#spring quarter mumbles

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook gets his motorcycle license and you don’t believe in fate.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, a dash of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: protective!bf jungkook 🫡 / jk gives oc h*ckeys / jk is sad and scared bc many couples r breaking up :( then he gets h*rny and i can’t blame him bc oc is hot / oc loves short skirts n jk is stressed / oc gets an anxiety attack !! bc they thought jk got into an accident / bam cameo <3

> in which masterlist!

note: ART REPORTING FOR DUTY 🫡 it’s been a while so i feel quite rusty and my brain is fried pls bear with me </3 i’m excited to post regularly again and get back into the flow hehe. as always feedback and reblogs are appreciated! 🥺

—

it is a rather calm afternoon in your shared apartment. you and jungkook may be together in the living room, but you’re each spending your alone time.

you’re sitting on the couch with bam’s head on your lap, your not-so-little baby sleeping soundly. you indulge yourself in a fashion magazine, occasionally lifting your head when you sense your boyfriend staring at you longingly from the desk. he would quickly avert his eyes to feign obliviousness, switching between the laptop or his phone to busy himself.

“babe, spit it out.” you giggle, lowering down the magazine from your face. “is there something wrong…? what do you want?”

“no, it’s nothing. just ignore me.”

“then you’re going to be upset with me when i actually do it?”

“yah! that’s not true!” he looks at you wide-eyed, chest puffing up in defense. “it’s really nothing, okay? you can go back to reading.”

“mkay, whatever you say… i’m not reading, though.”you mumble the last sentence, burying your nose in the magazine again.

with a glittery golden-inked pen, you draw a star beside a bag from the spring/summer collection that you fell in love with at first sight. you hear the clacking of the keyboard pause and resume, pause and resume, but you ignore your boyfriend’s beseeching glances like he asked you to.

minutes pass by on the clock as you flip the pages with twinkling eyes and silent squeals, but they feel like hours to jungkook.

he blinks at the laptop screen as he sinks his teeth on his bottom lip.

he just needs to do it— get it over with. whatever it is, he’s certain that the two of you could reach some sort of compromise… right?

he puts on a face of determination before wheeling the gaming chair towards where you are. and with no one to blame but himself, he releases a disgruntled noise when he collides with the leather couch. the impact sends him a couple of feet away from his destination, but his hands find purchase on your exposed thighs and he brings himself back to you.

his clinginess never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.

you smile in secret, silent as he hooks his arms underneath your knees and lies his head beside bam’s. he kisses bam’s forehead, and in a somewhat twisted way, you are grateful for all the times the universe tugged at the string of joy and made you chase after it, because it led you here.

he has folded himself in a position that looks wildly uncomfortable, but jungkook likes to torture his senses for some reason, so you let him be. you pretend that no one has invaded your space, attached theirself to you so close that you’re carrying a quarter of their weight; feeling tickled by their exhales against your skin.

you planned to mix yourself a cocktail halfway through your magazine, but that is pushed to the bottom of things you can do now that your boyfriend is displeased with the lack of attention from his lover.

“this won’t do!”

his impatience forces him out of the chair and onto the couch, where he sneaks his strong arms around your waist. the movements shakes bam awake from his slumber. the doberman sits up, tiredly blinks at his father as if he is so done, and leaps off the couch to strut to his house.

jungkook scratches his head guiltily. “bam! dad is sorry that he disturbed your sleep!”

to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t receive a reply.

“oh, bam, are you mad at me…? you can’t be, right? you must understand… we both really love ____, don’t we?”

but he does receive one from you— a fond gaze that thinks of him bizarre.

“he’s not mad!” he defends himself.

“he should be. we were having a peaceful time together.”

“yah, that’s so mean. i’m part of this family too!” he complains with a scowl. “i want to cuddle.”

“no one’s stopping you, babe.”

this time, he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

he breathes you in, and his mind becomes clouded with the natural scent of you, so uniquely you, sweet and fresh like the clouds on a spring day, mixed with a hint of strawberries. humans smell fragrant flowers and break off their stems. jungkook smells you and he bites, sinks his teeth on your skin, sucks, again and again, and then soothes the ache with a slow and gentle slide of his tongue, but it doesn’t erase the marks that blossom into a hue of a bruise.

he licks his lips, wet with saliva, feeling cocky with the memory of your sharp inhales— cockier when he lifts his head and sees the dilation of your pupils behind a curtain of haze.

however, they’re still trained towards the fashion items printed on paper that you so desperately wish would materialize into thin air.

he groans.

“baaaaby,”

“mhmmm?” you mimic the tone of his whine, resting your head on his shoulder— just to be closer, let him know you’re here and you’re listening.

he clears his throat, prepares for the worst.

“these days, there’s something i’ve been thinking of a lot… i’ve been researching here and there, too…”

“about?”

“motorcycles…”

“okay,”

“okay?”

bewildered by your nonchalant response, he pulls away to squint at you in suspicion.

“…i’m planning to buy one and get a license? like, maybe next week?”

“okay,” you repeat yourself.

hit with a twinge of confusion, you briefly tear your eyes away from the beautiful gowns worn by beautiful models.

“are you telling me or are you asking me?”

“uh- uhm,” he stutters. “i’m telling you.”

“alright then,”

his chest puffs up as he inhales sharply. “that’s it?!”

“what do you want me to say?” you flip a page, a flicker of amusement flashing across your face. “you’re not allowed to…? i mean- sure, i can do that, too.“

“no, no, no, no, no-” he kisses your cheek— nearly, barely, he’s smiling too big to do it properly. “no, really! are you serious?”

“why won’t you believe me?” the magazine lands on your lap as you cross your arms in annoyance. “what do you think of me?”

“i heard couples really fight about this in particular, though?” he chuckles, and it’s your pouted lips’ turn to be granted a kiss. “sorry, i assumed you won’t approve of this one. you’re so strict with me about driving safely.”

“it’s no problem because i know you’re responsible. i just get worried sometimes,” you mumble. “when you’re tired from work.”

“i know,”

“good,” you sigh, leaning into him to steal a kiss yourself. “can i just ask you for one thing then?”

“yes,” he nods eagerly. “anything.”

“if i find out that you didn’t wear a helmet one time…” you tuck your bottom lip in between your teeth, unsure what type of reaction you will elicit. “you’re getting rid of it.”

“three times-”

“oh my god, absolutely not!”

the sheer horror painted on your face further fuels his mischief.

“twice?”

“you said anyth-”

“please?”

“no! then i’m getting rid of it myself!”

you shove his shoulder, and he allows himself to fall flat on the couch before bouncing back with the mission to ease your mind.

“i’m just joking, baby!��� his giggles fill the entire apartment.

he cages your face in his hands but you stubbornly resist.

“i’m joking- i’m joking. i’m sorry. come here, give me a kiss.”

he makes a smooching sound with his puckered lips and you send an unimpressed glare in return.

“promise me first,” your fingers wrap around his wrist to deny his affectionate advances. “one time!”

“i promise!”

“and you won’t get angry at me?”

and with that, his heart begins to ache in his chest. the shift in your voice, the nervousness blanketed by softness… fuck.

“how hard can that possibly be?”

he just remembered how upset you were when he got himself infected after visiting a tattoo shop in america. you told him it would probably be best to do more research on the place, but he isn’t jungkook if he isn’t stubborn. it was hell, to say the least. being in pain and fighting with you for days. you would tend to him and the silence would rub salt on the wound.

today, however, he was more than prepared to defend his case in the event that he faces rejection.

he doesn’t.

on the contrary, he is a given a gift.

“i hate you,” you whimper, but your words contradict the way you respond to his kisses— the sharpness of them has been dulled by his tongue. he tastes like the green apple lollipop that you completely forgot you left on the desk four days ago.

he draws back with a playful grin.

thief… your kisses and your candy and your body and your heart. all his.

“huh, you don’t mean that.”

“i do!”

“i love you,” he utters tenderly. “i trust you to set me straight when i need to get my shit together.”

“then you understand that i just don’t want it to become a habit, right…?”

what does he think of you? a person who treats him with utmost gentleness, supports his happiness, and worries about his safety— a person more important to him than himself.

“and even if it’s only one time… we never know what’s going to happen. i wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you outside the celebrity segment of the news. jungkook, i swear.” you pray that he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice, disguising it with a layer of humor. “i will lose my mind.”

“of course i understand! that won’t ever happen, baby! i want to tell you not to worry too much, but… but to be honest… i think i will be more upset if you don’t lecture me about this kind of thing at all.”

“really?”

“yes. because then doesn’t that mean you no longer care about me?”

this whole time, you’ve been saying i don’t want you to get hurt i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you, and he hears you clearly— like how one recognizes their favorite song playing in public even from far away.

you smile sheepishly. “show me the motorcycle you want.”

your outspoken interest makes jungkook’s face light up like a christmas tree.

“there’s actually a few that i’m looking at…” he trails off, running back to the desk to grab his laptop.

“i’ll help you choose!” you clap your hands excitedly. “is there a pink one?”

“pink?!” he exclaims, which is then followed by endeared laughter. “you want it?”

you assume that he is going to ignore the silly idea, that is until he returns to his seat beside you.

“sure, there should be one somewhere.” he whispers, more to himself, typing away on the keyboard to feed your curiosity.

“really? really?” you babble, clinging to his arm to take a peek at the screen.

“hmmm,” he hums. “get a license too and i’ll buy it for you.”

a sound of disapproval bubbles in your throat. “eh, not for me. i want you to use it.”

jungkook dramatically pauses. he stares at you, doe eyes infront of blazing headlights.

he releases a burdened sigh.

“why me?!”

—

“bend over,” jungkook commands sternly, standing arms crossed infront of the bedroom door to deny your exit. “right now.”

“eh?” you gape at him. “but aren’t we goi-”

“i said turn around, baby.”

you’re left with no choice when his patience runs thin and he captures your hand— it comes so naturally when you twirl on your toes as if you’re waltzing to a slow love song. he pushes you forward gently, and you carry your innate grace all the way to the arch of your back.

jungkook swallows down a moan elicited by the tantalizing view, clearing his throat. he masks the sound by unceremoniously spanking your ass, the skin-to-skin contact also causing a sharp sting to spread across his palm.

“shit- i knew it, it’s too short.” he tugs your skirt down, a useless attempt at concealing your white lace underwear. he harshly breathes out in exasperation. “baby, i can see everything! you can’t ride a motorcycle wearing this!“

“what? motorcycle?! i can finally ride it?!”

you only heard one word come out of your boyfriend’s mouth, it seems.

you flip in excitement, facing him again with a smile as bright as the sunny sky outside. “you got your license? why didn’t you tell me?!”

“i was going to surprise you but-”

he still looks stressed out, eyes trained to your skirt- well, your legs. the skirt is barely there.

“going back here from the parking lot to change would be-”

“but it’s miu miu,” you quietly remark, looking down at the article of clothing with a frown. “it’s not that short…”

“look at the mirror,” he points to your left with his eyes, but then he is already carrying you by the curves of your waist so that your back is facing it.

you bend down on your own, and jungkook clicks his tongue when you only giggle heartily upon seeing your own reflection.

“it’s fiiine! you’re there to protect me. i just won’t bend down.”

“but won’t you get cold?”

“nope!” you reply without a second to spare. “for fashion, i never get cold.”

it’s been more than five years since he met you; jungkook knows damn well that is very far from the truth. not a single autumn and winter have passed that he didn’t lend you his jacket, his warmth, and then some more, simply because you refuse to stop wearing skirts until you’re at the verge of freezing to death.

alright, maybe he’s being dramatic, and you’re stubborn as hell.

“and i’m wearing my tall boots,” you raise your leg in a straight line to show off the leather brown boots that stop below your knees. “look, look… don’t i look cute?”

cute? such a word won’t do you justice. you’re acting like he’s not also looking at your panties.

“of course,” a soft smile replaces his hardened features. “you look so beautiful, baby.”

“hm, thought so,” you scrunch your nose, and his heart skips a beat.

damn, but that- there’s definitely no other word to describe it but the word cute.

“but how about, let’s say, wearing a coat over it?”

“jungkook! no!” you grunt, punching his arm- but then a lightbulb illuminates your brain.

“or shorts under it-”

“oh my god, i think you have one that matches. i remember i saw it the other day-”

“no, wait, wait, wait- shorts are safer! ____!”

you sprint back to the walk-in closet, leaving jungkook alone in the bedroom.

“come back here!”

he jerks his head in distress, rubbing his eyes harshly with his tattooed knuckles.

“ah, ____!”

“what?!” you yell, voice bouncing off the walls of your apartment. “i found it!”

—

“is it too tight?” jungkook inquires, looking up to you from the floor.

you bend your knees to assess the tightness of knee pads. “nope, it’s good.”

he proceeds to grab the elbows pads he hung over the handle of the motorcycle.

“hmmm, next… you wear these instead.”

you pout, recalling that he forgot his riding jacket at work yesterday. “but what about you?”

“i only have one pair.” he says. “it’s fine, it’s just for now. let’s pick up my jacket at the company before going to the museum.”

“how about let’s wear one each?”

upon processing the mechanics of your suggestion, his tall and broad frame shakes with mirth.

you obviously grew up with little siblings. they were so lucky to have you.

“hey! what are you laughing at?”

“nothing, you’re just cute.” he chuckles, wrapping the other protective pad around your left elbow. “just wear them both. i’m confident with my driving but… i still need you as safe as possible, baby.”

“but jungkook! what if y-” you whine out a protest, which he instantly silences by slipping your helmet over your head. “ugh, you’re so rude!”

he beams with pride as he clips its straps beneath your chin. “wow, it fits so perfectly? i only guessed… ah, as expected of jeon jungkook.”

his hand freezes on the visor when you strike him with the beady eyes, pouting your lips to request for a kiss, which he grants— more than willingly. gladly. happily. with pleasure.

cruising through the city on a motorbike with the love of his life; going on dates; putting on your helmet for you and learning how to angle his face for when he steals a kiss— he used to only witness this in romance films.

at the end of the day he’s just a simple man, jungkook admits.

what a dream come true.

—

it definitely becomes clearer to jungkook today— why you did not oppose the idea of him getting a motorcycle license on such short notice.

“this is so cool!“ you squeal behind him, subconsciously raising the pitch of your voice to contest with the wind and the roaring engines.

“____, be careful,” he chides you. “or else i’ll slow down!”

a sense of relief washes over him as you readjust your arms around his waist, your weight resting on him ironically making his chest feel lighter.

if only jungkook could protect you by keeping you bubblewrapped at all times, he would.

“you’re enjoying this more than i expected.”

the two of you idle before a red light. he balances the two-wheeled vehicle with his left foot planted on the ground.

“is it fun?”

“so much fun!” you gush, enthusiasm overflowing past the seams of your lips. “you already drive like a pro!”

“of course! i studied hard! i don’t plan on putting you in danger with my stupidity!”

“still-” you interject. “you’re just good at everything.”

while he is aware that he is gifted in many ways, technically speaking, jungkook knows he can’t possibly be good at everything. but hearing it come from the person he love and adore most in the world? he can’t help but to allow it to inflate his ego a little bit.

ten seconds before the traffic light turns green.

his smirk is hidden inside his helmet, but you can masterfully envision it in your head just from the transparent smugness in his voice.

“time to hold on again, baby.”

“i think you just like me feeling you up.” you muse.

you teasingly slip one hand underneath his shirt to caress his toned stomach, and he hisses out a curse. with how strict you are about road safety, one would assume that you would restrain on being frisky while riding a vehicle thirty times more dangerous than a car. you either have too much in trust your boyfriend or you underestimate your effect on him.

in his case, double the thirty.

the engine roars to life and the wheels screech against the concrete road. your gentle touch turns into a bruising grip on his waist.

jungkook thinks that you might be right. he would never miss an opportunity to feel your skin on his skin. he selfishly decides then and there— he now prefers motorycle rides with you.

—

it doesn’t take you long to catch up to that fact. when he tells you wear something comfortable, you also know not to spend too much time doing something cute with your hair because the helmet will just turn it into a tousled mess. for the past two months, he has been calling you every night to ask whether you want to be picked up from work with the bike or the car, because as much as you both relish in the thrill and the wind and the intimacy, sometimes you fall asleep on the way home from exhaustion and he doesn’t want you… quite literally falling on the streets of seoul.

but today is your day-off, and with your head hanging from the edge of the bed, you tear your attention away from your phone to find jungkook is upside down. he stands outside the bedroom door hugging your rainbow hello kitty plushie to his chest, frowning woefully with a cause you are clueless about.

the contrast of his black t-shirt with the rainbow makes you crack a smile, reminiscent of the countless memes you’ve seen on the internet. you find it funny, but mostly endearing. because you’re the one who loves colors but dreams of nightmares, while he loves dark colors but dreams of stars, fairies, and soaring through skies and different dimensions. you don’t believe in fate. however, jungkook believes that it was fate that brought him to you, and that you are the person he is destined with. you don’t believe in fate, but you wholeheartedly, unequivocally believe in him.

“i was watching the news-” he huffs, seemingly perplexed. “why is everyone breaking up all of a sudden?”

“who broke up?”

he freezes, attempting to recall the names that flashed across the television screen only minutes ago. “i honestly don’t know them, but still!”

“then why are you pouting?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he carelessly tosses the plushie on the bed before climbing on it, sneaking his arms between your torso and the mattress to engulf you in a bone-crushing embrace. your phone slips away from your grip, buried somewhere in the sheets, but when big bundle of love and warmth is over you, it’s impossible to be consumed by anything else.

you weave your fingers through his hair, whispering teasingly. “scared of being in the headlines too?”

“scared…” he agrees, then he doesn’t. “of losing you.”

he scoots closer to nuzzle his face against your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin.

“i-it’s just,” he pauses. “ah, i don’t know! nevermind, forget it.”

“no, tell me. it’s okay.” your hands cup his cheeks, coaxing him to look at you. “tell me what’s bothering you. whatever it is. i’ll listen.”

there’s a glint of melancholy on his glassy eyes, and you desperately want to know what brought forth this pain so you can take it all away. your heart shatters when his nose scrunches into a sniffle, skin becoming more flushed, a shade of red that dusts his skin only when he cries.

“when couples break up after a long time… many of them say…” he trails off, held back by uncertainty.

“they say?” you urge him to continue, pretending to be absorbed in fixing his hair— running your fingers through the soft locks, rearranging his bangs, trying to see if they’re long enough to be tucked behind his ears— all in an indulgent effort to show him that this type of conversation doesn’t need to be awkward or intense.

