#my caps married with children | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sareeen · 20 days

Text

The charm of snow

Based on this request. :)

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Azriel surprises his wife at home and fulfils a childhood dream of her.

Warnings: fluff, mention of abuse, sweet, playful husband Azriel

Masterlist

A/N: Hope you like it! This is part 2 of Unknown Touches for a Lady, but it can be a standalone. (Here –> Part 1)

English is not my first language, sorry for any mistake! :)

—————————••••••••••••—————————

Azriel was attentive.

Y/N only really realised this when the clock struck quarter past three and the man suddenly stepped through the door with a slight, sweet smile on his face.

Y/N was lying on the sofa, almost swallowed up by one of the soft blankets, looking at her husband with a sleepy, surprised expression.

She quickly straightened and ran a hand through her hair, but winced as she caught her finger in one of the tangled strands.

She hadn't expected him, Azriel was busy with the Court's affairs, so Y/N had mostly only met him in the late hours, when thousands of stars shone in the sky. They had been married for three weeks and were still getting used to each other's closeness.

They hadn't slept together since their wedding night.

There had been a few coy kisses, a gentle peck on the cheek and a brief double-sided hug. Every night Y/N waited for Azriel to knock on the door of her bedroom, but all she heard were footsteps pausing for a second and then moving quickly on outside her door.

It was as if each time he restrained himself from knocking.

But now he stood there, his wings and muscular shoulders almost filling the doorframe. There seemed to be a restrained glint in his eyes as he spoke.

“It's snowing.”

Y/N's eyes widened and a surprised sound escaped her, then she rushed to the huge window overlooking the street and pulled the curtains.

Huge flakes of snow fell from the sky, the light wind carried them in a thousand directions, turning the landscape white.

Happy, screaming children rushed out of one of the buildings holding something in their hands – some with scarves, others with carrots.

“Shall we go outside?” asked Azriel quietly behind her. “We could go for a walk.”

Y/N's eyes watered and she sniffled, barely audible.

Ever since she was a little girl, she'd longed to see a snowfall - to feel the sensation of snow on her skin.

Two weeks ago, after a dinner, the subject came up between her and Azriel about what she would like to see of the outside world and the first thing she said was snowfall.

Her husband remembered and came straight home to get her. He's going to go with her and make her dream come true.

Warmth flooded her chest, her heart just fluttering with gratitude and happiness as she turned and nodded.

“Yes” her throat tightened with emotion as she said the words. “I really want to go outside.”

She almost flew to the rack, grabbed her coat and awkwardly wrapped her thick, fluffy scarf around her neck. She tucked her feet into the boots, but she was so scrambled that she would have fallen if Azriel hadn't caught her right arm and held her.

“Here we go, I'm ready!” she looked up at the spymaster, who grinned as Y/N blushed.

She was being too silly, she realized.

“Not yet” he shook his head serenely.

Y/N watched with furrowed brows as Azriel pulled a knitted cap from behind his back and pushed it on her head. It was so warm that within moments Y/N could feel herself beginning to sweat underneath and her hair sticking to her forehead.

“Now, you are ready”

Azriel opened the door for her and put his hand on her back to lead her out into the street.

An icy, shivering wind hit their faces and Y/N took a deep breath, letting the feeling wash over her. Her cheeks were almost tingling from the cold, but the wide grin still sat on her face.

Another first time.

She tilted her head up and closed her eyes. The tiny snowflakes found their way and caressed her cheek, and within moments melted away to leave her skin wet.

She reached out and looked at her palms, gazing at the six-pointed, star like snowflakes. They were beautiful, like tiny transparent crystals.

The touch of them left an icy, tingling sensation in her fingers, but it was all the more wonderful.

“Do you like it?” Azriel whispered in her ear as he placed a snow ball in her hand.

Y/N just stared at the ball.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Y/N asked, puzzled, and Azriel grunted.

“Throw it away” he suggested in a mischievous tone. “Maybe at him.”

Y/N looked in the direction where the shadowsinger was pointing and was stunned.

“I'm not going to throw a child!” she blurted out immediately and elbowed Azriel in the side, who laughed and dodged the hit.

The snow crunched under Y/N's boots as she took a few steps forward and in a sudden burst of excitement spun around and aimed at Azriel. Targeting the combat-skin covered chest, she pulled her arm back and swung. The snowball flew towards Azriel at high speed and then it was on target.

It hit her husband squarely in the face.

The shadowsinger was knocked backwards by the blow, while Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth in fright and turned pale.

“Cauldron” she hurried over to him and quickly brushed the snow off his handsome face, which was slightly flushed.

“I am so, so sorry, Azriel. Please don't be angry with me! I swear I was aiming for your chest.”

She felt fear flooding every inch of her body and anxiety clenched her stomach. Azriel may have been nice, but no man would tolerate being humiliated like that by his wife in the middle of the street.

When the spymaster raised his hand, Y/N hunched her shoulder and tensed in preparation for the punch, then closed her eyes.

But the pain and the sharp snap of his palm failed to register, so she gingerly peeked out from under her lashes and looked at her husband.

Azriel watched her with a frown, pity shining in his eyes. But at the same time, something ancient and destructive rage lingered in him, and Y/N winced again.

“Did you think I was going to hit you?” inquired Azriel, his voice almost lost in the howling wind.

Y/N could only manage a small nod and tried to swallow the lump in her throat that made her feel like she was choking.

“I –“ Y/N cleared her throat and blew out a shaky breath. “I would understand.”

She hung her head, eyed the tiny embroidered designs on her black boots and waited for Azriel's reaction. But he just stood there motionless, which almost drove Y/N crazy.

“Can you please say something?” she blurted out nervously.

Azriel suddenly cupped her face in both hands and forced Y/N to look up at him. Her husband's face looked as if it had been carved from stone, his beautiful features now looking sharper in the wintry landscape.

“Y/N” his thumb ran over her skin in a soft, caressing motion. Gently, so gently that Y/N's breath caught in her lungs. “Look into my eyes.”

The golden-brown gaze almost burned Y/N's face and she found it hard not to turn her head.

“I'll never hit you” Azriel declared with firm determination and promise radiated from every inch of his body. “I swear it. I will cut off my hand before I lay a hand on you. Understand?”

“Yes” Y/N whispered.

“I don't want you to be afraid of me. You are my wife and so I want you to feel safe and comfortable with me.”

Azriel pulled his knife from the sheath hanging at his side and placed it in Y/N's hand, then shook her grip. The cool, murderous steel gave her chills.

“But if anyone hurts you, kill them with this,” he murmured quietly. “And those who have laid a hand on you in the past years, I will be the one to deal with.”

Y/N couldn't even speak as Azriel leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss tasted of anger, sorrow, and promise, and it pulled her off her feet and clung to Azriel's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, his hand holding her tightly by the waist, almost devouring her.

Azriel's lips were warm on hers, his tongue begging for entrance. Y/N opened her lips and their tongues intertwined, following each other's dance sweetly.

They broke away from each other, both gasping for breath and Y/N was almost certain she was going to faint. A hotness flooded her guts and Azriel took her hand and raised it to his lips.

“Let's go, darling.”

They walked hand in hand past the rows of shops and Y/N was still dazed from the kiss and the events that had just taken place.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they had been walking for a few minutes and she could gather her thoughts.

The city was beautiful, with wreaths and red bows decorating the streets everywhere. Snow was falling heavily from the sky, making the roofs of the houses look like they had been sprinkled with icing sugar.

Azriel didn't answer, but went into one of the shops and pulled her along behind him.

The little bell above their heads rang, the heat inside hit Y/N and she inhaled the scent of cinnamon. It was a tiny, cluttered room and she tried to make out what all the wooden stuff was, leaving almost no room for a mug.

The shadowsinger picked up one of them, a very large one with a string hanging from one half, and approached the vendor to pay.

Afterwards he turned to her with a smile of such delight that she was unable not to smile back.

“Come.”

He led her to a back door and outside they found themselves at the top of a hill.

Y/N looked down at the long, snow covered ground and looked expectantly at her husband, who had set the wooden thing down and was patting the top.

“Sit on it,” Azriel commanded kindly, and Y/N immediately sat down. She had no idea what this was going to turn into.

“So we're looking at the scenery?” she asked him, but she looked around cheerfully. “I like it.”

Azriel gave a hearty laugh and sat down behind her. Her back was against his muscular, warm chest, which made her feel relaxed and she was about to nestle into his embrace when Azriel began to squirm.

He pulled his wing up so it didn't touch the snowy ground and handed Y/N the rope that connected to the front of the structure.

“Hold on!”

With that, he swung his legs into momentum and kicked away, and they started down the drop.

The breakneck speed and the snow in her face made Y/N scream, but Azriel just laughed behind her and wrapped his huge body around her. The trees blurred in her vision and her ears whistled because of the wind, but somehow she began to enjoy the rush.

There was something liberating about hurtling to the bottom of the hill, leaving all her troubles behind for a moment and just enjoying it.

“Pull the rope!” shouted Azriel, his voice deep and wonderful in her ear.

Y/N leaned back slightly, straight into her husband and tightened the rope, causing them to slow down.

Eventually the contraption they were sitting on stopped as they got down to the field and just sat there quietly for a few moments while Azriel stood up.

I've been married to a child, Y/N thought to herself in amazement, but there was a bubbling joy inside her.

The shadows surrounding Azriel crept fiercely around his ears and his eyes brightened.

“I heard that” he smiled wryly. “That's not what I remember you thinking on our wedding night.”

Y/N playfully, but laughing, nudged Azriel's leg, who began to pull her up the hill.

“What do you call this thing?” Y/N asked, laying her feet on the two long wooden planks.

“Sledge” Azriel replied and repositioned the sledge just as before. “We're sledding, Y/N”

He pulled back a little and grabbed the back of the sled. The scarred hands, tanned face and golden brown eyes evoked feelings in Y/N that she couldn't even express.

Maybe she could.

She would have loved to throw herself on him and do all the things she had done on their wedding night.

“Be careful and pull the rope like before” Azriel suggested and Y/N panicked.

“What?”

However, Azriel started to run and gave a big push, releasing the sledge, and Y/N started to race back down into the deep.

She screamed as if Azriel had sent her to her death - though that wasn't far from the truth.

She yanked on the rope, but lost her balance and fell sideways in front of the field, off the sled and rolled for a few moments, then, face down in the snow, came to a stop.

She heard the flapping of wings and Azriel's desperate voice, but her shoulder was already shaken.

He rolled her towards him and laughter burst out of her. She kept tearing and clutching her stomach, then managed to speak.

“Oh, I was so scared!” she wiped her face. “But let's do it again!”

Azriel sighed in relief, but smiled sweetly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Don't scare me like that anymore.”

They sledged until dark and Y/N's lips were almost frozen in a grin by the time they got home.

She had never been so happy in her life.

She wanted to cling to Azriel and never let go. Her heart began to beat faster when he escorted her to her room in their flat and pressed a long, honey sweet kiss to her lips.

“Azriel?” she toyed with the strands of sultry, slightly curling hair that frizzled at the top of his neck.

“Yes?” The spymaster murmured and ran his hand soothingly up and down Y/N's back.

“Thank you.”

The shadowsinger looked down at her and Y/N's legs trembled at the golden brown gaze.

“Me too” he replied, then stepped back and walked towards his own room.

Y/N sank her teeth into her bottom lip and hesitated.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?” he turned to her immediately.

It was as if the shadows had already whispered Y/N's question to him and he was just waiting for her to ask it.

Y/N looked over him, took in his muscular frame, his charming face, and felt a warmth flood over her.

“Would you like to sleep with me?”

“To sleep?” Azriel's lips twitched in amusement.

“We don't have to sleep.”

Y/N giggled as he moved towards her, gasping for air as he almost pushed her into the room with his imposing body.

The door closed behind them with a loud slam.

#acotar #acomaf #a court of thrones and roses #azriel x reader #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x you

603 notes · View notes

merlinssassybeard · 10 months

Text

'Ex' husband Gojo - The Aftermath- 02

Tags- smut, angst, cheating, TW seizures, bad mental health of reader

Synopsis- The events of the fateful night of Christmas...

The Aftermath- 01 // series masterlist

24th December, 2016

"Hey y/n! Wanna get some drinks on Christmas? If you don't have any plans! Or are you too busy for us 'poor people'! Haha!". Your friends have called and they joked.

You come from a very lower middle class family. Raised by your grandmother and elder sister(by six years) due to your parents being absent.

It was difficult, you grew up watching your grandmother working at an age where she should be enjoying life and your sister when she should be studying. You grew up knowing what's it like to have nothing.

With a decent education, you and your sister started supporting your grandmother with a decent corporate job until your sister got married to her co-worker.

It was just you, helping financially your grandmother with her medical bills while saving up enough for a decent enough wedding dress to follow your sister's path, where you marry an average man like she did, have kids, take care of your children and man and thats it.

An average life.

But you wanted more.

You prayed. Day and night for an extraordinary life, a life memorable and not like your sister's.

You wanted more from life.

And the Gods heard your prayer.

Your whole life changed when you became an essential part of Japan's prolific Aristocratic family.

The news was everywhere. Its a rags to riches, The modern Cinderella story in everyone's eyes.

It was beautiful.

It was memorable, everything you wanted..

