin t-shirt. “Continue.” He’s hesitant, eying you up and down.

“Can I?” He asks, tilting his head toward your chest; you answer with a simple nod. He keeps his fingertips on your clit, continuing to rub gentle circles as he delicately lifts your shirt past your tits. And his reaction is everything. Eyebrows stitched together in relief, mouth dropping open at how gorgeous you are, a hungry look on his face. But he follows his own advice. He controls himself, taking deep breaths before placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin under your breast, finishing it off with some licks. “Keep your eyes closed, love.”

You nod, letting your head fall back again, taking deep breaths.

“Feel this?” The tip of his tongue finally glides over your hard nipple and you gasp again, rolling your body. He flicks and sucks your nipples so fucking well. And— “Can I bite them a little?” Nodding furiously, you can’t wait to feel that little sting of his teeth. And oh does it feel amazing. Two fingers inside of you, his thumb on your clit, tongue and teeth on your nipples.

“Yeonjun—” your breath is heavy. “I’m gonna cum.” He halts.

“Breathe,” he whispers, lips peppering kisses all over your tummy as he makes his way back down. “Hold it for a bit. Don’t focus on cumming,” he places another wet kiss to your inner thigh. “Focus on feeling me.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Babe, I want you to focus on feeling your orgasm,” he says, making you chuckle.

“Of course I’ll feel it.”

“Just pay closer attention to how it feels this time.” Switching positions of his tongue and thumb, he wanted to make sure you came in his mouth but your nipples weren’t ignored. And you can hardly bear it. Everything simply feels incredible and you’ve never been made so aware of your body before.

The wetness of his tongue flicking your clit. The length of his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt. The deliciousness of his thumb and finger playing with your nipple.

“Jjun, please—” He knows what you’re asking. And he’s finally nodding, letting you let yourself go, cumming hard against his mouth. Your clit pulsates against your tongue, your back arches with bliss and euphoria, and your moans are the prettiest he’s ever heard in his life.

And you listened to his instructions. You took the time to feel every last bit of your orgasm and you noticed things you’d never noticed before…wiggling toes, contracting muscles, breathy sighs.

It takes a bit for you to come to your senses after coming down from your high, but you’re greeted with the smuggest smile on his face.

“Fuck.”

“Damn, you’re so fucking hot when you cum.”

#hp's writing 🪲#yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun fic #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun ff #txt fic #txt fanfic #txt ff #fem!reader #kpop fic #kpop ff #kpop fanfic

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 8 months

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Mr. (Not so) Perfectly Fine

AN: Not sure where this came from, but here we are. Maybe one day I'll write Josh in a non-toxic way lol. Also tagging Kai @lovelyhan because it's the law. I joked about writing a series of fics based on Taylor Swift songs. This fic isn't part of that idea. I just thought this title felt fitting (it's based off of a Taylor Swift song for anyone unaware).

Synopsis: Falling in love with Joshua was easy. It came to you easier than breathing. It's no wonder, then, that when he offers you a fraction of his affection after shattering your heart months ago, that you would grasp for it. Regardless of the consequences.

General tags and warnings: Joshua Hong x Fem! Reader, not super relevant to the plot but, this is a Non-Idol AU, exes to exes with benefits, elements of angst, Josh is emotionally constipated, Soonyoung and Seungkwan featuring as supportive but, tired friends, discussions around Reader having low self-esteem and being self-loathing at times, discussions around an unhealthy relationship and returning to it, alcohol and alcohol consumption, Seokmin featuring as a genuinely good guy who probably deserves better and discussions around jealousy and possessiveness on Josh's end.

Smut tags: mentions of throatfucking, mentions of piv sex with a condom (I know who am I?), mentions of a Daddy kink, it's implied that Josh is pretty self-centered (generally but, sexually more specifically) but, that does get remedied later, nipple play (f. receiving), Reader sucks on Josh's fingers, praise (f. receiving), implications of Reader being a bit of a masochist, Reader sits on Josh's face, overstimulation (f. receiving), pet names, dirty talk, begging, piv sex without a condom, marking (f. receiving), biting (f. receiving) and creampie.

Word count: 8514 (...I don't want to talk about it.)

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The first time you found yourself at Joshua's doorstep was an innocuous Thursday evening. The sun had begun its descent on the horizon when you began the familiar route to his apartment building. You're not entirely sure what possessed you to knock on his front door, or what had possessed you to drive there to begin with. However, when he swung his door open, dressed in nothing but, a simple black shirt that clung a little too tightly to his broad chest and some grey sweats. Surprise colouring his handsome face, you knew it was too late to back away now.

To your shock, however, Josh had let you in without much question. Stepping aside wordlessly, you took the very obvious invitation. The sight of his living room was familiar in a way that churned the pit of your stomach. You weren't going to fall apart in his living room like the way you had when he broke up with you. You wouldn't allow yourself to. Wasn't it pathetic enough that you'd come grovelling back to him without much of a reason as to why? That you're likely about to have the most uncomfortable conversation that you've had in your entire life?

You're not sure what you'd expected from Joshua. He joined you on his couch, always too white for your liking but, didn't say anything. You weren't sure if he'd been waiting for you to explain why you're at his place after close to four months of next to zero contact.

Idiot. Of course he was.

"I," you start but, the words never seemed to find you. You focused on the pictures that decorated his wall. Choosing to look at anywhere that wasn't him at the risk of losing your already fickle train of thought. Pictures of him in suits with different friends and business partners. His work smile working overtime in all of them as he'd been showered with endless awards and promotions.

His work had always been the love of his life.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," were the first words he'd uttered to you in months. That had caused you to whip your head to face him. Reading Joshua was a skill you had never been able to master.

Master? You doubt you'd even be considered an amateur at it after a year of being with him.

His face betrayed little but, a barely there glimmer of understanding bled through that even you managed to catch. Understanding is an emotion you wouldn't typically associate with the someone like him. However, it flickers across his too handsome face nonetheless.

Perhaps you should've consulted an exorcist because before you know it, you're not sure what caused you to kiss him. You two have barely spoken, and there you were, gripping his shirt like a lifeline and kissing him on his stupid couch as the figures in his photographs act as spectators. You were going to apologise. You were going to erase him for good from your brain and dig a hole for yourself to crawl into.

But, then he'd kissed you back. His kiss, much like him, wasn't all passion and desperation. It was slow. Methodical. His soft lips refamiliarising themselves with your mouth once more gradually. As if he had all of the time in the world. Testing to see if this would be worth it. If you would be worth it.

Whatever he had been looking for during his exploration, he seemingly found because before you knew it, you found yourself amidst the sheets of his bed. Cool, navy blue sheets acting as a balm to your far too hot skin while his large hands mapped the expanse of your body. His heavy cock bruised the back of your throat before you found yourself arched for him with your face in one of his soft pillows and his long fingers in your hair. After months of no sex, specifically no sex with him, it took you a few long moments to adjust to the sting he provided.

From then, it was bliss.

His pillow muffling your whimpers and moans. Cries of 'Joshua' and 'Josh' and 'Daddy' were partially swallowed by the soft material. Your fingernails clawed at his sheets while he found relief in your body. His hips stuttered into you and filling the condom he had hurriedly put on, especially when the last title had hit his ears.

The two of you dressed in silence. The ruffling of your clothing and the sounds of the city all that you had to comfort you. When you stood on unsteady legs to leave, he hadn't walked you out. Not that you expected him to but, that didn't stop the sting from developing behind your eyes and your throat from growing tight.

Bliss was so, so easy to come back to. And come back, you did. You and Joshua still hadn't spoken all that much. Not putting any labels on... whatever tentative understanding the two of you had. You simply show up to his apartment, and he knows what you're here for. If you can't have him the way you want to, you'll have to settle for the way he needs you.

Two weeks.

Two weeks is the longest time you've gone without knocking on Joshua's front door. You can't help the guilt that twists up inside you and shreds your insides. However, you know rationally that you have nothing to feel guilty about. Joshua isn't your boyfriend anymore. He hasn't been for six months now. The two of you simply find solace in each other's bodies. It has just been easier with him than expending your time and energy on trying to meet anyone. Especially with how little energy and time you have as it with work all but, drowning you.

However, as Seungkwan has tried to sear into your brain, this isn't exactly healthy. Letting yourself fall into his bed and come apart underneath him for the past three months is likely in your top five unwisest decisions you've made in adulthood.

But god, it's just so easy.

"You know you deserve better," Seungkwan stresses to you for the likely millionth time. His typically kind face marred with a frown that does not suit him in the slightest. His glass of wine left completely untouched on your coffee table with his arms cross over his chest. Soonyoung nods, taking a sip of his own wine before speaking, "He's a dick. He's pretty much been using you since the two of you started dating."

"That's not true," you protest, your wine sloshing dangerous before you simmer down a little. "Joshua has his....issues but, I don't think it's fair to say all he does is use me. I mean, I'm the one who showed up to his door after us being broken up," you argue, "If anything this is a mutual using of each other."

"Except you're in love with him," Seungkwan deadpans. Soonyoung once again nods in agreement. Traitor.

"I'm not in love-"

You promptly stop talking when both men shoot you looks. Your face warms and you hide in your glass of wine. The liquid pleasantly heating your veins and acting as a phenomenal distraction from the gazes of your friends that are far, far too piercing.

"We're just here because we're worried," Soonyoung says softly and you can't bare to look into his eyes right now. You're too scared to see what you'll find in them. You're not sure what's worse. The pity or the frustration from the two of them.

"If it makes you two feel any better, I haven't gone to him in two weeks," you respond weakly. Despising the knot that builds in your throat and the tears that burn your eyes. You feel no better than when you were in university crying to them about shitty hookups and even shittier exes.

"That's a great start," Seungkwan responds sounding genuinely happy. Genuinely proud of you. His warm, larger hand grabbing yours and rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "Also, I'm sorry. I know you're an adult and I don't want to come across like I'm scolding you but, it's really hard watching you go back to him and break your heart all over again."

Oh, the guilt is back. Different but, present all the same. At this point, it's become an ever present companion for you.

"I'm sorry too. I know it's not fair for me to put the two of you through this either," you whisper in response. You don't think you're capable of speaking any louder right now.

"Hey now!" Soonyoung butts in, grabbing you both by your shoulders and crushing you to his chest. Seungkwan, to everyone's shock, only protests minimally, "What are friends for? Now both of you stop being so gloomy. We're here to get tipsy on cheap wine, inhale all the carbs we can and watch bad movies. Get it together."

The laugh that Soonyoung forces from you is foreign and a little rough around the edges but, it's one of the few you've managed in longer than you care to think about. And if you cling to him more fiercely than usual, he has the grace not to mention it.

It gets a little easier after that. You haven't found yourself knocking at Joshua's door for a good month now. Soonyoung seems ready to throw you a party over it and the same pity isn't as present in Seungkwan's gaze when the three of you find the time to catch up with each other.

Joshua never messages or calls you in the time you don't spend in his bed. You suppose you shouldn't be surprised. You're typically the one reaching out to him and making the journey to his apartment to experience a fraction of him. To bask in whatever he's willing to offer you.

You're not sure whether what you two have can be classed as affectionate. It was better than nothing, at least, you had supposed.

You still can't help the sparks of bitterness that fester in your system when you open up your chat with him. A simple 'Okay' from him being the last message in the conversation when you asked if you could come over. God, you were pathetic. Sad. Desperate.

Perhaps it's pettiness or spite or the resentment or maybe some part of you still wants his attention but, you send him a message before locking your phone for the night and turning away to face your windows. The voice in your head (that sounds suspiciously like Seungkwan) echoes that maybe that wasn't a good idea. Maybe allowing your anger to get the better of you wasn't wise. However, what's done is done. You just hope sleep finds you quicker than it has over the past two years.

You: I'm going on a date on Friday.

Seokmin is a nice guy.

No, calling him nice isn't fair or true to the man's character. Nice is vague. Meaningless. A platitude at best.

Ever since Soonyoung very heavy handedly sent you his number in the hopes that you'd focus your attention elsewhere, you two had been speaking borderline nonstop for a week now. Him regaling you with the less glamorous aspects of being an actor and you venting to him about a particular unruly classroom. You'd learned that he cried easily and had a weakness for anything dogs related. He'd learned that you love musicals and random historical facts.

It was the first time in a long time Joshua had barely crossed your mind. He still had but, it was an improvement. A week wasn't realistic enough to completely be clean of him but, you were taking steps. Seokmin definitely made it less difficult.

So, when Seokmin, nervousness rolling off of him in waves even over text, had asked you on a date, it was a no-brainer that you'd agree without much question. You deserve a pleasant night out. It also certainly doesn't hurt that Seokmin is an Adonis of a man.

You honestly don't remember the last time you were giddy over a date. Over a man. Butterflies kicking up in a storm in your stomach when you agonise over what you should wear. The temptation to cancel springing up more times than you count with every drag of your hangers and article of clothing that adds to pile accumulating on your bedroom floor. Fortunately, you find a dress in the back of your wardrobe that clings to you in a way that balances attractive and formal masterfully.

Seokmin is somehow even more attractive in person. All the pictures you came across during your search across his social media accounts do not even begin to do him justice. He's funnier too. His tales of disastrous productions and poor costume fittings prompting laughter out of you the likes of which mostly Soonyoung and Seungkwan are able to. Before you know it, it's already been three hours, and your mostly plates and glasses remain largely untouched.

"I had a great time," Seokmin starts once you two are outside. Whether it's the breeze or his proximity to you, goosebumps rise on your skin. It doesn't help that his cologne infiltrates your senses and muddles your mind further. The butterflies have chosen now to make a reappearance as well.

"Me too," you reply, your cheeks hurting from how hard you've been smiling all night and now isn't any different. Seokmin looks for all the world that he wants you to kiss him. Kind, brown eyes fliting down to your lips in a way you assume he hopes is subtle but, it's not. Terribly so. It's cute though. He's cute. However, you think you're going to take it slower this time around. As infatuating as he is, you know you're in no place to be kissing anyone.

Before you can bring up a different topic to help cut some of the tension weighing on your chest, your phone vibrates in your hand. Alerting you that your Uber has arrived.

"Looks like my ride is here," you tell him with a disappointed turn of your lips. For all your reservations, you really wouldn't have minded spending some more time with the man who would put the sun to shame.

"Have a safe ride home. Text me when you get home, okay?" And his blinding smile spreads across his handsome face once more. You've only known Seokmin for a short period but, it feels freeing to talk to someone whose feelings you don't need to attempt to decipher. They're there and clear as day on his face and in his words. Or maybe you're projecting. That's possible.

"Will do. Text me when you get home too, okay?" You reply, steeling your resolve before pulling him in for a hug. Hugs are fine. Safe. At least a safer option than kissing. Seokmin happily returns the gesture and heat that you haven't felt in some time begins to simmer in the very pit of your stomach when you feel how solid he is.

Now is not the time.

"Of course. It was nice getting to finally meet you in person. Hopefully we can see each other again," Oh. The butterflies certainly feel strongly about that.

Untangling yourself from his built frame is unpleasant, and a deeply irrational part of you wants to continue to cling to him. You opt to shove it down. "Hopefully," you respond with a coy smile, "I'd like that." And you truly would.

Seokmin watches you enter your Uber. He watches you until he can no longer see the car, and the gesture brings a smile to your face so wide that it feels a little foreign. If the driver hears your dreamy sigh, they choose not to comment on it. Thoughts of the actor with perhaps the brightest smile you've ever seen in your life fill your mind all the way to your apartment. Seokmin is still occupying your thoughts as you greet the on duty security and enter the, thankfully, empty elevator. More people don't need to see you practically levitating over this man. Over one date.

The smile that's been stinging your cheeks drops from your face when you notice a figure lingering at your front door. You can tell even from this distance that it's Joshua. Your steps grow more hurried, the clinking of your heels echoing through the empty hall. You suppose you're grateful that none of your neighbours are out. You're not entirely sure how this is going to go based on the anger bubbling up inside of you at the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

Joshua turns his head at the sound of your heels and he has the nerve to smile. To look relieved. You beat him to the punch for once instead of allowing the very tentative wall you've meticulously been building since the last time you found yourself in his too cool bed to crumble.

"What're you doing here?"

The bite in your voice takes even you by surprise but, you're too tired and a touch too fed up to really care about potentially offending him. Your arms crossing over your rapidly rising and falling chest as anger courses through your veins.

For all your inability to typically read him, the surprise on his face is clear as day. You don't think you've ever seen him look this unsure, a nervous hand carding through his short, dark hair. Oh. He must have cut it in the time you haven't found yourself on his doorstep.

"Hi uh," he stutters in a way deeply unlike him, "Can we talk inside?"

A voice that sounds very much like Seungkwan screams to send him away. To cuss him out where he stood in your hall and send him back to his sterile apartment that you never quite seemed to fit into.

However, you've never been good at saying no to him.

"Fine," you spit, walking to your front door and unlocking it while he stood by just hovering. Admitly, beneath the frustration and anger and annoyance at seeing him again after what has felt like ages, a miniscule part of you is curious why he's here.

Joshua walks in after you easily. The same way he used to when the two of you were together. The knowledge simultaneously dulls and sharpens the knife that twists in your gut but, you push it aside. Maybe an actual conversation is far overdue so, you can finally be free of him. Your coworker Wonwoo likes to joke that closure is just an invention of fiction but, just maybe this is your chance to find a fraction of it.

He shuts the door behind him while you turn on the lights. You want nothing more than to kick off your heels, pour yourself a glass of wine and regale Soonyoung and Seungkwan with all the details of your night. Joshua sure has a knack for ruining your plans.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" You ask once you've gathered all of courage. Leaning against the back of your couch, waiting for him to explain himself. Ignoring the way your throat burns seeing him in your home again.

"How was your date?" Are not the words you were expecting and they throw you utterly for a loop.

"What?" You blurt out sounding completely flabbergasted, "Is that why you're here? Fucking seriously?" The anger that's been simmer under the surface grows in ferocity once you begin to piece together why he's here. Why he's decided to reinsert himself into your life.

"You're here because you're fucking jealous?"

He has the nerve to look affronted by the assertion, "I'm not jealous-" he starts but, you're beyond frustrated and annoyed right now. Seungkwan would be proud.

"Joshua, please. Then why are you here? Why are you asking about my fucking date? Because you want an update on my life? You haven't reached out to me in fucking months!" You exclaim and you just hope you're not loud enough for any of your neighbours to hear. Though your concerns around that are minimal as the object of your anger walks towards you tentatively.

"I know," he sighs, continuing to run a tired hand through what you assume was his meticulously styled hair, "Honestly, I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm sorry. I just- I just miss you, I think."

Soonyoung has always been fond of calling Joshua an asshole over the course of your relationship and even after its end, but, in this moment, you realise Josh is not just an asshole, he's cruel.

His admission renders you speechless. You probably look comical just staring at him as his words sink into your brain.

'I just- I just miss you.'

He continues on his cruel streak, your carefully constructed walls falling to pieces with every syllable that leaves his full lips, "When you sent me that text, it just felt so awful. I felt awful and I think I realised just how much I missed you. Missed having you around. So I just got in my car and drove here," he breathes out, nearly tripping over his words in a rush to get them out, "I think I'm starting to understand why you came to my place all those months ago," he laughs with very little humour.

You think this is perhaps the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. More than your first date. The first time you told him you loved him. The first time you two slept together. All of those moments could not ever hope to hold a candle to the unadulterated emotions stirring in his doe eyes right now.

"You really suck, you know that?" You respond, the watery quality of your voice not going unnoticed, "Just when I thought I could let you go and move on, you just had to come back and do all of this. Say all of this," you mutter tiredly, shutting your eyes to just have a moment to yourself to think. To breathe.

The press of his forehead against your own is startling but, and you won't ever admit it to anyone else, comforting. It just feels so good to allow yourself to melt into him. The familiar scent of his too expensive cologne infiltrating your senses and muddling your brain further. Your hands grasp the front of his shirt, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispers, and he's just so close, and you remember how easy it was to fall in love with him. How easy it is to continue to fall into him every chance you can.

So you do.

Everything, every voice that sounds like a friend screaming at you that this is a horrible, stupid idea, that you've been doing well, are all silenced when you press your lips to his in a kiss that is more hesitant than anything else. He kisses you back fiercer than you anticipate. Than you're used to from him. Swallowing your startled gasp like it's the first thing he's consumed in days and cupping your face with his large hands. His teeth nip at your bottom lip briefly when a whimper falls from your lips from how aggressive he's being.

"This is my favourite dress of yours," he mutters into your mouth between kisses, the tender way his thumbs brush your face juxtaposing with his desire to seemingly consume you whole, "I've always thought you looked gorgeous in it. So beautiful. Sexy," he continues, one of his hands drifting to palm at the thickest part of your exposed thigh. Arousal pools in the pit of your stomach. The fact that it's been months since you've been with him, been with anyone, fully hitting your body based on how quickly you find yourself becoming wet and your thighs rub against one another.

"My beautiful girl," he whispers, not giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth descends on you again. His hand kneading your thigh in a way that could be considered desperate if this was anyone other than Josh, shoving the material of your dress higher.

Once you remember you can touch him too, your hands find themselves in his now shorter hair, the inky locks filling the gaps between your fingers easily and the groan he presses into your lips worsens the ache you feel at the apex of your thighs. You want him. You don't think you'll ever stop wanting but, seeing him lose his composure for once has your panties sticking to you in a way that grows uncomfortable fast.

"Bedroom," you whisper, maybe part of you is worried that if either of you speak too loudly you'll burst this bubble you've found yourselves in. Josh just nods, tugging you to wobbly feet and pushing you towards your bedroom. His mouth never leaving yours while his hands touch and feel and grope and paw at every part of you they can reach. You try to not think too hard about how this reminds you of the first time he spent the night here and, how easily he seems to remember where your room is.

