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thewriterthatghostedyou · 5 months ago

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The Dragon and the Wolf

Chapter 4

Heyyyyyyy sorry for the delay everyone! I’ve been busy with work and setting up my bearded dragon’s enclosure (his name is Caraxes). But here is chapter 4, I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warnings: non con acts, I used the google translate equivalent for High Valyrian so hopefully it’s right but who knows tbh, black mail (kinda), mean Aemond, and vouyerism kind of?

Divider by @zaldritzosrose

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly after your brother’s match with Aemond. He went on to fight a few more rounds before getting knocked off his horse by Prince Daemon. Jacaerys also lasted a bit longer before losing a match against the Baratheon lord.

Aemond did end up reappearing for another match or so, but he too was bested by the Rogue Prince who ended up being this tourney’s winner. Aemond never once looked in your direction.

While the men fought below you, you found plenty of time to converse with the two princesses and even with the Queen. You found out that Princess Helaena enjoyed insects and embroidery and while you were not particularly fond of bugs you did enjoy the same craft. Princess Rhaenyra spoke to you about her dragon, Syrax and you listened intently as she described what it was like to fly across the skies.

When the festivities ended, you found yourself walking besides Helaena through the Keep. “I particularly enjoy the gardens.” Helaena answered when you asked her where she preferred to spend her time.

“Then you will have to show them to me tomorrow!” You chirped with a smile. The Green Princess was a kind soul and you found that you enjoyed her presence. “Will you be attending your father’s feast tonight?”

The princess shrugged slightly. “I’ve never been very good with that many people. I only plan to stay as long as I need to.”

You nodded as the two of you stopped in front of your door. “Of course. In any case I look forward to seeing you again, my princess.” You gave her a small curtsy that caused her to blush slightly.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please just call me Helaena.” She shook her head and tried to pull you back up.

You nodded again. “Well then I will see you soon Helaena.”

The Princess nodded excitedly before hurrying away to her own chambers. You heaved an exhausted sigh thinking about the night ahead of you.

Adianna and Ursa worked as quickly as a winter storm to prepare you for the feast that was in a few short hours. You were grinning from ear to ear as your hair was elegantly pinned up and you were helped into a beautiful white gown that had flared sleeves and a gray belted chain.

After the two women left you twirled impulsively in front of the massive floor length mirror in your room. You felt pretty. You weren’t usually a fan of the Southern style, opting instead for the traditional furs that the northerners were known for but twirling in this dress made you rethink your sense of style.

When you met up with Cregan, you gleefully took his arm before heading to the main throne room. The once intimidating room had been transformed into a welcoming dining hall with extra lit candles and rich decorations lining rows of tables. In between the rows in the middle of the room there was a wide space where many of the lords and ladies were mingling together to the soothing melody played by a nearby group of musicians.

Craning your neck slightly, you were able to find Helaena at the front of the room seated near her husband who seemed like he had already begun indulging in the available wines. She gave you a sweet smile before her attention was pulled away by her mother.

On the other side of the table you noticed Rhaenyra and her children all seated besides each other. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as Jacaerys flashed you a quick grin.

You felt even more at ease when you were unable to find Prince Aemond in the crowd.

“You really like him. Don’t you?” Cregan followed your gaze back to Princess Rhaenyra’s oldest son who had risen from his chair and attempted to pass through the crowd.

“I do. I think.” You shrugged, red in the face. “From what I’ve seen of him he is kind and honorable. Someone father would have approved of.” You squeezed Cregan’s hand reassuringly as the Prince got closer.

“I agree.” Cregan nodded solemnly, saying nothing else as the Prince appeared before you two.

“Lord Stark, lady Stark.” The two of you bowed slightly to him as he continued. “I’m so glad to run into you here. I was hoping to ask your sister for a dance.” He gave your brother a hopeful smile.

“Of course.” Cregan released your hand from his side returning the reassuring squeeze you had just given him. “My sister loves to dance.”

“Well I must confess I’m not the most skilled on the dance floor so you may have to lead the way, my lady.” You giggled quietly before taking his outstretched hand.

As he led you through the crowd a lively song started and you soon found the two of you swirling around the floor along other couplings. “My brother doesn’t respond well to being lied to, my prince.” You laughed as the two of you performed a particularly skilled twirl.

“Whatever do you mean?” Jacaerys gently grasped one of your hands before placing his own hand on the small of your back. A teasing smile graced his face as he led you into a slower dance as the song changed.

“You are a wonderful dancer. Something my toes are very grateful for.” The two of you swayed softly to the rhythm, forgetting everyone around you as you finally had a chance to get to know each other.

“My late father, Prince Laenor, was an exceptional dancer.” He said softly. “He taught me the basics when I was younger. We would dance in front of the hearth before bed and my mother would scold him for riling us up but smiled as she did so.”

“He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

“He was.” Jacaerys replied. “He would have liked you. I know that’s completely strange to say, we barely know each other and yet successful marriages have been made on less.” He gave you a hopeful look and you nodded excitedly. “What I’m trying to say is-“

“Nephew.” You recognized the low voice as Aemond appeared behind you. “My lady Stark.” You gave him a polite bow while Jacaerys glared at him.

“Prince Aemond.” You came crashing back to reality as he held out his hand.

“I hope you do not mind if I steal the lady away for a dance.”

Jacaerys rolled his eyes at the statement. “The lady Stark and I were actually in the middle of-“

“Wonderful.” Aemond grabbed your hand tightly before pulling you away from the brown haired prince.

The taller man finally stopped on the other end of the floor before placing his hand in yours and the other on your hip. Similar to what Jacaerys had done but lower than the first man. “As much as I appreciate the invitation to dance, my prince, Prince Jacaerys was-“

“Your brother fights well.” He said, sharply interrupting you before you could protest. The two of you went through the motions in a waltz-like dance as he spoke.

“Thank you, my prince. You fought valiantly as well.” You found it interesting how the man in front of you only had one eye and yet you could still feel his stare boring into you as if there were two.

“I was told you are a fan of the histories.” Aemond continued, turning you so your back was to him.

“Indeed I am.” You didn’t know where this stilted conversation was going and hoped that Aemond would also see this and finish the dance in silence. Unfortunately the man continued on.

“It’s interesting.” Aemond scoffed as you caught another glance of Jace during a twirl. “I was under the impression that the Starks of all people would be the least likely to wed themselves off to a bastard.” You blinked at his treasonous words and huffed at his sudden switch in demeanor.

“You are lucky that no one heard that.” You whispered harshly. “A man lost his head today for saying such a thing.”

Aemond grinned at you as you finally seemed to take interest in his conversation.

“Well I had no other option seeing as you avoid any other conversation topic. Tell me were you always this closed off or is it my eye that turns you away?”

You rolled your eyes at him incredulously. Of course he would blame your disinterest in him on his eye. But to be honest, you didn’t find his handicap disgusting or revolting, it was more the personality behind it that soured your opinion of the blonde prince.

“I’m disappointed that you think so little of me, my prince.” You wondered how long this song would last and prayed that it would end soon so that you could return to the brown haired prince. “It is not your scar that sours my opinion of you or any other superficial attribute, it is what’s behind that scar I do not like.”

Aemond flinched slightly but you continued before he could speak. “I have only met you twice counting this dance here and now and both times you have been selfish and arrogant. I should not be surprised, you are a prince so perhaps you have never been kept from something you wanted, never told no. Well, allow me to be your first.” The song ended and you stepped back from him, shock showing in his eye.

You shook your head slightly before making your way towards the exit. ‘I just need some air.’ You thought to yourself trying to ignore the anger rising within you.

Keeping your face relatively neutral so as to not attract the attention of the other partygoers, you forced your way out into the cool night air. Perhaps you would check out the gardens that Helaena had spoken so much about.

As your feet carried you further and further away from the revelry, you paused slightly hearing several heavy footsteps behind you.

You tried to turn around, but gasped as your head hit the wall with a dull thud and you found yourself eye to eye with an angry Aemond Targaryen. “Our business is not yet concluded, lady Stark.” He grinned at you as you blinked at him in shock.

“My prince-“

Aemond shushed you quietly, keeping a firm grip on your upper arms as he pushed you further into the stone wall. “I would be more quiet, lady Stark.” One of his hands snaked across your body before grabbing the skirt of your dress and beginning to pull it up. “We wouldn’t want anyone to stumble across us in such an… improper position.”

“Aemond please… I’m- I’m a lady I can’t-“ You whispered harshly. You tried not to focus on the feeling of your skirts being shoved up by his long fingers and prayed to any god that would listen that he would stop.

“I know I know.” He cooed softly pulling your small clothes to the side. “I won’t take your maidenhead tonight. I just want a taste for now.” His fake sympathetic tone made you start to shake as he brushed his fingers lightly over your mound. He said he wouldn’t fuck you tonight, but his promise for the future made fat tears roll down your cheeks. You regretted ever opening your mouth as his touch invaded all of your senses.

“Gods you’re divine.” He buried his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply as he rubbed your clit in a way that made your legs start to buckle.

You didn’t feel pretty anymore, you didn’t feel as hopeful as you had been when you entered the feast. All you felt was disgust as your core became slicker.

“Good girl.” He soothingly whispered in your ear as his fingers slipped into your heat and you fought to stay quiet. “Ñuha sȳz riña.” (My good girl) The High Valyrian rolled off of his tongue easily but you had no clue what the man had said, only hoping that it wasn’t as cruel as the act he was performing now.

You moaned involuntarily and felt him smile against your neck as he twisted his fingers deeper inside hitting a spongey spot that made you see stars. “Gōntan ao really pendagon i’d ivestragī bona nādrēsy emagon mirre hen bisa?” (Did you really think I’d let that bastard have all of this?)

“W-what are you-“ Your eyes were half lidded as you heard him whisper into your neck before peppering it with small kisses. He shushed you again and the dam you had built finally broke.

You let out a breathy moan as evidence of your arousal coated the Prince’s fingers.

“Good work Ñuha zoklītsos.” (My little wolf). You gasped as he removed his fingers from your core and pulled them from under your skirts to reveal his glistening fingers. “I will let my mother know that you have accepted my proposal of marriage.”

“What?” You sputtered out, breaking out of the stupor he had placed you under. “I have done no such thing!” You took a deep breath to keep yourself from yelling. “You assaulted my virtue, I would never marry you.” You cringed as Aemond shrugged before sucking your spend off of his fingers.

“Then you will have to explain to your brother and any potential suitors why we were seen together performing martial acts.” He dried his fingers in a crease of your gown before grabbing your chin tightly and angling it upwards. You felt ice spread through your veins as you made eye contact with Lady Redwyne, a lady even you knew as a gossip. The older woman paled before raising a hand to her mouth and running back into the ballroom.

“It is interesting, really. For someone so adept in social situations that Lady Redwyne always steals away to that very balcony a few hours into the feasts.” He released your chin and patted you softly on the cheek. Before walking towards the main room.

“You set me up.” You whispered brokenly. Feeling more tears fall as you realize that everyone would know about this by the morning. House Stark would be disgraced. Your brother would be disgraced and it was all your fault. You wished you had tried harder.

“I did. You left me no other choice.” Aemond paused and gave you another searing look. “Of course the Lady may be persuaded to keep this particular piece of information to herself if the Queen were to ask and provide compensation. Something that I would be all to happy to arrange for my future bride.” He gave you an expectant look, waiting for you to crumble.

Your hands trembled and you shoved them behind you, trying to appear braver than you were. “Fine.” You conceded with a defeated sigh. “Please make this go away.”

You didn’t look up from the floor, didn’t want to see his smug face but you could hear it in his voice. “As you wish Ñuha zoklītsos.” (My little wolf.)

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tag list 🏷️

@dixie-elocin

@shari-berri

@ka1afbr

@sepherinaspoppies

@gorlillaglue25

@indycaelumskywalker

#fanfic #reader insert #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #dark aemond x reader

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drama--universe · 2 years ago

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Sleeping

Requested by @justkpopfandom: Welcome back! Hope you been well! Can I request for fiys? Can the reader be Tong Yao's sister that comes visit after her trip to the states. And she finds Lao K to be her liking, and the others know about it and teases Tong Yao's sister and Lao K catches on and ends up falling for her. Thank you ❤️

Pairing: Lao K x reader

Word Count: 1.3k words

A/N Hello, hope you enjoy the request! I apologize thought, because I accidently deleted your ask, so there won't be an answer to that except for this. :/

The morning air was cold, winter had taken over no too long ago and as a result it had turned the whole area white with snow. Tong Yao didn't care much for the cold, not now. She was waiting for you, waiting for your car to arrive at the dorm in a few minutes time. The shawl around her neck kept her warm, but her thin clothes did not and she was sure that she'd be scolded by you the second you arrived. Her prediction came through as your car drove in through the gate, stopping in front of her before you stormed out.

"Why are you outside!" You exclaimed, rushing to her before gently pushing her inside. Normally, you would calmy greet everyone since you had never met any of them before, but after seeing your sister outside alone without decent clothes made that habit dissapear.

"Why would you let her stand out there?" You asked and on cue, all of them looked up from there computers with confused looks.

"You try forcing her inside without losing a finger." One commented and even when you wanted to refute his claim, you couldn't really. Not when you knew his statement to be true, because your sister didn't like to be forced to something she didn't want. You sighed before removing your jacket and draping it over your sister, scolding her softly while she just smiled. She was just happy that you were back, the scolding didn't matter much to her as she expected it anyway.

"I'll make you something warm." A man passed by, kissing Tong Yao's head before walking to the kitchen to, presumably, make some tea. You stared at his back before turning to Tong Yao with a raised eyebrow, making the girl go red.

"Since when are you dating again? I thought you swore boys off after Jian Yang?" You asked, but the teasing tone in your voice was clear enough as Tong Yao pushed you softly before hiding her face in her hands. You chuckled, leaning back against the back of the couch before throwing your arm over her shoulders. Then you leaned closer to her, close enough to whisper in her ear.

"You picked a looker." Then you got up from your seat as you grabbed your keys again, telling Tong Yao that you were going to park your car first before you'd return.