Until it wasn't...

"Uh.. yes i am free.", it felt so different, talking to people you worked with after so long. "What's the timing?", you asked.

"25th, 7pm! At the usual place. Also y/n! Could you maybe bring your husband! I mean we would all love to meet Mr Gojo! He's so funny! Only if Mr Gojo is free that is!"

Ah yes. Mr Gojo, the funny, entertaining Mr Gojo. He has met your friends from work enough times to make an image of the grounded but arrogant, funny rich guy.

"Oh! He-he isn't home. He's quite busy. Maybe next time, i will bring him!", you managed as if there will be a next time!

"Oh(disappointed) , nevermind then. Send my regards to Mr Gojo. And you do not forget to come y/n!"

"Yeah".

You wanted to go out, outside and away from this house of memories, with Satoru, that trapped you. You wanted to breath fresh air and move on.

Move on?

How could you move on?

The fact that you were 3 months in your pregnancy after 4 years of marriage. But you failed to carry the child. You failed to maintain the marriage with the person you love. And you're talking about moving on when its just 2 months?

How cruel y/n, how cruel...

25th December, 2016 || 6.45pm

You got dressed up in a simple black turtleneck, jeans, an overcoat and knee high boots with a woolen cap on.

A thick layer of concealer was enough to hide the under eye dark circles. You put on a red lipstick and went out.

The staff stared at you, secretly though, but nonetheless they stared and judged you.

'Is Lady y/n really pregnant?' One said. "She doesn't have a bump though", other quoted. "Come to think of it, her monthly(period) hasn't arrived either. She is pregnant!".

"When's she going to announce?" One servant asked. "Maybe after Lord Satoru arrives?". "Oh! Maybe on the New Year's eve! Seems perfect timing as well.", one replied.

The servants maybe nosy but they know their places. They know, something so sensitive as the pregnancy of the great six eyes sorcerer's wife, its not their place to give the news to the family.

Generally, almost every household's staffs know about anything and everything that goes on in Gojo household. But the word, luckily, doesn't reaches to their employers most of the time.

But this time, it wasn't just some other light news from the Gojo House and the servants of other households started talking to their employers in no time...

It was already past 11.30pm.

Reunion with your office friends and straight up five bottles of your favorite vodka felt so nice that you almost forgot about all and everything that had gone wrong in your life.

You meet up with your co-workers every Christmas for the last 4 years. Sometimes Satoru would company, sometimes he wouldn't.

Talking about politics, sports and who's dating who, both in the office and among celebrities. These were mostly the topics you spent discussing while drinking.

"Hey, its almost going to be 12. I think that's it for the night guys!", one of your girlfriends announced after a slight glance at her silver wrist watch.

"Whaaat?", your speech was slurred and vision blurry after five drinks. "Isss overrr already? Whyyyy? Less get the party started.."

Everyone chuckled. "Ah y/n san had too much to drink! Now we'd have to drop her at her royal palace!", the other girlfriend smiled, a little jealous of your luxurious life.

"Whaaaaat? Less playyy! C'mon ya lot!", you continued babbling frustrated.

"I'll drop y/n. If its okay with everyone."

Out of all the twelve co-workers, one of them stood up and offered to help you reach home.

He knew none are interested in insuring you reach home safely. Everybody was just ignorant and busy to get back home to be on time for work.

He, Kenzo, always have had feelings for you. From the moment you entered the Office to present, when you're married and babbling gibberish while totally drunk.

Everyone agreed to leave you to Kenzo since it was no secret, the feelings he has and someone like him would definitely make sure you reach home safe and secure.

26th December, 2016 || 12.26 am

The group gave their farewells to each other and went on their way.

You, on the other hand, are so drunk that its impossible for you stand up without your legs wobbling and bringing you down.

Kenzo helped you and got you on the passenger seat of his car and started driving towards your 'palace'.

Your head felt heavy with all the drinks you had. You could hear voices in your head, all distorted, words lapsing onto each other.

"You did this y/n!"

"Because of you y/n your baby is dead"

"Satoru will never love you"

"All you've done since marriage is sitting on top of your husband's fortune... living the life you never had"

"Satoru's family....They were right...Everyone was right.."

"You are just a whore"

"Whore for money"

"WHORE"

You let out a scream and started twisting and turning your head and hands to stop all this annoying gibberish in your head. Your eyes closed tight shut.

Kenzo, while driving through almost an empty road, saw this and was absolutely horrified. He thought you're having seizures so he stopped his car in an empty underground parking lot that was luckily near when he saw you.

"Y/n! Y/n! Are you okay?". He grabbed your cheeks to hold you still while his other hand held forcefully onto your shaking arms. "Talk to me y/n. Talk to me!"

"Talk to me y/n"

You heard.

"Talk"

You opened your eyes, slowly letting in the artificial bright lights hit your eyes. Lips trembling. Cheeks red, tears rolling.

You felt a grasp on your cheeks and lowered your gaze to see Kenzo, worried and sweating.

You let out a sigh and without any thoughts hugged Kenzo.

He didn't know what just happened but if hugging him makes you feel better, he's okay with it. He hugged you back. Caressing your back.

All the thoughts had stopped now in your head.

You calmly pulled away from the hug and locked your eyes with Kenzo's.

He is so handsome, same age as you, has beautiful hooded eyes, his nose, his lips.

You gently brought your lips closer to his and he to yours. You both so close but so far. You wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss you.

Your lips brushed upon his and he kissed you. You put your tongue in his mouth and fought for dominance. After a few pants for air, you won, a battle you never won with your husband.

Kenzo pulled back though halfway through. You were puzzled. Didn't he want you? But then you saw him looking at your big blue and white diamond wedding ring.

Oh so thats what it is.

You quickly removed the two rings from your left hand and put the expensive rings onto dashboard. One ring being your wedding band and the other ring was an official platinum-diamond band symbolizing that you are the Gojo Clan head's wife.

In a rush you jumped sat on his lap. Fixating yourself just above his crotch, continuously rubbing your clothed groin over his. You both panted.

You unbuckled your jeans and threw them in the backseat and unzipped Kenzo's pants, about to slide in his member in you. You were so in heat he could see right through you if he'd have to be honest.

He held your wrists and stopped you from doing it...

"Y/n, we shouldn't... its not right... you're married-", he protested with his voice low.

"I decide whats right or not... so shut up and do it already", you growled at him in frustration and just put his cock in your unprepared cunt.

You were finally tainted wholly...

It hurt a lot in the beginning, doing the deed all dry, without any foreplay after so long and after your miscarriage but slowly your body adjusted.

'God! he's so small', you thought to yourself while pushing in Kenzo's 5 inches hard cock in you since for the last over 7 years you've gotten used to Gojo's 8 inches.

This lowly act of yours went on for around 2 hours. Doing it anywhere and everywhere inside the car, in all and every position.

26th December, 2016 || 4.50am

The radio was playing 'Lovely Day' by Bill Withers.

Kenzo was driving you to your house.

You were quiet. He was quiet.

The drive to your uphill estate was easy since it was early morning so the streets were traffic free. He drove his car through the beautiful posh Uphills neighborhood of Tokyo. Your house was almost there.

Each house in this posh area are mindfully distanced to provide full privacy and personal space to the owners. That is why Satoru bought his married house here.

You were looking outside the window with a cigarette between your lips and suddenly your heart skipped a beat, eyes widened, forehead sweating when you saw your husband's black Audi sedan parked in the driveway...

You gulped when the car stopped outside the Gojo Estate's premises.

Door opened, left foot out and you got out. Before entering the gates of your premises, you leaned down a little to look at an equally annoyed Kenzo.

You both didn't share any words or any final looks and he just drove his car as soon as you got off.

He knew what he had done was crossing the line and beyond. It was so unethical to sleep with a married woman, doesn't matter if you were his crush once or not.

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Well technically y/n you are separated and will be divorced soon. So its not cheating. Technically?" Your head convinced you in case when you'd be caught you'll have an argument ready.

You started walking through the cobblestone walkway, a little nervous... Actually, truth be told, you are scared of seeing Satoru. Finding you in your current state at this late hour.

You took one last big puff and then crushed the cigarette with your boots.

You rang the bell once, twice. You started thinking maybe its not Satoru but its Mr Ijichi. Yeah! He's busy anyway.

The door opened just as you were about to ring the third time and all your fears came true...

Satoru Gojo opened the door.

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen @sweet-almond @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0peful @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha @dummyf @Noblog @Littledemoness15 @shaiah @iluv-ace @mmeerraa @angellyah @0bakuzan @waxhers @chanelmalandro @shoutobrainrot @angrydaughter @Screw-aebi@asdfghjkl7things @kodzukenwhore @gabile18 @bollockswhy @pelicanpizza @electro-supremacy @Zatannaswifeblog@spam-and-eggs @guenievresworld @b0scuit@aliventboo @marit332 @ieathairs @hells-escapees @no-name222

Aplogies, tags are CLOSED

711 notes · View notes

babybluebex · 9 months

Text

rememories | tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: the lee family trashed your betting room, including your most prized possessions, and tommy does everything in his power to soothe you and right the wrongs that the rival gang caused. pairing: tommy shelby (peaky blinders) x fem!reader tags: s1!tommy, tommy being a sweetheart, your daughter's name is thomasine (thanks @lost-in-sokovia for that one), no real warnings for this other than like angst? brief emotional distress? idk author's note: it's come to this lol. i'll be fixing my cillian masterlist later and reblogging it, so y'all can read all of my old tommy fics (and a few other cillian characters lmao) but i hope you enjoy this one!

The backroom was in total disrepair. Chairs were tipped over, things were thrown from tables, coins scattered everywhere and marks of bludgeonings on the walls. The poor little room was merely a shell of itself, its personality and life battered away. You could still hear your husband’s jaded laughter as he made fun of John for wanting to marry Lizzie Stark, but mere minutes ago now seemed like a lifetime away.

Scudboat sat as Arthur poured him whisky, and he explained how the Lees, “the whole lot of ‘em”, came in and destroyed the betting backroom. He was ambushed, he said, or he would have done a better job defending it. You held Tommy’s hands as fear made your own shake, and your husband sighed. “Find what can be salvaged,” he said, narrowly missing John’s angry fit as he kicked a box over. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“This is terrible,” you sniffled, and Tommy extracted his handkerchief for you. It was one that you had bought for him right after you had gotten married and just before he went to war, and you were always amazed that the silky cloth made it as far as it did. You dabbed at your eyes, scowling at your dark makeup that came off, and your heart beat fiercely against your ribcage for a moment. “The children. Was Finn here for this, Scudboat? Or Thomasine?”

“Nah,” he said. “Finn was off in town; Thomasine ain’t come home from school yet.”

“Oh, Tommy, they can’t see the house like this!” you whimpered and clutched your husband’s arm. “It’ll upset Thomasine too much. I’ll fetch her from school and keep her away from the house for a while until this is mostly fixed.”

Tommy nodded wordlessly in agreement, and he began to take off his cap, but he quickly stopped. He was fixated on something on the floor at his feet, and you looked down to match his gaze, only to be greeted with the big leather book that held your most prized possessions: your photographs. You kept the album in the betting room because it was always filled with people, witnesses in case something happened, and, really, who would want to ruin Tommy Shelby’s wife’s photographs?

Your knees crunched on glass as you lowered yourself to the album, and you took it in your shaking hands. The dark green leather was stained black with spilled ink and oil, obscuring your gold-foiled name on the spine, and you opened the book with a creak of the old pages. You didn’t want to have to assess the damage, but the first page already had you weeping pathetically again. The first photograph, the first one ever taken of you and Tommy, sitting and laughing together as Ada tried out her new camera, years and years ago at fifteen and thirteen. It was gone. The page was yellowed all around where the photograph should be, but the picture itself was gone. You wanted to throw the book across the room and scream; you weren’t concerned with material things, many girls from Small Heath were the same way, but those photographs were your pride and joy. The next page was a formal picture taken of Tommy wearing his Army uniform, his lanky seventeen-year-old build a little too small for the uniform that he would grow into. The corner of the photograph was torn but, thankfully, mostly intact.

The third page made you press the book to your chest. Your wedding photographs. You and Tommy had gotten married quickly, two days before he had to go to France, and, in your haste, you hadn’t been able to afford much. You could only afford a single copy of each photograph: one of you in your Sunday best that was your wedding dress, one of Tommy in his uniform, and one of you together. All three photographs were torn to shreds, settled in the spine of the book, waiting for you to find them. Those wedding photographs were the most important thing in the world to you, and now they were gone. Not even pasting glue could fix it. “Tom!” you sobbed, pressing the back of your wrist to your mouth. “O-Our wedding photographs! Th-They’re all ripped up!”

Your husband’s attention went from Scudboat to you, and he walked over to you and knelt down next to you. He took the small bits of photographs in his fingers, examining them intently, and he sighed heavily. “Fuck, love,” he whispered, and your sobs grew heavy. If Tommy was resigned to fate, then there was no chance of them being fixed. “I’m sorry.”

“We-We don’t have any extras, do we?” you stuttered. Your mouth felt dry as your fingers tried to match the ripped edges of photographs up, but they were too far gone. “Tom, d-do we have any others? Th-These aren’t the only ones we have, right?”

