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cheynovak · 2 days

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Sheriff’s Bargain

Characters: Beau Arlen x F/Reader Y/N

Summary: Y/N, a seasoned con artist, is arrested after returning to Montana, where her past comes back to haunt her in the form of Sheriff Beau Arlen—the man she abandoned five years ago. Facing charges linked to a drug lord, she’s offered a deal to work as an informant. Torn between her criminal life and lingering feelings for Beau, Y/N must decide whether to help him bring down the crime ring or continue running from her past.

Warnings: Mentioning of breaking the law

English is not my first language

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

I’ve always lived by one rule: never get attached. It’s a good rule when your life revolves around lies, schemes, and the occasional robbery. My world was all about the next con, the next score. Keep it simple. Keep it clean. And most importantly, never catch feelings.

But then I swiped right on Beau Arlen.

It all started with a silly swipe on an online dating app. I’d been scrolling aimlessly, a glass of wine in hand, bored out of my mind, when his profile caught my eye. Tall, rugged, with an easy smile and sun-kissed hair, he was the definition of all-American charm.

Sheriff.

That little detail was tucked away in his bio, barely noticeable. I knew then it wasn’t just boredom pulling me into a potential meet-up; this was a chance. Law enforcement wasn’t usually my playground, but something about him made me curious. A sheriff? That kind of information could be worth a lot in the right hands.

I was hooked. So, I did what I do best. I played the part—Y/N, the carefree, slightly adventurous girl just looking for a connection. We started chatting, and he was exactly what I expected—kind, witty, a little rough around the edges but warm. He was also recently divorced. No kids. And I learned, without even asking, that I was the first woman he’d dated since. That little fact should’ve sent warning bells off in my head, but instead, it intrigued me. Made me want to know more about him, which was the first sign I was slipping.

I could already picture our first date, where I’d play innocent and sweet while subtly probing for information. The game was on.

Two days later, I found myself in the dimly lit corner of a small bar in Austin, Texas, waiting for Beau to arrive. The place was a quiet little spot on the outskirts of town, not flashy but comfortable. The kind of place where people didn’t ask too many questions, which worked perfectly for me.

I caught my reflection in the glass behind the bar—subtle makeup, a touch of vulnerability in my expression, nothing to hint at what I was really up to. It was all part of the game. I had done this a hundred times before. The thrill of deception, of being in control, made my blood hum with excitement.

Then the door swung open, and there he was. Even in the dim light, Beau Arlen commanded the room. He spotted me, his eyes lighting up with that easy-going smile. It hit me—he wasn’t just handsome. He had a presence. Something solid. Steady.

I hadn’t expected that.

“Y/N, right?” His voice was deep, with a Southern drawl that made my skin tingle. I smiled, standing up to meet him.

“That’s me. Beau, right?” I played it cool, though my heart was beating a little faster than usual. I chalked it up to the challenge ahead.

As the night went on, we talked and laughed, and I skillfully steered the conversation, dropping little hints, hoping he’d spill some intel about the sheriff’s department or something juicy I could sell to one of my mob contacts. But he didn’t take the bait.

Instead, he told me about growing up in Texas, his time in law enforcement, and how hard the divorce had been on him. How he hadn’t dated anyone seriously since the split. I was the first. The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, yet vulnerable, made something inside me twist. This wasn’t just another target. This was a good man, a man who had been hurt. A man who trusted me.

That’s when I felt the first crack in my carefully built walls.

One date turned into two. Then three. Each time, I told myself it was just part of the plan. I’d get the information I needed, make my move, and disappear before he ever realized who I really was. That’s how it always went. But every time I met up with Beau, something shifted.

I found myself laughing more. Enjoying his company. He was good. Not in the usual way I was used to, not someone trying to get something from me. He was just good. And damn it, that scared me.

The night we were supposed to go to a local diner, I had a plan. I'd go home with him and I’d dug around, found out where Beau kept his work laptop. All I had to do was slip away while he was distracted, clone his drive, and sell the sheriff’s department intel to the highest bidder.

Easy.

Except it wasn’t.

We sat in his truck after dinner, parked by a lake just outside the city, and he looked at me—really looked at me. Not like I was Y/N, the girl I pretended to be, but like he saw something deeper. Something real. His thumb brushed against my hand, and for a second, I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

“You know, I didn’t expect this,” he said softly, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

“Expect what?” I asked, my heart doing weird somersaults in my chest.

“To actually like you,” he said, turning to face me fully. “I mean, I thought you were pretty, sure, but this… it feels like more.”

My breath hitched. This wasn’t part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to feel… anything. But I did.

I’d conned a hundred men before Beau. And not once had I ever felt guilty. Not once had I ever hesitated. But now, looking into his eyes, I knew I was in trouble.

“I don’t think you’re telling me everything,” he added, his voice soft but firm, like he knew something was off but wasn’t sure what.

My pulse raced. Did he know? Had he figured me out?

I could end it here. Lie. Run. Disappear like I always did. But then, he leaned closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and I couldn’t do it. Not this time.

“Beau, I—” I stopped myself, words failing me for the first time in forever.

I pulled away just before his lips could touch mine.

“I—I’m sorry, Beau. I can’t.”

I scrambled out of the truck, my heart pounding, and started walking. I didn’t know where I was going, just that I had to get away. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let him in.

“Y/N!” Beau called after me, his voice tinged with confusion and worry. “Wait! What’s wrong?”

I kept walking, my breath coming in shallow bursts. I heard his footsteps behind me, getting closer until his hand caught my wrist, gently pulling me to a stop.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to spill everything, but I couldn’t. Instead, I surged forward and kissed him. Soft, quick, just a taste of what could’ve been. When I pulled back, Beau looked at me, eyes wide with confusion.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “This isn’t working out.”

