#I stopped laughing at one point and just started screaming | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minkdelovely · 2 days ago

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MUAHAHAHAHA I AM SO SATIATED!! Something I have been praying for has finally come to fruition, and I am BEYOND pleased.

Hazel, my dear, you continue to astound me. This was such an ENTERTAINING chapter. You really let the bitch flag fly, and I truly couldn’t be happier.

And don’t even get me started on the beginning or the middle between Alastor and Autumn… ughhh they really are too sweet with each other. Their love is so palpable and I’ll never get tired of reading about it 🥺♥️

I won’t say anything else here, because the chapter just needs to be read by y’all but~ screaming down below, per usual 😮‍💨

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Forehead pressed against the wall of the bathroom, Alastor’s hand gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

AAAAND WE’RE OFF 👀

He couldn’t mentally stay in a romantic mindset when it was just fingers and running water.

there’s something about this that’s really getting me like… he enjoys ‘making love’?? Not even trying to out that connotation on it, but it’s like a subconscious acknowledgment? does this make sense? 😭✨

He wasn’t going to knock up the drain or make the shower quiver so this seemed just wasteful.

and then this is just so on point for him, comically and logically 😂♥️

Your laugh at watching Alastor march through the bedroom sopping wet and butt naked choked you when your eyes lowered to see he was also rock hard.

the way I actually see this in my mind right now omg…

“I didn’t want to waste it.” His hips rutted into your side, the evidence of every place he touched were large dark spots on your clothes. “Do you want to —?”

THE DARK SPOTS! THE PASSION!

You always forgot his strength when looking at him. Until he was holding you up by the hips, for example, fucking you against the bedroom wall. Wet skin slapping against your thighs, panties swinging around your ankle with every thrust. A lovely way to start a Monday.

JESUS FUCKING CHRISTTT 🫠❤️‍🔥

The weekend had been spent with a very attentive and clearly apologetic Alastor. His hands had been more present on your body, always holding your hand or pulling your legs over his lap as you both read. Dinners with his feet tangled with yours. Nights with his head buried in your hair.

ughhh this is too sweet… even though he’s all torn up. The gestures are just so cute and intimate 🥺

Every time you sighed his name, he clenched his teeth to keep it back. He wouldn’t weaponize it. He’d struggled to keep the compelled confession buried into your lap before, but he could keep it together until the moment was happy and without the bitter taste of his disappointment still lingering on your tongue.

STOPPP I AM WRITHING AAHHH!!!

He felt you tighten around him, yes, a much better use of arousal. The good thing about his years of experience before you was he had time to learn. To know when to quicken his pace and when to focus on depth.

I actually can’t get over that even if he was going through the motions with others, he was still determined to make sure that it wasn’t sub-par and that’s really on brand for him.

His mind stayed there long after you finished and went into work. Leaving you behind was difficult, a small wiggling worm of fear deep in his skull that’d you’d vanish if his body wasn’t touching yours.

hey remember how I actually told you TO STOP??

“Hush.” You warned him, and he pretended to zip his lips shut and slip the imaginary key into your skirt pocket.

I’M GONNA FUCKING CRY I CAN PICTURE THIS TOO WELL

Brady would be popping up as soon as possible, you warned. There was no way he was dropping the issue. He’d be knocking on Alastor’s office door in no time.

Kenneth is incessant, and it’s genuinely what you want in a detective but also maybe go touch grass my guy.

Brenda far too loudly announced two detectives were there for him. She was side eyeing them with a sneer he could almost appreciate when she popped her head in to yell it.

BRENDA!! You’re a real one omg

“I’ll be right out.” Alastor set his work down and took a deep breath. Every piece of him wanted to rush from the room and strangle Brady on the office floor. He’d seen him many times before but the pesky detective didn’t know that. A tremble of excitement he shook away. Smile on, he left the office.

LET’S GET READY TO RUUUUMBLEEE

Bright eyes. Tired. Light hair. Pale. Clothes wrinkled. Sweat stains even though it was autumn already.

what did I say? Kenny needs to take to the air

“Good afternoon, detectives. Alastor. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand but only Freeman moved to shake it.

KENNETH YOU REALLY ARE SO FUCKING BOLD — you can’t even TRY to fake it??

“Edward Freeman. I am a big fan, sir. Your voice is made for radio.” Freeman shook Alastor’s with both of his own, not noticing his partner’s wide eyed horror. “Such a pleasure. I promise we won’t take too much of your time.”

AAAHHH EDWARD IS ONE OF US!! AHAHAHAHAHA FUCK YEAH!!

Alastor could have cackled directly into Brady’s face but managed to keep himself in check, “A face for radio too! Ha ha ha,” his laugh was loud, genuinely amused with himself, “Well it’s always a treat to meet a listener.”

he’s good at playing bitchy and humble — I am VIBRATING

Brady thought he’d black out. He’d began his day humming with anticipation, the high of having a name and occupation making him dizzy all weekend. The shock of Freeman immediately cozying up to his prime ( and sole ) suspect was throwing him off balance.

yeah, you got the rug pulled out from right under you. Tough luck, sport!

A string bean of a human in thin circular glasses was charming the wits off his partner.

KENNY THE HATER

“Girlfriend?!” Brenda choked on her coffee, her desk just some feet beside them. “You’re confused. I’d know if he had a girl.”

BRENDA!! 😂

“But you’d never! This is slander!”

when Brenda clutches pearls it’s honestly so endearing — I love her! 😭✨

Brenda was on her feet, a second from foaming at the mouth, “Out! You get out of this office at once!”

I AM CACKLING!! SHE’S REALLY OUT HERE TELLING THESE COPS TO LEAVE! 😂🙏🏻♥️

“Thank you, Brenda!” Alastor hissed, “Let’s continue this in my office, gentlemen.” His arm swung out to gesture to the open door.

Brenda was left fiddingly with her pearls in horror.

ACTUALLY CLUTCHING PEARLS!! AAAHH!!!

“So, now that we’re … free from that, what were you saying?” He tried to chuckle away the chaos, one hand gently smoothing his hair back.

suavecitoooo 😮‍💨

“Wouldn’t go that far… I’m embarrassed to admit it but yes I did take out a singer some time ago. Dancer too, I was told. But, I,” his hands slid in his pockets and he shrugged his shoulders, “I had a lovely time with her.” He gave Freeman a shy smirk, “I just didn’t want anything serious. Paid for her cab last time I saw her but I didn’t give her a dime for anything else.”

OOOHHH WHAT A COVER. It’s embarrassing but clever

“We were told you’d been seeing her for quite some time.” Brady had been prepared for every reply.

OF COURSE

“I loved going there. I first noticed her over a few weekends. Asked her out there, too. But after a few nights out she seemed a little… not worth the trouble, I’ll say.” He grimaced, “I really sound like a rake, huh?” He looked to Freeman, asking for the man’s acceptance with his eyes.

A RAKE!! This is one of my favorite little terms — it’s fitting hehe ♥️

Freeman chuckled at the suggestion, “Not at all! Good looking man such as yourself, nice job, no wife. I’d be sowing my oats so to speak too. We’re just hunting down some people for questioning regarding a missing manager.”

SOWING MY OATS!! EDWARD!! 😂

ALASTOR YOU FIEND!! 😮‍💨😂

Brady rolled his eyes. Alastor was definitely the man Beth mentioned; a daisy. The kind of man to fret over a stained tie or wet shoes.

So sloppiness is the height of masculinity, is that what I’m getting Kenneth? And wet shoes are a sensory fucking nightmare 😩

“People in …those kinds of establishments can’t expect civility.” His nails were digging through the cotton of his pants. It made him sick to say it. How many days did he kiss your bruises? How long had they lasted? Longer than Tommy, that was for sure. Outlived him by quite some time. His smile spread. Brady noticed it, clearing his throat.

UGHHH I feel sick too, but you’re doing so well my darling 🥺

Freeman turned back in his chair to look at Brady once more, this was his impromptu interview. He’d begged Freeman to take the early lunch. Brady promised him this was the guy and that if it wasn’t, he’d never bring it up again.

OH FUCK you really cornered yourself here, Ken.

This man in front of him was soft. He was feminine in some aspects, definitely quite lanky and seemingly devoid of real muscle. Brady hadn’t imagined his killer to be concerned about style or fashion, yet this man clearly put a lot into his appearance. He couldn’t imagine him killing anyone… perhaps a gun?

A GUN?? If this is your serial killer, you’d think people would have mentioned hearing guns popping off intermittently through NoLa, but go off I guess…

Alastor whistled, “Besides jazz and piano? I fish. Uh,” Alastor looked for threads of truth to add to the web, “I garden quite a bit, actually. Love to dance.”

A man of many talents 🥹♥️

“Born and raised, detective. Native son if there ever was one.”

He slipped out his notepad and slapped it against the fleshy part of his hand. Brady’s spirit was withering.

I can hear the tone of voice that did it too hehe

“Call anytime, but word to the wise. Brenda will answer first.” Alastor let out a loud and singular ‘ha!��

MY DARLING BITCH 🙏🏻♥️

Alastor took back his hand from Brady and wiped it off against his vest as soon as the men were turned around.

HAZELLL what a lovely way to incorporate this 😮‍💨✨

She warned him of people with heaviness, people who gathered bad energy like rain on a flat roof. That weight attracted likewise things. A gravity would form and pull in more and more darkness.

You’d mentioned a storm, and now Alastor was seeing that drip drip drip of the cracking roof.

THE IMAGERY! DEAREST YOU’RE PAINTING WITH WORDS AGAIN! 😩❤️‍🔥

A chill, insidious and violent made him turn on his heels and shut the door with force. There it was again, that fight or flight feeling. Twice in nearly as many days. Never did Alastor feel insecure in situations of life or death, not literal life or death that was. He didn’t care about dying.

SPOOKED! Kenneth is a wraith and you’re SPOOKED my darling 😰

If fear was a lark in his chest it’s little spine cracked and popped as it grew and mutated into a rageful osprey, anger opening his lungs and sinuses as blood rushed with renewed vigor. This was Brady’s fault, entirely. He was ruining everything. Alastor finally had what felt like everything he wanted and deserved (anger dampening his usual insecurity of what was meant for him) and Brady was going to tear it apart.

I’m getting “let’s begin” vibes but also I really need to you take a breath my love — don’t be rash!

“Those detectives! Accuse you of debauchery!”

He imagined telling her how his morning started, fucking the nude dancer against his bedroom wall, arleady shacking up out of wedlock. Maybe it’d kill Brenda? That’d be convenient.

that would, in fact, make her suffer cardiac arrest Alastor 🙈✨

“Welcome home!” You waited for the car door to close before greeting him, worrying over the timing. He froze between the car and the wooden steps. You stopped your swinging on the porch swing, noticing how odd it was to see someone completely still like that. You remembered the deer along the road. “What’s wrong?”

Every thought flew out his head and into the early setting sun. An odd deja vu came over him. He hadn’t heard those words in literal years. “No one has said that to me…since my mother died.”

FUCK THIS HIT ME REALLY HARD

Another moment as you parted and both of you realized how odd the situation was. The killer and his dancer playing house. For a brief second, maybe heaven mistook you for something normal and good.

YOU DESERVE YOUR HAPPINESS DAMN IT ;A;

“Oh, did you want company? I don’t mind going out.” His little smile made it hard to deny him.

OMGGG HOW DID YOU STAY STRONG???

“I really hate keeping secrets from you.” His fingers were pulling and pushing at the edge of the blanket.

his nervous little ticks are gonna be the death of me, they’re too endearing

“Brady and his partner came by today to my office, like you’d expected. I didn’t want to ruin our day, knowing how rarely we will live traditionally. But it’s just bothering the hell out of me.” His hands came to cover his cheeks and crawl into his hair out of stress. An overreaction, the weekend having truly discombobulated the man.

YOU’RE NEVER GONNA STOP HUH?!

Flowers, you thought. You should buy flowers on Saturday, too.

MY SOUL IS LEAVING MY BODY OMGGG HE DESERVES FLOWERS!

Alastor nerves hadn’t settled yet, even if he slept well beside you. Every day he came home and you were still there felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire drive home. During lunch he’d call the house so you could talk and eat together, in a sense. The conversation eased him, a confirmation you still liked him. An embarrassing fear he couldn’t let you on to.

I REALLY FUCKING CAN’T WITH YOU 🫠♥️

He didn’t understand you spent the week calling record shops in search of something specific. Plotting exactly how you’d do it. You’d mastered the phonograph in the room beside the kitchen and found an old vase in the back of the cupboard.

really digging the knife in oh my god 🥲

Alastor was honest with you that he left work early to check on Brady midweek. He was practically dancing through the kitchen when he reported Brady went home on time for the first night in what could have been weeks. And he did so looking like shit.

HA!

He sat quietly the rest of the work day, thinking over everything again. It still felt right, but Alastor didn’t look right. Maybe it was a group, some new gang in town. Perhaps Alastor had some business with them.

He’s not wrong, but I hate that he’s also going based of Alastor’s looks? Like THAT’S what’s gonna shake you up? 😂🙈

Is downtown just inherently dangerous, he wondered. He supposed the map lined up with the jazz scene, and where there is dance and liquor there’s crime.

KENNETH THE RELENTLESS OVER HERE

“He could be like that Holmes man in Chicago.” She smiled from across the meat and potatoes she’d slow cooked over the day.

YOU KEEP H.H. HOLMES OUT OF THIS!!

She let misplaced comment go, and moved to turn on the radio. Something to fill the silence. She wondered if her favorite program was on, though it was a little late for that.

imagine Alastor’s voice booming through your house Kenneth? You were spared by the narrative

The day finally came, your highly anticipated and scheduled confession. Saturday morning you slipped on your shoes, pushing back thoughts of everything they’d seen, and slid into the car. You had a game plan. Apartment, get your stash and change out your shoes. Head to the phonograph shop on Calliope and grab the record. Flower shop, something bright and fragrant. Stop by the theater for a bottle of whatever they were willing to part with. Call him from there to pick you up behind the building.

I AM GOING INSANEEE THIS IS SO SWEET

You didn’t need Ephi, full stop.

I meannn 💀💀💀

“I’ll call you from the theater so I can wait inside. Lo-,” Your mouth opened to say it, as you’d been practicing it in your head all week, “Lucky me I’m still welcome there.” A quick save.

I NEARLY CHOKED OH MY GOD

Barely a second into the room and you were already reeling with anger. What a skill she had.

I’d say! Calling it a skill is too kind

“What the fuck? Are you taking the furniture?! It’s a fucking dress.”

that’s honestly the least of your concerns you little bitch 😂🙈

As the distance between your problem and you became greater, the gap was closing in on Alastor and his.

LOVELY SEGUE

He was in the kitchen splashing his face with water, dusty from sweeping the porch, when he heard a car door slam shut.

THE CAUCASITY OF KENNETH I SWEAR TO FUCKING GODDD

Past the stairs and the kitchen doorway, he could see the shape of a man. He was standing in front of the greenhouse with both hands on his hips, staring at it. Bright hair reflecting the sun.

THE CAUCASITY, I SAY! Fuck Ken, you just went straight to the greenhouse?!

Brady nodded, a smug smile and a wink, “Sure do.”

I’m actually fucking seething???

Alastor returned to the kitchen for the key, grabbing a small paring knife and placing it in the back pocket of his slacks. Sharp and quick.

BABY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T SUCCUMB TO THIS

“Water! Turns out plants love the stuff. Who knew!” Alastor’s fingers curled around the knife’s handle, “I prune, propagate, and repot them here and rinse it off after. Due to the shade of the table, the ground tends to stay wet longer.” He wondered if Brady had told anyone where he was. Maybe Freeman?

yeah, please convince yourself someone knows where he is my love — I really need you to keep it cool and just keep antagonizing this man 😭

Alastor laughed, “No, that was a lie. This is all meticulously maintained for aesthetics.”

YES KEEP IT UP

He’d been thinking this out for months now in a way, though, hadn’t he?

DON’T

As he watched Brady eye the land with a dismissive glance, he realized he’d never killed anyone at his home. It didn’t seem to be a good idea. Like they’d taint the land. Plus, killing the cop in the backyard was about as opposite of what you’d asked of him as he could get.

THIS IS GOOD — PLEASE DON’T, MY HEART IS SO TIGHT

The detective slapped his notebook against his palm and whistled, “Radio pays well, huh?”

“Better than a detective, maybe. But this was all my mother’s land.” He said it with pride, one hand leaving his pocket to gesture at the house and beyond.

that’s my bitch!! ♥️

“Your mother. And she… how exactly did someone like her get her hands on a plot like this?” Brady squinted at the tree line, knowing full well how he said it. “Quite a bit of land for someone of her… background.” He quickly turned his full body to Alastor, “You see that movie, ‘Murder!’, by Hitchcock? My wife was saying how interesting it was over dinner the other night. Your receptionist mentioned you like the movies.”

THIS FUCKING BIGOT I SWEAR TO GOD

Alastor bristled, he’d seen the film and picked up the tone being taken, “Did you want to see anything else, Kenneth? Or did you drive all the way here to quiz me on your wife's morbid interests?”

“Detective Brady.” He corrected.

NO. You heard our baby right KENNETH.

“Maybe in the Orleans parish.” Alastor took a step toward him. He reveled in the confused expression Brady made. “Oh you didn’t realize when you crossed the lake? This is St. Tammany. You’re out of jurisdiction.” Another step. “So I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.”

YESSSS!!! FLAY HIM WITH YOUR WORDS MY DARLING ♥️

Alastor’s arms went out in a shrug, “Ah, well, good luck finding a judge to approve you harassing a law abiding land owner for…what exactly? A drugged out criminal who stopped showing up to work? Forgive me for not holding my breath. Now kindly get the fuck off my mother’s property. “

This is getting dangerous! I never wanted the bitchfest to get dangerous!

Brady was still holding onto hope that Alastor was your man but now, his throat ran dry. He got more than that.

GOD DAMN IT!! FUCK!

Alastor’s hand twitched, he fought the rage bubbling up his throat. His vision was beginning to turn red around the edges. He could hear Aubrey squeaking out the first syllable of that damn word just behind his left ear.

Perhaps he was the blade hanging over Brady’s head.

FUCK!!!

With even paces he walked over to the stump where he chopped wood and pulled the axe out, “Ya know! Something about you makes my fucking skin crawl.” He pointed it at Brady, the detective taking note of the arm strength needed to hold the unevenly heavy tool steady and parallel to the ground. “I do hope for your sake this is our final meeting. You should leave now.” His head titled to the left, “And keep your nose clean, Kenneth. It’s a dangerous time for bad men in New Orleans.”

ALASTOR!!! FUCK!!!

As the car started Alastor dropped the axe until it’s flat top of the blade rested on the ground and he leaned his weight onto it akin to a cane. His free hand’s fingers waved goodbye before dropping down to his side limply. He stood there with eyes fixed and body still as a predator waiting for its opportunity. How many gators had Brady watched from the shore with just that look? He peeled out, sight unseen as he blindly backed onto the unpaved road, and made a beeline to the nearest phone.

He had to tell someone. He was right. He had been right the whole time. Alastor killed Tommy Dupre. And there was no doubt in Brady’s swirling mind that you knew that fact.

GGASAAHAKZNSIZJNSHS FUUUUCKKK!!!! I wanna be happy about another gator mention but A BITCH IS STRESSED!

A Doe in Fall (Part 14)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smut💦📍

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Where we left off: Alastor and Reader had a misunderstanding and a heavy talk on the back porch. He’d let it slip how deeply he felt but it was muffled by your thighs.

Part 14 Someone like her

Brady says the magic words after finally meeting his elusive radio man. But was that a good thing?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, masturbation, Ace Alastor is trying his best, little smut to start the day, Brenda exists, Reader is also trying her best but it’s less hot, mentions of abuse, thinly veiled racism, Insecure Alastor, an axe, Alastor is the deer and gator」

MDNI ☎️💚🏡

Forehead pressed against the wall of the bathroom, Alastor’s hand gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

He’d been trying to masturbate more, hoping to prolong things when with you, but the action was just so pointless. Yes it felt good, but so did scratching his back when he had an itch. But there was no itch here. He couldn’t mentally stay in a romantic mindset when it was just fingers and running water. What intimacy existed there? What was the point? Male orgasms were for procreation and pleasure, were they not? He wasn’t going to knock up the drain or make the shower quiver so this seemed just wasteful.

Images of your pleasured face ghosted behind his eyes. Nothing pointless about that. A twitch to the otherwise bored flesh in his grip.

Wasteful.

Your laugh at watching Alastor march through the bedroom sopping wet and butt naked choked you when your eyes lowered to see he was also rock hard.

“Oh.” Was all you managed before his shower was soaking through your cotton top and powder blue skirt. “Oh.” Ravenous mouth at your jawline.

“I didn’t want to waste it.” His hips rutted into your side, the evidence of every place he touched were large and dark wet spots on your clothes. “Do you want to —?”

His fingers were already crawling down your thighs and gathering your skirt up.

The words were moaned through his own mind, scared to let them go again.

I just love you so much.

An enlightened gasp dripped into a breathy moan as you realized this must be the make up sex the ladies always talk about. You’d never understood the concept before then.

His mind stayed there long after you finished and he went into work. Leaving you behind was difficult, a small wiggling worm of fear deep in his skull that’d you’d vanish if his body wasn’t touching yours.

You’d taken off some time from work, partly out of sheer embarrassment and partly to keep the theater safe from Brady. Which meant when he left for work, you kissed him goodbye at the door. You both laughed into the small space between your lips immediately afterwards.

“Hush.” You warned him, and he pretended to zip his lips shut and slip the imaginary key into your skirt pocket.

Alastor was happy to hear Brady had been told he had a handful of nothing but he knew his clock was ticking. You’d recounted your time in the station and how angry and disappointed the other detective had seemed with Brady. Brady would be popping up as soon as possible, you warned. There was no way he was dropping the issue. He’d be knocking on Alastor’s office door in no time.

Much sooner than Alastor had prepared for, but he was ever the performer.

Brenda far too loudly announced two detectives were there for him. She was side eyeing them with a sneer he could almost appreciate when she popped her head in to yell it.

His observations came quick and loud as he saw Brady’s face in the daylight for the first time.

Bright eyes. Tired. Light hair. Pale. Clothes wrinkled. Sweat stains even though it was autumn already.

The man beside him was new to Alastor, and Alastor couldn’t tell yet what to do with him. Taller, older, darker complexion. His expression was relaxed in comparison to Brady’s stressed one.

“Good afternoon, detectives. Alastor. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand but only Freeman moved to shake it.

Brady was staring with blatant scrutiny. Alastor was quite tall, and much leaner than he had anticipated. His hair was perfectly in place, with clean skin and neat glasses. Was this the right man?

He’d brought him along so he could show him he’d gotten the right man. He’d thought —- he’d been so sure Alastor would be some second rate employee with rough hands and thick arms. Not the pretty host working behind some desk. Weren’t there large spools of cable and big contraptions radio station employees lugged around? Where were those men?

A string bean of a human in thin circular glasses was charming the wits off his partner.

“Brady. We’re here to discuss an important matter regarding your girlfriend.” Brady leaned in to separate the other two men and their budding camaraderie.

“Girlfriend?!” Brenda choked on her coffee, her desk just some feet beside them. “You’re confused. I’d know if he had a girl.”

“Thank you, Brenda.” Alastor said through a forced smile, “She is right though. I am unattached. Lifelong bachelor.”

“That’s interesting. Because when we picked her up at the burlesque theater,” he was cut off by a shriek.

“Nude dancing?! Sir! My—-you! Alastor would never! He is a man of means and class! I-,” Brenda’s hands were aimlessly shuffling time cards. “The only theater he frequents is the cinema.”

“Brenda.” Alastor laughed, not taking his eyes off of Brady, “Please. Let the man finish.”

“But you’d never! This is slander!”

“No slander. We picked her up for prostitution and her,” again he was drowned out by the receptionist.

Brenda was on her feet, a second from foaming at the mouth, “Out! You get out of this office at once!”

“Sure, why don’t we take this to the station.”

“You want a local celebrity,” Alastor’s eye twitched as Brenda screeched out the words, “to be marched down there like a common criminal! I’m calling the station, you’re mad.”

“Thank you, Brenda!” Alastor hissed, words heavy, “Let’s continue this in my office, gentlemen.” His arm swung out to gesture to the open door.

Brenda was left fiddingly with her pearls in horror.

Alastor followed the men in and leaned back against his desk casually, offering them the two chairs.

“So, now that we’re … free from that, what were you saying?” He tried to chuckle away the chaos, one hand gently smoothing his hair back.

“We took in a woman last week for prostitution. Charges dropped but — her friends said you were her beau.” Freeman leaned back too, crossing his legs at the ankle as they stretched out in front of him, “Radio man named Alastor? Not too many of those so, thought we’d just come by and check.”

Brady stood near the door, refusing to sit. “So. Gonna tell me there’s some more Alastors in New Orleans? Or gonna be straight with us?”

Alastor nodded, sighing through his nose. You’d filled him in already on the story.

“Burlesquer, right? Pretty thing with the long lashes and sharp tongue?” He looked up at Brady over his glasses, looking as boyish as a man his age could.

“So you are her fella?” Freeman’s back straightened. He hadn’t expected that.

Brady stared at every inch of the man before him. His white button up was loose at the arms but wasn’t appearing to hide some powerful physique that said ‘I drag bodies around town.’

“We were told you’d been going to see her for quite some time.” Brady had been prepared for every reply.