Tommy sat down next to you and put an arm around you, and he watched you frantically sob for just a second more before he used his strength to pull you into his chest. The photo album fell out of your hands, and you clutched your husband as you wailed in sorrow. Your wedding photos were gone.

“Mummy?” you heard a little voice call from the doorway, and you turned to see your wee daughter, Miss Thomasine Sophia Shelby, standing at the door. She was holding her school books in her arms, the pink ribbon in her hair coming loose. Thomasine was born just after Tommy come home from France, five years ago, and she looked like a Shelby, dark hair and bright eyes, but she had her father’s smile. “Mummy, why’re you crying?”

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, not caring that you streaked your makeup to hell and back, and you mumbled, “People came into the house, did us over. I-I’m just sad, that’s all.” You didn’t want to worry your daughter with the real reason why you were so upset, because, truly, you felt silly for being so distraught at fucking photographs. It felt ridiculous for you, as a grown woman, a mother, to be crying over photographs.

Thomasine ran to you and sat her small body in your lap, and she wrapped her small arms around you. “Don’t be sad,” Thomasine told you, and you laughed humorlessly. “It’s okay, Mummy.”

You sniffled and soothed your hand down Thomasine’s hair— the ends of her long hair were turning a little ginger, just the same as her father’s tended to do in the sun— and you kissed her forehead. “Thank you, love,” you whispered. “Hug your father, he’s sad too.”

Thomasine crawled out of your lap and into Tommy’s, and Thomasine started to suck her thumb as Tommy stood up and settled his daughter firmly on his hip. He offered you a hand to stand up, and you sniffled as you gathered the soiled photo album up in your grip and stood up on your own. “If you find any of ‘em,” Tommy called to the room, and he gestured to the album in your arms. “Bring ‘em to her, don’t waste time. Yeah?”

You hardly slept that night. After securing the house and making sure that there wasn’t any other part of it that the Lees had touched, you had tried to go about your life normally, but it was difficult to pretend like you didn’t know that, at any time, rivals could enter your home and slaughter every last one of you. You put Thomasine to bed after dinner, and your girl fell asleep quickly, but you yourself were awake for hours. Tommy had taken your photo album and put it away in his wardrobe; “If you keep it, you’ll fret over it forever.” He was right, of course, because, when the sun came up, you had tugged it out and was trying to sort through the scraps of photographs on your bedroom floor. The room was cold and part of you wished that you could be in bed, holding your husband close, but you needed to do it for yourself. You had managed to salvage a single photograph by the time Tommy was blinking himself awake, and you sniffled as you beckoned him over. “Tommy, look!” you exclaimed. “I-It’s Thomasine!”

“Jesus, woman,” Tommy sighed groggily. “Have you been at this all night?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Her baby picture, look!”

Tommy reached down for you and he took your hand, and he helped you stand up, his hands going to hold your cheeks. “I know you’re having a hard time with this,” he whispered. “But obsessing over it is only going to make it worse. They’re as good as gone, darling.”

“B-But—” you sniffled, and Tommy shook his head.

“You have to let it go,” He told you firmly. “Come back to bed, you don’t have to be awake for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy,” you sighed, shuffling back up to bed. Your joints hurt from sitting on the floor practically all night, and your vision watered up as you watched Tommy gather up the album and photograph scraps and set them back in his wardrobe. “What am I going to do? All of my favorite memories are lost.”

“You still have the memories in your head, love,” Tommy told you, sitting next to you. You leaned into him and pressed your cheek to his warm chest, and you sniffled as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I just…” you mumbled. “Our wedding pictures is the thing I’m most upset about. We were so young, and that was before everything went to shit, and we were so happy…”

“We’re still happy,” Tommy assured you. “We’re happier now, because we have Thomasine. We’re a complete family now.”

“You know what I mean,” you said. “We were poor kids, and-and looking at those pictures gave me hope that you’d come home when you were in France. They were my lifeline for a long time, and to have them ruined like this…”

Tommy’s lips formed into a thin line, and he rubbed your back comfortingly as you finally laid down and tried to settle into sleep. Your sleep was thin, hardly even deep enough to call proper sleep, but you finally woke up and got out of bed when you heard shouting down in the bottom of the house. You were used to that, but you still felt like you ought to make sure everything was alright, so you pulled yourself from bed and went about groggily getting ready for the day, slipping on a dress and spraying on perfume before descending the stairs.

The noise seemed to be coming from the back room, the ruined betting room, and you carefully pushed back the plush curtains and opened the doors to see a sight. Your eyes first landed on your husband, dressed in his old uniform. It certainly looked too small for him, tugging a little at his chest, but you clenched your teeth together at the sight. How long has it been since you saw him in the pea-soup-green uniform? Five years, at least. “Tommy,” you said softly. You couldn’t help yourself from stepping closer to him as his head snapped to look at you, and his hard gaze softened in the way it always did when he saw you. He never subjected you to his steely gaze, and, whenever you saw it, it always reminded you of what a feared man he was.

“Fuck, love, what’re you doing down here?” Tommy asked. “You’re supposed to be asleep still.”

“Heard shouting,” you said softly. The other men were bustling around the room as you smoothed your hands up Tommy’s chest, and your eyes went all watery again. “This isn’t happening, please, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked. “Talk to me, darling, what’s the matter?”

“How long have you known?” you asked, sniffling. “Leaving us like this, how could you?”

“What?”

“The uniform, Tommy!” you cried. “You’re being called to the war again, why else would you have this shit on?”

Tommy grabbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, and he angled your head to the side. Arthur stood there, behind a massive camera, angled at a blank space on the wall, and your breath caught in your throat. “What is this?” you asked.

“I’m not being called back,” Tommy explained. “I got to thinking about our wedding pictures, and I went to see the photographer who made them. He said the film was too old and that they couldn’t make you new copies, so the next best thing was to retake them.”

“Oh?” you asked. You sniffled and wiped your nose, and you gently reached out to touch the camera. “We… We’re retaking our wedding pictures?”

“With a few adjustments,” Tommy said. “Back then, I couldn’t afford to even get you so much as a bouquet, but now… Well, I took your measurements to a dress shop, and even though the dress was pre-made and only adjusted to you…”

“Tommy?” you whimpered.

“I got you a wedding dress, love,” Tommy told you. “Better than the flour-bag Sunday best that you had on.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, and you sobbed once before flying to your husband and crushing him in a hug. “Oh, Tommy!” you cried. “Thank you! Can I see it?”

“Pol’s got it in the kitchen,” Tommy told you. “Go put it on, why don’t you let me see it?”

The dress was beautiful. Eggshell-colored silk that fell below your knees with long sleeves and deep neckline, very fashionable and pretty, and it fit you like a glove as Polly helped you into it. She primped you a little, fixing your hair and patting red rouge onto your lips, and she upturned a vase next to the stove and handed you the bouquet of wildflowers that Thomasine had picked a few days earlier. You felt timid and almost nervous as Polly escorted you back to the betting room, and you cleared your throat once you passed the threshold, afraid that, if you spoke, your voice would give up on you.

Tommy looked to you in an instant, and he gave you a small smile as he stepped towards you. “Aren’t you a sight?” he said in his rumbling timbre, putting his hands on your hips, and he kissed your lips for a moment before he added, “Thomasine might get a brother before the day’s over, if you keep looking that beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggled, and he steered you in front of the camera as you smoothed down your dress. You were suddenly nervous, and you clutched Tommy’s hand as Arthur cranked the camera, preparing it to go off. “Tom?”

“M’right here, pet,” Tommy said, squeezing your hand. “Just smile; everything will be fine.”

By the time night fell, you had a whole slew of new film, new pictures to replace the ruined ones. Recreations of your wedding pictures, an updated picture of a smiling Thomasine, even one of Tommy kissing you when the camera went off on accident. Thomasine was tangled in your skirts then, gazing up at her daddy, and you looked at the film as you sat by the fire that night, smiling and admiring it. That was your favorite memory; you, your husband, and your daughter, smiling, laughing, loving. It was perfect.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillain murphy x you

714 notes · View notes

lizzaneia-elizalde · 6 months

Text

Lizzaneia's Grimoire of Yandere Men

Here's a masterlist of my yanderes! It will be updated regularly whenever a prompt or fic will be posted.

Edit (April 2): REQUESTS ARE CLOSED! But if you have simple asks, then ask away! Chatting is also open. I am quite overwhelmed with the number of requests and asks that warrants a fic, so I need a bit of break first hehe.

RULES FOR REQUESTING: Here

YANDERE MEN SECOND SET : HERE

(I separated the second set since the photo got capped already ^^)

ALL YANDERE MEN SET 1

RANKING REQ: The yanderes as fathers

SCENARIO REQ: The Yanderes with their yandere children

RANKING REQ: The yanderes and your period

SCENARIO REQ: The yanderes and their dream date

SCENARIO REQ: The yanderes and their Choice of Outfit for You

SCENARIO REQ: The Yanderes and their Darling's lonely birthday

ALL YANDERE OC ASKS AND WRITER ASKS

Top 3 yandere men (my OCs) when it comes to jealousy

ask: How would I define yandere?

Which OCs inherited their yandere-ness/Has yandere-ness in their genes?

My top 3 yanderes

YANDERE VERSION OF FANDOM CHARACTERS

Yandere! Neuvillette (Genshin)

Yandere! Solomon (Obey Me)

yandere! Artist Arlen

main fic

yandere! artist and his muse

Yandere! Dragon Vincent

main fic

Req: Yandere tidbits: flying

Yandere! Theater Actor Ignatius

main fic

ask: Soooo does this mean Ignatius got roleplay k!nk??

What if: reader is an otaku?

Yandere! Butler Zero

main fic

Yandere! Sugar Daddy Rowan

main fic

ask: Rowan can spoil me anytime :)

ask: Just read yandere sugar daddy AND GOD!! Plz do part 2. I want to see them dating🫣

REQ: Yandere! Jock Damon

main fic (also had voice headcannons for the previous yan men)

Req: WHAT IF: Reader is a black belter in martial arts?

Ask: what if the reader doesn't like Damon's himbo personality?

Ask: What if Damon drops his facade?

Req: ask of a What if: Black belter reader met somebody else in the promotional test?

Req: Yandere tidbit: achievements

What if: darling posts a thirst trap?

Req: Yandere tidbit: Reward system

REQ: Yandere! Assassin Azrael

main fic

req:yandere! Assassin and his conglomerate girlfriend

ask: oh. hm.. so. Azrael right? So he gonna tear us down eh?-- What would happen next 🤡?

ask: I'm actually scared for yan!assassin mc.......

Yandere! Ex-boyfriend Lee

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: Reader is now a husk?

Req: WHAT IF: Reader knows how to protect themselves?

Yandere! Cowboy Knoxx

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: Darling goes back to the city?

Req: WHAT IF: The reader goes back to the city, but this time with Knoxx?

Req: What if of a WHAT IF: Reader becomes a broken husk after the baby trapping?

Yandere! Emo Ashton

main fic

req: Yandere! Emo and his beloved popular bitch

REQ: Yandere! Werewolf Lyall

main fic

Req: Yandere tidbit: Knitting

Yandere! Ex-husband Iñigo

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: You refused to marry him?

REQ: Yandere! hospital chairperson Xavier

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: Darling got sick?

REQ: Yandere! Villain Eros

main fic

ask: Darling avoids Eros turned Part 2

REQ: Yandere! Politician Maximus

main fic

REQ: Yandere! Mafia boss Hades

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: Reader is a rebel type?

Req: WHAT IF: Reader is "cheating"?

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

299 notes · View notes

calisources · 28 days

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

All sentences has been taken from different media and soruces about life in the royal court, involving the introgue of succession, war, marriage, kings and queens and tournaments. Most of this are acceptable for all audience except one with some foul language. Chance names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.

You don't know a woman until you've met her in court.

A queen keeps a court that is spoken about. A goddess keeps a court that is never forgotten.

And you, lady? Are you a woman of conscience or of ambition?

That's a question rarely asked here at court.

Court games aren't fair. They don't judge men by their worth, and they aren't about what's just.

We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would make us believe .

Either you break the law, or the law breaks you.

There is no playacting in this court. If you stay your hand, they will cut it off.

Power does not pardon, power punishes.

Listen! The court jester's cap and bells. The King is coming!

He was a man with a vision- and an extraordinary vision it was.

The cat who lived in the Palace had been awarded the head-dress of nobility and was called Lady Myobu.

In every reign there comes one night of greatest blackness, when a King must send away his court of flatterers and servants, and sit alone in the dark with the beast called truth.

It is important to refuse to be intimidated.

They all come innocent in court.

Is that how you get propositioned at the court? 'Mylady, would you be so kind as to allow me to put my manhood in your vagina'?

They used to say that, in a battle between the lion and the tiger, the winner was the monkey, who watched from a distance.

Men love those creatures that need to be taken care of.

If you want to tame a lioness you need to become a lion, not a goat.

A doe is easier to keep.

The woman did not care for empty compliments; to get such a woman, one needed to put forth effort.

I’m a terrible prince. I should put my kingdom first and everything else second, but your first. I want you by my side every second . . .

Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia.

She calls herself the Queen of Narnia thought she has no right to be queen at all.

Plenty of people have told me you are not my father.

It is necessary for a prince to have the people friendly.”