The hurt flashed in his eyes, but I didn’t wait for him to respond. I turned and walked away, each step feeling like I was ripping my own heart out.

By the time I got back to my apartment, I had made my decision. I couldn’t stay in Texas. Not with Beau here. If I did, I’d only end up hurting him worse. I packed my bags quickly, grabbing whatever I could fit, and disappeared into the night like I always did. No note, no goodbye. Just gone.

Five years.

It had been five years since I left Texas. Since I left Beau. I told myself it was for the best, that he deserved someone better. Someone real. I moved from city to city, pulling cons, making deals, and trying to forget the way he made me feel.

But I never did.

And now, here I was, back in Montana. The last place I ever thought I’d return to. The past, the one I’d tried to bury beneath years of schemes and lies, still haunted me in the form of a tall, rugged sheriff named Beau Arlen.

I thought of him more times than I cared to admit. His smile, his voice, the way he looked at me like I was someone worth knowing. Someone real. I was too much of a coward to look him up, to even think about reaching out. Instead, I did what I did best—hid behind the shadows. I checked his Facebook like some creep, scrolling through his life from the safety of a screen, always too afraid to hit that “Add Friend” button. He looked happy. He seemed like he’d moved on.

I told myself I had too. I built a flawless career as a private contractor, stealing, selling intel, playing my cards right with every dangerous figure I crossed. Everything was perfect.

Five years of dodging bullets and walking out of every con cleanly came to a crashing halt. I got caught. They found a trail leading back to me. Somehow, they connected me to an old case in this godforsaken town. I didn’t even remember the details anymore. I’d worked for a drug baron here once, years ago. A minor job. But I should have known better than to think I could outrun every ghost from my past.

The small, gray interrogation room smelled like stale coffee and disinfectant. I sat at the table, my hands cuffed in front of me, but I wasn’t worried. I’d been in tighter spots before, and I was always good at talking my way out. If I played this right, I could convince them I was just another innocent woman in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But what I wasn’t prepared for had just walked into the room.

The door swung open, and there he was. Beau.

Sheriff Beau Arlen.

The world seemed to stop as he stepped into the room, his broad frame filling the doorway. He was even more rugged than I remembered—his shoulders a little broader, his face a little more weathered, like the years had hardened him in ways I hadn’t expected. But his eyes—those sharp, piercing eyes—still had that same warmth I used to get lost in. Except now, there was something else there. Something colder. Something guarded.

I swallowed hard, my heart slamming against my ribcage as his gaze locked on me. For a second, I thought I saw recognition flash across his face, but he didn’t give anything away. He just stood there, towering over me, a shadow from my past I couldn’t ignore any longer.

"Well," he said slowly, his voice low and steady, "this is a surprise."

I forced a smile, my brain scrambling for something to say, something that would make this less awkward, less… devastating.

“Beau,” I breathed, the sound of his name on my lips feeling both familiar and foreign. “Sheriff in Montana now, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah. A lot’s changed since you ran out on me.”

I flinched at the reminder, feeling the weight of my past mistakes crashing down on me. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I wasn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t prepared for him.

Beau pushed off the wall and walked slowly toward the table, his eyes never leaving mine. “You were always good at disappearing, Y/N. But I gotta say, I didn’t expect you to turn up in my town again. And especially not like this.”

I couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped me. “Trust me, neither did I.”

He sat down across from me, his expression unreadable. The tension between us was thick, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of us. I wanted to explain, to tell him why I left, but the words stuck in my throat. What could I say? That I was scared? That I wasn’t good enough for him?

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Are you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to these last few years? Or do I have to guess?” He motioned the map in front of him.

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. The old me—the con artist—was good at staying cool under pressure. But sitting here, across from Beau, my past and present crashing together, I felt completely exposed.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said, forcing a smirk I didn’t feel.

His gaze hardened slightly. “Try me.”

I leaned back in my chair, trying to regain some control. “It’s not what it looks like. I wasn’t involved in that mess you claim. Yeah, I worked for a guy who… let’s just say he wasn’t exactly on the right side of the law. But that was a long time ago.”

Beau didn’t say anything, just watched me with those intense eyes, waiting for more. I could feel him seeing through every half-truth, every lie I was about to tell.

“Look,” I sighed, “I’m good at what I do. Too good, apparently. But I’m not the bad guy here. I didn’t expect to get dragged into some old case. It’s a misunderstanding.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And what should I believe, Y/N? The woman who ran out on me without a word? Or the con artist who’s sitting in front of me now?”

My breath caught in my throat, his words cutting deeper than I’d expected. He knew. He’d known all along what I was. And I’d left him to deal with the pieces.

“I never meant to hurt you,” I said softly, my voice cracking.

Beau’s jaw clenched, the tension rolling off him in waves. “Anyway.”

The silence between us stretched on, heavy and suffocating. I didn’t know what to say. For once, I had no plan, no angle. It was just me and him, with all the lies I’d told hanging between us.

Finally, Beau stood up, his expression unreadable. “You’ll have your chance to explain everything in court. Until then, you’re staying here.”

He turned to leave, but just before he walked out the door, he stopped and glanced back at me, his eyes softer, almost sad.

“Five years, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I waited for you to come back. But I guess I never thought it would be like this.”

And just like that, he was gone. The door closed behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty room.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the cold, metal table in front of me. I had been prepared to face the law, the consequences of my actions.

But I wasn’t prepared to face Beau.