"So... Nobody is going to comment on that?" Lao Mao commented as he pointed at the door, but no one answered him. He turned to K, staring at him until he looked up from his monitor. He raised an eyebrow at Lao Mao, a bit confused why he was being stared at.

"What do you want me to say?" "Don't you think she's pretty?" Lao Mao asked and K sighed, turning back to his monitor with a roll of the eyes.

"Sure, she is. Why is that a big deal? Objectively, Tong Yao is pretty too and yet you never say something about her." K spoke and his friend huffed before turning away.

"It's different." Cue the shoe thrown his way from Tong Yao herself while the front door opened again. You watched as a shoe flew through the room and landed on one of the gamers' heads.

"Don't scold her, he deserved it." Another commented again and you nodded carefully before getting closer to Tong Yao again, sitting down with a soft sigh.

"What's the snarky one's name?" "Ah, that's Lao K. The one I hit with a shoe is Lao Mao, my boyfriend is Lu Si-Cheng and that one over there is Lu Yue. Xiao Pang is still upstairs, and Xiao Rui and Yu Ming are at a meeting." The introductions were quick, a bit too quick to process well enough and yet you could.

"Well, the snarky one is definitely my type." You commented, but when everyone looked your way you realized that it was louder than you wanted it to be. Lao Mao was the first to speak up, but it wasn't really a spoken word and rather a teasing 'oooh~' to Lao K. The annoyed sigh from Lao K followed as he focused on the game he was playing before he raised his hand to his webcam.

"I'm going live, so shut it." He spoke before clicking it on and greeting the people that entered his livestream.

"Don't be rude, sister-in-law should only see your nice side." Lao Mao spoke again, loud enough for you to hear and probably also for the viewers of K's livestream. Lao Mao grinned before getting up, walking to you before letting himself fall down on the couch beside you.

"So, what charm of his drew you in?" He asked and you looked at him, grinning as you pretended to think about it. Then you shrugged, which made Lao Mao grin even more.

"Show him your nice side too then." Lao Mao spoke before getting up again and leaving. You just rolled your eyes, but they quickly moved back to Lao K. He was focused on his screen, not even blinking as he chattered with his viewers. You had to admit, he definitely looked good.

"Stop saying your thoughts out loud."

The room was empty and you frowned, confused as to why no one was there. Tong Yao had invited you over, yet she was not here at all. The only person there was Lao K, sitting on the couch with his legs thrown over the arm of the couch while scrolling through his phone.

"They went out to the mall, don't ask me why." He spoke, not looking up from his phone and you sighed. Moving to the couch, you lifted his legs and sat down. K pulled his legs closer to himself, glancing at you as you sighed loudly. You looked a bit tired, he noticed the bags beneath your eyes.

"Did you sleep?" "No, why?" You turned to him and he shrugged, looking back at his phone again. You didn't know whether to thank him or to be offended that he saw that easily. Instead, you glanced at him again before turning around and laying against his shins.

"What are you doing?" K seemed shocked at your action, opening his legs to see what you were doing and causing you to topple backwards. You fell on his chest, looking up at him from below with grinning at him.

"Hello~" You greeted him, waving at him before jumping off when he pushed you. You pouted at him, leaning back against the back of the couch. Silence returned, only the soft sound from K's phone was heard as you drifted off.

"I doubt that something happened." Lu Yue commented as he entered the house while everyone else followed in. Xiao Pang was quick to move to the kitchen, but paused as he entered the living room.

"I think they get along quite well..." He said and everyone quickly gathered before freezing. There on the couch laid you and K. K was still casually scrolling on his phone while you laid on his chest, a bit too casual like you had know each other for years. Due to the sudden silence again, K looked up from his phone before raising his eyebrow at them.

"What?" "I didn't know you let others sleep on you..." Tong Yao commented and K rolled his eyes.

"She kept waking up otherwise, don't overthink it." He answered before focusing back at his phone screen, ignoring the fact that you were suddenly hugging him tighter. Soon enough, everyone moved on from their spots and moved on. Lu Yue, like always, was quick to take a picture of the scene while the others just glanced over every few seconds. They watched close enough to notice the fact that K was kind enough to pat your head everytime you twitched, making you smile softly in your sleep before laying still again.

It was something simple and yet it meant the beginning of something great.

#falling into your smile k x reader #falling into your smile #falling into your smile x reader #falling into your smile k #fiys #fiys x reader #fiys k #fiys k x reader #k #k x reader #x reader #reader insert #request

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pbandjesse · 11 months ago

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Today was a good day. I felt slightly better. Still coughing, but not as weak. I am still really looking forward to going to sleep.

I slept okay last night. I was still coughing myself awake. But I got more rest then I have been. So it was a win.

I woke up at 630 pretty uncomfortable, but I let myself doze for a half hour. James laid with me a bit. I struggled to get up. But I would be okay.

I liked my hair a lot today. And I felt pretty good overall. I loved wearing my new ring. I was feeling positive. James sent me off with my bag packed. And I had a nice drive, but people were still driving stupid. Just going wildly slow. But it was fine. I got to camp and was glad to be there.

Though I discovered the watermelon James has packed me had spilled all over my lunch bag. Ah well. I cleaned that up and soon Elizabeth was coming in. It's weird not having that first hour alone but I won't begrudge someone else wanting to be able to leave earlier.

And we actually had some really nice chats. About art and my drawing project but also about my pipeline theory and some other silly stuff. We had some big laughs.

I worked on my proposal for a diorama workshop and a few other small projects. I did my drawing for the day and realized I had one of the stickers hidden so today actually was the last drawing! I did my favorite Leatherman pocket knife. And closed out the project. I'll order sheets of the stickers as a limited run soon.

As others were coming it there was actually stuff for me and Sarah to do! There is apparently another snow storm coming in tonight so we drove up to the Alaskans to get salt to put all around on any wood surfaces because we have a full camp rental this weekend.

I found out it's a Christian school and so I told Sarah all about how she. I was in highschool we would go on winter retreats and it was the most important thing every year but also it was crazy because they wouldn't feed us for so long so that we would get in some weird space. And she was like Jesse that sounds like a cult. And I am like oh I know.

It was fun driving around off road pouring salt on things. And when we got back we were both a bit tired so we took a break.

Heather would have some schedule stuff for me to work on. They want more free choice and so I worked on some ways for that to work. There might be some kind of choice in what specialities they could go to every day. We will see if it's actually implemented.

I had lunch and did some work on canva. Edited some logos for the music festival. Me and Sarah would go out again to deliver bags of salt and shovels to the different cabins just in case. The snow is supposed to come in quick but then it's going to be almost 60 so it'll probably melt fast too. But it was fun being out. Though I kept tripping on my shoes and making Sarah nervous I was going to break an ankle.

The day would wrap up pretty quickly. I reminded Alexi that my birthday is tomorrow and Chloe was like what! Why wasn't it on the calendar and Elizabeth ran out to write it before I left. I just never noticed it didn't make it to the calendar because I was gone for the last week of January and then I was sick. But everyone wished me well and said they will make a bigger deal next week. Which is not necessary but is also very kind.

I said goodbye and headed out. I did stop at 711 to get a piece of pizza. And I'm glad I did because there was a lot of traffic on the drive home. So it was closer to 45 minutes. Which is whatever but still rough. I enjoyed my music and my podcast and was home soon enough.

When I got back here I did some tidying up because Celia was coming over. I ran around with the vacuum and soon she was knocking on my door.

It was nice to have her over. James would come home soon after she got there. I gave her the tour and talked about what we are going to do in different spaces once we have furniture. And then after talking with James for a bit and playing with sweetp we would set up in the studio to do some painting.

Celia would paint a pill bug and I painted Sweetp. And it was fun. We watched a video about the backrooms and painted and James made us stuffed shells. It was a really fun couple hours. We talked about the history of accents and travel and told stories and it was just a really lovely night.

James ran over to the apartment to feed the aquatics and grab a few things. And Celia left a little before they came back. I watched her from the stoop to make sure she made it to her car. And then when I came back inside I went to get a shower.

James got home soon after I got dressed. And they are downstairs talking to their dad. And I am in bed. Coughing a lot. Which still gets worse at night. But I'm sipping water and hoping that the snow isn't bad. So tomorrows plan goes off without a hitch.

Because tomorrow is my birthday! Jess should be here mid morning, weather permitting, and then we are going to IKEA! I hope that we can get everything easily and then we will spend most of the day building things. I'm very much looking forward to my birthday. James is finishing baking a cake for me now. And Jess will be here. And I'm just really happy. Despite the cough.

Sleep well everyone. I love you all so much. Until tomorrow!!

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thestoryden · 2 years ago

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Lover's Betrayal

Aemond Targaryen x TrueBorn!Reader

Warnings: Death, Sadness, Betrayal, Rejection

Word Count:

A/N: This was a request. Hopefully everyone enjoys this comeback piece I am gradually starting to write more as my health improves.

Masterlist / Taglist / Requests: Open

Part 1/?

You pace about your room. The walls feel like they are closing in. You feel as though your executioner is about to walk through the door. Long silvery hair moving behind him in a shimmering light before he makes a point of cutting you down. Aemond was supposed to be securing support from Storm’s End that day. The sky was so dark you could barely call it a day. The clouds brewing a gale so strong even a dragon could be swayed. Part of you hopes that he’ll come back quickly, but another part knows something will go wrong today. You fear he will no longer have a need for you once he gets back. You fear you won’t be of service for the game they are playing and will be tossed aside just like any other broken piece.

You sit down with a piece of parchment and begin to compose a letter. Part of you knows your mother will never get it. The other part hopes that Aemond has the decency to get it to her out of respect for his opponent.

Dear Mother,

By the time you are getting this, I suspect I will have passed on. I have this strong sense of dread that today is the day I lose value as a piece in this game. Please tell everyone that I love them. And please tell Luke I am sorry that I can not fulfill our shared duty, as I will be gone by the time he reaches majority.

Love,

You sign your name to it as you do, Aemond burst through the door, he is soaked head to toe in water. His mouth is collapsed in to a frown. You get to your feet, ready to put up a fight. You knew he would be swift about it, out of his love for you. However, you were still not prepared for your death.

“Is it that time already?” You ask, melancholy drips from your voice.

Aemond remains silent as he moves towards you. A sudden fear that they may have someone else carry out the ordeal frighten you. You know Aemond would be quick and precise. You stumble back on to the bed out of terror as he comes closer. The agony of being dragged to your death building up in your brain when suddenly he wraps you up in his arms. The dampness from his skin soaks in to your dress. You try to expand your chest, but find it stifled by Aemond.

“I’d rather you not crush me to death.” You squeak.

He sobs in to your shoulder, “Lucerys is gone.”

You attempt to break out of the forced embrace. When he finally lets you go, you look to his face. It is riddled with guilt. You can feel the heat creeping up your face, a burning anger that threatens to consume you.

You claw at his face as you shout, “It was you, you killed him!”

You hit his chest with the side of your fist, then again and again. A broken rhythm of hits against him. Your moment of anger breaks in to a soft, brokenness. Tears well up in your eyes and cascade down your face.

“There is nothing that can be done about it, but your position here is now secured.” He lamely attempts to comfort you.

You collapse against him as your fury dissolves into exhaustion.

“He was my betrothed, and you killed him.” You cry.

Taglist: @sinlist @isabel2you @cedricsleftelbow @groovyponypatrollamp @ofherscarlettwitchways @aprilsimonsstuff @tnu-ree @pinkydevil16 @guijh103 @severewobblerlightdragon @thegirlnextdoorssister @thanyatargaryen @zgzgzh @fultimefangirl @esposadomd @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @missusnora @eonnyx @winxschester @icarusignite @too-strong-to-lose @sarcasticking9 @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @daisychainsoflove @sidechrisporn @jiinxxxy @stories-im-following @lady-stark-winter-rose @mxxny-lupin @luna-ann @tinyminxie

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #HOTD #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x trueborn!reader

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littlefreya · 4 years ago

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The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour.

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack.

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.” Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support.

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x ofc #Henry Cavill fanfiction #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes x reade #enola holmes fanfiction

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havenoffandoms · 3 years ago

Note

Hey congrats on 900 followers! Would I be able to request the touch starved prompt from your list with the pairing Aiden/Lambert please? Love all your writing!

Hello!! Thanks for requesting this prompt and this pairing! I’ve been on a right Lambden kick recently, so I felt inspired. I hope you like it!

Prompt 13: Touch-Starved

Pairing: Aiden x Lambert

Warnings: None

Prompt List

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together. Being stabbed to death in his sleep comes to mind, or having Aiden go all batshit crazy if Lambert dared to beat him at Gwent. Lambert has heard many rumours about Cat witchers in his long life. Cats are batshit crazy. Cats are emotionally volatile. Cats are backstabbing sons of bitches… literally and metaphorically. Cats are bad. Cats are evil, etc, etc. All these rumours circulated in Kaer Morhen long before Lambert even set foot in that ramshackle castle. He was too young to have witnessed the Tournament, but he heard the older witchers talk. Later in his life, when only a handful of wolf witchers were left after the sacking, Eskel gave Lambert a more detailed account of the Tournament.

“The Cats betrayed us, went on a rampage. Killed many wolf witchers in the process. Geralt and I lost many friends that day,” Eskel told him one evening, when the oldest surviving wolf was too far in his cup to notice that he was oversharing. “Radowit’s court mage Astrogarus promised the Cats monopoly on killing monsters within Kaedwen in exchange for attacking the Wolves during the tournament. Turns out Radowit was a backstabbing motherfucker himself. He ordered his soldiers to shoot all of the remaining witchers of both schools in the arena.”

“Lemme guess,” Lambert spoke, his own speech slightly slurred, “pretty boy saved the day?”

Eskel shook his head. “Fled. Mousesack helped him escape the massacre. Poor bastard never forgave himself for abandonin’ our brothers, but what choice did he have?”

Don’t get Lambert wrong. He’s not saying that Aiden is harmless, far from it. The guy’s lethal with his swords, deadly with a pair of daggers, not to mention a stealthy and clever thief. Aiden is mercurial, hot-tempered and a bit feral when he wants to be, and his morals are at best dubious. Whereas wolf witchers had their emotions beaten out of them at a young age, cat witchers feel too much, too strongly. Lambert’s witnessed Aiden flip tables when peasants beat him at Gwent, but he’s also witnessed the Cat shed a tear after bringing the news to a mother that her son did not survive the ghoul attack two villages down the road.