“they say that… that they just woke up one day and- and realized they were no longer-” his lips curve into a frown, deeper than before, and you mirror him without knowing. “happy, or in love.”

he breathes shakily, avoiding your eyes to gather himself together.

fuck, jeon jungkook. man up! are you seriously going to cry right now? like this?

“and we’ve been together for five years.”

“almost five,” you correct him with a sweet smile, poking his soft cheek right where one of his dimples would be. “our anniversary is right around the corner.”

the unadulterated joy you radiated as you spoke those words makes the trepidation in his brain glitch.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself. please continue.”

he licks his lips, and then opens his mouth but- “i’ve lost my train of thought.”

“oh my god, i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“you were talking about something serious.” you wince guiltily.

“our anniversary is something serious too!” he points out, pouting cutely.

“yes, but… it’s a different story, breakups are- jungkook! why are you suddenly laughing?!” you sputter, shoving him away in annoyance when you hear a snort in the midst of his uncontrollable giggles. “what’s so funny…? you were just so close to crying!”

he shakes his head profusely, collapsing over you, but he ends up rolling over to the side so he can lie on his back and clutch at his aching belly.

“ah, ____! my heart fluttered when you mentioned our anniversary. i totally forgot what i was talking about!”

if it fluttered earlier, now it goes absolutely wild in his ribcage.

your positions are switched before he can comprehend it— you’re now on all fours on top of him. his head is trapped in between your arms and your gold necklace is dangling over his face and you’re straddling his lap and now it’s getting harder to breathe and not picture obscene images that involve you worshipping his body.

he probably likes this way too much than he cares to admit.

“do you see it now?”

he purses his lips, obviously distracted, controlled by his desire for you as he finds the curves of your waist to caress. “see what?”

“that you don’t need to be anxious about us not being happy in the future, because we’re happy right now.”

he cannot detect an ounce of hesitation even if he tried. you are steady. you are sure. something intangible and inexplicable floods your souls when your eyes meet, but the two of you know that it exists and it is real.

“fuck… i love you. i fucking love you so much.” his voice borders on a growl, and a whimper escapes your lips just before they crash against his for a kiss so full of passion that it completely catches you offguard. he pulled you down so swiftly that your hands anchored on the bed scrambled for his forearms to break your fall, nails digging into his skin as you balance yourself.

jungkook isn’t much for words, but something in him always wants more. he likes to speak with his tongue in a way so sweet that it compels you to abandon your vocabularies in the farthest back of your mind.

you sit down on his lap breathless after making out. your boyfriend watches you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, slipping his hands underneath his head as he cockily grins in satisfaction.

you roll your eyes at the sight of his biceps being shamelessly flexed. “bastard,”

“bastard you’re crazy about,”

“unfortunately,” you sigh with faux disappointment, hugging the hello kitty plushie you picked up from the floor.

“want to go for a ride?”

“to where?”

“anywhere,” he shrugs. “it’s already late so there shouldn’t be traffic anymore.”

you jump off the bed without another word, returning a minute later clad in a black harley davidson jacket. you look so fucking chic and attractive in it, he always pats himself on the back for buying it for you.

jungkook would go against all laws of the universe if it meant spending a hundred more almost five years with you, until the hello kitty plushie you’re still hugging becomes gray and unrecognizable.

“babe, why are you still staring at me like that? i’m ready!”

—

from the entrance, jungkook discerns your familiar figure pacing back and forth across your designated parking spaces. you appear to be engrossed in your phone as you nibble on your thumb, which he knows to be a tell-tale sign of your anxiety. you just got your nails done, and for the first three days, you’re usually very conscious of messing them up.

you fail to notice the loud presence of his motorcycle, not until he has successfully parked and pushed down its side stand on the ground.

“baby! what are you doing out here?”

he lifts off the helmet, ruffling his hair to tame it. and as he brushes his stubborn bangs away from his eyes, that’s when he sees his lover overcome with distraught.

his heart drops to his stomach.

your eyes are filled with unshed tears, chin trembling with the struggle of holding them back.

“jungkook!” you wail out his name, and you haven’t cried this loud since you were sixteen.

an unnamed neighbor walks by the scene and says to theirself, somebody must’ve died.

“yah- why? why, why, why?” he stumbles over his own words in panic, carelessly hanging the helmet on one of the handles of the motorcycle as he gets off. “what’s wrong? baby? what happened?”

you hide your face in the palms of your cold yet clammy hands, ashamed by the surge of your emotions flooding the parking lot as acid rain, but a sense of safety blankets you when jungkook gingerly tugs you towards him.

“i thought something bad happened to you! a car hit a motorcycle nearby- and i thou- i really thought-”

“oh, that’s right! how did you know?” he gasps. “i passed by them earlier. there were so many people and police officers.”

“jungkook!” you snap, hitting his chest in frustration.

“sorry- i’m sorry! okay, that was insensitive of me- fuck.” he rambles, and you visibly cringe when his glove-clad hands touch your face.

the texture, and only god knows all the places it’s been…

“there’s no need to cry, baby! i’m already here, aren’t i? i’m so healthy. there’s not a single scratch on me.”

he hastily takes off his jacket to reveal himself in a white sleeveless shirt. spotless that it looks brand-new.

“see? all good!“

you fall silent. your eyes frantically scan his body, but your brain doesn’t really register anything that you perceive.

“aigoo, why are you shaking so much?”

he can’t bear to watch you in this state. he feels nauseous, almost, like his gut is being twisted and wrung in different ways.

“my baby must’ve been so worried about me, is that right? come here.”

in the solace of jungkook’s embrace, wrapped in his strong arms that are, praise heavens, not broken, the pounding of your heart gradually returns to normal.

his, however, becomes louder. and these days he likes to believe that he is no longer the crybaby he once was, but his skin feels flushed as tears fills his eyes, because damn, what a blessing it is to be loved by you.

he leans on the motorcycle, lovingly rocking you back and forth with shushes and soft hums.

time flies by when you are floating, but jungkook is patient as he waits for you to land and come home to him, even when his feet have fallen asleep.

“you haven’t forgotten your promise?” you whisper.

“never not wear a helmet,” he coos, pressing his lips to your temple. “of course i haven’t forgotten.”

“good,” you mumble, drawing back. “go home and shower. you’re all so sweaty.”

“i will. i feel so sticky.” he chortles. “this is so annoying. i hate summer!”

—

you continue to cling to jungkook all the way to the apartment unit, arms circled around his torso and soft cheek smushed against his back. snuggling him from behind like a koala does a tree is a newly-discovered joy. and if you were single you would be rolling your eyes at a person for saying this, but it is quite wonderful to have a boyfriend for a pillow that is also a blanket. has anyone invented that?

“you know, i regret not getting a motorcycle earlier.”

“why?”

the door opens with a short jovial jingle as a signal.

“i saw someone with a puppy in a basket this morning. it was even wearing goggles! it was really cute!” he laments, dragging you along with him into the living room. “ah, i’m an idiot. why didn’t i think of that? we could’ve done that with bam!”

you form the mental image of tiny baby bam wearing tiny goggles and a tiny leather jacket, and then another, but with the current bam.

“but bam is already as big as the bike!” you dissolve into laughter.

jungkook grunts, and you can’t tell whether he’s genuinely feeling this regretful or he’s just trying to distract you after you broke down with the mind-numbing anxiety of losing him forever.

“exactly!”

you sink into the couch, instinctively reaching for the hello kitty plushie to hug. meanwhile, he begins stripping off his shirt.

“it’s not even possible at all now!”

“but i do want to see him wear goggles…” you say in jest, fishing out your phone from the pocket of your shorts. “should i look for one?”

wait, what do you even type for it? dog goggles?

“i found them. there are helmets, too.” you gasp, covering your mouth as an epiphany hits you. “the puppy wasn’t wearing a helmet?”

driven by curiosity, jungkook sits next to you as you search for the item online. he is practically naked, left wearing only his black calvin klein boxers.

“oh,” he pauses. “now that you mention it, the puppy wasn’t wearing one.”

“how are you still sweaty?” with your thumb, you wipe the bead of sweat threatening to enter his eye. “go shower first.”

he manages to sneak a chaste kiss to your wrist before it becomes out of reach.

“before that, i need to tell you something.”

you bob your head, encouraging him to speak out, but the longer you maintain eye-contact with him, the faster his impulsive courage melts into a puddle of nervousness.

marry me.

marry me.

“baby…”

“yes?” you half-smile. “what is it? you’re starting to scare me.”

marry me.

when i see the future, i only see you.

“i love you.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic

[rileyslibrary]

hello! recently my cat went missing (but i luckily got him back!) and i never felt so hopeless. I had to search for him while it was raining, put up missing posters and honestly, the whole thing looked like a rlly sad movie 💀💀 so why not giving you a hint of a request with reader x ghost, where he helps reader find their missing cat? Or comfort them? I love to imagine Simon dealing with rather normal life challenges instead of life threatening ones for once <3 i love your writing so much, your whole blog is like a gold mine ♥️

Oh, nonny, nonny, nonny. As soon as I read “my cat went missing”, I went into panic mode and completely disregarded the brackets saying that you found the little rascal. You said Ghost x Reader instead of Simon x Reader, so how about we change the request a little bit? Let’s say the military base has adopted the cat, and reader has a special bond with it.

———————————————————————

You’re down on all fours, peering under the tanks in the garage.

“Pspspspspsps,” you murmur.

“He’s not here.” Ghost’s voice echoes through the vast space.

You glance at his feet from under a tank; he’s pacing around and knocking on vehicles as if that’s the right approach to attract a cat.

“Can you stop that?” you ask, frustrated. “He won’t come out if you keep making loud noises.”

Ghost stops, and you see his feet turning towards your voice. His left foot crosses over the right, and you hear a thud as he leans against one of the trucks.

“Cat’s not here,” he repeats.

“The cat has a name, you know.”

He scoffs. “What’s his name again?”

“Baba,” you remind him.

“Baba,” Ghost repeats, then shouts at the top of his lungs, “OI, BABA! C’MERE YA FUCKER!”

You immediately spring up from your position and rush towards him. You place your index finger on your lips and put your other hand on his mask, where his mouth is supposed to be.

“Ssshut your mouth, Lieutenant.”

“What?” he asks, his voice muffled by your hand. “He’s not here anyway.”

“How do you know?” you inquire and put your hands on your hips.

“Because,” he shrugs and looks around, “there’s nothing interesting for a cat here.”

“Cats love to get into car engines,” you counter.

“When it’s cold, they do,” he replies. “But it’s a thousand degrees out there.”

You sigh and start pacing around, nervously biting your nails.

“What if he’s thirsty with all this heat?” You cry. “What if he went elsewhere to find water and can’t find his way back?”

Ghost straightens up from leaning on the truck. “They always put fresh water out for him,” he reassures you. “There’s no way he wandered off to find somewhere else.”

You turn to look at him with watery eyes, and he meets your gaze.

“It’s been two days, Ghost.”

He tilts his head to the side and glances over his shoulder. “I know,” he murmurs, scratching his cheek over his mask.

You lean on a car, observing him as he walks amidst the vehicles in the garage. He takes a pack of treats from the front pocket of his tactical vest and starts shaking it under the cars, trying to coax Baba out of hiding, threatening that he won’t give him any if he doesn’t “surrender.”

“You like him, don’t you?” you ask him.

He stands up straight and cups his ear. “What?”

“I said you like Baba,” you repeat, this time louder.

“I like my living quarters to be mice-free; that’s what I like,” he mumbles.

“Oh yeah,” you tease, “is that why you have a bag of treats on you?”

He looks at the bag and rotates it as if it had magically teleported into his hand.

“Ah!” he exclaims. “Well, that... that cat...” he says, snapping his fingers.

“Baba.” You remind him, trying to hide your smile.

“Right; Baba likes treats, apparently.” He replies and lowers his voice, “Unfortunately, these are salmon, and he doesn’t like salmon, or so I heard, but that’s all they had at the store today.”

“So you like Baba,” you state, and your smile widens.

He mutters an angry “whatever” under his breath, dismisses you, and retreats deeper into the garage to continue his investigation.

You and Ghost comb through every nook and cranny for the rest of the day, checking behind equipment, under parked vehicles, and calling out Baba’s name. Unfortunately, there’s no sign of him.

As you continue the search, you feel like giving up and occasionally break down in tears. On the other hand, Ghost refuses to show any signs of worry; his approach is pragmatic. He knows crying won’t bring Baba back, so he does his best to keep you grounded and focused on the search. Although frustrated by the lack of progress, he channels the energy into brainstorming new strategies, such as placing feeding stations around the base and instructing whoever is on patrol that night to check the stations for any signs of Baba.

Once he finishes the announcement, he shuts off the comms and turns to you.

“Do you know if Baba is neutered by any chance?” He asks.

“I don’t think he is,” you reply, furrowing your eyebrows. “He’s impossible to be captured, let alone placed in a cage and driven to the vet. Usually, the vet comes on base to give him his shots.”

He nods and takes a few seconds to process the information.

“Well,” he says, tilting his head, “that might explain why he’s been missing for a while.”

“You mean…”

He nods again and raises his hands. “Maybe Baba went to find some-”

“Nuh-uh.” You warn him, showing him your palm. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“It’s a possibility,” he says, shrugging. “If he’s not neutered, he could be out and about, following his instincts.”

You sigh and lower your head. You rub the back of your neck and turn to look at him.

“I just want to find him,” you whisper.

“I know,” he replies. “Me too.”

“You do?”

“He’s good for pest control.” He states and gestures with his head towards you. “And if that makes you stop crying every quarter of an hour, so be it.”

You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles. He pats your head and ruffles your hair.

“Don’t worry,” he says gently. “Either we find him, or he’ll return from wherever he’s gone.”

“What if we don’t find him, though?” You ask, “Or what if he doesn’t come back?”

“Baba always comes back.” He comforts you. “In the meantime, we’ll keep making announcements through the comms and print some posters to disseminate around the base.”

“I don’t have good pictures of Baba for the posters,” you say. “He never stays still.”

“That’s alright,” he replies. “I have a couple where he looks dapper.”

———————————————————————

Baba came back the next day. His fur was a tangled mess, covered in foxtails and burrs, and one of his ears was bleeding, so you summoned the vet to tend to his wounds. The mystery of where he had ventured off to and what he did there remained unsolved. Ghost claims he must have gone on a mission by the looks of him. You were both happy he was back, although the Lieutenant was slightly more pleased, knowing how much it meant to you to have Baba back.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost cod mwii #cod ghost #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2

[ophelieverse]

Can you write Aemond x Rhae daughter?She can be a Velaryon/Strong and she is like the sweetest girl and Rhae is not very happy about them being a thing and have to share her only daughter with her half brother?

⊱ ❀ ✿ cold springs

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

I’m a simp for Greek Mythology so after reading this request I immediately thought about a sort of Hades and Persephone AU with Rhaenyra as Demeter.

I didn’t gave reader any features so she can be read as Laenor or Harwin daughter(it’s up to you).There’s a little bit of smut in the beginning,also there will be incest(if its makes you uncomfortable do not read)

Y/n is once again leaving King’s Landing for the beginning of the spring to go back to Dragonstone,to her mother and siblings to spend the spring and summer with them.She and her husband share their usual “see you soon”moment.

Than you for the request and let me know what you think💕✨

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Their shared quarters in the Red Keep were etherously quiet.After all the servants and maidens had left,the luggage was ready and the feeling of home had finally hovered again in the rooms,breaking the silence would be a shame.

«Oh Aemond…»Y/n moans softly,moving her hips up and down,riding the length of her uncle and husband.

There is not much sound,apart from the shortness of breath and the rustle of the sheets,skin on skin.The quietness of their chambers is not disturbed... more perpetuated by the lazy morning activities of the residents.

«My beautiful petal,just like that.»he encourages her,his lips tracing down her neck with hungry kisses.

Y/n brings her head backwards,her mouth open in a silent moan as his member presses against her cervix again and again.Aemond holds a tight grip on her hip,the other hand caresses the young princess nipples,as he pushes languidly inside of her.

«Sweetheart.»Y/n murmurs breathless,as her limbs turn into jelly,the heat licks her core as her body moves up and down.

It’s almost hypnotic,as Aemond watches Y/n fall apart above him,he lets her take the lead as her hands are open on his chest moving her thighs at a steady pace.There is a slight veil of sweat that covers her soft body,making her glow like a goddess under the first lights of the morning.

«Gods,right there!»Y/n whispers,the heat builds up inside her,and her eyes close,her head dangles to the side as Aemond hand tightens,sliding his hips and snapping harder.

The colors explodes under Y/n eyelids and her arms tremble.She slumps forward to capture Aemond lips in a deep kiss,sucking his tongue, sloppy and hot,but he simply wraps his arms around her neck,pressing his face closer as he pushes into her cozy warmth.

Y/n moans breathlessly,and Aemond takes advantage of the moment to turn around until he's on top and his wife arches her back.

Aemond manages to feel Y/n orgasm approaching,then lifts her left leg above his shoulder and presses her on the mattress,his mouth devouring on her throat while maintaining the same slow,agonizing rhythm.

«Fuck petal,you are so beautiful.»Aemond says on her skin,breathless like her,and lowers his hand to devote himself to the little pearl between her legs,caressing it to the rhythm of his thrusts.

She whines«Aemond..i’m..I-I’m...»she chokes out on the pleasure.

«I know baby,I’m there too.»he mumbled kissing her messily.

«Oh gods!»Y/n gasps,the words break into suffocated moans,and the air around them heats up,increasing the pressure,the orgasm that taunts them and the fire that ripples under their skin,until they hit their climax together.

Her mouth opens in a silent scream,tilting her head back into the pillow as she squeezes around Aemond member.They come simultaneously,and his hips tremble as he throws himself deep into her,he moans in her neck as the orgasm runs through him,silent and prolonged,and sighs satisfied.

They both stayed there,basking in laziness,Aemond running his fingers through Y/n hair,trying to regain control of his breath and letting their bodies cool down.Everything around them is quiet,and it seems wrong to try to break the calm silence.

The room seems to contract,like his chest.Y/n hands are looking for him,they are looking for his,among the tangle of blankets that protects them from the gaze of the dying stars of the morning.

Aemond reach them,he squeeze them and his heart loses a beat,two,three,he stop breathing. She take his breath away,with the light layer of shiny sweat that veils her forehead,the hairline messy,gorgeous,wavy,long.If he wasn’t holding her warm hands,he would run his fingers through them.She take his breath away,with lips shiny and red like ripe cherries,sweet like ripe cherries.

Y/n takes his breath away,with eyes alive made of a thousand asteroids than even the night sky envies her beauty.

