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satoruhour · 4 months

Note

very gojo-coded‼️ like if there’s one thing mans cannot do it is keep his hands off you

a/n: UR BRAIN >>> / tagging @jabamin @osaemu @hyomagiri :3

warnings: i guess reader is a little shy in this? fem!reader, a little teasing, use of ‘mama’, pet names, humping, fingering, lovesick gojo, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

“baby—” you’re quick to retract your statement when you catch your boyfriend trying to relax after a long day of fighting curses, but he’s more holding his head in his hands and just taking a moment in silence for himself. the television only does more than what it’s intended for by providing an annoying canvas of background noise but he’s just too content with finally being back home that he doesn’t care.

he reached home when you were in the shower, a little surprised he didn’t try to teleport himself into the cubicle itself, but you think it’s because he’s exhausted; maybe he needs a little . . de-stressing. gojo hums at your resigned call and doesn’t turn to face you, but you know he knows that you’re surely naked and dripping under your towel, meekly holding a bottle of moisturiser and hoping you wouldn’t have to take another shower with the actions that’s sure to occur.

“what is it, sweets?” gojo asks, head tilted back along the edge of the couch, but he finally tries to turn his head toward you, smiling a little when he sees your figure freezing from the night’s breezes.

“need you to moisturise . .” you mumble, padding over to him before plopping yourself down in front of him. he welcomes you with open arms, wanting to just have you in his embrace for a little while and you fall right into his sweet talking trap. you like it, though, the sweet nothings he tells you as he easily adjusts your body against his larger one, not caring one bit that the shower droplets wet his uniform.

“c’mon, turn your back toward me,” you murmur a soft okay, sucking in a breath when he peels away the towel from your skin. you sigh softly when you feel his nose along your neck, taking in your fresh scent of strawberry shampoo and body wash while his hands massage your shoulders, down to your shoulder blades and to your sides where you jump from the ticklish sensation.

you burn when satoru laughs against your skin, “relaax, sweetheart.”

you’re unaware but gojo tries his best to untangle the knots you’ve developed over the years from endless training and brutal missions, hands working magic on your lower back now as his thumbs continually move over the base of your spine.

“you’re so tight, here.”

“a-ah . . don’t say that, satoru,” you’re anything but innocent, but it is a little upfront the way your boyfriend never fails to talk dirty in entirely mundane situations. while you’re used to it, your body still tenses from the lewdness and suddenness of it; you’re at a loss for words and you melt in gojo’s arms.

“why?” he presses his front into your back, mouth going back to your neck to try to distract you from the actual thing he’s supposed to be doing. with each kiss along your jaw, he can only feel himself get harder. “it’s cute seeing you so shy like this.”

“satoru.” it comes out shaky, “the moisturiser.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, using his hand to turn your cheek for a small kiss, humming into it, “i’ll get to it, mama.”

the both of you are only trying to play the part — you, the clueless one receiving a moisturising job at the places you can’t reach on your back. gojo, the ever-loving boyfriend who drops everything to help you. he giggles again when you yelp at the coldness of the liquid before he starts to spread it; he does his job dutifully, at least, rubbing it into the far ends of your shoulders right to the centre where you struggle. like earlier, he takes pride in his larger hands, rubbing and squeezing at your back as he massages the moisturiser in.

“anything else you need me to help ya with?” the voice behind you surprises you again, arms now gliding along your sides to wrap around you, “maybe . .”

“are you really gonna make me say it—”

gojo giggles into your hair, an innocent action if it wasn’t for the hard-on pressed into your lower back, “it’s only fair i would want my shy baby say what she really wants, it’s always a treat.”

“i’d— uhm,” words sometimes have a hard time leaving your mouth, but even so, the way you tenderly turn around and push him to the sofa all have a scared edge to it. being with gojo made you open up more, but you don’t think your shy disposition has any problems. plus, your boyfriend finds it cute.

your hands make quick work of his pants, pulling away the belt and zipping it down, before you’re palming his bulge softly. he hums at the relief, his encouraging hands all gentle on your arms while you remove his underwear slowly. gojo looks like you’re the most beautiful as you climb on him, freshly showered and back full of sweet-smelling moisturiser, and plop yourself onto his lap. your pussy’s already fairly dripping, small moans leaving both your mouths when your cunt meets with the underside of his cock.

“at least take me out to dinner first,” satoru jokes and laughs even harder when he sees the pout on your face, “c’mere, you.”

before you know it, your hips are already grinding down on his front while he crashes his lips into yours. while his hands are placed on your ass, kneading it and helping you, yours are simultaneously removing his jujutsu uniform, fingers in perfect muscle memory from the many, many times you found yourself making out after gruelling missions. you have to pull away against your will when his hands leave your ass, doing the work yourself as he removes the uniform one arm hole at a time.

“i’ve only rubbed your back and you’re already soaking,” he whispers against your lips once he’s unclothed, lips chasing yours as you only press yourself deeper into him.

“and you’re already hard,” his eyes express pure glee at your words, letting you grind your cunt into his now dripping shaft. you can feel him twitch at the way your folds fit nicely along him, hands periodically squeezing your waist when you move your hips back and forth.

gojo has the luxury of sucking on your neck when your head tilts back at the tantalising feeling, clit bumping against his cock in all kinds of friction while you hump him, fingers losing themselves in his stark white hair that you love so much. tugging and pulling on it, there’s a plethora of sensations that only heighten the lewd situation; your nipples rubbing against his chest, his fingers stealthily playing with your hole, his teeth marking your skin.

“’toru—” you moan into open air, body arching into his hold as he hums in response, bringing your mouth back to him for a rough kiss. you can feel his fingers enter you gently while he swallows your sounds, his own hips also chasing ecstasy against your needy clit. “s’good . .”

one arm tight around your waist and the other pumping his fingers in you, you’re overwhelmed when he starts curling them in your cunt, making you whine out at the spot he’s found. everything about gojo drives you crazy, and it’s clear you do the same to him from the way his length twitches again under you.

“you’re so tight, baby,” he murmurs into the kiss, eyes struggling to stay open from the way you grind against him and push your ass against his digits. you’d expect a smart comment about him saying the exact same thing as earlier but he’s too lost in pleasure to give a shit, “can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

you whimper at the blatant filthiness of his words, pulling away and hiding your burning face in his neck while he only chuckles softly, cut off by a grunt when you clench around him.

“need you to cum, princess,” his fingers reach deeper than any of yours, spreading you and getting you ready for his dick. your hips are working overtime, grinding the most that you can to feel something, anything against your bundle of nerves. paired with the grunts of satoru in your ear and the slickness of your pussy, you can feel yourself getting closer to your climax until—

“f-fuck . . shit,” gojo’s eyes are squeezed tight when you continue to hump the underside of his shaft while he spills all over himself, fingers faltering while he continues to cum all over himself just from your grinding, a breathless laugh escaping him when all your face held was surprise, “this is what you do t’me.”

the twitch of his cock sends you hurling over the edge as you cum over him as well, thighs closing around him and the grip on his shoulders only strengthens while your cum drips down his fingers — the declaration of the strongest sorcerer being weak only for you was something you didn’t take lightly, and yet you’re in wonder everyday how it came to be. you let out a surprised shriek when he carries you swiftly, a small question of sofa or bedroom? posed to you before you silently point to the room.

it’s all loving laughter about the abandoned towel, or him walking with his trousers halfway down his legs as he princess carries you there, messy kisses shared before you’re both plopped down and your face is smushed into the pillows (“don’t wanna mess up my moisturising job, now, do we?”).

“fuuck yeah . .” gojo groans once he slips into you, hands holding onto your hips as he eases his cock inch by inch and you’re left to softly moan at the stretch. your hands scramble for sheets and pillows, already clamping down on his shaft like a vice and he hisses. “tryna snap my dick off?”

you giggle as you turn your head so you can at least see him, a drunk smile on your face as you take in your boyfriend: chest glistening from sweat and his usual unkempt hair looking even messier and his mouth dropped open at the feel of your wet pussy.

slowly, his hips set a pace once he’s bottomed out in you, thumbs digging into your lower back and having the opposite effect of his massage from earlier; it’s bound to leave some bruises, but the drag of your cunt along his cock is just too hypnotising. he grinds himself into you, tip just about brushing your g-spot so easily.

“pretty, pretty girl . .” satoru mumbles, eyes trained on you, he admires your silent noises and limp body rocking against the bedsheets before his eyes fall on your centre, a clear sheen of slick along your folds that shines under the moonlight, “with the prettiest cunt.”

the words, as grossly filthy as they are, warms your cheeks as he continues to speed up, hips driving into you so violently you wouldn’t think he loves so softly. his hands span your lower back, triggering your arch and accentuating your ass, mesmerised with how it jiggles each time his hips meet them. but one look back to you and he’s already saying moisturising job be damned because of the lovely curvature of your lips as they fall open in pleasure together with the rolling back of your eyes.

your boyfriend leans against your back, one elbow supporting his body while he just has to litter your nape with kisses as he continues to rail you. you’re blessed with his incoherent words, only making you wetter and more pliant for him. your hips start to move back against him, too, and your hands try your best at cradling his face.

“s’good, s’full, ’toru,” you mumble, eyes barely keeping open as his fat cock stretches you and sends you reeling with each brush of his tip along your spots, “love it s’much, love you.”

he coos at his baby, body flush against yours while he muffles you with his love and lust. and while satoru has stamina, your lower back begins to hurt and he lets you lower yourself down to the bed, grinning at the feel of the sheets that smell like him.

“you feelin’ better?” he smooths his fingers along your back, and he knows you nod without even looking at him because he just knows you that well, “well, good, ’cause—”

gojo re-enters you with one hand spreading you and the other guiding his cock into you, the position only emphasising your thighs and your ass and the squeeze of his length is too good. he pulls your cheeks apart just to look at how you take him, pussy spread to accommodate him.

“’cause you feel too damn good for me not to be in ya for even a sec.” he grunts as he pushes in and you only suck in a breath at it, wiggling your butt back into his for him to start moving. his eyes fixate on your tight cunt, lost in a trance as he starts up a moderate speed, but he makes sure to thrust all up into you.

“touch yourself for me, baby,” he mumbles out, groaning when you push your butt high enough for your hand to slip in. he can feel you rubbing your clit, eyes fluttering close from the overstimulating sensation that all that falls from your lips are satoru, satoru, satoru.

“just like that, that’s it, mama,” gojo watches your expression, hips stuttering at having witnessed your beauty in such a lewd place, “wan’ me to cum in you? hm?”

you unconsciously nod, more whines falling from your lips and babbles that just shows him how fucked out you are. “i’ll need my princess to cum first, though . .” and he takes over just like that: one hand next to your face and the other swatting your hand to replace the messy circles you’ve been rubbing into your puffy clit.

“want to feel her — fuckin’ hell — clench around me, want her to cum all over my cock,” he speaks through gritted teeth, slapping your pussy briefly and you cry out in pleasure, “can you do that, sweetness?”

your eyes scrunch in euphoria, “yes, yes, satoru—” every breath you take is a struggle and every word you speak is slurred, grasping onto his wrist for an anchor and try to angle your head, “w’nna cum, i’m gonna cum, baby—”

“’toru—!” you see white before you can feel it, tearing just a bit at the intense feeling and hiding as much as you can behind his wrist as his other hand increases his speed on your clit. it happens all too fast; the slap of his pelvis against yours and the clear, audible sound of your pussy dripping and the precise thrusts in how he rams into you.

“that’s it, there we gooo . .” gojo coos when you cum silently, little pants and mewls leaving your mouth as your body convulses around him. your cunt’s gripping onto his cock so harshly he has trouble moving but it’s fine considering the way he gets to see you come undone by his doing. you’re gushing all over him, a small squeal leaving you when he pinches your clit playfully.

he slows a little just to let you ride out your orgasm, clear in the way you continue to grind back against him but soon he’s picking it up again and you’re left to hold tight onto his arm as he uses your body to reach his high. your gummy walls were just too warm and gripping onto him so well, and when you’re holding so gently onto his arm, filling you up is all he can think about.

“gonna c—” a loud groan sounds out from satoru when his thrusts are interrupted by his orgasm; all it took was one involuntary clench from you to get him to empty himself in you, sensitive tip spurting ropes and ropes of cum deep into you as he paints your insides white, “take it. take it deep in ya, mama.”

you moan softly at the obscene words and later, at the obscene noises of how he pulls himself out of you and you can hear your mixed juices coalesce and drip onto the sheets below you. although, before satoru can make a funny joke or kiss you, you’re knocked out cold on the bed sheets.

“passing out on me?” is all is says with a laugh, turning you over and gives you a spare pillow to cuddle before he leaves you with a forehead kiss and a promise to clean you up just like you deserve.

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pers1st · 2 months

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i can't handle change - leah williamson x reader

part two of let down

pairing: leah williamson x barça!reader

warnings: bit angsty

You had expected your first day, merely a day after arriving in the city, to be full of football. Barcelona did media duties occasionally, for sure. But you had expected to throw yourself into training immediately here, mostly in an attempt to conceal your emotions and at least act as though you wanted to give everything for this club. In truth, you wanted to give everything for yourself. You wanted to keep yourself a candidate for the national team, you wanted to keep yourself a candidate for Barcelona once they were ready to sign you back, you wanted to play, partially, out of spite as well. Anger was one of the emotions in your mess of a mind, and although you knew that it was no use, you wanted to show Jona the mistake he had made.

What you hadn't expected was the absolutely overwhelming amount of cameras, catching every inch of you they could. London Colney, otherwise known as the Arsenal training centre, was nice, but it was different from what you were used. The corridors were small and you feared they'd squish you if you stared at the white walls for a second too long. The friendly woman from the entrance, who's name you had missed due to her heavily accented English, had led you all the way to Jonas' office on the first floor, and the man was gauging at you with a grin you couldn't quite place. You shifted uncomfortably.

"So, let's put pen to paper!", he clapped his hands as he gently motioned to the seat next to him after having shaken your sweaty hand.

"Yes", you croaked as you sat down, taking the pen with the Arsenal logo into your shaky grip. The smile on your lips was fake as ever as you scribbled your name onto the dotted line. You fooled them again when holding up your shirt for the cameras. And again as you sat in front of the social media's team, answering all of their questions.

Your move surprised everyone in the Women's Football Community, can you tell us what exactly made you choose Arsenal?

Of course. I think Arsenal are very good with the fans, and they play really good football. I'm really excited to maybe play at the Emirates, and yeah I think anyone can see they are a real family so that's why I'm happy to be a part of it.

They payed the most. That was the answer you would've given, had anyone actually wanted to hear the truth from you. But people didn't want the truth. People wanted you to love Arsenal. And although it pained you, you had to admit that so far, it wasn't that bad.

Leah gave you a tour of her home that was now yours too, and the training grounds were nice. The gym was nice. The changing room was nice. The cafeteria was nice. You couldn't hate the club as much as you had when you hadn't seen it yet - hadn't been a part of it.

"So, do you like it here?"

You thought for a second that you would choke on your food when Wally asked you this, completely blindsiding you as you sat with her, Leah, Laia and Teyah in the dining hall, letting most of their conversation slip past you. Their English was difficult for you, not because you hadn't learned (or, attempted to learn) them language, but because you'd never heard it as much as you did here. The words were starting to become a constant, distant noise somewhere in the back of your mind, but as Wally looked at you expectantly and the others turned towards you, you knew that this wasn't something you could escape.

"Yeah, sure", you smiled. "It's nice here."

"Your contract is two years, right?"

You nodded. "Sí."

Two years. Two long years of being away from Alexia, except for Spanish camps. Two long years of being away from your parents, your actual teammates, your actual home. The thought didn't scare you as much as it used to.

"So, two years and then you'll go back?", Leah nudged you playfully, sipping her water as she smirked.

You shrugged. "We should see."

Over the next few days, you got to know the team, and London, even better. Leah spent every minute she could with you, always partnering with you during training and offering to show you her favorite cafés and places in the city when you weren't kicking balls around, inviting you over to her flat for a movie night or taking you to the little Spanish market she'd found halfway across the city. You appreciated her company, knowing that she was trying to make this transition as comfortable for you as possible. She didn't succeed completely, as you still felt homesick whenever she spared you a minute to call Alexia, or when you checked Barça's social media to see all of your teammates together, seemingly not even missing you.

Logically, you knew that they did. Barça was a family, and Alexia told you everyday that the girls were asking about you. Many of them texted you as well, informing you that they would try and find a livestream of your cup game against Reading, in which you would likely make your debut for your new club. Still, seeing them without you felt like someone was shooting daggers through your chest, piercing the skin and leaving you to bleed. You wanted to be there. You should be there. They had taken that opportunity away from you, ripping it out of your hands and tearing it apart like a piece of paper.

Anger and longing rose within you interchangeably, and if you didn't know any better, you would've believed you were simply going through a breakup like any other. But you forced yourself to push through the first week as hard as you could, keeping conversations with Alexia short in order to not be pulled back into memories and instead attempt to enjoy the present.

You were glad when Laia told you about her birthday party just a few days before your first match. The team had planned to go to Laia's favorite Spanish restaurant, and as you were a part of the team now as well, Kim had extended the reservation for another person. That was how you had found yourself, dressed in a tight black dress with a pullover on top, in Leah's car, allowing yourself to accept her offer to share a ride, trying to ignore the ringing phone in your hands.

Your ringtone cut off the soft country music playing in the background, which you had told Leah many times you would not enjoy. When the ringing finally stopped, you breathed a sigh of relief. Just for it to start again mere seconds later.

"Maybe you should answer that", Leah huffed, her eyes focused on the road but a soft smile on her lips. You shrugged.

"It's Alexia."

"You're ignoring the Alexia Putellas?" Leah's expression turned into a shocked one at once, but you could only chuckle.

"You're feeding her ego. She's just- my best friend, you know?", you attempted to explain how Ale's success had never driven a wedge between the two of you, not only because many believed you were equally good at football, but because Alexia was likely the most down-to-earth person you knew. Of course, the woman knew how good she was. Everyone did. But she'd never let it change her.

"Isn't that just more of a reason to not ignore her?"

You shrugged again.

"I dunno. Don't want to talk to her."

Leah's eyebrows furrowed as you finally reached your destination and she put the car into park. Your phone began ringing again. This time, you declined her call, texting her quickly that you couldn't talk right now.

"Why?"

You shrugged again. It seemed like all you knew to do, but as you looked at the way Leah's expression didn't relent in the slightest, you knew that it wouldn't work anymore. Maybe it was good to talk to Leah. Maybe she would understand.

"It just reminds me of home, you know. I miss it", you croaked, suddenly overwhelmed with longing once more. You wanted nothing more than to be in your apartment again, to drive to the Barcelona training grounds in your blue and red shirt, to join Mapi's banter, you even missed being yelled at by Irene and Marta.

"Are we really that bad?", Leah attempted to joke, a hand of hers flying out to gently land on your knee. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact, your eyes leaving hers to stare at her fingers on your skin.

“No”, you huffed. “Not at all, that’s the problem.”

Sitting in the car with Leah, nothing but the annoying country music in the background, for a second felt like a breath of fresh air. For just a second, you could focus on the warmth of her skin, on the air refresher dangling from her rearview mirror, on the eyes that she lay on you gently, on the softness of it all.

“Should we go?”, you broke the silence, knowing that Laia would not be happy if you were late. It was past ten already, and you softly smiled at the knowledge that some Spanish habits never truly left. It felt comforting to eat this late, as stupid as it sounded. It reminded you of the countless team dinners you’d had with Barça. You didn’t allow yourself, once again, to dwell on the fond memories as you pushed your door open without awaiting Leah’s answer, her hand retrieving from its position as she followed you into the restaurant, a bottle of Spanish wine in your hands. You had brought as much as you had been allowed to bring, and you figured passing Laia one singular bottle couldn’t hurt too much.

The restaurant held a nice atmosphere, one that immediately pulled you in as the bell jingled above your head. Most of the girls were already sitting at the table reserved for you, who all turned as they waved at you happily, grins plastered on their faces. Laia caught your eye first - she was wearing a little plastic crown, grinning like a kid on Christmas as she rose from her seat, hurrying to welcome you and Leah, who seemed to be the last ones to have arrived.

"¡Feliç aniversari!", you hugged Laia shortly, rubbing your hand across her back before pushing the bottle into her hands.

"Merci", she smiled as she accepted it, taking Leah into a short hug as well before you made your way towards the only seats available. The warmth of Leah's body next to yours, the familiar food and music playing softly in the background almost made you forget about the guilt in your stomach. You weren't supposed to enjoy all of this half as much as you did.

Seemingly as a distraction, though you figured you subconsciously wanted to remind yourself of what was your actual home, you opened Instagram. A video of Aitana singing the Barça chant, laughing into the camera with golden confetti around her shoulders, made you halt. You scrolled. You saw the trophy.

Shit - that was what Alexia had been calling you about. Of course. It came back to you flying - the supercopa final was today. How could you have forgotten? It was all you had been looking forward to ever since the winter break had ended. Yet you were so far away from it all, the match had slipped between your fingers, and you were left with nothing but the reminder that Barcelona functioned just as well without you, that they had simply moved on, while you were stuck here - in a Spanish restaurant, with your "friends", trying to remind yourself that if you tried hard enough, this could feel like home.

With a screech, you pushed your chair back and wobbled out of your seat uncomfortably.

"Just need the bathroom", you excused yourself in response to Leah's surprised expression, before marching through the restaurant and leaving all of the girls behind.

The bathroom was empty, luckily, and you let the tears flow at once. How had you been so stupid? How had you thought that, even for a minute, you would be okay so far away from your home, watching your teammates do all the things you wanted to do with them, while seemingly not missing you at all?

It didn't make any sense to you- Barcelona could win every trophy they wanted, while you were stuck in London, not even sure whether they would want you back after your contract was over. Were you delusional? Were you ever going to return to Barcelona?

Just as your brain started spinning further, and you had to steady yourself on the sink, knuckles turning white from how hard you wanted to keep yourself grounded, the door to the bathroom swung open. You didn't need to look up to know who it was - her body was right behind you, and she smelled of vanilla, just like her car did.

Leah. It was Leah who had entered the bathroom. Leah who was frantically trying to get you to talk to her, all the while you were choking on your sobs. Leah, who had tried her best to make you somewhat comfortable in the club she loved so much. How were you supposed to look her in the eye?

#woso community #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #woso fanfics #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson oneshot

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illyrian-dreamer · 11 months

Text

Our girl – Part 1

Azriel x Cassian x Reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 5k

Super angsty IC dynamics, little bit of violence/blood. Injured reader.

--------

“It was my right!!” Your voice was shrill, breaking from the volume – but you couldn't care less.

“I understand that Y/N, but I have a duty to my court. And to you, to keep you safe.” Your Highlord was unmoved, professional and stoic, your anger washing over him like water against stone.

The thud of your heart was in your ears, the tips of them hot, and you were sure the rest of your family could hear it too. You tried to breath, to think, to let yourself see the logic in Rhys’s decision to let Azriel make the kill over you.

But it was all bullshit.

“He was mine to kill,” you seethed, your voice unrecognisable, an almost growl from the deep part of your throat that strained at you not to cry.

“Try to understand–”

“No!” you spat, marching up to the High Lord, your finger pointed at your chest. The rest of your family stiffened as you approached, untrusting of what you would do next. You could see Azriel’s shadows run down his frame, even though the male hadn't moved from his formal stance by the door. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, still unable to look you in the eye since the moment you had barged into the room. Feyre was biting the nail on her thumb, her face pained and distressed as she watched you march up to her mate. But it was Cassian who showed the least amount of trust, taking a step closer, ready to jump in if - or rather when he had to.

“She was my sister Rhysand, MY SISTER! Not yours, not anyone else's here. He took her in innocence, and his death was mine to mark.”

Rhysand’s brow clenched. “It had to be this way,” he offered softly.

You scoffed, running shaky hands through your hair as you paced backwards. “You expect me to believe that?” Sarcasm oozed from you as easily as the aggression. “I’ve only ever asked you for one thing Rhysand, one thing! Meryl’s murder was unjust, and you promised to train me to avenge her! You promised I would be the one to kill that male!”

Rhysand took a deep breath, his violet eyes pained, but his head remained high. “I’m sorry Y/N. It’s as I said, you’re not ready to execute a mission this big, and Alvar had intel on our court that we could not risk exposing.”

“I have worked my ass off for years for you Rhys. I have trained in hail, rain and shine, I’ve completed mission after mission with no complaint. I have fought for you, lied and stolen and killed for you. I have given my life to avenging Meryl, and you have the audacity to tell me I’m not ready?”

“I know it’s hard to hear. There’s no changing that you didn't have clearance.”

“From who?”

“Cassian and Azriel.”

And that was the last thing you heard before your heart broke in two.

The males you trusted most in this world, the two that had broken your walls, taught you to trust again, trained you and nurtured you, the very beings you loved most in this world,– had not only known of the task, but had been the ones to stop you from fulfilling your life’s mission?