After hours of being questioned and trying to maintain my calm facade, they finally led me to a cell for the night. The cold metal bars and uncomfortable cot were a far cry from the life I’d gotten used to. But it wasn’t the first time I found myself behind bars—though, this time, the stakes felt higher. This time, it wasn’t just a con gone wrong or a deal gone sideways. This time, it was Beau.

The weight of the past—the lies, the broken promises—pressed on my chest as I lay on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling. I replayed the moment he walked into that interrogation room over and over in my mind. The look in his eyes, the way he had spoken to me like I was both a stranger and someone he knew too well. Five years, and it felt like no time had passed. I hated that I still cared. I hated that he still had that effect on me.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but the memories wouldn’t let me rest. What could have been. What I’d lost.

By morning, I was exhausted, but I wasn’t surprised when Beau showed up again. This time, though, there was something different in his demeanor. Less tension, more determination.

He stepped into the cell block, arms crossed as he leaned against the bars. “You look like hell,” he said, though there was a flicker of something softer in his tone.

“Thanks, Sheriff,” I muttered, pushing myself up to sit on the edge of the cot. “It’s not exactly the Four Seasons in here.”

He didn’t smile. His eyes, clear and unreadable, stayed locked on mine as he walked over and unlocked the door.

“We need to talk,” Beau said, his voice low, all business. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. “A proposition? Let me guess, you’re about to offer me a way out of here if I spill some dirt?”

He shrugged, leaning against the wall with that infuriating calm of his. “Something like that. Here’s the deal: you work with us on this case, become an informant, and help us bring down the drug ring you were involved with years ago. In return, I’ll see what I can do about your punishment.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. “What do you have on me, Beau? Because I don’t think you’re offering this out of the kindness of your heart.”

For a moment, his expression hardened, but then he sighed. “Right now? We’ve only got this case—the drug operation from a few years back. We can link you to some old players, but nothing major... Yet.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in.

“But I’m good at digging, Y/N. If I want to, I’ll find more. I know now how you operate. You’ve left a trail, and it’s only a matter of time before I catch up to it.”

My stomach tightened. He wasn’t bluffing, and I knew it. I’d done a lot of things over the years, and if Beau really wanted to bring me down, he could. He’d find enough to keep me locked up for a long time.

“So, what?” I asked, leaning back against the wall and crossing my arms. “You want me to turn informant, feed you intel on the people I worked with, and in exchange, you’ll make sure I don’t rot in here for the rest of my life?”

“Pretty much.” His voice was even, controlled. “You help us, and I’ll do what I can to make sure you walk away from this with as little damage as possible.”

I stared at him, trying to gauge if this was a trick, but I knew Beau well enough to know he didn’t play games like I did. He was giving me a chance—a real one. Maybe the only one I’d get.

I looked down at my hands, the cuffs no longer around my wrists but the weight of the offer felt just as binding. Was this the way out? The part of me that had always survived by running wanted to take the deal, to keep my head above water and stay one step ahead of the law. But there was another part of me, the one that had started to unravel the moment Beau walked into that interrogation room, that wondered if I was finally done running.

“Fine,” I said after a long silence, my voice steady. “I’ll do it. I’ll work with you. But I want to know what I’m dealing with here. How much danger am I in?”

Beau’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The drug baron you worked for, Declan King, is still a player. He’s gone underground, but his network is vast, and we’ve been after him for years. You’ve got connections. You’ve got intel. That’s why we need you.” He paused, his eyes darkening slightly.

“But make no mistake, Y/N—if King or his people find out you’re working with us, you’ll be in more danger than just sitting in this cell.”

I swallowed, nodding. I knew what I was getting into. Hell, I’d danced with danger my whole life. This was just another step in the same game.

“Alright, Sheriff,” I said, standing up and meeting his gaze. “I’m in. I’ll help you take down King.”

Beau didn’t move for a moment, just stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing. But then he nodded once, curtly. “Good. You’ll start today. We’ll set up a safe line of communication, and you’ll feed us whatever you know. But don’t think for a second this is going to be easy. One misstep, and this deal’s off.”

I forced a smile, though my heart was pounding in my chest. “Don’t worry. I don’t make missteps.”

His eyes flickered with something—something I couldn’t quite read—but he turned to leave, pausing just before stepping out of the cell.

“And, Y/N?” he said, his voice soft but laced with warning. “This isn’t just about you getting out of trouble. I expect you to come through on this. Don’t make me regret giving you this chance.”

The door shut behind him, and I was left alone in the cell, the reality of the deal sinking in. I had agreed to work with the law—to work with Beau—and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing or setting myself up for a fall.

But one thing was certain: there was no turning back now.

Let me know what you think, like, share or comment <3 If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Taglist: -> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read!

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#beau arlen #big sky #big sky edit #fanfic #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #x reader #fluff

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2tcs · 3 months

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Day 2 Meeting a new family member and Wire

“My brother has moved to Gotham and I intend to visit them tonight as Robin.” Damian announced as everyone began to eat dinner.

“You have. A brother?” Tim haltingly asked as he looked at Damian.

“Tt. That is what I said. I advise not attempting to contact him unless he invites you into his home.”

“Damian. Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” Bruce asked.

“It was irrelevant. Danyal is older than me and had been deemed a failure by the time Mother and Grandfather decided to make me. I had been under the impression that he had been disposed of. In a way, I suppose he was, seeing as he was placed in the hands of some scientists who worked for the league.”

“But he’s back. Do you know what he wants?” Tim asked as Bruce disassociated.

“He would not go into detail but it seems that the scientists who raised him have found a purer and more radioactive Lazarus water. It is why I am meeting him tonight so he can turn over the more sensitive information without the league hearing about it.”

