#5900 followers

[astrophileous]

A Well-Kept Secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Warning(s): established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5900-ish

Author's Note: hiya! I decided to write this lil piece after seeing the fic challenge posted by @imagining-in-the-margins abt the family/found family trope. I had a lotta fun writing this one and I think it's got potential to be something more. So pls comment or message me if you wanna see me exploring with this idea (either turning it into a series of connected one-shots or multi-parters). Don't forget to like/comment/reblog and give me a follow :) I hope you enjoy! 💞

Criminal Minds Masterlist

When Hotch had notified the team to haul their asses up and drove all the way to D.C., Spencer never expected that it would also entail him having to suffer through a mini heart attack.

The series of attacks around D.C. had been dominating the 6 PM news segments in the entire country. What was initially perceived as a suspected sequence of robberies gone wrong--since the first two targets to have been hit were a bank and a prestigious auction house--soon turned into a nationwide panic as people realized that there was a bigger game at play.

After the third attack was found to have occurred in the headquarters of one of the top, up-and-coming renewable energy startups in the states, the D.C. police finally started to entertain the idea that perhaps they hadn't been dealing with their usual petty robbers at all.

And naturally, that was when the BAU had been called in.

As soon as the team entered the Metropolitan PD bullpen, they were struck with the smell of panic and the sight of chaos.

"Agent Hotchner?" A middle-aged man in a gray shirt and blue tie appeared in front of them. "My name is Detective Mills, we spoke on the phone."

"Of course, Detective." Hotch shook the other man's hand. "This is my team. Agent Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. I have two others already at the latest crime scene. What can you tell us so far?"

"As you can see--" Detective Mills gestured towards the frenzied scene behind him, "--the entire D.C. area is going haywire after news broke out about yesterday's attack. The public is demanding the city to be put on lockdown, and I'm getting pressure from above as well. We received information that nearly half the city has called in sick today."

"A classic response to mass paranoia," Spencer noted.

"Well, paranoia or not, I just want to start getting some answers." Detective Mills began to lead the team further into the bullpen. "I have every pair of hands I could spare in this. If they aren't out there chasing leads, they're here interviewing the victims, friends, and families."

"Any luck so far?" Emily asked.

"Nothing more than what you've probably seen in the files."

Detective Mills pushed open the door to an office in the corner, away from the havoc in the center of the station.

"Lieutenant Jeffreys retired a couple of weeks ago. The lucky bastard." Detective Mills scoffed jokingly. "It's the most decent space I can spare at the moment. Think you'll be fine in here?"

"It's more than enough, Detective. Thank you," Hotch replied.

"What about the witnesses from yesterday's attack? Have you had the chance to interview them?" JJ asked as the rest of the team started setting up.

"Some of my men are with them right now. But I doubt they'll have anything useful. Just like the other two cases, the attack happened while most of the office was out. The rest left behind were DOA at the latest scene."

"They're rapidly devolving," Spencer pondered out loud as he skimmed over the case files. "They went from killing a non-compliant security guard during the first attack to executing almost every witness in the last one."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"It says here there is one survivor." Spencer showed the word he had underlined in the case overview to JJ.

"Yes, there is," Detective Mills confirmed. "I had one of my men talk to her. There's not much she could give us. Thing is, she wasn't even supposed to be there."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"She didn't work in that office. She was a consultant who just happened to be visiting. Poor girl's pretty shaken up. She hid in a supply closet the entire time. She was the one who found the bodies and called 911."

"So, the perpetrators never checked the rooms while they were holding the victims hostage?" Hotch questioned.

"Not according to her statement, no. See, I thought it weird myself. Do you have any idea why?"

"Not sure." Hotch hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps our UnSubs didn't think to check because they didn't know someone was in there. Detective, you said all of the victims were the only employees of the company who didn't attend the event downtown, correct?"

"Yeah, they were the only ones who weren't listed as attendees. Why? Do you think those people were specifically targeted?"

"Unfortunately, we can't rule out anything yet this early in the investigation," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the witnesses to know more. JJ?"

"On it." JJ nodded. "What can you tell us about yesterday's sole survivor, Detective?"

"Not much. I didn't interview her personally, one of my men did. She works at a consulting engineering firm in town," Detective Mills replied. "I believe her name is... what is it called?"

When Detective Mills mentioned the name, Spencer's heart instantly crashed inside of its cage.

"What?" His hand had stopped scribbling on the board. In a matter of miliseconds, Spencer had crossed the room towards the doorway where Detective Mills was standing. "What did you say her name was?"

Dumbfounded, the detective stared at a dread-stricken Spencer before spelling out the name once more.

"Why? What's wrong?" Detective Mills asked in confusion.

JJ touched Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

But Spencer, either too alarmed or merely choosing not to acknowledge both questions, asked instead, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"In the waiting room by the pantry--"

Spencer didn't even wait for Detective Mills to form his complete thought before dashing out. JJ exchanged a glance with Emily following Spencer's sudden exit, perplexed by his odd turn of behavior.

"I'll go get him," JJ announced before leaving the room, chasing after a flurry of wavy hair and a wool-knitted purple vest sprinting across the bullpen.

The roaring commotion inside the station was almost loud enough to rival the intensity of your racing thoughts.

Almost.

At this point, you didn't think there was anything you could do anymore. The vivid images from yesterday's attack were playing continuously in your head. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you mourned the loss of sleep that you failed to get the previous night. As if the waking nightmares weren't torment enough, the images had somehow translated even more cruelly into your subconscious. You could barely close your eyes for three seconds without feeling like you had been brought back to that place.

Cold, cramped, and alone. Fearing for your life in the tiny supply closet that smelled more like death than bleach.

At the sound of the door opening, you quickly turned around in your seat to hide your face away from prying eyes. The last thing you needed at that moment was having a complete stranger seeing you fall apart in the middle of a police station.

But when the voice came carrying the sound of your name, it wasn't the voice of a complete stranger you had heard. It was a voice you knew more than you probably knew your own. A voice you loved and a voice you had longed to hear for the past gruesome twenty-four hours.

"Spencer?" You turned back towards the door, seeing the face you adored most in the whole world staring back at you.

"Sweetheart."

At the speed of a lightning, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you and gathered your broken little pieces into his arms.

Spencer's touch was everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your shoulders. As if he was checking whether you were real. That you were actually there inside his arms, and you were not a simple imagination that his mind had conjured up.

Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, you could feel the shattered pieces of yourself beginning to mend once more.

"Spencer," you uttered his name again as you pulled away, still in disbelief that he was physically there with you.

"I'm here," he promised you as he cupped your face gently.

"Spencer, what are you... How..."

"My team is working your case. We arrived half an hour ago," he explained simply. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me? I thought you were still in Alaska?"

You had previously apprised Spencer that you would be hard to reach during your trip since you would be spending most of your time at the power plant site where cellphone receptions were scarce. So when an entire day went by without him ever hearing from you, Spencer didn't have any reason to be worried.

Never in a million years would he have ever predicted that you'd be caught in the middle of a hostage situation.

That thought alone caused Spencer to squeeze your hand a little tighter than usual.

"I'm sorry, Spence," you said sincerely. "My trip ended earlier than planned. I arrived back yesterday morning. I actually wanted to surprise you last night. After yesterday's... incident, I wanted to call you, but my phone was shot--"

"Wait, what? You were shot?"

"No! No, baby. Not me. Just my phone," you assured him. "But that's why I couldn't call. I did attempt you once using this station's phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

At the new piece of information, the colors immediately drained from Spencer's face.

"That was you? Fuck. I didn't--I didn't know. I rejected the call because I didn't know it was you."

"Hey." You stopped his guilty rambling with a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here."

And then, because Spencer needed to make sure that you really were okay, he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter this time.

"Uh, Spence?"

The sound in the doorway snapped you both out of your mutual reverie. You looked up to see a blonde woman there, staring in an equal mixture of shock and confusion at the sight in front of her.

Spencer begrudgingly untangled himself from your arms before getting up to approach her.

"JJ, do you mind if I do the cognitive for this one?" Spencer asked.

The woman--JJ-- shifted her eyes a few times between you and Spencer. "Um, of course. I'll just go and inform Hotch. Tell us if you need anything."

After JJ's departure, Spencer closed the door again to award you both a much needed privacy.

He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and dragged it before sitting down right in front of you.

"I need to start the interview now, sweetheart. Think you're up for it?"

Your whole body went rigid for a matter of seconds before you forced it to restart again. It was gone as soon as it came, but Spencer noticed it just the same.

"Look at me," Spencer ordered softly, using his delicate finger to nudge your face up until he was looking straight into your eyes. "I know it's scary. I don't want you to have to relive yesterday either, but it will help us catch whoever did this."

"I've told the police everything I knew yesterday. I was hiding the entire time." Like a coward. "I didn't see anything. I don't have anything else that could help you."

"I know that, sunshine. But as I've told you before, our method is slightly different. We won't be just focusing on what you saw, but also what you smelled, or maybe even heard." Spencer took your hands then, squeezing affectionately. "I'll be here with you the entire time."

The nod you gave him was hesitant, but it was a start nonetheless. You listened intently to Spencer's words and closed your eyes just as he had instructed.

"We'll start at the beginning," you heard him say. "Why don't you tell me why you went there yesterday?"

"I, uh, received a call from my friend, Nick, after my plane landed. We had been communicating back and forth since his company seeked my consultation for one of their upcoming projects," you began. "I wasn't even supposed to work because I had requested the day off. But Nick said it didn't have to be a formal meeting, so I agreed to meet him."

"Tell me what you remember after arriving at the office."

Your mind traveled back to that specific time one day prior. You remembered walking into the place and seeing its unusual state of vacancy even though there was still a good half an hour left before lunchtime.

"I just assumed everyone had gone to lunch earlier and shrugged it off," you recalled.

Spencer nodded his head. "Did anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?"

"No? I don't... I don't know. It was only my second time being there, I'm not sure what was normal and what wasn't."

"Okay. That's okay. You're doing good so far, sweetheart," Spencer quickly interjected, trying to get you to calm down before your distress could turn into a full-blown panic. "Now, what did you do next?"

"I followed Nick into his office."

Nick was keeping his promise true. It hadn't felt like a formal meeting, just two old college buddies reminiscing about the past and discussing possibilities of the future that, of course, included the company's upcoming project which you would be working on with him.

"I excused myself to the bathroom at some point," you added. "When I first heard the commotion, I thought nothing of it. It's like the idea that a group full of armed men had taken over the building didn't even cross my mind. I mean, why would it? I was on my way back to Nick's office when I saw them."

You recalled turning a corner after exiting the bathroom only to see those figures carrying machine guns and shouting at everyone to get on their knees or put their hands above their heads. You remembered sprinting the way you had come from and opening the first door you could reach that just happened to be the supply closet.

"Let's go back to the moment you saw them," Spencer urged gently. "How many people were there? Do you remember any conspicuous detail? Maybe one of them had tattoos or spoke with an accent. Anything that distinguished them."

Taking a deep breath, you tried replaying those crucial seconds slowly in your head.

"There were four of them. I couldn't see much. They were all wearing identical black clothes."

Suddenly, an unexpected piece of memory rushed to the front of your mind. You opened your eyes in shock, meeting Spencer's curious gaze that had been kept intently on you the entire time.

"I think at least one of them is a woman," you told him.

Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"One of the guys said something about... fucking this place up. And then she laughed. I heard her. It was definitely a female laugh."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah? Do you think it'll help?"

Spencer nodded assuredly, bringing his hand to leave calming strokes on your head. "I know it will. You've done a great job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."

The praise Spencer gave eased the tension in your shoulders. As if having been granted fresh air after decades of confinement, you were finally able to let yourself breathe again.

Spencer continued his loving strokes on your head. Little by little, the weight of his touch melted the resolve you had built into a pathetic puddle on the floor. Without its mental shield protecting you, your tears sped forward, gathering in your eyes until they spilled on the vast path down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey." Spencer's voice was laden with panic after seeing you start to cry. "Sunshine, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I-I just... God." You struggled to get the words out in between sobs. "I'm a coward, Spencer."

"What?"

"All of those people... They died because I was a fucking coward."

Your admission tore into the air before stabbing Spencer right through his chest.

"Sweetheart, you know that's not true."

"But it is!" you cried out, pulling away from Spencer's grounding hold around your shaking body in favor of your own arms. "I was a coward. I ran and hid because I was too scared to die. Too scared to fight. If I had just tried a little harder, I could've called for help. That way, maybe all of those people wouldn't... And Nick wouldn't..."

A haunting image flashed behind your eyes. The image of Nick's limp and lifeless body on the floor, among those of the others. You remembered crying next to him, punching his chest, body, and arm despite having seen the gunshot wound on his forehead. It took you another five minutes before you eventually managed to gather yourself together, found a phone, and dialed 911.

Not that it made any difference. They were all already dead.

Spencer could hear his heart breaking at the sight of you curling into yourself, recoiling from his touch because you somehow believed you didn't deserve his affection at that moment. If Spencer could just transfer all of your pain towards him, he would. Seeing you beat yourself up that way over something that happened and was done to you was the worst kind of torture he ever had to endure in life.

And Spencer had been through more kinds of torture than the general population in the world.

Deciding that he had seen enough of your self-deprecating torment, he reclaimed your hands inside of his palms and urged you to look at him.

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Spencer asked incredulously. "How can you even think that way? Sweetheart, what happened to those people, to Nick, it is not your fault."

"B-but, if I hadn't run away--"

"Then you would've died, too," he cut you off. "Sunshine, there were four of them with machine guns. No one stood a single chance against them. Those people were there to kill. There was nothing you could've done."

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Spencer needed you to hear it.

He needed you to know the truth no matter how unacceptable it was.

"If you hadn't hid from them, we would've found seven bodies there instead of six. And I--" Spencer took a shuddering breath, "--I would've lost you."

Your shoulders deflated at his revelation. "Spence--"

"So please--" he searched your eyes then, using his thumb to sweep away the remaining tears under your eyes, "--stop holding yourself accountable. I promise I will do everything I can to find those people and make them pay for what they did."

Spencer's vow triggered a new wave of tears that compelled you to sink into his awaiting arms. He let you stay there until you had cried your tears dry. It was something he also secretly needed for himself after suffering through the short-lived horror over the mention of your name in relation to the heinous case. He just needed to make sure that you were okay.

A few minutes passed by with you in his arms. Eventually, Spencer had to tear himself away to finish his job. He asked you to wait as he wrapped up the transcript of your cognitive interview, along with his professional report over it.

"I need to run somewhere real quick. I promise to be back in a couple of hours," he notified JJ as he handed her the interview report. "Tell Hotch for me? Thanks."

Without waiting for his friend's reply, Spencer rushed back to the waiting room before leading you out to take you home.

Back at your apartment, Spencer guided you towards the direction of your bathroom as soon as you had stepped into the threshold.

"Are you trying to get me naked, Spencer?" you remarked playfully after he refused to let you take your clothes off yourself.

"Yes." The gleaming mischief in your eyes caused him to flick your nose lightly. "Just to get you ready for your bath. Get your head straight, will you?"

You scoffed at his back as he turned around to check the water temperature in the tub.

Once you were submerged safely inside, Spencer left the bathroom to give you some privacy. Meanwhile, he began rummaging through your drawers to pull out a change of clothes, a towel, and a clean sheet for your bed.

By the time you exited, Spencer had changed your bedsheets and lit one of your favorite candles on the bedside table. He asked you to sit down on the bed as he kneeled before you, helping you put on the pajamas he had picked out with little prints of sunflowers on them.

None of Spencer's touches were sexual. They swept over your skin with the care of an artist handling their most precious work. When his eyes found yours, you swore you could almost cry from the intense adoration that seemed to shine so brightly out of them.

As he guided you to lie on the bed, you were surprised to see him following suit. He got under the covers with you, pulling you close to tangle every inch of your limbs with his.

"I love you, Spencer," you admitted to his chest, heart heavy with the deep appreciation and overwhelming affection for the man beside you.

Spencer looked down at your confession, finding his favorite pair of eyes already looking earnestly at him. Instinctively, he reached for your chin with his fingers, tugging your face upward until he could capture your lips with his.

The kiss was slow. Careful. Filled with silent promises and discreet reassurances. When you both parted, Spencer didn't pull himself away. Instead, he let his forehead touch yours while his eyes stayed closed.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" you asked quietly.

"Yes, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

Although the two of you knew his answer was a lie, you both chose to pretend otherwise. You knew Spencer still had responsibilities to fulfill, along with a promise to you that he intended to keep. You knew that when you woke up later that evening, Spencer would already be long gone, and you would be forced to bask in the traces of himself that he had left behind.

But for now, Spencer was still there, in the comfort of your bedroom, lying on the bed next to you. And that knowledge alone was good enough for you to finally drift further into the land of sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Spencer's loving embrace.

"I'm telling you," JJ insisted, looking at her entire team minus Spencer and Hotch. "There was definitely something going on between them. Why else would he request to take over the cognitive for me?"

"Maybe he was feeling generous," Rossi deadpanned, earning an unimpressed glare from JJ.

It had been a full week since the BAU team had arrived in D.C. to investigate the series of gun attacks in the city. Just the day prior, they had successfully made their fourth arrest, bringing this case to yet another satisfying conclusion in the eye of justice.

If nothing else was amiss, they should have been on their way back to Quantico in less than an hour. In the meantime, though, JJ felt obliged to gather her team members in the middle of the bullpen to share her suspicion about a certain scene she had accidentally caught on their first day working the case.

"Pretty boy did seem more emotionally involved in this case than he usually does, though," Derek pointed out.

"Right? Right?" JJ replied almost too enthusiastically. "Come on, aren't you guys at least half as curious as I am about who this mystery girl might be? Don't you wanna try finding out who she is while we're still here?"

They all stared at each other in hesitation.

"Or, we could just ask Spencer directly and let him explain?" Emily suggested, receiving incredulous looks from the other three in response. "Yeah, you're right. What did you say her name was again?"

"I don't remember," JJ answered.

"It must be listed in the files somewhere, right?" Derek immediately sprung into action, reaching towards the scattered case files that might contain the name they were looking for.

"Just to be clear, I am not taking any part in this." Rossi sighed.

"Got it!" Derek waved the offending file in hand, giving it to JJ, who instantly began skimming over it.

"Alright. Says here that her name is..."

JJ read the name aloud when unexpectedly, an answering sound sprouted from behind them.

"Yes?"

Every single one of them turned in shock at your voice. You smiled at their wide-eyed expressions, waving your hand a little awkwardly in the air.

"You!" JJ exclaimed.

"Me?"

Emily nudged JJ in the ribs, making the blonde woman wince.

"Y-you're the witness from the startup case, right?" JJ said, trying to rectify the situation.

"That's me."

"What can we do for you, Miss?" Rossi asked, stepping forward and away from the rest of the group.

"I'm actually looking for Spencer. Do you know where he might be?"

"Spencer Reid? You know Reid?" Emily asked.

Before you had the chance to reply, the man in question came strolling into the bullpen, rambling animatedly to Hotch who was walking beside him. The moment Spencer caught sight of you, though, he immediately abandoned Hotch's side and rushed towards where you were standing.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," you told him, fitting yourself easily into Spencer's side as his arm went around your waist. "Hi, Hotch."

The older man called your name in greeting. "I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I wanted to ask you--well, all of you, actually--" you glanced around at the other team members, "--if maybe you all would let me treat you to lunch? As a thank you for your hard work on the case."

Hotch nodded in response. "It's fine with me. We don't have to be back until tonight, anyway. Everyone?"

Instead of replying to your offer, Emily voiced aloud the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"You know her?" Emily looked at Hotch before dragging her eyes away towards you. "And you know him? You know each other? How?"

You gazed up at Spencer's eyes, seeing them shining with the same mirth as the one you felt dancing in your stomach.

"I guess this is supposed to be the part where I introduce myself, isn't it?" You chuckled.

Extending your palm, you shook each of their hands while telling them your name, them responding back with theirs even though you already knew who was who long before you had even met them.

"I still don't understand," JJ admitted after you finished shaking her hand. "How did you know Spencer and Hotch?"

Once again, you looked into Spencer's eyes, a question bouncing around in yours. Spencer's nod of affirmation was the only go-ahead you needed.

It's time.

"I'm Spencer's girlfriend."

"She's my wife."

You turned your head towards Spencer in shock.

In front of you, Spencer's teammates were causing an uproar.

"Wait, what?" Emily stared dumbfoundedly.

"You have a girlfriend?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"You're married?!" JJ shrieked.

"Hold on a second," Rossi interjected, holding his palms out as if to tell everyone to stand down and calm themselves. "So which one is it? Girlfriend or wife?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting in the private VIP room of your favorite restaurant in the city with some of Spencer's closest people on earth.

"That's the craziest story I've ever heard," Emily pondered in astonishment.

Rossi, Derek, and JJ were all wearing an identical look on each of their faces after hearing the story of how you and Spencer met: by drunkenly getting married in Vegas after only knowing each other for barely one night when you both weren't even twenty-two yet.

"If someone were to tell me yesterday that there's another member of this team who also went to get married while drunk in Vegas, I would have never even thought of mentioning Spencer's name," JJ mused.

At your curious expression, Spencer explained, "Rossi also got drunkenly married in Vegas to his third ex-wife,"

"Why didn't you two get a divorce?" Emily suddenly asked.

It was something that everyone who knew about your situation with Spencer had questioned at one point or another. The real answer was because you and Spencer had both been reluctant to go through the nasty and lengthy legal process of getting a divorce. Therefore, you decided to part ways without doing anything about it, vowing to only track each other down if one of you ever needed to end the bond because of another impending marriage or any other urgent matter.

But that reason alone was usually not enough to appease people's curiosity. And over the years, you and Spencer had poked fun over that particular fact by coming up with the most outrageous lie you could muster up.

"She wanted to get a divorce," Spencer fabricated smoothly. "I persuaded her otherwise because I had this inkling that someday we were gonna fall in love."

Usually, any other people would coo sweetly at Spencer's statememt.

But these weren't any other people. These people were Spencer's family in more ways except flesh and blood, and even without their profiling skills, you knew they could see right through Spencer's little deception.

"That sounds like bullshit to me. Doesn't that sound like bullshit to you?" Emily asked, turning to JJ for support.

"Yeah, that was bullshit, alright," JJ claimed vehemently, prompting an innocent-looking grin from Spencer and a series of chuckles from everyone else.

"When did you two start dating, then?" Rossi spoke up from one end of the table.

"About two years after Vegas, right?" you estimated, to which Spencer nodded in confirmation. "He strolled into my place of work while he was on a case, and then he asked me out."

Derek sat up on his seat after hearing the new information. "Wait, when was this? Why didn't I know about this?"

"The beginning of my second year in the BAU," Spencer offered. "Elle knew."

"Elle? Elle Greenway? You told Elle but not me?" Derek looked offended.

Spender shrugged nonchalantly. "Elle was assigned with me that day."

"Unbelievable." Derek slumped back down in his chair. "Penelope is gonna freak when she finds out what she missed today."

"Penelope? Oh, she already knows," you told him.

That revelation earned a collective disbelief look across the entire table.

"Yeah... I, uh," you cleared your throat, "I actually just went shopping with her two weeks ago."

"You've got to be kidding me," Emily muttered.

"You told Penelope but not me?" Derek sounded hurt as he pointed his accusatory stare at Spencer. "You even told Hotch!"

"I didn't tell Garcia. She dug through my history and found it out herself. Had to bribe her with candies and chocolates for a whole month to keep her quiet," Spencer grumbled. "And I had to tell Hotch. We needed to add her number to my emergency contact list."