They knew the depths of your reasoning for joining the Inner Circle, for training as a Velarian spy. They had known your one true desire to find Alvar Ashwood – Hybern’s lead assassin – and make him pay for the innocent life that he took.

You looked between the two of them now, your mouth agape as you tried to find the words, or even a sound that could come close enough to the anguish you felt. But no sound found you, even your shaking had stopped. Rhys was saying something, but his words were a world away, muffled and muted as heart-wrenching shock consumed you.

Cassian looked back at you with broken, pleading eyes. Azriel's head hung low in shame.

You would never forgive them for this.

“I-I.” You stopped yourself, gulping. You had nothing left to say. Nodding slowly, silent tears of realisation rolled down your cheeks. One thing was clear – there was no one left that you could trust.

“I’m sorry you’re hurt Y/N, truly. Please, take some time to rest, to process. We’ll discuss this further when you’re ready, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Rhys’s stance had softened at your tears, his palms open as he dared to try and slip through your mental shields to sooth you.

Gritting your teeth, you slammed your walls up as high as possible, shutting him out and throwing him from the outskirts of your mind. You whipped your head back to your High Lord, a snarl ready at your lips as you took another stride towards him.

Cassian jumped into action then, stopping you with two large hands on either of your shoulders, his back to his Rhys as he blocked your path.

“Hey, hey, how about we go talk about this outside, ok?”

“Get off me,” you spat, shaking off his hold as you tried to eye Rhys over his shoulder.

Feyre had joined her mate now, their arms linked as they stared at you with pure shock. Neither of them had anticipated just how deeply this decision would cut.

Giving up against Cassian’s hold, you looked between both of them, their figures becoming a blur as tears welled in your eyes. “How could you do this to me?” you broke, your face crumpling. “I trusted you, all of you!”

Cassian pulled you close to his chest as he walked you from the room. “Shh, its alright, c’mon, come with me.”

You had nothing left to give. No energy, no fight, certainly nothing that could resist Cassian’s strength as he dragged you from that room, weeping.

You weren't even sure how you made it to the gardens, but the bite cold of the night shocked you enough to push the General off of you.

Bending at your waist, you held yourself up by your knees, your breath shaky and uneven as you struggled to breath in between sobs. Bile rose in your mouth, and you were unsure if you were going to be sick.

“Shh, its alright Y/N. Just breath.” Cassian’s large hand framed and soothed your back.You wanted so badly to give in to him, to throw yourself at his chest and let him hold you while you cried. But no – he had betrayed you, just like the rest.

“D-don’t touch me,” you managed to gasp.

“Alright sweetheart, alright.”

“And don't call me that!” Having regained a steady breath, you straightened to look at him, disgust seeping from your expression as your eyes darted between his. “You knew?”

Cassian sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head slightly. “Yeah, I knew.”

“How could you not tell me?”

Another sigh from the General. “We knew you’d go after him if you found out.”

You blinked back at Cassian, biting your lip as you shook your head in disbelief.

“I know it might not make sense right now doll, but we did it for your own good.”

You shook your head faster, your frown deepening as you stepped further away from your once friend. “No, no no Cassian! No! There is no excuse!”

“I’m sorry you’re hurting Y/N, really, I am. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love, to need to avenge them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “That’s right Cass, you do. So where was our family to lie and deceive you all those months you spent slashing and killing to avenge your mother?”

Cassian’s eye softened as he took a deep breath. “You know that is the deepest regret of my life.”

“At least the decision was yours,” you spat, turning your heel for the gates at the back of the gardens.

Cassian was on your tail. “Please, Y/N. We did it out of care for your safety, try to understand.” You kept a stubborn chin forward, picking up your pace as you sought any kind of exit from this Gods-forsaken home that had once been your haven.

You had finally reached the gates, magic willing them to open on their own accord. You steered straight ahead – to the thick of the woods that bordered the house

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked.

You didn't answer the General. Before you, your destination lay clear.

“Y/N. The woods are dangerous.”

You scoffed, your pace and direction unchanged. A strong hand caught your wrist.

“Get off me Cassian,” you snarled.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can't let you.”

“I said get off!”

Cassian snatched his hand back, a sharp breath drawn as he winced in pain. Your power – that unpredictable, uncontrollable current of energy now swarmed your skin like an electric coating. It was moments like this that your gift found you, unpredictable and dangerous, much like yourself. Surely part of the reason your family had decided you weren't good enough to find and kill Alvar on your own.

You had no room in your heart to care if you hurt Cassian. This was your window to flee, so you did, escaping him and heading to the depths of the woods.

————

The woods were crisp and dark, the usual brilliant array of stars hidden by tree tops. But you didn't care, your own discomfort numbed from the sheer rage that fuelled your every step.

Your breath was a smoky puff against the cold, twigs and branches crunching underneath the stomp of your boots while circular thoughts reeled in your mind, over and over again.

Rhysand had ordered Azriel to kill Alvar. Cassian and Azriel didn’t give you clearance and kept the mission a secret. Alvar was dead. You would never avenge your sister.

It was done. It was over. The last tether to your sister, buried forever. Everything you had worked for, the one motivation that kept you from falling apart at her death, that got you out of bed on those days when grief was an excruciating ache on your stomach – gone in an instant. And the people you loved the most were to blame.

Deep within your turmoil of thoughts, the shadows that slinked over your footprints went unnoticed, and the figure that flew overhead amiss.

The sound of a bubbling brook pricked your fae ears. You decided to follow it – perhaps a sip of cold water, or running your hands through a stream might calm the energy that still zapped at your skin.

Sure enough, not a short walk away was the brook. The water trickled down into a large pool, the tree tops cleared as moonlight danced in the reflection of the water. Under any other circumstance, you would have found this setting to be beautiful.

You bought shaking hands to cup at the stream, wincing as the cold stung at your power. But the liquid was quick to sooth you, and your spark began to fizzle as you bought your hand to your mouth, drinking intently.

After a few more sips, you sat back at the bank of the pool, closing your eyes as heavy breaths pushed through the ache in your chest. The sound of a small splash of water had you opening your eyes, and you jumped as unfeeling, black ones stared back at you from the centre of the pool.

A sickly pale face watched you unblinking, its figure still beneath the water from the nose down. Adrenaline was quick to fuel you to get the hell out of there, but you also knew better.

This was a kelpie. And it was too late to run.

The kelpie moved silently beneath the water, wading its way towards you. You took the few moments you had to scramble to your feet, patting yourself for anything to defend yourself with. Fuck – you hadn't a weapon on you.

Reaching the edge of the bank now, it stood on its long limbs, water trickling off its sickly figure, its own long black hair blending with the reeds that clung to its frame.

“Are you a royal?” it grinned, its pointed teeth yellow and rotted.

You forced a steady voice, calling on your power you so often stifled. “No,” was all you said, staring the creature down.

The kelpie ran an insidious tongue along its teeth, churning a nauseous feeling in your stomach. “Then why do you smell of it?”

You blinked – you hadn't realised you carried the scent of your family with you too. Perhaps a kelpie’s scent was more heightened?

“They are my family. Unrelated.” you explained, buying yourself more time for your power to gather. “They’ll fetch for me soon,” you lied.

The kelpie hissed and grinned at once, walking closer towards you. You took a few steps back, keeping your distance.

“You smell…,” the kelpie paused, its awful nostrils flaring against its face. “Delicious.”

“You best leave. They’ll kill you if you harm me,” you replied quickly, cursing yourself for the fear that you knew now tinged your scent. The kelpie caught it too, its grin growing wider.

“But I’m starrrrved,” it drawled, lowering its look to you. “I’m afraid I cannot contain myself, even if I tried.” A sickly chuckle racked through its chest.

You gulped, sizing up the creature in front of you. Ordinarily, you knew you could take down someone of his size. But you were without your weapons, and your power was unreliable at the best of times. If it took you in the water, you were sure as dead. Begging to the Gods, you clenched your fists, willing your power to find you in any shape or form.

“Any last words, non-royal?” it cackled, readying itself to attack.

You didn't have a chance to respond as shadows flooded around you, blue siphons glowing among them. The kelpie yelped and howled, and as the darkness cleared you saw its pale figure pinned to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Azriel was before you, his hands gripped at both your arms. Your eyes were wide with shock as you took him in. He had followed you?

The kelpie was deceivingly strong, and fought against his shadows, freeing itself quickly. It screeched as it lunged for you both, a darkened claw swinging for Azriel’s back. You shoved the Shadowsinger aside, the kelpie’s claws slashing across your arm as you yelped in pain. Blood began to pour from your new wound, and the kelpie hissed too, having being struck by your power on contact.

Azriel was on the kelpie in an instant, a blur shadows and muscle before you spotted the glint of truth teller. The next thing you heard was the kelpie’s final howl.

Its mouth agape, the kelpie bled black blood, crawling back to the depths of the pool, choosing to die in its element. Neither you or Azriel stopped it.

Azriel was panting, his breathing loud as the final sign of life from the kelpie bubbled to the surface of the water. You stayed still with shock.

Hazel eyes were before you now, scanning you over.

“Your arm,” Azriel said, touching you gingerly.

“I’m fine,” you said with a distant voice, your mind still with the hideous creature that attacked you. Your forearm was warm with your own blood as it gathered at your fingertips before dripping to the ground.

“Let’s get you to a healer.”

It was that instruction, that order, that snapped you out of your trance. You had heeded and trusted that voice for far too long. And in the end, it had betrayed you.

You snatched your arm away from Azriel, scowling as you met his eyes. “Do not tell me what to do.”

Azriel levelled a look at you. “This is not a regular wound, Y/N. You know a kelpie’s claw is laced with poison.”

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the burning sensation quickly spreading across your body, or the reel in your vision. How convenient that you so desperately needed his help.

“I’ll see to it myself,” you snapped, glaring deep into the Shadowsinger’s eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw, Azriel’s tell-sign of irritation. He was far less patient than his brothers.

You made to step around him, before a strong arm circled your waist, pulling you back. Too weak to fight him off, a scarred hand covered your mouth to mute your yell of protest. Instead a quick rush of air filled your lungs as the forest folded around you, quickly revealing an infirmary wing.

Shoving yourself from Azriel’s hold the moment you landed, you stumbled forward, finding balance by clinging to the edge of an empty cot. A set of healers rushed to you, grabbing your arms and holding you up.

“A kelpie’s claw,” Azriel said before either of them could ask the question, one of the healer’s dashing for the antidote. “Where is Madja?”

“She does not work nights,” the healer’s voice was loud in your ear as you clung to her, barely able to stand. A small groan escaped you, the fire from the kelpie’s poison burning through your veins, your mobility slowing with every second.

“Fetch for her, please,” Azriel instructed, taking your limp body from the healer and placing you in the cot. A vial was bought to your lips then, the contents inside giving off a putrid smell. You jerked your head stubbornly, but the vial was tipped further against your mouth.

“Drink,” Azriel ordered, his cold hand lacing through your hair and pushing at the back of your head. You had no chose, swallowing the liquid while you still could. The fire in your veins began to dull, and you breathed, thankful for the quick relief.

“Good,” the Shadowsinger said approvingly. You hated that affirmation, but were too weak to show it.

The healers dotted around you, placing cold rags on your face and stitching your wound. Azriel watched, his arms folded and face etched with concern. Uncontrollable shakes racked through your body, your muscles jerking with pain and exhaustion.

Falling in and out of consciousness, you were too dazed to note Madja’s arrival, and with her, Cassian.

“What happened?” Cassian asked his brother, his eyes panicked.

“A kelpie,” Azriel said tightly.

Cassian clenched his eyes shut, punching the bridge of her nose. “She got away from me. I didn't want to chase her, she was already distraught.”

“I was tracking her too. I should have intervened sooner,” Azriel responded, his eyes not leaving you as a deeper frown settled on his face.

After a quick check of your vitals and words with her healers, Madja approached the two.“The antidote is working. She’ll recover soon.”

“She still looks sickly?” Cassian questioned, looking past the healer at your sagged and sweaty body.

“That is what I wanted to talk to you both about. Y/N is carrying symptoms of something else I can't place. Do either of you know if she was involved in a foreign mission lately, perhaps something of high risk or stress?”

The brothers shared a look before Azriel responded. “Not exactly Madja, but she… received some bad news today.”

“She was very upset,” Cassian added.

Madja nodded slowly, tutting softly. “Whatever has happened, it’s manifesting physically. She’s weaker than usual, and will need to rest for a few days. I suggest keeping her here, where we can tend to her.”

“Perhaps we can bring her home Madja. Would you see to her there?” Azriel asked, his arms crossing tighter. Illyrian’s being preternaturally possessive, he preferred you at home where he could keep a closer eye on you, help even.

“The choice is Y/N’s really. Let me do what I can while she rests, I’ll call for you when she wakes.” The brother’s nodded, making to leave the wing.

“Madja,” Cassian half turned, grabbing the healer by her arm. “Please, just, tell her we’re sorry.”

With a small frown, Madja reluctantly agreed.

————

When you awoke, you expected it to be light. Instead, the infirmary was dim, the soft glow of fae light warming the medical wing around you.

Memories from the night before returned, your stomach churning at the thought. The kelpie, hurting Cassian, the fight with your family. Your heart clenched as you were reminded – they had betrayed you, and you could no longer trust them.

Groaning as you turned to your side, you felt around for anything to catch the bile rising in your throat. You luckily landed on a pan, what little remained in your stomach hurled up as your gut clenched and heaved.

Madja entered at the sound, rubbing soothing pats on your back and taking the pan away when you had finished.

You fell back onto the pillows, your body clammy and weak. “What’s wrong with me?” you asked her as she checked your breathing.

“You were struck by a kelpie. Although your wounds are healing well.”

You looked at the ceiling, nodding as you recalled the horrific event. It was hard enough to almost die at the hands of a creature like that, but your heart ached at the thought that Azriel had saved you, yet you never wanted to see his face again.

“It would seem there is something else that plagues your mind, child.”

You looked at Madja now, blinking away the tears that were quickly building.

“Your family mentioned some kind of distressing news?”

Closing your lids, a silent tear rolled from each of your eyes. You merely nodded, your hands quickly brushing away the evidence.

“Its none of my business, but the General was eager that I relay their apologies.”

You froze, flashing a broken look at the healer you had known for many years. How many wounds and ailments of yours had she patched and cured in your career? But emotional wounds – this was new territory for the both of you.

As if finally in safe hands, your face crumpled, your anger and anguish overwhelming as you began to sob. Madja was ordinarily tough – she had no time for foolery and was unsympathetic for injuries of your own fault. But she comforted you now, hushing you and patting your back in a motherly way.

“What do you do when you no longer trust the people you love, Madja?” you asked through shallow cries.

She gave a small, tight smile, squeezing your hands that she now held in hers. “You spend eternity learning to forgive them.”

You bit the quiver in your lip. “I’m not sure I can,” you admitted.

She sighed softly, nodding with understanding. “You have the rest of your existence if you choose to try.”

Madja’s wisdom comforted you, your eyelids turning heavy and you fell to another bout of sleep.

————

Azriel, Cassian and Mor were eating breakfast at the House of Wind, none of them speaking as the weight of last nights events hung heavy.

With a sigh, Mor looked between the males. “She’s going to forgive you eventually, you know that right?”

Cassian gave her a sorry smile, while Azriel kept his eyes on his eggs. He gripped his fork tighter, his jaw clenched. “You didn't see the way she looked at us.”

“She just needs time,” Mor said. “This was her life’s mission after all.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, an icy cold glare fixed upon his face, a blanket over the sheer guilt he felt at Mor’s statement. “You don’t think I know that?”

Mor blinked at the Shadowsinger in shock – it was so unlike him to lose his cool.

“Easy Az, don't snap at Mor for things out of her control,” Cassian frowned at his brother, before shovelling another mouthful of oatmeal.

Azriel let out a sharp breath, clenching his eyes shut, ignoring the sting from the lack of sleep. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, still unable to unlock his tight jaw. Mor waved him off, assuring him it was no big deal.

A gust of foreign wind blew as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into the dining room. The High Lord disregarding pleasantries, his hand clutching a letter, its broken seal the unmistakable symbol of the infirmary.

“I have received news on Y/N.” The High Lord’s tone was to the point, cold even, like he was only interested in discussing the facts.

“Is she alright?” Cassian asked urgently. Azriel’s grip tightened on his knife and fork as he held his breath.

“Madja says her recovery is slow, but she is making progress. One or two more nights at the infirmary and she should be strong enough to be discharged.”

“I asked Madja about attending to her here. Has she written about that?” Azriel asked.

Rhys’s lips tightened before he loosed a deep breath. Feyre, her face pained, jumped in. “Madja has also written that at this point in time, Y/N does not wish to return to home.”

The others fell silent.

“What does that mean?” Azriel gritted.

Tears welled in their High Lady’s eyes, and Rhys slipped his hand over his mates.

“She no longer wishes to live here,” he said, his violet eyes saddened and dim.

Mor gasped, and Cassian shook his head. “Where will she go?” The General stood, his chair scraping as he pushed it out behind him.

“It’s unclear at this stage. Madja has asked that we respect her privacy while she heals. I’m hoping we can talk to her when she’s feeling better. Perhaps even convince her to stay.”

“She won't come back.” The rest of the group turned to the Shadowsinger, his gaze darkened and his shadows building to his neck. “I could sense her rage, the hate she held in her eyes. To her, what we did is unredeemable.”

“Don’t say that Az,” Feyre begged, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.

Azriel’s pounded the table with his fist, his knife now stuck upright in the mahogany wood. “Would you prefer I lied? She’s worked her whole life to avenge Meryl, and we shattered that dream. I wouldn't forgive us either.”

“Surely there is something we can do,” Cassian looked between his brother’s, eyes desperate, almost pleading.

But Azriel kept his cold glare on the couple before him. “You asked me to find Alvar first. So I did. And now we’ve lost our girl.”

Rhys’s power coursed through the room as he bought his mate closer to his side. “Watch it, Azriel,” he warned. “Alvar had intel on our wards, our home would be forever exposed if he got away. I tried my best to give Y/N the opportunity. Let’s not forget the decision you and Cass made to keep her grounded.”

“She was going to get herself killed,” Cassian muttered, not defensively, but as pure fact. “The desire to kill him – it makes her power unpredictable. She would have hurt herself, or died trying.”

“We all did what we had to do,” Feyre said softly, bringing sense back above the tension of the room. Pained, guilty expressions reflected hers.

Azriel stood now too, making his way around the table and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Rhys asked.

“To go get Y/N.”

“She’s asked we give her some space Az,” Feyre reasoned. “We have no right to go barging in while she’s trying to recover.”

“I don't care. She’s angry, but that doesn't mean she knows what’s best. She’ll heal better here, with people that care about her. I’ll go–”

“Sit down,” Rhys interrupted the Shadowsinger, the air thickening with his power as he pulled rank.

Azriel’s shoulder’s tightened at Rhys’s order, halting his steps yet refusing to take his seat. “She belongs here, with us,” he gritted.

“We can't force her to do anything Azriel,” Mor whispered, her eyes soft as cast a sympathetic look at her friend.

There was silence in the room again, none of them knowing what to say next.

“This is my fault,” Cassian swallowed, his gaze distant in a deep frown.

“No one is to blame,” Rhys said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The situation is unfortunate, but I’m certain it will get better in time.” He breathed deeply, offering a broken smile to his mate before casting a stern look at the others. “We’ll keep you updated if we hear anything further.”

With a few quiet goodbyes, the High Lord and Lady winnowed back to their River Home.

“We–“ Cassian began.

“Don’t Cass,” Mor interrupted knowingly. “You need to leave bad enough alone.” She stood then, leaving the males to their breakfast.

Cassian cast a look to his brother, who was already looking at him. “Are we leaving now?”

“Not with all eyes on us. Wait until dark. Then we’ll go get our girl.”

“Deal.”

--------

Part 2 >>>>

AN: Ok, here’s that angsty piece I was telling you about....

I HAVE MISSED YOU GUYS!!!

Also I’ve been slack with my tag lists, very sorry! If you’d like to join a generic acotar one, drop a comment.

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 5 months

Text

change my mind - ln4

summary: inspired by 1D's song of the same title - are we friends or are we more?

warnings: f!reader, hints at anxiety and insomnia, that vegas crash, angst, miscommunication (it gets solved dw), swearing, maybe a little bit of awkwardness, fluff. also feel like it drops off towards the end so i might have to come back and edit it at some point

word count: 9.7k

Since the crash it felt as though you’d been holding your breath. Right from when the camera on the straight seemed to jolt from an unexpected impact; on the way to the medical centre; in the car to the hospital. In fact, it only felt like you’d released that breath when Lando had given you the key to his hotel room and you’d shut it behind you.

Then, and only then, it felt like you could breathe.

Your head thudded against the door, the view of The Strip visible even from where you were stood – the neon lights were difficult to miss in the night, even more so when the entire room was still shrouded in darkness. You inhaled through your nose, ensuring to fill your lungs with some much needed air, before breathing it out through your mouth.

Your heart was still racing, something squeezing in your chest, and the exhaustion seemed to blanket you in that very moment, your brain constantly replaying the sounds and the mangled sight of his car. It seemed intent, however, on showing you flickers of his face as he’d climbed out of the Medical Car, trying not to wince at the ache in his bones as his Dad pressed him into a hug or as any part of him made contact with the hospital bed.

In all honesty, you didn’t think you’d ever been so anxious before. Those paralysing seconds where the only thing heard on the radio was static just seemed to have occurred so long ago, but that one moment seemed to cement the dread poured into your chest from then on.

Until now, until he’d given you the key to his room, until your eyes seemed to find all the McLaren paraphernalia and kit thrown carelessly over the back of chairs, on hooks, folded neatly inside a suitcase. Then all of the tension you’d harboured, not wanting to overstep or interrupt the medical exams just to ask him if he was okay, to hold his hand – you weren’t even sure if the latter was for his sake or yours.

You sighed, pushing yourself off the door and flicking on the lights. The mess was even worse in the light, and it wasn’t just limited to McLaren merch – there were undies and socks (it was unclear if they were clean, and you weren’t about to figure that out) scattered about, random pairings of t-shirts and joggers near the open suitcase, but not in it.

You rolled your eyes, putting your bag on the desk, and reaching for the TV remote to switch on the F1 TV channel as background noise. You didn’t really know why he’d given you his key, but you supposed it could have had something to do with the look on your face, or how your hands had been a little shaky, or how you’d barely spoken a word to him – not for lack of him trying or anything: Lando had actively tried to ask you questions, but with all the medical staff and McLaren members surrounding him, that task had been a little difficult.

And the first thing that had sprung to mind when you’d stepped into the lift up to his room was to run him a bath because after that rather bruising session, it was probably the best soother, but now that you’d been faced with this absolute calamity (you’d seen teenage boys’ rooms tidier than this), you weren’t entirely sure how you could not at least help him pack – to an extent.

Clearing the space off the floors and making sure he slept in a bed not made out of his own clothes was a start.

You shrugged off your jacket and hung it on the back of the door before stepping over some clothes and opening the bathroom door. You’d prepared to be met with more remnants of a burgled wardrobe, but contrary to the living space, there was nothing in the bathroom except a Spider-Man wash bag – potions and lotions neatly stacked inside.

There were some bottles in the corner shelf in the tub, the hotel logo branded on the front, and after running the tap until the water started to get warmer, you put in the plug and poured in some foam before returning back to the living space.

Your eyes immediately seemed to zip to the TV above the desk, Ted Kravitz wandering down the paddock talking to someone holding a framed photo of…Valterri’s bum. You blinked, automatically moving to the kettle and flicking the switch on.

Coffee was a must for you to stay awake longer.

And it was then that you started to pick up some clothing off his floor, collating the articles on top of his bed and you’d made it through three quarters of the entire pile when the buzzer for the lock on the door went off.

It was Lando. Decked in a jacket definitely not his own, with the way it seemed to dwarf him: the sleeves had been haphazardly pushed up his forearms, probably to make use of his hands, and the body of the jacket hung past his hips.

When he turned to face the room after locking the door behind him, his eyes seemed to stick first on the empty floor before trailing to you, something soft. He had bags under his eyes, and you could tell he’d been wearing headphones in the meeting because his hair had flattened slightly in the middle.

You didn’t move from where you’d sat, but from the unreadable expression on his face and the way he seemed to hesitate, it had you questioning whether he’d intended for you to still be in his room when he came back – but then he wouldn’t have given you the key, surely?

His lips twitched, and that second-guessing seemed to vanish completely at his lame attempt to smile for you – even though it was clearly forced with the entire whirlwind of the entire race, but there was a hint of authenticity because of the softness in his eyes, and without even meaning to, you felt a smile begin to creep on your own face.

At that, he seemed to gain movement in his legs, and made his way to the desk, head snapping up to the TV for a brief second, before shedding the jacket and putting his key down.