Royalty is not a right, Captain. The willingness of the people to follow a ruler is what gives her power.

Here, in this place, by this people, I have been chosen.

These men are tired of being told whom to follow. Now they have a choice, and they use that choice to call me Princess.

I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics.

A prince ought also to show himself a patron of ability, and to honour the proficient in every art.

You should never have been only a little girl, you should have always been a crown princess.

You knew you would be sending me away?

A born king is a very rare being.

The world will need to know that I’m the last royal left. Their queen.

There’s royalty in me, but stronger than that there is adventure.

My life is the Crown and yours is politics, and I will not trade one prison for another.

Dignity is trained into royal children before they can toddle.

The first year of marriage is not always easy, especially within the Royal Family.

The real intelligence in the royal family comes through my parents .

The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind.

The royal road to a man's heart is to talk to him about the things he treasures most.

The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.

The winner will marry the prince.

You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.

That is acceptable. A king is a martyr to their ideals.

f I rule the nation as king, I cannot ask to live as a person.

A wise king never seeks out war, but... he must always be ready for it.

All men need something greater than themselves to look up to and worship. They must be able to touch the divine here on earth

I am the First Imperial Princess of the Misurugi Empire!

You can tell she's a princess, she doesn't need a crown.

You, sir, are the most uncharming prince I have ever met! In fact, the only thing royal about you is that you are a royal pain.

No one ever told her "no."

In no time at flat, she'll get herself established as his official mistress, with her own rooms at the palace.

These men are my bodyguards, their lives forfeit to the guarantee of my physical safety. Of their loyalty to me, there shall be no question nor doubt.

Some balls are held for charity And some for fancy dress, But when they're held for pleasure They're the balls that I like best.

Be careful of what women with gowns plan, specially in a ballroom.

The art of husband seeking is something every woman has been trained since birth.

Many wives and consorts, of course.

Who is to rule when I am gone? You are a princess. I have no son.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Did I not mention there was another?

A king must always have an heir and a spare.

He was born to be a king... He rules men just by breathing. When he walks into a room, he commands it. People love him.

Two knights off to rescue a princess. Sounds like a great song.

As the king's brother, you should've been first in line!

I was first in line. Until the little hairball was born.

That "hairball" is my son, and your future king.

My parents were... rather traditional. They wanted the heir and the spare, and I was left in the cold.

It cannot be easy being the youngest prince. To have others expect nothing from you, yet still shake their heads in disapproval.

If my uncle attacks King's Landing I'll ride out to meet him.

You are in need of serious princess lessons.

You're the new ruler of Mechanicsburg. You need to act like it.

Every princess needs a battle axe. Here. Use this one until we find you something more impressive.

You know what they used to write on cannons? The last argument of kings. I guess you could say magic is the last argument of queens.

A tournament has been arranged in your name, so you must attend and make yourself presentable.

They hope to find me a husband here. They said I am already a woman bled.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #royal scheme #royal concept #royal court

120 notes · View notes

unhelpfulfemme · 1 year

Text

Okay, so you know how Barrayar is full of stories of evil mutants kidnapping innocent Vor maidens, just like we IRL have a bunch of story templates exploiting our societal fears of some exoticized evil Other stealing our women?

And you know how modern romance/erotica takes those stories and turns them into erotic fantasies? Like, women have been going mad over The Phantom of the Opera for centuries, we've had stories about innocent maidens being forced into arranged marriages with big dick sheikhs and Middle Eastern princes for decades, and in the past decade or so both monster romance and villain romance have become completely mainstream staples of the genre?

And you know how Miles allegedly killing Tien so he could court Ekaterin was Vorbarr Sultana's Scandal of the Year for a short while, before the whole affair was capped by Ekaterin's very memorable and very public proposal?

Now, imagine some repressed Vor housewives hearing about it and thinking, in a similar vein to what Mark thought, "NGL, that's kinda hot. I always did have those fantasies where I was ravished by the villain, and I really do sometimes wish my boring sexist husband were dead." Because now that they've caught up on galactic genetics the actual fear of mutant children is kinda low among the bored upper class housewives who can afford gene cleaning, so it's the perfectly zeitgeisty moment to exoticize and objectify the mutants instead.

So one of said bored housewives decides to anonymously write a pulpy gothic-esque dark romance/erotica novel about it. Except obviously the scrawny short guy doesn't make for an appealing romantic hero, so she makes him a Taura-esque tall, massively ripped fellow who growls all his lines a là ACOTAR's Rhysand and conveniently makes all his mutations sexy in the vein of, like, A/B/O novels or Ice Planet Barbarians.

Imagine "Ravished by the Billionaire Secret Agent Mutant Count" slowly becoming popular among the ladies and the main cast learning about it, Miles lamenting about it having come out now when he's happily married and not when he was fifteen and desperate to get laid, Ivan suddenly gaining a lot more traction with the girls because they've caught onto the real life inspiration for the novel and are wondering if the Big Dick Mutation comes from Ivan's side of the family, Cordelia shamelessly reading it at dinner (she's the only person who's read it without wrapping the cover) and annoyedly pointing out the biological inaccuracies as Aral begs her to stop, Mark seeing the opportunity for a cash grab and buying the holodrama rights...

#vorkosigan saga #miles naismith vorkosigan #ekaterin vorsoisson #vorkosigan #mark pierre vorkosigan #cordelia naismith vorkosigan #aral vorkosigan #ivan vorpatril

652 notes · View notes

zwolfgames · 20 days

Text

|Mistakes|Platonic Yandere Alastor x fem!reader

Requested: /

Warnings: Violence, manipulation, Alastor

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (You are here)

"Come, sit. We still have some hours to pass."

You nod simply and sit politely on the summoned couch.

The Radio demon sitting at a not so comfrotable distance. Checking out your jellyfish cap from above.

"So tell me, my dear. How does one die and turn into a jellyfish? I'm so curious." Alastor hums in that slightly condescending manner.

"Burned at the stake."

You answer as un-emotionally as you could. It's been a long time since your death after all.... No use being upset about it now.

Alastor freezes for a moment, smile stiffening. "What was that now?"

"Burned, at the stake, like as a witch." You subtly glance at him.

Alastor seems just a tad bit caught of guard by that. Wich was strange... Nobody is meant to surpise the Radio Demon.

"Do explain, we have all the time." Alastor muses, now totally intrested in what tale you're about to tell.

"It's long ago, so I'll spare you the details-"

"I want the details."

..."Alright..." You began, recalling your life on earth... In unfortunate times. You told him the tale of your adulthood, when you had been married off by your parents to a richer man, as was standard.

You had never truly wanted a lover, for your own reasons. So when your husband had eventually gotten in his head that it was time for children, he may have come off too forcefull, you may have gotten scared...And he may he landed himself in the fireplace.

Perhaps it's ironic that you both died in the same, burned.

Alastor sat silently, listening to your every word as if it were gospel. He was incredibly intrigued at the vague mention of your unneed for romance.

He found you two more similar by the minute.

Thrid mistake: Romace is moronic, yes.

"You don't deserve to be here." Alastor speaks up after he let your story sink in for a moment. You freeze at the words, taking them more hostile then he meant.

"Excuse me?" You blink in confusion, not wanting to sound offended.

"You're excused..." Alastor smirks.

"No, I mean in hell. You barely did anything wrong... Just one murder? To save yourself? Come on now, you're a saint compared to the demons I know. Perhaps that's why you're so enticing." He leans to you to look into your eyes trough your deadly veil of tendrils.

"Its still a sin." You frown. It's obvious that the demons restraining himself from unescesailry touching you.

"Y/N, wouldn't you like to live in a safer area? Not one where your appartement may fall appart?" Alastor tilts his head, red and black hair bobbing to the side.

"I uhm... can't afford that?" You mention awkardly.

"What about, you come live in my territory, free of charge. All I want from you, is your compagnionship." Alastor smirks further."If this is a deal, then no thank you- respectfully." You begin.

Alastor halts you with a hand raised."No deal, just a little promise between friends."

You look into his eyes for a moment.

They don't give away anything in the slightest...

It's like you're being urged to agree.

Your appartement was in ruins..

He wasn't that bad to hang out with...

It couldn't be that bad, could it? It would be safe....

"I'll... do it? Pinky promise." You say unsurely.

Alastor visibly brightens as you stick your hand out from under your stinging veil, to pinky promise.

"It's a promise."

The rest of extermination had gone by quickly, Alastor and you had just talked more, he shared some of his own answer, wich he insisted were rare to hear.

When the battle of angels was finally over, the ruckus outside stopped and Alastor just... dissapeared, saying he had to get your residence ready.

You honestly just tought he had changed his mind and left you in your still blocked off appartement to starve.

So, as any logical person, you started making your way out, trying to get trough the rubble to get to your window, because you knew damm well that the hall way was totally ruined too.

After too much trouble then it should have been worth, you made it to the window and climbed out like worlds most inexperienced firefighter.

Landing safely on the yucky streets of hell, you took some steps back to take in your ruined appartement, years of work, gone!

You take just a moment to feel bad about everything before walking down the sidewalk to go think about what you'd do now.

It's a shame you only got half an hour to yourself before an all too expressive Radio demon appeared behind you. Quickly halting your walk with a black tentacle before you on the sidewalk.

"Why were you not in your appartement?" Alastor smiles, tough he hoped you didn't notice his little twitching eyelid or the way his sharp fingers were twitching occasionally.

"I was scared it would collapse." You explain calmly. The radio demon can't help but feel like he isn't fully in control here because of your stupid tendrils.

"It wasn't going to, my dear." Alastor reassures and tries and fails to find a way to lead you away by the shoulder.

"Well I didn't know that..." You frown slightly. Alastor falters and bends down to meet your eye again.

"Turn that frown upside down, dear. You're never fully dressed without a smile." Alastor motion to his own sharp toothed smile.

You give in and force a smile upon your face.

The Radio demon is almost offended at your fake little smile. But no matter, he'd make you smile genuingly soon. He did get you a nice house to live in, after all.

If he can't get your soul then the next best thing might aswell be having you as close as possible. In his territory. In a safe place.

Untill he figured out how to cut of those tendrils...

The next weeks went by smoothly. You had moved into the house you were promised and Alastor never failed to visit you daily.

Why he kept on his intrest, you didn't know, there wasn't anything to gain from you.

But well, you suppose overlords had diffrent plans..?

And they did... have very diffrent plans.

Like keeping a wonderfull compagnion such as yourself.

Eeveryday, Alastor got closer to finding a way to keep you, to cut off those pesky tendrils and just have his now dubbed 'friend' with him.

Surely you wouldn't mind. You wouldn't need those stingers anymore when he's here to protect you. And there's no reason to be scared of him since you both know he'd never touch you inappropriately.

Just all the time...And that forever.It's okay to hold your 'friends' isn't it? Especially if they're as cute as you...

Wich is why you found yourself in the middle of a tea party.

Your life had been peaceful and easy ever since Alastor let you live in his territory.

Altough it seemed as if none of the other residents wanted anything to do with you, you managed.

You had Alastor to keep you compagny.Just like today.Just a tea party.

The Radio demon took a sip of the tea you prepared.

You did the same.

He stopped.

You didn't.

And in one swift swoop, you found yourself wacked agaisnt the wall like a ragdoll. In complete confusion.

Seeing as nothing was supposed to even be able to touch you. No less harm you like this.

So with the pain tolerance of a toddler you slumped to the ground in pain. Clicking of shoes stopping right before you.

"You'll be fine, my darling." Alastor reassures as he looks down at you.

You gasp for air and get met with another hit. Onto the ground you fully went.

A painfull thud was felt against your head and you were out like a light.

Much to the Radio demons amusement.

You even looked peacefull, beaten up on the floor.

It was eternal.

And now it was his.

This sinner.

This sight.

All his.

_____☆_____

Yo, I made the thing. I don't know.

Also on Wattpad

Lol.

Have a nice day/night.

Requests are open as always.

Words: 3565

Tag list: @ceramic-raven , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @ellaprime7 , @ratchetprime211

#yandere #xreader #oneshots #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #alastor #hazbin hotel #yandere alastor #platonic yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel imagines

118 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

Text

Someone Like You

Pairing: Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) x f!reader Warnings: Mild angst, handjob, smut. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: The Halcyon is hosting its Christmas Eve party for its guests, and her and Billy are both feeling the pressure of being rushed off their feet. They find a moment of respite alone together.

Author's note: A part two of my first Smuffmas entry. Day eleven of the Smuffmas prompts - "a fancy party and praising". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It has been twelve days since her and Billy had decorated the staff sitting room. Twelve long, miserable days since she had last felt his lips upon hers and the way he’d rutted against her, not that she’s counting. They have scarcely had a chance to see each other in the lead up to Christmas. Beyond shy smiles and blushes exchanged in passing, they’ve had no other interaction. But that’s not for lack of wanting to or trying. The mistletoe she’d rescued has remained in her apron pocket, primed for an opportune moment.

December is always the busiest time of year for the hotel. People want to celebrate in style, and so they check in to the Halcyon to be waited on hand and foot. She’s not sure what it is about Christmas that drives people to make the most outlandish demands of the staff, but it has stolen away her festive cheer. She is exhausted.

