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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

Note

I have recently watched scenes from a marriage with oscar isaac and my mind which connects everything with hubby javi immediately went to this:

imagine wife’s and javi’s friends are going through a divorce, there’s cheating m, miscommunication etc and just a very hard time.

I feel like Javi and Wife would have a conversation about this due to the proximity of it happening to their friends. One about trust and if they’re happy. It’s not about insecurity or anything just them both communicating effectively and giving the other reassurance that this is not on the cards for them.

I just value their relationship so much.

Reassess

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Hiya anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked your request slightly to fit my version of hubby and wife. Enjoy ❤️ Thanks so much for proofreading, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !!!

Summary: You and Javier’s friends are going through a divorce, and it suddenly makes you wonder about your own marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, talk about divorce, talk about cheating, brief descriptions of piv sex with creampie, hurt/comfort, love!, mention of pregnancy and pregnant reader, cuddling, kisses, Javier is a great husband and you are anxious

Word count: 1.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54352768

Reassess

Jonathan and Mira are getting a divorce. The news had been announced to you by Javier when he entered the dimly lit living room on a Thursday night, looking paler than a ghost after what you had wrongly assumed to be a same-as-always phone conversation about football, work and going out for a beer in the near future.

“No!” You had instinctively covered your mouth with your hand to suppress an animated gasp. Apparently, Mira had come clean about seeing another man a few days earlier and it only took shy of two days for their whole marriage to crumble. The thought was and is terrifying.

It seems to dampen the mood between you and your husband significantly. There are more pregnant silences, longer stares, more hurried kisses, and worried faces in the middle of your daily routines that become opportunities for reflection when doing something mundane as folding laundry. However, the elephant in the room becomes most unbearable when Javier rolls off of you after making love to you a week after the news hit.

He stares up at the ceiling and pants as he tries coming down from his high, reaching up to run his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. You shift on your side of the bed to turn your body towards him, and gently lay a hand on his chest, “That was really good.”

“Hm? What?” He replies, “Oh right, yeah.”

“Honey,” you furrow your brow, “I don’t think I particularly like having sex with you if you’re not here with me.”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry),” his eyes find yours, his voice is genuine, “I can’t stop thinking about Jon and Mira.”

Your eyes soften at that. It is nice to know that he is as shaken by this happening as you are, and in such close proximity to your own marriage too even if it technically has nothing to do with you. It suddenly hits why it has been so hard to start up a conversation about it.

“Me either,” you sigh and scratch his chest gently with your nails and lay your head on his shoulder. He takes hold of your wrist and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb in soothing circles, “I can’t believe they ended up like that, who would have thought?”

“And Ava?” Javier sounds devastated and turns his head toward yours so he can rest his lips in your hair.

“She must be so confused,” you mumble back, lost in thought. Ava is Mira and Jonathan’s daughter who sometimes has play dates with Inés, and to think that she has to deal with her parents not being able to work as a couple, especially since Mira apparently had to go sleep with someone else, is a scenario that you find nauseating when your brain automatically starts imagining your own children in the same scenario. You don’t think Lucas would ever forgive you if you caused that much hurt to his father, “I don’t know what Mira was thinking. Ava has to deal with her mom having hurt her dad. Why would she put her through that?”

“Jonathan said she’s in love with this new guy,” Javier argues.

“I suppose sometimes you just fall in love with someone else,” you say without any emotion in your voice except for maybe a hint of disgust.

“Are you happy? With me?” The question has been looming over the both of you since the news hit. It was only a matter of time before one of you would start reassessing your own marriage.

You lift your head up to look Javier straight in the eyes, and even if you knew it was coming, you still feel taken aback by how much it makes your guts turn to even be told to consider it. The answer is so clear, “What? I—“

“That’s not an immediate yes,” he furrows his brow in concern.

“Don’t be absurd,” you say back, “I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”

“But do you ever worry about us?” He continues.

“This is the part where you say you love me too,” you joke without much humor in your voice.

“Are you kidding? I’m nothing without you,” he lifts the hand you still have on his chest to kiss your palm, “Te amo tanto (I love you so much) but I need you to answer the question.”

“I don’t ever worry about us, no,” you answer truthfully and Javier visibly relaxes, “I know you. I trust you. It doesn’t even occur to me that I could have anything different in my life, you know? It feels like I would always have found you somewhere else if not here.”

“Perhaps they looked for something else when things became routine,” he suggests, resting your hand against his cheek.

“It’s never routine for me to tell you I love you,” you tell him with a little smile, “There’s no going back to the way things were before you.”

“The idea of having anything else but this,” he trails off for a second, weighing his words and reaching out for you with his free hand. He cups the back of your knee to pull your leg over his naked body, “It’s just not in the cards for me. I’ll never love anyone the way that I love you.”

“Is this code for you’re stuck with me?” You crawl closer to kiss him on the mouth and tighten the leg around him, “Hm?”

“Sí (yes), you’re stuck with me, baby,” he says against your lips.

“Do you promise that?” You whisper after pulling back a little, smiling softly as you look down at his mouth. He initiates another kiss after nodding.

You kiss for a while without rushing it, deeply until you share each breath in your intense embrace. Despite just having had sex with him fifteen minutes ago, you want him again in a way that has him as hard as when you first got together. He fucks you open slowly with you on your back, makes you come on his cock with an almost pained tone in your whimper. He is everywhere on you, soaking you in love. The way he gasps along with you as he comes inside of you has your heart pounding in your chest.

“No quiero a nadie más que a ti (I don’t want anyone else other than you),” he says when basking in the afterglow. However, you have already gotten out of bed to get cleaned up in the bathroom. In contrast to your husband, your afterglow is replaced by anxiety that you have just promised isn’t there.

“I don’t want to end up like that,” you say while peeing with the door open. Javier moves on the bed to be able to look at you.

“We won’t, te lo prometo (I promise you that),” he is quick to answer. You try to give him a smile but he notices the way you falter, “Anything you want to talk about? Anything on your mind?"

“They used to be so happy,” you sigh deeply and get up after finishing your business. You move to the sink and start washing your hands, your back suddenly towards him, “Makes me wonder if we're strong enough to weather anything.”

You hear the weight of him shift on the mattress and a second later, the soft pads of his feet across the tiled bathroom floor. He is behind you, looking at you in the mirror. You feel grateful for the sincerity in his eyes.

“Baby,” he tuts, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. One of his hands goes down to lay on your stomach right below your belly button. You have just started to show, and the both of you have already talked about how early it is that your belly has started protruding but none of you have any clue why yet as you haven’t had your first scan.

Javier kisses your bare shoulder, “This is my life, and I love it, and I would never hurt you… I trust you not to hurt me too.”

You silently turn off the tap to dry your hands but Javier doesn’t let you move. He lifts your chin so he can stare at you in the mirror, “I need you to trust me when I say that ten years with you have only made me want ten, twenty, thirty more. I love you. I choose you every day. Jonathan and Mira didn’t choose each other. We’re not them.”

“I love you too,” you shake your hands dry instead and then turn in your husband’s arms. You hug him close and he walks you out of the bathroom whilst still holding you tightly.

“Three kids so far,�� he reminds you whilst guiding you back to bed, “A decade down the line. We must be doing something right.”

“But what if—“

“You worry too much, mi vida (my life),” he says and smacks your ass as you crawl back into your bed. You glare back at him but he just snickers while crawling in too, “Get comfortable and go to sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you say truthfully.

“Of course, you can,” Javier joins you under the covers. He lays down close to you and without saying a word, reaches out to gently and repeatedly stroke his hand over your hair. The warmth of his palm soothes your worry, each caress easing away the weight in your chest.

You wonder if Mira left because Jonathan didn’t do this sort of thing anymore. Javier has done it for ten years. This fact makes sleep find you easily.

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writingforstraykids · 10 days

Text

Only the best for you

Pairing: Minchan

Word Count: 2973

Summary: Felix's birthday party turns thrilling for Chan and Minho as they sneak away for a moment of privacy...more or less.

Warnings/tags: smut, fluff, idiots in love, soft!dom!chan, soft!sub!min, semi-public sex (a closet😭😂)

A/N: Soo after hearing this audio of my dear @slutforchanlix I had to go and write a little something for it. Thank you Azzy baby for the main idea for this fic hehe @galaxycatdrawz

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho steps into the bedroom cursing softly to himself as the button keeps on slipping from his hand. “Channie,” he calls out to his boyfriend frustratedly.

“Mhm?” Chan gives back, his steps echoing in the hallway as he makes his way over.

“Help, please,” Minho pouts at him and stretches his arm out for him. He yelps in protest when Chan grabs his arm and pulls him in so quickly that their bodies collide. Chan's hands grip his ass, squeezing his cheeks and then he's kissing him forcefully. Minho giggles surprised, gripping his arm to steady himself. “And what was that for, hm?” he asks once Chan pulls back.

“You look incredibly fuckable right now,” he admits and Minho's jaw drops.

He shoves his chest and shakes his head at him. “Stop,” he giggles. “What the fuck are you on about again?”

Chan smiles, eyes wandering all over his body as he takes in the sight again. “You're beautiful, that's why,” he says, watching him in wonder as he readjusts the fragile silver bracelet around his neck. “You've got the prettiest face and your lips look so kissable right now. Also that outfit looks so good on you, but what doesn't?” Chan says and takes a few steps back. “Turn for me?” he asks innocently.

“My cuffs aren't buttoned up yet,” he protests softly but rolls his eyes at Chan's disappointed pout. Minho sighs and slowly turns, blushing a little beneath Chan's intense gaze.

“Fuck, Minho,” he breathes out, eyes wandering lower to where Minho's trousers hug his thick thighs tightly. “If you don't suffocate me with those thighs later I'll cry.”

“What the hell are you on?” Minho laughs out loud and smiles at him giddy. “Look at you getting all worked up about me fully dressed.”