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but the Cat had never ceased to surprise him. The most unexpected trait Aiden has displayed to date is his insatiable need for physical contact. It’s not like Lambert hates being touched - he’s only human, albeit a mutated one, but still human. He enjoys a hug as much as the next person, especially when said hug comes from one of his brothers (or, dare he say, Vesemir) at the end of a long and difficult year on the Path. Lambert has also never begrudged a bed partner a post-coital cuddle session. Aiden’s need for physical contact is… on a whole different level.

The first time it happened, Lambert almost shoved the Cat off him and sent him packing, until he realised that Aiden was not only hugging him, but clinging onto him. His sharp nails were digging in the soft material of Lambert’s shirt, the fabric creaking in protest under the firm grip. When Lambert looked down, he noticed the pinched eyebrows and tears trailing down Aiden’s face. It wasn’t until a broken sob pushed past the Cat’s lips that Lambert reluctantly returned the embrace, arms wound tightly around Aiden’s trembling body. Aiden eventually settled in the safety of Lambert’s arms, his features softening as he sank back into a peaceful slumber.

Neither mentioned the previous evening’s impromptu cuddling session, but from that moment one, it was like someone had flicked a switch. Aiden came up with every possible fucking excuse to touch Lambert. Their hands would always accidentally graze each other when they packed up camp, or tacked up the horses. Aiden would bump shoulders with him when they were travelling on foot. If they sat next to one another in a tavern, Aiden would press his leg against Lambert’s, and if they were facing each other, a tentative foot would gently nudge Lambert’s shin and linger there. It’s not like Aiden was trying to hide his intentions, either. They rarely paid for two rooms anymore, because even if they did, Aiden would always end up in Lambert’s bed anyway, arms wound around Lambert’s body like a koala clinging to its mother.

Lambert doesn’t hate Aiden’s need for physical proximity, he’s just… confused by it. Aiden rarely takes any lovers to bed, even though he clearly craves physical intimacy. Lambert is more than happy to cuddle with Aiden, especially when they are forced to sleep under the stars and the early autumn frosts begin to settle over the region. It saves them from lighting a campfire, which may attract the wrong kind of attention to them. That’s all that’s ever transpired between the two, though… cuddling. Lambert enjoys the cuddling as much as Aiden does, but for Aiden it seems to be about more than mere enjoyment. The Cat simply refuses to go without physical intimacy which at times can be… alright, it can feel overbearing, but Lambert’s not about to complain, not when most humans turn away from him in disgust and contempt when he tries to chat them up.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aiden almost develops a form of separation anxiety. He refuses to let Lambert out of his sight, going so far as to follow the man everywhere, and that’s the moment when Lambert snaps.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asks, his tone hiding none of the irritation he feels at being tailed by this overgrown tomcat. Aiden stops dead in his tracks, his eyes growing wide at Lambert’s words.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been following me since this morning… I have errands to run and it’s hard to do that when you’re breathing down my neck!”

Lambert instantly regrets his words the minute they leave his mouth. Aiden’s shoulders visibly sag at Lambert’s comment, his content expression melting into something sadder and the sight tugs at the wolf’s heartstrings in all the wrong ways. Aiden averts Lambert’s eyes shyly, the tip of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink as embarrassment washes over him. Lambert heaves a sigh. Way to act like a fucking dick.

“Sorry, Aiden. I… I didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but-”

“It’s alright, I… I knew this moment would come eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” Lambert asks, a confused frown etched on his face. Aiden doesn’t look at him when he replies in a voice far too small to belong to the lethal, cocky witcher Lambert has come to know over the past few months.

“You’re gonna ask me to leave for good. I get it. I… I’ll go back to the room and pack my things.”

As Aiden turns around to leave, Lambert’s hand shoots out and grabs a hold of Aiden’s wrist. Before Lambert’s brain has a chance to catch up, he finds himself pulling Aiden into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes of judgemental humans meandering the stalls of the midweek market. Aiden looks so unsure now, so vulnerable like this, and it makes Lambert want to wrap the Cat up in warm blankets and cuddle him and forget the world for a while. Instead, he settles on pressing Aiden’s back against the wall and draping himself around the Cat witcher as much as he can.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lambert breathes in the air pocket between them as he locks eyes with Aiden, “you’ve just been… especially clingy recently. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aiden averts his eyes once again, but Lambert is quick to grip the other man’s chin and force Aiden to meet his gaze. Even that simple touch pulls a small hiss from Aiden, whose eyes flutter shut as he relishes in the feeling of Lambert touching him anywhere. Lambert purses his lips, eager for an answer.

“Aiden-”

“Winter is around the corner,” Aiden whispers, his tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Lambert’s frown deepens.

“And?”

His question is met with a pointed eye roll from Aiden.

“And… wolves return to their dens for winter, don’t they? I was just… enjoying the last few weeks in your company before you leave and never come back.”

As the final piece of the puzzle slots into place, understanding dawns on Lambert. He pulls away from Aiden and the small whimper the loss of contact triggers does not go unnoticed. Something old and fragile aches in Lambert’s chest as the meaning of Aiden’s words sink in. Aiden isn’t just worried about being separated from Lambert for a few months, but he’s worried that Lambert will never come back.The wolf links his fingers with his Cat’s, squeezing softly as he leans into Aiden’s space and rubs his bearded cheek against Aiden’s jawline. The latter quickly melts under the soft ministrations, the soft content rumble deepening into a continuous purr as Lambert nuzzles the crook of Aiden’s neck.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Yeah, right,” Aiden snorts in response, “cause you’re so good with feelings and shit.”

“Not everyone’s a sappy sentimental bitch like you are,” Lambert teases gently, earning himself a half-hearted slap up the back of the head. “I don’t have to go back to Kaer Morhen this winter.”

Aiden tenses, his soft purring stopping abruptly as he takes in Lambert’s words. Lambert continues to rub his cheek against Aiden’s jaw, his neck, his cheek… wherever he can reach, the action meant to soothe the brewing storm in Aiden’s mind.

“It’s your home,” Aiden offers weakly, “I don’t want… I… it’s your home.”

“I can send a letter to the old man. Let him know I’m alive. We could find a den somewhere else… an attic somewhere, or an abandoned castle.” Lambert nuzzles the spot right behind Aiden’s ear, earning a pleased hum from the Cat. “Or you could come with me.”

“Sure. Cause that’s gonna end well…”

“That’s settled then. I’m spending winter with you.”

Aiden pushes Lambert away, their eyes meeting once again but this time, Aiden searches for any trace of a lie in Lambert’s amber gaze. He finds none, because Lambert is one hundred percent honest in his offer. He would ditch Vesemir, Geralt and Eskel for a year to spend it with Aiden… and the thought should scare him more than it does, truthfully. He’s only known the Cat for a few months, and yet… well, maybe Lambert was dreading the winter as well. How about that? It’s not like he felt equally anxious about leaving Aiden, it’s just… fuck off.

“You mean that?”

“Mhm. Fair warning… I hate the cold. If I’m spending the winter with you, you’ll have to find a way to keep me warm or I will bite your head off.”

In Aiden’s defence, he does keep Lambert warm all winter long. Their cuddling finally turns into something more, and from the moment Lambert and Aiden cross that fateful line there is no going back. Aiden becomes insatiable, always seeking Lambert’s body in some shape or form, never letting the wolf out of his sight again. Lambert may have been apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but it turns out that all his worries were for nothing. Turns out Cat witchers are still crazy, and feral, and mercurial… a tad possessive as well, something Lambert doesn’t hate... but they’re also the cuddliest sons of bitches on the Continent.

Lambert can live with that, he thinks.

Request a prompt.

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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years ago

Text

All Secrets Have a Habit of Coming Out

Hello all, this was for @iiblueberry-15ii

Hope it's all you wanted from your request :)

Ron Weasley x Male Potter Reader

Word Count: 1464

Just a little note, I only know a cursory amount about Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome, just what a quick google search could reveal so it might not be the most accurate, but I did my best, so I hope this ticks the box for what you wanted @iiblueberry-15ii

--------------

Everyone may have only known his brother's name when they first entered Hogwarts, but Y/n Potter had worked hard to fix that.

He had always been smaller and more frail than his twin brother Harry due to a rare condition that had affected them during pregnancy called Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome.

Essentially an imbalance during development made Harry receive more blood (and thus nutrients) than he gave back.

If this had been explained properly in a caring and loving environment, Harry might not have felt so guilty about it. Unfortunately for the twins, they grew up with their Aunt, Uncle and cousin, all of which took every opportunity to cause them pain. It had been spat at them one day when they were much younger that it was all Harry's fault that his twin brother wasn't as healthy as he was.

This all lead to Harry becoming incredibly overprotective of Y/n. He couldn't take more than two steps outside of Hogwarts during winter without Harry pushing extra scarves and coats into his arms and telling him to rug up more. Guilt was a great motivator, and Harry felt awful that Y/n was weaker than him physically.

Y/n couldn't play quidditch either because his lungs had suffered during development as well.

Y/n had, in his lower moments, like when his older brother (by like ten minutes Harry!) won a game of quidditch, or came back from some fantastic adventure that he had forbidden him from joining them on, allowed the hate to take root just that little bit more.

But he would wake up the next morning and realise that it couldn't possibly be his brothers fault. It was just an accident of life that this had happened.

He would be reminded in every class that there were some things that he could do that Harry just couldn't. His brother might be naturally talented with power for his magic, but as his favourite saying played through his head he would think about that instead. Hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard.

Y/n truly shone in classes too. He worked just as hard as Hermione at his studies, and it paid off. Often, when they got back essays or test results they were the top two in the class.

This naturally made the two a lot closer, as they were practically a built in study buddy for the other.

As they were getting older and reaching the age that people started to notice the other gender (or their own in Y/n's case) other guys would come up and ask him about Hermione.

-------------

Y/n couldn't believe the stupidity of his own gender sometimes. That had been the forth time today that he had had to fend off another guy who only wanted to get into the female bookworms pants while getting their homework done for free.

He stormed back into the Gryffindor common room in a huff.

He landed with a thump on the couch beside Ron and pouted.

"Guys suck."

Ron looked up from his homework which was looking rather untouched.

"I could do with a break anyway, been at this near five minutes. What's up Y/n?"

He sat back up closer to the other boy, giving him his full attention.

Ron wasn't sure what it was about Y/n, but there was just something that made him want to spend all day staring at him, or listening to him talk about the things that made him get all excited. He made the cutest faces when he got all worked up, eyes shining brighter than any star in the sky.

Okay, so he knew why he felt that way, heck, he had even acted on it. He still couldn't believe his luck when Y/n had agreed to go on a date with him. Of course they had had to pull off some pretty fast talking to get their friends to stay behind without it seeming like they wanted to be alone.

Ron focused back in just in time to see Y/n narrow his eyes at him.

Oops, he had noticed that he wasn't paying attention to him.

Ron cringed slightly.

"Sorry, was just thinking."

He cast a furtive look around the room, but they were pretty much alone right now. He was sure that wouldn't last.

Y/n just looked curious now.

"About what?"

Ron shifted awkwardly. Feelings weren't really his forte.

"About how I must've used up all the luck I had stored up for the next few years just to get you to agree to go out with me."

Ron sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck, knowing that he was blushing.

Y/n was blushing when Ron had managed to gather up enough courage to look over at him.

They went to move closer, but their moment was ruined by the portrait entrance slamming open to let in some other Gryffindors.

"Later?"

"Later."

-------------

Y/n and Ron had stayed up much later than anyone else. It wasn't unusual for Y/n, but Ron knew the only way it wouldn't look suspicious for him to stay up was to pretend to be engrossed in a game of chess. He had thought of his homework at first, but then realised that he was usually the first one to give up, so working on it for hours unprovoked would be almost more suspicious than anything else he could come up with.

By the time that midnight rolled around Y/n and Ron had been alone in the common room for just under an hour. In that time they hadn't moved closer. They didn't want to risk it when people might still be remembering that one last thing they had accidentally left in the common room. Nothing said guilty like two teenagers springing apart as someone comes down the stairs.

It was Y/n who made the call. He stretched and shoved his book into the bag before moving over to the couch.

Ron could take a hint, no matter what anyone said, and followed Y/n over.

They sat looking at each other for a minute, just taking the other in.

"It's pretty exhausting hiding this, huh?"

"Yeah," Ron answered. "I sort of thought it might be kind of fun, but it's mostly just tiring. Can't really enjoy spending time together when we're constantly looking over our shoulders."

Y/n gave a half smile.

"Still worth it?"

Ron grinned back and reached out for Y/n instead of answering.

"Can I kiss you?"

Y/n nodded too fast and almost fell over.

Their lips met while they were both still laughing.

They didn't keep laughing for long. It had been a long week for them both, and they hadn't had very much time alone lately.

Things were just about to get more heated when they heard a noise from behind the couch.

They froze, still looking into each others eyes, then they pulled away from each other faster than either of them had ever moved before.

"Yeah, bit late for that really."

Neither of them had hear Harry's voice sound so cold.

Y/n turned to face his brother who had apparently walked in on them making out.

Well, at least everyone was just as embarrassed as each other judging by the blush on Harry's face.

Ron and Y/n watched Harry silently from opposite edges of the couch.

Harry clenched his jaw several times before seeming to try to calm himself.

"Ron. A word."

Y/n cringed. Well, it had been nice knowing Ron, but Y/n was pretty sure he would be helping to bury his body soon.

Y/n watched as Ron and Harry made their way over to one of the windows. He pouted, he couldn't hear anything from where he was. He sat back and crossed his arms as he waited for Harry to come back and deal with him.

-----------

Harry was so far past mad he didn't have a word for it anymore.

His little brother, who was smaller and just generally more frail, was apparently down here making out with Ron.

What the hell were they thinking?

And hiding it, Harry was sure neither of them had been thinking properly.

"What exactly did you think you were doing with Y/n?"

He stated each word as clearly and calmly as he could, but he could still hear his voice shaking in his rage.