It’s Christmas Eve and the day has been spent preparing for the annual party they host for the guests who will be staying with them on the big day itself. On top of turning down rooms, and helping the kitchen staff to prepare food, she’s now expected to serve drinks at the party itself.

The staff who are married with children have been given Christmas off to spend with their families, so The Halcyon is operating on a skeleton crew of the young and the single, her and Billy are unlucky enough to find themselves among them.

She weaves her way through the bar, abuzz with the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses. Every surface seems to glitter with decorations, amplified by the muted lighting of the lamps that adorn the centre of each table.

Nodding and smiling politely each time a guest relieves her of a saucer of champagne that rests on the heavy tray she carries around the room, she breathes a withering sigh once it’s finally empty. Her feet ache with how many passes she’s made around the crowded space, yet there’s no time to rest. She has to collect the empties and take them back to the kitchen to be washed, so that they can be refilled anew by the bar staff. It seems never ending.

Doing a quick scan of the bar, she can see that Kate and Feldman are circling the room with drinks and canapés, so she’ll be fine to leave for a little while to wash up some glasses. The food prep has already been done, so the kitchen is empty, save for the staff going in to refresh plates and glassware.

The empties rattle precariously against each other on her tray as she walks carefully back to the kitchen, her burden suddenly seeming not quite so great as she spots Billy doing exactly the same thing. He’s clad in his usual bellboy uniform, though is without his cap, a means to help him blend in with the rest of the serving staff.

He pushes his tray onto the draining board next to the sink, and a glass wobbles, toppling off and shattering loudly against the hard linoleum of the kitchen floor.

“Ah– shit!” He grumbles, kneeling to pick up the pieces.

She quickly deposits her own tray onto the food prep table and kneels to help him.

“It’s okay, Billy, it’s just a glass,” she reassures him, picking up some of the larger shards and depositing them into the bin beneath the sink.

“I know, I know,” he replies with a sigh, “but I can’t seem to get anything right today.”

“How do you mean?” She asks, righting herself and brushing her hands on her skirt as he reaches for a dustpan and brush to sweep up the rest of the mess.

“Spilled champagne all down a lady’s frock just now, broke a glass,” his brow furrows as he brushes the broken pieces into the pan and empties it into the bin. “Brought the wrong luggage to the wrong room earlier too.”

She watches as he stands again, chucking the dustpan and brush to one side, and she offers him a sympathetic smile. “It’s our busiest time of year, everyone makes mistakes. I forgot to fold the toilet paper into a point in the Royal Suite earlier, and Mrs. Garland gave me a right earful.”

He tugs awkwardly at the bottom of his bellboy uniform, his mouth turned downwards, as is his gaze. “Yeah…but…I’m gonna be drafted next year. If I can’t get this job right, how am I gonna manage to defend our country? I’m useless.”

Her brows pinch together in concern, stepping forward to gently cup Billy’s cheek. It’s soft and warm against her palm, growing warmer still beneath her touch. “Oi, don’t talk like that. You’re doing a fine job. And you’re so brave, I know I’ll feel safer having you protecting us all.”

His blue eyes flit up to meet hers, wide and filled with uncertainty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Billy, I think you’re wonderful.”

He huffs a soft chuckle, turning pink as he pulls away slightly, lips pressed into a tight smile. “I dunno about that…”

“Well, I do,” she reaches into her apron pocket, pulling out the mistletoe she’s kept stashed there since their first kiss. “See? I’ve been saving this in the hopes we’d use it again.”

Billy visibly softens, shoulders pulling away from his ears, and he steps towards her, hands gripping her waist as he presses his lips to hers. It’s a slow, soft, lingering kiss that they hold for a few moments, before he reluctantly breaks away. It sets her pulse racing and she wraps both her arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Anyone could walk in,” he whispers, his eyes searching her face uncertainly.

“They won’t though. They’re all busy.”

She kisses him again, and this time they are both more eager as he backs her up against the sink. She smiles into it, the mistletoe she’d been holding absentmindedly falling from her fingers and onto the floor behind them.

His excitement grows more apparent as he presses against her, and she drops an arm down between them to palm at him through his grey trousers.

He groans, pressing his forehead against hers. “We shouldn’t…”

“But you want to?”

“God…yes…yes!”

His voice is a strained whisper, causing excitement to flutter hotly in her lower belly. She uses both hands to unbuckle his belt, before unzipping his trousers and snaking her fingers into his underwear to wrap around his hardened length.

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. Though she’d felt it as he’d ground against her the first time they’d kissed, it’s another thing entirely to have her hand on it. Billy is impressively well endowed.

“So big,” she coos, her thumb swiping over the wetness that’s gathered at the tip.

His head falls against her shoulder with a gasp, and his grip on her waist tightens as she slowly strokes her hand up and down, dragging the foreskin along with it, feeling every ridge and vein.

“So good for me, Billy, you’re so good.”

She speeds up her movements and his head tilts back slightly, eyes screwed shut and lips parted, as he breathes raggedly. “Oh god…please…”

Smirking, she leans in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Have you ever been with a woman, Billy?”

“N–no,” he pants, hips canting to chase the movement of her hand.

“Do you think about it when you touch yourself?”

“Yeah…I…I think about you.”

She clenches around nothing at the confession, biting her lip, twisting her wrist slightly as she pumps at his cock.

“Is that what you want?”

He whines slightly, nodding and pulling her closer, a strand of his gelled hair falling forward against his forehead. “Mmmm…I want you.”

“Such a good boy,” she purrs. “Perhaps if you ask nicely then that’s what you’ll get for Christmas.”

She feels his stomach muscles tense, a grunt escaping him as he pulsates in her palm, coating her knuckles in hot, sticky spend.

Withdrawing her hand, she licks it from her fingers, the taste slightly salty, and hums in satisfaction.

He stares at her, chest heaving and eyes wide, transfixed by the sight.

“Are you real?” He asks breathlessly.

She giggles, brushing his stray strand of hair back into place. “If you do a good job for the rest of this evening, perhaps I’ll let you find out.”

#billy taylor x reader #ewan mitchell #billy taylor #billy taylor x you #billy taylor x y/n #billy taylor imagine #billy taylor smut #billy taylor the halcyon #the halcyon billy taylor #billy taylor fan fiction #billy taylor fanfiction #billy taylor fanfic #billy taylor fan fic #the halcyon #the halcyon fan fiction #the halcyon fanfiction #the halcyon fan fic #the halcyon fanfic

161 notes · View notes

possibilistfanfiction · 3 months

Note

anything surgeons au, especially butch!bea omg

[an accidental 2.7k words of baby tai for the culture]

you don’t ask for beatrice to consult on the case just because the baby really does look like her in a tangible way: brown eyes that shine in the sun; gold skin; soft dark hair; a happy smile. tai — an orphan, which you also don’t prioritize when you ask her, but whatever — is small for her three months and quite sick, a bad valve in her tiny heart doing more damage than good.

it’s a difficult surgery, complicated and intricate and, even though you’re the best in your field, a hardcore rockstar, you’re not a cardio surgeon. you ask beatrice to consult on the case because, even if you’d never admit it aloud in front of her, she is the best in the world.

‘dr. villaumbrosia,’ beatrice says, meeting you outside the picu. she’s not operating today, you’re fairly certain, or at least hasn’t yet, based on her neat navy slacks and oatmeal-colored sweater under her white coat, chelsea boots certainly not what she would wear in the OR, her buzzed hair not hidden under one of her surgical caps, her wedding band still on her finger rather than tucked away, pinned to the inside of her scrubs. you’ve known her for years and years, have watched her fail and succeed and succeed and succeed, have watched her fall in love and get married, have watched her build a home, a life — which includes you, in all the ways that matter, in the ways you will very rarely thank each other for and feel anyway.

but still, ‘dr. choi,’ you say, ‘thanks for coming.’

she nods. ‘it sounded like an interesting case from your summary.’ she takes the ipad you offer her and looks at the scans of tai’s heart, then her vitals, then the scans again, a little closer and with something like wonder filling her eyes, just at the corners but enough for you to feel a spark of hope in your chest. she looks up at you. ‘we can do this, i think.’

‘yeah?’

‘it’ll be —‘ she pauses, nods to reassure both of you, sets her shoulders, and you know that’s it — ‘it’ll be difficult, but it’s not impossible.’

‘agreed.’

‘can i meet her, then? the patient? i’d like to get an idea of how small this heart actually is.’

‘of course.’ you open the door and it’s just like any other consult; beatrice is always brave enough to partner up on any peds cases, even the most heartbreaking, the most hopeless.

tai smiles at beatrice, who is always good with children the same way you are: you talk to them like human beings, and you listen, and you take things seriously — their pain and their fear and their recovery. tai is too little to tell you anything, but beatrice still leans toward her gently and smiles at her babbling, runs a gentle hand over her soft hair, makes sure to warm the head of her stethoscope up on her thigh before pressing it to tai’s chest.

there’s no way for you to realize it at the time, but you will swear for years that you knew, even before beatrice and certainly before ava, that tai was special; beatrice closes her eyes and listens to tai’s failing heart carefully. ‘i’ll need an updated echo,’ she tells you and your intern, standing uselessly behind you. ‘and then, if you’re free afterward, dr. villambrosia, let’s meet in the skills lab? i’d like to run through the procedure.’

‘that works for me.’

she nods once, seriously. ‘no parents?’

you shake your head. ‘she’s here through my org, from chengdu.’

beatrice considers this briefly but soldiers on, like she and ava haven’t had quiet, sad fights about children and adoption and a family and a home. ‘if you feel comfortable, i can hand off my follow-ups this afternoon to dr. amunet and we can get this taken care of. it’ll be a long recovery, so i’d rather it not degrade any further if we wait.’

‘as long as the run-through feels good,’ you say, ‘i think it’s the best course of treatment.’

beatrice nods, smiles once down at tai and rubs her little chest while tai squirms and babbles happily. for such a sick kid — on oxygen and a feeding tube, two ivs because her veins are so small — she’s generally happy, bright in a way that peds usually isn’t. she’s not guaranteed to survive so, like all of your patients, you don’t get too attached. beatrice hasn’t had that problem before, either, caring but not too much, unlike ava, who feels each loss as if it’s his own. but the way that beatrice lingers and lets tai hold onto her fingers while she tells your intern exactly what she wants from the ekg and bloodwork — you think this might be different.

it’s touch and go for a while: you and beatrice are brilliant surgeons but, even with all of the tests and scans and practice, tai’s surgery is longer and more difficult than you could’ve prepared for: her heart is weak and so, so small; even beatrice struggles to place the careful, clever sutures you’ve watched her throw with ease, most surgeries, and for years. it takes longer than you would’ve liked to get her off bypass, much longer than you would’ve liked for her heart to start beating again in beatrice’s hands.

but: it does beat. weak and small, yes, but sure, and steady, and even, all the valves and ventricles ready to heal as they should be. tai’s cheeks, once she’s settled in the picu again, are rosy, her skin warm, her oxygen sats already up comfortably from before. you’d wired her sternum shut and the incision running down her tiny chest will leave a scar, and she’ll probably need another procedure or two as she gets older — but she will get older, as far as you can tell.

beatrice goes through — a little unexpected for the aftermath of a successful surgery, and far beyond the end of her relatively easy scheduled shift — all of the potential complications tai could face, how she was without a flow of properly oxygenated blood to her brain for an amount of time that frustrated her — maybe even frightened her. for as long as you’ve known beatrice — dr. choi — through undergrad and medical school, then residency and fellowships, into your first few years as attendings, she’s as unflappable as they come, unless it’s someone she loves who might be hurt, who might not get well. you’ve seen it with ava and her back, and shannon and mary after a car accident that looked much worse than it actually was, and even one time camila got the flu.

it surprises you in the moment when beatrice, carefully taking off her scrub cap — patterned with little otters and rainbows, a ridiculous gift from ava that beatrice horrifically wears with not a single ounce of hesitation or embarrassment — slips into her hospital-issued fleece quarterzip and sits down in the chair by tai’s bassinet once you and the nurses get all of her machines situated.

‘i’ll stay with her, dr. villaumbrosia,’ beatrice says, soft and formal.

‘there’s plenty of nurses, and dr. amunet, if you want to go home.’

beatrice shakes her head and leans over tai’s sleeping form, heavily sedated for the next few days so she’s not in pain, and runs a gentle finger along her cheek. ‘she — she doesn’t have anyone,’ she says, as much explanation as you need. ‘plus, dr. silva is on call tonight anyway.’

you resist the urge to say something mean about ava; he’s actually very talented and smart and he makes your best friend, your sister, very happy, and very full — even if he is the most annoying person you know. tai is alone, and all beatrice has to go home to, right now, is a beautiful house that’s empty of all of the life ava brings anywhere, leftovers in the fridge, a house that you know has an empty bedroom just down the hall from the primary, holding a lot of ava’s patient, quiet hope in the space.