Alastor furrowed his brow and pretended to think, hand coming from his pocket to adjust his glasses, “Talking about the nice little joint near the park?”

“Yeah.” Brady smiled. “So you admit it.”

Brady thought his head would snap with how quickly he turned to Freeman. He was saying too much.

“He’s uh, drats what’s her name?” Freeman turned around to Brady. Brady looked up to Alastor expectantly.

“Oh! She gave me some fake name. Winter or… August. I didn’t press the matter.” Alastor walked back to his desk and sat down, trying to get eye level with Freeman who was the easier of the two to play, “Missing manager? I frequent a lot of clubs looking for talent. Maybe I knew the guy. What’s his name?”

“Tommy Dupre.” Brady said it sternly. “And I’m the one leading the investigation.”

A twitch to the corner of Alastor’s smile, “Sorry detective, I assumed this here was your superior. He just has … an aura of experienced professionalism to him. Now where was I… a manager,” he shook his head, “Was he at The Bandstand by any chance?” His fingers were flipping through his rolodex of business cards. Brady noted how clean his nails were. But not suspiciously so, not something that seemed overly tended to. He shook his head again more firmly then. “No, never formally met the man at least.”

“He was your burlesquer’s manager.”

Alastor leaned back and crossed his arms, “I never went to her work and I truly don’t visit burlesque theaters. Can't risk my reputation.” Few people out of the club scene knew his face and name so that was a load of shit, but he hoped they wouldn’t stop and consider that much. “We run a clean show here.”

“Here’s the issue, sir.” Freeman patted the tops of his thighs, “Your Ms. Doe-,” Alastor’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion.

“Oh! Ha, clever. I see what you did there.” He laughed, it was light and made Freeman nod his head in thanks.

“She got roughed up real bad by Mr. Dupre around the time ya’ll were seen together. He disappeared soon after. So, naturally….we wanted to see if you knew anything about what happened to him.”

“Doesn’t shock me to hear that.” Alastor's voice was high pitched and airy. His nonchalance was grating to the younger of the two detectives.

Brady rolled his eyes. Alastor was definitely the man Beth mentioned; a daisy. The kind of man to fret over a stained tie or wet shoes.

“What’s the smile for?”

“Ah,” Alastor hid his mouth with the back of his hand, he couldn’t bite back the glee of remembering Tommy beg, “Sorry. I’m just feeling quite grateful I didn’t stick around to be pulled into some dame’s drama. This is exactly why I remain untethered.”

“Wish I’d had that foresight…I’m only joking. My Donna’s a blessing and a half.” Freeman quickly retracted the comment.

A moment of quiet as they all looked at each other. A natural dead end.

So he was staring at his partner waiting for the never again to start.

Brady chewed the inside of his cheek, mind bouncing through thoughts and theories and observations.

“Got any hobbies?”

“Kenny.” Freeman chided.

“Sir.” Brady added it sarcastically.

Alastor whistled, “Besides jazz and piano? I fish. Uh,” Alastor looked for threads of truth to add to the web, “I garden quite a bit, actually. Love to dance.”

Of course he did. “Sports?”

“I don’t watch nor listen to much of that.”

“No,” an exasperated sigh, “Do you play any sports?”

“Oh!” Another casual laugh that grated Brady’s senses, “No, no. I wouldn’t pretend I’m an athletic man.”

“Hunting is a popular pastime around here, you ever go out shooting?”

“No sir, not my scene.” Alastor leaned back and swiveled his chair side to side.

No hunting, really? Brady’s brows rose in suspicion, “….you from New Orleans?”

Freeman crossed his legs, a simple act that somehow conveyed a rising loss of patience.

“Born and raised, detective. Native son if there ever was one.”

He slipped out his notepad and slapped it against the fleshy part of his hand. Brady’s spirit was withering.

A mistake?

“Understood.” Pushing off of the wall.

“Sorry to cause all this fuss over … my tryst with a dancer not too long ago.” Another bashful bachelor smile. “But it was just that. Fun. I never met her employer. I never even went to her shows. As for the place by the park-,”

“Beth’s.”

Alastor grinned to hide the flinch, “My doe, as you put it sir, was a real canary. But I haven’t been back there since I stopped seeing her. I’m sure if you asked they’d tell you the same.” The phone rang and Alastor apologized, putting a finger up, “Yes, Brenda?” The incessant woman asked what was taking so long. He smiled and nodded, “Thank you, tell them I’ll just be another minute.”

“We’ll be heading out. It seems I need to— to re-examine some things. Dig a little deeper.” Before Brady could retrieve his card to offer it to the radio host, Alastor was handing him his.

“Call anytime, but word to the wise. Brenda will answer first.” Alastor let out a loud and singular ‘ha!’

He rose to walk them out and Brady extended his hand again for him to shake, his stomach curdling at the touch. When the detective squeezed and shook his hand so hard his arm was moving up to the elbow he just laughed. He kept his own grip loose.

The limp and slender hand in his was disappointing. A final nail in his coffin, soft metal bending as it was struck.

Freeman smiled and hopped up, “Been a pleasure!”

Alastor took back his hand from Brady and wiped it off against his vest as soon as the men were turned around.

“Apologies for the disturbance, ma’am.” Brady kept his gaze down as he passed Brenda. Freeman set his card on her desk as he walked past.

“That’s a bunch of applesauce.” She hissed, refusing to stand.

Alastor’s mother taught him many things. Of this world and the other. Of the spirits always roaming and waiting. Of blue ceilings and birds hitting windows.

She warned him of people with heaviness, people who gathered bad energy like rain on a flat roof. That weight attracted likewise things. A gravity would form and pull in more and more darkness.

You’d mentioned a storm, and now Alastor was hearing that drip drip drip of the cracking roof.

He’d been taught to steer clear of those people with that darkness, because you don’t want to be there when the roof caved in.

She’d likened it to the sword of Damocles, don’t be so close you get cut when the blade finally drops. Don’t become collateral damage.

When his skin touched Brady’s, he felt that heaviness. The gravity. We’re you both slipping down the sloping pull of his swirling negativity?

He felt the urge to spit, which was uncouth and unlike him. Brenda was talking loudly to him but she was deep under the ocean and muffled perfectly well. His drunken mind had been wrong about many things, but one line of thinking had been on the money.

Something had to be done. An accident playing out in slow motion before him, threatening to take you both down with it.

The thought of losing you was that first trigger, but what was causing this one? What was his gut trying to warn him about now?

Distance was needed. He needed to get as far from that detective and his gravitational pull as possible. Perhaps not physically, but in every other sense. There was safety in that, he could feel it just over the disorienting whirl of fear.

If fear was a lark in his chest it’s little spine cracked and popped as it grew and mutated into a rageful osprey, anger opening his lungs and sinuses as blood rushed with renewed vigor. This was Brady’s fault, entirely. He was ruining everything. Alastor finally had what felt like all of the thj he wanted and deserved (anger dampening his usual insecurity of what was meant for him) and Brady was going to tear it apart.

There was a struggle to decide how to proceed. He thought perhaps telling you would bring him clarity, but if you asked him to not do anything at all he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to stop from lying to your face about his intentions.

A flash of confidence knowing he’d never lied to you died quickly, oh, he had lied to you. He’d lied to you in the alley before leaving to prepare to kill Tommy. He’d said it was the greater good of the community. A stain on his otherwise pristine morality when it came to you.

“How could they?”

Alastor’s head popped up, Brenda had opened his door unannounced and continued her raving.

“How could who do what?” He asked, smile small.

“Those detectives! Accuse you of debauchery!”

He imagined telling her how his morning started, fucking the nude dancer against his bedroom wall, arleady shacking up out of wedlock. Maybe it’d kill Brenda? That’d be convenient.

“I wonder if they are even real cops…I promise, I won’t let that nonsense back into this office, Alastor.” She gave him a thumbs up and left, leaving the door ajar.

Daylight was already creeping away sooner and sooner as the seasons began to change. The first day Alastor was gone and you were completely alone in his home for an extended period of time was passed in an awkward boredom. There wasn’t much to do…his house was kept tidy, food didn’t take much time, and you had no means to get into town. So you listened through his record collection, carefully turning the vinyls over with delicate fingers. You’d heard oils from your hand could ruin the grooves. No idea if that was true, but you couldn’t risk it. Alastor’s job kept relatively regular hours, so when you knew he had most likely left work you headed out front to wait. It was a foreign thing to do, and a little embarrassing. Dogs waited for their masters to come home. You stuffed the comparison down, knowing you were once again comparing apples to oranges. Worse than that, dogs to yourself.

Every thought flew out his head and into the early setting sun. An odd deja vu came over him. He hadn’t heard those words in literal years. “No one has said that to me…since my mother died.”

Oh.

Oh. That was….sad. You grimaced. “Should I not say it then?”

“No!” He came to life, “I mean, yes. No, You should say it. If you want. It’s nice.” Staccato sentences as he took the three steps in just two. He leaned over on a novel instinct for a kiss, and you leaned up to meet him.

Another moment as you parted and both of you realized how odd the situation was. The killer and his dancer playing house. For a brief second, maybe heaven mistook you for something normal and good. When you smiled, trying to not say the obvious as you always did, he decided to not mention Brady. His first night coming home to you shouldn’t have to compete with that news. Tomorrow, he decided. He’d just….leave out which day Brady had stopped by. Not a lie, just an excluded, superfluous detail.

As you ate your dinner and he recounted his day, you made a decision of your own.

“Hey, Saturday, can you drop me off downtown for a bit? I need to change my shoes and do a little shopping.”

You needed the gift, to set the mood for your confession. You’d survived your first fight, you didn’t combust into a ball of fire when you kissed him goodbye for work, it made sense to do it now.

“Oh, did you want company? I don’t mind going out.” His little smile made it hard to deny him.

“Ah well, my friend is still staying over at my place and she may get uneasy with a man around. And my shopping….is at the kind of places men shouldn’t go. Frilly lacy places.” A terrible liar. “You should do something fun for Alastor! I’ll be maybe…four hours or so.”

He chewed slowly, since the misunderstanding he was a little more nervous than usual. You didn’t want him to join you, were you worried Brady would see? He shook his head, confusing you.

“...excuse me?” You laughed, “No?”

His head popped up, he still sometimes forgot you were right there and not on a phone, “Sorry, I was thinking about what to do with myself. No problem, sweetheart. You can just call me when you’re ready and I’ll head back into town. I’ll stick around the house, get some stuff ready for winter.”

“Perfect!” Perfect.

So it was decided. He would tell you tomorrow that Brady came by his office. And you’d tell him Saturday that you were in love with him.

That was the short lived plan. He couldn’t manage to wait. When the silence of the night settled and you had turned over to try and fall asleep, he broke.

“I really hate keeping secrets from you.” His fingers were pulling and pushing at the edge of the blanket.

You have secrets? You turned around and sat up.

A beat of confusion, tense for Alastor but void of anything for you, until you burst into a relaxed laughter, “You’re ridiculous. You were really eaten up huh?”

“It isn’t funny!”

“It’s a litlte funny.” you pulled his head down onto your lap, “You coulda told me. It doesn't ruin anything. I told you he was going to look for you. I didn’t think he’d do it the next business day, but still.” He shifted his body to lie on his side and let you take off his glasses and set them on your side table. “Do you think he still suspects you?”

He thought about it. A little.

Maybe.

Brady seemed dejected when he had left, but he could see the wheels turning in his head as he was still searching for a way to make this puzzle pieces fit.

“Probably. His partner seemed to believe me. A listener, it turns out.” Alastor pouted, still upset at your laughter.

“That’s hilarious. I bet it pissed him off to no end, right?”

“He looked shocked. It was difficult to not laugh.” He let his legs fall off the side of the bed so he could turn onto his back and look up at you. “I told him you were a fling, that I had my fun and then disappeared because you were trouble. I said nude dancers getting beat up should be expected. I don’t mean that.”

“Of course you don’t. I remember your face when you saw through my makeup. Sure didn't look expected to me.”

His legs drew up, knees pressed together. “Was it still a good day?”

“You told me what was on your mind instead of driving yourself mad about it. It was a perfect day.” The open window let in enough light to see his stress melt away from the corner of his eyes.

He sat up and kissed your nose, “Thank you. You can sleep now.”

“Oh, I've been asleep the whole time. You’re gonna have to do this all again in the morning.”

“That’s not funny.”

You kissed his cheek and he smiled away the frown before settling back onto his side of the bed to earnestly sleep.

Flowers, you thought. You should buy flowers on Saturday, too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor nerves hadn’t settled yet, even if he slept well beside you. Every day he came home and you were still there felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire drive. During lunch he’d call the house so you could talk and eat together, in a sense. The conversation eased him, a confirmation you still liked him. An embarrassing fear he couldn’t let you on to.

The panic didn’t settle for you either though. It just shifted to the confession from Brady. As if through osmosis, Brady was now Alastor’s main concern as soon as their hands shook. You were less scared, as he really did seem to be dismissed by his colleague from what you saw. Dejected and forlorn from what Alastor had described.

And he felt like shit. When they left the radio station, Freeman gave him the silent treatment the entire ride back to work. He opened his mouth to offer an alternative theory, perhaps you or Alastor had a brother, but Freeman immediately shut him down.

“Stop. Enough.” He snapped from his desk. “It is over, Kenny. Let it go. Maybe some monster is out there doing all this crazy shit you think they are but it’s not this man nor this lady so just fucking drop it.”

Staring at his neatly folded map of downtown, his fingers slid over the last known locations of the various missing people over the past year.

Is downtown just inherently dangerous, he wondered. He supposed the map lined up with the jazz scene, and where there is dance and liquor there’s crime.

He went home to his wife and startled her with his promptness. While she was elated, he felt hollow. Purposeless. Freeman had warned him he’d invented this conspiracy to make work more interesting. Maybe that was right. Life was boring. Everything was so steady and stable. Nothing exciting anymore. It’s possible. He could have imagined a connection.

But his wife accidentally stoked the dying flame of his suspicions.

When he told her everything, about Alastor and the dancer he chased down and the missing Tommy, she hummed.

“He could be like that Holmes man in Chicago.” She smiled from across the meat and potatoes she’d slow cooked over the day.

Brady asked what she meant.

“He killed all these people at his hotel. On the outside he was a very fine looking man! Respected doctor, or something.” She took her time to chew, leaving Brady waiting for the point, “Turns out his hotel had some secret dungeon where he killed people. I’m fuzzy on the details, but, he hung for it. Maybe your guy has a secret room in his house or a cabin in the woods.”

He would have kissed her but he was too tired to move. As she continued on, changing to the topic of novels and then movies, he pushed the potatoes around his plate.

No way work would listen to him if he suggested it. He’d lost all of his goodwill. But, as a citizen, he could maybe just….look into the public records for the radio man. Any convenient structures he owned. No one needed to know, no embarrassment if he was wrong again.

Just, one more check. To be absolutely sure. For his peace of mind.

“So he murdered the actress for threatening to reveal he was only half white! It was a real shock. I swear talkies just get more and more intriguing.” She beamed sweetly across the table, happy to have him home, “By Hitchcock. Isn’t that a hoot?”

He nodded absentmindedly, “Sounds fun, dear.”

She let the misplaced comment go, and moved to turn on the radio. Something to fill the silence. She wondered if her favorite program was on, though it was a little late for that.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Flawless.

Honestly, the easy part.

Alastor dropped you off in front of your building and you kissed him hurriedly. You didn’t need Ephi bounding down the steps and introducing herself.

You didn’t need Ephi, full stop.

You waved him off and bounded up the steps. Ephi answered when you knocked, hair disheveled and still wearing the dress she must have worn out the night before.

A familiar dress.

“Who said you could wear my clothes?!” You kicked the door closed behind you.

Ephi fell back onto your bed with a creaking of the metal springs, “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Barely a second into the room and you were already reeling with anger. What a skill she had.

Shoes off, you threw them on top of the closet out of her natural reach and searched for something flatter. Not too flat though. Alastor always looked too good for you to look like you didn’t care for what was fashionable.

Deep breaths, you grabbed the dresser with both hands and wretched it from the wall, startling Ephi back awake.

“What the fuck? Are you taking the furniture?! It’s a fucking dress.”

Relief as you saw the handkerchief still taped to the backboard of the shelf. Ripping it off, you shoved it into your bag. No need to count it, had Ephi found the cash the entire thing would be gone already.

“Are you hiding money around your apartment…,” it wasn’t a question so much as an oddly worded accusation.

Your march to the door paused, briefly entertaining carrying your remaining clothes around with you but abandoning the idea. Let her borrow them for now, you were busy today.

You were gone without a goodbye, anger simmering away and evaporating with every block.

As the distance between your problem and you became greater, the gap was closing in on Alastor and his.

He was in the kitchen splashing his face with water, dusty from sweeping the porch, when he heard a car door slam shut. Not a normal sound for him to hear. Even more out of place than a ‘welcome home’. A moment of concern as he quickly dried his hands, maybe you had gotten a ride home already. It was possible he missed your call, but he’d kept the windows open to hear the phone.

When he came to the front door, no one was there. A car was parked a ways behind his own though. Alastor stepped out and looked around the wrap around porch before turning back and going to the back door. Past the stairs and the kitchen doorway, he could see the shape of a man. He was standing in front of the greenhouse with both hands on his hips, staring at it. Bright hair reflecting the sun.

The screen door whined as Alastor opened it, announcing him much sooner than he had wanted. It was finally happening. The moment that was both inevitable and fiercely guarded against.

“Census information is quite easy to find with a name like yours.”

Alastor tried to muster a hospitable smile, “Detective Brady. To what do I owe the sudden visit?”

Brady turned around and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “I need to go get a warrant?”

The air between them tightened. “Not at all, did you want to come inside?”

Brady nodded, a smug smile and a wink, “Sure do.”

Alastor returned to the kitchen for the key, grabbing a small paring knife and placing it in the back pocket of his slacks. Sharp and quick.

“Wasn’t expecting guests…,” he admitted as he came back down the clean steps. He was never expecting guests, but he had been expecting this.

“Good.” Brady clapped his hands together, “Quite the building ya got here.” He followed Alastor in and immediately looked up to the tall ceiling. “An uncommon thing to have. Only seen them at real fancy public places.”

Alastor turned right, following the winding path of busy shelves and potted trees with a practiced ease. Brady watched him slip between two large plants and hesitated.

With a hand on his gun, be pushed through.

“Ya know what my wife and I were just talking about?” He followed close behind. He couldn’t see Alastor but he could hear the leaves rustling. “H. H. Holmes.”

“Another missing manager?” Alastor asked from the other side of some crowded shelves.

“It’s thought he killed 9 people up in Chicago.” Brady emerged from the makeshift jungle to see Alastor standing in the center.

“Busy man!” Alastor stood with his hands behind his back, sheathed in his pockets. “This is where the magic happens!” He nodded to the stainless steel table. “My gardening space.”

Brady looked at the table, then up to the high ceilings again. He took a step toward the table and crouched down.

His heels sunk in. Standing, he pressed his shoe in the soil around the table. Backing off he then tested the ground some feet away. It was noticeably firmer. “Ground sure is soft over there.”

The whole thing could be expedited by letting him bleed out on the greenhouse floor. Just a few swipes and this could all be over. He could maybe even have him gone before you called.

Another little secret. Just one. Brady’s life was an insignificant detail.

Plausible, the detective thought. Brady examined the floor closer, unaware of Alastor’s eyes locked on his neck. He didn’t see much of a soft spot. It’d be improbable to bury all the bodies in such a small space. He’d have to dig too deep.

“So you actually do like to garden?” He asked.

Alastor laughed, “No, that was a lie. This is all meticulously maintained for aesthetics.”

Brady’s own laugh was dry in reply, the joke not funny or appreciated, “Night gardening?” He pointed his chin up to the light hanging above them.

“I prefer early mornings, before work.” Alastor leaned back on his heels, he’d waited for this conversation for years. It was almost fun. Brady didn’t know how predictable his arrival had been on some vague level.

Brady nodded and motioned for Alastor to lead him out. He didn’t want the man behind him.

As they snaked their way out again, Alastor fought the sickening feeling in his stomach to just do it.

But he’d never acted quite so impulsively. He normally had a few hours to think it out beforehand.

He’d been thinking this out for months now in a way, though, hadn’t he?

Alastor locked the door after Brady stepped out and Brady looked around the land. He couldn’t see any fences, but saw on his way in just how spread out the other homes were.

“How far is the property line, if you don’t mind me asking? Seems to be quite a large parcel.” He had a rough idea from the paperwork he’d found.

“It’s about 15 acres, from what I recall.” It was exactly 14.2 acres according to the paperwork. He knew every step by heart.

The detective slapped his notebook against his palm and whistled, “Radio pays well, huh?”

“Better than a detective, maybe. But this was all my mother’s land.” He said it with pride, one hand leaving his pocket to gesture at the house and beyond.

“Detective Brady.” He corrected.

Brady finally noticed the dwindling space between them and the shadow of the house creeping over Alastor’s face. “Maybe I should head out and get that warrant.”

Brady shook his head, not able to do much more. He couldn’t process the truth in what Alastor had said. “Have a good day, Alastor.”

“And you have a safe night, Kenneth.”

Brady stopped, hand curling into a fist that Alastor didn’t fail to notice.

“Is that some kind of threat?” It was the way he dragged out the two words. The gleeful range in which he said them.

“Not at all. A warning really, there’s been some unhinged man harassing dancers lately. Demanding their private information, accusing them of silly crimes. Has the station not heard?” Alastor’s finger came to his chin inquisitively, “Perhaps I should give them a call. Who was your boss again. Freeman, was it?”

Brady felt his stomach drop, “What did you say.” If Alastor hadn’t been with you since before the assault, how did he know that Brady had been struggling to track you down?

“As a man about town who runs in important circles, word travels fast of bothersome people. Helps us learn where to avoid.”

Brady was still holding onto hope that Alastor was your man but now, his throat ran dry. He got more than that.

A man who ran in various circles of the nightlife scene.

A man above the fray, a position afforded to him by the respect of his job.

A man people talked to often, therefore a man people saw everywhere. So it was never odd that he was always in the places where people went missing. He was ubiquitous. Where the jazz played, Alastor was there.

A man with no wife to complain so his nights were free.

A large piece of land. A chip on his shoulder.

“You son of a bitch…I didn’t tell you Tommy had been involved in drugs. I was right.” The sentence got quieter and softer as he trailed on until he could only whisper, “You killed him.”

Alastor watched the color drain from Brady’s face as the realization hit, but the ‘son’ comment blanketed his frontal cortex and dampened impulse control, “On second thought; yes.”

It was just an expression, son of a bitch, but it’d been the wrong one to use so carelessly. Alastor’s heart was pounding in his ears and behind his eyes.

The detective kept his gaze locked on Alastor as he fished out his keys. His hand shook violently as he tried to get the car door key in his fingers. “Yes what?” Glancing down for a fraction of a second to check he had the right one.

“That was a threat.”

Perhaps he was the blade hanging over Brady’s head.

Brady walked backwards to his car as Alastor advanced briskly with the blade still raised. When they reached the front porch Brady turned and booked it, glancing behind to see Alastor standing beside the porch on foot worn grass.

He had to tell someone. He was right. He had been right the whole time. Alastor killed Tommy Dupre. And there was no doubt in Brady’s swirling mind that you knew that fact.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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#THE TENSION IS DELICIOUS I CAN ONLY HOPE TO SURVIVE IT #AAHHH!!!#alastor x reader #human alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fan fiction #x reader #article by mink

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torscrawls · 13 hours ago

Text

Reaching for a Phantasm

This fic is based on the wonderful art of @astravis! Go check it out!

It's been a blast working on this years ecto-implosion and I was lucky to be paired with such a talented and nice artist!!

Words: 5,201 Can be read on AO3!

Valerie knew that ghosts were evil. She also knew that Danny was not. So when she saw him use ghostly powers she realized that he must not yet know that he's dead and that as long as she could keep the truth from him she wouldn't have to hunt him down. She just wished that someone had told her how hard it was to mourn someone who was still there.

----

Danny felt the back of his head collide with the wall as he slammed into the side of the school gym, hard enough to make his ears ring and for his eyesight to cut out for a split second. The building groaned with him as he pulled himself out of the hole he'd made. around him and as Danny pulled himself out of the divot he’d made he could see cracks spreading out all around him.

Vlad laughed as he lobbed another volley of ectoblasts at him and Danny dove out of the way at the last second with a curse and a burst of energy he didn’t really have. The blasts slammed into the building, sending cracks racing across the whole front.

As Danny ducked around the shots he hung onto his transformation by the skin of his teeth, thankful that their drawn-out and violent fight had at least cleared out all possible spectators. Less people to see him if—strike that, considering his luck it was only a question of when—he lost control of his transformation.

“Why do you always have to stick your nose in my business?!” Vlad growled with a couple more shots to emphasize his point.

“That’s rich coming from you, you fruitloop!” Danny said as he attempted to eke out a bit of ghostly power to raise a shield, only able to produce a faint flicker of green in the air before one of the blasts slammed through it and grazed his left thigh. “Fuck!” Danny swore at both the pain and the realization that his battery really was empty. He needed to get away. “Just—Can you stop trying to mess with people for a damned minute?!”

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Vlad laughed. “I’m going to get the support of the Residents' Association and get them to ban you Fentons from all the town’s stores!”

Danny gritted his teeth, tired of Vlad making his life harder at every turn. “It’s not real support if you force them through possession!” He threw a desperate ectoblast back at Vlad, cursing the fact that he’d been up since before dawn fighting ghost after ghost for days by this point.

