#I guess it would have to be delayed for another week or so because my god….

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! 👋 Thank you for your writing and effort. Can I request a story about reader and Donna having an affair? Maybe reader is Cassandra's gf but Cassandra doesn't treat her right like she flirts with other girls in front of reader and stuff like that? In the process of Cassandra sending reader to run her errands to her aunt Donna house they fall in love. Considering that Donna is super possessive and jealous everytime she sees reader they make love and is a struggle letting reader go back to the castle

One day Donna finds a hickey on reader's neck and goes mad because reader had promised it that Cassandra and her weren't intimate anymore (Cassandra was busy with other girls). Reader tries to explain her that she didn't enjoy it but Donna in her madness and jealousy kicks her out. After that when Donna comes to her sense she realizes she can't live without reader and is willing to fight for her so she goes to the castle and lady dimitrescu thinking her sister has just come to visit her invite her to have dinner. At the dinner table she sees reader and Cassandra but reader looks sad and pale. At one point in the night Donna notices Cassandra and reader fighting and Cassandra about to raise her hand on reader so Donna sees red and punches her niece. That's all the truth comes out and lady dimistrecu having noticed how her daughter treated reader scolds her terribly in front of everybody and let reader go with Donna. G!p Donna is that's okay?

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the delay, and the language mistakes!!! :)))))

Your arms, my safe place

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, castle maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, a bit of smut, Minors DNI, angst, dark themes, (Y/N) is Cassandra's gf, but things don't go well... mentions of abuse?

Word count: 9,796, too long, sorry

Summary: You wanted to be with her, but fate has another plans for you...

N/A: HELLO AGAIN PEOPLE!!! I'm back as you see!!! Thank you for all your support all this time, you're wonderful!!! I'm here again, but I'm afraid I'm unable to update everyday, but I'll do it when I can, I guess maybe 3 times a week!!! So... Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :)) Oh, and sorry about the language mistakes!!!

Donna's hands slipped under your uniform, untying the ties that held it to your body while you worked on the buttons of the blouse of her dress. Your head spun and the excitement was overwhelming.

Determined to leave behind anything that would interrupt the moment, you broke free from your thoughts when your hands brushed her skin, when your fingers unclasped her bra with a quick movement.

Donna began to become wild, dominant, as if the simple act of claiming you, of making love to you, reminded her that you were one step closer to stop being Cassandra's, to being only hers.

After all, feeling like you were hers wasn't the same as being so. Donna knew that, and it tormented her.

A few intense kisses on your neck brought you back to reality, making you moan, close your eyes, and forget about your worries. Her lips felt soft on your skin, her teeth barely grazed you, but made you tremble.

“D-Donna, b-be careful,”  you said, making the brunette move away from your neck to slide her hands under your legs and lift you romantically, placing you gently on the bed.

“Mm?” she murmured distractedly, bringing her hips closer to yours, making you notice her imprisoned erection pressing against your body and forcing you to emit an involuntary moan.

“N-not the neck, okay? You could leave a mark on me and Ca…” you said with a slightly clearer voice, putting your hands on her shoulders and causing her expression to suddenly harden.

“Shut up,” Donna snapped at you with a cold, angry look, hitting the mattress with her fist. “D-Don't say her name,” she hissed, looking away and accelerating her breathing.

You rushed to fix things as best you could: cupping her face in your hands.

“Shh, darling, forgive me, I didn't mean… Donna, my love, I'm sorry, okay?” you said tenderly, to which the lady closed her eye and let the air out of her lungs slowly.

“I know, I… It's just that I…” she stammered without looking directly at you.

“Come here,” you said, bringing your lips closer to hers, kissing the lady to distract her from the uncomfortable truth of the situation, one that seemed increasingly difficult for the doll maker to assimilate.

The insecurities were silenced with the wet sounds of your kisses, with gasps and sighs that increased with each look, word, whisper, caress…

Your hands sought the warmth of her pale skin, her perfect breasts, her arousal struggling to free itself from the black fabric of her underwear… That was more than enough for Donna to roar anxiously, grabbing your legs and freeing her shaft, bringing it closer to your wetness.

Donna was in a hurry, her body was in a hurry to claim you and her thrusts began to move your body while you closed your eyes, noticing how your walls stretched and pleasure began to invade you.

Your hands moved erratically as she claimed your body desperately, moaning in a very low voice, grunting every time she felt you squeeze her. They were quick movements, but when you opened your eyes you felt relief; relief to see her eyes looking at you as always, with love, with tenderness, in a way Cassandra never did.

You could have lost yourself in her perfectly controlled thrusts, in all the sensations that ran through your body, but something prevented you from doing so, forcing you to focus, to finish that forbidden act as soon as possible.

“Ti amo, (Y/N),” the lady whispered, stopping to kiss you slowly, to check that her haste, her eagerness wasn’t hurting you.

“I love you, Donna,” you answered, with a melancholic smile. “D-Don't stop, please.”

She obeyed with a timid nod, resuming her movements as she separated your legs even further, taking absolute control.

The moans, the creaks of the bed accompanied your feelings until the pleasure was too intense, releasing an orgasm, revealing that your body was ready to enjoy the woman you loved, without thinking about anything else.

Her release came soon after, warming your body, caressing your walls in a wet and lustful way. Afterwards, Donna pulled away with a grunt, lying down beside you to begin your favorite part of those visits.

Yes, sex was incredible, but what you really enjoyed were those moments embraced, naked, those tender smiles of Lady Beneviento looking at you, those kisses soaked with the sweat of the effort of loving you… Yes, that was your favorite part.

After a few comforting moments of silence, you inched closer to her naked body, burying your head in her chest as her delicate hands lovingly caressed your hair.

“I could lose myself in your arms,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from the passion that seemed to still reverberate off the bedroom walls.

Donna laughed softly, pulling you closer to kiss your forehead, to brush your hair away from your face as you sighed. You wondered if maybe that was her favorite part too.

Your hands tangled together, absentmindedly playing with each other as the lady in black hummed an unfamiliar tune. Your gaze focused on her soft, fine hands, contrasting with the roughness of yours.

“You know? I find incredible that we have come to this…” you sighed, losing yourself again in her gaze. “I remember the first time I came… You closed the door in my face…”

“Mm, it's true,” the brunette said, amused, with a touch of shame in her voice. “I wasn't used to visits.”

“Oh,” you continued joking, sensually bringing your lips closer to hers, without kissing them, leaving the lady frustrated, teasing her.

“Now I can't live without them,” she answered, thus beginning a fight of kisses.

“Donna,” you said, trying to get away from her addictive lips with amusement.

 “(Y/N),” she said shortly after, sitting on the bed and looking away from you for a moment.

“What's wrong?” you asked, noticing how her body separated from yours, creating a horrible feeling of cold and abandonment on your skin.

“Mm, niente, io…”

“Hey! Are you done yet?! Angie doesn't like to be alone…” A sing-song voice sounded from behind the door, breaking that tense calm, that moment of lucidity from the lady in black, those words, which, surely, would start a conversation that you didn't feel like having, not that day.

“Angie…” Donna hissed, shaking her head and rolling her eye. “Go away!”

“I don't want to! Come here now! I'm bored!” the doll shrieked, with a mocking melody in her voice.

You laughed at the doll's always irreverent attitude, and at the embarrassment that it produced in its owner.

Donna looked at you and her smile also widened, joining you in a tender and soft laugh, resting her forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), you know the way she is,” she said amused, shaking her head and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Poor Angie,” you mocked in a low voice while the doll tried to get your attention with soft knocks on the door. “Besides, I…” you said, immediately staying quiet.

“What?” the lady asked, suddenly nervous, her gaze reflecting the fear of hearing that phrase, the phrase that always stabbed a knife deep into her heart.

“It's late and…” you whispered unsure, looking away and uncovering yourself, searching for your clothes. “I have, I have to…”

“Don't say it, please,” Donna interrupted, shaking her head, grabbing your wrist.

“I'm sorry, Donna, but I have to go,” you finally said, disobeying that silent plea, making her hand gently leave your skin. “It's going to get dark.”

“But, but,” the woman said, shaking her head and searching in her mind for an excuse, some words to make you reconsider your decision.

It wasn't really a decision. Your heart ached at the thought, knowing how much it hurt Donna to see you leaving, something that was becoming more and more difficult.

In silence, you both dressed again, without looking at each other, without doing or saying anything. The tension slowly increased; a tension that couldn't be dispelled with an apology or an empty promise, not anymore.

“Can I brush your hair?” Donna asked in a whisper as you looked at yourself in the vanity, searching for a mark, anything that could give you away to your true owner.

You nodded, letting her take a brush and gently run it through your hair as you both looked at each other in the mirror. Her bright eye betrayed regret, sadness, and yours betrayed lack of sleep, tiredness, laziness…

It was an overwhelming sight, but somehow it had its own sparkle. She was at your side, her beauty accompanying you, her hands caressing you as she gently combed your hair. Donna was with you, and that made you feel complete.

“Are you two deaf!? I'm here...” the doll joked, but without causing the same laughter as before.

It was a sad moment, the only moment you hated when you were with Donna.

“(Y/N), you don't have to do it,” Donna said softly, checking the result of her movements in the mirror and bending down slowly, surrounding your waist with her arms. “Please, stay with me a little longer, please.”

“You know I can't.” It was all you managed to say, shaking your head and pushing her hands away as you got up from the chair.

“We could play chess, or, or I could teach you to cook my recipes… Or maybe we could read in silence, with the fireplace sheltering us from the cold and…” the brunette insisted, pulling your body back, holding you tighter again.

“I can't, Donna,” you said, moving away abruptly, regretting it instantly. “Don't make it more difficult for me, my love…”

“You make it difficult for me,” she replied, giving some room and moving away. “You don't know what it's like to see you leaving every week, to see you going back to… to her,” she whispered with a cold look, with her teeth clenched.

“Donna,” you reprimanded, cupping her face in your hands, fearing that the tension would suddenly explode, embittering the moment. “I'll be back, you know I always do.”

“What if one day you don't?” she asked, grabbing your wrists, hurting you.

“Honey, please let me go,” you said in a calm voice, being released instantly. “I promise I'll be back. You're the only thing that makes my life worth living.”

“But, tesoro...” she insisted, grabbing your wrists again, this time more gently. “Io...”

“Shh...” you hissed, putting two fingers on her lips before kissing them softly, noticing the salty taste of a tear that came out of your eyes involuntarily. “Donna...”

“(Y/N), don't leave,” the brunette said again, lowering her gaze, blinking erratically.

“I'll be back, darling,” you repeated like a mantra that relaxed, but at the same time, distressed you.

Finally the lady in black nodded, keeping her hand in yours, but accepting the reality.

With a passionate kiss, you pulled away from her, walking towards the bedroom door, something you couldn't do, as her grip refused to let you go.

“Donna, please...” you said, increasingly nervous, pulling on her arm. “Donna, let me go.”

She did so with an angry growl and a dark expression, turning to give you her back, making her dress dance hypnotically as she sat at the vanity, unable to watch you walk away.

“Just be patient, my love,” you said quietly, opening the bedroom door, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“It's about time! Let's play!” Angie shrieked as she saw you walk past her. “Hey, silly, are you leaving?”

“I'm sorry Angie, but I have to go back to the castle,” you said, putting on your coat, refusing to look back.

A loud noise startled you: Donna's fist hitting the vanity furiously. It was time to leave, you couldn't leave her like that, but you had to.

“Cazzo!” the brunette shrieked as she hit the furniture over and over again.

“Oops,” Angie sighed, looking at you accusingly. “It's your fault, silly.”

“I, I just…” you said sobbing, knowing that you couldn't even help her, that you couldn't stay to ease her madness. “I-I have to go…”

“Yes, go! I'll fix your mess, like always!” the doll scolded you, walking gracefully towards the bedroom. “Donna, Donna, don't do that... Donna...”

The brunette's screams and sobs echoed in the walls until you went up the elevator, turning them off like the end of a movie, the end of a melancholic symphony that split your soul in two.

“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, my love,” you sighed quietly, closing your eyes and walking automatically towards the exit, towards the cold of that place, far from the comfort and warmth of your lover's arms.

Born and raised in that forgotten village, your future was written. You couldn't be what you wanted, but what you had to be. Being just another maid was your destiny, and you had no choice but to accept it.

The castle always gladly hired any young girl who was willing to work, to serve its mistress, but the work wasn't as hard as you expected.

Alcina Dimitrescu was an imposing woman, but elegant and even kind. Little by little you got used to being there, to sharing your existence with the lady of the castle and her daughters, who, on the contrary, didn't have much in common with their mother.

Crazy, free and unhinged, yes, that seemed like a correct statement for the three Dimitrescu sisters. Bela, Cassandra and Daniela were like mischievous agents of chaos who broke the harmony and elegance of that place.

After a year working in the castle, things improved before getting worse. One of the three sisters, Cassandra, seemed to have some interest in you. You never thought that those three creatures had interests beyond blood and chaos, but for a moment, you thought you were wrong.

She approached you, laughing evilly, looking at you while you did everyday chores. Habit made your body miss those eyes when they weren't looking at you, miss that laugh when there was only silence in the castle.

An "I like you", a slight blush on her cheeks and a quick kiss were the closest thing to a confession of love that came out of her lips.

Scared by her presence, and despite yourself, attracted, you let her lips kiss yours, you let your body experience what it was like to kiss chaos itself, and you liked it.

Little by little you began to feel that beyond the blood there was a heart beating desperately for your attention, that those looks and laughs were the expression and confirmation that even the daughters of a Lord were capable of love.

You lived happily for a while. Cassandra paid attention to you, all the maids began to respect you and even the lady of the castle granted you certain privileges for, according to her, having captured the interest of her daughter.

You were in a dream, in a fairy tale. You became a wandering smile that began to see the light at the end of her dark future. But it didn't take long for you to realize that fairy tales were just that, tales.

When you couldn't be more in love, Cassandra began to lose interest.  Maybe if you had opened your eyes earlier, you wouldn't be in that situation.

But your eyes needed to see what your intuition was saying, and so it happened. You saw that the suspicions your mind was screaming at you were true.

Cassandra said you were hers, she did, but she had no qualms about flirting with other maids, whispering in their ears, chasing them down the halls, and, of course, not being careful that you didn't see her.

You believed, she said, everyone thought that Cassandra Dimitrescu was your girlfriend, they really did, you really did.

But the concept of commitment and fidelity was far from the chaos inherent in the young Dimitrescu. Deep down you didn't consider that way of thinking as evil or bad-intentioned.

You knew that she didn't make you suffer on purpose, she was just like that.

You tried to bear it, not to look at the marks on the necks of other maids. You tried to ignore it, to forget that you were hers, but she would never be yours.

The pain became unbearable and the love you felt for her began to fade away.

At that moment, just when you thought your life would be a curse, that there was no other solution than to wait patiently for Cassandra to pay attention to you, you met Donna.

The first time your girlfriend asked you to take some supplies to the old estate you even thought of running away, of never coming back. That thought left your mind as soon as it arrived; you would gain nothing, and you would lose everything.

Instead, you decided to fulfill the errand and approach the old mansion.

The rest of the Lords weren’t a mystery, but shadows that you never really managed to see. Of all of them, the village especially feared the inhabitant of that old house, Lady Beneviento.

You knew what she was capable of doing, you knew that her mind was sick, seriously injured, and that she was dangerous, very dangerous. The villagers often said that they no longer feared nightmares but the lady in black.

That day you arrived there trembling with fear, only to find a woman dressed in mourning, a woman who hid her face with a black veil, a woman who didn’t speak, whose presence evoked the night and the darkness itself.

You completed your task with a kind gesture, which was answered with a soft nod and a sharp slam of the door.

Even with that brief encounter, your head began to wander, to wonder. While you were washing dishes, cleaning a hallway, or while Cassandra was taking you, you could only see that black figure and theorize what kind of creature was hiding behind that black veil.

Over time, it became increasingly difficult to get the lady out of your head, and everything got worse when those errands became frequent.

You were unable to find out anything about her, but the slamming of doors was no longer common. Instead, Donna remained silent, looking at you, as if she were studying you, as if she wanted to check that you didn’t want to hurt her.

That apparent vulnerability sparked much more interest on your part, and you began to talk, to ask, to address that stoic figure.

Little by little those conversations moved inside the mansion. Your almost childish insistence on communicating with the lady was clearly a cry for help, a cry to forget for a moment the place you had to return to, and it worked, it worked too well.

The doll stopped being her speaker and her lips uttered a word for the first time, almost a whisper, a melodic one, impregnated with a soft and attractive accent: your name.

It was impossible to resist staying a little longer, to listen to her hoarse voice a little longer, and you simply let it happen.

She offered you tea, listening to any nonsense you had to say and answering briefly but nodding with interest. You didn't know why you were so interesting to her, until you eventually realized how alone she had been all that time.

You couldn't deny that you began to feel, to notice something more inside your chest every time you approached her, every time her pale hands touched yours when she served you tea.

Without wanting to, but without stopping it, you were falling in love with the lady in black.

One day, a day of tea and chat like any other, that black veil fell. It was removed with a gentle movement of her hands. Donna trusted you. She wanted to show herself as she was because it was inevitable to deny that she also felt something for you.

Donna was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her face was not stained with blood, her lips were not painted black. Her only eye shone without that yellowish evil you saw in Cassandra's. She was a truly beautiful woman.

The scar that the will of the Gods left on her face was one of her most horrible fears, one of her greatest insecurities. Her revelation was also a plea, a vote of confidence, of knowing if those feelings were worth it, or if you would end up falling off the cliff like her family did.

Your answer, your only answer, was a kiss. A tender, desperate kiss, the sudden capture of her lips with yours.

Knowing the consequences of entering someone else's territory, Donna accepted that forbidden relationship, just like you.

You may have felt these visits as an escape valve from your hardships at first, but you refused to see it that way. No, Donna wasn’t an escape from a place you didn't want to be, she was the place you wanted to be.

Yes, she was sick, she was crazy, but she was loving and attentive too. She smiled, she listened to you, she hugged you, she caressed you, she loved you.

You saw in her everything that Cassandra didn't have. You began to believe that it was what you really deserved, that Donna was yours, and you were hers.

The furtive kisses and caresses didn't last long. Something inside Donna made her resemble her adoptive family: jealousy, possessiveness.

She wasn't jealous of the world, she wasn't jealous of anyone who looked at you, she knew where the root of her sometimes abrupt and erratic behavior was: Cassandra.

Feeling displaced made her feel frustrated and, after making another confession to you, she took you for the first time.

Her face wasn't the only thing the Gods changed. Her body did too, enough to make her even more self-conscious. For you it was never a problem, for her, your natural reaction and your slightly mischievous smile was one more reason to love you madly.

For the first time in your life, you didn't squeeze your eyes shut. You didn't feel the need to repress the pain of some unpleasant scratches on your bare skin. All you felt were soft caresses, playful tickles on your skin, kisses that ran over your lips while your bodies moved anxiously.

Cassandra was the first, or so you thought until that moment. In reality, the first woman who truly loved you was Donna.

She made you feel comfortable, she gave you more pleasure than you could ever have felt, she told you she loved you, she whispered it in your ear while she took you slowly, not wanting to hurt you.

At first you felt guilty, you cried on her bare chest after your first time. A few kisses didn't mean that much to you, but having Donna inside you, making love with her for the first time, knowing what it was really like to feel loved, broke one of your emotional barriers.

Donna comforted you. She didn't scold you for having ruined that moment, for you feeling remorse. She understood you.

Time kept passing and the visits kept increasing. Any excuse was good to melt into her arms, to make love calmly or wildly, to feel like you had never felt before and to forget that you would have to return to the castle, that those arms wouldn’t always protect you.

After walking through the snow, without even realizing it, you returned to the castle. All the thoughts about how you met Donna and your miserable life with Cassandra had made your return a simple formality.

“(Y/N), you're back,” one of your companions, Irina, said. She was your best friend for a long time. Now, she was just another maid. “The lady was getting worried.”

You rolled your eyes, closing the doors and taking off your coat.

The heat of that castle, one that at first seemed pleasant to you, was uncomfortable, oppressive, and even more so after that tense moment with Donna, a tension that was increasingly common in your visits.

“I'm sure you all were very worried,” you said ironically, glancing sideways at the red mark on her neck, one that indicated that Cassandra had passed by there, probably tired of waiting for you.

The girl noticed what you were looking at and quickly covered herself with an apologetic smile.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry, she came over and…” she began to explain, making you snort and shake your head.

No, you didn't need to know what your girlfriend had done with her in your absence. It would probably be Cassandra herself who would tell you if she got bored.

“Cut the crap, Irina, I'm not interested,” you said in a dark voice, pushing the girl away with your hand.

“Yes, of course,” the young woman nodded, with an absurd bow, as if you were something more than her, as if you were a maid who has to be respected.

How ironic, not even your girlfriend respected you.

“Oh, there you are, I thought you had gotten lost, dear,” a deep and sensual voice appeared behind you, freezing your steps: Alcina Dimitrescu, lady of the castle.

“My lady,” you murmured with an elegant gesture, fearing that running away to your room and crying wasn’t going to be possible.

“You've taken your time, my dear, have you had any problems with Donna?” the tall woman asked, putting a hand on your back to gently push you to walk beside her.

“No, my lady, she...” you said, stopping to think about an answer, one that wouldn't raise more questions.

To Alcina, the relationship that seemed to exist between her daughter and you was real, pure and sincere. You didn't quite understand why Cassandra pretended in front of her mother. Maybe she was afraid of her, or maybe she was trying to protect you. You didn't want to know.

“Mm?” Alcina murmured arching her eyebrows, urging you to give an answer you didn't have.

“Well, she's had a breakdown,” you said without thinking, blaming poor Donna, blaming her mental illness.

You felt horrible for doing it, but you had no other choice. You didn't know the consequences of your mistress finding out about your affair.

“Gods…” the lady in white whispered, shaking her head. “Poor woman.”

“Um, I decided to stay with her until she was calmer. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds, my lady,” you said in a formal tone, looking down at the wooden floor, with the images of the previous passion sending confusing signals to your head.

“Oh, not at all, dear,” the woman said, with a grateful smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you, my lady,” you whispered, wanting to run, to insult yourself for having lied, for having accused the woman you loved of your delay. “Excuse me, my lady, I would like to retire to my room, I fear I have caught a cold,” you lied again, looking for any clumsy excuse to get away from her, from any Dimitrescu who got in your way.

“Of course, I wouldn’t forgive myself if you got sick, but... (Y/N), when you are done, I would like to ask you something,” the vampire said, walking faster, confirming that you had gotten what you wanted, to be alone.

“Fine, my lady.”

The bath you took was a blessing. The heat penetrated your body naturally and the water eliminated any remaining evidence of your infidelity.

Feeling the sweat leave you, how her kisses disappeared from your skin in the soapy water was more painful than other times. The lavender disappeared to impose on your skin the sweet aroma of the castle soap, making you forget every single sensation you felt when making love with your lover, her smell, the humidity of her home, the mark of her fingers caressing your skin…

Love, forget, serve, pretend, that was your daily routine. You could only do one thing: wait for the next week, long for Donna's hugs, for her body warming yours.

If you could bear the situation, it was because you knew you would return to her but… for how long? Was Donna right and one day you wouldn’t return?

The days passed slowly, too slowly. What Alcina wanted to ask of you was simple, but you were deeply grateful for it. She wanted you to have the privilege of tidying up the wine cellar, a place where no maid was allowed to enter. Of course, you weren't just any maid.

The task was especially pleasant. While you were down there, you wouldn't have to look askance at the necks of other maids looking for Cassandra's mark on them, and even better: she couldn't bother you.

It was too cold in that place for her to bear, which made your stay down there even comfortable.

But of course, what seemed like an advantage, a respite, a longed-for relief in your daily life, would bring unexpected consequences.

One night, in your privileged room, the atmosphere was heavy with uncertainty and a bad feeling prevented you from thinking about Donna, from longing for her.

“Wakey, wakey…” a shrill, yet whispering voice stalked your ear as a lump slid under the sheets.

The ferrous scent of those lips gave her away and her childish laughter confirmed your fears: Cassandra.

“W-what are you doing here?” you asked, startled by the intrusion, by some uncomfortable kisses that were beginning to run down your neck.

“What? (Y/N), I'm your girlfriend, remember? I've come to see you,” the young Dimitrescu said, sensually dragging her words while she moved the fabric of your pajamas aside to look for more places to play.

“Hey, I don't want to be rude but… why now? Didn't you say you wanted to have fun with other maids?” you asked delicately, without altering or removing her lips from your skin.

“Oh, don't be like that, silly, you know you're special,” Cassandra purred, pulling you a little closer to her.

Your heart was beating fast and your conscience was screaming to be heard.

You didn't know how much time had passed since she got into your bed, since she physically claimed you, but you knew it was enough to affirm that there was no kind of intimacy between you two, not anymore.

That lack of interest in having sex with you relieved Lady Beneviento. Knowing that you would never be physically hers again served as a consolation every time you had to leave. You promised her you would never sleep with Cassandra again.

Of course, to make that promise was a mistake. Chaos couldn’t be predicted, and you should have known that better than anyone.

“So you suddenly remembered that I exist?” you asked again, pushing her away, just as her teeth sank into your skin, making you hiss in pain. “I thought you weren't having fun with me anymore.”

“Don't be a whiner, (Y/N). I want to take you,” she said, climbing on top of your body, dominating you with kisses that weren't reciprocated, at least not voluntarily. “Hey! Why aren't you paying attention to me? Oh, you're not mad because I had fun with Irina, are you?”

“No, but…” you denied nervously, stopping her hands from scratching your skin under your pajamas while her hips moved anxiously. “Listen, Cass, I'm really tired and…”

“What's wrong? Has Mother made you work too much?” the young woman asked, it almost seemed like she cared about you.

“No, not at all, but I would prefer that…” you murmured, fleeing from her kisses and provoking a childish moan from the vampire.

“Hey, don't move! What are you doing? Are you rejecting me?” she asked impatiently, analyzing your gaze as if she could see behind it.

“No, I...” you said, containing the trembling of your body, the irrational fear that direct question and the answer your heart had produced in you.

Even though Donna was your lover and Cassandra was your girlfriend, you didn't feel infidelity in that way. Letting Cassandra take you was much worse than having sex with Donna. It was cheating on the only person who truly mattered to you.

Breaking your promise was for you the worst of deceptions, a betrayal of the doll maker's trust, a true infidelity.

But the pressure of those chaotic eyes looking at you, demanding answers, answers that would please her, made you forget any attempt to refuse and you simply sighed, staying silent.

“That's better, hun, hun,” the young Dimitrescu laughed, amused, breaking the straps of your nightgown with a quick movement and insisting on sucking, licking, biting your skin.

You closed your eyes so as not to see, but you couldn't help but feel. Every scratch, kiss or movement was terribly painful. She was having fun, but you only suffered, you could only think about Donna, that every second that passed, every hysterical moan that came out of Cassandra's lips, was one more stab in Donna's heart.

You could only act in that way, reciprocate, obey and let yourself go.

None of Cassandra's movements unleashed pleasure in you. Her kisses weren’t hot; they didn’t provoke sensations like Donna's did. Cassandra’s fingers inside you didn't feel like Donna’s erection sliding comfortably into your walls.

It was a rough act. You just wanted it to be over soon, for Cassandra to get what she wanted, and leave you alone.

Luckily, she didn't take long.

After noticing her absence, you ran to your private bathroom naked, looking at the marks your girlfriend left on your body, washing your hands, your face, everything her lips had touched. Unlike when you took a bath after seeing Donna, that time you hoped that the smell of blood and Cassandra's perfume would disappear from your skin.

You rubbed your arms, your neck, your lips, but it didn't disappear; she couldn't disappear from you.

Crying, you went back to bed, looking for a new nightgown to spend the night in, searching for some memories with Donna that would make you forget what you had done.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst thing was that the next morning you would have to go back to the Beneviento estate, you would have to see your lover.

You thought you had the strength to do it, to force her to close her eye while she made love to you and ignore the new details of your body.

You knew you couldn't do it, you just knew it.