It was his sluggish movements that seemed to have that knot of anxiety punching its way through your stomach once more (it had dwindled somewhat when he’d walked through the door), and you inhaled somewhat sharply, “Are you okay?”

It was the first word you’d spoken out loud, and the roughness of your voice seemed to shock both of you, because you blinked, and he spun on his heel, eyebrows raising. You felt yourself wince, and you swallowed out of instinct–

“Just a bit achy–Can you stand up a second, I just–” He sighed, cutting himself off and stepping forwards.

You furrowed your brows, placing the shirt in your hands on the bed, and doing as he said, and it was barely a second when–

Oh.

He’d almost instantly tugged you into him, his arms settling across your shoulders, his chin tucked against your temple. He was warm and soft, even despite the hard ridges you knew existed under his fireproof shirt. Something felt off, though, and it was with a hurried hum that you realised you hadn’t reciprocated it.

It was a bit of a shock, being hugged by Lando so tightly, so close. Even more so because neither of you had ever really touched before; there’d been the odd shoulder brush when you’d been standing next to each other, the odd purposeful hand touch when one of you had slapped the other’s out of the way – but it had never been this: his chin touching your temple and his hands strong across your back and shoulders, pulling you as close to him as he could manage.

And then you seemed to regain sense in your arms because you automatically seemed to reach one arm across his back and the other slung across his waist, head tilting a little upwards to somewhat nestle itself into the crook of his neck.

If you were being honest, hugs weren’t usually your kind of thing, but you could tolerate (a tad of an understatement) it from Lando, even in his post-three-lap-stint and slight stench of sweat.

You stayed like that for a while, the knot in your chest easing gradually now you’d got your hands on him, and by the time he spoke up, disrupting the peace that you’d managed to find, you felt like you had to blink yourself awake, “Feel better now. I’m sorry I ruined your first race.” He mumbled, stomach tensing as he spoke.

You took a moment, “You didn’t ruin it–”

“I did.”

You pulled yourself away from him, but almost like he’d practised it, his hands clasped onto yours, preventing you from moving too far away, and he brought them up to around shoulder height between you both, his fingers twiddling with yours to distract himself, “Well, then, I forgive you.” You shrugged.

His hands were slightly rough to touch, and a little colder than yours, and you tried not to let the absentminded way he was playing with your hands cloud your brain because it was distracting, especially with the way his thumb seemed intent on stroking repetitive patterns across the back of your hand. Not to mention the way his eyes seemed to flit between your mouth and your eyes, as though he wanted to watch you speak and commit it to his memory, as you spoke.

It sent your blood thrumming a little.

He nodded slowly, as though he was digesting your words, but he took too long to say something else so you said the other thing that had been on the tip of your tongue, “I’d have lost interest in it anyway, ‘cos you weren’t driving.”

He smirked at that, “No you wouldn’t have.”

He was right – to an extent. The only positive about the Vegas track was that the drivers were racing in the Championship and sport you’d been following closely for years. But other than the investment in the championship, that was about where your interest in that specific race ended – with Lando’s crash.

“Well, I’d have rather gone with you than sit in your garage without you on-site.” You admitted, honesty dripping from every word, “Especially because I probably wouldn’t have known if you were okay if I stayed.”

He swallowed, your eyes unconsciously watching his throat bob, “How come?”

You pulled your joined hands down, shrugging and avoiding eye contact in order to actually gain the courage to say what had immediately come to mind.

Why was it so difficult for you to actually say what you felt? God forbid you actually want to let him know what he meant.

“You’re important and I care about you.” You rushed out, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously.

When he didn’t say anything you pulled your hands out of his and were about to change the entire conversation back to the bath you’d run him when his eyes crinkled out of the corner of your eyes. He had one of those cheeky smiles on his face, like he was aware he probably shouldn’t have been smiling like that at that moment in time, but thinking that only seemed to make him worse. And when you fully turned to look at him again, you were struck with the thought that you’d never known anyone to smile with their entire being like Lando Norris seemed to do unfailingly and everyday.

His happiness was just so infectious that it was part of the reason you liked him so much – but it also made you want to…protect it, you guessed. And when he stopped smiling earlier, after you’d been told to meet him in the medical centre, the world seemed to shake, because he was very rarely ever smiling.

He didn’t stop smiling, even when you looked straight at him, not impressed with his silence in the slightest and huffing to let him know.

“What?” You asked, one eyebrow raised and slightly self-conscious of what you were doing and wearing and what you probably looked like after the day you’d had.

He shrugged, shaking his head, smile never drooping one bit, “You care about me.”

It wasn’t a question, more so a statement of shock – repetition to drill it into his head.

You nodded, swallowing, slightly embarrassed at having to say it again, “Yeah.”

He nodded this time, pushing himself onto his tiptoes for a second, “I care about you too. You’re important to me.”

You won’t deny that your heart did a little skip at his words, or that your cheeks threatened to blossom with heat, or that hearing him say those words to you didn’t send your pulse spiralling a little out of control.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, being this vulnerable to someone not related to you. It was weird, but because of who it was and because of the circumstances, it felt oddly right.

“That’s nice.” You muttered, crossing your arms and avoiding looking at him.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. It wasn’t as though he’d confessed his undying love for you or anything, but it was nice to hear. You knew where you stood with him.

“It is.” He agreed.

There was a beat of silence, and you took the liberty of changing the subject before it could get too awkward too quickly, “I ran you a hot bath, by the way. It felt like the right thing to do after….”

“Thank you.” His tone was a little sombre, but still every bit sincere. A cloud seemed to hang over the both of you for a second, “Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you when everything went–”

“You don’t have to keep apologising.” You breathed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and resuming some folding to give yourself something to do.

“But I do–”

“Shut the fuck up.” You laughed a little, immediately dropping your expression to correct yourself, “With respect.”

Lando smiled a little at that, “If you insist, but–” You groaned, rolling your eyes, “I just want to check in and make sure I didn’t scare you, y’know, would you still come to another race?”

You blinked, “Course I would.”

There wasn’t really a doubt about it. The scare of the day had worn off in the span of your conversation, it was just that period of not knowing, and the fact that a TV screen didn’t do the cars justice in the speed. They went so much faster than you initially expected.

“Good.” Then, “Are you okay, though?”

“Yeah, it was just a lot, that’s all. Like, the impact, the broken car, then you were talking about everything that hurt but somehow you weren’t injured? I don’t know.” You sighed in resignation, “Do you ever get scared in the car?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, “The day I get scared is the day I stop driving. Fear in the car makes you crazy.”

“What about when you lose control and you know you’re gonna crash out?”

You watched him closely as his throat bobbed and he slowly stepped over to the bathroom doorframe, leaning against it to look at you thoughtfully, “There’s definitely a moment where my heart sort of skips a beat, kind of like when you miss a step on the stairs, but the adrenalin doesn’t really let me get scared at that moment. It’s scary when I watch it back and realise if I’d have been a metre or so closer I might not be here. But I don’t like thinking about it if it doesn’t happen.”

You paused the folding, “When you said your heart does that skip, can you think or is your mind just blank?”

“Blank. It happens so fast. I know I have to move my hands, though, but I think that’s partly just instinct driven into us from when we were kids. I don’t really have to think about that, but–” He pulled a face, running a hand over his chest and huffing a laugh, “If it’s fast I’m thinking ‘fuck, this is gonna hurt’.”

That made you laugh.

Then he looked over his shoulder and you stood up, taking the hint.

“Wai–What’re you doing?” He stood up straight, watching as you made your way over to the desk to pick up your bag.

You pulled a face, pointing to the door, “I’m gonna go, and you’re gonna have a bath.”

“No.” He shook his head defiantly, walking over to you with a frown on his face.

You blinked, “Yes.”

“No.”

“I didn’t realise that when bathtime was mentioned that you’d stomp your foot and pout at me.” You smothered a smile behind your hand, eyes sparkling with amusement as Lando went to defend himself, only to realise that he had in fact reverted to pouting (as far as an adult man could when sulking).

“No.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I thought you might stay over tonight?”

You froze. Then promptly unfroze, “Why?”

“For a sleepover, I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think—” You halted, taking in the way his face seemed to fall slightly, “Do you want me to stay?”

You didn’t not want to. You’d admit that much to yourself. The idea of sharing a bed with someone you trusted platonically and had a crush on was about as appealing as the guaranteed night of uninterrupted sleep (that didn’t run the risk of being crushed, someone breathing heavily in your ear, or someone talking in their sleep).

The corner of his mouth twitched as he tilted his head, “I’d like for you to stay, but I want you to say you want to stay because you want to, not just because I want you to and you feel obligated to stay.”

You took another step forward, about to say yes, before he interrupted again.

“Um–” His voice was slightly high in pitch, a sure sign that he’d begun to panic slightly, but before you let him succumb to (clear) disappointment (it did wonders for your ego) and potentially embarrass himself, you cut over him.

“I’m gonna go get my PJ’s–” he grinned, “and then I’ll come back here–” began taking off the legs of his racing suit, “for a sleepover, or whatever, sound good?”

“Sounds incredible, darling.” He winked, throwing you a charming smirk that had you standing in the doorway (for longer than what was probably deemed appropriate to gather yourself), and he turned into the bathroom, disappearing from sight.

***

Walking back into Lando’s room with wet hair, a clean face, the PJ’s you’d packed (not expecting a sleepover), your current book, and a hotel robe, all felt very intimate. It might have had something to do with the fact that you knew he’d also be freshly washed with wet hair and wearing his PJ’s and in bed — waiting for you.

And when you rounded the corner after buzzing yourself in, Lando was sitting against the headboard, one arm slung over the top of his head and his other hand clutching his phone. He must have been anticipating your arrival if the way he threw his phone further down the covers was any indication, and the way he smiled at you, dimples on show and everything, had you turning to avoid looking at him and hanging the robe over the back of the bathroom door.

The boy is too cute.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He grinned, unconsciously rubbing a palm down his arm and still maintaining a mischievous smile.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” You threw over your shoulder before climbing onto the bed.

He breathed a laugh, “Almost. Cute PJ’s, by the way.” He trailed his eyes meaningfully down your figure as you threw the duvet over yourself, getting comfy.

You’d not packed sexy PJ’s by any means. In fact, you hardly owned a proper pair of pyjamas, and rather just threw on a random t-shirt with whatever bottoms were comfiest and warmest, hence the fact you’d packed a pair of faux-boxer shorts and were wearing a Quadrant Bleach tee that Ria had given you a while ago.

“Rumour has it you couldn’t decide what merch to give me so Ria took it into her own hands.” You gestured to your shirt, smiling rather pointedly in his direction. He squirmed a little, and it was then, as he curled in on himself slightly, that the duvet fell around his torso from where it had been pulled right up to his chin to keep a draught out.

He was fucking shirtless. And when that seemed to register in your head and through your eyes, you were squirming. His pecs, bronze skin and moles were on view and you suddenly had no clue how to act.

Luckily for you, Lando seemed to have the same problem for whatever reason.

“Yeah. I had one of pretty much everything lined up for you, but it wouldn’t have been ‘financially viable’ apparently.”

Oh. You felt your brows shoot up in pleasant surprise.

“I didn’t know that.”

“That was the point.” Lando said, rather self-deprecating, “It looks good on you, though.”

A ‘thank you’ was on the tip of your tongue, but before it could slip out, your brain seemed to take on another direction, one much bolder than what was characteristic of you, “I don’t know, I think LN4 stuff’d look nicer.”

It shocked him as much as it shocked you — that much you could tell by the way that his eyebrows seemed to disappear under the damp curls that had hung across his forehead from where he’d clearly initially combed them backwards. His mouth seemed to drop a little, and his cheeks reddened.

But you barely had time to school your own face into one of confidence to fully own what you just said before he was spurting words out himself.

“Wanna test that theory?”

And he was climbing out of bed before you could even utter a word of protest.

You’d never been so thankful that he didn’t have eyes at the back of his head because when he took a step away from the bed, clad in nothing but black boxer briefs that clung almost maddeningly to his thighs, you practically had a heart attack. It was hard to rip your eyes away, if you were being honest.

But the very second he turned back to face you, throwing a long-sleeved tee in your direction, you somehow managed to look at him without even a smidge of blush on your face or without wearing an expression that assembled one of sheer awe.

Then you blinked and the t-shirt was hitting you in the face. It was a black 100 Race one.

A new one.

And because it hit you in the face the first thing you noticed was the smell. Now, Lando Norris was not a smelly person, at all. In fact, that t-shirt smelled so unfairly divine that you wanted to eat it. Melt it into a smoothie and drink it. In a normal way.

You had it in your hands and were looking pointedly at Lando for about seven seconds until he got the hint to turn around and close his eyes.

In return for his previous goodwill, you threw the Quadrant shirt at his back and climbed out of bed to assess it in the mirror. It was a slightly smaller fit than the other t-shirt, so it didn’t hang past your hips, or over your hands like you’d expected.

Oddly enough, it was almost a perfect fit.

Lando walked into the background of the mirror, catching your eye as he nodded appreciatively.

“Better than Bleach?” You asked, pushing the sleeves up to your elbow before climbing back under the covers.

His answer was him folding the Bleach t-shirt neatly and placing it on the desk.

“Way better.”

There wasn’t anything said for a while after that. Lando got back under the covers, snuggling down into his pillow and browsing through his phone, while you opened your book and kept your bedside light on to read for a while.

Until Lando seemingly couldn’t take the silence and turned his phone off, rolling towards the middle of the bed on his front and looking up at you.

He was content on letting you read for a while, eyes fluttering shut every now and again as though he was trying to fight sleep, when he muttered something under his breath.

“Sorry?” You bent your head, finishing reading the sentence before turning to see him blinking slowly, lashes kissing his cheeks as he rested his face against his elbow.

“Do you read every night?” He repeated, not in the least bit offended you weren’t paying him attention.

You hummed, nodding, slouching further into the mattress.

“How come?” He asked, fingers stretching to gently twiddle a small section of your hair before dropping it.

“I have trouble sleeping sometimes, and reading helps.”

“How?”

You shrugged, “It gets my brain to shut up.”

“Does anything else help?” He mumbled, eyebrow twitching.

You wanted to say yes. That some other things could help, but for one, you didn’t have the results to back up that claim, and two, you weren’t about to suggest trying it to Lando.

“I don’t think so.”

Lando hummed and didn’t say anything else, giving you the opportunity to switch off your bedside lamp, shrouding the whole room in darkness. Despite the coolness of the Vegas nights, the heat of another body under a duvet was enough to send your skin tingling with goosebumps and bury yourself deeper under the covers.

A gentle tugging on your hair once you’d settled was what had your eyes opening.

You hadn’t really been trying to sleep, per se, but Lando hadn’t so much as moved a muscle since you’d switched off the light, and his silence had you assuming he’d been trying to sleep, at least until his fingers had delicately begun twisting your damp hair.

If you hadn’t found it so shocking, it would have been soothing.

It took a while for your eyes to adjust, but once they did, all you could make out was the faint outline of Lando’s head and the gleam of his eyes from the light from The Strip.

Your eyes immediately scrunched shut, unable to tell if he thought you were asleep.

Then—“pretty” he breathed, your heart stuttering wildly in your chest.

He thought you were sleeping.

And he stopped twirling your hair, nestling his cheek into the pillow.

***

You woke up early and with Lando’s arm slung lazily across your waist, one of his legs stuck across yours. You froze momentarily, not having any recollection of exactly when you’d both ended up with him half draped over you, but considering you couldn’t remember much after hearing his whisper, you assumed you must have just gone right to sleep.

Which meant this happened in the night.

You tilted your head fractionally, eyes slipping over to where Lando was now on his stomach, cheek squished right into the pillow and a crease between his brows.

And then that short moment was interrupted by something uncomfortably occurring in your chest.

Your free hand (the other was sandwiched between your hip and Lando’s, nicely toasty of you did say so yourself) blindly reached for your bedside table, scrabbling at an uncomfortable angle until you found your phone. It took a while to manage to slide it across the wood for you to pick it up, and you groaned at the time displayed on the screen.

08:31.

You didn’t need to leave for the airport for another twelve hours, and had already mostly packed in your room. The only issue apart from your current predicament was the rumbling of your stomach, prompting some encouragement to get out of bed.

Which you absolutely did not want to do.

It was warm and you were being cuddled by a sleepy Lando, you weren’t about to risk waking him up. Even though it was your first race, you knew how exhausted he usually was the day after.

So you opted for scrolling on your phone, not before removing your hand from between you both and instead using it to hold the forearm he’d thrown over your waist.

The hotel corridors started to get a little noisier, doors shutting and opening, footsteps thumping, at around half nine/ten o’clock.

It must have been the neighbouring slam of the door that had Lando jolting awake — jumping as though he’d been thrown down the stairs in a dream. You stifled a laugh, trying not to smile at his rapid blinking, until his eyes settled on you, brows accusatory when he realised you were on the brink of laughing at him.

He groaned, slamming his face back onto the pillow and yawning, his arm briefly tensing as he stretched.

“How long have you been awake?” He mumbled, tilting his head so as to not muffle his words against the pillow.

“About an hour.”

He frowned, removing his arm from your hold and flipping himself onto his back, yawning, “How come you didn’t wake me up?”

You blinked, “Because it was half eight and you were asleep.”

He nodded, scratching the back of his head, “You hungry?”

“Yeah. You want to get breakfast downstairs, or–”

“Room service is good with me.”

Lando turned to hide his smile as he reached for the phone. Selfishly he wanted to stay in bed longer – the outside world was chilly – and there was the added bonus that you were there. Obviously he’d want more time with just the two of you, because outside this room, you guys barely got time for a conversation without being interrupted.

That was excluding the scheduled takeaways you both had every time he was back in town (it had started out as a joke because you were both so busy and no one seemed to be able to decide on specific dates, so you’d taken it into your own hands and…here you were), and he suspected that was when the more serious feelings started.

So, no, he’d rather not go downstairs where other people would interrupt and he’d barely get to talk to you.

“D’you know what you–What’re you doing?” He furrowed his brows,, about to hand you the menu when he stopped short of everything and watched you wander over to the front of the room.

Out of bed. Wearing his shirt.

Looking fucking incredible.

And he was thinking he could probably get used to this.

But his brain was going haywire because he didn’t want you to leave.

You said nothing, which did virtually nothing to ease his sense of panic, until you held up the TV remote, running a tired hand through your hair before tiptoeing back to the bed and sliding back under the covers like you belonged there.

“No.” You hummed, taking the menu from him and simultaneously flicking through the TV guide for something to watch.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” He found himself asking, noting the still-sleepy look about you – but not necessarily the bad kind of sleepy. You looked well-rested with rosy cheeks and bright eyes.

Pretty.

“Yeah. It was cosy.” You flashed him a warm smile, eye contact brief before going back to the menu, “What about you?”

“I’ll probably just have pancakes–”

“No,” you breathed a laugh, “Did you sleep well?”

Oh. He could feel his cheeks redden at the mistake, and nodded. In truth, he didn’t think he’d ever slept so well, even despite being a small bundle of nerves from the mere knowledge that you’d actually changed your mind and said yes to a sleepover, and the fact that you were less than three feet away. That was ignoring when he’d woken up to find out you’d been awake for so long and not wanted to wake him up or move him from where he’d (rather sheepishly) managed to hug you in his sleep.

“Cosy.” Was all he said, taking the menu back from you, “What’ll it be for you?”

“Pancakes, too, please.” You grinned at him, turning back to the TV.

He nodded, numbly reaching for the phone on his bedside table and rattling off the order, making sure to add in a glasses of milk and orange juice to accompany it.

When he’d finished and turned back to the TV, to you, there was a question written on your face as you pointed to the TV.

The Hangover.

“When in Vegas, right?” You asked, raising a brow and awaiting his answer.

He’d seen that movie a million times, had even watched it on Thursday (he’d never tell you that), but there was something about the hope and excitement written on your face that had him nodding along, not wanting to disappoint you this early in the morning.

God, he felt so bad when he crashed yesterday.

Not only had he ruined the race experience for you, but he’d worried you. You hadn’t even needed to say anything after the whole debacle (he hadn’t actually given you a real answer when you’d asked him why he wanted you to come with him to the hospital and whatever) for him to read it on your face.

He’d had every intention of whispering reassurances and holding your hand or doing something to have you closer than the edges of a constant small crowd, but he’d been strapped down and people had been talking over each other, and he just hadn’t had the chance.

Until the car ride back to the paddock. Sure, Jon was sitting next to him, but he’d kindly and rather respectfully chosen to ring Zak and give him an update, and then Lando took that brief moment of opportunity to hold your hand. He didn’t say anything, but almost as soon as his hand had touched yours he felt better – lighter. And he noticed that the weight on your shoulders and the crease between your brow lessened.

He sighed wistfully, tuning back into the film, but it was barely five minutes later when there was a knock on the door.

Room service.

He stopped you from moving, taking it upon himself to answer the door (he couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or not, but he swore he could feel your eyes on him as he walked past the end of the bed).

He cracked the door open, eyes on the floor where he expected the tray to be, only to look down and see a pair of trainers that most definitely belonged to Max.

His eyes shot up, and he hid himself behind the door, careful of you back around the corner, but wanting to shield himself from any passerbyers in the corridor – a photo of him answering the door in nothing but his undies would be pretty embarrassing – and glared at his friend, confusion clearly evident on his face.

Max was grinning like a madman, trying and failing to sneak a look behind Lando, “So?” He whispered, and Lando felt himself already getting irritated at the clear insinuation of that one singular word.

“No.” He answered, closing his eyes briefly and resting his temple against the door.

Max was quiet, “No.” He repeated, an element of disbelief etched on his face.

“No.” Lando groaned quietly, “Is that all?”

“No.” Max hissed, “Why not?”

Lando felt himself shrug, “Didn’t come up.”

Max blinked, rather frustrated, “You were supposed to make it come up.”

“Well I didn’t.”

“Clearly.” Max folded his arms across his chest and Lando rolled his eyes, “How come you’re only wearing your boxers?”

Lando looked down, brows furrowing, “What’s wrong with boxers?”

“The lack of other clothes? You always wear PJ’s.” Lando watched as the penny dropped in Max’s head, his eyes widening and his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. Then he frowned, “Show off.”

Lando shook his head, “And what about it? I just wanted to be sure.”

“And are you?”

Lando chose not to say anything, just threw a cautious look behind his shoulder – one which prompted Max to jump to his reassurances.

“She does, okay?” He whispered softly, a pitiful look on his face, “I know that because of the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. She cares about you, man.” There was a pause, and Lando was too nervous to even look straight at Max, so he chose to focus on a spot above his head, completely missing the way Max hesitated, “She told P.”

Lando felt his neck practically snap to look at Max, nervousness completely abolished. His heart started thrumming with anticipation and the only thing he was capable of doing was staring so hard at Max the man’s skin prickled, “What?” Lando breathed, hoping he hadn’t just heard things in a mad craze.

Max screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t be telling you this–”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Hagrid, but the situation is kinda dire here.” Lando cut in.

Max rolled his eyes, “Yeah, it’s kinda hard not to notice you’re a fucking chicken.”

“I’m on the brink of an anxiety attack.”

“Get a grip.” Max glared, half wanting to smack some sense into Lando and the other half wanting to laugh at the petrified look on his face.

“I can’t.” Lando threw the door open a little further out of frustration, hands going to grip Max’s shoulders in desperation.

Max breathed. He blinked. And then Lando thought he made an expression that looked as though he’d just suffered the most painful bout of trapped gas, “Don’t tell anyone–”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

“But P told me that they had a girls night with Ria, and they got to talking about guys, and P asked her if she had her eye on anyone and she got all blushy–”

“Get on with it.” Lando clenched his jaw, eyes darting down the corridor.

“I’m getting to it. Can she hear us? Actually, it doesn’t matter – but she got blushy and quiet and it turns out she’s liked you since we all went out for dinner the day after Silverstone, y’know, because she couldn’t go to the race, and you guys sat next to each other and she just liked you.”

(You could hear every word of what was being said.)

Lando felt his lips part in shock. Silverstone was towards the start of the season and there was one race left of the season.

July, August, September, October, November. You’d liked him for five months and hidden it from him that well? Since July? You guys could have been together-together since July?

Lando could feel his brain start to explode. His thoughts were getting louder–since July?–and Max’s face wasn’t doing anything to help it. If anything his big eyes were making it worse.

“Yeah, I know, it’s hard to believe.” Max muttered, and it seemed to snap Lando out of his shock-induced reverie.

“Oi.” Lando defended, “Did she say what made her like me?” He slowly took his hands off his friends shoulders.

Max nodded, “You talked to her the whole night. You were kind, funny, endearing, cute, nice to the waiter. Apparently she felt kind of bad you didn’t talk much to anyone else–”

“I didn’t talk to anyone else because I really liked her already.” Lando whispered, trying not to smile.

Max smirked, “Well, you need to tell her that, not me.”