Despite Spencer's concise explanation, Derek still seemed unsatisfied by the whole ordeal.

"How long have you known?" he finally decided to ask Hotch.

"A while," the man answered from his seat at the opposite end of the table from Rossi. "They even babysat Jack a few times for me."

"I don't believe this," Derek scowled. "Pretty boy's got himself a girl for the last six years, and I never knew? Outrageous."

"Technically, we've been married even longer than that," Spencer responded, as if he was unaware of the imminent glower that Derek was sending his way. "Eight years since Vegas."

"That's longer than any of my marriage," Rossi remarked before sipping his drink.

The laugh that resonated upon Rossi's little comment elicited an affectionate smile on your lips.

"So, you live in D.C., then?" JJ asked, at last stirring the conversation away from the topic of your and Spencer's secret marriage-slash-relationship.

"I do, yeah. But most of the time, I live out of my suitcase," you answered. "My firm has clients all over the country. A few overseas, as well. I'm lucky if I even get to have an entire week to sleep uninterrupted in my own bed."

Even then, you truthfully quite enjoyed the work you had to do. You didn't mind having to travel some place new every other week. In fact, you somehow believed that your constant need to travel for your job, and Spencer for his, was one of the reasons why the two of you worked so well together.

Although people might think that two adults who had to travel for a living were a recipe for a disastrous relationship, you and Spencer had so far proven otherwise. Because of your respective schedules, you could sympathize more with the other anytime they had to go somewhere urgent for work. It only made you savor every single second you spent together because of how much precious each one of them became.

The rest of lunch unraveled with the same bucket of smiles, jokes, and laughter. It felt good to finally tell the few people who meant the world in Spencer's life the truth about your relationship. It was also a huge relief to see them opening their arms and welcoming you into the family without an ounce of hesitation.

"Hotch?" Spencer called out after everyone exited the restaurant. "Will it be okay if I stay in the city for one more night?"

"As long as you promise to be back for tomorrow's briefing," Hotch reminded sternly, but the meaningful look he passed over you before he entered his vehicle spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.

"It was so nice meeting you," JJ said as she took you in her arms. "And I'm sorry again about your friend."

"Thank you. And thanks for all of your hard work in catching those guys."

"Of course, it's what we do." JJ smiled as she pulled away. "Invite me and Emily the next time you and Penelope hang out, okay?"

"Will do," you promised.

You watched as every single one of them scrambled into the two black SUVs, waving your goodbye until the cars drove out of your sight.

"I think that went well," you commented before looking up at Spencer. "Do you?"

"I think it went as well as it could."

"So--" you began, circling your arms around Spencer's neck, "--we have more than twelve hours until you're expected back at Quantico. What do you wanna do?"

Spencer nudged your nose with his. "I can think of a few activities we can partake in."

"Really?"

"Really."

Just as he was a hairbreadth away from pressing his lips to yours, you suddenly tore yourself out of Spencer's arms.

"Like getting some frozen yogurts?" you asked giddily, smirking at the dumbfounded look that you managed to put on Spencer's face.

"Fine. Let's go get some frozen yogurts."

Spencer had to hide his amused grin at your elated squeals. He was more than content at that moment to let you produce those addictive sounds at the mere prospect of frozen yogurts.

But later that night, he had a whole different set of activities lined up to pull those same sounds out of you once more.

And it might or might not potentially involve an entirely different yet creative use of frozen yogurts as well.

Spencer simply just hadn't decided yet.

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy part ii, modern!Aemond

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // And if it feels good, then it can't be bad

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, spanking, degradation, questionable relationship dynamics, infidelity, mentions of grief/loss, no underage elements

Words: 5900

A/n: Thank you for the love on the first part! Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming parts or follow me @humanpurposes for updates. Also available to read on AO3.

The wedding of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen is turning out to be exhausting and a little overwhelming. It’s been built up for months as the event of the year in King’s Landing, extravagant and scandalous, which describes the family rather well.

Every room in the Red Keep has been booked to accommodate the city’s elite. It’s a beautiful venue, an ancient redbrick castle overlooking the bay, once a home for royalty, now the flagship of a chain of luxury hotels, and the crowning jewel in the Targaryen empire. 

She glances around the ballroom where the guests are mingling while they wait for the arrival of the newlyweds. It doesn’t take her long to spot her mother, martini in hand, making smalltalk with Corlys Velaryon, who just happens to own the largest shipping company this side of the Narrow Sea. Alys Rivers is nothing if not efficient. 

They had been surprised to receive an invitation at all, but then Rhaenyra has always valued appearances above everything else. They had hardly heard from her since Harwin’s funeral, and even then it was funny half-smiles and overcompensating niceties to gloss over the obvious pain in her eyes. That’s the thing about Rhaenyra, you can never really tell what she’s thinking.

She looked other-wordly floating down the aisle in a white satin and lace gown. Her father, Viserys, CEO of Targ Corp and patriarch of the Targaryen dynasty, walked beside her. Maybe it was the lighting in the Sept or the red and black suit, but he looked pale, and his eyes were heavy and tired. Rhaenyra’s step-daughters, Baela and Rhaena, trailed behind them in matching maroon dresses, while the three Strong boys lined up beside Daemon at the altar. A picture perfect family.

She tried not to judge Rhaenyra too harshly for wearing white– damn purity culture and the misogyny that comes with it, but she couldn’t help but think how she preferred the vintage cocktail dress she wore when she married Harwin.

She’d been too young to remember that wedding, but she’d seen the photos enough times. There was one she especially loved, of the bride and groom on the front lawn of Dragonstone, smiling to each other like they had a secret (turns out they did when Jace was born eight months later), while she and Helaena stood in front of them. Their faces were round and chubby, scrunched into the confused frown toddlers make when they’re made to wear pale pink dresses and carry round baskets of rose petals.

Alys fell out with her parents in her mid teens. She always said it was her uncle Lyonel who was there for her, who saw her through to adulthood, who offered her a room when a shitty ex-boyfriend left her with no money and a positive pregnancy test when she was twenty-two. And having no siblings, she said Harwin was more like a brother to her than a cousin.

Losing one of them would have been hard enough, but losing both had been devastating. In a lot of ways it still is.

“Harwin was so dear to us all,” was all Rhaenyra had said to them on the day of the funeral. So dear it took her just over a year to marry her own uncle.

Not that she’s in much of a position to judge.

A large, gentle hand settles on her back and Aemond hands her a flute of champagne. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

He means the ballroom. Gold paints the vaulted ceiling and trails down the walls, the pillars and the archways, as sunset bleeds in through the windows. 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says, trying to hide a grin. 

They’ve managed to avoid each other all day until now. He sat with his siblings at the ceremony, while she and Alys were on a bench at the back of the Sept.

She allows herself a better look at Aemond’s suit; midnight blue, with a subtle floral pattern that would be easy to miss if her eyes were only skimming over it, and a baby blue tie that matches his eyes perfectly. He’s cropped his hair for the occasion too, it’s shorter at the sides but still long enough at the top to run her fingers through, to tug on. He looks beautiful. He always looks beautiful.

His hand stays in place against her back, unassuming but just firm enough to keep her on edge as he leads her further into the hall. “The decor was inspired by Versailles, but the hall itself dates back to the original Keep. You’re into this sort of stuff, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t know why he needs to ask. At this point he knows better than anyone what she’s ‘into’. 

“This used to be the throne room,” she says, nodding to the platform at the end of the hall. “Imagine, the Iron Throne used to sit there and now it’s a stage for fucking a jazz band.”

The corners of his mouth curl into a reserved smile that makes her heart hum. Aemond is rarely one for obnoxious laughter, but then every time she can make him smile it feels like a little victory. It hurts a little too.

They settle at the edge of the room and his hand slips away, but he makes up for it when he leans into her, close enough that she can smell the dark, almost boozy scent of his perfume on his neck. “How are you doing, by the way?”

It’s a question she’s avoided asking herself. She spots Jace, Luke and Joff across the room, sitting down at a table with Aegon, Daeron and another guy she doesn’t recognise. They look happier than she feels, and suddenly she feels ridiculous for wallowing in her own self pity.

She shrugs. “Alright I think.”

Aemond’s face is somewhere between a frown and amusement, the face that means I can see right through you.

She shifts on her feet, looking for something else to focus on.

Larys Strong, she notices, is standing by the bar. They had run into him at the Sept, and though they’d definitely made eye contact, he made no attempt at conversation. He keeps his head low, only looking up to glare at Alys.

“Gods that man’s pathetic,” Aemond mutters, following her line of sight. “Not still upset about Harrenhal, is he?”

“Considering mum took half his clients when she left, I’d say yes. He’s always been good at holding grudges, creepy uncle Larys.” Harwin’s brother, director of what used to be King’s Landing’s most successful PR firm, recently overtaken by Rivers PR.

“Shouldn’t that be ‘creepy second cousin Larys’?” Aemond says with a little smirk.

“My version has better ring to it, rolls off the tongue easier.”

A hand suddenly slaps her shoulder and she nearly drops her glass. Aemond quickly takes it from her as Viserys Targaryen pulls her into a stiff embrace and makes a grand exclamation about love and family that she forgets to pay attention to.

She’s a little bewildered but manages to smile. “Good to see you again, Mr Targaryen,” she says. As she pulls away she catches the eye of the woman standing over his shoulder. Alicent Hightower has donned her usual shade of dark green in a velvet dress that compliments her auburn hair and elaborate gold jewellery perfectly. She has a particularly sour look on her face this evening.

“How are you, love?” Viserys asks. “Doing well I hope?”

A thousand thoughts flood her head, but she can already see the interest dying in his eyes. So she just nods.

“How is school, you’re still at school, aren’t you?”

“She’s at the university, dear” Alicent corrects him, “final year, yes?” Her lips thin as her eyes finally spares a glance for her son. “Two years behind Aemond.” 

Mother and son exchange a vacant look.

“Yes,” she says, making her best attempt at Alys’ networking voice, “I study History–”

“Excellent! Well wonderful to catch up, and good to see you too, son.”

Aemond nods in acknowledgement as his parents move away to offer a similarly shallow greeting to the next group of guests. His breath tickles over her neck as he sighs. At least Rhaenyra tries to act friendly. 

“I’m sorry–” she blurts it out, not really sure why she assumes it’s her fault.

He smiles. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

There’s an uneasy feeling of guilt settling in her stomach. She knew Aemond wasn’t on the best of terms with his parents, but she hadn’t realised it had gotten to a point where they would hardly even look at him.

Her fingertips brush over his as he hands her back the glass.

She watches his eyes as they start to skim over her lavender summer dress, the thin straps running over her shoulders, the dainty gold necklace on her neck and the gathering of silky fabric at her bust. 

“You look lovely by the way,” he says.

For a moment she forgets how to breathe. Maybe she should be used to his compliments and praises by now, but it still makes her nervous. “For a lovely occasion,” she says, taking a tentative sip.

“Hmm.”

“Not a fan of weddings?”

“Not overly fond. This…” he briefly sweeps his gaze around the room, at the endless arrangements of orchids and roses, the crystal centrepieces on the tables and the perfect smiles that are just a little too forced. “It’s all very pretentious.”

“I would have thought you like that, all the pomp and ceremony.”

He huffs a laugh as he takes her glass and casually brings it to his lips. “Call it a combination of circumstances.” He keeps his eyes on her as he tips the glass back. 

She does the same, admiring the sharp features of his face, his jaw, his chin, his neck and the way it bobs when he swallows.

He “tsks” at the dryness of the champagne and hands her back the glass. “Things with my family have never been straightforward.”

But even less so over the last year, she imagines. For most of her life, the Targaryens existed at a distance. She and Alys used to see more of the Strongs– Harwin, Rhaenyra and the boys– for birthdays, the occasional family dinner and that summer they joined them at Dragonstone. But that was before things really started to get messy, before the lawsuits and the infighting.

None of it is helped by the fact that Viserys and Alicent despise Alys. They think she’s an opportunist, desperate for some profitable connections, stealing away their golden boy. She knows her mother better than that. Alys is less of an opportunist, more of a pragmatist, and to her credit she doesn’t pretend to be oblivious to the benefits of dating the son of the wealthiest man in Westeros. 

She likes to think Aemond’s more than that though. A little less entitled than Rhaenyra, and certainly more motivated than Aegon, but brilliant in his own ways. He has a first class degree in International Relations from the University of Oldtown, a quiet but mysterious public persona, with a Hightower work ethic and an understated confidence, usually wrapped up in a Prada suit or a vintage leather jacket. 

She finishes her drink before she asks, “have you spoken to Jace and Luke yet?”

His face darkens. Another point of conflict. Aemond had a falling out with the Strong boys when they were kids, something to do with inappropriate use of a kitchen knife on Luke’s part, resulting in the scar slicing down the left side of Aemond’s face. By some miracle it managed to spare his eye.

“Might be worth saying ‘hello’ at least?” She suggests.

He glances over at their table with his lips pressed together, rubbing his thumb over his index finger.

Before she knows it her hand is on his bicep, stroking her thumb over the fabric of his suit. It’s her usual reaction when she notices he’s anxious.

His eyes meet hers. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep inhale. “Maybe later,” he mutters.

A rush of cheers and applause announces the arrival of the bride and groom. Rhaenyra has changed from the elaborate gown she wore to the Sept to a black slip dress, with rows and rows of diamonds dripping from her neck. They make their way to the high table and the guests begin to settle at the round tables around the hall. She doesn’t look back to Aemond before she heads for Jace and the others.

Jace is in his first year at KLU studying politics. It’s a small campus and she often sees him hanging around the humanities block or in the library. Understandably he’s not been himself these last few months.

“Alright?” he says brightly, pulling her into the first genuine hug she’s received all day.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “You?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure?”

Jace seemed so much younger a year ago. All three of the Strongs seem to have grown up far too quickly. “It’s just been… things have changed so quickly.” He runs his fingers through his dark curls, grown down to his shoulders, she notices. “I just miss him, you know?”

 She offers him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, of course.”

“But Daemon’s great. He makes mum happy. That’s what matters most.”

She sits between Aegon and the other guy at the table and realises she vaguely recognises him. He looks older than Jace, with dark hair, surprisingly sleek stubble and silver direwolf cufflinks on his sleeves.

The dinner is infuriatingly exquisite; seared tuna, steak that almost melts in her mouth, followed by a raspberry and rose pastry and a lemon posset topped with purple primrose petals. It’s all pretentious and so very Targaryen.

Her eyes keep wandering. There’s a haunting kind of beauty about watching Daemon and Rhaenyra. They keep their fingers intertwined and share smug, knowing glances. They fit perfectly together, despite the taboo of it all.

Alys and Aemond are at a table with the Velaryons and Aemond’s sister, Helaena and her girlfriend. Alys keeps a hand over Aemond’s as she talks to Rhaenys and Corlys about some (no doubt dull) business venture, but she’ll make it sound brilliant. Her skills of persuasion are second to none.

She had half expected Aemond to follow her, but that was a stupid expectation, wasn’t it? She’s enough to fuck behind closed doors, not enough to sit beside at a wedding dinner.

She needs to stop getting her hopes up. She needs to stop looking for more from him because she’s only setting herself up for failure. But that’s just the problem, she wants to cling to every look, every hand against her back, every whisper in her ear, and convince herself that, whatever this is, that it’s for something more than just carnal desire.

She often finds herself wondering if Alys really loves Aemond. It started off as a casual thing, from what she could gather without wanting to know the details. Alys would go on these overnight ‘work trips’, which she suspected were really dates.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she came downstairs one morning to find Aemond Targaryen in the kitchen, leaning over the island and sipping an espresso. That was after his last fight with Alicent and Viserys. He had been planning to retreat to Aegon’s, but ended up spending the night with Alys instead.

She watches Aemond, running a slender finger over his fork, his eyes moving sceptically around the room, until they settle on her.

He smirks, and then he turns to strike up a conversation with his sister. 

Alys certainly likes him enough to get him involved in Rivers PR, to let him live in their house and sleep in her bed.

What does he get out of it, she wonders?

“Got your eye on someone?” 

The unfamiliar voice snaps her out of her trance. The boy with black hair is leaning into her.

She glances down at his cufflinks. “Stark?” She guesses.

“Cregan. My dad’s an old mate of Viserys’.”

He’s a politics student too, a classmate of Jace’s and captain of the KLU rugby team with the muscles to prove it. She recognises him a little better as they talk; he was at Baela’s Halloween party last year, though they hadn’t spoken then.

Jace shoots her a quick wink from across the table and inclines his head ever so slightly towards Cregan. She swears under her breath and rolls her eyes at him. Gods, as if she needs help from her cousin to get laid. 

It’s Aegon who starts ordering rounds of shots. She tries to stick to champagne at first, until she looks across the room again. Aemond leans into Alys, as though he might kiss her, but she turns her head and his lips settle on her cheek.

After seeing that, she reaches for the tequila, met with cheering from Aegon and Daeron. 

Daemon and Rhaenyra take to the floor and sway to a dreamy number played by the jazz band. Rhaenyra soon takes Helaena by the hand and Daemon grabs his girls to join them on the dancefloor.

She smiles as she watches them all, Rhaenyra and Helaena spinning around each other, Baela and Rhaena giggling at Daemon’s smooth moves that come straight from a 50s movie.

“I feel like we should go up,” Jace says. 

Luke starts to groan but Joffrey is already up  and dragging his brothers with him.

Aegon turns to her in his seat. The oldest of the Targaryen Hightower siblings and undisputedly the messiest, but she had found him the most approachable that Summer at Dragonstone. “What do you say, kid?”

How could she say no to that sly, self-assured grin and those puppy dog eyes? They’re a little duller than Aemond’s, closer to grey than blue. She lets him lead her to the dance floor. 

As she and Aegon sway to the charming brass and bass, she wonders if Aemond is watching them. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of checking. Not just yet.

Aegon leans into her ear. She ignores the sour, bitter smell of alcohol on his breath. “How is Aemond?”

It takes her off guard. She finds herself a little perplexed, eyebrows raised and lips parted as she tries to think of an answer that won’t seem suspicious.

But having to think about it at all must be incriminating.

Does Aegon know? If he did know, why would he want to bring it up?

“Good, as far as I’m aware.”

Her internal crisis seems to evade his attention. His eyes move between the space over her shoulder and the floor as he gnaws slightly on his lip. “Look, I know this isn’t your problem, but I just worry about him.”

Aegon Targaryen, worried about his brother?

“He said things were difficult lately.”

“Gods yeah, things have been tense with dad trying to sort out his will. Mum and Rhaenyra have been at each other’s throats, then there’s granddad trying to get something out of it all. It’s a fucking mess.” 

Realistically she doesn’t know him that well, but between their few interactions and what she’s heard from Jace and Luke, Aegon is easy to understand. It’s strange seeing him so concerned, about anything really.

He sighs heavily. “Then Aemond went and completely fucked up a contract with Storm’s End and mum was livid.”

“That’s it? They fell out over a work issue?”

“She needed it. She’s really pushing for Aemond to take over from dad, because Gods know once Rhaenyra’s in charge she’s not letting the Hightowers get a fucking look in.”

“What about you?”

“Me? I’m the designated disaster child, no one expects anything from me. Aemond’s always been perfect. And now he isn’t.”

It would explain the dramatics of it all.

“Are they happy? Him and Alys?”

She’s not sure how she should know, or what the criteria for ‘happy’ would even be.

“They must be. I don’t see why he would stick around otherwise.”

Aegon’s lips flash into a crooked smile that disappears as quickly as it comes. “I think he wanted to get out. I said he could come live with me, hells, he could afford his own place.”

“So why doesn’t he? Get his own place, I mean.”

“He likes the distraction, something to get him away from Targ Corp, and the rest of us, I suppose. I think he needed an escape.”

The pace of the music picks up in a flourish and Aegon spins her under his arm. Aemond is looking at them.

At some point in the night, the band is swapped for a playlist of songs everyone knows the words to, and closer to midnight the hall becomes a haze of thumping bass and sparse bursts of red and green lights. She loses count of the number of cocktails she’s had, all she knows is her mind is buzzing blissfully. She feels happy and careless, but one drink away from a nasty hangover in the morning.

Aemond is still at his table, sipping a glass of what she guesses is whisky. He loves an old fashioned, if they’re out for dinner or if he makes it himself at home. He talks to Rhaenys and Corlys, and has a brief exchange with Daemon and Rhaenyra when they come over to him, but other than that he just sits and watches her.

She’s not sure how she ended up dancing with Cregan. He wraps a large, muscular arm around her waist and holds her close against him. 

He brings his lips to the shell of her ear, shamelessly letting them brush against her skin. It feels nice. “Sure you’ve not got your eye on anyone?”

She smiles even though he can’t see her face. “Why is it important?”

“I’m trying to figure out what my chances are here,” he says as his mouth moves along her cheek.

She giggles as she pulls away from him. “You’re lovely,” she says.

“But?”

A hand lands firm on her shoulder. She recognises his perfume and a cool steel ring against her skin.

She turns into Aemond and puts her hands on his chest. “Are you going to dance with me?” 

Aemond holds her wrists and leans into her so that she can hear him over the music. “I think you look tired.”

“I don’t feel tired. Where’s Alys?”

He cocks an eyebrow like he’s irritated she would ask. “She went to bed an hour ago.” Then his mouth curls into a smug pout. “Do you want me to take you upstairs?”

He starts to stroke his thumbs over her hands and his eyes, though hard to make out through the darkness, are fixed on hers. She can’t quite catch her breath. “Yeah, I do.”

They don’t speak as they head up. Her room is on the third floor, and they could take the lift but a few other guests have had the same idea. Quicker and quieter to take the stairs.

Occasionally her hand brushes against the sleeve of his suit but he doesn’t react. She listens to his breath, heavy and pointed, and imagines he might want to say something but keeps deciding against it.

They reach the hall on the third floor, lined with mahogany panelling, vintage gold lamp shades mounted on the walls and patterns of dragons swirling in the red carpet. It’s empty, so she weaves her arm through his. 

Aemond holds her arm tight. “Had a nice time?”

It was nice to see her Strong cousins. It was nice to chat to Baela, and get to know Rhaena a little better. It was nice to dance with Cregan and to know Aegon cares about his brother.

“Yeah,” she sighs, letting her head drop against his shoulder. “You?”

Aemond starts to tell her about a conversation he had with Corlys about some new customs regulations that could screw over his company. She likes to watch him when he’s explaining something, how he moves his hand around, how he tilts his chin up and presses his lips together when he’s thinking.

When they come to her door she drags herself away from him and swipes her keycard over the lock. The door is heavy and Aemond reaches over her to prop it open as he follows her inside. 

He switches on the low lights and hovers by the door to the ensuite, muttering about tariffs while she slips off her heels and places her jewellery on the vanity.

He looks deliciously casual and self-assured, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, the warm lights dancing over his cheekbones and the shape of his nose. “...they just can’t compete with the Triarchy, not to mention the extra costs…”

His eyes drift to where she stands. They stare at each other for a moment. The silence is screaming at her.

“Who was the guy you were dancing with?” He asks.

“Friend of Jace’s. He studies politics.”

Aemond hums and smiles to himself. “Looked like the two of you were getting on very well.”

She could point out his poorly placed frustration and that their entire involvement revolves around someone else.

“Is that why you came over?”

He’s still smiling but there’s an intensity to his stare. He puffs his chest a little as he takes a slow breath. He taps his fingers three times against the wall. “Did you like him?”

Restraint is one of Aemond’s most defining traits, she thinks, everything about him is meticulously planned, and every decision is a considered one. Restraint is also his downfall in some cases. He rarely raises his voice or gives into his impulses, but he tries too hard to hold back and craft his perfect image. It excites her whenever she sees the cracks and inconsistencies in him. They feel sacred, another secret she gets to keep.