“I've missed you...” Donna whispered when her arms protected you again, when her lips rested on yours again. “Tesoro...”

“Me too,” you answered, letting that romantic hug comfort your wounded conscience and make you forget what happened the night before. “Um, um... Donna...” you said unsure.

“Mm?” she asked, brushing your hair away from your face as she always did, smiling at having you in her arms again.

“I was thinking… that… that…” you stammered, deciding that maybe you should suppress your desires and not have sex, at least that day. “Well, the other day you told me that you wanted to play chess or teach me your recipes… how about now?”

“I thought that before…” she murmured, looking at you confused, blinking erratically. “I would like to make you mine first, tesoro.”

“Yes, well, I know, but it's that… well, it's that… I'm on those days, you know, and…” you lied without knowing how to do it, causing the lady in black to frown, suspicious of your words.

“Oh, you're talking about your period… I-I don't remember the last time I… well, I…” Donna hesitated nervously, with a slight blush on her cheeks, cheeks that you caressed amused.

“Don't be nervous, my love,” you joked, whispering in her ear, inevitably biting her earlobe. “Just think about it. It will be much better when I come back next week.”

“Mm.” She nodded unsurely, playing with your hair, with an air of disappointment in her eye. “Fine, let's do something different.”

“Good…” you said, sighing in relief, perhaps too relieved. “How about chess?” you proposed, clapping your hands in the air and approaching the corner where you used to have tea.

“Va bene,” the lady answered, smiling distrustfully.

“Hey! Chess? Come on! Let's play hide and seek!” Angie protested, comically tugging at your dress as you walked.

“Angie, lasciala estare,” her owner ordered, making the doll cross her arms with a snort.

“Hey! What happened to you?” Angie asked, pointing at you, pointing at your neck.

The puppet's tugs had shifted your uniform dangerously, revealing a red mark on your neck, one you wanted to hide.

“For Gods’ sake, Angie, shut up...” you growled, moving your clothes to hide the mark, something that of course didn't deter Donna from slowly approaching, removing the fabric again with a moan of shock.

“What's that?” she asked.

“What's what?” you asked back, nervous.

“I-it was her, wasn't it? She wasn't supposed to touch you anymore,” Donna murmured, clenching her fists on either side of her hips. “You promised me she wouldn't touch you anymore!”

You closed your eyes, feeling the pain of guilt, the sadness of a broken promise.

“Donna, it's not what it seems, I…”

“It's exactly what it seems, (Y/N),” she said, hissing, getting dangerously close to you and grabbing your arm tightly. “You fucked her.”

Vulgar words didn't usually come out of her mouth, Lady Beneviento was losing her mind, and that time, she was right.

“You don't understand, it's not what you think, I don't…”

“Lie to me again, come on,” Donna threatened, with a hatred in her gaze that made you shudder.

“What did you want me to do?” you protested, crossing your arms, letting a childish defensive attitude take over you. “Do you think I had another option?”

“There's always another option,” she added, shaking her head. “You told me that there was nothing physical between you two anymore.”

“You don't understand, Donna.”

“I don't understand? You've fucked her, you promised me that...”

“You think it's easy?! Huh?!” you yelled, frantic. “What right do you have to judge what I do? You don't know how things are.”

Donna laughed sarcastically, with her eye wide open and her knuckles white from the pressure.

“You're right, I don't know how things are, I don't know what happens when you leave, when you go with her,” the lady in black murmured, pointing at you with her finger, her breathing becoming more and more agitated. “But it's quite clear.”

She turned her back on you, but you grabbed her shoulder, which was pushed away with a grunt and a quick movement from the brunette. You desperately tried to reassure her, to make her understand that the night when Cassandra played with you didn't mean anything.

“Listen to me, Donna, please,” you said in a less brusque, more pleading tone. “It didn't mean anything, I didn't enjoy it, I didn't want to, I…”

“Shut up! Cazzo… shut up, shut up, shut up!” Donna shrieked as she kicked the floor furiously.

“Donna, you're scaring me,” you sighed, moving away from her little by little. “If you'd just let me explain…”

“I don't want to hear your explanations!” she shrieked again. “You've deceived me, you're a bitch.”

Anger and helplessness forced you to act irrationally, slapping the lady in black, causing a painful silence to reign in the old house.

“Shit, I…” you said regretfully, trying to get closer to her again. “I didn't mean to, I couldn't… Donna, I…”

The words tried to come out of your mouth, but you weren't successful, you had reached a dangerous limit, you were walking on the edge of a cliff, and the only hand that could save you was further away than ever.

Donna stared at you, mouth agape, with a hand on her cheek, without saying anything, transmitting all her hatred with a look, one that you would never, ever forget.

“Get out of my house,” the lady murmured, looking away from you while you looked at your hand, shaking your head. “Sei una bugiarda! I don't want to see you again!”

“Donna, please, listen to me, I beg you,” you pleaded, grabbing her shaking arm, being pushed away by a rough push that almost made you lose your balance.

“Don't touch me, bitch,” she hissed in an even darker voice. “You broke your promise... Get out of my house! Get out, get out, get out!”

“Donna, Gods...” you sobbed, shaking your head as she walked towards you threateningly.

It was the first time you were afraid of her, truly afraid.

“Donna, please...” you stammered, being grabbed by the arm and letting yourself be led towards the exit.

The lady pushed you, making you fall into the snow.

“Donna! Don't treat her like that! You're stupid, listen to her!” Angie protested, hiding behind a piece of furniture, avoiding the wrath of her owner.

“I thought we were something, that I was something to you,” the lady in black growled, with her hair moved by the winter wind, while you checked that you hadn't been hurt.

“You are, I, I love you...” you said with difficulty, shaking the snow off your body. “Donna, I love you.”

“Liar! Liar, liar, liar!” the lady screamed, stamping her feet again, out of her mind, completely mad, slamming the door shut with a thunderous noise that echoed in the mountains.

“Donna…” you sobbed, tears warming your cheeks.

Just as you expected, it was all over. You had broken your promise, you had condemned yourself to a life without Donna, without the only thing that kept you fighting, and it was all because of you, because of the fear of being brave, of confronting Cassandra, of asking the lady in black to take you in her arms, and rescue you.

That fleeting thought that maybe Donna would come for you, to fight for you, was the last hope that kept you going the following days, but she wasn't going, she wasn't there, there was only you, alone, with a woman who didn't love you, with the only one who did betrayed by your lies, by an infidelity that Donna wouldn't be able to forgive.

“Remember to label the wine correctly, (Y/N),” Alcina said, on one of the endless afternoons in the winery.

What was once a refuge became a prison, one in which you would be alone, far from Cassandra, but with your thoughts and regrets as your only company.

You were no longer the same. Your complexion had turned pale, dark circles adorned your sickly presence, since, at night, your only protection against your girlfriend was to keep the window open, to let the cold in.

Over time you became a ghost of what you were, the ghost of another ghost, a long and sad shadow that didn’t want to see the light if Donna was not next to you.

Alcina's soft voice caught your attention, but unfortunately you could only emit a sad sob. It was getting harder and harder for you to pretend, to act as if you hadn't lost anything, as if everything you wanted and needed was in that castle, and not behind the forest, in the old Beneviento Estate.

“Yes, my lady,” you murmured, earning a serious look from the lady in white, who left a bottle on the table, walking towards you slowly, threateningly.

“My dear... I can't help but feel that something is wrong with you,” she said in a low voice, putting a large hand on your shoulder, forcing you to hide the tear that was welling up in one of your eyes.

“No, my lady, everything is fine,”

No, nothing was fine. Without Donna, nothing would ever be fine.

“You lie terribly,” Alcina sighed shaking her head and pulling your wrist to bring you closer to her. “Gods, look at those dark circles under your eyes, you look awful, dear.”

“I'm sorry, my lady.”

“Tell me (Y/N), has Cassandra done something bad to you?” she asked, making you be alert again.

She had never asked such a thing, your nerves were about to explode.

“Of course not, my lady,” you answered with a false smile, which tightened her grip even more while she frowned, knowing, being convinced that, again, you were lying.

“You know I hate lies, young lady, now, you are going to dry your tears and tell me…”

“Sorry, my lady,” a saving voice appeared in the cellar, making the lady of the castle growl, making her finally let you go.

“Damn it, Olga, you know that you are completely forbidden to come down here,” Alcina protested, putting her hands on her hips.

“I'm sorry, my lady, but it's just that…” the girl apologized, looking down, with her hands shaking in front of her body.

“It's just that what!?” your mistress shouted, echoing off the old walls, causing you to automatically shrink.

“Lady Beneviento is here, my lady,” the maid explained, as best she could, with her voice trembling, just like her body.

Lady Beneviento. That name made you look up quickly, your eyes suddenly opened and you let out an involuntary gasp that caught Alcina's attention for a moment, making her look at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Donna,” you whispered.

Luckily, you managed to avoid your boss's inquisitive gaze by turning around and pretending to place the bottles correctly.

“Gods, why did it take you so long to say it? You are more and more useless every day,” the tall woman protested, rubbing her eyes with contempt.

“Sorry, my lady,” Olga apologized again, pointing to the stairs. “What do I do?”

“What?” Alcina insisted, with an arrogant tone. “Has she told you what she wants?”

“W-Well, her doll was talking about some unfinished business but…” the maid murmured, making you freeze in place.

Had she come for you? Would that be possible? No, it couldn't be, she hated you. She kicked you out of her house…

“Oh, I understand,” the lady in white sighed, with a soft laugh, but looking at you out of the corner of her eye again. “Always so shy… Gods, what does it cost her to call me to say that she wants to have dinner with me? Anyway, tell the others to prepare food for one more person.”

“Yes, my lady”

“And you… go for a dress, dear, we have visitors,” she said looking at you with a different sparkle in her eyes.

“My lady, I…” you said trembling, not wanting to face Donna, not wanting to be in her presence. Not in that castle, not where she would never be yours. “I would rather not disturb and…”

“Nonsense, you are family, dear. Go on, be good and put on something nice, I am convinced that Donna is very happy to see her… errand girl…” she said with her usual irony, one that you mistook for an accusation, making you feel guilty.

You had no choice but to obey, you couldn’t do anything else.

There, in the dining room, there she was: Donna, covered with her black veil, following you with her gaze while you sat in front of her, asking with your eyes, wanting to know the reason for her unexpected presence.

The Angie doll, unlike her owner, had no problem greeting you effusively.

“See, silly? We've come... Hey, what happened to you? You look like a ghost,” the puppet whispered to you in an indiscreet manner, but just before you could ask or speak, the three Dimitrescu sisters appeared next to their mother.

“Hello, hello...” Cassandra sang while the others politely greeted their aunt. “But what do we have here, my elusive girlfriend... It seems that you can't escape from me today, huh?”

As she spoke, your blood boiled more and more, her unconsented touch on your cheeks made you burn with pain, with shame, while she sat on your lap hastily, without the slightest decorum, kissing you passionately in front of your lover.

It couldn't be worse.

“Ahem, Cassandra, darling, show some decorum, will you?” Alcina corrected, causing the young woman to wink at you and stand up, letting you see how Donna tightly gripped her fork, and how Angie tried to soften the pressure.

You’d had awkward dinners, but that one, without a doubt, was the worst of all.

If it weren't for Alcina's pleasant chat with her sister, everything would be silent. You knew that Donna wasn't paying attention. She only saw how Cassandra made fun of you by feeding you dinner with evil laughter, or speaking to you in indiscreet whispers about what she was going to do to you as soon as Donna left.

The sound of a piece of cutlery falling to the floor interrupted that tense calm. Donna had dropped her spoon and you, as helpful as ever, bent down to pick it up under the table.

You discreetly handed her the fallen object, realizing that there was something in her hand, something she left in yours and that you squeezed tightly.

A note, or so it seemed. You didn't know what it contained, what it meant, whether it was an explanation, an apology, or an insult. You were dying to know, but you couldn't, not with Cassandra beside you.

Your brain worked very hard to ignore her non-consensual assault on your privacy, focusing on the best way to find out what that piece of paper contained.

Okay, the idea was stupid, but it was the best you could come up with given the circumstances.

“Oh, wow,” you said falsely, regretting having let the glass of wine spill on your formal dress.

You were a terrible actress.

“Excuse me, but I have to go to the bathroom,” you said hastily, abruptly removing Cassandra's hand from your leg and getting up from the table.

Nervous, you ran through the halls, pretending to wash yourself so as not to raise suspicions until, finally, you opened that paper.

I have come to fight for you, to take you home in my arms, amore mio.

I don’t want, nor can, live without you

I love you

You read it once, and again, and again. The smile lit up your dull face when you understood what Donna was doing in the castle.

At last, because of Angie or her own conscience, she had come to her senses. Donna had understood that you needed her, that you never wanted to hurt her.

It didn't mean that she had forgiven you for having cheating on her, but it was a written proof of what she felt for you. She would not give up easily and she had found the courage to fight for you, even risking invading Cassandra's territory.

“Oh, Donna...” you whispered, pressing the note to your chest. “Donna, Donna, Donna…”

The sound of distant footsteps brought you out of your euphoria. Was it her? Could you finally love her, really be hers?

“Donna?” you asked out loud, getting the echo of your voice as an answer.

“Mm, no,  wrong,” a mocking voice said, one you knew, one that made you quickly put the note in your pocket. “Are you blind?”

“Cass, I…” you said as you saw your girlfriend licking her lips, coming closer while laughing, like a predator stalking its prey.

“If you wanted to see me, you didn’t have to stain that pretty dress.”

“It was an accident,” you lied, moving away from claws that were going straight for your waist. “We should go back.”

“Why the rush? It was a very lucky accident, don't you think?” she purred, forcing you to crash against the wall, with no option to escape. “Mother and the others are busy with Aunt Donna, so... well, you and I can play...”

Her tongue on your neck burned like a hot iron. The love you felt for Donna forced you to feel disgust for your girlfriend's actions. No, she wasn't going to get what she wanted that time, not when you were so close to getting the life you deserved, a life with Donna.

“No,” you said in a whisper, opening your eyes and standing firm.

“Excuse me?” Cassandra questioned, as if you had said something extraordinary, something she never thought she would hear from your lips.

“I said… No!” you screamed, pushing your girlfriend back, forcing her to step back sharply with her eyes wide open.

“What!?” she screamed angrily. “What do you mean by no? Listen, you silly girl, you are my girlfriend and…”

“No, not anymore,” you hissed. “I'm sick of you… of you making fun of me every day. It's over…”

“Why do you say those mean things to me? You don't have to… You can't say those things to me!” Cassandra yelled kicking the ground angrily, like a capricious child.

“It's over, Cassandra,” you said confidently, holding the note tightly in your hands, gaining all the courage you never thought you had.  “You are a spoiled, pampered and capricious brat… you think you have the right to play with people, with their feelings… well, I'll tell you one thing… You won’t play with me anymore!” you said furiously, trembling with fear, but without faltering.

“How dare you…” the young Dimitrescu hissed in a dangerous tone, her gaze darkening more and more. “Well, I've been very patient with you, pet. Do you think I don't know that you leave your window open to avoid me, to laugh at me? You can't avoid me! You're my girlfriend! You're mine!”

“I'll never be yours!” you shouted back, with all your strength.

Those words were too much for the young woman, who approached roughly grabbing you by the collar of your dress, almost lifting you into the air.

“You're going to pay for it, pet… You're going to…!” she shrieked, raising her hand, about to punish you for your insolence.

Something prevented her from completing her action, a pale hand wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from moving, Donna’s hand.

The lady in black appeared to save you, pushing your now ex-girlfriend away from you with a furious growl.

“Donna!” you sobbed in the middle of a desperate cry.

“What are you doing? Stay out of this, Aunt Donna,” Cassandra said surprised, to which your lover paid no attention, walking quickly towards you and cupping your face in her hands.

“Tesoro... are you okay? Did she hurt you?” the lady whispered, checking your condition while you clung to her, shedding a sea of ​​tears on her shoulder.

“I'm fine, I'm fine because you came... you came for me...” you said sobbing, finding the comfort you so lacked, the pleasant warmth of her arms.

“Of course I came... Oddio... I'm so sorry... I behaved like a fool...” she whispered in your ear, melting into you in a sincere, strong, safe embrace.

“Hey! What's going on here?” Cassandra asked, with a disgusted look at you. “What the hell…? Oh, no, it can't be true…”

“Get away from her, I won't repeat it,” Donna threatened, placing you behind her body in a protective gesture.

“You? Are you trying to snatch what's mine? Mother!” the young woman shouted, moving nervously and trying to grab you again. “You bitch… you've been cheating on me! Now you'll really pay for this and…!”

The lady in black moved quickly, pushing the young Dimitrescu aside and slapping her with a blow that left everything silent, lost in the echo of the walls.

“But, but…” Cassandra protested, incredulous at what had just happened. “You hit me!”

The sound of fast heels alerted you. Of course, that commotion alerted the lady of the castle, who was running towards you, causing a sinister smile to appear on Cassandra's wounded face.

“Mother, mother, come, come!” her daughter shrieked with childish satisfaction, pointing at you. “Aunt Donna hit me.”

Alcina looked at you briefly, studying the arms that held you, your tears, with a cold face.

“Now you are going to pay for what you have done... you are going to... Ah!” Another slap crossed the young vampire's face, but it wasn’t Donna's, but her own mother's. “Mother?”

“You stupid spoiled brat...” Alcina hissed, with her teeth grinding, with a visceral hatred towards her own daughter. “How dare you treat a girl like that?”

“What? But, but, but she…” Cassandra protested, embarrassed and terrified.

“Oh, come on, do you think I'm stupid? I know perfectly well what you were doing to poor (Y/N). Tell me, girl, what have I done wrong with you? Haven’t I educated you on how to treat ladies?”

“But…”

“Silence!” Dimitrescu shrieked, making you shrink even further into the arms of your lover, who remained stoic, ready to protect you. “Gods… (Y/N), are you okay?” she asked in a motherly tone, but visibly upset.

You simply nodded, moving away from the hand that rested on your shoulder.

“Mother, it's not fair,” Cassandra protested, with tears in her eyes, tugging at her mother's dress.

“Shut your mouth and get out of my sight! It's clear that you need new lessons… Until then, you're grounded! Go away!” the matriarch shrieked, pointing down the hallway, where the young woman, turned into a tangle of flies, fled in terror.

The tall woman sighed and seemed to calm down, turning her gaze towards you and sighing exhaustedly.

“Donna, how disappointing…” she said in a kind but accusatory tone. “I must confess that I never imagined that you, of all people, would be capable of such a thing…”

The lady in black didn’t respond, she simply hugged you tighter. She wasn’t going to let you go, she would never let you go again.

“And you…” the lady in white said. “Oh, my dear… how could you? Cheating on my daughter with Donna… no, no, no, that is not right, my dear…”

“My lady, I…” you stammered as best you could, with a sore throat, with your heart about to explode.

“Shut up,” Alcina ordered you. “You are fired. Take your things and get out of my castle… Oh, and Donna, I'm sure you won't waste the chance to have a maid like her, will you?”

You both looked at each other. You didn't know if Donna was smiling, but you were; your face regained its full brightness when you realized what was happening.

Alcina wasn't firing you, she was setting you free, allowing you, and Donna, to form the life together you dreamed of so much. It was all too good to be true; you even feared it was just a dream.

But as you left the castle in her arms, in Donna's arms, as she promised you, knowing that you wouldn't come back, that you would finally be free to be with her, you realized that it wasn't a dream, but reality, a reality you finally wanted to be in.

[purplepeptobismol]

Well….

We’re making chapter 13 more than 10k words long I guess…. [it’s already split]

Chapter 13 is turning out to be more than 15k words, so I’m not even gonna bother continue drafting it and just split the chapter already and hope for the best 😷 could be two parts, could be three parts, your guess is as good as mine!

Honestly, I just want to get this one out ASAP 🙏 I owe it to you guys for creating such amazing art and writing while I’ve been making yall wait for so long.

[desireangel]

A Good Girl's Reputation | Aemond Targaryen

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: It was the last place you wanted to be but nonetheless, you found yourself pulled along to a party you hosted by none other than the Targaryen's, only for spilled wine to force you into Aemond's shirt. A sight that had him dragging you to his bed, eager to corrupt the well-behaved girl who had set him ablaze with desire.

Word Count: 6.7k.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ only!! Oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V sex, dirty talk!!, a major cliche on the good girl trope, reader is shy!, slight degradation, mean friends at a party maybe?, Aegon being sneaky, bad language. Unedited. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Okay, I wasn't going to post this one because it was purely self-indulgent and I kinda wasn't happy with my pen game in this but I was feeling bad about the delay in Dark Cherry part 5 so wanted to share something!! I also love the idea of Aemond being totally feral about seeing reader in his clothes. Share your thoughts my loves, I'm more than happy to discuss things, thoughts and feedback with you all - xoxo, kisses!! <3

There was a nonsensical grandeur about everything that Jilly dragged you into. This time was no different and you silently waited for the sound of the elevator ding while listening to your best friend chatter about the ‘world’s best fucking boyfriend–wait, do you think this makes him my boyfriend?’

“I don’t know, Jilly,” you nibbled on your lip, craning your neck to look around the corner of the entrance hallway. For what reason, you weren’t sure but there was a crawling nervousness on your skin and the urge to make sure there were no unexpected surprises was consuming. “It’s Aegon. Only he can answer that question for you.”

The elevator was taking an infuriatingly long time. You wondered if this was the building’s way of telling you to turn around and return to the dorm room that had become your safe haven over the last two years. Jilly had somehow gotten herself involved with none other than Aegon Targaryen, a man notorious for his partying and hedonism.

It was entertaining at first, and you were more than happy to remain a spectator of the ridiculous pairing. Jilly was entirely different to Aegon and tended to carry herself with a lot more modesty than Aegon was known for. She was calculating and calm where he was impulsive and excitable. 

You thought back to the first time they had met. In a tutorial for a statistics class you needed to take to meet course requirements, the three of you paired together to facilitate a useless discussion on probabilities. The bickering between the two of them was amusing and the first greeting that Aegon had graced the two of you with was a grumbled ‘what kind of name is Jilly?’

And weeks later, Aegon had decided to hold another one of his campus-famous house parties. He had obviously invited Jilly–and by extension he had invited you because there was no chance Jilly would go to a party without you. In fact, before she had met Aegon, there was no chance Jilly would go to any party regardless. 

A loud, excited hmph! fell from Jilly’s lips when the elevator doors finally opened. You had hoped it had broken down on its way to pick you up and that there was a rather convenient lack of staircase to climb instead. 

“I don’t think–”

“Don’t say it,” Jilly held a hand in front of your face. She clicked on P with her other hand. For the penthouse, you guessed. “I know you don’t want to be here. But we are going to have a good night.” 

You sighed, tugging the short, black skirt that Jilly had wrestled you into further down your thighs. It looked good paired with the white satin button down you had insisted on wearing for comfort but it was shorter than you were accustomed to. The thought of maintaining it enough so it didn’t ride up past your bum was tiresome but there was no arguing which you could do to wiggle your way into some pants instead. 

Jilly snickered. “Quit fiddling with your skirt, you’ll poke a hole in your tights–Oh!”

The two of you shared a gasp when the doors opened. No wonder people had so much to say about the Targaryen siblings and their parties when their apartment looked like it was straight out of a Forbes magazine. For a moment, it seemed impossible that the apartment housed two students. It was incomparable to the wardrobe sized dorm you had been living in over the semester. 

Distant chatter pulled you out of your thoughts and you followed Jilly further into the apartment, reminding yourself not to let your jaw drop as your eyes adjusted to the dimmed lighting. The party was an hour or so away from starting - Aegon had told everyone to head in after seven but had given Jilly an earlier time so that the two of you could join their pre-game. 

Not that you would. The prospect of getting as drunk as Aegon planned at your (embarrassingly?) first student party was daunting. 

Anxiously, you followed Jilly into the living area where a handful of familiar faces were lounging and drinking. There was a deep bumping of bass, and you could feel the floor vibrating with it, but you couldn’t make out the song that was playing. 

“Jill!” Floris, Aegon’s friend who you had only ever seen on campus, pulled Jilly towards the nearest couch. Hesitantly, you followed, flashing Aegon and Cregan a purse-lipped smile as they made their way to greet you. “We were worried you wouldn’t show up. Is this your friend?”

With a smile, you introduced yourself. Floris only grinned at you before returning her attention to Jilly, who had started up an animated conversation with Helaena. Aegon whistled at Jilly, tipping the neck of his beer in her direction as if to say hello, and threw his other arm around your shoulder. 

He laughed when you cringed, pulling back from him slightly. Aegon smelled like a mixture of beer, red wine and sandalwood cologne. “We placed bets on whether you’d show up. Glad you did. There’s multiple motherfuckers in here who owe me a silver stag each. Not that I need it.”

You spluttered a bit. “What-” 

“Relax,” Cregan teased you from the other side of Aegon. He was clearly drunk. “You’re clearly not much of a party girl but that changes two-” he held up two fingers and then aggressively pointed them down at the floor with a jerk. “-night.” 

Aegon laughed, handing you a glass of wine which suddenly appeared in his hand. You shook your head and he shrugged, downing it himself. He turned away from you, waving someone down. “Aemond!”

Oh gods, no. 

You tried to keep your smile on your face. Aemond fucking Targaryen was leaning against a counter, a beer loosely hanging between his fingers. He was in the middle of a conversation with Criston Cole, a friend of their family who you had heard of only through mindless campus gossip. Aemond glanced toward Aegon in response, an eyebrow raised lazily. 

If there were ever a man you had crushed on, it really had to be him. It was a little bit maddening because you were exactly like your peers in thinking Aemond may be the most attractive man you’d ever see in your lifetime. He was tall, had an air of darkness and mystery to him and his silver hair framed his defined cheekbones and sharp jawline perfectly. But it was the severity in everything about him that had caught your eye–right from the first lecture you had seen him in. 

Aemond, as you understood, had no idea who you were. And while you knew exactly who he was, it wasn’t odd. Everyone knew of him and his family. He had practically been birthed into the public eye. 

“This pretty thing here,” Aegon, much to your protest, had pulled you across the room to introduce you. “Jilly’s best friend. Much like you, dear brother, she hates parties and is not here by her own will. You’d get along.”

Aemond looked at you and you suddenly had no idea what to do with yourself. You met his eye, fiddling with the hem of your skirt and waiting for whatever this moment was to end quickly. Your skin was tingling under his gaze which dropped from your head to your feet and then back to your face. 

When he didn’t say anything, you offered him a tight lipped smile and a timid wave. “Hi?”

He was going to respond. You could see it in the way he had moved but Aegon was quick to cut him off, ever the loud mouthed brat. As subtle as Aegon believed himself to be, he was an incredibly obnoxious drunk.  

“Surely,” Aegon drawled, wrapping his arms around Jilly’s waist when she appeared by your side and pulling her into him tightly. Mockingly, he targeted his question at Jilly but switched his gaze between her and Aemond. “Your little-good-girl friend could use a bit of corrupting, Jills. Seems like Aemond would be entirely capable, from what Floris has–”

“That’s enough, Aegon,” Aemond’s voice was smooth and darker than you’d expected. He gave you a small, reassuring yet tight smile. “Don’t be an ass. Let her be.”

You were a little breathless. Sure, you didn’t quite let go of yourself as much as everyone else did but you were no prude. Right? 

There was no offence intended in Aegon’s teasing but you couldn’t help but feel the sting. He was right–you were relatively good. All of your time and effort went into studying and working. Where you weren’t doing either of those, you preferred the solitude of a good book at a quiet cafe. There were very few bad habits in your life, the worst of which would only be the likes of a dependence on tea or coffee. Parties were a rarity but on the odd occasion you would tag along wherever Jilly would go. And, regardless of that, here you were.

It was embarrassing. You had hoped that if you were to ever introduce yourself to Aemond, things would go slightly better than this and your uptight prudish reputation (which you didn’t realise you had until today) would remain undiscussed. He was different and he didn’t tend to spend his time with people of your tendencies. Aemond was the object of everyone’s desires; if they didn’t want to have him then they certainly wanted to be him. 