Lando nodded, “Yeah. Bye.” And shut the door in Max’s face, taking a second to breathe and plant a small, non-suspicious-granting smile on his face before bounding around the corner to his side of the bed, flashing you a wider grin as he threw himself on the bed.

You swallowed, anxiety twirling in your stomach. You knew that telling P that stuff was likely to get back to Max, and then there was a chance that Max had told Lando – but you were shocked to find that Max had just chosen to hold onto that information out of loyalty to you. It warmed you, knowing you’d got a friend in Max, but it was also a little frustrating because you’d specifically been counting on P telling Max telling Lando. Maybe put a few feelers out.

And there was nothing reported back, so you just assumed Lando didn’t like you like that.

But he apparently did?

It was a tough thing to accept (a good thing to accept, you guessed), but not at all what you expected. You’d been planning for heartbreak (not that you'd planned to tell him), but now within the span of a two minute conversation, you had liberty to not expect disappointment.

And that was a little intimidating.

But Lando hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d put himself back on the bed, not bothering to get back under the covers considering it had been Max at the door, not room service–

“Who was it?” You asked, wanting to keep up the pretence of not having heard every word of their private conversation.

Lando hummed, one arm draped over his hair as he ripped his eyes away from the screen, “Sorry?”

He was looking at your mouth when you spoke, “Who was at the door?”

Then his eyes zipped to yours, “Just Max, he wanted to know if we were having breakfast downstairs. Sent him on his way.”

You nodded.

You could mention what you just heard, ask him if he remembered the dinner out. No, not subtle enough. He’d clock onto it immediately.

But you couldn’t just not say something.

Your hands darted out to fiddle with the edge of the duvet, where it was tucked around your torso. You weren’t even paying attention to the film anymore. You don’t know how long you let your mind run rings around your anxiety, but it was Lando’s hand creeping closer towards yours out of the corner of your eyes that had your head quietening. You watched him push his hand across the covers until it got within a centimetre of yours.

You could feel the warmth from his hand radiating on your skin, and his hesitation was clearly an opportunity for you to pull your hand away.

So you placed your palm on top of his upturned one. And he closed his fingers over your knuckles.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

You couldn’t look at him, but you could feel his concerned gaze burn against your cheek, “Yeah, just thinking.” You took a breath, looking up at him, “Do you ever wish we could have met earlier?”

He was nodding before you’d even finished talking, his entire face sincere in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen, “All the time. I think meeting you earlier would have just made my life a lot easier.”

You tilted your head, squeezing his hand as you felt some colour rush to your cheeks, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, “You make me feel calm, like, I look at you and I just feel better.”

He was looking at you like he was expecting you to say something back immediately, but your mind had gone blank.

So blank.

And then you felt his hand slowly slipping from your grip, his shoulders moving back to the centre of the bed from he’d leaned across to hold your hand, and you squeezed his hand, not wanting him to move away. You just needed a second to gather your thoughts.

“I need t–”

A knock at the door sounded.

Lando’s eyes darted from you to the door, back and forth, clearly torn. It wasn’t exactly a secret that you were about to say something serious – something that would change the entire dynamic of your relationship – but the interruption…

And at the thought of cold food after your stomach had been growling for the past hour, you made the decision for him. You unlaced your hands, pushing yourself off the bed and opening the door before you could change your mind or look at his face.

Neither of you said anything for the rest of breakfast, and nothing but an awkward, tense silence seemed to envelope the room.

The next time you saw him was when the group had decided to go for a last minute stroll, one of the stops being the shopping centre in the Venetian. Lando was walking with Max,;Ria with you behind them, and the rest of the group were trailing behind, occasionally laughing loudly. They were pretty raucous, and you and Ria were far enough behind Max and Lando that they couldn’t hear what you were talking about.

Ria had linked your arms, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she pulled you closer after Lando had thrown another anxious glance over his shoulder to check on you, “Lando keeps checking you out.” She whispered.

You shook your head, momentarily biting the inside of your cheek, “He’s making sure I don’t run off.”

She frowned, looking back at Lando, who seemed to spin quickly after getting caught, “Why would you run off?”

You shrugged, trying not to think too much about it, “I overheard him and Max talking this morning about him liking me, and then Max told him about that night when we slept over at P’s place–”

“Yeah, because you wanted P to tell Max to tell Lando–” Ria nodded along.

“Exactly. Anyway, it turns out Max never told Lando, so since July, Lando’s been clueless about it all, and we had sort of a chat when he came back, and I was going to tell him–” Ria shot you a look, “I was, because if i didn’t tell him then, I never would’ve.” You groaned, “But then room service came and we haven’t talked since. But I think he knew I was going to say something, but–I don’t know.”

Ria seemed to think about it for a second, “He probably thinks you changed your mind.” She muttered.

You nodded, “I know, that’s the thing. I chickened out of telling him and then I thought he’d think I changed my mind, and then my brain seems to want to tell me that because he thinks I don’t like him anymore he won’t like me anymore, even though he’s not like that. At all. But now I can’t tell him because there’s people everywhere.”

Ria patted your arm, pulling out her phone, “Do you know what you’re gonna say to him?”

“No, I’m hoping it’ll come to me in the moment.” Even the thought of it sent a knot of anxiety plummeting in your stomach.

“Okay, this is what’s gonna happen: when we get to the shopping centre, everyone will want to go to the craziest shop they see first, okay? You say you want to get a drink first, and Max’ll get Lando to go with you.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“I’ll text Max. You have to promise you’ll do it, though. Everyone needs to be put out of their misery.”

You raised a sceptical brow, “Everyone?”

She nodded, “Neither of you are subtle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

As it happened, Ria’s theory was right. About seven people made an immediate beeline for the nearest shop with lights in the front and an array of weird things in the window (in all honesty, you were too nervous to even pay attention to what it was, it could have just been any high street shop).

You turned to Ria, “I’m gonna go get a coffee, I’ll meet you back here?”

She nodded, finding Max, who seemed to be on the lookout for her, and winked.

You took a deep breath, already beginning to walk away from the group. You’d all craned over a map on the way in so you knew vaguely which direction you were heading in, and when a hurried pair of footsteps jogged closer, your nerves seemed to only get worse.

Then Lando stepped next to you, and oddly enough, the anxiety you’d been holding onto all morning seemed to evaporate. And then it seemed to come crashing back in when you actually took in the expression on his face.

There was a slight downwards curve to his mouth, and his eyes were wide, brows furrowed. He looked a little frantic. And sad.

You wanted to drag your hand down his face and wipe it off.

In fact, you hated it so much that you stopped mid-step and grabbed his forearm without even thinking about it, “Is everything oka–”

“Are we still friends?” He breathed, eyes darting around your face.

You blinked, mouth parting at the loaded question. If you said yes you’d basically be rejecting him and that was the last thing you wanted to do; if you said no, you didn’t know what would happen. He could take it the wrong way and assume you didn’t want to be anything at all, but you were going to tell him – you had to, you promised Ria.

Even if it meant breaking his heart a little bit first, it’d have the best outcome.

You turned back around briefly, eyes scanning for a more private alcove, and dragged him to the nearest corridor, out of any possible stray eyes. It was a bit busy today, with the race last night–

You pushed him against the wall gently, hands wringing together. He slumped, clearly trying not to get too defeated by your silence after he’d spoken. But then his eyes dropped to your hands and he straightened, something unreadable on his face.

“I don’t want to still be friends.” You said, sighing and crossing your arms.

It was his turn to speak now. You seemed incapable of saying anything else at that moment.

He swallowed, brows furrowing. His face looked less despondent, so you took that as a win. He seemed to have been expecting you to say something like that (that was why he phrased the question in such a way!) because he pushed himself off the wall a little, “In what way?”

You rolled your eyes, “In an I like you way.”

“Romantically?” He took another step closer, a cheeky smile starting to curve at his mouth, and you said nothing at him.

Only this time it was of your own will.

He huffed a laugh, “I just need to hear you say it.”

“Romantically.”

It felt like a relief getting those words off your chest to the person you needed to say them to.

He seemed to think so too, because he grinned. Wider than he had before – like he had done last night, when he’d smiled with his entire being. His eyes crinkled in that way you adored, and his smile seemed ot reach his ears, “Thank fuck.” He breathed.

Then that was all he said.

You raised your brow, “Dude.” You encouraged, gesturing to him to go on.

He pulled a face, “Don’t ‘dude’ me.”

“You haven’t given me a reason not to ‘dude’ you.”

“I like you too, dickhead.” He grumbled, “A little less than before you called me ‘dude’, though.”

“I’m liking you less by the second.” You stated, trying not to laugh at the situation, “Romantically?” You checked, echoing his earlier question and also mocking it slightly.

“Romantically.” He clarified.

You both went silent, just drinking each other up in a way you hadn’t been able to five minutes ago. He looked gorgeous, as per usual. His hair was a little messier than it usually would be, probably a combination of the last-second plans and the fact that he wasn’t going to be showing his face on international TV. His face looked less restrained, like because he knew he didn’t have to hold back from looking at you everywhere, it was a weight lifted from his chest. His eyes were still smiling, glimmering a little, and his smile was softer – more secretive. His hands were flexing at his sides, as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

His hoodie hugged his shoulders, practically begging you to run your hands over them – but you didn’t. He looked snug, again, and before you could restrain yourself, you reached out and took one of his hands. His response was immediate, clasping his hand around yours and looking at you with a burning intensity. Only, you used your other hand to pull up his sleeve.

His forearm was tanned beautifully, veins completely visible. You’d never been allowed to just twist his arm around to your desire and simply look. You swallowed, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and he caught it with his teeth.

You nudged your head closer, his nose softly bumping against your cheek.

Blood seemed to pump through your veins even faster than it already was. You could feel where you’d both stepped into each other, where his legs were pressed against yours, where your hands were still gripping, your other hand slipping off his forearm.

You could feel his breath tickle your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut briefly before snapping open. He was still looking at you, and in that split second he used the leverage of your conjoined hands to pull you even closer. You stumbled a little into him, tripping over his trainers, chests colliding. Your free hand slapped out to stop your falling, landing directly on top of his shoulder to brace yourself.

If anything, his little pull seemed to work because you were closer than before. All you had to do was lean closer–

“I want to kiss you but I want to take you on a date first.” He whispered, sucking the inside of his cheek nervously.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “Because you’re a gentleman.”

He nodded, leaning closer despite his words. His eyes seemed to be zeroed in on your lips, and your mouth curved into a smile almost instantly at that observation. Then he smiled, nodding, your foreheads touching, “Yeah.”

“What kind of gentleman would you be if I wanted you to kiss me but you said no?” You breathed.

“Not a very good one.”

Lando’s lips were softer than you imagined, but there was a soul-crushing desperation behind it – a need, maybe the thought that someone could walk past the end of the corridor at any second and ruin this little pocket of relief, so he needed to make it last. You were eager, meeting him with an equal force that seemed to knock the air out of your lungs and weaken your knees – but his hold on you, he was touching you everywhere: one hand was on your cheek and laced in your hair, the other holding your back and pushing him against you – and you were practically leaning on him.

You didn’t know if it was the culmination of pent up feeling being released, or the fact that you were kissing him, but it felt euphoric; the way you seemed to move together was almost as if it had been rehearsed – which was insane, if you really thought about it. But you couldn’t, because he was practically kissing the breath out of your lungs, and you don’t know when it happened but you were pressing against him roughly, one hand on the back of his neck and the other wound in his hair.

And then you pulled away, breathing heavily. Your pulse was hammering and your blood was singing. You knew your cheeks would be red and your lips would be swollen, hair messy, but in that moment you couldn’t honestly find it within yourself to care.

And then he smirked, taking in your appearance.

His hair was practically everywhere. It looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a deep sleep on one side of his face, and his cheeks were flushed, as were the tips of his ears and the slither of chest you could see from where his hoodie had slipped and been tugged.

Then you smacked him on the arm – not very hard. More of a light tap. He hissed nonetheless, smirk dropping but eyes still glazed over and watching you with what you now knew was lovesick intrigue.

“You’re a fucking chicken.” You pointed at him, “We could have been doing that last night.”

His expression dropped, eyes refocusing, “No, we could have been doing that since July.”

You tilted your head, “Maybe August, because I would have had to actually make sure I liked you.”

His expression dropped a little, an inquisitive smile still on his face, “Did you hear that entire conversation with Max?”

“It was hard to miss.”

“Oh.” He nodded, a smile on his face as he looped one hand around your shoulder, pulling you closer. You thought he was pulling you in for another kiss, your hand pressed comfortably against his chest, and he was an eyelash-length away from it when he stopped.

You were about to groan.

“What do you mean you had to make sure you liked me?” His brow was arched, but his tone wasn’t malicious or suspicious in any way. If anything it was coated with a thinly veiled layer of curiosity.

You shrugged, “Crushes go away. This kind of seemed to stick.”

“Lucky for me.” He kissed you, hands pressed against your cheeks in a display of faux passion and drama, before letting you go, hands not leaving you or letting you stray too far.

“So you never said when you started to like me.” You murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact.

“Now is not the time to get shy on me.” You breathed, a hand going to hold his sleeve.

“I’m not shy, I just—” He shook his head, self-deprecation evident, “If I had to say, probably May.”

You stalled, not able to say much, “Monaco?”

“Yeah.”

Then something warm seemed to bloom in your chest and you felt your eyes soften and a small smile creep in your face at the admission, “When we met?”

He inhaled sharply, “Pretty much. I think the crush started when you offered to help me take my helmet photos.”

You laughed, “Those photos were pretty funny.”

He nodded, eyes darting again to the end of the corridor, “We can talk about all that later—”

“Agreed—”

“But I just wanna kiss you again.”

You just pulled him in.

#lando norris oneshot #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

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random-stardew-panda · 19 days

Text

||•~The Worst Thing~•||

Harvey (SDV) x reader(female)

Warnings: Language, Violence, Death, Nightmares

Word count: 2.6k

Helloooo everyone! New blog dedicated to my rekindled Stardew Valley obsession. First fic obviously must go to my beloved doctor, you will be seeing him here a lot. I hope you enjoy and hope you don't hold my terrible grammar and probably terrible spelling against me 😅 I have no excuse. English is all I speak and I do it terribly.

====================================

You’ve had an exhausting day, it was the end of the season and you had been fishing all day for the last fish you needed for the community centre and the ones you needed just were not biting.

“Finally!!” You squealed as you reeled up the last fish you needed, sighing loudly you stretched your limbs and groaned as your joints crack softly. It was so much later than you realised, it was already dark out.

You wandered through the town square, eyelids drooping, trying to stay awake when you passed the calendar and help wanted board and your eyes shot open as you rushed over and let your finger scroll over the date and you curse yourself. You had accepted a quest from Clint a week ago to kill 50 Slimes you hadn’t gotten around to finishing it, too busy trying to finish these fishing bundles, today was the last day left! You let your forehead fall against the wall as you look down at your watch, 7pm, you could finish and get home in time surely? You only had 7 left to kill, easy work.

“Harvey is always upset when I get home late…oh but I promised Clint. Uhg…one more late night won’t kill him, I’ll just give him some extra kisses. He can’t stay mad at me.” You giggled and slowly pushed yourself off of the wall and started making your way to the mountains and down into the caves. The trail to the caves felt extra long tonight, you splashed your face in the lake trying to wake yourself up a bit before you entered the caves.

You slash at the monsters in the cave, stumbling at the force behind your swing, you were panting and clinging to the wall of the cave. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all…You felt so, so tired…No. No! You only had one more left. You glance down at your watch, 12am…damn it really was getting late.

“One left. One more. I got this…I got this…” You mumble to yourself, repeating the sentiment that you could do this as you start climbing down the ladder, using the inside of your elbow, squeezing the ladder rungs between your forearm and bicep to help support your weary muscles as you climb down, shaking a little bit, two steps from the bottom you lose your footing and slip off the ladder.

“AH!” Your body hits the floor and your head bounces off the ground, you squeeze your eyes shut and lift a shaky hand to your bleeding head, the room feels like it was spinning. “Ow…” you lay there flat on your back on the ground for a moment staring up at the ceiling as a ringing filled your ears, it was at this point you hear the familiar squelching sound of slimes approaching.

With great effort and loud groans you push yourself up onto your hands and knees and are met with 5 slimes, using your sword to push yourself up to your feet you lunge at one of them slashing it in half, your vision is spinning and everything is blurry and out of focus you were cursing yourself, this had been a horrible idea. With every slash at the creatures you staggered trying to catch yourself, every hit from the monsters was causing worse aches in your muscles, cuts and bruises littered your body and you were getting to a point where you had embedded your sword into the ground using it to keep yourself upright leaning on it more than actually attacking the monsters, you desperately tried to kick the slimes away and with the hand that wasn’t white knuckling your sword you tried to swat away the insects cutting into your flesh with their sharp claws. The few slimes left leap up attacking you, smashing into your chest the sudden force knocks you back to the floor, you desperately try to reach out and grab your sword, your hand sliding down your sword slices your palm open as you topple over your head once again hitting the hard ground of the cave, you fall unconscious.

====================================

Linus had seen the farmer go into the mines hours ago but he hadn't seen her leave yet, the farmer always took the path past his tent through the back of the mountains to get back to the farm late at night. He was getting anxious it was almost 2am he had a terrible feeling something was wrong. Linus walked over to the adventures guild and started pounding on the door. After several moments the door was yanked open and a very disgruntled Marlon was standing infront of Linus.

“What?!” Marlon growls a deep frown set in his features.

“I think the Farmer is in trouble. She is still in the mines…”

Marlon groans and turns back into the guild, leaving the door open as he reaches over the counter and pulls his sword up into his arms. He walks out of the guild, pushing past Linus, slamming the door behind him.

“That kid is going to be the death of me…let's go then.” Marlon sheaths his sword and rubs his forehead.

The two men head into the mines, every level was littered with dead creatures and exposed ladders, the farmer had definitely been here. They made their way down more levels of the mines.

“Oh Yoba!!” Linus yells as they round a corner and are met with an unconscious farmer being smothered by creatures, cave insects, slimes, even a stray cave crab was slashing at their defenceless body.

“Well fuck.” Marlon unsheathed his sword and starts slicing at all the creatures making quick work of them. “Get the farmer!!” He yells at Linus as he brings his sword down piercings the crab.

Linus grabs the farmer under her arms and starts dragging her body towards the ladder leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. Marlon quickly grabs the farmers sword off the ground and rushes over to the ladder. Marlon grabs the farmers legs and they quickly climb up to a level with an elevator. As soon as Marlon saw the elevator he grabs the farmer off of Linus and starts carrying her by himself.

“Is she okay? She doesn't look like she is breathing!” Linus is fussing over the unconscious farmer the entire time they are in the elevator. A loud ding sounds and the doors open to the main level of the mines. Marlon sighs with relief.

“Linus. Go get Robin to call the farmhouse. Call Harvey. Get him to the clinic. Tell him Y/n needs him NOW!”

Linus rushes out of the mines sprinting towards Robins house. Marlon follows behind him carrying the limp unconscious body of the farmer in his arms. Marlon kept glancing down at the farmers face he was trying so desperately not to show how alarmed he was. Everyone else was going to freak out someone needed to be to be calm and reasonable but tears filled his eyes as he thought about how injured his dear friend was, was she going to make it…? He shook his head and kept heading out the mountains. No, he couldn’t think like that, he was going to get them to the clinic in time and Harvey was going to save her.

Marlon was rushing past Robins house, the door was wide open, he was the chaos inside, Linus and Robin were practically screaming into the phone as they saw Marlon and the injured farmer rush past the house down towards the town. Maru was pushing past everyone in the hallway, shoving them out of the way as she rushed out to catch up to Marlon.

====================================

*RINGGG RIIINGGG RINGG*

Harvey groaned and rolled over in bed to hold his wife and was suddenly aware of the absence of the second person in his bed he frowned and rubbed his eyes gently tapping around on the bed trying to find her.

*RINGGG RINGGG*

Harvey groans and flings his hand over to the nightstand and blindly feels around until the phone is in his hands.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and tired.

“Harvey you need to get to the clinic now!!” He was met with Robins frantic voice and he sat up finally starting to wake up.

“Robin? Calm down tell me what is happening?”

“HARVEY NOW YOU NEED TO GO NOW. IT Y/N!” Robin sounded like she was about to burst into tears.

Harvey’s heart stopped, he looked up at the clock on the wall, 2am? She wasn’t home…? His mind was running through every single injury she had ever gotten. Every operation he has had to preform. Every single time he scolded her for staying out so late, for being so reckless. A horrible feeling of dread was starting to choke him.

“I’m leaving right now.” Harvey hung up the phone and flung the blankets of off him.

Harvey was practically flying out of the house, stumbling over his own feet as he grabbed a coat off the hanger and slid his shoes on without even tying the laces. He slammed the door behind him so hard it shook the wall slightly as he ran out of the farmhouse.

Harvey was sprinting towards the town square, towards his clinic, he was fumbling with the keys in his coat pocket. The cold night air was making his tears feel cold. By the time he reached the clinic he was out of breath and trying his hardest not to breakdown but his mind was racing with every horrible outcome. What kind of shape would she be in when she got here? He was pacing around the clinic preparing everything he thought he might need.

It took 10 minutes for Marlon to reach the clinic, Maru rushed in first and held the door open, the sound of the bell dinging caused Harvey to stop dead in his tracks and stare teary eyed at Maru, who looked equally distressed.

“H…Harvey…she isn’t breathing…” Maru has tears in her eyes.

Marlon entered the clinic holding the farmers limp body and he looked like he was about to start shaking and crying. Marlon places the farmer down on an examination table Harvey had already prepared. Harvey was looking wide eyed at Maru for a moment before he rushes over to the table and tries to take his wife’s pulse but he can’t find one, tears are streaming down his face as he stares at his wife, her bruised cut up body laying there in front of him. Maru was softly crying and Marlon was leaning in the corner of the room with an unreadable expression.

“No. No she isn’t…She can’t be.” Harvey climbs up on the table and starts doing CPR.

“Harvey.” Maru steps closer to him but he doesn’t stop, he leans down pressing his lips to his wife breathing air into her lungs.

“Wake up…wake up!” he is pushing down harder against her chest.

“Harvey.”

“NO! SHE IS OKAY. WAKE UP!” Tears are rolling off his cheeks as he keeps giving her chest compressions, leaning down trying desperately to force air into her lungs.

“HARVEY!” Maru yells at him with tears streaming down her face.

“NO SHE CAN’T BE. SHE…she can’t…” His compressions slow down.

“Harvey…” Maru puts a hand on his arm urging him to get down and he shoves her hand away.

He leans down collapsing onto his wife’s body and starts sobbing, he clings to her, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he can.

“Harvey…man you have to stop…” Marlon grabs Harvey’s shoulder and tries to pull him off.

“GET OFF OF ME!” Harvey sobs trying to shove Marlon away.

====================================

Harvey shoots straight up in bed he tried to scream it came out as a strangled wail his voice cracked, his eyes were filled with tears. He was gripping at his heaving chest, gasping desperately for breath. His eyes were darting around the room as he struggled to breathe.

“Harvey…?” You softly whisper as you sit up in bed and place a hand on his arm softly, looking up at him with sleepy eyes you find his hand covering his mouth as he sobs, wide eyed and straight ahead.

“Harvey?! Are you okay? Sweetheart what happened…what's wrong??” You sit up higher on the bed and place one hand on his chest and the other gently on his cheek rubbing your thumb softly over his face whipping away the tears that were streaming over his cheeks.

“H…Harvey..? What's wrong talk to me what happened..? Harvey darling…?” Your voice was shaking a little full of concern

He doesn't even speak as he jerks forward and wraps his arms around you pulling you tightly against his chest as he cries hard into your shoulder

“oh!…Harvey…” you wrap your arms around his head holding him against you, gently running your fingers through his hair softly scratching at his scalp “shhh….shh it's alright sweetheart…it's okay shhh I'm right here it's okay…” his grip on you tightened clinging to you like you were about to disappear, like his arms were the only thing holding you to the earth.

“You were gone…” his voice cracks as he whispers softly continuing to cry into the crook of your neck. “You were…gone and I couldn't save you. I couldn't…” he is gasping for air as he sobs

“hey...hey shhh breathe…breathe I'm right here. I'm right here okay? I'm not gone. I am right here, you have me in your arms, see?” You squeeze him a bit tighter before cupping both his cheeks and lifting his head in your hands so he can look into your eyes

“You were gone y/n…you were g…gone…” he is clinging to you tighter it was a bit uncomfortable but you didn't say anything “You were dea-” he gasps and more tears fill his eyes as he looks into your face “You were dead! You…you were dead in my arms and I couldn't do anything to save you. You were in the mines and I failed you and you were gone. You were gone and you weren't ever coming back.”

You are running your thumbs over his cheekbones as you lean forward and softly kiss him.

“Harvey. I am right here. You need to take a breath and calm down, you are getting yourself all worked up. I am right here. I am right here. Take a breath honey…” you press another more chaste kiss to his lips before pulling him back into a tight hug.