She takes a few slow steps towards him, until she can smell his perfume again. “I might have done.”

“Might,” he echoes. “If it weren’t for what?”

She tilts her head. His eyes are soft and his lips are parted. She holds the scarred side of his face in her hand and kisses him. She intends it to be slow and reassuring but it’s too easy to get lost in him. She presses herself into him and caresses the back of his neck and she deepens the kiss.

Until his other hand cups her head, lightly pushing her away. “I should go back to the party,” he whispers. 

“Why?”

He takes a breath through his nose.

“Stay with me for a little while,” she says, nudging her forehead against his. “I need you.”

His face starts to light up, a familiar playfulness in the curl of his mouth. “Need me?”

She trails her fingertips down his shirt, tracing over his chest and the ridges of his abs, dangerously close to his belt. “Aemond, please.”

He walks forward and she stumbles with him until her back is against the opposite wall. He grips her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look up at him. “Try again, sweetheart.” His voice is low and it makes her feel weightless.

“Please, daddy,” she whispers. 

He half growls a “hmm” before he pulls her into him to claim her mouth. His kiss is firm, slow and hungry. She was right about the whisky. She can taste it on his tongue and feel it tingling on her lips.

His knee slides under her dress, between her thighs, and pushes up. She gasps at the pressure and starts to rut her hips against him.

“You’re so eager,” he hisses, “what a desperate little slut I’ve made out of you.”

His hands slip under her thighs to carry her to the edge of the bed. He’s careful as he draws her dress over her head and lays it out over the armchair by the window.

He leans over her, laying her down, working lips, tongue and hands over every inch of her bare body. He starts by kissing her neck, sucking at the soft spot that always makes her melt. His hands run over her collar to her breasts, kneading and pinching her nipples between his fingers. Then he goes lower, planting a trail of kisses down the valley that leads to her waist and her stomach. Usually he likes to drag this out, treat her to divine torture until she had to beg, but tonight he is urgent, no less desperate than she is.

His hands run down her thighs, skimming one moment and squeezing the next. And then she feels his lips against her panties.

“Oh you do need me, don’t you?” He teases. “You’re already so wet for me, baby.”

She writhes against his mouth, desperate for just a little more friction. “Oh fuck, please, daddy, just–”

“Not yet.” He stands over her, slips off his suit jacket and starts to roll the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the pale skin of his forearms. “I’m going to take care of this pretty pussy, but first you’re going to tell me why the fuck you thought you could flirt with Stark, right in front of me.”

She gazes up at him. His expression is stern and intense, and she finds it thrilling.

He pulls her to her feet and takes her place sitting at the edge of the bed, running his hands over the silky fabric covering his thighs. 

“Come here,” he orders, taking her hand and guiding her to drape herself over his lap. She can feel the bulge in his pants pressing into her stomach.

He’s gentle at first, stroking his palm over her ass, toying with different pressures and patterns.

The first slap is gentle. 

“How many– ah!”

The second slap is harsher and she groans at the sting it leaves behind.

“You’re gonna take what I give you,” he says, stroking softly again while his other hand rests on her neck. “We’re done when I say we’re done.” Slap. “Understood?”

“Fuck!” She gasps, “yes, daddy.”

“Hmm, that’s my good little girl,” he says, running his other hand through her hair. It’s comforting, lulling her into compliance. “Now, have you got an answer for me?”

“I wasn’t trying to flirt,” she utters.

Her answer is met with a few succinct blows. She doesn’t care to count them. She breathes through it, focusing on the burn and controlling her reactions to it. She tries to keep her hips still, but she can feel her pussy throbbing and her arousal dripping between her legs.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Aemond warns. “You’re smarter than that, baby, I know you are.”

He switches between tenderness and pain so easily. Every time she feels his hand against her flushed skin her belly tightens and she starts to shiver, never quite sure what to expect.

“Do you know what I think?” He asks, slipping finger underneath her panties, circling through the wetness and the sensitive flesh of her pussy. “I think you’re just a needy little whore, desperate for my attention. But it’s okay baby, I know you can’t help it, right?”

She can’t help the broken whimper that escapes her throat as he inches closer to where she needs him most, or the cry that comes when he withdraws his touch delivers another stinging slap.

“Shh, baby,” Aemond coos, “I know it hurts but I need you to know you’re mine,” a point he emphasises with another few strikes that have her squealing and squirming over his lap. 

“I’m yours,” she mewls.

Slap. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, daddy!” She cries, “only yours.”

He strokes his palm over her again and she grips the duvet, expecting another slap. Instead, he curls his fingers over the hem of her panties and slowly drags them down over her thighs. “I’m going to take care of you, baby,” he says, planting a kiss at the base of her neck, “just like I always do.”

Unable to form a response, she nods absentmindedly. The anticipation is driving her crazy but she trusts him completely.

He positions her with her back on the bed again, and kneels before her. He kisses along her thighs, groaning with satisfaction at her little whimpers and moans.

He leans in and kisses her pussy as sweetly and delicately as he would her cheek, letting his lips linger against her. “I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day,” he says, teasing her with gentle pecks and licks while his hands knead at her thighs. “You looked so pretty in your little dress, I couldn’t wait to take it off and have you laid out for me, just like this.”

She runs her hands through his hair as he deepens his movements, that delicious feeling rising and rising as he draws his tongue from her entrance, up to tease her clit, and back down again.

He slides a single finger in, letting out a soft groan at her slick and the sound it makes as he inches further in.

Her hips buck when he starts to flick his tongue over her clit, met by the weight of his hand against her stomach to hold her in place.

“Just relax, sweetheart, be a good girl for me, that’s it.”

Her eyes start to glaze over as her orgasm builds slowly. Agonisingly slowly. She stills her hips, fighting the urge to grind against his mouth. She’s left panting and groaning, desperate for more but she has to be good for him. 

“Daddy,” she chokes, feeling a single tear stream down her temple. “Please… please…” she whimpers as she feels herself hurtling closer and closer to the edge. Just a little more and she’ll fall apart.

“There you go,” he hums, pushing deeper and working his tongue faster. “I want you to cum, baby, want you to finish all over my mouth.”

Finally she comes with a stuttering moan, back arched and pleasure rippling through her body, leaving her pleasantly numb in the afterglow.

Aemond presses a sweet kiss against her quivering cunt, trailing back up her body, coming to nuzzle into her neck.

“You alright?” He whispers. “I’m not being too harsh, am I?”

She turns her head to look at him. His eyes are so bright and his breath washes over her skin. He’s still wearing his shirt. She wants to tear it off him, feel every inch of him with no barriers or modesty.

It just slips out, mindless and simple, like a breath or a heartbeat. “I love you.”

He looks at her, wide-eyed and vague. She leans up to kiss him and he pulls away.

Then he comes to his feet, looming over the bed. He wipes his hand over his mouth and drags it over his chin. 

She’s sure her heart has stopped beating. Why is he staring at her? Why hasn’t he said anything?

“I should…” His eyes dart around the room, to his suit jacket discarded on the floor. Then back to her, trembling, breathless and bare. 

She props herself up onto her elbows, drawing her legs together. She’s never felt ashamed of herself in front of him before. 

“Aemond?”

Suddenly he snaps out of whatever trance he’s been under.

“Night,” he mumbles, disappearing around the corner of the ensuite. The door opens. The door clicks shut.

Her hands shoot up to her hair, tugging and gripping, if only to have something to do with her hands. When it gets too painful she smooths her hands over her neck. Her pulse drums under her skin and beads of sweat trail down her back.

What the fuck was that?

Tags : @marthawrites @randomdragonfires @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy

[srbachchan]

DAY 5900

Jalsa, Mumbai Apr 13/14, 2024 Sat/Sun 12:37 AM

Birthday - EF - Prasha Ganesh Sunday, 14 April .. wishes for this day from all the Ef family ..🚩❤️

🪔 ,

Ef Prasha Ganesh from Sri Lanka .. and Ef Urvashi Sharma .. 🙏🏻🚩

Mesadi / Vaisakhadi

Mesadi/Vaisakhadi festival celebrated by the people of Maharashtra and Karnataka. Celebrated on the 13th day of the bright half of the Hindu month of Vaishakha. An important festival for the farmers of Maharashtra and Karnataka as it marks the beginning of the sowing season.

VAISAKHI, VISHU, RONGALI BIHU, NABA BARSHA, VAISAKHADI AND PUTHANDU PIRAPPU

Sunday, 14 April

.. all the festive occasions .. all together .. one nation ..

greetings for peace calm and harmony among all .. 🚩🇮🇳

... for the joy and happiness in the celebration of good harvesting .. what be sown, be of value and immense .. the feed from the 'Annadata' .. अन्नदाता .. the deity who provides food ..

THE FARMER .. !!

... but the mind still lingers on the nuclear areas of discussion and many other books videos documentaries are researched .. and all come to just one conclusion ..

within seconds .. it can me Armageddon .. !!!

no further explanation or talk .. live in the present of celebration and gaiety , happiness and celebration .. for nothing be greater than that ..

Love to all 🌹❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

PS :

.. and you watch a game .. and truly without reason you side with one side and inwardly, even though there is no personal interest or following, you wish it to win .. and it reaches a hard fought end to a battle well fought .. and lose ..

Painful ..

But the pluck of the loser be rewarded ..

The boxing ring in Sherwood ..

[newsfrom-theworld]

Palestinian/ Sudanese updates p5

I'm currently following different campaings both from Gaza and Sudan. These are their updates. DONATE AND REPOST/ SHARE even 5$ counts. They need to get out

1: Aalaa and her family from Sudan

We reached 5866 usd. Thanks to everyone who donated so far. Our next mini goal is 5900.

link to the gfm

2: Asjad and her family from Sudan

We reached 8184 usd. Thanks to everyone who donated so far. Our next mini goal is 8200.

link to the gfm

3: Yasmeen and her triplets from Gaza

We reached 7446 usd. Thanks to everyone who donated so far. Our next mini goal is 7500.

link to the gfm

4: Amani and her children from Gaza

We reached 4013 usd. Thanks to everyone who donated so far. Our next mini goal is 4100.

link to the gfm

[thirdtofifth]

Cerebrilith Large fiend (demon), chaotic evil Armor Class 15 (natural armor) Hit Points 149 (13d10 + 78) Speed 30 ft. Str 21, Dex 13, Con 23, Int 15, Wis 18, Cha 21 Saving Throws Int +6, Wis +8 Damage Immunities lightning, poison Damage Resistances acid, cold, fire, psychic; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical attacks Senses darkvision 60 ft. passive Perception 14 Languages Abyssal, telepathy 120 ft. Challenge 10 (5900 XP) Magic Resistance. The cerebrilith has advantage on saving throws against spells and other magical effects. Innate Spellcasting. The cerebrilith's spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 17). The cerebrilith can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components: At will: detect thoughts, confusion, dissonant whispers 3/day each: darkness, dominate person, gaseous form

Actions Multiattack. The cerebrilith uses Mind Lash if it is able to. It then makes three attacks: one with its bite, and two with its claws. Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +9 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 12 (2d6+5) piercing damage. Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: +9 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 9 (1d8+5) slashing damage. Teleport. The cerebrilith magically teleports, along with any equipment it is wearing or carrying, up to 120 feet to an unoccupied space it can see. Mind Lash (Recharge 4-6). Up to three creatures the cerebrilith can see that are within 60 feet of it each must succeed on a DC 17 Intelligence saving throw or take 17 (5d6) psychic damage. A creature that fails its save by 5 or more is also stunned until the end of its next turn.

Cerebriliths are psionic demons who seek to kill, and then consume the brains of, moral creatures. They also use their powers of mental domination to control communities of mortals to serve them, or simply to manipulate them according to the whims of their Abyssal masters. When not serving other demons, they are found in groups of up to four. They stand around 8 feet tall.

Originally from the Expanded Psionics Handbook

[cheynovak]

Family business: Part 1  

Billy Butcher & Sarah Butcher x Soldier boy 

Warnings:  Age difference, cursing, violence, smut, 16+, ... it's the boys... what not 

Side note: English isn’t my first language.  

Words: 5900 

Sarah is Billy Butcher’s daughter from a previous relationship. He did not raise her, on the contrary, when he found out that her mother was pregnant, he fled to the army. Butcher felt too young to care for a child, afraid to follow in his father's footsteps. But Sarah's mother wanted to keep the child. In the first 5 years he sended her postcards on her birthday with a little bit of money in it. But when he never got a responce he stopped. Years later Billy’s and Sarah’s paths cross when they search for the weapon that killed Soldier boy only to find the supe himself, who seems to have an special interest in Sarah.

*Might not follows the original “the boys” timeline*

---- 

Sarah woke up in a shitty New York apartment, she looked outside the dirty window, it was a nice sunny day but all she could think of was how horrible she felt doing this job. The CIA needed some unknown people for some shitty job when they couldn’t keep get their hands dirty. And that was one thing she had no trouble with.  

She took a quick shower before throwing on some old rock band shirt with a grey skinny jeans and black doc martens. Before she got out the door, she took her old black leather jacket and keys. Once outside she took the metro to the CIA headquarters where she had to meet with Susan Raynor. Sarah walked around in the big city thinking how much she hated this place, she could wait to get back overseas. 

Sarah presented herself to Suzan, “Mrs Raynor? I’m Sarah, Sarah Turner, my boss sends me to... take care of an inconvenience for you.” she said shaking her hand. “Ah yes miss Turner. Take a seat. Where waiting for my other associate before I can inform you about your task.” She said with a disapproved look at her. “You might like the man, British too.” Sarah looked with smiled like she had a toothache. “Yeah well, all Brits get along ay.”  

“Sorry kept you waiting luv, traffic.” Sarah heard a familiar accent behind her. She looked up, looking at the man, she could have sworn she recognised him. “Who’s this?” He asked Suzan without looking at Sarah. “Butcher meet Turner, Turner, Butcher. Your new partner.” - “Since when do you give me partners and tasks Suzan?” - “Since we need you to go to Russia and find out what killed soldier boy, what killed him can kill Homelander, but I don’t trust you, so I arranged backup.” - “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, no offence luv.” He said to her swiftly. “Take it or leave it.” Suzan told him.  

Suzan Raynor explained all the resources Sarah had, and talked about their mission, the boys could be included, but only Sarah could call in for progress with her directly. Once dismissed Sarah and Billy stepped out the room. “So, Butcher...” Sarah asked “Billy Butcher?” He turned around. ”You know me sweetheart?” - Sarah’s heart dropped “By reputation” she felt sick to her stomach, but the fact that he didn’t recognise her last name made it easier on her.  

Sarah met the boys, MM, Frenchy and Hughie seemed nice fellas. But she couldn’t help to feel troubled, they planned the trip to Russia, she noticed both MM and Frenchie were trained, Hughie on the other hand seemed like a beat-up puppy. Butcher started to go over the plan one last time. “We enter here...” Sarah couldn't help but to roll her eyes at him. “I’m sorry luv is there anything you want to say.” - “Yes, that is a fuck bad idea. I bet ya that these doors will be guarded by at least a dozen soldiers, unless you can hocus-pocus your arse through them, we need a new route.” - “Well excuse me for my language darlin but, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. I’ve been doing this since you were in bloody diapers.” Yeah, diapers you never had to touch you fuck. Sarah though. 

She kept her mouth closed and loaded in her duffel bag feeling pissed, she really wanted to put Butcher in his place, but she knew it would compromise the mission. She heard Frenchy talk to Hughie. “She gives off, Lara Croft vibes, no? Spicy lady.” he joked. “Yeah, well two English alfa’s, I hope it will work out.” the skinny kid answered. Sarah saw Butcher put away some green liquids put away. “What is that?” She asked him.  

“None of ya business sweety.” he answered. “None of my business...” she repeated fierce. “If I need to go out there in Russia risking my ass, I need to know what shit you're taking.” Walking over to Butchers bag taking out everything until she found the temp V. “What is this shit?” - “Oi, give that back you little cunt.” - “No fucking way asshole, tell me what is this shit you’re taking.” - “Give it back or I’ll take something from you.” - “You sound like a fucking child Butcher.”  

Butcher grabbed your bag throwing it all out on the floor, he saw a picture falling out. ”What’s this?” He said while picking it up. Sarah saw his face getting pale as he looked at your mother in the photo. It was an old picture, taken when you were 7 maybe 8 years old, on a vacation in France, Sarah sitting next to her mother on a bench at the sea. He looked back at you locking eyes still holding the picture in his hands. Sarah walked over snapping it out of his hands. “That is my dead mother you fuck. If you ever touch this again, I'll kill ya, understood.” Billy nodded slowly.  

He didn’t ask, she didn’t spoke. They both got back to preparing their bags. But Sarah could feel his eyes lingering on her. On the flight to Russia, they sat apart. Sarah chose the seat next to Frenchie and MM. Sarah deliberately chose to bring headphones, so she didn’t have to interact to much with the boys. “What happened?” Hughie asked Butcher referring to the incident back home. “I knew her mother, we used to date back in the days. I had no idea she passed away.”  

Once landed Billy planned to rest at the motel first before digging around the foreign lab.  

Butcher handed out the keys, “not you, not yet, we need to talk.” He said to Sarah. They walked to his room. “What?” she asked like a spoiled teenager who was about to get a preach. “Your mother, when... how did she die?” - “Oh no, don’t pretend like you care.” She snapped at him. Billy frowned “If you really cared about her, if you really cared about us, you would have never left.” She yelled at him. “So do us all a fucking favour and pretend you don’t know her, cause that is what I will do when this shit show is fucking over. Pretend I never met you.”  

Sarah walked out the door, Billy followed her. “Sarah... SARAH stop.” She stopped but didn’t face him. She could feel the tears in her eyes burn, not knowing why this hurt her so much, she never knew him. “Sarah, I wasn’t ready to be a father, for fuck sake I was 19 years old. Your mom insisted on keeping it.” - “IT?! Keeping IT?! She burst not saying anything anymore before taking another breath “I don’t need to know your sob story Butcher.” she turned around. “You didn’t want a child, I don’t want you in my life, let just focus on the job and get it done, ok.” Sarah took her key and went to bed.  

The next morning everyone gathered at the parking lot looking terrified. ”What happened?” Frenchie asked arriving last. “Raynor, got executed last night. Her brains blown up, Annie just texted me.” Hughie said. “That means someone may know were here.” Butcher added. “No time to waste then.” Sarah said walking to the rented car.  

--

Sarah woke up in the red lighted room at the lab. “What happened? WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!” she yelled at Hughie standing in front of her, covering her eyes. “I eh, pushed you aside during the attack, you bumped your head.” Billy kneeled in front of you. “Are you ok, luv?” - “Yeah yeah, I'm fine.” you said while lifting yourself up, grabbing for is arm as you felt a little dizzy. “Still not a reason to be naked though!” she pointed at Hugh, looking around. “What’s this?”  

Sarah opened an old container, smoke came out, Billy pulled her back, behind him, once they saw a man walking out. She looked in him up and down, turning to Hughie whispering. ”He has a reason to be naked.”  

“Soldier boy.” Butcher mumbled, making Sarah look back at the man. At first, she thought he was looking at Butcher but when the smoke cleared, she saw his green eyes were locked on her. Her breath and heart stopped. “No way, he’s alive?” she looked at Billy who looked shocked at her.  

After Soldier boy blasted his way out of there, you all hurried back to the states, trying to take care of Kimiko.  

--  

“Well, there is no reason for me to stay here.” Sarah announced. Billy looked shocked, “The fuck you mean. There is a fucking ancient supe out there and you are leaving? - “What do you want me to do? Buy a fucking flute and whistle until he comes to us like a dog?” - “He blew up midtown, we need to do something.” Hughie begged. “Guys even if I wanted, I have a fucking concussion, my shoulder is hurt and there is no fucking way I’m taking that shit you injected yourself with.” 

“Then wait here.” Billy said, “Heal and if you still decide on leaving, I’ll buy you a ticket.” Sarah though about it for a second, healing before the long travel wasn’t a bad idea. “Fine.”  

Not long after they agreed to that Billy texted her, “meet me at this address ASAP.”  

Sarah walked up to an old cheap motel. She knocked on the door, Hughie answered, letting her in. She immediately saw Soldier boy snoring a line of cocaine before he looked her up and down. She never felt nervous when a man checked her out, hell she even used her body every now and then to get what she needed or wanted, but the way he looked at her made her head spin and her heart race.  

Billy walked over to you, tilting your head back looking in your eyes. “How do you feel?” Sarah slapped his hand away. ”Stop fathering me.” Hughie and Ben exchanged a look. She nodded to Soldier Boy, “You found him.” - “Yeah, well Hughie and I need to take care of somethings, we need you to stay with him.” Billy smiled at her. “Really? Babysitting?” she answered. “Babysitting, taking care of the elders, whatever you want to call it.” He said pushing Hughie out the door. 

Sarah felt the awkward silence, “Well, coffee?” she asked walking to the small kitchen not waiting for his response. “You were there in Russia, weren’t you?” He asked following her. “Eh yeah” - “You got me out.” She turned to him leaning on the counter. “It was a team effort.” he nodded still looking in her eyes like he was searching for something.  

-- 

As time got by, Ben seemed to like Sarah better than the rest of the boys. And Sarah decided to stay for a while. There was this unspoken bond between her and Ben, both outsiders taking care of their past, in different ways but still. At this point Billy only thrusted Hughie to tell the truth about Sarah. But Ben noticed the similarities pretty early on.  

Ben started the conversation after seeing Sarah walking to the bathroom, Billy was sitting next to him watching tv. "You know, I wanted some rugrats of my own... couple of little boys." Billy looked at him, “With Countess. But not everything always goes the way we want right?” Billy didn’t answer. “Does she know?” - “Yeah.” - “You didn’t raise her?” - “No.” - And that’s why the tension is so bad between you two?” - “She thinks I left her mother because I didn't love her, I loved her I didn’t want to be a father, she wanted the child, what choice did I have.”  

“You could have grown a pair of balls and taken care of your child and woman.” He said bluntly taking a smoke, walking towards the window, he saw Sarah standing in the door, slightly smiling at him. He knew she heard him, even though it wasn’t his intention. “Billy, Frenchie just texted, he needs you at the lab.” He got up looked over at you, nodded before leaving with a sigh.  

“Thank you.” Sarah said walking closer to Ben. “For what?” He said smiling. “Putting him in his place.” - ”I just don’t think he sees you for what you are.” - “And that is?” Sarah asked still walking closer, her eyes met his. “A tall, beautiful young woman, gorgeous big dark eyes, who is stubborn, fierce, smart, a firecracker.”  

“And you can tell all that from what, a week knowing me?” She looked up at Ben. Even though she was 5ft11, he stood taller than her looking down in her eyes. “I’ve known that since I set a foot out of that container.” Ben’s hand moved to the back of her black hair and the back of her neck. He looked at her lips before slowly closing the space between them.  

His movement stopped abrupt when the door opened, he looked over her shoulder. Hughie walked in. “Good you’re here.” Sarah said still standing close to Ben. “I’m going training, I found a private room I could rent at the gym.” She left Ben standing there. Fucking cock blocker, he thought looking mad at Hughie. “Oh, besides I found ourselves a house instead of this motel room.” She said turning back in the door. “I’m tired of sleeping on a couch.”  

--  

Sarah, Ben, Frenchie and Kimiko moved in almost permanently, although Billy dropped by every day to check on Ben, but secretly he wanted to get to know Sarah. Frenchie seemed to be the only one to notice the tension between Ben and Sarah. He stood a little to close, was way more friendly with her than with the others. Accidently bumped into her in the kitchen. She would lay her hand on his shoulder when walking past him at the table, bending over to pick things of the floor, not caring he’d look at her cleavage or ass.  