He waited for Ron to start explaining himself, but just as he opened his mouth, Harry decided he didn't much care what he had to say.

"Look, I think it was pretty obvious what you two were doing, but let me just say, as Y/n's older brother and the only member of his family who cares about him, if you ever do anything to hurt him. Well, I'll show you exactly why I'm considered a threat to Voldemort."

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley #Male reader #Harry Potter

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Fully Completely 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment, blood

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: It’s me again, ya girl. We get more Loki and tomorrow more Zemo and I’ll see if I can get more done through the week + headcanons!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 4: Bring me back in shackles

💀💀💀

You lunged at Loki with a snarl. The cold air flew up the bottom of your shirt and reminded you of your naked legs. You clawed at his throat as he caught your wrists and held you at bay, your feet fiery on the bitter ice. He kept you in an awkward dance and suddenly you were plummeting back as he hooked his leg around yours and swiped it sideways.

You hollered as you slipped but were caught before you could meet the hard ground. Korg hooked his arms under yours and put you right. You jabbed your elbow into his ribs and turned on him as he yelped in surprise.

“Don’t touch me!” you shouted, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

Korg stopped you from swinging at Loki and you turned to aim your fist at him instead. He dodged it and you sensed the crowd forming along the street as the flames and sirens drew the club from The Asp. Your ire diverted as you saw Bucky stride down the sidewalk and you stormed away from the large redhead.

“You see this? See what he’s done?” you shrieked, “you just gonna stand there.”

Bucky said nothing as he came to a stop and his men watched you in shock as you raged in little more than your tee shirt. You were so angry you could hardly feel the cold. The smoke tickled your nose and you looked again at your burning shop.

“Nothing! You coward!” you lurched forward and Jerome kept you from reaching Bucky as he came between you.

“Hey, don’t. Don’t. You’re gonna get yourself killed,” he hissed under his breath, “stop!”

“Stop? Don’t you get it. He’s letting this happen. He as good as set the fire himself,” you fought against your brother as whispers swirled in the air, “it’s my shop!”

Someone snapped their fingers and again there was movement behind you. Korg’s large hand settled on your arm and he tugged. Jerome kept a hold of your other elbow and glared at back at him.

“What are you doing?” he squeezed your arm.

“Jerome,” Bucky said, arms crossed and unmoving on the sidewalk, “let her go.”

“She’s my sister, I’m not going to let them--”

“You’ll do what I say,” Bucky insisted, “your sister made her choice, time to make yours.”

Jerome looked between you and the biker. Bucky wouldn’t even looked at you and the woman a few feet behind him, his girl, watched in terror. She stepped forward and touched his arm. She whispered to him and he shrugged her off.

“I won’t tell you again, Jerome,” Bucky growled, “you’re a part of this club, you don’t just leave.”

Jerome inhaled and stared at you. You saw his eyes glistened and he gulped. His hand dropped from your arm and he backed away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hung his head.

“Disgusting,” you sneered, “all of you.”

Korg dragged you back and you tried to twist free.

“You’re a coward, Bucky Barnes,” you yelled as kicked out, “you’re all a bunch of cowards.”

Korg hooked his arm around you and lifted you easily. You flailed and wriggled in his grasp, tossing your head back and just missing his jaw as he grunted. He turned and walked back towards Loki. You saw his green eyes and the way they glimmered over his smug grin.

“Fuck all of you!” you barked as the chattering voices grew louder, “all of you!”

💀

As you neared the old Victorian house where Bucky had Loki holed up, you didn’t stop snarling and clawing at your captor. Korg had you over his thick shoulder but walked silently as if you weren’t even there. When Loki got close enough, you reached out for him and several times he snickered and sidestepped you.

You latched onto the door frame as Korg tried to carry you inside and after a moment, he wrenched you away so hard your fingers bent back. You hissed and twisted on his shoulder until he was forced to put you back on your feet. He gripped your wrist as Loki closed the door and you were too quick for the larger man to get you under control.

He grabbed your elbow only as you shot your foot out and caught Loki in the crotch. The lithe man grunted and stumbled back. He leaned a hand on the wall as he bent over and held his breath. Korg hooked his arms through your other and kept your arms behind your back as he reined you in.

There was a stark silence as Loki stood straight and coughed. He rolled his shoulders and looked down his nose.

“Take her upstairs,” he pointed along the ancient banisters.

You were forced away from the thinner man and your toes hit each step painfully as you tried to kick back.

“Let me go!” you grunted and threw your head back into his shoulder, “why the fuck do you listen to that asshole? Come on--”

“He’s the boss,” Korg said lightly as he struggled with along the creaky hallway.

“You’re just as bad as him, you bastard,” you threw your feet out and planted them on the door frame as he tried to veer you through.

“Look, miss, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, “but if they boss tells me to, I will.”

He pulled you back and quickly angled you past the door frame. You stomped his feet but he barely noticed and turned to face Loki as he entered, keeping you at bay as another eruption of anger swept through you.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, you know that?” you snarled, “I’m going to bash that dumb look off your face, you mother fucker--”

Loki rolled his eyes and his lips pursed as he ignored you and went to the closet. He pulled out a leather duffel and searched through a small case. He revealed a pair of cuffs and you scoffed.

“Oh no, no, no,” you wriggled wildly, “you can’t be serious. Let me out of here.”

“Well, darling, since you’ve felt it necessary to assault me and threaten me further, I can only take the proper precautions,” he kept away from you as he rounded Korg, “this should do, bring her here.”

You were wrestled over to the wall as Loki waited by the ridged radiator. It took several minutes for them to get your wrist hooked in the metal cuff, the other locked around thick leg of the heater before it hooked into the wall. Korg let you go and both men stepped away as you lashed out at them, only to yank on your shoulder painfully and fall back.

“That should hold her for the night,” Loki waved away the other man, “get your sleep. We have some driving to do tomorrow.”

“You can’t keep me here,” you sneered, “you’re crazy!”

“I’m crazy? You who gives me demands as you sit bound?” he chuckled and shed his coat and then his suit jacket, both carefully folded over the back of the antique chair, “and on the authority of this town’s keeper, I can do whatever I want with you…” he turned as he unlooped his tie, “and I surely will find many things to do to you.”

He dropped his tie on the polished table and unbuttoned his cuffs. He then worked on the buttons along the front and shrugged out of it. He flung it into the tall basket and sat to untie his shoes. You wanted to laugh as he was surely still slipping and sliding around in those things.

You looked away as he continued to undress. You boiled in rage and hatred as your lip curled. You pulled on the cuff until it hurt. You gave up and looked at him as he sat on the wide queen bed.

“You know what, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t hit girls, right?” you taunted.

He lifted a brow and reached over to pull the chain on the lamp. The room went dark and you watched his dark silhouette lay across the bed.

“Good night,” he slithered, “you should be cozy.”

“Sleep tight, princess,” you spat.

He sighed and there was a brief lull. He got up suddenly and moved through the dark. He grabbed the tie off the table and approached you. He kicked your leg aside as you darted your foot out again and he gripped your chin. He straddled you and forced the silk deep into your mouth.

“I don’t want to have to cut that tongue out… yet.” He squeezed your chin and backed off of you.

He went back to the bed and you kept your eyes on the legs of the table. You could not spit out the tie or make a noise around it. You hit your head on the wall and hissed through your nose. You bent your legs to your chest and pulled them under your shirt.

The chill finally broke through your fury. Your feet were raw from standing outside in the cold and even the heat of the radiator hardly helped. You smelled of smoke and it reminded you of your rude awakening. You tugged on the cuff again and it clinked.

Even if you weren’t cuffed, you wouldn’t have slept. You were too angry and heartbroken. That man burned down your livelihood, he wouldn’t get anything else.

💀

You dozed here and there but woke with your back wracked each time. You sat against the wall, too stubborn to curl up on your side like you truly wanted to. When you woke for the last time, the room lightening with the dull winter morning, you felt a pressure in your bladder.

You groaned and stretched your legs. The night came back to you and you pulled again at the metal cuff. You wiggled it until it made an annoying metallic clicking but it was hardly loud enough to disturb the other person in the room. You knocked on the metal with your knuckles and you heard the soft snort.

“Stop that,” Loki’s voice was rough from fatigue, “I mean it, stop.”

You kept on until he rose and stomped over to you in his silken pajamas, his top entirely bare. You’d been too worked up to notice before. It only meant he was vulnerable. You stopped as he got close and you pushed yourself up on one foot and kicked at him. He caught your ankle and then grasped your other and pulled your legs out from under you.

“Enough,” he growled, “enough.”

You made a face at him as his tie remained firmly lodged in your mouth. You tried to talk past it and he tilted his head and huffed. You stilled and attempted another word. He poked his fingers between your lips and pulled on the tie. He retracted his hand right before you bit down.

“Darling, you tread a thin line,” he warned as he tossed the tie away, “if you didn’t insist on being such a pest, you might spend the nights to come on something a little more comfortable.”

“Fuck you,” you spat.

His eyes flipped to the ceiling and his jaw tensed. You wanted to grin but you also really had to go.

“I have to pee,” you said, “but if you’d rather, I can just let it go right here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he tutted and stood, “a little patience would do us both a favour.”

“I have no desire to do you any favours,” you snapped.

“Yes, but I might do you one,” he took the key and hung it from his index finger, “or I might take your suggestion and let you languish in your own filth.”

You sucked in your cheeks and flared your nostrils. You let out a long breath and raised your free hand defenselessly. “Fine, my bladder’s about to burst.”

He neared you cautiously and bent to uncuff you. He swiftly latched onto your wrist and dragged you to your feet. You pulled back your other hand in a fist and he pointed his finger in your face.

“Don’t,” he warned pointedly.

You shook away the anger and dropped your arm. He drew you after him and led you to the doorway on the other side of the bed. He let you through into the bathroom and closed the door behind you.

“One minute, darling,” he said from the other side, “remember this kindness the next time you think to strike me.”

You made faces at yourself in the mirror and rolled your eyes. You slid down your panties and sat to let forth the building stream. When you finished, you rinsed your hands and heard a tap on the door.

“I’m coming in, darling, I do hope you’re decent,” he purred grossly.

You reached out to the folded straight razor as the handle turned and backed away from the door. He took a step in as you opened the blade and you lunged at him without pause. He caught your hand and squeezed it painfully. He spun you and threw you against the wall.

“Oh, darling, did you think I forgot about that?” he snickered as he freed the razor from your grasp, “you are too predictable.”

He aimed the end of the blade at your neck and you flattened yourself against the wall. He poked the top of your shirt with and hooked it under the cotton. He slashed through the fabric easily and you felt the hot slice down your chest, shallow but enough to bleed as the incision quickly grew hot.

“The next will not be so nice,” he warned and folded up the razor, “now,” he threw it into the sink and grabbed your arm, “back to the beginning for you.”

You elbowed him and he snaked his arm around your neck. He locked you in a hold and forced you across the room He bent you and stretched out your arm painfully, just enough to hook you in the cuff again. He retreated quickly as you struck out at him again and he laughed as you were pulled back by the metal.

“You will remain thus until you can show me you can behave and I promise you, you will not outlast me,” he smirked, “if you might take some time and truly think, you will realise what I could do for you instead of to you.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you sat against the wall and splayed your feet out, “fucking asshole.”

“Well,” he said, “you do need some clothes, I expect, and I need some proper boots as you suggested yourself. The roads have cleared you did a brilliant job on your repairs so I will be spending the day in the city,” he stretched his arms above him as he strode around the room, “I’m certain you will be just fine without me but it would do you well to miss me.”

“That’s amazing, some peace and fucking quiet,” you retorted as you pulled the slashed front of your shirt closed and your hot blood seeped into the cotton, “I think I’ll like that a lot.”

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years ago

Note

11. “...did you just sniff me?” for percabeth pretty please 🙏🤍🤍🤍

Heya! I’m finally here to come back to this request 😄😄 It took me only a little bit in comparison to other requests, but I'm here!

Also since @percyheartsannabeth, @skaterannabeth and @not-optimistic-petrol-biscuit had asked about fluff. Here you go... Kinda? 😬 Anyway. Here's a monster sneak peek into may I introduce you to my beloved wife? 😋

It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to pump out 11k words. That's a record for a single session in one day (with like two breaks). And yes, that is still not the entire chapter. Here are roughly 9,2k for you to consume!

TW: alcohol, overbearing relatives not minding their own business, a tiny section talking about domestic abuse and Athena and Frederick Chase ain't shit but that's nothing new. Poseidon too, for once. Enjoy!

may I introduce you to my beloved wife?

(*absolutely not proof-read, my bad)

Annabeth sighed. You can do this. You can do this. You’ve already finished the week. Think about the money. Think about the move to California. Push through this day and next week, think about the money and the minute you’ll hand your termination in. She wanted to splash some water up her face, but the makeup that tinted her lips in a luscious rose and added some bronze to her high cheekbones was too expensive to be washed off and hastily reapplied.

It was pre-Dionysus Day, which meant it was merely the calm before the storm. The first sparkling sip of an impending disaster waiting to rollover the roomy Greek villa Percy forced her to stay in. Well not really forced. Forced and bribed her to stay in. That made it sound slightly better. Just think of the one-hundred seventy-five dollars he’s going to transfer into your bank account for your new start in California. I should renegotiate. California is also expensive. Make it two-hundred fifty thousand.

The tall blonde looked at her reflection in the mirror. A young woman full of life was the first thing she had seen in the morning but now she looked tired and annoyed, just how she felt. Something crashed in one of the dozens of rooms next to her and people laughed. Annabeth sighed again. It was the only thing she could do, otherwise she would scream like a banshee, making sure that at least Hermes and Prometheus would check her, if it wasn’t for Percy stuffing socks into her mouth to make her shut up before they got to her. The majority of his Greek relatives had been lovely if not terribly nosy and overbearing. It was the opposite of her family. His was warm and chaotic and for the most part welcoming. Hers? Cold, apathetic, disapproving of everything she did. She had no family in comparison, and neither would she want to compare this wholesome messy bunch to the cold-hearted Athena Pallas and the monster that was Friedrich Chase.