You were clearly different from his normal type. If only for the fact that he also had a reputation and that reputation consisted of a string of heartbroken girls who he had never pursued or never shared more than his bed with. Those girls were a lot more like his friends; confident, daring and well accomplished. Aemond was not Aegon; there was a lot more respect in the way people spoke of him and his academic and professional talents were impressive to most people. 

Thankfully, Jilly had pulled you away from that dreadful conversation with a harsh glare pointed at Aegon. The kitchen, which was the closest place for you to hide, was filled with snacks and drinks almost falling off of the countertops. You recognised Helaena, and waved at her.

Helaena had been a friend whenever you had bumped into each other. She was sweet and kind and you actually enjoyed her company. “It’s nice to see you, Helaena. Didn’t think we’d ever run into each other at a house party but hey, it’s been an hour full of surprises.”

She laughed with you. There was an easy flow of conversation between the two of you and when Floris and Jilly had taken to what they called ‘Kitchen Karaoke’, you had even danced together. Jilly, as drunk as she was, pushed the bottle of wine in her hand to you, waiting for you to drink. With some encouragement from Helaena and Floris, you smiled and took a few sips. 

The peace you had found in the kitchen was short lived and when Jilly, joined by Aegon and caught up in her exaggerated Lady Gaga performance, flung her arm out, the bottle of wine in her hand spilling right onto your chest and soaking through the white fabric of your shirt. 

“Shit,” she winced. It was cold and you had a small sense of panic that raised goosebumps on your skin at the thought of wearing a wet, stained shirt all night but at the drunken apologetic look on her face all you could do was force a smile. Jilly giggled nervously. “At least it makes your tits look good.”

“Right,” you mumbled, fingers pulling the wet fabric off of your skin. It was uncomfortably sticking to your skin and the smell of the red wine was beginning to catch. “No problem.”

Aegon tapped your shoulder gently and gave you an animated salute. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you something from the fresh laundry.”

You followed him into the laundry, which was only just around the corner, waiting as he grinned and shuffled through the clothes that were sitting in the dryer. When Aegon turned to you, he had a stupid toothy smile and passed you a grey shirt. “Wear that. It’ll be big but it’ll still look good with the rest of your outfit if you tuck it in or something.”

The t-shirt Aegon handed you was a little long but you weren’t going to complain when you were much happier to be in dry clothing. It was a Slipknot shirt, the graphic on the front slightly worn down with time and washes. You figured it could have been worse–at least Slipknot were good. Aegon had long gone, giving you privacy to change and when you stepped out of the laundry room, you were surprised to see that people had started piling into the apartment. 

Some hip-hop song you could barely recognise played loudly and you were a little thrown off by the crowds of unfamiliar faces. But everyone was having a good time, smiling and dancing among themselves. 

Cigarettes, cologne and coffee filled your senses and you let out a small yelp as you met with a hardened surface, stumbling a little to catch yourself. Aemond’s hands reached out to grab hold of your arms, holding you steady against him so that you wouldn’t fall to the ground. 

“Easy, missy,” he stepped back slightly, as if he were trying to get a good look at you. As Aemond dragged his gaze over you from head to toe, he smirked and hummed deeply.

The heat that rushed to your cheeks was quick and you wondered if Aemond had always smelled so delicious. Your mind was clouded by him and the way he didn’t remove his hands from you, his fingers still gently squeezing your flesh and keeping you far closer to him than you needed to be. 

Whatever it was, if he continued to look at you with so much intensity and hold you as if he didn’t want to let go of you, there was a high chance you’d do something that would only leave you disappointed and embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” you squeaked, pulling away from him in one movement and rushing into the kitchen. Jilly grinned at you, eyebrows wagging exaggeratedly in her drunken state. 

The rest of the girls had found their way to the kitchen, which had actually quietened down even more in the short moments you were away. You found yourself once again at Helaena’s side, watching as Jilly danced with her bottle of wine in hand, and failing to listen to the conversation that was somehow still in flow. 

If you were being honest, the party was a certain type of boring. There was a lot going on yet nothing at the same time and you chalked it up to the fact that you weren’t that friendly with anyone here. Helaena was only part of the crowd because she lived here and Jilly was becoming a part of Aegon’s group of mates, all of whom you knew of but had no real friendship with. 

Floris, who had been staring at you on and off since you had returned, took a sip of her drink and flashed you an odd look. “Is that Aemond’s shirt?”

Helaena giggled beside you, watching you keenly as you frowned. When you answered, Floris looked at you with narrowed eyes. You cleared your throat, nervously nibbling on your bottom lip. “I assumed it was Aegon’s since he gave it to me.”

“What was wrong with what you came in?”

“Floris, you saw that blouse get ruined,” Jilly rolled her eyes, stepping closer to you when she noticed the gentle alarm on your face. “She couldn’t have stayed in a stained top. It won't dry out until tomorrow.”

Floris only huffed, regarding you with a harsh stare and a forced shrug. There was an odd silence that lingered and you considered offering her an apology. But you quickly realised that you didn’t really have anything to apologise for, even though it is probably Aemond’s t-shirt and it was no secret that Floris was all about Aemond. 

The night was passing slowly and you continued to make small talk with the same few people you knew. But the weight of Floris’ glare never disappeared. And Aemond, with his gentle smirk and quiet confidence, had been lingering the entire night. You were half-certain that it was Floris who was the purpose of his prolonged presence in the kitchen, which had become somewhat of a break room for everyone at this point.

There was a pointed silence from him aside from the few words he had muttered in conversation with Helaena or Daeron yet his gaze was communicating more than his words could. Aemond kept looking towards you, his wanting eye holding yours assertively whenever you’d catch him watching you. You couldn’t help the heat that crept up your neck at the way he looked you up and down at every chance he got. 

It was suffocating when paired with the daggers you could feel from Floris’ stares and Aegon’s vexing grin. 

“I’m going outside for a bit,” you told Helaena, placing your glass down on the counter and flashing a pursed-lip smile at whoever caught your eye on your way towards the terrace. 

The journey to the terrace wasn’t easy and you could feel your throat closing in as you tried to squeeze through crowds of people. It was sweaty and loud, shoulders knocking and elbows bumping as you finally pushed your way through to a secluded part of the terrace, sighing at the fresh air and solitude. 

Once again, your peace didn’t last long before you caught a flash of silver in your peripheral. 

Aemond stood beside you, so close that your shoulder brushed the leather of his jacket. “You alright?” 

His proximity had turned your brain silent and you simply nodded, forcing your eyelids not to flutter shut at his delicious smell. There was a comfortable silence that followed. He rested his elbows on the railing as you were, relaxing against it and watching the street below. 

A tickle on your cheek from a loose strand of Aemond’s hair following the breeze woke you up from the haze you were entering. “Not enjoying the party?”

“I don’t like parties,” he chuckled, reaching into his pocket. 

You snickered, eyes trailing across his hands as he fiddled with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Taking a moment to admire the way his rings complemented his nimble yet clearly strong fingers, you couldn’t believe how attractive a man’s hands could be.  “You’re not like your brother, then. That’s good–couldn’t handle having two Aegon’s about.”

Aemond shook his head, smiling as he held the box out to you. “Thankfully my brother and I are not alike. Cig?”

“Not for me.”

He hummed, popping a cigarette between his lips and holding the lighter to it. “Good. Do you mind?”

You didn’t have much else to say other than a shrug, letting him know it was alright for him to smoke. It would hardly be anything to complain about with the way Aemond seemed to look ten times sexier with a cigarette between his fingers and hanging from his lips. 

“I guess your reputation isn’t a lie,” Aemond let his eye fall to you, holding a world of darkness and sin as he smirked at you. A cheeky grin played on his lips as he turned to his side, resting on his arm and leaning back a bit to look at you better. 

You swallowed thickly. A wave of heat to your core had you turning away from him, the intensity of how he looked at you like you were tempting all of his urges. “I just try to stay clear of bad habits. It doesn’t really matter.”

“So you are a good girl,” Aemond leaned closer, his fingers gently tipping your head upwards at your chin. He was closer than he was before you had blinked and all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. “I like that. I wonder if Aegon was right about us.”

Because of the way he was holding your chin, firmly and gently at the same time, you had no choice but to meet his gaze. Goosebumps arose on your skin and you shivered despite the burn of his fingers on your skin. 

“Let me take you somewhere more comfortable,” Aemond drawled. The air grew charged when he grazed his lips against yours, so softly it was almost nonexistent. “They all thought I would be the one to corrupt you but I can show you all the ways you’ve corrupted my mind instead.”

The small gasp that fell from your lips made his jaw tick and he let go of your chin, dragging the knuckles of his fingers across your cheek affectionately. 

You nodded and cleared your throat quietly, surprised at your own eagerness. “But I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” Aemond gently lowered his hand to hold your hip, letting one last puff of smoke out before putting his cigarette out. He guided you inside, keeping you right in front of him and his free arm loosely extended in front of your body to stop people from pushing into you. His lips lingered at your ear all the while. “You were already a pretty little thing, missy. But I never could have guessed that you’d be so fucking delicious in my clothes.” 

You were grateful that you weren’t facing him. He couldn’t see the flush that had crossed your expression and had you shying away gently but only to sink further against his chest as he led you through a quieter hallway. When Aemond pushed open the door to his bedroom, he finally noticed your dishevelled state and let out an affectionate huff. 

Only letting go of you for a moment so that he could close the door behind him, Aemond had turned you to face him and pulled you back to your place against his body. His bedroom was pointedly his; neat and collected, the walls decorated with a few posters of the bands he likes and bookshelves that were almost filled entirely. It smelled like clean linen and his cologne. 

“Wait.” You remembered the girl who had been far more than unhappy to see you in his shirt and stiffened. “I thought you and Floris-”

“Floris and I are nothing,” Aemond was calm when he spoke, still watching you with that fierce desire that you had felt from him when you bumped into him earlier on. You swallowed down your apprehension visibly, avoiding eye contact. “I promise.”

Odd, considering you were well aware he didn’t need to promise you anything. 

Aemond watched your chest heave with your heavy breaths, covered entirely by his favourite t-shirt which draped perfectly from your breasts. A hand returned to your hip, squeezing lightly while the other rested at the crevice of your neck and shoulder, his fingers tickling your warm skin. 

He pursed his lips, hyper aware of how tense you were in his hands. “Tell me to stop and I will. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can just chat and get to know each other.” 

“No,” you shook your head.“I don’t want you to stop.”

It was impossible to resist the way that Aemond was pulling you against him, as if you weren’t close enough despite how you were pressed flush against him and the fabric of your clothing was all that could fit between the two of you. Gods, he smelled so good. 

Confident with your reassurance, Aemond dipped his head so close to yours that you were sharing air, his smirk returned when he felt you shiver against him. “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t usually do this,” you muttered, eyelids fluttering shut when he brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek and pressed a featherlight kiss beside your lips, dragging them to your jaw when you instinctively moved to try catch his lips in the kiss you only now realised you were craving. But you failed and he cheekily worked away from your attempted kiss. His lips felt good on your skin and a soft gasp in his ear had him squeezing your hip harder. It reminded you what you were telling him. “We technically just met.”

He never stopped placing the smallest of kisses along your jaw, moving them towards your neck. “Technically?”

“We have a couple lectures together.”

The thought that it was rather surprising that he had never noticed much of you crossed Aemond’s mind but when you let your hand fall to his chest, fisting the lapel of his jacket and tugging like you needed him more than oxygen, it disappeared into a haze of your perfume and warmth. 

Aemond hummed as you noticed he did often. “Does it count if I take you out the day after?”

“I’m sure it does,” you bit your lip to hide your smile, frowning when he pulled away from your neck. “But only if you really want–”

All your thoughts were lost when Aemond swallowed your words, his lips finding yours eagerly. You moaned against him, stiffening for a moment as your skin flushed under his touch but returning his vigour when he laced his fingers through your hair, holding it in a tight fist. It was a perfectly coordinated mess of tongue and teeth, and Aemond never once faltered in his fervour. 

Blindly, you let him guide you to the bed, pulling him down without breaking the kiss when the edge of the bed hit the back of your legs.

In the soft glow of candlelight, the both of you were enveloped in a world of your own. The air was thick with anticipation as your bodies drew closer, the heat shared between you palpable. You tilted your head back, inviting his lips to trace a path along your neck, each kiss sending your blood rushing to your core.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

“Everything, Aemond.”

As his hands found their way under his shirt, fingers gliding over your soft skin, you let out a soft gasp, arching into him. His hands roamed freely, seeking out the warmth beneath the soft fabric, craving your skin against his own.

You felt the weight of him above you, powerful and intoxicating. With a careful urgency, Aemond sat back momentarily, pulling you with him so that he could reach to unclasp your bra. When you moved to take the shirt off with a soft smile, he stopped you. 

“Keep it on,” Aemond placed a kiss to your clothed shoulder, running his hand across the side of your leg as he let you get rid of your bra underneath the shirt. He pulled your skirt and tights off with steady hands, humming appreciatively at the way your underwear peaked out from where the t-shirt had bunched at your hips. “I want you in my shirt only.”

You watched him, entranced, as he took in the sight of you and muttered under his breath about how perfect you were for him, his eye dark with longing. Aemond moved downwards, nestling himself comfortably between your legs, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his mouth warm and inviting. 

When you whined impatiently he smiled, a wicked glint in his eye, and returned to his explorations, kissing his way closer to your core. Aemond never took his eye off you and you could see him watching you from where he teasingly licked at the skin where your thigh met your covered womanhood. The tension in your core tightened and you jerked when he wrapped his lips around your clothed clit and sucked hard. 

Strong hands held your hips down as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs. Again, you whined at him. “You’re not very patient are you? Already so wet for me that I can taste your delicious pussy through the fabric. Tell me what you want.”

You propped yourself on your elbows, your arms quivering under your weight and breath hitching when you noticed his own clothes had been haphazardly taken off. Aemond was ridding you of your mind and he had barely done anything. “More, Aemond. I want more.”

“More what?”

“More of you,” you whined again, mouth watering at the way he gazed at you from where he was nestled. “I want more of you.”

Aemond complied, pulling your panties off as soon as your hips had lifted on his command. He gave you a pointed look, scolding you gently when you gave him a shy whimper, moving to shut your legs so he couldn’t see you spread for him. 

“Spread your legs, pretty girl,” he let out a coarse breath when you wordlessly did as he said, baring yourself to him and gracing him with a sight more tempting than all the gold and jewels the world had to offer. Aemond’s hands guided your thighs apart encouragingly. “That’s it–little bit more.”

His gentle commands were both exhilarating and daunting. The weight of his gaze was both thrilling and intimidating, sending heat rushing to your cheeks and your cunt and the chuckle coming from the man between your legs was enough to tell you that he had seen you clench around nothing. 

Trailing his kisses from your knees and down your thighs once again, Aemond groaned, fisting the bottom of the shirt that rested against your raised thigh and licking a long stripe between your folds. It had you sucking in a breath, the sensation of his wet tongue suddenly exploring your cunt taking over every part of your mind and body, your fingers grasping at the sheets when he lapped at your clit and moaned into your wetness.

“Gods, Aemond-” you made the prettiest noises but Aemond’s cock jumped at the way you said his name, giving him a newfound fervour as he ferociously sucked at your clit, flicking it with his tongue. 

Nothing you had experienced with anyone had you trembling from sensitivity and pleasure so easily. His tongue and lips moved against you expertly and he let his arms wrap around your thighs as they rested against his shoulders, using his thumbs to spread you even more for him. 

Spit mixed with your wetness, creating a slick that dripped from your cunt and tainted his chin and his cheeks but Aemond seemed only to revel in it. His cock grew painfully hard at the beautiful sounds you made and the sweet, slightly tart and metallic taste of you on his tongue. 

At a particularly harsh suck on your clit, you jerked, legs clamping shut around Aemond’s head as you felt your orgasm building faster than you had expected. “Aemond. Oh fuck, it’s good-”

“Are you going to come for me, missy?” Aemond asked and the vibrations of his voice while he continued to feast on you had you moaning out an incoherent answer. He was watching you as you nodded, head thrown back so all that he could see over your body and his t-shirt was your chin and glimpses of your blissful expression. 

Shuddering and struggling to even your breathing, a heated pleasure took you with surprising intensity. Aemond continued to suck on you, delving into you with his tongue and teasing you with his fingers as he helped you through your orgasm, groaning at the way your body tensed and your pussy clenched. 

Placing a final kiss on your clit with a cheeky grin, making his way up your body, enjoying the way you continued to tremble and whimper under his touch. He took a nipple into his mouth through the shirt, teasingly only giving it a moment of attention before his lips were back on yours. 

Sharing the taste of you, Aemond kissed you hungrily despite having done the same within your folds only seconds ago. It was unbelievably hot in the room and you became dizzy with how your body gave into his, moulding against him perfectly as his hips found their place between your legs. 

Aemond’s voice was dark and confident, dripping with lust. 

But you salivated at the thought of taking him in your mouth and tried to push him back. “I want you in my mouth too.”

“Not tonight.” His hand found one of your breasts, touching you over the shirt. When you pouted at him, legs still jerking around his hips, Aemond softly moaned. “Aren’t you full of surprises? Good girl like you, so eager to suck me.”

Hot and heavy, Aemond grinded his cock against you, pressing it deliciously to your clit and then taking its place with his fingers. He wondered whether the pout on your lips would disappear when he pushed a digit into you, satisfied to see it fall away and be replaced with a furrow of your eyebrows and a silent gasp. 

Keening at both his words and the way that Aemond slid another finger in and curled them inside you, searching for that spot that had your toes curling, you were increasingly desperate to taste him now that you had felt how hard and ready he was for you. “Please, let me taste you.”

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities for that.” He sighed deeply when you moaned loudly, grasping at his shoulders and pressing your face into his neck. “I would kill to feel your pretty lips on my cock. Do you want to know what I think, missy?”

Aemond was intoxicating, sending your body into overdrive and your mind hazy with need. All you could do was nod, lost in the way he was perfectly bringing you to so much bliss. 

“I think,” he purred. “That I’m going to make you mine. And that I’ll fuck the well-behaved girl right out of you in each and every shirt that I own.”

Gasping for air as he pushed himself into you, replacing his fingers with his cock, you clung to him as he stretched you out. There was a sharp sting from his size but it subsided quickly and you could feel the effects of Aemond’s cock in you all the way down your legs and to your toes. 

Aemond’s breath hitched, his eye holding yours as he gave you time to adjust, jaw clenched and holding you tightly as if he’d fall to the pits of the hells if he were to let go of you. 

For someone he had just met properly only hours ago, Aemond thought he had found his own heaven in you and your body. 

You mewled, pushing your hips forward greedily. “It feels so good-so good, Aemond.”

He slowly moved his hips, hissing and letting his forehead fall to your shoulder where he bit down gently. The way Aemond pushed deeper into you at every thrust forward stole your breath from your lungs each time. He felt like he was a virgin once again, feeling the comfort of a wet, hot cunt for the first time, losing the control he had over the urge to claim you properly and spill into you already.

Aemond was no stranger to the pleasures of the body but never had he fallen victim to weakness by a woman and Aemond was of half a mind to understand that he would do anything you asked of him simply because your bodies were a carnally perfect fit. Right now, he would burn down cities if you asked him to. 

Keeping the steady pace, Aemond’s thrusts became more forceful, driving into you harder and drawing out nonsensical murmurs and whimpers from you. It was white-hot, each thrust sending a barrage of pleasure and sensitivity through your body. 

“If only they could see you now,” Aemond’s tone was deep, laced with lust and somewhat desperate as his hips snapped into you, the sound of skin against skin and his cock pushing lewd sounds from your wetness that couldn’t be drowned out by the distant thump of the party’s music. “The perfect, innocent girl that they all believe you to be, squeezing my cock like a good little slut. Just for me.”

Blissful, incoherent sounds that he pulled from only spurred him on further and you could feel how his cock twitched and moved within you. The way that Aemond’s body fit with yours was perfect and it had that tension return to your stomach, your skin tingling and toes curling as he sped up his movements. It was blinding and deafening at the same time, stealing your breath from you each time he dragged his cock out only to push it back in. 

Shaking and trembling, your legs squeezed around his hips and Aemond grunted, his head falling to your shoulder as he grabbed the flesh of your thigh and pushing it up and holding it beside you. Angling your hips perfectly, Aemond’s rough thrusts found a sensitive spot and you gasped, back arching off the bed as you gripped him tightly in your arms. You were barely of the right mind to notice him hiss when your nails scraped across his skin. 

Aemond was convinced he had found a version of peace in your body, the feeling of your warmth and wetness squeezing him, quieting the loud, painful thoughts that never ceased in his mind. He swore, his voice constrained and his fingers digging further into your flesh. There wouldn’t be a day that could go by in which he wouldn’t be haunted by your perfect cunt and pretty sounds. It was a thought that would have had him scoffing in any other circumstances but he was so lost in you that he couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. 

“You are so fucking-” he groaned. “Tight. Made to fit my cock perfectly.”

“Aemond-”

He chuckled, enjoying the way his name was the only word you could force out between your moans. Aemond’s hips stuttered as you clamped down around him, your eyes rolling back and falling shut as you turned away from him reflexively, pressing your head into the pillow and whining pathetically. 

“Yes, missy?” Aemond’s voice was constricted but still smooth. 

“Gonna come–I’m gonna come,” you gasped out between whimpers and moans, calling out his name as if he was your salvation.

Aemond let go of your thigh, his fingers clasping around your throat and squeezing the sides enough so that he could force your head out of the pillow. “Look at me when you come, pretty girl.”

When your eyes met his, you were surprised to see that his eyepatch hadn’t been discarded but couldn’t linger on the thought. Not with the way that overwhelming tension had become too much, coiling in your stomach and making you quiver underneath Aemond’s strong body, coming to its peak and snapping with an earth shattering, burning intensity that forced your entire world to go quiet. 

With strained gasps, Aemond’s peak quickly followed yours and he pulled out, surprised to see how swiftly your hand replaced his. You felt the ropes of his hot seed fall onto your stomach, the warmth of his breath against your skin as he buried his face into your neck, heaving as he rode through the strength of his orgasm. 

Strings of curses came from him as he let his body fall to the space beside you. Aemond barely wasted two seconds before pulling you into him so that your head rested against his chest as he held you against him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting yourself melt into him, too spent to spare a thought for the mess on your stomach. “But I doubt I’ll be feeling so great tomorrow.”

A deep chuckle vibrated against your ear. “I’d apologise but I’m afraid I wouldn’t mean it.”

“Cheeky.”

Aemond took a hold of your wrist when you slapped his chest gently, bringing your hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles before letting his hand fall to that spot on your hip. “I wasn’t lying you know.”

“About?” You raised an eyebrow, craning your neck so that you could see his face without moving away from him. 

“I will take you out.” Aemond grinned, squeezing your flesh playfully. “And I will fuck you in every single one of my t-shirts.”

[laufeysvalentine]

i want you. pt 2, remus lupin

intertwined, sewn together

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist, pt 1

summary ༄ remus x best friend!reader -- the aftermath of you accidentally confessing your love for remus and running away, hurt/comfort, fluff

word count ༄ 4.1k

nora’s notes ༄ so sorry for the delay on this, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part and for 200 followers??? that's gen insane i love all of you 💘 i haven't proofread so pls excuse grammar

you’ve barely gotten a wink of sleep next morning, and it shows. you finally crash in the morning to sleep through breakfast and lunch. 

at two, you’re up, but barely. you feel like absolute shit. the feeling only worsens when lily comes in, pity in her face. she knows what happened, and the pity only means one thing–there’s a reason he hasn’t come by, and it’s not because he’s in love with you. 

burying your head in your pillow, you let out a loud groan. 

“y/n?” she pulls back your covers and offers a plate up to you. “remus brought this for you, cause you weren’t at breakfast or lunch.” 

“don’t say his name in my presence,” you beg her, only half-joking. the plate she brought has all your favorite foods from the great hall, and you hate that remus knows you so well, well enough to pick them out. 

“he wants to talk to you,” she says once she’s sat on her own bed a few feet from you. “he just didn’t want to cross your boundaries. i’ll tell him off if you’d like, just let me know.” 

“i love you, lily, but it’s not necessary. it’s not his fault half of hogwarts loves him and the prettiest girl out there fell to his feet,” you huff, a sadness leaking out of you. you want to blame him. but really, you can’t. “he didn’t do anything wrong. i guess.” 

lily’s eyebrow raises as she waits for you to elaborate. “he did make you fall to his feet, didn’t he.” 

“you know who i’m talking about.” as if you could compare to celeste… although you’re pleased with the compliment. “and i’m still mad.” 

“you have every right to be,” she concedes, mouth open to say something when the door bursts open, carrying in a flustered marlene. 

“please, y/n, i’m begging you. do something about him. he’s run off and sirius can’t find him, so he’s bugged james about it who’s bugging me, and i can’t take it anymore.” her cheeks are flushed, begging, but you can’t bring yourself to listen to her. “i’d never do this to you, but i’ll truly rip my ears off for another moment of this.” 

“marlene.” lily’s glaring at the blonde, grabbing her by the elbow. “don’t listen to her, y/n. do whatever you want.” 

as much as you feel bad, you’re not ready. you don’t want to face him, like, ever. 

and that’s what you resolve to do for the whole next week. knowing remus, he would never make you uncomfortable, not on purpose, at least, but he knows you too well to make you uncomfortable by accident. so, three days later, when you stumble into breakfast with approximately thirty minutes of sleep and bags suitcases under your eyes to match it and choose the seat farthest away from him, he doesn’t move closer to you. 

still, you feel his eyes on you the whole time, but you just stare down at your plate, making pictures with the eggs and ketchup. while half-listening to marlene’s blabbering, you craft a smiley face, then a frowny face to match your mood, a mickey mouse, and then this girl that you hate for no reason because she’s really not hateable at all you just hate her because she kissed this guy who’s your best friend but technically you’re not even dating you’re just in love with him. fuck. you push away the eggs and glance around the table. the first thing you notice is him noticing you–it’s the first day you’ve not felt too lovesick and heartbroken to ditch class and meals, for risk of seeing him, so your presence speaks for itself. even then, every morning you wake up to an artfully arranged plate outside your door, laden with your favorite foods. the same comes for lunch and dinner, and you’re not stupid. you know he sends them. 

but you can’t talk to him. not now that you know he’s not in love with you like you are with him, at least not as much. he might even like celeste by now. not “might,” he probably does. you wouldn’t hold it against him. they would be beautiful together. a fresh round of nausea sloshes into the walls of your gut. 

when you deem it socially appropriate to leave, you take the chance, getting up with the masses heading to class, trying to slip through the crowd to avoid him. 

“y/n,” sirius croons from your right, so close you can feel his hot breath on your ears, and your heart sinks. where sirius is, the marauders are soon to follow. “oh, how i missed you this past eternity.” 

you grimace at him, pushing his cheek away from your face. “hi, padfoot. it’s been three days.” 

“and what days they’ve been!” he proclaims dramatically, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pretending to faint. 

“siri. i’m not in the mood.” you mutter, slipping out from under his arm, chancing a glance behind you to make sure the blond you would recognize anywhere is not here. you’re in the clear for now, you’ve no clue where he, peter, and james have gone or why they’re so far from sirius. 

he senses your mood shift and transforms into serious sirius. “you need to get back with moony.” 

when you blow out a heavy breath, your hair flies forwards and hangs limply on your face. “a, as i said, it’s been like three days. b, we were never together so i can’t ‘get back’ with him. c, and listen carefully when i say this, i don’t want to.” he doesn’t want me are the words you leave sour and dormant on your tongue. 

“but, y/n,” he pouts. “he really misses you, even if it’s only been a little while. he’s a wreck, knowing he made you cry.” 

you’ve heard enough. of course. this is why the marauders aren’t near him. it’s a ploy, an intervention if you may. 