Which was most likely all Vlad's fault too.

“You’re too young to get involved in politics, little badger!” Vlad snarled and hurled electricity right at him. Danny yelped and dove out of the way a split second too late. The shot clipped him in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground as his transformation suddenly slipped from his grip.

He came crashing down as a human, striking the ground hard and thanking his increased durability.

Vlad landed in front of him as Danny struggled to his feet, raising his fists, and praying that he wouldn't have to actually fight.

“I will teach you to learn to respect your betters, boy,” Vlad said with a grin as ectoplasm pooled in his hands, he raised them up and—

And was suddenly slammed to the side by the bottom of a hoverboard connecting with his face.

Danny flinched backwards as Valerie screamed, “Get away from him you disgusting ghost!”

And he'd never been happier to have her barge into his fight with guns drawn. Maybe because they weren't aimed at him.

Valerie immediately went for Vlad with a vicious series of shots aimed right at his core, forcing him to weave and dodge. A few of the shots went wide and slammed into the side of the gym, causing the whole building to groan and start to tilt dangerously.

“Va—Red Huntress!” Danny called, trying to get her attention, “Be careful where you aim, the gym is about to—”

He didn’t get the warning out in time.

Vlad laughed as he fired off an ectoblast big enough to throw Valerie backwards with the shear force of it. Right into the side of the gym.

She slammed into the side of the building and Danny watched in horror as the cracks spread and grew, widening into holes before the whole building gave one last groan and then promptly toppled over with a deafening crash.

Right on top of Valerie.

Danny caught a split second glimpse of her helmet staring up at the approaching building before it touched down and he instinctively raised his hands to protect his face from the explosion of dust that blew out from the collapse.

“No!” He screamed as he immediately ran to the rubble, scanning desperately for any sign of her. There was none.

Please let her suit keep her safe.

Vlad snorted and Danny glared up at him with a snarl. Vlad only raised his hands and gave a pointed look at the collapsed building. “Well, have fun with that. I’ll get back to my scheduled possessions.” And then he took off, laughing.

If Danny let him go now then Vlad would turn more of the town against him, would make his life even harder.

But. Val.

Val was under the rubble. She was most likely hurt, especially considering the fact that she hadn’t burst out of the wreckage with her guns blazing, and he couldn’t just leave her.

So Danny turned his full attention back to the mess of rubble in front of him, subconsciously reaching out with his ghost sense and there—

A sense of ghostliness, a tickling at the edge of his awareness. It wasn’t his own exhausted ectoplasm he was feeling, this was subtler, more repressed. Controlled. Molded.

He’d felt this before, tasted it at the back of his tongue every time he talked to Valerie ever since she became the Red Huntress. Which meant that it had to be her suit!

With new hope he reached for his core, desperately grasping that cool sensation and wrapping it around himself to turn into a stronger, more useful, version of himself and—

Nothing happened.

He was too tired, too empty. Even without changing form he might be able to dig her out; he still had some of his abilities as a human, but it would take a long time. Too long.

That left him with intangibility. With it he could probably reach her much faster, but she would see him. She would know.

It didn’t matter.

Danny bit down on the panic blooming in his chest and resolutely pressed it back down. He couldn't afford it right now. Valerie's life was more important than his secrets. He would deal with the fall out afterwards. He always did.

Danny turned himself intangible, took a deep breath, and reached out.

——

Valerie was crushed by the rubble all around her. She tried to pull in a breath, gritting her teeth as her rib cage protested the action. If she didn’t have her suit on she was sure that she would have been dead by now.

She had lost the grip on her gun in the chaos and there was no way she could reach the one strapped to her belt to try and blast her way out. Still, she needed to get out. She couldn’t leave that ghost alone with Danny, she needed to save him.

But she couldn’t move, couldn’t even pull in enough air to curse. This realization made her chest tighten further. What if she wasn’t able to pull herself out of this? What if she was stuck down here in the dark until her air ran out?

Just as the panic started to set in, suddenly, there was a hand on her arm and just as suddenly she could breathe again. The rubble didn’t crush her any more and she was floating as if in a safe bubble. As if separate from the world.

Then she was pulled up, up, up and out.

Daylight reached her and she blinked dazed eyes as she tried to focus. And she looked up at the person who had saved her; looked up at Danny right through their clasped hands.

She stared at Danny's worried face through her own hand for a long moment, uncomprehending. Her first thought was what happened to Plasmius? Her second was oh, I’m dead, aren’t I?

But then she paused. No, that wasn’t right. She had been stuck under that rubble and it hadn't been until Danny had grabbed her that she had turned intangible. He had done it to her.

Which meant that he was—That Danny was—

“Valerie?” He asked with worry clear on his face. His face that looked so familiar; no anger or malice or evil in sight. Just... Danny. Danny who was—

“Danny?” She asked carefully, voice rough and shaking as she sat up on the dusty ground, not trusting her legs to carry her if she attempted to stand.

“Yes?” The worried frown didn’t leave his face as he let go of her arm, giving her some space. “Are you okay?”

“I'm—Yeah. I'm good. Are you—?” She stopped herself. Of course he wasn't. He was de—

But he acted just like normal.

It wasn’t fair. He should be angry and violent and give her a reason to feel like her world was crashing down around her, joining the school gym in a heap on the ground. He wasn’t supposed to look at her with worry and kindness after helping her up. After saving her.

So how could he possibly be a ghost? Had he died just now? Because she had made a split-second mistake and gotten taken out of the fight? Because she hadn’t been fast enough to save him?

She might be out of the rubble, but she still felt crushed.

At least he wasn't fighting and destroying things. Yet. Maybe he hadn't been dead long enough for him to be corrupted? Did she still have to hunt him? She had to, right? He was a ghost. But had he done anything to deserve it?

…Did it matter? He was a ghost. And that should be all there was to it.

She found that it wasn’t.

“Valerie?” Danny asked and his open expression conveyed only worry, a hand outstretched as if to support her. As if he didn’t even know that he’d just—

Wait… Did Danny even know?

Valerie felt cold wash through her at the realization that he probably didn’t. Which meant that she had to be the one to tell him. Or wait, maybe she shouldn’t; if he didn’t know then maybe he didn't have to turn evil. Maybe she wouldn’t have to hunt him down.

“What happened?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it, an instinctual demand for answers and an explanation for what was in front of her.

Danny pulled his hand back with a suddenly guarded expression on his face, fear creeping into his eyes. “What do you mean?”

He knew. He had to know. He had to.

Her silence made his worried frown reappear and he crouched down in front of her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Stop that!” She was surprised by the anger in her own voice as she pushed him away, but she hated the fact that he acted like normal.

“Val?” His eyes were wide and full of hurt and she hated it. “What’s going on?”

Wait. How did he know her name? She was in her suit, he shouldn’t know—

Her hand went to her face and immediately found the big hole in her helmet. So that’s how he’d seen her face. But. He hadn’t seemed surprised. Which meant that he had already known.

Secrets. Lies. He had lied to her. He had manipulated her. Just like a ghost. And now he was pretending to help her, pretending to be her friend, pretending to be Danny!

She felt hot anger rise in her chest and fuel the blazing hate as she pulled out her gun and trained it between his wide eyes. “Don’t move.”

Danny drew back, stumbling on the same plank from which he had pulled her up from underneath. As if he was a normal human. As if he could feel surprise.

Then he stammered out, “I’m not—I’m Danny! I—I would never hurt you!”

She knew that he was Danny. That was the whole problem!

She kept her gun trained on him and tried to keep her hands from shaking. She didn’t feel any of the usual satisfaction that came from staring down a ghost through the barrel of her gun. “Don’t—” She swallowed heavily and tried again, “Don’t move.”

He didn’t. He just cowered in front of her, hands up to protect his face and his wide, wide eyes full of fear fixed on her. As if she was the danger here. As if she was the monster.

She felt like one.

Besides, if she was responsible for his death then she was also responsible for the creation of an evil ghost. Didn’t that make her just as bad?

The ghost sounded exactly like Danny as he—it said, “Valerie?”

Her hand twitched on the gun as she tried desperately to think. Maybe he really wasn’t aware that he’d died. Could he still be evil? Could she hunt him down for sins he hadn’t committed yet?

She couldn’t keep this from him. She couldn’t. It would kill her too.

But this was Danny.

She looked at his wide eyes and imagined his reaction to her telling him that he was dead. It would be like killing him all over again. She couldn’t do it.

It might kill her not to say anything, but she had to stay strong. She would keep it from him for as long as possible. She would make sure he didn’t realize he was dead, keeping her eyes on him to make sure he didn’t start acting like a ghost, make sure he didn’t hurt anyone, and when he inevitably did she would—

She would put him down.

Danny kept his gaze fixed on her as he asked in a small voice, “…Val?” He looked up at her with his blue eyes, and she—

She lowered her gun. And she hated him so much at that moment that it burned in her chest.

As she holstered the weapon she tried to play her actions off with an angry, “Don’t tell anyone. About me.” Maybe he would believe that her threats had been in response to him finding out about her secret identity. She had to make sure he didn't find out the truth.

Relief flashed across his face. As if he had been scared she would say something else. She told herself again that he didn't know. “Yeah, of course I won’t.” He gave her a shaky smile and a tremulous laugh. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to tell you, both that I knew, and that—Well, you know.”

“That’s… great,” Val managed, the words stiff on her tongue. She found that him knowing her secret identity didn't matter that much anymore. She also found that it was harder to talk to him than she had thought, to act like normal when everything had changed. “I just. I have to go home.”

Home. Would he be safe to go home? The whole town knew about his parents’ obsession with hunting ghosts and he would be going into that situation blind. She focused her suit's remaining sensors and let out a breath of relief as she noted that he didn’t show up as a ghost. It was probably a side-effect of just being created and still being weak, but she would take it. It would mean that he was safe for the time being.

He gave an easy laugh. “Right! Your dad must be worried.”

Valerie barely held back a flinch at the ghost mentioning her dad. He wasn’t threatening him, she reminded herself. He didn’t even know that he was dead.

But that didn’t mean that she wanted her dad anywhere near him.

Danny, oblivious to her whirling thoughts, waved as he turned away. “See you tomorrow!”

In school. As if nothing had changed.

Val gritted her teeth and flew off, not able to make herself respond. She felt like the crushing pressure hadn't lifted off her at all, despite being out of the rubble.

——

In school she watched Sam and Tucker hang around Danny with a knot in her stomach. No one in their tight-knit little group acted out of the ordinary. She took in Danny’s smile as he got punched in the shoulder by Tucker and reeled. Did Danny really die only for no one to notice? Not even his closest friends? Not even him?

Val watched and watched and came to the conclusion that they hadn’t. They all acted exactly like normal. Which meant that the knowledge of his death was only her burden to bear. So she squared her shoulders and went on with her day. She could do this.

It was her fault that he had ended up like this in the first place and she would—She would carry this for them all. As long as no one realized then it was fine, right? It was like nothing happened.

The only real difference was the glances that Danny kept sneaking her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. She guessed it was because of what had happened the day before; even if he wasn't aware of the fact that he'd died it must have been traumatic for someone not used to it to get attacked by a ghost.

She could do this, she repeated as she watched him drop a ball in gym class. No, not dropped. It slipped through his hand.

He looked around with wide eyes as if to see why that had happened.

And since she couldn’t let him realize the truth, she stepped in. “I heard Skulker messed with the gym storage last week. A lot of the equipment has been weird ever since.”

Her voice came out slightly shaky and she swallowed the lump in her throat when Danny stared at her with fear for a split second before he gave her a small smile full of relief. “Thanks for the heads up. Haha, I thought I had just gotten even clumsier.”

And then he went back to what he'd been doing, as if nothing had happened, leaving Valerie to get herself back under control.

It was hard to talk to him, knowing that he was dead and not being able to say anything. She felt like she missed him which was ridiculous because he was right there. As if nothing had happened.

Really, she couldn’t understand how no one else hadn’t noticed, not even his closest friends. Not even himself. She thanked the gods that he was so oblivious.

But that didn’t mean that no one would. She checked her scanner between classes and let out a breath of relief every time she confirmed that he still didn’t show up on it. Combined with him acting normally, it probably meant that he was still safe at home if nothing else.

But acting like normal wasn't foolproof. In English class when Mr Lancer handed out worksheets, he must have touched Danny while handing him his papers because he flinched back with a startled, “Wuthering Heights Mr Fenton! Your hands are ice-cold!”

Danny looked startled, as if he hadn’t noticed anything strange about his hands. And of course he hadn’t, the dead didn’t feel warmth.

Val, from her seat next to Danny, leaned over and said, as casually as she could manage, “You always had such bad circulation Danny. Maybe you should try wearing gloves?”

Danny gave her a grateful look. “Thanks. I’ll… Maybe I will.”

During the rest of the class he kept sneaking glances at her and Valerie felt herself tense up more and more as time went on. Every time she looked at him he sent her a conspiratorial smile and turned back to his worksheet. He was trying to spy on her, to suss her out, her mind screamed.

But after class he just gave her a small nod and left. Leaving her to watch after him. And she watched. And watched.

Valerie watched him laugh with his friends, knowing he was dead. She watched him eat lunch, knowing he was dead. She watched him get bullied by Dash, knowing he was dead. She watched him live his life, knowing he was dead. He was dead.

He was dead. And only she knew.

Did it count as him dying if she was the only one that knew? Since he had only died in her eyes then maybe a part of him was still alive somewhat. She didn't know. She hoped so. It was driving her crazy.

She found that it was really hard to mourn someone by herself. Someone who was still around. Someone who was standing right in front of her, laughing and living his life.

And everyone acted as if nothing had happened.

And then the day was over.

Val went home as if in a trance.

She didn’t go out as Red Huntress that night.

——

The next day was the same.

And the day after that.

As time moved on she found herself dreading the day he finally realized that he'd died and she had to put him down. She tried to convince herself that she looked forward to it instead; that she would be rid of this empty feeling in her chest. Be rid of the dread and horror she felt every time she looked at him.

Despite this, she watched him more than ever. But she still could barely bring herself to talk to him and instead she started checking her scanner every chance she got.

A majority of the time he didn't show up, not registering as anything ghostly, but the issue was that sometimes he did.

The first time it happened Valerie's breath caught in her throat and she'd grabbed her gun before making the conscious decision to do so.

It was confirmation. It was damnation. Part of her had hoped that she'd been mistaken after the rubble; confused and dazed and seeing things. But he was dead. He was dead and he just hadn’t moved on. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t. It was just hard to do when you were watching him attending school everyday as if nothing had happened.

But then the dot on the scanner had gone away. And then it came back.

He seemed to flip between showing up and not on a regular basis, with him being detectable often coinciding with a ghost attack or similar.

Danny would straighten up from being half-asleep in class, or stop in the middle of a sentence and then excuse himself from the room.

Valerie had never figured out where he went or why but he always showed back up not long after, often injured and trying to hide it. Her best guess was that he got hunted by people or that ghosts attacked him.

At least no one ever complained that Danny had attacked them, so she felt safe to assume he hadn’t turned evil yet and she was determined to keep it that way.

But maybe that was just wishful thinking; she was desperately trying to come up with reasons why she wouldn't have to hunt Danny down.

Once, he showed up on the scanner and for once she managed to follow him out of the classroom and all the way to an empty classroom. Only to find him talking to a ghost.

The ghost in question was a black and white kid and Danny sat on a chair while the kid floated at his side, both of them engrossed in what seemed to be a deep conversation. Danny didn’t give any indication of caring about the fact that his conversation partner was dead. Did that mean that he'd realized what he was? But. Neither of them attacked anyone. They just talked.

Valerie stood still just outside the classroom, peeking inside through the slightly cracked door and felt her anger rise. Because here Danny was, a ghost, conniving with another ghost right under her nose, even though he knew who she was, knew that she went to this school.

And they were just talking. And that was the worst part, because under the anger and the guilt and the pain, there was fear. Fear that she'd been wrong about ghosts this entire time.

But that was impossible.

She hurried away from the classroom and didn't know if she was angry or worried or sad anymore, she only knew that she needed to get away from there.

Before the next class started, Danny came back and sat down in his seat to talk to his friends. No ghost attack happened that day.

Valerie started putting even more effort into avoiding Danny than she had before.

Sadly, she couldn’t avoid him forever and he caught her after their last class a few days later. Before she could shoulder her way past him and out the door he said softly, “Val. I just wanted to say… Thank you. For looking out for me. It—It means a lot.”

She glowered as she balled her fists at her sides. “Don’t thank me.”

“I mean it, I really—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off before she skirted past him, making sure not to touch.

She couldn’t handle him thanking her for something she hadn’t done. She hadn’t looked out for him, that’s why he had died in the first place.

She was shaking for the rest of the day. But the conversation made her realize that she had to tell him the truth. Both for her own sake and for his.

If he'd started showing up on scanners then it was only a matter of time before his parents figured him out. And after that it wouldn't be long until he figured out that something was wrong—if his parents didn't simply do what she hadn't been able to and put him down without hesitation. And that was. Hm. She found that she didn't like the thought of that.

Not that she was worried for him or anything like that. Of course not.

But regardless of why, she realized that she couldn’t do this any longer. She couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened. Which left her with the problem of how to tell someone that they were dead.

The first step was easy; after a few days of gathering courage she asked him to meet her after school, and of course he said yes. He was Danny.

They filed into an empty classroom, the same one she had seen Danny talking to a ghost in, and she took a deep breath before deciding that there was no easy way of doing this. She would just have to go for it. So she squared her shoulders and said, “Danny, I’m— I’m so sorry.”

That stopped him short. He tilted his head at her. “What for?”

“You—you’re dead,” she managed, teeth gritted and hands in tight fists.

He blinked at her. “I… know?”

He didn’t seem surprised.

Valerie scowled. “You know?!” Valerie tried to keep her voice down, failing as she continued, “Since when?!”

She had been so scared, so alone. And he had known?!

And if he'd known, then why hadn't he moved on? Could he be that scared of ghost hunters? His own parents?

She had lived in fear of ghosts for so long, it was strange to think of a ghost hiding out of fear for her, for humans.

She also knew how hard it had been for her to accept that he was dead, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like for him.

He frowned with clear confusion. “Since it happened? I thought you knew? Or what was up with the last few days?”

“But—” She cut herself off, reeling. “But you didn’t react. You didn’t seem to notice.”

“What?”

“Plasmius,” she tried to clarify with a reeling mind. “The rubble.”

He frowned in what appeared to be confusion for a second before his eyes widened in realization. “Ah. So you saw that.”

Him making her intangible, she guessed.

“Yeah. And you— Danny, you died.”

Then he shook his head with a small, sad, smile. “Oh. Oh, no. That wasn’t when— It happened a long time ago.”

Valerie blinked.

So maybe. Maybe he had been dead for a while. Maybe she hadn’t been the one to kill him. She thought that should make her feel better. It didn’t.

Because the immediate question that popped into her head was; how long had he been pretending to get this good at it? How long had he been dead?

Which, of course, led to; how had he been able to hang around her? Date her? Had he ever even liked her?

He knew how she felt about ghosts. But then again, she also knew what his parents thought about ghosts.

“You haven’t shot me,” he observed and she hated the calm acceptance he said it with.

“Not yet.”

But that seemed to be enough for him as Danny slumped in relief. For some reason, he smiled. “You have no idea how nice it's been to have someone else knowing the truth. Thanks again for all the help, it means a lot.”

Before she could protest his thanks for the second time, he continued with a much more serious expression, “I just—I'm sorry. I never meant to mess things up for you.”

He never had. Even though he’d been dead for a long time he had never let that affect anyone else as far as she could tell. “I know.”

“And, please, don’t tell—”

Who would she tell? The school? No one would believe her. His parents the ghost hunters? They would capture him or attack him immediately.

But wasn’t that what she wanted? He was a ghost, after all.

“…Val?”

“I won’t.”

He relaxed. “Thank you. And I—I’m sorry you found out this way. I didn’t want to keep it from you, but—Well…”

She knew why he hadn’t told her he was a ghost; she hadn’t kept her hatred of ghosts a secret. And still, he had hung around her. And a part of her still screamed that it had been to find out her weaknesses, to try and hurt her.

No, she chided herself, she knew better. He had tried to hide for his own safety and to spare her feelings.

Cause now she had found out and he wasn’t attacking her, wasn’t threatening her, was even asking for her forgiveness despite everything she had done wrong. All he was doing was talking to her like a person. Like Danny. Because that was all he’d ever been.

“It—It’s fine,” she found herself saying and found that for the first time since the rubble she could breathe again.

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, gripping tight when she could feel him solid beneath her palm and neither of them turned invisible. He looked up in surprise but didn't shake her off. And this time it was Valerie who dragged him forward, into the crushing embrace of her arms.

Danny was dead, but he was still here.

And nothing truly had happened.

#danny phantom #dp #danny phantom fic #dp fanfic #ectoimplosion2024 #I hope you enjoyed!#Danny: Wow I’m so happy Val accepts me #Val: Fuck fuck fuck fuck I killed him he’s a ghost he’s a disgusting ghost and it’s my fault #Val: I have to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t realize what a horrible creature he is #Danny: So accepting :)

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peppymintdreams · 3 days ago

Text

Memories We Can’t Recall

Elias x Barista

Stockton was never exactly a place that screamed "perfect childhood." But for Elias and Barista, the dusty streets, the sound of distant sirens, and the occasional rumble of a motorcycle gang became the backdrop of their shared memories. They met at the age of eight, in a park by the river that nobody really took care of, with its rusted swings and cracked basketball courts.

Elias had been there first, of course—his father owned half the block, or so the rumors went. He was scrawny back then, with messy hair and a bandaged knee from trying to jump off a tree branch the day before.

When Barista, shy and curious, wandered into the park holding a tattered book,

Elias noticed immediately. "Hey!" Elias had called out from his perch on the swings. "What are you doing with that thing?" Barista had looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Reading… What else would I do with it?" "Who reads at a park?" Elias had wrinkled his nose, jumping off the swing and walking over, swinging the lollipop across his mouth. That was a special detail barista could remember about him; Elias always had candy in his mouth or at least on his person.

"You’re supposed to, like, play tag. Or try to climb the trees until you fall. It's more fun." Barista had raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you fell already." They pointed to the bandage on his knee. Elias laughed, loud and bright, as if the whole world was a joke only he understood. "Yeah, well… I’ll try again tomorrow."

It all started at the park, the one by the river, where the swings squeaked, and the basketball courts had more cracks than nets.

Elias was always there first. Sometimes he’d be sitting on the swings, staring off into space, or he'd be messing around with a stick like he was on some secret mission. Barista had wandered in one day, book in hand, just wanting some peace. They weren’t expecting to make a friend—especially not one like Elias.

“Reading again?” Elias had asked, hopping off the swing like he did when they first met, and began to peer over Barista’s shoulder.

“What else would I be doing?” Barista retorted, rolling their eyes.

It became routine—meeting at the park after school, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Elias always had some kind of scrape or bruise, but when Barista asked about it, he’d shrug it off with a laugh. “Just fell off my bike,” he’d say, or, “Tried to climb that stupid tree again.” Barista never really bought his excuses, but Elias had that grin, the kind that said he wasn’t going to explain any further.

They didn’t press him. They were kids, and at the time, being friends with Elias was enough. The world was big, but their park was their own little corner of it. That was how it stayed for a few years.

But as middle school turned into high school, things started to change. Barista found themselves swamped with homework, projects, and the weight of their parents’ expectations. They couldn’t hang out as much, and Elias, while still the same reckless, wild kid, on what one could say was crack, maybe steroids, he was a crazy child who always seemed… different. His injuries became more frequent, more serious, and he started showing up less and less. Barista still saw him around sometimes, but something was always off. His smile didn’t reach his eyes like it used to, and he always seemed to be in a rush, glancing over his shoulder like someone might be watching.

Then the Fresno incident happened.

Barista didn’t understand it at first. They didn’t know the details, only that there had been a blackout, chaos in the streets, and people had died. The news was vague, but there was an undeniable tension that spread throughout Stockton. Barista didn’t hear from Elias after that—not at the park, not anywhere.

He disappeared, just like that. No explanation, no goodbye.

For a while, Barista would still go to the park, just in case. But eventually, they stopped. Elias faded into the background of their mind, becoming one of those childhood memories that you remember in flashes—the boy with the messy hair and bandaged knees, who laughed too loudly and never explained his bruises.

Years passed, and Barista forgot. Not completely, but enough that Elias became little more than a vague, distant figure in their past.

Life moved on. Barista had gone between several jobs, never staying in one, usually because it never felt right until one thing led to another, something really traumatic that caused the barista to switch tactics and they got a job at Brewhouse Café, trying to balance work and their growing responsibilities. It was routine—making coffee, chatting with regulars, living the kind of normal life they’d once talked about back in the park.

Then one day, he walked in.

At first, Barista didn’t recognize him. He looked familiar, but they couldn’t place why. He wasn’t the scrappy kid they used to know; he was taller, broader, and had a quiet confidence about him. He started coming in regularly, ordering the same thing every time. Barista would make his coffee, exchanging pleasantries, but there was always this nagging feeling at the back of their mind.

Do I know him from somewhere? They thought maybe it was just their imagination—maybe he reminded them of someone from a dream, or some random face they’d seen before. It was strange how comfortable he seemed, how familiar, but Barista couldn’t pinpoint why.