“You're safe..?” He whispers quietly.

“I'm safe.”

“…You aren't going to leave…?”

“Harvey sweetheart. I'm right here and I'm never leaving you okay? Never. I'm staying here with you forever.”

“…P…promise…?” He sniffles quietly as his tears slowly stop.

“Harvey look at me. Hey look at me. I promise you. I promise I am not leaving. I know I'm a little…uh…reckless in the mines sometimes and I'm so sorry I didn't know it was upsetting you this much. I'll be more careful. I promise. Come back to sleep…” you softly rub his chest “I promise I'll be here in the morning too.” You kiss his cheek as he pulls you down onto his chest, holding you tight against his body, he sighs deeply as you snuggle up with him.

“I love you so much My Love…you mean the world to me.” Harvey sighs quietly as he squeezes you tighter. You kiss his cheek a few times softly rubbing your nose against his jaw.

“I love you Harvey. Always.” You softly trace invisible patterns over his chest as he slowly drifts off to sleep, you stay up a while after he falls asleep making sure he sleeps soundly. His arm draps loosely over you even as he sleeps he wants to feel you close to him.

“Goodnight Harvey...” You kiss him one last time, smiling softly and put your head down on his chest letting yourself finally fall back asleep.

====================================

You can check out my other non stardew related stories at @random-writing-panda

#stardew valley #stardew harvey #harvey x farmer #harvey x reader #sdv farmer #sdv harvey #sdv headcanons #sdv #stardew valley harvey #stardew farmer #stardew #harvey sdv #Harvey stardew valley #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #my husband from day 1 finally getting the love and attention he deserves

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trulyonlygrapejuice · 6 months

Note

hii not sure if you’re open to request but! could you do something about the reader playing with harry’s fingers/rings to calm them down?

A/N: This was so fun to write! I really hope I did this justice, but what you asked for doesn't feature as much as I would like :( The story took on a life of its own, but I hope you still like it!

Also, I'd love to get more suggestions/requests, it's a lot easier to write for them, than to write my own ideas haha

Warnings: Pretty fluffy, but a bit of angst. Anxious reader, with fidgeting coping mechanisms, a tiny bit of sad reader/Harry

Word count: 1331

Rings and Nervous Things

Why did you feel so trapped? The dinner wasn’t some rowdy party, but your heart was still racing like you were tangled in the middle of a raging nightclub. You stared down at your plate as you tried to focus on whatever story Harry was telling beside you, hands clammy and twitchy in your lap. Fuck. The table laughed suddenly and you glanced up, faking a giggle when you saw Harry giving you a concerned look out of the corner of your eye. You didn't want to worry him, not when you both only saw each other when you had time off from work to join the tour. It would be a shame for one of the last dinners you had together for a little while to be spoilt by you for no good reason. Because there wasn't a good reason… right?

The dinner was a semi-regular one you did while on tour, a chance for the band, crew and Harry’s team to all sit together and have a ‘family’ dinner. It was bonding and normally enjoyable, but today… all you felt was a tight feeling of anxiety between your ribs. Anxiety was not a new feeling for you. It often felt like an annoying dog following you constantly, sometimes choosing to nip at your heels and make you uneasy. But it was a little unusual that you were feeling it now, with no discernible trigger around. But anxiety wasn't always logical or something you could control, so there was nothing you could do but try to focus on what was happening around you.

Your fingers picked at the threads of your lavender sweater almost hypnotically, the action soothing you as your ears tried to concentrate on the muddled drone of conversation around the table. Usually, you would feel a little more centred and stable when your nervous energy had an outlet, something to make you relax, even just a tiny bit. Pick one thread, move on, pick one thread, move on… Over and over, your picking reducing the bottom part of your sweater to look like it was half finished, threads loose and sticking out at all angles.

The fabric was beginning to completely fall apart when a large, warm hand slipped discreetly into your lap. It gently nudged your fingers away from your poor sweater, before resting palm down in the cradle of your hands, fingers splayed out across your skin. It was fairly easy to identify as your boyfriend's right hand, three rings gleaming softly under the lights as your brow creased in confusion. It took you a beat to realise what he was doing, and you gently shifted your hands out from under his, wrapping shaky fingers around his wrist while the others began twisting the golden lion ring in rhythmic, calming turns. The warmth of his palm was grounding on your thigh and it took everything in you not to melt into his side when his thumb started grazing soft circles across your jeans. You let your eyes drift back up to the table in front of you, suddenly feeling more settled than you had in ages. Back and forth… back and forth…

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” You hummed a quiet agreement, nestling into Harry’s side as he leaned a little bit closer. He made a happy noise before pressing a kiss to your temple, pausing for a beat with his nose in your hair, seemingly breathing you in for his own comfort. “Tell me if you’re feeling anxious again, okay? Don’t need to pretend for me” His words sounded muffled against you and he pressed another chaste kiss to your skin before pulling away with a soft smile. You smiled back, his words warming you from the inside out and chasing the tightness from your chest for a little while. “I will.” You glanced back down at your lap, frowning at the mess that was your sweater. “My poor sweater…” Harry chuckled lowly, hand twisting in your lap to hold your fidgety fingers. “We can get you a new one, baby. Don’t fret.”

By now, hours had passed and you were really starting to feel it, eyes drooping and stinging. The muted murmur of conversation only made you sleepier, your head dropping to Harry’s shoulder with a dull thump. Your fingers went limp around his hand, a tender kiss being pressed to the top of your head as the room went quiet.

You could feel Harry’s solid warmth holding you first, a soft groan leaving your throat as you squirmed, strong arms tightening around you in surprise. “Don’t- Don’t wiggle around, sweetheart. I don’t want you to fall.” You just whined quietly as his chest rumbled against you in a barely muffled laugh. “I didn't mean to wake you, darling. Swear I didn’t.” Another whine was the only response as you tucked your face into the crook of Harry’s neck, eyes squeezed tightly as he began to climb the stairs. “Whiny little thing, aren't you?” He only got an indignant grunt in response as he giggled his way back to your shared room.

It didn't take long for him to set you down and help you get changed, your limbs feeling gooey and useless from the sleep clawing at your brain. He just smiled when you grumbled in frustration at your uncooperative limbs, gently guiding your arms through the right holes of your sleep shirt. It was times like this you’d miss, domestic moments that made your heart flutter. Maybe that was why you were anxious… anxious that you had to leave and go back to work. Leave him behind. That made you pause, frowning at your reflection in the mirror, your toothbrush hanging uselessly in your hand.

“Sweetheart, what's wrong?” He looked so concerned in the reflection that it made your already upset heart crack. Your face crumbled. “I don’t want to leave.” A sudden sob broke the uncertain silence, the toothbrush clattering in the sink as you tried to wipe away the tears. “Sweetheart-” You sniffed loudly enough for him to pause and you barrelled on. “I-I think that's why I was so anxious at dinner. I’ve o-only got a few days left with you and then I fly a-away, leaving you alo-” Your anxious, sob-strewn rant was cut short by Harry hugging you tightly to his chest, pressing soothing kisses to your hair, your shoulders shaking. “Shh, shh… Oh, darling. I don’t want you to leave either, but you have a job to get back to. I’ll be okay, I’ll have Jeff and everyone else to stop me from sulking too much.” That made you laugh wetly, pulling back from his embrace enough for your hands to slip up and cup his jaw. “I-I’ll just miss you. Like I always do. I think it’s just hitting me harder than usual.” Harry’s eyes softened at that, one of his hands beginning to rub up and down your back, in an attempt to comfort you. “Oh darling…” His own eyes started to glaze over and you giggled weakly, rubbing gentle thumbs under his eyes as a tear fell. “Oh look at the pair of us, crying in the bathroom in the middle of the night.” He huffed faintly, pulling you close again, your hands falling to grasp at his t-shirt, eyes fluttering shut at the calming thrum of Harry’s heartbeat. “We’ll be alright. You’ll be alright.” You smiled into his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, we will be. I will be.”

Harry hardly let you move away from him as you finished brushing your teeth, braiding your hair and pampering your skin. His arms stayed curled around your waist, his forehead settled in the nape of your neck as you shuffled about, the skin-to-skin contact causing a warm comforting feeling to bubble in your gut. And as you both slid into bed, immediately curling around each other, an arm over a waist, a leg over a thigh, the feeling grew, and you knew… you’d be alright.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles headcanons #harry styles fic #x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles writing

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jensettermandu · 7 months

Text

crocodile tears - jennie kim

genre; smut

pairing; g!p jennie dom x fem!reader sub

content; humiliation/degrading, spitting, choking, bondage, face slapping, hair pulling, edging, gagging, spanking, darcyphilia

words; 6.6k

masterlist

The heavy breaths from you and Jennie occupied the bedroom as you two had spent the past 15 minutes making out. She pulled you into her lap as you gripped onto her hair at the back of her head, having a hard time at containing your neediness as you kept on pushing your centre against hers, getting friction from your clit rubbing against the bulge in her pants. The only things separating you two and making it even more intimate was that you two still had clothes on. Jennie was in her loose-fitted jeans and a sweatshirt as you were in a pair of grey sweats that hung around your hips, the waistband of your Calvin's showing and a black baby tee, exposing some of your stomach that Jennie ran her hand up, under the shirt. Your mouth parted as you felt the warmth spread through your whole body, sighing at the feeling of grinding against her. Jennie's tongue pushed against yours as she held her other hand at the small of your back, helping you press harder against her.

There was no way that you would reach your orgasm this way and Jennie knew it very well, but she liked having you like this- the way you would whimper, arch your back, shudder, press harder into her and tense up at how your clit was rubbing against her erection. Jennie sighing and letting out shaky breaths at how you were grinding against her. She pulled her mouth away from yours and her wet lips kissed down your jawline while her hand ran under your shirt, her fingertips grazing your hot skin until she got to your breast. Not wearing any bra, she got what she was looking for right away. "Can I fuck you like a whore I just paid?" Jennie breathed out against your neck, her hot breath hitting your skin as she kept leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on it.

"Have you paid many whores before?" You asked, pulling her mouth closer to your neck as you whined your hips against her. Jennie's hand gripping onto your tender breast in a firm and rough way as she huffed, gripping tightly. "The only woman I would ever spend money on is you." Jennie replied, moving her mouth and you tilted your head back as she kissed beneath your jaw and then down, your neck glistening from your girlfriend's kisses. You hummed as she kept kneading your breast greedily. "Then fuck me cause I can't take this much more." You whimpered at your own words, feeling so close to your orgasm but it was impossible to reach it this way. Jennie ran her hands to your lower back before leaning forward, making you land on your back as she smoothly laid between your legs. She rested with her elbows beside your head and looked down at you for a second, seeing the desperation in your glimmering with stars eyes, your grey eye colour turning her on so much more. She bit her lower lip and you hummed a beautiful whine for her when she used her one hand to hold onto your hair, manhandling you however she liked, holding your head so you would look right into her eyes.

"I love your fucking eyes." She firmly stated, her jaw clenching and the grip she had on your hair with her one hand tightening as she pulled slightly, humping your clothed centre so roughly the creaky bed started to creak again. It was crying for mercy as you two had ruined it enough- it was to the point that it would creak when you two would just turn in your sleep. "Yeah?" You questioned with a moan as she pressed hard against your clit, your thighs squeezing her as your hips pushed up into her more. Jennie hummed as she let go of your hair and using her left hand as leverage she held herself up a bit higher to look better at you, keeping up the rolling of her hips. She looked at you, your plump pink lips parted as your head was thrown back, the strained moans coming from your mouth as you were struggling to get an orgasm- getting frustrated as you were so close. Jennie loved watching you this miserable since she never made it easy for you to orgasm, sometimes it would take hours before she gave you a release.

The hand that held onto your hair earlier came up to your jaw as she gripped it, making you look at her. Your eyes held the type of sexiness that made Jennie weak in her body, especially since they would at times hold an innocent glint instead. You looked at her like she was the only person in the world, like she was some sort of Goddess you had to get on your knees for, like she was the superior one. She thrusted even harder, getting into a frenzy from how you were looking at her as if she was your owner. "I love everything about you, but your eyes fuck me over in the best way." She groaned and your legs tensed up for a second, the heat and intensity building up as you were close now. Jennie's lips parted as she expectantly watched you. Your eyebrows furrowing and eyes shutting tightly with your whole body tensing up, all that tension deflating like a balloon when she got inconsistent on purpose, leaving you high and dry again. "I want you to fuck me over, fuck my dignity out of me, Jennie." You begged, your voice light as it got caught in your whimpers, whines and light moans. You always sounded like an angel, the way you would be loud yet still sound angelic and light in your voice, somehow hitting perfect high notes even in bed- Jennie was down bad for all of it, for all of you.

"You already lost it in our bed, baby." Jennie said and just to remind you, she squeezed your cheeks, making you part your lips for her. Jennie licked her own lips before letting her spit slowly fall out of her mouth, a tingle going through your whole body as the warm spit landed in your mouth- some of it on your lips before running down to your tongue. "Have you ever let anyone else do that to you?" She asked, already knowing the answer, but she loved hearing it and reminding you of it and what power she held over you. Her fingers still gripping hard on your cheeks and jaw, she wanted it to linger in your mouth as it ran over your tongue. You shook your head since you had never let anyone else do it except Jennie. You wanted her to do it to you, it felt so degrading and you loved it, being treated like you were no one turned you on so much. She smiled at that and let go of your jaw, instantly attaching her lips to yours as your hands found their way to her sweatshirt.

She tilted her head and pushed her tongue into your mouth and you sighed before whimpering into Jennie's mouth. Jennie was needy herself, but not for a release, she was needy for your body and she pulled away from your lips. "I want you naked and screaming, Y/n...I want your pussy to throb for hours after this. I want my touch to linger on your body after we finish for days." Jennie said through her heavy breaths, wanting you to still feel her on your body tomorrow and the coming days. You bit your lower lip as she sat up, grabbing a fist full of your black baby tee, pulling you to sit up, hearing a few of the thousands threads the shirt was made of ripping from pulling on it. Your legs spread on either side of her body as she was on her knees, your clit throbbing from how she had been humping you through the layers of clothing. "I don't want it to be pretty." You basically encouraged her as you didn't want any mercy shown and it was supposed to be ugly- not in an actually ugly way but in a way that would leave you a mess.

"Oh, it won't be." Jennie reassured you and grabbed the hem of the shirt, pulling it over your head before she dropped it to the side, biting her lower lip as her dick throbbed at your small yet perfect for her hands boobs as you sat leaned back against your hands, waiting for what she would do next. Jennie scanned over your smooth and slim body, your small waist making her swallow to get rid of the dryness in her throat, still after all these years not being able to grasp where you got your perfect tiny waist from. She always worshipped your body while you worshipped her body and dominance as she thrived on your submission to her. "There's something so tempting about the thought of making your flawless skin bruised." She hummed out, the excitement building up in her as her dick was throbbing because of you. Jennie grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it off and discarding it to the side, you didn't have time to admire her naked upper body when she pushed you back down to your back. She grabbed your wrists, knowing that you wouldn't be able to fight back because of the strength difference before pinning them above your head with her one hand.

Jennie was already lost in her lust as she put her lips against yours, her hand coming up to your neck as she forced you to stay in place as she kissed you roughly. It was impossible to kiss back the same way as you trailed after her mouth and tongue that were assaulting your mouth with her grip slowly tightening on your neck. Your strained sigh made her loosen her grip on your pulse points while her grip on your wrist stayed as tight as it was from the start– the tightness stopping your blood from flowing like it should and you could already feel how the tips of your fingers were tingling. Jennie started to kiss down your mouth, sucking on your lower lip before pulling on it and releasing it, her lips trailing down your skin, the wetness of her open mouthed kisses making you shiver as the patches of skin turned cold instantly, her grip coming back on your neck. Your breathing got heavy and needy as her grip started to tighten again and your wrists got released from her grip, feeling the blood starting to flow back to your cold fingertips.

The wet sound of her kissing your collarbones while you whined, your vision blurring for a second and you squirmed under her, her fingers still pressing onto the pulse points below your jaw, not letting the blood pass like needed. "I thought that you didn't want it pretty?" Jennie grumbled against your skin, her fingers releasing some of the pressure they had on your pulse, feeling how it all flowed back to your brain and the light-headedness disappeared. A gasp came from your mouth instead when she bit the skin right above your left boob, the pain spreading in that area. "I do-." You got cut off through your heavy breaths, the pressure coming back. "Then be quiet...A whore doesn't get to complain." Jennie demanded and another moan spilled from your lips like dripping honey as her tongue swirled your nipple. You tried to squeeze your thighs but to no avail as Jennie was between your legs, her free hand coming to your knee as she harshly pushed it away- not allowing you to try and squeeze them together. "I have to be on...set tomorrow." You managed to let out, knowing how easily your skin bruised- it was enough to hold you a bit harder or you would bump into a hard surface hard or not and you would have a bruise the next day. It would be a hassle for the makeup team to cover the marks and bruises for the filming of the movie.

Your hips bucked up only to get pressed back down harshly with Jennie's free hand, slight annoyance going through your girlfriend at your words. "I don't care." She simply mumbled with her mouth still on your breast. There was no fighting that as her grip continued to tighten and loosen, although it wasn't loosening as much as it was tightening. All your trust was in Jennie's hands- the hands that weren't playing gently when it came to bed. Her hand kept pressing down on your hip, holding them in place. You couldn't take the heat that was between your legs, it was getting uncomfortable as you had been close two times now only for you to not get your orgasm. Jennie was too busy with leaving your breasts glistening in her saliva though, the tips of her fingers digging into your hip bone. "Can you do something more?" You let out, the annoyance in your voice ticking something off in Jennie who pulled away, the grip on your throat and hip disappearing. Her left hand landed beside your head and the right that was on your throat a second ago, collided with your cheek and you whimpered at the slight stinging when her palm met your cheek. Jennie grabbed hold of your cheeks with her hand to make you look at her as her palm never left your cheek after the slap.

"Don't tell me how to fuck you or I won't fuck you at all." Your lower lip puckered as you gave her a small pout and she saw the tremble in your lips and eyes that gathered tears in them. Jennie smiled at that as she was looking down at you, a spark of excitement went through her before she remembered that you loved shedding crocodile tears as you could cry on command and were great at acting in any situation. She knew that you were trying to manipulate her into doing what you wanted. Acting was what you did for a living. "If you are going to cry, I want it to be real Y/n." A shiver went through your spine at her words as your tears fell out of the corners of your eyes, hitting the duvet under you when you blinked. There was just something about seeing you miserable, crying and in pain with all your trust in her hands that made Jennie's stomach twist and turn in an amazing way that she was addicted to. Although she had learned your ways and what was a façade and what was real, it took her extremely long to figure it all out though with how convincing you were. You still managed to trick her at times though...it worked great to manipulate her in bed and get what you wanted faster than she intended. Although Jennie wanted real tears, pleas, mewls and begging.

She caressed your cheek with her thumb gently, the opposite of the slap you received even though it wasn't too hard, just a slight sting. "Please." You pleaded, and Jennie watched in amusement as you still didn't drop the act even if you knew that she knew. Her thumb ran over your lower lip before she parted her own lips, making you copy her and her thumb found its way into your mouth. "You're always so hot with your mouth." Jennie mumbled as she pushed her thumb further into your mouth as you sucked, your warm tongue coating her finger as she watched you in a daze. You sucked, your cheeks hollowing as she pulled it out of your mouth, pulling your lower lip before removing her hand from your face. Your breathing got heavier as she moved down and grabbed the hem of your sweats, hooking her fingers on them before she started to pull them down. Your hips lifted to help her as inch by inch the soft material got removed until it landed on the floor, leaving you in your black Calvin Klein thongs and before you could even think that she would remove those too, she went back to kissing your skin.

You held back the frustration that almost slipped past your lips as she was building up your neediness. Your hands ran down to her head, running your fingers through her hair, holding it back as her ticklish kisses and breaths made you suck in your stomach. Jennie kissed the skin between your breasts, kissing down slowly, your chest heaving. Her right hand came up to your side as ran her fingers over your ribs, feeling each and every bone under your skin with her fingers. You got goosebumps, the touch tickling in a pleasurable way as you closed your eyes, registering every little signal your nerves sent to your brain. "I will actually get sad...if you tell me that...you would fuck a paid whore this way." You managed to say through your light and breathy moans since her slow and sensual touches were messing with your brain that was expecting more. The fact that she wanted to at first fuck you like a paid whore only to do this was pissing you off...this was way too intimate. Jennie continued to kiss your stomach that you would suck in because of the kisses she left- she clearly heard what you said. She licked up your stomach, the tip of her tongue disappearing from your skin and you looked at her as she sat up, watching Jennie unzip her bottoms as she licked her lips.

"Let me show you how I would use you if you were a paid whore...Cause right now you are a free one darling."Jennie spoke and you were about to sit up as she unzipped her bottoms, but you got pushed back down in an instant. Your breathing got heavy as you watched her stop, her eyes darting to your silk robe that was laying on the corner of the bed, almost falling off. She straddled you and reached for it, removing the black silk belt from it as you tilted your head back curiously watching her. You took in a sharp breath when she sat back straight and grabbed hold of your wrists, raising them above your head and pinning them down on the mattress. "Tell me when it's getting too tight." Jennie informed as she started to tie the silk belt from the robe around your wrists, roughly handling you with no stop and you could still feel the grip she had on your throat earlier. "Fuck, that's-." You hissed and tried to pull your hands away when she tightly tied the knot, but she held your hands in place using her one hand, the other grabbing onto your jaw as she looked down at you with her head tilted. "It's silk, you will be fine." Jennie reassured and you frowned, trying to move your hands but her grip only tightened on both your wrists and jaw- the grip on your jaw was starting to feel bone-crushing.

"Then why did you tell me to inform you when it's too tight?" You grumbled with Jennie still sitting on top of you, a small smile on her face that held malice behind it and you squirmed under her, your thighs rubbing together as you were craving for her. Your brain was already thinking about how she knew how to please you. "Cause I like giving hope just to crush it." Jennie replied and let go of you, the pain slowly easing from your jaw and wrists- although your wrists were still tightly tied together, cutting your circulation and it wouldn't be long until your fingers would feel numb. She moved to get off you as you watched her. "Hands stay up and if they do come down..." Jennie trailed off and you watched how the corners of her mouth slowly raised into an almost sickening smile. You weren't sure if you liked it or not, but it didn't matter when she removed her jeans, the material hitting the floor as she left it a mystery what would happen if your hands came down...You didn't want to find out so when she grabbed the hem of your Clavin's you gripped onto the duvet with your hands, watching her slowly pull them down with a smile on her face.

Jennie bit her lower lip and your eyes went to the print in her tight boxer briefs, her dick hard and resting on her thigh. Thinking of her thick cock and how it felt when she would fuck you, made your thighs rub together which Jennie took notice of. "You're such a desperate and needy fucking slut Y/n." Jennie scoffed and reached for your wrists, seeing how needy you were. She was going to put your needs last and she pulled you up by your hands with her one hand. She ran her hand over your cheek and to the back of your head as she towered over you, shuddering at how gentle she was being. "Please Jennie." You begged her and whimpered in pain as she gripped your hair, pulling your head back so you would look up at her. Her jaw clenched and you sniffled while looking into her eyes, tears spilling from your eyes. "You're pathetic...What would your friends say if they saw you like this? What would your coworkers say? Your fans? What would they all say if they saw you all naked, bruised, and crying in bed, begging for me to fuck you?" A mewl came from your lips at her words, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke, looking right into your glistening eyes, the words arousing you so much that even more tears started to spill.

When you didn't answer her Jennie yanked more on your hair and a small moan slipped your lips, the tears running down your cheeks to your neck. "What would they all say? Would you be able to live with this disgrace?" Jennie asked again and another sniffle came from you as you shook your head. "They would look down on me." You replied in a small voice, the whole thing only arousing you even more. "They would, but that only arouses you, doesn't it? You love this don't you?" You hummed, looking into her eyes and your tied-together hands innocently grabbed the hem of her boxers since she was so close to you, yet so far. Jennie pulled her hips away from you though and you whimpered as she guided you by the hair she had bunched up in her fist. You stumbled off the bed and she let go as she stood in front of you, the two of you standing by the bed, moving your hands around that were getting cold from how there was barely any blood running to them.

"Get on your knees Y/n." Jennie ordered, her gaze holding no mercy or tenderness, the tears drying up on your cheeks, your skin ticking at the teardrop that was rolling down your chest. You dropped onto your knees in front of Jennie looking up at her as she was looking down at you- always looking down at you in bed. "Being needy doesn't get you what you beg for...You get to suck my dick instead since that's something you are good at." Jennie spoke as she stroked herself through the material of the white boxers, her outline so prominent as you looked at the wet spot where her tip had leaked with pre-cum. You watched as she pulled them down, her dick coming out from the boxers that went down her thighs, Jennie kicking them aside when they were by her feet. Your hands rested between your thighs as Jennie stepped closer to you, with her hand wrapped around the base of her cock, the bulbous tip leaking with pre-cum. Jennie held onto the top of your head by your hair to hold your head in place and she guided her tip towards your mouth.