Aemond can't help but to put her arms around his hips,feeling her squeeze him closer,and wishing for her to squeeze him strong,stronger.He would let her destroy his bones as well:if it should serve to make her feel even more his,he would let her do anything.

For a moment their bodies collide,her chest on his,heart height.Their two hearts have never made a single beat together,always forgotten, as if they had actually already forgotten each other,always so rushed or so slow for each other.They were meant to be like that:cold to one another,distant and divided like their parents wanted them to be.

For a time it was like that,but Aemond and Y/n seemed to explode at the wrong time for each other,didn't they?His supernova was always so far away that he couldn't even see hers,which shone in the distance.Now everything is different,now that they collide,for a second, for a thousandth of a second,their hearts beat at the same rate.And Aemond feels like he’s drowning.

It was all so overwhelming.That time of the year had come again.

Although they had already decided to organize themselves that way for the past three years, Aemond had not yet gotten used to seeing Y/n leave.He knew how he behaved as they approached that date:he became grumpy and of few words,he couldn't enjoy the moments together,because his mind was already thinking about the next six months without her.

How would he have done without her laughter that filled the corridors and that always put him in a good mood?He would have missed waking up every morning with her sweet body next to him – even in her absence,Aemond would continue to look for Y/n warmth,but finding only cold sheets on the side of her bed.

Six months apart were far too long and it scared him.It was an inexplicable fear,the one of forgetting her voice.He loved to hear her speak,her eyes shone when she described something that was close to her heart and she was very infuriated when she told him about the injustices that some of her acquaintances had suffered.She was a very empathetic person,his sweet Y/n.She really liked to sing,but he had only found out when they fled to Essos and had started living together,because Aemond didn't remember ever hearing her before.She had this habit of singing while they bathed together or to lulling him to sleep.

Aemond knew that what he would be most nostalgic for were her reproaches – she had complained more than once about his disorder:

“Why do you always leave your books around?”she would scold him,but it had happened to him more than once to find some of her things out of place,shoes,needle and thread and her creations.

His eyes would no longer be graced by her figure,he could not dwell on some of her details,such as her hands leafing through a page of a book or those same hands that masterfully and gracefully sewed,her fingers tapered around a pen as she wrote,her concentrated expression that formed small wrinkles on her forehead,her long hair that were always illuminated in the morning by a ray of sunshine coming from the window.

Aemond had promised himself not to ruin that last month before the departure,but from the expressions Y/n had thrown at him in those days,he had not succeeded at all.

He silently pleaded her to look at him with those eyes full of wonder.Let him feel what her lips can't say,let him look into the dark wells that look like the iron of his magnet every time. Aemond can never stop staring at her,first one then the other part of her body.

His fingers leave hers,the warm place of her palm;but it's just the distance of a moment, because he need to feel her under his fingertips.Aemond gently caress Y/n cheek to make her turn towards him,her big eyes finally in his,but she seem almost surprised,as if she saw him for the first time.She looked at him almost as she didn't know him,like him and her weren't in the same bed.

«Don't do that,»Aemond spoke softly«don't look at me like that or I'll start crying again.»his fingers are shaking,on her soft cheek.

«I can’t help it.»Y/n murmured,leaning in his warm touch«Every time that i leave i wish i could take a piece of you with me.»she said.

«I’m always with you»he reassured her lovingly«as you are always with me.»he played with the Valyrian steel ring on her finger.

A dragon and a rose decorated with red rubies,one for him and one for her,his gift for their wedding day and something too look at and keep close when the sea and their family divided them.

The light breeze makes him tremble,and he rest his head on her chest.His breath stops again when he feels her approach the top of his head and leaving a kiss in his hair,sweet,light to the point that he almost doesn’t feel it.Aemond release his restrained sigh trembling,as small pearls accumulate on the eyelid.He wanted Y/n closer,now that he feels her under his skin and hidden in his heart.

Aemond can't get enough of it,if it were up to him,he would live like this,stuck in her arms forever.He feels good.He feels at home.Despite this,every breath she take shakes his chest.

It happens every year and every time he ask himself how he will survive?He prayed every day for the gods to give his father a quick and painless death so that his half sister can come to sit on the Iron Throne and have Y/n always there with them both at the same time.

This sharing method,this sick idea came from his father rotting brain and Aemond hated him even more than he had ever did.It wasn’t a secret that the King favored his oldest child,his daughter Rhaenyra,more than his other children.He named her his heir,he spent his time with her and gave her everything that she wanted on a silver plate.

Aemond and his siblings were left with pretty much nothing.He didn’t received justice when he lost his eye and he didn’t received what he wanted without Rhaenyra getting in the way,as always.

After he and Y/n had escaped together,flying with their dragons to Essos,they lived peacefully and in love in the free city of Lys before their uncle Daemon had found them.

To put an end to the hatred between the Queen and the old princess,that came screaming in the King chambers about how his son had kidnapped her only precious daughter,Aemond and Y/n were married but only if both the groom and mother of the bride were able to share her presence.

Y/n would’ve spent the cold seasons with her husband at the Red Keep and the warm ones with her mother at Dragonstone,till the King would die.

Aemond loved Y/n more than anything,he always did.He was more than willing to compromise if that meant call her his wife,to be able to live with her.

But sometimes was it really enough for him to hold on to her chest,have her close to him,to breathe the same air as her?What if one day they would have to keep play this chasing each other between the planets and he lost her?What if they were to count the flowers from the moon and she slipped away?What if they were to take the bright shells to the bottom of the ocean and she was to become a wave foam?

What if once Rhaenyra will become Queen,she will forbid them to be together once for all?Once that she will have all the power,will she try to separate them forever?

She wouldn’t,this marriage was for the peace and by breaking it war will be brought upon the House of the Dragon.

Aemond often thought about that too.His love for Y/n was brighter and warmer than a million suns,he would go to war with a smile on his face if that meant having her for himself only.He was a selfish man,he desired her body,her heart,her time to be only his not to be shared with her mother.

What if one day,all of this system wasn't really enough for him anymore?If he was to feel that he wanted Y/n even closer,even closer than that,how will he do it?If all this beating of forgotten hearts no longer made him live peacefully,if this eye will no longer be able to detach from her?What will he do with this chest that does not rise,laying eye on her in the morning,when she is still sleeping and she is serene,as serene as she is when she is not awake?

But then he looks at her,as fragile as a dandelion and as brave as a wildflower.She had followed him that night,when he asked her to escape with him,without hesitation.She knew what the consequences would’ve been,but instead of be concern about them,she kissed him and told him that she would follow him to the end of the world.It was all worth it.

«You should get a tattoo.»Aemond spoke suddenly,kissing down her naked chest«I heard that in Penthos a woman with blue hair is fully covered in them.»he mumbled,tasting the silky and warm skin.

He inhales deeply,like he was addicted,wanting to bottle his wife smell,her perfume and sweat and her jasmine soap and home fragrance.She always smells like home.

«And where do you think I should do it?»Y/n asks with indulgence,lying on pillows,her hands playing with her husband hair as she lets him have fun with her body for the fourth time since last night.

«Right here.So that I’ll be the only one able to see it.»Aemond said,biting the bone of her left hip making her yelp,his hands wandering along her smooth thighs.

«Oh?»Y/n giggled,peering at the young man,his hair ruffled by early morning sex and positively glowing skin,looking so perfect that it almost hurts.

She often wonders what good she ever did to deserve to call this perfection hers.When she has escaped with him and spent the most beautiful time of her life with him,she had agreed to her grandfather orders to grant the wishes of her mother.Spending the cold months with him was more than enough if that meant be with him in the first place,if it meant having him between her legs,having him tell her that he loved her more than anything in the world and that he would burn it down if someone dared to separate them forever.

«I'm going to tattoo something here,»Aemond kissed the red marks he made with his teeth,satisfied.«So I can caress it with my tongue like this.»he goes on to lick her skin,and it tickles,so Y/n laughs,but a small choked moan comes out.

«What are you going to draw?My mother face?»She jokingly proposes,trying to wriggle away.

«I'll write “My husband property” if you don't be behave.»Aemond growls at the mention of his half sister,tightening his grip on Y/n bare legs to hold her steady.

She laughs again and her heart hurts,as much as she loves her mother,Y/n knew this is happiness.Aemond,her husband,the man that she loves is happiness.

«But I don't want a tattoo.»Y/n whispered, losing the thread of speech when Aemond mouth gets closer and closer to her heat.

«Isn't there something you want to remember? Something you want to keep forever while we are not together?»Aemond gasps down at her feminine center,his breath blowing over the already wet flower.

Before that he can continue,he feels her pulling him up,Y/n mouth that clings to his,luring him into a deep,languid kiss that leaves both of them breathless and forgetting everything he wanted to say.

«As you said,we are always together.So I don't need tattoos when I have you.»Y/n breathed,her lips moving along Aemond ones,familiar and kind.

She observe the young man's pupil dilate,his sapphire shined under the light and his face blush before moving away slightly.

Before he could turn away from her,Y/n gentle hands grabbed his face.Her thumbs caressed his cheeks lovingly,before placing a sweet kiss on his forehead.

«I know something is bothering you.Talk to me.»she whispered in his hair,cradling his head in her chest making him lay on her.

«I can’t fool you,can I?»he commented, jokingly,enjoying her soft breast as pillows.

He hoped that it was enough to lighten the atmosphere,to take away that weight he had on his stomach.Why is it so simple for her?Or is it just a feeling?

An instant of silence followed.So heavy that it could almost break the room.

«What's wrong?»Y/n asked him,caressing his long hair to calm him down.

She knew something was off,because he had warned her,in these past few days that he wanted to tell her something.And she imagined that he didn't know how to approach the topic.

Aemond closed his eye for a moment,like he was taking courage to speak«It's hard for me,you know,to see you go away.»he breathed out the truth.

«When we got married it seems to me that you agreed.»she spoke softly«It was the only way to make sure that my mother wouldn’t gone crazy without me and to be with you»she reminded him.

For as much as he hated her,Aemond had understood that him and Rhaenyra were just the same.Both of them couldn’t live without her,a wife and a daughter.And they were more than willing to share her heart and time if that meant still having her with them.

«Of course,it’s not that.»he immediately said and paused a little, before continuing«It's that I'll miss you.»he whispered.

Y/n stopped her movements,tilted his head and looked for Aemond purple eyes.He was so good with words,he knew a lot more than she did and sometimes sported the more old ones just to hear her laugh,as he pronounced them with a certain accent: “No one talks like that anymore”she used to comment,giggling.

She had noticed that,when feelings were involved,his oratory skills were lacking.She knew how much it had cost him to make such an admission.There he is,her brave husband.

There were still those who associated the adjective strong with physical abilities,especially the more visible,but Y/n was aware that there were different types of strength.And in that moment Aemond had nothing to envy to the image of the knight in the shining armor on his white horse facing trials and obstacles to save the princess,the hero of the stories she loved as a child.

«I’ll miss you too.You know it.»she reminded him,tracing the scar on his eye with a delicate finger.

He knew it,but it didn't change things.That unpleasant feeling in the mouth of the stomach did not hint at disappearing.

«We are doing this for your father and my mother.Once my mother will be Queen we’ll be together all the time.»Y/n reassured him again,her voice was steady and calm.

«You and me or you and your mother?»Aemond joked,making her chest rumble with a small chuckle.

Then she turned serious«Since my father died she’s been very sad,I’m her only daughter..»she trailed off,looking somewhere in the room.

«You told me.You're too good.»he mumbled to himself.

While Aemond and Rhaenyra endured the whole situation,Y/n seemed to be the only one willing to change her lifestyle,to sacrifice her marriage to be close to her mother.Perhaps,if Aemond was in her place,since he also has a close bond with his mother,he would have been better to understand Y/n choice as a daughter.

For now the only thing he could do was to place his forehead on her shoulder.There's nothing else that can comfort him more than that.It's when he feel her arms begin to melt from his back traversed by millions of chills that his heart begins to sob.It's stronger than his desire to look like it,strong.She would leave him alone, in the warm and empty bed,getting up to look for everything that she will need at Dragonstone.

His gaze trailed down to her body,to the smooth skin covered in his presence as she got up from the bed to put on her nightgown.He’s sitting,and looks at those clouds hiding the warm rays of the sun.

«Will you help me with these?»Y/n gently asked him,as she held two dresses in her arms.

Aemond smiled,helping her getting ready to go away was like being stabbed in the heart.But he immediately got up from the bed to put his clothes on«Here,petal.»he said taking them from her.

Her trunk at the end of her bed was full of everything and it was almost impossible to put something else in there.

«I’m afraid that you will have to leave them here with me.»Aemond told her,placing the two dresses on their bed.

It wasn’t two simple dresses.The first one,the light lilac with lavanders embroidered on it was the one she wore when Aemond asked her to flee with him,the second one,the sea green with the silver seahorses was the one she wore when her grandfather had announced their betrothal.She couldn’t just leave them here.

«Damn it!»Y/n felt overwhelmed,between them she was the one that held all together,for both of them but now she was on the breaking point.

Aemond realized that it was time to intervene. He approached her,calmed her down and together they succeeded into fit the dresses in the white truck.Eventually they raised their heads and their eyes crossed.

Like this,eyes to eye,reading each other's emotions.

«You are my spring.Going away,you take her away with you and the only thing that it’s left is this cold,empty room.»Aemond said,taking her face in his hand.

He tried his best to be supportive and to not let her know his true feeling.This was the first time he confessed to her how he felt,when she was at Dragonstone.She could have imagined what sad and gray months would be his.

Their room wasn’t completely empty,so it wasn't a definitive goodbye,but despite repeating it endlessly it wasn't enough to reassure him once and for all.Everything that was previously colorful and alive lost those bright shades,assuming some more faded,it was as if the environment reflected his emotions,a bit like a plant that was wrinkling,slowly losing lifeblood.

Y/n would have brought that joy and warmth elsewhere.And it wouldn’t be hard to imagine Rhaenyra radiant face at the sight of her only and so loved daughter coming back to her.

Instead of living in spring,it would have been a long winter for Aemond.And,although spring was Y/n favorite season,without her he wouldn't been able to appreciate it in the same way.

«You could come away with me this time.»Y/n hopefully asked him,already knowing the answer.They had already discussed this.

«You know I can't,petal.»Aemond sighed.

His parents and Rhaenyra would not allow him to follow her.That was the deal and he had agreed to it to marry her.

«I know.I just wished to walk on the beach with you again.»Y/n said dreamlike,placing her arms around his neck«You know,like we did when we went to Lys.»she kissed his cheeks while hers bloomed with red at the memory.

«I'm not sure your mother would like it.She's convinced I kidnapped you.»Aemond looking into her beautiful eyes like he did on those nights in the free city.

She laughed«You do know how to charm a young,innocent princess.»she smiled placing her forehead on his and her hand on his cheek.

«For her I'm the bad guy,there's no doubt.»he closed his eye,to savor her touch.

He reminded her of a cat,eager for cuddles.His hand rested on top of hers,imprisoning her in that position,stretching that caress as much as possible.Y/n felt his fear in that gesture;he feared that she would leave out of the blue and that she would never come back.

For her it was a senseless fear,but she understood it:every now and then Aemond would be convinced that he did not deserve her love,that it was impossible for her to reciprocate his feelings.

«It depends on who tells the story.»she said with a small smile and winking at him.

«And in your version,what role do I play?»he asked then.

Although the question had been asked for fun,Y/n weighed it seriously.

«I'd say you're not a bad guy.Although you can be very vengeful of those who have wronged you...»she started,taking in all of his face,tracing the scar of his lost eye.

Aemond expression changed as if he wanted to say something,as if he wanted to disagree,but then he thought again.He couldn’t deny this.

«But you are not the hero either.»Y/n continued to look at him like she was studying him.

He didn't expect a similar statement,he didn't like it very much.

«You would be a complex character,one of those who either you love or hate.You know those characters neither black nor white,but halfway?»Y/n asked still rambling

«The gray characters?»he answered her question with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded immediately«The ones that have a depth to bring them closer to real people.They are complex,because they have feelings,motivations and desires,sometimes even conflicting.You've met some of them in your readings,didn't you?»she said with bright eyes.

It was not so common,but yes,he had happened to find characters characterized so well that he could imagine them in the flesh and blood next to him,to feel them so close as if they were friends,with whom he could have a good chat and with the wrong mood even get to fight.

«It would be fun to read your point of view,because it would never be boring.»she smiled at him,walking towards her things.

«Of course it wouldn’t.I always think about you.»Aemond confessed.

Y/n had convinced him,he did not feel sorry for not being considered among the good guys,because basically from that description one of his hypothetical literary counterpart would have been more interesting and the subject of several debates among readers.

«Anyway,you should remind your mother that it was your choice to come with me to Lys.I didn't forced you»Aemond told her as he watched her taking her silver hairbrush.

Y/n was sitting at her vanity,looking at her husband from the mirror in front of her as she brushed her long hair«But she knows,I told her about our story.She still sees me as her little girl,she can't fully accept the fact that i grew up and that i left the nest to have a life of my own.»she explained to him.

«The one who could kidnap you or hurt you in some way,if anything,it’s Daemon.»Aemond grumbled.

«Our uncle Daemon?My mother husband?»Y/n asked surprised«Why would you think that?»she said getting up to get dressed.

She thought it was a joke,but his expression was serious.It seemed a bit exaggerated as a statement to her.It was strange how the two men,who had never spoke to each other if not forced by the situation,felt a strong dislike for each other.

When Y/n was a Dragonstone,Daemon had admonished her more than once on Aemond:in his opinion,the time when he would leave her would come soon,because he would get tired of her.And it would make her suffer,and her uncle wouldn't have allowed it.

“The Hightowers are all the same.”her uncle said all the time.

“But he’s a Targaryen and the blood of the dragon runs thick.”she defended him always.

Although Y/n agreed on one thing: she would feel a lot of pain if Aemond really decided that he didn’t wanted her anymore.Daemon didn't know her husband at all,she was sure he would never leave her for a similar reason.

If Aemond ever decided to do it,Y/n was sure that he would put her well-being first,arguing that he would do it for her,that it would be the best choice,because then they could not continue like this.

Aemond would let her go,convinced that he couldn't offer her what she wanted and that one day she would find the right man for her.This was more his style.But to get to that point,it meant that he had stopped fighting and believing in them.And the same young man that had accepted this condition to marry her,would never leaver her.

Aemond walked slowly behind her,Y/n was putting on a canary yellow dress and his hands were there to help her to tie the laces,even though his body wanted nothing more but to strip her naked and get her in bed again.