Chan closes the distance between them and gently takes his hand, closing the button for him on one sleeve and then on the other. He brings up his hands to his mouth and kisses his knuckles, smiling at him happily. “Sometimes I just can't believe you're truly mine.”

“Well, wake up, it's been four years, dummy,” he says fondly. “I'm yours and yours only,” he promises sweetly.

Chan hums happily. “Mine,” he smirks before kissing him passionately again.

“Don't you dare keep this up tonight,” he giggles. “It's Lix’s birthday and they rented this whole huge mansion to celebrate. Hyunjin would be pissed if we ruined some sofa in there just because you can't stop being such a tease.”

“Who says it'll be the sofa?” Chan smirks and Minho rolls his eyes playfully. “I'm sure there's some secluded room…or closet,” he says and watches Minho's eyes fill with curiosity. He knew he'd get him with that. The chance of sneaking around and getting caught had done things before to Minho neither of them could explain.

Minho's smile widens at the implication, his eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of excitement. "You're so stupid," he laughs, the sound bubbling up effortlessly. Chan simply grins back, his own excitement easily noticeable.

"Promise me something?" Minho says, his tone suddenly serious. Chan's eyebrows lift in curiosity. "Promise me no matter what happens tonight, we'll make time for us, just us. Even if it's just a moment stolen away from the chaos." Chan's face softens, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Minho's forehead.

"I promise," he says softly, then his lips brighten into a smile. "You know I can't deny you anything." They share a quiet moment, eyes locked, nothing but warmth between them.

The sound of a distant car honking pulls them back to reality. "Sounds like the cab’s here," Chan notes, a hint of reluctance in his voice as if he'd rather stay in this moment forever.

"We should go," Minho agrees, though he takes a second longer to lean in and steal another quick kiss. They break apart, a little breathless but smiling widely.

At the mansion Hyunjin lets them inside and leads them downstairs. “We set up the party there because they have all sorts of stuff we could use. We even have a small disco.”

“Oh, nice,” Minho smirks at the thought of letting loose and dancing with Chan.

As they make their way downstairs, the sounds of laughter and music greet them. The mansion is beautifully decorated, every detail perfect for the celebration. Lix, the birthday boy, is in the center of it all, surrounded by friends and brightly colored balloons.

"Happy Birthday!" Minho and Chan chorus as they approach, each giving Lix a warm hug. Lix beams at them, his happiness fully on display.

"Thanks for coming, guys! I’m so glad you're here," Felix exclaims. "Make yourselves at home—there's food, drinks, and later on, we’re hitting the dance floor hard!"

As the evening progresses, the party goes quite nicely for everyone involved. Music thumps through the mansion, and people mingle and dance.

Minho and Chan drift together through the crowd, occasionally separated as friends pull them into conversations or dance-offs but always finding their way back to each other. Their eyes meet across the room often, a silent conversation of smiles and nods, the promise of a stolen moment never far from their minds.

At one point, Minho finds himself alone on a balcony, taking a moment to breathe in the cool night air. The stars are out, twinkling above in a clear sky. He leans against the railing, lost in thought, until he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

"Escaped the chaos?" Chan's voice is soft, his breath warm against Minho's neck.

"Just needed a minute to breathe," Minho replies, leaning back into the embrace. "You?"

"I was looking for you," Chan confesses, tightening his hold slightly. "Remember your promise?" he whispers, his lips brushing against Minho's ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

"How could I forget?" Minho turns in Chan's arms to face him, their noses brushing. "So, about that closet…" he trails off, a teasing glint in his eye.

Chan chuckles, his gaze fond and filled with love. "Let's go find it," he suggests, taking Minho's hand and leading him back inside.

They wander through the party, unnoticed in their quest. When they finally slip away into a quiet hallway, their hands are clasped tightly, the thrill of their little adventure adding an extra layer of excitement.

There's a huge closet standing at the wall and Chan smirks opening the door to it. There are some cleaning supplies in there, which he quickly shoves aside before stepping into it. “Come on,” he giggles and Minho steps inside as well. It’s quiet here, away from the noise of the party. They close the door behind them, the click of it shutting sounding unusually loud in the silence.

Chan backs Minho against the wall, their bodies pressing close. "Found you," Chan murmurs, before his lips find Minho's again. The kiss is deep, passionate, fueled by the adrenaline of their sneaky escape.

Minho's hands roam over Chan's back, pulling him closer, their bodies moving in sync with a rhythm only they know. They break the kiss only to catch their breath, foreheads resting against each other, their breaths mingling. “I love you,” Minho whispers into the quiet. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Chan whispers back, hands squeezing his hips. “It's darker than I expected here,” he admits.

“Well, obviously,” Minho laughs out loud and covers his mouth in shock.

“Should we keep the door open, just a little?” he asks and Minho responds with a choked, little moan. “Means you gotta be quiet, bunny, think you can do that?”

Minho squirms a little and nods before realizing Chan can't see him. “Yes, yes I can,” he nods quickly.

“Mhm, you better, or I'll stop moving,” he says and Minho can hear him undoing his belt.

“Yes, hyung,” he answers softly, biting his lower lip hard. Chan gently shoves the door open enough to let in a little light. Their eyes meet and Minho swallows at the need in Chan's dark orbs.

“Trust me,” Chan murmurs as he leans in, his breath hot against Minho’s cheek. The slight crack of the door allows the distant sounds of the party to seep in—a reminder of the world just outside their hidden spot.

Minho nods, his heartbeat quickening with each of Chan's movements. There’s a thrill to this—the secrecy, the risk, the sheer excitement of being with Chan in such a risky setting.

Chan’s hands are careful yet confident as they explore Minho, each touch sending shivers through him. Minho reaches out, his fingers digging into Chan’s back, pulling him closer, needing to feel as much of him as possible.

The soft hum of the party continues to drift through their small opening.

“You make everything feel like an adventure,” Minho breathes out, his voice a hushed whisper against Chan’s lips.

Chan smiles, his eyes reflecting a mix of love and mischief. “Only the best for you,” he replies, pressing another kiss to Minho’s lips, this one tender and filled with promise. “Let's make sure you're ready, hm?” Chan hums against his lips and fumbles with the button of Minho's trousers.

“Yeah,” he nods feverishly and shoves down his trousers and boxers enough for Chan to get to work.

Chan pulls out the small bottle of lube, safely stored in the inside of his jacket. He pours some on his fingers and reaches behind Minho, circling his hole before pushing inside. Minho grips his shoulder tightly, mouth forming a silent “oh”. “Relax,” Chan whispers, gently working his finger inside. “Good boy,” he adds as Minho does exactly that and lets Chan do as he wants to.

“Fuck, love, please,” he moans sweetly, pressing back on his finger.

Chan smiles at Minho's responsiveness, adding another finger and scissoring them slowly, careful to prepare him properly. The intimate touches, combined with their secluded environment, heighten the intensity of each sensation. Minho's breath catches, his forehead resting against Chan's shoulder as he adjusts to the feeling.

"Better?" Chan asks, his voice low and comforting.

"Much," Minho manages to reply, his voice laced with a mix of pleasure and anticipation. He adjusts his stance slightly, allowing Chan better access, his own hands gripping Chan's jacket for support.

Chan continues his careful movements, his free hand tracing gentle patterns along Minho's side, soothing and arousing all at once. The soft, muffled sounds of the party outside seem worlds away, their own private universe reduced to the small, dimly lit space of the closet and the overwhelming sensations flooding through them.

Finally feeling that Minho is ready, Chan pulls out his fingers and takes a condom from his jacket pocket. With quick, practiced movements, he tears the package open and rolls it onto himself. He looks into Minho's eyes, searching for any last hesitation, but finds only eager need in them.

"You sure?" he asks, again.

"Absolutely," Minho replies, his voice firm yet breathy. "Please, Chan, I need you."

Chan nods, aligning himself with Minho, his hands gripping his hips tightly. He pushes forward gently, pausing at the resistance he meets to let Minho adjust. The tight heat welcoming him sends a shudder through his body, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. No rush.

Minho bites down on his lip, concentrating on relaxing as Chan begins to move. Once fully buried inside, Chan gives them both a moment to adjust before starting a slow rhythm. Each thrust is controlled and soft, aiming for a depth and angle that pulls soft, quiet moans from Minho.

Their movements are synchronized, a dance they’ve perfected over time. The sounds of their breaths and the quiet squelch of the lube mix with the faint music from the party.

"Chan..." Minho breathes out, his hands sliding up to tangle in Chan's hair. He pulls him down for a kiss, hungry and deep, which Chan eagerly returns. The kiss muffles their moans, their pace changing as they lose themselves in each other.

Chan's hands explore Minho's body, his fingers tracing the lines and curves he knows so well, each touch sparking additional waves of desire. Minho's hands are equally busy, caressing Chan's back, shoulders, and occasionally drifting lower, thrusting deeper.

Minho's head drops back against the wall of the closet, jaw growing slack as Chan barely moves anymore. They both know how much he loves feeling full and Chan loves seeing him lose control. Chan starts kissing his neck as Minho gets more vocal, breathy moans and small huffs leaving him. He soothingly squeezes his hip and bites back a soft groan as Minho's moans rise in volume the more his lips travel over his neck.

Minho's grip on his jacket grows tight as Chan barely pulls out before already pushing inside again, grinding against his prostate. “Ohh, fuuck,” he moans out louder than he should. He can't help it as Chan finds just the right angle to make his whole body sing with pleasure. Chan's breath hitches at the sound, encouraged by the undeniable evidence of Minho's pleasure.

"Shh, we've got to keep it down, remember?" Chan reminds him softly, even as he adjusts his movements to maintain that perfect angle, each thrust calculated to deepen the sensation for Minho.

Minho nods, biting his lip hard, his eyes fluttering closed as he fights to stay quiet. He wraps his arms around Chan, pulling him closer, their bodies flush against each other, minimizing any noise from their movements.