The memories of their friendship, of all those afternoons spent at the park, had blurred with time. Faces and moments had faded, until Elias was just a faint recollection, like a photograph left out in the sun for too long.

One day, as Barista handed him his coffee, they paused. “Have we met before?” They questioned themself

Elias froze for a split second, when he saw them for the first time his smile faltered before quickly recovering. “Maybe,” he said, “could it be them?” shrugging casually. “Stockton’s a small place.”

But the feeling didn’t go away. They watched him walk out of the café, the door chiming behind him, and a flood of forgotten memories stirred faintly in the back of their mind.

Maybe they had known each other once. Maybe it was just their imagination. Either way, the boy from the park was long gone—replaced by a man with secrets Barista couldn’t begin to understand. They didn’t dwell on it, not too much.

Life had moved on. And so had they.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #peppymintdreamsproduction #elias zsakuva #zsakuva elias #elias sakuverse #sakuverse elias #elias x reader #light angst

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barbarian-angel · 4 months ago

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Just watched the latest episode of Make Some Noise. I have never laughed so hard. I don’t think I breathed for most of the episode. I feel like I’m going to cry from residual hysterics. Anyway, if you can access Dropouts.tv go check out Brennan, Lou, and Jacob I don’t know, come together in perfect harmony of comedy. Synergy in action.

#dropout #college humor #brennan lee mulligan #lou wilson #jacob wysocki #my fucking abs hurt #I stopped laughing at one point and just started screaming #screaming crying throwing up #literally #i was screaming #i was crying #i almost threw up

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todayisafridaynight · 1 year ago

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when do yall think sawashiro found out akane was alive . just wonderin .

#snap chats #WAS THIS A RECENT DEVELOPMENT OR EARLIER CAUSE IF IT WAS EARLIER OHHHHH MY GODDDDD #i just might throw up at the potential of sawashiro knowing akane was alive while arakawa was still alive #ouuuuugggghhhh demons BACK /BACK/ I SAY JUST WAIT TWO MONTHS #if this motherfucker confirms he knew while arakawa was still kicking im gonna scream and piss myself #im getting evil ideas and i need to be STOPPED #when did they let his ass out of jail... did he get nosy once he got out or something..#honestly i was thinking about it this morning because i was laughing at how mine and sawa both did 'research' on their bosses #mine was mentally ill about it jo just wanted to be with his son and was just findin shit out but NOW. how far did the rabbit hole go...#inevitably he wouldve learned about akane one point or another whether because arakawa told him the story or he discovered her #but when did he Discover Her yk. when did yall start being pen pals SHE ADDRESS YOU AS 'MR JO SAWASHIRO'#i still think thats cute. sorry. moving on POINT IS NOW /IM/ NOSY #january 26th cant get here any sooner #also can i just say i think i tricked myself into thinking the game was coming out the 24th like when the fuck did that happen #HOW the fuck did that happen... lol... anyway...#im gonna go now and try to ward the demons off bye #also should i make katsu curry today.... its the last of my curry and there really is no reason why i shouldnt other than im lazy #hmmm........... chicekn.....

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jamiebluewind · 7 months ago

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@sharkapologists ah. I see the tism bit me in the ass again. Carry on!

i swear some of the polls on this site look like

#lmao! XD #i did in fact read the first line #i also took the reply they gave LITERALLY #I also just found out the other day that “Takes everything literally” DOESN'T LITERALLY MEAN EVERYTHING and just means more than normal #i have become one with the autism #please save me #the tags went on an on and on! XD #at least I'm immune to feeling embarrassed about this shit anymore #this is just a tuesday for me #Oh yall say I missed the point? Round two electric boogaloo mother fucker let's go!#I'm not entirely sure how I never was confused screaming over Goncharov because I am the PERFECT target for that shit XD #Lesson of the day: It's okay to misinterpret stuff. It's okay to make mistakes at any age. It's okay to laugh at yourself (/pos).#That's literally how we learn and grow folks!#The minute you start being scared of looking like a dumbass is the minute you stop learning #Yall know how many people my age are so against being the dumb one in the room that it feels like working with ten year old old software!?#you can have a CD drive AND updated OS #you can suck at new tech and need to look up words to understand the context #you can be neurodivergant and... ya know... diverge from the norm? because you are literally built different and shit happens #I'm laughing my ass off at this and how SINCERE my tag addition was because... why wouldn't I?#what i said was genuine and i wasn't a dick about anything #so omg PLEASE point out when I try to eat my own foot again (which will happen eventually)#i find it endearing and sweet ^_^#autism #actually autistic #bluewind talks

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yieldtotemptation · 20 days ago

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ANIMALS ft. Natty

natty x male reader smut

10k words

“All I’m saying is,” Natty starts, like she always does, with more unsolicited advice than you can handle at 2 AM, "for someone that complains so much about not having a sex life, you really don’t do much to fix it."

“And what, oh wise friend of mine, is your recommendation.”

“I don’t know. Get a haircut. Dress better. Try not being a massive pussy?” Natty shrugs. Or at least you think she does. Only so much you can tell over the phone.

You sigh. Bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. But then, who else would talk you to sleep at this ungodly hour? So instead, you concede the point. “Noted.”

“Or, you know, if it’ll stop you from being such a little bitch,” and now she’s laughing, cackling really, and not once has that ever, ever meant anything good. "You could always just fuck me."

—

Two weeks and twelve hours post-Natty’s incredibly unhelpful suggestion that did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your insomnia, and you’re back on the phone with her.

Only this time, there's video.

So, yay.

"Help me, please."

It’s a Friday and Natty's begging, again.

Because she knows she can count on you, knows that you’ve long since resigned yourself to your fate as Natty’s on-call ‘fixer’. There for everything from life-changing career decisions to helping her figure out what show to stream next.

And now, apparently, choosing her outfit for tonight.

“Help me, help me, help me, help me.”

God, this woman and her begging. Knowing full well that it’s your kryptonite.

"Okay, okay, okay," you're relenting, much earlier than usual. Mostly because as far as Natty’s petulant requests usually go this one’s a walk in the park. “But don’t you have people for this sort of thing? People who don’t, and I quote, ‘have a dogshit taste in style?’”

“It is dogshit!” Natty calls out, already turned around and leaving you (her phone) on the vanity, facing out to her bedroom and all its hideous pinkness. She disappears from the screen, diving deep into her closet for yet another pair of shorts that will most certainly hug way too close, or a top that dips way too low, or a pair of heels that scream—'hey, I have legs, would you like to spread them?' "But!"

Natty returns to the camera with a leather belt—oh no, that's a leather skirt—in hand; clad in nothing but a casual cotton bra/underwear combination that she’s filling out far too well for your sleep-deprived brain to handle.

She holds up the skirt against her waist for your consideration. Poses. It wouldn't cover a thing. Or maybe that's the point—again, you don't have any fashion sense, whatsoever.

“You’re a man, and I need a man’s opinion because I’m hoping to take one home tonight to fuck my brains out until I forget about this shit-storm of a week. So, you know—help a girl out?”

“As always, you have quite a way with words.”

Natty leans towards the camera, bending down to stare right at you. It makes entirely too much sense that she’s built an entire career around doing just this.

“It’s my third language, asshole.”

The insult lands softer than she likely intended, considering well, you’re a little too distracted to take it. It’s entirely her fault. The angle makes her tits look far too immaculate to pay any attention to her mouth.

Maybe she should consider going out just like this?

Yeah, that’d definitely get her fucked.

But, she frowns before you can make the suggestion, turning on her heels and sashaying back to her closet, leaving you to choke on air at the sight of her ass stretching out her favourite pair of panties. (The white pair with the pretty-pink bows. The one that rides up her ass when she stretches, bends, sneezes—basically any time she’s not standing perfectly still. And even then.)

Anyone else and this whole thing would be weird. Well, weirder than it already is.

See, you and Natty have this thing; this odd, cat and dog relationship that’s been going on since what feels like the dawn of time:

You’ve watched her shamelessly cycle through men faster than a teenager through a box of tissues, leaving a trail of broken hearts and broken cocks in her wake.

While she’s been forced to witness every time you’ve met ‘the one’, only to be there months later to help pick up the pieces when you’re burying your feelings in video games and alcohol and porn, wondering how it all went so wrong.

All this to say that seeing Natty bouncing around in her underwear with that laser-beam of a smile of hers; with all of her soft curves, thick thighs, her ridiculous ass and again, those immaculate fucking tits isn't that unusual.

In fact, it doesn't really do anything for you at all.

(Fucking liar.)

“Here, how about this.” Natty appears from the corner of the screen, having found a top that’s somehow made of even less material than the bra she’s already got on. The gall of her to ask, "Too much or not enough?"

You deadpan. “Does it come in adult sizes too?”

Natty grins, because she can read it right on your stupid face. She looks so, unbearably hot. Without even trying that hard. This bitch. “So just right, then.”

And then she twirls, leaving you to face her back, and before you even have time to blink, Natty’s bra has fallen down her shoulders; and you’re hating how you lean in to look because this damn app has no zoom feature to save your sorry eyesight.

Her fucking tits. Perfect, bouncy. Even through the pixels, even from behind, you can still see the way they spill.

She slips on her chosen top for the evening—a tiny, strappy number—and spins back around to face you in all her Natty glory. By the skin of your teeth, you’re looking away and leaning back, feigning nonchalance and leaving her none the wiser.

You think.

“You know,” Natty says, tilting to one side, hand on hip. Fuck, even that slightest movement makes them bounce. Utterly, utterly obscene. “You should just come tonight.”

You’re saying, “Fuck no,” before she’s even finished her sentence. ‘Coming tonight’ means ‘clubbing’, and ‘clubbing’ means being stuck listening to the shittiest music, surrounded by the worst people in all of Korea, drinking overpriced slop and watching Natty turn down a revolving door of douchebags on the dancefloor.

So, yeah.

If ‘fuck no’s’ were bricks, you’d be building the Great Wall of ‘Fuck No’, big enough for aliens on the other side of the galaxy to see with a fucking telescope and have their first contact with the human race be a giant ‘Fuck No’.

And that’s your polite way of turning her down.

Yet somehow, Natty’s hardly deterred.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Natty sing-songs, shuffling on her tiptoes, shifting her weight from foot to foot, making her entire body jiggle. It’s like she’s intentionally trying to sell you on the idea with every little movement. Make you believe that if you came with her, you’d be able to find someone who comes close to looking half as good as she does in that… whatever-the-fuck that is. Bralette? Crop top? Whatever. Fat chance. "Come on, come, come, come. Be my wingman please!"

You already have your second ‘fuck no’ queued up, but Natty just won’t stop fucking talking.

“Don’t you want to get laid? Don’t you think you need to have fun after what’s-her-name?” Natty continues, pouting at you through the screen.

And there it is, a study in how Natty usually gets her way—jutting out her bottom lip, digging her thumb into the waistband of her panties to expose just a smidge more skin, leaning just right to make her tits look like they’re about to pop out. It’s like she’s got a fucking manual.

“Don’t tell me you’d rather stay at home with Handalf the Grey than come out with me and all my hot friends?”

“You mean having to clean up after all your ‘hot friends’ and their bullshit while you run off to score free drinks?” You retort, recalling all the other times when she managed to entice you out of your self-imposed isolation and into the deafening, sweaty hellhole known as a nightclub.

“Said hot friends that you’re too much of a pussy to hit on, mind you,” Natty chides, and then oh-so-casually decides to drop this nugget: "They all like you, you know, they'd be more than happy to break this dry spell of yours if you just asked. Don’t act like I haven’t seen the way you look at Julie."

You can feel your cheeks reddening. You’re not a teenager. You shouldn’t blush at this shit. But here you are, falling for Natty’s words and their magical abilities to needle at your insecurities and fill your head with thoughts of her friends and all their... well, incredibly positive attributes.

Natty pounces on your lapse in composure and gets closer to the camera, crouches. Drops down so she’s on her heels and all you can see in that tiny window of your phone is the red of her plush, plump lips.

“Come, you pussy—”

“Natty—”

“Do it pussy—”

“Natty, if you think that’s going to work—”

“Pussy, pussy, pussy—”

You’re yelling down the phone: “Fuck, fine!”

Natty’s victory dance is already in full swing before the words have even left your mouth. Bouncing around her room in pure joy at once again having ruined your evening. Dancing in that barely-there outfit, treating you to entirely sinful ripples across her curves and dips, pure sex on a pair of toned legs. Really makes you wonder how the fuck is she not illegal in at least fifty different countries.

You hide your face in your hands, because there it is, the reason you’ve never really been able to deny her:

Her laughter, her energy, her fucking shameless glee whenever she manages to get her way (which, if you’re keeping count, is every single time).

She’s just so frustratingly adorable.

Somewhere in her celebrations, Natty finds exactly what she was looking for. Reaches down to the floor, picking up a belt—no, that’s another skirt—this one even tinier than the first.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she preens, holding it out to the camera (to you), before stepping right into it. She spins around, making it dance around her hips. It does wonders for her thighs. "How do I look?”

You swallow. “Like you’re going to get fucked tonight.”

The glint in Natty’s eyes. Like you’ve just served up the finest compliment on a silver platter. You feel sorry for whatever poor soul crosses her path tonight.

Natty winks. “Here’s to hoping.”

—

Guess what?

Turns out you were right: this is the worst place in the world.

Only, you’re the sole person here that seems to think that.

Hours have passed since you helped Natty look perfectly fuckable and you’re at the bar, trying and failing to get the attention of the bartender. Unfortunately, he, like every other male with a beating heart and a boner seems far more interested in Natty’s little dance routine than his thirsty clientele.

You can’t blame him, really. It’s built in how she moves.

Strobe lights cutting through the air like knives, slicing her into this series of absolutely pornographic snapshots as she dances. And she’s not alone, she has friends—beautiful, all of them, in their own ways. They spin and twirl around her; but Natty’s the sun here, the star that everything orbits.

(You included).

You see it play out—the Natty effect. Men, even women alike gravitate to her, drawn by that magnetic force that is Natty at her very best. Trying to get a dance, maybe whisper a line they stole from some movie in her ear, even dare to reach out to touch or press themselves up against her.

But she’s a black hole, a dark star. Can’t get too close.

One by one, they’re swallowed up by the void of Natty’s disinterest. The shoulders slump, the smiles falter, and the hope in their eyes dies as Natty, with a simple flick of her wrist sends them stumbling back into the crowd, forgotten almost immediately.

And the whole time she’s doing this, she’s got you in her line of sight. A wink here, a smile there, a dance on its own; and all you can do is nod and pretend like you’re okay with all this.

You inhale. Deeply.

Her outfit looks even tinier in person.

You turn away for just a moment, shaking off thoughts of Natty, of her hips and their sway and her winks and her smile; attempting (and failing) to flag down the bartender once more.

This fucking night.

But, when you look back, Natty’s no longer on the dancefloor.

She’s standing next to you. Arms looping around your neck.

“Natty—”

But she’s not listening. Her eyes are darting around the room, searching for something—or someone—that you can’t see. Your stomach clenches, because that look on Natty’s face? That’s not her usual I’m-about-to-make-some-poor-soul-my-bitch look. That’s something else entirely. That’s fear.

“Shut up, I need a favour,” she’s in your ear, yelling over the thrum of the bass that’s rattling your ribcage.

You lean in, bend down to meet her, because, frankly, you’re worried. You’ve never seen Natty like this, wide eyed and shaky. Never seen her be anything but comfortable.

You’ve also never been this close to her. Felt her breath hot against your neck, felt her body press up against you, felt her softness, felt her—

Fuck, you should be asking her what’s wrong, but before you can even do that, the bartender's filling two shot glasses and sliding them over to Natty.

She takes one. You take the other. It tastes lethal.

Natty’s nails dig into the back of your neck, and she looks at you, intense. Words fast and frantic. “Just pretend we’re together, okay? For a bit. Until I can figure this out. Just—just keep playing along, yeah?”

You blink. The room blurs around you. You think you might’ve misheard. “What?”

“Be my boyfriend,” she says, taking a second shot before you can even digest the first. “I need you. There’s some creep and I need you. Now, please?”

You turn immediately, scanning the floor, but the lights and shadows make it near impossible to make out anything other than vague shapes and strobes of colour, let alone pinpoint a face. "Natty, where is he, I can—"

"No, no, no," she cuts you off with a shake of her head. “Focus on me.”

“Wait, why do I have to—”

“Oh, shit there he is—”

And then she’s kissing you.

Ending whatever argument you may have had, because she’s grabbing, pulling you in, and her lips are on yours and oh fuck, she’s really, really kissing you.

It’s a slap to the face, and you need to reel in from the sting. Because you’re already forgetting what you’re doing, forgetting how your limbs work, because Natty’s putting on the performance of a lifetime and you’re having trouble keeping up.

Her hands are in your hair, yours at the small of her back, and she’s pulling you close, squishing against you and the taste of her—sweet like candy and sharp like vodka—filling you all the way up.

Your tongue catches up, flicking against hers, licking inside of her mouth and she’s even convincing you—as if she’s the one that’s always been into the love at first sight bullshit and you’re the non-believer.

And it’s a problem, how right this feels. Because this isn’t what friends do—definitely not Natty and you. But still, you can feel her tension, her need for this to be believable; and you don’t dare to fuck it all up.

So you kiss her back, because that’s what you do for Natty.

You always do what she needs.

You’re about to pull away; this should be enough to have every single person here convinced that you’re hers and she’s yours. But Natty’s already sliding her tongue back in your mouth, pleading, “Keep going,” the moment a gap opens between your lips; and you’re diving back into the kiss without a second thought.

And then you hear it.

A flash of a camera.

A cheer.

A whistle.

Julie, Haneul, Belle—Natty’s friends, staring at you like proud fairy godmothers witnessing their own magic at work.

You break the kiss. You look down at Natty.

She giggles.

You feel like a fucking idiot.

"There is no creep, is there?"

Natty shrugs, looks up at you, and she actually looks—what is this? Shy? Embarrassed?

"There could’ve been," she says, her eyes wide and innocent, a mask. You see through her like you should have when she first wrapped her arms around your neck. Oh sure, like she’s ever been innocent for a second in her entire life.

She’s far too smug for that.

You roll your eyes. You feel like every other idiot that’s ever fallen for a bat of her lashes and a peek at her tits. Hope is a hell of a drug, especially when Natty’s the dealer. And yet, despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up. "You're fucking insane."

“Maybe.” There’s a long pause. She’s staring at your mouth. She presses a finger to your sternum. “But I had to do something.”

It takes a second. What?

What does that mean?

You stare at Natty, lick your lips. Her taste still lingers.

“Ask yourself the same question I’ve been asking myself for months now,” she says, louder this time, her voice cutting through the noise of the club and hitting your ears with a sobering clarity.

You know what she’s going to say—what she’s going to ask before she’s even opened her mouth. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing too.

So, swallow hard, try to ignore the way Natty’s friends have gone quiet. Try to ignore Natty’s hand still resting against your chest, her eyes burning a hole right through you.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?”

The blood’s rushing to your cheeks; the music's too loud, the lights too bright, and the room's suddenly spinning around you like a carousel.

Fucking embarrassing.

But Natty doesn’t crack a smile. She just looks up at you. Hopeful. Searching you, searching your eyes for an actual answer; and you already know what it is.

“Because, Natty, we’re friends.” You offer up a weak smile, hoping against hope that she’ll buy it.

But she shakes her head. “Oh, please. Like that’s ever stopped anyone before. Besides, if you want to put a label on it, call it whatever the fuck you want. I just know what I need. Do you?”

You sigh. She gets closer. And closer.

Until your nose is brushing hers. Until her breath is hot on your face, until your heart is racing so fast you can feel it in your ears. Until her hand is sliding down, down, down, until it’s resting over your pants and oh, oh no, you’re straining.

You gasp. She smirks.

“See? You want it too. And I know you do, because, sweetie, your cock’s practically begging me to pull it out and shove it between my tits right here in front of everyone.”

She just throws it out there, so casually, so bluntly, she might as well be talking about the weather. And maybe, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Natty being Natty, but fuck you can’t do anything but stay frozen still.

You’re letting her hand linger. You’re letting her touch you like she’s got every right in the world. You’re letting her because there’s a part of you—the part that’s growing by the second—that wants to see just how far she’ll take this.

“So, what is the real reason, ba-by?”

Because you’re in love with her. You’re in love with her, and you can’t just have casual sex with someone you’re in love with because it will ruin you.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you just tell her: “Timing.”

That makes her laugh. Has her closing what little gap remained between your bodies, until her tits are flush against your chest, and you’re coming to the conclusion that, yes, you did help her pick out the perfect outfit for tonight.

Perfectly, hopelessly, fuckable.

“Well,” she says, and she’s pulling you back down again and shutting you up with yet another kiss. “We’ve got all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

—

You’ve been here before.

Many, many times before.

You installed the showerhead and fixed all the cabinets yourself. Even secured the lock that you’re now unlocking with the digits that you coded.

But somehow, it feels like a first.

First time you’ve kissed her in the back of a car, pushed your hand up her skirt, felt the heat of her against your fingertips. First time you’ve pinned her against the wall of an elevator, made her feel just how desperate you were for her against her thigh, made her promise to be so good for you when you got to her door.

First time being pulled through the threshold, hands at your chest, tearing your shirt off you before you’ve even stepped foot in her apartment. Had her smiling against your mouth, because she’s won, again, and you can’t even bother to argue because you’ve lost to her so many times now that this shouldn’t be so surprising.

What is surprising though is how you’re naked first.

"Terrible, terrible taste." Natty's clicking her tongue as your shoes, your shirt, your pants are scattered along the floor behind you. “We’ll have to fix that.”

And then she’s moving on, hands clawing down your stomach to land at the waistband of your underwear, hooking her thumbs in and yanking down. You’re so obviously hard—you’ve barely made any effort to hide it from her—fuck, you pretty much flagged down the taxi with it.

"Holy fuck," is the first thing out of Natty's mouth when she takes a hold of you, feeling the naked weight of you in her palm. "You’re really not messing around, are you? I was expecting—"

"A sad, lonely little thing," you finish for her, because you've heard it before. "Yeah, you like to mention it a lot."

But Natty’s not laughing now.

She’s just staring. Almost reverently. She decides, her voice a little raspy, tinted with an apprehension that you never knew she was capable of mustering, "I like it. It's... massive."

You lean in, pressing your mouth against hers because if she’s going to say that, you’re going to kiss her, again and again, and there’s a strong possibility you're never going to stop.

She whimpers, gasps into your mouth, says your name for the first time—not some nickname, not a jab or an insult. Just your name, in your ears, like it’s something sacred.

You’re not a saint. You can’t ignore that.

Your cock jumps in her hand, and as if on instinct, she strokes you.

It's slow, purposeful. She's too good at this. Knows the right pressure, where to twist and wind her wrist. How to sweep her thumb over the tip, smear pre-cum over your skin, and this entire time she's staring down at your cock like she's discovered something new.

“This is going to ruin me, isn't it?” she whispers, and you nod, because your voice is lodged in your throat and she’s stealing the air from your lungs. “Going to fit so fucking nicely inside me. Fuck it’s going to stretch me.”

You groan, collapse your weight into Natty, press your lips against the column of her throat.

Both hands now, one underneath, toying with your balls, balancing them in her fingers, and the other doing its best to squeeze, to pump, to make you fall for her with every stroke.

“I can’t wait to ride this,” Natty kisses these words into your cheek, your jaw, leaves these marks all over your collarbone. “I wonder if I can fit it down my throat. God, can you imagine what it’ll look like between my tits?”

And that makes your cock throb.

Because face it, Natty has always had a way of getting into your head; is far too dangerous with her words, and she’s all too willing to abuse this power she has over you to get you do what she wants, which is now, apparently, fucking her senseless.

You let her, let her build and build this pressure, let it coil inside you, tighter and tighter. Until the need to feel her, all of her, is too much to handle.

Until you grab her, take her by the shoulders, push her—not hard, but firmly—against the nearest wall.

You’re not gentle about it, because Natty doesn’t want gentle. She wants rough, she wants passionate, she wants to be fucked and have her cunt worshipped by way of complete ruin.

She’s told you as much.

"That's more like it," Natty bites into your ear, grips your shoulders. She follows your eyes. "Let me guess, my tits?"

So, maybe she has caught you looking once or twice. Either way, you don’t care much for her top anymore, it’s served its purpose. You take a fistful of it and pull, ripping it right off her and tossing it to the floor with everything else that’s kept the two of you from tearing each other apart.

“Better?” Natty poses for you, puts her tits on display—and yeah, you were right all along. Fucking immaculate.

You take a hold of one, palm it; fill your hand with flesh, twinge those dark, plump nipples, because of course you’re going to. You’re going to pinch and squeeze and suck on them. You’re going to mark her like she’s already done to you. Mark them, with your teeth, with your tongue. Fuck, you’re going to make them yours.

But for now, you're just going to slap them, because you want to watch them jiggle up close.

You laugh. Natty does too.

"Much better."

And with that, you’re back on her. Kisses that are sloppy, wet, and filled with all the pent-up want that's been simmering for months. You don’t even know where to begin with Natty, but you start with her mouth. It’s a good place. It’s always a good place with Natty.

Her hand doesn’t stop moving, can’t, won’t. The friction is heaven; you just let her touch you, fuck her hand while you indulge in her tits. Get to know the weight of them, the balance, the softness.

A sigh into your ear as your tongue finally finds her breasts, deep and messy, sliding over her nipple—she’s already so sensitive, just a flick and she’s gasping. You’re not even trying to be precise anymore, not that Natty needs it, not that she needs anything but for you to enjoy yourself against her.