«From what I heard and what you told me about him,he never made a good impression on me.He may be my uncle but I don't like him.Don't trust him too much,be careful.Do you promise me?»his skillful fingers tied the laces in few seconds as he voiced his concerns.

Y/n too had heard stories too about their uncle.On how his first wife mysteriously died,how he lusted over the throne,how quickly he married her mother after his second wife death.Maybe Aemond was right.

«Of course.I won't let my guard down.»she promised him.

At these words it seemed to her that his features stretched out a little.However,she did not find that relief in the depths of his eye.It was that dark purple that it assumed whenever her husband was worried or upset.Y/n almost always knew when negative,sad or gloomy thoughts crossed his mind.

Now that she was all dressed,a cloak on her upper arm and gloves in her hand she realized.Y/n had done her best not to get caught up in emotions,but at that moment she realized that in a few hours she would get on her dragon and leave Aemond behind.

For the months to come she would only be able to write letters to him,she would no longer be able to touch or hug him,they would not share meals together,they would no longer read and fall asleep together curled up on their bed.

If she had initially believed that maintaining a long-distance marriage was not as difficult as everyone claimed,she was now beginning to feel the weight of it.They should have found an alternative solution,she wasn't sure she would be able to endure many more years in this way.

As much as Y/n wanted to resist and leave him an image of a strong woman,she understood that she would not make it to hide the tears that were on the verge of flowing,so she threw herelf into his arms.

Aemond catch her immediately,as always.She could count on him,he would always be there for her.He was her lifesaver.He didn't ask her anything,but lovingly he consoled her,returning the hug.He also did it for himself,he needed it. In that hug he put the same impetus and the same suffering.

Y/n clung to him like a shipwrecked would have done to the rock,to not to get carried away by the waves of the sea,like her life was depending on it.Aemond inhaled her perfume to memorize it,avoiding the fear of forgetting everything about her.He didn't want to be like a puzzle without a piece,that empty space that incessantly attracted the sight,thus forgetting the image it depicted as a whole.

He was slightly dramatic,he knew it,but since Y/n was born and became a part of his life,he couldn't imagine a future without her.They lingered longer than they could,squeezed into each other,to draw strength from the other.

When it was time to separate.Y/n wiped her eyes and in a feeble voice said to him:«We'll make it.Spring and Summer will pass in an instant.»kissing him on the lips for the last time.

«I’m always here.I'll wait for you.»Aemond smiled at her.As soon as she turned around,a tear rolled down his cheek.

Six months will flew fast in the wind and with the first brown leaves,she was back to him again.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon spoilers #dance of the dragons #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #rhaenyra x reader #hades and persephone #greek mythology #au #aemond imagine #aemond one eye #demeter #aemond smut #cold springs

[luveline]

I would LOVVEEE shy reader with Hotch. R being a techy desk person, works in the unit but not like IN the unit ygm ygm. Really clumsy and stuttery.. if that makes sense. Please and Thankyou you are the best 💕

ty for your request! cw suggestive (hotch likes ur thighs <3) fem!reader | 1k

"Oh, no," Hotch hears you muttering, your voice a hair's width from distress. "Why? Shit." 

He considers knocking, but he's a little concerned, slipping in through the ajar door into your small office. He grimaces every time he's in here, knowing that while your tiny working quarters are legal, they aren't nice. At least you have a window..

You're under your desk. Bent away from him, you have a triangle of naked skin on display where your blouse is coming untucked from your skirt. Your hands search slowly over the floor, a meticulous left to right that makes him think you've misplaced something small.

"L/N?" 

You jump up fast and crack your head against the desk. Hotch is startled into flinching himself, rushing forward to help you out and onto your feet. He slips his hands under your armpits and pulls you up gently, a familiar grimace falling into place. 

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely, "I didn't mean to scare you." 

"I didn't know you were there," you say, sounding very sorry considering it's all his fault. 

"Sit down." 

He encourages you into your desk chair. You've a hand over the back of your head, cradling your likely tender scalp, your eyes closed tightly. 

"Are you in pain?" 

"It's fine," you say. 

"Does it hurt?" 

His tone leaves no room for debate. You open your eyes like your lashes have been doused with glue and smile at him awkwardly. 

"Stings," you confess. 

"Can I?" he asks. 

You stare at him with your eyes widened. Hotch isn't stupid, he knows that he makes you nervous, and that his touching you is one of your worst nightmares. He knows why he makes you nervous, too, but he's kind as well as perceptive, so he pretends that he doesn't. 

"O-okay," you stammer, "sure." 

He frames the base of your head with one hand to encourage your head into the light. With the other, he parts your hair in search of a cut or bump. He can't see anything yet, but that doesn't mean a bruise won't develop, or a low level concussion. He indulges in some invisible unprofessionalism and strokes your hair down flat. 

"It looks alright. But it won't hurt for you to take it easy."  

You nod hurriedly and then wince. He tries not to give you a told-you-so look, though disapproving seeps into his frown lines anyway. You noticeably wither. Not his prerogative to upset you in anyway, Hotch tries to fix what he can. 

"What were you looking for?" 

"Oh! My SD card, it's uh- uh, it's one of those micro ones." 

You go to ease off of your chair and Hotch hums assertively. 

"No, sit. Please. I'll look for it." 

You swallow. You're so perturbed that Hotch feels intensely fond and immeasurably sorry for you. He isn't a spring chicken but he can kneel down on the floor next to your chair without any issue. He can tell why you struggled to find the card, it's cramped and dark beneath your desk, and it takes him half a minute to find it. The plastic is cold between his fingers. 

He sits up, and finds he's sitting at your feet, at your knees, eye level with your chest. You're clearly flushed at his position, looking anywhere but him, a tremor coursing down your chest all the way to your knees. Hotch is mature, he's clear-headed, but he can't not notice how your thighs look when they're trembling. 

He cannot be where he is. He tries to grab your chair and he's not thinking clearly and his hand lands half on your stocking-clad thigh. 

You choke on a breath. It's adorable and awful. Hotch keeps his expression neutral though he's feeling anything but, clambering onto his feet with less agility than he'd hoped to. 

"I'm sorry," he says. 

He doesn't have to explain what for. 

"No, it's okay. Of course it is," you mumble. He can pretty much see the steam curling from your ears. 

He holds the SD card out to you. "Here." 

"Thank you, thanks. Um. What did you need? If you– needed anything." You're practically disintegrating. Hotch is feeling similarly.

"Uh–" Oh, he's drinking tonight. "I wanted to talk to you about our VICAP ease of access. You made such a difference when you implemented those changes last month, there's only a few more things I wanted to ask of you. After that I'll leave you alone, you have my word." 

You rush to grab your notepad. Despite your poor nerves, you jot down everything he asks of you diligently. You nod when what he asks sounds easy, and bite your lip when you're not sure. 

"One last thing. Look at me?"

You look up. He measures the size of your pupils. 

"Are you okay?" 

It takes some time for you to catch up with what he's asking, your fingers flexing instinctively toward your head, though your hand stays on the desk. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm perfect." 

He has to agree. Clumsy and prone to embarrassment, you're a hard-worker with a sweet smile. And, he thinks guiltily, you have very nice thighs. 

"Come and find me if you start to feel dizzy," he says, half-joking, and gets the hell out of dodge. 

He can't get that angle of view out of his head. Looking up at you, your hands pressed to your sternum, your eyes blinking a tad too fast. Respectfully, he hopes he doesn't see you for the rest of the day. He doesn't think he'd survive it. 

#aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner reader insert #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #Hotch <3

[choism]

Choism's Kinktober 2023 | t.d.wl

dom!trafalgar law x afab!reader

Impregnation Kink: Being sexually aroused by the idea of impregnating someone ; getting someone pregnant turns you on, having an impregnation kink

Genre: smut, fluff

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: impreg kink (duh), breeding kink, unprotected sex (dont), fingering, making out, slight body worship, lots of dirty talk, petnames: baby, sweetheart, slight mommy kink? kind of, mating press, kind of feral sex

A/N: Hello and welcome to the first fic of kinktober! I decided to post this one first because as most of you know, I have been so feral for this man lately. I hope you all enjoy!!! Remember to leave feedback in the tags by reblogging <3

CHOISM'S KINKTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST

Today had been a long day for the crew. A long battle that had lasted seemingly forever taking up all of your energy and causing you to feel drained once back on the submarine. All you wanted was to take a shower and curl up in bed with your beloved captain, for a well deserved rest. But Law had other plans for you. 

You enter his quarters after washing up and see he’s relaxing on his bed. You dry off and slip on one of his shirts, plopping yourself next to him, “Today was a lot,” You mumble into his neck, kissing it and pulling away. “What do you wanna do before we go to bed? I was gonna play some games with the rest of the crew but it seems like we are all too tired.”

Law lays back and pulls you on top of him, hugging you tightly. “I dunno, just want you tonight.” He kisses along your neck. “We had a long day… We should just relax more.” You melt into his touch as his hands roam your body underneath your shirt, smoothing up and down your sides.

“Well, what did you have in mind?” You giggle and kiss him on the lips, setting a slow, intimate pace. Law moves so the both of you can sit up, each other's lips not leaving until he pulls apart to take off his shirt. Law kisses from your lips down to your chin, then down your neck. He lifts up your shirt a bit and you take the hint, pulling away to take it off. He takes a second to eye your torso,

“Just want to make love to you baby, let me take care of you.” Even though you have been together a while now, you feel your heart flutter. Law flips your positions so you are on bottom and he’s positioned on top. Leaning down to take a few pecks, he lifts back up and reaches over to grab the lube he stashes in his nightstand, squirting a fair amount in his fingers and warming it up. Law uses his other hand to take off your underwear as you lift your legs to help. He discards them somewhere to the side before he leans down to your center, pecking a kiss over your clit then leaning back up. You shiver under his touch and feel his thick fingers prod at your entrance, lubing up your hole before slowly entering two fingers. 

You let out a gasp at the welcome intrusion, feeling his fingers fill you up. Law leans forward and kisses your chest, suckling and biting and leaving hickeys everywhere to show off his love for you. You writhe and moan beneath him as he fucks his fingers into you, soon adding a third to open you up properly and prepare you for his cock. Law licks a stripe up your neck and kisses you once again, deeply, before pulling out his fingers, 

“Gonna fill you up so good sweetheart, wanna make you feel good.” 

Law back up to take off his boxers, his large cock springing free from its confines and bouncing towards his stomach. His tip already flush and leaking precum, he spreads it around before pouring some lube onto it, spreading it down his shaft. You observe as he jerks himself off slowly, preparing to enter you. “Ready for me?” He asks gently, pecking you on the lips.

“Yes, please Law I need you.” Law smiles at you, lining up with your hole and entering slowly, making you feel nice and full. You both moan out at the sensation in tandem. He rocks in and out of you shallowly, letting you get used to the feeling of his cock. You wrap your arms around his neck and lightly claw at his nape, the feeling of him stretching you out so good.

He kisses your forehead before moving more fluidly, now fucking you deeper, slower. You let out little moans as he works you open. Over time his thrust quickened, not too fast but just enough to get you to see stars, rolling out that heat that’s started to build in your abdomen.

“Can’t wait to fill you up, fuck you full of my cum.” He groans in your ear as he fucks into you deeper, “God, you’re so perfect, want to fill you with babies so bad.” He moans louder and lifts your legs over his shoulder now, his hips pressing deeper into your pelvis. You don’t know where this is coming from, but you like it. You moan loudly as he fucks harder, more feral now.

Law places his hand over your stomach and presses down so you can feel his cock hit near your cervix with each thrust. “I bet you would look so good as a mommy, filled up with my cum huh? Want me to make you a mommy? Fuck you full with my kids?” His filthy words bring you closer to your orgasm. Law brings your lifted legs forward to your chest, pressing down hard with his body and locking you into a mating press.

“Fuck Law, please it feels so good, wanna be a mommy, want your kids,” You moan out in overwhelming pleasure, his hips rocking into you relentlessly feels so good. 

“Gonna cum, want to cum inside of you.” He pants out, hips never slowing. You can feel your orgasm creep up, a white hot flame building in you about to burst. It builds and builds until you still and feel it pulse, you cum on his cock and you cum hard. A few more thrusts and he follows soon after, spilling inside of you. It feels like it goes on forever, it’s so hot and wet you feel like it’ll never stop but it feels so good that you don’t want it to stop. 

Law soon pulls out of you, the mixture of cum dripping your of your hole and onto the sheets below, “Fuck, you’re so good for me baby, that was so good.” He gets up to grab a towel and clean up the mess the two of you made. He comes back soon and gets to work quickly so the two of you can change back into your pajamas and sleep soundly.

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

#trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law smut #trafalgar law smut #one piece x reader #one piece smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[beidousbunny]

diluc's employees at dawn winery are very loyal, y/n in particular is very observant when it comes to him. there's always a frown on his face and he's always stiff. maybe he needs some caring hands to stroke his cock and a warm hole to dump his milk in.

# — ⛧ RELAX, MASTER DILUC!¡ ⌇

💌 — took some creative freedom w this one 😵‍💫 reader is one of diluc’s maids that has a different approach to her duties..

!! — diluc gets his first handjob, use of “master”, inexperienced diluc, mentions of exhibitionism, use of ‘sir’, dirty talk!!, lowkey corruption/virgin kink

diluc’s eyebrows raised as he heard the door to his chambers slowly open. he certainly hadn’t ordered anyone to come in while he was sorting through paper work.

“master diluc?” you ask quietly, poking your head through the door, “may i come in?”

without looking up from his work, he motions for you to come inside, “make it quick, i’m busy.” it sounds colder than he intended, but he really can’t help himself, and you know that. he’s been swamped with work and commissions for the last two weeks, and you can tell he’s stressed out. so, you devised a little plan that you could both enjoy.

you walk in slowly, smoothing out your apron in attempts to ready yourself to experience something that you’ve been getting off to in the maid’s quarters for weeks now. you wonder if he’s heard your dirty secret, and you wonder if maybe got off with you. you feel yourself get wet at the idea.

when you’re close enough, you place a gentle hand on his tense shoulder, which seems to relax as your touch hits it, “i know you’ve been so stressed lately, master diluc.” you cooed, “i just wanna help you destress, it’s the least i can do as your maid.” there’s some genuineness in your tone.

“that’s very flattering but—…” he trails off as you begin to slide your palm down his chest. he seems to relax even more, basking in your touch as he slowly slinks away from his work and desk, leaning against his leather chair.

“i just want to help you relax, sir,” you sigh, draping yourself across his shoulders. “i think about doing this all the time, you just always look so stressed… maybe even pent up?” you whisper in his ear, loving the way he shivers.

he isn’t saying anything, but his labored breathing fills you with want. needy is written all over him, and you know he’s getting worked up, “will you let me take care of you?” you ask sweetly, massaging his chest through his clothes.

“fuck—yes, okay,” he fumbles, pushing his chair back to make room for you under his desk. you crouch down to your knees with the invitation, making your way under his setup.

you snake your hands up his thighs eagerly, but he flinches away from you, causing your eyes to flash to his face, concerned.

“i’ve never, um—” he chokes out, gripping the arm rests on his chair, “really done anything,” he mutters shyly, shifting around.

“oh, you poor thing,” you coo, rubbing your hand over the erection that strains against his pants, “you must be so damn pent up, neglecting this big cock for so long…” you mumbled with a pout on your lips. he groans at this, squeezing his eyes shut as you touch him.

it doesn’t take long for you to pull his cock out of his pants, licking your lips as his pretty dick springs out. you kiss his rosy head with a giggle, loving the way he whines helplessly at it. you spit on your hand and diluc cringes at how dirty your actions are.

you begin to stroke his cock languidly, easing diluc into the feeling of pleasure.

“oh fuck—” he keens loudly, already overwhelmed with your ministrations, “feels so damn good,” he huffs, gripping his arm rests hard.

“i bet it feels good on your virgin cock baby,” you say, speeding up your pace, “bet your rough hands don’t feel as good as mine,” you remark, with a teasing edge to it, “but now that i’m here, all you need to do is just need to sit back and let me make you cum.”

diluc loves the way you’re talking to him, gritting his teeth as he fucks your hand. “i-im close,” he gasps, looking down at you with a desperate expression, “m’gonna cum, fuck, m’gonna cum!” he cries loud and whiny, bucking into your fist as he spurts all over your hand.

“awww, already baby?” you patronize, squeezing every last drop out of him as he cums. “you must’ve reallllly needed this, you poor, poor thing.”

he pants as he tries to catch his breath, running a hand through his hair, “that was,” he clears his throat, “really good.”

“it’s not over yet, master diluc.” you say, much to his surprise.

“i know you have a few more left in you.”

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader smut #diluc smut #diluc ragnivindr smut #diluc ragnivindr x you #diluc x you #diluc x reader smut #diluc ragnivindr x reader smut #diluc x y/n #🤍.dom #🤍.diluc

[sickuma]

TULIPS (2) — a König fic.

❱ this 'might' be the last part but we'll see. Since I am working on a König fic on Wattpad :D also I cannot create c.ai bots at the moment since I have like, 4 hours of waiting time smh. this is unedited! errors might be seen please bear with me ! ➴ SYNOPSIS — After taking the hit for him, you wake up without memories of him, nor the incident. He tries desperately to retrieve your memories.

LATIBULE — (n.) a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort.

How did this happen,

How did our memories vanish before your very eyes?

Have I lost them forever?

Have I lost them with you?

Will you find it in you to fall in love with me the second time around?

“Do you remember these, hm? [name]?” He shows you the pictures, holding them out one by one. Each and every photograph you took together, he remembered dreading those but he would always be happy to see your smile each time he agreed,

“You would force me to take one specific picture, to show our future family! We have a lot by now we—we…” he paused, staring at you.

“We had a lot of memories.”

You looked back at him, feeling your headache ever so slightly crack you head while you looked and observed the pictures. Closely looking, trying to find a speck of remembrance, a sign that you remember. Instead you got nothing but the skull crushing headache.

The doctor had released you for a week now, after the dischargement you both had gone back to the base. You took time to get used to everything, since you have your complete memories except for when you’ve joined the KorTac factions,

In your mind, you still think you’re a trainee who volunteered for the military.

Memories after that are as visible as a blur. Not even a blur, they were just gone. It was a trauma response, the doctor says. You could still remember the look on König’s face as the doctor explains. He looked defeated, almost lost.

But ever since then, he hasn't given up.