Chan's face, buried into the crook of Minho's neck, his hot breaths against Minho's skin sending shivers down his spine. He whispers encouragements, each word a tender vibration against Minho's sweaty skin. "You're doing so well," he murmurs, "Just a bit longer, I've got you."

Minho's hands travel down, tracing the line of Chan's spine, feeling the muscles work beneath his skin. He reaches lower and touches himself where Chan's body meets his, increasing his own pleasure. He feels a familiar tightening, his orgasm approaching rapidly.

Chan feels it too, his movements becoming less rhythmic, more erratic as he gets closer to the edge. "Minho," he gasps, his voice a tight whisper, "I'm—"

"I know," Minho cuts him off, his voice a breathy moan. “Please, baby, with me-.”

The permission breaks the last of Chan's restraint. With a few more thrusts, deep and hectic, they reach their climax together. Chan's grip tightens around Minho as he shudders as waves of pleasure wash over them, leaving them clinging to each other, breathless and spent. Minho can't stop the filthy sounds spilling from his mouth anymore and Chan doesn't stop him, loving the sound of his name so broken, so delicate, so sweet way too much.

For a few moments, they simply hold each other, their breaths slowly calming. Chan eventually pulls back slightly, looking into Minho's eyes with a depth of love that words could never fully capture. He presses a soft, long kiss to Minho's lips, which the younger returns just as lovingly.

"We should probably get back," Chan whispers against Minho's lips.

Minho nods, a soft smile covering his lips. "Yeah, before they start sending out search parties for us." He helps Chan tidy up, adjusting each other's clothes and hair to erase any obvious signs of what had happened.

They open the closet door fully, peeking out to make sure the coast is clear. The party still rumbles on, the sounds of celebration unchanged by their temporary absence. They slip out, blending back into the crowd, sharing looks, secret smiles and knowing glances.

As they mingle, they keep close, occasionally brushing hands or exchanging soft words.

The night continues, and the music changes to slower, softer beats. Minho leans against Chan, his head resting on his shoulder as they sway gently to the music. Chan’s arms wrap around him, strong and secure.

“Happy?” Chan whispers lowly.

“Very,” Minho replies genuinely. “Best birthday party ever, and it’s not even mine.”

Chan laughs softly, his breath warm against Minho’s neck. “Every day with you feels like a celebration,” he says, meaning every word.

As the party slowly comes to an end, guests begin to say their goodbyes. Minho and Chan help Lix with some of the cleanup, gathering decorations and tidying up the space. The other boys poke fun at them for working in sync so well by now.

Once they're done Minho turns to Chan. "Let's go home," he suggests gently. Chan nods, taking Minho's hand in his, their fingers intertwining naturally.

Once home, they kick off their shoes and collapse onto the couch, their bodies melting into one another in a familiar, comforting way. Chan rests his head against Minho's shoulder, his breaths deep and even.

"We really needed this, didn't we?" Chan murmurs, his voice muffled against Minho's shirt.

"Yeah, we did," Minho agrees, his hand stroking Chan's hair, soothing him. "Just some time away from everything else."

They sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the peace of their living room, the quiet hum of the city outside their windows providing a gentle background noise. It doesn't take long and Chan's straddling Minho's lap, sharing tired and loving kisses. As they break apart, Minho's phone buzzes with a message. He glances at it, a smile spreading across his face. "Looks like Jisungie is throwing another party next week," he chuckles, showing Chan the screen.

Chan groans playfully. "Another chance to hide somewhere?"

"Only if you behave until then," Minho teases, laughing.

The rest of the night is spent in a comfortable silence, with occasional bursts of laughter when one of them shares a random thought.

Eventually, they make their way to bed. As they get comfortable, their bodies close, Chan whispers, "I love you, Minho. More than anything."

"I love you too, Chan. Forever," Minho whispers back softly.

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vodika-vibes · 2 months

Text

Ordinary Day

When you flee to Pabu to get away from your life, you don’t expect to find happiness there. You’ve never been so happy to be wrong in your life.Summary:

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 834

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wanted to write something cute and sorta fluffy so I did.

You like your home.

Sure, it’s a bit small, nothing compared to the grand mansions that you used to live in when you were a child, but your home is cozy and warm and safe…and that’s something that you never had growing up.

Yes. You love your home.

Even the squeaky floorboards on the stairs, and the way that the kitchen faucet drips if you aren’t careful to make sure that it’s turned completely off.

But, you have to admit, your favorite part of your home has nothing to do with your home itself, so much as your neighbor, and boyfriend of two months, Crosshair.

You roll out of bed early, and lazily shower and dress before you start opening curtains and windows.

It’s your day off, which means, naturally, that you’re awake with the sunrise. Still, it’s a nice day, so you don’t mind as much as you normally do.

You grab some of the dough that’s been in the fridge overnight, and toss it on the counter so you can have fresh bread later, before you go about opening the curtains and windows in the main part of the house.

Carefully, you tie the curtains to the side, and then push open the window before locking it into place, and a small smile crosses your face when you see Crosshair messing with the speeder in front of his house.

“Does Tech know you’re messing around with his speeder, Cross?” You ask, your voice light as you lean against the window frame.

He straightens and looks at you, a small smirk crossing his face, “Morning kitten.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, though it’s mostly for show, you both know it doesn’t bother you half as much as you act. “Good morning, Crosshair.”

He flashes a small smile, “What Tech doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Mm-hmm, but will it hurt you?”

“I can take him.”

You laugh softly, “Wouldn’t it be better to not start a fight in the first place?”

The toothpick in Crosshair’s mouth moves from one side to the other, “Nah.”

You laugh again and shake your head, “I’m going to hazard a guess that you’re the older brother.”

Crosshair’s grin is sharp, “How’d you guess, kitten?”

“I just have a feeling about these kinds of things.” You reply, and then you sit on the windowsill and swing your legs so they’re outside the house, “So, why are you awake so early?”

“Wrecker snores.” Crosshair replies, his gaze dropping to your bare legs for a split second, before snapping back to your face, “You?”

“Ah. Well, today is the first day of my vacation, so naturally I woke up with the sun.”

“Oh, naturally.” He teases with a smirk, “Hate it when that happens.”

“It’s the worst.” You agree, cheerfully ignoring his teasing, “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I was planning on spending the day away from everyone, on the other side of the island.” Crosshair replies, as he drops his bag in the speeder, “I just need a break from people.”

“That’s fair. Well, don’t let me stop you-”

Crosshair watches you for a moment, and then he folds his arms across his chest, “Wanna come?”

“I thought you needed a people break?”

“Come on, Kitten. We both know you don’t count as people.”

“Thanks…I think.”

“Are you coming or aren’t you?” Crosshair asks with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Untwist your panties, Cross.” You hop down from the windowsill, and hurry over to him.

“Hm, you spend a long time thinking about my underwear, kitten?” Crosshair asks as you stop next to him.

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder.” You reply primly.

“Yeah? Well, that’s a shame, because I spend a lot of time thinking about yours.”

“I think that makes you a pervert.” You muse thoughtfully.

“But not you?”

“Of course not.” You grin at him.

Crosshair chuckles and tosses his toothpick to the side, “So, this counts as a date, right?” You arch a single brow at him, “Which means I can kiss you whenever I want, right?”

“Is that how that works?”

“You know, I think it does.”

“Hm…well, if that’s the case, then yes. I suppose you can.”

Crosshair is quick to take advantage of your permission, as he crashes his lips against yours and tangles his fingers in your short hair to keep you close. “There,” He says as he pulls away, “That’s a proper good morning.”

“Hm…is it?” You ask with a dreamy smile, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

He laughs, “Brat. You can get more kisses when we get to where we’re going. In the speeder.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“You love it. Get in.”

“I’m getting, I’m getting.” You reply with a laugh as you climb into the passenger's seat, before leaning back and stretching out.

You love so many things about Crosshair…but these surprise trips, where it’s just the two of you exploring for the sake of exploring, you think you love the most.

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fics

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tyun4airy · 1 month

Text

— FLUSTERED

haku shota (p1h) x gn!reader

genre: fluff

summary: when you see soul’s new outfit for an upcoming performance, you can't help but get flustered at the sight, to which he teases you relentlessly for

warnings/tags: none!

p1harmony masterlist | main masterlist

you were currently sitting in the dressing room of your boyfriend’s group, on your phone mindlessly scrolling through social media while waiting for your boyfriend to finish getting ready. you heard the door open and you looked up, immediately seeing shota and smiling before your eyes finally caught onto what he was wearing. a black cropped shirt with a transparent top covering some of it.

your cheeks instantly flushed at the sight before you cleared your throat and put your phone down. “hey!” you smiled.

“hi,” shota smiled and plopped down in the seat next to you, grabbing your hand and starting to play with your fingers.

“you nervous?” you asked him.

“hm?” shota looked up at you, noticing your blushed cheeks. “why are you blushing?” he asked, gently poking your cheek.

“what? i’m not blushing,” you quickly shook your head.

“you are!” shota replied with a smile. “do you like my outfit?” he teasingly asked.

“of course, i like it,” you answered.

“yeah, but you really like it, huh?” shota continued to tease, poking your cheek again. “you got a little crush on me~”

you let out a little laugh, letting him poke your cheek. “we’re dating, shota.”

“i know!” he smiled. “but you still have a crush on me.”

“well, yeah,” you smiled back. “i think that's like, the minimum requirement to date someone.”

“true,” shota nodded, shifting to lean his head on your shoulder and continue to fiddle with your fingers. “but it looks good, right?” he smiled up at you.

“of course it does,” you replied, smiling back down at him. “your stylist did wonders with this outfit.”

shota chuckled lightly and nodded again. “right! i’m glad you like it! it really does look good on me, but i was a little worried at first when i put it on,” he admitted.

“ah,” you wave your free hand like it was nothing. “there's nothing to worry about, shota. you look good in everything you wear.”