‘okay,’ you say, not bothering her, just this once: tai is very small and still very sick; you’ve read enough studies to know that comfort, especially with babies who haven’t known as much of it as they should, can be extremely monumental in their ability to heal. ‘i’m sure you can handle if anything pops up, but i’d like to know anyway. text me.’

beatrice looks up from tai to nod, a grim smile on her face mellowed, seemingly, by tai’s steady breaths against beatrice’s palm. ‘will do.’

you nod and don’t bother to ask for anything else from her, taking your leave while she takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes, then slumps a little in the chair but keeps her hand on tai’s stomach, soothing and warm and present. tai has been alone her entire life, even if it’s only been very short; you believe that her body will know that she’s not anymore, at least for now.

it’s not often that you choose to come to work early, not often that you allow yourself to have much attachment to patients and their outcomes beyond whether or not you practiced the best medicine possible — no one would be able to do peds and neonatal surgery if they did — but you park far before the sun comes up and force yourself to grab three cups of coffee from the cafe before you head to the picu.

it doesn’t surprise you when you see both beatrice and ava by tai’s bassinet now, beatrice fast asleep, slumped over fully on ava’s shoulder, and ava scrolling through an ipad, probably taking care of charting here rather than in her office. ava smiles up at you, never deterred by your grumbling or eye rolls, and, just this once, you smile back.

‘dr. silva,’ you greet. ‘how’s she doing?’ you ask, handing him the coffee.

‘totally steady all night,’ ava says quietly, sounding far too proud of a baby that isn’t even really beatrice’s patient, let alone theirs. ‘she’s really strong, even if she’s small.’

you look over tai’s vitals from the past night quickly and it’s true, she is getting better even faster than you could’ve hoped. ‘she is.’

ava smiles, then looks over at a fast asleep beatrice, a little aching. ’bea said she’s an orphan?’

you sit down next to them both and nod; you assume beatrice gave ava enough of the details. ‘we’ll work to place her with a good family once she’s recovered well.’ the warning is unspoken: don’t get too attached.

ava looks over at beatrice, who has spent the entire night asleep in the picu over a baby whose heart she massaged until it beat again in her hands. he nods. ‘yeah,’ he says, hopeful despite it all. ‘yeah.’

‘i — i can do it.’

‘dr. choi.’

‘no,’ beatrice says, ‘it’s fine. i’m on call tonight, and it’s good for her.’

it is, you both know it, but tai is healing and, if all goes according to plan, will be released in a week or two, hopefully to a family who’s equipped to care for her, to raise her gently and generously and well. beatrice — and ava, whenever they make up a very flimsy excuse — have been in tai’s room often, and you know they’ve grown attached even though you warned them not to. but beatrice taking her scrub top off and picking tai up gently, careful of her leads and her still-tender chest, and then holding her close and settling into a rocking chair.

‘beatrice,’ you say, sitting down across from her.

‘have you — has there been a family chosen?’

you’re not the one in charge of any of that, your contributions to the organization being both your sixth-generation-surgeon money and your sixth-generation-surgeon talent, but you know there hasn’t been a decision made yet. you shake your head.

she nods. ‘we…’ she swallows, readjusts so tai is held even closer, her left ear close to beatrice’s heart. ‘i spoke with ava. a lot, actually. and, well, you obviously know i’m chinese; i can teach her how to speak mandarin and make mapo doufu and she won’t — she won’t miss that part. and ava knows about not having a family of origin, and he’s, like, the best. and,’ she continues, ‘we’re both surgeons. you know she’s going to need care now, but also her whole life, and i — i fixed her heart.’ she can’t even look at you, just looks at tai’s peaceful little face as her voice gets wobbly and she sniffles.

beatrice, above all, means what she says. she’s maybe one of the least impulsive people you’ve ever met, agonizing for as long as you’ve known her over haircuts and new hiking gear and dinner reservations, as methodical as it comes when she practices medicine.

‘i —‘ she looks at tai once more and then takes a deep breath and meets your eyes. ‘i love her.’

you know, more than anything, ava has made beatrice want to be brave. you let it sink in, let it hit you like a tidal wave of easy warmth, then really let yourself look at your oldest friend and every careful thing about her, lean muscles and long-healed scars, the most careful thing held against her chest — the same skin, bathed in the light of an easy sunrise. ‘well okay then.’

beatrice seems surprised, for a moment, as if you would say no, or doubt her, or discourage or argue. ‘really?’

you nod, brusque mostly so you don’t cry. ‘i’ll connect you with aja; she’ll be able to help you with all the paperwork. i’ll put in my recommendation, of course.’

beatrice adjusts tai so she can free a hand to wipe a few tears. ‘thank you, lilith.’

‘let’s just hope she takes after you, not ava.’

beatrice laughs, and it makes tai smile.

‘no.’

‘she’s —‘

‘your daughter,’ you say. ‘you’re not tai’s doctor any longer, haven’t been in months.’

beatrice frowns, arms crossed. ava smiles far too serenely for your liking next to her.

‘she’ll be fine, babe,’ she says. ‘it’s just a post-op, super normal.’ she turns toward tai, happily squealing at a nurse playing peak-a-boo with her while they get her situated on the exam table.

beatrice glowers but concedes, softening immediately when ava squeezes her bicep. they’re both definitely exhausted but happier than you could’ve really imagined; the empty bedroom now filled with a plethora of toys and clothes, colorful animals on the walls, a safe crib with a space mobile you’d personally given them. it makes sense to you, easily, that they’re good parents — kind and attentive and funny — even if, right now, they’re driving you insane. they’re both in comfortable clothes, not bothering with anything more on their shared day off.

you have to physically shoo beatrice away as you’re listening to tai’s heart, which is ridiculous because you’re sure beatrice does it at home, probably every night. you’re more relieved than you would ever let on that her heartbeat is normal and steady — perfect, as far as you’re concerned. you go through the rest of her check-up and she’s as healthy as can be, gaining weight well, rolling over, holding her head up, starting to eat baby food — yes to bananas; no to green beans so far — not sleep regressing as much as they’d feared.

‘she’s doing great,’ you reassure.

‘fuck yeah she is,’ ava says, then sighs. ‘before either of you start, first of all, language is all relative.’

‘ava, we can’t have her first word being f—‘

‘— secondly,’ ava interrupts, then looks at beatrice putting tai back into her dinosaur onesie, slipping a warm cap onto her head, ‘she’s the best baby of all time.’

‘she is wonderful,’ beatrice says, still a little reverent.

ava elbows you as beatrice carefully pulls socks onto tai’s feet. ‘one of the better ones i’ve met,’ you concede, because you really do love tai, and, all things considered, she’s an easy, happy baby. ‘certainly better than i thought would be possible with either of you.’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘i read your recommendation.’ horrifyingly, she starts reciting it, so you move as quickly as you can.

‘i have a tight schedule today,’ you interrupt, beatrice laughing quietly, smiling at both of you with far too much amusement.

‘bye lil,’ she says. ‘thanks for everything.’

‘yeah, yeah,’ you say, but there’s no bite to it. ‘see you at dinner.’

#wn fic #avatrice fic #avatrice #surgeons au #i don’t often imagine them as moms but oh boy when i DO #tai … i love her. lilith also loves her #butch bea 🥺🫡#a mom!!!!#if u rmb how zola was adopted in grey’s anatomy no u don’t but also objectively better w queer ppl 💁#also sorry if u know things about medicine. in the spirit of grey’s anatomy #it is merely a plot vehicle here lol #also yes lilith does peds bc she is HARDCORE

138 notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 1 year

Note

For the kink bingo image aegon with an innocent wife!reader just teaching her the pleasures of life and loving how innocent she is compared to the whores

So for some reason I forgot to make them married. So I pulled ye old make this even spicier by betrothing her to Aemond and Aegon is already married. Lmk how you feel, xoxoxoxoxo

Kink Bingo - Innocence

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dry humping, first orgasm, incest, infidelity, innocence kink, alcohol consumption, possessive Aegon, subby behaviors/implied subspace

They lounged in the Godswood. You had dragged your sullen elder brother out to get some sun. He was a creature of the night now and you missed your favorite sibling. Aegon was flopped on his belly, head tucked beneath his arms. You plucked a grape and threw it at his pale bed head.

“Stop it, m’head hurts,” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes and replied, “Your head is always going to hurt going out to the pillowhouses every night.”

Sunken violet eyes glared at you, his lips set in a pout. He scoffed, “I don’t go to the Street of Silk every night!” You laughed, “So, Flea Bottom pit fights then? Flying to Essos on Sunfyre for a night cap?”

He rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Very funny. I happen to enjoy a good time, what’s wrong with that?”

He rolled over to expose a sliver of pale belly, continuing, “Might do you some good to get out sometimes. Life has much more to offer than lectures with your betrothed and needlepoint with our strange sister.”

You narrowed your eyes in confusion, popping a grape into your mouth. While chewing Aegon snorted, “I’m talking about drinking, carousing, letting loose! None of the stuffy shite Cole and Mother forces on us.” He waved his hands around wildly, “Aemond will have you wearing white before long!”

Suddenly you felt stupid. No wonder he went out. Your older brother had better things to do than sit with his silly sister who still reads about the Others and Children of the Woods. A sister who was betrothed to the spare. A warm hand clasped over your arm. Aegon had leaned closer, a worried tilt to his brow.

“What? Why do you look like a sad kitten?”

You muttered, “You don’t have to spend time with me if I’m boring. I get it.” Embarrassed tears welled in your purple eyes, blinking them away harshly. Aegon cooed and pulled you into his arms. The prince laughed, “You might be more oblivious than me. If I thought you boring then why would I be out here?”

You sniffled, “I don’t know- I just miss you.”

He grinned down at you, thumbing away a crystalline tear. He kept the thumb there, swiping against soft skin. A gleam came to his eyes, Aegon cheering, “Why don’t I teach you a lesson or two on how to live a little. Does that sound good?” You nodded eagerly, wide eyes searching his own.

“Where do we start?”

Aegon clapped his hands together and chirped, “Wine of course. Loosens the body and mind.” He yelled at a nearby servant to bring a couple of flagons. They scurried away with a bow. You giggled, “Criston says wine makes people stupid.”

“That’s exactly the point, Princess.”

Aegon had played around the Godswood with you for hours, feeling like a child again. Not an heir with an expecting wife. He laid with you on the blanket set out earlier, intertwined with your body. Aegon beamed at you, all flushed and giggly from the wine.

He noticed you had took to it easily. Only a pinched look at the first swig but drank with him. Aegon stopped you after the fourth— lest you’d be sick. He hummed, “I changed my mind. I don’t want you to see Flea Bottom.”

His violet eyes gauged the thought bubbling through your hazy mind, achingly wide doe eyes spearing his wicked heart. You hiccuped and laughed, “Why not? Wanna have fun w’ my big brother.” Aegon groaned at the innocent response. You had precisely exhibited why he would not do that.

The prince carded fingers through your pale locks and replied, “It’s too dirty for you. You’re too pure. I’ll throw all the parties here at the keep.”

Aegon knew he was in deep when you whined, “Okayyy- but not even a tour? Daylight atleast! I want to know what has you so enraptured besides the drink.” The elder wasn’t sure if you were playing dumb or the drink had muddled your mind.

You leaned closer into his face, wine stained lips tantalizingly, torturously, close. “Is it the pretty painted girls?” Aegon gulped in fear. He hoped Aemond was somewhere on Vhagar far, far away because he was about to do something bad.

“It is the painted whores is it not? That’s what Aemond says.”

Aegon snapped, “I don’t care about them or what the prick has to say.” Then he cradled your face to smash his lips against your own. Your eyes widened in shock before returning the kiss, pressing the line of your body closer. The rational part of your brain was screaming, but this was exhilarating. Your big brother always knew best.

His tongue flicked along the seam of your lips, coaxing them open. You obliged and gasped in excitement when Aegon’s tongue entered your mouth. All you had gotten was a peck on the cheek from Aemond.

He rolled on top of you, pinning your wrists up above the halo of silvery blonde hair. Aegon didn’t relent, lips sensually sliding against your own. You felt hot and itchy, a need to crawl ever closer into Aegon arising. Your…core was aching and becoming wet. A confused whine ensued.

Aegon panted, cheeks cherry red, “What, baby?” He looked frenzied, eyes wild and hair mussed. You couldn’t figure the words so you pulled Aegon back to your mouth with a moan. The elder giggled and suckled on your tongue, making you clench in need. Everything was so heightened, you aware of every sensation on your flesh.

Eyes lolling around you whimpered, “A-Aegon, I want- I need, oh Aegon!”

Aegon looked like he was going to eat you alive. You weren’t aware of his thoughts, but the prince was delighted with how lovely your innocence was. Sweating and smelling sweet with wine and desire. Simply confused with all the feelings screeching.

You whined into his mouth again, begging for anything. Aegon shushed, “Hold on baby, dear sister, I know what you need.” He dragged a stiff length, oh gods his prick, across your own heated slit. It sent a bolt of pleasure so strong up your spine you clamped your legs around Aegon.

“Smith’s steel balls!”

Aegon guffawed then crooned, “This is why I won’t take you anywhere. I want this all to myself. You’re so cute and pure. You’d faint hearing their swears down there.”

He rutted against you more, talking like he wasn’t sending you into a tizzy. Aegon rasped against your ear, nipping the flesh, “Have you even touched your sweet cunt, sister?” You writhed and babbled, “N-no!” Your hips jerked against Aegon’s need in a sloppy rhythm, seeking out more pleasure greedily.

Aegon grunted and angled himself to strike that more sensitive part of you— getting a pretty cry as a reward. You trembled and begged for his lips. Aegon nipped at your swollen bottom lip and shared a couple of messy, overexcited smacks. The prince groaned, “I’ll show you how on lesson two, fuck you’re soft baby!”