Fortunately, it doesn't take the two of you long to bump against your bedroom door. Fumbling with it longer than necessary while being lost in each other. A breathless giggle from you fills the quiet space when he curses while struggling to shut it behind him. Your laughter doesn't last long. His lips pressing scorching kisses to your throat as you settle onto your bed. It's like he can't even go a few seconds without touching you somehow. The thoughts prompts your heart to thunder in your chest.

"Can I take this off?" He asks against the hollow of your throat, impatiently tugging on the straps of your dress. You nod quickly, shuddering when he runs his teeth along your pulse and you feel him lightly grinding against your thigh.

"I want you to use your words, baby," baby. He really will be your demise. You can't remember the last time he called you that and, it only further fogs up your mind.

"Yes, Joshie, please," you whimper, your fingernails biting into the muscles of his biceps. The veins on his forearms coupled with the way the muscles flex is just so hot that it feels just the slightest bit unfair. Briefly, you wonder if he wore a short sleeve shirt because he knows how just a little bit stupid his arms make you.

He stills over you. His lidded eyes widening in surprise and, that forces you out of your lust-filled daze. He beats you to it before you can question his change of demeanour.

"You called me Joshie," is all he says in explanation at first, fingers ghosting over your shoulders. The barely there touch causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, "You haven't called me that since we broke up," he finishes and the raw emotion in his eyes renders you unable to respond for a few, long moments.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's okay. More than okay, actually," he cuts you off with a shake of his head, tossling his hair even more, "I didn't realise how much I missed hearing you call me that and Shua until now," he leans down, heavy eyes focusing on your well-kissed lips as his hands begin to slowly undress you, "Please keep calling me by those names."

The control he had slips out of his grasp as his hands tug down the straps of your form-fitting dress. While you'd much rather wind your arms around his broad and solid torso, you concede for these few minutes to help him undress you. Helping him free your arms from your straps before he tugs it off of your body in record time. Between how quickly you find yourself nearly naked and his words, you can't help yourself reaching for him and he happily complies. Nestling himself between your thighs properly while his hands squeeze your breasts over your bra.

"Shua," you whine into his mouth, your hips jolting up to his when you feel him pressed against you. Your hands tug him as close to you as humanly possible. Determined to fuse yourself to him and, based on the way his grip on you grows harsher, he doesn't seem to mind the idea all that much.

"God, I fucking missed you so much," he groans, nuzzling himself into your neck once more. Licking and kissing every millimetre of your skin he can, and every breath hitting you sends you further into madness. You suppose after months of not being touched, even his breath fanning against your skin is enough for goosebumps to rise to your skin and your thighs to clamp around his waist.

"Missed you too, Shua," you sigh, arching into him when his soft lips drift from your throat to sear kisses to the tops of your breasts. His hands reaching behind you to skillfully unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere onto your bedroom floor. Completely forgotten as he takes the opportunity to drink in the sight of your breasts moving with every greedy inhale and shuddering exhale you take.

"God, you're beautiful," he sighs in a way you'd almost describe as dreamy. His irises totally swallowed whole by his dilated pupils. The 'thank you' you intend to respond with is wiped from your mind when he latches onto one of your hardened nipples. His massive hand kneading your other breast to ensure it's not neglected. Your fingers weave into his hair, tugging on it with each tug of his plump lips and lick of tongue. His fingers tugging on your nipple enough to make you gasp from the embers of pain.

"Always so responsive," he chuckles throatily against your skin, pinching your nipple to prove his point. His eyes glinting at the way you moan and grind against his prominent length.

"Stop teasing," you whine, pouting at him. You're taken aback by the way his eyes soften considerably. Leaning up to press a heartbreaking gentle kiss to your more than likely bruised lips while his hand drifts towards your thighs. Swallowing your keens as his stupidly long fingers drag themselves over your panties. Coating them further in your wetness while you attempt to ground yourself by clawing at his broad shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he says and, based on the way he speaks, you're not entirely sure what he what he's apologising for.

His fingers shove your panties to the side and touch your slick folds directly before you're left with your thoughts for too long. "Joshie," you cry into him with every barely there brush of his digits. Your hips bucking into him when they circle your clit before continuing their leisure stroke of you.

"You're so fucking wet already," he groans, returning to your breasts to litter them with much harsher kisses. His fingers shallowly dipping into your entrance but never giving you the satisfaction you so deeply need. "All of this just from some kissing and playing with your tits, baby?" He asks, glancing up at you like you could realistically answer with his long fingers touching you and his breath fanning across your breasts. The amusement in his tone prickling your cheeks in embarrassment, more of your wetness leaking out of you and onto him.

"Or maybe you just get this wet for me." He muses out loud with a grin that's too smug for your liking. "Don't roll your eyes at me like that," he chuckles. However, the lightheartedness of the moment is cut short when he brings the hand that's been toying with your pussy up for you to see.

"I mean, it is true though. Isn't it?" He poses with a glance to gauge your reaction as his fingers spread, your arousal webbing them. You wouldn't be surprised if you were radiating enough heat from your face to rival the sun.

"Shua, that's embarrassing," you whine, avoiding his intense gaze, choosing instead to focus on an imaginary spot over his shoulder.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, baby," he mutters, resting his slick fingers on your bottom lip and focusing on them fully, "If anything, I'm flattered," he finishes with another arrogant uptick of his lips. It doesn't take much nudging for you to part your lips and for him to push his digits into his mouth. A quiet groan hitting your ears when you hum around them, your tongue licking up the taste of yourself eagerly.

"Fuck," he hisses, his thumb catching the drool that slips past your occupied mouth, "I should let you suck on my fingers more often. You look so pretty with them in your mouth," he mutters, grinding his hips against you as he memorises the sight of you gagging on his fingers and lapping at your essence. "Plus, I know how much you like them. You're not very subtle," he laughs, pulling them from your drooling lips and leaning away from you.

He doesn't give you much time to complain or miss his warmth over you, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your soiled panties and tugging on them so frantically you're worried that he'll rip them. Luckily, they remain intact and soon join the heap of your clothing strawn all over your bedroom floor.

You don't typically have the presence of mind and time to feel self-conscious when you've been with Joshua. Too preoccupied with shutting your brain off and enjoying whatever time with him he lets you have. However, the way he pauses and his eyes leisurely scan your body now tempts you to hide in your pillows. Your heart trying its utmost to burst out of your chest and your blood roaring in your veins all you can hear.

He doesn't leave you to spiral for much longer. Tugging off his shirt that costs more than you think a plain, blue shirt has any right to. Your walls clench hard when your eyes land on the expanses of muscle, skin and arms that are available for you to fully consume.

"I want you to sit on my face," he says and his words are laden with so much unflinching desire. His eyes reflecting the same emotions and, you didn't think it was plausible for you to get any wetter yet, here you are.

"Shua, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he cuts you off with an air of finality. His gaze holding your own and waiting to see if you'd push this.

"I was such a fucking selfish asshole," he huffs, dragging the hand not covered in your spit down his handsome face, "I'm sorry."

You soften at that. Reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers with his, "It's okay."

"It's not," he argues, squeezing your hand before letting it go and settling beside you, "You deserve better than me, you know."

"I've been told," you respond dryly, trying your utmost to keep the images of your friends out of your mind. Basking in the warmth of his body.

"I'll make it up to you. Every chance I can. I promise I'll make it up to you. So, come here," he says as though his words don't close up your throat and cause your heart to hammer against your chest. When he looks at you like that, how could you ever dream of denying him?

Joshua's eyes never leave yours the entire time you move to settle yourself on his handsome face. The look in his eyes makes you feel like you're being set alight from the inside out, only finding a brief reprieve when his focus shifts from your face to your pussy. Large hands palming your thighs while his eyes drink you in.

"Come here," he commands, pulling you towards him. The strength in his hold causes your walls to flutter but, he doesn't force you. Giving you the chance to settle down on his face at your own pace. It doesn't take you much more prompting to do so. Carefully straddling him to make sure he can still breathe and that you're not smothering him. Joshua, however, doesn't care for your concerns. Firmly pulling you down onto him and latching onto your clit like a man starved. Not allowing you a moment to catch your breath. Long fingers biting into your ass as he guides you along his face.

"Shua," you cry, steadying yourself on your headboard while he continues to eager lap at your clit. Your thighs quiver around his head with every suck and lick he gives you, his hold helping you along his tongue. If you could find the strength to crack open your eyes, you would've noticed him watching you. His cock twitching in his boxers with every shuddering exhale and moan from your bruised lips.

The knot in the pit of your stomach tightens faster than you anticipate. Perhaps it's not being touched by anyone for so long or, perhaps it's simply Joshua that has your orgasm building up so quickly. From the way he groans into your drenched folds and his fingers dig into your so harshly that you wouldn't be surprised to find imprints on your ass later, he doesn't. If anything, your fragile state just motivates him. The vibrations from all of his own sounds of pleasure coupled with his unrelenting tongue made it so you really never stood a chance.

He continues to lap at you through one of your most intense orgasms. The grip you have on your headboard bites into your skin but, you can't bring yourselves to care when your walls spasm continously and your vision darkens around the edges. Overwhelmed tears spilling from you and streaking overheated face.

"Joshie," you whimper, your hips attempting to jolt away from him but, his strength is unrelenting. Keeping you firmly situated on his face while his focus shifts lower. A shudder running down your spine and goosebumps once again prickling your skin when he chooses to lap up your wetness directly from the source. The prods of his tongue and brushes of his nose on your clit make your stomach feels as though its tangled in a series of complicated knots.

The tears continue to fall freely as the overstimulation settles itself into your very bones. Your second release hits you like a runaway train. Your choked moans and cries of his name echoing so prominently throughout your bedroom, you're a little worried your neighbours might hear you. Joshua doesn't seem to care all that much. Cursing into your twitching entrance as more of your wetness seeps out of you and onto his awaiting tongue.

His hold on you eases up significantly after that, and with the near nonexistent energy you have and on still shaking thighs, you move off of him. Gracelessly plopping yourself down next to him in an attempt to regain sensation below your waist and come back from whatever dimension his mouth sent you to.

"Are you okay?"

Cracking a tired eye open to meet his heavy but, slightly concerned eyes proves to be a mistake. His hair is a complete and utter mess. Sticking up in every which direction in a way that just endearing him to you. However, the flush to his cheeks and sheen of your juices on the bottom half of his face quickly diminish any less carnal feelings you felt bubbling up for him. Despite nearly blacking out from how hard you came. Twice. Your body still opts to betray you. Your walls clenching around nothing at his dishevelled state and the outline clear as day in his dress pants.

"Yeah," you manage to croak out, cringing at the scratchy quality of your voice.

"Good," he mutters before kissing you. It's much gentler this time around. His tongue still snaking its way into your mouth and, the taste of yourself on it is enough for you to pull him closer to you. Tugging on his hair with every press of his plush lips and nip on your bottom lip. You're reminded that he's very much still hard and hasn't cum when the weight of him rests against your thigh. Just the idea of his cock pulls a wanton whine from you, which he happily swallows.

"Want you," you pant against him, trying your best not to allow yourself to completely lose yourself in his swirling, brown eyes.

"You have me, baby," he responds with more meaning than your fuzzy brain can process right now. His thumb caressing your cheek while he plants quick but, gentle kisses to your lips.

"No," you say, reaching one of your hands between your bodies and cupping him over his pants. He groans against you, his hips jerking against your hand, "I want you, Joshie," you emphasise with a squeeze of his girthy, long cock.

"I wanted tonight to be about you," the drop in octave of his voice only adds to the fresh wave of wetness leaking out of your pulsing hole. "Well, I want to feel you inside of me. That makes it still about me, doesn't it?"

You would laugh at the strangled 'fuck' that leaves his lips if you weren't at your wit's end right now. His kiss is much more aggressive this time around. Barely giving you any time or room to breathe or think while his hands fumble with the buttons and zipper of his pants. Tugging them and his boxers off at record speed and tossing them unceremoniously to join the mess on your bedroom floor. His lips remain attached to yours the entire time. Determined to make you think of nothing but, him.

You moan into each other when his bare cock drags along your drenched folds. His hips shallowly thrusting along you until he's slick with your wetness and his pre-cum. Every nudge of his fat head on your hypersensitive clit causes your lashes to flutter and your hips to meet him in his shallow movements.

"Shua, please," you whimper out when he drifts to kiss and lick your throat once again. His hips never ceasing their movements while his hands occupy themselves with your breasts. Tugging on your nipples while he nips into every bit of your skin his teeth can reach.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he groans, pulling away from you. He doesn't go too far. Gripping himself in his large hand and watching the way he runs along your slit. Drinking in the way you mewl and arch into him, chasing him for every bit of sensation he offers. "Your pussy's so pretty, baby. You'll look even better with my cock spliting you open, yeah?" He breathes, blown out pupils watching your face when he teases your fluttering entrance.

"Yes, yes, Joshie please. Please, just fuck me. I need it, I need you."

That prompts an especially harsh thrust against you, but he still doesn't sink into you, and you think you may just burst into tears from frustration. You'd forgotten his fondness for teasing and pushing you as close as possible to insanity.

"You really want me to fuck you that badly, baby?" The smirk on his face is equal parts irritating and attractive, "You'll even let me fuck you without a condom? My poor, desperate baby," he coos. Shifting his attention away from your face momentarily to watch the way his length teases your hole, his head just barely pushing into you.

"Fuck," you whimpers, gripping your poor sheets for dear life, "Yes, Joshie. Yes, I want you to fuck me raw. Please please pleas-" you choke on a moan when he slowly starts to sink into you. Your head kicks back and whimpers flow freely from your lips with every centimetre of himself he pushes into you. You probably should have let him stretch you out on his long, thick fingers because it takes you a great deal of adjusting to grow accustomed to his cock. His hands scorch your hips and shake with restraint. Determined to allow you ample room to get used to the feeling of him before he really starts to move.

It's difficult to know who moans the loudest when he's finally fully sheathed inside of you. The last time the two of you had forgone condoms was when you were still dating so, the feeling him completely bare sends your mind and body into a tailspin. Your fingernails digging into his back harder than you mean to but, it's not like you can help it when you can feel his cock molding you around him and kissing the deepest parts of you and, he hasn't even moved yet. Joshua, for his part, isn't fairing much better than you. Panting into the space between your neck and shoulder as he attempts to gather his bearings while your walls sporadically clench and unclench around him. It's a little embarrassing how close he already feels but, when your warm, wet walls cling to him, he doesn't think he can be faulted too much.

"Joshie, you ca-can move," you manage to utter with everything within you. Reaching for him and cupping his beautiful face in your hands. You don't want to examine the look in his eyes too closely right now. You don't think your heart can take it, and you fear you'll cry for an entire reason entirely if you do.

He nods. His first thrust is barely a movement at all, calling it shallow would be generous. However, after what has felt like a lifetime without any friction, that miniscule movement is still enough to set off sparks in the base of your spine and a gasp to be punched straight from your already struggling lungs. "I missed you," he grunts into your neck, the slight pain from where he runs over the bruises forming there with his mouth only causing you to clamp down even more around his thick cock.

"Missed you so fucking much. Only thought about you the whole time," he pants while he picks up his speed significantly, his hands keeping you in place while he sets the pace. Glancing up at you to watch the way your face twists with every drag of himself along your sinful walls and bite of your sensitive neck. "Did you miss me? Did you think of me? Think of this cock, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you cry out, trying to fill your greedy, burning lungs with any air you can while you lose yourself in pleasure, in him, "I only ever thought of you, Shua. Missed y-you so much," you moan because it's true. It was so hard staying away from him. From not running to your car and knocking on his door at concerning hours of the night. And now, as he fucks you to tears on his cock, you wonder why you even stayed away from him. From the look he gives you now that makes you feel like you're burning and, from the way his large hands that splay across your hips, you don't know why you ever thought of never seeing him again.

Your respective sounds of pleasure coupled with the obscene sounds of him thrusting into you ring out throughout your room. Bleary eyes drinking in the way his biceps flex and the sheen of sweat that's built up on his tan skin. Inky hair sticking to his damp forehead as he watches himself sink into you over and over and over again. Catching your lidded gaze and leaning down to kiss you, one of his hands cupping your jaw. Drifting downwards to ghost along your throat but, not applying pressure. Still, the thought itself is enough for you to keen against him and tightening around his cock.

"I love you."

Now that catches you totally off guard. Your eyes widening and your blood roaring in your ears. You blink up at him, your lips parting as your brain tries to process his words.

"Joshie," you sigh, lacing your fingers behind his neck and kissing the corner of his lips, "I love you too. I'll always love you," you whisper, not wanting to scare him away and feeling far too much far too quickly that you don't think you could speak louder even if you wanted to.

"Fuck," he grits out, pressing your thighs against your chest and tugging you into another searing, messy lip lock. It's more teeth and spit than an actual kiss but, you're not complaining. "You're mine, right? That other guy could never make you feel the way I do, right baby?" He groans against your mouth. You weren't expecting him to bring up Seokmin now of all times, while his cock bullies the sensitive parts of your walls and you're pretty sure another orgasm is building.

"Joshie-"

"I want you to say it," he mutters, his hand slotting itself between your sweaty, scorching bodies until his fingers find your clit. Not allowing you a chance to adjust, rubbing quick circles into while he continues to split you open on his cock, "that you're mine. That he'd never make you feel this way. Feel this good."

"I'm y-yours, Joshie," you whimper, his body keeping you in place so you have no choice but to allow yourself to be fucked dumb by him. That all too familiar knot tightening and tightening with every brush and stroke, "I'm yours. Always yours. Only yours," you cry out when he bites down on your neck.

You feel him cum before the warning tumbles out of his mouth. His cock pushed into you as deeply as it'll go and it throbs. It throbs and keeps throbbing with every rope of his cum that fills your waiting walls. Drawn out moans burned into your skin while his fingers clumsy continue to rub into you. It's no surprise then, with his warm cum already beginning to leak out of you, that your third orgasm hits you. This one isn't as intense as the previous two but, it does still causes you to squirm underneath him. Slick walls spasming around his softening cock while your combined orgasms trickle out of you and onto your poor sheets.

"Shua, my thighs hurt," you wheeze, tapping his arm. He mutters a tired 'sorry' before slowly pulling out of you and getting off of you. He does take a long moment to sear the image of his cum dribbling out of you into his mind. Shaking his head, he lies down beside you and tugs you to his broad chest. Cuddling with Joshua joins the litany of activities and behaviours you're not used to from him. However, he's so warm and you're so, so tired. It's just so easy to allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat and his hand playing with your hair. It doesn't take long for him to join you in the land of slumber after your eyes flutter shut.

Seokmin💛: Hey, just wanted to let you know I got home! I really did have a great time. I hope we can go out on another date soon :)

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

#joshua hong smut #hong jisoo smut #joshua seventeen smut #seventeen joshua smut #seventeen smut #joshua hong x reader smut #seventeen x reader smut #joshua smut #joshua x reader smut #hong jisoo x reader smut

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | series masterlist

Hi, and welcome to Bora Ranch!

At Bora Ranch you will rediscover who you are, reconnect with your sister, and your childhood friend, Park Jimin, that will stir old feelings back. There's a lot of ups and downs, a lot of heartbreak, misunderstandings, what ifs, bad timing, but in the end, you will know what truly makes your heart beat, and where your heart's home is.

It's a story that will take you on a heartbreaking journey to find out what love is and the meaning of 'home', coming home and finding love. There's a lot of angst in it, I'd call it HEALING ANGST. Everything will be good in the end! Just have to go through a lot of heartbreak before the sun truly shines. There's a lot of soulmates vibes/undertones in it, and it's a lovestory at it's core. It's very romancey (Why do I suddenly feel like I wrote a YA but with mature language???).

This story is HEAVLY inspired by McLoed's Daughters (both the world/setting/plot), some plot points follow that story, but most of it doesn't.

“It will take some time To find your heart And come back home You could walk for miles Cross every river And find your not alone ‘Cos I'll be there” - From McLeod’s Daughters theme song

🐴 Summary: You’d never thought you’d step foot back at the ranch– a place you used to call home a long time ago. When you are forced to go back, reconcile with your sister and a certain childhood friend that you had long forgotten, will sparks reunite? 🐴 Pairing: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter)*, jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc *I also want to clarify some things about the tags/pairings! Jungkook x reader only happens once, it is crucial for the sake of the plot, but please don't let that stop you from reading it (I take it you want to read it because of Jimin x reader). Jimin x reader is the main couple! 🐴 Characters: female reader (she’s more like an OC, but isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴 AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au, childhood friends to lovers!au, cowboy!au, soulmate!au 🐴 Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst (yes, it’s got everything lol!) 🐴 Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact! 🐴 Word count: 230k (epilogue excluded) 🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴 Warnings/tag: will be tagged for each individual chapter. But it does contain sexual themes, smut and a lot of sexual tension and a hell of a lot of angst! Like series is an emotional rollercoaster ride, it will leave you both happy, sad, frustrated, mad, angry and oh so in love. All through the series. You have been warned, lol. 🐴 Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴 Fancy reading on AO3? It is cross-posted there! 🐴 Do you want to see the book cover (there's a teaser too)? [it's here] 🐴 Author’s note: this series is heavily inspired by the TV show McLeod’s Daughters. Some plot points will feel familiar, while others won’t (because I don’t follow that story structure to a tee). But If you love that show that I do, I’m 100% sure you’ll love this story too! Also, I don’t expect people to really be interested in this… this is more of a story about coming home, finding home, finding love and such… and I don’t know if you want to read that sort of thing? But I fucking love it! ✨

Chapter #1 - Inheritance | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter one

Chapter #2 - It’s a Long Road | word count: 9.1k | read → chapter two

Chapter #3 - Sometimes | word count: 11.8k | read → chapter three

Chapter #4 - It Comes to This | word count: 7.5k | read → chapter four

Chapter #5 - Our Home, Our Place | word count: 11k | read → chapter five

Chapter #6 - Wild Horses | word count: 11k | read → chapter six

Chapter #7 - We Got it Wrong | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter seven

Chapter #8 - Love You, Hate You | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter eight

Chapter #9 - Take the Rain Away | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter nine

Chapter #10 - The First Touch | word count: 16.4k | read → chapter ten

Chapter #11 - This Perfect Day | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter eleven

Chapter #12 - Broken Dreams | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter twelve

Chapter #13 - Love Letter | word count: 13.4k | read → chapter thirteen

Chapter #14 - I Wish the Past was Different | word count: 10.5k | read → chapter fourteen

Chapter #15 - Did I Tell You? | word count: 13.7k | read → chapter fifteen

Chapter #16 - The Stranger | word count: 14.1k | read → chapter sixteen

Chapter #17 - Love of Your Life | word count: 13.3k | read → chapter seventeen

Chapter #18 - By My Side | word count: 14.7k | read → chapter eighteen

Chapter #19 - Home [END] | word count: 18.2k | read → chapter nineteen

Chapter #20 - My Heart's Home [Epilogue + Q&A] | word count: TBA | read → chapter twenty

Please let me know if you're excited for this??? I'm still writing it, and honestly... I love it! But it's tough to write such a long series without any feedback or knowledge whether it's good or sucks... so.. yeah....