“thank you!” his smile grew as he gazed up at you. “oh my gosh! you know what we should do after i’m done with today?” he slapped your arm gently a few times.

“what?” you questioned, chuckling at his antics.

“we should have you try on the outfits!” shota grinned.

“huh?” you let out, looking at him confused. “you want me to try on your outfit?”

“yeah!” he nodded feverishly. “it would be so fun!”

“i mean, i guess, but wouldn't you get in trouble?” you asked.

“it’d be fine as long as i ask!” shota immediately responded as if he were ready for that question.

“then, i guess it couldn't hurt,” you said with a nod.

“yay!” shota cheered happily. “okay, i gotta go right now but you’ll be here when i get back?” he asked hopefully.

you nodded your head. “of course.”

“great!” shota kissed your cheek and quickly hopped up off the couch. “i’ll see you in a few hours!”

“okay,” you smiled softly at him.

“i love you!” he said, doing a heart with his hands before hurrying off out of the room.

“i love you too!”

#kpop x reader #p1h x reader #p1harmony x reader #soul x reader #haku shota #p1h scenarios #p1h imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #soul imagines #soul scenarios #haku shota x reader

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sokoviansimp · 9 months

Note

I don’t know if your requests are open, but if they are I was wondering what if hydra tried to take y/n back, and like tried to hurt her again and Wanda being scared and protective? What do you think? And Nat being her rock while they try to get y/n back if hydra takes her away again? Idk anyway I love your writing

Taken

✒ Pairings: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff x Child!Reader (platonic)

✒ Summary: Wanda and Nat attempt to get Y/N back after she is Taken back by Hydra.

✒ Tags and Warnings: kidnapping, fighting

✒ Author's Note: This was so much fun to write, hope you enjoy!

✒ Word Count: 3750-ish

✒ Read Time: 18 minutes

Masterlist : The Package AU : Socials

“Y/N, get your stuff together, sweetie.” your teacher instructed once she hung up the phone with the main office. You were over at your desk practicing your vocabulary words with your friend Matthew, “Am I in trouble?” you wondered. Was she kicking you out? Did you do something wrong? You’ve never had to pack your bag in the middle of the day.

“No, no, of course not,” your teacher assured, “Your guardian is here to pick you up early,” she explained

“Early?” you weren’t told anything about this before you were dropped off, “Yes, she’s here now, better not to keep her waiting.” she urged.

After getting your things together you hurried to the main office to meet Wanda, or at least that’s who you were expecting. Your confusion continued when you saw Natasha waiting for you alone, “Natty? Where Mama?”

“Hi, Y/N. Oh, Wanda is just waiting for us at home, no need to worry,” she informed you with an eerily wide smile as she ushered you out of the building. Everything felt off, Nat always picked you up into her arms as soon as she saw you after camp. Maybe she was just in a hurry, so you stopped walking, “Natty, uppie?” you suggested with your arms up.

“Oh, sure come here,” she responded as she took you into her arms. The closer the two of you got to the parking lot, you could feel her rustling around in her pockets for something but you ignored it as you rested your head on her shoulder, “Guess what I learned 'bout today!” you offered, since usually, that was the first thing Nat would ask when she picked you up from camp.

“What?” she responded distractedly, not really interested in what you had to say.

“You s'posed to guess,” you urged.

“Ugh, I don’t know kid, 2+2?” she snapped back. You weren’t expecting such a negative response, usually, Natasha was so happy to see you.

“No, I a'ready know dat. I learned dat water uhm, can go from being water, uhm, den it can go into da air and up into da sky and den it comes back down when it rains from da sky. OH and when it gets cold, like really cold water turns solwid like ice and if it's raining den it’s snowing.” you explained with lots of excitement and exclaimated expressions on your face.

“Cool,” Natasha replied unimpressed. As the two of you got closer to the car and further from the school, the parking lot became more desolate. Once you were in a spot that was tucked away and out of the public eye, you noticed that she finally pulled whatever she was looking for out of her pocket.

“Natty, you ok?” you wondered if something was wrong since she seemed so off and uninterested in you.

“Hm? Oh yea, everything is fine,” she assured as you felt a stabbing pain in your left leg causing you to jolt slightly in shock, “OW! Natty, wha's dat?” almost instantly you felt your muscles relax so much that you no longer had control over them, “Na'y?” you fought out as you slumped over. Trying to focus on anything proved to be a challenge as you struggled to keep your eyes from closing. It didn’t take long before it was too much to fight and you slowly drifted away into unconsciousness in her arms.

When dismissal time rolled around, Wanda and Nat were there 5 minutes early like always. Your teacher was quite concerned to see them there waiting for you when you had already left for the day so she immediately approached the couple with a perplexed expression adorning her features, “What brings you two back here today?”

The two werent expecting to be questioned for something so mundane, “What do you mean? We’re here for Y/N, of course.” Wanda politely chuckled, hoping the teacher was just joking around.

��Y/N already left, you were were here around lunch time to pick her up for early dismissal,” Your teacher informed as she motioned towards Natasha.

Wandas, heartbeat immediately picked up as she began to dial in on her senses, “Early dismissal? This is the first time I’ve been here all day,” Natasha answered and Wanda could see that the teacher wasn’t lying, but neither was Natasha.

You began to stir slowly, thinking you were down for a nap in your bed. It wasn’t until your eyes fluttered open and you began to focus on the details around you that you noticed you were back in a cell. Once you’re fully awake, you stand up to inspect the door holding you captive. In an attempt to break out, you try to concentrate your powers and quake the door open even though didn’t have high hopes as you have never had full control of your powers, but you figured it was worth a shot. Unfortunately, your captors were one step ahead of you. Instantly you fell to the ground with an intense pain emanating from the inhibitor they had placed around your neck.

Memories from earlier quickly flooded back to the front of your mind as you quickly jolted yourself into the corner and curled your body into the fetal position. Tears began threatening to spill from your eyes as you remembered who was responsible for your trip back to the cell. Natasha. How could she do this? One of the people you trusted most just betrayed you so easily. Though, that wasn’t anything new for you, in fact, you think to yourself that you really should’ve seen it coming. It’s what they all do. Seems like no one is ever really on your side.

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted when the door to your cell swings open and 3 people flood in. You try to fold in on yourself and become as small as you can but you're already tight-knit in the corner.

As if your vivid memories weren’t enough, Natasha Romanoff stands before you, and you see every detail in her face with your judicious eyes, “Oh good, étoile, you’re awake.”

The nickname caught your attention. Étoile? Nat never called you étoile. You haven’t heard that nickname since hydra had taken you away. Still, you stayed silent.

Noticing your silent demeanor, the women in front of you continues, “What’s the matter, y/n? Aren’t you happy to be home?”

“dis not home.” you shakenly spat out, “Where's mama?” you cried out.

Squatting down to your level, she peeled the digital cloaking device from her face and sinisterly said, “Don’t worry sweetie, mama is right here.”

You were nothing short of shocked as you saw the true face of the person that took you. To be truthful, you never expected to see your birth mother again, “Ma?” you mumbled unsure of your own eyes.

“It’s me, Étoile.” she assured, “Now be a good girl and behave while they administer your tests for the day,” she instructed.

“We go home? No Poke, please!” you cried, remembering how tortuous your experience was last time you were in a cell.

“Oh, Étoile. You are home. Don’t you understand? This is what you were made for.” she said with a cheeky grin as she waved over the 2 scientists.

Made for? You didn’t understand, you always thought that Hydra stole you away from your mother. Everything you remembered about her was positive, but you didn’t have much time to reflect before you were being tied to a chair and then poked and prodded with needles. Your mother left the cell swiftly before the process began, not to be bothered by your screams of torture.

Wanda's heart pounded in her chest as she stood in the dimly lit briefing room, empty to everyone but her and the one she called her best friend. Her hands trembled, anger and desperation fueling her determination. You, the child she had accepted wholeheartedly as her own, had been taken by Hydra, and Wanda was consumed by an overwhelming sense of fear, anguish, and guilt. How could she let this happen? She was supposed to be there to protect you.

Tears streamed down her face as she turned to Natasha, her eyes pleading for strength and support. In that moment, Natasha knew that she had to be Wanda's rock, the unwavering presence by her side, offering solace and steadfast determination.

Natasha stepped forward, her voice filled with conviction and a touch of tenderness. "Wanda, we will get Y/N back. We won't rest until she’s safe with us again. I promise you that." she assured as she took Wanda into a sturdy embrace, letting her sob into her shoulder.

Wanda pulled back once the tears began to slow and looked at Natasha, her eyes filled with gratitude and a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. She clung to Natasha's words, finding comfort in her support. "How?"

Nat thought for a moment, “Tony’s got the team on it, once they have a lead we’ll be the first one’s out of here,” she explained, but that wasn’t good enough for Wanda, “No, I- I can’t just sit around here and do nothing.” she sobbed until it clicked, “Wait- let me try something.” she said as she took a seat and closed her eyes to focus her energy on you. The two of you had never connected from this far before but anything was worth a shot if it meant getting you back safe and sound.

Once the tests were completed, you were left in your cell alone to recover. The dimly lit, virtually windowless chamber located deep within a hidden underground facility was a chilling embodiment of Hydra’s sinister intentions and scientific pursuits. The walls are made of reinforced steel and painted in a lifeless gray color. There are no windows or openings to the outside world, reinforcing the feeling of being trapped and the cell door is heavy and secured by an electronic lock, with no visible handle from the inside. It has a small, reinforced window that allows guards to monitor the occupant. A place where the subject’s powers are studied and manipulated, and the surroundings are deliberately designed to break their spirit and hope.

The only furnishing that adorns the room consists of a worn-out mattress on the floor, a small table with a basic chair, and restraints that are attached to the bed and the chair. The table is usually cluttered with scientific instruments and notebooks. Not to mention, the air in the cell is perpetually cool, contributing to a sense of discomfort and unease.