You blubbered, “Oh- oh- Aegon, I think, I’m, what?!”

Darkness enveloped your vision— trembling and twitching all over. Your ass was wet with something now. Aegon rutted a few more times before groaning and falling to his side. You laid like a dead starfish, unable to comprehend anything.

Aegon’s grin appeared from above. He snarked, “Baby sis’s first orgasm. How beautiful. Couldn’t pay the finest whore in Lys to recreate that.” You mewled nonsensically, reaching for his frame. Aegon bundled you into his arms, cooing, “Nope. Not going anywhere. They can’t have my pure pretty angel. Even Aemond.”

“When- is- lesson two,” you croaked.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #hotd smut #answered asks #kink bingo #innocence kink

499 notes · View notes

nuka-goblin · 2 months

Text

reference sheets for some of my Fallout ocs! may add more of them later, but for now these guys are my main faves :)

Bios under the cut

Baron: A Pre-War pilot in the US Air Force. He met @sawyingthroughthewasteland 's Sole, Sawyer, while at a Navy officer school. After being shot down over Alaska he signed up for an experimental 'super soldier' program and frozen. The freeze was only meant to last one month, but that was before the bombs fell.

200 years later, the Enclave finds him in one of their labs, unfreezes him, and takes him to Raven Rock to perform experiments on him. Then, when Hannah happened to Raven Rock, he fled to the Brotherhood of Steel. 10 years after that, the BoS sends an envoy to the Commonwealth to find out what happened to the Prydwen - turns out, Sawyer happened. Reunited once again, Baron leaves the BoS and marries Sawyer. These days, he pilots for the Minutemen.

Dee: Born to a nuclear physicist and a Nobel prize winning biochemist, three years after being sealed in Vault 76 along with some of the most brilliant minds in America. Unfortunately, as Dee grew it turned out she wasn't brilliant - at least, not compared to her peers, the genius children and prodigies in her Vault classes. Her parents had high hopes for her, even naming her after the Hindu concept of 'dharma,' but she rebelled against expectation at every opportunity. She despised her know-it-all peers, her overbearing family, and the shit attitudes of every privileged asshole in the Vault. The Wasteland and everyone in it turned out to be much more fun.

Hannah: Ever since she was a baby, Hannah was the sweetest person you'd have ever met. (We don't talk about the toddler years.) Her father raised her Christian like her mother, but her innate sense of right and wrong always overpowered her respect for rules, God, or the Overseer - and that got her into trouble. When the Overseer made a poor choice, hurt anyone, or even said anything unkind, Hannah made sure to let him know. Many people saw her as a troublemaker for that reason - especially Butch, who hated that she always tattled on him. But she was the apple of her father's eye, and she was just as intelligent and gifted in both science and medicine as him. This served her well in the Wasteland. She's a pacifist, a paragon of virtue, and yet the Wasteland has done its damnedest to break her. Someday, it'll succeed, but her friends will do their best to delay it.

Pascha: From birth, Pascha was told she was the Chosen One. Her grandmother passed when she was young, but she knew she had big shoes to fill. Luckily, that suited Pascha (or Paz, to her pals) just fine. She always liked the power and respect. That's not to say she didn't do plenty to earn it - she was never one to sit still. She was constantly improving herself, waiting for the day she got to prove that she really was the Chosen One. Once that day came, she was eager to be a hero; but it turned out that while being a legend came naturally, acting like a hero just wasn't her style.

Peggy: Raised in a big family on a brahmin farm near Redding, but a woman with more pre-War sensibilities, Peggy left home shortly after her beloved father was conscripted into the NCRA and sent to the Mojave front. She enlisted to follow him; although she had no combat skills whatsoever, it was discovered that she had a rare and unique skillset that made her an excellent... secretary! She maneuvered to get assigned as Colonel Hsu's personal aide, hoping to leverage her position to get her father sent back home, but her father isn't the only man she ends up caring for.

Snake Eyes: Six isn't sure who she used to be before, but she doesn't particularly care. Fueled by vengeance and greed, Six kills, pays off and betrays whoever she needs to in the service of Mr. House, all in the interest of enjoying the luxury, power and respect that comes with the job. She isn't always proud of what she's done, especially to her friends, but the caps, chems and sex that she's paid in helps keep her numb to herself while the Mojave languishes around her. She goes by Six, but most people call her Snake Eyes, owing to perhaps her one scarred eye, her capacity for betrayal, or maybe her supernatural luck. That said, only the very stupid or the very brave will call her that to her face.

#my art #fallout ocs #fallout #fallout oc #oc art #oc: baron #oc: dee #oc: hannah #oc: pascha #oc: peggy #oc: snake eyes #courier six #chosen one #lone wanderer #vault dweller #f76 #f4 #f3 #fnv #f2

57 notes · View notes

astrosirensblog · 2 years

Text

Sirenas Astrology observations

• having multiple aspects to your ascendant often indicates, people treat you based on how you look.

• if you want to have friends who treat you with softness and care, befriend people who have their moon in your fourth house.

• Aries and Leo placements find generosity attractive.

• the sign and house that you have the most aspects with actually plays a big role in your personality and how people perceive you. I for example have the most aspects to my sun sign in the first house. Sun is ruled by leo and the first house by aries. I often get called “sunshine” and “loud and hyper” which is typical for these two placements.

• the house your Neptune is in shows where people project on you the most. If it’s in the 10th house, you may have many colleges or bosses who dislike you for no reason or project their work insecurities on you.

• 12th house venus natals prefer marrying someone with a different cultural background, they maybe even want to adapt to their partners culture more than their own.

• people with 11th house placements always dream of their ideal friendgroup like the ones they see in shows like “friends”.

• 2nd house synastry can lead to a lot of possessiveness in the relationship especially from the house person.

• the house where you have saturnian placements (Cap & Aqua) in could indicate, that this part of your life sucked as a child but blossoms when you get older.

• Fire venus natals are the epitome of “if he wanted to he would” they change for the one they truly love.

• a lesson for pisces venus is to not romanticize people with mental issues or toxic behaviors. Not everyone is hard on the outside but soft in the inside. Some people just suck, pls move on.

• when it comes to relationships water venus natals are literally the one kid that touches the stove even after they got warned that it’s hot, just to see if it’s really that hot.

• Sagittarius and Aquarius people have such a hard time having empathy sometimes, it’s exhausting.

• be nice to the Cap/Aqua moon kid, their family already hates on them for no reason. The worst part is, once they grow up and distance themselves from their family, their family starts gaslighting them and tries to keep em, as if they didn’t cause any harm.

• the statement that people who have planets in your 2nd, 7th, 8th and 12th house secretly hate you or compete with you is true, be careful when being around them.

• Children often get the same venus or moon sign as their mothers venus sign.

#astrology #astro observations #astrology notes #astrology observations #astro community #astrology love #astro #astro notes #sirenas astrology observations

2K notes · View notes

kryptonitejelly · 2 years

Note

Everyone say thank you Joe Jonas 😂

But my god does this give me absolute fly!boy Jake feels!

thank you joe jonas for giving us something which is NOT orange. i just had to finish this today because we are all in need of something cute and fluffy 😵‍💫 (well i am..)

context: Flyboy (but readable without)

“Uncle Jake is hurting my sheep,” you hear a little wail from the small being that comes hurtling herself straight into your legs the moment you open the door to the pitter patter of tiny knocks.

“We can’t have that now can we?” You gasp, bend, swinging the little girl up with a practiced ease that had come from being around Jake’s nephew and nieces, something that had been a common occurrence through the years you had known him, but which had become even more prevalent since you had gotten engaged, and subsequently married, “where is Uncle Jake?”

She snuggles up to you, throwing an around behind your neck as she points her other hand down the hallway towards one of the rooms which served as a makeshift playroom each time Grandma Doris had any of her great grandchildren over.

“There?“ You ask.

“There,” she nods firmly, and you begin treading towards the end of the hall.

You reach the open door, exchanging a silent look with the little girl in your arms before you enter, stifling a chuckle at the look of determination knitted in her brows.

“He’s sitting on my sheep,” she cries out as you both step into the room to find Jake straddling the inanimate sheep in question, a sort of children’s stool, really, while taking a swig out of the bottle of water in his hands, “make him get stop” she pleads with you, eyes wide.

You catch Jake’s eye and catch the glimmer of amusement dancing in the sea of green.

You put your lips beside his niece’s ear, whispering in a hushed tone. It makes Jake raise a brow, slightly suspicious, as she nods seriously. You set her on the ground and she walks over to Jake, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest as she tilts her head defiantly upwards at Jake.

“Uncle Jake, if you don’t get off my sheep, you are sleeping in your own room tonight.”

“You would not,” he looks at you immediately while lowering and capping the bottle of water.

“You heard the kid,” you say with a light shrug.

“Yeah, you heard me Uncle Jake,” his niece sticks her chin out, knowing she has the upper hand.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he says, almost sulkily, to which you roll your eyes. You don’t however, get to respond as the little girl in front of you responds on your behalf.

“No, my side Uncle Jake,” she sticks out her tongue, before adding for good measure, “I’m the favourite.”

It does the trick, Jake swings a leg easily over, coming to a stand. He picks his niece up in a single swoop, placing her back onto the sheep, before reaching out towards you and tugging you close to him. Jake’s hands squeeze your hips as the front of your body presses against his. You rest your palms flat on his chest as you pull your head back slightly to look at him.

“I’m your favourite,” he insists, looking back at you.

“Are you?” You pretend to think about it, while peeking over his shoulder toward his niece who is now happily sitting atop her reclaimed sheep, stroking the fabric on its body, oblivious to you both.

“I am,” he reiterates, to which you chuckle, while sliding a hand along the lapels of his jacket.

“We’ll see about that,” you say and Jake squeezes your hips again in protest.

“I’ll always be your favourite,” he says, leaning in close so that the tip of his nose nudges against yours.

“Are you really competing with a child?” You ask, sliding a hand up his shoulder and along the back of his neck to fiddle with the ends of his hair; he had taken some time off work, taking the chance to let his hair grow out for a change.

“Yes,” Jake says matter of factly and it makes you laugh.

“Will you compete with your own children in the future?”

“No competition,” Jake snorts, his hands moving upwards to come to press against the small of your back, “I’ll always be your favourite.”

“I’m not sure why I married you,” you hum, clearly joking, tilting your face slightly closer to Jake’s and it earns you a grin which you feel on your lips as he closes what little distance is left in a kiss.

“I wonder why,” he hums between a kiss, as a shout explodes from behind Jake.

“GRANDMA GRACE, UNCLE JAKE IS MAKING KISSY FACES IN FRONT OF ME AGAIN.”

The yell accompanies a shuffle of clothing and a thump as his niece clamours off the sheep, landing on the floor before bolting out of the room calling for Grace Seresin.

It makes you burst into a fit laugh, tearing your lips away from Jake, your head ducking, forehead resting on on his shoulder as your shoulders shake with humour. It makes Jake smile, widely, as he wraps arounds around your body, before planting a kiss on the top of your hair.

“Should have just kissed you from the start.”

793 notes · View notes

jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

Text

Stay With Me | Hope pt.1

exhusband!jungkook, singledad!jungkook, E2L, angst, fluff, smut

Word Count - 3.5k

Your would’ve been wedding anniversary has always been a difficult day. Warnings: swearing, oc is v bad with technology, alcohol consumption, one mention of vibrators, heavy angst

MINISERIES COLLECTION

Today is a particularly hard day for you, giving that it would’ve been yours and your ex-husband’s wedding anniversary. Thankfully your son Seol is sleeping at a friend’s house this weekend so you have the space you need to mope, though truthfully some company wouldn’t exactly go a miss. It’s nearing five pm when you decide to give Hoseok a call and see if he’s free, but maybe that decision has been influenced by the three glasses of wine you’ve downed.

“Hey, you okay?” Hoseok’s voice makes you smile, you’ve been on all of three dates with him at this point and if you’re being honest he has real potential.

He’s a single father too, he has a nine year old daughter and he’s been divorced for almost one year now. It’s not been mentioned why he and his ex-wife got divorced, but having said that your exes rarely come into conversation when the two of you go out.

“Hey Hobi…” An affectionate nickname people at work, including you, call him. “Everything’s good, are you free tonight?” You chew your lower lip with anticipation, you’re yet to sleep with Hoseok but if he fucks anything like he kisses… You know that you’re in for a treat.

His chuckle is deep on the other end of the phone, “Not tonight I’m afraid, I’m on dad duty this weekend. You sure you’re okay? You never call me.”

“Ahh…” Your disappointment is evident, but you understand entirely. Children come first one hundred percent, you can’t be mad at him for being a good father. “No I’m fine honestly, my son is sleeping out tonight so I just wanted some company I guess, but I completely understand that you’ve got your daughter.”

At this Hoseok makes a tsk sound between his teeth, followed by a dangerous panty-dropping frustrated sigh, “Trust me I would love to come over and keep you company Y/N, but I can’t tonight. I’ll make it up to you another time.”

“Looking forward to it.” You hum flirtatiously, smiling like a school girl.