“Damian.” Bruce started before rethinking what he was going to say. “I would like to come with. He may be your brother but he is also an unknown.”

“I am aware Father. That is why I am telling you now. You cannot come with me but I will stay in contact and keep the com channel open throughout the entire exchange.”

“I would still prefer”

“Father. You will not come with. Danyal has expressly forbade you from meeting him.”

“That makes this even more suspicious! If not me then at least bring Dick with you.”

“Richard is in Bloodhaven and will not be able to get here in a timely manner. I am going alone.” Damian said before standing up and walking off.

“Damian!”

“Give it a rest B. He’s on a mission and I have a feeling he’ll go alone no mater what you say. If anything we could try to tail him but I have a feeling he’ll be on the lookout for that.”

“Hn.”

👻🦇👻🦇

“Akhi. You have fortified this place well.” Damian complimented as he walked into the office of the warehouse where Danny had made his base. It had been years since Danny had looked into the child that was meant to replace him after he failed one too many missions for Grandfather's liking. But to see that his little brother had managed to escape the league made Danny’s core hum happily.

“Thank you, Dams. But we aren’t here for pleasantries.” Danny said as he walked over to the single desk in the room and pulled a thick file out of one of the drawers. “In here is a brief rundown of the Fenton's research as well as a law that has recently passed that is in violation of”

Before Danny could finish talking there was a loud crash and a string of expletives.

“What the fuck! Who puts two wire traps mere inches from each other!” The voice shouted before the sound of a body hitting the floor. A few moments later the voice started yelling again as they fell into another trap.

“A friend of yours Dams?” Danny asked while he watched the door.

“A member of our family. Unfortunately. I had told Father not to come and I was hoping the fact that it was in Crime Allie would discourage Drake. I had not counted on Father getting Todd involved.” Damian sighed before walking over to the folder.

“As long as he does not wake up the littles I could care less. Perhaps we should help him out?” Danny asked. Not noticing Damian’s head snapping up to stare at him.

“Littles? You did not inform me of anyone else.”

“Hm. Long story short? You are an uncle to two little ones.”

“ALL RIGHT! WHO SET UP ALL THOSE… Demon brat. I should have known.” Red Hood said as he barged into the office. Causing twin crys to echo from a door on the opposite side of the main door. “Are those?”

“Yes, and your entrance has just woken up my kids. Dams? I have also left a number in the folder if you need to contact me. I will be off now.” Danny said as he began to walk towards the door the cries were coming from.

“There is a family brunch every Wednesday at ten in the morning. I request you to be there so that I can meet the new members of our family. Father would also like to meet you.” Damian said while ignoring Jason’s stuttering.

“I will think about it. Until next time Dams.” Danny replied before disappearing through the door.

#dpxdc #dpxdc event #dpxdcfamilyweek24 #day 2: new family | wire

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emberwhite · 8 months

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I spent the last 11 months working with my illustrator, Marta, to make the children's book of my dreams. We were able to get every detail just the way I wanted, and I'm very happy with the final result. She is the best person I have ever worked with, and I mean, just look at those colors!

I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story. This is our story.

I also want to say the month following the book's launch has been very stressful. I have never done this kind of book before, and I didn't know how to get the word out about it. I do have a small publishing business and a full-time job, so I figured let's put my some money into advertising this time. Indie writers will tell you great success stories they've had using Facebook ads, so I started a page and boosting my posts.

Within a first few days, I got a lot of likes and shares and even a few people who requested the book and left great reviews for me. There were also people memeing on how the boy turns into a delicious venison steak at the end of the book. It was all in good fun, though. It honestly made made laugh. Things were great, so I made more posts and increased spending.

But somehow, someway these new posts ended up on the wrong side of the platform. Soon, we saw claims of how the book was perpetuating mental illness, of how this book goes against all of basic biology and logic, and how the lgbtq agenda was corrupting our kids.

This brought out even more people to support the book, so I just let them at it and enjoyed my time reading comments after work. A few days later, then conversation moved from politics to encouraging bullying, accusing others of abusing children, and a competition to who could post the most cruel image. They were just comments, however, and after all, people were still supporting the book.

But then the trolls started organizing. Over night, I got hit with 3 one-star reviews on Amazon. My heart stopped. If your book ever falls below a certain rating, it can be removed, and blocked, and you can receive a strike on your publishing account. All that hard work was about to be deleted, and it was all my fault for posting it in the wrong place.

I panicked, pulled all my posts, and went into hiding, hoping things would die down. I reported the reviews and so did many others, but here's the thing you might have noticed across platforms like Google and Amazon. There are community guidelines that I referenced in my email, but unless people are doing something highly illegal, things are rarely ever taken down on these massive platforms. So those reviews are still there to this day. Once again, it's my fault, and I should have seen it coming.

Luckily, the harassment stopped, and the book is doing better now, at least in the US. The overall rating is still rickety in Europe, Canada, and Australia, so any reviews there help me out quite a lot. I'm currently looking for a new home to post about the book and talk about everything that went into it. I also love to talk about all things books if you ever want to chat. Maybe I'll post a selfie one day, too. Otherwise, the book is still on Amazon, and the full story and illustrations are on YouTube as well if you want to read it for free.

#books #reading #childrens books #lgbtq #lgbtqia #autism #transgender #furry #therian #art #deer #queer #artists on tumblr #creativity #illustration

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hellenhighwater · 2 months

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So, every animal shelter around me is heinously overloaded/understaffed and begging for fosters. I am considering applying to be one for a momma cat with kittens, but I don't know if I have enough space/time/energy to do so and don't know anyone I can ask IRL about the experience. Are you willing to go into detail about what exactly foster duty entails? Also, do the fosters coexist peacefully with Malice and Vice or do you need to keep them separated?