Sarah was a very structured woman, even in the middle of this shit show she turned the basement into a small training room. She seemed to be the only one using it, not understanding how all of them stayed in shape without training. One day Hughie asked her to show her some tricks. “I’ve seen you fight in Russia, even without temp V you really know how to handle yourself.” She looked shocked. “Eh yeah, sure I’m heading down now.” Ben couldn’t help but to laugh, “I want to see this.” As he followed them.  

Even though Hughie did his best she and Ben could see martial arts aren’t his thing. “Come on kid, tired already?” Ben joked leaning on the railing of stairs looking over them. “Don’t listen to him.” Sarah spoke, “Not all of us are granted with a supe boost. Besides, the right technic will take down anyone.” Hughie smiled soft but knew he never would be cut out for that. “Is that so?” Ben huffed “Fine, do it.” - “What?” Sarah looked at the supe walking down. “Take me down, I’ll even make it interesting. If you can get me on my knees, I'll take you on a date.” Sarah laughed “Oh Ben, how did you know that was my dream.” Answering over dramatic sarcastic. “What if I can’t.” - “You get on your knees for me... in private.” He said moving his thumb over her lip.  

“Sarah don’t.” Hughie said afraid he would take advantage of her. “Agreed, just to wipe that smirk of your face.” she said taking a step closer. She had miss calculated him physically, all though she knew he was build firm, she had no idea that her hits and kicks would be brushed off so easily. Ben never hit her back, all he did was block and push her aside. Sarah was out of breath. “Giving up yet?” Ben teased not a drop of sweat on his face. “Never!” She yelled when kicking his chest. 

“Oi! What the fuck is going on.” Butcher yelled running down the wooden stairs with Frenchie. “Sarah and Ben are... training.” Hughie answered. “Ough.” Sarah let out a grunt falling on her knees when Ben tackled her. “Oh princess, sitting on your knees already? Thought that was the deal, after the fight.”  

Butcher looked at Hughie “Deal? What deal Hughie?” - “Sarah made a deal that if she doesn’t get Soldier Boy on his knees she had to... get... on eh, hers for him.” - “WHAT?! Hey fucking cunt!” Butcher yelled running down the stairs. “The fuck are you planning mate?” Ben looked over Sarah’s shoulder at him unbothered.  

Without hesitation Sarah got up and kicked Ben in his face now that he was distracted. Making him step backwards, losing his balance, falling on one knee. “Mon dieux, a little Jean Claude Vandamme in the house eh!” Frencie laughed hitting Hughie’s shoulder. Ben looked up at her, entirely surprised. Sarah stood there, towering over him, with a wide grin holding out her hand. Ben took her hand pulling him off his knee. “A deal is a deal.” Ben said standing to close to her. “Don’t worry, just the look on your face, that was all I needed.” Sarah said not backing down, almost chest against chest.  

“No, no, NO! Get back, you get away from her!” Butcher pulled on Sarah’s shoulder demanding her to step back looking at him. “Oh, don’t act like you fucking care.” She said walking away. Butcher looked at Ben “Stubborn, like her father.” he said patting Butcher's shoulder before following Sarah up the stairs. “Father?” Frenchie asked. Billy’s face said enough, “Sarah is mademoiselle Charcutier? No! That is not possible.” - “It is.” Was all Butcher replied.  

-- 

Later that night, Kimiko wanted to watch singing in the rain. To everyone’s surprise, Ben didn’t complain. All four watched the movie. Until Sarah heard her phone ring in the kitchen. She got up to see who the caller was. It was her boss back in the UK. He had been calling to see if she was still alive and or working the case. She didn’t noticed Ben got up until she felt the warmth of his body behind her.  

“How long?” He asked placing his hands on her hips. She felt the heat rising in her body. “How long what?” She asked. “How long are you going to keep teasing me woman.” She felt his lips brush over her shoulder.  

Frenchie looked over at the kitchen seeing Ben covering Sarah’s body. But she didn’t seem to mind it as he watched her head fall back against his shoulder, her hand moving back, fingers tugging Soldier Boys hair. 

“Am I teasing you? I had no idea.” She flirted. “Tell me Ben, if you feel like I tease you too much, why didn’t you ever make move.” - “Your fucking friends are cock blockers.” he growls, while he softly bit the flesh in your neck with his teeth. His hands moved up to her breast, kneading them over her shirt. “I don’t know how long I can wait before I rip your clothes off and take you right in front of everyone.” Sarah turned around facing Ben. “Is that a promise?”  

Ben looked shocked at her comeback, but his surprise turned into lust really quick. Lifting her on the kitchen table, kissing her like a hungry man.  

Sarah looked over his shoulder, Kimiko and Frenchy were still focussed on the tv. Ben’s lips were on her neck again. She pushed him back, he looked confused. Sarah slipped past Ben walking back to the couch. She saw Frenchie looking up at her, she answered him with a wink before sitting down.  

Later that night she heard a soft knock, Sarah expected Ben, knowing him, he didn’t want to give up just yet. But to her surprise she saw Kimiko on the other end. “Hi.” She let her in.  

Kimiko heard what happened and wanted to know more about her family and Butcher. So, she told her everything, how she was raised by her single mom, that she lost her at 15 due to cancer. After wandering around for months a group of private contracters had found her and trained her. She owns them everything.  

The man who took her is was now the boss, Sarah even told her that she was ditching his calls because for some reason she wanted to get to know Butcher. God forbit she would ever say that to him. “Soldier boy?” she typed. ”What about him?” - “You like him?” -”Yeah, well we get along, I guess where friends of some sort.” - “ He looks at you like he wants to be more than friends.” - “Oh no, he is like that with ever woman.” Sarah answered feeling her cheeks blush. -” Not with Annie or me. Frenchie says so too! He saw you two in the kitchen...” - “I don’t know. He... does something to me, I feel like I can’t thrust myself around him.” she confessed.  

Kimiko enjoyed the girl talk she had with Sarah, and so did she. “Talk soon?” Sarah asked while letting Kimiko out the door, she smiled and nodded quick. Sarah looked at the clock 2am. Damn, time to hit the sack. She thought changing into her pyjama, well actually a tank top and panties.  

Sarah heard a knock “Forget something Kimi?”She asked opening the door.  

Ben looked down at her, “Hi.” was all he said. “Ben... What are you...” He didn’t let her finish. “ I heard you talk to...” he pointed his thumb behind at him, trying to remember her name. But when he looked down at her, he could see she wasn’t wearing much. Making him forget all he wanted to say. “Yes?” Sarah asked trying to bring him back, but instead he walked in. “Fuck this.” He crashed his lips on to hers, pulling her body to his with one hand under her shirt and the other covering her ass.  

Sarah felt like she had to fight this, but the more she felt his lips on her the more she felt addicted. Uncontuesly she moved her hands over his chest, over his shoulders, pulling him closer to her body. Ben found the back of her legs lifting her up, carrying her to her bed, laying her down undernead him. He looked at her for a second.”Fuck you’re beautiful, can’t believe that cavemen is your father.” - “Can we please not talk about him now?” She kissed and bit his neck. 

Ben’s hands moved under her shirt, lifting it over her head. Fingers teasing her nipples while his mouth was sucking and kissing the flesh of her breasts. She couldn’t help but to moan at his touch. Ben felt her hand moving to his head, pushing him down to her panties. He grinned “So bossy” while kissing her hip. “You like it.” she teased back.”I saw it in your eyes when I kicked your ass.” Ben didn’t answer with words, but he did with his tongue against her slit. “Fuck.... Ben!” Sarah moaned tugging at the sheets beside her.  

Ben heard her breath getting faster, her body arching for more friction. He place one hand over her hips while the other pushed his fingers inside her. "Fuck sweetheart, I wanted to taste you the minute I laid my eye on you.” He said between sucking at her clit and licking. Sarah felt the coil in her stomach grow. “Oh Ben... don’t stop!” She whimpered. After her high she looked at Ben while he wiped his mouth with the back of his hands.  

Sarah wrapped her legs around him, turning him on his back. Her mouth on his, her tongue touching his, tasting herself. Grinding on his coverd cock a few times before lifting herself taking her hand down between their bodies. Ben moaned in her mouth when her hand got down to push down his trainers a little to stroke him. Ben grabbed her hair in his hand when she moved herself down.  

Sarah tugged Ben’s pants further down, taking it all the way off together with his underwear. Placing herself on her knees between his legs. She hears him chuckle. “What?” she asked. “Looks like I have you on your knees afterall.” Sarah smacked his thigh but smiled at the same time, Ben could see the lust in her eyes when she kissed and stroke his thighs, hips, ... everywhere exept where he wanted her te most. “Stop teasing princess.” He groaned.  

“So needy” she teased sitting back up, Ben looked confused. “Really?” She climbed on top of him smiling. “Your big mouth will get you in trouble, handsome.” She grinded against him while she whispered in his ear. “Had you just kept it shut, I might have sucked you so hard, so long till you came in my mouth.” Ben gripped on her thighs she knew it would leave marks, but she didn’t mind. “Oh, so she likes control?” - “You have no idea.” She said, holding his cock steady for her to sink down on.  

Sarah’s head fall back, sitting straight on his lap, Ben saw her face when he filled her up. “Fuck.” was all he could moan. Her hands hold her steady on his chest while she rode him. His hands over her breasts to her neck before he sat up kissing her shoulders, neck, breasts...  

Ben pushed her over, her head towards the foot end of the bed. Wrapping her knees over his hips, while he took her wrist in his hands and pulled them over her head. Sarah felt his thrusts getting harder and faster. His cock pushing against that one spot inside her that made her scream his name. “Fuck... Ben! Harder... fuck me harder ... please.” - “Say it again.”  

 

“Fuck... Me... Harder.” she begged out of breath. Ben placed his hands over her throat not entirely kneading but holding her in place, while thrusting harder in her. “I’m going to ruin you for any other man you will ever fuck.” He whispered in her ear.” - “I don’t want anyone else.... fuck... Ben, I only want you.” She managed to say between breaths while she came on his cock, her orgasm never felt this good before. Not long after Ben came too. 

Fuck Sarah though staring at the ceiling after coming down from her high. “Maybe a little late, but please tell me you’re on birth control?” Ben said looking over at her. “Heh? Eh yeah, I am.” she answered not mentioning she forgot to take it a couple of nights in a row. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick.” She said jumping up putting on a pair of shorts and her top leaving Ben in her bed. 

Sarah ran to the kitchen, starting to throw out everything in her purse trying to find those damn pills, she got nervous. “Looking for something?” She heard Butcher getting in by the back door, putting the lights on. “You’re up late. Need a hand?” - “No, no, I got it.” She said relieved. Taking the pill with a glass of water. “What are you doing here?” She looked at the man. “I couldn't sleep found myself walking here.” He looked at the packaging “Good you take those.” Sarah huffed “Yeah, would not what to put unwanted children on this earth now would we.” She said walking past Butcher. “Sarah...” - “Goodnight.” She quickly said before she had to hear him apologise again.  

Ben was still in her bed. “That took long enough.” She crawled in the bed next to him, kissing his lips without saying a word. But he could see she was upset, she hugged him, his steady heartbeat made her fall asleep quickly. 

The next morning, she woke up to the sound of clashing pots and pans in the kitchen. When she wanted to move, she could feel Ben’s arm still wrapped around her, spooning. Sarah had moved during the night, but Ben still seemed to hold on to her.  

His heavy breathing came to an abrupt stop. “Goodmorning” she said smiling at him softy. “Hmm.” was all he said snuggling closer to the spot between her neck and shoulder. “God, you smell amazing.” he said still sounding sleepy. “We need to get up.” - “Do we?” he asked with a hint of mischief in his voice. Sarah could feel his hand move down, tugging her shorts aside. “I think we still have some unfinished business.”  

Sarah felt his dick pushing against her while his hand was making sure she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Without much though she started to copy his behaviour teasing and playing with him. When their breaths got heavier, he moved her shorts down lifting her leg up a little so he could take without moving too much. One hand on her hip while the other held her close to him, wrapped around her breast holding her body close to his. 

Ben took her hand and placed it in between her hips, holding his hand over hers. “You feel that?” he moaned “That is where I belong. Deep inside you.” Sarah kissed his lips in return. “Fuck Ben, promise me you’ll fuck me every night.” - “And every morning.” he said kissing the spot behind her ear. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant.” Shit that didn’t supposed to sound so hot. She though.  

After their morning “work out” they both entered the kitchen, seeing literary everyone sitting or standing there. They all stared at the two of them. Kimiko smiled at Sarah, already knowing what had happened. Since she saw Ben sneaking to her room after she left.  

“Mornin” she said in unison with Butcher. Ben couldn’t help but to laugh, he couldn’t believe still not everyone saw the resemblance.  

*A couple of weeks later* 

Today was the day they wanted to take down Homelander. Everyone was preparing but Sarah felt ill, walking to the bathroom she couldn’t help but to overhear a conversation between MM and Frenchie about some gas that could take down Ben. But she decided not to tell him, so he could focus on Homelander. Over these past few weeks they became closer. He shared how he felt about Homelander being his son. “If they just told me. I would have given my seat up.” He had told her somewhere between their passionate nights and open conversations afterwards.  

Things got heavy at the Vought tower. Ben tried to hurt Homelander by saying the few words his father ever said to him. ”Being a fucking disappointment.” He tried to turn the conversation to Butcher and Sarah. “So, this is Sarah. Well, sweetheart wish I could say you look like you mother.” - “Fuck you.” - “How are you feeling? Not to nauseous I hope?” He grinned. Sarah looked confused at him, but when he looked at her stomach and back up at her, she realised she was late.  

“Congratulations Butcher. Or should I say grandad.” Sarah felt Butchers eyes on her, but all she could do was stare at Homelander, unbelievable she had to find out like this. When Meave placed her hand on her shoulder, she snapped out of the shock, looking between Butcher and Ben. Butcher followed her eyes to Ben. Ben already attacked Homelander, but Ryan defended his father.  

When Ben tried to get Ryan and Homelander out of his way Butcher blasted him a crossed the room. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben said getting up. 

 “Not the kid.”  

“Oh, I thought you said blood didn’t matter. Thought that was the whole fucking point” 

“He’s my wife’s son.” Ben looked shocked, seeing Sarah’s eyes grow big. “What!?”  

“You leave the mother of your child, YOUR CHILD but you will defend this kid? WHY?” Sarah yelled hitting Butcher in the chest. Homelander heard everything that she said before Maeve hit him. Ben stopped you “Go find the others. I’ll take care of this.” - “I can help.” - “No, I need you to be save.” He said while he kissed the temple of her head. “Go, I got this.” Butcher looked at them realising what was going on.  

Sarah ran through the entire building finding Hughie at the control room. She looked at the monitor how everyone attacked Ben. “How, wait why is he the villain in all this?” Sarah saw how Annie reloaded, she ran as fast as she could back to them, she saw how MM held the gas over Ben’s mouth. Ben’s chest was glowing. “I’m not... going back in that... fucking box!”  

“MM stop! STOP he will kill everyone!” She felt Maeve running past her. Ben looked at her when she pushed him through the window. Sarah ran after them. “NO!” She fell to her knees, covering her eyes when Ben’s radiation exploded. She looked over her shoulder, everyone was shocked. Butcher laying there on the floor covered in blood.  

*After the fight* 

Sarah and Butcher were brought to the same hospital. The doctor confirmed her pregnancy. Butcher got a warning never use temp V again or it would get him killed. The drive home was quiet. Once home he spoke to her. 

“Sarah, can we talk?” 

“It’s late Butcher, I really want to go to bed.” 

“It’s important.” 

“Fine.” She sighs, taking a seat at the kitchen table copying him.  

“I really don’t know where to start but, I never wanted to leave you, luv.” He looked at her with sincere eyes. “I sent you postcards for your birthday, and Christmas and wrote letters, hoping your mother would tell me about you.” Billy saw the tears forming in her eyes. “I didn’t want to be the monster my father was. Didn’t mean I didn’t want to know you...” He paused a second “I want to get to know you and be there for your baby.”  

Sarah got up with tears in her eyes “Well thank you for sharing that. Goodnight Butcher.” 

She got to her room, falling on to her bed, tears started to fall. After some time she heard her phone buzz. Number unknown. 

She picked up “Hello?” 

“Sarah? It’s me.”  

“Homelander” she recognised his voice. 

“We need to talk...”  

-----

Part 2 soon : Homelander contacted Sarah, trying to form a front against Butcher, promising her, her child will be save. "Family comes first" He said. 

-----

I hope you guys like it! I have a idea for part 2 BUT, Love to hear what you think should happen!

Definitely check out my masterlist!

[germworms]

Half-a-life (the story)

Pairing: Bdubs/Etho

Limited Life/Secret Life

Wordcount: about 5900 words

Summary: Bdubs wakes up after having died in Limited Life, instead of going back to Hermitcraft, he realises he's stuck in the Lifesmp. All because of some sort of "Half-a-life" deal a few lives ago...

___

A miracle brought him back, a bug or an error must have occurred.

His eyes blinked at the stone cave, and his back was against the uncomfortable bed, that only served as his respawn point, but still was comfortable enough to sleep the night away in.

He slowly remembered everything, and not only the game that they were playing but also his horses. His hologram, his friends whom he hadn't seen for days.

He remembered how Grian had asked them to play a new game, how a lot of them had agreed. But why agree to this game of murder?

The light from the entrance hit him in the face, and he could hear from far away, fireworks and yelling. Explosions and chaos.

His legs felt weaker than before, his whole body sore, feeling like he was burning up from the inside. Standing up felt worse, but he wouldn't dream of anything other than defending his family. His friends, to try to make them stop.

Out of habit he checked his clock, mostly to see how far away the night was, but his eyes landed on his timer, which wasn't ticking. His clock was frozen, time stopped. Maybe it was broken, but still, he wasn't dying anytime soon.

30 minutes on the clock, 30 minutes which meant nothing in the grand scheme of everything. Frozen minutes that flew by, and seconds he didn't want to be on stand-by.

He tightened his headband, and went out into the dark oak forest where he was headed for the clocktower which was making sounds. Ticking down the time, ticking down the deaths. Waiting to be ruined by the explosions.

In his head, he saw Grian, how happy he looked when they all agreed to play.

But behind all his confusion, he saw Etho for him, dying countless times while he stood by and watched. It was a life and death situation and by God, he didn't want to die. But watching Etho die in front of him at that time felt even worse than potential death would feel like.

Cleo knew that Etho was his favorite, his number 1. Definitely more than friends, but he couldn't see them together as a stereotypical couple, that made no sense. Etho was his special someone, his shoulder, his shield, someone he would protect with his life.

That's why when he neared where bombs dropped from the sky, and swords and arrows could be heard, he ignored the way his body jerked. He ignored the way his eyes closed and the way his ears rang, he even ignored the pieces of stone being flung into his skin. Leaving behind bruises and wounds.

His eyes searched for one man, who was in front of him, holding his arms and trying to speak to him. He couldn't watch his mouth, since it was covered, so trying to figure out what he was saying was impossible. His hand went to pull his mask down, and he was finally able to understand.

"We need to get out of here."

We, plural. Cause, even if everything seemed dull, it was always the two of them. They could rely on each other, when everywhere else was a mess.

His feet followed suit, but he could feel the harsh ground rip up his bandaged soles.

A squeeze alarmed him of the reality setting in, Etho looking back at him while running, his mask off and a sad smile was now shown. Still hopeful in spite of all this. He ran along until he couldn't anymore, until a barrier stopped them from running. Thunder halted their steps, Etho holding his hand tighter than before, "Someone's out."

Bdubs watched Etho looking at his own clock, it was a necklace around his neck, "I've only got a few hours left before I'm out, what about you?" He watched as Etho's eyes glanced down at his, so he quickly turned it around. Not wanting to reveal that he wasn't supposed to be alive right now. Knowing that behind it all, Etho would be sad about it, whether he showed it or not.

Etho raised an eyebrow, and tackled him until it was turned it around, time froze as Etho slowly realized what had happened.

"What did you do?"

"Someone blew me up from above, I woke up to thunder, and now I'm here." He confessed in a haste. His voice quietened down, "I should be dead."

He watched how Etho took a step back, assessing the situation, he went around in circles before stopping. "That means you can win."

He took a step back from Etho who neared him, who took his hands and looked at him in wonder, a different light beamed from him. Who hugged him, tight. He could smell smoke, blood, dirt, and sulfur, from the silver head. He hugged him as tightly back. His hands seemed to have missed the feeling of someone holding him so dearly, someone who sounded proud.

Which is why he took the opportunity to take Ethos clock off him, pushing them away from each other. With a stab from his hidden knife from his belt, he hit the clock, stabbing through the glass and metal, a purple smoke escaped and Etho who could have done something, was only watching.

Bdubs stomped on it for the last time and spat on it, "We're in one of Grians games, Etho. I don't want to do this anymore."

Etho stunned, nodded, shook his head and looked up at him, "What? Grians game? What about my time? My clock..."

"I'll give you one when we're back on the server." Bdubs eyes cast a last glance down at the broken clock which had stopped ticking. "I'll give you as many as you want."

Sounds of rattling from below, made him jump back, as he watched the clock magically rearrange itself and seemed to glue itself back together, purple smoke circled around it before landing in Etho's out-stretched hand. "What in the world!" He exclaimed, quite loudly. Loud enough for Etho to quiet him down, his hand around the clock.

It was ticking again, the one red eye reflected on the new shiny glow of the clock, "My time."

Bdubs finally realized that half of Etho's time was gone.

Thunder rumbled from the sky, sudden lightning making them flinch. "They're out to kill you." He stated, leaning against the barrier, behind him. Etho finally looked at him, nodding before putting his clock around his neck again.

"We gotta keep moving." And in seconds he was running again, hearing new footsteps meters behind them.

Arrows started shooting over their heads.

He felt exhausted, his knees weak and in pain, his feet hurt and his head felt heavy. He had to stop, even if Etho seemed to keep going, he had to surrender, to whoever was out to kill them.

"Etho!- Bdubs?"

He fell to his knees, feeling the night near and even if he had no bed, now was a good time to sleep. His head hung low, ready to be struck down. "Grian, do you have a bed? I'm tired."

"Oh, Bdubs, what did you do?"

He never got to answer before fireworks went off right behind Grian, who snapped his head to look at where it was coming from before running away in fear.

Someone picked him up, he was familiar with this person, of course, he knew Etho inside and outside. His rather ragged breathing turned more stable, his eyes opening to watch the distress in the others eyes, mask covering his mouth again, for more than practical reasons. He could feel his lungs get filled with smoke before he could hear the explosions.

He was lost, not knowing where Etho was taking him, he kept drifting in and out of consciousness.

When he woke up, he was alone, the air was tight, and the room was cold. His eyes looked around, landed on Grian who was sitting beside him, "How are you still here - alive?"

His eyes were red, as if he had been crying before he woke up, he didn't know how much time passed, he went to look at his own time, but it was still stuck.

"G, I don't know. Everything hurts."

His back felt stiff, his arms unmovable, his legs as heavy as a boulder and a loud thunder seemed to be stuck in his head.

Grian paced inside the small cave, "You lost all your time, yet you're not back on Hermitcraft. I can't call Mumbo or X to help, because I'd have to die in order to get help, which I don't even know what could have gone wrong! Everything seemed perfect except for..."

His eyes landed on him, "... you."

Grian was all over him, in the bed, looking even more distressed, his voice raspy and high pitched, "Whatever you're doing! This is dangerous, for yourself!"

"For myself?"