It all makes the room seem smaller, the walls close, surrounding you with the scent—cinnamon and sweat and something else that’s just her.

“See this is why fucking me is such a great idea,” she slurs against your shoulder, hand tightening, stroking you harder, faster.

You mumble an affirmative into her breast. It’s a miracle you can still stand upright.

“Isn’t this so much better than like everything else? Anyone else?” She sighs, breathy, sweet sounds, as she takes you by the wrist, guides your hand southwards.

Fingertips graze her stomach, trace around her belly button and lower; until you’re digging into her skirt and feeling the heat rise off her skin. She’s soaked right through her panties, dripping with it. Another place for your tongue to land.

“We can just be fucking honest with each other,” Natty’s explaining, eyes tearing when your finger pads her clit, pressing down just right. “You already told me all the things you hate. All the things your bitch exes never let you do.” And she smiles, wicked. “Never had the tits to give you.”

Christ.

“And I can get you to fuck me exactly how I want with this big, fucking cock,” Natty finishes. "We’re a perfect fucking match."

It’s at that moment you find the zipper of her skirt, tugging it down, watching it fall to the feet. Leaving Natty to step out of the tiny scrap of fabric she calls her panties; abandoning the sticky mess of cotton.

You take a step back, unlatch your lips from her tits, because you need to see it. Need to finally see her, see your Natty, see the Natty you've never allowed yourself to look at.

So, take your time, drink her in—because the way she’s standing there, the way she’s touching herself now; biting her lip, sighing your name. All but saying, ‘Look all you want, but don’t you dare look away’.

Look at the arch of her neck, the red you’ve left there, that trail you’ve burned down to her tits. Bruised and swollen from your tongue, your kisses, and yet still not marked enough. Follow the curve of her hips; how they flare out from her waist, the plush squish of her ass cheeks against the wall behind her.

You want to kiss her, from the tips of her toes to the top of head; all of her, every part of her, because now she’s going to finally let you.

Because now you're going to fuck her until all she knows is you, going to make her scream your name, going to make her beg for you to fill her with your cock and cum and never ever leave her cunt empty again.

That’s the plan, anyway.

But Natty’s got plans of her own.

“Didn’t you say,” Natty begins, sighing, circling her cunt in a rhythm that you’re dying to recreate. She licks her lips. “That your last ex refused to suck that lovely, magnificent cock of yours?

"Yeah," you stammer, at a loss for breath at just the sight of it all. “And weren’t you trying to find someone to fuck your brains out?”

Natty’s eyes light up; and there's that easy, charming grin that knocks you right off your feet. "You’ve always been such a good listener."

—

Natty's plotting to ruin you.

It's the only possible explanation for the way she's looking at you right now—on her knees, at the foot of her bed, flanked by walls painted an ugly shade of pastel pink and Natty's tits, sandwiching your cock.

You’d imagined it, thought about it when you shouldn’t have been thinking about it. Whenever she brought you to watch her perform, whenever she sent you pictures of her outfit of the day. But your eyes always went there. Straight to Natty’s tits, every time.

You knew they were big.

You’ve felt them, on accident (though they don’t seem like accidents anymore).

But now, to have them enveloping your cock, drowning your shaft in their softness, and to have her, staring at your face with so much fucking excitement as she gives you everything you’ve ever wanted—it’s surreal.

You’re dying to paint them white.

“Looks like you’re already about to fall apart, baby,” she teases, and it’s even worse now that she’s calling you these sweet names, saying them like she’s always wanted to, like she’s finally letting herself. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Fuck, Natty—” you breathe out, your hands finding her hair, tightening, because that’s all you can manage to do when Natty’s in control. Like she’s always been.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, keeping her eyes on you, making sure you’re watching, even as her tongue flicks out to taste you. A slow, taunting lick to make you buck your hips, desperate to feel the suction of her lips. “You must have been dreaming about this, huh?”

You don’t bother lying. She already knows the answer. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Natty’s smile spreads across her face, and she rewards you with a kiss, pressing her lips down onto the head of your cock; before sliding them lower, eyes fluttering shut with the first taste of you. “Well, what took you so long? All you needed to do was show me your cock and I’d have been happy to do it whenever you want me to. Happy for you to use my tits as your cum rag. You know that, right?”

She moves; and the sight of it alone—Natty’s tits wrapped around your cock, bobbing up and down, hypnotising you with the flicker of her nipples—up and down, up and down. It’s merciless, unrelenting, and she keeps talking, keeps kissing these sweet little words into your cock that makes your hips jerk, trying to fuck her tits faster, harder.

"Look at how perfect you look," Natty keeps going, "how your cock fits so snug."

The sounds she’s tearing from your throat as her tits take you, and she’s barely even started.

“But we can do better, can’t we?”

Her pace picks up, and with it, the tightness of your grip on her hair. She’s pushing the ample mounds together, squeezing, putting her whole body into it, into this new art she’s pioneering. Driving you insane with just her breasts, making you swell between them, throbbing as she works you over.

“So big," she’s panting from just the effort, the bounce, bounce, bounce of it all, "I can feel you getting so much bigger."

Everything’s going too fast, her tits are too soft, her lips on you too hot, and she’s drooling, her spit dripping down onto your cock. You want to tell her to stop, that you can’t take it, but Natty just keeps going.

"Fuck,” Natty mewls, pinching her own nipples, for you, for her. Pinching and rolling them, making them nice and stiff and swollen. “Let me just try and—”

She cranes her head, bends; takes your cock deeper into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue darts out licks your cock, gets that sweet spot on the underside, makes you shake underneath her.

Natty holds you there, even as you groan, even as your hips rise; just licks, spits, sucks. Her mouth moving up and down on you, making a mess down your shaft, down her tits. Taking you deeper, deeper, until you’re fucking her face.

She moans around you as your hips buck and you push deep, desperate for it. Her eyes water, her cheeks hollow, and she’s got you. You’re in her mouth and she’s loving it. Loving the power she has over you, loving giving you what she wants, loving how you’re pulling her by the hair, desperate to feed her more of your cock into her throat.

Like your entire relationship has been building up to this moment—to Natty’s tits wrapped around you, her mouth all over you, her eyes on yours, watching as you fuck her face.

"Fuck, Natty," you grunt, your voice barely recognisable. "What the fuck—"

But Natty's just smiling, you’re fucking that smug little smile on her lips, and she’s taunting you. "Come on baby, keep going, keep going."

It’s utterly obscene—the smack of her lips around your cock, her slobbering all over you, her gagging, her moaning around you, looking up at you and asking, “Is that all you’ve got?”

You're so close, so fucking close, and she knows it. Moving her tits faster, faster, and you're about to blow your load all over Natty's pretty face, her chest.

But she keeps talking.

Even as you stuff her cheeks, even as you muffle her, “None of those other skinny bitches could do this, could they, could handle this big, fat cock?”

Even as you force her down, pull her by the hair, “You’ve been so obsessed with my body, so obsessed with my tits, haven’t you?”

Even as her tits slide off you and your cock smacks her across her cheek, “I always saw the way you looked at them, fuck I was showing them off for you, you just took too fucking long to notice.”

She won't stop fucking talking.

You finally snap. "God, are you ever going to stop?"

But Natty just laughs, bats her lashes. Slides her tongue from your base to your tip. "Maybe you should find something to gag me with."

Your hand wraps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes go wide, to make her mouth pop open. She rolls out her tongue for you, and you know what she expects you to do, what she expects you to fill her mouth with.

But you don’t—instead, you fill it with your kiss.

It's deep, it’s bruising, it’s saying ‘fuck you’ in the sweetest way possible, without uttering a single syllable. Natty laughs against your mouth, a ‘fuck you’ right back with her teeth, biting down on your lower lip. Not breaking skin—not yet—but the promise is there.

Her hand leaves your cock to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to her, her mouth eager for yours, and you don’t even think twice before you hoist her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Giggling again—another sound that’s going to be your undoing—before you’re both stumbling back onto her bed.

The mattress dips under the weight of your bodies falling back into it. Natty straddles you, presses her cunt down onto your thighs. So wet you can feel it on your thigh, leaving your skin sticky and stained with her. Your hands move to her hips, dragging her closer, so you can feel the friction grinding against your cock, making you ache.

She breaks your kiss, gasping for air. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide—seeing her pant like this, it’s not even fair. She’s just so fucking beautiful, like a painting you’re afraid to touch because you might smudge it.

You tell her as much.

She blinks. Blushes.

Grins.

“You,” Natty breathes, her hand trailing down your chest, finding your heartbeat, resting there for a beat, two, “are so fucking in love with me.”

You don’t argue because she’s right.

Her hand slides up your arms, nails dig in and she’s got your wrists, pinning them over your head. You let her. Let her grind herself against your cock, feel the warm, wet heat of her cunt against the tip.

She takes her sweet time, melting herself into you, pressing her tits into your chest, and you can feel her heart racing against yours.

She whispers, “God, I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, so you just grunt.

“I’ve dreamt about this so much,” she continues, breathless words sending shivers down your spine. “Your cock, fuck, it’s just as perfect as I imagined. And now, it’s all mine.”

And then she does it—she sinks down onto you, slow and sweet, her pussy taking you in inch by glorious inch. You groan into her shoulder, your eyes shut as Natty’s tight heat surrounds you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before; sure there’s been others but something about Natty’s cunt is so intense it’s almost painful.

“So tight,” you grit out, the words torn from your chest like they’re made of glass. She just laughs, low, sultry, and starts to move.

It’s a dance, a rhythm that’s been building between the two of you for what feels like an eternity. She’s rocking her hips back and forth in this torturous grind. Fucking you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, like she needs to make the most of it. Like you’re going to vanish into thin air the second she lets you go.

“I knew you’d feel this good,” Natty sighs into your neck, already surrendering to your cock. “Fuck, I knew it—why did you keep this from me?”

You can’t answer, not really.

You’re too lost in the feel of her, too consumed by the way she’s moving on top of you. Every inch of her body is pressed against yours, and she’s so warm, so alive, that you can’t think of anything but how Natty’s finally letting you in. How she’s letting you make her whole.

But it’s too much. Natty’s cunt, tight and wet, fucking you so slow it’s a fucking crime. Pinning you down, a butterfly on a board spread out, displayed, unable to do anything but take her sweet, sweet punishment. And she’s whispering it in your ear, grinding down, rolling her hips, “Fuck you. Fuck you for keeping this from me,” with every stroke.

She’s doing it on purpose, you’re sure of it. Driving you crazy, making you beg, making you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. Your hips jerk up to meet her, trying to speed things up, to get that friction you need, but Natty just pushes down on your shoulders, keeping you in place.

So you tell her, "This is fucking torture."

Natty just smirks, her hips never stilling. "Is it?" she asks, as if this all isn’t intentional. Like she doesn’t have some grand plan to ensure you never forget the things her cunt can do to you. "Do something about it then."

So, you do.

It takes more effort than you’ll ever admit, but you break her grip on your wrists, grab her hips, and flip her over, sending her sprawling onto the bed, face down.

The squeal from her. It’s music.

How her eyes go wide when you treat her like a ragdoll, how her tits juggle and bounce, smacking the mattress. And when you push down into her, slamming your hips into her ass, how she arches back into you, her back bowing like a fucking violin.

“Yes!” She cries, fucking cheers into the mattress, like she’s been waiting for this—for you to have had enough of her shit and take her without asking. “Yes, yes, yes—”

You hover over her, throb inside her. "Is this what you fucking wanted?"

Natty sighs into the bedsheets, urging her hips against you, begging without words, begging for you to do more.

“You want it rough, baby?”

“Yeah,” Natty says, pushing back against you again, nodding immediately. “If you can.”

Still with the provocations, unable to resist pressing at your buttons.

You grab her hair, yank it back so she’s staring at you, force her to look at you. And you fuck her hard. Fuck her like you’ve wanted to since the first time she walked into your life and decided to make it all about her.

You fill her with deep, long strokes, fill the room with the smacks of your hips colliding against her, of your cock thrusting into her cunt again and again.

She claws at the sheets, trying to find purchase, trying to push back against you. But you’re too strong, too desperate.

You pound into her, impale her with your cock, watch her face twist in pleasure, in pain. You’re fucking her like you’re trying to break her, like she asked. Trying to solve her—how hard can she take it, how deep, how fast.

But Natty won’t give you an answer, she just takes it all—every inch, ever pump into her sopping wet cunt. Just grins and takes every bit of your need, your frustration. A bottomless pit of pleasure, begging for more with every whine, every little noise she makes that’s not quite a scream but is so close that it rattles your brain.

And when you finally let go of her hair, Natty’s licking her lips, and without even a care for what it does to you, she coaxes, “You can do better.”

You don’t know how she can talk right now, how she can even think with your cock so deep inside her, but something about the way she says it makes you want to test the limits of her ability to stay coherent.

But first, there’s the problem of her ass.

“Let’s see about that,” you murmur, dragging your hand down her spine, feeling the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and coming to a stop at her perfectly rounded ass. It’s a masterpiece, a work of art, and you’ve always had a bit of an artist’s soul.

You do what comes naturally.

A spank against Natty’s ass. Hard, hard enough to make her yelp.

Again—another slap, another yelp, louder, better.

You keep fucking her, keep spanking her, keep watching red bloom across her cheeks and Natty squirm underneath you. The whines get louder, her cunt gets wetter, but it’s still not enough to dull that smug look on her face.

“Fuck yes,” Natty gasps, raises her ass, presenting it to you like a trophy for you to claim. “I always knew you had it in you.”

You grab her hips harder, your knuckles white, your hand a blur as it connects with her ass. It’s so explicit, the sound of it in the quiet of Natty’s apartment—each spank echoing through the room like a gunshot.

But Natty just takes it, her body jolting with each hit, her cunt tensing and tightening around you.

“God, don’t fucking stop,” Natty sputters, tears of pained pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. “You’re using me so good.”

You lean down, kissing hard against her neck, branding her shoulder. You want her to feel you, to remember you. To not be able to ever feel remotely good again without first thinking of you.

"It's your fucking fault, Natty," you growl into her ear. "You drive me mad."

And she laughs, the sound vibrating through her body and going straight to your cock. "Good," she answers, "Good. Be mad. Be angry."

But you’re beyond that now, beyond the point of no return. All that you know is Natty’s cunt, Natty’s ass, Natty’s moans, and Natty’s grin that you’re aching to wipe off her face.

"Fucking hate me if you want," she’s saying, and she can’t seem to stop, "just don’t stop fucking—ah!”

You nearly stop when you realise you’ve finally done it. Finally left Natty out of breath, lost for words. A fucking miracle, really—the kind that makes you feel like a fucking god.

It doesn’t stop her cunt clenching around you, tight as a vice, because even now, Natty’s got some kind of death grip pussy, and she’s using it to fucking kill you.

You whisper in her ear, “You like that?”

Her only response is a breathy, needy little whine, so you spank her again.

And again.

Her cunt tightens. She’s close, so close. You can feel it.

“You like it when I use you, Natty?”

She nods, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth crying into the mattress, a mess of hair and sweat and utter bliss.

“Say it,” you demand, slapping her ass once more, watching as the pain ripples through her. “Say it.”

And Natty does, because she’s a good little whore, because she’s yours now. “Yes, yes, I like it when you use me, when you fuck me like this, when it’s only about you, your cock, your needs, your pleasure—”

God, it feels good to hear her say it, but you still want more than just words. You want her to fucking scream it.

You make the bed shake, knock the headboard against her wall, it’s a competition of what’s going to break first—the frame or her.

“This cunt. Your cunt. I’m going to use it. Fuck it whenever I want.”

But Natty catches you off guard, because that’s what Natty does best. She opens her eyes, looks right into yours, and suddenly she has her voice again: “Whenever I want. You’re going to fucking move in with me.”

You freeze. Your hand mid-spank. Your cock mid-thrust. It throws you entirely off, because, what the fuck?

"You're going to be my boyfriend now," Natty says, wrenching back control, fucking her ass back into you. Stating not asking, leaving no room for argument. "Move in with me, your place sucks anyway."

"You're out of your fucking mind," you start to protest, but she cuts you off with another squeeze of her cunt around you, and now she’s the one fucking you, her hips rolling back and forth in this maddening, sinful way that has you biting down on your tongue to keep from shouting.

"Move in and just fuck me every day," she says, all light and airy, like it’s already been decided, like moments ago you didn’t have her dead to rights. "Morning to night. It would be so fucking nice."

This is real, you know that for sure. It’s not just something she’s saying to get off, not another way to get under your skin. You know it in her voice, she’s deadly serious and suddenly your mind’s racing.

"Come on," Natty purrs, punctuating each word with a slap of her ass against your waist, "You know you want it, why fucking wait?"

She’s not wrong. It makes too much fucking sense to deny. And yet, part of you still can't believe it. That Natty, the girl who's had countless men at her feet, could have any man at her feet, actually wants you. That Natty is underneath you now, eyes glossed over with need, mouth swollen from your kisses, ass cheeks flushed crimson from your palm.

"I'll take such good care of you, baby," she says, unaware that she’s already completely won, unaware that her cunt already has you bending to her will. "Every day, every night.”

You can't help but nod. You're too consumed in her to do anything else. You just let go of everything. The fears, the doubt, the fucking logic.

And Natty says it, the three words that seal your fate—"I'll love you," she cries out, "I'll fucking love you forever if you just keep giving me this fucking cock."

It's like the world stops, like everything you've ever wanted is right there in front of you, wrapped up in Natty's tight fucking body.

You're so close, so fucking close, that you can almost taste it—the sweet release of your orgasm; giving in to Natty’s unbelievably sensational cunt sleeving your cock, pulsing with each thrust, desperate to milk you dry.

There’s nothing left to do but give Natty wants. Fuck her, hammer into her so hard that you’re going to fuck a Natty-shaped hole into the mattress, fucking shatter her bedframe, and then keep drilling her straight through the floor.

And she’s crying out your name, forgetting about everything that isn’t you, isn’t your cock, isn’t the dream of your cum filling her to the brim and spilling out of her cunt every single day for the rest of your fucking lives.

“Are you close, baby? Are you going to cum for me? Please, give it to me, I need it so bad, I need it now, because I'm about to, about to, about to—"

And then it happens.

Fucking destroys her.

It hits. A crescendo that peaks as you bottom out inside her, shaking her to the core. Her cunt spasms about you, her body rises off the bed as if you’re performing a fucking exorcism, and she screams your name so loud it’s only a matter of time before the neighbours come banging on her door.

"Oh my fucking god you—"

Natty gushes around your cock, juices running down your shaft, your balls, and she’s squirting. Oh god, she’s squirting all over the fucking place.

Natty’s body goes rigid, her back arching so much it’s like she’s trying to fold in half, crying, sputtering these words that don't even make sense—until you realise she's speaking an entirely different fucking language.

Not that it matters, because you can tell what she's saying, read it in her body, in the way she's spurting and making a big fucking mess beneath your bodies. Whatever she’s saying sounds utterly depraved, filthy and so, so good to your ears.

It keeps going and going, until she has enough sense to speak your language again, needing to make sure you hear it when she says—"fucking fill me, baby," she whimpers. "Give me everything, all your fucking cum."

And it’s your turn to be hit—like a fucking freight train.

You're cumming, hard and fast and out of fucking nowhere. Your balls tighten, your cock throbs, and you’re flooding Natty’s cunt.

It’s biological, in every cell of your body—like your entire being is coming undone, and the only thing holding you together is Natty, Natty, Natty.

Her body shaking beneath you, her cunt contracting around your cock as wave after wave of cum fills her up.

She’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect, that you can feel every pulse of your orgasm, every drop of your cum spurting into her. You're not sure how long it lasts, how much you give her, but it’s enough to make your muscles shake, enough to knock the architecture right out of your limbs.

"So fucking good, so fucking good," Natty coos. "Fucking finally, finally filling me up so good."

Her moans a lullaby, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every syllable. You lean down, burying your face in the crook of her neck, your every inhale and exhale ragged as you try to catch your breath. Still twitching inside her, still releasing the last of your cum, and Natty’s just lying there, her body limp, her eyes closed, basking in it all.

"So perfect," she keeps repeating, right up until the very end, “So, so, perfect.”

You collapse on top of her, just lie there shivering together, your face next to hers. She’s got this look on her face, a victorious glow, and you just have to accept it. Yeah, she’s won again, in devastatingly convincing fashion.

For a second, you’re both just that—spent, exhausted, entirely drained. Like you’ve just run a marathon. Or been in a fight. Or both.

Then Natty’s got the nerve to stir, to kiss your cheek with the tenderness of a whisper. Lips softer than you thought possible, given how hard she’s just been fucking you. And that’s it, the moment your body decides it’s had enough of playing dead, enough of lying there like a sack of potatoes.

You roll over, bringing Natty with you, her body curling into yours like she’s been made to fit there. Her head rests on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, and for a moment, you just hold her close.

It feels fucking right.

"Tomorrow," Natty sighs contentedly, her cheek finding home atop your heartbeat.

You blink. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you're moving in tomorrow." Natty’s deciding for you already, setting the dynamic for the rest of your future. Doing all this with her eyes still shut as she snuggles closer to you. "I'll hire the movers."

You sigh, the weight of the world and Natty's body both feeling surprisingly light. You think about the next few days, the weeks, the years even, with Natty. The idea is so ludicrous, so absurd, that it feels like a fever dream.

But as you hold her, feel her warmth, her unabashed, blatant satisfaction, something inside you shifts. A reframing of the concept of Natty that you hold in your head. The thought of her naked body in your bed, her laughter in your living room, her mess in your kitchen—it doesn’t feel like an intrusion, it feels like home.

"Are you sure?" you ask. A little shaky, a little hopeful.

Natty opens one eye to look at you, a laugh playing on her lips. "Oh, you know I'm going to be the worst fucking roommate ever."

"Yeah, I can see that. But as long as you keep being the best fucking everything else..." Your words trail off into a whisper, your hand tracing idle patterns on her back.

And then she says it again.

"You’re so fucking in love with me."

Natty kisses you hard, deep, her tongue sliding against yours. And you know, you fucking know, that she's right. You are desperately, entirely, so fucking in love with her, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You laugh, the sound a little desperate, a little wild, and roll her again, pin her down again. A strange feeling rushes through your mind. Like you’re going to be repeating this exact same motion for the next hundred years. And somehow, that doesn’t sound like the worst thought in the world.

Natty squeals, cheers, moans when you settle between her legs.

"Fuck you, Natty."

"Oh, baby," Natty giggles, reaching down between your legs, squeezing you. Once. Twice. Until you're filling her hand once more. "That's what I'm here for."

#kpop smut #natty smut #kiss of life smut #male reader

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transmascsteveharrington · 2 months ago

Text

Eddie likes his walk home from work. He makes his way through the grove along the small river. It clears his head and lets him relax. When he reaches one of the many little bridges he has to cross he suddenly stops in his tracks. Someone is standing up to hip in the middle of the small river. You couldn't pay Eddie to dive into the silt but also it's the end of October?? Part curious, part worried Eddie steps closer.

The guy in the water is still completely dressed in what looks like slack and a by now very see through button down. His hair is dripping and his entire body is shivering. That doesn't stop him though from diving back into the water only to resurface an impressive amount of time late, looking frustrated and cursing quietly.

"Can I help you, man?" Eddie calls out to him and the guy spins around. Even in the dim evening light Eddie can make out the most beautiful hazel eyes.

"I'm getting a divorce," the guy calls back, like it explains anything.

"So you're what? Drowning yourself?"

"I'm not drowning myself," the guy snaps, "I can't find the fucking key."

"The key?" Eddie asks, confused before it hits him. The small bridge he is standing on is aching under the weight of all the padlocks chained to it by newly-weds who watched one too many travel documentaries about Paris and think this is the Pont des Arts. Well,

Eddie can admit that it's kinda cut to buy a padlock, engrave your initials on it, lock it and throw the key into the river, but it's also kinda cheesy and stupid if your marriage doesn't last. Case in point. The guy looks like he is about to dive in again, which is even more stupid there is no way he is going to find a key, let alone the right one.

"I can help you," Eddie blurts and the guy just glares up at him.

"You gonna come dive with me?"

"No, but I can....," Eddie hesitates and bites his lip, "I can pick your lock."

It's not something to just reveal to strangers. Especially with his aesthetic Eddie knows what it looks like. Eddie learned how to lock-pick at the tender age of eight though, when he wanted to become a magician and then he tried to pick locks just to see if he could. The guy in the water thankfully doesn't point and scream criminal!! He just gives Eddie a considering look.

"Alright," he says and gets out of the water. His wet clothes cling tightly to his body and for a second Eddie forgets how to speak because holy shit divorce dude is ripped. He shakes himself out of his stare but he is pretty sure hot guy noticed if his amused smile is anything to go by.

"So, which one is it?" Eddie asks and the guy points at a cheap, golden padlock that has SH + TH engraved on it. Not even a heart, just the letters.

"Think you can open it?" the guy asks and wraps his arms around his body.

Eddie takes a closer look. The lock is, shit he is gonna crack that baby open in no time.

"Yeah, for sure, this is quite a cheap look, so easy work," he says and takes out a hair pin before he gets to work.

"Figures he'd get a cheap lock," the guy mutters before his teeth start chattering. Without really thinking about it Eddie takes off his leather jacket and hands it to the guy.