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fluffytriceratops · 9 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐨 [𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞]

notes: mikey's reaction to y/n pulling him in for a kiss by his belt. here you are, here's your food. i hope you enjoy! raphies next~~

click here to read leo's ver.

click here to read donnie's ver.

click here to read raph's ver.

warnings: mature language, nsfw mentions/sexual themes.

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82 @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @scholastic-dragon @moonsua1

(if you wish to be tagged in my future tmnt related work, feel free to lemme know and i'll happily tag you!)

i love you all sm! have a lovely day/night! i'm sending you the very many virtual hugs!! <33

---

- eyes would widen visibly and face would immediately be swamped in a smirk.

- "oh ho ho, watcha doin' there mama?" he'd coo. grabbing for your bum and giving it a hearty squeeze.

- you'd lean up and brush your lips against his own teasingly.

- giving him a sly smile before slipping away from him.

- "oh no you don't-" before you get the chance to take more than a single step, his hands find you and suddenly you're pressed against his chest again.

- this time mikey places his lips firmly against your own.

- you melt into the kiss and he uses this chance to slide his tongue into your mouth.

- he slips his hands underneath your ass and lifts you up, instinctively you wrap your legs around him.

- when you both pull away from the kiss, panting heavily, he presses his forehead against your own. beaming at you cheekily.

- "do that again, and i'll have to take you to the bedroom." he'd shrug. "not that I'm complaining."

- your eyebrows would raise and a teasing smile would crawl onto your lips.

- "shall we put that to the test, michelangelo?"

- hearing his full name caused him to visibly shiver and he churred.

- if you were alone, he'd take you there, not even bothering to go as far as the bedroom. there was no time for that.

- but if you weren't, he'd take you to his room (or a room void of other people).

- neither of you were quiet.

- and if there were people around, they'd leave so quickly because they knew exactly what was happening.

- he'd praise you left and right, his mouth would never leave you. whether he was kissing your body or your lips. both were good.

- your skin would be littered with bruises from his hands, his mouth, etc.

- not that you minded~

- you'd praise him in return, with your words and your actions.

- he was probably louder than you were.

- but you loved to hear his moans.

- "fuck baby-" was heard A LOT.

- mikey is very submissive and breedable. 👁🫦👁👌✨

- and once you were finished, mikey gave the best after care.

- kisses and snuggles and comfort food. watching a comfort movie/show.

- and you'd probably fuck a few more times after that too.

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thisapplepielife · 4 months

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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Crumb Together

Prompt Day 27: Coffee Shop AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Modern AU, Meet-Cute, Platonic Stobin, Coffee Shop/Bakery AU, Fluff, Steve POV

Steve is carefully filling the bakery case. He's been here since three a.m., and it's still a half-hour until opening, but at least he's on time and not behind schedule for once.

"Hey dingus, do we need more muffins?" Robin hollers, banging through the double-doors from the back to the front.

"No, I have enough, thanks so much," he snaps. He's snippy this morning, pretty mad she ever talked him into this whole coffee shop scheme. Sure, they're retail pros, but small business owners? He should have said no fucking way. But she was excited, and he wanted her to be happy. That’s always his downfall.

He's definitely re-thinking that now that they’ve completely lost their social lives by keeping these insane working and sleeping schedules. They only see each other, which isn't the worst thing in the world, other than the fact that he doesn't know the last time he's touched boobies. Or dick. He's not picky.

He needs to get laid, and he can’t do that stuck inside this coffee shop slash bakery hell with his best friend.

He's about to turn and sass her, when someone taps on the front door and he jumps, throwing a chocolate muffin up into the air, fumbling it around, before finally regaining control.

He didn't drop it, but it looks a little worse for wear. He can't sell it like this.

Well, fuck.

If he was a hired hand, he'd ignore the annoying tapper until the official opening time. Which is twenty-nine minutes from now. But as the owner, he puts down his tray and walks towards the door. They could use the paying customer, even if they’ve shown up way too early, like a rude asshole.

He looks, but he can't see anyone out there in the dark. Maybe he should ignore it.

He doesn't, instead he unlocks the door, and there's a guy standing there.

"Hey, nice catch," the guy says, smiling.

Steve forces a smile in return, "How can I help you?"

"I know you're not open yet, but I saw you in there juggling the muffins, and I'm on my way out of town and really need a cup of coffee. My coffee maker decided this was the morning to croak," he says, slashing his whole hand across his neck, making a throat-slitting motion.

He's rambling, like Robin.

Steve finds it a little cuter on him, than he does when Robin does it at this ungodly hour.

Steve sighs, and opens the door wider to let him inside, "You just want black coffee?"

"Please," the guy says.

"I'll have to brew it. It'll just take a minute."

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he says, and Steve can see that he's looking at Steve's chest, looking for a name tag. But Steve's not wearing one. Because as the owner, he finally doesn't have to.

Robin is booting up the point-of-sale system, "Black coffee?" she repeats.

The guy nods.

"For?"

"Eddie," the guy answers.

"Good thing you asked him, I'd never know who to hand it to," Steve snarks at Robin, starting the coffee machine.

Eddie laughs.

Robin doesn't.

When it's done, Steve places the cup on the counter, and Robin immediately picks it up and writes Eddie's name on it.

Which, that's stupid. They all know it's Eddie's coffee. Then, Robin sacks up the slightly banged up muffin and hands it to Eddie.

"You scared him and caused him to squish it. So, it's yours. On the house!" she says, far too chipper for this time of morning.

"Thanks, I'll try to drop by and scare him more often," Eddie says, reading his name on his cup, grinning. Then Eddie slides a ten dollar bill across the counter, waving off his change.

As soon as the bell on the door jangles, signaling Eddie's departure, Robin turns and slaps Steve on the arm.

"What the hell? That cute boy wanted to flirt, and you totally dropped the ball, dingus!"

Steve scrunches up his forehead, "Huh?"

Robin just shakes her head, annoyed, and heads back towards the kitchen.

Is Steve so rusty that he missed flirting? Goddamnit.

Steve has just turned the front door lock, and flipped the sign to closed, when he hears his cell phone ringing somewhere in the distance. He follows the sound, and when he picks it up, it's a number he doesn't recognize. Great. More telemarketer bullshit.

He goes to swipe the decline button, when Robin shouts, "You better get that!"

He looks back at his phone and cautiously accepts the call, not knowing what the hell she's done now.

"Hello?"

"Is this Steve? From the coffee shop?"

"Yeah, this is Steve," Steve says, suspicious. He has no idea who he's talking to.

"Good, good. This is Eddie. From this morning. The coffee jerk that made you open early."

"Oh, uh, okay. Um…"

"How did I get this number?" Eddie asks, laughing.

"Yeah, that was what I was thinking," Steve admits.

"Well, somehow it ended up written on my coffee cup this morning, with your name and a time to call."

Steve shakes his head, Robin is such an asshole, but Steve smiles.

"Well, I'm not sure how that happened," Steve says, teasing back. Flirting.

"Big mystery," Eddie teases, "but since I've got you on the phone, would you like to grab dinner or drinks. Coffee?"

"No coffee," Steve laughs, "but yes. To the other two, for sure. But be forewarned, I eat really early. Like an old person. Early bird specials are my jam. And I go to bed by nine. Eight-thirty if I can get away with it. I gotta be here by three to get ready to open this place."

He's learned to get that info out of the way, early.

"Well, that sounds perfect. I get up at four to get to my jobsite. I'm in construction," Eddie says.

Steve smiles, it's been a while since anyone has understood his schedule.

"So, dinner? Four-thirty or five?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ☕

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #coffee shop au #bakery au #modern au #meet cute #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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ivystoryweaver · 5 months

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Jingle Bells

Summary: Santiago is a flirty cute dork and you can’t stop me

Pairing: Santiago Garcia from Triple Frontier x gn!reader

Word Count: 800

Content: fluff, mentions of Christmas songs (but story doesn’t indicate what Santiago or reader celebrate, if anything), not beta’d

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"That'll be $73.07," you mumble to your customer, waiting as she runs her credit card through the machine before handing her a receipt.

Twelve hours on the cash wrap at work, scanning grocery item after item, dealing with faulty coupons, the holiday rush and fussy customers. Your feet are sore and you're dying to get off your shift in thirty minutes.

You picked up back-to-back shifts to pay for a plumbing bill your landlord refused to cover.

"Plumbing is the responsibility of the tenant," he groused at you last week. "Read your lease."

Without even a glance, your hand reaches to scan the next customer's items.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Happy holidays," a soothing tenor voice greets you.

"Happy holida - " You trip over your monotonous reply when your eyes meet the most beautiful man you've ever seen in person.

Sparkling brown eyes dance underneath thick eyebrows, arched in playful curiosity. A sprinkling of gray dusts his dark curly hair.

"Hi," he greets you, chomping playfully on his gum, which draws attention to the curve of luscious, full lips and the sexy stubble on his chin.

"Good afternoon," you manage, reminding yourself to continue scanning his groceries.

"Afternoon?" He shoots back, nodding toward the darkened windows at the front of the store. "It's 9:15."

"Oh. Right," you sheepishly chuckle.

"Long day?" the handsome man genuinely questions.

Your first instinct is to shrug him off with the run-of-the-mill small talk that comes as naturally as breathing to you, as a cashier.

But something happens - a contradiction that has your heart tripping over itself.

His eyebrows shift curiously, like a puppy, while, at the same time, a smug smirk curls the corner of that mouth.

"Uhh, yes," you admit, pausing, "the longest."

"I'm sorry," he sincerely returns, reaching to swipe his next grocery item for you. "Must be busy this time of year."

"Oh, god...sorry," you stammer, reaching to finish up his order.

"'S okay," he shrugs one shoulder. "You gonna be able to get out of here soon?"

"Not soon enough," you joke. "If I hear 'Jingle Bells' one more time, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Hmm," he nods and then he sings, "Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleeeiigghh..."

"Nooo, please stop," you find yourself laughing. Out loud. When was the last time you laughed?

"Are you sure? Because I do all the hits. Siiiilent niiiight - "

"Oh my god," you giggle, "you have a terrible voice."

He pretends to be offended, "Is this how you treat all your customers?" The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle with amusement, letting you know he's still teasing. "Because if you smile at everybody like that, you must be the best cashier in this place."

"Could you hurry it up?" A grouchy customer behind this gorgeous man interjects, almost bouncing on her toes.

And just like that, you're deflated. This is why you don't waste your time caring. No point, no time to truly connect. Everyone is in such a damn hurry, especially this time of year.

"Sorry," you mumble, flustered as you start to bag the man's groceries.

"Hi, I'm Santiago," he greets the grinch behind him. "And this is... " he glances back at you, reading off your name tag. "Been a long day. Just trying make 'em smile. I'll get out of your way."

He flashes a stunning, yet disarming smile and the woman falters.

"Oh. I-it's okay."

"Thanks," he nods, shifting his attention back to you.

You give him the total. “Hang in there,” he winks. “Bet this place would fall apart without you.”

He leaves you stupefied, but smiling.

You can’t even remember the last time someone showed kindness and warmth to you, a simple cashier - let alone made you laugh.

The remaining 27 minutes of your shift feel a little lighter.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

One week later…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Dashing through the snoooowww…”

Your eyes snap up to find Mr. Handsome next in your checkout line.

“This is gonna get awkward if you don’t remember me.” His dark eyebrows shoot up questioningly.

“Santiago…right?” Your cheeks feel warm as he flashes you that smile.

“Guilty,” he chuckles. “I really am dying to see what happens when ‘Jingle Bells’ pushes you over the edge.”

“Don’t try me,” you laugh, scanning his grocery items. "Nobody wants me to lose control in here."

"Maybe somewhere else then," he cooly suggests, with the cutest eyebrow wiggle. "Maybe a restaurant? Or a bar? We could grab a drink when you get off?"

Your mouth drops open. "That...was..."

"Pretty smooth, right?" He grins. "Yeah, I've found that singing off key holiday songs is the way to go."

You laugh for about the twentieth time since you met Santiago.

And you go for that drink.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x gn!reader #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #1000 followers #oscar isaac fic #holiday fics #holiday celebration #oscar isaac characters #celebration #1000 follower celebration

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roosterforme · 1 year

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It's the Concussion Talking | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When he wakes up to find the most perfect woman nursing him back to health, Bradley tries his best to put the moves on her.

Warnings: Fluff, mild language

Length: 2500 words

Based on this request! Hope you love it, babe!

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist! And read Part 2!

Bradley cracked one eye open. Holy shit. The pain in his head was immediate and intense. If it would just ease up a bit, maybe he would be able to see what was going on.

"He's stable." That was the sweetest voice he had ever heard in his life. He wished he could see who was talking.

"Blood pressure is low, but his eyelids are moving."

But now Bradley knew something must be wrong. Were they talking about him?

A soft hand pushed his hair back from his forehead and he groaned, trying to press himself further into the pleasant touch. "Where am I?" he managed to ask, but his voice sounded foreign to him, and his throat hurt.

"Shh, don't overdo it. You're in the infirmary on base, Lieutenant Bradshaw," said that lovely voice. "You were involved in a training accident."

Bradley's memories rushed back to him, and he tried to sit up, but that pleasant hand was immediately on his chest, firmly keeping him in place.

"Is Phoenix okay? And Bob?" he asked frantically, finally getting both eyes to open a little bit.

"Yes, everyone is going to be fine," you promised him, and he let himself sink back against the hospital bed as you caressed his face. And then Bradley finally caught sight of you. You were bathed in the soft afternoon sunlight filtering through the window, and you were gorgeous. Like perhaps the most stunning woman he had ever seen. And you were wearing US Navy nursing scrubs with your name tag clipped to the front.

He cleared his throat and said your name out loud. You smiled down at him. "That's me," you replied, and he smiled back at you. "Since you're awake, I'm going to ask you a few questions, sound good?"

Bradley nodded his head, but then the shooting pain returned, so he immediately stopped. "You can ask me anything," he said, mesmerized by how pretty you were.

Your amused smile grew. "Perfect. Let's start with your date of birth and your blood type."

Bradley rattled off both answers for you, earning him a pleased look.

"Can I ask you some questions?" he mumbled, unable to look away from your face.

You shrugged, but your smile didn't disappear. "Sure."

"Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Are you seeing anyone?" he asked quickly. Good Lord, he had probably just embarrassed himself, but he didn't really care.

You tried to hide your smile. "Definitely still concussed," you muttered and scribbled in his chart. "But no, none of the above. I'm single," you said, and he immediately started to formulate plans for a first date. "Just so you know, we've given you some painkillers, so that's probably why you're acting a little silly. But hopefully after one night here with us, you'll be good as new."

Bradley wasn't being silly. He was just being honest with himself about wanting to ask you out. "I get to spend the night with you?" he asked.

You snorted and covered your mouth with your hand, embarrassed. "Kind of. I'll be here until the morning shift change."

You were fucking adorable. Bradley wanted to pull you down onto the bed next to him. "And you're going to check on me? Make sure I'm doing okay?" he asked with a grin.

"Yep. You'll be so tired of seeing me in here, I'm sure you'll be overjoyed to leave tomorrow."

"I highly doubt that," he replied as you stood to leave with his chart in your hand. "You're so pretty, I can't stop looking at you."

You bit your lip. "Yeah, that'll be the medication talking. It should be out of your system in a few more hours. I'll be back soon." You shook your head and walked away, turning back to smile at him before you left his room.

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Bradley shifted around in the uncomfortable bed. You said you would be back, but you weren't back soon enough for his liking. He considered pushing the little red button to call you into his room, but he was sure there were others who needed help more than he did.

So he waited. He didn't want to watch TV, and he didn't have his phone, so he planned out every detail of his first date with you. Hibachi restaurant, dessert at the French pastry shop, walk along the bayside pier. Maybe a goodnight kiss if he played his cards right.

And he was going to have to play his cards very well, because he was currently trying to woo you from a hospital bed while wearing bright orange non-skid socks.

By the time his door opened around dinnertime, he was feeling a lot better and his head was throbbing less. So he sat up in bed, excited to see you again, but it was someone else coming in with his dinner tray.

"Thanks," he told them as they turned to leave. He pushed the food around on the tray after eating a few bites. He really was about to push the red button when the door opened again, and there you were. A smile broke out across his face.

"How are you feeling, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you asked as you came to stand next to his bed. "Your head hurting a little less?"

"I'm fine. Excellent really, now that you're back. I missed you," he promised, if only to see if you'd snort again. You didn't, but your cheeks did turn a rosy color as you looked down to make some notes in his chart.

"Pain medication is still affecting you, I see. Your color looks better now though, and so do your eyes," you said, examining his face closely.

Bradley wasn't sure how he was supposed to put the moves on you when he was in a hospital gown that was too small for him, but he was certainly going to try his best.

"Since we'll be spending the night together, any chance I can take you out to breakfast in the morning?

You were trying so hard not to look amused, Bradley had to commend you for that. "I'm not allowed to date patients, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"Please, call me Bradley."

"I'm not allowed to use your first name either, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

Bradley sighed and sunk further into the pillow. "If I tell you my forehead hurts, will you touch my face again?"

A slight look of alarm settled on your features as you ran your fingertips and then your palm across his forehead. "Your head is hurting now?"

He let you fuss over him for a few seconds more, loving the way you moved his hair away from his face. "No, not all. I'm just wondering how we'll ever get on a proper date if you're not allowed to call me Bradley, and I'm not allowed to ask you out."

You smirked at him. "I'll be back around midnight to check on you. I really think the medication should be out of your system by them. Do you need anything else while I'm here?"

"Your phone number?" he asked hopefully, but you shook your head in response. "Yeah... didn't think so."

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Bradley managed to fall asleep for a little while, but he woke up before midnight and went to use his tiny bathroom. He padded along in his orange socks and hospital gown that ended mid thigh and tied in the back. He would give anything to have some of his real clothing right now.

He splashed some water on his face and tried to fix his hair. "This is not good," he muttered to his reflection. Why couldn't he have met you when he was wearing his uniform and didn't have scrapes all over his face?

He was feeling fine now, just a little bit sore. But you were under the impression that he was concussed and medicated beyond reason, and that's why he was asking you out. Couldn't be further from the truth.

He held his gown closed and non-skid walked his way back to bed. Then his door opened and he was immediately disappointed to see a different nurse.

"Hi, Lieutenant Bradshaw! My name is Marcus, and I'm going to check your vitals."

Bradley frowned. "Listen, I'm sure you're a completely competent nurse, but I really need my vitals taken by nurse Y/N."

"She's on her break right now," Marcus informed him with a smile, holding out a blood pressure cuff.

Bradley shook his head like a small child refusing cough syrup. "I'll just wait for her. Really, I don't mind waiting."

"But your vitals need to be recorded right now," Marcus insisted, shaking the cuff.

Just then, you strolled into the room with a smile on your face. "I can do it, Marcus. I'm done with my break," you said, taking over for the other nurse who walked away muttering about how many difficult patients he'd seen today.

Bradley felt warm all over as you slowly shook your head at him and said, "What am I going to do with you?"

"I can think of several things," he told you seriously. "Starting with taking my vitals, because apparently they need to be done now."

Bradley listened to your laugh fill the dimly lit room. "Okay, we'll start with that then," you agreed, getting to work. He almost moaned at the feel of your fingers brushing along his bicep as you adjusted the blood pressure cuff around his arm.

"How many more times are you going to come check on me?" he asked as you brushed his hair away from his forehead again. He couldn't think of any reason you needed to be doing that, but he was happy you were.

"Just once more, in the morning, before you get discharged."

"That's not enough, nurse. I'm severely concussed."

You laughed. "I think you're doing fine now. I'm going to assume by this point that you are always silly and a bit of a shameless flirt, and that it has nothing to do with your accident or the medication."

Bradley pouted. "Well, I wouldn't call it shameless...."

You shook your head. "Just try to go to sleep, okay? You'll feel good as new in the morning if you do." And with that, Bradley watched you walk out of his room again.

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Bradley was wide awake at 6 o'clock in the morning as usual. Since you wouldn't give him your phone number, he thought about trying to get you to take his. But then he realized you'd probably throw it in the trash; no way you were going to want to go out with a guy wearing orange socks and essentially a mini skirt.