Annabeth respected Hera and Hestia, she definitely side-eyed Aphrodite who was cheating on her husband and she would definitely stay away from Zeus. Crossing paths with him occasionally in the New York office of Atlantic INC. was terrible, seeing him openly be flirty and loosen up during a forced trip was way worse.

This was a bad idea and I have a terrible feeling about this. The burgundy wrap dress that hugged her skin was soft and light but in the Thessalian heat it felt like a sticky cocoon caging her. She wasn’t a beautiful butterfly, ready to burst out and wow everyone. Neither was she a moth drawn to a flame. She was a bug that had been sprayed by Percy with a pesticide, wrapped in toxic chemicals which were slowly dissolving her body, piece by piece.

A knock shoved the horrendous image inside of her head aside. “Yes?” she asked with a firm voice. Too firm with a hint of annoyance, but she was not a professional actress and could not switch her emotions off as she pleased. She was a junior marketing manager for Christ’s sake. Not for much longer. Only two more months…

Percy opened the door. “Are you ready?“ he asked with his usual pleasant baritone reaching her ear.

He wore light linen pants that hugged his legs loosely and a light blue shirt with the first buttons opened up. She could see his defined chest and the swirls of black hair peeking through. The hair was styled into a disheveled curly mess which suited him way better than the gelled back corporate look and he forgot to trim his beard like the day before. Annabeth couldn’t deny what she saw – her tormentor was a very attractive man.

“Do you want to bail?” His sea-green eyes darkened a shade. Worry flashed through them.

Annabeth exhaled sharply for the last time. “I wish I could but then I’d leave you without a fiancé,” she smiled through the pain.

Her glance found her reflection again. The topknot was still intact, and a few strands carefully framed her heart-shaped face. She looked perfect on the outside and she wanted to commit manslaughter in the inside.

“Let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and stretched his hand out. It seemed like Percy was the one that would rather bail.

Annabeth took it without any complaint. She was the happy girlfriend soon-to-be-wife and holding hands was way better than being forced into kissing him during Sports Day. The Theodoropoulos family truly had planned activity after activity during those two weeks in winter.

“Oh!” Sally peeked into the bathroom and saw her son holding Annabeth’s hand.

“There you are! Is everything okay, mija?” she asked with her sweet Dominican accent and looked at Annabeth.

Annabeth automatically smiled back. Sally was the mother she never had, and it broke her heart crumble by crumble by the sheer charade Percy and she were forced to display for the next six days. Sally Jackson deserved the best. She certainly didn’t deserve being deceived and lied to by her terrible son and his tag-a-long coworker.

“Yes, Percy was just making sure we’re arriving on time.” Annabeth got on her toes and placed a soft kiss on Percy’s stubbled cheek. It tickled but by now she had gotten used to it.

He rolled his eyes, smiled at his mother, nonetheless. Sally’s eyes sparkled and she clapped, clutching her hands tightly. “You don’t know how proud you’re making me, mijo,” she then said teary-eyed.

“You finally found a great girl and she is standing next to you.” Sally wiped a tear away and the awful feeling that sat on Annabeth’s chest and made everything heavier, amplified by a thousand times.

This was way worse than being referred to as the woman that would bear him three to five children presuming with the first one sired on this current vacation by Ares. Yes, Annabeth wanted two children at max, but not definitely now. She was twenty-eight and in the prime of her life! Note: Percy would certainly not be the father of said two children. Unruly blond waves and a mischievous grin blitzed through her head. Pale blue eyes came back from the deepest pit of her memory. Luke. Fuck no, that was even worse than Percy. His betrayal… Annabeth tried to shake the memory off and focused on the ongoing situation in front of her.

Sally truly hoped her son found love and not a quick fling. Oh shit, Annabeth thought and looked up to Percy whose face expressed similar thoughts. His conscience nibbled and guilt flooded his body.

“Mamá,” Percy began and released Annabeth’s hand in order to grasp the older woman’s shoulder.

Sally brushed his large hands off. “No, no! Off you go! You younglings should be downstairs celebrating your reunion with the entire side of Poseidon’s family.”

Annabeth appreciated the fact that Sally was invited and flown out each winter holiday by the Theodoropoulos’. Despite having been divorced from Poseidon for over twenty years, she was still a popular and welcomed guest, not just because of her son’s attachment to the Greek side and his tied division of the Greek family company.

Sally gave each of them a last smile before entering the women’s bathroom. Percy exhaled and pinched his nose. After ten seconds he released the nose and looked back at Annabeth. “Ready?” he asked a final time. Annabeth nodded.

The loud singing, yelling and talking that had been muffled by the bathroom hit her by a tenfold. The place had all the Mamma Mia vibes without the fun singing four days ago. Not anymore, as drunk relatives hit up the shore with loud music and talked loudly in their Pontic Greek dialect.

As the couple descended the stairs and walked through the parlor, a new wave of guests arrived at the same time. Three people that have just entered early adulthood looked up to them. Two men, one blond with a stoic face and bronzed skin, the other was shorter with spiky black hair and a beautiful grin on his lips. The woman next to him was the tallest out of the trio and possessed a high ponytail that would leave Ariana Grande dying out of envy. The dyed lilac hair swung around and nearly reached the middle of her thighs, meaning the hair was even longer without its tight prison on top.

“Thanatos, Zagreus, Megaera!” greeted Percy and gave each one of them a rib crushing bear hug. They looked pleasantly surprised at seeing Percy being accompanied by a pretty woman his age. It seems like the proposal didn’t reach all of the ends of the Greek world.

They fell into a short conversation in Greek and Annabeth smiled politely next to Percy as she fell entirely out of place. The evil Duolingo owl didn’t prepare her for this experience. Neither did her mother bother teaching her at least their Athenian dialect properly. She could introduce herself in Greek, order a beer, say goodbye and that was it. Thank you, Athena. For nothing again.

“Oh, you must be Annabeth,” Megaera eyed her carefully and Annabeth had the feeling that she could split her open with her hands. Weirdly enough, Annabeth was kind of into it. Megaera wasn’t only as tall as Percy but she was clearly the one with the toughest workout regimen as she displayed her muscular legs and defined arms with a short cocktail dress only a few shades darker than her hair.

“Yes,” Annabeth squeaked. She nearly added a ma’am towards the end. Megaera cocked her dark eyebrow. She had an aura that demanded respect.

“Interesting to see the woman who captured Perseus’ heart. It seems that he did develop a good taste after all. Calypso was as pretty as the crescent moon flower but sadly as dull as his corny jokes are.” Megaera’s deep smirk was a stamp of approval as her eyes roamed all over Annabeth.

“Hey!” Percy interrupted and placed a firm hand on Annabeth’s waist, as if he was trying to mark his territory.

“You have your own toys right to your right,” he then added with a playful tone.

Megaera actually laughed and waved dismissively. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for more.” A clear offer which left Annabeth’s face turn into a fiery tomato red.

“Anyway, we have some catching up to do,” Thanatos proposed as Zagreus and he silently watched the conversation blossom. He sounded as reserved as he looked.

“Indeed,” Zagreus agreed, surprising Annabeth with a posh English accent. “Father will murder me if we miss out on his moussaka. It’s to die for you need to try it, Annabeth, at least before Hephaestus gets ahead of himself.”

Annabeth laughed. The Theodoropoulos did have their positives. “I will, Zagreus,” she nodded.

“Oh please, if aunt Sally gave her go for you to stay here, you’re as good as family. We’re Than, Zag and Meg for you,” Zagreus offered.

“Annabeth is already my nickname but thank you for the kind offer!”

The three new guests went on to join relatives and friends at the party which seemed to get more chaotic by each passing minute as the volume seemed to increase.

“My cousin Zagreus from my uncle Hades’ side,” Percy explained as the three went out of his sight.

“Are they friends? Or…”

“Pretty sure they’re polyamorous. You know, I don’t know, and I honestly don’t really care, I see Zag once every twelve months at max. Just don’t stick to Meg’s side for too long otherwise she’ll turn you into her fiancé.” Percy’s tone suggested that he was not joking.

“Oh.” Annabeth didn’t know what to think of it.

Percy closed his eyes as if he was making a silent prayer, before his sea-green met Annabeth’s light gray ones. She smelled like lemon with a hint of lavender, instead of roses like normally. Delicious. If it weren’t for the fact that it was Annabeth.

“So, listen. You know I’ve talked about Dionysus Day and how his birthday brings out the worst side of everyone.”

Annabeth nodded as Percy went on to explain.

“Pre-Dionysus Day is basically same with the only exception that my great-grandmother’s house is filled with the entire family. Yes, we’re expected to eat, drink, laugh, drink, dance, drink, reminisce on our past, drink, make fools out of ourselves in order for them to take blackmail pictures and drink some more, but no matter how much they want you to open up… try to control yourself. Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Annabeth’s stomach started to churn, and her knees slightly gave in. “Look, I’m truly sorry for the mess that I’ve caused,” Percy looked directly into her eyes and tried to ignore the rosy streaks across her flushed cheeks. “And my relatives can be overbearing. But if we manage to stick through this night and the next one tomorrow, we’re as good as done with playing games.”

“Fine,” Annabeth gritted through her teeth. She had agreed to the terms and condition. She didn’t need a reminder of the stupid decision she made two months ago.

“Let’s go.”

She placed her hand on the doorknob that separated the parlor from the huge living room. Percy followed her as she opened the door. A wave of laughter, wine, ouzo, discovered secrets, cigarettes, sweat and fun hit them.

“Oh wow, someone should open a window.” Percy suggested as he coughed. Luckily cousin Metis had the same idea. No, aunt Metis. Or was it Thetis? Why did Percy need to have so many relatives with similar names again?

“Oh, Annabeth, look at you!” Aphrodite had snuck up behind them and surprised the fake couple by hugging each of them and nearly spilling the expensive Greek vintage in her hand on Percy’s shirt. The red alcoholic liquid carelessly swirled in her glass and more than often seemed to want to escape from her clutch.

“Aphrodite, be careful!” Percy reminded her as she dug her fingers into his arm. Her nails were as fake and bought as was the bond between Annabeth and Percy.

“Oh, please cousin, you should learn how to loosen up!” She laughed, but it sounded more like the shrill sound a bird made when it got nearly hit by a car. The high pitch made Annabeth slightly frown.

“Take your girl upstairs and show her all the Zorbas moves you got!” She wiggled her badly overdrawn eyebrows.

Aphrodite had always been the poster child of perfection. She knew how to dress her curvaceous body the right way, she knew how to apply the perfect touches of makeup on her face and she was the most graceful being Annabeth had ever met. Seeing her so disheveled left the blonde American content. It showed that Aphrodite wasn’t one of the gods, she was a mortal mess like they all were. That, and it was kind of funny seeing the abrupt transition from oozing perfection to looking like a rough mess after a couple of glasses of wine.

“If you know what I mean, you two know what I mean, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy answered. Unfortunately, they did.

“That reminds me, this is such a pretty dress that you got!” Aphrodite’s eyes widened and she tugged at Annabeth’s sleeve that went slightly over her elbows. “Percy needs to bring me a couple of those the next time he visits. Oh wait! You’re about to marry, Annabeth can take me shopping. I want to visit New York next summer. When was your wedding again?”

Panic filled Annabeth she tried to stutter a lame excuse like they had done the entirety of the stay. Aphrodite’s brown eyes found something else to focus on in the meantime. Her hand went out to poke the tall blonde’s chest as she went on to pull on the thin fabric.

“You should show the men what you got! Free the girls!” Aphrodite yelled over the loud music, pushing Annabeth’s C cup to its limits. “Let Percy stand in the corner with that stupid frown, all jealous and depressed while you’re out on the hunt!”

Percy did not look amused especially since he tried to pull Annabeth away.

“Yeah, just like that!” Aphrodite’s glass pointed directly at his face as Annabeth tried to shove Aphrodite’s fickle fingers aside. “Oh, if I were just a little bit younger and not tied to your cousin…”

“You mean cousins,” Percy corrected and made a step backwards as Aphrodite’s dreamy and drunk dazed focus shifted from Annabeth to him.

“Aphrodite, leave Percy and his future wife alone,” Hera arrived to save the stressed couple and rolled her eyes. “Go harass Hephaestus and try to be a faithful wife for once in your life.”

She still looked like she had a massive stick shoved up her ass by the way she stood entirely straight next to them, but Annabeth appreciated the gesture. If Hera didn’t like Aphrodite much, Annabeth would rather join Team Hera than stand alone by the bleachers and under Aphrodite’s charmspeak. Aphrodite pouted and stomped with her feet twice as if she were a toddler and not a grown woman marching towards her forties. Then she stormed off and ran into the arms of her lover, nother husband to spite her mother-in-law and embarrass her even further.

“Malàka,” Hera cursed and lost her cool for one second, before clearing her throat and focusing on the already tired fake engaged couple in front of her. Not even Hera seemed to be averse from drinking a glass of wine or two. “You two definitely need a drink.”

Annabeth agreed with her for once.

She pointed at the bar behind her, which was managed by Dionysus and his wife Ariadne. The number of relatives ganging up on them and demanding new drinks was frightening. Surprisingly Dionysus kept his cool and shoved drinks in people’s hands at an impressive speed.

“Yeah, let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and took Annabeth’s hand again.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked him. She knew from Thalia that Percy rarely ever drank and that his family was to blame for most of it. Percy seemed stiffer and graver than usual as well. As much as she disliked his jokey nature and easy-going demeanor he displayed at work, she’d much rather have that Percy by her side right now. Dionysus Day and the day before seemed like it was hell on earth for him and walking through it each year must take a toll on him.

“Yeah, let’s just each grab a glass of wine. Let them be happy about me shoving this disgusting stuff down my throat.” He thanked Ariadne as she prepared two glasses of the same vintage Aphrodite seemed to have inhaled earlier.

“Thank you.” Annabeth took her glass and sniffed. The wine smelled sickly sweet with a hint of the bitterness that the fermentation process had left. The glass in her hand weighed surprisingly heavy, not because of the wine itself but because of the golden swirls decorating it. The glass transitioned from the crystal-clear transparency into a deep black. A lyre surrounded by a bigger laurel wreath decorated the middle section and a golden snake was wrapped around the stem. The golden rim gave it a nice finish.