"You could actually die! Or go offline for, who knows how many weeks, months! Maybe forever?!" Grain raged. Spit flying everywhere in the spur of the moment, he had to push Grian off him with the strength he had.

"Enough, I'm fine. It's just pain, I can take some regen or whatever." Bdubs pulled himself up, sitting upright and starting to go through his inventory finding it very empty, "Do you have some potions?"

Grian sighed, pulled out his clock and turned it over, he watched as Grian wrote to everyone else about stopping the timer. Behind Grian, wings grew and his eyes turned from red to black, his hands reaching into his unlimited inventory and pulling out a few regeneration potions.

"Really going creative on me..." He mumbled, wondering how serious Grian was, his worry started setting in. If Grian stopped the game, his own game, for him.

Grian quickly changed back, picking up the potions and shoved them into Bdubs arms, "Drink these, I'll go out."

"Wait! G!"

Grian stopped in the entrance, "What is it?"

"Could you give Etho his time back, I tried to break his clock and it took some - time off... I feel really bad about it."

Grians eyes whitened out, like how it did when you would look into the controls. His eyes turned normal after a few seconds, furrowed eyebrows raised the suspense.

"I can't?" Grian looked unpleased about this, his eyes kept flickering, and Bdubs would rather have Grian stop trying to get time back, than potentially glitching out on him. It was a pathetic sight.

"Okay, G, stop! Stop!" He went to hold Grian in place, trying to ground him. "Listen, it's okay! Stop doing that."

Grian inhaled deeply and calmed down, "Somehow, Ethos time has been reduced to half of what he had, unless he gets a kill of course. The game works smoothly, and you don't even affect it in any way, shape or form. Stay put. Wait here until I come back."

He watched Grian sprint out before he got to ask where Etho was. The small human-dug cave seemed smaller and colder, he took a few potions down into his inventory and stood up, feeling the cold floor and the shake in his body.

The pain has subsided, for now.

"Etho?" He called out, once he walked out and onto some stairs. This must have been a quick hole Grian had dug for him, he could recognise it from the way he didn't hit his head on the way up. Not that he usually did, but that wasn't because he was short!

He was taller than most of the server, well 4 or 5 of them. Tango was a centimeter taller and Etho a meer 5 centimeters. Still, they kept bullying him.

If anyone could call him short it would be Pearl, Mumbo, or Ren. Impulse could he also excuse, but that was because of personal reasons.

He had a hard time adjusting to the light of the moon, he switched over to a sword he suddenly had, his eyes scanning for threats, not seeing anything but a zombie a bit away and a skeleton roaming around.

He ran towards the Clocktower, searching for Etho in the meantime.

He avoided the holes in the ground, from either tnt or creepers, this server had gone a mess. Once inside the tower, he stopped to catch his breath, the tower he had built had crumbled, now ruins scattered in its place. He looked up and saw a bright light falling directly above him, he quickly ran out of the castle while he felt a heat creep behind him.

With covered ears, he sat down as a loud explosion was heard behind him.

"Bdubs?" He heard a familiar voice call out.

He stood up, quickly equipping his sword, "HEY!"

"Woah! I saw the lightning! How are you still here?" Impulse stood a bit away from him. "I even got the time for the kill.."

It dawned on him, he took a step back, "You took me out, I can't believe this! My own- You took me out! I thought we were allies!" He yelled at Impulse who seemed to crumble in on himself.

"There's no allies once you're low on time, how much time do you have?"

"I'm dead." He stated. "I died, but I'm here, okay? G- G said I'm not- That I might go offline if I die. You do remember Hermitcraft?"

Impulse shook his head, "What? What do you mean go offline? I-" Impulse looked in pain as he tried to remember, "Why can't I remember, what?"

Bdubs watched as someone shot something towards them, "Impulse! Watch out!"

He was yanked away before he could grab onto Impulse.

"Bdubs! I thought Grian kept you away! You're playing with your real life here!" Etho said, as he ran away with Bdubs in his arms. "I can't lose you to you being reckless!"

"Awh, stop it, you love when I'm like this." Bdubs said, grabbing onto the other tightly as he felt the ground beneath them.

It wasn't the right time to joke, when this was the second time he was saved by Etho.

They ran until Etho physically couldn't hold him up anymore, it wasn't like he was petite, he was a full grown adult man. And Etho was quite lanky for someone his size, "Weak." He scuffed, obviously joking. "Thanks."

"Like you could carry me." Etho dared him, out of breath, but still willing to try to be cheeky.

"Oh, yeah?" He easily picked up the other, even swung around, while Etho held around his neck for support, "What did you say?"

"Okay! Okay! Put me down, I'll be sick!" Etho said, hiding his face in the others chest, trying to not get motion sick.

"Alright-" He started coughing, and even though he felt his lungs give out, he still found a way to safely put Etho down on the ground without hurting him. He was on the ground too, on his knees, as in a prayer. He was praying, for someone to save him.

When he felt like dying, he would close his eyes.

Hope for something good to happen.

"Bdubs!"

Hope for someone to hold him.

"Bdubs! I'm getting Grian!"

For someone to hold him tight. And when he least expected it, he was in a different place, in the same man made cave he knew. In front of two half soulless eyes, darker than the void.

Teleportation made him sick, his head spun while he was forced to drink a potion. Pink liquid filled his mouth, his stomach.

"You'll feel better, fill up your inventory with these, or a chest, I don't care, im one text away if you need me anymore. Stay. here. I beg you! Once I'm back on Hermitcraft I will get Mumbo to get you out, okay?" Grian said as he ran up to the surface again, shoving some potions into his inventory.

Once, again, isolated from the world.

He stayed down there for 2 days, thunder came from the outside twice, making him aware that the game continued on.

Another hour and he was up on the surface, looking around the world in flames.

He called out, to no one in particular. Grian, Etho, Scott, Impulse, Martyn.

It was in his blood to help, so he ran for his life when he heard screams. He ran until he got to the ruins of his work.

He watched the scene of Impulse, Martyn and Scott take place. His head sticking out from a place where they couldn't spot him.

Watching Martyn kill Scott made him jump up from his spot, "IMPULSE!" He yelled out.

The only thing he had on him was a few regen potions and his clock. He threw one at him, but missed. Darn.

Martyn had stopped in his killing spree, turning towards him, "Bdubs? Oh, you had it!"

And suddenly this situation had turned, "WAIT WAIT WAIT!" He yelled, "HOLD ON!" He screamed out, "MARTYN!"

Impulse took this opportunity to put down a minecart tnt cart, "BDUBS! COME TOWARDS ME!"

Was he crazy? Did he really want him to go offline that badly? What had he done in the previous seasons to make Impulse hate him. Yet he still ran over because they did team up last time and somehow that trust was the only thing he could feel in that moment.

He ran past Impulse, as Martyn ran after him, not stupid enough to step on the pressure plate of course. But that was never the plan in the first place.

Two bolts of lightning struck down at the crater that was just made. He was alone.

Did he win?

He had fallen, he was out of breath, and he was crying. He was cold, and warm, and out of place.

"What happened?"

He looked up, "Etho."

"What happened to everyone?"

"God Etho," He pulled himself up, wiping away his tears, his hands, shaking, but still managing to hold onto the other, "Impulse saved me."

At first Etho looked rather unpleasant, and then it dawned on him, "He died saving you."

"Yes."

He wasn't that good at expressions, but somehow he knew exactly what Etho was feeling at all times, even if he only saw his eyes most of the time. Jealousy had been a big factor ever since he mentioned Impulse.

Etho nodded, "Alright, I have to say thanks to him, I guess."

"So there's only, you and Grian left, huh?"

The air changed, "Nope. Only the two of us."

...

"What happend to him, Etho?"

Etho looked at him, "Are you scared of me? Grian died two days ago by my hand, okay?" He noticed how Bdubs had scooted away from him, only a few centimetres but still enough to be noticeable.

He shook his head, "No! I'm not! Etho you won! I don't count, so what's the price? Diamonds? Redstone? Shulkers? - Whatever your heart desires?"

A sudden faint expression painted Ethos face, an unreadable emotion, he didn't even say anything as he started climbing a ladder to skynet. "Hey!" He yelled at Etho, he ignored him, "What are you doing?"

He followed quickly, trying to keep up, "Etho!"

"I didn't win anything, Bdubs."

He kept going, and Bdubs followed him all the way up. Until they were on a wooden platform. The wind was wilder up here, so he kept himself grounded by sitting. His eyes on Etho who was standing, seemly deep in thought.

"I didn't win. There's no winning this if everyone is gone."

He shook his head, grinning, his mask lost somewhere on this server, his red eye met his black ones, "Even If I win, I have to go back don't I? And what about you? That's not winning, that's losing."

"I- Maybe- Grian said he was gonna go find help. And then..." His words died, "And then everything would be fixed."

"No."

"Huh?" He asked, looking up at Etho, who didn't even look at him, he was fixated on the ground way below them. "What do you mean?"

Ethos silence was deafening, he stood up, against his own fears, "What do you mean no?" With his friends expertise in coding and redstone he must know a bit more than he did. Which is why this one word concerned him the most.

"I'll go get help-"

"Like HELL you will! Everyone's gone! I can't lose you too! It's been days! Grian is gone now, and said he would talk to Mumbo about-" His arms flailed pointing at himself, "My situation!"

Etho looked at him, his eyes sad, his hands holding him tight, "I will get you - back again."

His hands shook as he fought himself to not be desperate, as the impulse took over, as his hands were all over the other. Holding, holding. On for his dear life, wandering.

"Please- Anything," He grabbed the others shirt, ghosting near his face, closer than he had ever been and would ever be. Seeing the small scar in the red eye and the tears in the other black one.

"Etho-" He took the others face in his hands, smashing their lips together in a last attempt at compromise, his hands sweaty and his whole body shaking. It wasn't nice, it wasn't warm, he didn't feel happy- dread filled his stomach and his eyes closed. Etho had gone into shock, his whole body still, not holding onto him, like a statue.

His lips cold against the others. The ticking of a clock felt like thunder in his ears.

Etho was the one who pushed him away, looking at him, not with disgust, but with sadness. With a whisper, almost impossible to hear, "I'm... gonna go find help. I- I'm-," His words seemed stuck in his throat, as if in a debate with himself to what he was gonna say, "I- I really care about you."

He jumped,

for goodness sake, he actually jumped and Bdubs were close to take off as well, but had to stop himself from doing so. His feet halted, hand reaching out for air as he watched his friend fall.

"ETHO!!" He screamed, a late response, falling to his knees as he in shock stared while Etho fell through the clouds. Lightning struck through them and then disappeared as quickly as he blinked. Only the remains of thunder sounded as an echo through the wind.

"Etho.." He whispered, falling back onto the platform as he started curling up into himself.

Last 5 minutes, Etho had used all his time trying to save him, trying to comfort him. And what had he done? Been a bother, only thinking about himself.

A tear fell down his cheek, his heart hurt, either from the sudden solitary, or from the illness or "bug" as Grian called it. He wasn't supposed to be here, and he couldn't die and respawn anymore apparently.

When the night neared, he stood up, not daring looking down, and not daring speaking up. He knew he would break down if he started speaking, even if it was for himself. Trying to cheer himself up, something he had gotten good at, since he was hilarious.

"He'll come back for you." He mumbled, stumbling to get down the ladder, "He wouldn't leave you alone."

"He loves you." He said, as quiet as the wind, "He does."

"He loves me."

When his feet landed on the dirt, he crumbled down into himself, he held onto himself tightly as one does when left alone, and started shaking. Trying to hold back his sobs, a talent he had gotten good at.

After some time, the night was over, with no meeting of a creeper or skeleton, he was sitting at the bottom of the ladders, stained cheeks of tears and red eyes. His arms were moist and his breath shallow. He forced himself up, holding onto the ladder, trying to not stare at it for too long.

The sun was out, warming him up, and lighting the way for him.

His hand went to reach for his lips, regretting his action. Closing his eyes to chase the feeling, hating the way he got excited, hated the way he loved it. He was far too gone to think straight anymore, his hallucination of lips against his ever lasting. His emotions all mixed up, some more fucked than others. Some more sinful and shameful.

He was devouring Etho's presence, or lack of.

Hungry, he was hungry and his feet were moving towards a cow farm he knew he had. He, Cleo, and Scar, their base. Which was, where? He swear it had been right there, right beside him. Before it blew up.

Before it blew-

up.

Realizing where he was, he ran. Ran until he couldn't anymore, until his hunger got the best of him, scared of dying and scared of this new world with none of his friends.

"They're coming." He said, to hear himself talk, "They're coming back for you, they promised. Grian promised, Pearl, Impulse... Etho promised me."

And after days of waiting, of finding ways to motivate himself to not go insane, he had built a new home. Well, newer than the one from yesterday, which he had burned down. Along with all the other projects he had.

Every strand of grass seemed the same, every single tree was newly planted. His leg was injured due to a skeleton, the arrow seemed to have pierced through him. He drank the last potion Grian had given him, for what seemed like months ago.

His clock was broken, so he couldn't count the days. He stopped counting after day 6.200. It all seemed meaningless after all.

He had learned to live by himself, even kept a zombie in a boat for company, which he had named Ethan. For no apparent reason. Ethan knew how to make him laugh, and even would sometimes grunt at him if he disagreed. Which he totally did, because who else would understand him in this barren world?

When his crops had disappeared one day after his expeditions to the mines, which he had almost stripped out completely, he didn't question it. Maybe it was a mob who had stopped by, burned and gone away. Or maybe it was his wolf who had eaten it. But, worst of all, Ethan was gone.

Ethan had disappeared along with his house.

Even the grass was greener, and a big statue had appeared where he had dug up from.

A big stone statue, of a head? Not his head, which was a tad bit offensive. If the mobs had decided to praise him, then at least get his face right.

"People these days, don't know how to build right! I say, to thou, stone head, I will rebuild you once I get back to my chest and get my - uh, pickaxe! I will redeem your sins against me!" He yelled at the statue, his voice more raspy and worn out.

"Bdubs?"

His head turned almost too fast, his neck cracking a bit, "Huh!?"

Grian stood there, someone he hadn't seen for a long time, "Why are thou- you here? What are- who- Get away from me!!"

The words died out as he screamed, his heart racing, his eyes blood shot and his sword dashed towards the man. The man who had been his friend, who had seemed to help him, who had promised him something he would never forget.

He would never forget.

"You forgot me, so why did you come back?"

Grian halted in his action to walk closer to him, "We really didn't! I went back and talked with everyone! Mumbo, Tango, Doc, Zed - everyone! And then, they said that the code had been mixed in with yours and there was no way to send you back until they had made a brand new one! Apparently something about a promised life, and the code for the new life series was unstable, so you only got half of a life, and-"

He couldn't listen to excuses, so he swung towards Grian, "YOU!" A hit against Grians shirt, "LEFT!" His sword left a mark on Grians arm, "ME!" Grian fell backwards, "TO DIE!" He stopped himself right as he was about to go for the final blow.

"But you didn't." Grian said, his voice was as calm as ever.

He cried, tears which hadn't been there for a long time fell down his cheeks, his sword limp in his hands, throwing it to Grians side, wiping away his tears, "But I wish I did." He held out his hand to help Grian up.

Grian went in for a hug, a warm one, he hadn't felt this warm since he was on fire that one time. Which had hurt a lot less than this, his body seemed to shake violently, which he found out were from the loud sobs he was making, he didn't want to let go, afraid to be left alone again.

Afraid to be left out.

"Bdubs, we did everything we could to start the server up again, it was on lockdown, and we all thought of you. I'm under strict orders to not tell you how Etho really missed you. He went offline for a long time to protest, and was really sad when he logged on to find you gone still. But I'm not allowed to tell you that!" Grian chuckled, rubbing circles on his back to calm him down.

"Where is he?" He asked, like a child, like a desperate lover, like a last plea. "Is he coming on?"

Grian nodded into his shoulder, "Of course, he's gonna be here soon to play test everything. You can respawn now by the way, you aren't tied to the code anymore."

"Okay, so I can be fully healed?" Bdubs asked unsure.

"Yes."

He pulled away from Grian, getting down on his knees, "Kill me."

Bdubs looked up at him, while Grian pulled out an enchanted netherite axe from his inventory, "Are you sure?"

He nodded.

He could feel the air change, his breathing slowed down, he could feel his heart stop, his eyes locked with the axe. He was gripping the grass.

He was - terrified.

"STOP!" He yelled out, rolling to the side, missing the axe by a centimeter. "I can't - can't do this!"

Grian nodded, "It's alright, I'll go back, I think the testers will be on in a few hours?"

"You're going?" Bdubs asked, his voice smaller now, he was still sitting on the grass, petting it slowly, "You're really gonna go?" It was almost impossible to bear.

Grian gave him a small smile, "Hey you could come with me if you - well, respawned. I have to be sure you're all new before you go back. I don't want what happened before to happen again..."

He nodded, slow at first, "Yeah, I will be here. I'll stay - here, good bye."

Grian waved, a bright light absorbed him.

"WAIT!!"

He yelled out, stumbling to get up, chasing the light, "DON'T LEAVE ME!" He cried out, his hands reaching and reaching, "GRIAN!!!" He face planted right down into the grass, quiet sobs, his whole body engulfed with shaking, and his hands trying to reach for something that was gone.

He threw up whatever he had swallowed down in the mines and throughout his period of being in solitude. Spider legs and Zombie flesh, steak and a cold potato. All the water he had swallowed when he almost drowned and all the ink he got into his lungs when trying to make a fresh octopus. A puddle of all the shit he had to endure, a pile of all his horror and terror of being alone. A small bone from a camel, and a fish eye. Not much to see.

What a man wouldn't do to survive, when all he wanted was to die.

His hands, rough, bruised, cut up from the stone and in constant pain. His pants, ripped, dirty, a different color than it had once been. His shirt gone, used for a cleaning rag and to help him survive from all the wounds he got. Shoes, gone, but never really forgotten, lava accident.

From where he stood he watched how the world had stopped moving, in a constant pause.

It didn't phase him how long he stood still for, he had been sitting for approximately 2 weeks before, it wasn't odd to wait for anything to happen. Either starvation or a zombie to find him.

A bright light startled him, a silhouette, two silhouettes.

He reached for his sword, out of defense. His eyes met familiar red ones, blonde hair, and red clothes.

All the words he wanted to say were gone, his eyes blinking at someone he both knew and couldn't recognize.

"Bdubs!" Tango screamed out, startling them both, "Good to see you again buddy! How, uh- I guess it's been rough. I missed you." His eyes watched how his friend reacted to his whole being. He probably looked like shit, and he felt like it too.

But, he didn't even listen to Tango, his eyes were focused on Etho, who had stopped in his tracks, eye to eye.

And he fell to his knees, not him, but Etho. His eyes filled with tears as he cried, no one dared near him, not even Tango who had taken a step back, knowing how long it had been.

As Etho cried, and cried, endless sobs into his hands, he weakly said, "I'm sorry" in between his cries. And after some time Bdubs went to hold him, scared at first, he was dirty, he was filthy, and he was everything horrible. But even still, Etho held onto him as hard as possible, to the point where he had to try to tap out, he was suffocating.

"What happened to you?" Etho asked, his voice stable now, his hands warm on his back.

He held on even tighter, "I- I don't know. Too much, can you just - please, hold me."

And he did. He could hear Ethos trying to slow his breathing through the mask.

The goddamn mask was back on, not that he really remembered what was hidden under, other than the experience of a lifetime. Other than the guilt.

He did remember the kiss, of course, how could he forget that. He felt shameful for it. "Etho I'm sorry-"

He didn't get to even start his apology before Etho was on him, mouth on mouth, with a mask in between them. He could feel the silhouette of his mouth, of hot breath, of wet tears. Of desperation. 'forgive me' repeating in his head as he stayed there for a second longer than appropriate.

A sudden tightness in his stomach occured, a force greater than he had felt in ages. He gasped, and Etho cried harder.

"Forgive me."

This time it wasn't he who said it, but Etho who held a bloody dagger in his hand, "This will be better for you after you respawn."

Tango stood there silently as his world faded in and out, "It hurts."

"It hurts so much, Etho." He whimpered.

His world become dark, as he felt his body ascend towards a familiar light. Every wound healed over, and every broken bone fixed within seconds. New clothes was provided along with shoes.

...

..

.

They all stood in a circle, a campfire in the middle as Grian was talking. Everything felt familiar, but who cared about that?

Bdubs beside Etho.

As fate aligned.

[leafs-lover]

Too Far Gone - Part Fifty Three

Warnings: swearing, smut - oral (f recieving), p in v, I think that's it?

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5900

It was early in the morning, earlier than Auston expected to wake. He and Tia were up until well after midnight, trading orgasms, him making good on that “later” promise. He couldn’t get enough of her, and she couldn’t get her fill of him. He thought they’d sleep in until Taylour came barrelling in, but based on the warm morning glow that has barely started to poke its way through the curtains, they have about an hour until then.

Tia lies next to him, gently stirring in her sleep while wearing one of his tee’s that has slipped off her shoulder, and, if memory serves, she is only wearing that t-shirt. Her chestnut brown locks are scattered across the pillow and a few strands have fallen over her face. She looks perfect, absolutely, fucking perfect. So perfect Auston doesn’t want this moment to end, but as the sun hits her bare skin and her subtle lilac bodywash is all he can smell, he can’t take it. He loops his arm around her chest and pulls her close, a soft, sleepy moan filling the air.

Through a haze she feels his fingers brush aside her hair, leaving her collarbone exposed. Next his lips press against her shoulder and neck, soft and gentle as wide smile spreads on his face.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” A smile spreads on her face and she kisses him, letting her finger scratch along his stubbled jaw.

“How’d you sleep?” His voice is raspy and full of gravel, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing her again.

“Really, really good.”

“Me too. Haven’t slept that good in ages.”

“Mhm, same.”

Tia barely gets the words out before Auston is pressing his lips back to hers, firmer this time. His hand finds her thigh and Tia feels the heat between her legs build as his touch slowly trails up, making its way to where they both need it most. Her back arches off the bed and he moves his hand to grab a handful of her ass, then smiles, he was remembering correctly.

Auston is quick to position himself between her legs and hooks them over his shoulders. They make eye contact and her pussy quivers when he kisses the skin of her inner thigh. His tongue licks along her, slowly and methodically moving closer and closer, her breathing becoming more erratic as anticipation builds.

Tia shudders at the feeling of his exhale against her swollen heat. He can tell she is sore, that she would appreciate if he took his time, slowly working his way in, but the sunlight hits her pussy and makes it glisten in a way that summons him in. He won’t be taking his time.

All the air leaves her lungs when his lips connect to hers and she cries out in pleasure when he sucks harshly on her clit. Like every time before her hips involuntarily flinch, and just like every time before, Auston grabs at her hips to hold her in place, but he isn’t going to let up. Her movements and sweet sounds only encourage him more.

“Aus.” She whimpers, fisting at the bedsheet. A deep, melancholic laugh comes from below, Auston always enjoyed this.

His tongue slides up and down then side to side, working at all the spots he knows will have her cursing until she can’t speak anymore. Her knuckles are going white, and his fingers dig in harder, surely leaving marks.

Following a rather sharp gasp, Auston grins and slips in two fingers. He sucks hard at her clit, making her breathing get heavier as he twists his fingers and sets a quick pace. Her thighs tighten around his face, trapping him against her heat as she writhes above him, pleasure building and building.

“Right there Aus,” she can barely get the words out.

Auston keeps doing what he has been, what he always did with her, but more importantly it’s what he knows she likes. He sucks harder and harder, thrusting his fingers in and out, until the coil snaps and his face is covered in her release. He holds Tia’s core against his face and works to messily clean the mess but doesn’t work too hard. What he has planned next is only going to make more.