As you’re laying there drifting in and out of sleep, you hear Wanda’s voice and immediately wonder if you’re dreaming, “Y/N, can you hear me?”

“Mama?” you answer back telepathically, “detka, oh my god, are you ok?” she was so relieved to solidify the connection with you.

“Mama, where are you? Wanna come home” you answered back, wanting nothing more than to be back at the compound with Wanda. Safe with her.

“I know sweetie, we’re going to come and get you, I promise. Are you hurt? Do you know where you are?” she tried to assure you as much as she could, maybe even believing her own words more as she said them.

You explained everything that you had gone through today and tried your hardest to describe where you were being held but you didn’t know exactly where they were holding you. As Wanda's determined thoughts intertwined with yours, she was able to take in all the information you had. In the midst of darkness, your telepathic conversation became a lifeline of hope and reassurance. Wanda's thoughts were a beacon of love, guiding you through the darkness and fear.

“It was her birth mother.” Wanda uttered to Nat in shock once she concluded the conversation with you.

With a better understanding of what they were dealing with, the two of them went to brief the team on their new findings. Everyone in the compound worked on overdrive to try and find a lead as to where you were being held. Days turned into weeks as they chased leads, infiltrated secret hideouts, and fought their way through Hydra's defenses.

Through it all, Wanda would reach out to you every day to check in, update you on their efforts, and try to provide any sense of comfort that she could and Natasha remained Wanda's constant pillar of strength, offering a reassuring presence in the face of adversity. During sleepless nights and moments of doubt, Natasha was there, holding Wanda close, reminding her that they were in this together. "We're going to bring Y/N home, Wanda. She’s our family, and nothing will stop us from finding her."

Their search for the Hydra base was a strenuous journey through a web of secrecy and deception. It began with a series of covert operations, hacking into encrypted files, and gathering intelligence from their extensive network of contacts. The leads were scarce, but their determination was unyielding.

This night, in particular, the weight of the situation finally became too much for Wanda to bear. She had retreated to her room, her heart heavy with a sense of helplessness that she had become far too familiar with from the loss of her parents and her brother, except this time, it felt different. This time, she had the chance to save you, to protect you and she just kept failing. Sitting on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling, she buried her face in her palms and let out a choked sob. The frustration, fear, and guilt that had been building inside her finally erupted in a torrent of tears.

She cried for the innocent child who had been taken, for the suffering you were going through, and for her own inability to bring you back. Her breakdown was a raw and cathartic release of emotions that she had been holding back for far too long, unintentionally expressing her powers in a way that could be felt throughout the whole compound. Instead of trying to calm her, the team thought it best for her to let it out in that moment instead, and if it got to be too much they would intervene. Truthfully, Natasha would've been right by her side in an instant if she didn't feel like she was on the cusp of important intel.

As the tears flowed, Wanda's mind raced, and in her anguish, she began to replay every detail of the situation, every piece of information they had gathered, searching for something, anything that they might have missed.

It was in this vulnerable moment, as she let herself fully feel the depth of her emotions, that a small glimmer of insight emerged. Amidst her tears, Wanda's mind began to connect the dots in a way it hadn't before. She realized that the clues they had gathered pointed to a location they hadn't considered – a place that she had heard whispers about during her time at Hydra but had never been to herself.

Wanda's breathing steadied as she wiped away her tears, her mind now focused and clear. She knew what needed to be done. Without wasting another moment, she rushed downstairs to find Natasha

Meanwhile, Natasha managed to intercept a coded message from an anonymous source containing coordinates and a cryptic message that hinted at Hydra's involvement in a desolate region.

As Wanda rounded the corner to the lab, the two of them locked eyes and from the look on each other's faces, they could both tell that they shared a similar realization, "She's in Norway!" They both shouted in unison, "How do you know?" Wanda questioned, wondering what led Nat to the realization, "Come, look at this," Nat waved her over to show her the intel she had intercepted.

Without hesitation, Wanda and Natasha gathered the team to follow this lead, their hope renewed by the prospect of finally locating the hidden base.

The coordinates led them to a remote forested area far away from populated regions in Norway. As they cautiously ventured deeper into the wilderness, they discovered signs of recent human activity that didn't match the surrounding environment. A faint humming sound filled the air, a sign of advanced technology hidden beneath the surface.

Using their combined skills, Natasha and Tony uncovered a concealed entrance to an underground facility. The entrance was camouflaged to blend seamlessly with the natural landscape, a tactic Hydra often employed to evade detection. The two Avengers shared a knowing glance, their determination solidified as they realized they were closing in on their target.

With stealth and caution, the team navigated through the dimly lit corridors of the underground base. The air was heavy with tension, the walls seemingly holding the secrets of Hydra's sinister operations. As they approached a heavily guarded door, Wanda’s telepathic connection proved invaluable as she sensed the presence of minds within, confirming that they were on the right track.

Tony's hacking skills came into play as he disabled security measures, allowing them to breach the inner chambers of the base. What they discovered left them both horrified and fueled their determination further. Among the confidential documents and experimentation records, they found references to you, confirming some of their worst fears.

“This is it, I know it.” Wanda confirmed, feeling it in her gut that you weren’t far.

Once they breached the main door, there were several hallways that led in different directions, so they set off in smaller groups to cover ground.

In the dimly lit corridors of the Hydra base, Wanda and Natasha's hearts pounded in unison. Their steps were silent, every movement calculated to avoid detection while they closed in on your location. As they turned a corner, they encountered a group of Hydra operatives standing guard outside a reinforced door. Wanda raised her hand slightly, gesturing for Natasha to stand back.

Wanda’s telepathic powers allowed them to communicate silently, sharing a plan without a word spoken. Natasha nodded in agreement, her eyes narrowing with determination. With a focused look, Wanda unleashed her telekinetic powers, sending nearby metal pipes hurtling toward the operatives. The clang of metal striking metal echoed through the corridor as chaos erupted.

Startled by the sudden assault, the operatives scrambled to defend themselves, drawing their weapons in an attempt to fight back. On cue, Natasha emerged from the shadows, her movements a blur of precise strikes and calculated maneuvers. She incapacitated one after another with her lethal grace, using her combat skills to disarm and disable the threat swiftly.

Wanda's crimson energy flared as she repelled bullets and incoming attacks with a deft wave of her hand. The walls themselves seemed to respond to her power, creating barriers and distractions that kept the Hydra agents off balance. As she engaged in the battle, her mind remained focused on the task at hand: reaching you before it was too late.

The sound of a distant alarm reverberated through the corridors, signaling the base's heightened state of alert. Wanda's determination burned brighter, her powers intensifying as she fought to clear a path toward your cell. Natasha's acrobatic maneuvers and sharpshooting skills cleared the way ahead, allowing Wanda to push forward without hesitation.

As they breached the inner chambers of the base, they confronted a larger group of Hydra operatives led by Brock Rumlow. The stakes were higher, but Wanda and Natasha's resolve remained unshaken. Wanda's hands glowed with raw energy, her telekinesis and telepathy intertwining in a symphony of power that left Hydra agents disoriented and vulnerable.

Natasha's movements were a fluid dance of combat expertise, as she used her environment to her advantage. She disarmed opponents with precision, her strikes quick and lethal. With every enemy she incapacitated, her gaze remained locked on Rumlow, their silent exchange a testament to the intensity of the battle.

Amidst the chaos, Rumlow's laughter rang out, confident that his forces would overcome the duo. But he underestimated the strength of their bond and the depth of their love for you. As the battle raged on, Wanda's emotions ignited her powers to unprecedented heights, causing the very walls of the hideout to tremble.

With a fierce cry, Wanda sent a wave of energy surging towards Rumlow, disorienting him long enough for Natasha to close the distance. Their combined assault was relentless, their every move coordinated and precise. In a final, climactic clash, Wanda's telekinetic force collided with Natasha's formidable combat skills, overwhelming Rumlow's defenses.

As the dust settled, the once menacing Hydra operatives lay defeated on the ground, and Rumlow himself was immobilized. Wanda and Natasha shared a moment of exhaustion and triumph, their breaths labored and their bodies battered from the intense battle. But their relief was short-lived, as their focus turned towards the reinforced door that separated them from you.

With a shared nod of persistence, they approached the door, and Wanda shattered the barrier with her powers, revealing your cell. The sight of you, fragile and weak, ignited a plethora of emotions within them.

As they reunited with you, tears of joy streamed down Wanda's face. She quickly scooped you into her arms, holding you tightly, apologizing profusely, and promising to protect you from any harm. You clung to her as tightly as you could, still slightly out of it from all of the physical torment you've been through but her presence was enough to soothe you. Beside her, Natasha's eyes filled with unshed tears, a silent testament to their shared triumph and unyielding love for you. You were so happy to see Wanda, feeling like you could finally relax again in her arms.

In that moment, as they held you close, Wanda knew that she owed a debt of gratitude to Natasha. She had been her guiding light, her unwavering support, throughout the harrowing fight to get you back. They had fought side by side, risking everything for the sake of their family.

Once they were safely out of the base and back onto the jet, Wanda looked at Natasha, her voice filled with love and gratitude. "Nat, you've been my rock through all of this. I-I really couldn't have done it without you.” she said sincerely as you layed asleep in her lap, “Thank you for always being there, for fighting alongside me, and for reminding me of the strength we have together."

Natasha's eyes softened, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she gently puts her arm around Wanda, "Wanda, we're a team. We always have been, and always will be. Y/N is our family, and we'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

Natasha's words hung in the air, a powerful reminder of their shared commitment to you and maybe even each other. Wanda met Natasha's gaze, her heart pounding in her chest as the intensity of the moment settled between them. There was a noticeable connection, a current of unspoken emotions that surged between them, binding them even closer together.