"You always look so pretty with my cum on your face...So I never know if I should cum in your mouth or on your face." Jennie spoke as she ran her tip over your lips, smearing the pre-cum on them, the warmth spreading on your lips. She continued to rub her tip over your soft and plump lips although your mouth didn't open as she pushed between your lips. "Be a good cock warmer and open your dirty mouth." Jennie said and groaned as she used her hard dick to slap your cheek with it. She slapped you again a bit harder on your cheek with her dick, making you open your mouth this time. You stuck your tongue out and she placed her heavy tip on your tongue and you welcomed her cock into your warm and wet mouth. Jennie hummed as you wrapped your lips around her, watching you as your tongue swirled around the tip that was in your mouth.

A muffled squeak came from your mouth as she shoved her cock further into your mouth, Jennie moaning as she started to thrust in and out. "I'm gonna fuck your pretty face, princess...You won't be able to speak tomorrow on set with how sore your throat will be." Jennie groaned out before biting her lower lip and tightening the grip on you to be able to thrust harder and faster. You whined in disagreement, your mouth stuffed with your girlfriend's cock as she went further and further down your mouth. You really needed your voice for tomorrow, but Jennie obviously didn't care as you gagged when her tip hit the back of your throat. "Fuck, you're my favourite toy." She moaned her other hand grabbing onto your head too as she continued to fuck your mouth like you were a sex doll and nothing else, stripping you of all your worth. You could feel how the wetness was smearing on your inner thighs that kept rubbing together as your eyes started to water again.

"How long can you hold me?" Jennie questioned and you gagged again when she pushed herself into your throat, stalling her movement. You looked up at her through your lashes, the tears falling with your nose brushing her abdomen. Jennie watched you with her lips parted, her cock twitching at the view of her cock stuffed far down your warm and tight throat and the tears that fell down your eyes. You squirmed, closing your eyes and trying to pull away as you were not able to breathe properly. "What? It's hard to understand you with dick in your mouth." Jennie mocked, holding you in place and you gave her pleading eyes with a mewl, desperately trying to pull away with discomfort on your face. She pulled out of your mouth and you coughed with a sob in between your coughing as your gaze fell to the floor, your body shuddering. "Look at me." Jennie seriously said- worried, the worry on her face disappearing in an instant when you looked up at her and she saw how quickly you pouted to mask your smile.

She grabbed her cock again, slapping her tip against your lips to signal you to open your mouth again for her. "I will make you choke on my dick for that." Jennie informed you, not liking the fact that you managed to trick her with that so easily as she genuinely got worried that she overstepped it, but you were clearly enjoying yourself. "Please no, I will be good." You mumbled with a slight quiver in your voice from your "crying", pulling your face away from her needy cock but she pulled you back in. "I don't care for good girls...Now open your mouth or I won't fuck you at all." Jennie said and with feigned reluctance you opened your mouth, her dick coated in your saliva found its way back into your mouth. She sighed at the feeling of your lips wrapping around it and ran her hand through your hair, gathering it into a ponytail- a few strands still falling onto your face. "I want you to look me in my eye while I fuck your mouth like a worthless slut." You moaned at that looking up at her, your face stained with tears and Jennie felt the heat pooling in her stomach from just looking at you so miserably and messy.

She started to move again, not sparing any time as you were gagging on her cock again, the lewd sounds of her cock making your spit run down your chin as you weren't doing more than just holding her dick in your mouth. "Even a whore wouldn't let me fuck her like this." Jennie groaned, her eyes glued to yours as your tears spilled with muffled mewls and moans, the back of your throat getting abused by her length. You whined, squirming as you were on your knees before her, clearly enjoying it as you got used and degraded. "I'm so close." Jennie moaned, feeling on the edge before shoving her dick down your throat for a second time, stalling her movements and shuddering at how your throat squeezed her throbbing tip. "Show me your tongue when I pull out." You hummed at that, her lips parting at the feeling and she pulled out, not having the time to catch your breath you held your tongue out for her as she pumped herself. "Oh God." With that her cum spurted right out of her tip, most landing on your tongue and the rest on your chin and cheek.

Jennie wobbled slightly on her legs as she looked at you and you closed your mouth, swallowing. "You're so good." Jennie praised and tugged on your hair so you would stand up, as you did you could feel the stickiness between your thighs and your numbing fingers. Jennie pulled you closer to her, looking at her cum that was still warm on your face before pulling you into a kiss- it didn't last long when she yanked you away by your hair. "You fucking bitch." She hissed and you couldn't help the smile that appeared on your lips as you spat all her cum into her mouth since you never swallowed any of it, making her do it instead. "Oh so that's funny?" Jennie questioned, wiping at her mouth with her forearm while still having a grip on your hair. You stifled a laugh, moving your hands at how uncomfortable it was starting to get from how hard they were tied. "I'm sorry...It kind of was." You admitted and she sucked air through her teeth while you sniffled, still gathering yourself from the crying you did which was unnecessary when she slapped you again- your cheek only stinging slightly since she never slapped you harder than you liked.

You pouted at her and raised your tied up hands instead, deciding to keep quiet about how she just swallowed her own cum. "It's hurting." You said since you couldn't get the silk to loosen around your wrists. She let go of your hair and both her hands came to the silk as she removed itt, your hands tingling back to life as you wiggled your fingers, looking at them. A gasp came from your mouth at the unexpected manhandling since you were busy with your hands when she turned you around and bent you over the foot of the bed. Pressing you down before grabbing your both hands again and you whimpered when you felt the material back on your wrists. "Let's see how funny you think that this is." Jennie said, tying the robe belt around your wrists, not as tightly this time, but still tight enough to keep you from being able to slip your hands out. You buried your face in the duvet and tried to just move away but she held much more strength than you. Jennie leaned over you and you rested on your cheek, coming face to face with her, feeling her heavy dick resting against your ass cheek as she was still hard. "You do remember the word you say when you don't like it anymore, right?" Jennie asked just to make sure because she wasn't going to let you fool her again- you enjoyed your little manipulation games and knew that Jennie may be loved when you cried, but not if it was from actual discomfort.

You hummed, nodding your head, feeling drained from how frustrating the heat between your legs was now. There was throbbing between your legs and the sheets you were laying on were getting ruined since it was all flowing down. "I will make you cry from how good I will fuck you, darling." Jennie mumbled as she kissed your shoulder, trailing kisses down your back and you hummed. "You already made me cry." You pointed out and Jennie kissed down your spine. "Don't be a smartass now...It won't do you good." Jennie said and you shivered when she pecked both of your Venus dimples. "It's the truth th-." You got cut off for your own good as her palm landed right on your ass, a whine from pain eliciting from you. "What was that?" Jennie mocked, looking at you and when she saw you open your mouth you received another harsh slap on your ass, yelping in pleasurable pain as you bit down on the duvet with your face buried in it. "Act like a good slut Y/n and not a brat...I don't like when you're bratty." You huffed at her words and your ass stung as she landed her palm on your right ass cheek for the third time- the huff counting as unwanted attitude.

"I'm sorry...Please just use me like I was made for you to fuck and cum in me." You desperately said since you would probably use the safe word any minute now if you wouldn't get to orgasm- Jennie maybe didn't fool around, but neither did you really. Jennie hummed, holding onto the silk around your wrists with her left hand while her right guided her dick between your slick folds and that was enough to make you moan lightly. "Fuck." You moaned in pure bliss when she finally slid her cock into your needy and tight hole. Jennie had to stall all her movements as she almost came as she was on the edge from her first orgasm, knowing what a tantrum you would throw if she came already. She started to move again and you hummed while Jennie's pace picked up, her cock filling you to the brim. "You love taking my dick don't you?" Jennie groaned out with a puff of air coming from her lips as she gripped onto your hands with one hand, the other coming up to your shoulder, holding tightly before going harder. "I love it...I love your dick so much." You squeaked out between your uncontrollable moans as her pelvis slapped against the skin of your ass as she was pumping hard into you, the bed creaking in pain.

It felt like your insides were getting messed up by her cock, the thrusts hurting but also bringing you joy at how good she felt. Her fingers pushed into the skin on your shoulder from how hard she was holding onto you for leverage and you continued to moan, the heat gathering south as she continued to rub with her dick on your spot. "Have you ever told anyone how much you love getting fucked over in bed?" Jennie questioned, her cock penetrating deep inside you and your legs spasmed, your walls squeezing around her, the pulsating of your warm walls around her throbbing cock made you both moan. "Y-Yes." You choked out, burying your face into the duvet again as you were starting to get close. "You're such a whore for that...Did you tell them how much of a slut you are for my dick? How you beg for it? How you let me do whatever I want with you?" You could only whine, feeling like you were on the brink of your orgasm and your legs tensed up.

"Fuck Jennie, I'm so close. Please, let me cum." You pathetically begged with tears spilling from your eyes again as you were so close that it was getting painful that you weren't on cloud9 yet. Jennie moved both her hands to your tiny waist and held onto it, the girl behind you panting as she went harder and deep. Your high moans occupied the whole room with the slapping of your and Jennie's skin who was balls deep inside you, waiting to release all her cum into your greedy pussy that was clenching around her so you could milk her. Heat went through your whole body as you pushed into her when you reached your orgasm, your ears ringing and a cry came from your mouth, tears falling when you squeezed your eyes shut. Jennie felt how much your walls started to throb around her cock from your orgasm, the throbbing being uncomfortable for you as it hurt from the intense release you got. Jennie continued to fuck you like a toy as you laid on the bed, trying to catch your breath as the bed creaked and your whole body moved from her hard thrusts.

Jennie lifted you slightly by your waist before wrapping both arms around your waist, laying flush against your back with her front. Her hot breath fanned the crook of your neck as she thrust deep one last time and you moaned while she whimpered when she came. The hot cum shooting right into you and filling you up more than you already were by her cock.

"That was cute." You teased as the older girl laid on top of you, catching her breath while snuggling into your neck. "What was?" Jennie questioned as she left soft kisses on your skin. "Your little whimper." You said with a giggle and Jennie groaned, pulling away from you and standing up on her legs that felt like jelly. "Don't even start." She said as she felt a bit embarrassed because of it since it was the opposite of what she was doing to you the whole time. You hummed while she untied your wrists, feeling the silk disappear you pushed yourself up and turned to Jennie while sitting on the foot of the bed. Jennie crouched down in front of you and took hold of your wrists gently, seeing how red they were. "Are you fine? Is anything hurting you? Your cheek is a bit red...Your ass too." Jennie worriedly said since she was the complete opposite in bed and outside of it- which was why you loved her so much...She was just the sweetest and cuddliest person you had ever met.

"I'm fine, don't worry...The pain is slowly going away." You reassured her since all the pain was already subsiding because even if it seemed harsh and rough, it wasn't too bad and you liked it either way. Jennie stood up, helping you stand up too before easily picking you up by your thighs as you wrapped yourself around her, resting your chin on her shoulder. "Let's draw a bath then to make it go away faster." Jennie said while walking to the bathroom and you left a small kiss on her neck before pulling away and looking at her. "I love you." You said and she smiled, pecking your lips. "I love you more, baby." Jennie replied.

#jennie x reader #blackpink #fanfic #jennie #jennie smut #g!p jennie #jennie kim #blackpink jennie #jennie x female reader #blackpink smut #girl group smut

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heich0e · 1 year

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bliss - vash/f!reader/wolfwood (trigun stampede) 3k, poly!au, wild west!au, bounty hunters, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, masturbation (m), cum eating, finger sucking, wolfwood calls reader 'kid' as a petname, there will be a part 3 where nico gets his moment i promise! 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

part 2 to bounty see also: BOUND - poly!au masterlist

you can taste the tobacco that clings to his mouth from this close, but you don't mind it when it tastes like home. “and it’s our bed, nicholas. so take me to it whenever you’d like.”

nicholas carries you inside with one hand underneath you, one on the small of your back, and your legs wrapped around his waist.

regardless of the familiarity, his strength always surprises you; the effortlessness with which he scoops you up into his arms and holds you there never fails to make your heart beat a little bit faster, no matter how many times he does it.

“aren’t you tired?” you mumble against his mouth between kisses as he totes you across the little timber ranch you call home. he nearly stumbles on the edge of a tattered old rug underfoot, the same one he's helped you hang on the clothesline a hundred times on sunny days, kicking it huffily back into place as he holds you tighter.

“not too tired for this,” nicholas replies easily, leaning forward and laying you flat across the wooden table that sits at the centre of the main room of your home.

it’s the same table at which you’ve shared countless meals with him. the same table where you’ve sat the boys down and patched up their wounds after a bad hunt. the same table where you and vash play cards at night as the fire on the hearth burns low, where he always lets you win while nicholas watches on from his favourite rocking chair on the other side of the room with a sly smile on his face.

“i thought you were taking me to bed,” you say breathlessly as you stare up at him from the hard surface of the sturdy wooden tabletop.

nicholas smirks down at you, shucking the straps of his suspenders off his shoulders one at a time.

“thought maybe i’d have something to eat first,” he drawls as he drags the poplin of your nightdress up slowly over your thighs, baring your skin to him and revelling in the unhurried reveal, “i’m starving, you know.”

your breath hitches in your throat at his words, a heat flooding fast through your cheeks as you peer up at him. your lashes flutter slightly, blinking slowly as your desire for him builds inside of you, and you part your thighs for him invitingly.

nicholas’s playful smirk splits into a full-blown grin at the gesture, something so charmingly boyish in the expression, and he drags you down to the very edge of the table with his strong hands gripping your hips. he settles down on his knees, and you feel his warm breath against your aching centre, catching on the wetness that’s already begun to seep out from your core. above you, you stare up at the wooden beams of the ceiling overhead as your pulse thumps under your skin. to calm yourself, you trace the shadows that the beams cast with only the oil lamp on the other side of the room to light the space.

nicholas hums from his place on the floor, dragging two fingers up through the sticky wetness between your legs.

“you’re already this wet?” he muses, unmistakably pleased. “did you know we’d be coming home to you tonight?”

he splits his fingers into a V shape to spread you open, and you can’t help but whimper at the slightest brush against the sensitive bud at the apex of your sex. you hear nicholas draw in a sharp breath.

“oh,” he says the word on his exhale, a little shaky though he’d deny it if you were to bring it up. “you missed us, didn’t you?”

you nod even though you know he can’t see you from his current position, fisting the skirt of your nightdress in your trembling hands.

he hums curiously, goading you, and you know he wants you to say it.

“'course i did,” you whimper the words out helplessly, breathlessly, and completely sincere. “missed you, nico.”

“yeah? how bad did you miss me, kid?” he asks, pressing featherlight against the pretty swell of your clit. “because it looks like it was a lot.”

all you can manage is some sort of affirmative little sound, your breaths a bit harder to drawn in now that he’s touching you. your tongue more leaden under his careful attention.

he peeks up at you over the curve of your tummy, his dark hair hanging into his voracious eyes.

“anything else you wanna tell me?” he asks, pressing a bit more firmly against you now, tracing a lazy circle with the very tips of his fingers. your hips jump and your eyes squeeze shut, your heartbeat thrumming underneath your tongue.

“…myself” it’s almost unintelligible with how quietly you say it, and you can feel the satisfaction rolling off of nicholas in waves, like a tide that threatens to pull you under.

“what was that?” his fingertips trail down, dipping just inside of you, a little stretch but less resistance than there usually would be.

“i touched myself,”—you gasp at the sensation of him finally pressing into you, two knuckles deep now and far fuller than it had been when they were your own fingers—“in the bath. before bed. 'cause i missed you s’much.”

“i can tell,” nicholas breathes, but it sounds like a prayer—reverent and pious. “poor little thing.”

“nico!”

your back bows as he wraps his lips around the bundle of nerves between your legs and suckles against it, his two fingers taking the opportunity to slip all the way inside and curl in just the way you like. finally giving you what you’ve been aching for all this time.

it’s noisy—your panting breath, your whimpers, the slick sound of his mouth against your wet wet cunt. the table even creaks slightly, in spite of its sturdy construction, when he drags you down even closer to his mouth, looping your legs over his shoulders until there’s no space left between you at all.

so it’s really no surprise when a figure appears in the doorway to your bedroom, blonde hair totally unkempt and rubbing at tired blue eyes. vash had stripped himself bare before he crawled into bed with you, and he hasn’t covered himself up since, so his scarred skin is on full display as hesitates at the threshold, watching curiously at the sight unfolding before him.

“vash,” you mewl, your fingers tangled in nicholas’s hair as your hips grind against his face. you reach out towards him with your other hand, and the dainty gold ring on your finger glints in the warm lamplight.

nicholas pulls away from you with a loud, lewd slurp at your call of the other man’s name—strings of spit and god only knows what else stretching from his swollen lips to your pussy. vash and nicholas’s eyes meet, and the blonde hesitates almost shyly on the other side of the room. after a moment, nicholas sighs, but there’s almost something mirthful in it as he wipes the slickness from his mouth with the back of his calloused hand.

“you gonna make her wait all night, or what?” he calls to him, nodding him over like he’s giving him permission to approach.

even in his half-asleep stupor, vash doesn’t need much more of an invitation.

he’s at your side in an instant.

vash, rather peculiarly, sits in a chair at the table while nicholas returns his attention to the throbbing heat between your legs. you’re too distracted by the pressure building in the pit of your stomach to question it too intently, and so the blonde leans his head on his crooked arm, watching your face carefully as your other partner slowly takes you apart.

“feel good?” vash asks you quietly, a fierce flush burning along his cheeks as he raptly observes at every minor change in your expression. your head lolls towards him, and you nod.

“kiss please,” you whimper to him, and he’s so so quick to oblige you, pressing his mouth to your own and greedily swallowing every sound that nicholas is pulling out of you with his unfairly talented tongue and his lithe, nimble fingers.

vash’s mouth is warm and wet and eager against your own. he kisses you the same way every time, whether it’s a hello, or a goodbye, or just a moment like this. he kisses you like he’s chasing something that isn’t running from him; taking everything you give him, but still desperately needing more.

“oh!” you gasp against vash’s parted lips as nicholas’s fingertips find that spot inside of you he seems to be incapable of missing, but intentionally skirts around to drive you even more insane. panting against your mouth, vash’s eyes flutter open and peek down at where nicholas is still dutifully at work.

you watch his pupils dilate a little in the low light, the inky black swallowing up the blue of his irises as his eyes hone in on the wet, messy sight of the other man between your legs. vash pulls away from you as though drawn towards nicholas by sheer magnetism. you’re not sure if nicholas senses him nearing, or has more of his wits about him than you’ve given him credit for, because he lifts his head from where he’d been dragging his tongue along your clit as vash slips behind him to get a better view.

nicholas tips his head back to rest against vash’s hip, and his breathing is ragged as the blonde’s hands reach to gently cup his face.

“she’s so wet,” nicholas rasps up towards him as vash drags a thumb over his slick chin.

“yeah,” vash murmurs, his voice strained. his keen eyes flicker from nicholas’s face to your dripping pussy and then back again, like he’s not sure which sight he likes more. you watch helplessly as he lifts his thumb, covered now in your arousal and nicholas’s spit, to his mouth and uses his tongue to taste you both. “tastes good,” he moans, the digit still caught between his teeth.

“yeah, she does,” nicholas agrees, and you wiggle your hips involuntarily at the remark, feeling the crest of your building pleasure slowly begin to fade.

he chuckles when he notices, leaning forward again to press his fingers inside of you again. he holds them still there, and vash leans forward, gently pinning one leg further open so he can get a better view. you whimper when nicholas gives you none of the satisfaction you’re chasing, and keeps his fingers inside of you unmoving.

“please, nico,” you beg him earnestly, your voice fracturing on the plea. your nightdress is sticking to the perspiration on your skin now, and you want it off, but you have more pressing issues at hand.

or rather more issues with hands pressing you.

“does this feel better than touching yourself?” nicholas asks, giving one slow curl of his fingers that has your back bowing off the hard surface of the tabletop. “does it feel better now that you have the real thing?”

“y-yes,” you keen, a sob building in your too-tight chest that you can’t even drawn enough breath into to properly let form. “so much better. i-i wanna cum, please make me cum.”

“that’s our girl,” nicholas breathes, grinning wolfishly up at vash who looks completely enamoured watching you fall apart quite literally at nicholas’s hand.

below you, vash begins to stroke himself to the sight of you coming undone, his other hand tangling in the short strands of nicholas’s hair at his crown. nicholas indulges him while he continues to please you, because he’s never denied either of you anything you want. vash’s little whimpers and moans as he watches you writhe on the table top only make your heart beat faster, and it doesn’t take much more until you’re crying out, the levee of pleasure giving way to the rush of your peak.

“oh, look at that,” nicholas hisses against your pussy as your walls clamp down around his fingers to the point he almost can’t move them at all. you aren’t sure if he’s speaking to you or to vash, but it scarcely matters with the way your head is spinning. “you close too?” nicholas asks, tilting his face towards where vash is leaning against the table, one hand pressed flat against the surface now while the other passes quickly over his flushed, leaking cock.

you watch him through the daze of your own pleasure, marvelling in it. everything about vash is just so pretty. his parted lips, slick with spit and swollen from the way he catches them between his teeth. his delicate cheekbones, and the rosy blush that curls across them, that stains his nose, and even curls down to his chest. even the silvery scars across his skin, stories from a lifetime he knew before you, adorn him like art.

“yeah,” he whimpers out brokenly, his teary blue eyes meeting yours as you blink at him from your place on the table. nicholas rests a hand on vash’s hip, a rough thumb sweeping encouragingly over a scar that’s etched into his skin, and you watch the blonde tip his head back as he cums with a drawn out moan—the final push over the edge. his spend drips down over the divots of his knuckles, and he gives a few more half-hearted pumps of his hand to ride out his own end with a shudder.

it’s quiet for a moment in the your house. you hear the wind whistling outside through the windchimes vash had made for you, the sound of panting breaths, and the slowing beat of your racing pulse.

“what a mess you two made,” nicholas is the first to shatter the stillness, his tone wry. he clicks his tongue behind his teeth, eyeing the smear of wetness at the edge of the table that’s dripped down the inside of your thighs to pool there and the cum dripping from vash’s trembling grip. nico reaches up and takes vash’s soiled hand, dragging his fingers through your mess. the brunette shoots you a mischievous look, and then lifts sticky digits to his swollen lips and cleans them off with a flick of his pink tongue.

vash slackens as nicholas’s lips wrap around him, like the tension he’s been carrying since they got home–from the botched hunt, the long days away, and the argument they'd had that has been weighing on him–dissipates with the gesture. once vash’s hand is mostly clean, nicholas pulls back and places a kiss to his palm.

the two of them share a look, and wordlessly you know that all has been forgiven.

their eyes return to you, next.

“how are you doing up there, princess?” nicholas teases, his eyes scanning over your dishevelled form.

“good,” you reply, your lips curling up into a soft, satisfied smile. with a bit of effort, you regain your bearings and push yourself onto your elbows. vash quickly slips a hand behind your back to steady you, and you shoot him a coy look of thanks.

“just good?” nicholas asks as rises from the floor, his knees crack and he winces, but he shakes it off quickly. his palm comes to rest flat against the tabletop and leans down close to you. the smell of tobacco is almost gone now, replaced with something a little headier, a little more primal, but you enjoy it just as much.

“great even,” you say softly, and he kisses you to hide the smile on his face. the kiss is brief but welcome, and soon nicholas is helping you up off the table and back onto your own feet, your nightdress falling back into place as he smoothes his palm along the curves of your body. you lean into his side, batting your lashes up at him as you purse your lips. “i distinctly remember someone making me me a promise about taking me to bed, though.”

nicholas rolls his eyes, but it’s an expression that bleeds fondness more than anything else. “yeah well, i didn’t wanna wake this one up,” he replies, reaching out and ruffling vash’s already messy hair.

“hey,” the blonde complains as he bats away his hand, and nicholas covers a laugh by burying his face in the crook of your neck. you giggle too and it only seems to make vash more wounded. “i’m awake now.”

nicholas lifts his face from the crook of your neck, resting his temple against your own. you can hear the smugness in his tone as he replies “want me to make you regret it?”

vash eyes widen, and he blushes a little more.

you reach up, and vash dips down like he knows what you're reaching for even without you having to say it. you take your time carefully brushing his hair back into something more closely resembling its usual state, and his eyes shut contently as you trace your fingertips along his scalp. once you're satisfied with the result, you take his face in your palms, enjoying the warmth of his blush against your skin.

“it's good to have you home, boys,” you whisper with nicholas still wrapped around you, cradling vash’s cheeks in your hands. "i was lonely without you."

vash's eyes open once more–his pupils wide again like they had been not long prior–and at your side nicholas's arm tightens around your waist. you feel the press of something hot and hard against your hip, and you swallow thickly as saliva pools under your tongue.