“Into a fruitful night,” Percy darkly mumbled over the music. He was really not looking forward to it, which confused Annabeth immensely. She didn’t understand why he pushed himself through this if he really didn’t like the drinking activities. He surely had his reasons, hence her not starting a fight with him over it. It was his family and their tradition after all.

“Into a fruitful night,” Annabeth instead repeated.

Issuing a weird toast as well. Percy Jackson was clearly not a drinker. Their glasses clinked and each of them took a sip. Thankfully grandma Rhea made sure they were well-fed before the festivities began.

“Fuck,” Annabeth muttered. A fine vintage as well. Not as sweet as she thought, it left a hint of sweet cumin as the lingering aftertaste. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass, but she didn’t bother to care as she took another gulp. The wine was nearly finished. She slowly started to understand why ancient civilizations went crazy after this stuff.

As she looked at her so-called fiancé, she saw that his glass was already empty. A grimace rested on his face as well.

“Err, Percy?”

“What?” The dark brooding look on his face was no more.

“Shouldn’t you take it easy?” Annabeth carefully asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I am,” he stated and cocked his head towards his cousin who was still busy playing the barkeeper but kept an overall watchful glimpse on the guests that flooded the gates.

“Dionysus saw me drink. Most importantly he saw us have a drink. That should be enough for me, but if you want some more, be my guest.” He shrugged.

Annabeth felt that she should probably drag his mopey ass out of the party, but it was way too early to leave. “Fine,” she said and asked Ariadne for a refill. Annabeth went in for another long sip. She should definitely stock her wine cabinet once she was back at her shitty apartment. Before the glass reached her lips again, Hermes snatched it away and chugged the remaining wine.

“Hermes, what the hell?!” Ariadne grabbed the glass and pushed her husband’s cousin away. The bored postman was back with his shenanigans.

“My bad, dear wifey, but I’m on a mission here to abduct sweet Annabeth,” Hermes winked and placed his hands around Annabeth’s shoulders.

“What are you up to?” Out of all of the relatives she’s met so far, Annabeth was convinced that everything Zeus had ever sired was a mistake. Zeus himself was a mistake.

“Can you stop being German and boring for once?” he joked. Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. She did not like this one bit. She turned her head around and saw that Percy had been pulled into a conversation by Hypnos and Morpheus. He had completely forgotten about her. Great.

Hermes guided her through the crowd, towards the middle of the room. They had to dodge chairs, drunk relatives, a sofa, chatty relatives, the coffee table and dancing relatives before they made it.

“There she is!” greeted Achilles the confused marketing manager.

Paris, Helen, Patroclus, Hermes and Achilles stood in a circle around a table. Dozens of shots of all sorts of colors were displayed. Annabeth had a terrible feeling about this.

“What is this and why are you pulling me into this?” Annabeth asked and did not like the mischievous grin they all shared. She wanted to go back home and cuddle with Daedalus on her sofa and push his cat ass out of the way before the next steamy Outlander scene hit the screen. Yes, Annabeth was that much of a single that seeing some on-screen action was the best she could get. She hoped that the mangy cat didn’t bother Thalia all too much while she was staying in Greece. She owed her so much already.

“Well, I stayed in your country,” Paris started. “And they have a weird tradition with ouzo. They don’t drink it the way we do, watered down and slowly at lunch and what not…”

Annabeth was still American for the most part and had nothing to do with Germany. The last time she stayed there was nearly thirteen years ago. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Germany. Friedrich Chase lived in Germany. And she fucking hated Friedrich Chase. Therefore, she hated Germany. Things that would never change. Okay, Hamburg was a cool city and she was glad her father moved to Cologne. Should she feel the urge to travel back to Germany for a week or less, she’d go to Hamburg, take ten thousand pictures, and post them on Instagram the minute before she was boarding her flight back to New York. Helping her to enrage her stupid father was all Germany had to offer.

“Germans do ouzo shots,” Patroclus cut to the chase. “And since you’re the newest member of our family…”

“And German!” Paris and Hermes added simultaneously.

“We’ve decided to play this little game,” Achilles added.

“What’s the name of the game?” Annabeth asked. She was only slightly curious. Emphasis on slightly.

“Last man standing. Oh sorry, ladies. Last person standing,” Hermes corrected himself as he placed four shots in front of each person. That was way too much hard liquor to handle. But if she did Jägermeister bombs in her sophomore year of college without any issues, this should be fairly easy.

“What are the rules?” They all looked at her in silence. No rules. No prize. Just drink.

“Oh wow.” The urge to roll her eyes and walk off came back with a force.

“I think I’m going to pass,” Annabeth said and already turned to her right.

“Why?” Helen asked innocently. “Need your man to look after you? The one who’s having an amazing time back there with his third glass of wine?”

Foul game. Annabeth’s head shot to the right. Helen was right. Percy was laughing and looked like he was having a great time chatting with Oceanus and his wife Tethys. Tethys refilled his glass as her husband and Percy broke into laughter once again.

If that’s the case…

“Fuck it, I’m in,” Annabeth agreed. She swallowed the bait and she knew it. There was no reason why she should feel upset about Percy opening up all of a sudden. He desperately needed it. Why she wished to be a part of that, Annabeth did not know.

“Great!” Helen threw her brown mane over her shoulders and grabbed the first glass.

“Για μας!” they all yelled and chugged the liquor. Gia mas, the Greek toast, was repeated every time and it seemed to brighten the mood, despite resting heavily on Annabeth’s stomach. Her college days were over, but she was glad she resisted coughing repeatedly.

Patroclus clutched his stomach after the second shot, Helen ran out after the third, Paris and Achilles were laughing maniacally after the fourth and Hermes mysteriously disappeared after the first one. Annabeth was the last person standing. She placed the crystalized shot glass back on the table and examined the messes around her. The only thing that had happened to her, were that more golden locks escaped from her bun and her lipstick needed some reapplying as she left marks on each glass.

Annabeth tried to take a step away from the table and felt how the world slightly shifted around her. The fact that she would curse and hate herself for her behavior in just six hours, was something drunk Annabeth gladly put aside. The headaches that definitely would haunt her for the rest of the trip didn’t matter, she won and that was all she cared about.

“Hell yeah!” she yelled as all inhibition faded away, leaving pure and raw life force behind. Unbeknownst to her, Annabeth had moved right into the circle of dancers.

“Perseus, get your bride before she breaks her legs!” someone laughed. Was it Iapetus? Or was it Hyperion? Who even cared at that point?

The next two hours were a blurred mess. A blackout slowly crept through her mind, leaving foggy memories behind. Annabeth felt how she was dancing with people and how people were laughing. Were they laughing at her or with her? Did it really matter? Why was her hair repeatedly slapping her face, didn’t she tie it up?

She danced with different people, men and women. She really hoped that the guy that looked like a naked Danny DeVito with longer black hair was not Zeus who had lost his shirt and pants. Who was the guy with the sea-green eyes again? Why was he clapping and laughing whenever she was busting a move next to Hermes? Was he important? Why did he remind her of work? The shots might have been a short-sighted idea after one and a half glasses of wine. She probably overestimated the amount of food she had consumed at dinner prior. Wasn’t she supposed to try someone’s moussaka?

“There you are! Ares, stop dancing with her for once. We’re about to leave.”

Ugh. Ares. Not Zeus, but still yucky.

Sea-green eyes. Percy, of course. How could she have forgotten the asshole that brought her into this whole mess? He seemed fairly sober, didn’t he have a glass or three of wine? Annabeth was certain, she’d be able to drink him under the table. His height and his build might put him at an advantage, but if he wasn’t used to drinking, she might have a fair shot.

A rock song was the next song that appeared. Percy wanted to drag Annabeth off the dance floor.

“Oh no!” Aphrodite intervened with a shrill screech. “Give the two lovers some room to show each other affection!”

Hera actually raised her glass for once to show that she actually agreed with one of Aphrodite’s wild ideas. Someone fumbled with the playlist and a Greek slow jam roared through the old speakers.

“Are you guys fucking serious?” Percy muttered under his breath. But roughly eighty pairs of eyes were all but watching the soon-to-be betrothed and waited for a romantic dance which reminded Percy more of the horrors that the eight-grade dance was.

Annabeth drunkenly hiccupped and looked at him in surprise as she felt one of his hands around her waist and the other one taking her hand. They rocked as if it was the final dance at prom. Annabeth barely remembered prom. Oh right. Her mother had forbidden her from going. She never attended prom.

A casual glimpse through the crowd showed her that people were actually filming this nonsense and some women were actually cooing. Did… did they seriously think this back and forth with sweaty clothes on was romantic? Her eyes found Percy’s again.

“So…” he began.

“So…” she repeated.

“Careful!” he warned her before twirling her through the tight circle. People screamed and applauded. A camera flash blitzed through the darkness twice.

“Oof,” Annabeth groaned. Her stomach and equilibrium did not appreciate that sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again,” Percy swore. The rocking motion made both of them sleepy. Annabeth suppressed a yawn, rested her head on his shoulder. Percy could make the perfect comfy bed, if he wanted to.

Percy, sensing that people were awaiting some action from either of them, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up. Annabeth’s eyes widened. Is he going to kiss me in front of them? Again? her panicked brain asked. She was turned into stone, not by Percy’s distant cousin Medusa who had eaten most of the truffles, but by the tenderness of his actions. He was one solid actor.

Percy placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before moving on to a temple. Annabeth blushed and buried her heated face in his chest as he released her. Intimate, soft and sweet. The screaming relatives disrupted their comfortable silence yet again. The slow song came to an end and the next upbeat one invited everyone back to the dance floor. Annabeth released herself from Percy’s tight embrace and just bolted. Damned be nausea. A wave of coldness hit her. She felt something she didn’t like the minute Percy had softly kissed and soberness woke her at a start. What was it? Anger? Disappointment? Longing? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know.

“Annabeth!” Percy shouted, but the amount of people standing in his way made it more difficult for him to keep up with her. His hand brushed over his own lips.

Annabeth opened and closed doors left and right. The kitchen, the dining room, the smoking room. She hasted through the first floor until she found another lost soul in the fireplace room. Why the villa had a fireplace room in the first place, she did not know. It had been super-hot the entire time but what Annabeth understood as heat and what native Greeks deemed as hot temperatures didn’t have to correlate.

Great-grandmother Gaia’s humming faded away. The eldest of the Theodoropoulos looked up from the pair of socks she was knitting. When she came to find out the intruder was Annabeth, joy spread over her face.

“Come, come!” The broken English that she softly spoke reminded Annabeth of her own grandmother. She hadn’t seen Elsbeth Lilienthal-Chase since she had left Germany. And since her mother didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, she didn’t have a phone number to reach her with. The only way would be through that asshole Friedrich Chase, and the only time she’d willingly let someone contact that man was if she had been six feet under and he would be forced to show up for one important family event for once.

“I was unable to sleep. Parties aren’t something for me. I’m too old and boring for my children and their children,” Gaia sighed as Annabeth took a seat on the green sofa next to the light blue armchair. All of the cushioning seemed to have been made by Gaia as the socks had the same pattern as the pillow that Annabeth leaned against. Balls of wool surrounded the older woman as if she sat on a field of fresh tulips.

“Drink, drink! You need water. I’m pretty sure you danced a lot.”

Annabeth kindly took the offer, grabbed the carafe and poured herself a little bit of water into a small glass. The water was surprisingly cold and refreshing.

“My children deem me crazy,” Gaia continued. “The war with the ottomans. Deportation. Fleeing and seeing death everywhere. Losing my father in the chaos. Then the big world war after that twenty years later. They don’t want to listen to the same stories. They only want to have fun. So, they sent me away.”

Annabeth felt terrible for the old lady. It looked like she had been through hell and back in her youth. She didn’t look like she needed much, only someone to listen to her.

“I won’t bore you much,” promised Gaia.

Gaia’s tanned leathery hands continued working on the little socks. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, dearie. We have plenty of acetaminophen and other hangover remedies. Tomorrow will be even worse, because Dionysus wants to celebrate his birthday with even more wine,” the old woman laughed, and her green eyes twinkled full of life.

“I also was young once…”

The two sat in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Gaia’s humming or Annabeth refilling her glass of water.

“So,” Gaia began.

“So?” repeated Annabeth.

“You are the woman that tamed my little Perseus,” the older woman grinned.

Oh no.

Annabeth had a lump in her throat and drinking water to solve it, didn’t work. She wasn’t just lying to Zeus and his wife. She was lying to an entire clan, from the youngest to the oldest members. What Percy and she were doing wasn’t right, neither was it fair. Sure, Percy’s shitty uncle didn’t help much by forcing him to marry the next person, but did the rest of the family deserve to be deceived as well? No, they didn’t, and that truth rested heavily on Annabeth’s narrow shoulders.

The fact that Gaia looked so much like her great-grandson was crazy. They possessed the exact same shade of sea-green. It was passed onto Rhea, Percy’s grandmother, and then Poseidon, Percy’s fucked up father. Always full of intelligence and calculation. Shifting easily from delighted and full of life to the crashing anger of a storm. Power and knowledge were key features of Gaia’s eyes.

“How did you meet my sweet Perseus again?” Gaia innocently asked but Annabeth knew that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind her question.

“At work,” she honestly answered, and Gaia smiled. The old lady was able to sense the truth.

“He’s not my direct boss, but we run into each other a lot. And we hated each other from the moment we saw each other.” Annabeth remembered how she accidentally spilled her hot coffee all over his shirt. She had been public enemy number one from then on.

“He’s an excellent boss, as much as I hate to admit it. He knows his ways around and is passionate about the ocean and its inhabitants. Definitely more passionate than me, I’m just there for the money. He actually wants to make a difference. And he’s extremely annoying, might I add.”

Gaia burst into laughter and needed a minute to calm down. Annabeth cracked a toothy grin. “Ah yes, I can see how you fell in love with him.”

Doom. Uneasiness. Discomfort. The lump in Annabeth’s throat grew bigger and bigger. Why was her vision so blurry all of a sudden? She looked down at her dress. Dark dots appeared. More sprinkled across her lap as Annabeth realized she was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabeth sniffled. “I… Percy… I…”

Gaia put her knitting utensils aside and set herself upright in the armchair. “Oh no, what is going on, Annabeth?”