He would visit your quarters, picking you up for meals at the mess hall, wishing you goodnight for whenever you’d sleep. He didn't miss a single night,

The soldiers had asked him why you were not sleeping in one room, they claimed you both fought really hard to be permitted to do that. König simply responded that you needed space as you are still trying to retrieve the memories he spoke of, you were grateful for that, he’s willing to distance himself,

Of course it pained him, without you beside him he cannot sleep properly.

But for your sake he pulled through, hugging the shirt you left in his quarters. Holding it close to his face every night, taking in your scent, missing the times when you’d be beside him at night, running your hand through his hair as he dozed off.

Right now you’re with him, outside of the base, away from the guns and military equipment. The captain had convinced you to try, to try to remember him. The captain made sure to let you know just how agonizing this is for König, telling you how much he cried and telling you that he’d never seen König act as such.

You felt terrible,

Because of your incapability to remember, he suffered. Yet when he faces you, he's always got this slight smile, always has a glint of adoration in those pretty green eyes of his.

You found yourself fond of it once again,

Again?

“This… I always force you to take these?”

He grinned, nodding eagerly. “Mhm, every month, without fail.” he spoke so proudly of it, you almost felt a sense of pride spring upon your forgetful heart. You nod in response, looking at the pictures once again,

“König?”

He looked back up at you, “hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

His smile fell and he dropped the pictures carefully on the table, sitting closer to you but far enough to not cause any discomfort. “For what, liebling?”

“For this,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “For forgetting.”

“Dont—dont ever feel sorry alright?” he spoke, not being able to control the urge to hold your hands. And so he did, placing his hand on yours soothingly. “It's not your fault, never has and never will. You did that for me, and I’m just—just so happy you're here, and proud of you. So so proud, schatz, that you managed to survive that. You did so well,  my love.” he rubbed the back of your hand using his thumb, looking up at you with nothing but genuine eyes. “I love those memories,” he paused, “but not as much as I love you.”

“So there is no need for sorrys, liebling, we can retrieve your memories but if I lost you that day, there would be any possible way to get you back.” He spoke quietly yet you could hear him very clearly, it is then you realise just how much he loves you. This man is willing to set aside the way you've just forgotten every memory with him, and is glad to still have you here. His only fear was losing you,

Suddenly the headache is gone, replaced by the dawning realisation. “We’ll make new ones okay? New memories, just as we did before.”

Just how could you forget his eyes?

“If you’ll just let me, I know I'm not more than a stranger to you right now but if you'd just let me in your heart again, I'll surely—”

Just how could you ever forget the blossoming emotion of being in his arms?

How could you ever forget that voice of his which lovingly calls for you,

How could you have forgotten the plans to grow— 

“Tulips.” He looked at you with wide eyes. “What did you just—”

“The tulips, König.”

Tears stained his eyes as he sat unable to form a word. He looked at you and only you, letting the emotion surge through his body, letting himself cry for you once again. “We promised to plant the tulips.” Together,

Right König? Our tulips, Just like we promised. In our small house with leaf,

Of course I’ll remember.

#cod #konig #konig imagine #konig fanfiction #konig modern warfare #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig x reader #konig angst #angst #modern warfare #modern warfare two #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #modern warfare x you #konig mw2 #konig headcanons #konig call of duty #cod konig #könig x reader #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #mw2 headcanons #mw2 x you #amnesia #könig headcanons #cod mw2

[nyrasproblm]

please write anything with lady jessica i don’t care what it is i’m living off of crumbs 😭

Hey, hope you like 🤍 I combined two requests into one!

Water of purity

Jessica Atreides x reader (fremen servant)

Word Count: 0,9K

Warning: mention of spit

Some Fremen were chosen by Reverend Mother Jessica to work closely with her in the Palace of her son, the new Emperor. The Fremen were divided, many remained in the desert, some were chosen to work in the Palace and others to serve as servants for the Reverend Mother.

The servants were handpicked by herself. You saw her wandering the halls in the very first days of your service. Her thin hands on her swollen pregnant belly, murmuring to herself, the tattoos covering her face, the veil over her head. But she disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

You sighed, running your hands over your light tunic, it felt good to be without the stillsuit, it was strange but freeing. Some time later you were called to go to the reverend mother's quarters, when you entered you saw an older Fremen woman and Lady Jessica was sitting in front of a kind of dressing table, the Fremen woman approached you.

"Help Reverend Mother with the headdress, silently." she whispered, turned and left.

You swallowed hard and turned to her, bowed softly and walked over, taking the headpiece and starting to arrange it on her head.

"She likes you." the soft voice made you stop your movements, you raised your eyes and met hers in the reflection of the mirror, also affected by the spice.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, Reverend Mother?" you asked.

"My daughter liked you." she rubbed her hand over her swollen belly, then let out a laugh through her nose and turned slightly to you. "She said you're not greedy."

You knew she used to mumble to herself, seemingly speaking to the child inside her, but it was strange when it was directed at you. Not knowing what to do, you just stared at her belly in silence.

"I don't know if I agree with her, we all need a little greed, don't you think?" she bowed her face slightly.

"Yes, Reverend Mother." you held back a sigh, you were about to go back to adjusting the headdress on her head, but she raised her hand, stopping you.

"My daughter wants to greet you." she reached out her hand to you, nervously you gave yours to her. She brought your hand to her belly covered in a beige tunic.

She placed her hand on her belly and held it. You frowned slightly when you felt a tingling in your hand, when it got too strong you pulled your hand away. Lady Jessica smiled with amusement.

"Alia said I should spend more time with you." she turned to the mirror again.

"Alia?" you asked as you went back to adjusting the headdress on her head.

"That's her name. She says we have to spend more time together."

The reverend mother accepted the request of the child in her womb and began to ask for your presence at various times, you were still not sufficiently convinced that the fetus inside her spoke to her, it was strange. Sometimes she laughed at her expression when she talked to Alia, following her growing belly.

You were constantly around, Lady Jessica liked to hold your hands and play with your fingers absently, she most of the time said gibberish, which left you a little confused.

"The tears of spring saved my son, the water of purity will set me free."

When her due date arrived, some Fremen and Bene Gesserit women were in the room with Jessica, but she didn't want you to stay. You were called to see her a few days after Alia was born.

As you entered the room, you saw Jessica with a small cloth bundle in her arms, she turned to you and gave a small smile, approaching. She slightly tilted the bundle towards you and you saw the little baby in her arms. Alia was different from any other baby you had ever seen, her eyes didn't seem like someone who had just been born, they looked like someone who had already seen and experienced a lot.

"Alia keeps talking about you all the time." she tilted her head at you. "She told me something... something I agree with."

You stopped looking at the baby and looked up at Reverend Mother.

"What, Reverend Mother?"

Jessica called a maid, handed Alia to her, and the maid left, leaving them alone. She came closer and placed her forehead against yours.

"The tears of spring saved my son, the water of purity will set me free." she whispered. "Alia said we belong together.”

You enjoyed being so close to her, she smelled sweet, she looked fragile, you wanted to hold her in your arms and never let her go.

"I don't understand." you whispered back.

"I need to see humanity again, purity and kindness. Everything I see is surrounded by some greed. Save me from this." she lightly rubbed her nose against yours.

"Tell me what I need to do, Reverend Mother." you continued whispering, eyes closed.

"Don't call me that, I don't want to be Reverend Mother with you." she hissed, then softened her voice again. "Share your water with me."

You opened your eyes and moved your face away from hers slightly.

"We will belong together, you will save me." she purred and rubbed her nose against your cheek.

You breathed heavily and held her face in your hands.

"As you wish, my lady."

You leaned in to kiss her, but Jessia opened her mouth in advance, you took a deep breath and shared your water with her, spitting into her open mouth. She let out a hum of satisfaction and leaned her body in to kiss you.

"The water of purity will set me free." she whispered.

#fem reader #x reader #reverend mother jessica x you #lady jessica x reader #reverend mother jessica x reader #lady jessica x you #jessica atreides #dune fanfiction #dune part two #dune part 2 #writers on tumblr #writing #wlw #sapphic

[reikodoesfanstuff]

I get and love rough, confident Durge in Durgetash as well, but also consider this (it's spicy again and I apologize for your eyes);

Enver and Durge worked side-by-side for months, and Gortash had never felt more alive. This stoic beauty, his favorite assassin, works with him tirelessly to create their combined empire that they would rule together. With so much personal time spent in each other's company, Enver can't help but want more.

His initial subtle flirtations and teasings rewarded him nothing. At first, he thought the attraction was not returned, but quickly learned that Durge was just… oblivious? Or perhaps distracted by their current endeavor to catch Enver's hidden meaning. Slowly, he started to come on stronger: inviting them to stay late at meetings and share ideas, join him for dinner at the finest restaurant in Baldur's Gate, and a forward request to join him in his quarters for a drink. These evenings were fine or friendly, but not the nights of passion he was hoping would spring forth from their time alone.

Eventually, one night, Gortash finally convinces them to join him in bed. Their emotions quickly shifted from suspicion, to confusion, then finally embarrassment. They seem so, truly bashful when they begin to strip, and even more so when Enver does. Despite all of this, Gortash still expects their urge to take hold, for the pain to be shared as well as the pleasure, but it never happens.

Instead, Durge holds Enver close as he takes control, shaking ever so slightly. Their hands and lips are clumsy as they touch him and their face flushes at every perceived mistake. He hardly needs to do anything before Durge is gasping, clearly overwhelmed by the lightest caresses. Enver can't get enough of making his little bhaalspawn writhe in ecstasy.

Suddenly, Enver realizes this is much better than the red-filled night he was anticipating. Having his gorgeous assassin falling apart at his hands, mind lost in pleasure whilst mumbling his name like a prayer. And, Gods, did he want Durge to worship him, always. The thought surprised him, but he couldn't possibly care. Especially when Durge begs for more even after they are both clearly exhausted.

They, unexpectedly, lay together after, Durge stayed cuddled at his side. Their hand over his steadily beating heart. Durge was quiet for such a long period, that Enver assumed they had fallen asleep. He was about to join them in rest when they gently asked "…What was that that we just did?"

#durgetash #enver gortash #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #durge #bg3 durge #bg3 enver gortash #baldur's gate 3 dark urge #dark urge #the dark urge #virgin durge lol

[rosesloveletters]

poems, cherry pie, chocolate roses and teddy bears.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Reader

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: Implied smut.

Summary: Willy Wonka and Reader share their first Valentine's Day together.

Author's Note: Sorry that this is a day late. I meant to have it posted yesterday, but I was at work until 4pm and was too tired to edit it for posting. There are some very specific and personal aspects to this fic, so don't let that throw you. I hope you enjoy<3

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

Love was in the air.

Outside, the sun had risen and bathed the landscape in liquid gold.

The sweet scent of chocolate and the much more understated perfume of fresh cut roses wafted through the private living quarters that you and Wonka shared inside the factory. 

It was Valentine's Day and your heart was outpouring the color of love as red as the roses Wonka had given you, bursting at the seams he had so lovingly sewn shut when he found you split open, wounded by hands which were meant to hold you, not rip you apart. 

This was your first Valentine's Day with a man who made you feel loved and desired, whose needs were no more or less important than your own; you had not experienced such a foreign concept in a romantic relationship.

You and Wonka were equals. 

This was not to say, on any given day, there were not times when one of you took or gave more than the other, but the gentle reciprocation made by two hearts which had found homes within each other’s chests assured that both of you knew that you would always be there for the other. 

The factory was awash in a sea of pink and red as last minute shipments were made to shops all across town. 

Wonka had given his Oompa Loompas the night off and once the last of the Valentine’s chocolates were out for delivery, he and his beloved workers would make merry with friends, family and lovers alike. 

Far too many years had Wonka spent Valentine’s Day alone; such a rare treat was it that this particular year, when he had finished with his work and was free to return to his private quarters, there would be a recipient for all the love he had yet to give. 

He was eager to be with his lover, a spring in his step as he strode through the halls on his way back to you. He had let you sleep in so that you would be lively and well-rested for tonight. 

It was within his usual habit to be gone to work by the time you woke and this morning had been no different. Only today before he left, he came back into the bedroom after he was dressed and sat on the bed beside you. He admired the peaceful expression on your face as you slept, leant down and pressed a tender kiss to your cheek. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear,” he whispered lovingly in your ear, his gentle voice reaching the inner depths of your dreamworld and tinging it with its melody. 

You had cooed in your sleep, mumbling a tired reply that only he understood though the words were unintelligible. He stroked your hair and left you to your slumbering; he pulled the duvet up around you a bit more before he made his exit. 

Wonka left a gift for you to wake up to. 

On your nightstand, he carefully arranged a bouquet of red roses and a new chocolate bar he had created that was meant to be a limited edition specific to Valentine’s Day. Tucked in amongst the petals was a note: ‘If I had a flower for every time I thought of you…I could walk through my garden forever.’ 

The last thing he had left for you to find was a love note that you spent the first few moments of your day reading and rereading because his soul was so breathtaking—his thoughts flourished like a beautiful garden dedicated to his love for you.  

His words transported you to the garden inside his imagination and, if his chocolate room was any indication of the raw beauty living inside his mind that had already been sifted out of him, then the thoughtful flowers that grew in his head bloomed in colors not even you could possibly dream up even though you were the only one who knew his mind at least half as well as he did. 

You took his words to heart as you took the bouquet with you to the kitchen to find a vase and a prominent spot in your living area so that you would be able to always see them when you were home.

Home.

When had you determinedly made a home with him?

It was a concept far too vast and all-encompassing for you to make sense of it on its own. 

You and Wonka had lived together for a while, yet it shocked you to imagine that this was now what you considered your home. 

You remembered how many nights you had returned to your empty house, before you had met your beloved chocolatier, and walked through the door only to be met with deafening silence. A silence brought about by loneliness you had not wanted to admit you were feeling. 

You had not been actively looking for a partner to share a life with, but on nights like those, you often wondered what it must feel like to return home after a long day and be met by the warm smile and then open arms of a lover. 

It never failed to bring a tear to your eye—past the tears, you could not envision it ever becoming your reality. 

You had never been so relieved to have been proven wrong.

The end of your days were now spent with Willy Wonka, instead of sitting by yourself in a space too big for one person and thinking about how long your days seemed when you were solely responsible for getting yourself through them. 

Wonka was not there to solve all your problems, but the single fact that you knew you could rely on him for advice on major life decisions, comfort, reassurance and the fulfillment of romantic love helped immensely.

You had grown so tired of being on your own; you wanted a love that celebrated your individuality yet did not leave you with a gaping hole in your chest that should have been occupied by another. 

You did not know when you started believing in soulmates, or if you ever had. 

All you knew was that Wonka was the only person whom you had never felt alone with while he was standing right beside you and that was enough to convince you that you had made the right decision.

When Wonka returned to your living space, the first thing his eyes landed on was the rose bouquet now sitting on the coffee table, housed in a crystal vase with fresh water. 

A pleased smile creased his face as he hung up his coat and hat, “oh, darling~!” he sing-songed, “where are you, my love?” 

You came around the corner as soon as you heard his voice, “Willy!” 

You ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck as he leant forward and kissed your cheek, hugging you to him in the warmest embrace that had ever held you. 

“There’s my love bug,” he chuckled as you peppered his face with kisses, “what have you been up to?”

When you finally let him go, he saw your smirk before you took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen, “I made you something.”

“Is that a fact? Hm, well, what is it that you’ve made for me, my dear?”

Once inside the kitchen, you grabbed your oven mitts and opened the oven door, reaching in and carefully extracting your creation. Wonka stood at your side, gazing over your shoulder as you placed a cherry pie aside so that it would have plenty of time to cool before serving after dinner. 

The handmade latticework crust was golden, flaky and baked to perfection; the smell of warm cherry filling made his mouth water. 

“Oh, darling,” Wonka wrapped his arms around your midsection, embracing you gently from behind, “I can’t wait to try a slice. It smells divine. Thank you, my dear.”

Another lingering kiss was left, this time behind your ear and your smile grew, “you’re welcome. I thought I’d take it upon myself to make dessert, since you’ve been adamant all week about cooking for us both tonight.”

“It’s the very least I could do, dearest,” he crooned into your ear with a glint in his eye that he knew you could not see from your current position, “even though I do still have a few more surprises for you.”

You suppressed a shudder of excitement as your mind began to conjure ideas of what he might have in store. There was no telling what else he had put together and you were thrilled by the very thought; you had your own secrets to keep and so you stowed your excitement for the time being. 

You had put plenty of careful forethought into your plans for the holiday, but deep down, your fear of falling short had begun to simmer. It had been years since you last celebrated the day of love and you were uncertain if your heart was ready to love like this again. 

‘A heart’s only job is to beat,’ Willy used to say to you when you felt afraid to love him, ‘if not for love, then for what? A life without love, in any capacity, is merely an existence.’ 

He was right and you knew it well. 

Rarely was your Wonka ever wrong about love and yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he had let himself lose his way, locking himself away from the rest of the world for so many years. 

You would not judge him; it would have been wrong for you to do since you yourself were no stranger to self-isolation. You felt that you functioned better in solitude and you had eased yourself into your little protective cocoon, shielded from the outside, safe within yourself. 

Every little step brought you further and further out of your shell; you had settled gradually into a domestic little life with Wonka and you felt as comfortable in his company as you did in your own. 

You both were well out of your comfort zones, trusting one another in ways you had not trusted another soul since you had each learned to guard your hearts rather than offer them willingly. You and Wonka had both learned from painful experience to protect your weak spots and show them only once you had verified that who you showed them to was not a threat and, in this day, proving such was a near impossibility. 

That was why Wonka developed “tests” of reassurance; rather than words, he wanted a person’s actions to follow through with the words they used. 

You never minded him testing you. 

Where you needed verbal reassurance that you were loved, he needed physical examples.

You were closer to understanding yourselves just by understanding your different needs and what each stemmed from, but for now, you did not let your mind linger on it for too long. 

You tried to be careful, to protect your heart because it would not sustain another fracture, could not continue to beat as it once did if it were to lose any more little pieces. 

For Wonka you would have carved your heart right out of your chest and given it to him if he asked. 

That kind of love was dangerous if the wrong person received it, but nothing about Wonka could have been more right. 

The love you shared sometimes took your breath away and it was all you could do to refill your lungs again with precious air once you recovered enough to remember how to breathe after looking in his direction a bit longer than necessary. He filled you with emotions, sometimes ones you would rather not feel if you could avoid them. He had become special to you gradually, the same way a seedling sprouts from the ground and grow up towards the sun, but unlike the flower whose petals will wilt and die, waiting until spring to germinate once more, your love for Wonka was eternal and bloomed in vibrant colors even in the coldest and darkest of days. 