"jeez, you really know how to make us feel guilty, huh?" he murmurs, his tone dry but noticeably tight. you feel the soft brush of his lips against the shell of your ear as he nuzzles closer, and you can't miss the draw of his suddenly more laboured breaths.

"guess you'll just have to make it up to me," you whisper back to him. you hoped your tone would be playful, but it's too anticipatory, too breathless, to have bite. your eyes are still trained on vash's, watching as they grow hungrier with every passing thump of your quickening heart.

"well, you know where our bed is, kid," nicholas whispers, and his voice makes you shiver when the heat of his breath tickles the side of your cheek. he nips at the sensitive patch of skin just below your ear, the sharp drag of teeth that you know would never truly harm you. "or are you waiting for me to carry you there, too?"

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #wolfwood x reader #nicholas wolfwood x reader #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun stampede fic #trigun fic #writing #poly vashwood

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tsireyasluvr · 9 days

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Everything I am

Lo’ak x Fem Omatikaya!Reader

Authors note: this is porn with very little plot but at the same time it’s centred around the plot..? kinda like background noise? i don’t know but enjoy<3

Summary: Lo’ak had to leave home, which meant he had to leave you.

Warnings: Nsfw, minors dni!!, 18+, Aged up!characters, aged up! Lo’ak, angst, smut, fingering, p in v, crying, lowkey no happy ending sorry guys ☹️, making out, lmk if i missed anything

He had always swept you off your feet, the clans troublemaker knows exactly how to chase a thrill and knock the wind right out of your lungs. In fact, he did it better than anyone else. No one had quite the effect he had on you, making you so reactive to everything that has to do with him.

Your cunt fluttered around his fingers as you came around the digits, your walls clenching so tight around only two of his fingers it made it harder for him to move his hand at all. Lo’ak groans deeply, nose pressed to the crook of your neck as he took in your scent “fuck, i’m gonna miss this so fuckin much, mama”

and just like that, you felt your stomach drop again. the moment of bliss was so short lived.

why’d he have to say that? you were already so torn up about it. instantly you felt the tears well up again, your hands coming up to tangle in his braids, almost like reassuring yourself that he was right there as you kept him pressed to your chest. “don’t say that” you whisper, voice a little shaky as you feel the tears start to pour again.

Lo’ak instantly pulled back, frowning at the sight of your tears as he softly withdrew his hand from between your legs, opting to wrap it around your hip and bringing the other to cradle your face. He wiped away the tears with his thumb as he looked into your eyes, feeling so much guilt for even just mentioning it again “Don’t cry, baby. I promise i’ll be back, i love you too much to ever stay away for long, you know that”

And yet you couldn’t help but let out a sob, your lip quivering as you held onto his wrist, your hands soft despite the firm grip you had. “please don’t go”

His insides hurt from the sight of you, from the sound of your shaky pleading. he couldn’t wrap his head around how much he mattered to you, and yet, that’s exactly how he felt about you. He didn’t know how to make this better.

His hands trembled as they held onto you, both resting against your cheeks now. “i don’t want to, mama. please believe me” He said softly, struggling to keep his emotions at bay as his voice cracked a little.

You tilted your chin up, tears still streaking down your cheeks and onto his palms as you pressed your lips to his. “please” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut as you willed for your body to stop shaking “please, Lolo.” You plead between kisses, knowing that no matter what you said, he wasn’t the one that got to make that decision.

He just groans as he returns your kisses, his hands moving up and down your body to gently caress and soothe you. “Fuck, mama, please don’t cry” He murmured against your lips, “i don’t want to see you like this”

but wasn’t it his fault?

Now you were feeling guilty for even thinking that. But it’s so hard not to blame him. He wasn’t responsible for the RDA returning. He wasn’t the one that made the decision for the Sully’s to flee. It’s not his fault that his father, and family was being hunted. This was a conflict created since before he was born. And yet, it still felt like he was the one making the choice to leave you.

“i’m sorry” you whimper, unable to control your crying. But you tried. It wasn’t fair to him.

His hands continued moving down your body, palming and squeezing at your flesh, both in comfort for him and you. “Just.. just let me make you feel good, okay?” He mutters against your lips

“Lo’ak-“ You breathe out, but he cuts you off with a deep, desperate kiss, tongue slowing slipping into your mouth. He pressed his body to yours, hand drifting up to your breast, squeezing every bit of flesh in his wake before murmuring “come on, mama. let me make this better, yeah?”

How could you deny him anything?

You only nod at that, cheeks still wet with tears. Lo’ak smiled down softly at you, simply reaching up to wipe them away again, like he always has. “Thats my perfect girl”

He laid you back, crawling over you while still cupping your cheek with one hand. You held onto it, turning your face to press kisses to his fingertips and palm, not seeing how every touch of your lips made him melt like putty at your feet. Lo’aks eyes fill with love and desire as he watches you, his cock hardening at how needy you looked for him.

He gently pulled his hand away, leaning down to kiss your lips again, snaking his touch down to between your legs again before you caught his wrist. Pulling back from the kiss, you look into his eyes “I just want you, lo’ak.”

He swallows thickly at that, about to respond before you softly nudge him to lay back against the hammock. he wordlessly follows your every request, palms coming up to rest on your hips when you sit on his lap. You look down at him, taking in all his features. He really was beautiful, your handsome mate.

His amber eyes watched you, pupils blown from excitement. His braids loose from the ponytail, splayed out beneath him like a halo. His blue chest heaving, decorated in the jagged stripes with the pretty tanhi’s littering his body, trailing down and past his V-line. Fuck he was so pretty, how could anyone see him differently?

Despite how he may deem himself, outcast or not, he was always perfect in your eyes, no matter what. You wanted to have his features memorized forever, burned into your memory.

Lo’ak squeezed your hips again, sitting up as he slid a hand up your back and to your neck, gripping it from behind. “i’m right here, mama.” He says, almost like he could read your thoughts.

Not for long, though. you wanted to tell him. But you kept quiet, only nodding. “i know” you whisper, looking at him with your pretty green eyes, making him weak as always. He lifted your hips gently, leaning in to kiss your lips as he slowly sunk into your heat, both of you shuddering instantly when he bottomed out. “fuck, i love you so much, pretty girl” he moans against your mouth

you whimper at the stretch, hand tightly grasping his shoulder and the other holding onto his braids, subconsciously tugging on it from the pain and pleasure of it all. He hissed at the feeling, hands digging into your soft and squishy flesh while pulling back a little to look at you, taking in your pretty expressions.

He began thrusting into you, getting deeper with every stroke, shushing your whimpers with sweet nothings spoke into your ear before coming in to kiss you again, hand sinking into your hair to hold you closer.

you just moan, his slow and sloppy kisses distracting you from the painful stretch as he reached down to play with your clit until you felt nothing but pleasure. your stomach filled with butterflies, whining into the kiss as he rubbed the gentle circles into your nub.

Sex with Lo’ak is rarely ever slow. Not that he’s not a romantic, but he knows what makes you both feel good, and usually it’s a lot more rough than this. But something about how he was right now, slow and deep like he was trying to memorize every inch of you even from within was making you feel like you would fall apart at any moment.

His tongue slides against your own, curling around it while hungrily devouring your lips as he thrusts deeper into you, tip of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot over and over again. something about this angle, being sat in his lap with his arms cradling you edged you on harder than you thought it would. You felt taken care of, protected, loved. Cherished.

You didn’t want to let him go.

You let out a sob, pulling away to pant softly against his lips. His brows instantly furrowed in concern, hand brushing away stray hairs from your face. “baby?” He asks softly, eyes searching yours.

“Just feels so good” you whimper, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. You looked into his eyes, looking at him with so much pure love and adoration but also longing, hurt from knowing how much it’ll kill you when he leaves.

Lo’ak groans, his hips slamming against yours as he picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster into you. His hand pulls lightly on your hair, forcing your head back so he could kiss along your jawline and down to your neck, licking and sucking at your flesh.

Every lick of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure straight to your dripping cunt, making you writhe in his arms, so desperate for that release. He could tell you were close, just like you could tell he was too from the way his cock kept twitching inside you.

You suddenly felt his teeth biting down on your skin, fangs grazing the crook of your neck in an effort to mark you as his, continuing to fuck into you with all of his strength. you can’t help but cry out, the sting of the bite painful but at least you knew when he would be gone tomorrow morning, his mark would be a bittersweet reminder of where he truly belonged.

Lo’ak growls, the vibrations against your neck sending shivers up your spine. “Mama, i’m gonna cum, need you to cum with me, please” He groans, thumb back to your clit, rubbing the tight circles with practiced ease. He knew your body better than his own at this point.

you nod your head feverishly, knowing you would burst at any moment, the coil inside your tummy getting tighter and tighter. “Lo’ak” you mewl, brows furrowed together in pleasure and cheeks flushed from how good it felt, clenching around him tightly. He let out a whimper, burying his face in your neck as his hips stuttered before he thrust as deep as he could, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum inside you.

That triggered your own release, making you moan in his ear with your back arched, nails digging into your skin as he shushed you with soft kisses and praises. “I love you, I love you so fucking much mama, my perfect girl”

Lo’ak holds you close to his body, not making any move to pull out of you as you rest your head on his shoulder, body curled into his. Eventually he lays you both back, your head to his chest while he runs his hand over your back soothingly, tracing patterns onto your skin while trying to desperately ignore what tomorrow would bring.

Until neither of you could, and it was time to say goodbye.

#avatar #lo’ak sully #avatar twow #lo’ak #avatar the way of water #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak smut #lo’ak sully smut #aged up #lo’ak x navi!reader #lo’ak x omaticaya!reader #lo’ak x fem!reader #lo’ak x reader smut #avatar x reader #avatar smut #divider by cafekitsune

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asumofwords · 9 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Violence, blood, gore, death.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels, bit of a longer chapter than usual. My posting might be staggered as I have some life stuff happening that is unavoidable. Enjoy <3 apologies in advance

Chapter 90: Omission

Waking the morning after such a harrowing blow was delivered, was interesting to say the least. Aemond was still holding you to him, and when you had shifted in his grip, he did not press a kiss to your forehead as he usually would.

Instead, he released you, and rolled to the side of the bed to dress himself in the crinkled white tunic upon the floor and his discarded breeches.

You sat up in the bed as you watched him, the weight of the necklace against your throat reminding you of the reality of the situation. You let yourself smile victoriously as his back was turned before scooting to the edge of the bed.

Your entire body ached, and when you had swung your legs off the edge of the mattress, pain struck through your core and body. You hissed loudly, one hand coming to press at your stomach, the other grasping the front of your throat, Aemond’s roughness ebbing into the flesh.

Aemond watched from the side of the chambers as you moved to stand, wincing at the dull throbbing through your body. He had been rough, almost frighteningly so, and yet it felt good, and you had still come out having won.

You pulled your chemise over your head, breathing through the stiffness of your joints before pulling the robe around your body tightly. Aemond had sent word for the maids, and by the time you had come to the table, they had arrived with food in tow.

Pulling a chair out to sit at the table, you sat down, wincing and tensing at the pain that rocked through your core. You shifted yourself forward, leaning on an angle to take the weight and pressure off of your bruised centre.

Aemond watched you intensely the entire time, eye flitting to the necklace that was still clasped around your neck, and no doubt the small smattering of bruises from his hands.

As the maids placed the food down in front of you, they placed a small pile of mixed meats, pork sitting in the centre. You had to fight the urge to gag as you looked at it and smelt its pungent scent. Raising a shaky hand, you lifted to your lips and looked to the girls.

“Amala, Could I ask that you please not bring pork anymore?” Your voice crackled slightly.

The maid looked to you in concern, before she rushed to grasp the plate, lifting it up and way from the table, “My Apologies, Your Grace. I will ensure that you are given pork no longer.” Her eyes dropped to your neck, then back to your face.

You nodded thankfully, dropping your hand back into your lap as you swallowed dryly, “Thank you.”

Aemond watched you, almost in amusement as you ate breakfast together in your chambers.

“Are you feeling alright?” Smugness in his tone as he looked at the way you sat.

“Perfectly fine.” You snipped, attempting to straighten your posture, only for you to grimace at the sharp ache.

“Perhaps I should have forced you to eat the pork as punishment.” He mused, forkful of tomato lifting to his lips.

You sneered at him, feeling sick at the thought, “Perhaps I should feed you to Vermithor.”

“Temper, temper.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hm.”

The day continued on after you ate and were dressed for the day, necklace still around your neck like a medallion. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you, but by and large, it was ignored. You moved to the library together, Aemond mocking your slow walk as the ache between your thighs nipped at you the entire way there. Once in the library, you sat opposite each other for a time, book in your lap, before Aemond stood, moving to a large oak table where scrolls and a quill were waiting.

You watched him for as he wrote, eye concentrated on what was being written as one long hand held the quill, and the other flicked through various other letters and tomes spread amongst the desk.

The only sound in the library at that time was the crackling fire, the turn of a page, or the incessant scratching of a quill.

“How did you do it?” Aemond’s voice cut suddenly through the library. His concentration did not leave the page as he continued to write, the unanswered question hanging above the two of you.

“Do what?” You replied dumbly, watching as his eye flicked to yours in annoyance if ever so briefly, before back to the page.

“Alys.”

It came out like a purr. Or a restrained growl. And in that moment you thought of how it would have sounded for her to hear his name in her ear.

Did he sigh into her skin like he did yours?

Did 'Alys' fall from his lips like a prayer?

Did he beg?

Make demands with it?

As the thoughts curled and multiplied, you were more gladded for her being dead than ever, jealousy twisting in your chest. You didn’t respond to Aemond’s open ended question. And you wanted him to sit in the silence a while longer. To sit in his own questions of ‘what if’s?’.

How did you find her?

How did you send word?

What did you ask?

What did you do?

It was all on the tip of his tongue, but Aemond settled with something more forthcoming.

“How did you get her killed?”

Your gaze was met with a violet and sapphire one, the quill in his hand being lifted from the parchment as he stared at you in waiting.

Waiting for your confession.

Waiting for your response.

Waiting for an inkling of regret or another show of pride.

But you wouldn’t give it to him.

The thing strangest thing of all however, something that Aemond would not ever tell you, was that he was impressed. Proud even, amongst the pure and utter rage within and a lingering piece of grief that he swatted away like a fly.

Upon realising you would not elaborate on your ability to have a woman and her unborn child killed, Aemond turned back to his page, pressing the quill into the parchment with little more force than needed and mumbled, “There is a traitor in our midsts.”

Anxiety crawled through your veins, and you took a dry attempt at swallowing the cotton that had formed in your mouth.

“Larys.” You breathed into the library.

Aemond lifted his head at the sound of your voice and looked at you, as you twisted your hands in your lap. You blinked at him thrice, as you continued to twirl your fingers around each other, "When you left, I spoke to him.”

Not a complete lie, you thought. You had spoken to him once about Alys.

The One-Eyed Prince’s gaze was piercing, turning his undivided attention to you, he stayed silent to encourage you to continue, the quill now resting beside the ink pot.

Taking a steadying breath, you continued, “I was desperate. Every time you left I feared- Aegon would come for me again.” Your voice cracked.

Not a lie.

“And he did come, and I did what I had to do in your absence.” Lie, you watched his face drop, "I didn’t want you gone, especially since I knew I was with child. Aegon only sends you to Harrenhal because he knew about her. He knew it would upset me, he knew it would tear us apart and leave me alone with him.” The air around you grew cold, and you fought off the sudden anger that rose, “And I couldn’t live another day knowing that you were in the bed with another woman.”

“You’re mine, as I am yours. Fire and blood, Aemond. And when I told Larys, he assured me that he would take care of it... For a price.” You looked away from your uncles gaze and to your hands, pulling a piece of skin from the cuticle.

“A price?”

You swallowed.

“What did you give him?”

You don’t answer, and let Aemond stew on the false possibilities.

Did you offer him money?

No. You had none but what was in the Keep, and Aegon could give plenty more.

Was it secrets?

Possibly.

Or was it your body? And the promise of something else?

Anger moved through Aemond at the thought of you giving yourself to Larys to secure him at your side.

The Prince nodded, reaching to pick up the quill once more, attending to his duties. His brothers duties. Which made him all the more bitter and resentful, the sound of the quill scratching harshly at the parchment replacing the once almost quiet.

You watched with great attentiveness at the way his brow was drawn, and his lip was twitched. But the Prince did not rebuke your improvised lie and answer, and until his hand had reached for another piece of paper, you did not look away, sure that he would speak again.

He didn’t.

The day ended slowly, what with all the tension and sudden anxiety that bled from you. But if Aemond was suspicious of your response, he did not show it, and even brushed hair from your shoulder as you walked together back to your shared chambers.

You dined side by side, and when you went to bed, Aemond had tried to lay between your legs. You had winced, and complained that you were too sore from the evening before, and in a way of apology that only Aemond seemed to know how to do, he slid down the bed and brought you to your peak upon his tongue.

The next morning when you woke, it was as though things were moving back to the way things were before Alys. He held you, and kissed the top of your head, but you knew that he would still be angry.

Yet the small confession you had made the nights before, the shortest of three words. Seven letters. That was what pulled him back. That was more powerful than any dragon, or magic, or Gods known to the realm.

He would forgive you, you knew this. But it would take time, and as always, time was what you had.

Amala and Joanna made sure to not have pork brought to the chambers and you were thankful for it, not worrying that the meat would upset your stomach greatly. Aemond ate with you, and offered small conversation, telling you of where he was up to in ‘The Lovers of Queen Nymeria’. You hummed in agreement to what he discussed, and when the time came, he left to his duties with the King, leaving you to your own devices in the chambers.

Even still, you wore the necklace and refused to take it off.

A warning to all that you were still a threat if pushed.

You were sitting atop the chemise, legs tucked beneath you when the doors of the chambers swung open. Your head snapped to the entrance to see Ser Cole and two other guards storm the chambers, coming towards you.

You stood from your seat, book dropping to the floor below.

“What is the meaning of this?” You demanded, watching as Ser Criston stood by the door still, watching the guards come to grab you.

You jerked, trying to get away from them, but there was nowhere to go. Large hands grasped your arms tightly and painfully, and your heart rose into your throat.

You fought hard in their hold, trying to rip your arms away from them as they began to drag you out of the chambers.

“Stop! Let go of me!” You yelled, feet trying to dig themselves into the stone below.

The two men dragged you past Ser Cole who looked down at you from his nose.

“What the fuck is going on?” You snapped, trying to twist your arms from their bruising grip as they continued to pull you down the corridors, Ser Criston following behind you. You kept your head turned towards him, watching him for answers.

“Wheres Aemond?!”

Ser Cole didn't spare you a second glance.

Fear trickled down your spine.

Aemond.

The guards continued to pull you down the stairs, none of the men answering your burning questions and demands, uour heart beating against yourubs.

“Unhand me, you cock sucking cunts.” You growled.

The large doors to the throne room opened, the men pulling you inside with more force than necessary. Ser Cole announced you to the room, the guards dragging you up towards the Iron Throne.

Aegon seated atop.

“Vestan jiōragon hen, ao doru-borto qogralbar orvortas. Ossēninna ao!” I said get off, you stupid fucking cunts. I will kill you.

Aegon laughed heartily atop the throne, staring down at you from the thousands of melted swords, crown atop his head. His green robes shimmered in the light, and the golden clasp across the pummels of his shoulders pulled down heavily on the silk.

Aemond stood at the bottom of the steps to the left of throne, looking just as confused as you were. But the fleeting look of trepidation across his face disappeared with a tightness of his jaw and a flicker of rage.

“Y/n Velaryon. You have been accused of treason-“ Aegon began jovially before the small council.

“The fuck is this?” You called out angrily interrupting, still trying to rip your arms from the mens grip, their fingers pinching your skin.

But Aegon ignored your cries and continued, “Of conspiring with Queen Rhaenyra against a true Targaryen heir.”

Your eyes flicked back and forth between Aemond and Aegon, confusion and fear settling into your skin.

“Treason? Aemond? What does he mean? What heir?” You struggled against their arms, desperate to get away, “I have done nothing, you thick bastard!”

Aegon raised his brows at you, lips pulled down in a frown as he flicked his hand upwards. From the shadows came forth a man, the beat of his cane against the floor echoing in the chambers.

You growled as Larys Strong moved closer to the bottom of the throne, looking at you with what could only be described as his own form of victory.

But at the sight of Larys, you felt your heart quicken.

“Ao doru-borto orvorta, konīr iksis daor Targārien dārilaros yn ñuhon. Iksan lēda riña iēdrosa!” You stupid cunt, there is no Targaryen heir but mine. I am with child still! You sneered at the King, venom dripping from your tongue.

Aegon looked to Ser Cole, who still stood behind you, "If the Princess speaks again out of turn, cut out her tongue.”

You blanched, mouth open as you looked at Aemond in fear, pleading him with your eyes.

Aemond did not move.

He simply observed.

You fool.

You stupid fool.

He would never betray them for you.

“Do you deny the charges brought against you?” The King’s voice echoed through the room, and you watched as Alicent shifted anxiously atop her feet from the side of the room with Otto Hightower.

“I deny all. I know not of the charges you speak.” You grit out, hands in fists as you stiled in the guards arms.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“You have conspired against the Crown, and murdered an unborn Prince.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You swallowed thickly.

“I know not of what you speak of. I am still pregnant with the child.”

Aegon huffed, “Not that child, you dolt.” You sneered at him, “The bastards.”

Your eyes flicked to Aemond’s and betrayal sunk into your chest.

He told them.

“Larys, tell the council what you told me.” Aegon demanded, his violet eyes still on yours as you gazed upon your husband who stood and did nothing.

Liar.

Betrayer.

Coward.

“I know what whispers I have been told, Your Grace.” Larys began, both hands on his cane in front of him as he looked at you, “Though, I know the Princess is not truly to blame.”

“What?” A small whisper of disbelief left your lips.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The Halls doors opened again loudly, and the sound of more guards entering came from behind. You stretched your neck back to try and see who was being brought into the chambers, but Ser Cole blocked your path of vision.

Your heart raced in your chest as you listened to the footsteps, feet that did not fight, feet that didn’t not scuffle, nor get dragged across the stones.

Feet that came to stand directly beside you.

You came face to face with the Maester.

Horror curdled inside of you as you looked at him, his eyes soft as he gave the most imperceivable nod.

A silent, it’s okay.

But it wasn’t okay.

And it would never be okay.

“One of my spiders witnessed the Maester send a raven from down near the abandoned docks at night.” Larys began, and your teeth ground together painfully, “Now what could a Maester need at the hour of the owl alone that the King could not provide? A Maester who had nursed the Princess back to health, and recently attended to her needs involving her current state.”

Aegon hummed.

Aemond was deathly still.

“Well?” Aegon called into the chambers, booming voice echoing through the space, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Your head turned to face the Maester, watching as he merely blinked at the man in front of him, no words leaving his lips.

Ser Cole stepped forward, looming over the older man who was forced to his knees by the guards, the thump of his bones being jarred into the stones surrounding you.

Your gut turned, and your breathing shallowed.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Answer the King.” Ser Cole demanded, “For your treason.”

If they killed him, you would lose everything.

“It wasn’t him!” You called out, “He had no part in this. I forced him. I forced him to do it! The Maester had no play in this." Your eyes pleaded with Aegon before flicking back to Aemond, who had not shifted an inch from where he last was.

“Aemond, please. Tell him!”

Your pleading was ignored.

Panic continued to rise within, the walls around you seemingly getting smaller, and the sudden appearance of a silver and brunette head came behind Aemond. You blinked, feeling tears fall down your cheeks.

“Kepus! Ēza gaomagon daorun pirta.” Uncle! He has done nothing wrong.

Aegon laughed at you, leaning an elbow against the arm of the throne, sharp blades catching his robes as they moved, “Let the Maester speak for himself.”

Your eyes jumped back to the Maester, the guards holding you further away from him as you tried to go towards him. The old man breathed, blinking at Aegon with no sense of fear. No sense of impending doom. No worries, or anger. He just simply was.

He had made his peace.

No.

“You are no King.” The words echoed through the chambers, and you watched Aegon’s face of joy twist to anger.

The King stood from the throne, slowly stalking down the steps of it towards you both. You wriggled in the guards grip again, trying to get to the Maester and put yourself between him and Aegon.

The Blackfyre blade at Aegon’s side swayed with heavy intent as he came towards you both, one hand atop the winged hilt, the long blade peeking beneath the green coat that he wore. The closer he got, the more your eyes focused on the way his hand moved to grasp the sword your grandsire once had, unsheathing it in the throne room.

Your eyes flicked to Aemond, who seemed to twitch in his spot, a small step taken forward towards you, his hands in fists before the Maester spoke again.

“Long live the Queen.” He sneered at Aegon.

You turned your head to look at him as Aegon’s arm swung into the air and was cast back down just as quick.