“no, don’t even.” you pull away from him and push through the throngs of students to get away from him. you toss out a parting over your shoulder before slipping away, “i’ll see you in class.” 

just kidding. you sneak back into your dorm and let the blankets swallow you, watching the ceiling to pass the time. remus is not in love with you. he never will be. 

as you count the amount of nicks in the ceiling paint for the forty-hundredth time, you think about him again. as you have for the past eight years. 

even if he’s not in love with you–you can’t imagine a life without him. you can’t sacrifice your friendship, all those friendly touches, the feeling of his warm hand splayed against your back, the sight of him curled in his bed with his newest book. how could you never discuss your favorite books with him again? how could you sacrifice that golden look that makes you melt over as you speak? those perfectly brewed cups of tea, vanilla-scented sweaters, knitted thickly with love? 

he’s your best friend. the answer is, you could never live without him. even if you’re in love with him and he’s not, in fact, in love with you back. you’ll just have to get over it. 

whoever painted this ceiling left fourteen cracks. 

–

you’re going to get over him, you swear it. this is what you repeat as you walk into the great hall, your eyes trained on the ground, slipping into the seat next to lily. you refuse to look at him or any of his friends. you won’t. you can’t. 

it’s the first time you’re here. sure, you came by the table this morning, but drawing pictures with ketchup until the whole plate looks like you murdered the bottle isn’t exactly engaging. now, you and marlene are conversing about stupid things: the shoes you need in your wardrobe, your favorite song to listen to while crying in the shower vs. in your bed. and important questions, like what’s better, milk or dark chocolate (dark chocolate, obviously, and don’t even think about saying white chocolate. that is not real chocolate)? 

you can feel his eyes on you, drilling almond brown holes into your skull. the urge to look up chokes you. you want to see the curve of his smile, how lopsided it leans on him, the scars that dance around his lips. but you steel yourself. you can’t. you won’t. 

–

you’re ignoring him. the problem is, it’s not really working. 

no matter where you are, you can feel his eyes on you; even if you’re across the classroom, you swear you can smell the earthiness of his cologne, his sweaters. 

fuck. 

you are not getting over him anytime soon. 

the two of you manage to avoid any contact for what feels like months–days, maybe. in the hallways, you brush past each other, sometimes mumbling an apology or two as you pass. nothing sincere. nothing short of incredibly, incredibly awkward. 

you tuck yourself into hidden corners of the library, the astronomy tower, the room of requirement, anywhere where you can get away. from him, from the scary softness of sirius’ eyes when he looks at you, the even more terrifying relative quiet from marlene, who was seemingly instructed to give you space by lily. everything is awkward. and it’s all your fault. 

when the glances stares fade, you know why, and you hate yourself for knowing. the full moon’s nearing. remus’ shoulders are sagging, his looks come from lower down. his body is aching more and more, he twists around nearly every class you have together, something you know he’s always done to try and alleviate some pain. his undereyes are bruised and swollen, and you see the brass of his cane around the common room, and you hate that you aren’t there for him. he hates that thing, he always tries to avoid using it. 

it must be especially bad this time around. 

and when lily comes into your dorm the day before the full moon, skin sunken with exhaustion, you figure something’s up. 

“lily?” you ask, jolting up from your book. the mug of tea that he drank the night you stopped talking is still by your bedside. you can’t bring yourself to move it. what if that’s your last memory with him? 

“hm?” she murmurs, flopping onto her bed. 

“what’s wrong?” you ask as you turn your body towards hers. 

she waves her head, face in the pillow. 

“you can talk to me about him,” you frown. “it’s related to him, isn’t it? the full moon?” 

the redhead sits up, looks at you. she’s not one to lie, never has been. “...yeah. james is just stressed, because he thinks this transformation has already been really painful for him, and it’s only going to get worse tomorrow.” 

your head is bobbing. you swallow your feelings–what is that, guilt? shame? you don’t know what. maybe celeste broke up with him. not everything is related to you. 

“mhm,” you say in response. absorbing. 

she hesitates, mouth opening, before shutting it again. “it’s–well, i don’t…” 

you shrug. “you don’t have to say anything, lily.” 

so she doesn’t. 

—

lily’s right. in the eight years you’ve known him, he has never looked so rough pre-transition. you steal peeks at him all day, like he’s a tv show you weren’t supposed to watch as a kid. it looks like the life is steaming out of him. his hair–artfully messy, as always—is mussed and unwashed. when he walks out of the classroom, it’s a limp, with a slow clunk to it that makes your chest hurt. you want nothing more than to rush over and help him, but no. if he wanted you, well, if he didn’t want celeste, he would have come after you. 

he doesn’t want you. you repeat that to yourself when you see him almost pass out onto his plate during lunch, making a worried sirius (yes, sirius of all people, who usually tries to stay calm in situations like these) rush him to his dorm. 

but he reappears only an hour later for potions, when his back is tensed, tight, and his shoulders are hunched over. slughorn tries to call on him twice, but he pretends he isn’t there. 

your chest aches when he doesn’t show up to dinner, and halfway through, the rest of the marauders disappear, muttering to themselves as they go. you rub your collarbone and watch, your anxiety heightened. 

once the great halls door slam, the first place your eyes dart to is the hufflepuff table. you don’t even need to look around to see her. everyone within a ten-person vicinity is ever so slightly turned towards her, like her charisma is impossible to ignore. they want to be her, be with her, know her. 

she’s speaking animatedly, tossing out an airy laugh now and then. maybe remus hasn’t told her yet. 

some evil, petty part of you relishes in that fact. 

the girls are watching you, eyes wide and lips pursed. they’re trying to read you, determine how you’re feeling. dorcas, of all people, has been checking in on you everyday since you and remus fell out, and marlene too, in her own sarcastic way. but seeing them together made you ache for a cavity that could never be filled. a gryffindor love, a spectacular love. one that existed in your if onlys. 

you head straight to your room after dinner to try and throw yourself into your homework, but the distraction doesn’t work. you can’t stop thinking about remus. is he okay? you wish you could be with him. why did you start ignoring him in the first place? 

as the stars fade into the sky, lily bursts through the door, mary an hour later. marlene sneaks in, then out, then in again, with dorcas by her hand. but as time ticks, ticks, ticks, you can’t stop from looking at it. you’re the only one awake now, but the marauders probably aren’t back yet. 

you try your hardest to battle the reluctance that accompanies you to your bed, but you can’t. you just lie there, body tensed as images of remus run through your mind. the two of you visiting his hometown, or him on your lap, your favorite place for him to be. you’ll never forget the feeling of his coarse hair against the lilting touch of your fingers, or how he would turn onto his side, nose bumping against your stomach as he nuzzled into you. 

after waiting what feels like hours, you check the clock. yes. he’s back now. you rise as quietly as you can, slipping out of the dorms and darting towards the hospital room. is he okay? 

madam pomfrey is nowhere to be seen, and as you pass blue curtain to blue curtain, all you can hear is your shuffling. no one’s here–save for one figure on the end, flat on their back, moonlight filtering through the window above them. 

it hugs him in a most flattering light, his eyes closed and relaxed. fuck, he’s already sleeping. you don’t know if you should be happy he won’t see you or not. on your tiptoes, you creep towards his bed, where there’s a chair on his right. when you touch it, it’s still warm. the marauders must have just left. 

here he is. remus lupin. 

your eyes scan his face and arms, any body part that’s left out from the blankets. he has a fresh cut running from his elbow upwards, through where his t-shirt curls around his bicep. for someone with such fresh scars, he looks so, so beautiful. 

the second you sit down on the chair, his eyes fly open. 

oh. 

he wasn’t sleeping after all. 

perhaps the most awkward minute of your life passes, the two of you just staring at each other. your lips are parted, limbs frozen, anticipating. 

“rem?” you squeak out, reaching out to touch him as you usually would. you want to trace the scar that runs down his cheek, but he pulls away, muttering. 

without even acknowledging you, he turns on his side, burying his head into the pillow. 

“oh,” you breathe. he doesn’t want you there. you’re so stupid. why the hell would you come here? you know he likes celeste. you saw them kissing for merlin’s sake. 

you’re trying your best to stifle a gasp as your eyes become sticky with tears. what the fuck were you thinking? 

“stop it. just stop it,” he groans. “why are you bothering me again?” 

your limbs are stuck in place. for some reason, you can’t think, move. your thoughts are spinning in circles, racing around your mind. nothing’s coherent right now. 

you look at him again, his muscles shifting against the cotton of his t-shirt, and swallow. this is goodbye, isn’t it? your lips twist. 

“i-i’m sorry. i know you probably want to get your rest, i’ll just–” you have to force yourself to stand up, but when you do, your hand accidentally brushes his back on the small bed, and he jerks back, electrocuted. “oh, i–sorry.” 

he jolts upright, hands on the bed to support him. “dove?” 

you pause your movements, unsure what to do. he knew who you were before, didn’t he? what happened? 

maybe he’s just delirious from lack of sleep. you begin to walk away when a warm hand wraps around your wrist, drawing you backwards. 

“y/n. i–” he stops when you face him, and you can see the exact moment he sees the tears in your eyes, as he pulls you onto the bed, thumb sweeping the wetness under your eye like it’s second nature. his palm, rough with calluses and scars, supports the softness of your cheek, and you melt. “you’re here. you’re really here?” 

his eyes, that soft amber, spilling over with uncertainty and… regret? the same way he would look after one of the marauders’ particularly nasty pranks, or snapping at one of his friends close to the full moon. 

you nod, shoulders tense. “i just wanted to come stop by. i didn’t mean to–”

“no, no,” he interrupts, his other hand coming up to rub your arm. “i’m sorry. i didn’t… i’ve just been having, er, i’ve been having dreams of you all week. i thought you weren’t real.” 

his face is sparkling with earnestness, a kind of hope you hadn’t seen on him in a while. when you don’t say anything, he takes it as a cue to continue. “i’m also sorry for everything. i thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore. or… i don’t know.” 

“it’s okay, rem,” you promise, trying to build up the cracks threatening to crumble your voice and your resolve. you try to pull away from his touch, but his fingers just find your knee instead, massaging the flesh there. “i didn’t want to get between you and celeste or anything. it seemed like the right thing to do.” the last part of your voice comes out in a throaty whisper. 

“no.” he says firmly. 

“no?” you ask, shoulders crawling towards your shoulders. 

“no. i want you in my life, dove, always. i–celeste and i aren’t anything. i don’t like her. i never did.” his voice peters out, but his gaze on you stays strong. “there’s another girl.” 

does he hate you? want to kill you? because that’s sure what he’s doing right now, and he knows you too well to not know the effect he’s having on you. like he took the sword of gryffindor and peeked it into your chest–not enough to kill you by brunt force, but enough to maim, to let you bleed out onto the bed as you stare at him, betrayal tearing open your veins. 

“that’s nice, remus.” you don’t even know how words are coming out of your mouth at this point. maybe someone’s taken over your body? 

“i’m sorry for not coming up to you, too. i thought it was the right thing to do,” he says quietly, one of his hands dropping from your face. goosebumps follow where his skin met yours. you think the next sound you hear is the crack crack cracking of your heart. “i thought you wanted space from me. and you deserve that. i only let her kiss me cause… well, cause i thought i had to get over you.” 

what?

he’s gauging your expression, you can feel it, but again, everything’s spinning. you might pass out. what’s happening? who is this other girl he loves? 

“i’ve loved you for so long, but i thought there was never a chance that you could love me back. and then, there was that day. but, you’re you, the most gorgeous girl in all of gryffindor, and then there was me. you deserve so much better than me and how fucked up i am. so i left you alone. i thought it was right.” he glances to the side, bringing his hands to his lap. this is not real. you’re not real. he was right. this was a dream, and any minute this floaty feeling will stop and you won’t feel like you can’t feel your body and you’ll wake up hear your alarm and class will start it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real. 

but your hand reaches out to his, shaking. and the next words that tumble out of your lips are: “y-you love me?” 

“how could i not?” a laugh slips from his mouth and those eyes–those beautiful, beautiful eyes–are back on you and you can’t swallow breathe think nothing but those eyes, those sweet eyes. 

your mouth hangs open. “but…” 

“i’m sorry, y/n. and i don’t know if it’s too late, if you’ve found someone better, but i couldn’t ever leave you thinking that i don’t love you back. anyone who didn’t is a fool. an utter fool.” remus scratches at his jaw, lips pursed. “sorry. i just had to say it.” 

“you love me,” you repeat, looking at him. “you love me?” 

“i always have and i always will. loving you is a part of me, dove, the best part of me there’s ever been.” he sucks in a breath, brings your hand to his lips. when he speaks, you can feel the vibrations of his voice on your skin. “i love you so much.” 

you don’t even realize you’re crying until a tear splashes onto his cheek. you move to touch it, leaning closer to his face as your finger smooths the tear out onto his pretty skin. and then–then, oh, god, you’re so close to him. his breath is so warm. he smells so, so good. 

“can i kiss you, dove?” he asks so softly that you almost don’t hear him–you’re not even sure you do, it might just be instinct that pushes your lips together. something written into your body from birth. you were meant to be his, he yours. 

and merlin, he tastes better than you ever could have imagined. 

remus. your remus. 

a smile spreads across your lips after your next kiss, slow and so, overwhelmingly perfect. he pecks your teeth, your nose. 

“remus,” you say, but a small giggle escapes you before you can finish your sentence. this is surreal. what’s happening right now? are we sure this isn’t a dream? “what are we doing?” 

“kissing, dovey,” he answers with another kiss. “and, maybe, if you wanted, i could be yours?” 

“you’ve always been mine, rem,” you respond solemnly, and he tugs you down next to him, pulling your body under the covers so you’re flush next to him. “only now i can kiss you.” 

his palms come up to your cheeks, one to your hair, and again, the two of you connect–by your lips, sure, but also by you. you’ve connected, there’s no breaking it now. 

“and all of that you were saying?” you pull back every so slightly to look at him, to know him. “you are the most perfect soul i could ever ask for. i want you to tell me every time you feel like you don’t deserve me, because that’s just untrue. you deserve everything and more, and you are so perfect for me, i can’t even fathom how you exist.” 

at that, he pulls you back into him, plants and plants and plants his lips on your face. “there’s no part of me that doesn’t love you, dove. my heart, my mouth, my soul. all of me.” 

and when you’re too tired to kiss any longer, if that concept even exists, you fall asleep leg between his, nose pressed into crease between his neck and jaw, arms around each other, intertwined with him for the night–though, in a way, you always have been. and you always will be. 

masterlist

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[venus-is-thinking]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 16: Initial Thoughts

Sorry for missing episode 15 :(

That being said, oh my god, Chapter 2 is actually complete! This is so exciting! I'm really hyped to talk about this episode and give my not-live summary of my live reactions!

SPOILER WARNING FOR DRDT THROUGH THE END OF CH 2!!!

CW: Murder, sacrifice, suicide

The Reactions

12-1, this time. I'm still personally partial to the extra vote on Teruko last Trial being Arei (being petty about her "I'm voting for you no matter what" thing), so I would assume Ace is the Teruko vote. If so, I do think it's interesting that he voted Teruko as opposed to, like, Nico. Then again, it might be that it's just more convenient for DRDTdev to consistently put the extra vote on Teruko, lol.

Notably, the dead people have "N/A," not 0. We probably could tell this because of Xander last time, but I didn't check. I wonder if this implies we won't ever need to vote for someone dead (ex. a mastermind who "died" earlier in the killing game).

I'm free... I can read whatever Eden says as genuine...

Take THAT, Whit time loop theorists /j

I do think it's funny/kinda telling? that Whit is only saying this after the trial is over. Like, I feel like the normal time to go "oh my god we're having another trial" is, like... when you find the body? So, it's interesting that his reaction is so delayed.

So, I don't know if this was an intentional parallel, but...

These feel similar to me. I really like the Ace/Arei parallels, where they're both chronically hated people, but Arei apologizes and tries to change whereas Ace lets the fear and paranoia consume him until there's no turning back. Ace only says this after he's already been found guilty of murder; Arei says this before promising to change her ways to the victim of her bullying.

Teruko out here hopping on that self-blame train.

It's so funny how different Hu's standards are when talking about Ace's murder vs. Nico's attempted murder. Like... Hu this is what everyone was telling you like an hour ago. What.

It's really interesting that we're highlighting this line. I wonder if this is part of a theme that we're going to explore further, maybe tied into the "all murderers have to be punished" thing. Or maybe Eden isn't actually accurate here, but doesn't know it; has Ace killed someone in the past?

Fun trick you can do here!

When we first met Teruko a week ago, she was the same person, certainly, but she was also different. She was happier, and she trusted people more.

There are so many good character parallels in DRDT. The Ace/Teruko one was really interesting in this post-trial.

Ooh, new flavor of J anti-murder! This seems to be broadening it to also being critical of the killing game, which would go against my weird hypothetical "J is anti-murderer but also the mastermind" read.

It's interesting, with how this is Ace's logic. It makes total sense for his character, though. I think it's easy for us, the viewers, to forget the fact that the characters probably don't have the precedent of "every blackened ever always loses." When Ace is running the odds, he thinks his survival odds were better as a killer than as a participant in the killing game. And y'know, considering how close he came to dying as Nico's victim, that's kinda fair.

I desperately want to know what Levi was going to say here.

I really like the fact that Ace DID care about Levi. That he intrinsically cares about him, but he knows factually that he isn't supposed to like or trust someone in a killing game. That once he killed Arei, he had to resolve to kill everyone in the killing game, even Levi.

The only way Ace knew to prevent himself from caring was to stay mad, I guess. Kinda unfortunate though, considering that I do think Levi wanted to patch things up with him genuinely.

Meanwhile, Levi, who doesn't understand emotions, is just like "man what the fuck. That makes no sense."

What a pair. I'm sad we're not going to get to see their dynamic anymore :(

In other words, I'm back on the Levi survivor train baby! My biggest problem with it before was that I thought Ace was gonna survive and I didn't think Ace and Levi were both gonna survive, so now we're locking tf in!

This is fun! I always wonder why more people don't try stuff like this. Like... shoot your shot. You're gonna die otherwise, soooo...

Great animation as always

I think it's really funny that Teruko is so fucking mad that she bullies Ace into action. Like, that's so fitting for both of them.

I love using this David expression here. He's just like, "was it that easy? Why was I trying to throw the trial then???"

aaaaAAAAAAAA--

What the fuck!! XF-Ture mention!!!!!!!!

I like the spooky vibe MonoTV has for this post-trial, but I do hope we get our normal silly lil guy back next chapter. I like the MonoTV personality we see all the time. I'm gonna miss it if it just died like that :(

I am also squinting so hard at everyone's reactions through "who is the mastermind" goggles. Maybe I'll analyze them in a different post sometime.

Fascinating purpose. Not "to create despair." Not "to run the killing game until only one participant survives." To kill everyone.

Does this include whichever mastermind?

Why does whoever programmed MonoTV want to kill all of these people? Are they being punished for something?

This countdown sequence fucked me up. The tensions and emotions are so high. Even as someone who was confident that Teruko, at least, wasn't going to die no matter what, I was so on edge. I got really scared that Eden was going to take the hit for Teruko, though, and that's what I was reading into when I wasn't sure Eden would make it to Chapter 3.

This speech, more than any other one Teruko has made or any actions she's taken or endured, really made me feel for Teruko. The fact that she can so casually talk about truly traumatic and horrific things happening to her, while smiling, truly shows how much she's grown used to it. Like, girl. You don't deserve this. What.

The character work on Teruko especially this episode is just fantastic. No words.

This panel stressed me out so bad because it was really just a question of WHO took the bullet for Teruko. Like, if she's thinking this, someone clearly did.

My bets were on either Eden, Charles, or Ace.

Levi, though, was such a surprise to see. Like, in a good way. It means so much.

First of all, it's a callback to the end of the prologue. Levi attacks MonoTV, and when MonoTV tries to kill him in response, Teruko's danger sense alerts her. It's only through Teruko warning Levi to move that Levi dodged the main attack, resulting in only an arm injury rather than death. Now, Levi returns her favor, preventing her from dying from attacking MonoTV.

Second, it puts Ace into the position we see of having to confront the possibility of Levi's death. I got the distinct sense that they wanted Ace to be able to do something heroic on his way out, to prove all the haters wrong (which is why I thought it was possible he'd take the hit for Teruko instead of Levi). By putting Levi, pretty clearly the person he cares most about, into harm's way, it makes Ace take action. It means that he HAS to confront the fact that he cares Levi, and that he has to die.

And, thirdly... I am so fascinated to learn why Levi did this. Was it as simple as a transactional, "you saved me from execution before?" Is it "I thought saving someone would make me a good person?" Does Levi actually feel some remorse for Teruko in this moment, causing him to take action?

No matter what his reasoning, I can't wait to hear from him. I strongly suspect Levi won't actually die from this (at the very least, I hope not, because I really want to hear more from him), but even if he does, hopefully we'll still get some more insight in a bonus episode or a flashback or something.

I'm trying to figure out what triggered Whit here.

This is immediately following "The elevator won't open," but it also definitely can just correlate to "[person] will die if they don't receive immediate medical treatment." I have to assume that something here is reminding Whit of his mom...?

With the weird "Whit knows a lot about hanging" earlier, I got the impression that Whit's mom probably hung herself. From this, I would probably theorize that Whit found her while she was still alive, but not quickly enough to save her. Yikes.

Anyways, I think that means everyone has some kind of despair sprite now! That's fun!

o7

I'm sure many have pointed this out, but do we think he's counting himself here (Arei + Ace + Levi = 3), or do we think he feels responsible for someone else's death in his past (probably Taylor)? I'd lean towards the second one.

Y'know, before I thought Arturo was just pressed about the surgeon thing because people were unfairly hating on him. This, at least, I think implies something relating to Felicity.

Arturo doesn't have any experience saving lives. He left, and Felicity died. He can't save lives; he's only responsible for Felicity's ending. I think that's how he sees it.

On a side note, I think there's a very definite possibility that Chapter 3 cold opens on Arturo saving Levi's life??? Like, how Chapter 2 started with Eden POV, I think Chapter 3 could start with Arturo taking his shot at healing Levi, eventually resulting in Levi stabilizing. I'm not sure who would be there with him. Possibly Hu, since she was leading the "let's get Levi to the infirmary" effort...?

I love executions like this. Accirax has said before that the best executions are what make their recipient feel the most despair, and that's definitely what they did with Ace here. Put the talent aside; fear is what Ace fears the most.

Uhhhh. I'm pulling an Accirax. Part 2 in reblog!

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist !!

art credit: Marbipa

OMG GUYS IM SOSOSO SORRY FOR SUCH A DELAY, COLLEGE REALLY DEVOURED ME IN THE MOMENT. AND TUMBLR REMOVED THE OPTION TO MAKE THE TEXT YELLOW...SO THE COLOR WILL NOW BE ORANGE. However, this is a double update week bc I owe you guys bc of your amazing patience with me!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter

like always don't hesitate to lmk if you would like to be tagged:')

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warnings: talking objects, borderline assault, Canis Lupus

word count: 3.3k

Chapter 4: Dinner is served

However, in the village’s small tavern….

“UGH, WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS ?!” 

“Uhh Ben, chill out here you’re drunk.” Eddie says, while trying to take away his beer. Ben looks at Eddie extremely furious and annoyed “So? don’t you see that- that woman has messed with the wrong MAN ?!!” Eddie winces at his words a little and says “erm…. sure…let's say that she did.” Ben, who was moping in front of the tavern’s fireplace, takes another swig of his beer. “Dismissed, publicly humiliated, How DARE she! Nobody says NO to ME!” he says in a growl. Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes a bit and cracks his knuckles. “Well, you’re not a bad person... And besides forget her, you have tons of admirers in this tavern anyways” he says with a remark. Ben groans “Ugh, EDDIE LISTEN... My rustic cabin, my latest kill roasting itself on the fire, the children playing with the dogs ...and a pretty wife rubbing my feet…And what does Y/N say?? she says NO” he says throwing his beer into the fire.

The flame bursts a bit startling Eddie, but he proceeds to maintain his composure. “Listen to me ben…listen to the tavern…they’re all here because they’re admirers of you...” One man yells “NOBODY BITES LIKE BEN OR CAN WIN AT CHESS LIKE HIM” 

Another man yells “HE CAN EASILY WIN SPIT CHALLENGES” The tavern eventually comes together as they spew out all of their favorite qualities of ben. Especially the women, all of them gushed over his blonde hair, his brawn, his charm, and even his chest hair. (for some reason) Ben’s mood lifts and he smiles as he cheers along with the tavern of the glorification of his achievements and assets. People get together and eventually dance and drink as a small trio plays some music to add more to the cheerful atmosphere. Ben sits beside some ladies and brags about the number of eggs he eats in the morning. “TEN CHEERS FOR BEN RILEY !!” the tavern yells After a while of just fooling around, with a brightened mood Ben sits back in his lavish chair and looks at Eddie “that was very fun, thank you… but how come not a single woman has approached you?” Eddie chuckles and simply scratches his hair “well…I’ve been told I'm either too bored or too clingy .... I have no idea why though...” Ben just stares at him and clears his throat, looking back at the crackling fire.

Suddenly, the joy got sucked out of the room when Mauricio came waddling in tattered clothes, unruly hair, and barefoot. “SOMEONE, PORFAVOR QUE ME AYUDEN!!” The people in the tavern whispered to each other as they stared at him. Mauricio runs towards Ben and other customers in the tavern as he yells “SHE’S LOCKED IN A DUNGEON, EL LO TIENE CAPTIVA !!” 

A man asked, “but who?” Mauricio looks at this man with his eyes filled with fear “...who?... WHO?? MY DAUGHTER Y/N< WE HAVE TO GO SAVE HER NOW !!” Ben raises an eyebrow and looks at Eddie as he tries to stifle a laugh, not believing his words. He gets up and approaches Mauricio and pats his back “calm down Mauricio, now tell me… who is it that has Y/N locked in a dungeon?” 

“UN MONSTRUO! A BEAST !!” 

Crickets could be heard in the entire tavern as it went silent… 

The entire tavern bursted into laughter at the idiocy of his words. 

“Lemme guess! He’s a huuuggee BEAST.” 

“HE’s got an UGLY MOUTH WITH TEETH” Mauricio in his fears nods his head vigorously as he confirms each person’s questions about his so-called ‘beast’. He looks around and trips and falls on the wooden floor “Will you help me?” he asks with tears in his eyes.  Ben rubs his chin as he rolls his eyes as he decides to say something sympathetic to him “alright, alright, Mauricio relax, we’ll help” Poor Mauricio looked up with hope in his eyes as he thanked Ben for his courage to step up and help him. It didn’t last too long since he shortly got thrown out of the tavern by the owner due to his “madness.” 

Little did he know that Ben was already devising a plan with Mauricio’s plea for help…that may or may not have to do with marrying his daughter.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the other hand in the Castle..

After what seemed to be a few hours after that nasty confrontation with Miguel, A starving Y/N emerges from her room. She looks around as to see if she would see Miguel, but she ultimately decides that he has very much retired to his room. Wherever it may be. As she walked down the halls, she didn't notice the sound of giggling coming from behind a curtain.

“Miles nooo, stay away” 

“Ok but I just wanna hug, Gwen” “Miles, the last time you hugged me, you literally burned my feathers” she says with a sigh. Miles sighs and just pouts “It’s not my fault you got turned into a feather duster, ok?” Gwen rolls her eyes and chuckles at his antics. Miles then looked up as he heard the sound of footsteps and his flame burst a bit more “Hey look !!” he says pointing at Y/N “she emerged !!” He left Gwen in a hurry as he quickly hopped his way to Y/N as he followed her to the kitchen. In the kitchen, Peter was putting Mayday to sleep in the cupboard. Once she fell asleep, Peter closed the cupboard only to spot the cook, who was angrily huffing his stove top with fire as he whined over his cooking going to waste. Peter sighed “shh, come on I just put the little one to sleep, it’s been a long day.” Lyla however hops in and sighs “Honestly, I think she was just being headstrong, I mean...Miguel did say PLEASE” Peter sighs and says, “Really Lyla? you know that Miguel has a temper…and if he doesn’t control it, things won’t work out for him.” 