"So you don't die of hypothermia before you can get your alimony," Eddie says and goes back to picking the lock. The guy looks very greatful and quickly slides the jacket on. Eddie very pointedly does not look because he know the sight will only distract him further. "If you get alimony."

"Oh, I will," the guy says and pulls Eddie's jacket tighter around himself. "The fucker cheated on me."

"Is he stupid?" Eddie gawks because holy shit how do you cheat on a guy like this? It makes the guy laugh and once again how the fuck do you cheat on him?? Just for that sound alone Eddie would recite vows and he never really saw himself as a marriage person.

"Yeah, he is pretty fucking stupid," the guy snorts and watches as Eddie's nimble finger work on the lock. After a very short time Eddie can feel the last bolt of the lock give way.

"So, are you SH or TH," he asks as he twists his hair pin one more time.

"SH," SH says with a soft smile. "Steve."

"Eddie," Eddie says and finally opens the lock.

"Holy shit, you did it," Steve gapes.

Promised you," Eddie grins and hands the lock over. "And I do keep my promises, sweetheart."

It feels almost symbolic that Eddie was the one to open their 'wed-lock' when he takes Steve home later that night. When they get married they don't engrave a lock. Instead, Eddie carves their names into a young tree. So their love can grow with it. They still like to pass the tree when they are old and grey, and run their wrinkly fingers over their initials, framed by a heart.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #my writing

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fuckmysuguru · 3 months ago

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JJK MEN + SEX POSITIONS.

18+, smut, sex positions ofc, dirty talk, impact play.

It's been... a while lol. I dunno what made me do this, but I'm sure someone has done it before. Anyway this is my take on it, have fun.

SATORU GOJO + LAZY DOG; He loves to touch, nothing new. With his hand on your lower back and the other one holding your hip, Satoru leans down to leave a trail of kisses at the nape of your neck. This is one of his favorites because he can see everything, and it won't make you as tired as regular doggy. "Love to watch this pretty ass bounce back," He says, spreading your cheeks and watching his cock slide in and out, almost as if he is hypnotized. If he is feeling particularly mean, he will push your head further into the bed. He can push his hips all the way in, he can slap your ass until it burns, and you beg for him to stop— he won't— and he can either cum inside you and watch it drip, or cum all over your back only to smear it with his fingers like the nasty dog he is.

SUGURU GETO + FACE TO FACE; Wrapping your leg around his hip, Suguru groans into your neck, holding you close, feeling your breasts against his chest. He loves how close you feel, how he can kiss you if he wants to, to enjoy that feeling of his tongue sliding against you as his cock stretches you perfectly. Suguru adores to see every little expression, from the way you furrow your brows every time the tip of his fat cock nudges against that sweet spot, to the way your eyes roll back when he sneaks a hand between your sweaty bodies to circle your clit. "Look at me when you cum, angel," He whispers. Bonus points if he stays inside you after, falling asleep with his arms around you.

NANAMI KENTO + MISSIONARY; You can laugh, but you will cry the second he slides in. Nanami lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders and kissing your ankles as he drives into you, holding your jaw to keep your eyes on him. "Can you feel me, sugar?" He asks, letting go of your face to lay his large palm flat on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me moving inside you?" Oh, yes, yes you can. On a rough day— well, he loves to see how much he can push your legs closer to your chest, fold you in half as he fucks you into oblivion. His eyes will see everything, admire how your breasts bounce and how your back arches, how you grip his forearms and how you scream his name as you cum around his cock.

CHOSO + 69; Poor little angel, if he could live with his head between your thighs, you know he would. Choso moans like a bitch in heat when he eats you, and this position is no exception. He laps at your slick, using his thumb to rub your clit— just like you taught him— and desperately buckles his hips as you take him into your mouth. He wants the best of both worlds but it feels so good his head just becomes a blabbering mess. He is a messy eater, he leaves your thighs sticky with his spit and your slick, and don't get me started on how he will beg to cum on your face. You know you are in for a long ride when he gives you those puppy eyes and says: "Can you sit on my face, please?"

TOJI FUSHIGURO + DOGGY; You saw that coming, I know. He is rough, that's common knowledge. Toji grips your hips and drags you back into his big, fat cock as if he had something against you. He slaps your ass and thighs, even your back if he feels like it. He yanks your hair and says the most foul things. "If you could look at yourself— such a slut for my dick," Which... might be true. He doesn't stop until your pussy is overstimulated and filled with his cum, until your hands give up and he has to hook an arm under your stomach to pull you back up, obviously giving you a hard slap so you remember where you are and what you should be doing. One thing is for sure, he will cum inside every single time.

SUKUNA + COWGIRL; He is a greedy bitch. He wants you to do all the work until you can't no more and he will complain nonstop. He is also the type to slap your ass and thighs, even your face if you stop bouncing on his dick. "Come on, you can do more than that," He laughs, rolling his eyes and leaning down to suck on your nipples. His teeth graze the swollen nub, and he bites down, watching you squirm and feeling your pussy squeeze his cock. "Such a lazy slut, you wanted it so bad, and now you are disappointing me," It comes to a point where he knows it's his turn. He bends his knees and holds your hips, lifting them and fucking you so hard, all you can do is moan and choke on your own words. "Now I have to do all the fucking job, but what's new?"

𓆩⟡𓆪 English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes.

#𓆩⟡𓆪 anya writes!#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader smut #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x reader smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut

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nanaslutt · 10 months ago

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The wrong place at the wrong time

snopsis: you walk in on a particularly interesting facetime between gojo and geto in which gojo tries to convince geto that the prostate is magical thing, but he needs your help in convincing him

contains: fem reader, sub!gojo, geto is on the phone while you and gojo fool around, dirty talk, prostate milking, anal fingering, hand job, masturbation, bisexual satosugu

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

..."You what?" You stopped in your tracks in the hallway in front of Gojo's bedroom, staring incredulously at the white-haired man lying on his back, one knee propped up, his arm outstretched above him, Geto's face filling up the phone screen. "Oh? Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?" Gojo asked, covering his mouth as he snickered behind his hand.

"Your door is wide open and you practically just screamed at the top of your lungs that you've fingered yourself before, was I not supposed to hear that?" You asked, your face scrunching at your own words as if you couldn't even believe what you were saying.

"I don't care if you hear~" Gojo cooed, his hand dropping back down to his chest. "Is it really that surprising?" Geto's voice chimed in through the speaker on Gojo's phone. "What's that mean?" Gojo chipped, turning his neck to pout at the dark-haired man, his soft hair falling graciously against the sheets around his head.

"I think he means you're shameless, Satoru." You said, crossing your arms over your chest, leaning against his doorframe. Gojo smirked, unable to deny your words. "You always have been one to talk brazenly about your endeavors in bed... like you were just doing." Geto agreed, his deep voice coming out smooth and sultry through the phone.

"Well, you asked if I had any ways to spice up your alone time... since you're too scared to go find a hookup~" Gojo outted the man, resulting in a tsk from the speaker. You shouldn't be standing in the doorway still, but this conversation was too intriguing to walk away from.

"I didn't mean fingering my ass, save that for the people who really love it. Like you, apparently." Geto deadpanned. Gojo sat up in his bed, his hand placed behind him as he held his phone out in front of him, pouting at his best friend. "It really does feel good, I'm telling you It'll change your life~" Gojo cooed, raising his eyebrows at the dark-haired man.

"I bet my roomie can attest too, I hear you whimper through these thin walls late at night when you think I'm asleep," Gojo revealed, turning his head to look at you. Your jaw dropped, words failing to find your tongue as you stared at him dumbfounded. Yeah, you absolutely should've minded your business.

"W-what the fuck?" You stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up at Gojo's unexpected words. You heard Geto laugh through the phone, followed by a quiet "Does she really~?"

"Since when was this conversation about me now?" You said, your face scrunching in displeasure as embarrassment flooded your body. How was all of the attention suddenly on you? "It's okay, everyone gets horny, so no need to feel all shy about it~ You sound really cute anyways, you have nothing to worry about."

A loud groan fell from your lips, your hands uncrossing to cover your face, your displeased noises becoming muffled from how hard you pressed your hands to your face. Geto's laughter became hysterical at your dismay. You felt a headache start to come on.

"Heh~ further proves my point though, fingering yourself feels good Suguru~ I don't want you to come crying to me when you're 80, complaining about how you wish you would've tried it when you were in your prime," Gojo said, raising his chin smugly.

"With your eating habits, you'll be lucky if you break 60." Geto quipped, "Anyways, I wouldn't even know where to start." He confessed, Geto's voice coming through softer, honest. A sinister smile formed on Gojo's face as Geto's words reached his ears, an idea popping into his head. His eyes falling on you made your body tense where you stood, wondering why he was looking at you again. You thought you had successfully escaped being the center of attention.

"Wanna help me show Geto how good your prostate can feel?"

The words fell from your roommate's lips as nonchalantly as he had just asked what you wanted for dinner. You kept your hands over your face, your fingers cracked over your eyes so you could see him. You felt a blossom spread in your tummy at his proposition, what did that even mean? How would you have any involvement in this? You didn't even have a prostate.

You felt your heart rate pick up, the organ beating faster in your chest as you stood underneath his awaiting gaze, trying to wrack your brain for the right words to say. Your eyes darted around the room as you tried to escape his eyes long enough to think of a reasonable reply.

You and Gojo have lived together for 2 years now. The two of you practically joined at the hip, courtesy of Gojo who had no concept of personal space and hated being alone. Gojo liked to refer to your personal space as 'our personal space' you had grown used to it.

The childish man could be obnoxious and crass sometimes, but he also had a strange sort of charm to him. He was very observant of your needs, and somehow always knew what you were thinking. Not to mention he was undoubtedly easy on the eyes, no matter how annoying he was--and you would be lying if you said a few of those nights you spent alone in your room with just your fingers to keep you company that Gojo had referred to; hadn't featured said man in your fantasies as you fucked yourself.

After going over these facts and losing yourself in your own mind as you did so, you decided on what you were going to say back to Gojo. Snapping back to reality by dropping your hands to your sides and making unsure eye contact with Gojo, you spoke. "H-how would I help?" You didn't realize that those very words had sealed your fate.

—

"D-deeper cmon~ touchin' me like you're scared I'm gonna break or something." Satoru teased, wiggling his ass back into you. You felt your face heat up at his words. Well sorry... I've never exactly fingered someone's ass before, excuse me if I'm a little tentative... you shot back in your head, opting to just bite your lip and take his jab in the world outside of your head.

Gejo had placed his phone on his five-foot tripod on the side of the bed, giving Geto a perfect view of Gojo who was laid face down ass up, with you sitting on your knees behind him, a bottle of lube by your thigh, the cap was still undone in case you needed more. Your finger was about halfway into Gojo's ass, slowly and shallowly pumping into him. He was right, you were afraid he was going to break, afraid that if you moved too suddenly, you would hurt him.

The camera was angled near the end of the bed so Geto could also see Gojo's hungry little hole swallow up your fingers, making him palm his large hand over his cock at the sight of it pulsing around you. "You listening Suguru?" Gojo breathed, his head lying against the sheets, and turned to the side so he could see Geto staring at him, and a little sliver of your blurry, shy face.

"Oh, I'm listening," Geto responded, squeezing his hand over his tip as he spoke. He didnt want Gojo to know how much this was affecting him; watching his best friend get fingered by his cute roomie; so he kept his camera on his face for now, keeping the minstrations on himself to himself.

"G-good... you better take it all in for when you try this later~" Gojo cooed, confident that Geto would actually try this. Geto nodded, jerking his hand over his clothed cock harder as he pretended to listen to his words. A choked moan from you brought the attention you detested so much to be centered on you once more. "You okay there?" Geto's voice chirped teasingly through the phone, his eyes taking in your flustered face.

"It's... It's in." You whispered, your words barely being loud enough to be heard through the phone. "Your finger?" Geto asked you, keeping his voice and face monotone as he slid his hand underneath the band of his sweats, his growing arousal needing more than over-the-clothes touching to be satiated.

You nodded, a deep blush spreading across your face as you relished the feeling. Gojo was so tight around you, even tighter than your cunt felt when you touched yourself. "Yeah, I can feel it too, so stop teasing me and move it already~" Gojo groaned, pushing his hips back against your finger, slick from the abundance of lube you used.

You swallowed hard watching Gojo fuck his hips back against you, the motion only resulting in your finger jolting around slightly, not enough to give him any real stimulation. "O-okay." You mumbled quietly, before you pulled your finger out, and screwed it back in. Gojo breathed out through his mouth, relieved you were finally moving.

"How's it feel?" Geto chimed in, his hand now tentatively stroking over his cock, his sweats and boxers alike pulled halfway down his thighs. Gojo grumbled, pouting dramatically against the sheets before he spoke, trying to angle his head to look at you the best he could from his current position. "Feels like I have a finger in my ass," Gojo replied with a short giggle.

Geto hummed in response, tilting his head at his companion through the phone. "Though you were gonna show me how good your prostate feels?" Geto teased, slowing his strokes over his cock as he waited for the real action to happen, not wanting to blow his load too soon. "I would if my cute roomie started listening to me~" Gojo cooed, disguising his jab at you in his teasing words.

You knew he was immediately referring to how gently you were being. Curse you for being curdious of his most sacred place in all of his body. "Fine, you want it harder? Don't come crying to me if you get hurt." You said with a sigh, shaking your head. You placed your free hand on his ass, giving yourself some leverage before you started fingering him properly.

"Yeahhh~ Cmon, give it to me~" Gojo cooed, that annoyingly cocky tone laced throughout his voice. His unaffectedness to having your finger in his asshole made you want to wipe that smirk off his face and replace it with a more desperate look. You tried to be nice, but clearly, that wasn't what he wanted.

Geto watched you carefully as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth, readjusting yourself on your knees closer to Gojo before you pulled your finger out of his hole and grabbed the lube, spreading it across two fingers this time. "Hey, I said give it to me not pull out complete- ahh!" Gojo's complaint was short-lived when you thrust both of your fingers in his ass to the hilt all at once.

Gojo gasped against the sheets like the wind had just been punched from his lungs, his eyes wide as he stared at the wall in shock. "You're so impatient Satoru." You shot back, starting up a decent pace on his ass, your fingers colliding against him causing the fat of his ass to ripple under your hand as you held him steady. Geto laughed at how fast Gojo's expression changed from cocky to desperate, the sight making his cock twitch in his hand.

"A-ah- ah-" Gojo softly whimpered, his hands curling around the pillow under his head for comfort as you fingered him. Your pace now felt words better than your sloppy, slow one just seconds prior, but something was still missing. He needed you deeper, lower. Your fingers just barely ghosting over his prostate was not nearly enough, he needed you to jab directly into it, to abuse it with no remorse.

"Deeper baby, a little deeper," Gojo instructed, the teasing in his voice long gone, now replaced with a carnal need. "Angle your fingers down, curl them down like you're trying to touch my stomach." You quickly took his words into action, wanting to see him crumple under your hand. "You know all the tricks, huh?" Geto chimed in, wishing so badly he was there right now.

What would be his role? Would he be the one fucking his fingers into Gojo's ass while you sucked him off? Maybe he would have you lean forward so he could eat your pretty pussy out while you fingered Gojo, both options sounded delicious. His hand sped up as he lost himself in his fantasies, his free hand curling into the sheets as his eyes stayed glued on the two of you.

You angled your fingers down, towards his tummy like he had instructed, and jabbed your fingers in, curling them when your fingers fucked into his ass to the hilt. The guttural moan Gojo released sent shivers down your spine. "Oh fuck- right there, do that again-" He begged, his arms tightening around his pillow as he shamelessly wiggled his hips back against you, trying to get your fingers to hit that spot inside him again.

Your face scrunched in pleasure as you repeated the motion, feeling a walnut-shaped ball under your fingers each time you curled them inside him. "Ohmyfuckinggod-" Gojo grits through his teeth, his teeth clicking together each time his jaw opens and closes in pleasure. "That looks like it feels good, Satoru," Gojo smirked, the only tell of his arousal being how a light blush spread across his face. Pretty impressive considering how much he was leaking on his fingers from how hot he felt watching the show the two of you were putting on.

Gojo tried to open his mouth to respond but you had gotten more confident with his unabashed moaning, your fingers pistoning in and out of his tight ass, drilling straight into his prostate. "Ah- ah- ah-" The white-haired man moaned so prettily, all the sounds coming from his body being music to your ears. "Does that feel good, Satoru?" You ask, your words coming out more timid than you would've liked.

Your roommate nodded profusely, an adorable red blush spread across his cheeks as his eyes rolled back in his head from how good he was feeling. "So f-fucking good- Ngh- feels so- intense! Nghhhh-" Gojo whined, his words coming out choppy and slurred from the whines being fucked from his body.

“Oh fuck baby- fuck- fuck my ass baby ohmygod- harderrrr-“ Gojo slurred, whimpering into the sheets like some slut. You pressed your thighs together, your clit throbbing at his desperate show of his need for pleasure.

Geto pressed his lips together as subtly as possible, trying to appear unaffected as he rapidly jerked his hand over his cock, matching your pace inside Gojo's tight hole. His camera was shaking slightly with his movements, but he was feeling too good to care. The both of you were quite preoccupied anyway, it's not like you would notice his camera shaking anyway.

"Grab his cock pretty girl," Geto instructed, his eyes falling lower with his arousal, a warm heat flooding over his body. You looked over to the camera, making eye contact with Geto, who kept his unwavering eyes on yours, his eyes slightly glossed over with his arousal.

"Yeah- y-yeah, m-my cock, touch my cock-" Gojo jumped in, a drunken smile plastered on his face as he tried to look at you over his shoulder, his pink face nodding profusely. You looked away from Geto to look down between the white-haired man's legs, your eyes finding their target--being his long, thick cock that dangled heavily between his legs, a steady drip of pre-cum dripping from the tip of his cock each time your fingers hit his prostate.

"Been watching his poor cock leak since you started this, the tip is so red," Geto added, his voice failing to sound as unaffected as he would've liked. If Gojo was in the right headspace, he would've teased Geto at the fact that he just admits to staring at his cock throughout this whole endeavor, but alas, he was too busy drooling and whimpering against his sheets to tease anyone right now.

Blushing, you abandoned your hand that was placed on Gojo's soft ass to drop it between his legs. The second your lithe fingers wrapped around his neglected cock, his whole body jerked harshly, almost like it was trying to escape your hand. "Fuck-" Gojo grit, wincing at how sensitive his cock was from being neglected for so long.

"Oh shit, bet it's sooo much right now, huh?" Geto asked his best friend. Gojo's eyes found Geto's through the phone screen, tears welling up in his pretty blue eyes as you immediately fell into a quick rhythm, your hand jerking over his length at a pace that matched the one inside him. Gojo could only nod pathetically, his face scrunching in pleasure as your hand focused on his tip, jerking over the sensitive red head quickly, causing cute squelches to echo throughout the room.

"You're so wet, Satoru." You whispered in awe, your mouth dropping into a small o as you milked his cock, the pool of pre-cum on his sheets between his legs making it look like he had already cum several times--you had no idea how he still had so much to give.

Gojo's body jerked around, the tears that had welled up in his eyes finally fell down his rosy cheeks, over the slope of his nose, and joined together on his pillow. "Fuck- please p-please- Nghhh- A-ah-" He didn't know what he was begging for. He was unsure if he wanted you to stop, or give him more. All he knew is that it was all so fucking overwhelming; having everyone's attention on him.

"Talk to us Satoru, how's it feel?" Geto asked, his words coming out more like begs as he felt himself steadily approach his orgasm, his hand focusing on his tip just like yours was doing on Satoru's. "I- I don't know I- fuck it's so much- too much-" Gojo answered, his eyes twitching and rolling back in his head.

You showed no mercy, jerking your hand faster over the entire length of his cock you stood on your knees and pistoned your fingers into his prostate more directly with the new leverage, resulting in Gojo's ankles crossing and kicking up at the intense pleasure. "I thought you wanted it rough? Do you take it back? Want me to stop?" You asked teasingly, knowing you weren't going to let up even if he begged you to stop.

"No! Nonono don't stop p-please don't stop-" Gojo cried, his head jerking against his satin pillowcase as he fought through the intense pleasure, his body jerking and spasming without his permission. "He's a fucking mess, look what you did~" Geto laughed, his dick twitching with interest at Gojo's teary, drooling face.

"Ahhh- ah- right there- keep f-fucking me right there-" Gojo gasped, his hands digging into his pillow as his eyes squeezed shut, his orgasm welling up in his tummy. "I think he's gonna cum pretty, is his cock twitching?" Geto asked, knowing very well what the telltale signs of a man's orgasm were.

You nodded, Gojo's cock was throbbing profusely in your hand, and his tight hole was squeezing more consistently around your fingers as well, almost like a heartbeat--it was so cute. "Oh yeah, you're gonna cum aren't you Satoru? Gonna cum from a few fingers in your ass? Hmm?" Geto teased, taking a sharp inhale in through his teeth as his own hand sped up, his cock twitching in his hold.

Satoru nodded, unable to voice his thoughts. Unable to scream from the top of his lungs, "Yes! Yes, I'm going to cum!" Instead, his jaw fell completely slack, drool pooling out of his mouth and onto the sheets as you worked him right up to his orgasm.

"Me too, look at me Satoru, look at me." Just moments before Satoru was pushed over the edge from your merciless fingers, he cracked his teary eyes open and was faced with Geto's long cock filling up the expanse of the phone screen, his massive hand jerking quickly over his length, making it almost look blurry from how fast he was going.

The visual of his best getting off to his ass being pummeled was all Gojo needed to be pushed off the edge. With a high-pitched cry of your name, his shaky hand shot back to grip your wrist as the first rope of his orgasm shot out of his cock, adding to the pool of his cum already between his legs, soaking into the sheets.

His hole squeezed tightly around your fingers, acting as if he was trying to snap them off, keeping them deep inside him. “Don’t stop- D-don’t stop” He begged pathetically, his wrist being dragged with you as you kept thrusting into him, working him through his high.

You moaned with him in awe as his body was wracked with tremors, threatening to collapse against the sheets. “I won’t, I got you Toru, I got you.” You consoled, paying special attention to his tip as you milked him for all he was worth.

Gojo’s thick cum made a mess of your fingers. Most of his hot cum landed on the bed sheets, but when someone cums as much as he does, it only makes sense that you got some on your fingers.

“Oh fuck- so pretty-“ Geto groaned, his jaw muscles clenching under the weight of his teeth as he came. You and Gojo both watched as white streaks of cum landed on Geto’s abs and thighs, the squelching on his own cock got louder as his cum acted as lube over his cock, increasing the already messy slick on his length.

“I didn’t realize you were getting off to this Geto.” You said, your chest heaving with your own arousal as your eyes flit back and forth between Gojo’s tight hole and Geto’s cock on the screen.

Through his groans, you heard him laugh as you watched him wring out his cock, making sure all of his cum had released from his cock. “How could I not? You guys are so fucking hot.” His gruff voice spoke, the camera flipping back to his handsome face.

You and Gojo both silently mourned the loss of the view of Geto’s cock. Although it was fairly hard to be disappointed when his pale face came into view his cheeks dusted in a deep pink, sweat beading on his forehead, his chest heaving as he tried to recover from his orgasm.

“H-hey-“ Gojo whined, his strength returning to his body as he gripped your wrist he had a hold of, signaling you stop moving inside him. You mumbled a quick ‘sorry’, you had gotten distracted watching Geto cum, forgetting you were pleasuring your handsome roommate underneath you.

You slowly pulled your fingers out of his ass, Gojo whined dramatically at the loss, his hole clenching around you in sensitivity. “You don’t wanna let me go, do you?” You giggled, your fingers finally slipping free of his tight hole.

“Fuck no~” Gojo giggled, the cloudiness slowly clearing from his brain, allowing his signature snarkiness to come back to him. Geto laughed as he set his phone down, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he wiped his softening cock clean with a towel.

“Suguru~” Gojo called in a singsong voice, his body collapsing on his side, his cock twitching limply against the sheets. Your hands rubbed along his thighs as he relaxed into the bed, noticing how a cute red flush was also dusting along his thighs and shoulders. Adorable.

“Were you paying attention? You have to admit that looked nice, right~?” Gojo asked teasingly, raising his eyebrows at the dark-haired man through the screen. Gojo’s ability to bounce back from even the most intense prostate orgasm was astonishing.

“I think it looks nice on you, sure.” Geto laughed, throwing the towel he used to clean his cock to the floor, grabbing his phone back in his hand as he laid back against his bed, throwing his arm behind his head.

Gojo pouted, rolling on his back to look at you for help with puppy eyes. “What are you looking at me for?” You asked, sitting back on your heels as you jerked your head back, looking around the room for anyone else Gojo could be looking at.

“I thought you were gonna help me convince himmm.” Gojo drawled, his arms pushing himself up to sit on his ass as he reached out for you. You blushed as you let him pull you into his arms, your hands falling on his chest with a surprised noise as you sat on his thighs, just under his cock.

“I could only do so much you know…” You said, avoiding his eyes as his hands made a home on your upper thighs, stroking the skin teasingly. “Maybe you should‘ve cried a little harder!” Geto chimed in, winking into the camera.

Gojo pouted, wiping his hands over his still-wet cheeks to rid the evidence of Geto’s teasing. “So all of that was for nothing then?” Gojo asked, looking between the two of you incredulously, his hand that had whipped at his cheek slapping back down onto the skin of your thigh.