"Shit," he muttered, trying to come up with a solution before you showed up. You were perfect for him. You were in the Navy, plus you were smart, sweet, competent, and beautiful. But he'd probably embarrassed himself too much to stand a chance.

And then there you were, making a fuss over him again, taking his blood pressure and pushing his hair off his forehead. "Everything looks good. You can get changed and go to the desk down the hall to be discharged. I hope you have a great day, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"That's it?" he asked, and you looked at him with confusion. "I'm not going to see you again?"

You shook your head. "Not unless you're injured or sick," you told him as you frowned a bit and glanced at his lips.

Bradley knew he wouldn't get anything else out of you at the moment. "You said you can't date a patient. But what about after I'm discharged? If I ask you out then, will you give me a real answer?"

You smirked at him. "I'm about to leave for my weekend off. If you really want to seek me out after that, sure, I'll give you a real answer. But I won't be surprised if I don't run into you again, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"I'll see you in a few days," Bradley promised, and you turned to smile at him before you disappeared through the door into the busy hallway.

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Three days later, it was Saturday, and Bradley was off. He had been trying to figure out when you would be working again, but every time he called the infirmary about your schedule, he was told he didn't have the clearances needed to collect that information.

Maybe you didn't want to see him again, but if that was the case, he needed to hear you say it. He'd planned out three dates in his mind, and he was dying to take you on them.

So he hoped for the best and showed up at the infirmary in his nicest jeans and a Hawaiian shirt with a bouquet of flowers. He rode the elevator to the floor his room had been on, and went to the nurses' station. You weren't there, but he found a sweet looking older nurse with Charlene on her name tag and asked her if you were working.

"Are you her boyfriend?" Charlene asked him, eyeing the flowers with a smile.

"That's the goal, ma'am." Bradley watched Charlene melt at his words.

"Her shift just ended, sweetie. She worked overnight, and I'm not sure if she's still here or not."

Bradley let his chin sink to his chest and sighed. Just as he was about to beg Charlene for the details of your schedule, he heard your voice.

"Bye, Charlene! Have a fantastic time at the- oh!" You came to a stop about ten feet away from him, and Bradley had been wrong. You were even more stunning than he remembered. "Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you asked cautiously, eyeing him and the flowers with a surprised look.

"Will you please call me Bradley now? I'm not your patient anymore," he pleaded, taking a step toward you.

"Okay. Bradley. I'm a little surprised to see you here," you whispered as he took another step closer.

He shook his head. "I told you I would see you in a few days."

You chewed on your lip. "I thought that was just the concussion talking. Are those for me?"

"Yeah," he said, closing the rest of the distance and handing the flowers to you. "Any chance you've been thinking about me at all?" he asked.

You took the flowers and looked at him over the bouquet. "A little bit," you said with a grin. "You were kind of charming the other day."

Bradley smiled and just went for it. "Well I meant every word I said to you. I can't stop thinking about you. If you're not too tired, I'd love to take you out to breakfast. Or, shit, you just worked all night. So you must be exhausted. Um, we could do dinner one night? Or, anything really-"

He shut up as soon as you reached out and brushed his hair off of his forehead. "Breakfast would be nice."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked, all smiles. "Let's go."

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Thanks for reading this fluffy Rooster! PART 2

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 1 year

Text

The Good Queen (Part 3)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing(s): Viserys Targaryen x Fem!Reader, Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Harwin Strong x Alicent Hightower, Harwin Strong x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Alicent Hightower, Daemon Targaryen x Harwin Strong (I won’t apologize for everyone being gay for each other)

Tag: hotd the good queen

Warning: Fluff. Angst. Time-skip. Happy ending. Age gaps. No feud. No greens or blacks. Blood & Gore. Grusome death.

Word Count: 7,011

Taglist: @gruffle1

Summary: A look into Queen Y/n Hightower’s life is busy and full of love and family. But something else lingers in the dark, waiting for her.

Author’s Note: Laena still dies but under different circumstances and Aemond claims Vhagar honorably. Rhaena and Baela do not exist so everyone is proud of Aemond by his accomplishment and he doesn’t steal the right to Vhagar from anyone.

Part One - Part Two

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

130 AC

So much to do with so little time to enjoy the beautiful day, Queen Y/n Hightower makes her rounds about the castle after breaking her fast. As usual, she walks gracefully down the long hallways and winding staircases, entering the throne room to extend her greetings to her husband before starting her day. She climbs the stairs to the Iron Throne and leaves a kiss on Viserys lips before briefly exchanging their morning agendas. As usual, they speak mostly of their children. The Queen speaks of the planned events for Helaena's upcoming name day while the King mentions the many lords who have reached out to him to ask for Helaena's hand. Y/n appeared hesitant but further asked her husband to send these letters up to her chambers when he has the chance so she might look into these suitors as well.

"They may try to woo her during the celebration," he warns her lightheartedly, "Best to warn her so she is not overwhelmed."

"I shall," Y/n stands from her seat on Viserys' knee, cupping his face in her hand before she makes her departure, "I'll see you at supper."

"Hm. I'm afraid I have to take supper in the Small Council meeting tonight," the King smiles apologetically, "But you are welcome to join. I could use your sharp eyes on the matter of the meeting."

"Not tonight," Y/n sighs at the idea of another council meeting. They appear to be more crucial than naught these days, "If it would please you, my love, allow me to rummage through all the letters of liege lords addressing Helaena's hand. I'll invite Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent for supper tonight in my apartments and use their opinions to narrow down the pool of suitors."

"Excellent idea," Viserys beamed, quickly grasping her hand and kissing her knuckles before she could turn away, "I wish you luck."

She descends the Iron Throne and exits the throne room, nodding to her ladies-in-waiting when she found them still in the spot where she had left them. They dutifully follow her as she expertly navigates through the long hallways of the castle, bowing her head and smiling whenever someone stopped and bowed to her in greeting. She stops in the training yard before all else and immediately spots Ser Criston Cole overseeing a training session between Aegon the Elder and his cousin, Jacaerys Strong. She glides down the steps and makes her way to the sworn shield, "What shall they be learning today, Ser Criston?"

"Mostly defensive maneuvers, Your Grace," Cole bows, but is unable to draw his eyes away from the fight in case he missed something, "Aegon has improved since his return from Oldtown. Do give your lord father my compliments. Whoever he had training the boy during his stay must have been quite exceptional."

"I shall," she finds herself repeating a second time, to her inner amusement. Her shoulders began to feel tight with the reminder of Otto Hightower.

When he first started writing letters to his eldest daughter, it was to reach out and learn about his grandchildren. Y/n should have felt relief to learn that her father was wanting to mend their relationship. Instead, she only felt this cold dread in her heart when she learned that he had only written to her and not to Alicent, who was also his daughter and had given him an equal number of grandchildren. Y/n tried to be courteous and kind to her father in any returning letter she sent, and yet each one he replied with felt more like a stone crushing her against the sea bed, despite feeling the light weight of the paper in her hands. Eventually, Lord Otto requested to host his oldest grandchild, Aegon, in Oldtown. His reasoning was for personal reasons only; to make up for lost time and congratulate Aegon on becoming a man. Otto also stated that perhaps it would be good for both Aegon and Daeron to reunite again as brothers. Y/n had hesitated before finally agreeing, despite the memories she had of her father when Aegon was first born. She remembered Lord Otto trying to force her hand, telling her how to raise her sweet, innocent son into becoming a king.

She gave her father the benefit of the doubt. That had been years ago and she agreed that Aegon deserved to see his little brother again, her own ache to see Daeron the deciding factor on this arrangement. She sent Aegon to Oldtown, promising him that it would only be for the season. Her inner demons wished to demand her eldest child to steal Daeron away as well, but forced the words down and bury them as she hugged Aegon tightly. Now Aegon has finally returned -and not with Daeron- just before Helaena's name day. The Queen watched her son easily defend himself against Lord Jacaerys' advances, feeling proud and yet in turmoil over how mature he's become. Her children really were growing up before her eyes.

She nods to Ser Criston, "I'm sure he would be proud to hear you say that, ser knight. Excuse me."

"Your Grace."

Next, she makes her way to the gardens, taking a moment to stand in the warm sunlight with the soft breeze brushing through her hair like a loving touch. The Queen takes her time winding through the maze of flowers and trimmed hedges until she comes across the gazebo stationed at the center of all the plants. Her sister, Lady Alicent Strong, is seated under the shade of the gazebo, Little Aegon in her lap while Little Viserys crawls around at her feet, her hand gently grazing the woman sitting beside her.

Princess Rhaenyra, heavily pregnant with her third child, is the first to notice Y/n when she neared the gazebo, and smiles at her stepmother, "Good morning, Your Grace."

Alicent looks up and immediately finds Y/n, only pulling her hand away from Rhaenyra when she noticed the Queen's handmaidens trailing behind her. Y/n nods as she approached the two women, "It certainly is, Princess," her fingers briefly push a strand of Alicent's hair out of her face before leaning down and kissing her cheek in greeting, "Ali. Jacaerys is faring well in his training, I see."

"If only he was doing well in his studies," Alicent quips with a gentle smile as she stares up at her elder sister, who takes Aegon from her arms and rests him on her hip, "What brings you here?"

"I am here to invite the two of you to a private supper tonight," Y/n tickles Aegon the Younger under his chin, smiling as he squealed with laughter, though it doesn't reach her eyes as she spoke of her troubles, "I have letters from various lords of the realm who wish to wed Helaena and I could use your help reading through them all, as well as getting a second and third opinion."

"Of course," Alicent beams, although Rhaenyra doesn't seem as thrilled.

"Helaena is still too young to be thinking about marriage," she immediately replies, a frown cutting through her beautiful Valyrian features. She is distracted by her thoughts, however, when Little Viserys pulls himself up onto his chubby feet using her skirts. Her hand brushes his silver hair back, the toddler cooing under her attention.

"She's near one-and-twenty, Rhaenyra," Y/n appeared downcast, even as she smiled down at her stepdaughter and squeezed her shoulder in comfort, "You were even younger. We all were. We've been holding this back for long enough. We can't keep her forever."

The Queen knelt down to the princess' round stomach, peering up at Rhaenyra with an encouraging twinkle in her eye, "Besides, pretty soon you'll have a daughter of your own to fret over."

Rhaenyra faintly smiled, running a hand over her stomach even as clouds formed in her eyes. She had always wanted a sister and finally got what she wanted when her father married Y/n and they bore Helaena. Rhaenyra was always so protective of her little half-sister, even more so than the brothers, "You speak in confidence. And yet Alicent believes I'm having a boy."

"You look no different than when you carried Little Aegon and Viserys," Alicent comments in defense of her opinion when Y/n glanced over to her.

"We'll make wages tonight then, at dinner," Y/n smirked at her sister, briefly glancing back at Rhaenyra and winking. The Queen sets Aegon down next to his brother and stands up straight again, nodding to the other two, "Until then, my sweets."

"Good day, Your Grace," Rhaenyra chimes while Y/n disappears from the gazebo, her ladies keeping their heads low as they follow her.

She trails through the gardens with her usual company in tow, wishing to waste a little time if it meant she could enjoy the lovely, quiet day. That is until the peace is suddenly interrupted by the loud, high-pitched laughter of a small child. Looking around, Her Grace tried pinpointing the laughter, which now followed shouts of disapproval, until she discovers Little Joffrey Strong, the small boy running through the gardens while being chased by his septa, dark curls bouncing as he sprinted. Y/n laughs under her breath and decides not to intervene, knowing that not even she could save her little nephew from his strict teacher. The Queen shushes her handmaids when they all began to giggle at the sight, and with a smile, directs them to exit the gardens quietly until they are out of sight of the poor, winded, septa. The ladies all bow to their queen and go on about their day, leaving Y/n alone to her thoughts as she walks back into the castle.

The library is the next stop on her to-do list, allowing the guards to open the heavy doors for her before entering the grand room, full of books from top to ceiling. However, she didn't find herself alone as she originally thought. At the nearest table were none other than her son, Aemond and Lucerys Strong, playing a competitive game of cyvasse. Both young men look up at the sound of the library doors opening and stand to greet her when they recognized her face.

"Mother," Aemond thinly smiles, his eye lowering in respect.

"Who is winning?" She smirks as she glides across the floor to join them, her fingers pinching the sleeve of Aemond's tunic as she practically stood in the shadow of his tall form.

"Currently me, Your Grace," Luke's eyes sparkle mischievously, his smile only broadening when Aemond directs a small glare at him.

Y/n rolls her lips to try to retain the growing smile of amusement before crossing over to the board game, peering over either side of the divider so she can see both sides of their placements. Turning and walking away, she calls over her shoulder, "Careful, nephew. If he's smart, Aemond can defeat you in two moves."

She hears scuffling and squawks of surprise from behind her as she disappeared beyond the bookcases, smiling to herself. She travels through the small aisles between shelves until she finds what she's looking for, picking up a book to her liking and dusting off the worn cover. Tucking the leather book under her arm, she makes her way back through the maze of books until she stumbles across her son and nephew again. Y/n ruffles Luke's hair, earning another squawk of indignant from him and causing Aemond to hum in amusement under his breath, much similar to his mother. Y/n beams and walks out of the library and onto her next destination.

Walking back up the winding stairs to reach the floor of her daughter's chambers was an easy feat, having gone the same way for years since Helaena's birth. Today, however, Y/n's feet felt heavy as she inched closer to the princess' room. Her steps felt like lead by the time she reached her daughter's door, knocking and announcing herself before entering.

"My heart?" Y/n called into the room as she shut the door behind her.

Helaena had her knees up to her chest, lounging over her couch by the window, heavily focused on the embroidery in her hands. Y/n walked closer and recognized the pattern to be a dragonfly. The mother smiled as she goes to sit in the open space of her daughter's couch, relaxing her regal posture as she leaned back against the cushions, sighing in exhaustion as she watches Helaena work.

Their days together are often spent like this, in silence but in comfort. Helaena isn't fond of loud noises, touches, or even conversation, so Y/n respects her boundaries and tends not to force her daughter into such situations unless absolutely necessary. This is why guilt and shame settled uncomfortably in the Queen's gut, the weight of letters regarding a future husband for her lovely daughter heavy before Y/n could even read them herself. Even though she had not seen the letters in person yet, they still lingered in the back of her mind, dreading the conversation that will have to happen, and the celebrations of her name day that Helaena will have to attend.

"Has your uncle stopped by for your lessons?" Y/n suddenly asked, realizing that she had not seen Daemon at all this morning.

Helaena paused in her ministrations but continues to stare at her embroidery as she answered, "He left early. Kostōba vali emagon kostōba ondos." [Strong men have strong hands]

Though the Queen herself was not fluent in High Valyrian, she has spent enough time in the company of Daemon and Rhaenyra to catch a few words. Y/n tilts her head, suspicious, "Does 'kostōba' mean 'strong?'"

Helaena only nods as she continues her work, unaware of the playful roll of her eyes her mother presents. Y/n sinks further into the lounge chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. One of these days, she'll have to reprimand her brother-in-law for leaving his niece and depriving her of Valyrian lessons only so he could sneak off with Ser "Breakbones" Strong.

"My daughter's mother tongue should be more important than the need to stick your tongue down Ser Harwin's throat," Y/n could already hear her own lecture in her head, to which she can imagine Daemon's sly smirk gleaming down at her in response.

"Have you seen Ser Harwin's throat, dear sister?"

Y/n scoffs out loud and had the decency to appear bashful when she realized that Helaena had heard her. She flashed her daughter an apologetic smile when the princess looked up, but it slowly faded once Helaena looked back down, the Queen was sorely reminded of the main topic of today's events. Sighing, Y/n reached a hand out to Helaena, "My dear, may I touch you?"

Helaena immediately went stiff as a board, to which Y/n retracted her hand, "Okay, I'm sorry," she whispered, guilt now evident in her eyes, not that Helaena had noticed as she continues with her embroidery. It only made her mother feel worse, the woman who once loved her innocence but now felt saddened by it. Helaena is a woman grown now, and it was still hard for Y/n to wrap her head around. How can something so pure grow up so fast? Just trying to picture her daughter in the care of a man whom she has never met frightened her; haunted her even. Y/n, as Queen, understands that this is the way of things and no matter how hard she tried, there are just some things far beyond her control, like her daughter's impending marriage. It will happen eventually, whether Y/n Hightower likes it or not.

Originally, she came to Helaena to talk about these matters but decided she wanted her child to remain innocent just a little bit longer. Instead, Y/n set the book from the library down on the table across from the couch and slid it over to Helaena, "This was a book that I read years ago... before I married your father. It's about these rare butterflies native to the islands of Naath. They carry a disease that is deadly to anyone who isn't born and bred from their natural habitats," Y/n huffs in mirth, mostly to herself, "I remember that imagery kept me awake at night, but I thought this would be more to your liking."

Helaena had paused her embroidery upon her mother's explanation. The princess peers over to the book with faint interest and reaches out to caress the symbol of the butterfly engraved into the front cover, "Thank you, Mother."

Y/n beams, feeling her heart skip a beat at the sound of her most proud title. Even as her children grow into adults, she still feels her heart melt every time they call her by her true name. Aegon says it as if he mocks it, but in a playful way. Aemond says it with respect and admiration and with a hint of a smile. Helaena says it softly, like a butterfly's wing. And Daeron...

The Queen quickly shuts her thoughts down and rises from the couch, patting the cushion closest to Helaena's foot, "I'll leave you to it then. If you miss dinner, I'll make sure a meal is sent up to you."

She moves around the furniture and heads toward the door.

"Mother."

Y/n looks back, smiling patiently as she waits for Helaena to continue.

The young princess doesn't look up from her new book, speaking in riddles as she often does. But today, her riddle felt haunting, almost like a warning, "A sire wishes to breathe fire. Fire burns to skin, and his eldest breeds it."

Puzzled as she often is by Helaena's riddles, Y/n tries not to let it bother her. Over the years, she had learned to stop asking Helaena what she means and has stopped trying to understand her. Sometimes, even Helaena appears confused by what her own words mean. When she started saying these riddles, Viserys took it as a sign that she was a dragon dreamer, much like himself. Daemon had rolled his eyes and had started an argument with his brother for the sake of an argument, so Y/n never try to investigate further what her husband meant.

Instead of asking her to reiterate, Y/n only nods to Helaena before leaving the room, taking a longer route toward her own apartments so that she might have a little more to walk and think alone. The time it takes for her to get to her chambers is peaceful and the hallways are empty except for the occasional maid walking in or out of rooms to fetch or retrieve clothes or food. Ser Harrold Westerling is waiting outside of Y/n's room when she arrives, and after he opens the door for her, the Queen turns back to him, "You may leave, Ser Harrold. Please see to it that no one bothers the Princess Helaena while she reads."

"At once, Your Grace," Harrold bows and marches down the hall, and Y/n closes the door behind her.

A late afternoon nap was in order, but Y/n knew better than to try when she still had so much to do. Looking around, she found the stacks of letters she had asked the King for and crossed the room to the table. She picks up one of the letters, inspected the contents, and made out the name Prince Qoren Martell.

"Absolutely not," Y/n found herself talking out loud, laughing at the gall of House Martell. She decided that all suitors she didn't approve of will have their letters burned immediately so her husband would not see them, lest he tried to marry their daughter off without her knowledge. She sauntered over to the hearth and watched the letter burn in the small flames, still amused but faintly disgusted at the idea of Helaena being sent to Dorne. The embers of the hearth appeared to mock her, the andirons; the two tall bracket spikes supporting the logs from falling into the room were shaped suspiciously like a Sunspeare. Y/n doesn't try to think about how her andirons were probably forged in Dorne and instead focused on watching the letter burn.

She hears rustling behind her and turned to face the maid she expected to find. Instead, a knife is pressed into her neck, and a hand grips tightly onto her arm. Y/n lets out a squeak of shock, reflexes kicking in as her free hand tries to push the knife away from her. The attacker is male, close to her own height, and reeked of filth. He doesn't demand or restrain her, instead, he speaks in grunts and growls as he fights with every intention of killing her.

"HELP! GUARDS!" Y/n screams at the top of her lungs once her brain had caught up with her body, still trying to push the dagger out of the way. He pushed back with equal strength and determination, with Y/n's own adrenaline turning quickly into fear and causing her arms to tremble. Her breaths quicken as she can feel herself slowly go into shock, limbs heavy and slowly giving into the weight of the knife. At one point, she tried to pull away and run when her legs began to feel like jelly, but her attacker had a hold of one of her arms, so she had no choice but to continue to fight for her life. As they both spun in this twisted dance, Y/n quickly realized that the hearth now stood directly behind her attacker. Sucking in a deep breath with every bit of strength she had left, she shoved the man hard, even trying to place her foot behind his to trip him for added measure.

The man falls, knife sliding like butter down Y/n's forearm in the descent. Before the assassin could place his hands behind him to stop his fall, his head hits the mantle above the hearth and he crumbles in pain, forgetting to fight against gravity as his body drops into the hearth. His neck, unfortunately, lands right on top of one of the andiron spikes, spearing through flesh and bone. He spits out blood, gurgling, choking on the red liquid as he slowly realizes he was trapped with his head sticking directly into the flames. As he spat out blood, his whole body convulsed and writhed in response to his entire head beginning to catch fire, unable to escape with his neck completely skewered onto the spike. His eyebrows turned to ash, and his skin began to blister and melt, his body twitched and kicked for freedom, even as the heat of the flames forced his skin to sizzle and pop like a boar on a spit. The smell was unbearable as Y/n quickly steps away, only to fall to her knees on the floor when she found no strength left, tears uncontrollably rolling down her face. All she could do was cling to her injured arm and watch, horrified, as her attacker's body slowly stopped fighting, going limp as the fire somehow burned brighter. The Queen tried gasping for air, her entire body shaking out of fear and pain just as the doors burst open to reveal the Kingsguard.