They were interrupted when Y/N walked in. “Hey, you showed up, a little late but that counts!” Peter says. Lyla turns around and greets her “Hello, I don’t think we properly introduced ourselves, I'm Lyla, you already know Peter of course, and in the back over there trying to get everyone in check is Jess and-” Miles butted in the conversation as he smiled at Y/N “and I’m Miles, nice to meet you senorita” he says wiggling his eyebrows. Jess waddled over smiled at Y/N “If you need anything to make your stay more comfortable just tell us honey” “Well ....I am hungry,” Y/N says with a sheepish smile. Peter grins and starts directing the kitchen to quickly cook something up for her. Lyla escorts her to the dining room, while Jess sighs “ok, but we have to be as quiet as possible, or else Miguel will flip. Miles just hops around happily as he says “aw come on, we gotta get Pav here! Actually, Imma go get him” he says as he hops off out the kitchen. 

A little while later, Miles came back with a large piano, “come on Pav, you haven’t played for someone in forever!” Pav smiles as he warms up quickly playing his keys “yep i’m all good” Jess walks in and spots him “Please…play quietly” Pav looks at Jess with the biggest stank face he has gave her “oh no yea..sure..softly… are there ANY more tasteless remarks to my artistry?” Jess says no and walks off back into the kitchen. In the dining room, Y/N was quietly sitting until she saw Miles come up to the table with a smile. He signals to Gwen who’s hovering over the window with a mirror to create a form of stage lights. Pavitir is playing his tunes, and Miles looks at her and smiles happily “It is our pride and pleasure that we all welcome you here tonight. Stay seated in your chair as you relax, enjoy what you see, as the dining room proudly presents…. your dinner!” Y/N smiles in amazement at all of the food that has been placed on the table, she had never seen so many foods from different regions in such a long time. If she had to be honest, it was better than the cooking she had seen from the local restaurant back at the village. She was handed a napkin by Miles, and she took it and placed it onto her lap to catch any food that would hypothetically stain her dress and fall to the floor. Each dish was kind enough to explain to her what each dish was. She had some gray stuff, Beef ragout, Chilaquiles, Asopao de Pollo, Arepas, Mofongo, Congri, Tequenos, Tostones, Pupusas, Camarones al ajillo, Quesadillas, and even Enchiladas. She had never tasted such a culinary cabaret in her life before. As Y/N ate, she chatted with Miles for a bit as he told her how it has been 10 years since they had a guest like her. She chatted with Gwen a bit and found out she���s the feather duster that snuck into her suite while she was busy crying to collect the dust that was piling up. She learned that Lyla is actually a relative of Miguel and learned about all the staff as well. Y/N found herself creating a friendly bond amongst the staff as she happily ate to her heart’s delight. Peter came in after a while on his serving cart with some tea for her to drink “one lump or two?” he asked. Y/N giggled “Just one please” She takes a cup and sips it as she sighed in content as the soothing flavor of the tea. 

After Y/N ate her fill she clapped in awe “this was wonderful, please give my compliments to the chef!” Jess smiled at her from a distance and looked at her minute and hour hand. “Oh dear, look at the time…it seems to me we should all get some sleep” She approaches Y/N and tries to escort her back. “Oh, but Jess…after such a meal, I can’t just go to sleep, besides it is my first time in such an enchanted castle...” Jess nervously laughed and looked around trying to divert her attention, “oh why who would say such a thing..I mean-” Lyla hopped in and heard what they said “Yyyyyeeeaaa…. totally not enchantteeeddd” she says to Y/N. Jess turns around to look at l

Lyla and muttered “it better not have been you” Lyla looked at her in shock at her accusations and was definitely going to retaliate until Y/N diffused the situation. “Oh guys please…I figured it out myself...” she says with a smile. She then gets up from the chair and approaches the door “I hope you both don’t mind If I look around, if that’s okay” Lyla perked up and hopped to her “wanna tour girlie ?” “AH AH AH…. we can’t let her... She might you know... go someplace else?” Jess says sternly. Y/N giggles as she looks down at Jess’s frown “aww come on, I bet you know a lot about the castle…how about if you tell me all about it?” Jess sighs as she gives in “alright then...”  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later…

Jess was happily giving her knowledge of the castle, adding her expertise and explaining how old the castle truly was. She gave some stories on how she lived in the castle, as well as her years of service. Y/N looked around in awe as she marveled at each painting and each intricate design of the castle. It might have looked scary at first, but now that she’s taking a closer look. The castle itself is truly beautiful.  They passed by a hall of empty armor, each head turning around to take a peek at Y/N, finding her curiosity quite charming. Jess heard the squeaks of the rusty armor and turned around and with a silent hiss “Turn Around”

She looked back to her direction and noticed that Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Jess wanders around until she spots her trying to go up the west wing. “Lyla damnit go stop her !” Lyla notices and hops as quickly as she could to stop Y/N from going any further, Jess running along behind her. The two eventually reach Y/N and stand in front of her making halt gestures. “What’s up there?” she asked. Sheepish smiles were both seen on both women’s faces as they try to make up some excuses.

 “Oh nothing there just storage, Rubbish, Dusty, Boring, absolutely nothing in the west wing” Lyla says Y/N chuckles as she was able to trick them and says in a coy voice “Oh so THAT'S, the west wing” Jess groans in frustration and looks at Lyla “nice going idiot...” Y/N keeps on staring up the stairs as she wonders what Miguel is truly hiding in the west wing.  The two women then started blabbering as they started to try and convince her to go and see the library. She nods and slowly follows them until she notices that they sped so quickly that they were almost down the hall. She took this opportunity and quickly tiptoed up the stairs and into the West Wing.

The more she went up the stairs, the more she noticed how the hallway had cracks, claw marks, shattered mirror pieces, and broken gargoyle statues. Y/N looked around a little concerned and debated if she should stop. However, her curiosity got the best of her nature, and she kept on going. She eventually made it to the top and walked down a hall to two double doors. “This must be Miguel’s room” she whispered to herself. Y/N looks back behind her just in case Jess followed her but didn’t see anyone. With a deep breath she slowly opened the doors and walked in to see an almost dilapidated room. Everything was broken or at least about to shatter. “Probably from his anger issues” she says softly to herself. After walking inside and looking around she spots a portrait, she slowly approaches it to see claw marks on it. She couldn’t make out who the man painted in the portrait is, but she could tell that he was handsome, but what struck her the most was his piercing crimson eyes. 

She then turned around to notice the window completely open and a table with a mirror and a beautiful glowing rose. Amazed at its beauty she took the glass encasing off of the rose and watched how it sparkled, it was mesmerizing. Y/N then reaches a hand to touch the rose but stops as she feels a shadow loom over her. She looked up and gasped in shock to see Miguel.  He angrily huffed at her and snarled as he quickly made his way to reach for the rose’s glass encasing and protectively covered it. Miguel then slowly looked at Y/N with such rage in his eyes and blocks her from the rose “Porque Viniste” Y/N slowly stepped back as she raised her arms to protect herself from harm without realizing. “I’m..I’m Sorry” she says softly. Miguel growled and rolled his eyes “Sorry? I warned you to NEVER COME HERE” Y/N flinched and moved back even more “I didn’t mean any harm; I Apologize if I offended you” Miguel enraged clenched his paw into a fist “DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU COULD HAVE DONE?” He takes his anger on a broken chair and punches it. “I- No, Please, stop” she said worriedly. 

“LARGATE DE AQUI” 

Y/N didn’t hesitate and ran out as quickly as she could. Miguel raged and punched anything in his sight that was breakable in his room. His eyes widened as he realized he scared her off again. His heart ached at his own actions, and he lowered his head in shame feeling just awful about himself and worried for her...

Y/N on the other hand has made a run for it and somehow found her coat as she was running down the stairs. Miles was playing chess with Pav and spotted Y/N running “HEY, Y/N!! Where are you going ?!” Y/N looked back at them and fearfully said “Promise or not, I can’t stay here for another minute!” She left the castle and, in a hurry, looked around for the stables and found her dear old Felipe, despite the heavy blizzard that was occurring outside she managed to saddle him up and rode him away and out of the castle grounds into the black forest. 

After a while of horseback, she realized that she had no idea where to go, everything was covered in snow. Felipe whinnied and panicked as he fidgeted left and right where to go. Y/N tried to calm the horse down but gasped in terror when realizing there was a pack of hungry and vicious wolves ready to hunt them for their next meal. Felipe regained his control and immediately turned back to the castle’s direction to run away from the wolves. Y/N grasped tightly onto the reins and tried maneuvering Felipe through the woods. The wolves nipped at Felipe’s legs, and he would only run faster. Y/N was hyper focused in getting away that she didn’t completely register the frozen lake in front of her. The two fell in with a splash in the icy water, Y/N kept on holding onto the reins and Felipe quickly swam to the other side, the wolves still following behind. Eventually the other half of the pack caught up to both Y/N and Felipe in the front and spooked them, Y/N fell off the horse’s back and Felipe’s reins got stuck onto a tree branch. 

Y/N quickly got up from the snowy ground and found the nearest thick stick that she could find and stood in front of Felipe to help protect him. She swung the stick left and right, battling the canines on her own, but the stick was split in half when one of the wolves' sharp teeth gnawed into it. Y/N stood there in shock not knowing what to do..she was about to get eaten along with her beloved horse. A wolf leaped out of nowhere and took a bite of her coat, throwing her off her balance and making her fall to the ground. She screamed in terror, as another wolf leaped at her ready to bite. Until she heard a loud thud from the wolf’s body and a loud roar. She looked up and saw Miguel who stood beside her and protected her with his large body on top of her. He then jumped away from her leading the wolves far from her reach and fought them on his own, he scratched, bit, he harmed, and almost killed. 

The wolves, intimidated by his dominant presence, whimpered and scurried away from him.  Miguel let out one final growl until he looked directly at Y/N, his eyes showed relief that she was fine, but quickly rolled behind his head as he weakly fell down onto the cold icy ground. He was bleeding with many bites and scratches from the wolves. He panted heavily as the pain from his wounds slowly enveloped him. Y/N was going to take advantage to run away but stopped…she would be no better than a crude human to leave him out there. He saved her life…and she owed him. She slowly walked away from Felipe and kneeled down to Miguel and whispered. “Hey, I know it hurts…but you have to help me...” 

She was able to somehow get Miguel to stand up and mount the horse. His body however limped on it as he was too weak to sit properly on the horse. Y/N bit her lip in worry as she took off her coat and wrapped it over Miguel’s wound. 

Y/N slowly united Felipe’s reins from the tree branch and slowly led him back to the castle.

With the beast on his back.

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n, @badbishsblog, @faimmm, @keendreamknight, @texanadmirer, @stargirrls, @itzsab

[kasagia]

❄️️Warm my heart pt. 2❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: December. Everyone in the Little and Grand Palaces is excited about the upcoming holidays. Only the Black General seems rather... depressed. Like every year when these holidays are coming closer. Maybe this year, since you've been promoted to his second-in-command, you can make the general's holidays a little more enjoyable? And you're not doing it because you're in love with him and you want to see him finally careless happy... not even a little bit. Written with sounds of: Chemtrails over the country club - Lana Del Rey Word Count: 3,5 k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @budugu ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 1 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 3 ~•♤♤♤•~

Sneeze. You blow your nose into your handkerchief as quietly as you can and go back to writing. Another sneeze. You watch the tent flap out of the corner of your eye, ready for his return at any moment.

You caught a cold. Probably because you fell into a snowdrift with him and had… a moment there. You'd probably rather avoid all this. At least your heart wouldn't beat stupidly every time you were in his presence. And the stuffy nose and scratchy throat were just an irritating addition to your misery.

You sneeze loudly just as you hear his heavy-booted footsteps entering his tent. You mentally curse and close your eyes. You hear him brush the snow off his clothes before he stands still as he notices you. His burning gaze on your back almost makes you feel a little warmer.

"I'd like to say that I have right, but you look so poorly that even Ivan wouldn't have the heart to tell you that. Explain to me, in the name of the saints, what you are doing here instead of warming yourself by the fire wrapped in a blanket, preferably with a healer who will help you get out of this?" he asks, crossing his arms and wrinkling his nose at the pile of used tissues next to you.

"We ungrouped. Zoya took everyone with her except Fedyor, Mal, and Alina and went on looking for the stag." you grumble, pulling your coat tighter around you. "Besides, I haven't finished these papers."

"Why the hell did the tracker stay here instead of going with them?"

You shrug. "I guess he doesn't get along with Zoya. He said the stag got scared and found a hiding place to wait out the worst of the snow. He says we'll try again in a week, when it will stop snowing a little bit. I'm not surprised. If I were him, I'd also rather go back to the castle than chase the stag in the beginning of the raw winter."

"If you were him, we would have had a stag's bones in the Little Palace long ago, ready to be used when Alina mastered her powers. Besides, the boy distracts her. Not only does he delay our hunting, he also delays her training and doesn't let her use her full potential."

Jealousy settles unpleasantly inside you, digging a hole in your stomach. You should get used to it. Eventually, he and Alina will end up together one day and make a great couple. Sun and shadows. Light and darkness. Day and night. And other poetic shit like that. They were soulmates. One of a kind. No one could deny it.

"Maybe you're not as good a teacher as Baghra after all?" you say teasingly, trying to enjoy all the attention he was still showing you... at least until he realises that Alina is… extraordinary and is much more worthy of the position by his side. As his second-in-command, right hand, or… even someone much more, you could ever be to him.

"And you against me? My own deputy?" he snorts and walks over to the fire in the centre of the tent. You see the smirk stretch across his lips, and it instantly warms you, even before he even lights the fire.

"Baghra is specific, to say the least, but she is great at what she does. I don't know many people who would ever lose control of their powers after training with her."

"Believe me, I know such people…" he says thoughtfully. He stops lighting the fire and stares at the tinder in his hands. You feel the tension in his muscles and the quickening of his heartbeat as another of his memories comes flooding back to him.

Your heart clenches with grief and sympathy as you see his eyes darken under the heavy flashback. Without thinking, you walk up to him and take the tinder from his hand to light the fire yourself.

"When I was little, my brothers liked to camp in the forest and in the fields. We played soldiers who go to war and have to spend the night with only a sleeping bag and a tent. We had to find the rest ourselves. Our mother had a heart attack more than once when we returned late in the afternoon, dirty, freezing, and starving, but with such big smiles on her face that she didn't even shout at us. She left it to her father." you laughed as the first flames engulfed the logs in the fire.

"What happened to them?"

You're shaking. At first, you don't want to answer his question, but when you look up and see his gaze fixed on you, those dark eyes, so interested in you, you just... melt. Your heart is too weak to let this moment of his attention slip through your fingers.

"Fjerdans. They attacked my village and killed my parents. My siblings and I went to live with our grandparents, and a year later we were tested for Grishas. Only I was. They kicked me out of the house so quickly that I didn't even have time to pack. They did it themselves. My youngest brother took pity on me enough to put his stuffed animal in my bag. As a keepsake. We write to each other. I actually only keep in touch with him. But it's always better than being alone."

"You are not alone." he says it quickly, before he can even process your words, and places his hand on your shoulder, stroking it tenderly. "You... will never be alone, Y/N." he says with such confidence and tone of voice as if it was a promise he would never break.

He looked at you many times, but now. You feel something new in his gaze. A certain kind of tenderness, understanding, need for protection. And you bask in this feeling, as if in the glow of the warmest fire. The fire next to you isn't half as warm as his gaze on you and the touch you feel on your skin even under the layers of clothes you're wearing.

"I... I know." you whisper, hypnotized by the deep gaze of his dark eyes. "I have Fedyor, Genya, David, Alina. You. I found myself a new family. Maybe it's better to be nobody's daughter."

"No one will hurt you like your own family will." he sighs, nodding.

The crackle of burning wood is the only thing that can be heard in the silence that has fallen between you. His hand gradually moves from your shoulder to your neck, where he strokes your cold skin with his thumb, making you shiver.

"You're cold. We should warm you up. Where are your gloves and scarf?" he asks, shaking off the moment between you.

You feel him tense again and go to his bed to grab a black fur blanket and wrap it around you. You blush slightly, enveloped in his warmth and scent. You thank all the saints that he can't hear your heart beating fast… unless he felt your pulse when he caressed your neck with his thumb. Then you are fucked up.

"I left it in my tent. I was in a hurry to get here. I wanted to finish the paperwork as quickly as I could so as not to infect you." he laughs at your words and you frown, not knowing what's so funny.

"I don't get sick, milaya. Get some sleep. Maybe the tracker is skilled enough to track down an animal for dinner. I'll come back with some soup for you. Rest. General's order. I need my deputy to be fully healthy and ready to fulfil her duties. I believe the king will want to call a council as soon as we return."

He throws a pillow at you, which you catch, and he walks out of the tent, leaving you shocked and a little puzzled next to the fire. You immediately feel warmer, and the runny nose bothers you a little less as you allow yourself to lie down. Wrapped in its warmth and scent, you fall asleep ridiculously quickly. Your dreams are filled with him... warming you up in a completely different, more pleasant way.

You don't know how much time passes. You wake up feeling a little better. You look around the tent in a daze, remembering how you got here. The fire still burns, still warming you, but not like a warm blanket and coat. Their black, dark colour clearly indicates their owner.

The smell of something delicious fills your nostrils. Your mouth waters as you look at the huge bowl of warm soup.

"Why is it not a wonder for me that the only thing that can wake you up is food?" you hear his amused voice. You turn towards him. He is sitting at his desk; a candle is lit as he writes something. He lifts his head for a moment and gives you a quick glance. "Eat. You'll feel better."

You take the bowl, and after the first spoonful, you groan at the taste of the soup. "How come this is good? Our supply of spices is long gone; how did you season it?"

He can't help but laugh. He puts down his pen and leans back in his chair, looking at you, curled up in his blankets and coat by the fire. A strange feeling warms him from the inside, seeing you so... at home with him, and if it weren't for your wheezing and red nose, he would have no qualms about enjoying the sight. But he knew you were only here because you were sick, and his care was helpful. No one would willingly stay with him. No one has ever done this...

"I haven't lived in a palace all my life, Y/N. I know how to take care of myself in all circumstances."

"How bad will it be if I say this is better than what you feed us in the Little Palace?" you ask, wolfing down the soup. Somehow he can't help but giggle. The heat inside him continues to grow… maybe you were able to infect him after all?

"Do not get used to it. This special treatment ends when you stop making sounds with your nose with every breath you take. Besides, you snore, colonel." he says it with complete seriousness, but even he isn't strong enough to hide the mischievous smirk that appears on his lips as he watches the growing outrage and embarrassment on your face.

"I am not!" you say it indignantly and throw his pillow at him.

He catches it gracefully with a smirk and throws it next to you, far enough away that you can't reach for it without moving. You moan, but don't change your position. You're too blissfully warm to do that.

"Move up. You can't be in one position all the time. You'll get stiff."

"Won't you massage me, general?" you ask flirtatiously. Your behaviour surprises both you and him, but for some reason, your filter is off. You say what you think, and you don't hold anything back... you also feel very hot, which is both pleasant and a bit bothersome.

"Do not cross the border. I'm not your nurse."

"Shame." you say briefly and put the bowl aside. He watches you carefully, noticing that your movements are a little less coordinated.

He walks over to you. He places his hand on your forehead and frowns. "You're burning. We should take these layers off of you."

"As much as some women would like you to undress them, right now it's not something I want."

"Y/N." he speaks to you calmly and gently, like to a child. "You have a fever. You can't be too warm, or it will only make things worse. I'll bring you some water, and when I come back I want to see you out of this cocoon."

"And who are you, my father?" you huff, crossing your arms and tightening your grip on the blanket.

"No. I am much more. I am... your general. So do what I say."

You roll your eyes at him. Your defiant attitude would have done all kinds of... inappropriate things to him if it weren't for the fact that his main concern right now was your health. That's why he doesn't play and argue with you any longer. He takes you into his arms in one confident, sweeping movement. You squeal in shock, clinging to him, afraid he'll drop you. The blanket and coat fall off you, leaving you only in your red kefta.

"No! It's cold!" you struggle with him in his arms.

He allows you to fight him enough to stand on the ground on your own two feet, but you're still trapped in his grip. You probably would have struggled with him for a while longer (until you had completely exhausted your energy), but you both froze in place when you heard a soft grunt coming from the entrance to his tent.

"Um... general?" Fedyor looks at the two of you confused. "I have that medicines you asked about." you frown at the fact that he sent him to the village to get medicine for you. "Mal also went with the list to Ivan. They will be here with a healer the day after tomorrow at the latest."

"Good, Fedyor. Well done. Leave these medications and get out of here. You are letting the cold in." he says, clearing his throat. Fedyor smiles at his reaction, clearly hearing his rapid heartbeat.

"Yes, sir." He puts the medicines on the table. "I would wish you a speedy recovery, Y/N, but under these conditions, I don't think it's really necessary. Good night." he says this and runs away from there, no longer exposing himself to the general's angry look.

He doesn't stay mad for very long. His thoughts of punishing Fedyor for his insolence quickly disappear when he hears your coughing. He looks at you tenderly and leads you to his bed.

"Here." he whispers and hands you a glass with some strange brown liquid in it.

"Aleksander, I can't drink alcohol in this state." you grumble and snuggle into his quilt, trying to create a cocoon of warmth around you again.

But he won't let you. Which is met with great protest from you.

He grabs your arms and moves you so you're leaning against the headboard of his bed, sitting down, handing you a glass, and glaring at you as he sits across from you, watching you closely. He would make you shiver if the fever didn't already make you tremble.

"Drink it. That's herb. It will help." you look at the glass warily. "What's wrong again?"

"Herbs are bitter. I don't want to drink it." you say angrily and put the glass with that damned thing on the nightstand.

"Your general is ordering you to do it. Drink." he says firmly, pushing the glass to your mouth. You purse your lips, glaring at him defiantly, at which he sighs.

If you were anyone else, he would have abandoned you a long time ago. He would leave you alone to maybe die, and he wouldn't think twice about you.

But you were his Y/N.

It changed everything. And he was terrified about how far he would go for you. There were no things he wouldn't do on your behalf—for your happiness, for your safety—only for seeing that disarming smile that lit up his centuries-worn, dark soul.

"Y/N." he whispers softly, stroking your hair. At the same time, he checks your temperature with his hand.

He frowns and presses a kiss on your forehead, cupping your cheeks with both hands. The glass is long forgotten on the nightstand as he presses his lips against your skin.

He would moan at the feeling of your silky, soft skin if you didn't have a huge fever. He found himself wishing you were warm for a completely different reason than the fever.

"Milaya, you are very sick. Drink the medicine for me, okay?" he asks gently, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs as he looks at you carefully. You're still shaking. You're not sure from what, as you silently nod, still staring at his dark eyes.

He breathes a sigh of relief when you sip the medicine from the glass he holds for you without protest. He makes sure you drink it all before he gets out of bed. You instinctively grab his hand, and his heart sinks when he sees pure fear in your eyes.

"Don't go. Don't leave me alone." you whisper, your eyes staring at him so pleadingly that what else can he do but comply with your request?

He swallows and is surprised himself at how quickly he's at your side again, this time holding you in his arms, close to his chest. The idea of bringing you a cold cloth to cover your forehead flies from his mind the moment you snuggle into him for warmth. He feels like a stupid young boy again when he realises that, in another state, you wouldn't seek his closeness. He pushes away these thoughts, trying to make you as comfortable as possible as he runs his hand through your hair and brushes away the beads of sweat from your forehead.

"You're the best nurse or healer I've ever had." you whisper. Your head on his chest, eyes closed as you float with the rhythm of the breaths he takes. And seeing you in such a vulnerable state makes something break inside him.

"I haven't done this for a long time. Look after someone. I was the one who mainly took care of my sister. Our mother didn't want anything to do with her, and neither of us knew our father... so she only had me. People looked at us askance; the kids treated her like an outcast, so she was left to play with her older brother, a teenager who had no idea how to play with or take care of a six-year-old child, and a girl at that. But there was nothing I wouldn't do to make this little one happy. To give her what I didn't have… at least in a small way. Consequently, I can weave wreaths, braid braids, and other strange hairstyles; sew clothes for dolls; and make them. I played the prince on a white horse with her more times than I could count or be willing to admit."

"Black one suits you more." you comment, making him laugh quietly. "What happened to her?" you ask, opening your eyes and shifting your gaze to him.

He sighs heavily, pausing for a moment from stroking your hair as memories come back to him. And you can see in his eyes how much pain it brings him. You remember the words he said during one of your late-night conversations, when you were up late working on your reports.

The past is a wound that cannot be healed.

"She trusted the wrong people. Now she doesn't let anyone close... not even me."

"I turst you. With my life..." You wish you could hear his thoughts the moment he freezes at your words. "We all do." you add, still conscious enough not to completely pour out your heart to him. He pulls you closer to him, continuing to run his hand through your hair and press a cool cloth to your forehead.

"Thank you, Y/N." he whispers, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

A few months ago, he would have cursed himself for letting you get so deep under his skin... Now he can't help but want more. He hates to admit it, but his mother was right.

Men are greedy creatures.

But how could he not want you more? Not to want everything you can offer him when it was you who awakened in him human feelings that he had been hiding from the world for a very long time? When could he be JUST Aleksander with you?

He checks your body temperature again by pressing his hand gently against your forehead, cheek and neck. He hums satisfied, feeling you cooler and your temperature closer to normal.

"You are cozy." you mumble as he is checking on you and you rest your head on his shoulder, hugging him tighter. There is a strange sound buzzing in your ears.

"Cozy?" he asks, amused, knowing full well that in other people's eyes he was anything but comfortable or cozy. And there you were, cuddling up to him like he was your favourite stuffed toy, feeling safe enough to fall asleep in his arms.

"Yhm..." you murmur, burying your face in his neck to sigh in his scent. "You are the best pillow in the whole world."

You hear the pounding in your head more clearly as your nose presses against his pulse point in his neck. You find this very irritating. If you were a little more aware, you would have realised that it was his heartbeat that was making it difficult for you to fall asleep. What you also don't realise is that you are using your powers on him and calming him down, causing you both to fall asleep.

The tickle on your forehead from something very soft and warm is the last thing you feel before you fall asleep. And he only had time to remove his lips from your skin before you unconsciously forced him to fall asleep, cuddled up against you.

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

How do you think the spider gang would react to Gwen coming out as trans? I think they'd all be supportive, but I'm curious if you have details

I am going to be honest with you anon, I had been looking at this question for weeks, thinking about it, and...I am not coming up with much.

I am trans, I don't have that much experience with people reacting to that- and I am not making any more comments about that.

Going back to the original question- I think all of them would be supportive; regardless of background or history, I feel doing anything else would be a disservice to the characters, and also, a type of story I really don't have interest entertaining, (Would Noir, being from 40s, be reasonable to have his apprehensions and need to overcome it? Yes, I am interested in seeing something like that? Personally, fuck no.)

Now, it doesn't mean there cannot be hiccups- all well intending, of course.

(Specific characters under the cut because, as always with me, it got long.)

Peter B I see going over the top; talking how brave Gwen is, and that he supports her no matter what, he also reads a book on trans people and tell hims about the people in his universe who are trans. Gwen appreciates it, but it can be uncomfortable at times.

Noir, regardless of time period, would be supportive, but mixes up terminology. The poor guy already struggles with the pop culture lingo, so throwing queer lingo into the mix can make things awkward; specially since, as a spider-man, he has defended the marginalized people of his dimension and is aware of the community, but- that community had its own terminology that may not be appreciated to day. Is a growing curve.

In my opinion, Ham is a much of a man as Bugs Bunny, meaning gender isn't as important as commitment to the bit; so I can see him busting a dress all of the sudden and saying "I get you sis." Accordingly, if asked about his own gender, he is pretty much "normally a guy, but in general whatever fits better with the scene."

Peni I headcanon as nonbinary, so I think she would be happy to meet another person who isn't cis. Definitely would have lots of talk about presentation, tricks for clothes a make up, the works.

Margo is cool about it, there isn't much to say there; she just tells Gwen that it doesn't change anything between them, and she is still invited to come for the slumber parties (Margo has thrown a bunch in the Spider-Society, because anything to spend as little time mentally at home as possible.)

Pavitr: "Oh so you are like a hijra? That's so cool!" (This is a term from a place I am not from, so I can't talk in length about it, feel free to look it up because it is indeed, very cool.) While not the same, he ends up telling more about how people in his dimension see transgender people, Gwen finds it overall really interesting.