In that charged moment, Wanda's hesitation melted away. She leaned in without another thought, her lips finding Natasha's in a gentle and tender kiss. It was a kiss that held years of unspoken feelings, a culmination of shared experiences, and the promise of a future filled with love and support. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that moment of intimacy and vulnerability.

Once Wanda's inner anxiety caught up to her, she abruptly pulled away, "I-I'm sorry," she blurted out so afraid that she had just ruined one of the best things in her life.

Natasha's fingers brushed against Wanda's cheek, her touch gentle and reassuring, guiding her to meet her gaze "Wanda," she whispered, her voice a soft murmur that sent shivers down Wanda's spine. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

Wanda smiled, a mixture of emotions flooding her senses – happiness, relief, and a deep sense of rightness. "Me too."

Their lips met again, this time with a hunger born of years of suppressed emotions. The kiss was deeper, and more passionate, as if they were pouring all their unspoken words and desires into the connection between them. It was a kiss that spoke of understanding, acceptance, and the promise of a love that had always been there, just waiting to be acknowledged.

As they pulled away, their foreheads still resting against each other, Wanda felt a sense of completeness that she had never experienced before. She had found not only a partner in Natasha but a kindred spirit, someone who understood the complexities of her heart and the depth of her emotions. And in that moment, as they sat in the aftermath of their kiss, Wanda knew that their journey together was just beginning and for the first time in her life, she felt excited to see what her future would hold with her chosen family.

Once you all returned to the safety of the Avengers compound, the atmosphere was a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and an overwhelming sense of triumph. They had faced down Hydra, rescued you, and emerged from the battle victorious. But the emotional toll of the ordeal was palpable, especially for you who had endured the trauma of being captured by the enemy. It took about a week once you arrived home to be discharged from medical.

Wanda and Natasha’s first priority was ensuring your physical and emotional well-being. They took their time comforting you, understanding that the scars of the experience would take time to heal. As much as they wanted to explore this new chapter in their own relationship, they both agreed that you came first. Once things felt normal again, Nat already had a special date planned in her head.

Until then, Wanda used her powers to create a warm and comforting environment, conjuring a soothing atmosphere that helped you feel at ease. You spent hours in the living area, surrounded by blankets and soft lighting, engaging in gentle activities that would help you transition back to a sense of normalcy. You played games, shared stories, and simply enjoyed each other's company.

However, the effects of the traumatizing experience couldn't be ignored. your sleep became troubled by nightmares again, and both Wanda and Natasha tried to take turns staying by your side, offering comfort and security during the dark hours, but you only wanted Wanda. It was hard for you to look at Nat the same after she kidnapped you. Even though you knew it wasn’t actually her, you were still having a hard time feeling comfortable with her.

This gutted Natasha, every time you shied away from her or asked for Wanda instead. She was worried that she had lost you forever and things would never go back to normal, but Wanda was there to assure her that it would just take you some time.

As days turned into weeks, the wounds of the past began to mend. With their loving guidance, your smiles returned, your laughter grew more genuine, and the light in your eyes rekindled. You engaged in activities that brought joy, like exploring the compound's gardens, conducting science experiments with Peter, and even embarking on imaginative adventures that only a child's mind could conceive.

One night after a long day with Wanda, the three of you had decided to watch a movie before bed and instead of sitting on the end next to Wanda, you climbed in the middle of Wanda and Nat, snuggling up to them while the movie played. That small action meant the world to Natasha, as she could finally see things were getting back to normal.

Taglist: @mymommawanda @livslifeonline @reggierizzoli @mythixmagic @lesbicentism@marvelogic @katethewriter @inluvwithfictionalwomen @spooky-reader1 @marvelogic @kissforvoid @pono-pura-vida

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littledollll · 5 months

Text

Call me your angel

Lucifer Morningstar x human!reader

A/n: i love fics that just randomly come to me. In this case I was scrolling through the Lucifer tag like a starved animal (realized I’m practically the main user of it btw) and came across this post by: @masscared-star and immediately thought of some cute sort of intimate conversation scene simply because of that beautiful back-facing drawing. So this is whatever that idea was! Beautiful art btw!<3

Again special thanks to @pebbleswritessometimes and @v3nusxsky for helping me brainstorm and with the general writing process as always.

Warnings: Lucifer’s a little closed off, aludes slightly to sex (barely), non-sexual intimacy, slight insecurity, Lucifer suffering bc of their own mind.

_______________________________

“…you look so pretty..” Lucifer’s attention was captured by your barely whispered words. They were lost in their own mind, always thinking about something, there wasn’t a moment they lived without so much running through their mind. So much you would probably never know.

‘You know enough’, they said. ‘You know what you have to. You know what you really want to.’ Though it wasn’t quite true. You’d never know enough about them. There wasn’t an amount you could know about them without wanting for more.

You wanted to study each and every part of them and their complicated mind. You wanted to understand and feel whatever they did. To feel tethered to this wonderful being. But you know better. And so do they. There is a price to pay with that much knowledge, with all that power.

Maybe in far into the future, you’d finally know everything about the devil, maybe you could have a sliver of understanding for all of it. But for each thing there is time, unlimited time at that. So you had no rush. Lucifer felt comfort in knowing that.

The feeling of your warm hands wrapping around their back and just over their stomach made a slight shiver run through their body, their wings fluttering at the contact.

Your chest pressed against their back, wrapping them in a familiar and warm embrace. And in that moment you felt every running thought leave their mind as they relaxed into your embrace. Their ever-powerful wings rested against their back, against you.

“I wouldn’t know what it feels like.. I have my fair supply of never-ending thoughts. Insecurities and such. Curiosities mostly.”

Immediately, they knew you were observing them. Reading their behaviors. You already knew, or at least had an idea of what was on their mind.

“It’s not all that different from yours then.. no, not truly.” You nodded, they continued.

“Curiosity brought me here.” You disagree. But arguing that would be pointless, you have a thousand times before. “Why do you humans wish to know and have an explanation for everything? The universe is so grand and complicated... sometimes I wish I knew nothing.”

That’s a hard sentiment to combat. You say nothing, letting their statement be just that. “We think we deserve to, maybe. Is it wrong to wonder about everything that was and brought us here? We all want to know about different things, mostly anyways. I wish to know all about you.”

“You deserve to.”

Their statement leaves you confused. Didn’t they just argue we really shouldn’t? That it’s foolish for a human to want to know and understand everything. “I don’t think we d-“

“No. You deserve to. But I fear knowing everything might cause more harm than good. I do not wish for you to understand my wretched mind. But I wish to offer you understanding… does that make any sense?”

Their hands meet your own, feather light touches trace your forearms and each hand, each finger even. Like they’re just admiring you. As if they hadn’t a thousand times before. As if they hadn't a few moments ago. Their hands wrap around your own.

You nod again.

“I’m not in the dark about you… I don’t feel as such either. Maybe it’s my human brain making me want to know it all, hm?” They playfully scoffed, amused by your behavior towards this topic.

“There is vast knowledge that lives in me. Greater than any human mind could ever comprehend. Greater than even I can truly understand. It certainly feels like a burden. But you welcome it and me with open arms, why?”

That idiot. How can somebody so smart be so stupid all at the same time?

“I don’t think you need a map to understand why I love and accept you, angel.” That made them pause. You felt them suck in a breath, and their heart just- stop. Granted it was something they did for your comfort, the devil doesn’t truly need a heartbeat. So there was no concern for their health, but fear for wondering if you went too far.

“..I call you my devil so often, I-..” you wished you could see their face now, it would give you a bit of an idea on how to continue. But you’d have to guess and trust you know them enough to know how they felt in that moment.

You felt a soft squeeze in your right hand, before their thumb began to gently caress the back of it. It made you sigh in relief. “I feel as if you’re my angel, in a way that is very personal to me and no one else.”

That felt nice, hearing your soft words, understanding more or less what you meant by it. “I like it... you may continue calling me that.”

“Call me your angel.” They spoke almost shyly, even through what you would often call their ‘fancy’ way of speaking (a habit you’ve also picked up after so long with them). It was thoroughly amusing to you.

“And so I will, my angel.” They felt the words whispered against their skin, something was oddly comforting about it, Lucifer wished to relish in it forever, bathe in the feeling of the warmth of your love. But that was no far fetched dream, this was it. That warmth was you. That warmth was theirs for all eternity.

#lucifer sandman #sandman lucifer x reader #the sandman #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer morningstar sandman #the sandman lucifer morningstar #the sandman lucifer #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #gwendoline christie #lucifer sandman fluff

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

Text

I Come With Knives Pt4

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I finished and checked the word count and was like WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS IS ONLY LIKE 2K WORDS??? But anyway I was just going through youtube and became inspired. Because how else am I going to move the plot forward without torturing these funky little guys?

Warnings: torture, blood, injury, self-destructive coping mechanisms

Word Count: 2,140

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your face blanches when you find the man, Abdirak, injuring himself willingly for his goddess. It makes you sick. But the moment he’s offering his goddess’s blessing in exchange for the blessed pain she desires, you’re tugging your armor off. Astarion tries stopping you - of course he does. He’s seen what you’ve suffered, even felt it through your tadpoles. But when he grabbed your arm, trying to keep you from pulling your shirt off, you looked at him with the most pleading eyes.

“Please. Please let me do this,” they beg. The words die in his throat.

All too soon, you’re facing the wall, standing in the pool of blood. You brace yourself, hands against the stone. It’s cool and rough beneath your calloused hands. But callouses weren’t enough to make you feel free. Scratches and bruises from combat weren’t enough. You needed this. Your mind screamed at you. You don’t want this. But the thought of stepping away now made your skin itch.

“How wonderful!” The man’s voice sent chills through your spine. He enjoyed this way too much.

White hot pain split the skin of your back. His mace created a perfect lash across. Your teeth ached from trying not to scream. It wasn’t for his sake - he’d probably relish the cries even more. It was years of built-in training from your master.