"My Queen!" Harrold Westerling had returned, immediately running to Y/n's side while his men inspect the scene before them. Ser Harrold guides her to the nearest furniture and inspects Her Majesty's injuries while a maester was called forward. Between the bustling of the guards and the shouting involved, other residents of the castle began to stir with all this commotion.

The first to arrive was Alicent, with Rhaenyra slowly following her in her condition. Alicent looked around the room, horrified by the man lying dead in the fireplace before she scanned the apartments and quickly found her sister, "Y/n!"

She rushed over to the Queen, gathering her up in her arms as they both wept in fright and relief. Rhaenyra excused Ser Harrold from attending Y/n so that she may sit on the other side of her stepmother and hold her close. The Grand Maester finally arrived and quickly made good, efficient work on the Queen's arm as Daemon marched into the room, sneering at the scene of the crime. He looked as though he wished to spit onto the dead body before releasing his anger elsewhere.

"Who was meant to be on watch here?! Who failed to protect the Queen?!"

"It was me, Prince Daemon," Ser Harrold bowed his head in shame.

Daemon only takes two steps towards the knight before Y/n finally found her words, even as she stumbles over them, "N-No, Daemon! It was not his fault! I... I... I ordered him to go tend to Helaena. I made him leave his station."

Her brother-in-law relents after a while of the two of them staring down one another, stepping away from Ser Harrold and moving to stand behind the three women on the couch, "Has my brother been informed? Is someone with him?"

"Ser Criston is guarding the King, my prince. He's on his way."

"Mother?" Aegon calls out from the doorway, only walking into the room when the sea of knights part for him to see the Queen alive and well. Jace also walks in with him, leading his father, Ser Harwin, to inspect the scene for himself.

"I did not realize I was hosting in my chambers," Y/n muttered under her breath, wincing when the maester added yet another stitch to the cut. However, her irritation melts away when her eldest son approached her, reaching out to him with her free hand, "I'm alright, my sweet. Have you seen your brother and sister?"

"Your daughter is safe in her room, Your Grace," Ser Harrold cut in, "I left a guard with her."

"And Aemond? Last I saw, he was in the library with Lucerys."

"I'll go get them," Harwin volunteered after a pleading gaze from his lady-wife Alicent. He quickly heads towards the door only to stop short and bow as Viserys finally enters, his cane trembling in support of him.

"What is the meaning of this?" The King demands as everyone bows in his presence, all except his family members sitting on or surrounding the couch. Viserys turns to his family, inspecting each of their expressions before settling on his queen, "And why is my wife bleeding?"

"There was an assassination attempt, Your Grace," Ser Harrold quickly reports with a ramrod back. Ser Harwin finally leaves the room after nodding to his father and Ser Criston when they entered the Queen's chambers. Hand of the King, Lord Lyonel Strong, steps up to stand beside the King, appalled and worried.

"An assassin? How is this possible?" He questions.

"I did not recognize his face," Y/n answers, her voice now stronger with her family surrounding her. Her back straightens and she now looks onto Lord Lyonel with the fierceness of a queen once more, "I pride myself in knowing every staff member in my employment, and I have never seen that man before in my life."

"It will be hard to identify him now, Your Grace," Ser Harrold continues to address Viserys while also moving aside to show the King the horrifying sight of the death. Viserys' eyes widen at the body stuck in the hearth from the neck up. He looks at his wife and then back to the body, affronted and speechless. In this time of the King taking it all in, Ser Harwin returns with Prince Aemond and Lord Lucerys, both young men striding across the room to join their respective family members. Aemond stands beside his older brother, standing over their mother as he inspects her appearance with only his single eye. He didn't speak a word, and yet confessed he was afraid by looks alone.

Alicent felt the need to stand and pace, and by doing so, caught a glimpse of the dead body and noticed, to her horror, his attire, "He wears our house colors," turning back to her older sister, Alicent recognized the equal shock spreading over Y/n's face, "Could this man be from Oldtown?"

Y/n's shoulders fall, a faint look of acceptance written in her sad eyes, "If so... then there could only be one prime suspect who resides there."

The room is filled with mutters of both surprise and indifference, depending on who you talk to. Some, like the Kingsguard, are appalled by this revelation, some, like Daemon, know it to be true and their eyes darken. Others, like Lord Lyonel and Lady Alicent, are in a state of disbelief.

Alicent even voices her disbelief as she shakes her head, "Father would never do something like this. Why would he want you dead if you're married to the King?"

"Because Father's wish wasn't for me to marry the King, it was for his blood to one day sit on the Iron Throne," Y/n stated boldly, loudly, to make sure everyone in the room heard it and accept it, "When I pledged my loyalty to Rhaenyra's right as Viserys' heir, Father's plans were ruined."

Rhaenyra squeezed Y/n's knee in comfort and the room stirred with this bit of information. Viserys grinds his teeth while glaring at the floor, enraged by the gall of his former Hand.

"A sire wishes to breathe fire. Fire burns to skin, and his eldest breeds it."

All eyes turn to the door of the room, where Princess Helaena now stood, half hiding away as all eyes turn to her. Y/n's worries all float away as her face softens at the sight of her daughter, smiling in encouragement, "Yes... that's what you meant, my heart. You tried to warn me."

"If Father is responsible for this attack, then he risks himself becoming a traitor to the crown," Alicent interrupts, her voice low in anger, "He should be punished immediately."

Viserys huffs out a large, enraged sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Maester. Once you are done attending to the Queen, please inspect the body. I will have the Kingsguard bring the corpse down to the dungeons and you may meet them there."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Ser Harrold," Viserys broadens his voice, the man in question straightening to attention at the power of it, "I demand the arrest of Lord Otto Hightower. Send out a regiment to Oldtown to obtain him and bring him back to King's Landing."

"Your Grace," Ser Harrold bows and vacates the room.

"Ser Criston," Viserys turns to the younger knight, "Remain outside the Queen's room tonight."

"At once, Your Grace."

"Half of you bring the body down to the dungeons," the old man orders the remaining Kingsguard, "The rest of you follow me. I will summon the court and address the crime at hand."

"You mean to warn them of your interrogation into their treachery?" Daemon questions with a sly glare, appalled.

"Treachery?" Viserys appeared affronted at his younger brother, scoffing in disbelief.

"Someone inside the castle must have helped, my love," Y/n decided to cut in before another spat between brothers could begin within her chambers, "I do not believe my father acted alone in this attack. I believe he had help from someone on the inside. Only someone with the proper knowledge of the castle and my whereabouts could have instructed the assassin on where to go and when to strike. No doubt whoever this traitor is had hired the attacker using Lord Otto's coin."

The maester had finished Y/n's stitches and stood to instruct the Kingsguard on how to remove the body without tampering with it. Roughly five Kingsguard managed to lift the corpse off the sharp andiron and pull it out of the fire without distressing the skull from its shoulders. The Queen keeps her eyes fixed on her husband, refusing to even glimpse at the body of her attacker. Viserys former dismissal relents, his shoulders slouching as he nods in agreement. The body is removed from Y/n's chambers and with it follows a parade of Kingsguard along with the Grand Maester. Viserys waited for them all to leave before also exiting with Lord Lyonel, mentioning under his breath of a secret council meeting.

The room grows silent, the rest of the royal family sitting uncomfortably, unnerved by the situation. Y/n's mind is buzzing, her thoughts running from her attacker... to Oldtown, to her father, and then to Daeron. Dread freezes in her chest, worry for her youngest child taking place.

"Daemon," Y/n stands up, feeling the strength of her legs again as she rounds the couch in a flurry of skirts, stepping up to her good brother. She makes sure to stare directly up into his eyes, unwavering, as she carefully spoke her next words, "I wonder if you would be so kind as to take your dragon to Oldtown and bring me back my son?"

Mischief sparkled dimly in Daemon's war-aged eyes, a corner of his lips slowly turned up as he feigns innocence with the tilt of his head, "Not by horse, Your Grace? Surely, you wouldn't want your lord father to feel insulted by the mere threat of a dragon."

A playful taunt that she would normally meet, but the Queen's mind remains fixed on her baby boy. Her words are blunt and powerful compared to the stutter she had possessed earlier, "Perhaps I would like him to feel insulted by the mere presence of your company."

She leans into her brother-in-law's space, taking both of her hands and gripping onto one of his forearms. She lowers her voice so that only he could hear the rest, "Go. I don't care what you do, or how you do it, just bring me back my son alive."

He schooled his features, emotions neutral while firmly nodding once down to her, "Yes, Your Grace."

Daemon breaks from her hold on him and cross to the door before Aemond began to follow him, "I'll accompany you, Uncle."

Y/n quickly steps towards her second son, reaching for him, "I do not wish that, Aemond--

"It's alright, dear sister," she turns to Daemon's voice, "Vhagar and Caraxes will definitely be a sight your father will remember for the rest of his miserable years... or whatever time he has left."

The grave promise in his tone may have felt intimidating to some, but it was strangely a comfort to the Queen. Aemond grasps her elbow in comfort, forcing her to look up at him. Glancing between her son and Daemon, she eventually surrenders with a stern expression as she narrows her gaze onto Aemond, "Fine. But you do what Daemon says and you do not fight. Promise me."

"I promise, Mother," Aemond whispers gently to her, "I'll bring Daeron home for you."

He pulls out of his mother's grip and saunters over to join his uncle at the door. Daemon nods to Rhaenyra before exiting from her sight. Aemond takes one look back at his family, narrowing his sight onto his older brother. He tilts his head in question and Aegon only shakes his head in rejection. He will not join the hunt. Aemond nods with understanding, a silent conversation only two brothers can share, before he, too, leaves. Aegon turns back to his mother, dutifully placing himself at her side, "What would you have me do, Mother?"

"Stay with Helaena in her chambers tonight," she instructs him with a warm smile, cupping his face in her hands, meeting his eyes as they stood the same height, "I would feel comforted knowing neither of you would be left alone for the time being."

"We can all stay together, Aunt," Jace mentions with a smile of reassurance, "All the children. We'll have the wet nurses bring Little Aegon and Viserys to Princess Helaena's room and we can keep each other company until we know everything is safe again."

"I'll go find Joffrey," Luke volunteers, springing up and disappearing from the room.

"Very well," Y/n laughs under her breath, amused by Luke's lack of courtesy before gently patting the side of Aegon's face, "Will that please you, my dear? Will you and Jace watch over your siblings and cousins until we apprehend the people involved in this attack?"

"We'll make it a celebration, Mother," Aegon comforts her, "As to not worry the smaller ones."

"Thank you, my sweet child," Y/n whispers, feeling lighter when she watches the remainder of the children leave, though it was getting harder and harder to recognize them as children when the older ones are nearly fully grown and so responsible.

The room remains occupied by Y/n, Alicent, Rhaenyra, and Ser Harwin, the latter noticing the way the Queen chewed on her bottom lip while in thought as she began pacing the room, "What is it?"

"I wish to know who among our court would want me dead, and if their intentions have any motive behind hiring my attacker."

"If the assassin had lived, we could have questioned him," Harwin had commented.

"Not likely," Queen Y/n shook her head, "The maester may confirm this, but I believe the attacker's tongue might have been cut out prior to assaulting me. I remember he never spoke a word, only making pained noises and grunting. Whoever helped him into the castle was more careful than my father. Whoever they are, they covered their tracks."

~~~~~~~~~

It was well into the next day and yet none of them left Y/n's side. They had all stayed up the entire night, debating on what to do next as the Queen anxiously waited for news from Oldtown. To try and distract her, both Alicent and Rhaenyra offered to assist in looking through the letters asking for Helaena's hand in marriage. The three women had done so until morning, with Harwin standing guard inside the room and Ser Criston guarding outside of it.

Ser Criston had yet to be informed of Daemon and Aemond's return when they all heard the familiar roars of Caraxes and Vhagar flying overhead, even shaking the floor of Y/n's chambers. The Queen abruptly stood from her chair, running to her balcony to spot the two dragons for herself. However, they had flown directly to the Dragonpit and they were now too far for Y/n to see who sat on top of their mounts. Anxious to see the riders with her own two eyes, the Queen sprinted out of her chambers, barely acknowledging the others shouting her name behind her. She knew for a fact that Ser Harwin and Criston were running after her, but Alicent and Rhaenyra's voices faded away, not following Y/n, most likely because of the princess' round stomach.

Y/n paid no mind to courtesy or manners as she ran through the halls of the castle, not even nodding her head whenever a servant or lord stopped to bow in greeting her. She even kicked off her shoes, grace be damned, so that she may pick up her skirts and take two steps at a time down the winding staircases.

By the time she ordered guards to open the doors of the Red Keep, the front gates were slowly rising. Y/n bounded down the steps of the courtyard, finally stopping to catch her breath as she anxiously waits for whoever to come through. Daemon entered first, followed by his nephew. Aemond, however, was occupied with another silver-haired individual, the older brother playfully shoving a younger boy forward.

Although upon looking at him, Y/n could hardly describe him as a boy. Daeron, and the age of six and ten, was technically a man grown, though he could never possibly reach the same height as Aemond or Daemon. He always kept his traditional Targaryen hair short, at least to his shoulders, and Y/n's eyes briefly squinted at the green-colored apparel her youngest son wore before quickly forgetting about it, her smile uncomfortably stretching as her eyesight began to blur.

Daeron had kept his gaze on the Queen, even as the front gates closed behind them. The courtyard was still until the young prince stepped forward, his own smile smaller than Y/n's but it was one of relief and shyness, "Hello, Mother."

She broke after that, huffs of laughter under her breath as joyful tears ran down her face. Y/n opened up her arms and Daeron dutifully fell into them, hiding into her shoulder as his mother hugged him tightly, shaking with relief.

~~~~~~~~~

"Has Daeron comfortably moved back in?" Viserys asked his wife that following night, both of them sitting at the corner of the Small Council table, alone.

"Yes. Although I wouldn't be surprised if we found him in one of his sibling's rooms the next morning," Y/n smiled fondly behind the lip of her wine glass, "Aemond said that he was thrilled to be coming home. Apparently, he hated Oldtown."

"And your father? What has become of him?"

Y/n's smile falls, immediately avoiding her husband's gaze as she carefully swirls the wine in her goblet, watching the small whirlpool instead of the King's reaction, "I don't know. I didn't bother to ask."

Viserys sighed, all too well acquainted with Daemon's temper and his opinion of Lord Otto, "Well, my men will be there in a few days and they will make do with what is left of Otto Hightower."

The Queen sets her goblet on the table and leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers against the arms, "Perhaps Daemon chose mercy. Perhaps he wished to surprise us and soon the Kingsguard will bring my father back alive and whole."

It was a comforting thought, but Viserys only huffed in amusement, "Knowing my brother, I wouldn't get your hopes up, my dear."

They both laugh from their chests, even if there wasn't much mirth behind it. They settle back into a comfortable silence again, while a thought comes to Viserys' mind. It pleases him, and he outwardly shows with the broad, toothless smile he gifts his wife, "You know... even though you're kind and caring, you're also fierce and harsh. Those are tremendous qualities, my love, that not many can possess. Did you know what the smallfolk call you? The Good Queen. My grandmother, Queen Alysanne, was also nicknamed the Good Queen."

Her curious expression slowly melts into a fond smile, allowing Viserys to continue as he sets down his own wine goblet, "It's an honorable title, perhaps more honorable than just being a King or Queen. It goes to show that you are well-loved and you are good at what you do... I often wonder what would happen to this kingdom and this family without you, especially after nearly losing you last night."

Y/n's heart squeezes in her chest, touched by her husband's words. Eyebrows furrowed and lips turned up, the Queen looked over at Viserys with sympathy as she reached her hand over to grasp his, holding it tight, "Best not to dwell on it, my King."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: It took me an embarrassing long time to realize I was spelling ‘Jacaerys’ wrong. I blame Rhaenyra for giving her son such a difficult name.

I hope you’ve enjoyed! This will likely be the last part of ‘The Good Queen’ since I don’t think it really needs to be a series. It’s bad enough that I have three other series that need updating. Please leave a request in my pm or ask box!

Inspiration for this chapter HERE

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cuffmeinblack · 9 months

Text

Career Perks

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader (Ominis pov with she/her)

3k words. Accompanying audio.

Summary: Ominis' career leaves little room for excitement or challenge, but his unique brand of legilimency makes for a more interesting job when he finds himself in the company of a lonely witch.

A/n: This is a sort-of sequel to Legilimens where his skill has made him bitter and jaded. Also just random stalking and hunting for shits and giggles I guess.

Ominis enjoyed his job as much as the next wizard, but lately he felt…unchallenged. Most of his clients were small businesses and affluent households who required some extra security on their properties, meaning Ominis would throw up the same wards and shields he did day in, day out, every day. Rarely did he sink his teeth into anything different, a large event or complex case. Whilst the staleness of his chosen career could be somewhat disappointing at times, his job did have certain perks. He'd made his own entertainment over the years, honing other skills amongst the drudgery.

His unique brand of legilimency came in useful, though years of hearing others' thoughts, whether intentionally or not, had made him somewhat jaded. He'd learned early on that most people were liars, the words they uttered in direct contrast to their judgemental thoughts. To his shock, he'd also found that the most common thoughts that seeped into his were of the more amorous kind. With years of practice, he found himself less likely to accidentally probe someone else's mind when concentrating on their voice, but sometimes the lure was too strong to resist dipping his toe into the murky waters of their consciousness.

Ominis had arrived at his most recent client's manor with the intention of keeping his curiosity behind lock and key—it had been causing too much trouble of late. The wizard who had hired him was influential; a politician with a good family name and heaps of ill-gotten gold lining his pockets. He'd paid upfront, requesting the very best magical protection and citing a need to protect his family; from what, he didn't venture, but Ominis had been in this game long enough to make an educated guess that he'd gotten mixed up with the wrong sort. He even wondered whether his dear brother was somehow involved.

The manor was an impressive building with gardens and woodland surrounding it, and very isolated. His smart shoes crunched along the gravel path as he approached, his wand making him aware of the vastness of his surroundings. He'd expected a servant, perhaps a house elf to answer the door when he rang the bell, but instead he was greeted warmly by a woman who's tone and well-spoken manner indicated her status as lady of the household.

"Mr Gaunt, hello. Please come in."

Ominis gave his best smile, the one he knew would charm her and put her at ease. Walking into the hallway, the echo of the hard floor underneath his heels pointed to the grandiosity of the estate. No doubt it was lavishly decorated by the woman standing next to him.

"Thank you," Ominis replied with a dip of his head.

"My husband is away on business but I can direct you to anywhere you need to go," she said sweetly. "Would you like a cup of tea whilst you work?"

Well, he was never one to turn down tea.

"Yes, please. I'll start on the external wards."

She departed, heels clicking and dress swishing, leaving Ominis alone with his thoughts. His wand was already out, so he started the basic defensive spells…Muggle repelling charm…intruder charm… The mundanity was interrupted by the return of his host. The waft of tea hit his nose and he perked up as he noticed the Darjeeling blend amongst the clattering of china.

"Do you not have a house elf?"

"No, I don't agree with keeping a…slave," she replied, somewhat bitterly.

Curious.

"So you take on all of the domestic tasks by yourself? It can't be an easy feat," he replied, gesturing to the house.

"Unfortunately, yes. I never intended for this to be my life."

Ominis suppressed a smirk; that would have been inappropriate, of course. These trapped housewitches were often the product of bad decisions and unhappy marriages. He sipped his tea as he heard her do the same, using the distraction to concentrate on the sound of her gentle slurping. There she was. She had a powerful magical aura, wasted in a place like this. Ominis reached out, finding her thoughts laid bare, ripe for perusing—she clearly hadn't expected his invasion, her guard was down, as they always were.

"Lovely tea," he commented.

"Thank you, I make my own blend."

Of course you do. The thoughts at the forefront of her mind were nothing to do with the beverage, in fact they were nothing short of scandalous. Oh, these housewitches had such lewd fantasies. She knew exactly who he was, and her daydreams reflected her particular wants. The wet slaps that filled his mind and her salacious moans were rather distracting, but Ominis continued to sip his tea and nod along to her occasional commentary. Every whispered command that he uttered in her mind had her keening, and the twitch in his trousers was a very real consequence.

"The wards are done," he said, draining the last of his drink and placing it on the table beside him. "Nobody can get in or out until I lift them. Not you, nor your husband."

The last few words were laced with insinuation, and her fantasy ended abruptly, her thoughts scrambling and fearful.

"Wha-?"

Ominis moved quickly, his body pressing her into the table behind her, hand around her neck as her teacup fell to the floor with a crash of breaking china. Her hand went to her wand, but Ominis had already thrown it to the floor.

"This is what you wanted, wasn't it?" he asked.

"He's going to kill me," her first thought.

"I won't hurt you, not if you do as I say. If you obey me, I'll give you exactly what you want."

"Why…?" she whispered weakly, and Ominis loosened the grip on her throat.

"Because I've heard your thoughts, and I'm most curious…," he whispered into her ear.

She could have used his slackened grip to attempt to break free, but she didn't, only writhed between his body and the furniture behind her. Her pulse pounded against his fingers and warm, hastened breath brushed his cheek, prompting a dark surge of hunger and a throbbing swell of his cock.

"Take me," her second thought.

Ominis cast a silent summoning charm on her wand, tucking it into his unused holster.

"Run."

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me."

The second teacup crashed to the floor as Ominis relented his grasp around her neck and she fell back against the table. She scrambled, and he listened to her frantic footfalls as she ran, her terrified thoughts fading as the connection to her mind broke. She seemed to be unsure just what his intentions were, but the faint flicker of excitement told him all he needed to know about this particular witch.

"Homenum Revelio."