Hobie is, of course, cool about it. He is a punk, noncomformist, and "hates labels," he could probably tell Gwen a stupid amount of things about queer history, intersectionally, so far and so forth. Despite using he/him pronouns, I believe with all my heart Hobie would not give a shit about gender roles and dress how he likes, and be okay with any pronouns. This has nothing to do with your question, but I headcanon that Hobie has been the queer awakening of many other teens of the Spider-Society as he strolls down in whatever outfit he feels like it.

Now Miles, is obviously supportive. I think he may be oblivious to many things (I headcanon him as bi for a long awhile, but I am not sure if that's something he knows already or has yet to discover,) so he asks questions, but is always respectful and has no trouble answering. Overall, Gwen thinks is cute how much Miles dotes on her, and reminding her that she will always be the prettiest girl alive to him.

Huh, I guess I had more to say that I expected, this was fun! Thanks for the question and sorry for the delay.

[izzabela]

white noise - audio 2

a/n: sorry for the delay! i was enjoying my break and spent a lot of time (and money) with my friends and family

One week later

Simon Riley never imagined that, in his years of existing on this forsaken rock, his pipedream of becoming a professional voice actor would actually manifest into existence.

Simon Riley, who came from a home that was far worse than “broken,” never thought he’d be somewhat put back together living in the bustling city of New York City.

It still shocks Simon that he’s so successful at this point in time. If his current self met that little boy from that shabby house back in Manchester, he’d probably give the little thing a heart attack from how unrecognizable he had become.

He can’t say he did it himself though, because he didn’t. If it weren’t for Price picking him up that day he was passed out in a booth at that pub those years ago, his “now” would have remained “what-if’s” and “maybe’s.”

He can still remember it like he was picked up yesterday...

Simon downs another pint, stumbling in his own seat as the table jumps with the weight of his hand.

“‘Notha,” he slurs, his vision filled with black and white from the alcohol poisoning his system.

“Not long befo’ tha’ kills ya, boy,”a voice not known to him speaks. He swings his head up, his eyes locking in on the unknown target before he waves him off.

“Mind yer business.”

“I would, lad, but it won’t be without you,” he responds, accompanied by a hearty, humorless chuckle.

Through Simon’s eyes, he can see this blob of a figure pull a stick out and something to light it. Next thing he knows, his nose is hit with the scent of a campfire, pine, and refined lumber.

“Who’re you supposed to be,” Simon charges, sobriety slowly sinking in.

“You’re wrangler, if you’ll take it.”

Simon snaps out of his daydream when Price’s choppy cough from his laptop enters his ears.

“Ghost, ‘re ye wit os?” A foreign accent is heard from his speakers. No one's face is seen, but Simon know’s who’s speaking when he sees the bar of soap icon light up on his screen.

“Oi, you know what they say about ghosts, Johnny,” another voice comes through the computer, “‘Less you know what’s comin’ when you mess wi’ ‘em.” This voice is accompanied by a British baseball cap icon.

Price’s choppy cough comes through once again, establishing authority and power.

“Johnny, Gaz, ‘nough of that lads,” Price mediates, fixing his clothes in front of the cams.

Johnny and Gaz quiet down, while Ghost just chuckles in victory (though, he’d never openly admit his win to them).

Another voice breaks through the speakers of Simon’s laptop- an older woman, with a refined yet curt speech.

“Roughhouse after the brief boys,” she scolds. “I have yet to get to everyone’s personal collaborations.”

“Aye, mum,” Johnny mumbles.

“Got it, Kate,” Gaz responds quickly.

Simon doesn’t realize that the meeting goes by a little too quickly, his mind unusually scatterbrained and all over the place. He doesn’t even realize that he’s alone in the call room with just Price, and he only understands that fact when he gets a message from Johnny privately.

Soap: Oi, Ghost, how copy there?

Ghost: All good here, over.

Soap: Hate to break it to ya, but yer in there with Price.

Soap: Alone.

Simon looks up from his phone to realize he’s right, and he’s about to make a run for it until Price calls out to him.

“Don’ think you’re done ‘ere yet,” Price gently reprimands, a dry laugh leaving him.

Simon groans, and Price lets another puff of cigar smoke leave him.

“You broken?” he asks simply.

“All good here, boss,” he assures, hiding his true feelings behind the “no camera” mode of the call room.

Price doesn’t need to see Simon’s cerulean eyes to guess he’s lying, but instead of pressing him, he lets it go.

“Wha’eva it is, don’t let it compromise you,” he takes another hit of the cigar, the long draw of silence an indicator that his boss knows more than Simon could possibly tell.

“Copy. Out here,” Simon ends the call briskly, exiting out of all his tabs before shutting his laptop with a crisp clack noise. The excess noise of his colleagues/friends and boss are gone, and now his brain can hardwire back to the other daydream he’s been having.

Simon leans back into his reclining chair, the plush leather wrapping around him as he’s thinking of last week’s surprise.

Simon couldn’t really sleep that night.

He can usually head to bed after dropping a long audio, the latest primal play and chase audio he released for his highest Patreon tier, but for some reason he remains awake.

Instead of his body winding down, it was getting all riled up thanks to the thin walls of his flat, and his (not-so-quiet) neighbor.

Simon sits up against the backboard, the evening lights of New York City dimmed behind his curtains. He didn’t need the excess light the city brought him, but there was no other way to properly put his bed in his bedroom without ruining the natural flow of energy that was ever-present.

Instead of drowning out the noises of his incredibly cute neighbor, he decided to return the favor- a quick ramble fap. And why not? Perhaps after a quick tug of his stick, he’d hit the hay fast.

Simon slings his arm over to his night stand, grabbing his phone and headphones to set up his makeshift workspace. Once he’s settled in, he begins to talk openly into the night, putting up the mask of “Ghost.”

“G’day doves, o’ should I say night?” he teases, his palm combing over the hard-on in his sweats.

At this point, he’s rambling into the emptiness of his room, disconnected thoughts about “How I miss my dove” and “You naughty little fletchling, listenin’ to me, jack off while I’m missin’ you.” Still, despite how unrelated his dirty talk may be, it all remains cohesive enough to end up with him degrading his listeners.

Oh, and a pocket-pussy in hand.

"You wanted this, didn'tcha? Takin' all 'f me like a dumb slag, but'cha wanted this didn'tcha?" he growls, low and steady as he can feel his core tightening.

“You like this, don't ya?" he enunciated, cock pumping deep into his little toy, his ears still pointed to where you were.

It didn’t occur to him that you’d stop taking care of yourself down there, so onward he marched as he was getting closer and closer to his climax.

He’d let himself go completely, a low rumble in his throat as he filled the silicone toy to the brim of himself. Only then did he realize that he couldn’t hear the noises of his bunny, and that she’d scampered off somewhere (probably to sleep).

Since that day, he hasn’t heard his neighbor make those lovely sounds. Is it weird that he kept up with when she took care of herself? Maybe, but it’s mostly the apartment building’s fault for making such faulty, thin walls. Besides, Simon thought he wasn’t being loud, he just thought he was loud enough to tease her. But since then, the mild interactions he did have with her became different.

See, when he moved in, she would do all sorts to get him to talk: food, desserts, little trinkets, things a neighbor is supposed to do when a new bird joins the flock. Simon did appreciate it, really, he did, but he could never figure out how to reciprocate the kindness he was shown.

In short, a social liability despite his (very sociable) job.

He’s still surprised you’ve managed to stay so… patient with him, so kind, despite his nature to other people, albeit he saw your patience growing thinner and thinner (how can you remain so content like that? He’d often ask himself).

No matter what type of image you paint of yourself, the baseline truth remained- you were his fan, and a big one at that. How he would address this, he’s not sure, but he’d find a way to weasel it out of you.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, taking a deep breath before getting up from his chair. If he was going to continue dreaming about this, he’d at least get something done today. Taking his phone, he opened it to see what’s on his schedule for this month and if he had time to cross it off.

Most of the projects were video game related: voice acting for a main character on some days, meeting with game execs, discussing and actually acting out some mo-cap CGI sequences, he’s also got a separate project in regards to an audiobook recording and everything related to that.

“Fuck. Me,” he seethes, and one can imagine the smoke coming out of his ears.

With a schedule as disfigured as this, he decides to put work off for another day. Instead, Simon will take his time making some pre-workout, packing little protein bars, and filling his water bottle. He’ll shove all of that in his gym bag, then move on to discard his home clothes for something more gym-appropriate, opting to wear sweats and a new compression shirt he bought from an athletic store. And of course, one cannot forget about his hoodie and mask- essential to today’s OOTD.

He plugs his ears up and begins to play some music, shoving his feet in his sneakers and tying the laces before heading out the door. It’s all fine and dandy, the pristine white walls and sterile interior of the room hallways offering little to none to look at, until he looks down slightly, eyes following the movements of a certain woman tying her hair up.

His eyes widen slightly, eyebrows moving his mask ever so slightly as he locks eyes with his number one fan- you, his little secretary neighbor. You’re equally shocked, if not more so than he is. You gulps, and she’s frantic as she tries to greet him (except it sounds like a warbled animal cry).

“Relax,” he practically sighs, voice low. “No one bu’ me he’e.”

“That’s honestly the worst part,” you mumble, but Simon is a nosy fucker. He walks a little closer, leaning down to try and get you to say whatever you’re hiding from him.

“One mo’ time, mic didn’t catch it,” he teased, offering his ear as he watched you flush and grow embarrassed.

You huff, turning your back and heading to the elevator with brisk steps. Simon sighs, following just a little ways behind before stopping in front of the elevator.

“Well?” you probe, nodding your head for him to stand next to you. “Are you coming down or what?”

Simon just walks in, standing a little farther back to give you space from him. He knows you’re not particularly nice to him these days, but you don’t outright hate him (he’s delusional). Once the doors close, your release wouldn’t be until after he gets off on whatever floor he needs to.

“So, where ya headed this time, neighbor?” you ask curtly, finger hovering over the many floor options.

“Gym.” A one-word reply, and one that makes you want to rip your hair out.

“W-what a coincidence,” you stutter, pressing the main floor button.

The gears shift, and the elevator hiccups before starting its descent to the main lobby. It might be quiet in the lift, but both you and Simon experience a degree of noisiness in your minds. While Simon finds it amusing you’re stuck with him until you both get to the gym, you can’t bear the suffocating air he brings.

Carefully, you take a peek behind your shoulder and watch the brooding man scroll mindlessly on his phone. The only thing that you can ever describe him as is big: big shoulders, big in height, big in the energy he brings, and…

He’s definitely big down there.

You snap your head forward, hands cupping your cheeks to hide the flushed look you have on your face, but your mind isn’t following what your body is doing, and the memories of last week flash through your brain like an old black-and-white film.

As you stood there, heat rising all over your body, Simon was equally checking you out. His pretty neighbor, his little bunny, all nervous from being in the same room as him (elevator, but it’s an enclosed space, so it counts). He finds it cute, a fan of his realizing who he is, yet is respectful enough to not cross any boundaries.

Perhaps a closeted slut? Simon thinks to himself, an angel and devil on each of his shoulders to try and guide him to make the right choices.

He’s brought back into reality when he hears you squeak (ah, I mean speak).

“W-which gym do you visit?” you ask without looking, hoping that he didn’t hear your nerves shaking your sentence up.

“Th’ one ‘cross the way,” he answers again, his eyes crinkling slightly as he watches your shoulders scrunch up in a mix of discomfort and delight.

You simply hum, and suddenly the door opens up for the both of you to reveal a semi-busy lobby and busy bodies with hardhats and neon vests. You’re both a little lost, but the familiar face of your doorman saves the day.

“Tony!” you greet, elated to see him. He reciprocates your enthusiasm, though his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“How ya doin’ taday, Pumps?” he tips his hat, though his greeting to Simon is more strained.

“Wha’s ol ‘is?” Simon asks for you, accent heavy and imposing.

“Construction down here. Someone was supposed to slap a notice on the walls, but they didn’t get to it. Currently figurin’ out which bozo didn’t do they job.”

You hum, Simon remaining silent behind you. You can feel the tension between them, and you cough awkwardly to get their attention.

“W-well! Mr. Riley and I are headed to the gym, so we won’t be here to witness all of it,” you say as you walk past him. Tony only nods, tipping his hat towards the both of you before heading out the door.

The revolving doors slap you both onto the street, and immediately you’re getting swept away by the crowd of people. You should be used to this by now, but you’re victim to these moments every so often.

Instead of having to fight against the current of people, a hand reaches out for your wrist. It’s rough, oddly calloused, but comforting, like those odd sherpa-wool throw blankets.

“Don’ get swept away now, bun,” he calls out, pulling you into his chest to keep you away from the current of people. His left arm is around your shoulder, and you’re holding onto his right arm just in case.

Despite the rush, time stops in your mind: your secret obsession, holding you carefully as you two walk to the gym, protecting you. Your “shield” is meaty, with loads of muscle hidden under the fabric of his sweatshirt. His chest is equally well-built, too, thick and heavy.

If past-you saw this predicament now, she’d be walking the line between passing out and orgasming on the spot.

Making your way past the crowd, time seems to be flowing again as you both made it to the gym, the sign being an indicator that your delusions are just that, delusions.

“‘ere’s our stop,” he announces, a twinge of playfulness in his voice. You look up at him, eyes trying to tell him not to let go.

He simply chuckles, letting you go and ruffling the top of your head.

“Not gon’ work on me, bun.”

You let go, thanking him quickly before rushing into the women’s locker room, and you’re smart to not look behind you.

“Enjoy your work out, bunny,” he calls out, a smirk tugging the fabric of his mask before he heads into the men’s side.

Back in his flat, Simon tapped away on his laptop to answer some emails from his collabs and such. No matter how hard he tried to remain focused, his mind found itself back to a couple hours ago.

Simon mostly saw the gym uneventful, but that didn't mean it couldn't be- and the spotlight was on you.

From across the way, Simon always found your figure in his sight. From watching you lift during inclined press, squats, RDLs, to you taking a drink of water, retying your hair, or simply watching your chest rise and fall from a hard set, Simon was enamored.

Of course, you felt the lingering eyes of someone staring your way, but Simon always looked away just in time before you could spot him. Even in the corner of his eye, he'd find himself staking you out, like a wolf set on his prey for the night.

Except he's taking his time with this prey.

As he's wrapping up another email, setting a date for a voice acting shoot for a shooting game Price set him and his colleagues up for, he can hear the faint sound of a door slamming, and the muffled sounds of heels plopping to the ground with clicks and clacks. He smiles to himself, knowing that his number one fan is back, but she doesn't sound too thrilled.

Simon's hearing a lot of swearing, but the crux of the problem remains relatively unknown to him. He can hear talk about "loss of papers" and "how a deal can't go wrong when the instructions were practically written," yeah, you didn't sound too happy.

Simon's not too fond of taking care of people the usual way, but he still has things to offer- himself (if you catch his drift).

And for you, Simon wasn't off the mark when he figured you were pissed, you were fuming. A deal gone horribly wrong with your boss, and he blamed it all on you. Talks about you "not understanding what's at stake," "leaving the most important factors out of the negotiations," etc. You were trying to defend yourself, explaining to him that his inadequacies in creating deals was not your fault (you had, in fact, wrote his script for him).

Which was how you ended up on suspension without pay for particularly vague reasons. You're ninety-nine percent sure it's illegal, but you were escorted out without another word, you didn't even get to say goodbye to George.

This was also how you ended up angrily stabbing ground beef in a sizzling pan for dinner, pretending that the meat was your boss. And to bear witness to your reasonable crash out, your best friend was on the other side of the line.

"And seriously, how is that my fault? Everything was written accordingly, even writing the conversational cues that his client would use!" you screech, shaking the pan to make sure your ground beef was cooked all the way through to be added to the rest of your dish.

"Can't you file a complaint with HR? You have all the receipts, I'm sure that you'd have a case!" she pushed, trying to get you to see the optimism in this bleak time.

"I've already tried to walk in a couple times, but security has blocked me from getting close to the elevators..." you sigh, scraping the meat into a separate bowl. Another heavy breath leaves you as you grab pre-packaged sauce and a box of uncooked pasta.

"But enough about that," your friend shifts the conversation, voice going up a pitch as her question leaves a... feeling in your mouth. "How's that hot neighbor of yours? Has he figured you out yet?"

You gasp, groaning as you're even more pissed at the thought of your neighbor. Your annoyingly attractive neighbor that creates your favorite hobby.

Your neighbor that you donate hundreds of dollars to every couple months or so.

"Don't get me started, you bitch," you hiss, and you can hear her laugh so hard that the call lags for a bit.

"Not only has he remained incessantly loud- for reasons I now understand- but he's spoken to me for the first time since he moved in!" you cry out, which only increases your friends amusement.

"But it's more than that," she eggs you on. "Do you think he likes you? Like, actually likes you?"

You're lost in her words, the last syllables ringing in your ear like an incantation for hypnotize you. The thought of this guy, your neighbor who's your niche celebrity crush, liking you? He's never really spoken to you at all, and suddenly he likes you? Insane, like coming out of a novel.

Then again, you were no stranger to the odd and straight wack your life can experience.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that and finish my meal preps," you tease, and you can hear your bestie's cry to not hang up.

"Buh-bye now," you drawl out, pressing the red icon on your phone and focusing on your food.

Still, the thought of him liking you lingers. He's never made an effort to get to know you, nor see you. On the rare occasion that he did see you, he always stared, eyes sticking on you for a little too long before he left. You're so sure that he was a massive cunt, the way he still hasn't returned your tupperwares.

But after today, maybe you judged him a little too harshly. Besides, you were always busy, leaving before the sun rose and returning as the sun set (and that's only if your boss wasn't in a bad mood).

Mindlessly, you were moving all the food and mixing it together, a simple spaghetti you made for tonight. Besides, tears and sadness make any comfort food taste better.

You were taken off autopilot when the sauce burns you as you were pouring it in your bowl, and you draw your hand back like an injured animal as you cradle it close to your chest.

"Damn, made too much," you whisper to yourself as you assess your food debacle.

You're fighting with the voices inside your head to give the beast food. You wanted to test to see if this was just a fluke, and maybe to see the status of your other tupperwares, but mostly to stake out if what happened today was genuine.

After reeling with yourself, you cave and begin to pack some food for Simon. Slowly, you're walking to your cabinet to grab an extra container, and you go through the motions of a good neighbor and pack him a hefty size of food. You press the pasta in the container nice and tight, and you take the leftover sauce of the pasta and watch it slowly pour over the food.

You're moving slowly, trying to figure out how to hand him his food without being weird, forthcoming, or awkward. After all, this is the first time you're going to his door after almost a year of being neighbors.

"Hi! I made you some food, want some?" you exclaim to yourself in the mirror by your door. Realization hits you at how stupid you sounded. It sounds like you deliberately made some for him- which wasn't the case.

"I have some leftovers, here's some for you," you try again, except you slap yourself on the forehead for how condescending that sounded.

You can feel yourself regretting this, but you're already by the door with your clogs on, and you have your key in your pocket

Now or never, girlfriend, the voice in your head probing you to finish what you've started.

You sigh again, a heavy breath sagging your shoulders down as you trudge out the door with the food in your hands and the pit of nervousness in your tummy growing heavier.

As you walk to his door, your footsteps echo and bounce back to you from the walls, almost telling you that you're going to regret this. Still, you ignored that gnawing feeling, and continued to head into the wolf's den.

"You can do this," you mumble to yourself, trying to build confidence for your less-than-one-second interaction with your neighbor (your hot neighbor who happens to be the man you donate a good portion of your paycheck to).

You knock on his door, the silence being your last moments to turn around, but that timer ran out quickly, and in front of you is Simon. You look up at him, eyes wide and a little frightened by his imposing figure.

Despite his face being hidden, you can see that he's pleasantly surprised you're here, especially after today. He's leaning on the door frame with his shoulder, head tilted to check you out as to what brings you here.

"Anyfin' I can do f' you, bunny?" Simon asks, eyes aglow with a teasing nature.

All your practice, albeit only being five seconds, left your brain, and you're left staring at this man speechless.

"I, uh-" you're at a loss for words as Simon's eye contact is weighing you down (or arousing you, but you can address the wet spot in your trousers later).

You show the food to him, the cramped pasta and sauce slowly peeking out, and he chuckles a bit. He cocks his brow, or at least the fabric of his mask does, and he takes it with a singular hand.

His fingers brush yours as he takes the container, and you swore that you were set ablaze by a single touch.

"Thanks f' tha food, bun," he says, voice low and smooth.

It takes all of your willpower to not melt into a puddle right there.

"N-no, problem..." you whisper, voice hushed and shy from a split-second interaction.

You don't let him say another word as you retreat to your room, messily unlocking the door, kicking your shoes off, and burying yourself in your nest of a bed. You're warm all over, especially down there, and you wriggle in your sheets to try and shake it off.

And as you're squealing in bed, a flurry of emotions taking over you, Simon eats the warm past on his bed, head leaned against the wall to listen to his frazzled bunny.

[mrsmandalorian]

blueberry muffins

- cowboy!joel x techie!f!reader

-part 2 of city lights, country nights

summary: After an early night, you and Joel decide to have something sweet for breakfast before ranch chores.

series masterlist/main masterlist/word count: 2.6k

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, no outbreak AU, kitchen smut!!!, f!oral receiving, come eating, creampie, major dirty talk, kinda praise kink, groping, unprotected piv sex, no use of y/n

a/n: howdy, everyone! thank you so much for loving this series! 🫶🏼i am sorry for the delay in this part. this is my first time writing smut lol. i plan to add parts to this story and other sweet pedrito stories. i hope you have a great weekend! also, there will be more fluff in this series! i would love to hear your feedback or comments! - maddie

The rustle of blankets and movement was the reason you woke up. As you squint your eyes, you see Joel sitting up and checking his watch. You silently examine him: his hair is touseled to one side, and his clothes all wrinkled. He mumbles a ‘shit” under his breath as he glances back over at you. The sun was not yet up, but the morning dew laid a layer on the grass and surfaces. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says in his raspy morning voice once he sees you awake. “It’s about six o’clock, darling. I guess we slept outside last night.��� He rubs your legs as you lean up and stretch, leaning over to kiss one another. 

“Good morning, cowboy,” you whisper back to him as you pull away from the kiss, leaning against his shoulder. “What’s the plan today?” You knew he had work around the ranch. It was fun to follow him around and help where he let you. You never expected to learn how to milk cows, especially not goats. Joel helped you get out of your comfort zone (in many ways…). 

“I was thinking we could get something sweet and a cup of coffee before I ask for your help around the ranch, darling.” He meets your eyes as he speaks to you with a slight smirk and a raised eyebrow. It was not just any look. It was THE look. The one that made your thighs squeeze together and goosebumps cover your skin. ‘Something sweet’ was not a pastry; it was you. You have two choices for your response: act innocent or speed up the process and skip the foreplay. 

“Would you like me to make some blueberry muffins?” You act innocent to his look as you enter the kitchen. Who could skip foreplay with this handsome cowboy? You two have not had sex in almost two weeks. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to sext each other. This man had purchased an iPhone because it was the sole reason for getting sexy FaceTime and pictures from you. You hear him follow directly behind you. “ I think we have all the stuff to make some,” you say as you look in the pantry, bending over a little extra, and you feel his eyes stalk you from behind. This was going to be fun. 

Joel clears his throat as he starts the coffee pot and turns on soft music as you gather all the ingredients and start the oven. He still stalks you with his eyes as you mix all the ingredients into a bowl. He is suspiciously walking closer to you as you mix everything. Soon, you feel his large hands wrap around your waist and his face nuzzled into your neck. “They smell good, darling,” he mumbles against your ear as he starts to leave a small kiss down your neck. His hands move up to cup your breast, which causes you to let out a little whimper. He presses his hips into your backside to trap you against the cabinet. Your mixing slows down as his hand wanders to play with the edge of your shirt. “Why did you slow down? Do you need some help, baby girl?” 

His hot breath on your neck made your spine arch causing your ass to dig more into his crotch. You could feel his growing member against your backside, biting your lip as you become a little playful. You grind your hips against him, making his hands grip you harder and chuckle. “You little fucking tease,” his accent becomes thicker with the sexual tension making the air feel tight. You couldn’t even focus on the task at hand with his member hardening against you and his hands wandering underneath your shirt to your bare chest. His hands pawing at your breast, which earned a small moan from your throat. 

“I do need help if we want to continue this, sir,” you say back to him, causing his hands and hips to stop. “Just help me pour this into the cups, and” Before you could finish your sentence, Joel had turned off the oven and placed the bowl of mix somewhere else. In a flash, he had his hands on your hips and lifted you against the counter. His eyes darkened as he gripped your neck and passionately kissed you, pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes are focused on your bare chest, grabbing one of the breasts with one hand as the other hand goes under your waist to move you more into his hips. He dips his giant finger into the muffin mix, smearing the cold mix onto your sensitive nipples. You let out a small moan as the cold air and mix makes your nipples harden. 

“Open,” his raspy accent commands you as he places his dirty finger in front of your mouth. You do as you are told to do so and suck hard on his finger, meeting his dark eyes with your own doe-like eyes. The intensity of the interaction causes Joel to let out a low growl as he leans over and licks your dirty nipples clean. One of his hands palms at the other tit as he sucks and bites the other and vice versa. The attention to your breast makes you arch your body more into him as you let out a loud whimper, “Joel, please,” you beg the cowboy.

The desperate look in your eye and the sound in your voice make him smirk. “Oh darling, I’m going to help you,” his hand runs down your exposed belly to the edges of your shorts. He watches how your body reacts to him as he bites his lip, “good girl, darling.” Your shorts and underwear were removed in an instant. Joel pushes you back a little, moving a few dish towels under you to make it more comfortable on the counter. “Fuck, I’ve missed this sweet, sweet pussy,” he worships you as he bends downs a little to get a better look. Blowing a hot breath on your soaking wet slits, you gasp and cover your face with your hands to hide the pleasure. You were so desperate for him and his body as you moved your hips closer to his face.

The act caused Joel to let out a low chuckle and smirk at your current state. He was just as desperate as you were for him to fuck you. “Such a good girl for me,” He praises as his hands caress your thighs, pulling your pussy closer to his face. He teases you with one quick lick against your folds, letting out a slight moan as he does. This man LOVED pleasuring you. He treated it like his favorite job, and he did it fucking perfectly. 

“Joel, please,” You let out as you whimper, pressing your throbbing cunt into his face. The action caused his nose to hit your clit, which made you yelp in pleasure. You throw your head down as you glance down at the man between your legs. He met your gaze with a smirk and started viciously licking your cunt as he kept eye contact. His tongue knew what the hell it was doing. Your body reacted to him with your legs wrapping around his broad shoulders, “Joel! Fuck me, please!”

Your words cause him to smirk, “Oh, I fucking plan on it, darling. I just want to taste and play with this sweet pussy first,” He chuckles, standing up and leaning over you.  He grabs your backside and pulls you in a longing kiss. 

You reach down as he continues to kiss you more intensely, rubbing his erection membe. Joel lets out a frustrated breath as he pulls away from your lips. Your hands struggle with his belt and jeans. He reaches down to assist you with one hand and pulls your hair back. “Such a desperate girl for my cock,” he says as he leaves himself in his underwear. You can see the stain of precum on his dark underwear. 

You nod in agreement with his statement, which causes him to smirk at you. “Tell me that you are, darling.” He whispers to you as he runs his fingers through the back of your hair, tugging slightly on it. 

“Please, Joel! Fuck me, please,” you begged again as you let out a whimper. He seems to be satisfied by your answer, pulling down his underwear. You grinned like crazy as you reached down to touch him. He grabs your hands in one of his hands, holding them together so you can't move them. He kisses down your body from your neck to your stomach, and he shows a little extra love to your breasts. His fingers, on the not occupied hand, ran down the same path and gently caressed your cunt. You whimpered out as he let one enter you, “Joel!” You fought back slightly as he continued to finger you, eventually riding his fingers to the same rhythm. 

“Such a good girl,” he praises and releases your hands, reaching to play with your nipples as his other hand pleases you. He continues his rhythm and positions until your body starts to react to your soon-to-be orgasm. 