“No, not nothing,” Geto said, looking smugly into the camera. You and Gojo looked to Geto confused, waiting for him to elaborate. “I discovered how bad I wanna fuck you both. That’s not nothing, right?” Geto revealed nonchalantly, making you and Gojo’s jaws drop in tandem.

You felt your face heat up at his confession. Maybe you hadn’t convinced Geto to play with his ass just yet, but you had unknowingly convinced him to play with something even better.

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tender-rosiey · 11 months ago

Note

i need more dad!gojo pls 😔🙏🏼

sulking — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: there was an anon that requested this scenario specifically but for some reason I genuinely can't find their ask so anon if you see this, i hope you will like it! <3

“s/n! get your tiny naked butt over here!”

your son squeals as he waddles away from his chasing dad and goes towards you, “mama!”

“yes, honey?” you reply, before turning towards your son and finding him all naked. at least, he didn’t escape from the tub, since he is still dry.

you giggle and pick him up, “what are you doing you little trouble maker?”

he kicks his feet and points upstairs, “pa!”

“oh, you’re escaping from papa?”

your son nods eagerly, looking around for any sign of said man.

“found you!”

your son squeals and hides his face in the crook of your neck. you pet his hair and look towards your husband who is…also butt-naked. you sigh, “satoru, at least wear your boxers before you chase the kid.”

“aw come on, wifey; it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he smirks, leaning towards you and lovingly kissing your cheek, “plus you deserve a show every once in a while.”

you pinch his nose, making him abruptly pull back with a pout, “if you want to give me a show, don’t do it in front of our son, you over-grown pack of hershey’s.”

“do you mean the cookies and cream one?” satoru says, eyes shining at the mention of one of his favorite snacks.

“yes, and I hate it.”

he gasps audibly, before taking s/n from your arms and into his own, “let’s go, s/n! we shall not tolerate mom’s slander for the hershey’s again!”

and so your husband marches back with his (still butt-naked) son to the bathroom.

satoru sets s/n on the sink, and looks down at the tub, “hey, at least the bathtub is full now,” he puts his hand in the water, “and it isn’t too cold for your small butt.”

s/n gives satoru his angriest look, before looking away with a huff.

satoru chuckles before tickling him, “you’re so cute,” s/n breaks character and starts giggling, and satoru starts cooing, “you act like your mama when I annoy her.��

satoru swiftly picks him up in one arm and points at the stash of bath bombs, “which one do you want to use?” he walks towards the box, and s/n instantly holds it with his strong hands.

satoru laughs, “oh you want all?”

s/n doesn’t respond. instead, he aggressively pulls the box towards him, luckily, satoru is able to hold it in his other hand before it fell.

he looks at his son with a pout, “you were going to create a mess, little guy.”

“mess!” your son claps and your husband can’t find it in him to scold him.

so your husband joins in on his chaos and raises him up high, “yes, big mess!”

your son squeals, reaching for his dad’s cheeks. then he starts rubbing his face on satoru’s the moment he is low enough to reach him.

he starts biting satoru’s cheeks and screams, “love you, baby!”

“love you too, my little buttered cookie,” satoru coos, unfazed by the baby eating him alive. he doesn’t let him linger though as he pulls him off his face, “time for a bath, stinky.”

s/n frowns and tries smacking satoru, but your husband quickly gets into the bath. the moment s/n touched the water, he started clapping and trying to dive deeper into the water.

satoru held him just above the water so he doesn’t fall into the bathbomb-filled water, “nuh-uh, you’re not going to fall face first into the water,” satoru spins s/n so he can settle him into the bath butt-first.

s/n wastes no time in playing with the soap foam and starts splashing everywhere.

your son is sat on the stair of the bathtub—a huge bathtub by the way, satoru specifically ordered this one for other activities though. s/n is beyond the moon and almost treats the little stair like his throne.

your husband can’t stop smiling, to the point his face starts aching, and he starts using the bubbles to form two little cat ears on s/n’s head.

your son’s curiously keeps trying to look up, but starts huffing when he can’t see the top of his head.

satoru then decides that the best solution is—“y/nnnnn! can you come over here with a camera?”

“okayyyy!” he hears you yell and shifts his attention to s/n to keep him entertained until you appear.

he leans down a little, exposing the top of his own head to his son and challenges him, “do your worst.”

your son’s—clearly inherited—competitive nature fuels him into gathering as much as bubbles as he can to place it on his dad’s head.

after that, he starts diligently molding the foam into the shape he had in mind. satoru just keeps on humming quietly, letting s/n do his magic.

once s/n finishes, he retracts his hand and clumsily mimics his dad’s proud pose, and satoru feels happier and happier as he spends time of his little ball of joy.

caught up in his emotions, he picks up s/n to hug him, but s/n slips from satoru’s grasp and into the water.

your husband is panicked right away, hands frantically searching and splashing around to get hold onto anything of his son.

he has half a mind to blast all the water away, but quickly decides against it, especially when he hears a “boo!” behind him.

your husband turns to s/n, who is giggling at finally getting to his father, and hugs him tightly, “papa’s sorry he dropped you, s/n.”

s/n, ever the empath, starts imitating what he see you and satoru do when the other is sad: he starts patting his dad’s back with a murmur of “’s ‘kay.”

satoru thinks he is going to sob right then and there, but you finally enter the bathroom, and satoru and s/n quickly perk up at your presence.

“mama!”

“wifey!” satoru grins and starts scrambling to make a new pair of cat ears on s/n.

and so you’re met with one of the cutest sights of your baby that you have ever seen. he is beaming with a smile so contagious that you don’t even notice one being instantly on your face.

he is also sporting a pair of bubble cat ears, so, of course, you get out your phone and start snapping away.

“s/n, look at mama!”

“yay!”

after a couple of photos, you hear someone clear his throat, and you look to your side to see a very pouty satoru. he huffs and looks away from you, “imagine ignoring the love of your life for a small mochi.”

“we made this small mochi, ‘toru.”

“exactly!” he declares then locks eyes with you, “that means I am the original and I should be appreciated more, anyway—what do you think of his cat ears?”

your husband’s tone switches almost instantly and starts fangirling about s/n, taking him into his arms and lightly bouncing him on knee, “he is so cute! almost as cute as me, right?!”

“you’re so right! he is the cutest cutie to ever exist!” you coo, arms reaching out to s/n, and your son throws himself into your arms with no hesitation.

you secure in your hold before chuckling, “you’re mama’s cute boy, right?”

you feel satoru stare daggers at your soul, but ignore him for the time being, “did you actually shower or do anything to clean, s/n? you smell stinky.”

your son frowns at that and buries his face in your shoulder to sulk. you stifle a giggle and question your husband about something that has been on your mind since you entered, “also, satoru—“

he perks up.

“—what is that blob of bubbles on your head supposed to be?”

and that, my friend, is how you got stuck in the bathtub with your two boys, each burying their face into your shoulders and—you guessed it—sulking.

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sturniowhore · 2 months ago

Text

Kiss Cam!

Warnings: Fluff, Secret/hidden relationship, Chris x Fem!reader, swearing

Tags: @d3axplr @miss-ykwho @mattsturnziolio @joemamaaa42069

A/n: this shit is so ass ngl LMAO sorry if some of the wording doesn't make sense i'm exhausted and I refuse to download grammerly! Also I hope I didn't screw up the hockey scenes I know NOTHING about the sport

Dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

In which.. Y/n and Chris decide to keep their relationship out of the public eye. What happens when they decide to go to a hockey game and they appear on the kiss cam on live television..?

You and Chris shuffle through the crowds of excited hockey fans trying to find your seats. Chris leads with one of his hands behind him, allowing for you to take hold of it so you don't get lost amidst the swarm of people.

Eventually, you two make it to your designated seats. You sit down waiting for the game to start, Chris's arm drapes over your shoulder "you excited?" he turns to you with a toothy grin. To be honest you could care less about the game, you didn't even know which teams were playing tonight. You still wanted to come with Chris though, knowing it'd make him happy. "Yeah! Can't wait! Also.. who are we rooting for again?" Chris laughs, leaning in and placing a kiss on your temple.

As he starts explaining, the screens in the middle of the arena started counting down and the lights dim. The crowd starts cheering, awaiting the players to come into view. Chris stops speaking immediately, his eyes widened and glued onto the ice. You smile at his excited expression and turn your head to one of the screens.

The lights of the arena came back up as the sports commentator announced the first team. "WELCOME TO THE ICE THE BOSTON BRUINNSSSSSS" The crowd went wild! People were jumping, screaming, waving their arms around in support. "WOOOOOO" Chris cheered clapping his hands together. The opposing team was also announced, it was the other half of the arena's turn to cheer.

The game soon started, the opposing team taking the lead. The people in the stands were on the edge of their seats, watching the puck glide around the ice waiting for it to go into one of the goals. One of the players from the opposing team scored a goal. Half the crowd started cheering, the other half kept quiet out of respect but still had sour looks on their faces.

Your boyfriend sucked his teeth, using one hand to rub his chin in frustration. "c'mon c'mon" Chris muttered under his breath as the game continued. He was watching the game with intensity, his eyes never leaving the ice.

Soon enough the Bruins made a goal, the score was now 1-1. Much to everyone's disliking the game paused for an intermission. People got up to use the bathroom, grab something to eat, stretch their legs, trying to use the short break to the best of their ability not wanting to miss anything.

You yawned, head leaning against your boyfriend's shoulder. "what? ya bored already?" He smirked down at you. "no no just uhm..." Chris laughed at you failing to find an excuse, holding you close to him. The screens in the middle of the arena changed, it went from the arena's name to a white page with the words KISS CAM in pink letters and hearts around it.

"here we go with that corny shit" Chris rolled his eyes. "stop, I think it's cute" you pouted at him and turned back to the screen. The first pair that was shown were an elderly couple, the woman was first to notice and pointed it out to her husband. when he saw the screen he gently cupped her face and gave her a soft kiss. "aww that's so sweet" Your eyes widened at the sight, a slight pout forming on your lips. Chris tried to suppress his smile but failed. He leaned down, his breath tickling your ear "that's gonna be us in 40 years." You blushed at his words, your eyes peering into his "yeah? you think so?" "oh I know so 100%" Chris said with confidence. You couldn't help but smile at his words, you loved that he was thinking of a future with you.

The next pair on the kiss cam brought you out of your trance. It was a father and his daughter, the girl looked no older than 3. The father pointed to the screen to show his little girl they were on tv, the girl grinned ear to ear clapping her little chubby hands together. The father kissed his baby's cheeks and she let out a happy giggle. The whole stadium erupted into awes, smiling at the wholesome interaction in front of them.

Chris's arm's were drawing patterns on your shoulder mindlessly, he was distracted by the bustling crowds of people walking up and down the stairs to notice that you were trying to get his attention. "Chris..." no response "Chris" you repeat, again no response. "Chris." you say a little louder this time, this catches his attention "hm?" he questions with a lazy look. You point at the screen in front of you. He looks over expecting to see another couple you found cute, what he saw wasn't what he expected at all.

On the screen, he saw himself and you displayed in front of everyone that was inside TD garden, not to mention the thousands of people watching the game live on television and he knew some of those people were probably his fans. His eyes widened at the sight, on different circumstances he would've kissed you on the spot not caring about a thing. But this was different.

You've gotten enough hate just for hanging out with the triplets and being in their videos, imagine how much hate you'd get for kissing one of them? Let alone dating. You and Chris kept your relationship hidden from the public for years knowing that you would get crucified if some of the fans found out.

You were in a state of panic not knowing what to do. You looked at your boyfriend for answers, he was just as clueless. You looked back at the screen hoping it would've moved onto another couple, it didn't. The camera was still on the two of you. "I swear whoever's operating this is praying on our downfall" You nervously chuckle Chris is silent, still in a state of shock. "just kiss already!" some stranger said from afar.

Chris's thoughts were running wild in his mind, He didn't want his fans to go ballistic on you but the thought of the two of you kissing in front of thousands of people was making him go crazy, he wanted to show the world that you were his and his only.

"Fuck it." Chris grabbed your face with both hands pulling you into a forceful kiss. You were stunned. Chris pulled away, grinning ear to ear at your surprised expression. The kiss cam moved on to another couple soon after, not paying attention to the two of you anymore. "I can't believe you just did that" you say astonished. Chris still grinning, faced towards the ice and shrugged "I mean we were on the kiss cam right? we had to" "but your f-" "don't worry about it ma I'll deal with it" Chris grabbed your hand interlocking it with his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of your palm. You had a shy smile plastered on your face "I uh.. thought you said kiss cams were corny" "they are" "then why'd you kiss me?" you questioned. You knew the answer, he knew you knew the answer. "Oh y'know, we couldn't let the people be disappointed" trying to act as nonchalant as possible, failing terribly. "of course of course" you played along.

The intermission ended and the game continued. Chris had a hard time focusing on the game, his mind wandering to the events that had just unfolded a few minutes ago. He wanted to for so long to show everyone that the two of you were together and he finally did. He didn't care what the haters had to say, all that mattered to him was that you were his and that he was yours.

hours later....

You and Chris went inside the house. Both of you were exhausted, you planned to take a nice warm shower and to finally get some sleep. But someone had other plans..

"what the fuck were you guys THINKING?" Nick screamed at the two of you. Matt watches from the couch with amusement, holding Trevor in his lap. "what are you-" you were about to question him but the man cut you off by shoving his phone in your face. On it was a clip of you and Chris kissing on the kiss cam. "oh.." Soft chuckles came out of Matt's mouth "you both are fucked everyone is going insane." He was right, that video has a million likes and hundreds of thousands of comments.

"Are you guys mentally okay!? Did you not use your brains for a second!? Why on EARTH did you do that!?" Chris rolled his eyes at his brother's antics. "Nick what the fuck were we supposed to do? The stupid cameraman wouldn't move on until we kissed each other" "You could've said no!" "Its fine Nick, whatever's happened happened. You don't gotta worry about it anymore kay?" Chris shrugged. "fine fine but you're gonna have to deal with this cause i most certainly am not. Good night." Nick put both his arms up in surrender and walked to his room.

Matt got up from his spot from the couch. He walked up to you both, he gave Chris a supportive pat on the shoulder and he shot you a reassuring smile before walking up to his room, Trevor following close behind.

You plopped down on the couch, your face was buried in your hands. "we shouldn't have done that" you groaned, your voice filled with regret. Chris sat down next to you "hey.. it's gonna be fine, I promise if anyone tries some shit I'll block them and they will no longer have access to any Sturniolo Triplet content" His hands went to his cheeks as he gave a faux surprised look. You laugh "you can't block them all" "yeah but if I block 3 of them I'm sure the rest will get the message" He grins. You shake your head in disbelief, a playful smile resting on your face. "alright now no more sadness we just came back from an awesome bruins game and we need to keep the good vibes goin'. I'll run you a bath yeah?" With that Chris ran up the stairs to the bathroom. You couldn't help but chuckle, somehow that man always knew how to make you laugh even in the most dire situations.

You picked up your phone opening Tiktok, you weren't surprised when the first video that popped up was the kiss cam clip. You knew you shouldn't, you knew what you were about to do was dumb, but you couldn't help it the curiosity of peoples opinions took over. You opened the comment section bracing yourself for the hate and insults

comments:

user3453985: I KNEW IT

user7654876: I'm not even surprised they were so bad at hiding it I LOVE THIS THO

user2832733: AWWW CUTIES 🩷🩷🩷

user003328: they're perfect together omg!

User33314: really? her? he could do sm better tbh. 🤷‍♀️

user22383: @user33314 like who? you? girl please sit down.

As you were reading the comments your smile got bigger and bigger. Sure there was some hate, but the amount of positive comments were drowning them out almost completely. Everything might be okay after all.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff

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drunk-person · 1 month ago

Text

Weeds

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: Aemond approaches Rhaenyra's daughter in childhood, always bringing her small daisies that are not flowers, but simple weeds.

WARNING: No age restriction. Mentions of blood, previous injuries and medieval medical procedures. Other than that, just cuteness and sweetness. No reader discretion!

Word cont: 7.500 k

Author's note: This story was the result of a request sent by an anon, it was the first time I received a request and it made me very happy because usually when I make a request to a specific author it is because I like how that person tells the stories from their own point of view, so… thank you. It is not 100% focused only on what is in the request, since I have already read several stories with this same theme, so I decided to adapt and tell it in my own way. I hope you like it! 🥰💕

Ps: Y/n can be the daughter of either Harwin, Laenor or Daemon, you choose!

The day dawned sunny and warm in Kings Landing, bringing many of the nobles out into the courtyards and gardens of the red keep. While the adults whispered gossip and negotiated positions and power, the children simply played and laughed around the Keep.

-I don't know why you like these silly flowers so much. - Jace rolled his eyes as he watched his younger sister braid the freshly picked bouquet of daisies into a flower crown. - They're not even real flowers! I heard the septa say to a girl that they are weeds!

-I like them. - Y/n sighed in a soft voice, shrugging her shoulders without stopping to braid the flowers. - They're delicate and make beautiful crowns!

Jace rolled his eyes and pulled the flower crown from his sister's hands and lifted it slightly in the air so that the younger one couldn't reach it.

-Jace! - The girl scolded, getting up from the floor and brushing the dust off the blue dress she was wearing for the day. - Give it back to me or I'll tell Mom!

-Leave her alone! - Before Jace could answer, Aemond's shy but firm voice sounded through the courtyard, making Y/n smile and go to meet him, forgetting about the flower crown stolen by Jace almost instantly.

-Hi Aemond! - She smiled, tilting her head to the side in a sweet way, making Jace roll his eyes even more deeply.

-I want to see if you have so much courage when training with dragons… - The brunette spoke provocatively and then started laughing. - Oh, I forgot… you don't even have a dragon.

-If you continue to be mean, I'll tell Muña what you and Aegon did yesterday! - The youngest screamed when she saw Aemond's embarrassment, and Jace's eyes widened and he ran away right away, leaving her alone with the older one.

-What did he and Aegon do yesterday? - Aemond asked curiously and the youngest shrugged her shoulders with a confused look.

-I don't know, but Jace probably wouldn't want our mother to know.

Aemond couldn't help but chuckle at the girl's answer, but the smile slowly faded when he saw the sad look on her face when she saw her bouquet of daisies crumpled on the floor.

-Jace ruined them. - She sighed in a sad voice as she played with the crumpled petals on the floor.

-Don't be sad. - The oldest sat next to her. - I'll get some more for you.

-But you said they only grew in the south of forest! - She sighed even more sadly. - You can't go there alone and there won't be another hunt for another 2 moons!

-I'll find a way to get them for you. - Aemond shrugged as he subtly brushed his fingers against hers, who didn't really believe him, but was happy that he cared so much.

-Aem? - Her sweet voice called him moments later as she looked at the sunny blue sky, full of white clouds.

-Yes? - He looked at her curiously when he heard the nickname coming from her lips.

-Don't pay attention to what my brother says. - She muttered, looking at him. - He can be very silly sometimes.

-Something that our brothers apparently have in common. - He rolled his eyes, making the youngest laugh.

-If Aegon and Jace are mean to you again, I'll tell Hūraxes to set them on fire. - The little girl hissed decisively and the older boy gave a small smile.

-I don't know why, but I don't think our mothers would be happy with that. - Aemond rolled his eyes, lowering his gaze, making Y/n smile too.

The next day, the sun had barely risen and Aemond was already chasing Sir Cole through the courtyard, vehemently insisting that he needed to go to the kings wood.

-I just don't understand what you want to do there, my prince. - The knight looked at him confused. - We were there about two days ago.

-I just want to go, Criston. - Aemond rolled his eyes, poorly raised. - And if you don't go with me, I'll find a way to escape and go there alone.

And overcome by tiredness and fearful that the young prince known for his stubbornness would actually keep his promise, Criston reluctantly led him to the forest.

The morning passed quickly at Red Kepp with the adults immersed in their daily activities while the children just attended their daily classes and played among themselves.

Y/n was laughing amusedly as she watched a rabbit that had entered one of the Kepp gardens, it was very white, fluffy and skittish making her laugh as she tried to imitate it. She had been looking for Aemond all morning, but without success in finding him and only now had she found something fun to do alone.

Until, amidst the soft rustling of the leaves, Aemond's voice rang out through the garden, calling her name softly.

-Aem! - She ran to him excitedly. - Look! A bunny!

But Aemond didn't seem very excited about the fluffy animal, he just waved and continued to look at her, looking a little embarrassed.

-Is everything okay? - She tilted her head to the side. - Was Jace bad again?

-No, it's nothing like that. - He sighed after gathering courage. - I just brought you a gift.

And taking his hands from behind his back, he handed the youngest a beautiful bouquet of fragrant, freshly picked daisies, still with a few drops of morning dew on them.

Y/n's eyes widened and became full of brightness at the same time, a smile lit up her childish face as she extended her hands expectantly to the eldest, who smiled at her reaction.

-How did you get them? - She sighed, smelling the flowers with a whiff of air as she looked at Aemond through the bouquet.

-I asked Sir Criston to take me to the forest and I picked them for you. - He shrugged, lowering his gaze a little blushing, and Y/n smiled even more, tilting her head to the side, admiring him.

-They're beautiful, Aem. - Y/n hugged him, being careful not to crush the beautiful daisies. - The most beautiful bouquet I've ever received!

-Have you received many bouquets? - He raised his eyebrow a little laughingly, and Y/n gently pushed his shoulder.

-Don't be silly, Aem.

The rest of the day Princess Y/n spent weaving beautiful flower crowns for herself using the flowers from the bouquet, except for a few that she separated and kept inside her favorite book, just as she had seen her mother do a few times.

And when Rhaenyra smiled and asked who had given her the flowers with her eyebrows raised in confusion, the little girl simply replied that it had been a secret admirer, making her mother roll her eyes with a smile as she kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.

Time passed more and more, and as friendship and love blossomed between Y/n and Aemond, enmity and hatred grew between him and her brothers. Everything reached its peak on the night of Laena Velaryon's wake, when Aemond reclaimed Vhagar and Luke in return gouged out his eye.

Y/n hadn't seen the commotion, she was a little scared after the wake and hearing Rhaena and Baela crying made her almost cry too, and for a moment she thought about how she would feel if she herself lost her mother. With that thought Y/n left the room she shared with her brothers and cousins and ran to her mother's room, lying down alone among the covers waiting for her to return, sleeping in the middle of the wait.

The girl was woken up in the middle of the night by shrill screams and raised voices breaking through the Driftmark fortress. And even fearful she left her mother's room and walked to the main hall following the sound of the voices. The Vision that greeted her was one of the most terrible she had ever witnessed in her life.

Aemond sat rigid in a chair, biting his lower lip tightly without making a sound, while the maester stitched up a furious red wound where his beautiful eye had once been.

At the same moment, tears ran down Y/n's face. Unable to make a sound, she ran to the foot of the chair, throwing herself on her knees and taking Aemond's hands in hers as she cried and sobbed. She didn't even notice her mother and brothers standing further away.

-A-Aemond. - She finally sobbed the name of the eldest after a few moments. - What happened?

Aemond didn't say anything, he just lowered his head, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze in the room on them both and barely able to open his lips for fear of succumbing to the pain and screaming if he did, even though he had already drunk a certain amount of poppy milk.

-What happened? - Alicent shouted, drawing everyone's eyes back to her. - I already said what happened! My son was attacked in an ambush and had his eye gouged out by Lucerys Velaryon!

Y/n shook her head in internal denial, still firmly pressing Aemond's hands in hers, barely noticing the blood that had not yet completely dried on his hands, staining hers. Finally noticing Luke's broken nose and crimson-red stained face, while Jace hovered protectively in front of him.

She didn't know what to think at that moment, and suddenly felt like a loud ringing was in her ears, and she just held her breath when her mother and the queen faced each other in the middle of the room with a dagger between them. The fear from earlier took over the girl's heart again at the same moment when she saw the blood running down her mother's wounded arm, and before things got any worse, Aemond stood up, assuming a very firm and straight posture.

-Don't cry for me, mother. - He spoke in a firm voice and without wavering even once. - I might have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.

The youngest looked at him confused, not understanding what he meant by that. And when Alicent dragged Aemond back to his room, Y/n tried to follow him, but was stopped by her mother's soft touch on her shoulder, who looked at her with a stern look while shaking her head negatively.

-Why did you do this to him! - Y/n shouted, walking hard towards Luke, her eyes burning with fury as the others left the main hall.

-It wasn't his fault! - Jace shouted back, interposing himself between his younger brothers. - Luke was just defending himself against your dear friend Aemond!

-Lie! - She shouted at Jace while the two were fighting, not listening to Rhaenyra who ordered the two to stop arguing immediately.

-He stole Vhagar, beat Rhaena, broke Luke's nose and then tried to hit me with a stone! - Jace enumerated furiously, staring at the youngest. - All this while calling us bastards…

-Jace! - Rhaenyra practically shouted, reprimanding him firmly for using such a word.

Y/n just stood still for a moment, her eyes wide as she heard that while she slowly shook her head.

-You're lying. Aemond wouldn't do that. - She practically whispered, not her dear Aemond who hugged her and picked wild daisies just to make her happy, he would never do something like that without reason. - I don't believe you.

-But it's the truth! - Jace hissed between his teeth.

-What did you do to him? - Y/n shouted, livid with fury once again, glaring at her brother while ignoring her mother's reprimands. - He wouldn't attack you without reason!

-But he did! - Now it was Rhaena who shouted. - He stole my mother's dragon that was supposed to be mine and then attacked us.

-If you wanted Vhagar so much, you should have gone to her before someone else did! - Y/n spat back, facing the girl.