He chuckles again and you can practically see his big grin through the phone, “Me too, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

It would appear that the stars are not aligned with you tonight, everybody you know is busy, absolutely everybody. Your friends either have parental commitments or have other plans already. It’s okay though, you figure it’s probably best to spend tonight alone in a hot bubble bath having some self-care time rather than getting wild with one of your besties. Though after you’re forth glass of wine you’re halfway there already.

After a soak in the tub you’re feeling pretty buzzed from the alcohol, it’s almost seven pm and you decide to get changed into a pair of red silky pyjamas that always find a way to boost your confidence. Eye mask on, more wine poured… Music, you need music.

“Alexa… play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars.”

Playing marry you by Bruno Mars from Spotify.

“No, no! Alexa! Play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars!”

Playing when I was your man by Bruno Mars from Spotify.

“No! For fucks sake…” You groan, flicking the cap on the wine bottle into the unknown, even technology wants to remind you of what today should’ve been. Fuck Alexa. Fuck everything. Fuck…you? Maybe a few rounds with your vibrator would take your mind away from today’s date, and since you’re home alone… Why the fuck not?

Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now, Our song on the radio but it don’t sound the same.

The sound of Bruno singing his about his sorrows drowns your house through every speaker, flooding your senses and causing your heart to ache just a little bit more than it already did. Who are you kidding? You’re not in the mood to fuck yourself right now.

Fifteen years ago today you married the love of your life, the father of your child, your best friend, truthfully the only man you’ve ever wholly loved. Ever since your trip to the beach with Jungkook you’ve been confused about where you stand with him, now more than ever. Do you miss him? Yes. Do you regret divorcing him? Yes, wait. No. Do you accept his apology? Yes. Would you ever take him back?

I should have bought you flowers, and held your hand, Should’ve gave you all my hours, when I had the chance.

…Maybe.

“Alexa! Stop! That song just makes me think about Jungkook…” You admit with a pained sigh, downing wine straight from the bottle. It’s ridiculous, you divorced him. You’ve no right to miss him, you’ve no right to wonder what your life could be like with him if you ever gave your relationship another chance… No. Exes are exes for a reason, it’s just because it’s your anniversary. Would’ve been your anniversary. That’s why you’re wallowing in self-pity right now.

Calling Jungkook

“What?! No! No no no no no, nooooo!” You sprint to the nearest home speaker, almost slipping on the tiled floor of your kitchen, “Alexa! Stop—”

“Hello?”

“Alexa! Stop!”

The sound of breathy laughter leaving your ex-husbands lips echoes through what was once your shared home, “Trouble with technology Y/N?”

You groan in return, snorting mostly to yourself, “Is it that obvious?”

“So… is this a completely random call or were you talking about me and Alexa decided to let me know?” He’s giggling, he always found it so funny that you’re more than just a little useless when it comes to technology. Even after your divorce there’s been times where you’ve had to contact him for your account passwords and login details for various apps and devices.

“I’m home alone so rest assured I wasn’t talking about you.” You half-lie, technically he was mentioned but nobody save for Alexa heard it. That bitch betrayed you good, as soon as this call is over you’re putting her straight in the trash.

“That’s good to know. Where’s Seol?”

“He’s at a friend’s house for the weekend, hence why I’m here alone.” You sigh, taking another gulp of wine when your throw yourself up onto the marble countertop.

There’s a brief silence as though he’s contemplating what to do with that information, but finally after what feels like way too long he speaks, “Well… I hope you have a good night whatever you decide to do. It’s been nice talking to you, but I guess I have Alexa to thank for that.” He laughs again, you just know he’s shaking his head in disbelief right now.

“Sorry if I disturbed you—”

“Not at all, I’m just in the store buying some wine actually… Rough day.”

A pained smile tugs your lips, a bittersweet feeling coursing your veins. At least you know it’s not just you who is affected by the date. Should you invite him over? Would that be a complete disaster? Because right now it doesn’t sound like a terrible decision. It does beat drinking alone, and things aren’t awkward between you it would be fine. But there is the incident of your almost kiss in the hotel room—

“You still there? Or has Alexa fucked you over again?”

You grin, playfully rolling your eyes, “I’m still here.”

“Alright…”

Fuck it. Why drink alone when you can drink with someone else who happens to know exactly what you’re going through?

“Hey Kook…?”

He sniffs, you can hear glass bottles clinking in the background, “Mmm?”

“Would it be weird if I invited you over for a drink tonight?”

The silence is deafening, your heart is pounding and you’re about to tell him to forget you ever said anything when he clears his throat down the line.

“I mean it does beat drinking alone… Which is all I had planned for tonight anyway.”

You’re smiling again, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

After a quick outfit change you’re back in your kitchen wearing an emerald green smock dress, it was the first thing you could find in your wardrobe and you figure it’s much better than answering the door in sexy red silk pyjamas. You’re nervous, and dare you admit it a little excited to see your ex-husband. Why? You’ve no idea. What you do know is that when you open the front door and you’re greeted with Jungkook wearing a simple oversized white t shirt, ripped black jeans and boots of the same colour, you’re happy he’s here.

“Hey… I see you’ve started without me?” Jungkook’s heavily tattooed arm gestures to the almost empty bottle of wine sitting atop your kitchen unit. His smile is playful, gorgeous even when you sigh in defeat and nod.

“Shit, you caught me… So did you bring more wine?”

“Mhm, the good stuff too.” His hum is chipper, he’s looking down at you with a fond gaze that makes your chest swell with something vaguely familiar. “I brought soju as well, good job really cause I’ll need some shots to get on your level since you’re already drunk dialling people.” He winks, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

You point at the home speaker in protest, “Hey she’s the one who drunk dialled you! I had nothing to do with it!” Except you kind of did, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Jungkook makes quick work of getting a glass for himself along with two double-sized shot glasses from the cupboard. Muscle memory takes over, he remembers exactly where you keep everything because heaven forbid he ever put something back in the wrong place when he lived here. Your organisation skills could win awards. It’s not long before he’s topped up your wine and poured himself a glass too, as well as two shots of peach soju – which just so happens to be your favourite.

“So…” He hands you a shot, when his inked fingertips graze yours you struggle to bite back a coy smile, “To us I guess?”

Your brow quirks, “To us?”

“You’re gonna make me say it aren’t you?” His eyes squeeze shut in feigned embarrassment for a second but he carries on, looking you dead in the eye for a moment you will never forget, “Happy kinda anniversary Y/N.”

Oh shit. That.

You swallow thickly, clinking the tiny glass against his with an apologetic smile, “Happy kinda anniversary Jungkook.”

It’s ten pm when you realise you’re beyond wasted, as is Jungkook. You’re both dancing together in the dining room, there’s distance between your bodies but you can still feel his warmth even from here. His cheeks still have the cutest tinge of pink to them when he’s drunk, and he’s far from coordinated when he sways his hips from left to right in sync with the beat of the music.

“Alexa!” You slur with a lazy grin, near empty glass of wine loosely in your grip, “Alexa! Play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars!” Whether the home appliance likes it or not, you are listening to that song one way or another.

Kook claps excitedly, mirroring your haphazard smile, “That’s such a good song! Nine out of ten, well done!”

Nine out of ten, your smile drops for a moment. Ever since your first date you and Jungkook got into the strange habit of rating things that didn’t need to be rated. Song choices, food, tv shows, outfits, cars, even children’s names when you were pregnant… You name it you guys rated it. It was the first of many inside jokes and quirks you shared throughout your relationship, and it suddenly dawns on you that he never stopped doing it.

Playing when I was your man by Bruno Mars from Spotify.

“No, no no no!” You yell, “Play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars!” But it’s too late, the song has started and the lyrics hit you harder than ever.

Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now, Our song on the radio but it don’t sound the same, When our friends talk about you all it does it just tear me down, Cause my breaks a little when I hear your name

Jungkook takes a beat to listen to the lyrics of the song before scoffing humourlessly with a small head shake, finishing his wine in one swift gulp that looks borderline painful. His stare is fixed to your face, you’re looking back uncertain of what to do next when your ex coughs, shouting loud enough to be heard above the music.

“Alexa! Play that’s what I like by Bruno Mars!”

Playing that’s what I like by Bruno Mars from Spotify.

As soon as the preferred song choice kicks in you’re both screaming along to the words, god help your neighbours. Jungkook even going as far to make up impromptu dance moves that have you folded over in fits of hysterics, drunkenly pointing to and grinding on nothing. Sometimes you forget how hilarious he is, he can make you belly laugh at the drop of a hat.

“Kook stop!” You wheeze, “I’m gonna pee!”

But he doesn’t care, his animated facial expressions have you howling with laughter when he gets up on the dining table in one swift jump. He’s snapping his fingers to the beat, bobbing his head along to the song. It’s when he drops his weight in a messy slut drop that you cave, running to the downstairs bathroom before you actually piss yourself laughing.

The realisation of how drunk you are hits you when you’re sitting on the porcelain throne, as it usually does. It’s so nice that you and Kook can have a good time together without it being awkward, in a way it makes you nostalgic of how things used to be between you before it got bad.

You let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing your temples. Why did things have to get bad? God Jungkook is the perfect man in almost every single way… You miss him so much. You miss your drunken escapades together. You miss waking up to him in a morning. You miss going to bed with him at night, and you definitely miss the way he made you feel in bed.

When you return to the dining area Kook has already poured more drinks, thankfully he’s back on the ground and he’s wearing his signature bunny-like grin that causes your heart to flutter. He’s so fucking handsome. And that’s not the alcohol talking either, he really is breath taking.

“Another shot?” He winks, albeit very exaggeratedly.

You jog over to him with a bright beaming smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“This is fun right? We haven’t been drunk together in a while…” Kook playfully cocks his head to one side, watching your reaction closely.

“Yknow I was just thinking the same thing…” You admit rather sheepishly, “This is fun. I’m glad we can do this.”

The atmosphere shifts to something less messy and more familiar, perhaps even fringing on romantic when he closes the distance between your bodies, loosely gripping your waist, “Me too. Alexa! Shuffle music. Come on let’s have a proper dance...”

Playing your song by Elton John from Spotify.

Your heart stops beating. Jungkook’s heart stops beating. Fifteen years ago to the day this was your first dance song that was played at your wedding. It’s like technology itself is screaming at you, constantly reminding you both what today is. Jungkook is the first to move, he tugs your body closer to his, swaying his hips from side to side when you drape your arms over his strong shoulders. It’s familiar, it’s romantic, it’s nostalgic… And in an ironic twist of fate, It's perfect.

It's not long before your head rests against his collarbone, he still wears the same spicy cologne you notice. His fingers dance along the base of your spine when you move with him, a content hum rattling his broad chest quiet enough to almost go a miss.

“Now this song has always been a ten out of ten.”

“Kook…?” You whisper, mindlessly toying with the dark hairs gathered at the nape of his neck.

“Mmm?”

You know what you want to say, but you also know that there is absolutely no way you should say it. You want to tell him you miss him, you want to apologise for everything, hell you want to get onto your tiptoes and plant a soft kiss to those lips that made you fall in love with him. But you can’t, you’re drunk, he’s drunk, it wouldn’t be right… Even if this moment is the most content you’ve felt in years.

Jungkook pulls back just enough to watch your profile curiously, his tongue darts out and wets his lips, drawing more attention to the area you’re already thinking too much about.

“Are you okay?” His voice is quiet, he’s still languidly swaying left to right with you between his arms but his full attention is fixed on your eyes. If you had the power to freeze time you would, because this is it, this is the moment you finally admit to yourself that you still love him.

You’re nodding slowly, gaze never straying from his big brown doe-eyes that are hooded and slightly reddened from wine and swimming with something that can only be described as hope.

“I-, I’m fine.”

He stills his movements, in turn stopping you from swaying while your wedding song continues to play in the background, “Are you sure? Do you want me to leave?”

As if on instinct you tip toe to be closer to him, his breath is warm against your face, “…No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Y/N…” He whispers, bringing a hand up to gently cup the back of your head, “As much as I want to kiss you right now… We can’t.” When your face visibly drops he continues, “Because it would mean something very different to me than it would to you.”

“Kook…” You’re blinking rapidly, trying to find the words you want to say.

“I should go.” He admits with a light sigh, one filled with pain and regret.

You’re cupping his jaw, completely infatuated with the way he’s looking at you, “No… Please don’t leave.”

“I have to.” He swallows, resting his forehead to yours, “Because if I don’t, I’m gonna end up kissing you.”

You wet your lips subconsciously, brushing back a wayward strand of his hair that’s fallen into his eyes, “Then stay...” You breathe, heart hammering inside your chest.

Jungkook walks you backwards until the swell of your ass hits the dining table behind, his arms cage you in either side of your hips. The way he’s staring at you… With so much adoration, so much hope yet so much sadness. It’s enough to make your heart race and break all at once.

“What are you saying Y/N?” His voice is low, his right hand comes up to your chin, tipping it upward and angling your face to his.

“Don’t go... Please don’t go.”

His lips ghost yours, they’re so painfully close to yours that if you move even just a tiny bit you’re certain they’ll touch. “Are you sure...? What do you want me to do?”

Your eyes flutter shut in preparation for what’s about to happen, the next words that leave you are barely audible but Jungkook catches them when he’s gently tracing the front of your chin with his thumb.

“Stay with me.”

1K notes · View notes