***

Wonka had such a keen eye for detail. 

He put his entire heart into his creations, no matter what they were, and the fruits of his labor were sweet with success. 

Fortunately for him, Willy Wonka was a lover of love itself; he had no trouble devoting himself and his love to you wholeheartedly.

“I had created these in the greatest of secrecy,” he began, “just for you.”

Dinner had long since been finished. 

As promised, Willy had cooked a meal for the two of you. 

Afterward, you helped him clean up and gave him a hand with the dishes, then the two of you retired to the living room to let the food in your bellies settle while you snuggled up together on the couch and exchanged gifts. 

Wonka sat to your right; his left arm was draped around your shoulders as he gently guided you into the security of his embrace. He watched over your shoulder as you unboxed the gift he had seemingly materialized out of thin air and placed into your hands the second you had sat down. 

You stripped off the golden ribbon which had secured the packages’ contents and maintained the privacy of the gift. You lifted the lid on the dark plum box and revealed three chocolate rose blooms, each approximately the size of your palm. The petals were made of the finest and highest quality chocolate, rich with the decadence and love that Wonka poured into them. 

A small gasp left your parted lips as you gazed at the edible roses; they were far too beautiful to eat. 

“My god…you actually made these?” 

Your reaction filled him with pride. 

He nodded in reply, letting out a little chuckle as he spoke with a much humbler tone than his internal monologue, “of course, darling.”

You had not meant the question literally—you were well beyond shocked by his capabilities, even though you knew without a doubt that he was a mastermind. He was an artist whose medium is chocolate, sugar and sweets of all kinds. If he were to choose not to make a special treat for his beloved on Valentine’s Day, then what a waste of talent that would be. 

At least, that was what he would have told you. 

“Go ahead,” he whispered in your ear, sending another little tingle down your spine as his warm breath tickled your sensitive skin, “try it.”

You scoffed, “but I want to savor it! Don’t rush me.”

“If that’s what you want, dear. But I can always make some more.”

Wonka leaned a little closer and kissed your cheek, his actions getting a little giggle out of you. 

A warm, pleased smile lit up his face at the sound as you voiced your happiness. He adored the sound of your laughter and would try to make you laugh as much as he could, but right now all it was telling him was how happy you were to be thought of for once. 

He had put his time, energy and love into each gift. It did not matter what he got you or what was made—you would treasure anything if it came from him. 

To you, Valentine’s Day wasn’t about who got the biggest or most expensive gift. It was about the consideration one had for their partner and their desire to show it. 

Wonka went the extra mile for you because he wanted to and that was what made it special, not the gifts themselves. 

“I got you something too,” you began and your voice had taken on a sheepish tone when you spoke these words to him. 

Your timidity amused him and he tilted his head, “have you?”

“Well, actually, I made you something,” you corrected yourself, “I decided that might be best since, you know…it might be more special.”

What do you get for someone who already has everything he could ever want?

The words almost left his lips, but Wonka stopped himself. 

His gaze lingered on you as you shifted into a different position, facing him now rather than leaning into him. He wondered what it was that was making you so nervous, but he chalked it up to the experience itself. 

The last time you had given yourself wholeheartedly to someone on this day, you were taken advantage of. 

Wonka had known you long enough that you had felt comfortable divulging these painful details to him and his heart ached at the thought of how much it had hurt you to put on a brave face. 

You did not have to do that with him; he could see everything that you were and he loved you, for better or for worse. Your honesty meant the world to him and even if you ever crossed paths with someone who did not, Wonka always would. You could say anything to him and it would not have changed a thing about how he felt—true love was never conditional.

His hand tentatively reached out and rested on your knee, a comforting gesture of reassurance that he knew you appreciated. 

“I wrote you a poem,” you said with uncertainty.

“A poem? You mean…you wrote me something?”

At first, you were afraid you had said something wrong, but you pushed through the initial discomfort to ask, “is that alright?”

“Darling, that’s more than alright!” he exclaimed, “that’s perfect! Now, let’s hear this poem of yours.”

His positive reaction was enough to put you at ease long enough for you to take a small piece of paper out of your pocket and unfold it. You cleared your throat and decided you wouldn’t look at him until you were done reading. 

Your face grew hot and you could feel his eyes on you, but you pushed through your discomfort because he deserved this. 

He deserved your words—he deserved to know that he influenced your creativity as much as you influenced his. 

‘My head is a garden of

chocolate roses and dream water

and the waxing moon is a pink goddess

whispering deliriously 

how in love you are

with me.’

You spoke again to fill the silence after you were finished, “I know that’s only one, but I…there’s more. I just—”

“Darling, that was delightful. Almost as delightful as you are,” Wonka gently lifted his hand and brought it to your cheek as his thumb swiped lovingly across your skin, “the only thing that I can think of that I want any more of right now…is you.”

He coaxed you into him, his arm winding its way around your shoulders again as you leaned into him. 

Hot tears pricked your eyelids, but both you and Wonka chose to let the emotion be. 

“I had no idea you were such a poet,” he whispered to you, one hand massaging your back while the other stroked your hair, “I have to say I am quite eager to hear what else you’ve written about me.”

He was starting to feel inadequate, as silly as it would have been for him to admit, because you had just unwittingly given him the greatest gift he ever could have hoped for. 

To learn that he had become your muse was almost too much for him to handle. 

Your words were tattooed on his heart and in his mind where he would never forget them. 

“I’m happy you liked it.”

Relieved. 

You were relieved that he liked it. 

You had wanted to do so much more for him, but what could you do that would encompass everything you felt for this man who had captured your heart and kept it safe right next to his own? 

What price could be put on the love you shared?

Your love was priceless, so what better means of devotion was there other than your own creativity? 

After all, Willy Wonka was who he was because he dared to dream his creations to life. 

The very least you could do was follow his example, but instead of using your craft to speak to the rest of the world, for now, the only ears these words were meant for were his. 

***

A quiet evening together was all you had wanted—nothing could have been more perfect. 

After the gift exchange, you cut two slices of cherry pie and the two of you enjoyed the dessert together before tidying up your space a little before having a shower. 

You had successfully coaxed him into joining you in the bathroom. 

You and Wonka rarely had time to share your personal care routines, but you had decided to take the day at a much slower pace than what was typical. You wanted to savor every extra moment you had together because after tonight you’d be back to the usual busy schedule you each maintained. 

It bothered you to wake up to an empty bed every morning, but Wonka had a factory to run. 

He wasn’t not around because he didn’t want to be and occasionally you had to remind yourself of that. 

He would remind you as well, especially on nights like this.

He held you close in the shower, the heat rising between your bodies as you pressed together under the water while droplets clung to and condensed upon the glass. 

Sharing this little life with him was enough to satisfy you.

You didn’t need fancy things, gifts or opulence to bring you joy. Wonka was your happiness and you clung to that as much as you clung to him, steadfast and tightfisted, afraid to let go. 

He didn’t mind. 

Wonka was elated to be loved so deeply by someone he valued above most. He did so much for you because he wanted to show that he cared as much as he said it. 

Speaking of love was only just enough to open the door; Wonka intended to step over the threshold. 

You both took your time with your nighttime routine, spending as much time in as close proximity as you could; you could never have enough of him. The gentle brush of lingering touches as you each carried out your routine side by side made the longing bubble up inside of your chest. You felt overwhelmed by it at times, when you could feel the need surfacing again, and all you wanted was to lose yourself in him. 

Time did not allow for it very often, but when you had the chance to sink into him, you fully submerged yourself in that love.

After your shower, you and Wonka retired to the bedroom.

For once, you weren’t feeling worn out or exhausted and you were looking forward to resting in your lover’s arms. The chance to talk to him for an extended period warmed your heart and left you buzzing with excitement. You day did not often allow for you to be so candid with your lover, to talk to him privately for as long as you wanted. You were both busy, but this holiday was for and because of the love you shared and there was nothing that was going to stand in your way, not even the ever-present need for sleep. 

Wonka cradled you, your head resting in the crook of his arm as you spooned against him. His other hand caressed you, rubbing up and down your side or lovingly tracing his fingers over your arm, watching with an amused grin as goosebumps rose upon every inch of your flesh that he touched. You were so sensitive to him, your body swaying with the waves of his love that crashed upon your shores, undulating ripples that lured you into the deep wild ocean until he caught you up in a riptide and you were swept away in the current. 

Your love was not always like that: rough and frenzied like that of the ocean. 

You wanted a love like the lazy river, face upturned towards the sun, floating through life with him in soft currents of blue that mirrored the hues in his eyes. 

He nuzzled you, his nose trailing along the curve of your jaw; he adored holding you like this. 

Everything about this moment was perfect—he wouldn’t change a thing. 

“Did you enjoy your special day?” Wonka asked, his velvet voice cloaking you the same way that you imagined his plum coat did to him and made you feel safe and warm on the inside.

“It was our special day,” you gently corrected him, “and of course. The best part was getting you all to myself, at least, earlier in the day than I normally do.”

“I apologize for being absent, my dear,” his words were emphasized with a kiss to your temple, “I promise to find more time for you. You know as well as I that we both want that.”

You nodded, feeling the tears beginning to well up in your eyes and the lump forming in your throat that you had learned to speak around as if it were a part of your dialect and speech pattern, “We do. I need you, Willy. Now, perhaps, more than ever.”

Your words resonated within him. You were right and he would do his best to give you what you needed. 

“My heart has always needed yours, my dear. I just didn’t know it.”

His words pulled you in and you kissed him, full-blooded and passionate as the air inside your bedroom climbed several degrees. 

You dug your fingers into him, pulling his heart apart like plump fruit flesh you intended to devour. 

In a flurry of blankets and pillows, you were on top of him.

You eased into his embrace, breathing him in like spring air after the wild heart of winter had claimed you for far too long; it was his summer sunshine gaze that was enough to thaw the ice inside your chest and make room for you to open up, a sweet, fresh blossom whose petals have yet to touch sunlight, to him. 

***

Your passionate lovemaking continued throughout the night, several strenuous sessions stretching across the span of a few hours were broken up by warm conversation that connected you to him more than than feeling of having him deep inside you. 

It was now reaching nearly 2am.

Valentine’s Day was over, but true love did not exist for just one day. 

Wonka was exhausted; what he lacked in stamina, he made up for in passion and charisma. 

You curled in against his body, your back curved and tucked in against his side as he caught his breath for the third time that night. 

You both had been vulnerable with each other in ways neither of you could have ever imagined with anyone else. It was enough to say that just by sleeping in the same room, you trusted Wonka more than perhaps any other man you had ever met. 

Wonka’s standard gentle voice, albeit a bit strained now, filled your ears, “I believe it is time we called it a night, my dear.”

You could not have agreed more. 

Your reply came in the form of a tired yawn and you gave a long, full-bodied stretch as you settled in next to him more solidly. 

You could have sworn you heard him chuckle before his hands pulled you in and spooned you against his front. A few more kisses were laid lovingly upon your arm and shoulder as he got comfortable in this position. One of his forearms wrapped around your middle, his shirtsleeve riding up to reveal the faintest dusting of fine sand-colored hair. 

Wonka held you to him, listening to your breathing even itself out as you slowly drifted off into a deep, comfortable slumber. 

Once he was certain you were asleep was when he got himself out of bed. 

He crossed the room to the closet, opened it and reached in for something. 

He brought the item back to bed with him, circled the bed till he was at your side and gently lifted your arm off the mattress so that he could place a teddy bear in your grasp while you slept. 

You would awaken at some point the next morning and find it cuddled close to your chest; he was excited to watch your reaction to the plush teddy once you realized it was there. 

The teddy bear was dressed in matching attire to Wonka’s signature outfit and was even clutching a golden ticket in its paws. 

He smiled at the sight of you snuggling up to the stuffed toy, nuzzling into its fur and even in your unconscious state he knew you could tell that it smelled like him. 

“Something for you to snuggle with while I am away,” he whispered as he leant over you at the same time and tenderly stroked your hair.

He went back to his side of the bed and climbed in, pulling the duvet up to your chins as he settled back into his spot. 

His arm wrapped around you again, mindful of the teddy bear in your arms. 

He would be here when you woke up so that he could see your reaction, but for now, he was ready to sleep. 

Wonka hoped you had had as good of a Valentine’s Day as he had. 

You deserved even more than Wonka could give you, but he would stop at nothing just to try. 

He had to try for you, as much as you tried for him, because it was enough. You were enough for him and even though he knew who he was and was proud of that fact, he still felt inadequate from time to time. He wanted to be the best version of himself that he could be, because you deserved nothing but the best. 

Though no amount of wishing made things a reality, Wonka had learned that even simply trying was enough to create something beautiful, even if it was not what was initially intended. 

You came as much of a surprise to him as did his beloved creations; he had gotten lucky and built something beautiful with you and he would treasure you and your companionship for the rest of his life. 

He was content to spend quiet days like this next to you. 

Neither of you needed fancy things; you needed each other, like the sun needs the moon or like flowers need water. 

One could not survive without the other and as cliché as it sounded, Wonka still believed it because he had never stopped believing in what his mind told him. 

After all, who would he have been without the thoughts in his head?

He did not have to think too hard anymore.

With you in his life, inspiration was abundant. 

You were his muse and his world was painted with colors he could never have seen before meeting you. 

Cupped gently in your hands was where his heart was meant to be. 

Lulled by thoughts of his beloved, the sweet scent of you filling his nostrils and your gentle snores reaching his ears, Wonka closed his eyes and finally allowed sleep to wash over him like the tide.  

#willy wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #willy wonka 1971 #wilder!wonka #1971!wonka #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka x you #willy wonka imagine #wwatcf #willy wonka and the chocolate factory imagine #gene wilder #biblio :: 📖

[barleyo]

Demon Knife.

Jake Sully X Fem! Metkayina! Reader (smut)

A/N: My first, and hopefully not last, post for @pandoraslxna 's Avatar kinktober! Sorry for the late addition, I had almost forgotten that today was a prompt I had chosen! I hope you all enjoy; apologies for this work's rushed nature.

Wordcount: 1.1K

Tags: knife kink, knife play, mentions of blood and cutting, Na'vi reader, fingering (?), oral sex (f receiving), sex with a stranger, risk play, semi-public

(Y/N) had been going through Jake’s belongings in his marui. She was nosy by nature, and he had left earlier to attend a meeting with the rest of Metkayina in order to interrogate him in his search for uturu; she greedily took the opportunity to snoop through the stranger’s personal items. Seeing the small bag in the corner of her temporary pod, she immediately opened it and dug around. 

“What is this?” she mumbled to herself, picking up a leather sheath. She opened the Velcro patch then looked inside. A large combat knife sat in the sleeve. “Hm…” Her hand wrapped around the black, padded handle. She gave it a squeeze, feeling the handle spring back slightly. 

She ran her other hand over the flat of the blade and peered into her reflection on the shiny silver. Of course, she had seen blades before, but this one was different, something that could have never come from her people. Her finger faltered a bit at the tip of the knife, slicing her fingertip open. The tiny cut flowed with pricked blood, and she quickly threw the knife back into Jake’s bag, wincing at the sharp pain.

“What’re you going through my stuff for?” Jake stood in the marui’s opening silently watching as (Y/N) held her bleeding finger. 

“Toruk Makto,” she said respectfully, bowing her head, placing her hands behind her back before she continued, “I was only trying to see that your quarters were in order, I would not want you to feel unwelcome.”

“Right.” He was unimpressed at her attempt to hide her finger. Walking over to her, he grabbed her wrist and pulled the hand up to his face. His nose scrunched at the scent of her blood. “You were searching through my stuff. You don’t trust me.” 

“No, that is not true–”

“You are skeptical of me,” he said, interrupting (Y/N) swiftly. “I can prove myself trustworthy.” Jake ran his tongue over her finger, clearing up the red pool on her skin. 

“Jake,” her voice felt like it was bubbling in her throat as she struggled to force the name out of her mouth, “what do you mean? I— I am not sure if I am understanding correctly.” 

Everything about the man made her feel nervous, like an outsider. He looked different from her, and from everyone else in her village, but it was more than that. His mannerisms, his speech, his name: they were all foreign to her. 

He was unlike any man of Metkayina making, or any Na’vi that she had ever met.

“Let me show you my value,” he explained again, voice wispy, yet firm. “I will prove myself useful.” He gently took purchase of her shoulder and pushed her onto a flexible wall in the marui pod. 

On his knees, Jake leaned to the side and hooked his hand around the strap of his bag and inched it closer to him. He grabbed the knife, and held the handle of it loosely, just tightly enough to keep it in his grasp. He cut the thin fabric that kept her tweng tied, chuckling softly as she gasped at the cold air hitting her.

“You’re a sensitive one, yeah?”

She hummed in response before feeling a small, faint scratch on her thigh. “Ah? Jake, what are you doing?” Her eyes widened a bit when she looked down to see him pressing the knife’s blade to her inner thigh, then widened even more at the feeling of him latching onto the small cut on her leg. His teeth gently nibbled at the skin around the spot he was sucking, leaving deep, purple marks over it. 

Briefly removing his mouth with a pop, he looked up at her and hushed her, playfully smirking at her. “Quiet down, girl. So impatient.” 

Instead of returning his mouth to her thigh, he flipped the knife in his hand, calloused palm expertly holding the blade’s sharp end. His hand covered the entirety of the silver, yet no blood was pricked. 

“Your hand–?” She tried to bend down to look at his palm, assuming he had cut himself like she had moments earlier. 

“Shh,” he put his finger to his lips and hushed her again, giving her a soft nod to calm her. 

Jake prodded at her hole with the handle of the knife. The soft, rounded tip felt different, but welcome in her greedy cunt as she lowered her body, sinking onto it. 

“Thought you’d be nervous ‘bout this thing,” he said with a whisper, hitching the handle up into her jaggedly. “Ain’t never seen one like this?”

She tried to shake her head, but her body was too focused on clenching around the leather handle. Her hands found their way to his shoulder, pulling his torso close to her lower half. Taking that as a hint, he wrapped his lips around her clit and swirled the aroused bud around.

“Jake, please, do not stop,” she pleaded, on the cusps of her orgasm already. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said through his long drags over her cunt with his tongue. 

He brought his arm behind her leg, pulling her body down and forcing all of her weight on his forearm. Holding her up let him completely bury himself between her legs.

The black leather felt soft against her gummy walls as she went slack, and she whined as he aimlessly plunged it into her.

“Oh my, now, s’happening, ma’--” she stumbled over her words, pleasure clouding her mind as she almost moaned his name in a way too personal for what was happening between them. Her legs wrapped tightly around his head, coated his face in a sweet sheen of cum, and left a white trail of arousal to drip down the blade handle.