Ominis muttered the incantation, his wand guiding him in her vague direction. He walked quickly, but she really had nowhere to go as long as his charms held. She was fast, always moving along the winding corridors that made up the large manor house. So many bedrooms and drawing rooms, and nowhere to hide.

Ominis concentrated once again on the creak of the floorboards and receding footsteps in front of him until he found her. She was too far away to be able to use his legilimency, but now he'd probed her mind once before, her presence stuck out like a sore thumb—it was almost another sense, like a familiar scent that he could follow. His heart raced as he stalked through the house, adrenaline pumping, providing the excitement that his job couldn't.

"I've heard what you want me to do to you," Ominis called.

No reply.

"Tell me—do you kiss your husband with that mouth? The obscenities that spilled from it shocked even me, and I'm far from chaste."

Ominis threw up more detection charms, getting closer as she slowed—intentionally, he was sure. His ears remained pricked for any movement, when he heard her inhale before shouting an incantation.

"Expelliarmus!"

Ominis shielded himself just in time, her wandless but nevertheless powerful spell glancing off the protective sphere. There was the feisty witch he'd sensed below the delicate façade. A devilish grin crossed his face as she broke into a run again and he followed. The slam and click of a door up ahead echoed through the hallway, and Ominis smirked through heavy breaths. He knocked on the door, the gesture absurd, but it got her attention.

"Leave, and I'll not tell anyone about this."

Ominis pressed his ear against the wood, his fingers sliding around the door knob as he held his wand steady.

"I don't think you want me to leave," he replied, unlocking the door with but a simple unlocking charm.

He'd half expected a barrage of wandless magic aimed at him, but then again he'd half expected not. She was waiting, silently, except the ragged breaths that filled the large room. Ominis kept a shield up, but his wand sensed no danger from the situation.

"Is this your bedroom?" he asked.

"Yes," came her breathy voice.

He dropped his shield and walked towards her, following the sound and reaching out with his mind once again.

"You led me here."

She remained quiet, but she confirmed it for him anyway. Into her mind he delved again, not bothering to be careful or inconspicuous as he waded through her present jumbled thoughts and tore into her memories. He saw every bad decision ever made, the regret and longing of a woman trapped, walking in the shadow of a man utterly undeserving of her.

"You want me to take you here, where your husband sleeps? Of all the rooms in this vast house?" he asked, his fingers finally making contact with her.

She hadn't attempted to conceal the reason she'd stopped running. Knelt at the foot of the bed, she let his hands roam over her lightly-clothed shoulder, the delicate silk blouse leaving every curve free to caress. She gasped as he once again skimmed her neck, his hand continuing its journey to her face. Her lips were plump, and as his thumb brushed against them he felt her warm breath that stuttered as he started to unbuckle his belt.

His digit parted her lips, slipping inside her warm and inviting mouth as she sighed and allowed the invasion. His cock twitched again in anticipation of filling her mouth, his barely disguised arousal springing free from his trousers as the last of the fastenings fell away.

"Open your mouth for me, darling," Ominis whispered.

She did as she was told, her hands tentatively gripping his thighs as Ominis felt her jaw slacken against his fingers. He muttered a praise as he lined himself up with her inviting lips, pushing the tip of his cock inside her waiting mouth. Perfect. Her tongue eagerly met him with a swirl around his head and he groaned, lacing his fingers through her soft hair that he just now realised hung loose and smelled pleasantly of vanilla.

He tightened his grip as she took more of him, guiding her head with a rhythm that sent his head spinning. Though muffled, her moans filled his ears amongst the sounds of her exuberant sucking. She felt fantastic, a little sloppy perhaps, but she more than made up for it with her enthusiasm. Whether or not the enthusiasm was genuine or a product of his threat, he didn't much care.

Ominis sighed softly as her head bobbed back and forth, deciding to move along to what she'd really wanted from him. He pulled her hair back a little harder than was necessary, her mouth popping off his length and causing a yelp of pain. A rush of affirmation flooded her thoughts, spilling into Ominis' as his control over his legilimency weakened, and he smirked down at her before lowering his head to meet her in a greedy kiss. Her tongue met his, firm and demanding, the taste of tea still lingering.

"Such a lovely mouth," Ominis praised as they parted, relinquishing the hold on her hair. "Now, strip."

"What are you going to do?" she asked shakily over the rustle of fabric.

"Exactly what you wanted of me the moment I stepped through that door."

Ominis stroked her face gently as she undressed, and when she wriggled out of her underwear he got to work on ridding himself of his own bottoms. His pulse raced and cock throbbed with need, desperately wanting to hear her keening again, flooding his ears and not just his mind.

"How do I compare to your filthy thoughts?" he asked, pushing her back onto the bed.

"You're…better. Much better," she sighed.

He positioned himself between her legs, running his hands over her soft skin pricked with goosebumps and towards his prize. She was already squirming by the time he pressed his fingers to her entrance, dipping a digit inside the well of slick arousal.

"Such a naughty witch."

She whimpered, her walls fluttering around his finger, pulling an amused chuckle from his throat. Retreating slightly, he dragged his finger between her folds and found her swollen clit, eliciting another pathetic whine as he began rubbing circles around the nub.

"You really are so needy," Ominis chided. "How long since you've been touched?"

"A while," she replied meekly. "Fuck…"

"There's that filthy mouth I've heard."

Ominis moved his hand faster, listening to her sweet moans as his hips instinctively rocked, his erection rubbing on the bed sheet and providing barely enough relief. He couldn't control his urges forever, and his patience was wearing thinner by the second, no matter how lovely the noises she made. His fingers left her clit to a protesting whine, delving back into her soaking wet entrance.

"P-please don't stop."

"Ah, no, I'm afraid your fantasies were quite specific about how you wanted to come undone."

Ominis pumped his hand, rougher than was needed as his lust threatened to overcome his waning self restraint. Once he slipped a third finger inside her, he knelt up on the mattress before withdrawing his hand and dragging her along the sheets by her thighs towards him.

"Shit!"

He was frenzied, rock hard and aching for her cunt. With no more than a flick over her clit with the tip of his cock as warning, he pushed inside her to the sound of her wails and the sting of nails scraping down his back. Ominis growled his feigned disapproval, seating himself deep inside her as his head dipped to the crook of her neck and kissed up towards her ear. He started thrusting, and his breath almost deserted him.

She felt incredible, as if she were made for him, and the way she gripped him felt as if she were clinging onto him with the intention of never letting go. Ominis moaned and muttered praises in her ear as a string of expletives dripped from her lips with every roll of his hips.

"Harder, fuck!"

"So needy," Ominis said, though what left his mouth was a high pitched hiss that made her wail and scream his name.

That's what she'd wanted, in her sick little fantasy of being ruined by the heir of Slytherin. Not a particularly inventive one, but he was happy to indulge when the product was such a beautiful cacophony of moans. He continued whispering parseltongue against her neck as he attacked her skin with his teeth and hands groped greedily at every soft handful of flesh he could reach. Her curves were truly delicious, and the smack he delivered to her backside as she drew her legs up reverberated around the huge room and only spurred him on. Faster and harder he fucked her, until she was practically hysterical.

The way she gripped his cock, he knew she was close and his own release was imminent. His arms shook as he lifted himself, kneeling above her and gripping her waist to pull her down deeper onto his cock. Ominis moaned as the tension built to unbearable levels, still continuing to pound into her relentlessly in the new position.

"Oh shit…oh fuck…"

She could only manage garbled words and to dig her fingers painfully into his thighs as her body turned limp. Ominis placed a hand on her abdomen, groaning as he felt his cock hitting her deep under his palm.

"Come for me," Ominis hissed, unable to hold back his own release any longer.

He wasn't sure who succumbed first, but as Ominis let his load spill inside her, he felt her contract around his length, teasing out ropes of cum with every pulse of her orgasm. They sighed and moaned together, his thrusts slowing and eventually dying as they came off their highs and the pleasure made way for the realisation of what had occurred.

Ominis' face fell back into neutrality, pulling his flaccid cock from her with a squelch. He worked quickly, scooping up his wand and cleaning the mess before redressing and throwing her wand from his holster into the bed.

"Was that okay?" she spluttered.

He almost laughed, that she were so eager to secure his approval after what he'd put her through.

"Get showered and dressed. I'll wait."

She mumbled something incoherent but slid off the bed and padded to the ensuite bathroom. Ominis heard the lock of the door and running water, only just disguising the soft sobs emanating from the room. He had no time to fuss over her emotional wellbeing, he had work to do—with careful and deliberate flicks of his wand, he removed the wards that trapped her in the house, recasting the protective enchantments just as he'd been requested to do. He even made the bed.

By the time she'd returned to the bedroom, he told her to dry her hair and make sure she was properly presented, not using the exact words to ask her to stop crying. In silence he led her back to the hallway where the shattered teacups lay, fixed with a simple Reparo. There could be nothing left out of the ordinary.

"What should we do now…," she directed towards him, unease in her voice.

She was panicking. Ominis didn't give her time to finish her sentence, pointing his wand at her and twisting his wrist slowly in the air.

"Obliviate."

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt smut #ominis gaunt x oc

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andraxicated · 11 months

Text

Married to Wild Eyes

Pairings: Jing Yuan x f! reader

Synopsis: Your husband returns home and rails you after he deduces something that you've hidden from him.

a/n: this Wild Eyes manhwa popped up on my tiktok fyp with those iconic pwop and squelch panels. i'm like...interesting~

+ smut always takes so long for me to write because I always have to close the tab and run a lap around the house when I start on the nasty stuff.

wc: 4.9k (porn with some kinda plot)

will proofread in the morning😭

General Jing Yuan was a kind man to all, logical and strategic are only a few of the praises you hear for him. After all, he's the reason that the Xianzhou enjoys many years of peace to come. But just as the praises that resound from people's mouths—and the peace he brings by fulfilling his military duty, none of it compares to the lewd praises and ecstasy he delivers as he fulfills his duty to you as your husband.

"Augh~ Yuan, right there! F-fuck keep on hitting it-n-not too deep!" You babble a mix of words as you bounce on his cock, placing your shaky hands on his shoulders that are about to slip. Still, you try your best to regulate the rhythm with your eyes closed that Jing Yuan finds a little too slow for his liking. But who he is to deprive you of your wants? Although, he did find it unusual that you asked to top for a more sensual pace than him railing you into the mattress.

"Come on love, show me how good you can ride."

Jing Yuan does his part by thrusting up his lower body into you, abs flexing as he held tightly onto your waist. It then sent you opening your eyes, tears coming onto your waterline with your mouth agape, body sinking down on his fat cock to quell the itch brought by your hormones.

"You need help?" He notices how you're struggling to move and you nod. It seems like you want to go on but your legs are sore and shaking.

Your cunt throbs crazily and has Jing Yuan whipped, he lifts you by the hips and brings you down only to the length you can take. "I-I'll go faster!" You squeal, chasing the incoming high that has both of you reaching for the other's lips, making a messy exchange of saliva as his cock repeatedly coaxes your walls to make way. Jing Yuan's grip tightens and you immediately remove them, not wanting to feel his strong hold near your stomach. Instead, you relocate his hands to your breasts, moaning when he lightly squeezed. Much to his puzzlement at your abrupt removal of his hands, for now, he'll set his confusion aside just to kiss you softly, tucking away the hair that falls on your face.

"You look beautiful" His voice reverberates, praise going straight to your pussy.

"Do I, general?" You whisper as you elicit a moan when the bulbous head hits your spot.

"Believe me. That's why you're the one on top of me, isn't it?" Jing Yuan teases with a hearty laugh. He finds it all mesmerizing to see his dear wife falling apart above him. These skin-slapping sounds, the lewd faces you make, and the sight of him repeatedly disappearing into your folds have him losing the strength in holding back for your sake. He began to plump upwards at a speed that has your vision rocking and your nails finding expanse at his chest.

You continue to impale yourself on his cock, relishing in the sensation of being filled up repeatedly. Your lower belly starts to feel a coiling tension, one you're all too familiar with since the wedding night. And the sight of your husband's face going red with his lip bit was the one that pushed you to the edge.

The only thing you could say was a whimper of his name "Jing yuan—!", and then had a euphoric urge to close your eyes, but the sudden shift of his golden orbs from where you're connected to your own is what compels you to stare at him while you finish.

You look dumb and mesmerized above him, cunt soaking his length from your release, and the one thought behind your lovestruck gaze was the title that people called him.

"Wild Eyes"

You now know why he's dubbed a ridiculous name such as "wild eyes". The name is deemed true on the battlefield when he's in action, leading the alliance to victory and inflicting enemies with fear when he summons the Lightning Lord. And now it shows most true when he's in bed, breeding his lovely wife as he should.

"You okay, darling?" He asked, half-amused with shaky breaths. His thrusts suddenly slow down, groaning, only to shoot warm cum inside you as you fall down on his chest and take what he's giving you.

After being cleaned up, both of you settle on the bed and then you notice the mini cakes settled on a platter. The sudden cravings appear to be strong that you gradually reach out for the snack.

"I prepared those for you. I heard you've taken a liking to sweets. You like it?" Jing Yuan suddenly speaks and you look over to him. He's half-covered by the sheets, displaying his abs and war scars unabashed. But then you've seen his body multiple times now, what's there to be ashamed of?

Your cheeks burn at the view so you focus instead on savoring the sweetness. "I like it. Thank you for this."

Jing Yuan sighs while looking fondly at you. He has to leave you before dawn to attend the subjugation of the Stellaron monsters, one that will probably take days or perhaps weeks before he comes home to you. And Jing Yuan is currently facing the dilemma of how to break the news to you—

"You're going tomorrow, right? The mara-struck have been increasing in numbers along with the monsters that suddenly seem to appear out of nowhere." You take the words out of his mouth, looking over at him to see his eyes rounded in shock. "Jing Yuan, you're needed. So you should go, no need to feel guilty"

"Well I'm feeling guilty, I heard you've been sick every morning and I'm not there to take care of you. Perhaps I should call for the best physician in the Luofu? "

You smile yet it didn't reach the ends of your lips. "My maids take care of me and besides, the attending physician is fine."

"I'm your husband, they're taking my job." He sighs, hair falling in front of his face that you immediately tuck away. He takes it as an opportunity to grab your hand and kiss the back of your palm, keeping those golden eyes on you all the while.

You could feel yourself shrink from the intensity of his gaze. It felt so weird that it kind of tickled your stomach and nerves in a good way.

"Dearest (y/n), I don't want you to feel lonely in this manor. I know that it's my fault that we haven't been moving forward as we talked about but-" He suddenly gets cut off by you pressing your lips to his soft ones. You had your eyes closed to protect yourself from his eyes because you don't know if your heart will be able to take that gaze.

You wanted to be upset, you had every right to be upset as his wife. You wanted to say "I'm used to it" with a tone that demands coaxing and cuddles before you cry. You wanted so much time with him despite being married as strangers. Yet he has a responsibility to the people, one that often kept him away from the confines of your room—from your arms.

You could only force yourself to be mature about it and push down the urge to cling.

"Jing Yuan, we'll have plenty of time to be with each other. Besides, I have my maids to keep me company. I won't be lonely." You always knew you were amazing with lies but it took great effort to keep your voice from breaking. You hope he doesn't notice the glimmer of water in your eyes.

"And I-"

You wanted to tell him the good news but it seemingly got stuck in your throat.

"Hmm?"

You stopped yourself from speaking, quickly changing your words in a fit of internal panic.

"—want to say come back soon. Safely."

Jing Yuan noticed you wanted to say something else but he chose not to dwell on it. He'll just wait for you to tell him whatever it is.

"I will" He says before leaning in to kiss you, his large hands snake to your ear to the back of your head, keeping you firm within his lips as he lays you down for another round or two.

As soon as the maids heard the large patter of Jing Yuan's boots, they immediately scurried to your bedroom, hushed whispers of your name as she shakes you gently from your sleep.

"My lady! The general is now leaving the house! Hurry!" She says and you immediately wake up to find your robes and see him off. You knew he wouldn't wake you up for the sake of rest but who knows when will you see him again? The subjugation takes weeks or months if you're unlucky and from what you've heard, the current situation of the Xianzhou isn't pretty.

You could only whisper a prayer as you watch Jing Yuan's back go further away along with a gentle caress to your stomach.

"Let's hope he comes home in a week...or less" You chuckle and shake your head, finding it funny to talk to the child inside you. So this was the little surprise that Fu Xuan keeps on being cryptic about.

Jing Yuan could go on further but the stamina of the Cloud Knights wasn't exactly quite like his. He settles them down for rest and he had hoped to take the time to nap but a knight suddenly came over that he couldn't refuse. He's about to doze off but it seemed like he had to listen to his subordinate.

The knight bowed as a greeting, a wide grin splattered on his face. "General, I'm here to thank you on behalf of my family for saving them from the attacks last month. My mother almost fainted upon hearing it because apparently, my sister was pregnant during that time. It's only because of my incompetence that I failed to protect her that you had to step in-"

"Slow down young man." Jing Yuan commands and the knight shuts himself immediately. "No incompetent one becomes a Cloud Knight, we all undergo rigorous training to ensure that we're worthy of defending the Luofu."

The young man nods, apologizing for his words.

"And your sister's pregnant you say? How is she then?" Jing Yuan is not one to meddle in somebody else's personal life but he's just tiny curious about this particular matter.

"She's well, general. Now that she's far in, her cravings for sweets became worse along with the morning sickness. She's nauseous at the smell of some food—General? Are you all right?"

Those little details present during that afternoon suddenly came slapping him in the face for not realizing sooner.

Jing Yuan is a fool. He had become a father and he had no idea at all.

"Excuse me. I need to talk to Yanqing for a while." He flashed a smile and nod before scurrying over to the boy dressed in blue.

"General? What's the matter?" He noticed his master's face in distress, although rare, Yanqing has seen it every time something concerns you. It's natural for him to mirror the expression of the general as the boy sees you as his mother figure.

"Yanqing go back to the city at once. I will take charge of here, we should be coming back in three days."

"Three days? But general-"

"(y/n) is with child. Go protect her in my stead."

And that's how you come to see the blonde-haired boy at your door. You immediately came rushing when the maids told you Yanqing arrived at the manor. Every worst-case scenario suddenly came flashing like reels in your mind. Your heart was pounding like crazy as you await Yanqing's response to your question.

"Weren't you supposed to be in the expedition? W-where is a Jingyuan?" Your throat felt constricted due to the immense panic you felt since the boy returned home alone. Usually, after a long expedition, he comes home to your abode with your husband ahead of him. Yet this time the boy had a conflicted expression that worsened your anxieties.

"The general sent me ahead of them...because he found out something about you. He asked me to protect you that's why I'm here, I'll be staying until the general returns." Yanqing says sheepishly and you realize he's beating around the bush.

"What did he find out? I don't understand."

"Y-you're..." He struggled to find the words until, finally he spoke while scratching the back of his head. "You're pregnant. The general found out."

How in the world did he? You were pretty sure he remained clueless until he left. The thoughts of his reactions plagued you at night as you rub your belly. You only hope keeping this news doesn't anger him. If he knew of your condition before departing, he'd be extremely worried on top of all those battles he'll face. You counted day by day until it was finally the third day where Jing Yuan and the Xianzhou troops would arrive.

The morning sickness kept you confined to your bed and bathroom. You closed your eyes for a minute and you felt the door open to which you sit up-right in anticipation. And there he was, walking towards you like some sort of saving light. His long white hair swayed subtly, gold eyes sparkling with delight, and the smile you've grown to love made the corners of your lips rise. He pulled out a nearby chair and kissed your forehead. His hand suddenly went from your stroking your hair to your tummy and you flinched, wide-eyed.

"You kept this a little secret from me huh?" He muses and you're glad from the tone that he isn't angry. Jing Yuan just happily gazes back and forth between your face and your belly. "I'm not mad as I understand why you had to hide it. You don't have to apologize." His words make you melt, you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to cover your shyness while you complain about your morning sickness and everything in between.

Jing Yuan strokes your body as he mindlessly repeats the happy thoughts of being a father. Surely he has to reward you for being so good to him, right?

Night had fallen and you settled in the bed with a sigh. Jing Yuan followed you as he got out of the bathroom, shirtless. Your eyes naturally drifted to his body and filled your mind with sin, shifting uncomfortably when the itch between your legs started.

He dries his long hair with the towel, muscles flexing with each movement and you couldn't help but stare at him and what he's hiding underneath, your eyes lingering as he goes to dress his lower half. To think this man's seed is growing inside you makes you feel so damn turned on. You feel wanted by him and Jing Yuan himself confirms your feelings.

He soon lays on the bed, it dips with his weight and you scoot over because you know what he's waiting for. Jing Yuan leans down to meet with your lips, tongues clashing in a fit of passion and he grabs you by the waist to move you closer.

All he felt was cold nights in tents these past few days. The warmth of your body along with the comfort of your shared home butters the general in a sweet mood to make love. He lightly kneads the flesh of your ass through your nightgown, distracting you with his kisses and expert handwork as he takes off your clothing. Those nimble digits creep up between your thighs, cupping his favorite toy as you pull away to let out a moan.

He doesn't let you though. He immediately grabs your chin to connect your lips once more at a pace that starts to pick up. You didn't even notice how you're suddenly caged under his body. Jing Yuan pulls away when he notices it's been too long without breathing, he's not one bit fazed about the makeout but when he sees you looking absolutely debouched, his cock twitches as the animal inside him craves to devour you.

"Pretty pretty wife" Your husband muses with a smile as you suddenly feel him pushing aside your panties. The tip of his fingers teasingly touches your part like butterflies and every sensation you feel goes straight to your throbbing pussy. Jing Yuan wants to go down on you like a madman but he holds back for your sake and his. And it's all because his fingers don't want to leave your pussy at all, he missed this so bad since he's left to fist his cock at nights when you aren't there.