**

When Tia ventured out of the shower and into the living room, she found Auston and Taylour on the floor. He was resting on one elbow with a tight grey t-shirt stretched tightly around his biceps and was rolling a toy transport truck back and forth over the hardwood floors. Tia smiles and cards her hand through Auston’s partially damp curls then falls to a heap on the floor between them.

“Hi Mommy!” Taylour smiles but keeps his head down, completely fascinated by the yellow plastic Camaro in his hand.

“Hi Taylour. How’d you sleep?”

“Good.” He passes the toy to Auston with a small, frustrated huff. “How do you do it Daddy?”

Auston accepts the toy and starts twisting and pulling on the plastic, a few pieces turn in circles and others snap inside, with every move Taylour’s eyes get wider and wider until the transformation is complete.

“There you go.”

“It’s a transformer Mommy!” He beams, taking the now robot back from him. “What’s his name Daddy?” 

“BumbleBee.” 

“Bumblebee! Do this one now.” Taylour eagerly passes him the blue and red transport truck and watches in awe as he converts it into Optimus Prime. “So cool!” 

Taylour scrambles to his feet and starts to run. With one toy in each hand, he spreads his arms out wide and blows air out of his mouth, pretending to fly them around the room. Auston brushes Tia’s hair behind her shoulder and presses his lips to her cheek. She smiles and leans into his touch, watching Taylour jump on the couch from cushion to cushion. “This is perfect,” he hums against her, earning a gentle sigh because it really is. 

“Hey, Optimus Prime,” Tia finally calls out after a minute. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Taylour giggles and bounces between the cushions a few more times before launching himself into the air. He lands and runs over to Tia and wraps his arms around her neck and the plastic brushes against her back, then whispers, very loudly, “pancakes.”

“Does Daddy have pancakes?” She eyes over to Auston who has a wide smile pressed to his face – he always loved seeing her be a mom - and nods. “Okay. Pancakes it is.”

Tia gets up and moves to the kitchen. She opens the fridge and pulls out the butter, milk, and eggs, then opens a couple cupboards until she finds a mixing bowl, measuring cups and whisk. She opens the pantry and starts to scan the shelves, searching for the remaining ingredients when Auston’s thick tattoo covered arm comes into view and he pulls out a box. Tia rolls her eyes; she should have known he’d have instant pancake mix.

“So.” Tia turns around in his arms, and he immediately presses his lips to hers. Tia sighs into the kiss and feels his tongue start to work its way into her mouth. It’s soft, slow, the kind of lazy morning kisses that Auston will be craving every day. “What are the odds you can get two tickets for tonight?”

Auston laughs, almost condescendingly, but his smile is genuine. “Pretty good.”

“Good.” Tia rises to her tippy toes and brings her lips close to his. Just as he is about to lean in, she ducks away and snatches the box from his grasp and tosses it in the garbage. “Our son deserves more than instant pancakes.”

“I’m busy with hockey, I don’t have time to make pancakes from scratch.”

“Oh right, and the student with an 87% average, part time job that recently launched their own fashion line isn’t busy.”

“I didn’t say that,” Auston tries to backpedal while grinning at her playful teasing.

“Yet, I make pancakes from scratch.”

“And that’s why he constantly says that’s not how mommy does it when I cook anything.”

Tia winks and pulls the flour out of the pantry and shuts the doors before ushering him out of the kitchen.

It took Tia a little bit longer than normal to make the pancakes. She kept getting distracted by Taylour’s laughter, Auston’s laughter, Taylour’s smile, Auston’s boyish grin and soft winks, Taylour calling “Mommy look” as Auston had him upside down over his shoulders before playfully slamming him against the couch. She always knew Auston would be an amazing dad, she had witnessed it for the past fourteen months, but seeing the two important boys in her life interacting that way made her feel so many things all at once. She would have been happy to just stand there and watch the two pieces of her world play and love each other, for their laughs to be the only sounds she’d hear,  but then she remembered everything that had to be done and returned to making breakfast.

Taylour’s pancakes had two blueberries for eyes and sliced some strawberries placed on top for lips. It’s something Auston noticed she had been doing for a while, cutting his food into hearts, or festive shapes at the holidays, it’s something so small, but it only made him love her more. With that being said, he wasn’t going to lie and say he was a little disappointed his fruit came on the side in a small bowl, but he also wasn’t going to complain.

“Thank you, Mommy.” Taylour takes a piece of pancake and dips it in the syrup, the only way he will eat his pancakes, then shoves it in his mouth. “It’s so good.”

“You’re welcome.” Using the pad of her thumb, Tia wipes some syrup off Taylour’s cheek. “I’m going to get ready for work.”

Tia took her time getting ready, more than she normally would. Most days she wore very little makeup which consisted generally consisted with concealer, a little blush and mascara, her hair would be pulled into a high pony or left down and framing her face. She of course has every product imaginable; it was basically a requirement for nights at the club, but since then it tended to live in a drawer. This particular morning she was feeling a little spicy, and a part of her wanted to drive Auston wild as he spent the entire day thinking of touching her.

She succeeded in her mission.

He felt his cock twitch and she watched his Adam’s apple bob when she found him in the kitchen cleaning breakfast. She had on a tight black ribbed turtleneck tucked into her fitted blue jeans with a channel belt wrapped around her waist. Every part of her, hips, breasts, ass were perfectly accentuated. It was if it had been tailored to her body (they had been). Her hair was curled into loose beachy waves and the sun hit the bronzer on her cheekbones, but what really caught his eye was the simple gold necklace that dangled from her neck, the coffee cup charm and 34 resting between her breasts. Seeing it brought a smile to his face - she wasn’t wearing it earlier.

“Wow.” Auston leaves the dishcloth on the counter and pulls Tia in, caging her in. “You look amazing.”

“Our son is twenty feet away.” Tia moans when Auston’s lips hit her jaw.

“He’s busy.” Auston murmurs against her skin and lets his hands find her waist, hooking his thumbs through her belt loops. With another kiss, this one to her lips, he pulls back with one of his signature smirks plastered to his face. “Got tickets for you guys tonight.”

“That was fast.”

“I know a guy.”

“Are you the guy?”

He grins and proudly nods. “Yeah, I’m the guy.”

Auston is about to lean in again when his phone chimes, not once, not twice but three times. Tia’s arms wrap around his lower back, and she rests her face against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heart. That always was her spot.

With one hand still on her hip to keep her close, Auston reaches into his pant pocket and pulls out his iPhone. He was expecting messages from Fred, checking in after yesterday, Mitch with some ridiculous video he came across, maybe even something in the team chat prior to their morning skate. He didn’t really give it a second thought and mindlessly opened his messages, not even acknowledging the name until it was too late.

Tia’s stomach drops. Auston’s back stiffens.

Corrie.

And not just with text messages, but a very revealing photo to accompany them.

“She’s just a friend.” Auston quickly stutters out, then winces, they both know the term “friend” is being used loosely. “She was supposed to visit me in LA on the road trip in a couple days. I cancelled.” Auston quickly fumbles out then scrolls up to the text he sent shortly after he found Tia in his closet.

“Yeah.” She speaks softly, and forces herself out or his embrace, no longer feeling safe in what was once home. “I got to go to work.”

“Tia –“

“I’m going to be late.” Auston can feel the way her voice breaks.

“I can drive you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she rushes out, her voice full of hurt. “It’s not near his daycare.”

**

Auston knew he shouldn’t have let her walk away. Dropping her at work would have added an extra ten minutes to his day, and he would have driven an extra hour if it meant time together to talk this out.

Just like Auston, Tia knew she shouldn’t have left things the way they were. She knew she overreacted, it was just a text, and he did cancel her trip, but it didn’t hurt any less. It felt somewhat reminiscent of one year prior when they slept together and she found of Auston had left things somewhat open with Claire. It brought her back to her relationship with Thomas where he constantly told her “Melissa’s just a friend” only to find out they were much more than that.

She knew she was spiralling and a simple phone call would help calm her down, but Auston was at hockey, and this didn’t seem like the kind of thing that should be talked about over the phone.

To make matters worse, the store was quiet. Very few customers had come through, and two of them were “just looking” and left in under five minutes, giving her all the time in the world to think it over. She dusted all the shelves, unpacked some of the new shipments and found the items a home on the shelves and racks. She windexed the mirrors, stripped the mannequins then put some of the new items on display, and still had two hours left in her shift. She couldn’t think of what to do to occupy that time, then the chime of the door snaps her out of the trance, and a familiar face brings a smile to hers.

“Hey,” Abby walks in with two coffees and sets one down beside the cash register. “I know you work most Saturdays.”

“Thanks,” Tia quickly gives Abby a hug and lets out a deep breath, one she had been holding onto for hours.

“I haven’t heard from you in a couple days.” Abby probes, smirking over her cup.

“I’ve been,” Tia clicks her tongue and quirks an eyebrow. “Busy.”

“Good busy or bad busy?”

Tia takes a sip, then eyes over her cup to her friend. “Both.”

“Start with the good busy.”

Tia shakes her head and lets out a light laugh. She takes another sip then starts by telling Abby what happened after their phone call, that horrible night where all she did was cry. The following morning with the couples therapy session that was followed up with an afternoon of sex, an evening spent as a family, followed by a night and morning of sex. She told Abby how they talked through some of their issues in therapy, about the honesty and vulnerability they shared, along with the multiple orgasms. She could tell Abby was thrilled to see her friend finally getting the ending she wanted.

Abby paid attention, not just to what Tia was saying it but how she said it. She noticed the heat that would slowly fight its way through to her cheeks before she’d trail off, almost as if she was lost in the memory of him. Her voice peaked and a smile spread as Tia told Abby about how she is his girlfriend, and Abby swore she heard the flutter in her heart when Tia talked about the way he kissed her, not the one where she was pressed up against his door, but the gentle ones he’d place in her hairline as they all cuddled up together watching a movie.

“This all sounds good.” Abby’s face twists in confusion, noticeably puzzled as to what could have happened for her friend to be this upset given what happened. “How’d you screw it up?”

Tia doesn’t even try to fight the backhanded remark because it’s partially true. “He got a text from a girl he’s been dating or hooking up with, I don’t really know what she is to him, but she text him this morning.”

“What did the text say?”

“How she was looking forward to seeing him in California next week and was sorry that he had to cancel and hopes to see him soon.” Tia leaves out the picture. Just because the image of a stunning blonde wearing black lacey underwear and tight white crop top is etched in her brain, doesn’t mean it needs to be in her friends as well.

“He cancelled?” Tia nods and Abby continues . “After you two had sex?”

“Before.” Tia clarifies. “The day before. We hadn’t even gone to therapy when he cancelled.”

“You know why he cancelled her trip right?”

“Yes, I do,” Tia lets out a loud and frustrated groan. “He wants to give this a try, me and him. And yes,  I know I am overreacting, and I shouldn’t be upset, but I am.”

“You’re allowed to be upset.” Tia drops her gaze and runs her hands down through her curls, then lets out a heavy sigh. “Not upset at him but upset at the situation.”

“I knew he was sleeping around, there was that girl I met at his door, the girl at the party, this seems different though… flying someone out…it seems…serious.”

“Maybe it was, but he cancelled.”

“But that would mean he has feelings for her, I don’t want to get in the middle –“

“Did you ask if he has feelings for her?” Abby quickly butts in when she notices Tia anxiously picking at the paper cup, one of her nervous ticks.

Tia sighs and lets her head fall. “No. I didn’t give him the chance to talk, I just left.”

“Tia,” Abby scolds.

“How can he fly a girl to visit him and have it mean nothing?”

“You had guys at the club offer to take you on trips.”

“They weren’t serious offers.” Tia laughs.

“Tamara literally just got back from Miami with Monday Night Dave.”

Tia’s eyes go wide. Monday Night Dave was a regular who was there every Monday and tended to spend his time with Tia. They always went to a private booth, and he’d pay for a minimum of six songs (ten was the usual number) always give Tia at least a $150 tip. Tia would dance for him and take her top off,  and he was one of the few she’d let him put his hands on her hips but only because he’d wait until she said so. He’d spend most of the time complaining about his soon-to-be ex-wife and how he was happy to no longer be with her. He constantly mentioned his cottage in the Muskoka’s, his place in Miami and another in Cabo, subtly hinting for her to join. Of course, Tia would flirt back, ask a million questions, do anything to seem interested and increase her tip without agreeing. If she’s being honest, she didn’t believe Dave had the homes and never thought it was a serious offer. Clearly, she was wrong.

“Dave flew her down, private, they were there for 4 days at this luxury condo, and he paid for everything. Food, drinks, took her shopping. If guys like Monday night Dave are willing to do all that for just sex, I’m sure Auston can too.”

Tia takes a second to consider what Abby told her. While Tamara and Monday Night Dave were just a transaction for sex, she knows Auston isn’t the type to pay for it. If he is flying a girl to another city, it must mean more.

“Isn’t there girls in LA though?” Tia asks.

“You’re so naïve,” Abby laughs at her. “Just talk to him, let him explain. Regardless of the circumstances of the visit, you owe him that much.”

Tia spent the next two hours nervously bouncing on her heels. She didn’t quite know what to make of her conversation with Abby. Was she implying that it was just sex, that this girl was an escort, or there are feelings between them? Is there more than one girl? If so, how many and what’s the relationship between them? If one or more of them is an escort, does she want to get involved with him? The mark from her last scandal has barely begun to heal.

**

When she opened the door to her apartment it was quiet, all the lights were off. She flicked on the one in the hallway and Taylour, like he always did, had already kicked his winter boots harshly against the wall and dropped his coat in a pile on the floor. She grumbled a little under her breath, mostly because she has been trying to teach him to pick up after himself, but before she has a chance to call him back over to clean up his belongings, he is gone. Actually gone. Tia goes to poke her head in his room to see if he snuck in there for some toys but it’s not long before she hears his soft laughter coming from her bedroom.

“Tay?”

“Your hair went everywhere.” As much anxiety as she felt throughout the day, dread over the potential hurt that may come from their looming conversation, the second Tia heard Auston’s voice she knew everything was going to be okay. He always had a calming presence.

She pushed open the door and sees Taylour sitting on her bed and Auston tucked under the duvet, listening intently while Taylour tells him of his day at the Science Centre.

“Mhm, Mrs. D sent mommy a picture.” Taylour quickly turns to Tia. “Show Daddy the picture.”

They both laugh, and Tia unlocks her phone and shows him the picture and videos of Taylour touching the electric ball with his hair sticking upright. “Wow!” Auston muses. “Looks like you had fun.”

“So much fun!” Taylour giggles cutely. “Can I have a snack Mommy?”

“Yeah, come on.”

Tia took Taylour back out to the living room and grabbed him a yogurt tube and cheese string. She set a plastic cup with orange juice on the coffee table, turned on the TV and started Moana for him, then ventured back to her room where Auston was waiting. He smiled when he saw her and lifted the duvet to welcome her in.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, crawling to be close to him.

His arm wraps around her back and he tugs her closer, wanting to eliminate as much space as possible. “I didn’t want to wait to talk.”

“Good.” Tia places a hand on his cheek, and he jumps at the cold touch of her fingers.

“I’m sorry –“ they both say at the same time and laugh lightly.

“You don’t have to apologize, I completely overreacted.”

“It shouldn’t have taken a text message to tell you about them.”

Them. Tia’s brows furrow following that word. She takes a gulp, trying to push everything down, then speaks. “We weren’t dating, you were allowed to see whoever you wanted, whenever you wanted.”

“But?” He prompts. While Auston can feel the sincerity in her words, he can also tell there is something she isn’t saying.

“I don’t want to come between you and her, if –“

“Baby.” Auston kisses her right away. “You’re not.”

“You were flying her out to visit you.” Even through her small smile Auston can see the hurt she is trying to disguise.

“I swear to you Tia it was nothing.”

“You were flying her out,” Tia stresses. She doesn’t want to get hung up on that, but it seems to be a large detail he is overlooking. “You don’t do that for just sex.”

Auston’s head falls and he lets out all the air in his lungs. Following a deep inhale, he brings his gaze back and she can see all the worry he has been harbouring. “Women talk.” Tia lets out a laugh, not at what he is saying but the way he is saying it, as if this is new information to him. “Like a lot. Everything I do ends up on gossip sites, in the comments or tags of my Instagram, the team has talked to me on more than one occasion. It became easier to find a few women who are discreet and only interested in sex than dealing with everything else. Corrie is that kind of person. I was flying her out because I hadn’t seen her in months, I was worried she may not be around come summer, didn’t want to be alone. Don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Auston smiles and gently tucks some of her hair behind her ear.

Tia nods and takes a second to think over everything he said. A part of her gets it. After the article a spotlight shone on her, unwanted attention from fans or those claiming to be her friend, it was more than she ever expected to handle in her lifetime, and she was barely able to handle it. She can’t imagine that kind of scrutiny following her very move, maybe what he’s saying holds some merit.

“You sure? Because if it was more and you want to keep exploring things with them and me, I,” she chokes on her words, “I’d be okay with that….keeping your options open.”

“I don’t want options, I want you, only you.”               

When those words come out so does all the stress she had been holding onto all day. Her heart starts to settle and for the first time in hours she is at ease. “Good.” Tia grins. “I don’t think I’d actually be okay with it.”

“I know,” Auston grins back, dimples fully on display. “It’s all over.” He slips his hand under a pillow and pulls out his phone, he unlocks it and opens the messaging app. He sent one to Corrie, one to Olivia and another to Michelle. He kept it brief, but truthful, letting them all know he and Tia were back together and everything between them was over. “I should have done it sooner,” he says turning the phone around for her. Tia grabs the device and tosses it behind her, she doesn’t need proof, she trusts him. “I was a little…distracted.”

Heat creeps beneath the skin of Tia’s cheeks and Auston grins again. He loves that after everything he still has this affect on her. “I would have been pretty upset if you stopped what we were doing to message another girl.”

Auston lets out another laugh, absolutely nothing could have pulled him from her last night. As much as he wants to kiss her and put this in the past forever, he knows that isn’t what’s best for their future. “Do you have any questions?”

“Uh…I…” she stammers out and clears her throat, taking a second to gather herself as best she can. “How many?”

Auston clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. Of course, he wants full transparency, he just didn’t think this is what they’d start with. “Like total? Or just right now?”

She scrunches up a face and shakes her head. She doesn’t know whose question was worse. “Never mind.”

“No babe, I’ll tell you anything. But if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure.”

“My boyfriend, the slut.” Tia jokes, drawing a slight grin to her face.

“I was in a rough place the first year after Zurich, and the second year…really the entire time. I didn’t have to try to get someone in my bed, so I didn’t. I only wanted to ease the pain.”

“I get that.” Tia genuinely sympathizes. “If I didn’t have Taylour, I would have done the same.”

“Claire was the one and only girl I dated.” Auston laughs when Tia crinkles her nose at the name. “Since then, I have dated nobody, I had a few friends, even more one-night stands, I used protection with all of them. It was never going to be anything more than sex, my hearts always been with someone else.”

Those words hang in the air for a second, its as if they both wait to see if the other takes the bait, to be the first one to say those words. Because, even though they have said it countless times over the past few months, they both know the next time they say it will hold more weight than anytime before.

“You have to burn your sheets.”

Auston laughs and the butterflies in her stomach start fluttering once again.

“I’ll leave you my credit card and you can buy all the sheets you want while I’m in LA.”

One of his hands starts to venture down to the small of her back and his mustache tickles her upper lip seconds before his lips are crashing onto hers.

The kiss is slow and gentle, nobody fighting for control, just two people relishing in the others touch, soft sighs and sweet moans flooding the air. She scratches her nails through the scruff on his jaw and their tongues work in unison. Auston rolls Tia onto her back, and she pulls him on top, the kiss gradually becoming hungrier and heavier. Her hand slips under the hem of his shirt and his works to tug her turtleneck free, creating enough space to slip underneath. Almost instantly he grabs at the fabric of her bra then starts kneading and rolling her nipple.

He can feel himself slowly starting to harden, his boxers tenting up, then Taylour’s joyful laughter erupts from the living room and his forehead falls against hers, both of them releasing an awkward laugh.

“Used to have to hide it from our parents, now we have to find a way to hide from him.” Tia removes her hand.

“Yeah.” Auston takes a second, then his eyes light up. “Come with me.”

He fumbles out of the bed and opens her bedside drawer, he pulls out a condom and drags her to the bathroom, giggling the entire time like he used to at eighteen.

“What are you doing?” Tia whispers as Auston closes the door and locks it. “What if he needs us.”

“He has a snack and a movie; I think we’re good for ten minutes,” Auston responds.

Auston spins her so her back is flush to his chest. She can feel his erection pressing into her back as he pops the button of her jeans open, then uses the space to slip his hand inside. He teases over her core, a featherlight touch brushing over her pussy lips.

“You have a game tonight.”

Her eyes roll shut as two fingers slip between her lips and his thumb begins massaging her sensitive bud.

“And if I play good.” His fingers thrust up and his teeth nip at her neck. “This can be our new game day tradition.”

“What are you waiting for then?”

Auston’s thrusts his fingers in and out a few times, each time becoming harder and deeper than before. Following a sharp gasp, he slips his hand out from her pants and she shimmies them down past her knees, underwear not far behind. Auston pushes his boxers down to free his cock and after a few strokes, he uses his teeth to tear the condom open. He rolls it over his length and kicks Tia’s legs apart, teasing at her entrance.

He enters her in one swift movement and they both moan when he buried himself inside. A feeling they used to know all to well yet spent so long missing. Tia reaches out for the counter for stability as Auston thrusts back inside.

“You always did look good with my cock inside ya,” Auston grunts, anchoring his nails into her hips. He needs to keep her close.

“You always felt good inside me,” Tia moans.

The sound of slapping skin fills the room as the air becomes hot, sweaty. He sloppily licks along her neck, sucking and nipping, not even slightly concerned about marks. He knows she can cover them up.

Auston sets a steady pace and brings one hand around to her front to apply pressure to her already throbbing clit. He can feel her leaning into the counter, her legs becoming weak as pleasure builds from deep within. Auston wraps a hand around her throat but doesn’t squeeze, just uses it to keep her leaning against him.

Tia can feel her orgasm starting to build, and her eyes roll back into her skull. She wants to keep them open; she really does, she knows how much he loves watching her fall apart, but more importantly, how much he loved when she’d watch herself, but it’s all becoming too much. Auston found the spot like he always did, and every time he drags his cock in and out, he brushes up against it.

“T,” Auston sucks on her ear lobe and thrusts again. Its deep and hard, and if not for his hand around her neck she surely would have stumbled forward. “You gotta watch, it’s the best part.”

Auston continues to move in and out, pressing his hips against her ass, gently squeezing at her throat to remind her to open her eyes and swirling his thumb over her clit. When her head lands on his shoulder and her eyes open, a layer of tears is coating them. A few more thrusts and the edges of her vision blur. A few more and her orgasm hits drawing a slew of whimpers spill from her lips. Auston continues rubbing her clit, milking her orgasm for all its worth before he spills everything he has in the condom.

The two of them stop and his hand drops from her neck. Their breathing is uneven and sweat clings to his forehead. After a minute Auston brings his hand around and connects it to her ass, grinning as she yelps. “This should definitely be a part of my pre-game ritual.” Auston hums against her neck. “Shower?”

“I’m going to go check on our son.”

“Tell him there is a present on his bed.” Auston gives Tia’s ass another slap while winking at her in the mirror.

“You’re something else,” Tia shakes her head.

“His other jersey was getting too small.”