The calming hand on her back did not help the young professional at all. No, Gaia’s honesty and curiosity made it way worse.

“Percy and I… we’re not engaged. We did it because Zeus-” Annabeth tried to confess, but Gaia brushed her off.

“It’s okay, Annabeth. I know,” the old woman smiled.

The tears that smeared her foundation or rather what was left of it ceased to fall. “You what?!”

Shock widened Annabeth’s light gray eyes.

“I knew from the minute you stepped into my house. I’m pretty sure Rhea knows as well.”

Annabeth’s jaw fell open. “B-but how?!” she stuttered and felt like an utter and complete idiot. The first few days had been rough and difficult, but now she thought that Percy and she conveyed the illusion of being a happy couple.

“You were scared of everything including him the minute you arrived,” Gaia warmly smiled. The infectious warm smile of a grandma looking out for her little chicks. Was Annabeth now one of them?

“I knew something was off with that sudden engagement of yours with the way you two behaved. Either you were pregnant, or it was a ruse. Since you are heavily drinking and paper thin, it was clear that there was no pregnancy. You young people truly don’t eat enough anymore,” Gaia shrugged, patted Annabeth’s knee and went back to knitting the sock.

“But now… it all makes sense. You do feel something for each other. Even if you are blind to it for now.” She continued to hum. “I just hope that my dear Perseus will be the young and carefree boy he was all those years ago one day again. And I do believe that you are the key in finding him hidden underneath all those layers and walls he had put up due to his father.”

Annabeth didn’t even close her mouth during the elder’s monologue. Did Gaia seriously connote that she… that Annabeth Chase… might feel something for her soon-to-be boss? Madness. Absolute madness. She took everything she had thought of the friendly old woman in front of her back. Maybe her relatives did have a point, when they decided to brush Gaia off due to her old age.

Annabeth? And feeling something for Percy? If that something was hatred and the utmost rage, absolutely yes. But… anything else? She would receive a hefty sum on her bank account and would put in her two weeks the minute she found a better job in California.

“You know… there is a tale I’d like to tell about men.”

And Annabeth would prefer to place the glass back on the table, throw the heels away, storm out and run to the next airport.

“They are stupid vapid creatures,” Gaia carried on.

Annabeth snorted behind her glass. “That is certainly true,” she agreed and earned an honest grin from Gaia.

“My dear husband Ouranos with whom I had all of my dear children decided one day that one woman was not enough. And that twelve children were not enough.”

Twelve children?! Annabeth's womb just twisted and turned in protest. The shocked expression on Annabeth’s face made Gaia chortle loudly.

“Oh yes, back in my day we were all very fruitful,” Gaia affirmed.

“That sounds horrible,” Annabeth interjected.

“Oh, only the birth part and the eighteen years after it,” the older woman dismissed her which made Annabeth in turn laugh again.

“My father was a farmer and he had one piece of advice: never let someone toy with you. You are not a doll; you are a person with morals and dignity, a person with feelings and dignity. Let no one, especially not a man, treat you like a commodity or something to kick around. Well… when dear Ouranos left me and sought our neighbor with bigger breasts… I taught him that lesson. And I did so with my father’s trusted knife that I hung on the wall afterwards.”

There was no knife displayed on the wall. It was a fucking scythe. Large, frightening, brutal. A golden great long sickle with jagged teeth rested on the wall as if it were ready to cut you up into one thousand pieces. Was there really dried blood stuck on the teeth or was Annabeth’s drunken mind making things up?

“The minute our youngest turned eighteen he took off and was never seen again. And now, should a person, in that case my Perseus, not know how to treat you properly, you know what to do,” Gaia advised and took a sip out of her own glass.

“Uh… you mean threaten to cut his genitals off with a large and sharp family heirloom?” Annabeth’s eyes widened again.

“No, dearie…” Gaia gave it some thought. “Well maybe so, dearie,” she then went on. That made Annabeth chuckle again.

“But demand absolute respect from him. Don’t ask him for it. Demand it. I don’t know how but he has dragged you into our family and expects you to play the perfect fiancé. This will eventually blow up in his face and he will drag you along with him. Teach him a lesson, however.”

“You know what? I will!” With Gaia’s official blessing, Annabeth was all smiles and scheming new plots. If the head of the family gave her the approval of kicking Percy’s ass, she definitely would.

Steps echoed in the fireplace room and Annabeth and Gaia’s heads turned to greet the intruder. They didn’t even realize the door opened and closed again.

Gaia’s younger twin who still had some black streaks in the braids marched into the hall, curious about what the two women in front of her were previously talking about. Gaia’s youngest daughter Rhea had joined them. The large blue floral dress made her seem like she never left the late 1960s and the two long braids only added to that sentiment.

“Mamá, what is going on? By the way Percy is looking for you, Annabeth,” Rhea informed her grandson’s alleged fiancé before taking a seat in front of her and grabbing one of the many balls of yarn in front of her mother. Rhea then went on to play with it as if she was a six-year old.

“Oh no, Rhea, Annabeth and I were just chatting about love and life,” Gaia batted her eyelashes.

“You see, I gave Rhea the same advice about her disgraceful husband when he went out to seek another woman.”

Rhea rolled her eyes behind the large pentagonally glasses. “You and your stories about the scythe, mother,” she sighed.

“I have to make sure the younger generation knows!” Gaia huffed. “I won’t be here for much longer and then-”

“We'll regret all the things we’ve said and done to you, I know mamá, you have been telling me this since I was four years old and spilled my apple juice,” Rhea completed her mother’s sentence.

Rhea’s attention shifted to the smiling blonde in front of her. She grew to like Percy’s fiancé. She had a fire within herself and a backbone, all great things to handle a Theodoropoulos man.

“But my mother is right when she says that the scythe is a trusted tool. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades did scare Kronos with it after he tried some foul things with their sisters. Treated them worse. Did overall horrible things. He never wanted daughters, only sons. Didn’t seem to accept the fact that it was out of my hand.” Rhea squished the ball of light blue yarn in her hand.

“My children were always looking out for me and I will be forever grateful for them. I do hope that you will have the same feelings and love for your children.” It was clear who their father was supposed to be.

“Yes, I hope so as well,” Annabeth squeaked. Did it get hotter in here all of a sudden?

The door opened, and a worried Percy stepped into the fireplace room. “Oh, there you are,” he sighed as he immediately sighted Annabeth’s blonde unruly curls. He had been running from the basement all the way to the roof searching for her. Relief washed over his face like some shower gel from a cheap commercial. Only then did he realize that Annabeth had been cornered by both his nosy grandmother and his even nosier great-grandmother.

“Whatever they’ve been telling you, it’s a lie, it’s wrong and it never happened!” he warned her as he took a seat right next to her.

“Oh please, relax,” Rhea rolled her eyes and threw the wool at her grandson. “We have been talking about mamá’s scythe.”

“Hey!” both Percy and Gaia complained. At least they hadn’t dished out embarrassing stories of him taking off in diapers at night.

“This is expensive! You young people show no respect towards others' belongings,” Gaia cursed.

Annabeth took the blue yarn and placed it back on top of the pyramid of other colors.

“Thank you!” Gaia smiled before she focused on finishing the sock.

“You’ve found your fiancé, Perseus. Now go off back to celebrate and let us old people reminisce about the past and talk.” Rhea lazily waved at them whilst Gaia didn’t even look up from her craft.

“We will,” Percy said while getting up and casually dragging Annabeth along. He kissed both Gaia and Rhea on the cheek, Annabeth threw a hasty “See you in the morning!” over her shoulder before the couple left.

“Are you okay?” Percy asked as he pulled Annabeth aside for a small breather.

She nodded. “It’s just a bit overwhelming with the amount of people that either want to take pictures of us, hope I remember when their youngest kid’s birthday is, or they tell me they hope we have our first baby preferably in less than a year.”

Percy blushed. He didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, men are mostly left out of the baby talk until their mother’s saw that their best friend’s children had their first grandbaby. He truly didn’t have any intention of having a child before the age of forty. He had to save a business from his damned uncle, run and manage said business and preferably find a woman he tolerated enough to marry before he could even think of children.

Percy apologized again. “One week,” he promised her.

“One week,” Annabeth repeated and nodded.

“We’re going in, you’ve missed the high of the party with your talk with my yai yai, but that’s perfectly fine. The first have already left, let’s just mingle for ten minutes or so before we can-”

The door flung open. “There they are!” yelled Hermes who was followed by Zephyrus and Hercules.

None of them had any intention of letting the party stop before five in the morning. It was merely two. The minute Hermes had his sights on Annabeth, he knew that he had found his best drinking buddy aside from Dionysus himself. Oh no, Annabeth thought and rightfully so.

The minutes of calmness and rest next to Gaia did their wonders because Percy and she were thrust back into the party at full force. She didn’t exactly remember when the blackout happened, but it was roughly thirty minutes later. She was drinking, she was dancing, she was completely making a fool out of herself. The hair? A mess. Annabeth herself? Don’t even think about it. She had been dancing with Hermes and Patroclus, Aphrodite accidentally stepped on her foot one time when Ares approached her.

Percy broke his own promise and accepted a fourth glass of wine from Dionysus who insisted on it. That glass was his doom. The last droplet touched his tongue and his world turned into a flashy mist, his consciousness was broken into pieces, fragmented and sprinkled across the floor. Where he was, when he was and who he was were things he couldn’t remember. The only thing that popped up in his mind were waves of solid gold. Was it hair? Could hair truly move like that and possess that texture? And a whiff of lemon with a hint of lavender crawled up his nose. It was an odd combination, but it felt safe and like home. He liked this smell. Where did he smell this before?

Percy didn’t care, he had other matters to attend to. The first thing on the docket was finding the bathroom, he had drunk way too much. The house had weird rules in regard to bathrooms. Was it the left side or the right side that the young men could use? Why did his uncle Hades have to break two sinks in a span of a week when he was sixteen again? Why were women and others allowed to do whatever they wanted? His great-grandma and her weird plans were always set to make him fail somehow. Things that she had thought of decades ago still bore fruit today.

Percy stumbled upstairs and turned right and prayed the doors he was opening were empty bathrooms and not relatives making out. That was just what he needed. The first door he opened was of his great-uncle Oceanus and Tethys who had a face mask on her face and pink curlers up her hair. At least the old people still knew how to behave. He hoped his mother had left the party hours ago. He apologized and closed the door. The next one was an empty bedroom, his even maybe. No, his bedroom was on an entirely different floor. Or was it?

The next bedroom was closed off thank god, but from the sounds on the inside it seemed like cousin Eos and her newest catch Orion had some fun. Disgusting, Percy thought before he moved on. The next door was what he was looking for. A bathroom. Lit up, clean and empty. Empty if it wasn’t for this one woman who was clutching the brims of the polished sink. She was tall, the golden hair equaled a rat nest and her red dress seemed to have witnessed a lot.

“Ugh,” she muttered and looked into the mirror. Her eyes found his immediately.

“Percy?” she turned around.

Oh right. He was Percy Jackson, thirty-one, single, hopefully the new CEO of Atlantic INC., he had a fantastic apartment in the Upper East Side with an amazing view and he was in Greece to impress his family with his fake fiancé in order to secure his father’s legacy. His fake fiancé being Annabeth Chase, a woman he loathed, had to pay a little hush money and hoped would leave the company fairly soon after.

“You’re in the men’s restroom,” Percy then stated.

Annabeth looked around. No, it was not the same bathroom she used in the morning. Oh yeah, Gaia’s weird bathroom rules.

“Honestly who cares?” the junior marketing manager complained. “A toilet’s a toilet, no matter who uses it.”

Percy shrugged. Annabeth had a point but it wasn’t their house so they couldn’t dictate the rules.

“I wanted to retouch my makeup, but I didn’t find my makeup bag.” She walked steadily to Percy, but it was clear to both of them that she had her fair amount of shots in her system.

“Yeah, it’s probably in the other bathroom. Wait, let me use the bathroom for a second and then we can head back to our room and you can look for your makeup.”

Annabeth nodded and waited on the outside while Percy was tending his business. After drying his hands, he opened the door and found Annabeth yawning in front of one of his yai yai’s paintings. It showed the scythe from the fireplace.

“In all honesty, your great-grandmother is an amazing woman. I admire her. Showing kindness and strength each day. How old is she?”

“Turning 106 next October,” Percy smiled at her. “She always said she wanted to live long enough to see her favorite descendants find their own happiness, whatever it may be.”

The softness in his voice made Annabeth’s heart ache. She turned her head back to the painting. She was a nobody. She had no family, no traditions she could upkeep. She didn’t even have a steady relationship in the past five years. Fucking Luke Castellan. He also had to take that from her as well. Make her suffer. That’s what Athena, Friedrich and Luke all thought at the same time. And they all had nearly reached their wicked goal if it hadn’t been for her stubbornness and will to eventually blossom into something else. The first step towards that something else resided within her move to California. She wanted to leave everything and everyone behind and start a new life, somewhere where no one knew her.

A thumb brushed over her cheek. Annabeth looked up to Percy. She hadn’t even realized she was sobbing again.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” Percy assured her. His hands found her sides, pulling her into a soft hug.

A true fiancé level hug. Annabeth had never felt that comfortable within a man’s reach. Percy might have been an awful and annoying coworker, but he truly cared about his fellow people. The way they slowly rocked and kept hugging each other reminded her of the school dance work they had put on the floor earlier. But this time it was real. This time there was no one taking pictures or yelling into their ears, or the demand to see a kiss.

Annabeth rested her face in his chest and Percy leaned his head on hers. It was like they had been made for each other. A welcoming scent greeted Percy. Lemon and lavender. The person stuck in Percy’s crumbled mind had been Annabeth. She was his anchor in the havoc his relatives had created in such a short time. He took a deeper breath. It felt reassuring.

“Did you just sniff me?” Annabeth laughed as she pulled away from him.

“You do smell good!” he defended himself with a stupid grin on his mouth.

“Oh, wait you’re super drunk,” she giggled again as she saw his widened pupils that had pushed the darkened sea-green iris away.