-Don't talk to her like that because of him! - Jace snapped back, now in front of Rhaena.

And before the argument could continue any longer, Rhaenyra reprimanded them both firmly, this time, leaving no room for questioning. And fearing that the argument would prevail, she took Y/n with her to her own room, taking her away from her brothers and cousins.

Hours later, when the day dawned looking more gray than anything else, Y/n waited until her mother was busy enough with the preparations for the trip and slipped into the room where she knew Aemond was. She was staring at the door in the distance at the end of the hallway, when suddenly it opened and Alicent left the room.

Taking a deep breath to gather courage, Y/n walked quickly over there, closing the door carefully behind her.

-I just want to be alone, mother… - Aemond's voice died when he noticed Y/n there, and as if she hadn't seen the injury the night before, he tried to hide it, turning his face to the side quickly while holding his breath.

-Aem. - She approached the bed slowly.

-Don't look at me. - He hid even more. - I'm completely deformed.

-T-There's nothing wrong with you. - She murmured, extending her hand slowly, fearing that he would move away once again and when he didn't, she slowly stroked his hair with her fingertips.

-I'm leaving for Dragonstone. - She sniffed, looking at his back and seeing him tense up at the same instant. - I just wanted to let you know that I don't believe anything they said about you. And that I'm happy for you to reclaim Vhagar.

As if those words had a calming effect on him, the older boy back relaxed slightly.

-Thank you. - He practically murmured, still feeling her soft touch on his hair.

And interrupting the moment, Y/n heard her mother's voice calling her from a distance, her eyes widening immediately afterwards.

-I have to go. - She sighed, slowly removing her hand. - Aemond?

-Yes?

-Can I see your face before I leave? - She whispered and he didn't move a muscle. - Please. I don't know when I'll be able to see you again.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond decided to end it and break his own heart once and for all when he saw the repulsion he knew would be in her eyes when she saw his mutilation in the light of day.

He slowly turned to her, barely looking her in the eyes as he did so, fearing what he would see there, and when he finally looked at her, what he found was not what he expected. Y/n had approached him with her face hovering inches away, and when he thought he couldn't get any closer, she left a gentle, soft kiss on the stitches that closed the reddened skin of his cheek that had become a mess of patched skin.

-You're still perfect for me, Aem. - She sighed against his skin delicately, making him almost gasp in surprise.

And hearing her mother call her once again, Y/n said "Goodbye" in a very low voice, feeling tears fall as she ran towards the door, heartbroken for leaving the injured Aemond behind.

After that, weeks passed before the two spoke again because they were so far apart, until one morning Aemond got up practically before nightingale time and ran to send a raven saying he was sorry for not having said goodbye properly weeks ago, placing with the letter a small daisy with slightly wilted petals that he had picked in the forest two days before.

The answer came a day later in the form of a long letter in which Y/n detailed everything that had happened at Dragon Stone in the last few days while stating how much she wished he was there, and how much he would enjoy the place.

From then on, it became common for both of them to exchange letters in secret, talking about their own lives and telling each other daily secrets week after week, month after month. Aemond's letters always included a small daisy attached, which made Y/n smile as she felt the sweet aroma of the flower while reading the contents of the letter.

Until the day Aemond sent her a letter informing her that the Master was preparing to perform a procedure on his missing eye to reduce the constant pain he had been feeling lately, and that he recommended inserting something so that the pressure would help his body readapt.

He did not receive a reply to that letter for days and when he thought, with his heart heavy with pain and shame, that the reply would no longer come, he received a small note through a raven with only a few words written and Y/n's name signed below.

Meet me on the middle island at the hour of the wolf.

Y/n

And without blinking he went.

In the middle of the night he sneaked through the secret passages until he reached the royal forest, where Vhagar slept soundly when she was not flying, and mounted her, leaving as stealthily as he could considering the enormous size of the centuries-old dragon.

As he approached the island, he noticed Y/n sitting on the grass, looking up at the starry sky, her head resting on Hūraxes' wing, covered in silver-blue scales. He caught his breath immediately when he noticed how much she had grown, as had her dragon.

As soon as she noticed Vhagar's approach, Y/n stood up, very anxious, admiring the grandeur of Aemond and his dragon in the sky. And when he got down and walked towards her, the two of them were barely breathing, staring at each other in the darkness, with only the moon illuminating them.

-Hello.

-Hi.

The two murmured at the same time, overcome by shyness and embarrassment after not seeing each other for so long and speaking only through letters.

-Y-You're taller. - Y/n whispered, not knowing whether to look up and stare at him or look down and stare at her own feet.

-Mmmm. - He didn't know what to answer, he was too lost in the melodious and sweet sound that her voice had developed over the years.

The two remained silent, staring at each other for what seemed like hours, while little Hūraxes bothered Vhagar by poking her with her nose and the older one turned away, occasionally snorting when she was prevented from sleeping.

-You called me? - Aemond murmured almost inaudibly after the long silence and Y/n widened her eyes, as if she had forgotten that she had planned all this.

-Y-Yes. - She cleared her throat after stuttering. - Yes, I did.

Aemond looked at her questioningly and with a sigh the younger one walked over to Hūraxes, whispering for him to be quiet and leave Vhagar alone in Valyrian, making Aemond smile and close his eye slightly as he felt a pang in his chest.

-I wanted to give you something as a gift. - She looked back as she took something that was firmly attached to her dragon's saddle, and Aemond frowned in confusion at the prospect of receiving a gift from her.

And without saying anything else, Y/n approached and slowly unwrapped the cloth that previously covered what Aemond noticed was a large block of sapphire.

-You told me that the maester is going to do a procedure to alleviate your pain. - She began a little awkwardly, fearing that he would not like the idea. - And that you would need something for the inside.

With a little more courage she reached out her hand slowly and touched him over the eye patch in a gentle caress.

-I always thought your eyes looked like them when I was a child. - She sighed, looking him in the eye now. - As bright as sapphires.

And seeming to have no control over himself, Aemond inclined his head to her gentle touch.

-I thought I would need something that would do at least justice to the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen in my life. - And without thinking about how indecent that would be considered, Y/n leaned forward and put her forehead against Aemond's, staring straight into his eyes. - I found the stone myself, with the help of my guard, of course.

The older one didn't know what to say. He just stood there, staring at her almost breathlessly.

-I am not worthy of so much praise. - He finally muttered a few moments later with his gaze down and Y/n smiled wistfully.

-You are worthy of even more.

And slowly pulling away, she passed the sapphire block to his hands, feeling the touch, previously so soft when they were children, rough and calloused, causing strange goosebumps on her skin.

-I am sorry for not being with you that night. - She lamented, looking at the floor and then looking up at him again. - What my brothers did to you was unforgivable!

-There was nothing you could do, Y/n. - He spoke in a muffled voice, squeezing the sapphire block between his fingers. - You would only hurt yourself too, and I couldn't bear that.

-I also can't bear that you got hurt without me being able to do anything to help. - The pain in her eyes was visible even in the darkness and Aemond would rather be dead than see suffering in her eyes.

-You shouldn't blame yourself for this. - He murmured getting closer to her. - It wasn't in your power to save me.

-But I am grateful for being my confidant all these years, never leaving me alone even for a moment. - Aemond placed the sapphire block on a rock on the ground and held her hands between his affectionately, making her smile with her gaze downcast.

-I have something for you. - He murmured a little shyly, reaching into his pocket and taking out a slightly crushed daisy, making Y/n's eyes light up almost instantly. - I had brought you more, but the wind on Vhagar's back tore them apart, I could only save this one.

-She is perfect. - The youngest smiled, taking the flower from his hands and placing it behind her ear with her eyes shining. - The most beautiful flower I have ever received.

-Have you received many flowers? - He asked with a simple side smile, making her smile beautifully when she realized that he remembered it too.

And breathing deeply as she heard the rustling of birds in the trees as the first rays of morning appeared in the sky, Y/n left a quick kiss on the left corner of Aemond's lips, making him widen his eyes in shock as she ran away with flushed cheeks towards Hūraxes, leaving Aemond stunned behind.

Only when Y/n was already flying through the dawn with her dragon was he able to move again, breathing deeply, feeling his lungs burn as he smiled with his hand on the place where her soft lips had touched.

And still smiling, he reached for the sapphire block on the rock, realizing at that moment that there was a note attached to the bottom, with an anxious look he opened it as fast as his hands could.

"I will be praying to the gods every day and every night for your recovery. I hope you will accept this gift as a demonstration of my eternal affection for you.

With all my love, Y/n"

And looking at the paper affectionately, he put it in his pocket, close to his heart, walking again to Vhagar, feeling his chest heat up uncontrollably.

⚜⚜⚜

The procedure performed by the masters was a success, and even in the midst of recovery, Aemond did not stop writing to Y/n, who was elated to receive the first letter after the meeting, as she feared that he would take her for an dishonorable girl judging by that night.

After that first escape and the healing of Aemond's skin, meetings like that on that small island became frequent for the two. Escaping in the middle of the night and meeting under the moon and stars while they talked and smiled at each other. Every now and then, when he felt bold, Aemond would steal a kiss from her sweet lips, and then they would both blush to death, looking at each other shyly.

A few months after the eye procedure, Aemond felt comfortable showing his almost completely healed eye again to Y/n. He thought it was unfair not to let her see it since she had given him the stone, and he knew she was curious, but he was afraid she would find it grotesque beyond measure and not want to see him anymore after that.

He was completely wrong. As soon as she saw the sapphire attached to the socket where his beautiful blue eye had previously been, she sighed with contentment, carefully bringing her hand to the area and gently caressing the scar.

-Gevie. (beautiful)- She sighed in Valyrian, barely noticing that she had changed languages due to surprise and making Aemond blush slightly with such a feeling of approval for himself.

Over time, Aemond learned a way to bring the daisies to Y/n without them arriving completely crushed and destroyed, and she was overjoyed with joy with each bouquet of flowers she received from him.

There was just one problem, someone started to notice Y/n's constant happiness and the fact that she was constantly surrounded by those weeds that everyone knew didn't grow in Dragon Stone's volcanic soil.

And one day, taking advantage of his sister's distraction, he followed her in Vermax to a small island, landing stealthily among the trees and frowning when he saw her alone admiring the sky. Until a monstrously large shadow covered the moon's brightness over the earth, making him almost lose his breath. And when Vhagar landed with its enormity, the entire land of the island trembled.

Jace's eyes shone with fury when the older man took a bouquet of those damned weeds and held it out to his sister, who accepted it with a bright smile, leaving a kiss on the corner of his lips.

-Get your paws off my sister! - Jacaerys shouted in fury, walking towards them both, making Y/n's eyes widen in shock.

-Jace? What are you doing here?

He didn't answer, he just pulled her arm hard, making her hiss in pain as he snatched the bouquet from her hands and threw it hard on the floor. At the same moment, Aemond pushed him to the ground without making the slightest effort, his face contorted with anger, while Hūraxes approached, growling in an furious manner.

-Don't you dare hurt her, you damn thing! - He growled, taking hard steps towards Jace, causing Vermax to jump from where he was hiding among the trees and threaten to breathe fire on Aemond. But that didn't do much to scare him, since now he had Vhagar who, upon seeing the knight under threat, stood up in a more than imposing manner, hovering behind Aemond and making Vermax back down with just a powerful snort that made the plants spread across the ground.

Aemond threw a smile of maximum arrogance at Jace who was still down, and Before he could hit him again, Y/n intervened with wide eyes, making him stop at the same moment, staring at her fixedly.

-You're going to come home with me. - Jace snorted, standing up, now even more furious at being easily surpassed by Aemond both in physical strength and in the strength of his dragons. - And when I tell our mother and Daemon that you were alone, at dawn, in the middle of nowhere with that cripple, she'll ask for his head for dishonoring you!

Jacaerys had barely closed his mouth when Y/n gave him a loud slap on the left cheek, her eyes burning with rage.

-Don't you dare refer to him that way again! - She shouted angrily, making Aemond's eyes widen. - Do you hear me?

-You want to know? - Jace laughed without humor and even more angrily. - You can stay here with him! It'll be even better to see our mother's and Daemon's reaction when I tell them that you're still here with him.

And after spitting out the words, he turned and climbed onto Vermax with ease, already flying towards Dragon Stone.

-No! - Y/n screamed desperately, unable to stop him, and even at a disadvantage since he had left first, she ran to Hūraxes, ready to mount.

-Y/n! - Aemond's voice sounded tense. - Where are you going?

-I need to stop him! - She practically cried, staring at him in despair. - If my mother finds out, and especially… if Daemon finds out, they'll say you dishonored me and they'll want to hurt you for it!

-You can't go like this! - He murmured, visibly worried, as he caressed her face affectionately.

-I'll be okay. - She forced a smile, stroking the dragon's silver-blue scales. - Hūraxes will take care of me.

Y/n was preparing to climb onto the dragon, but then a terrible idea crossed her mind. What if she never saw Aemond again? What if everything went wrong and the two were separated forever? And faced with these catastrophic thoughts, she turned back and kissed him on the lips. A real kiss, different from all the others they had shared up until that moment. Their tongues intertwined and danced between them, and they only let go when they were practically out of breath.

Aemond pressed his forehead against Y/n's, and they both closed their eyes in silence for a few moments, trapped in that mutual understanding that had always been so common and certain for them.

And with a final sigh, Y/n separated from him and climbed onto Hūraxes' saddle, feeling tears almost escaping her eyes as she flew away from her former safe haven.

Aemond looked at the other beautiful daisies, now crushed and trampled on the ground, and feeling his heart heavy with pain, he mounted Vhagar and took flight towards Kings Landing.

Unfortunately, no matter how fast her dear Hūraxes was, Y/n couldn't get to the Dragon Stone before Jacaerys. And when she landed on the sandy ground and walked towards the castle, Y/n could see her mother and stepfather with deadly looks on their faces.

-Y/n, I want you to tell me the truth. - Rhaenyra spoke in a restrained manner as soon as she reached the top of the stairs. - Did you let him touch you?

Rhaenyra wanted to say more than kisses and soft hugs in the starlight, but Y/n didn't know that and so she just stared at her own feet, blushing, unable to say a single word.

-By the gods. - The older woman sighed, looking at her husband.

-For me, the solution is clear, we ask for his head for taking away her virtue and solve all our problems at once. - Daemon hissed furiously, making Y/n's eyes widen.

-No! - She practically screamed. - It wasn't that way! Aemond never touched me like that, I swear!

-How do I know you're not just trying to protect him? - Rhaenyra looked at her very seriously.

-Muña, I swear to you! - Y/n pleaded. - I swear! He would only kiss me and bring me flowers! That's all! Don't hurt him, please!

-Go to your room right now and get ready, we're going to Kings Landing! - Rhaenyra's voice sounded very serious, making Daemon smile widely while Y/n shivered in panic.

-Muña, I'm begging you. - Y/n cried, looking deeply into the older woman's eyes. - Don't hurt him. If anything happens to Aemond, it will be as if it had happened to me!

And wiping the tears with the back of her hands, she walked with long strides towards the chambers, finding Jace standing in the way.

-If Aemond suffers any harm or is exiled because of you, I will disregard you as my brother! - She practically spat those words angrily at Jacaerys, making him shiver.

Rhaenyra and Daemond argued all morning before leaving for Kings Landing, the shouts in Valyrian could be heard from miles away. Y/n understood some parts, especially what Daemond was saying, since his angry voice could reach the seven hells at that height.

Basically, he continued to ask for Aemond's head or exile, which according to him was the best possible option and the most beneficial considering the whole situation and thinking about a not too distant future. Y/n wanted to understand what her mother was saying, but she used a strangely low tone of voice with screams when she was angry, making it difficult to hear anything from a distance other than angry and disjointed growls.

Rhaenyra didn't even want to leave by ship, since only Y/n, Jace, Daemon and Rhaenyra herself would go to the capital. They all went by dragon, and Y/n had never had such a terrible flight in her life, feeling her stomach churn to the point of almost vomiting on poor Hūraxes.

When they finally arrived and got off the carriage in front of the Red Keep, Y/n didn't know if it was just her impression, but the silence there seemed morbid while Alicent and Oto waited at the top of the stairs.

-My princess, what brings you here without giving us any warning? - Oto murmured, raising his eyebrow in curiosity.

-This is still our house Hightower. - Daemon spat, rolling his eyes. - We don't need to give you any warning or ask for your permission to come.

-That's not what I said, my prince. - Oto spat back, trying to maintain his composure.

-I came to discuss very serious matters with my father. - Rhaenyra finally spoke, and before Oto could open his mouth she cut him off with a serious voice. - Only with my father!

-You don't need to guide me, I know the way. - And without saying anything else she put her right hand on Y/n's back, guiding her into the Keep.

Y/n couldn't feel anything other than fear. All she could think was Aemond. Her eyes ran through every corner and crevice of the castle, looking for even a figure that could indicate his presence, but she didn't see him anywhere.

When they arrived at Viserys' room, a strange smell took over Y/n's nostrils, momentarily distracting her until she realized where the smell was coming from when she saw her grandfather sitting reading a book in an armchair with twice the wounds he had the last time she had seen him.

–Dad? - Rhaenyra whispered and the old man's eyes instantly shone as he looked up.

-My beloved girl! It's so good to see you!

And Rhaenyra hugged him, feeling warmth in her chest as she did so, and for a moment Y/n thought she would reconsider bothering the king by seeing him in such conditions, but she didn't reconsider. She whispered something inaudibly in his ear, making Y/n's skin crawl with pure anguish.

-This calls for an audience with all those involved. - Viserys finally spoke out loud and Y/n felt her heart drop in her chest.

Almost an hour later, they were all gathered in the main hall with Viserys wearing the crown for the first time in months and sitting on the Iron Throne.

Alicent and Otto had morbid looks on their faces while Aemond remained motionless, avoiding looking at Y/n so as not to make the already bad situation even worse.

-As your king, your father and your grandfather, I order you to be sincere. - Viserys did his best to keep the firm voice he once had.

-Aemond, did you take away Y/n's virtue?

After that question, the empty hall was dominated by a deadly silence, and with a sigh Aemond murmured.

-No, I would never dishonor her in that way.

-But would you take her to a piece of land in the middle of nowhere at the hour of the wolf to just exchange kisses? - Daemon mocked and Viserys gestured for him to be quiet while Rhaenyra glared at him with a deadly look.

-Y/n, is what Aemond says true?

-Yes, your grace. - She spoke as firmly as she could while holding her hands tightly so as not to tremble. - He never touched me in an inappropriate way.

-Well, if they both vehemently deny any accusations against my son, you can't do anything against him! - Alicent scolded with contained fury facing Rhaenyra.

-Nothing may have happened between them, but tongues speak! - Rhaenyra hissed very rigidly. - Servants hear things and tell each other and before we know it, the royal houses are aware of everything that happens within our walls too!

-Father… - She looked seriously at the throne. - I will not allow my only daughter to be defamed.

Y/n felt tears blurring her vision, prepared to beg her grandfather not to listen to her mother when she demanded Aemond's head or exile.

-I demand that Aemond marry my daughter so that she will not be dishonored! - Rhaenyra growled unyieldingly and Y/n almost froze in shock, barely feeling the tears roll down their cheeks at that moment.

For the first time in that day, Y/n and Aemond's hearts beat in surprise and then in joy.

-What? - Alicent hissed furiously, and Y/n could see from the corner of her eye that Daemon didn't seem happy with the idea either.

The only one in the room besides her and Aemond who seemed happy was Viserys, who upon hearing Rhaenyra's solution seemed to almost shine with a breath of life again.

-I accept the princess's demand.

Alicent's eyes widened as did Oto's upon hearing Viserys speaking, making the decision so seriously and clearly. And before either or both of them could intervene, the morbid king continued.

-It is hereby proclaimed that from this moment on, Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon are betrothed and shall be married within a maximum period of three moons from today.

Y/n could very well die of such happiness with those words. And when she looked in Aemond's direction, her heart brightened even more when she saw the almost palpable joy in his eyes, even though his face was serious, and he could hide it from everyone, but Y/n could notice the curve in his serrated lips.

As she left the hall, Y/n could not hear the sounds around her, it was as if a sweet song sounded softly in her ears, bringing her peace of mind while a smile of enchantment hovered on her lips.

She found Jace waiting anxiously outside, not even having been called to say what he had witnessed, she simply hugged him and left a loud kiss on his cheek before walking, still humming, towards her own chambers, being closely followed by a member of the royal guard so as not to stray from the path.

And when a secret passage opened hours later and Aemond appeared inside the room holding a single, slightly wilted daisy in his hands, Y/n ran towards him, hugging him fervently, laughing outrageously when he spun her around in the air, holding her by the waist.

-We're engaged. - He murmured as incredulous as she was, his eyes still shining with that uncontrollable joy. And Y/n just shook her head positively, holding his face between her palms, bringing their foreheads together, still smiling.

Aemond left a soft, sweet kiss on her lips, and carefully placed the daisy behind Y/n's ear when he let her go.

-She remained in the bag, separated from the bouquet. - He smiled, caressing her soft hair with the back of his hand in a reverent way, and Y/n practically trembled with joy at the sound of his voice and his touch.

Hearing footsteps coming down the hallway, Aemond left a sweet kiss on her forehead and disappeared through the secret passage. And when Rhaenyra entered, she only arched her eyebrow when she noticed the slightly wilted flower stuck in her daughter's hair, but decided not to comment.

From then on, the days seemed to pass like the wind in winter. The rest of the family came by ship from Dragon Stone, while the preparations for the wedding were made with all the care in the world, with Y/n smiling and giving her opinion on every detail.

Jace was appalled by everything that had happened. The intention was to disappear with Aemond, not to marry him to his sister. And no matter how much he tried to dissuade his mother, she was adamant about the idea, as for Y/n, she laughed at his expense, constantly emphasizing the great fool he had made.

Letters and more letters with invitations were sent, and as the wedding day approached, nobles from all over the kingdom arrived in Kings Landing to witness the celebration of a marriage that many believed would bring lasting peace to the kingdom.

When the day of the wedding ceremony finally arrived, Y/n could barely breathe. She hadn't been able to see Aemond up close for two weeks, it was to be expected that the bride and groom would be able to spend time together, but she saw him more when they were hidden than now, with so many eyes watching every possible slip-up before the wedding.

Besides the fact that with so many political and royal tasks for both of them before the ceremony, there was barely any time to talk. She couldn't wait to finally be married to him and nobody never be able to separate them again.

That afternoon, when the sun was high in the sky, Princess Y/n Targaryen entered the sept of Baelor in a beautiful white and gold dress, with a radiant smile on her face, and her arms linked to her stepfather, Prince Daemond, who, on the contrary, had a dark frown on her face.

But what caused whispers to take over the sept was the fact that a Targaryen princess, currently considered third in line to the Iron Throne, behind only her mother and older brother, was getting married with her hair loose and a simple crown of daisies braided on her head, with dozens of other daisies sewn onto the train and skirt of the wedding dress..

"A princess marrying with simple weeds on her head!"

Exalted voices whispered through the sept, trying not to be heard.

What none of them knew was that even though he was up to his neck in tasks, Prince Aemond had woken up early that morning riding his horse and headed towards the royal forest just to pick a bouquet of fresh daisies for his future wife, leaving it on the table in her bedroom for her to find when she woke up.

When Y/n woke up that morning, a smile of pure joy took over her lips as she wove the most beautiful flower crown she had ever made in her life to wear at her own wedding. And making the royal seamstress almost growl at her, Y/n ordered the rest of the daisies to be sewn into the train of her wedding dress, only being satisfied when the last of the flowers was attached.

She didn't care about any mocking looks or laughter from the other nobles who spoke of her dress full of weeds. The only eye that mattered was Aemond's, which looked at her wide-eyed and full of happiness so wide that it almost made the already huge smile on her face tear up her cheeks.

When Daemon finally handed her over to Aemond reluctantly, heading to his place next to Rhaenyra, the septon stood up and everyone immediately fell silent as the wedding ceremony began.

The two repeated the septon's words, breathing deeply as they looked at each other in love with an almost childlike happiness overflowing from their eyes.

After uttering their oaths of fidelity and love, Aemond removed a sapphire ring from his cloak, making Y/n's eyes water at the same time while her lips trembled with anticipation.

-Is-Is that the one? - She whispered only for him to hear amidst a trembling smile as she extended her hand to Aemond.

-Mmmm. - He murmured as he nodded positively with a sideways smile. - Exactly the same stone. - He whispered very quietly, but with a palpable pride in his voice. - United forever now, wife.

And under the watchful eyes of the septon and the entire court, Aemond kissed her hand, making her smile beautifully at him, and then he caressed her daisy-scented hair, gently running his thumb over the flower petals.

-Forever now, husband. - She sighed back, laying her head against the palm of his hand and closing her eyes as she felt the soft touch that would forever be hers now, ears ringing moments later with the deafening noise of the court's applause as Aemond finally placed a sweet kiss on her lips, the first they had finally married, the first of the beginning of a lifetime together.

divider credits, It took me hours to find this perfect divider, thank you to the sweet person who created it! 🥰💕

Final notes: I saw somewhere (I don't remember where) that daisies are weeds! And I became obsessed with this fact because I had no idea that a flower that I like so much is considered a weed by many! From this subtle information and the request mentioned here, this story came about! I hope you like it! 💖💖💕🥰

Ps: Aemond only didn't call Jace a bastard on the island because Y/n was there, and he wouldn't be foolish, but know that inside he did! 🤡😂

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