“Joel, please may I come?” You asked him as you tried not to already come all over his fingers.  He gives you a nod with a big smirk as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. You leaned back against the counter and covered your face with your hands as you let out moans coming all over his fingers. 

Joel pulls out his fingers from your throbbing cunt, putting them inside his mouth. He lets out a satisfied noise as he makes eye contact with you. It does not take long for him to line his giant cock up to your throbbing cunt. He looks at you for consent, “fuck me, please!” You respond with. 

He enters you with a loud groan from him, holding onto your hips with his rough hands. He thrust hard and quick into you, causing you to cry out in a moan. “You were made for my cock, angel,” he groans as he thrust hard into you. It did not take long for Joel to be gripping your hips tight. He uses one of his hands to play with your very sensitive clit, “fuck, I love you.” 

You could tell that Joel was not going to last longer as his thrust started to be a little more sloppy as he continued. “Come in me, Joel,” you encourage him as he grunts in pleasure. He closes his eyes as he applies more pressure onto your clit as he speeds up his fingers and hips. You feel your sensitive cunt throb hard in the need to release as he keeps his rhythm on his thrust. 

You both move your hips together in unison as the air is filled with moans, groans, and skin slapping. “Fuck, darling. Going to have me coming like a teenager,” he says loudly as his legs start to twitch and his grip tightens a little on your hip. 

“Yes, Joel. I’m going to come with you,” you moan back at him. You both ride out your releases together as he lazily thrusts himself inside of you. He takes his time to pull out of you slowly. Taking a second to recover and leaning down to give you a sweet kiss. 

“Holy fuck, darling,” he chuckles and looks down at you as you lay limp on the counter. “That was animalistic.” 

You giggle and blush at him, leaning up and catching your breath. “It was, baby. Made up for last night, old man.” You joke at him as you wink at him. He wraps his arms around you again. 

“Could an old man do that or this?” He asks and picks you up, causing your legs to wrap around him. You roll your eyes at him, laying your head on his chest as he carries you into the bathroom. He sets you down on the counter and turns on the shower. “Let's get you cleaned up, and we can finish breakfast.” 

“You’re still an old man,” you joke as you get down to get into the shower with him to rinse off. “That sounds good, baby. Only if you make me some bacon.” You say as you lean against his chest inside the shower. He nods in response and kisses your head, helping you wash off.

Another thing this man took seriously was aftercare. He always rubbed your body and gave you plenty of kisses and love after any type of sex. “I love you, my sweet old man,” you say as you grin at him. 

You both help each other wash off and dry off once ready. He goes into the bedroom to get you out a pair of your jeans and one of his old t-shirts that you usually wear to work, along with his favorite undergarments. He gives you a smirk after you put on the bra and panties. “I have a very sexy picture of this set,” he smirks as he checks you out more. 

“You don’t delete those? Where do you keep them?” you panickedly asked him as you threw your hands on your hips. What was he thinking of having those still on his phone? What if one of the girls or Tommy was helping him with his technology issues and saw your dirty pictures? “I thought we talked about this, Joel.” 

“Why would I delete such a masterpiece? I put them in some hidden folder Tommy told me about. He didn’t see anything, but I asked him what he did with his.” He says as he starts to get dressed. 

“Let me see! How secure is it?” You grab his phone and look for the said folder. He holds his phone but not in a suspicious way as he lets you watch him show you where it is. He opens the folder to find close to fifty photos of you in your undergarments or birthday suit from pictures you sent to him, bedroom activity photos, or sexy FaceTime times he screenshotted. “you dirty fucking dog.” 

He rolls his eyes and lets you look through it. It was hidden well under your birthday passcode. You thought it was a confidence boost that he enjoyed viewing you like that. He has plenty of clothed and regular photos of you as well. 

After you joke around together, Joel returns to the kitchen to start breakfast. You finish up getting ready for the day as you smell the coffee and bacon from the kitchen. You follow the smell into the room as you watch Joel cooking your eggs and bacon. He hears you walk into the room, turning around with a grin. “Here’s some coffee, darling. The rest of the breakfast should be finished in a few. I put the muffins in the oven, by the way.” He smirked at you as he pulled the bar chair out so you could sit down with your coffee. 

Life with Joel Miller was heavenly. It seemed too good to be true sometimes, but it never stopped being good. You have been through some ups and downs in your relationship, but he made sure all the times you had together were perfect. 

After breakfast was finished and eaten, Joel got both sets of boots out. You both put them on and headed out the door. Outside, Sassy was lying in her favorite spot under the patio. She let out a happy bark as she ran up to Joel to go to work.  The two of you walked out to the barn to start a half day of chores around the ranch. Time passes quickly as you both fool around and work together well. 

Your time with the sexy cowboy was the happiest that you had ever been in your life.

thank you again for reading! let me know what you guys think! 🫶🏼

[wowbright]

Chapter 17: Supportive

Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU for december klaine fanworks challenge. Also on AO3.

Kurt arrived in Sochi in the middle of the night, exhausted from flight delays, air turbulence that shook him awake every time he’d just managed to fall asleep, and now the customs line from hell. At this rate, he'd be surprised if he got to the hotel before sunrise. The current hold-up was a media crew with cases and cases of equipment requiring a thorough poking and prodding by officials. Just Kurt’s luck, to end up behind these guys. People with that much luggage should have the courtesy to stand at the back of customs and let everyone else go through first. He scanned the luggage of the dozen or so parties between himself and the media crew and hoped against hope there was nothing interesting in their contents.

Kurt took a deep breath and reread the text from Blaine that had been awaiting him upon landing: Going to bed now so I guess I'll be asleep when you land. :( I miss you so much I’m stupid with it. xox

He smiled and texted back. Good morning, handsome. Landed safely. Can’t wait to see you. <3

Perhaps these kind of text messages weren't exactly what Sue had in mind when Kurt had promised not to be a distraction. But surely it would be even more distracting to Blaine if Kurt went cold. Not that Kurt could go cold if he wanted to.

“It’s a camera battery,” Kurt heard someone say in a familiar lilt. He looked to the front of the line.

Kurt cursed out loud. Fuck or shit or fuck me or fils de chien—he wasn't sure which one he'd said, only that a child who looked to be about eight years old (and was taking the whole standing-in-a-line-at-midnight thing with more aplomb than Kurt) stared at him with mouth and eyes wide open in shock.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Excuse-moi.” He turned away before the kid’s parent could stare at him too.

Nothing made sense. Kurt must be jetlagged and hallucinating. He'd heard of people having waking dreams when they were exhausted. Had reached that level of sleeplessness?

He shook his head and blinked. He looked front of the line again. Nope. It was real. Up at the head of the line, in one of his countless identical-except-in-color henleys and signature beanie, Adam Crawford was bickering with a customs agent.

This didn't make sense. It made absolutely no sense. Adam had moved back to England. Very dramatically, in fact, with a promise-threat that they would never see each other again as long as Adam had anything to do with it. Don't try to get in touch with me. I'm blocking you on social media. Don't ask my friends after me. I never want to see or hear from you again. Fuck, if I could keep you from seeing me on the telly, I would! Those had been, more or less, the last words Adam had spoken to Kurt. A slammed door had been involved, with a force strong enough to send the framed poster from Kurt’s production of Sweeney Todd careening to the floor.

So many fights. They had all started—or the last round of them had started—because Adam had been offered a job as a presenter for one of the big British TV shows (or maybe it was a small TV show on a big British network; Kurt never got clear on that amid all his willful avoidance of the topic). It wasn't a role on Downton Abbey, but Adam had resigned himself somewhere along the path of their acquaintance to the fact that he was better at lighthearted fare than drama, anyway. That’s why they wanted him as a presenter—because he was light and casual and funny in a non-challenging way and handsome without being threatening, which made him simultaneously someone to admire and someone viewers could imagine sharing a pint with at the pub. And being a presenter on one show could lead to being a presenter on another show, and, “Kurt, this is the break I've been waiting for. It’s not like my other television gigs, where I fly out for a few days or weeks and it’s over. It’s a steady paycheck. We’ll be filming most of the year. Come with me. The West End theaters will adore you, and the film industry is right next door—not 2,500 miles away like here. You could do it all!”

Adam had presented this like it was good news for both of them, with flowers and dinner and a three-star Michelin restaurant, the same as he’d done two years earlier when he’d announced he was ready to move in with Kurt—and Kurt had been so carried away by the gesture that he had somehow failed to notice the announcement sort of assumed that Kurt had been waiting for Adam to be ready, when in fact the idea of them moving in together wasn't even a topic that they had discussed before in any degree of seriousness. But it made financial sense, and it seemed like the next right step if Kurt was sincere about his high school bucket list item of Get married by age of 30, legally. Adam adored him, and Kurt loved being adored, and that had sustained their relationship longer than any of Kurt’s previous ones. It might not have been the all-encompassing romance Kurt had dreamed of as a lonely gay kid in Ohio. But at some point you had to learn the difference between fantasy and reality. Adam was real, and kind, and handsome, and hunky, and grounded and practical about things in a way Kurt just wasn’t. That pragmatism was a useful counterweight to Kurt’s doing things by impulse and gut feeling. It tethered Kurt to the ground.

Kurt knew Adam’s pragmatism was good for him. Even when it sent him into fits of panic, like the time—a year or so into living together—Adam had announced at another three-star restaurant that they should start planning for kids—“Not right away, our apartment’s too small for that, but maybe we could start looking at places in Connecticut, or a brownstone—and of course we’ll need to weigh adoption and surrogacy; I've never been clear on whether you have a strong preference”—and Kurt had run into the bathroom and lost all his exquisite dinner before splashing his face and telling himself he was being ridiculous. Hadn't Kurt always imagined kids as a possibility in his life? It was only logical of Adam to bring it up now. Taking care of infants was exhausting, if the co-workers who complained about it were telling the truth. Kurt shouldn't wait until some vague future a decade-plus from now when he’d have presbyopia and the sleep loss would be even more of a nightmare than it would be now.

That's what Kurt had told himself in the restaurant bathroom. Then, he’d gone back out and told Adam how forward-thinking it was of him to bring it up. But somehow over the following months, every time Adam suggested they go househunting or visit a surrogacy clinic or talk to an adoption lawyer, Kurt mentioned something else pressing that needed their attention or, if all else failed, distracted Adam with sex.

Now, in yet another three-star Michelin restaurant—this one specializing in molecular gastronomy and serving its exquisitely crafted works of art in tiny portions that left Kurt famished—he found himself unable to accede to Adam’s logic.

“I can't leave here,” Kurt had said.

“Of course you can, Kurt. You'll have no problem getting work on the West End. Actually, I already spoke to …”

Adam had connections. When those connections contacted Kurt, it was easier to send out his portfolio than not. He got lots of meetings out of it. A contract for a London production sat on his desk for weeks, even as Kurt made an impromptu weekend trip to Ohio for Father’s Day.

“You need to get that settled,” Adam scolded before Kurt left. “If there's a clause you don't like, get it fixed. But if you leave them dangling, you'll lose the job. I don't know why you're procrastinating.”

Kurt didn't know why he was procrastinating, either. Or rather, he did know, but not in any way he could explain to Adam. It was just that, every time Kurt thought about relocating to a place where everyone talked like Adam, his skin crawled. My skin is crawling, however, was not the kind of explanation Adam could understand. Adam understood things like pay rate and opportunity and weighing the pros and cons. He did not understand making life-altering decisions based on I just feel uneasy and I've developed a sudden revulsion for English accents.

In Ohio, talking with his father on a perfect June evening with, perhaps, one too many Yuenglings under his belt and the setting sun lighting up the backyard in vivid yellows and oranges and pinks as the first fireflies signaled from the grass, Kurt let it all out: how frustrated he was with himself, how terrible he was as a partner, how he knew he should be supportive and it was a great opportunity for them both, but still—he didn’t want to upend his whole life. Not for this.

“Not for what, Kurt?” his dad had asked.

“For any of it. It’s not worth it.”

“It’s not worth a future with Adam?”

The puzzle Kurt had been trying to solve for the last few years suddenly clicked into place. The reason he clammed up whenever Adam talked about the future, the reason he couldn't talk about kids or moving away from New York—it wasn't because Kurt was impetuous and impulsive and couldn’t deal with the choices one had to make as an adult.

It was because he didn't want to make those choices with Adam.

And it was bewildering. There was nothing wrong with Adam. He had come along at just the right time, right in Kurt’s mid-twenties as he was tiring of casual dating and fooling around. Adam wasn’t like the other guys. He believed in commitment. He’d swept Kurt off his feet, won Kurt over with flattery and genuine admiration, and Kurt had been so high from it all that he hadn't realized—he'd never fallen in love with Adam. He'd only fallen in love with security and the feeling of being loved.

Back in New York, Kurt looked up from the contract and said, with a decided calm and finality that surprised even him, “I've decided not to sign it because … I'm not going to England with you. I’m sorry, Adam. But I’ll never be what you want.”

It seemed gentler than saying I'll never feel what you want me to feel.

Adam hadn't left immediately. He tried to speak sense into Kurt. But Kurt held fast. Adam wasn’t used to that. I don't even know who you are, Kurt! he’d shout, and Kurt would just look at him sadly and say, I know.

Once or twice, after Adam left, Kurt had been tempted to google “Adam Crawford” in hopes of finding news of his success. Despite a resentment of Adam that had built throughout their breakup and sometimes flared up again out of nowhere, he wanted Adam to be happy. Kurt knew what it was like to have your heart broken, and he hated that he’d been the one to break Adam’s. But Kurt never followed through on the search. Adam wanted nothing to do with him.

Well, Kurt didn’t need to worry about googling or not googling now. Because here was Adam with a full media crew in the middle of a Russian airport. He must be doing okay in television, at least.

The line moved forward. Adam was out of sight now along with the rest of his crew, dissipating into the faceless masses on the other side of customs, becoming tiny contributions to the hundreds of thousands in Sochi. Kurt likely wouldn’t see him again. And if he did—well, certainly they’d be in a crowd. It would be easy to disappear.

“Thank goodness,” muttered Kurt, and the eight-year-old stared at him again. Huh. Maybe the kid didn’t understand a word Kurt said but just liked staring or, perhaps, was fascinated by Kurt’s stunning couture. Kurt smiled. The kid smiled back.

Kurt’s phone buzzed. It was Blaine. Good morning to you, too. I can’t wait to see you either.

Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.

No. Woke up because jet lag. Good dreams though.

Oh?

We were standing in the Garden of the Gods and I wanted to kiss you.

Heat rose to Kurt’s face. He forgot all about Adam. It wasn't possible to hold all those complicated memories in the same space as this bliss. Are you sure that was a dream? he texted back.

A memory, maybe. I always want to kiss you.

Kurt stared at his phone. Damn pragmatism. Damn Sue Sylvester. I always want to kiss you too.

[mercars-musings]

Hey! Rook Codex Writing Prompts ask: 13 ,16 and 25?

Omg Hi!! Tysm for asking :3 Sorry for the delay {IRL has been BUSY this week} {Answers Under the Cut} So, I already answered 13 & 16 which is posted Here !

25 is such an interesting idea, I know Az's younger backstory but haven't had a chance to write it yet so this was a super awesome chance to start that process with some of Az's journal entries! {1 is from when he was 12 and the 2nd from when he's 15} 25. Notes taken by Rook when they were young/in training!

12, Cassus, 9.38 Dragon: So, I'm not allowed to mix the potions together for a while again. We'd got off to a good start this time too, mum was telling me all about the herbs we needed and why. She said that she thought if she explained it to me slower that I would start to get it, and I did!!! But when everything was mixed she told me to get another potion off the shelf so we could mix them because, I guess doing that makes this one stronger, or something? Anyway, I did, but then the pot boiled over and the stuff all over the floor, and a bit on her I think. She said I picked the wrong bottle but I was SURE I got the right one! Now I'm not allowed to mix potions for a fortnight! I'm only allowed to help her with gardening stuff again. It's not fair! I know I got it right, I'm gonna check tonight when shes asleep so I can prove it to her. Update: Why do all the potions have such weird spelt names? It's not my fault that two of them have like all the same letters! 1, Parvulis, 9.41 Dragon: Today was my first day at the circle, it's… weird. Dad said it would probably not be nice here y'know with the horns n stuff - but I thought he was probably just being dramatic like he always is. I think he might have been right though… I've tried saying hello, like mum said I should but… everyone just stares at me. I'm around other people for the first time in like ever? But, it still feels as lonely as my bedroom, but like worse? At least my bedroom was my own, and I didn't have every Altus asshole acting like I wasn't welcome here. I'm a mage just like them! I'm Tevene! So why does it feel like this is about to be the longest 6 months of my life? At least I get to go home for a week in Pluitanis I guess. ~ Tysm again for the question! Sorry it took so long, it's been and continues to be a busy week IRL for me so I've not been able to post half as much as I wanted to this week!! D:

If anyone wants to find out more about Az please feel free to ask me anything from this ask game!

[sophaeros]

albert hammond jr for details magazine, august 2015 (x x)

How I Got My Look: Musician Albert Hammond Jr

The Strokes guitarist started dressing like a rock star way before he became one. With his third solo album, Momentary Masters, out this month, he talks about his modern spin on old-school style.

As told to Jon Roth Photograph by Megan Mack Grooming by Alejandra using Dior Homme at Factory Downtown.

The Tie

“I actually just made this tie. The tag says Albert Hammond Jr. for Jacques-Elliott. He’s this young entrepreneur, and he wanted to mix Malcolm McLaren and Ralph Lauren, with the idea that you can wear it with a suit or you can wear it with a jean jacket. Ties were always my thing. When I was 18, on Sunday, when everyone was taking off for a casual day, I’d wear a suit to go have brunch.”

2. The Hair

“I get my hair cut at Freemans Sporting Club on Rivington Street in New York. Jason Necker—he’s amazing. You’ll see him looking at every strand. He’s a pro. I don’t go to anyone else. Now that I live upstate, I’ll see him every couple of weeks, just to keep it trimmed. It’s become almost like a social thing: You just go and hang out and chat.”

3. The Fragrance

“I actually use women’s perfume—I have since I was a kid. It’s called Anaïs Anaïs, from Cacharel. It smells like a beautiful woman and a bouquet of flowers. I use that and Right Guard deodorant.”

4. The Shoes

“These Doc Martens were also made for me. I just wanted them to fit me better than the ones in the store. I’m someone who likes my top button fastened and my socks pulled up, so it would make sense that I like my laces tied up like this. It just feels kind of snug.”

5. The Shirt

“This is from the Sock Hop, a place on Elizabeth Street where they make shirts for you. On the back, it has my name, and it’s fitted to you from scratch—you pick the fabric and the buttons and the collar. I actually wore this at my wedding.”

6. The Watch

“An ex-girlfriend got me this Rolex for Christmas back around 2008. I don’t own another watch, and I feel like this is the kind of watch that you could hand down, you know? It seems timeless, exactly what I would have picked.”

7. The Wallet

“I’ve always had Paul Smith wallets, for some reason. Last December, I was delayed at Heathrow for, like, eight hours. Heathrow’s got great shopping, so I was just bored and I went into the Paul Smith store and they had this red wallet. I was like, ‘Oh, this is gonna age well,’ got super-excited, and bought it there. The plane didn’t end up taking off, but the wallet took off. It’s a big hit.”

8. The Pants

“These are Margiela. I skip the belt, because the whole point is that they fit. And I wear my pants higher- waisted anyway. I guess when it comes to that, my dress sense is a little more old-fashioned, but now everyone’s going for stuff with a higher waist, shorter legs. I used to get made fun of by the tailors when I asked for that.”

[thatcrazycrowgirl]

How u doing! Do you still write fics/headcanons?

If so I’ve had this idea pop into my mind recently

Jacob freaking out while his girl is in labor And then getting drunk with his rooks to celebrate the birth of his baby?

Hi there! I'm so sorry for the delay in responding to this - it was sitting half-finished in my drafts for a while, but I finally had an opportunity to sit down and complete it! Hope you enjoy! ^_^

Jacob Frye - New Birth Headcanons

- Try as he might, Jacob Frye was never good at hiding his emotions.

- This meant that when he found out his beloved was in labor, he instantly panicked - first on the inside, but it quickly slipped out into the open.

- However, what he didn’t tell anyone was that a good deal of the panic and fear came from losing his own mother to childbirth - something he sometimes still feels like is his fault, despite having no control over something like that.

- And given that Evie was the only person present and available who was aware of Jacob’s most secret fears, she’s the only one who can console him and bring him down from his emotional high to some degree.

- But even then, he gets no catharsis until the moment he hears the soft wailing of the newborn babe from upstairs.

- It was a wonder he had any strength left in his legs, wobbly and achy from the tension he previously held in them, when he headed up those stairs to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

- And yes, the moment he saw she was alright and holding a healthy baby in her arms, he teared up a little.

- Here he is, actually a father now. This is real.

- He also privately swore to himself that he would try his damnedest to be the best father he could be.

- And when it came to the celebration of that birth? Hoo boy, the festivities happened on and off daily for almost a week. Toasting, singing, repeated congratulating - the works.

- Jacob was tempted to invite his Rooks into his home, but quickly realized how bad of an idea that was, so he chose to celebrate at the pub nearest to his house instead, just so he was never too far away from his recovering wife and their new baby.

- Of course, though, not too long after the birth, the baby ended up at the pub one afternoon with their father anyway...well, only for a very short time, before the mother showed up, incredibly miffed at Jacob spiriting away the child like that, while she was napping. (At least, he had the decency to leave a note?)

- She softened, however, when she saw how gently and kindly the baby was being treated as they were being passed around.

- Didn’t mean she still didn’t have a few choice words for Jacob, though - that frustrating, yet lovable man, who only innocently wanted to share his good fortune with his loyal gang. (Why is it always so difficult to remain angry with him?)

- That being said, Jacob better be careful not to bring anything up to her about having another child around the Rooks, because many of the gang members quickly discovered how much they loved the idea of being unofficial aunts and uncles to their boss’ child.

- Oh, wait...did Jacob let that idea slip out in a flirty comment to his wife, after having one too many drinks...?

- And did she actually coyly smile back in approval...?

- Well, guess the gang is going to get their wish after all. ;)

[vkylociferart]

“Wives”

Both this fan art and fan fic were made for @tdvzine

This tale is set in a universe where Mel (my oc) is already a vampire and lives in the chateau with Marius, Pandora, and Bianca. Though a vampire, Mel is still her old, curious, messy self. But her curiosity might get her in trouble sometimes.

Loosely based on the "Blue Beard" folk-tale.

By VKyloCifer

"It was meant to be a joke," Mel kept repeating in frustration. She tried to see the irony and humour in the whole thing, but it wasn't working. In any other situation, she would be laughing with everyone else.

It all started one night some weeks ago. She was working on one of the chateau's murals. Bianca was reading on a nearby couch, and Pandora played the piano. It seemed like a coincidence, but the real reason they were all there was for him. They wanted to be near him, near the one they all love, their beloved master, Marius, who was painting by Mel's side.

His concentration was unbreakable; he stepped into another world when he painted. Though she knew this was only in appearance, like any good teacher, he was always quite aware of everything that was going on around him. He showed it by coming out of his trance now and then to correct her work. It didn't bother her. On the contrary, she welcomed him whenever he wished to share his expertise.

She cherished these moments, the peace and safety she felt, and revelled in the loving company of her new family. She hadn't known Pandora and Bianca for long, since long since Marius had only recently brought her to the chateau. Not that he hadn't wanted to get her earlier, but she had delayed it. She was far too shy, and meeting new people made her nervous. Yet she took a liking to them almost instantly. Both had been extremely kind and welcoming to her, and she quickly responded to the outpouring of love. Also, it was always easier for her to relate with people with whom she shared common interests; in their case, they all have Marius in common.

In the chateau, everyone referred to them as Marius's two "wives", even though there had not been any official ceremony. And lately, there had been rumors that the court's Prime minister had brought with him a new wife. That would be her, Mel, Marius's third wife. Suddenly, something occurred to her, and she started giggling. Though it hadn't been her intention, her amusement pulled him out of his concentration.

“Gold for your thoughts," he asked.

"It's nothing," she bit her lips, trying to suppress her humour despite her large grin.

"Come now, little nymph, tell me what's going on inside that imaginative little head of yours". It still struck her as strange that he called her pet names like "little nymph" since, in terms of mortal years, she had been older than him when they met. It does not precisely fit the term "little" or nymph (usually characterized as younger women). But then again, she guessed mortal age meant nothing to beings like them. After all, she was considered a fledging, a baby bird, a mere child in their world. And her short height made the pet name stick more.

“Ah ah! I won't go into a stream of consciousness until you tell me what you were giggling about," Marius lightly scolded.

"It's just, I was thinking. You're like Dracula now."

Pandora stopped playing, and Bianca peeked up from her book. Now, she had everyone's attention, which she exclusively disliked.

"And how am I like Dracula, little Minx?" Marius asked with a touch of sarcasm.

If the same scenario had happened with any other group of people, she would've retreated into herself, unable to handle the pressure. But these were her new family, the ones she was supposed to trust and feel safe with. So she swallowed hard, somehow finding the courage, and continued to explain: "Because Dracula was famous for having three brides, and everyone around here says you have three wives now."

There was an uncomfortable silence; maybe she had rushed too quickly to be her whole, weird self. But suddenly, Pandora and Bianca burst into soft, lovely laughter. She smiled brightly at both. Then she turned to face Marius, who was looking intensely at her, face flushed.

She feared she had angered him.

But then his demeanour melted to a gentle, warm expression. He chuckled and placed his hand on her head... "That mind of yours is a bottomless source of the most amusing thoughts; you're. You're going to make eternity so much more interesting for me." He joined the rest in laughing—a contagious, harmless laugh from an irrelevant and harmless joke. Or so she thought.

A couple of days later, an unknown vampire arrived at court. He delivered a letter from his master, an ancient vampire named Lord Conomor. In the letter, he expressed his interest in coming into the court with his three wives, and as a showing of his goodwill, he invited any court member to meet him in his castle.

This was unusual; everyone knew that all immortals were welcome to the court; they were free to just walk in. However, there had been some rare occasions when potential new members had been reluctant to come. After all, the entire place was filled with powerful immortals. So perhaps this Lord Conomor was just exercising cautious caution.

Everyone present decided that a small commission welcome committee should welcome him to the court.

That’s when Bianca reminded Marius about little Mel’s joke. Didn’t Lord Conomor mention that he had three wives in his letter? It may be a good idea for him to go along with Pandora, Mel, and herself. To make the party even in numbers and to build relations between them.

Everyone thought it was a good idea. However, when brought up to Mel, the reaction was the opposite.

“Absolutely not!” she protested. Marius folded his arms and raised a brow in that gentle yet disproving gesture of his "And why not my nymph?".

"You know why! How am I supposed to pass as a court representative? I know nothing of how to behave as royalty or an ancient vampire. I would only be a burden and make you all look bad".

“Tsk, always with the self-doubting!" said Marius disapprovingly. "It's beneath you. No one is expecting you to be anything but who you are: a kind, well-mannered, and very unique young woman—the one I feel fell in love with."

Such a smart choice of words, so typical of him, scolding her while praising her at the same time before finally disarming her with a declaration of love, smooth bastard. She wanted to protest further, but what was the point? Whatever objection she comes up with, he'll find a way to refute it, and what's worse, he knew very well many ways to persuade and convince her to do it.

A week later, she found herself at the doors of a medieval castle in the middle of a wild forest, making her feel like she had been transported into a gothic novel. Though, unlike when Marius had brought her to the chateau, she didn't feel dazzled this time; she felt hazed. The previous flight didn't help either, as she was the only one in the group without the Cloud Gift. So she had to fly in Marius's arms. Even though he was always careful and protective of her during the flights, she still couldn't get used to them. A soft hand pressed gently into her shoulder, and she turned to meet Pandora's beautiful face, smiling sweetly. "Don't worry, I've never got used to either", she spoke inside her head, probably so Marius could not hear her. She nodded and smiled back at Pandora, feeling some anxiousness slightly ebb.

As the castle doors opened, they revealed an inner corridor that heavily contrasted the gloomy outside view with its bright red carpet, polished marble columns, and glossy wooden walls. This place wasn't that bad after all.