Fostering can be a relatively small time investment, or it can be a big one. Nearly every shelter hits capacity in the warm months, due to the overwhelming quantity of kittens.

I talked to my local shelter and explained that I don't have a ton of time to work with--I can't take neonatal kittens, or ones that need regular hand feeding, or basically anyone medically fragile. But I can take litters that are doing well, who just need time and space to grow big enough to hit the minimum weight to be spayed/neutered and adopted. On a daily basis, I swap out water, food, and clean litter, plus general tidying-up as needed. That takes maaaybe half an hour to an hour--most days I do it before work. Because most of my litters have moms, the moms do a lot of the work of feeding and cleaning the babies! They may need bathing sometimes, depending on how much of a mess they make. Beyond that, I try to spend time with them as much as I can--I'll go in and eat my meals with them, sit and do digital work, or watch movies while I do projects with them around. The goal is to socialize and handle them as much as you can.

Kittens generally litter train themselves, but accidents happen when they're little, so a space with easily cleaned floors is ideal. I start my fosters out in a jumbo sized dog crate, allowing for supervised time outside of that, and then eventually give them my whole den to run around in when they're old enough to be more independently mobile (basically when they're old enough to realize that losing sight of their mom does not mean they're lost forever, and can navigate the space on their own.) I do keep Mal and Vice out of the den when I have fosters, but there's a glass door so theycan see each other.

Most shelters with foster programs will supply everything you need for them in terms of food, meds, and litter--you just give them space and time. I got my own jumbo dog crate to use, and I pick up secondhand towels for cheap--that gives me something easy to wash for them to sleep on. If you're just getting started, a shelter can probably find you an "easy" litter to begin with. Not that there's ever a 100% guarantee, because kittens are fragile, but usually they can set up a litter that seems strong. At least for me, there's an urge to play the hero and take on too much--I have to be careful, and accept that I only have so much time to work with; I have to say no to some of the more tiny, delicate kittens, and leave them to be fostered by those who can handle them. Those people are awesome and I'm not one of them.

If you're setting up space for fosters, I'd choose a place that's easy to clean, that's not going to leave them vulnerable to being bothered by other animals or kids all the time (they sleep a lot), and which allows for you to spend time with them. You can keep your fosters in a large dog crate or other kennel--honestly, it's comparable to how the shelter would house them--or in a room you have set up to handle them, but I'd hesitate to give them complete free run of your place unless you live somewhere quite small. Kittens are fast, and you really don't want to lose one. I remove rugs and less durable furniture from their space as well, and sometimes will cover the couch in a thick blanket to reduce claw marks.

Overall, I think it's totally worth it. It's fun to get to have them through the baby days, and they have more individualized attention in a home than they would get at the shelter. It's worth trying! If it doesn't pan out--or if they start needing more attention than you can give--you can give them back, but in the meanwhile they have a more enjoyable home than a shelter.

#no shade to the shelter they're doing their best #anyone else who's fostered is welcome to give their two cents

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k-martins · 9 months

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Updating mine

MY TOP TEN FAVORITE JJK SHIPPS!!!!

10. SHOKOHIME

They stole Jogo and Hanami's place because I got it into my head that Jogo is like the grumpy grandfather and Hanai is the vegan aunt of the curse family! I like them. I think it's a ship with a lot of potential. I need to consume more content, but I love the fanarts!!!

9. HIGUNANA

This crack grew in me and now I'm suffering for them after the last chapter. In a kind universe, Higuruma and Nanami adopted Yuji and they live happily and happily!!! I think the two go together a lot and the fanfics are adorable! These Old Yaoi will be the death of me!!!!

8. CHOSOYUKI

They've come down a little, but man I still love them!!! Even more so now because my thirst for Choso awakened and I started reading fanfics of him being a good big brother and I fell to my knees! I still want to write more and explore his relationship with Yuji. And God, YUKI IS AMAZING!!!! THEY DESERVED TO STAY TOGETHER, AKUTAMI YOU DAMN IT!!!!

7. HIGUKUSA

A friend on twt is feeding me higukusa art and, god, this crack (not so crack, because that "I'll protect you even if I have to die for it" from kusakabe hit me hard) has taken root in my heart! I'm also obsessed with Higuruma, so I combined the useful with the pleasant!

6. INUOKKO

THEY ARE CUTE OKAY!!!! I AM OBSESSED WITH CREATING HCS FOR THEM!!! I don't consume much of their stuff, but all the fanart I've seen is cute and their participation in the itafushi fics I read is always welcome!!! It's kind of strange to read something where they're not together…

5. NOBAMAKI

MY OPINION HAS NOT CHANGED, OKAY??? NOBAMAKI IS WONDERFUL AND I WOULD KILL TO HAVE MORE OF THEM!!! But since I saw Nobara's flashback I've been wondering if Fumi wouldn't be a good ship too? Does anyone have a fanfic/fanart of him, by the way??? ANYWAY, NOBAMAKI IS STILL MY FAVORITE!!!

4. KIRAKARI

I'M IN LOVE WITH KIRARA!!!! SHE AND HAKARI ARE THE ONLY HEALTHY THINGS IN THIS MISERABLE MANGA!!!! I love imagining what their relationship is like, writing hcs slice to life minis and drawing Kirara! But I'm getting worried because I saw someone saying that Kirara could appear in the Hakari x Urame fight to help her boyfriend and I know what's going to happen and I don't want it to happen! GEGE GET THESE DIRTY CLAWS AWAY FROM MY BABIES!!!!