"So tight—missed this amazing pussy." Two of his digits enter your puffy lips, parting them slowly and checking your walls if it can accommodate his size. You always had a hard time taking him. He fights the same tightness that's currently enveloping his fingers while he ignores your pleas to stop.

"Shh shhh you like this, look at you." He drawls, putting on speed with the way he's fingering you. "And when I stop, you whine for me to put it back in. What do you really want hmm?" Two digits are thick enough to fill you completely, what more if it's his cock filling you up? You moan when it hits the spot, squirming inside you and then pulling out only to play with your clit.

He laughs when you cry out in surprise, cooing at the tears that decorate your eyes and wiping them as if he's not the cause. Jing Yuan positions himself above you, quickly discarding the material that hides your treasure. The throbbing between your legs got worse as he starts to unbuckle his pants. You could faintly make out its hardened outline before its leaking tip shows itself to you.

Jing Yuan chuckles, watching how your eyes followed his movement when he strokes himself to spread precum. "Shit, you want this? Want my cock?" He groaned and as expected, your legs automatically tightened around his waist, begging for him to slide it.

"Jing Yuan, please don't be mean. I missed you so much, I need you! Fill me up please!" Your cries passed by him in a daze as he already heard that countless times from you, sure it makes his dick twitch but what moved him was your eyes that showed how much you needed him. They were glossy and conveyed so much emotion other than feeling lust.

It was feeding on the general's urge to take care of you and his child, to love you even if you don't feel the same. He's determined to make this marriage work, you're not backing down now that he's sealed you with his seed.

His thoughts made him touch your stomach mindlessly, the other hand lining up his cock against your folds. Jing Yuan kisses the top of your head, whispering assurance that he'll be gentle. "I'll be gentle, slow pace right? Don't want me hurting you." He says, pushing in to be met with warm walls that grip his cock like a vice.

"Fuckkk, taking me so good." He hissed but suddenly his attention was directed to you who mewled his name.

"I-it's okay to be rough—I want it anyway, just be careful." Your voice dwindles with each word and heat rushes to your face when you realize what you just said. It was embarrassing but on the first night together, you remember Jing Yuan telling you it's important for you to say what you want during sex. So even though you wanted to cover your face with a pillow, your resolve stayed strong until you hear Jing Yuan chuckle.

He leaned down to kiss you on the lips, resisting the urge to pinch you when you look at him with puzzled doe eyes. "Of course. Anything you say, I'll keep in mind." He coos, snuggling his kisses to your neck down to your soft breasts.

He eases the penetration by pushing slow yet continuous, both of you moaning when he buries himself slightly to the hilt. "Is this okay? Deep enough?"

"Y-yeah so good!"

Jing Yuan knows he's big and the effect it has on you. You're shaking beneath him and he could feel it with the way your legs are around his torso. And along the way home, he somehow picked up the knowledge that pregnant women are sensitive especially in their erogenous parts. He was almost overcome with the instinct to pull out if it felt too much for you but when you're saying stuff like wanting him to cum inside you over and over—Jing Yuan knows the only way to please his needy wife is to shoot the load that got you pregnant in the first place.

You shiver when he slides out and prods at your entrance, waiting for him to plunge back in and the second stretch of your hole never fails to open your mouth in shock, sneaky Jing Yuan takes the opportunity to slide his mouth and indulge in sloppy kisses.

"Mmmh-s-stop-ahh!-move inside now!" He pulls away only when you break the kiss and ask to move inside you already. It felt bratty to him but for tonight, he's gonna heed to everything you say. It's only right that Jing Yuan fucks this pussy so good for bearing him a child.

"Impatient are we?" He clicks his tongue and begins to tie his loose hair with the red ribbon. Your attention was so caught in his muscular arms that you didn't even anticipate the movement of his length in your walls. He begins to fuck you while he ties his hair and your eyes were left frozen in shock that he couldn't help but break out a laugh. "Stop looking so cute or else I'll forget that I'm supposed to be holding back." Jing Yuan chuckles before putting his strength in his lower half to work, pulling out halfway through before surprising you as he pushes back to hit the spot.

"Feels good?" You nod dumbly at his question, moaning at how delicious his cockhead feels when it pounds. You wanted to speak but only incoherent babbles makes it out of your mouth that you chose to shut up instead, taking and enjoying his large cock that's breaking your pussy open. He keeps up his pace, his groans in tandem with his thrusts and your body moves along, creating jiggles on your breasts and stomach.

"Look at you, so pretty and tight as fuck. Taking me so good—ugh" He got cut off when your walls pulsed around him, sending shivers down his spine as he lets out a mix of lewd sounds that tickles your ear.

Jing Yuan suddenly latches his lip onto your nipple, sucking ravenously at your nipple and you scream in pleasure, kicking your feet only for him to push deeper to keep your legs in place.

"Can't wait to see—mmmh—these breasts full of milk—won't have another chance to suck at you like this". Jing Yuan mumbles between lapping at your mounds. His words made you gush below, obscene squelches overlapping your whimpers. Your hands desperately grabbed at the sheets as Jing Yuan pounded furiously with his mouth attached to your boobs. It looked so so dirty—so wrong but you can't help but enjoy how he's using your body.

Everything was so sensitive, your body felt like it was on fire. His movements were coming all at once yet he had another trick up his sleeve. Your flesh gets bitten down by his teeth, a sharp pain shooting up in your body that made your walls clench tighter around him. He thrusts in response to your enclosing walls, feeling him grin with your nipple between his teeth.

"Hah! 'm close, Jing Yuan!" Your hand flew to your mouth to hold the moans that threatened to surface but your husband doesn't like that. He prefers it when you're lewd and noisy, the sounds you make were a stark contrast to your image.

He moves your hand to his hair all the while looking at your debauched expression. There was no thought behind your eyes, only thinking of the way his cock fucks back into your hole, molding your cunt to his shape.

He took pity on your senses, you must be so far gone now that only breathless moans are coming out of your mouth. But the primal urge to claim you even though you're his always gets the better of him. Jing Yuan pulls away from your body and hovers to see you in your entirety. He experiments on your obedience for the fun of it, shoving one finger at first and then adding another two to see your reaction.

The look on your face with three fingers stuffed inside your mouth fuels him to pump his cock harder, to give it to you better because you look absolutely ravishing right now. And when you wrap your pouty lips around his digits before he could say anything, his heart does a little backflip as the corners of his lip rise. You were so fucking good for him so he pinches your clit, earning a yelp.

Jing Yuan feels like he's falling harder for you. He's so lucky—so blessed to have you underneath him, he wonders if this marriage wasn't orchestrated then who would be the one to see you like this? The ugly thought has him wanting to claim you one after another, leaving marks on your skin so people would know who you belong to. He'd have you know nothing but his name, the feeling of pleasuring and being pleasured, bearing his child and showing off that you're his and his only.

You're his wife now and that's the only thing that matters, besides you have a child on the way. And Jing Yuan groans loudly to match the pace of his thrusts, one that got you crying and sobbing out of the immense onslaught of pleasure. He fucks so good to the point you feel like your eyes are gonna go to the back of your head or your jaw is gonna lock from how frequently you're opening your mouth.

"Gonna cum?" The veins on his cock glide on your walls, balls swinging from the impact as you take a slight peek at how his dick stretches you out before falling back onto the pillow and nodding your head. "Cum for me then. Show me how good I am to you."

His deep voice lulls you to release, his loving gaze directed to you, and the fulfilling way his hips continued to rut into your cunt. And the filthy words that he whispers near your ear, bordering on degradation and praise. All of those combined and you couldn't help but close your eyes and feel him meeting your little thrusts, chasing your high. As you were nearing your closure, Jing Yuan suddenly attaches his lip to your boob and gets the timing right, provoking your screams as you have an orgasm that absolutely wrecks the lights out of you. You're nothing but a mess beneath his strong arms, his pretty little wife that keeps on crying and thrashing from having an orgasm ten times more intense than normal.

"Fucking take it—take it all." Jing Yuan pants from putting all of his energy left to chase his high, cock hitting you at the best depth that has your feet kicking. Sounds of 'pwop' and squelches fill the room alongside his groans. He leaves your mounds to go seal a fervent kiss to your lips, performing a few more thrusts until it's slowing down as he paints your walls milky white, ropes and ropes of warm cum shooting inside your cunt until he feels spent.

All that's left to do is to clean you up and run another bath, no doubt there's already warm water prepared for both of you. The intensity of doing it with Jing Yuan left you unable to focus and now that you're gaining clarity of your surroundings, you see his eyes that stand out from the background. It's like a swirl of gold that pulls you in and renders you speechless yet you mumble unconsciously "wild eyes" that didn't escape your husband's hearing.

It left Jing Yuan in a fit of giggles, brushing your hair behind your ear as you bury your face in his chest. "So you've heard that one? I wonder if our child will inherit these wild eyes of mine."

You reply while gazing up at him. "I hope so. Your eyes are really pretty."

"Thank you" Jing Yuan broke out a smile, not able to hide what he was feeling as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead that you savor with your eyes closed. His hand traveled to your stomach, caressing it as he looks up to the ceiling, wondering about the future.

Then he says "I'll be present more. I'll be a great husband and father just as they call me a great general." He suddenly declares that you slightly sit up to look at him with awe.

Your lips part, unsure of what to say but you know that from those golden eyes alone that anything you say will be fine. You could feel love—see love emanating from their so-called wild eyes.

"I...would like that"

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #jing yuan x you #hsr x you #hsr jing yuan #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail smut #honkai smut #honkai star rail jing yuan

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halfmoth-halfman · 1 year

Text

vii. wise men say, only fools rush in

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: alcohol, heavy flirting, violence, blood, minor character death Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: this chapter is dedicated to the wonderful @chaoskrakenuwu, who was kind enough to let me name a character after her, and also to tumblr user @deadbranch, who mentioned that tags in taglists might not work if you have your visibility settings set to make their url unsearchable on tumblr!! i tested it out a few times and sometimes it works, sometimes not but if your tag isn't working below maybe double-check your visibility settings and turn them off (if you're comfortable with that) and I'll try updating your tag!! small edit: tumblr cut off part of the middle, so i re-added it in case you saw it when it first posted and it didn't make sense LOL prev | next

In the following weeks, you learn one very important thing: John Price is a relentless flirt.

(After that first conversation, he had disappeared into his office for the remainder of the day not reappearing until you had returned to the club to get ready backstage. You took your time, heart racing as your attention was split between preparing for the show and trying not to imagine Price joining you backstage and making good on his offer to wish you luck.

He never did, but once you took your place on stage, you immediately spotted him sitting at the bar between Ghost and Nik, eyes trained solely on you. He stayed in that spot for the entire show, his gaze never once leaving you, even when others came up to speak to him. He bought you a congratulatory drink afterward, handed to you with a sly smile and gentle squeeze of your hip.)

He hadn’t stayed long after that, whisked away by something important Ghost whispered into his ear, but you find him in that same spot every night after that, watching your performance with a singular intensity that sets your skin on fire.

Farah takes over the two weeks leading up to her and Alex’s departure, giving you a welcomed break and letting you enjoy the club and her flawless performances.

Price maintains his spot at the bar, making eyes at you anytime you pass by as you spend your time between dancing with Kyle and watching Valeria hustle unsuspecting patrons at the pool table. When you occasionally stop at the bar, you make it a point to stand next to him as you wait for your drinks.

Regardless of what he’s doing—whether he’s drinking with his eyes glued to you or talking to someone else, his attention focused entirely away from you—a warm hand always winds its way around your waist, slowly feeling up the fabric of whatever outfit Valeria’s put you in for the night before it settles on your hip. You lean into the touch, lightly skimming your nails across the back of Price’s hand as you wait for your drinks.

Alex serves you with a knowing look—one you make a show of ignoring—and you squeeze Price’s hand. He presses your hip in response, the slow glide of his hand as he pulls back his arm, leaving a blazing trail across your skin that lingers as you take your drinks and return to Kyle or Valeria.

“You know,” Valeria says one night, sharp gaze following you as you return from the bar with a drink for her and lemon water for yourself, “you still owe me a game.”

“Can’t say it’ll be much of a game,” you laugh, sitting beside her. “I’m shit at poker.”

“I wasn’t talking about poker,” Valeria grins, eyes sliding to her right where the pool tables sit.

“Alright, but fair warning, I’m about as good at pool as I am poker.” Valeria pays you no mind, taking her drink and sauntering toward the tables, crimson dress flowing with every step.

The table she approaches is occupied, surrounded by a small group that isn’t so much playing as they are holding cue sticks and talking. Valeria joins them, easing into their conversation with a coy smile and light touch to the nearest man’s arm. You don’t hear the conversation, but Valeria tilts her head and says something, and one of the group hands her his pool cue before leading the rest of his friends to the dancefloor.

“That was nice of them,” you laugh, joining her at the table. She hums a small laugh, handing you your own cue stick.

Valeria starts the game, and it ends almost as quickly as it begins, a look of absolute disbelief plastered on her face.

“I told you I was bad at this,” you tease her.

“I never thought I’d meet a worse player than Alejandro.” Valeria shakes her head, unable to compose herself for the first time since you’ve met her. You’d take some pride in being able to surprise her if it weren’t followed by the pitying gaze of disappointment she turns to you with.

It’s a quick, momentary glance before that tell-tale smirk crawls across her face. She lays her cue on the table, sights set on something behind you. “We’ll fix this, don’t worry.”

Valeria pats you on the arm, disappearing into the crowd of people before you can stop her. You let it go, setting your cue next to hers and taking the time to sip from your water and turn your attention to the stage where Farah gives another flawless performance.

“Enjoying yourself, Птичка?” You turn, finding Nik leaning against the other side of the pool table, dressed in solid black with his sunglasses pushed up into his hair.

“Very much so, actually.”

Nik laughs, tipping his drink to you with an easy smile as Valeria reappears beside him. You don’t get the chance to react as a hand slides across your waist, your body tensing at the sudden touch.

“Glad to hear it.” You relax as the baritone of Price’s voice reaches your ears, and you turn to land a playful slap against his chest.

“Let’s try this again—,” Valeria says, picking up both pool cues and holding one out to you and the other to Price, “—two against two.”

You’re reluctant to take the cue stick from her, but you do, sending Price a sympathetic smile, “Apologies in advance.”

“C’mon now, you can’t be that bad,” he chuckles. Valeria lets out a bark of a laugh as Price takes the other stick from her. She turns away swiftly, trying to bite down on the smirk stretching across her face as Nik re-racks the balls.

Valeria is gracious enough to convince Nik to let you go first, and you do your best on the break. Your best is…not great, laughable even.

And laugh Valeria does. Nik lets out a low whistle, turning away the moment you look at him, his shoulders shaking with unmistakable laughter. You turn to Price, your last saving grace, only to find him staring back with a pitying look that you think you hate more than the laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, get your laughs in,” you pout, setting your cue stick against the table and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Valeria coos, lips pursed tauntingly.

“You weren’t…awful,” Nik adds, though it’s choked out through stifled laughs.

“It’s the way you’re holding it,” Price laughs, making his way toward you. “Here, I’ll show you.”

You expect him to take over your turn, but he holds his cue stick out to you instead. You pout for an extra second before giving an exaggerated sigh and taking the stick from him. He catches your wrist before you can pull away and lightly pulls you toward him, guiding you to stand in front of him.

If you couldn’t play before, you don’t know how anyone expects you to concentrate when the solid warmth of Price’s body presses up against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder so you can feel the soft fanning of his breath against your neck. Gently, he adjusts your elbows, guiding you to hold the cue stick properly. When he’s satisfied, his hands glide down from your elbows, one settling on your hip and the other against your back. He takes his time, feeling the velvet material of the sapphire blue dress Valeria put you in. He hums appreciatively, the vibrations skating down your spine.

“Lean forward,” he murmurs into your ear, the club’s music drowned out by his voice. A small press to your back, and you bend forward, trying not to lose your grip on the cue stick as he purrs, “A little more.”

When he’s satisfied, his hand leaves your back to settle on your shoulder. He turns you slightly to the left, adjusting your angle before he steps back with a soft, “Now try.”

Keeping yourself composed is a struggle, but you do as he says. The cue ball sails, a successful break scattering the rest across the table. The group around you cheers as you stand up straight and instantly reach for your water. You sip the icy water, trying to cool the fire crawling beneath your skin as Valeria takes her turn, but Price stands at your side, leaning down so close you can feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl.”

You swallow hard, nearly choking on your water as he pulls away with a wide smirk, and you realize that he’s here to play an entirely different game.

After five rounds, your team loses 3-2, but Price leads you to the bar for a consolation drink with an arm around your waist, and you feel like the biggest winner in the club.

Kyle’s birthday comes mid-summer.

He doesn’t tell you about it, but you get a suspicious text from Soap one night inviting you to a “secret meeting” at the club and telling you to bring cash.

It’s the middle of the night, far too late for you to be safely leaving your motel room, but you get ready anyway.

Curiosity killed the cat, not the canary, after all.

When you get to the club, you text Soap, and he tells you to come through the front, lock the door behind you, and head straight backstage. You follow his instructions, finding backstage empty and vacant save for the soft echo of voices from the dressing room. You follow the voices, knocking twice before opening the door.

As soon as the door opens, the room goes silent. You’ve apparently interrupted a very serious meeting between Soap, Ghost, Roach, and König as their attention snaps to you. The room fills with a tense silence as you stand in the doorway, a stack of cash in hand as they stare you down.

You speak first, eyes bouncing between the four nervously, “You’re not about to kill me, are you?”

That seems to break the tension as Ghost scoffs and the others relax.

“’Course not, Owl,” Soap rolls his eyes, reaching over to take the money from your hand and add it to a small pile sitting on Farah’s vanity. “Assumin’ the worst there, aren’t ya?”

“You send me a cryptic text telling me to meet you in the backrooms with a stack of cash and expect me not to be suspicious? This is how people get killed in horror movies,” you argue, shutting the door behind you.

“You still came, didn’t you?” Ghost counters.

“He has a point,” König shrugs, and Roach nods.

“Why am I here?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Right, so you know how Gaz’s birthday is comin’ up?” Soap speaks as he counts through the small pile of money.

You blink, asking, “It is?”

He hadn’t said anything to you. Would it be rude to ask him about it?

“Every year, we always try to get him something, y’know, from all of us,” Roach explains.

“But every year, Valeria and Alejandro always get him something extra just from them,” Soap huffs. “So, we started doin’ the same.”

“It’s become a bit of a competition now,” Ghost sighs, obviously not as enthused about this as Roach and Soap.

“Of course,” you hum. A little more relaxed now that you know why you’re here, you lean back against the door and ask, “So, what’re you getting him?”

“Oh,” König starts, “we were thinking of—”

Roach smacks his arm as Soap lets out a sharp whistle, shaking his head furiously when König turns to him.

“Really?” you scoff. “I gave you my money—”

“And we greatly appreciate your donation,” Soap says, turning to you with a sly grin and your cash in his hand. “As will Gaz, I’m sure.”

“What am I supposed to get him, then?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Soap teases, “’m sure you can figure that out on your own.”

“You’re not even gonna give me a hint?” You look to the others, but Ghost and Roach stay silent, König giving you an apologetic shrug. “Fine. Just know I’m not showing up next time you need something from me in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, y’will,” Soap laughs.

He’s right, but he doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Whatever, keep your little secrets. I’m going home.”

“Night, Kiwi!” Soap calls as you leave the dressing room. You let the door swing closed behind you, but the thud of it shutting never happens. You turn back, finding König closing the door softly before he catches up to you.

“I’ll walk you out,” he says softly, glancing back to the dressing room. There’s something slightly off as König trails behind you, constantly looking over his shoulder—not like he’s nervous, but as if he’s about to do something he shouldn’t.

He holds the front door open for you, giving one last look over his shoulder.

You have to ask.

��Are you oka—”

König leans down, almost uncomfortably close, and mumbles, “He likes practical things.”

“What?”

“Mostly clothes, preferably socks. Oh, and food. Especially pastries.” König takes a small step forward, getting close enough that you can see tiny flecks of amber brown in his eyes.

“He has a big sweet tooth,” he whispers conspiratorially, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh,” you say as König steps back, leaning against the door. “Thank you.”

“Viel Glück.” König gives you a short nod, the edges of his mask rising with the apples of his cheeks as he smiles at you.

The drive back to your motel room is spent formulating a plan to figure out the specific day Kyle’s birthday falls on and what to get him. You spend more of the night trying to think than sleeping, doing your best to devise a way to ask him about it without sounding too obvious. It should be easy—getting information out of someone is nothing you haven’t done before—but Kyle’s sharper than he lets on. You’ll have to be a bit more careful this time.

You’re still thinking about it when you get to the club the next morning, so focused on your plan that you nearly run into Ghost as he steps out of Price’s office.

“Watch it,” he grumbles, wrapping a hand around your arm to steady you.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Bit distracted this morning, are we?” You look up as Kyle walks out of the office behind Ghost, amused smile on his face.

“Didn’t get a lot of sleep,” you shrug, sending a quick, pointed look to Ghost, who stares back at you with his usual monotone expression.

“Been there,” Kyle chuckles, pulling his car keys from the pocket of his black jacket and handing them to Ghost.

“Going somewhere?” you ask.

“Doing something for the Boss,” Kyle winks.

“It’s a small business errand, nothing to worry about.” Ghost’s answer leaves no room for more questions, so you nod in acceptance.

“I’ll see you two later, then.” You watch them walk to the front and out of the club, waiting for the doors to click shut before you turn and slip inside the office. Price sits behind his desk, writing something in a small, black journal, and you grin at the sight.