“Well, look at you,” he retorted.

They looked at each other. Aside from the bumping music and the noises people made downstairs it had been completely silent. He missed her warmth; she missed his comfort. Neither would have guessed that a simple embrace could offer so much. Neither would have thought they would take it to the next step within a split second.

One last look. A last time sea-green and light-gray met before each set of eyes closed and their lips met with a brutal force in the middle. Their teeth clacked but it didn’t matter to them. What mattered now, was the moment. Forgotten was the alcohol, forgotten were the troubles of past, present and future. Forgotten were the friends and relatives in the building and back in New York.

So... what do you think? 😄 Like I said, this is not the entire chapter 🤷🏾‍♀️ I honestly feel bad for cutting the chapter off because it's really getting more interesting from that point on 💁🏾‍♀️ I'll probably continue working on this once I've published the next act of The Fool 🥳

Also Greek people, if something seems off with this (aside from random English at times lol) hit me up, I definitely have to do more research!

#mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percabeth #percabeth fanfic #may I introduce you to my beloved wife #mel writes #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy and annabeth #pjo fanfic #percy jackson and the olympians #mel spoils

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

Text

The Perks of Cold Weather

Hello! This is just a whole lot of fluff because I need some positive vibes this week. Feel free to send some requests my way if you’d like! They can be as specific or as vague as you want and I’ll do my best. None of my ideas are currently working for me.

Summary: Reader and Spencer have some fun in the snow in a small town in Alaska.

Words: 2996

Warnings: none I think

When you first started at the BAU, you were quick to realize the group was more like a family than coworkers. It was clear in the little things they did for each other on case, like the way JJ and Spencer would comfort each other on particularly difficult cases to the slight bickering that would inevitably start up between Derek and Emily about anything that didn’t really matter.

You were quick to find your place in the little family as well. Well, not find it so much as fall into it, but you didn’t mind. You were only 28 years old, meaning you were the youngest member of the BAU. Being the youngest meant a lot of teasing from the “older sibling” personalities of everyone except Rossi and Hotch. Their personalities were much more parent-esque. With how much they’d tease you, you were always quick to jump on the chance to tease them for a change. The perfect opportunity arose when a case came up in Alaska.

Penelope walked through the bullpen, calling you all into the roundtable room right before you left for the day. “Hello my wonderful crime fighters. I wish I had better news, but this case is a real whammy. Three women have been found stabbed to death in a small town in Alaska.”

The collective groans of just about everyone in the room were quiet, but obvious.

“I know, I know. Another freezing cold case. I wish I could send you to LA all the time, but alas bad guys aren’t deterred by freezing temperatures.” She went on to explain the details of the case before Hotch dismissed everyone with his typical “Wheels up in 30.”

The team dispersed to collect their go bags- and winter items for the cold weather they would surely be facing in Alaska- before meeting on the jet. When you got there, everyone else was already boarded, and you couldn’t help but feel the low energy of everyone on the plane.

“Don’t tell me the lot of you are afraid of a little snow?” You can’t stop the smirk from appearing on your face as you sit down across from Spencer and adjacent to Emily, Derek, and JJ.

“Big words from someone who hasn’t been on a case in Alaska yet.” Derek’s reply comes without hesitation. The grin on your face only grows when you realize that everyone really is feeling low because of the impending winter wonderland.

“Don’t tell me you’re excited for the cold weather?” JJ shivers just asking the question.

“Of course I am! I’ve always loved the cold. There’s something so magical about watching snow fall. It feels like Christmas!” The four of them stare at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You are seriously telling me none of you like the snow?” You scan all of their faces in disbelief, eyes landing on Spencer last.

“Don’t look at me. I’m from Nevada, it’s basically the desert. Winter in Las Vegas is comparable to fall in DC. The last time it snowed with any significance was in 2003 and that was only an inch.” Spencer nearly starts rambling about weather patterns across the US, but cuts himself off.

“You all are seriously killing my good mood with your bad vibes. I will change at least one of your minds by the end of this case” You say in a huff while putting your headphones on. You try to catch up on some sleep before you all reconvene to discuss the case.

After the briefing and right before landing, everyone starts bundling up in layers upon layers of sweatshirts, jackets, coats, gloves, scarves, and hats. You pull a sweater on over your long sleeve and zip up your FBI jacket, adding a cute beanie more for aesthetics than warmth. You’ve never been one to get overly cold, so you skip a few layers everyone else put on.

The rest of the team marches off the jet as if they would rather be anywhere else, but you don’t let it deter you. You exit the jet with a smile on your face, taking a deep breath of the cool Alaskan air.

“You really are enjoying yourself?” Spencer asks with a small smile. You meet his eye, the look on his face giving you butterflies, before responding.

“Of course I am. It smells like winter!” The two of you share a laugh as you get in the SUV headed to the police precinct to actually get to work.

The case only lasted two days. You were glad to have solved it so quickly, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss the snow. After the case files are all packed away and Hotch goes off to coordinate the jet, you head outside to absorb every last ounce of winter possible.

“I thought I might find you out here.” Spencer sits next to you on the bench as you stare at the flakes falling from the sky.

“What can I say, I just really love the cold.” You reply without turning your head. “Maybe it’s weird, but I would pick cold over hot any day.”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all! I think it’s kind of cute actually.” That gets your attention and you turn to see he’s looking at his hands in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. “I like how happy you are when you look at the snow.”

Of course, that makes you smile again. “Thank you, Spence.” You can feel your cheeks heating up, but you’re quickly distracted by the sound of Derek calling the two of you back into the station.

“Hey lovebirds, Hotch needs us.” You roll your eyes at Derek before standing up, offering your hand to Spencer to help him up. He takes your hand, squeezing it slightly as he rises from the bench. He only drops your hand when he goes to hold the door open for you, leading you back inside. The team gathers in the conference room, Hotch walking in with a grim expression.

“I’ll cut to the chase. We won’t be able to fly home until this evening. The snow from last night on top of the storm that’s about to pass through is too much to clear right now.” Everyone, including you, sighs before nodding in understanding. As much as you would love to stay longer, you know it sucks that everyone can’t go home to their families. “This case is wrapped up, so feel free to just explore the town or relax in the hotel. We should be able to take off at 9:00 pm, so I expect to see all of you on the jet by 8:45.” Those words were music to your ears. As everyone begins to pack up to head out, you turn to Spencer.

“I can’t believe this. It’s like a snow day! I’ve always loved snow days! We would always go outside, have a snowball fight, build a snowman, and try to build an igloo but end up giving up when it collapsed for the third time.” He chuckles at your enthusiasm, but nods along as you both walk out of the precinct toward the hotel just down the street. “Then we’d go in for lunch, make hot chocolate and cookies, and watch all our favorite movies.”

“Is that what you want to do today?” Spencer asks as you both walk into the hotel lobby.

“I mean, in a perfect world, yeah. That is exactly what I would want to do today.” You smile wistfully as you think back to your childhood snow days with your siblings.

“Well then, let’s see how perfect we can make the world, just for today.” Spencer’s smiling as he says it, taking in the confusion and shock on your face.

“You mean… You want to build a snowman? With me?” Your heart is beating so forcefully, you wouldn’t be surprised if it flew right out of your chest.

“Yeah, and all the other things too.” Spencer’s words are soft and unsure, contrasting the confidence of his previous statement.

“But you don’t like the cold weather…” You simply can’t fathom why he would volunteer to do these cold weather activities when just two days ago he was talking about how little snow he experienced when he was younger.

“But you do, and we’re stuck here anyway. So, why not?” Hearing that he would spend his day off playing in the snow simply because you want to does things to you that you chose to ignore for the time being.

“O- okay… yeah, let’s do it! ” The two of you smile at each other for a few seconds before you each bring your things to you respective rooms with a plan to meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes.

When you get to your room you pull out the warmest clothes you brought to Alaska. Although it would suffice for walking down the street, it’s not exactly made for playing in the snow. After getting dressed you meet Spencer in the lobby. He is dressed in warmer clothes than you, but still not snow proof.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea…” Your excitement to start this day with Spencer has dwindled since imaging the cold, wet clothes you’d end up in. “The key to a good snow day is waterproof clothes and we definitely don’t have any. How am I going to make you like snow if you’re freezing and wet at the end of the day?” You would expect the resident genius to agree with you, but instead of a grim expression and a nod in agreement, Spencer’s smile grows.

“Don’t worry about it. Just come with me.” He leads you outside of the hotel with his hand on the small of your back all the way down to the town store. “What needs to be waterproof? We can find snow pants, jackets, gloves, and boots right here.” He looks so pleased with himself as he leads you around the store to collect all the items you’ll need. He even picks out a sled for the two of you.

After checking out, he leads you back outside where you pull the waterproof gear on over your warm layers, tossing the tags into a nearby trash can. Before you can say anything, he is again leading you through the town with his hand on the small of your back. He stops when he reaches the park, turning to you once again.

“Where do you want to build the snowman?” You mirror the grin on his face as you run across the park to a flatter area.

You begin compressing the snow in your hands to form the ball that would eventually become the bottom layer of your snowman. Spencer copies your actions, forming a lopsided ball for the middle. You leave Spencer to work on the head while you search around the nearby trees for sticks to use as arms and rocks to use for the eyes and buttons.

After finding the perfect set of sticks, you return to see Spencer adding a carrot nose right in the middle of the head.

“I didn’t even see you buy carrots!” He laughs at your childlike enthusiasm, moving aside so you can add the sticks to the middle. You also add the rocks you gathered for the eyes and buttons. Spencer surprises you again by pulling out a hat and scarf to add the finish touches.

After forcing him to take a selfie with you and the snowman, you walk across the park to find a good sledding hill. You find the perfect hill, and offer to go down first since it’s going to take some effort to form the path. Spencer watches you scooching your way through the snow, forcing the sled down the hill, laughing hysterically. You haven’t been able to enjoy snow like this for years.

Spencer was hesitant to sled down the hill together, but one pout from you and he climbed on right away. The sled picked up pace is you barreled out of control, flipping and rolling down the hill.

You took the opportunity of a distracted Spencer to form a snow ball, waiting until he was only a few feet away to throw it at him. Of course, as soon as it hits him it’s game on. The two of you are running through the park, hiding behind trees, and dodging each other’s snowballs. Spencer, being uncoordinated, mostly missed you. That is, until the very end of the snowball fight when he hits you right in the face, the surprise causing you to fall to the ground.

“Y/N! Are you okay! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He’s cut off by your laughter.

“Relax Spence, its fine! It was powdery snow. It’s not like you hit me with a chunk of ice.” You smile at him as he helps you to a standing position. You’re so focused on standing up without slipping on the compressed snow beneath your feet, you don’t realize how close the two of you have become. When you look up to meet his eyes, your noses are nearly touching.

Without much thought for the consequences, you lean a few inches forward, ever so slightly brushing your lips against his.

Spencer is so stunned, it takes him much longer than he’d care to admit to reciprocate your affection. So long in fact, that you’ve pulled away and are frantically trying to think of something to say to save your friendship when he pulls you back in.

The two of you don’t pull away again until the need for air overpowers your need for each other. You stay close though, foreheads pressed together.

“Let me take you on a date. A real one where we go into knowing it’s a date.” Spencer says it all in one breath.

“Oh, Spence. This whole day has been a perfect date, even if we didn’t say it at first. But I would love to go on another with you.”

The two of you are all smiles as you walk back toward the café near your hotel. You’ve been outside so long it’s nearly dark- granted it gets dark around 4:00 this time of year in Alaska. Upon entering the café, Spencer is quick to order two hot chocolates and cookies to go.

“I know it’s not the same as baking them ourselves, but we don’t have access to an oven in the hotel.” He says, squeezing your hand before leading you out of the café.

You would blindly follow Spencer anywhere, but that doesn’t stop you from asking him about it. “Where are we going now? I thought we were going to eat…”

“Back to the hotel. We have one more thing to check off the list for your perfect snow day.” Of course he would remember your list from earlier in the day. “So tell me, what’s your favorite snow day movie?”

“That’s actually a tough question. It changes depending on the mood.” You are genuinely trying to think of the perfect movie to end the perfect day as you walk back into the hotel.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go up to your room and pick out a movie that fits ‘the mood’, and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes?” You simply nod in response, too lost in thought to contemplate where he could be going.

15 minutes later you have finally picked out a movie to watch when Spencer enters your room, carrying a takeout bag.

“I finally found a movie!” You smile at him as you show him your computer screen. Anastasia is queued on your Disney+.

“Perfect. We can now officially start our date.” He smiles, pulling the food out of the bag, he hands you a cup of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Your heart warms at the sight of it. You know Spencer has an eidetic memory, but you still get butterflies at the idea of him remembering your favorite cold weather food.

The two of you sit against the headboard, setting the computer between you to play the movie. After you’ve finished eating you shuffle around on the bed, moving the laptop so you could cuddle with Spencer.

“I’ve got another reason for you to like the cold weather.” You state matter-of-factly, eyes still trained on the movie.

“Yeah? What is it?” Spencer’s eyes are trained on your face.

“It’s better for cuddling.” A small grin appears on your face at the sound of Spencer’s airy laugh. He pulls you closer, both of you completely content.

As much as you love the cold and snow, dragging yourself out of Spencer’s arms and into the cold air to get to the jet on time was not an exciting task. In fact, it put you in a slightly sour mood, something Morgan was all too quick to pick up on.

“What’s the matter L/N? The cold weather got you down?” He laughs at your annoyed expression.

“Not a chance, Morgan. I quite enjoyed our little snow day actually.” You smile at Spencer as you pull your blanket from your go bag and sit on the couch.

“You actually played in the snow? It was only 22 degrees today!” You can’t help but shake your head. 22 degrees is cold, but nothing compared to how bad it can get in Alaska.

“We did indeed. I think I managed to turn Spencer on to the cold weather too.” Spencer sits down next to you encouraging you to share your blanket.

“How’d you manage that? I’ve been to on enough cases with Pretty Boy here to know he prefers the warmer ones.”

“It’s actually rather simple.” Spencer replies, shifting his arm around you on the back of the couch. You smile as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Colder climates make for better cuddles.”

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@mac99martin

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x y/n

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