3. SATOSUGU

YOU RUINED BLACK AND WHITE FOR ME, YOU DEPRESSED BITCHES!!! My friend is obsessed with them and boy can I understand! These two are tragic, with a beautiful dynamic and a happy ending(?). Plus they fucked up my Christmas Eve. I hope these two bitches are causing terror in heaven!

2. ITAFUSHI!!!!

If you've known me for more than a second, you'll know that I have an average of five outbreaks a day because of these two. This whole thing about always trying to save others even if it condemns them destroys me, okay??? Fanfics and fanarts also feed me! And I'm going to convince all my friends to ship this too so I can yell at 2am at them about little details of their dynamic! AND THEY MATCH SO MUCH!!! Of course, no more than our first place!!!!

EVERYONE X THERAPY!!!

Please let the deaths stop and this become canon

Honorable mention for _ Tojikuna (more because a twt artist is obsessed with them and that rubbed off on me) _ Hainana _ Toji x Mamagumi _ Okkofushi (Yuta was Megumi's first crush and you can't get that out of my head) _ Uraume x Sukuna (one-sided) _ Yuta x Maki

#First place is what needs to happen the most!#like #I really want this to happen #two weeks without an episode and I'm freaking out already #itafushi #fushiita #satosugu #nobamaki #inuokko #shokohime #higukusa #higunana #chosoyuki #kirakari

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lady-buggerinton · 4 months

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My Top Five Polin Scenes in Part One (and why!)

My darling gossipers, so far this show is making literally all of my hopeless romantic dreams for this couple come true and who knows what kind of angst and drama were in for in part two, so before things gets too real I just wanted to go into (too much) depth on my favorite scenes and a few swoon-worthy details from part one! *whips reigns on carriage* shall we?

5. Drawing Room Lesson/Journal

Pen's brain: TOUCH ALERT! HIS HAND IS ON MY BACK.

This scene is so best friend coded with the way they are bantering and flirting the whole time. There's an adorable contrast between Penelope's fear of being discovered and Colin being like it's chill!(when in fact it is not Chill because they get interrupted after 5 minutes of gazing into each others eyes)

He just clearly wanted to be completely alone and behind closed doors platonically with his very beautiful friend (who looks like an angel in this scene) to pretend they are courting. Nothing suspicious about that!

I love how he's so into the lesson to the point that he has set out the lemonade as a prop and brought her to Bridgerton house in the first place specifically because she said it was where she was most comfortable (previously, but he's doing his best, and probably hoping she will become comfortable again, ouch)

Colin being the "dashing suitor" for her to flirt with (loser) and when she's resistant to fake flirting with him he hits her with the, "you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me!" trying to put her at ease. And he succeeds! Penelope is so comfortable during this scene when she's opening up about how it's hard for her to get her personality across, it's so sweet and honest.

And this is when the ROMANCING really starts, I love how it's Penelope who takes the lead here. mostly by accident, but the poor man is still left in shambles.

I do kind of wish for this scene they had gone with a more back and forth flirting moment, and seen them both get a little taste of how overtly flirting with each other would feel rather than her little poetic moment, but it was sweet to see her expose a corner of her feelings for him and watching him get a tad flustered at the compliment.

Ok, while it was rather uncool of her to read his journal, I love this part so much. Because I am no better, I would 100 percent do this given the chance. Her examining the space where he spends time, her running her hand over his pirate coat, (who wouldn't) the quiet yearning of that action. As a snoop myself, this was wish fulfillment.

Penelope being hit with a confusing mix of jealousy and intrigue by the contents of the journal entry, the way she stops reading for just a second and then gives in and devours his writing, not being able to hold back from getting inside his head. Don't think about how she probably missed his letters.

Colin's anger here is warranted, and I liked how he didn't come across as aggro-angry Colin from the books but is still justifiably upset that his privacy has been violated. He is likely aware that there are certain DETAILS he wouldn't want her to be reading, like how he's a lonely lonely sad little man trying to be rakish and roguish because his beautiful platonic friend isn't writing him back and encouraging him like she usually does.

Can I just mention that bandaging a wound is an excellent trope and it's such a good romancing vehicle: the care, the tenderness, the touching! the GRUMPINESS! But my favorite thing about the wound bandaging is his reaction to her complimenting his work, of which he hasn't shown ANYONE. He's just so shocked that she likes it, and clearly starved for her encouragement/anyone to be interested in his travels.

I think its also worth noting that this is THE moment that Colin thinks back to when he's considering activating his chaos tendencies by rolling up to the red ball to interrupt her proposal, so I'm gonna interpret that as him recalling his first realization/admittance to himself that he has feelings for her beyond friendship.

It wouldn't surprise me since it is after this moment that we see the hints of jealousy start to manifest at the full moon ball (looking for her, asking her if she likes a suitor, he's not subtle with it). Can't blame him, he was just touched with intimacy and care, and told his creative outlet is well-written, he is being ROMANCED to the max and he can't handle it.

We also have our first "please" as Pen asks to help, and as we will see, these two can't say no to each other once the magic word is spoken! I hope this theme makes a comeback in part two (please please please)

4. Market Scene

ok, besides a semi-silly looking wig on Colin (reshoots) this scene is first of all, so beautiful.

SHE IS SO FINE IN THIS SCENE I CAN'T EVEN THINK. She looks like a preraphaelite painting and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

I literally kept saying "wow" out loud. It actually makes the scene very silly to me because she keeps talking about how she'll never snag a husband and I'm over here on one knee begging for a chance.