Lord Conomor and his three wives were waiting for them in the reception room. He was a tall man, not quite as tall as Marius (few were as tall as Marius), though sturdier built, with hair as black as her own. A broad, generous smile that shined through his bushy beard, but there was no friendliness in those deep crystalline eyes that seemed somehow… cruel? His skin was like marble, lustrous and hard-looking, like Marius and Pandora and all the ancient ones she had met, thought it was of a darker hue. Her own skin was slightly caramel. She wondered if her skin would, one day, look like this-

"Stay focused!" commanded an authoritatively familiar voice inside her head. She looked at Marius, who was speaking amiably with their host, but it still stunned her how he could retain his perfect pose while scolding her mentally.

"I'm not scolding you, little nymph; I'm just helping you stay on the path." Sweet Heavens! Even inside her mind, he managed to gently dominate her. If only she had been made by him, at least she would have had her mind for herself.

"And if you pay more attention to my thought-blocking lessons, you would, little minx.”

"As always, you're the master" " she answered him mentally, forcing back a chuckle. "Thank you"

"For scolding you? As you put it."

"For helping brightened my mood."

This time, he forced back a chuckle; she knew him well enough to notice it.

"You're welcome, my love", he replied, flooding her mind with warmth.

Later, while chatting around the fireplace, she looked deeper at their host's wives; they must've been ancient since they all shared the same ivory skin. Their hairs were all long and wavy, in brownish tones that barely differed from each other. For mortal eyes, they would all look identically brunette. It's been months after her transformation, and still, she was finding new colours she didn't even know existed; it was beautiful, especially when looking at paintings. There were many hanging on the walls, ancient ones, primarily portraits, some of which depicted the Lord of the castle and his wives dressed in beautiful medieval garments. The level of detail in the fabrics and jewellery fascinated her, and she wondered if the painter had been human.

“Beautiful, right?” She awoke from daydreaming to find one of their host's wives by her side, smiling brightly at her. With teeth lustrous as pearls, her sharp fangs stoop grimly out.

“Yes, so detailed," Sheshe said, sounding as relaxed as possible.

“I see one of your wives is interested in paintings," said Lord Conomor to Marius.

"As do I" he replied.

"Ah! Then you must come to see our entire collection!"

Minutes later, they were all walking through a succession of long paintings-covered galleries, Lord Conomor and his wives chatting amicably with Marius, Bianca, and Pandora. The place was filled with intercrossing twists and turns. It was eerily beautiful, though Mel wondered how they never managed to get it.

Every painting she passed by was unique and gorgeous. There were so many that it would take a lifetime to appreciate them all. At this fast pace, it was a shame that she couldn't enjoy them properly as they deserved.

A miniature portrait at the end of a corridor caught her attention; it depicted a pale lady wearing a brocade and velvet dress. The details were stunning, and she wanted to look at it closer, if only for a moment. And that's how she ended up like this: lost. Marius was right; she should've stayed on the path, just a slight deviation, and the next thing she knew, she'd lost track of her group and found herself wandering around in this labyrinthic place.

She went up and down countless stairs that seemed to go nowhere, sinking deeper into the gasping darkness of this place, which now didn't seem friendly or welcoming at all. The places she had been in earlier had looked clean and well cared for, filled with immaculate fabrics, lustrous marble, lavished wood, and shiny metals. Now, everywhere she turned, she saw mould, dampness and rags. There were almost no lights except for some old gas lamps scattered around. If she had still been mortal, she would've been unable to see anything and would've been forced to stumble blindly around in the darkness. She tried to count her blessings. B, but it needed to be helping. This place was ghastly; it didn't matter to her the irony of a vampire scared of a gothic castle; she just wanted out of there!

She could call them, she thought, either mentally or just scream. No matter how big this hell hole was, they could hear her. Marius could listen to her even if she were on the other side of the world. But that would cause a terrible impression, and she spent the dead dream here instead of ruining this for them. "OhOh, hell no," she said to herself, "I don't want to spend the dead dream in here". She kept going, making use of all her preternatural speed; there had to be a way out of here.

Eventually, she saw a light coming from the bottom of a long stair. It was very dimmed, but it was different from the light of the gas lamps from the previous rooms. She felt some warmth coming from there, but the sensation was so faint that she would've missed it if she were still human.

Maybe this was her way back to the better part of the castle, back to her family, and out of this nightmare.

She hastily descended the long stairs until she came face to face with a closed door. The dimmed light she had seen was coming from a small opening bar-covered window in the door. She peeked inside and saw a single torch placed in a dark rock wall opposite the door. She tried to see further inside the room, but she couldn’t as the window was too small.

A strange smell came from that room, something she couldn’t discern. What this could be? The door was tightly shut, but another thing that had been enhanced, besides her senses, by the Dark Blood was her physical strength. So she pushed harder against the door. But it barely moved.

She was about to turn around and give up when she noticed something else—a sound coming from that room besides the odour. It was a familiar sound, yet she could not put her finger on what it was.

What was in there?!

She decided to try again. This time, she didn't just push but leaned her whole body against the door, using all the strength she could muster.

The door gave in just enough for her to go through.

Once inside, she found the room was bare except for the lamp she had seen through the window. Four boxes were divided into two and two, each pair placed in each lateral wall. Whatever the strange smell and sound she had noticed before was coming from those boxes because now they surrounded her, entrapping her as invisible tendrils tangling themselves all around her body. Suddenly, she didn't want to be in there anymore.

This place felt wrong, worse than any other part of this accursed castle. She was about to turn and leave when something in her mind clicked, and she recognized the sounds.

Heartbeats!.

Not one, but many. They were so faint that it was strange they could keep beating. No wonder she had trouble placing it before. Now, she couldn't leave without knowing first what was in those boxes.

She went to the nearest one and tried to open it, but it was tightly shut. She used all her strength, but, unlike the door, it wouldn't give in. Mel thought hard. She could go, find the others, and tell them.

Tell them what, though?.

She didn't know what was in these damned boxes; at least, she wasn't sure. The confusion from her scattering thoughts made her realize she wasn't thinking clearly. That smell and those beatings suddenly didn't seem faint now.

When had they gotten so loud?.

They were piercing through her ears, and their rhythm was hypnotic. Was this drowsiness—the dead dream?

Impossible; it was too early for that.

“Shhh it is not too early; sleep now", a voice spoke inside her head.

“Who are you?”.

"It doesn't matter. Sleep now, little invader".

But it did matter, didn't it? Maybe not… maybe it was better to sleep.

“What are you doing to her?!”

A familiar voice woke her from her stupor. She looked around, still confused and unsure where she was, until she saw the torch, the dreary boxes, and Bianca fighting with one of the vampires' wives they'd met earlier. She hurried to Bianca's help; between them both, they managed to push her outside and locked themselves within the room.

Bianca turned to face her. "Sweetie, sweetie, are you okay? When I entered, she was dragging you across the room!”

"I think so, I lost consciousness. But there's something here, inside those boxes”.

They turned, and one of the boxes was half open now. Mel approached it, drawn by the morbid curiosity of finally knowing what was there.

But she was interrupted by Bianca’s scream. Mel turned. It was Lord Conomor. He was grabbing her by the wrists. Mel stormed against him, but he was too strong. With only one hand (the other kept Bianca in place), he forced her on the ground. His boot stepped on her rib cage and started pressing down. The pain was unbearable. She cried out like a wounded animal.

"You're quite strong for a fledging. Too bad you turned out to be such a nosy woman," Hehe said as he kept pressing against her chest.

Bianca yelled threats at him, swearing if he kept hurting her, he'd know the wrath of Pandora and Marius and her own.

Lord Conomor laughed. "My other wives must've taken care of them already. Pity, I was looking forward to seeing your court, but I can't tolerate meddling women. Now you'll stay here with the rest".

She felt her bones grinding and breaking. The pain became so terrible that she started losing her conscience.

As she fell into oblivion, she noticed there was no pain anymore.

Only darkness, it was peaceful, maybe she should stay there…

"No, you shouldn't."

A voice reached her through the darkness. It was loving and embracing.

"Wake up, my dear".

Something warmed filled her.

It felt wonderful. Like light. Like life.

… Like love.

"Maybe it's because I love you".

She opened her eyes to meet the gentle gaze of her beloved master, Marius. Her head was pillowed against his knees. His hand softly caressed her temple and hair. It felt so comforting. The other was pressed over her face, the torn wrist against her lips as he fed her his Blood. His powerful Blood quickly worked its magic on her, healing her broken body and making her whole again.

The memories of what happened came rushing back into her mind.

She sat and looked around. They were in the same fireplace where they'd been gathered earlier that night. Pandora and Bianca were sitting next to them, both smiling at her, mentally telling her that everything was alright now.

She remembered how Bianca had been attacked earlier.

"I'm alright, dear; you don't have to worry about me", Bianca reassured her before she could ask.

Mel then turned to find Lord Conomor and his three wives, all of them on their knees and tied up with heavy iron chains. Gregory and Thor were standing before them. She needed clarification. They hadn't come with them, had they?

Having read her thoughts, Marius smiled and said, "You didn't think we would be coming here without taking some security measures, right, little nymph?"

"Oh! But why didn’t you tell me?” She asked.

"Because you're still too young in the Blood, and they were old, they might've been able to read your thoughts", He answered.

She felt a pang in her chest. "So little is your trust in me? I don't blame you. You told me to stay focused, to stay on the path, and I deviated and almost got myself and Bianca killed," she said, turning her face aside, not wanting to meet his eyes, fearful of what she might see in them.

"Yes, you did all that, and it was reckless," Hehe said sternly. But then he captured her chin between his thumb and index finger and forced her to meet his gaze. To her surprise, she saw only kindness and love.

"And by doing that," he continued, "you helped us uncover the truth about Lord Conomor and his wives, all seven of them."

Her brows frowned in confusion, and then the image of the four boxes returned to her mind.

Marius smiled. "Oh yes, his other wives were hidden in those boxes. Trapped and starved until they lost consciousness and become nothing more like sleeping corpses."

"He must've done something else to them," Pandora said, "since they are not waking up, not even with our Blood. Whatever it is, I'm sure our resident vampire scientist will find it very interesting."

Marius cradled her face lovingly between his two big hands. "So you see, by disobeying me, you did the right thing for us".

She mustered a sad smile. "But it was only by chance, and you know it".

"Yes, but you're missing the point." He said, not letting her break eye contact with him. "I know you; I know you can't help that beautiful mind of yours from wandering around, and that often makes you wonder." Then, bending down, Marius placed a loving kiss on her lips. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"So, you're not mad at me?" she asked timidly.

"As much as I should," he said sternly "I'm not".

"Thank you," she said. "Still, I'm sorry for wandering around. I'll be better next time. I'll be the wife you deserve."

"Don't!" he said. "I don't want you to change despite the headaches your ways bring me. Continue to be my little wanderer, my love. Even if it wrecks my nerves for all eternity. I love you as you already areare.”

With these words, he placed another kiss on her lips, vanishing any doubts she had left in her heart. She felt safe, warm, and loved. She let herself be cradled back to his knees as he opened his wrist again and pressed it, once more, against her mouth. His rich warmed Blood flooded her mouth, filling her, nursing her, and making her stronger than before. She closed her eyes and revelled in the beautiful feeling of knowing she was loved by her master.

[sequinsmile-x]

Even Statues Crumble if They’re Made to Wait - Part 4

She can't stop thinking about the fact she isn't even meant to be here. That she's still supposed to be at home on maternity leave instead of sitting in a church in Colorado wondering if she'd ever see her husband or her little girl again.

A Minimal Loss AU with a Young Hotchniss twist.

Part 4/4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

-x-

Hi friends,

Sorry for the slight delay on this last part. Work has been kicking my ass this week (the return to corporate Vic after Era's Tour Vic was a rough one haha) but I really hope you like this last part of this.

I got an ask on here asking if I'd consider making this a little universe of its own - and it specifically mentioned this version of them going through LoFi/Mayhem and Demonology. Let me know if that's something you'd like to read because I *love* writing young them, and would use the opportunity to do flashbacks to get more detail about their life together.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Injury/canon typical injury

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

September 2004

“I just don’t see it.” 

Emily chuckles as she sips her cocktail, the burn of the tequila at the back of her throat satisfying as she shakes her head at Penelope.

“Well, we’ve been married almost 11 years,” she says, smiling as she thinks about her husband, how he was already on his way to pick her up from the bar because he didn’t want her to get a cab home, and she feels her cheeks warm up with her love for him, “So I don’t know what to tell you, Pen.”

Penelope sighs as she shakes her head, resting her chin on her hand as she looks intently at Emily, “You’re just…so different.” 

JJ laughs, smiling wryly when they both look over at her, “Trust me, the longer you get to know them, the more it makes sense,” she says, her smile only getting wider when Emily narrows her eyes at her, “What? I was confused as hell when I met you too. I thought Rossi was kidding when he said you were Hotch’s wife.” 

Emily rolls her eyes and has another sip of her drink, “David Rossi is prone to exaggerating.” 

“Exactly,” JJ says, “So when he told us Hotch’s wife was a spy at Interpol we thought he was lying.”

“I am not-”

“You’re a spy?” Penelope asks, her eyes wide as she looks back and forth between her new friends. She’d suggested this night out to JJ a few days ago, trying to get used to her new job and the people around her, and JJ had in turn suggested inviting Emily. It was only when they got here she realised Emily was her new boss's wife. 

“I am not, never have I been, a spy,” Emily says, raising her eyebrow at JJ, unable to stop her smile as she shakes her head before she turns her attention back to Penelope, “I used to work in intelligence gathering at Interpol-”

“Spy.” JJ fakes a cough to cover what she’s saying, her smile wider when Emily carries on as if she hasn’t interrupted her. 

“I recently transferred to the FBI in the counterterrorism team.” 

Penelope tilts her head curiously, “Not the BAU?”

Emily smiles, sighing as she shrugs, “Hopefully one day. But there was some concern about me working for Aaron. I guess I have to prove myself first.” 

She knew Aaron was furious when his request to add her to his team was denied. Gideon had certainly had something to do with it, his doubt in Aaron’s ability to be level-headed when it came to Emily well known. She was angry too since she’d had her hopes up about joining the team, but she was happy to take it one step at a time. 

“Did you work abroad when you were a spy?”

Emily smiles at her new friend, “No. I did domestic intelligence only. I was offered a covert role in Tuscany, but I would have been away for months, potentially years,” she smiles wryly, her cheeks going pink as she thinks about her husband again, “I didn’t want to spend that much time away from Aaron.” 

“Oh that is so cute,” Penelope exclaims, seemingly waiting until Emily takes a sip of her drink before she carries on, “So, when are you going to have kids?” 

Emily does a spit take, choking as she covers her mouth to stop it from going anywhere. She feels her cheeks flame in embarrassment as JJ and Penelope laugh at her. 

“One day,” she says simply, unable to fight her smile at the thought of it, “We’re not in any rush. We always said we wanted plenty of time just the two of us before we started having them.” 

It was something they both knew they wanted but they both wanted to be more established in their careers first. She knew some people found it odd, especially since they’d married so quickly, but it was right for them. As soon as she had children she’d prioritise them, make sure they were at the centre of her world and that they knew it. She wouldn’t stop working, she wasn’t sure she ever could, but she’d make sure she was home as much as possible. It was why she wanted to be part of the BAU as soon as she could be, well aware that both she and Aaron couldn’t be once they had a baby. 

She hears the bell over the bar’s front door ring and she turns, her smile getting wider as she spots Aaron walking in. She jumps down off of her stool, only realising how tipsy she is when she stumbles a little. 

“Aaron!” 

He smiles as he wraps his arms around her, his eyes flicking to JJ and Penelope as he stamps a quick kiss against her lips, “Hi sweetheart.” 

“Thank you for coming to get me,” she says, cupping his cheeks and dragging him in for another kiss, “You’re the best husband in the world.” 

He chuckles and hooks his arm around her shoulders to lead her back towards the table, “Thanks, Em,” he replies, smiling politely at JJ and Penelope, “Do either of you need a lift home?”

They both shake their heads and Penelope looks at them back and forth, her smile nothing short of delighted as she watches them, her eyes fixed on how Emily leans as closely to Aaron as possible, “I get it now.” 

Aaron frowns, his confusion only deepening when Emily laughs, the sound hidden in his neck as she presses her face into it, “Get what?” 

“I’ll tell you later, honey,” Emily soothes, kissing his neck before she pulls away, “But first, take me home. Via McDonalds.”

He nods and waves goodbye to JJ and Penelope before he turns his wife around to lead her to the exit of the bar, “Whatever you want, Em.”

___

The explosion almost knocks her off her feet. 

She stumbles, reaching out to grab at something that isn’t there, every cracked rib screaming at her as she finds her footing, the breath she sucks in scraping harshly against every bruise. Her ears ring, all other sound fading out until all she can hear is her own heartbeat and the shaky sound of her breathing. Time slows down around her as she turns to look at the church with wide eyes, backing away from it slowly, the flames almost cruel in their beauty as they destroy everything and everyone that hadn’t made it out. 

She’s brought back to herself, time speeding back up around her, in a split second. Someone lays a hand on her, a soft grip on her arm that makes her jump, flashes of the last time someone touched her, the violence of Cyrus’s skin against hers, forcing her to try to pull by instinct. Her body acting against the exhaustion she could feel in her very bones. 

“Em, sweetheart, it’s me.” 

She looks up, her eyes wide and shining as they meet his, and it feels like her chest collapses in on itself, all of the stress and trauma over the last few days finally making it give way, “Aaron?”

He nods, the hand not on her arm cupping her cheek, his thumb gentle as it scrapes along damaged and swollen skin, “Yes, baby. It’s me. It’s Aaron.”

Something about the way she looks at him makes him think of when they first met. When she was 22 and full of fire that had never dulled in the time they’d known each other. He never could have known then how important she’d become to him, how his very happiness would rest on her shoulders, how his home would be somewhere he found between her collarbone and her heartbeat. He’d come far too close over the last day or so to losing her, to having to accept it as a reality, and knows it would have broken him. He would have picked himself back up, would have done his best for his daughter, the little girl with her mother’s face who would always remind him too much of the love he’d lost, but he never would have been the same. 

How could he have been, when the only person who knew where all the pieces of him went would have been gone.  

“I love you so much,” he says, kissing the top of her head, holding her as tightly as he can without hurting her. 

“I love you too.” She collapses against him, her head against his chest as he gathers her as close as possible. He presses his face into her hair, the smell of smoke and sweat replacing the usual lavender scent that followed her around, and he breathes her in, feels her shaky, uneven, breathes pass from her chest into his as she grasps at the back of his shirt. She pulls back to kiss him, her lips firmer against his than he expected. “Where’s Alice?” She asks, wrenching herself from him, her eyes nothing short of wild as her eyes meet his, “Is she okay? What-”

“She’s fine, she’s at the hotel with JJ,” he assures her, cupping her face in both of his hands, pressing his lips against her forehead, ash and sorrow passing from her skin to his, as he tries to convince himself that she was really here, that all of his worst fears from the last few days had been unfounded, “JJ said she’d bring her to us as soon as you were safe.” 

She nods, her grip on him tightening as she turns around, guilt flooding through her as she thinks of Spencer, immediately chased away by relief when she sees him standing several feet away looking every bit as shell-shocked as she feels. He smiles at her, a quick flash of a thing, and in different circumstances she knows she’d limp over, that she’d break his usual embargo on hugs and pull him into her arms, their shared experience something that no one else could understand. But she can’t bring herself to pull away from Aaron, to remove herself from the warmth she had longed for since she’d last seen him. 

The compound hadn’t had air conditioning. It was stiflingly hot in the room she’d been kept in, their air thick and cloying, making it even harder to breathe, her lungs burning with it against fractured ribs she knew would take weeks to heal. It was the opposite of the heat that came with her husband. His was a comfort. Something she’d reach out for even on the warmest days of the year, opting to curl around him with the covers bunched up at the end of the bed, his heavy arm laid over her waist better at helping her drift off to sleep than any high-count thread sheets ever could. 

“Can we go?” Emily says as she turns back to him, “To the hotel?” 

Aaron shakes his head, running his thumb back and forth over her jawline, “We need to get you seen by at least an EMT first,” he says, his eyes flicking to the dried blood on her sleeve, the bright red skin and cut visible beneath the torn material, “Maybe even a doctor.” 

“No,” she mutters, shaking her head, the desire to see her daughter overriding anything else, “I’m fine. I don’t need to see anyone.” 

He’d never been very good at saying no to her and she knew it, but he knew he had to put his foot down, that he had to make sure she was okay, “Sweetheart-”

“I’m fine-”

“I heard everything,” he says, his voice firmer than it usually would be with her. It stops her from arguing, her insistence that she was fine stuck in her throat, “I heard him beating you, Em. So I need you to let someone look at you, okay? Can you do it for me?” 

He knows it’s playing dirty, that using her love for him against her was unfair, but he knows she’d never do it for herself. She presses her lips together and drops her head, sighing as she shakes her head, her teeth clenched together before she nods, a short, sharp thing that gives away her irritation. 

“Okay,” she says as she looks back up at him, “Let’s get this over with.” 

___

The paramedics make her go to the hospital. 

She’s momentarily furious at her husband for making her speak to them in the first place, anger she knows he doesn’t deserve licking at her insides. If it was him that was hurt, when it had been him that was hurt, she’d done the exact same thing. It wasn’t all that long ago, when she was still pregnant and when he’d been hurt in the explosion that had killed Kate Joyner, when she’d yelled at him for trying to leave the hospital just because the case was still ongoing. The stress of it all, of briefly not knowing where her husband was, if he’d died in the explosion, started contractions that kept her at home once the case was over. A dramatic end to her time in the BAU, to working by her husband’s side, that had taken her a while to get her head around. 

She shifts in the bed she’s lying in, propped up by pillows to relieve some of the pressure on her ribs, the scratchy hospital gown she’d been forced to put on rubbing against her sore skin. She felt on edge, every one of her nerves fraying as she waited for Aaron to come back. He’d stepped out of her room, pausing the vigil he’d started to keep over her, to meet JJ in the waiting area. He’d called her as soon as Emily was admitted to the hospital for the night. She was connected to IV fluids for her dehydration, something she’d only agreed to when she was told her milk supply would be at risk if they didn’t rehydrate her, and antibiotics the doctor had insisted on the moment he saw the cut on her arm.  Aaron knew if he didn’t get Alice here to see her his wife would leave against medical advice, that she’d tear the cannula delivering her meds from the back of her hand and walk back to the hotel herself if she had to. 

Emily looks up as the door opens. The relief that floods through her when Aaron steps in, Alice held against his chest and her diaper bag over his shoulder, is palpable. She thinks if she wasn’t lying down she would have stumbled because of it, the thought that she might never have seen her again suddenly so heavy she can’t breathe. 

“Look, Princess,” Aaron says, dumping the diaper bag on a chair in the corner, “It’s Mommy.” He adds, and Emily tries to sit up but winces, her hand pressed against her chest as she breathes through it, “Careful, Em. I’ll bring her to you.”

She nods, frustration at her own body, for it not working as she wanted it to, flaring through her. It’s immediately chased away as Aaron sits on the edge of her bed and adjusts his hold on Alice so he can lay her on Emily’s chest. She places her hand on her baby's back and presses her face into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo, “Hi, sweet girl. Mommy missed you.” 

Aaron places his hand over hers on Alice’s back, providing the support she’d never ask for, already seeing the tension in her shoulders that the embrace was already creating, “She missed you too.”

Emily hums, the sound giving way to a chuckle as Alice starts to root, her face rubbing against her chest, her tiny fists clasping and unclasping, “Well, she missed part of me.”

He stamps a kiss against Emily’s lips, “Need any help?”

She wants to say no, to prove to herself that she’s fine, but the desire to do so fades when she looks up at him, lingering fear shining in his eyes. She nods, her smile tight as she nods. 

“Can you untie this?” She asks, pointing to the ties of the gown on her shoulders, her arms not cooperating with her, every movement of them that brought them above chest level enough to make fire burn through her chest, the flames of it catching on each fracture Cyrus had left behind on her ribs.

He springs into action, his touch delicate as he unties the small bows, impossibly gentle with hands she knew could be capable of so much more. It was one of the many things she loved about him. His gentleness, how he’d worked so hard to be soft after his childhood, intent on being everything his father wasn’t. On chasing the violence he’d grown up around out of the world. She watches as his jaw tightens when the bruises on her abdomen are revealed as the gown falls open, his shock no less evident than it had been when he’d helped her shower just an hour ago. She knows he blames himself, something she won’t be able to talk him out of yet. She wouldn’t get anywhere with it until they were home, safe and content in the house they’d bought together, so she simply smiles at him when he looked back up at her face, a failed attempt to cover his reaction forcing a smile onto his. 

“Can you help me get her into position?” She asks, even though she’s sure she could do it herself. He nods, immediately helping her shift their daughter into place. Emily winces as she latches on, blowing out a shaky breath at the sensation, “Jesus. At least the antibiotics will help with any infection I guess,” she says conversationally, stroking her fingers back and forth over Alice’s back as she eats. Emily looks up at her husband and watches as he rubs at his ear, something he’d done for weeks after the explosion in New York, and her eyes go wide, guilt for not thinking of his damaged hearing sooner, “Crap, the explosion. You should get your ears checked.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, Em. Just a little sore-”

“No, your eardrum could have burst again,” she says, speaking over him as she reaches for the call button, “We’ll get a nurse to-”

“Em,” he says, firmer this time as he squeezes her knee, drawing her attention back to him, “It’s fine. If it carries on hurting I’ll speak to my doctor when we get home okay?” He squeezes her knee again, his grip tight as he reassures himself, “You’re the one who was…” he clears his throat, shaking his head at himself as he looks down at the bed, “I’m fine.” 

It hangs in the air around them, everything he hadn’t said but they’d both heard filling the room, making the silence heavy and thick. 

“It’s not your fault, honey,” she says, reaching out with the hand that wasn’t securing Alice to her chest, squeezing as hard as she can as she links their fingers together, “None of this was your fault.”

He looks back up at her and the bruising on her face makes his stomach swoop. The swelling and mottled skin somehow looks worse in the lighting of the room and he feels nauseous, flashes of a life he had left behind appearing over the life he had now.

“I’m the one who asked you to go.” 

She sighs and tugs him closer. There’s hardly any force behind it, her body exhausted and sore, but he follows anyway, never having to be asked twice to get close to her, “The person responsible for this is dead, Aaron. He’s dead. I need you to know I don’t blame you for any of this.”

He wants to believe her, knows she hasn’t lied to him before, but he can’t get past the heavy rock of guilt low in his stomach, something he knows will fester. Something that would take root and grow over the next few weeks, with no chance of going anywhere until all of her bruises had faded, something he’d think about in years to come when he looked at the long silver line on her arm that the cut would one day become. 

He nods despite himself, swallowing thickly, because he knows now isn’t the time, that he simply wants to spend time with his girls when, not that long ago, a part of him was convinced he’d never get to do so again.

“Okay,” he says, pressing his forehead against hers, “Okay.”

She stamps her lips against his, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Alice cries out from between them, her face screwed up in a frown as she pulls away from Emily, making both of her parents laugh. 

“We love you too, baby,” Emily says as Aaron rearranges her gown for her, leaving the ties slightly looser than they had been before so she can pull them open herself. “I think we can convince Daddy to lay with us for a bit.” 

He frowns, already shaking his head before she’s finished speaking, “Sweetheart, I don’t want to hurt you.”

She looks at him with wide eyes he’d never been able to say no to, and she angles Alice to face him too, the baby already half asleep, “Please.”

He sighs and stamps a kiss against Emily’s forehead and then the top of Alice’s head as he stands up, “The day she masters that look too I’m never winning an argument in our house again.”

She laughs, wincing as it makes her ribs jump and she lightly shakes her head at him to let her know she’s okay. 

“Oh honey,” she says, shifting just as much as she can to let him slip into the bed behind her. She leans back against him, sighing contentedly as she finds true comfort for the first time in days, settling into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her and Alice, “When was the last time you did win an argument?” 

-x-

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