Astarion’s face was tense. His brow was furrowed, his jaw was taught. His eyes never left you. His tadpole squirmed and he accepted instantly, letting himself fall away into your memories.

It was remarkably similar to your current situation, but you were where he stood. A scrawny, shivering form stood against the wall - he couldn’t tell if they were male or female, just that they were starved. A spawn, no doubt.

A whip cracked and several new lashes crossed their back as they screamed. The cat o’ nine tails was slicked with blood already. Their blood, but also the blood of those that came before.

He couldn’t look away. Long fingers wrapped around his jaw, nails digging into his cheeks. Cool air surrounded his skin, but the coldest came from the form pressed up behind him. He could feel the pinch of nails in his hip, too. Not enough to break skin; hardly enough to even leave bruises. But it was a silent threat. A disgusting display of power.

“You did this, sweet thing,” Kir Parthene purrs into his ear. She’s smiling - he can hear it in the tinge of enjoyment that edges her words. “Its pain is your pain.”

The torturer reels back and hits the spawn again. His heart jumps into his throat at their scream. He can feel the burn of tears; the pounding of empathy in his chest that aches and screams for this to end.

Her hand slides over his belly and he feels sick. “What did you do wrong, hm?”

“I screamed.”

“Good, pet.” She presses a kiss to his cheek. “And why did you scream?” He opened his mouth but she squeezed his jaw, silencing him. “And speak up, sweet thing. Make sure it knows why it’s being punished.”

The pressure eased. He took a breath to gather himself. “Because it hurt.”

Nails pressed just below his sternum. She could dig in. Rip out his heart. Kill him without even flinching. She could feel the terror running through him. Through you. “Will it happen again?”

The spawn turns their head slightly. Enough to look at him. Their eyes are bloodshot and watery, begging. His heart drops a mile into his gut. Guilt floods through him. He wants nothing more than to run over and cover them with his body, shield them from all the pain and torture. But he can’t.

“No.”

She slides her hand from his jaw to rest at the base of his throat. Her mouth leaves messy kisses over the scar, still torn and healing and sensitive. “Good pet.”

When he’s returned to his body, you had two lashes across your back. Your nails dug into the stone. Your body shook. But you remained silent.

Abdirak’s smile is wide and wild. “That’s it! Welcome the pain. Let it become part of you!” He reels back again, preparing for a hard hit. Astarion wants to step in now that he knows why you’re doing this. He wants to cover your body, take the hit, save you from the pain.

You press your forehead to the wall and take slow breaths through your nose. Just one more and you would be blessed. How ironic, to seek penance with a goddess of pain.

The mace comes down hard, scraping against your shoulder blades and crossing over, combining with the other gashes. Astarion can see your exposed muscle. Blood drips down your back, but it is unappetizing to him now. You wobble from the pain, using the wall as support. You’re going to fall into the puddle of blood.

He rushes over, shouldering past Abdirak and wrapping his arms around you - around your shoulders and lower back, where you weren’t hit - and keeping you on your feet. You lean heavily into him, even as you try to keep a facade of strength and indifference. You’re even paler than before. Blood drips out your mouth, so much you have to turn and spit it out with a wince. You bit your tongue just to stay quiet.

“Loviatar herself found your performance… inspiring.” You look over your shoulder at the man. So much wicked elation pours from him, radiating in a sickening display. “She has deemed you worthy of her blessing.”

Astarion helps you turn to face your torturer - though, he thinks, you might see Abdirak as your salvation. Once he’s sure you can support your own weight, he cautiously steps away. Abdirak tosses a pinch of salt to either side of you and makes motions with his hands. A red glow briefly surrounds you, reaching up from the floor, from the blood, to bless you.

Abdirak smiles sickeningly sweet and leans in, too close to your face for Astarion’s liking. “And on a personal note, thank you. That was positively divine.”

You give a small nod, not meeting his eyes. You walk over to your gear and start pulling on your shirt. Your movements are slow and achy, and you keep your gaze fixed on the stone floor.

Astarion steps in front of you, hands stopping you when you try putting your shirt over your head. You start to pull away. You wanted this. You needed this. You were using this as punishment. But he couldn’t find anything you needed to be punished for.

He grabs your arms, keeping you where you are. “Stop being stubborn,” he chides softly. “You’ve had your atonement - you don’t need to keep torturing yourself.”

You hesitantly lift your eyes, just high enough to see his chin. Meeting his eyes feels too overwhelming. You nod slightly. He almost sighs with relief when you let him gently coax your shirt over your head and shift it to hang loosely over your back. You let him clasp your armor back over you, lift your arms and tie leather strands together, protecting you from any more damage. You can feel annoyance radiating from him, despite how careful he’s being.

Once you’re fully armored, you turn and lead your group away from the sickening man, from the fresh blood on the floor. Astarion follows close behind. He can see every wince, hear every sharp inhale, and taste the iron in the air.

Those who didn’t go with you are surprised when you immediately retreat to your tent. Usually, you linger around a while to help with any issues until dinner. Your companions tell the events of the day with hushed tones and worried glances to your tent. Astarion doesn’t hang around to listen. He finds a bowl and has Gale conjure some water to fill it, and a clean cloth. He barges through the door to your tent without asking. The flap closes behind him, and the rest of camp is shut out.

You startle, glaring half-heartedly at him. “Go away, Astarion.”

He barks a dry laugh. “I would rather our intrepid leader not get an infection because they were too careless with themselves.”

“If I get an infection, then it’s my problem to deal with and mine alone.”

“Funny. I thought you were the one prancing around handing aid to any Sally-sob-story, preaching companionship and togetherness. Don’t tell me you’re a hypocrite, too?”

You huffed, irritated. He could see your hands shaking. “I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can. Now show me your back before I get Shadowheart in here. I don’t think you want a lecture from her after all that.”

You weighed your options. Get scolded by your healer who could so easily refuse to help since you willingly put yourself in harm’s way, or get scolded by the only other person here who knew exactly what you were doing to yourself? There was no competition, really.

You sigh and turn your back to him, reaching over your head to tug your shirt off once more. You audibly hiss. At least you weren’t trying to hide the pain anymore.

Blood stains the cloth in your lap. You don’t look forward to washing it. Perhaps you could just dye it red.

Astarion settles in behind you, close enough his knees almost touch your hips. You listen attentively as he soaks the cloth in the water and wrings it out. He doesn’t warn you before he starts dabbing at the wounds. You hiss and jerk away. He sighs and presses a hand to your bare shoulder. This time, he dabs more delicately at the wounds.

“So, are we going to address the tarrasque in the room?” He can’t see your face in this position. Your body language can only tell him so much; he wishes he could even have a glimpse of your face to read your emotions. “I know you didn’t do it simply for the blessing.”

He can see your back shake as you let out an unsteady stream of air. “Did you see…?”

He hums. He dunks the cloth back into the water, tinting the water pink.

“Every time I did something wrong, she’d force me to watch as another spawn was whipped. Tortured for my mistakes.” You scoff. It’s watery. “I would never be put in their place. No matter how bad I was, I was always too precious. She wanted me to look utterly pristine, only marred by her teeth digging into me every night.

“I just thought- If I ruin that perfect image she’s made of me. If I destroy the thing she holds so dearly, I…”

He wipes away long trails of blood that’d fallen from the lashes, now dried to your skin. “You wanted to know you could disobey her.”

You nod slowly.

“The night I came to you… When I was hungry... I had a nightmare. Of Cazador.” He spits the name like it burns his tongue. “He had rules we had to follow. He beat them into us, made sure we learned our lesson when we stepped out of line. First and foremost, we weren’t allowed to drink from thinking creatures. No humans, or tieflings - even gnomes were off the table.”

He sighed and refreshed the cloth once more. Your injuries were deep, definitely in need of stitches, but he didn’t want to leave to fetch his needle and thread quite yet.

“After that nightmare, I was… scared. I feared, even in my newfound freedom, I wouldn’t be able to disobey. I needed to know that I could. That he can’t control me all the way out here.” He runs a hand soothingly down your arm. “She can’t control you out here.”

“I’m just so tired of being this porcelain doll. This fragile thing with pristine skin. Played with and used. I can’t be that anymore.” You shake your head as emotion chokes you. “I can’t. And if she does find me, I can only hope I’m no longer good enough. Because if I have to go back to that?” You turn to look at him over your shoulder. Your eyes are bloodshot and watery. Silent tears trail your cheeks in the same way your blood had trailed down your back. “Astarion, I…”

He hushes you with a quiet, “I know.” He squeezes your arm before he stands and grabs the bowl. “You need stitches. You’re lucky you have such a skilled needleworker around to help.”

You laugh weakly. You turn away from him again as you wipe the tears from your face. “Thanks.”

“Just, please try to find a better coping mechanism. I can only be so nice before the others suspect I really do have a heart.”

---

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

Text

Rev. 22:20 - Chapter Two: Martyr

Warnings: Talk of religion, unhappy family circumstances, male masturbation. Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Aemond keeps a promise to Helaena and makes a confession.

Main series masterlist.

Author's note: I do not have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications to be updated when I post a fic. Community labels are for cops.

For the next seven days, the young woman he’d seen in the Sept is all Aemond can think of. He has never heard her voice and has no idea of what her name is, yet the image of her beauty is burned into his mind like a brand.

When he trains in the yard and the sunlight reflects upon his blade, he thinks of how her hair had shone in the dappled light of the windows as she’d moved about the Chancel. When he retires to the library to read, and the pages of his book slip between his fingers, he thinks about how delicately hers had wrapped around the wick she’d used to light the candles.

Perhaps they’d appear just as dainty when wrapped around his manhood.

He thinks of her when they bow their heads in prayer before supper, of how his eye had met hers as he’d left the Sept. He wonders if she thinks of him.

Do her thoughts wander to him, as her hand drifts between her legs?