Your ears began to ring, and all you could feel was your lungs that burned from the breath that was stuck in your throat.

Dracarys, came the whisper of Lucerys, right by your ear.

You blinked.

The room was so cold.

So cold.

And so strangely quiet.

Blood had begun to pool from the Maester’s limp body, oozing out of the stump which once held his head atop. Bones and gore were exposed to the stone floor. And the more you looked at it, the more you could not look away.

The old mans eggshell grey robes soon bled to a deep red, and then deeper yet, almost black as the wetness sunk in. The head faced away from you on the stone floors below.

Pain rolled through your stomach as you looked at the body.

At the man who had helped.

At the man who had now died for you.

You couldn’t hear anything.

You couldn’t do anything.

Nothing but feel.

Grief.

Sorrow.

Hopelessness.

And rage.

Dracarys, Luc whispered again louder.

The pool of blood continued to grow wider, its thick substance spreading across the large stones, having fallen where Vaemond Velaryon once had, both of their lives sinking into the cracks of the Red Keep. And there they would stay for eternity more.

Their names would disappear.

Their memories would go with them.

But their blood would stay within the walls that they were spilt in.

Just like the many men who had built the Keep.

Another ripple of pain coursed through you, and your hand flew to your stomach, the guards having let go of you.

Dracarys.

“Shut up!” You screamed, looking at the blood, the room suddenly becoming unbearable loud, as though cotton had been pulled away from your ears.

Aegon’s laugh throbbed in your head as you looked at the corpse, chest heaving.

Your hand spread against your stomach tightly as you began to feel sick.

Something was wrong.

You doubled over and whimpered as yet another wave of agony rolled through you, your heart racing in your chest at the sickness in your stomach.

You gasped loudly in the chambers, loud footsteps racing towards you, and yet you could not tear your eyes away from the Maester who lay beside you.

“Y/n?” Aemond’s soft voice floated into your ear with concern.

“Something’s wrong.” You uttered, hand pressing against your stomach as another powerful cramp rolled through you.

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chrisevansonly · 4 months

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜 #8)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: there is nothing like christmas eve with charles, this year it just got a bit sweeter

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none very cute and fluffy

𝐚/𝐧: eeeeek christmas eve fic!!!! i wanted this to be super cute and just idk special so i hope you all enjoy p.s. no french in this one<3

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Christmas time with Charles was always magical, in every way possible he made the holiday season so special for you, and it had been that way since you’d started seeing each other almost five whole years ago. Five Christmas’s together and they just kept getting more wonderful with every passing year.

What can he say, Charles loved to spoil you.

Today was nothing short of that, it was Christmas Eve and he’d pulled out all the stops, breakfast at your favourite cafe and now he’d taken you to the mountains to see a little snow and go on a winter hike, a tradition the two of you had.

“Are you warm enough amour?”

“Mhm thank you, it’s really pretty up here”

Getting away from Monaco for a few hours on Christmas Eve before all your dinner’s and events happened over the next few days.

“I have one thing to show you on the trail before we go back, they just added it” came Charles’s voice from behind you

“Okay, is it super far?”

“Nope just up here”

He sent you a smile and a wink as he took your hand, walking you up a small cut off path and to a balcony that over looked the snow covered trees, a fire burning at the centre of the deck, it was stunning.

“Oh wow…Char this is beautiful!”

Resting on the far railing your eyes scanned the view, taking your phone out and capturing a moment you would for sure remember for the rest of your life. It wasn’t until Charles cleared his throat that you turned around and just about dropped your phone.

“Char…”

“Mon amour…”

Tears were lining your eyes as you saw him down on one knee, in his finger tips a gorgeous diamond ring, that same boyish smile on his face that made you fall in love with him.

“I love you so much, you know I do..I know there is no one else on this planet better for me than you, baby you have been through hell and back with me, supported me through every step of racing and our days together…I couldn’t and would never want to experience and live a life without you in it, so..”

“Yes.”

Charles laughs, tears spilling down your cheeks as you sniffle and laugh along with him

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes Char, of course I’ll marry you baby”

Even if he knew your answer the whole time, he still felt his heart beat out of his chest, his hands a bit shaky as he slid the ring on your finger, standing up to kiss you deeply, holding you as if the world would just crumble up beneath you.

“Thank you.”

Pulling back to look at you, Charles cradled your face in his hands and swiped a few stray tears away

“You never have to thank me for loving you like you deserve”

“I love you Mr.Leclerc…”

Charles smiled and leaned forward to kiss you once more

“I love you more Mrs.Leclerc”

It was official, you were never going to get tired of hearing him call you that, what started out as a fairly normal Christmas Eve turned into something you never saw coming. Not only were you getting another Christmas with Charles and his family but you were getting all your holidays with him for the rest of your lives.

Christmas really was the most wonderful season of all..

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ceruleancattail · 4 months

Note

idol au rids,,,, WHAR IF WE WERE BOTH IDOL S OMG CERU I DONT EVN CAR JUST RIDS DO WHAEVES PLWAS DCURMBS

Dance

Sunrise au

Idol Riddle x Idol reader

Riddle was diligent. You’ve seen him at the studio enough times to know that.

He alway shut himself up in one of those wooden tiled dance rooms, practising his routine endlessly. Scrutinising his form over and over in the mirrors, until sweat glistened on his brow, twinkling under the light.

Almost like stars, shining in the night sky.

Rapping at the door with your knuckles, you stuck your head in. Immediately, the melody of Heartsabyul’s new track hit you in the face, the rhythm flowing through your ears. A cheery, uplifting tune with something a little stronger behind it.

Just like the blooming of a rose and its thorns. How fitting for the queen of roses himself, no?

Speaking of the queen, Riddle didn’t seem to notice your appearance. He was still twirling around, feet sliding across the ground like they were buttered. He leapt from one pose to the next, every movement perfectly in time with the music.

Leaning against the doorframe, you opted to keep silent. In the favour of watching Riddle dance, twisting and turning like the spirals of a rose’s petals. Spinning an elegant tale with the music and his body alone.

When the music finally came to a stop, so did he. Riddle looked like a work of art, frozen there in the centre of the room, his very posture radiating his pride and professionalism. Only then did his eyes finally leave the mirrors, widening as they meet yours.

Irises of scarlet, shimmering like rubies. You have him a sheepish smile, mouthing the words:

“Sorry for interrupting.”

Riddle immediately rushed over to you, cheeks tinted pink from the exertion. He reaches for the door, holding it open for you.

“My apologises,I didn’t notice you were there. Were you standing there all this time?”

Shoulders shivering with laughter, you allowed yourself to be guided in, that sheepish grin still stuck onto your lips.

“Yeah, but it didn’t feel that long, actually. Honestly? When the music stopped, I was a little disappointed.

Part of me wished that you’ll keep dancing, even just for a little longer.”

The words just slipped off your tongue, like butter into a pan. Immediately, your hands flew up to your mouth, cupping it in shock. As if you could scoop back all the things you just said, swallowing them back down. Your cheeks burnt, hell, you could feel glowing red hot.

A shaky cough was choked out from beside you, echoing through the room. Glancing upwards, you were met with Riddle’s crimson complexion. His blush bloomed across his cheeks, dying every part of his skin a rosy red. His scarlet eyes were frozen in place, eyelids blinking away. Almost like a startled deer, trying to process whatever just slipped out of your lips.

A pause of silence, before you heard a mutter. A faint voice, mumbling softly.

“I like watching you dance too.”

Leaning towards Riddle, you nudge him playfully in the arm.

“Is that the only thing you like about me, hm?”

The crimson on his cheeks grew a little brighter.

“Of course not! I… I do like you. Quite a bit..

In fact….”

Dropping to a knee, Riddle thrusts his hand forward. Offering his palm to you. The other hand was placed over his heart, as he looked at you, a gentle smile dancing across his lips. An old fashioned greeting, yet it was still rather gentlemanly.

“Could I have this dance, my beloved?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #lucky charm🔷#sunrise #sunrise au #Idol au #idol

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hai7ani · 5 months

Text

橘 (TACHIBANA/JÚ) haitani rindou

nsfw (no smut), complicated relationships, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, wounds & abuse please proceed with caution

thank you for 300 followers! i thought i might as well upload this today ^^

masterlist | playlist

part iii / your lips, my lips; apocalypse

2004

Rindou had experienced true homesickness when he was 16.

Middle of December when the snow had just started falling in Tokyo, and he is home alone, disassociating to some Mozart playing at max volume along some other things (or thoughts) while laying flat on his bed. If Ran was home to hear the kind of music he is currently playing, he'd be a dead man by then.

But he doesn't care about Ran, no. He cares about you. You're the one who's been plaguing his mind -- so sticky and frustrating -- after he'd left your pouty figure back home in Kanagawa with kiss-swollen lips 5 months ago. You and your stupid, pretty lips that has taken his first kiss, your laugh that feels a lot more effective than those pills his Mother tells him to swallow for his migraine, your soft, shaky hands when they reached up to cup his cheeks as you open your mouth wider to allow his tongue in . . .

Requiem in D Minor reaches its peak, and he finally finds it in him to turn the volume down with a click of his tongue -- he's to become a madman if he continues this any further.

It's been 2 years since the boy's moved up to Tokyo alone with his brother. Rindou doesn't think he's struggled much in adapting to the lifestyle -- in fact, it suits him a lot more than he's expected it to. He likes to think he's adapted to it sooner than Ran, although the older seems to be much more put together than he is -- judging from the listening habits and different lifestyles both brothers have chosen to adopt in this big city as two young teenagers -- because Ran is actually doing something useful right now: staying back at school for extra Physics lessons and then attending his Track and Field club meeting after class, and Rindou is here: still dressed in his uniform, still not yet finished his McDonald's that he'd abandoned at the dining table before retreating back into his room to sulk because he's been missing a certain somebody a little too much.

He admits that things are more fun in the city -- the nightlife that he finds himself getting excited to when walking past the centre of Roppongi to get back home after night class, easily accessible skate parks that he frequents with a few friends after school in his half-buttoned uniform, the drifting culture he's taken up after spending most of his savings on a second-hand MX-5 to drift illegally on weekends where he doesn't have to get up early . . . It is all so different and fresh, and Rindou thinks he hasn't felt this good while having fun before.

But you wrote him a letter 2 months ago for his birthday and he still hasn't replied to it yet.

I still think about our kiss in summer. I also miss you a whole lot. See you next summer, and again, happy 16th, 竜胆.

You'd wrote it in the ending paragraph of your lengthy four-paged letter -- all the things you wished he was there back home to experience together with you, your stupid little thoughts flashing by your head while laying flat in bed at 3 in the morning, your already-planned new year resolutions that he knows you're never going to finish despite your sudden burst of motivation, recent hobbies that you've started picking up due to extreme boredom now that December is here and everything outside is cold and slippery -- and Rindou finds himself thinking about you and you and you over and over again.

Summer of 2004 -- when he finished his can of beer and crushed it in his hands as he silently admired you through the curtains of his eyelashes. When you caught his eyes and bit your lip before shifting closer to him on the floor while fixing the loose strap of your tank top. When he inched closer to your face and smirked, before puffing out a small, warm air that smells like beer with a hint of peppermint over your cupid's bow.

When you blushed and decided to be bold by placing both hands on his sturdy chest as you knocked your forehead against his very warm and red cheek. When he looked you in the eye one last time before pressing his dry, boyish lips tight against yours that tasted a lot like your favourite honeydew flavoured lip balm and he'd smiled into it.

Sweet, peachy, and the kiss wasn't perfect; it was merely just a quick peck, but it was so lovely that he finds himself growing warm at the memory of your eyelids fluttering open when he pulled away, only to lean back in and peck at your lips once or twice more before shoving in a tongue and getting you all worked up in the process, because he just couldn't help it -- you were so addictive. You were so pretty.

You are so pretty.

The boy sits back up in one swift motion and looks out the window to his right. He stares down at the bustling, happening city below from the comfort of his high rise.

A train passes by through the underground tunnels of Roppongi. Pristine, white snowflakes falls heavily from the sky and lands on the ground before slowly piling up on the sidewalk as a young child happily tugs on her mother's hand while pointing at it. The yolk of the sun is hidden behind thick clouds, but it is still bright outside.

The wires connect. Stars align. Clouds fade away.

He blushes.

Rindou wants to kiss you again.

He glances at your crumpled letters still splayed across his desk for the past 2 months, and the boy comes to a realisation.

Things are fun in Tokyo.

Life isn't.

And the next thing he knows, he is shoving a bunch of winter clothes and a few bags of expensive taiyaki into his black Jansport, before leaving a quick note on a yellow Post-it to Ran on the coffee table while finishing up his leftover McDonald's.

Going back home for Xmas *a badly drawn Christmas tree*

Will be back before the new years... or not

Depends on my mood. C u

🖕 - ur 弟

He throws the pen down, not before doodling yet another huge, ugly and messily drawn middle finger on the remaining space in the Post-It, and he slaps it on the table.

Rindou leaves for Kanagawa in the earliest train at 5 in the evening with your letters folded, safely tucked into the left pocket of his puffer jacket with a bag of warm chocolate chip muffins placed into the confines of his jacket to keep warm on the ride home. An elderly lady sitting beside him points it out with a teasing laugh and a silly pat to his forearm.

"Who are these for?"

He says it with a lopsided smile.

"My girlfriend."

Three more days to Christmas and Rindou is standing outside of your school gate.

He'd came straight after he arrived, not bothering to phone his parents or inform his brother of his safe arrival back home. Seeing you seemed to weigh far heavier to him, judging from how he's waiting patiently in the cold for you to get out of night class. Rindou knows of your schedule well -- he's memorised it ever since you showed it to him the last time he visited home.

"Fuck," he cusses, nose growing redder and patience growing thinner with each passing moment that you don't appear at the entrance. "Did I get the wrong time?" He murmurs to himself and pulls out his phone to check. Did he perhaps be smart that day and snapped a photo of your timetable? But he's sure you finish at 8 on Tuesdays, with Math being the last period -- he remembers you complaining about it because you have always been one to hate Math, while him on the other hand, is an absolute beast at it.

White snow slowly covers his two-toned hair as he shuffles his weight from one foot to another, and a deep crease forms between his brows after realising that his stupid ass did not, in fact, be smart that day and snap a photo of your timetable.

Rindou clicks his tongue. He's contemplating on leaving -- to turn around and just go over to your house right now. Maybe you are actually home this whole time as he's stuck here pondering his thoughts and you're getting bored out of your mind.

He thinks he cannot waste another moment to see you.

And after a few more analysing and breaking down on what would be the best option to do, a voice calls out for his name. A girl's voice -- smooth and filled with so much excitement, it seems -- and he turns around to look at her.

Himeko approaches him from the entrance -- dressed in her cozy uniform and a heavy book bag is slung over her shoulder. "Rindou, you're home." She jogs up to him, leg warmers falling off her calves as she runs and stops just right in front of him. There's a wide grin stretched across her face as she stares up at the much taller boy and doe eyes squints a little from the lamppost shining down into them. Light snowflakes cover her eyelashes and she simply dusts them away with a little smile.

"Oh, hey." Rindou blinks. He then turns on his heel to head towards your house and Himeko follows along with a finger hooked onto a strap of his Jansport. "Why are you back home? It's not Summer." She states, and she soon realises that the last sentence had sounded a little stupid -- so she attempts to make it less awkward for her by asking more questions and attempting to converse with Rindou, to which the boy doesn't oppose on answering.

"It's the last week before winter break." She states while picking up her pace behind him to catch up with the boy's wider steps.

"I know. How's school?" He asks, his vacant hand shoving down into the pocket of his jacket to keep warm but Himeko nudges his elbow. He looks down and sees that she is handing him her book bag.

Rindou fishes the hand out to get a hold of the strap and he slings it over his shoulder -- just as habit allows. Himeko seems delighted at this, as she crosses her hands behind her body and starts skipping beside him on the sidewalk. But a brown bag hanging off his left hand catches her attention and curious hands starts inching towards it without him knowing.

"Just fine. It's been a little boring though, even the teachers are getting ready for the holidays." She replies. Rindou simply hums at it. He's never been great at conversations -- always the listener with you as his speaker.

And he feels a sudden jolt at the bag in his hand. He snatches it back quick, eyes sharp and movements turning defensive as he stares at the girl who is clearly shocked at his behaviour over a bag of chocolate chip muffins.

". . . What?" He clears his throat and stops in his tracks. He's getting irritated. Himeko tilts her head to the side. She points at the bag of muffins with a pointer, "Are those for me? I like muffins."

"'S for Mom. She wanted me to buy 'em before coming back." And with that, Rindou hands Himeko back her own bag to take. He doesn't say anything further, and he shoves its strap back into her hands, the weight pushing her arms down and she furrows her brows at his suddenness.

It's so awkward. But she is Himeko -- always the peacemaker of the group -- and she decides to clear the atmosphere with a change of topic.

"Ran didn’t come home with you?"

Rindou remains quiet for a while -- obviously feeling a little pissed, but ultimately, he decides to reply to her anyway.

"Nah, he's still in Tokyo. I came back without him."

"Why’d you come home then?"

"I just missed Mom's cooking, 's all." He shrugs. A lie, but Himeko doesn't need to know that. Though she beams at his response, "I went to your house for dinner yesterday. Your Mom's cooking is way too good." My house, dinner?

"Did Y/N go, too?" He asks a little too quickly, the steady beat of his chest growing quicker at the thought of you most probably sitting on his chair at his dining table while enjoying his mother's cooking before finding ways to sneak up to his room and mess with his DJ set that he'd purposely left home for you to play with. He smiles a little at the possible scene playing in his head.

The smile on Himeko's face falters a little at his sudden burst of emotion with the mention of you, but she fixes herself fast and shoots back a response just as fast.

"No, her father came home on Sunday. I haven't seen her since."

Rindou turns his head to look at the shorter girl beside with a worried expression -- a total contrast to all that he's felt just now. He stops in his tracks, and Himeko stops too -- just two steps ahead of him -- with the smile on her face completely gone now.

"What's wrong?" She asks, face full of genuine concern.

"What do you mean?" Rindou frowns.

Himeko tilts her head to the left, trying to grasp what exactly that he's asking, so she repeats her words from earlier by talking slower.

"Y/N's dad came home on Sunday . . . ? She hasn't attended classes today or yesterday. I haven't seen her since she left to pick her father up from the airport. That was Sunday. But we know how it is. Her dad's probably just looking for some family bonding time with her."

Rindou scowls at it.

No, you don't.

Though she doesn't notice it, she shifts a little awkwardly at Rindou's visible shift in mood.

"Bye." He bids curtly and he leaves Himeko behind. The boy quickens his steps and turns into the road that leads straight to your house. He can see the building from a distance and Rindou can faintly make out that the lights are on.

You must be home.

"Rindou? Where are you-" Himeko calls out, but she pauses after realising the road that he's taking. He hears faint footsteps behind him but he doesn't reply -- his beating heart way too frantic for him to say anything at this point, let alone actually think for a response.

Her words play in his head over and over again, and it gets so overwhelming to the point that he has to take a breather and fix his unruly hair that's starting to block his vision.

Your dad is home.

A step closer to your house. Snow crunches beneath his sneakers.

Your dad is home.

The gate is open. He sees the quick wagging of a fluffy tail just beside the metal.

Your dad is home.

Inu-sama sits by the gate and upon sensing his owner's childhood friend's arrival, it barks at him. And it doesn't stop barking despite Rindou being someone who it has grown so familiar with over the years of your childhood and Inu-sama's place in your family.

"Hey, bud." He reaches down to pat your old Shiba, combing down its fur and giving it a few belly rubs before reaching into the pocket of his Jansport to fish out a little treat for your dog. He's not forgotten its treats despite leaving the house in a rush. "Where's 姉さん?" He asks -- as if Inu-sama could speak -- and it can, actually. It barks again to the door after his question and Rindou takes it as a hint that you are probably inside.

But the gate is open. Weird.

So he kicks off his shoes by the entrance and brings a nervous knuckle up to knock on the door. His hearts thumps fast in his chest, breath stuttering in his throat -- not because the thought of you possibly opening the door for him makes him giddy, but because the thought of your father possibly opening the door for him makes him weak. Scared.

Rindou is scared.

Everyone is afraid of your father. Even Ran who is known to have no fear towards anyone in his life -- not even his elders -- is scared of your father. But everyone except Himeko, though. Somehow through her rose-tinted eyes she still holds on to the idea that your father is just like any other: a man who leads and a man who brings structure. But you can't blame her, for she hasn't seen your father in ages. She hasn't seen the man he has become.

And Rindou knocks again, but still, no response, so he tries his luck by twisting the knob. It's unlocked and he pushes it open. Perhaps it'll earn him a black eye for attempting to enter your house without your father's approval, but he'll risk it just this once.

"Y/N?"

He's half-expected the house to be empty -- from the state of your unlocked door and gate to the awfully quiet and icy cold atmosphere of your house. Rindou doesn't think there's anyone in the house.

That is until he looks down at the sound of a sob.

The monster has done it again.

You're crouching on the floor, surrounded by what seems to be broken shards of glass and a few blood stains tainting the marble white of your floor.

He bolts towards you in an instant, not before throwing off his bag by the foot of the door and stepping over the sharp glass to reach over to you on his sock-clad feet. They cut into his flesh and he hisses a little at the sting, but he ignores the pain, and he diverts his attention back all on you.

You're not moving from your position, but he can tell that you're crying. You're hurt -- the cuts and dark bruises that's starting to swell on your arms and legs cracks his heart at the sight, and you're cold -- God, you're so, so cold when he scoops your frail body up and into his arms, away from the wrecked floor.

Weak, shaky hands immediately move to grip on his shoulder, nails sinking into the flesh as you suck in a deep breath upon realising that there's someone holding you -- someone is touching you. You panic a little, a whine escaping your throat and you try pushing him away with all the strength that you can muster. You hadn't realised that it is Rindou. You hadn't realised that he has entered the house. It doesn't hit you that Rindou is back home in the middle of December. You continue fighting against in his arms with more tears springing up to your bloodshot eyes.

"Stop, Dad. Please. It hurts."

That alone sends the boy into a shaking mess.

But he gathers himself, and he attempts to ground you by sitting you both on the couch and pressing your cold body into his warm chest. He buries his nose in your neck and kisses the skin gently, feeling the quick pulse of your heartbeat against his lips while rubbing warm circles on your upper back -- a means to soothe you, a means to tell you that he's here. "'S me, babe. It's me." He says it so softly -- right next to your ear, only meant for you to hear, meant for you to listen.

You shudder a little at the sudden warmth invading your skin and into your bones, and it then strikes you that the person holding you is Rindou. Rindou is home. The peppermint of his smell that you've long grown to love makes its way in grounding your senses and you eventually relax in his secure hold.

You're safe now.

Rindou is home. You are not alone anymore.

And then you start crying again.

"Where's the bastard? Your mom too." He asks, tone rough but he's gentle when cleaning away the blood on your lips from being busted by no doubt a harsh strike and he wipes it off on his jacket. You hold the other hand of his on your cheek to kiss the palm. "The airport. He says he's going back to the States. Just after a day." Your voice is shaky as you try your hardest to explain to him clearly amidst your choked sobs, "Mom is still in Osaka." And he doesn't make you speak any further after that -- he simply nods at your reply and opting to hug you close to his chest and calm your cries instead.

Rindou sighs angrily at your answer, a deep breath escaping his nose. You only bury yourself closer to him at it.

So your father did actually leave you in here all alone like this and went back to continuing his career. He wonders just how long you have been staying like this, in this state.

He looks around the house to make sure the man is actually gone and his purple eyes don’t miss the heavy stacks of medical textbooks and printed samples of medical reports scattered all over the coffee table. Your test paper -- Math, Tachibana Y/N, Fail -- sits atop of the books, the papers crumpled and a little torn at the sides. The large frames that hangs on the walls of your living room -- none of them are yours, all are his -- are all displaying professional photos of him attached with the many titles and prizes awarded to him.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji, PhD in Oncology.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji, board member of Harvard Medical School.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji.

Tachibana Hiroji.

What a man of noble character and high intellect, but is such a monster behind closed doors to his only daughter, his family.

Rindou turns his head back, and he’s gentle with you - soft hands wiping away the free-flowing tears and light bloodstains off your face.

And he decides that he doesn’t want to see you like this anymore.

Rindou presses his forehead to yours.

"I'll kill him, you know?"

"No, don't. You'll-"

"I'll kill him. I promise.”

Himeko stands behind the two of you -- scared behind the couch -- with eyes so wide and a heart pumping blood so fast underneath the bones of her chest that she thinks she might die.

But a broken sob from you on the couch breaks her out of her bubble.

She looks around the house.

She looks at your state.

She takes it all in.

"But we know how it is. Her dad's probably just looking for some family bonding time with her."

Oh.

tags: @nana-osakii

this took so long omg but i had time today to finish it so here it is ^^

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading :3

#解 #橘 series #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #haitani brothers #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tr

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