Maybe you don’t have to talk to Kyle at all.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask as you walk up to the desk. Price’s hand stills against the journal as he looks up at you in slight surprise. You’re sure you’re probably not supposed to be in here without being invited in, but you see how his eyes dip down over your form and decide that he probably doesn’t mind.

“Just the one?” he smiles, setting his pen down to give you his full, undivided attention.

“Just the one, I promise,” you laugh, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “When’s Kyle’s birthday?”

The smile stays, but his brows draw together curiously, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right, and which team are you asking this for?”

Ah, so he knows.

“Neither. I just wanted to get him something nice…and maybe get back at Soap for conning me out of my money.”

Price laughs at that, shaking his head as he leans back in his chair. It creaks softly, and you’re momentarily lost in the thought of how comfortable it looks.

It definitely looks like it could hold two people—

Stop.

Focus.

Kyle’s birthday.

“It’s next Thursday,” he says, breaking you out of your momentary distraction. “The club will be closed that night while we celebrate.”

That gives you eight days. You can work with that. All you have to do now is figure out what to get him.

And you’re sitting across from the one person who would know best.

“Do you have any hints for what I could get him?” you ask, giving your sweetest smile that he definitely sees straight through.

“That’s more than one question,” he chuckles.

“I mean, they both go together. Think of it as two halves to the same question.” You bat your lashes, keeping that tauntingly sweet smile aimed at him.

“So, you get an extra question,” he says, leaning forward and clasping his hands together atop the desk. He tilts his head, staring into your eyes, and purrs, “What do I get in return?”

“The satisfaction of helping out your favorite employee?” you tease, setting your elbows on the desk to lean toward him.

“You’re my favorite, are you?” he laughs softly, inching just a bit closer.

“You just said so yourself,” you grin. He hums, amused and impressed, a fondness in his eyes that sends a slight pang through your chest.

“He likes desserts,” Price tells you.

“Anything specific?” you press, slowly leaning forward until only a few inches are left between you.

“Careful now,” he warns, all silk and want and looking two seconds from jumping over the desk. “That’s a third question.”

You sit there for just a second, letting him watch your eyes fall to his lips as you lean a little closer before—

“You’re right,” you sigh dramatically, pulling back entirely, smug grin across your face. “I’m sure I can figure it out myself.”

“You’re a cruel woman,” he laughs, settling back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. You throw him a wink that earns you a playful roll of his eyes. Your phone chimes from your pocket, and when you check it, you find a message from Farah asking you to meet her backstage.

“Time for me to head out,” you sigh, standing from your chair. You turn to look at Price, giving him an earnest smile, “Thanks for the help. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Dove.”

You head toward the door as Price picks up his pen, ready to return to what he’d been working on before you came in.

“If you can bake,” Price calls out just as you grab the door handle, “try an apple sponge. It’s one of his favorites.”

You turn back to thank him, but he’s already focused on his work. You stash the information away in your mind, heading into the club to meet Farah with a wide grin.

(It takes a lot of trial and error in your motel room’s dingy little kitchen—little more than a hot plate and a mini fridge—but you’re eventually successful with a small apple sponge pudding the night before Kyle’s birthday.

When you present it to him, waiting until the party’s died down and everyone else is focused on something else, his eyes go glassy at the first taste. For a moment, you’re worried you’ve messed up the recipe, but he sets the plate down and wraps you in a tight hug.

“Used to make this with my mum,” he laughs into your shoulder, watery and sad and so, so appreciative. “Haven’t had one in years.”

He pulls away after a soft squeeze, his signature bright smile a little tighter than usual.

“Thank you, really.”

He goes back to the dessert, offering a couple of bites to his date, the woman who had worn the purple and teal dresses and whose name you’ve learned is Tabby.

You glance up from the happy couple, eyes roving over the rest of the party until you catch eyes with Price. He grins, winking at you, before returning to his conversation with Nik and Alex.

You don’t know how you’ll thank him, but you have a few ideas.)

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

You nearly jump out of your skin as Price startles you, not only with his question but also with his sudden appearance at your side.

The club is closed for the week—you’re not told why—but you still come in to clean in the mornings. You’d been enjoying your small break at the bar, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly.

You thought you were alone, but apparently not.

“Not that I know of,” you say, trying to calm the jittering of your nerves. “Why?”

“Would you like to have dinner?”

Your mind blanks.

Your heart skips a beat, stunned at the idea that he might actually be asking you out and even more stunned by the instant yes that sits on the tip of your tongue.

“I—”

“We’re having a small get-together for whoever wants to come.”

There’s a painful squeeze in your chest that you’re forced to ignore, and you do your best to cover the sting with a smile.

“Sure! Sounds fun.”

“Perfect.” He smiles back wide, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of your head before turning and walking away. “I’ll have Gaz send you the address,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into his office.

You stand there, staring at his office doors, doing everything you can to quell the sudden heat flooding your body.

You add extra ice to your water and bury yourself in your work as a poor distraction.

Kyle texts you the address that night, along with a message telling you not to come into work the next day, and a single sentence after that reads: Wear something blue :).

You sleep in the next morning—the first time in years—taking your time to go through your clothes and get ready. Your wardrobe is limited—all of the outfits Valeria’s had made for you sitting in the dressing room at the club.

Those would probably be too formal anyways.

You decide on your usual jeans and boots, but dig out a lighter shirt—more grey than blue, but passable—to wear under your black sweater. It’ll have to work as you spend the rest of your time fixing your hair, relaxing, and singing along to the music on your phone.

You leave an hour early, still unfamiliar with the city streets outside your commute to and from the club. The directions are simple enough to follow, your phone’s GPS taking you through the city easily, but after almost twenty minutes, you take a turn and realize you’re being led out of the city.

The drive is almost peaceful, the bustle of the city melting away into broad open landscape then into large trees filled with lush greenery. You’re directed to an off-road leading deeper into the thicket, your car protesting as it leaves the pavement and starts down the dirt road.

It takes half an hour of driving through solid forest before the trees around you begin to thin, and the dirt road slowly turns to gravel, then to smooth stone. The road curves and winds through the trees before you take a sharp turn, and you catch sight of the house.

No, house isn’t the right word. Manor would be more accurate.

The car comes to a halt as you hit the brakes, hands tightening around your steering wheel until your nails dig into the heels of your palms.

A sprawling estate surrounded by lush greenery that grows up the front of the house, you’re reminded of your family’s old summer home. That house hadn’t been nearly as big as this, but Price’s manor carries the same quaint feeling you remember having every time your father took you on vacation at the summer home.

The knot that grows in your throat is sudden, the rush of nostalgia slamming into you without warning.

The last time you had been to that old house was for your wedding.

You still remember the smell of lilacs and sweet peas that drifted up from the beautifully decorated courtyard into the bridal suite, the gorgeous bespoke gown that had once been your mother’s—gifted to you by your father as your something borrowed—and the beaming smile you carried for the entire day.

The last good day you remember having in your old life.

That’s over now, you remind yourself. You’re safe here.

You take a deep breath, loosening your grip on the steering wheel and easing off the brake. You drive slowly, taking in the beautifully laid out gardens around the front of the manor, trying to push down the painful fondness that stabs at your heart.

You park behind the various cars at the end of the driveway, locking your car behind you just once before making your way to the front doors.

Just like the club, they’re unlocked.

As soon as you walk in, you’re hit with a delicious smell and the sounds of quiet laughter. You follow the noise, taking in the interior of the house. It’s homey, understated, downright cozy, and somehow fitting for what you’d imagine as Price’s home.

“Look who it is!” Alex cheers as you walk into a sitting room. He sits on one of the couches, an arm draped across the back and around Farah. Across from them is Kyle, spread out on the other couch, busy typing away on his phone, his feet almost in Nik’s lap. You’ve never seen them so dressed down before, all in some type of hoodie, sweater, sweats combination—or pajama pants in Nik’s case.

Farah and Nik give you the same eager greeting, but Kyle continues on his phone, ignoring your presence entirely.

“Don’t mind him,” Farah scoffs. “He’s too busy with his new girlfriend.”

“It’s no problem,” you laugh, looking around the room. Farah watches you, smirk plastered on her face.

“The old man’s in the kitchen,” she says, nodding toward the other side of the room. Alex and Nik bite back their laughs, and you choose to ignore them.

“Thanks, Farah.” She nods, and you head in the direction she gives you. You head in the direction she gives you, passing through the dining room before you’re able to find the kitchen.

It’s not exactly like the one from your old summer home, but it’s damn close—spacious yet comfortable, all earth-toned and welcoming—and it’s a fight to swallow down the knot in your throat.

“You’re here!”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts as Price catches sight of you, setting down the knife in his hand and making his way over to you. You’ve never seen him in a sweater before, but you know how you’d kill to see him in one again. Like the others, he’s dressed down from his usual club attire: a deep maroon sweater with rolled sleeves, jeans, and a black apron with small spots of flour across it.

“Yeah, didn’t want to miss out on seeing my boss in an apron,” you joke as he pulls you into a hug, followed by a kiss on the head. You let yourself melt into him, missing his warmth the minute he pulls away.

“You can have a drink and wait with the others if you want. Grab whatever you want from the fridge,” he says, heading back to his station.

“Actually,” you take a deep breath, setting your hands on the island counter, “I was wondering if there was anything I could help with?”

He seems surprised at the offer, brows raised as he looks up at you. But the surprise is quickly replaced with a fond smile.

“You any good at chopping vegetables?” he asks.

“The best,” you tease, inching your way over to him, giving him time to tell you no.

“You can take over here, then.”

He takes a step back, and you take his place, picking the knife up from the cutting board. You’re about to start when you feel his hands settle on your hips and his lips brushing against the skin of your neck. You tilt your head automatically, pressing back into him as he murmurs a quiet, “Thank you.” He pulls away immediately after, leaving you to your work.

Time flies by, the two of you work almost seamlessly together in the kitchen. You laugh and joke and enjoy as Price takes every opportunity to put his hands on you. Small, teasing touches, but they send your heart racing each and every time, and soon you find yourself returning the favor.

By the time the food’s ready, you’ve shed your sweater, the kitchen heat, and the man next to you far too much for you. You take it in stride, having more fun than you’ve had in a long time and allowing yourself to enjoy this moment.

Dinner passes by equally as fun, feeling like those rare dinners you got to have with your father—just you and him, just family.

The others bid their goodbye, Alex and Farah heading home after dishes are done, Nik heading upstairs to one of the many spare rooms, and Kyle leaving to meet Tabby at her place. You help clean, waiting until everything is spotless to take your leave. Price walks you to the door, hand on the small of your back the entire walk.

“You know,” he says as you reach the front door, “you could stay here for the night.”

“What? You mean you don’t want to come back to mine?” you tease, lightly nudging him with your elbow. When he doesn’t laugh, you still worry creeping up your spine.

Please, don’t ask me to “repay” you for dinner.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he says quietly, pulling his hand from your back so he can turn to face you. “I just—I’d sleep better knowing you were somewhere…safer.”

Oh. Oh.

You don’t know how you can possibly feel more endeared than you do in this moment, the worry so genuine on his face.

“It’s not that bad. I’ve been fine so far,” you offer, voice soft as you set a hand on his arm. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, wrapping his hand around yours, “There’s always room for you here if you ever change your mind.”

“Thank you.”

And even if you don’t take up the offer now, you mean it with all your heart.

Summer nears its end when you find a sleek red box sitting atop your vanity that was definitely not there before you went on stage.

A small white card with your name written on the front rests on top of the box, a handwritten note with an address and a date for Saturday afternoon. You don’t recognize the address or the handwriting, so you set the card aside cautiously, sliding your fingers under the box lid.

You lift the lid, curiosity winning out over your caution.

Laying inside, pristinely folded, is a dress. A very beautiful, pale dress covered in pale blue columbine flowers. You run your fingers along the fabric, admiring the softness of the organza against your skin.

What is this for?

You wrack your brain trying to think of any upcoming birthdays or events, but nothing comes to mind. You’re sure you’d know; things like that are usually a big deal for the club.

You’re left wondering as someone knocks on the dressing room door. You quickly put the lid back on the box, tucking the card into the pocket of your jacket draped over the back of your chair.

When you leave for the night, you take the box back to the motel room, setting it on top of the duffle bag that holds your clothes, where it sits untouched for the rest of the week.

When Saturday comes, you wake up an hour before your alarm and head straight for the box. You set it on the bed and spend the morning getting ready with a long, room-temperature shower.

A small voice nags in the back of your mind as you stand in your underwear, staring down at the box on your bed. You’re excited and nervous, eager to try on the dress but unsure of what to expect from all of this.

The last time someone surprised you with a dress…

You shake the thoughts from your head, pulling the lid from the box, lifting the dress out, and finding a pair of nude flats lying at the bottom.

It’s long and light, made of a soft, airy material that falls to the ground with short, sheer puffy sleeves and a slit up to the knee. You have no trouble putting it on, the smooth silk gliding against your skin in a fit so perfect that you immediately think this must be Valeria’s doing.

You twirl, watching the material fan out with a wide smile. You leave the shoes in the box while you fix your hair, putting in the effort to get your hair just right and make yourself look as good as the dress makes you feel.

When you’re done, and looking far more stunning than you anticipated, you slip on the shoes and grab your keys.

You head out to your car in the early afternoon, pulling up the address on your phone. Your destination is just outside the city, opposite from where you are. It doesn’t take long, even in the afternoon traffic, and it ends with you pulling up to a large house with a driveway full of familiar cars.

You park behind Kyle’s car, giving yourself one last look in your slightly crooked rearview mirror.

When you step out of your car, you’re instantly met with music and laughter echoing from the backyard. You follow the path up to the front door, knocking twice as you admire the front garden.

The house is far enough out of the city to not be near anyone else but close enough to not have to drive an hour to get to the club like Price’s. Large, spacious, and a yard covered in different types of flowers.

A sharp whistle startles you as you take in how well taken care of the daisies look.

“Canary!” You step back from the door, looking across the driveway where Kyle stands, waving his hands at you, Roach next to him, holding open a gate that you assume leads to the backyard.

It’s weird to see them out of their standard black, but the bright summer colors fit them just as well. You make your way over, Kyle meeting you halfway to pull you into a hug.

“Glad you made it!”

“Me too!” you laugh, following him to the gate so you can hug Roach. “What’s the occasion?”

“Occasion?” Roach asks, holding the gate open with his foot so he can sign to you.

“It’s just a party,” Kyle says with a curious tilt of his head. “Valeria didn’t tell you?”

“Why would she tell me?”

“Because it’s her house?” Roach blinks.

“No one told me anything. I found a card with a time and place sitting on my vanity. And this—” you gesture to the dress, “—with it.”

“That’s one way to invite you, I guess,” Kyle shrugs, throwing an arm around your shoulders with an easy smile. “Either way, we’re glad you’re here.”

He and Roach lead you into the backyard, equally beautiful as the front, with tall trees providing shade and a large pool in the center. The entire club is here. Alejandro and Alex stand near the grill, laughing and passing jokes while the rest of the club is gathered at the few tables set up in the shade near the back doors to the house.

Valeria spots you instantly, making her way over with a wide grin. Kyle slides his arm from your shoulders as she gets close, and she pulls you into a quick hug.

“You made it!” she cheers, taking a step back and giving you an appreciative once over. “And you look fantastic! I’m proud of you.”

“It wasn’t all me,” you say, a little shy under the praise. “Thank you for the dress, by the way.”

“Hm?” Valeria raises a brow. “Well, it is lovely, and the blue’s a nice touch, but it’s not one of mine.”

“What?”

If it wasn’t her, then…who?

You look around the yard, glancing over the rest of your friends and coworkers. They all seem busy talking, laughing, enjoying themselves.

All except for one, John Price, who’s sitting between Ghost and König, wearing a pale blue shirt to match the color of the flowers on your dress and staring at you with an intensity that sets your skin alight.

“Oh,” Valeria laughs, following your gaze.

“Explains the blue,” Kyle snickers, nudging your arm with his elbow.

You pull your eyes away from Price to smack Kyle in the chest. You’re met with laughter from the three of them, covering your face with your hands in a poor attempt to cool the heat in your cheeks.

“I hate all of you,” you grumble, their laughter growing as you head for the tables. You do your best to smile and not appear as flustered as you are, returning hellos and hugs as everyone notices you. When you reach the back table, Ghost nods in greeting while König stands to hug you. However, when he pulls away from you, he pulls out the chair he’d been sitting in and gestures for you to sit.

“You don’t have to—”

“I have to help Alex soon, anyway,” König shrugs.

“Okay, then,” you smile, taking the seat, turning to add a quick thank you before he leaves for the grill.

“You look lovely,” Price says the moment you turn back to the table. “Blue suits you.”

Ghost doesn’t speak, simply picking up his glass and sitting next to Soap at the table across from yours.

“Like this color, do you?” you ask, setting your elbows on the table to lace your fingers together and set your chin atop them, smiling at him with a raised brow.

“You could say I’m partial to it,” he shrugs casually, eyes trailing down the expanse of your leg exposed through the slit of your dress. “Especially on certain people.”

You can’t help but giggle, shaking your head as you lean back in your chair.

You take a moment to feel the warmth from the sun, cooled by the gentle summer breeze carrying a soft bite of autumn’s inevitable chill.

You don’t remember the last time you could simply enjoy a day outside.

“Thank you, by the way,” you speak up, turning to Price with a soft smile. “You didn’t have to get me a dress, but I appreciate it.”

“Not a fan of gifts?” he asks, an unusual hesitance in his voice.

“I like them. I’m just…not used to them, I guess.”

Or ones that don’t come with ulterior motives, anyway.

He stares at you for a brief second before his hand slides across the table to settle over yours with a light squeeze. “Think you better get used to it then, love. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the smug grin on Price’s face.

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of that, am I?”

“Not at all,” he laughs, and you laugh along, turning your hand over to lace your fingers through his.

You give a soft squeeze of his hand, soaking up the warmth from his hand, “Price, I—”

“Sparrow, get over here! We’re starting karaoke!” You turn as Soap yells from his table.

“In a minute!” you call back.

“Fine, but I’m pickin’ your song!”

Price chuckles next to you, releasing your hand. Disappointment swells in your chest before his hand reaches your bare knee. “Go have fun. We can talk later,” he smiles.

You nod, and he lets his hand linger a second longer before pulling away as you stand up. You adjust your dress before glancing over to Price. As soon as the idea comes to your head, you act. Setting a hand on his shoulder, you lean down to press a kiss to his cheek before whispering into his ear your promise of later.

You step away quickly, making your way over to the rest of your friends, looking back only once to catch Price’s eyes. He sends you a wink, standing from his chair to join Alex, Alejandro, and König.

You don’t know what later entails, but you’re certainly looking forward to it.

Everything changes at the beginning of autumn when you return to your motel room exhausted from an incredibly long week.

You don’t take notice of the new car that sits in the usually empty parking lot.

Or how your door doesn’t click when you turn the key.

Or that your duffel bag sits open on top of your bed, instead of under it like you’d left it that morning.

If your father had been here, he would’ve killed you being so careless, for letting your guard down so much.

But the man who’s broken into your room takes up the job for him, waiting until you reach the bathroom door to shove his way out and tackle you to the floor. You don’t get the chance to scream as your head slams into the floor, and your vision goes blurry.

You feel his weight over you as he tries to grab at your arms, words coming out of his mouth that your fuzzy brain can’t process right now. He gets frustrated, hands wrapping around your neck before they squeeze, and your neck burns.

You squirm and push, fighting back with everything you have until you can land a kick to his stomach that sends him stumbling to the side.

You roll onto your stomach, coughing and heaving and stumbling to push yourself up to your feet. You make it to your dresser before a meaty hand wraps around your ankle and yanks.

You're sent back to the ground, scrabbling to grab hold of anything you can on the dresser. Your hand catches something, and you wrap your fist around it on the way down, waiting until the man tries to climb over you again before you swing.

You make contact with him, the object in your hand causing an audible crack against his head. He falls over, and instinct takes over. You swing again, then one more time before you toss the object aside—it's the table lamp that never worked, now that you're given time to look at it—and scoot back until your back is pressed against the foot of your bed.

It takes a minute before your vision can fully focus, and you process the man lying on your floor, blood pooling out from the cracked open dent in his head.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

You don't know what else to do, going straight for your phone. Your eyes glassy, you struggle to find the contact you need and gulp down as much air as you can while it rings.

"Hello?"

I'm sorry to bother you. Please, don't be mad.

"H-Hey. I—I um—"

You can't get words around, lungs constricting too fast to get air in.

"Canary? Are you okay?"

"I don't—I don't know what—what happened. I—"

"Breathe, love. Where are you?"

"He at—he attacked me. I didn't mean to—I didn't—"

You hear conversation in the background, multiple voices.

"Are you at home?"

"I—"

"Yes or no, love."

"Y—yes."

"Stay there, okay?"

"Okay."

You don't mean to hang up, but your hands are too shaky, and you hit the end call button trying to put Price on speaker.

You don't know how long you sit there, hyperventilating as you stare at the man bleeding out on your floor. Minutes? Hours? You have no way to tell; time passes too quickly yet drags second by second.

You don't hear your door open or the soft call of your name, but you do feel the hand on your shoulder.

"No!" You try to pull away, but the person moves in front of you, and you go into full panic mode.

"Stop, it's me. It's me. It's okay. It's me, love."

Two warm hands settle on either side of your face, turning you to look forward, where you find Price on his knees in front of you, concern etched deep into his features.

"I—he tried to—"

His hands fall from your face, instead wrapping around you to pull you into him. You go easily, tucking yourself against him, against the familiar comfort as the knot swells in your throat and the dam finally breaks.

"Shh, it's okay," Price coos into your hair. "I've got you. You're safe."

Despite the circumstances, you believe him.

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