“Say it,” he urged, lapping at her clit faster, forcing her body into sharp overstimulation. 

“Ma’Jake, I cannot handle any more, s-s’too much.”

Jake let his tongue tease over her for a few seconds extra before pulling his knife out of her and his face away from her core. He wrapped his hands around her waist to stabilize her body as he stood up.

A few seconds passed, pure silence between the two as they just stared at each other: Jake’s face shiny with her cum, and her face flushed purple with her afterglow. 

“I– I did not mean to search through your belongings,” she said shamefully, eyes averting from him.

He laughed, a small huff of air passing through his nose.

“I’m glad you did. You’re a curious girl.”

“I wanted to know more about you– you are very different, Jake Sully.”

“You’re a smart girl too, eh? Glad you noticed.”

#lunaskinktober2023 #barleyxnighteye #smutfic #avatar way of water #x reader #avatar 2 #smut #atwow #recom quaritch #avatar the way of water #avatar #knife kink #tw knife #knifeplay #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #female reader #james cameron avatar #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x na'vi reader #avatar jake sully #atwow jake

[alluringlight]

Gorou x (Gender Neutral) Reader [NSFW]

A/N: This is my first post! So formatting may or may not have fucked me over. This is also my first time writing x reader and smut so here's to hoping it's not half bad. Also no usage of Y/N or [Name], just 'you' and Gorou refers to you as 'puppy'.

Warnings: rut themes, marking/biting, knotting, slight degradation, praise, dom!Gorou, feral/rough sex, slight overstimulation. I believe that's it but lmk if you think anything else needs to be added.

Despite your boyfriend being a hybrid, he was always very gentle with you, holding your hand, ears softly flicking you, gently tugging on your shirt to pull you out of the way, the list goes on. His puppy-like personality meant he was very affectionate, and aimed to please - something that definitely extended to sex. Although he could be fast paced when he (or you) wanted, his favorite way to take you was with slow, deep thrusts, making sure your pleasure came before his - in all regards you’d considered him a soft dom, which is why the sight before you had caught you very off guard. 

You knew that it was spring. And you knew what that meant for him, and what was coming up soon. However, you’d never known many hybrids; especially not in this way, which is probably why his rut - and the feralness it brought had your head absolutely spinning. 

Gorou had said he’d been sick, which was why he’d neglected his duties that day in favor of locking himself in your shared quarters. You’d heard a couple of teasing remarks from the other soldiers - is it that time of year already - but you didn’t think his rut was due for another couple of weeks, plus the two of you hadn’t actually talked about whether or not you were spending it together, so you didn’t think he’d be in this position when you walked into the room to check how he was doing. 

You definitely weren’t expecting the sight before you - Gorou surrounded by your dirty laundry, humping his hardened cock into your pillow, all the while growling and panting around a pair of your soiled underwear he had shoved between his teeth. Your face grew red (and you felt a familiar tug in the pit of your stomach), as you quickly shut and locked the door. Gorou called out to you, “Sorry - I couldn’t -” He cut himself off before whining at you, and beckoning you over. You sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a hand over his sweaty, red face, and giving him a small smile, before he continued speaking. “I went into rut early, we hadn’t talked yet and I thought I’d be fine, but I can’t knot anything and it’s just getting worse and more frustrating as I continue. I - I need you.” He whined at you again, looking up at you with such a heated gaze your thighs clenched together automatically. 

Instead of answering him, you stood up, quickly shedding yourself of your clothing, before sitting back down. “You’ve got me. Use me in any way you need, love.” You could see the way Gorou’s pupils dilated as he took in your naked form. It only took a split second for him to pounce on you. 

“Gonna make you feel so good.” He mumbled, bringing himself down on the bed to prepare you. He lapped at your hole, grinding his own cock into the bedsheets below as he licked and sucked and scissored you open. It didn’t take long before his restraint snapped and he crawled back up towards you, pulling you into a searing kiss that was all tongue and teeth. “Get on your stomach, now.” He growled at you, panting as he shoved you down, pulling your hips so you were ass up before him. His cock pressed against your entrance as he leaned down to nip at your neck and shoulders. 

The pace was brutal, Gorou didn’t start off slow or soft, just immediately fucking you into the bed like there was no tomorrow. It was dizzying how rough he was with you, a complete 180 from how he’d been in previous intimate moments. “F-fuck.” You exclaimed, trying to pull yourself onto your elbows. Gorou, however, didn’t let you. 

He pushed your head back down into the bed, “Stay still, puppy.” A shiver ran up your spine at the nickname, but you still twitched and shuddered, causing Gorou to growl at you and lean forward again. “I said stay still.” He muttered, before clamping down on your shoulder. You yelped as his teeth dug into your flesh, rendering you incapable of moving as he fucked into you harder. His cock split you open, and his thrusts went even deeper as he shoved your hips further back. All you could do was take it as he shoved himself into you. His teeth finally let go of your shoulder, but you couldn’t even register the throbbing pain as blood ran down and stained the sheets, you were too lost in the pleasure already. 

You pushed your hips back into his, trying to chase the sensation of his cock fucking into you, causing him to let out a dark laugh that had you absolutely clenching around him, “What a pathetic little puppy. You like getting railed like a bitch in heat? Gonna let me knot you like a good bitch? That’s it, cum -” He whined out as you clenched around him, hitting your peak already from his rough thrusts. 

Despite you cumming, Gorou didn’t let up. His strokes turned desperate, and you could feel his knot starting to swell up, just barely catching your hole as he continued fucking into you. The overstimulation caused you to let out a whine of your own. Gorou leaned forward, lapping at the bite mark and nipping at your neck, “S’okay, you can take it, puppy. Be a good little bitch and let me knot you.” The combination of praise and degradation had you whining and clenching around him again. 

“D-don’t move.” Gorou stuttered out, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic, before he once again leaned forward and bit down on your shoulder, as he shoved his fat knot into your hole. He practically painted your insides white as he let out stream after stream of cum inside, his knot preventing any from escaping you, and his teeth on your scruff preventing you from moving. 

Gorou’s teeth let go of your shoulder as he flopped down onto the bed, effectively spooning you as he’d be stuck inside you until his knot softened. He tongued at the bite marks he left, only speaking after the two of you had been able to catch your breath for a few minutes. “S-sorry. I wasn’t expecting my rut to hit so soon, and, um, well I thought I could handle it myself.” He started, burying his face into your hair before he left soft kisses on your hairline. “Sorry for using you like this.” 

You gave a breathy chuckle, “Don’t apologize, I enjoyed it.” You could feel a smirk form on his face, as he pressed another kiss into your neck before he responded. 

“Good, cause if you don’t mind, my rut will take a few days to settle, and it’d be nice to spend it together.” 

#genshin x reader #gorou smut #gorou x reader #gorou x gender neutral reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin smut

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆ part 3/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [2.7k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ brief sexual language☆ series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

The scale of the Chimaera is perhaps even more staggering once inside, after having seen it from the outside. Thrawn beckons you to follow him to disembark and before leaving the compartment has to remind you— “your veil?”

You feel your eyes go wide, your face heat. He must think you’re so foolish, making such a fuss about it and now nearly forgetting. 

You flip it back over with a quick, muttered “I willingly submit”, the words so ingrained they come out before you can stop yourself. 

Thrawn stills, as if doubting what he just heard, and then his eyes narrow to red slits. “Is that what you were taught to say?” 

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. It had been a mantra. A response to everything. A reminder. A promise. An offering.  A prayer. 

The words will keep you safe— a lie if you’d ever heard one— but they are in your brain, probably forever. You had shouted them, mumbled, sang, cried. Choked on them, and rasped them up a throat raw. Had almost believed yourself, once or twice. 

He is silent for another moment, a silence that makes you hold your breath, waiting for his command. 

“Do not say that again,” his gaze is hard, his tone icy, “unless you mean it.”

Aboard the Chimaera there is a bustle of activity from the moment the shuttle ramp hisses down. First, as soon as Thrawn’s boot touches the ground, somebody shouts “attention on deck!” and just as promptly, without breaking his stride, Thrawn calls “carry on!” 

Then, as aides and officers hurry up to and around the Grand Admiral, over a loudspeaker that echoes in the cavernous hangar, some kind of bell rings twice, then twice again. 

“Chimaera arriving.” The voice on the loudspeaker announces. 

His very presence seems to require a whole cadre of people, some of whom appear to be assistants to his assistants. They rattle off updates and reports, with so many acronyms and jargon it sounds like some language other than Basic. 

The hangar bay itself is vast, and from what you could tell on the flight, it is the smaller of two. Still, it teems with activity. Flight crews and deck personnel are numerous, some in recognizable Imperial uniforms and others in a variation with different colored shirts. 

You trail along behind, hoping nobody will take notice of you,  but of course they do. Their commander is a blue skinned alien but somehow you’re the one who looks like they don’t belong. 

His stride is unhurried, though purposeful, and others around him match his pace or snap to attention as he passes. Then, they catch sight of you, in your style of robe and exclusive fabric that is certainly recognizable to the average Imperial citizen, and fall out of their stiff postures. From the time it takes to get from the hangar bay to… whatever part of the ship Thrawn’s quarters are in, you hear snippets of the same conversation over and over. They follow you down the passageways, up the turbo lifts and ladder wells, through clusters of uniformed officers, crew, and stormtroopers who all spring aside to give him space to pass. 

“Who’s that?”

“She’s with the Grand Admiral?”

“…Thrawn’s got a little pet…”

“What d’you think she looks like under there?”

“Don’t know if it’s a she--”

“She’s got tits, kriff brains.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Could be a fancy droid…”

Some of the more crass commenters barely bother to keep their voices down. Silently, you wince, and feel your face heat. Pray that Thrawn isn’t hearing any of this. But of course…

“Damn, look at her.”

“I hear they’ll do anything… “

“Bet that one’s a lot of fun.”

“Wanna see what she’d do if you tore that sheet off her face--”

“Think if you ask nice he’ll let you have a go?”

Thrawn comes to a halt and you nearly plow into his back. He motions to one man in an olive drab uniform, and orders thirty days confinement, nutrient paste and synthetic water rations. The officer barely has time to react before a stormtrooper steps forward and hauls him off.

The whole way, even with priority access for turbo lifts, seems to take at least twenty minutes. Thrawn tells you multiple times to keep up, and don’t lag behind, as it’s easy to get lost. By the time he comes to a stop at a particular door, in a quiet, untraveled passageway, you are warm and slightly breathless. Along the way, all of the various aides and who knew what else who had filled every  second with questions and updates, had been shed one by one. Even his squad of death troopers had posted by a hatch, not following you through. Now it’s just you and him. 

“You walk this far every time you leave or return to the ship?” Even after such a fraught day, emotionally wrung out and bone tired, you can’t repress your curiosity. 

The corners of Thrawn’s mouth twitch. “No. There is a much more direct route to and from the bridge, and from here to the bridge.” He withdraws a code cylinder from the breast of his tunic and keys it  in the access panel. The door zips open. The room beyond is dark in an ethereal, twilit way that makes your eyes strain for detail. He ushers you inside, and immediately you feel a front of chill air hit you, making you shiver violently. 

You draw your robe around yourself, cross your arms tightly. Watch him with caution as it hits you at last just how not-human he is. Behind you, you hear the door zip shut. It seals away the room in quiet, shutting out the ambient noise of the rest of the ship. 

In this light his uniform looks blue, washed out, and his skin nearly disappears against the dark. Yet he walks further in, not moving to turn on the lights. And his red eyes glow— you catch a glimpse at just the right angle and realize they’re reflective, like a predator would have. 

Will your anatomy even be compatible? You nearly blurt this out as soon as you think of it, but manage to restrain yourself. 

After a moment, Thrawn, through the dark, notices you fidgeting. “Ask.”

“Is your dick normal?” You can’t quite keep the anxious concern out of your voice, and you curse yourself for phrasing it so poorly. If your question offends him, he makes no indication of it. 

He brings up the lights just enough for you to see, though it is still quite dim. He is standing behind a large, semicircular executive desk, its gleaming black surface totally clear of anything-- no knick knacks or flimsi, no datapads or day old cups of stale caf. Around the room, which is quite spacious, are pieces of art. Some holos, but many original: paintings, drawings, sculptures, textiles, even some artefacts like masks and jewelry and pottery. 

He keys another button at the desk and the viewport shifts from black to transparent. Ambient starlight streams into the room. It’s a view you’d have to pay hundreds of thousands of credits for on a starliner cruise. 

“My anatomy is nearly identical to that of humans. It will be… familiar to you.” 

“And what about allergies?” You ask quickly, seizing on any idea to stall him further. Here with him alone, finally, really alone, and your chest is tight with anticipation. You had played this moment in your head for months, always with some nameless, faceless stranger in his place. And now he is here, in front of you. Real. And nothing like what you could have expected.

“I have lived in close quarters among humans for nearly ten years without incident.”

“But you’ve never slept with any.”

“You will be the first,” he says softly. 

He lets these words hang in the heady silence between you. Then, slowly, though he has given no command, you find yourself moving towards him. 

He stands, broad shouldered and tall, with his hands behind his back, and regards you evenly as you come to stand in front of him. 

“Does my appearance repulse you?” He asks.  He sounds as if an answer that he does wouldn’t bother or surprise him. 

A strange jolt pulses through you, making your breath catch. In fact, he’s handsome and attractive, which you’d rather not admit. And the idea that he even thought to ask— being nonhuman in this Empire isn’t easy for the average citizen, let alone for one in his position… you can’t imagine what he’s had to endure. How much better he’s had to be to prove himself. And how ruthless he must be, to have gained the Emperor’s favor. “No,” you say levelly. “Not your appearance. Just everything else about you.” 

He gazes down at you, a smile touching his lips. It makes your heart skip, and you determinedly don’t look away. You don’t want to give him any more power over you than he already has, but when he speaks again, it may be a lost cause.

“Are you going to be difficult? Are you going to resist me?” His voice is nearly a whisper, and so low and dark and lush you almost answer that you won’t. That you’ll be good for him. 

“I don’t want to serve the Empire.” You want to protest, but can’t bring yourself to be any louder than him. Your softness feels like an admission.

“Then serve me.” He reaches for your veil and this time you almost let him do it.

But you grasp it, bunching the fabric against your breast. The taboo is too hard to break. Thrawn frowns at you until you open your hand and let it fall, then he lifts it, flips the gauzy fabric over and back. He brushes wisps of your hair off your face. Cups your jaw in one hand, applying light pressure to lift your face to his. For a moment, you think he’ll try to kiss you, and you stiffen, but he only trails his thumb over your bottom lip again. Gently, he pushes the digit into your mouth, catches your tongue under it and you open for him, feeling filthy and exposed. His glowing red eyes hold yours for a long moment. 

You realize, with faint embarrassment, that you’re slightly breathless. If he had wanted more, you might have given it. 

His comm chimes. He gives you one more appraising look, then releases you and answers. “Yes, Captain, go ahead.”

“Sir, apologies for interrupting when you’ve only just got back, but the Assistant Director is asking why we haven’t gotten underway yet.”

Thrawn’s expression darkens, though his tone remains polite. “Tell Assistant Director Ronan that a full replenishment evolution typically requires a minimum of fourteen rotations to complete— and we are almost done in ten.”

“Yes, sir, I told him that but the Assistant Director wasn’t, uh, satisfied with that explanation. He’s talking about getting someone called Krennic to come up here on a shuttle.”

“Very well. I’m on my way.” 

And he leaves you, alone, in his office. No other words. No instruction or warning or threat. 

You stand in the middle of the room before realizing this is your chance. Maybe only chance. But when you try it, the hatch he left through is locked, as are the two others that presumably lead to other parts of the suite. Of course. 

You snoop around a little more, reluctant to touch anything in case he’d come back and notice it out of place. There must be something around, a spare code cylinder you could steal and hide for later, or something sharp you could hide in the couch cushions. In a mild panic, your mind spins unrealistic scenarios. If you could just find something to get through the access panels on the doors, and an improvised weapon, you could catch some junior officer unawares, take their uniform, and get on a transport. If somehow you did manage all that, you’d just be back down on Corsucant, with no credits, no identity, and no friends. The more you think about it, the worse the idea seems. You’ll have to wait, at least until you get to the Mid Rim, maybe further, if that’s even where the Fleet is going.

Defeated and tense, you flomp down on the couch in the small sitting area by the hatch that leads out to the hallway, where there are also two chairs and a low table. Everything is so tidy and minimal. Clean, clear lines in grey and black. You can imagine the Grand Admiral sitting here with his senior staff, or perhaps entertaining an important guest aboard the ship. 

There is a data pad on the caf table; before thinking better of it, you grab it, and find it’s unlocked, full access to the holonet. 

You glance at the hatch-- surely, you have a few minutes, at least?-- and key his name into the search. 

The first few results are biographies. His official one, and a couple others, which mostly all say the same thing. 

Thrawn, Grand Admiral of the Galactic Imperial Navy, Commander of the Seventh Fleet. 

No other name. No age, nor home planet, or even species. You check, using the name of another one you’ve heard of— his family is well connected, owns half the mines in the Outer Rim— 

Cassio Tagge, Grand General, Commander of the Galactic Imperial Army, was born in 7922 on Tepasi. 

You go back to the entry on Thrawn. Attended Royal Imperial Academy on Coruscant, graduated with honors and commissioned as a lieutenant. Known as a fair and levelheaded commander to his men, Thrawn was first stationed aboard the Imperial Gozanti-class cruiser BLOOD CROW, where he served as second weapons officer. 

You find yourself devouring every piece of information you can find about him, as if knowing him might help you. Lists of his accomplishments follow, all in the straightforward, unembellished style of standard Imperial communiques. 

Victory, battle of Wayimd, first recorded use of the Catapult maneuver 

Victory against the fleet of pirate King Ch’eup 

Victory, battle of Bothawui, no Imperial casualties

Commander of ISD Strike Group Chimaera in: the Rishi Maze Campaign, the System Hopping Campaign in the Attahox subsector, the Suarbi Insurrection, the incursion at Wroona…

You scan the list for any you might have heard of, and find a few. Some major battles, lauded wins for the Empire. Some minor skirmishes, but mentioning Thrawn’s unusual or novel uses of maneuvers or the limited resources he had available at the time.

None of it really helps. There is nothing to give a sense of who he actually is beyond his stunning career progression and prowess as an effective leader and strategist. Nothing about any family, hobbies, influences or role models. If he has ever granted an interview, the record of it is not to be found on the holonet. 