If Penelope has been Colin's cheerleader and #1 supporter for their whole friendship, this is where that flips. This scene is all about Pen feeling dejected about her prospects and Colin trying to lift her spirits -basically by saying she doesn't need to work on anything because he already likes her so much without her doing anything but I digress!

There is nothing hotter than your crush talking about a shared memory! Literally nothing! You can see her absolutely light up here when he talks about their first meeting like "I can't believe he remembered" and "Shit, I'm trying to not be in love" and it makes me ache for her.

I am very sad we didn't get a meet cute flashback (hello romcom!!) but this was the next best thing. He's also definitely still in Rake Mode with the way he is being charming and flirty, but there is a core of genuine feeling here as he is trying to get her find her confidence and be more like the non-self conscious children they once were. I believe a lot of the rift between them was directly because she had such strong feelings for him and couldn't just connect with him as friends due to the pedestal she put him on, this scene shows that without that as a barrier, they are able to connect much more naturally.

"Living for the estimation of others is a trap, once you break free the world opens up," he says, and he's starting to realize this idea but hasn't quite put it into practice. I think seeing Penelope struggling to be something she's not, just like he is, shows him how it's not working for either of them. This I think kickstarts his self-reflection and eventual rejection of external pressures later on, leaving him open to pursue other passions.

Ok but what I LOVE most in this scene is his subtle digging for information about her that she isn't forthcoming with. He asks her why she wants a husband and where she feels most comfortable, peppering her with questions and also giving her zero personal space. He's very curious about her and what is going on inside, but she's not exactly open with him at this point, giving short and simple answers.

She's genuinely not used to someone asking her this many questions about herself, receiving this kind of devoted attention, and she clearly doesn't know quite how to respond. In fact, the dynamic has always been reversed, where she was encouraging and inquiring about him, so this switch is just excellent. there have been little moments throughout the series where he asks about her and she always seems to deflect to talking more about him, so it's nice to see this shift.

Also fun detail, the grecian statues behind them are a little nod to the eros and psyche vibes of the scene as cupid is trying to find a match for his psyche, but is slowly beginning to fall for her, his curiosity the first step towards total downfall.

When he asks about Eloise is where Pen just completely shuts down and says she has to leave, and the "before we are noticed" with the little smile? I have fallen in love. She's clearly using that as an excuse to dodge the question, and it is almost an inside joke, sadly. As if she's saying "No one would believe you are courting me anyway haha". And yet he's clearly bummed she's leaving, he was having such a good time, and she leaves him hanging, wanting to know more. I also absolutely love the Rae side eye, lethal!

3. Candy Tent

Post-kiss insanity is on full display here. The way she beckons him with a sexy head tilt and he came running, the way his hands give away his nervousness and his eyes keep locking on her helplessly. Just FULL ON crush mode. The soft "How are you?" he missed her!

Also outfits are incredible here, the pearls in the hair, the painted vest, Colin inventing the color brown, it's a rococo dream. The plushy pink of the tent, the ambiance, everything is just in a word: sumptuous? never used that but it feels right here.

Pen's giddiness here is just adorable, she's experiencing blatant interest for the first time and I couldn't be happier for her. But someone else is very peeved, indeed. He's trying to play the part of supportive friend while also just kind of feeling a lot of "confounding feelings"

The way he is trying to be so casual and attempting to keep up his swagger, but his true feelings are showing through BAD kind of harkens back to how Pen would interact with Colin in s1 and 2, with barely contained affection and hope. The script has been FLIPPED and it feels so good!!

I literally squeal every time he asks her if she's formed an attachment to Debling, this is the shit I signed up for!! Her saying Debling is not "unpleasant to gaze upon" and watching Colin just completely glitch out with jealousy. He's like AND WHAT ABOUT ME! Must be frustrating to be the most eligible bachelor of the season, and yet your very beautiful crush friend is complementing another man on his looks. When your crush expresses interest in someone it can be truly insanity inducing, so I feel for him here.

Pen is oblivious completely, she doesn't think any of what she is saying is negatively affecting him, in fact she thinks this news will make him happy! His lessons worked, she didn't care about being perceived and it is having the desired affect! and yet, he's miserable. Mission accomplished unsuccessfully if you will.

He does ALMOST a good job of hiding his feelings, but if Pen were not completely convinced he couldn't have feelings for her, I think she would've picked up on the vibes here. He's way less enthusiastic about the lessons, and is giving fairly curt responses, when before he was yapping on about being yourself and such.

Then of course the blatant staring at her mouth, being the yearning sort of man he is and likely recalling their kiss in detail, reminder it's been at least a week since. She's romancing him without even trying. It also makes sense for "food motivated" Colin to have Penelope + cake equals critical override of his facial expressions and his literally standing there slack-jawed with lust.

His soft "good luck", when she leaves and the fact that he doesn't mean it AT ALL.

I've seen it talked about, but it makes a lot of sense that Penelope wasn't as affected by the kiss as he was. I'm sure she enjoyed it, but for her the kiss was an end (more on that later) and for him it was the moment he admitted his feelings (which were already growing slowly). so it makes sense the yearning is very colin-sided in this scene.

Apart from the yearning, it's also just sweet to see them in cahoots and discussing this development with Debling like its a little group project, and its the perfect scene to show Down Bad Colin, and I love it. She also clearly wants him to share with her in her success, still wanting to be close to him in any way she can, which if I think about too much I'll cry.

Bonus points for him eating the cake later on, such an intimate detail, he just wants to be close to her in any way he can. CRIMINAL! ARREST HIM!

2. First kiss/Dream Sequence

Ok I'm combining these scenes because they happen back to back and sort of like a mirror of each other, sue me. This first kiss scene is, as Whistledown says, RECKLESS. It's nonsensical, it's desperate, and it's beautiful.