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

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[hifilounge]

New Trilogy Audio 921 Integrated + 994 Mono Amps Now On Permanent Demo!

Hi Everyone,

Happy New Year all, here’s hoping everyone has a healthy 2024 as that is all that really matters isn’t it.

So here we go with the first blog of 2024 and it is a good one as we’ve have always been big fans of Trilogy Audio at HiFi Lounge, mainly for me just because they sound so damn good, I have used a Trilogy Preamp at home for a few years now, so we are delighted to have two new amplifier products on demo from them, firstly we have the new £5900 921 integrated amp and secondly we have the very first pair in the world of the £20k 994 Mono’s.

Trilogy 921 Integrated Amplifier

Now I’ve been looking forward to the 921 for some time now as we have it’s bigger brother in the shop, the £17k 925 but to get a Trilogy amp at this price is really exciting and now we have had it for a couple of weeks and used it in a couple of demo’s it really has passed the listening tests with flying colours with everyone who has listened to it saying it really is up their with the very best so then it just comes down to that old chestnut of personal choice, the price point is really popular with our customers so looking forward to demo’ing it plenty more going forward.

We actually did a couple of demo’s before Christmas with DeVore O/Baby customers who were looking for an amp to partner with their new speakers and it turns out that the 921 is a brilliant match which is great news as the O/Baby’s are very special but they do need careful matching so it is great that we can recommend the 921 as an option.

Trilogy 994 MonoBlock Amplifiers

Then like busses we got 2 amps come along at the same time with the brand new Trilogy 994 Mono Blocks following the 921 a week or so later, now firstly these look awesome, basically a smaller design the the Reference 995 Mono’s, quite a different design to most mono’s with their smallish footprint, I think they look stunning and another really cool thing is that firstly it is a Hybrid design so uses a valve on the output stage to give a little added warmth and naturalness to the presentation but the coolest thing is that you can switch between Class A and Class A/B, this is the only amps we have in the shop that allow this, such a cool feature, basically getting 2 amps in one which do give quite a difference in presentation.

The first thing to try was the 994’s in Class A on our demo DeVore O/96’s as I am always keen to try different amps on these speakers as they are such chameleons, they really change their presentations with different amps and like the 921 I’m pleased to say they are a great match, quite different from the 300B Western Electric 91E we normally run on them but with the extra power of the 994 it really added more control to the bottom end + more headroom but still kept the width and depth on the WE91E, in fairness we lost a little of the warmth in the mid but then as I am always saying everything in HiFi is a compromise but the 994’s are certainly a great option for the O/96’s and any speakers I would say, certainly looking forward to trying them with a variety of other speakers we have in here.

So if you like a very natural presentation which leans slightly more to the warmer side of neutral but still with all the detail and you are looking for a new amp or amps please feel free to get in touch to demo the new Trilogy 921 and 994’s as I’m sure you will love them as much as I do.

Please find a link to Trilogy on our website below and if you'd like to come in for a listen anytime please feel free.

All the best for 2024,

Regards,

Paul.

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (14/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU

This Chapter: Teen, ~5900 words

AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 |

James doesn’t remember the drive home. Apart from his desire to collapse in a boneless heap in his bed, the only thought running through his mind is Rose, and how horribly he had made her feel, yet how kindly she had treated him.

He can hardly believe he had told her he’s falling in love with her, can hardly believe that truth himself. He tries to keep his expectations low, convincing himself that he’ll be okay if Rose says she doesn’t feel the same way, or that the risk isn’t worth the reward, and yet he’s already preemptively mourning her loss.

Without recalling the route he’d taken, James pulls into his dark and empty garage and kills the engine. His house is equally dark and empty—he spares a moment of regret that he had run away from his mum and hinted that he wanted her gone from his home by the time he’d returned. He’ll have to make it up to her and explain everything that happened, but not tonight.

Zombie-like, he trudges to his bedroom, strips down to his boxer-briefs, and buries himself beneath his sheets. Sleep claims him easily, pulling him into a dreamless slumber that he does not rouse from until late the following morning, when the sun is up and his security team are ambling around downstairs, undoubtedly waiting for him to get his lazy arse up.

With the amount of work he’d gotten done yesterday, James is in no rush to get to the studio. He is well ahead of meeting the deadlines as outlined on his contract: he had signed for ten years or five studio albums, whichever came first, and he has already produced three albums over the past five years. He could easily take a year-long hiatus from songwriting and producing, but why would he? Why would he take a break from a job that brings him so much enjoyment?

Though he doesn’t expect to see her name, his heart still sinks when Rose’s name isn’t among the call or text notifications on his phone. Neither is his mother’s, and that, too, sinks his spirits. He opens his text messages with her and types, “I’m sorry I was a twat. Things are complicated right now and I need space to think. Let me take you to dinner this coming weekend? My treat.”

His mother answers almost immediately. It’s always your treat. Let me cook for you instead?

His mum, bless her heart, isn’t the best cook; she’s not awful by any means, but she doesn’t season things as well as they ought, so meals she makes tend to turn out bland. Nevertheless, he replies, “Absolutely. Can’t wait. Saturday at 6?”

I’ll pencil you in.

After that message, half a minute passes before his phone buzzes again.

I worry about you, Jamie. I just want the best for you, and I want you to be happy with your life.

The use of his old childhood pet name twists at his guts. “I am happy, Mum. Most of the time, anyway. Things are just… weird right now. Give me time. I’ll sort it out.”

Did you talk to Rose?

He sighs and rubs the heels of his hands into his sleep-gritty eyes. “Sort of. Things are weird, like I said. I’ll tell you the whole thing later. Promise.”

Okay. Have a good day at work 💖

James closes out of his phone, ignoring the dozens of other messages waiting for him. He pulls on ratty work-out clothes and clomps downstairs, where Jack and River are playing chess at his gargantuan kitchen table. They glance over at him, but wisely make no comments as he pulls on tennis shoes and descends to his home gym.

He works out lazily but for far longer than usual, and only ends his leisurely stroll on the treadmill when his stomach demands food. He powers off his equipment and makes his way upstairs, where Jack and River have shifted to a game of Scrabble.

Finally, as he is brewing a pot of coffee and putting bread in the toaster, River says, “Your mother said you had a rough couple of nights.”

“My mother is over-concerned,” he retorts, then shrugs and adds, “I’m working on it. I’ll be fine.”

“We’re just doing our job. Can’t keep you safe if you’re slipping into self-destruction.”

James winces, recalling the night when Jack had had to rush him to the hospital after a night of self-loathing-induced binge drinking. That had been years ago, and James had never gotten close to that sort of behavior since, not even the bender he’d gone on the night before last.

Still, James knows he has unhealthy coping mechanisms, and he appreciates their concern, however unwanted it is.

“I’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Really. Just a little hiccup is all.”

“Problems in paradise?” Jack asks.

“Sort of. Not in the mood to talk about it, really.”

They both shrug and get back to their game, mercifully leaving him alone for the rest of the morning before escorting him to the recording studio. With the green light from his label, James begins the recording process for the songs that will appear on his next album. There is an itch in the back of his mind, telling him that the album isn’t quite finished yet, but it’s at least 75% there, so he works on the songs he’s sure about and will fill in the gaps as they present themselves to him.

There is no set date for a launch on the record, but James thinks he’ll have it ready for post-production shortly after the holidays. It will be his quickest album by far, with a majority of it having come together in under a month. It’s an odd feeling, being so prolific, and he’s gripped with fear that his label is merely feeding his ego by telling him his new material is wonderful, when it’s actually flaming hot rubbish. It’s only by reminding himself that they won’t make any money if he produces an awful album that he keeps those nasty insecurities at bay.

Rose is woven throughout this album, present in nearly every melody and lyric as James croons love ballads and rasps out the terror of a relationship that’s on thin, breaking ice. For the songs he was allowed to write on his previous albums, he always drew from personal experience for inspiration, but this is the first time an album is capturing his present reality so completely. For a crippling moment, he’s terrified that he’s made a huge mistake, and that he should never, ever, ever let the public into his private thoughts of and experiences with Rose. But when he thinks about scrapping the album to start again, a deep sense of grief and mourning overtakes him, and his mind automatically reconstructs each song as they are. No, he doesn’t think he can throw away what he’s made, but he should at least give Rose the courtesy of telling her that much of the album is inspired by her; if she ever wants to talk to him again, that is.

While he knows she’s busy teaching, it doesn’t stop James from checking his phone every few minutes—🌹Bad Wolf Girl🌹 is never in his notifications. Since he isn’t sure if a message from him would be welcome after she asked for time to think, he doesn’t initiate contact with her and hopes she doesn’t take it as a sign that he has lost all interest in her.

oOoOo

Over the coming week, he buries himself in his work, recording the instrumentation and vocals for his new album between continued publicity for Catalysis. Despite the whirlwind press tour he had done in America, his promotional duties are far from over, since he now has to promote the film here in the UK. James is herded from interview to interview, appearing on radio and television talk shows in equal measures. He performs the main song from the film dozens of times, and it’s a good thing he loves all the music he writes, otherwise he would have grown tired of it.

He doesn’t mind these sorts of publicity events, really. It gives him an excuse to talk about other people, and to praise everyone who worked on the film. Catalysis had gotten good ratings from its American audience, and now everyone in the UK is vibrating with anticipation to also watch it. He wonders if Rose will see it; she’d expressed interest in it when he first told her he was going on a promotional tour, but perhaps this hiccup they’ve run into has soured the film for her.

Because of the nature of the film, love lives tend to come up in interviews. Before, James would have had no problem telling the truth, because the paparazzi usually had already captured most of the details. But now, he has to wrack his brain on how to talk about the relationship he isn’t even sure he has. He already hurt Rose by his blasé comment on the LA red carpet about just having a bit of fun, and he refuses to do that again.

So when a talk show host asks him how he met his current partner, James shrugs and says, “It was a happy accident. I went out for a walk, ended up at a pub, and there she was.”

He can practically see the host’s eyes sparkling with triumph that he has pulled information from him. Deciding to nip any follow-up questions in the bud, James says, “Things are still new and uncertain, so I would appreciate moving on from this subject. Cheers.”

There is no way for the host to politely continue badgering, and the disappointment is palpable as he moves on with his questions for some of the cast about the making of the film (as though they haven’t answered these questions a dozen times over by now).

While James’s response to that interview question has given the paparazzi something to needle him about, he finds he actually doesn’t give a damn about appeasing them. Why had he ever given those sharks an inch, knowing they’ll take a mile? So when his security team guides him to his car to shuffle him to his next interview appointment, James utterly ignores the crowd of paparazzi snapping his photo and shouting questions at him.

“Where did you meet her?”

“On to a female partner this time?”

“What’s her name?”

“C’mon James, you gotta give us something! Don’t be such a tease.”

He flashes them all a saccharine smile and a salute as he gets into the car. Idris glances at him through the rear-view mirror, and it’s only when she’s heard the telltale click of the seatbelt buckle that she pulls into traffic.

Beside him, River casually says, “I approve of your new method of dealing with the paparazzi.”

“I’m tired of their shit,” he says, breathing out a huge sigh and slouching into his seat. “Dunno why it’s taken me so long.”

River rests her hand on his knee and squeezes. “Good. It’s about time.”

When he first entered the public eye, he was terrified of bad publicity, terrified that he would make one wrong move and his record label would drop him before he could even try to atone. He played nice with the press, indulging in all sorts of interviews and answering any ridiculous question the paparazzi shouted at him. He figured being his true, honest self was fine, since he had nothing to hide.

But then as he gained more fame and more invitations to parties and gatherings, where he was able to sample all of the pleasures that came with celebrity status, the press got wind of some of his more unsavory, uncouth behavior. At first, he was embarrassed to have been caught in any number of compromising situations, so he would answer the media’s questions to try to set the record straight about what happened.

And then it became part of his life, having every personal moment broadcast to the world, and he didn’t have the energy to hide from the media or spin tales about his behavior. He no longer cared if his romantic nights were gossiped about, no longer cared if he was photographed drunk or high. His fans still loved him and came to his defense to normalize sex and marijuana usage, or to claim that what he did in his private life was his choice.

But now… now he’s just so tired of indulging the people who wouldn’t think twice about ruining his reputation based on rumors. Let them report what they want, but he’s no longer giving them free access to his life.

“Are you and Rose… okay?” River asks.

Though her eyes never leave the road, James can feel Idris’s attention has shifted to his answer. Jack has even angled himself in the front seat to better hear his response.

“I don’t know,” James admits. “I want us to be. But I made mistakes, and Rose needs time to think about some things. We’ll see.”

River pats his thigh, then directs her focus to Jack to go over the plan for when they make it to the next radio broadcast studio.

oOoOo

The week is long and exhausting, but so prolific that James is proud of what he’s accomplished. Three songs for the album are completely recorded, and he has the instrumental parts for three others recorded as well. He’s riding the high of productivity, so he invites a few friends he knows are in town for drinks at a pub in the middle of London. They all take him up on the offer, and within an hour he’s sat at a booth with some fellow musicians.

There’s Astrid, who is relatively new to the industry. She got her big break a year and a half ago when she won a televised singing competition and was offered a one-album deal from a record label who rents out the same recording studio as his own label. He had met her when they were both working late one night, and he had stopped into her office for a quick chat which morphed into an hour-long conversation about their careers and how overwhelming it had been to go from complete anonymity to an international celebrity overnight.

Then there’s Sally, who has largely flown under the radar but has produced some of the most soothing music he has ever listened to. She has the most enviable work-life balance, putting out a new record every two to three years, then disappearing from the public eye and living off of royalties and album sales until her next one.

Amy also tags along, though she says she has to get home a bit early since she and her husband are off to his parents’ for the weekend.

The four of them take up a private booth at the pub, with their security teams working together to keep the crowds away from them. It doesn’t matter—James sees dozens of phones pointed at them as everyone tries to snag a photograph of them all. Sally utterly ignores them, while Astrid waves brightly from afar. Amy, on the other hand, doesn’t look up from her Amaretto sour and gives them all the middle finger, to a round of raucous guffaws.

“Charming as ever,” he drawls, elbowing her in the ribs.

“I’m Scottish, can’t help it.”

They all nurse their drinks and share a large platter of starters, chatting about their work and lives. Turns out that Astrid just received word that her label signed her on for another contract, this one for three more records. She’s obviously been desperate to share the news, and James and the others shower her in praise and congratulations.

“Well, this is a celebration,” he claims, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to her forehead. “Drinks are on me.”

“Even though she’s the one with the huge signing bonus?” Amy drawls.

“Shush,” he says, pressing his finger to her lips. “We’re celebrating, and the celebratee never pays.”

Amy rolls her eyes, but then she grins and squeezes Astrid’s hands as she says, “That’s great news. Congratulations. Really well done.”

Their server brings them their second round of drinks and takes their order of more food. As James stuffs a nacho into his mouth, his phone buzzes in his pocket and a notification pops up on his smart watch. He’s inclined to ignore it, but a red rose emoji snares his attention, and he fumbles to tap the message on the watch face.

Are you busy? I’d like to talk. Can you come round my place?

James practically jumps out of the booth, garnering him three sets of confused stares.

“So sorry, something’s come up,” he says. “I’ve got to go. We should do this again soon. Astrid, really well done. I’m so proud of you. Sally, always nice to see you; let me know if you ever need anything. Amy… well, I’ll see you next week, probably?”

“Everything all right?” Amy asks.

“Yep,” he says, hoping it’s the truth. “Just some personal matter I need to address. I’ll put our tab on my card, don’t worry about paying.”

Amy lifts her glass in a toast of gratitude, while the other two women verbally thank him. James salutes them, then turns on his heel and disappears from the pub with his security team.

“I’ll drive myself, thanks,” he says, holding his hand out for the keys.

“After two drinks and only a handful of nachos? I don’t think so,” River says, pinning him with a glare that has wilted many an overenthusiastic fan or photographer. “I’ll drop you off.”

“It’s to see Rose,” he presses, gesturing again for the keys. “I feel fine.”

“And I will drop you off,” she emphasizes.

James curses under his breath, but decides to not waste any more time and concedes. He hops into the passenger’s seat and yanks his phone out of his pocket to reply to Rose’s message.

“On my way. I’ll be there in… well, however long it takes to navigate Friday night traffic.”

He then programs Rose’s address into the satnav and tries not to be impatient about the drive to Rose’s flat. He keeps checking his phone, to make sure he read her message correctly and that he isn’t hallucinating that she wants to see him. But no, there it is, for him to reread over and over again, her asking him to come over so they can talk.

He swears it takes over an hour, but it’s only twenty minutes when River pulls up in front of Rose’s building.

“Call me when you’re ready to be picked up,” she says. “I’m on duty until midnight. If it’s after midnight, Danny’s the one on call.”

“Got it,” he says, as though he regularly forgets which of his agents is on the clock for him.

James slams the door shut behind him and practically sprints into the building. The foyer is bustling with evening activity, and he immediately ducks into the stairwell to avoid the gazes of the gaggle of young people.

As he climbs the stairs, he types out a, “I’m on my way up,” message to Rose. He’s huffing and puffing by the time he makes it to the tenth floor, and he takes a moment to catch his breath before going to Rose’s door and knocking.

She opens it after a heartbeat, having obviously been waiting for him. Though the hallway is empty, she ushers him inside and swiftly latches the door behind him.

Then, she spins and smiles shyly. “Hi. Thanks for coming. Er… d’you… d’you want something to drink? Tea?” She chews on the side of her thumbnail, then frowns and says, “Oh, wait, you don’t like tea. I’ve got some wine, if you want.”

“Tea is fine,” he interrupts, hating the nerves that are emanating from her with every rushed word she speaks. “When I’d told you I’m not big on tea, I mostly meant that I would almost always order coffee over tea. But I still drink tea.”

God, now he’s the one rambling like a loon. He takes a breath and repeats, “Tea is fine.”

“’Kay.” She watches him for another moment before shuffling to her kitchen.

He isn’t sure what to do with himself. Should he sit on the sofa? But that would feel weird, when she’s making him tea. Should he offer to help? But it’s not like he can help the water boil faster. So he ends up resting his elbows on her kitchen island, trying not to stare at her and utterly failing. He’s coming to realize she looks beautiful no matter what she’s wearing, be it that magical faerie gown from their date to the Renaissance Faire, or the yoga bottoms and oversized jumper she’s currently wearing. Her hair is pulled up in a loose and messy bun, exposing the graceful arch of her neck, and he has the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her waist and plant kisses all along the column of her throat.

God, how he wishes he’ll one day be able to do that.

Before too long, the kettle beeps and Rose turns to him, holding two boxes. “Chamomile, or breakfast tea? Breakfast has quite a bit of caffeine, since it’s my morning tea, but maybe you don’t like chamomile?”

“I like chamomile,” he answers. “Thanks.”

Rose nods to herself, and breathes in deeply. He wishes he could take the tea boxes out of her hands and wrap her in a hug, squeezing her until she melts into him, telling her that it’s just him, that she has nothing to be nervous about.

But he just stands there like an idiot, answering that yes, he would like honey, and no, he doesn’t like milk in his tea. He comes up to her side and can’t help but touch the small of her back ever so briefly before picking up his mug.

“Let’s sit,” she says, gesturing to her small kitchen table.

He does, keeping his feet firmly planted on his half of the floor, so unlike the dinner when they’d made a game of footsie while they ate. He wraps his hands around the ceramic, letting the warmth seep into his palms as he breathes in the smell of her flat. There are subtle hints of vanilla, so faint he probably wouldn’t notice it, except he has had Rose’s scent in his lungs and in his memory ever since the first time he’d held her in his arms.

“How was your week?” he asks, desperate to fill the silence between them.

“Fine. I’ve been reading Romeo and Juliet with my Year Tens. They all hate it,” she says with a fond smile. “To be fair, it’s not my favorite play either. I’ve been trying for years to take it out of my curriculum, but the headmaster won’t budge. Insists it’s a classic and therefore must be taught. I instead use it as a teaching moment about healthy versus toxic relationships, be it romantic or familial.”

“That’s a clever way to spin it.”

Rose makes a noncommittal noise as she sips her tea. “And your week?”

“Fine,” he parrots. “I started recording new music for my next album.” With the pleasantries out of the way, he asks, “So… you wanted to talk?”

She sighs and ducks her head to stare into her tea, as though it holds everything she wants to say.

“Yeah, I… it was a lot to process, what you said,” she admits, cheeks pinkening. 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he says, even though his heart is already beginning to break at the thought of leaving her flat and never seeing her again. “I just… I clearly miscommunicated so badly that you felt used, and I couldn’t bear that I made you feel that way, and so I wanted to give you the truth. I should have all along, but, well, I was a little in denial. And really, really scared.”

“Scared?” she asks, frowning.

“I’ve lost so many people who think they can handle my life only to realize later that they can’t,” he explains, trying not to pick at those old scars and reopen them. “And it hurts every time.”

Rose’s face softens, and she tentatively reaches across the chasm between them to brush her fingertips over his knuckles, which are nearly white with how hard he’s squeezing his mug. He relaxes his grip and, slowly, so as not to spook her, gives her his hand to hold, if she wants. She doesn’t exactly hold it, just rests her fingers overtop of his. But it’s enough. It’s more than enough. He basks in her touch, aching to thread their fingers together and never let go.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “That sounds so hard.”

He takes a drink of tea as an excuse not to look at her.

“I really want to believe everything you told me,” she continues, and James swears he stops breathing. “It’s just… unbelievable. How could someone like you be falling in love with someone like me?”

James frowns at her, and he reverses the positions of their hands until he’s the one covering her fingers.

“Don’t say that. You’re wonderful, Rose. Absolutely wonderful.”

“You don’t even know me,” she protests.

“But I want to. The Rose I’ve come to know over this past month is incredible, and I want to know more of her… I want to know all of her, if you’ll let me.”

Rose stares at him, unspeaking, for several uncomfortable moments. “Why were you in the pub that night we met? Why me?”

James blinks at the non sequitur. “Er, there’s no reason, really. I’d gotten home from a stint in America, my boyfriend had broken up with me, and I needed to get out of my house. I heard the music coming from the pub, decided to give it a try. End of story.”

“Yeah, but you were propositioned by several people,” she presses. “You kept turnin’ ‘em down. So why me?”

James retracts his hand from hers to scrub it over his weary face. “I don’t know, Rose. I don’t know what you want me to say. Those other people that night were plastered, and I mostly wanted to be alone. But then I came back from the loo, and a perfect stranger had saved my seat for me, and she talked to me like I was a person, not some freak show. She laughed with me and danced with me and was kind and normal to me, even after realizing who I was. I didn’t have some sort of ulterior motive that night. I just needed to get out of my house for a bit. Then I found you, and I was enchanted.”

Rose chews on the corner of her mouth, then brings her mug to her lips and sips slowly. He mirrors her, drinking his tea and enjoying the notes of honey mixed with the chamomile.

“How come you didn’t deny what the article said? About me being a rebound? How come you kept playing us off as a bit of fun for you?” she asks. “I don’t like feeling like a secret.”

“Well, would you prefer me to flaunt you to the public and let the paparazzi tear your life apart?” he retorts, and immediately regrets his sarcastic tone.

Before he can apologize, Rose snorts humorlessly. “Guess not. It’s just that I didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t understand how you could be so sweet and lovely when we were together, but then tell the whole world that you’re playin’ and sleepin’ around with me. That was so humiliating to hear you say that.”

His cheeks burn with remorse and a desperate desire to go back in time and wallop his past self for those comments.

“I didn’t mean it,” he insists, trying to reach for her hand, but she slips it away. “Rose, I swear. I didn’t mean what I said. Well, I did. But not the way you’re thinking. Remember, I thought you wanted casual with me. So I had to keep convincing myself that we were only having fun together. And I wanted to keep you from the media. I didn’t want them to know exactly how I felt about you, because I couldn’t stand it if they found you and treated you the way they treat me.”