Unofficial accounts are more opinionated. Some are glowing. Others critical, condemning him of everything from war crimes to cheating his way out of court martial charges to poor social skills. But all seem to agree— his genius as a tactician is unmatched. Military ambushes, attempts to cut him down politically, all failed. And he has to his name a string of devastating naval victories, many of which, by the numbers or just unfair, impossible conditions, should have been his defeat. 

You cast around the space with new understanding and unease, eyes sliding over the shifting holo art pieces. You get up and start pacing, wandering from one display to the next, examining them absently and wondering what use a man like him has for such esoteric frivolities. 

Maybe he was talented, but surely not that great. Some of those victories must be down to luck, or the holo-bios were exaggerating, or both. But… Lieutenant to Grand Admiral within ten years… that was unheard of, plus Thrawn being so obviously nonhuman. And from your interactions with him so far, you doubt he made much effort to change anything about himself to try to fit in. 

Your first impression may have been correct. You were right to be wary. If all the bios are to be believed, then he is truly, brilliantly dangerous. And he will outplay you at any games you try with him. 

At about your fifth turn about the room, the hatch zips open, startling you.

Thrawn is back.

☆ link to part 4 ☆

☆ join tag list ☆ &lt;- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added

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#thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn fic #thrawn x you #thrawn fanfiction #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x y/n #mitth'raw'nuruodo

[levmada]

//eruri

Erwin stares into the faint ripples of the white curtain beside his table. A sturdy round thing, obviously better suited for card-playing than sitting and sipping tea, but… Levi takes no luxuries it seems, even as Captain, even knowing Erwin would be staying with him while he recovered from his flu, as if he deserved no better.

Oh, Levi.

He quickly reminds himself of their compromise before he gets greedy. Levi is absurdly fussy about getting help in the most basic sense, but at the same time it was a forgone conclusion.

Levi had to give in yesterday when he was several hours late to breakfast, unable to explain himself because he had lost his voice. The flu never hits Levi until it does, and it hits him hard.

It’s so rare for him to get sick that Erwin is tense even now, like a spring wound up tight and waiting for a sneeze to set him off.

It's unsettling to see Levi deeply sleep. He's mostly slept through today, but that's the medicine doing its work.

He glances back towards the twin bed where Levi is resting on his back. A hairband is propped behind his ears to keep his bangs clear of his sweaty forehead; his cheeks are the color of apples.

He really deserves a nicer mattress… but part of the compromise was staying in Levi’s old room to keep Erwin’s quarters free of germs. If Erwin wanted to stew in them, that was his prerogative, Levi had retorted—and yes, it was.

But maybe he can haggle when Levi starts feeling better.

Erwin returns to his parchment.

“Mm…”

Erwin side-glances at Levi. He hasn’t woken up, but his shoulders hunch and ripple with a feverish shiver. The mattress cries a tiny squeak as he rolls over, onto his side so Erwin can see the misery deeply etched into his face.

His gaze lingers, wondering if he should risk waking Levi to check his temperature again. (It wouldn’t be on purpose.) His face is glossy, deepened to a beet-red. He sniffles noisily. A few untamed strands have escaped the hairband and cling to his temple like glue.

So finishing up this urgent piece of work, or going to Levi?

He goes to scoot out in time for Levi to whine again. With a little tensing up.

“Momma…” he murmurs. “M-M…”

His nails sink into the loose cotton by his knee. For a second he doesn’t even know what to think, for Levi, indentured to the pain under his breath. It screams its weight, which comes so much heavier by some place in childhood. A feeble call so acrid with pain in Levi’s low tone—if they knew of Levi—is enough to shatter a man’s heart.

“Momma.” He sounds shaky now.

Erwin stands up like a paralysis had seized his body up until now and goes over, sitting by Levi’s chest. He goes to adjust the hairband neatly, and wipe his neck and forehead of sweat with a washcloth set aside. Levi keeps mumbling devoid of meaning, but it all means one word, and Erwin knows it. When his nose starts to run and a tear squeezes out from Levi's tightly shut eyes, he grabs a clean handkerchief (softer on his skin) and starts hushing gently.

"You're dreaming, my love. It's only a dream now."

"Mm-omma. Mommgmomm momma geddup..."

"Shhh..." He swallows and runs his fingers slowly through Levi's hair. It's soft, almost painfully so, for some reason now.

"Momma," he cries.

He's sleeping too deeply. Erwin strokes his hair for now, hoping he'll settle.

eruri masterlist | main masterlist

#vent as usual #eruri #snk eruri #erwin x levi #aot eruri #eruri art #eruri feels #eruri fic #eruri fluff #eruri fanfic #erwin smith x levi ackerman #levi x erwin

[nahoney22]

Hiii!

Could you write me something sweet with Cross?

He had so little screentime in the last trailer and i fear for my favorite angry crispy twig.

You rock! Bye!

Interrupted

Crosshair X F!Reader

word count: 2.1k

Crosshair tries to talk to you but no matter what he does, he always gets interrupted. So what happens when you go talk to him first?

warnings: none, fluff, slightly insecure reader and Crosshair. Not proofread. Female reader. Sorry for the wait @kaitou2417, enjoy 😊

Masterlist

Crosshair had been eyeing you from a distance, observing you as you sat outside the Marauder with your head buried in a datapad. Meanwhile, he was leaning against one of the many trees of Endor, nervously tapping his foot as he tried to muster up the courage to approach you.

Despite living in close quarters on the Marauder for the last few months, he had never truly spoken to you beyond a passing remark or two. He had overheard you talking about a book series that you were entranced by and figured that could be a possible way to start a conversation. But for some reason, he just couldn't seem to get his nerves under control.

He had never had trouble talking to women before, but something about you was different. Maybe it was because you didn't hit on him like many others did, which he found refreshing and even a bit attractive. You were sweet and innocent. Maybe even too much for a man like him.

He sighs to himself, running a hand over his face in aggravation as the negative thoughts of talking himself out of it kept springing to his mind.

"Screw it," he thought, taking a deep breath and straightening his posture as he made his way towards you after psyching himself up.

Just as you caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, Tech stepped in front of you, blocking Crosshair from view. "I need your assistance," Tech said, holding a pair of tools in his hands.

You suppress a small jolt of shock at his sudden presence and you even tried to hide the crestfallen look on your face.

"O-oh, really? Me? Now?" you tried not to sound flustered, but the disappointment was evident in your voice as you tried to look over Tech's shoulder.

"Is there something else you'd rather be doing than helping me get this ship running at full capacity?" Tech asked, giving you a quizzical look.

Crosshair had vanished, and your heart sank.

You had been hoping for a chance to talk to him, but now that opportunity seemed lost. You had always been so scared to approach him first in case he didn’t like your company; so when you saw him approach, a lot of things ran through your mind. Did he want to talk to you? Did you accidentally steal one of his cloths that he uses to clean his weapons with?

Did he change his mind? Did he have something else to do? You wondered as you took one of the tools from Tech and tried to mask your disappointment.

"No, sorry, I thought I saw something," you mumbled, picking up your datapad too and following Tech towards the ship.

When back on the Marauder, traveling through hyperspace, you’re sandwiched between Echo and Wrecker who were both bickering about whose turn it is to clean up.

You’re rolling your eyes shy the situation but your head almost explodes when you suddenly lock eyes on the Marksman. He is standing in the hallway, a few feet away from you with his arms crossed over his chest.

The look on his face was unreadable, although you knew that you were on his mind.

As you look back at him, you smile. Softly. Admittedly, he hated your smile because it annoyed him. Though, not in the sense where he hated it. He adored it. A lot. Often occupying his thoughts late at night and early in the morning.

Crosshair knew this would be a good chance to pull you for a chat so he psyches himself up, knowing you would probably be grateful for a respite from Echo and Wrecker's never-ending bickering.

Just as he uncrosses his arms and rolls back his shoulders, as if to relieve the tension that was building, Hunter suddenly appears in front of him. "Have you filled out your reports for today, Crosshair?" he asks.

Crosshair feels his jaw tighten as you look away, hiding your disappointment. Why does this keep happening? Is the universe conspiring to keep the two of you apart?

"Not yet," Crosshair snarls, making Hunter, the sergeant, raise his eyebrows at his attitude.

"Something bothering you, brother?"

He sighs internally, trying to hide the fact that he was bothering him but said nothing.

“No,” he mutters before storming off.

You watch him leave and as Hunter turns to face you, it heats up as he raises a brow. Did he know something you didn’t? Maker, he could probably sense how you felt about him which made you wonder if Crosshair could ever feel the same?

——————————

You stir awake as the first light of dawn creeps in, casting a soft glow over the sleeping forms of your shipmates. You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, only to pause when you hear the soft clanging of metal coming from the center of the ship. With everyone else still fast asleep, you are quick to notice that it was Crosshair who was awake. This had to be the perfect chance to talk to him.

Quickly, you stand and straighten out your nightwear and throw on a jacket, knowing the ship can get pretty chilly when it's running on low power. You run your fingers through your disheveled hair that often resembles a nest when you wake up, trying to smooth it down, before silently making your way towards the source of the noise.

Unsurprisingly, you find Crosshair leaning against a console, lost in thought as he blows the steam from his cup of caf. You hesitate for a moment, trying to decide how to approach him. You pondered what to say first: hello, sup, hey… but nothing seemed right. This was silly really. How could you not know how to talk to him?

Though before you can say anything, he looks up and catches your eye.

You take a deep breath and point towards the caf machine, teasing him with a husky morning voice. "You not going to make me one?"

"Sure," he says, setting down his own cup and starting to pour you one. But as he works, he can't help but feel a twinge of nervousness.

He pretty sure knew how you liked it but as you were watching him, he low-key started to panic. Was it milk first then water? The other way? Did you have sugar or honey? Neither? Either?

"Teaspoon of honey, please," you tell him with an amused smile, noticing his confusion.

"I knew that," he says gruffly, fixing up the drink for you and sliding it over to you.

You both make your way to the cockpit and sit in silence, sipping your drinks. Crosshair taps his fingers nervously against the rim of his cup, until he finally musters the courage to ask, "Is your drink nice?"

"Nah," you say with a coy smile, tilting your head to look at him.

He frowns in confusion. "Really?"

You giggle softly. "You forgot to add the caf."

Crosshair blushes with embarrassment but doesn't apologize, instead falling into silence once again. You try to fill the awkwardness with a question. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Not in particular," he says, not meaning to sound cruel or uninterested. He knows he's not the best at talking to people, even when it comes to someone as beautiful as you. He feels guilty as he watches you slump back in your seat with a soft sigh.

"Is there," he starts, feeling nervous, "something you want to talk about?

“Not in particular.” You reply but as you both look at each other, you both find yourselves smiling. He had such a nice smile, it was a shame he hid it most of the time.

"I couldn't help but notice that you tried to come talk to me yesterday," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but with a hint of curiosity in your voice. You couldn't shake off the feeling that you had imagined it all.

Crosshair's grin faded a bit and he nodded. "Uh, I wanted to ask you about the book you've been reading," he said, looking a bit sheepish. You couldn't help but find it endearing that he was at a loss for words, especially since he was usually so confident. But, you’re so surprised by his statement.

You spun around in your chair to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. "Really?" you asked, intrigued.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes lighting up a bit. "It sounded interesting."

Before you knew it, you were telling him all about the book, going into great detail and using your hands to animate your words. Crosshair sat back, sipping his coffee and listening with rapt attention. He didn't say much, but he could tell that he was thoroughly enjoying hearing you talk about something you were passionate about.

After a few minutes, you suddenly stopped, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Sorry, am I rambling too much?" you asked, biting your lip.

Crosshair shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No, I like listening to beautiful girls talk," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a warm gaze.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you realized what he had just said. "Did you just call me beautiful?" you asked, unable to hide the smile spreading across your face.

Crosshair's eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to take it back. But then, he squared his shoulders and said, "Yes, because you are."

You’re stunned but elated at the same time. Obviously you were harboring unsaid feelings for the man, always finding him attractive despite the lack of conversation. You didn’t want to jump ahead and assume he likes you back because maybe, he was just being nice. Or teasing.

“You don’t mean it.” You say abashed, finding it hard to look at him as you play with the hem of your jacket.

He tilts his head to the side. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble. “Nobody has ever called me that and we don’t particularly speak often so…”

“So because of that you assume I don’t think you’re attractive?” He leans forward on his chair, arms resting over his knees as he tries to get you to look at him.

His words make you halt and so you just shrug awkwardly, still blushing. “Why… why are you wanting to speak to me? Really?”

He is conflicted about whether to be truthful or to play it off, but with the others asleep and no interruptions to disturb the moment, he decides to be honest.

He stands up, offering you his hand, "You're smart, I think you can figure it out." His voice is soft, and the scent of his morning caf fills the air as he brings your hand to his lips and teases them with a light graze.

“You like me?” You rasp, your breath being sucked out of your lungs

“Have done for a while, but you can probably tell I’m bad at this.” He mumbled, not feeling all too confident in his approach. He really didn’t want to mess this up.

Your heart is almost bursting out of your chest at his confession, feeling like you should pinch yourself to know it wasn’t a dream. “Crosshair… I feel the same. I too am pretty bad at this.” You laugh softly and there’s a small smile that forms on his lips, a rare and beautiful sight.

"Looks like we'll have to help each other then, huh?" He tilts his head, and you can swear that he's glancing at your lips, reminding you of all the times you've gazed at him from a distance, wanting nothing more than to kiss him.

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, definitely not wanting the others to wake up and interrupt this moment, “How would you like me to help you?”

“With a kiss.” He says bluntly but of course, only if you wanted to.

There isn’t a moment of hesitation on your part as you lean up and plant a soft kiss to his lips that were invitingly warm as was the feeling of his hands landing to your waist.

He sighs into you, embracing this soft and sweet moment with you.

His lips are soft and gently, like a summer breeze that dances on your skin, and you find yourself responding in kind, your own hands sliding up his tall, slender yet muscular chest. It's a kiss filled with pent up longing and unsaid affection, and you feel like you could stay in this moment forever.

Eventually, the kiss slowly comes to an end and you pull away, catching your breath. You both share a shy smile, not quite sure what to say, but knowing that this was just the beginning of something amazing.

Masterlist

Tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 7 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri i @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @agenteliix @rintheemolion @kaminocasey @hotpinkplastoid @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater @swiftiexstarwarssimp @the-good-shittt @whore4rex @photogirl894 @s1st3r @taskfork-archive @by-the-primes

#crosshair x reader #crosshair x fem!reader #tbb crosshair #bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair x reader #bad batch crosshair x you #the bad batch #tbb #nahoney22 writes

[blueshistorysims]

September 1920, Harlem, Manhattan, New York, New York

“Byron?” Stella asked one morning in her bed, laying on his bare chest.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever thought about being married?”

“Truthfully, I’ve never had a girl long enough to even consider it. You’re the first woman I’ve been with that’s lasted this long.” 

“Hmm. Are you against it?”

“No. It has its economic and social advantages. Not just for love. Any good marriage I think should be built on friendship, not romance. Those tend to be happier.”

“Would you want to get married?”

He sat up, perplexed. “Are you proposing to me?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

“Why not? Your father would murder me. And I thought interracial marriage was illegal in America.”

“Not in New York. It’s just severely frowned upon. There’s no laws against it. What about your England?”

“The same,” he mumbled, still stunned by her question. “Why should we be married?”

“Why not? Like you said, economic reasons. And truthfully, I like a good scandal.”

“You’re playing with fire, Stella.”

“We’re friends. We already practically live together with all the sex we have. And Toussant likes you. He likes no one.”

“I don’t love you. Well, not in the way I should.”

“We could learn to.” She smiled. “What? You’re not interested?”

“I didn’t say that.” He sighed. “Let me put clothes on first.”

Byron sighed. “You really want to get married?”

“I’m feeling spontaneous. You’re graduating from Columbia in the spring regardless. I’d like you to have a reason to stay.” 

“When would you want to do this?”

“This Saturday.”

“We would need a marriage license. No judge in their right mind would give it to us.”

She chuckled. “Byron, darling. There is this amazing method called bribery. Works like charm involving anything government-related.”

He sighed. “If we are to be married. I want to make a personal contract. Between ourselves. Not anything legal. More like a promise. Or a vow.”

“What are your demands?”

“This would be monogamous. You’re not only the only person I see, but if we marry, then I’d stop that.”

“Like that?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I agree. You’re not my only lover either.”

“And I’d like to help with paying rent. I won’t freeload.”

“You can’t afford to pay half of my monthly rent.”

“I can pay a quarter.”

“Can you?”

“...a fifth then.” He swallowed. “And what are we to wear?”

She smirked. “Leave that to me.”

“You’re really eloping with Stella?”

“It seems so,” Byron muttered. “She’s a hard woman to say no to.”

“I suppose that’s the end of our fling.”

“Yeah.” He frowned. “I’ll miss it. But we’ll always be friends?”

“Of course.”

He swallowed. “Did you tell her that you sleep with men too?”

Byron shook his head. “No. I’m afraid that I’ll reveal you if I do. Besides, I don’t need to worry about that if we were to be married.

Samson looked wary. “I don’t think that’s something to keep secret, Byron.”

“It’ll be fine,” he insisted, though he was trying to convince himself more than his friend.

The other man clearly didn’t believe him. 

“You would like a marriage license?” The judge asked, glancing at the pair. “For this Saturday?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you making this marriage to get a hold into the United States, young man?”

“No, not at all. I’m dearly in love with my girl, and we see no reason to wait,” he lied, giving the judge an innocent smile.

He turned to Samson. “And what’s your business in all this?”

“I’ll be one of the witnesses. He’s marrying my cousin.”

The judge began to laugh. “...You’re serious?”

“Extremely.”

“And what makes you think I’ll give you a license?”

Byron slid over the fifty dollars Stella had given him. “Another fifty once you marry us. My girl father’s is Jedidiah Gardenhouse. This here is Samson Gardenhouse, son of Tobias Gardenhouse.”

He stared at the two young men before pocketing the cash. “...Saturday morning. Nine o’clock. No later, no sooner. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Saturday

Thaddeus walked his sister down the aisle as Campbell and Samson stood as witnesses. Campbell didn’t look too happy about the wedding, but he said nothing. Thaddeus didn’t like the idea, but it didn’t surprise him. Stella liked making statements. And what better than to marry a white middle-class Englishman?

#the walshes #the walsh legacy #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 decades #sims 4 historical #ts4 story #sims 4 history challenge #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #1920s #ts4 1920s #tw sex mention #tw racism #byron walsh #stella gardenhouse #thaddeus gardenhouse #samson gardenhouse