She dominates his thoughts as he strokes himself to completion - a much more frequent occurrence since laying his eye upon her - he imagines spreading her out upon the altar, her wanton cries echoing off of the domed ceiling of the Sept as he spears her open with his cock. He drives himself to release after frenzied release, spilling over his knuckles and wishing it was deep inside of her instead.

Even in sleep, she gives him no respite. He dreams of her beckoning him to touch her, yet every time he reaches for her she slips away, always a hair’s breadth too far for him to grab. He wakes up each time sweating and painfully hard.

By the time Alicent’s weekly visit to the Grand Sept is upon him once more he almost doesn’t want to go. He fears that the reality of her will never live up to all of the ways in which he’s fantasised about her, that she will not be as ethereal as he remembers and he will leave disappointed, his illusion shattered.

Yet at the same time, the need to see her again is all consuming. He feels he may go mad if he doesn’t have the opportunity to look upon her face, to reassure himself that she is real and not something he has imagined. He longs for the opportunity to hear her speak, to know if her voice is as beautiful coming from her mouth as it is in his head.

The decision is made for him when Helaena asks that he visit the Dragonpit when accompanying their mother to the Sept. She has not seen Dreamfyre since giving birth to the twins, and misses her dearly. Though she knows the Keepers will be taking good care of her, she would like the reassurance of Aemond having seen her to put her mind at ease.

He agrees, wondering if the big, blue she-dragon will be filled with as much fury to see him as she was when he’d pestered her as a child, eager to see if she might have laid an egg for him to claim. He has Vhagar now, so he hopes not; his intentions are not quite so intrusive, and his mind is otherwise occupied.

As the carriage rolls through King’s Landing, Aemond is filled with restless energy, overwhelmed by the urge to burst into laughter with how rapidly his pulse races and the way his thoughts blur together, too quickly for them to be coherent. He purses his lips, remaining outwardly stoic, the drumming of his fingers upon his leg the only indication that he feels ill at ease.

“Did you hear me, Aemond?” Alicent leans over, brows knitted together in concern and mild irritation.

He startles out of his thoughts, her face swimming into focus as he finally looks at her. “Hm?”

She sighs, leaning back and smoothing her hands over her skirts. “I said, I need to speak with the Septas today. We must appoint one to aid Helaena with the care of the twins.”

Aemond simply nods, thinking it was barely worth the effort to listen to. He has no interest in talking to any of the withered old crones his mother will likely end up conversing with.

Casting his eye around the Sept as they enter, the crushing disappointment he experiences upon not seeing her is enough to drive him to violent rage.

How dare she not be here when he has spent the entire week thinking of nothing else?

The urge to topple the idols, tear down the tapestries and break apart the candlesticks has Aemond’s fingers flexing at his sides. Instead, he exhales sharply through his nose, clenching his jaw and stalking away as his mother takes up her position of prayer. He is in no mood to pretend to pray today.

He paces the sept, his eye fixed upon the tapestries, though he does not comprehend the images they depict, too engrossed in his own thoughts as he tries to calm his temper and pounding heartbeat.

Perhaps it is for the best that she is not here. He has likely misremembered her beauty, built her up in his mind to a standard which is simply unattainable. Even if she were here, what could he say to her? He is a Prince and she is a woman of faith, the two are destined for very different life paths.

Still, it does not stop the ache inside of him that yearns for her. He ponders on what her name could be, if her hair feels as silky as it looks, if the smooth skin of her cheek would be as soft as he imagines it to be. He imagines how the plushness of her lips would take shape as they round out the syllables of his name, coated in his spend.

He loses all track of time, as he wanders, fingertips grazing the stone pillars, until he is broken out of his reverie by the voice of his mother. His own curiosity gets the better of him and he steps closer, wanting to listen in.

She stands talking with one of the Septas, leathery skinned and sour faced, but it is not that that captures his attention, beside them is her. Her shiny hair and bright eyes are just as perfect as he’d remembered - no - better. His imagination is not capable of conjuring such a vision.

From the way she looks between Alicent and the Septa it is clear they are talking about her, and he does his best to hear what they’re saying.

“...as part of her training, she hears confession each day during the hour of the crow–”

His eye widens. She takes confession. He would have the opportunity to speak to her, if only he can delay his return to the Keep by an hour. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears as he struggles to regulate his breathing, and then he remembers his promise to Helaena before he had left earlier that day. He has the perfect excuse, and his mother’s hatred of the Dragonpit means she is unlikely to hang around.

When he feels Alicent’s gentle touch upon his elbow, the softness of her voice enquiring as to whether he is ready to leave, he turns to face her, taking her hands into his, doing his best to sound apologetic.

“Forgive me, Mother. I made a promise to Helaena to check on Dreamfyre for her, and I had quite forgotten. Return home without me, I am unsure of how long I will be.”

Alicent’s mouth tightens in displeasure and she sighs. “Very well. I’ll have the carriage sent back for you once I return.”

He nods, thanking her and watching her go, before making his way to the Dragonpit.

He has not been here since he was a boy, he has had no need to since claiming Vhagar. She is much too large to be confined here and he himself is struck by how less vast it seems now that he is a grown man and no longer a child.

The dustiness and dank smell takes him back to the day that Aegon and his nephews had presented him with ‘The Pink Dread’ and he scowls at the memory, remembering how they’d laughed as his cheeks had burned hot with humiliation.

He shakes the thought away, making his way towards the tunnel in which he remembers his sister’s dragon prefers to nest. He wonders if Aegon has checked in on her for Helaena since she made him a father. He knows Aegon must come here for Sunfyre, but if that were the case then why would Helaena ask Aemond to look in on her? Another of Aegon’s failings. Too selfish to accompany their mother to the Sept, too thoughtless to check upon the wellbeing of his wife’s dragon.

The last time Aemond had intruded upon Dreamfyre’s rest, she had roared at him, shooting fire towards him and causing him to stagger backwards. This time she is subdued, remaining curled upon the earthen floor, one cat-like eye regarding him reproachfully.

“What is wrong with her?” Aemond asks the Keeper.

“She is missing her rider, Your Grace,” he responds, leaning heavily on his staff, “It has been many months since Princess Helaena has ridden her.”

Aemond cannot help the pity he feels for the poor creature. “She will return soon,” he says, “The birth was a difficult one and she is still recovering, but my mother is enlisting help for the care of the babes, so Dreamfyre will have her rider back soon enough.”

He departs with a nod towards the Keeper, unsure of what to tell Helaena. It would crush his sister to know that her dragon is suffering in her absence, though he senses she is probably already aware of that, otherwise she would not have asked him to check. Perhaps she will feel better if he simply tells her that her dragon is eager to have her back.

The idea is pushed from his mind as he reenters the Sept and sees her making her way towards the confessional box. Commonfolk have yet to gather, so if he hurries he will get to be her first of the day.

His stones ache and his throat runs dry at the thought that he will finally hear her voice, finally speak to her. It strikes him as he walks towards the box that he has no idea of what he will confess, so fixated on the notion of speaking with her he has not even begun to think about what he might say.

It is too late to ponder on it as he finds himself seated on a wooden stool, the latticed opening in the centre of the box obscures her from his view and he despises it, wanting nothing more than to look upon her face as he speaks to her, to watch her pretty mouth as she talks to him.

“Blessings be upon thee,” comes her soft voice through the partition, “Are you here to confess?”

His chest tightens at the dulcet tones, it is as though he has forgotten how to breathe. He knew her voice would be every bit as lovely as she appears, but he never imagined it so sweet. His eye flutters closed, as he imagines how it would sound moaning his name, the slight upward lilt of how she would sound out the first syllable.

Aemond draws in an unsteady breath. “Y-yes, I am here to confess.”

“Then unburden yourself to me, and be cleansed of your sins.” She invites gently.

I’d martyr my own mother to ride through all seven Hells between your thighs.

He swallows thickly, thinking of something innocuous he can tell her that won’t identify him to her. “I-I covet what my brother has, and I am resentful that as first born he is given everything and squanders it.”

There is a slight pause before she replies. “You must pray to The Smith for the strength to overcome your jealous nature.”

Aemond bites back the urge to chuckle.

Utter nonsense.

But he is enjoying talking to her, and he is eager to continue. He realises that he wants her to know who he is, to be aware that there is a Targaryen Prince seated beside her, so he presses on.

“I harbour ill intent towards my nephew. I have never forgiven him for taking my eye. I wish for his in exchange.”

He hears her breathe in suddenly. She knows. How could she not?

Her tone is slightly unsure as she advises him, clearly rattled by what he has said. “Pray…pray to the Father for the wisdom to accept the justice you will never receive, and to the Warrior to have the valour to forgive such a slight.”

Aemond smirks at this.

Never.

He is beginning to enjoy himself, however, so he continues.

“I have been having lustful thoughts…about a woman, a novice from this very Sept.”

He hears her breaths begin to become more rapid and feels pride swell within his chest.

“I imagine taking her virtue on the very altar to which the people of King’s Landing offer up their prayers, I think about how she’d feel writhing beneath me as I rut into her, I–”

“P-please…” Her voice is trembling, her breathing ragged.

The reality of the situation hits Aemond like an icy jolt and he knows he has gone too far, he has frightened the poor girl.

Not giving her a moment to say anything else, he hurries from the confessional box. His leather boots echo off of the flagstones as he makes his way back out onto the street with long strides, grateful to see the carriage ready and waiting for him.

Despite the shame that blooms heavy within his chest, he strains against his breeches, the thrill of his confession heating his blood in a steady thrum.

The moment his chamber doors close, his cock is in his fist bringing himself to the edge with thoughts of everything he’d described to her, the sound of her voice, the image of her lips wrapped around him. As his breaths become less controlled he pauses, struck by recognition at the similarity in pace and depth, and that is finally what pushes him into oblivion, spilling over his knuckles with a strangled groan. He recognised those laboured breaths, breaths of pleasure, breaths of a salacious nature.

Had she been touching herself to what he’d been telling her?

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