“I guess that’s fair,” she mumbles. “Still humiliating though.”

“Then let’s figure out what I can say instead,” he suggests. “I don’t want to hurt you, Rose. And I’m so, so sorry my stupid, thoughtless comments hurt you. What should I say when interviewers ask me about you? Er, I admit I already told one interviewer this past week that I met you in a pub.”

The corner of Rose’s mouth lifts in the ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I heard.” The smile dies as she confesses, “I don’t know what you should tell the media. I’ve never had to think about this before.”

“Neither have I,” he reminds. “Usually my partners are famous, so we don’t need to stay private. But this thing with you—if you want this thing, that is—is precious to me, and I don’t want the media to have it.”

“I don’t know what the answer is,” she confesses, and part of him wilts, because surely she’s going to say that even though he’s great, she can’t handle the stress of him living in the public eye. “I mean… I guess you can keep telling people we’re just casual.”

“No.” His rebuttal is immediate and forceful, and she snaps her gaze to him, confusion pinching the lines of her brow. “I refuse to say that. You’re so much more to me than some random woman I’m having sex with. I refuse to let people think that of you, and honestly, I’m getting tired of that reputation too.”

He pauses for a moment, but then barrels on. “When I first became famous, I was seeing this woman who told the media we were casually dating, but she told me that we were serious and monogamous. She said she always gave vague answers like that to the media. We dated each other for about three months, and her answers to the paparazzi were always the same: that I was just some fun, that she was welcoming me into the spotlight, that she was mentoring me. It messed with my head, because she was laughing at our relationship to the public, but acted completely differently when we were alone. When I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked if we could go public as a committed couple, she said that I was taking our relationship far more seriously than what it was. It was one of the worst feelings in the world to be told I had misinterpreted everything, even though I know what she had told me. And I don’t want to do that to you. I won’t have you constantly questioning and doubting what I tell the media because it’s the opposite of what I tell you.”

Rose looks at him with such heartbreak in her eyes that he feels like she was stripping him naked in front of her. It’s confusing and overwhelming, so he instead stares at his half-drunk mug of tea. A moment later, a soft, socked foot brushes along his ankle. He flicks his gaze to her to see her smiling sadly at him.

“I’m so sorry that happened. Thank you for telling me. That woman was a twat.” Rose continues caressing her toes along his shinbone as she says, “I don’t know how to tell you to deal with the media and interviewers. You’re the expert there. I… I’m going to trust your judgment, I suppose.”

The hopes that James hasn’t dared put too much faith in rise in a crescendo of excitement.

“Does… does this mean you want to keep seeing me?” he croaks.

Rose licks her lips, then nods. “Yeah. I… God, I’ve loved this past month with you. It’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I really like bein’ with you.”

The air leaves his body in a long whoosh as he scrambles out of his seat. Her eyes bug when he kneels in front of her, but then when he opens his arms for her, she understands. She pulls him to his feet and flings her arms around his neck, clinging to him. He gathers her as close as he can and tucks his nose into her hair, breathing her in.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you. God, I’m so sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry for everything.”

“So am I. I didn’t mean to make you feel unimportant. I’m sorry.”

“Neither did I. Let’s start over, eh? Hi, I’m James. You might recognize me from the dozens of posters of my face splattered across the city.”

Rose laughs and holds him tighter, releasing the knots of tension that have been snared around his stomach all week.

“Hi, I’m Rose, a random schoolteacher,” she says, a grin evident by the warmth in her voice.

“Nice to meet you, Rose. Will you be my girlfriend?” he asks, holding his breath as he awaits her response.

She finally pulls her face out of his neck to look at him. Her eyes trace every contour of his face, drinking him in as her fingertips brush along the nape of his neck, stroking the fine hairs there.

“You’re serious about this?” she confirms, though with how quietly she’s speaking, James isn’t sure if she’s addressing him or herself. She locks eyes with him and asks, “You… you said you might be falling in love with me?”

He nods silently, wondering if someone like her could, one day, be able to love someone like him.

“Okay,” she murmurs, leaning in to press her forehead to his. Their breaths meet in the small space between them, the moment so intimate he never wants it to end.

Rose angles her face down, capturing his lips in the gentlest, sweetest kiss he has ever had. It melts his bones and sends heat searing through his bloodstream, screaming at him to hold her closer, to kiss her more deeply and let those kisses tell her everything his brain is incapable of putting into words.

But he doesn’t, he keeps the pressure soft, molding his lips to hers over and over again as they exchange dozens of little kisses until he has lost track of time. He ducks his hands beneath the hem of her jumper to touch her bare back, holding her to him because he can’t bear to let her go again. She, meanwhile, cradles his neck with one hand while her other cups his cheek, feathering her fingertips lightly over his day-old stubble.

After an immeasurable moment, Rose pulls away. Her cheeks are deliciously pink, and she’s smiling so tenderly at him that he feels like the most important person in her world.

 “Okay,” she repeats, brushing her thumb along his tingling bottom lip, “let’s see if we can fall together.”

[paperanddice]

The night queen appears to be a leader of the hiveling creatures, as the lesser ones often flock to a night queen's location to defend and serve her. More powerful hivelings, such as the chrysalis spinner, show respect and deference to the queen, but do not seem compelled to follow orders if they conflict with what the other dream wishes to do, and even the lesser hivelings can rebel if they are dissatisfied with the queen's commands, so there's no innate power she has to force following. At least, not over them.

The queen instead seems to be able to gain control over creatures trapped in the webbing she produces. These webs catch a creature's dreams as easily as they do its body, giving the queen access to their mind, and by manipulating the webbing clinging to body and mind she can puppet these victims, forcing them into a horrible service. Other creatures can attempt to free these victims, but are often webbed in to add to the queen's forces, directed into attacking friends and family against their will as the queen works to achieve her goals. Escaping this control provides no proof against future control, and in fact for a time these dream webs cling tightly, making it easier for the queen to reattach her strands. The queen armors herself in layers of this webbing as well, which allows cold and fire to roll off of her easily. The webbing is quite vulnerable to acid however, melting away quickly and thus not providing very good protection to her against such attacks.

Whenever a night queen manifests her intention seems to be to build a hive of some kind, usually by taking over a large enough castle or manor and repurposing the rooms within to her own needs and those of the hiveling monsters that join her. Humanoids and other creatures have a role in this hive so long as they are bound by the queen's webbing or poison, and they are rarely given access to food and water while working, starving or dying of thirst.

Outside of this setting, the night queen could be a monstrosity with an affinity to ettercaps, other creatures with the hiveling tag, and various giant insects, spiders in particular. Are they an artificial creation intended to control ettercaps, an evolved ettercap, or just an exceptionally rare species, with the males having the stat block of a giant spider? Originally from the Dreamblade base set. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

5th Edition

Night Queen Large aberration (hiveling), unaligned Armor Class 18 (web armor) Hit Points 178 (17d10 + 85) Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft. Str 18 (+4) Dex 16 (+3) Con 20 (+5) Int 17 (+3) Wis 16 (+3) Cha 19 (+4) Saving Throws Int +7, Wis +7, Cha +8 Skills Deception +8, Perception +7, Sleight of Hand +7, Stealth +7 Damage Resistances bludgeoning, cold, fire Senses blindsight 20 ft., passive Perception 17 Languages any three languages Challenge 10 (5900 XP) Acid Weakness. Attacks that deal acid damage have advantage against the night queen, and the night queen has disadvantage on saving throws against spells and effects that deal acid damage. Dream Web. As a bonus action, the night queen can target one creature it can see within 30 feet of it that is restrained by the night queen's webbing. The target must succeed on a DC 16 Charisma saving throw, or be charmed by the night queen as long as it is restrained. While charmed in this way, the target cannot attempt to escape the webbing, nor can it attack the webbing. Whenever the charmed target takes damage, the target can repeat the saving throw. On a success, the effect ends. If the effect ends on a target, the target has disadvantage on future saves against the night queen's Dream Web for the next 24 hours. The night queen can have up to 3 targets charmed in this way at a time. If it charms a fourth, the effect ends on a previous target of its choice. Spider Climb. The night queen can climb difficult surfaces, including upside down on ceilings, without needing to make an ability check. Web Sense. While in contact with a web, the night queen knows the exact location of any other creature in contact with the same web. Web Walker. The night queen ignores movement restrictions caused by webbing. Actions Multiattack. The night queen uses Puppet on a String or Webbing, if it is available. It then makes one Bite attack. Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +8 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (1d6+4) piercing damage and the target must succeed on a DC 17 Constitution saving throw or take 21 (6d6) poison damage and become poisoned for one minute. While poisoned in this way, the target has disadvantage on saving throws against the night queen's Dream Web ability. The poisoned target can repeat the save at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. On a successful save, the target takes half as much poison damage and is not poisoned. If the poison damage reduces the target to 0 hit points, the target is stable but poisoned for 1 hour, even after regaining hit points, and is charmed while poisoned in this way. Healing Bite (Recharge 6). The night queen bites one willing or charmed creature within 5 feet of it. The target takes 7 (1d6+4) piercing damage, then regains 21 (6d6) hit points. A target charmed by Dream Web doesn't get a save against being charmed from this damage. Puppet On A String. Each creature charmed by the night queen and within 60 feet of it moves up to its speed to a location of the night queen's choice, and makes one melee or ranged weapon attack against a target of the night queen's choice. This movement and attack ignore the penalties for being restrained by webbing or poisoned. Webbing (Recharge 5-6). The night queen uses one of the following webbing effects:

Webbing Spray. The night queen sprays webbing in a 30 foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 17 Dexterity saving throw or be restrained by webbing (see below). Throw Net. The night queen throws a large web into a 15 foot cube completely within 30 feet of it. Each creature in that area must make a DC 17 Dexterity saving throw or be restrained by webbing. As an action, a creature restrained by webbing can make a DC 17 Strength check, bursting the webbing on a success. The webbing can also be attacked and destroyed (AC 14; hp 15; vulnerability to acid and slashing damage; resistance to cold and fire damage; immunity to bludgeoning, poison, and psychic damage; the webbing regains 15 hit points at the start of each of the night queen's turns, unless it took acid damage since its last turn).

13th Age

Night Queen  Large 7th level spoiler [aberration]  Initiative: +11 Vulnerability: Acid Mind Rending Bite +12 vs. AC - 15 damage plus 20 poison damage. Natural Even Hit: The target is also dazed and takes a -4 penalty to MD (save ends both). C: Webbing +12 vs. PD (1d3 nearby enemies in a group) - 5 psychic damage and the target is stuck (save ends). An allied creature within reach of the target can use an action to make a save to try and end this effect. Natural 14+: The target is stuck and hampered (save ends both). Natural 18+: The target is stuck and weakened (save ends both). Limited Use: 3/battle, as a quick action (once per round). If the escalation die is 6 and the night queen has no uses of this attack left, it recharges 1 use at the start of its turn. C: Dream Web +12 vs. MD (one nearby stuck enemy) - The target cannot attack the night queen or make saves against being stuck (save ends). Limited Use: 1/round, as a quick action. Puppet on a String: 1/round, as a quick action, the night queen can force one creature affected by dream web to move to a location of the night queen’s choice and make a melee or ranged basic attack against a target of the night queen’s choice. Any conditions from the night queen’s webbing attack are ignored during this movement and attack. Resist Cold and Fire 14+. Wall-Crawler. AC 22 PD 19 MD 20 HP 210

[wonder-project-j]

Building upon the modern 5900 Gijin architecture, the new Model 5984 was designed to achieve a balanced middle ground between Model 4646's self-driven intellect and 4649's emotional reactivity. Following the destruction of Model 4649, the J-Circuit was redesigned into an external drive disguised as a mundane object. Similarly to the Heart-Circuit safeguard, the new J-Drive could only recieve power if Model 5984's emotional circuits were synchronous with the drive's parameters.

The last of Dr Gepetto's creations, model 5984 would push his theories on Gijin individuality to the utmost limits, and would go on to play a key role in the Blueland Revolution and the decline of the Siliconian Age.

[nageltrailerrepair]

🚐🌈 Exploring the Road with Ease: 10 Travel Trailers under 6000 lbs 🌟🗺️

Hey wanderlust fam! ✨🌍 It's time to hit the road and embrace the spirit of adventure! 🚐✈️ Whether you're a seasoned traveler or a newbie explorer, we've got something exciting for you! Today, we're thrilled to present our top picks of lightweight travel trailers that are under 6000 lbs, making your journey a breeze! 🎉🛣️ #TravelTrailers #AdventureAwaits #RoadTrippin #Wanderlust

1️⃣ The Wanderer's Haven 🏕️🌌 Weight: 5400 lbs Your perfect home on wheels for those unforgettable escapades into the wilderness. Get lost in the beauty of nature without leaving behind the comforts of home! 🌲🏞️ #NatureLovers #IntoTheWild

2️⃣ Nomad's Nest 🌅🌊 Weight: 5700 lbs Experience the freedom of the open road as you chase sunsets by the beach and sunrise in the mountains! 🌄🏖️ #SunsetSeeker #BeachVibes #MountainMagic

3️⃣ Roaming Retreat 🌌✨ Weight: 5200 lbs Unplug from the hustle and bustle and reconnect with yourself. This cozy retreat will be your sanctuary amid the vastness of the great outdoors! 🏕️🔌 #DigitalDetox #DisconnectToReconnect

4️⃣ Adventure Abode 🗺️🏔️ Weight: 5900 lbs Explore the uncharted terrains and conquer new heights with this rugged beauty! Let the mountains become your second home. 🏔️🏕️ #MountainAdventures #PeakExplorers

5️⃣ Serene Sojourner 🌳🍃 Weight: 5300 lbs Surround yourself with the serenity of lush green forests and gentle babbling brooks. Find peace and tranquility on every journey! 🌲🏞️ #ForestRetreat #NatureEscape

6️⃣ Aqua Voyager 🌊🚣 Weight: 5900 lbs For the water babies out there! This trailer lets you navigate crystal-clear lakes and meandering rivers, offering aquatic adventures like never before! 🛶🏕️ #WaterWanderer #LakeLife

7️⃣ Skyline Escape ☁️🌈 Weight: 5500 lbs Get lost in a sea of clouds as you chase rainbows and dance in the rain. Let the ever-changing sky be your guide! 🌦️🌈 #CloudChaser #RainyDayVibes

8️⃣ Urban Nomad 🏙️🚐 Weight: 5900 lbs Explore cityscapes and urban jungles, immersing yourself in diverse cultures and modern wonders! 🌆🏙️ #CityExplorer #UrbanAdventures

9️⃣ Rustic Rambler 🍂🍁 Weight: 5400 lbs Fall in love with the golden hues of autumn as you journey through picturesque landscapes and quaint towns. Embrace the coziness of the season! 🍂🏕️ #AutumnVibes #FallInLove

🔟 Sunshine Seeker ☀️🌻 Weight: 5700 lbs Bask in the warm embrace of the sun as you discover hidden gems and off-the-beaten-path destinations. Let the sunshine guide your way! 🌞🛣️ #SunChaser #ExploreMore

Remember to follow your heart and let the road take you to places you've never been! 🗺️🌍 Which travel trailer calls out to your adventurous spirit? Let us know in the comments! 👇✨

Safe travels! 🚀💫

[impeccablebackside]

hell, you write the best storys or fanfictions, however you want to call it! we need more!

Thanks for the kind words anon. I am very appreciative that others get something out of anything I write. Being told that I write the best stories / fanfictions is very special praise indeed, especially since I have not been writing them for very long. As I am sure you are aware, up this point there are three larger fics and a three part (so far) series of smaller ficlets that I have written (which together account for 5900 words).

I value anyone who has taken time to read through any of those six stories, or any of my blog as a whole. What was once a little outlet for me to be horny about Cats has clearly grown into something to serve a small (but important) part of the fandom, which is honestly a bit crazy to me. Recently publishing those fics on AO3 has further cemented my contributions as well in a symbolic way. All of this is to be said in the most modest way possible of course, as I am unequivocally not an important user in the greater fandom whatsoever. I have a very limited but seemingly dedicated following (23 followers *woop woop*) with this blog. The fact that it exists at all is really the vital part in all of this, as I believe it may have been (or is) the first dedicated (and continually running) NSFW blog in the fandom, which is sort of cool in a way. More people need to be openly thirsty and horny about the sexy cat people in my opinion.

This blog started (as in when people first interacted with it) and functioned as an ask-centric place that took prompts and elaborated them for each queen, and I will be honest that I do miss those sometimes. However, I am pretty sure I touched on almost every reasonable subject at some point in the past three years, so we probably just ran out of new thoughts to explore in all fairness.

Anyway, all of those prompts gave me a mostly endless backing for almost any sexual situation that I can then use in my stories. For example: Rumple with her pearls, multiple orgasms, or overstimulation? Those were all simple ideas from three different past asks that all get / got their day to be built in proper situations. It is gratifying in a way to see that flourish as it has, so believe me when I saw that I am not short on possible themes or ideas for future stories. I just need to write them.

I will certainly continue to write more fics when the inspiration hits anon. They typically come all of the sudden, so there is not telling what you may get in the future. If you have any ideas or thoughts that you want to suggest, I am open to them to an extent too. You may just be the influence that gets something written by me to indirectly serve your needs.

Either way, it is usually a slower process with getting those types of posts out, so I do appreciate the positive reception when they are unveiled. It makes the already satisfying experience even more rewarding for me.

[turntoproductions]

Winger with Lita Ford in Concert Friday, November 25 Arena Theatre Houston

 Winger and Lita Ford together in concert! Two rock legends on one historic stage live!

Winger Hard rock greats Winger - formed by former Alice Cooper band member Kip Winger - burst out of New York City with a debut album, "Winger," that achieved platinum status in the United States and gold in Japan and Canada. Winger stayed on the Billboard Top 200 chart for over 60 weeks, where it peaked at #21. It spawned such hits as “Seventeen” and “Headed for a Heartbreak.”

In 1990, Winger was nominated for an American Music Award for “Best New Heavy Metal Band”. Their follow-up album, In the Heart of the Young, was released in 1990 and just like their first album, reached platinum. It peaked at #15 on Billboard’s Top 200 and hits off this album include “Can’t Get Enuff”, “Miles Away” and “Easy Come Easy Go”. Winger has made a name for themselves with relentless touring, while winning fans and critics alike because of their exceptional musicianship, Kip Winger’s powerful vocals and the band’s incredible songwriting.

 Lita Ford Lita Ford is one of the all-time great female rock guitar players, having established herself at just sixteen as lead guitarist for the legendary all-girl band The Runaways. Her leads were an integral part of the band's sound. The band's talent and drive lifted them above the novelty of their bad-girl image and launched successful solo careers for Ford and Joan Jett.

 Following The Runaways' breakup, Ford launched a solo career with the debut album, "Out for Blood." Her next release, "Dancin' on the Edge" and Ford's popularity began to rise. The single "Fire in My Heart", reached the Top 10 in several countries. The follow-up single, "Gotta Let Go," reached number one on the Mainstream Rock charts. The ballad "Close My Eyes Forever", a duet with Ozzy Osbourne, is her most successful song, reaching No. 8 on the US Billboard Hot 100.

 Ticket Range: $45 - $75+ Ticket Link: /.../112522-tickets-winger-litaford \ arenahouston.com

Arena Theatre 7326 Southwest Freeway | Houston, Texas 77074 Box Office Ticket Request Line: 713-772-5900 Box Office Hours: Monday through Friday 10am to 6pm Day of Show: 5pm to 10:00pm See more and buy tickets at: https://arenahouston.com

 

 

#concert #music #great #lost #houston #texas #live #performance #friday #rock #fun #arena #tour #event #metal

[computer8920]

A Step-by-Step Guide to Purchasing Seagate ST4000VX007 4TB SATA Hard Drives

Purchasing hard drives in bulk can be a daunting task, especially for businesses looking to expand their data storage capabilities. The Seagate ST4000VX007 4TB SATA hard drive is a popular choice due to its reliability and performance, making it an excellent option for bulk buying. Here’s a step-by-step guide to help you navigate the process effectively.

Step 1: Assess Your Storage Needs

Before making a bulk purchase, it’s crucial to assess your storage requirements. Consider the volume of data your business generates and the specific applications for which you need the hard drives. The ST4000VX007 is well-suited for various uses, including data centers, surveillance systems, and media storage. By evaluating your needs, you can determine the quantity of drives necessary for optimal performance.

Step 2: Research Suppliers

Once you know how many drives you need, the next step is to research suppliers. Look for reputable distributors that specialize in hard drives and have good customer reviews. Factors to consider include pricing, shipping options, and return policies. Some well-known suppliers may offer bulk discounts or promotions that can significantly reduce your overall costs.

Step 3: Compare Pricing and Terms

When dealing with bulk orders, pricing can vary significantly between suppliers. Create a spreadsheet to compare costs, including the price per unit, shipping fees, and any applicable taxes. Additionally, check for any warranties or guarantees offered by the supplier. Some may provide extended warranties for bulk purchases, which can be beneficial in the long run.

Step 4: Verify Product Specifications

Ensure that the Seagate ST4000VX007 meets your technical requirements. Check the drive’s specifications, including its spindle speed, cache size, and interface type. The ST4000VX007 features a 5900 RPM spindle speed and a SATA 6 Gb/s interface, making it suitable for high-demand applications. Confirm that these specifications align with your needs before proceeding.

Step 5: Place Your Order

Once you’ve selected a supplier and verified that the product meets your specifications, it’s time to place your order. Most suppliers will provide an online ordering system, making it easy to input your desired quantity and finalize the purchase. Ensure that you double-check the shipping address and payment details to avoid any mistakes.

Step 6: Monitor the Shipment

After placing your order, keep track of the shipment. Most suppliers provide tracking information so you can monitor the delivery progress. This is especially important for bulk orders, as delays can impact your operations. If you encounter any issues during shipping, don’t hesitate to contact the supplier for assistance.

Step 7: Receive and Inspect Your Order

Upon receiving your hard drives, inspect them carefully to ensure they are in good condition and match your order. Check for any visible damage or discrepancies in the quantity. It’s also advisable to test a few drives to ensure they function properly. This proactive approach helps catch any potential issues early on.

Step 8: Installation and Management

Once you’ve verified that the hard drives are in order, you can proceed with installation. Ensure that your storage system is configured correctly to maximize performance. Regularly monitor the health of the drives using diagnostic tools to identify any potential failures before they occur.

Conclusion

Navigating bulk orders for Seagate ST4000VX007 hard drives doesn’t have to be overwhelming. By following these steps — assessing your needs, researching suppliers, comparing prices, and verifying product specifications — you can make informed purchasing decisions that enhance your data storage capabilities. With careful planning and execution, bulk buying can lead to significant cost savings and improved operational efficiency for your business.

WANT TO BUY Seagate ST4000VX007 Hard Drives IN BULK FROM VSTL?

If you’re looking to purchase Seagate ST4000VX007 4TB SATA hard drives in bulk, VSTL is an excellent choice. Known for their competitive pricing and reliable customer service, VSTL offers a streamlined purchasing process for bulk orders. Their extensive inventory ensures you can secure the quantity you need without delays. With a focus on quality, VSTL guarantees that all drives meet stringent performance standards, making them ideal for various applications, from data centers to surveillance systems. Plus, their bulk purchasing options may provide additional savings and favorable terms, enhancing your overall value. For businesses seeking to optimize their storage solutions, VSTL is a trusted partner for acquiring Seagate ST4000VX007 drives efficiently and cost-effectively.