This scene has only improved upon rewatches, it really has everything. Best kiss scene on Bridgerton and possibly in anything ever? no doubt no doubt?

The silly back and forth on the "You're not going to die" and the way she doesn't back down when he seems to get embarrassed, but instead says what? The Magic Word! "Please" she says, which of course is both of their activation word. His expressions here definitely mirror the book, where as soon as she asks him to kiss her, he's a bit taken aback by how much he realizes he wants to already.

This is such a low moment for Penelope, and it's one parts embarrassing and two parts brave of her to ask him to kiss her. In her position, she doesn't even have her pride left, so why not ask the boy you love to kiss you? nothing will come of it anyway, and he probably won't even do it, so why not ask? And what are friends for!

then the moment comes, and the music swells, as does the tension as he closes the distance between them, her shocked face and shallow breaths as she realizes its actually going to happen, the way he lifts her face to his with his hand under her chin. It's just pure romance. and this thing between them, this space that has never been crossed, is being crossed, and it feels insane. reckless. intimate!!

What I love is the shot that focuses on his face after they deepen the kiss, he's intent and confused by how good this feels, how little like kindness this is for him as soon as their lips touch. Like we will see later, he just kind of mind-blanks and forgets what is happening.

Whatever he thought they were has just crumbled with this kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers, no awkwardness when there is such tenderness. which is why he's so shook when she whispers "thank you", and rushes off. he's like "wait why is she thanking me? where am I? weren't we doing something here?" The hopeful strings as it focuses on his dumbstruck face, the earth literally shifting under his feet in that moment. UNREAL.

THE DREAM: I won't say a lot about the dream sequence but I just had to throw it in here because it shows how aligned they are romantically. They are both HUGE romantics, and he has orchestrated this sort of do-over kiss where he's really going for it and proving to her that he wants this too, he wants her. And she's enjoying herself, clearly, which we know is something Colin wants more than anything. It's a great way to show his inner feelings with the lack of an inner monologue that a book brings. And this is clearly a sort of parody of Bridgerton itself, or at least the books. It's over the top, a little silly, and exactly what we all want to see.

This dream also isn't just ripping off clothes, it's emotional, a key element is him expressing how he's been thinking about her, consumed by her. This kiss also isn't as innocent and patient as the first kiss, and it's full of Reciprocation, she can't stop thinking about him either. AND NEITHER CAN I!!!

Both of these kiss scenes also set up our contrasting feelings, where Pen views their first kiss as an end of a dream, a bittersweet act to finally let go off him, the dream of him. And then his dream shows the opposite, how she's ignited something in him that begins his dream of her, awake and asleep. Dream-swap! Also the hand on the wall behind her to catch her from hitting the wall. no comment.

1. Carriage Scene

Yeah like what can I say! It's incredible! I honestly have no idea how they can top this scene, but honestly if this is the best love scene they share in the season I am 10000% content. All of my little qualms with how they did the season melt away when I watch this scene because this was what was crucial to nail and they NAILED IT. TO THE WALL BABY. YAY.

And how did he gain access to the carriage (and Penelope)?? by saying please!! we love the magic word!! I do like the confession a lot, especially the "what if I did have feelings for you?" and the way he gets to his KNEES, a truly inspired moment.

How he completely dies inside when she says they are friends, and still accepts it with grace. There were SO many obstacles to him expressing his feelings to her this night, and he just red rovered each one, and we are all very grateful.

Something about this scene is just built different, I like a lot of the love scenes in the show, but this one has some kind of secret ingredient that we didn't know we'd been missing. Maybe its the location, the context, the way they are just grasping at each other desperately (which if you think about how Penelope thought this was a one time thing in the books and she wanted to make the most of it, actually don't think about that)

He's also just so sweet about it, he's not angry, or insistent, he's just honest and intent. and she's just bewildered and INTO IT.

The lightning is gorgeous, the way it looks like Penelope is catching on fire and glowing. the catharsis, the giving into passion. The way she smiles like her dreams are coming true (because they are) before he just completely attacks her. What else can I say but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

so many of the kisses are so tender and gentle, and they just build and build and build in intensity as they get lost in each other.

on a more horny note, so many moments here actually make me physically roll my eyes back in my head with how insane they make me. The desperate boob grab, the consensual nod, the way his hand slips under her dress, they were truly so insane for this. something tells me they knew I've waited literal years for this, so they knew they had to make it good.

Someone said Nicola should get an Emmy nom for moans, and she should, somehow they don't come across as cartoonish at all, and it doesn't take me out of the scene like some "noise making" does in these types of scenes. and for the record I'm not jealous at all, of either of them. in fact, no sooner did my head hit the pillow that I was met with complete and total darkness....not even a dream....

Like everything I could say has already been said, but it was so much better than I thought it was going to be, blew my expectations out of the water and DELIVERED. and DEVOURED. and RUINED ME. AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL.

Anyway that's all, I'm very afraid for part two so I needed some escapism, why am I already nostalgic for the good ol' times when Polin was happy for 6 minutes. thanks for reading! <3

#polin #analysis #bridgerton #long post #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #season 3 #spoilers #carriage scene #first kiss #romance

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spencerreidsreads · 2 months

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He didn’t have to say it

Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: So immersed in your painting, you forget to take a break to stretch your legs. Aaron helps out with the pain that comes from it.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, mainly fluff!!

Word count: 1.7k

*based on THIS request*

AN: Hi! I’ve never written fanfiction of any sort in my life before, but I really wanted to give it a go. I’d love to know what you think, including any criticisms (I don’t mind criticism, I want to learn how to get better) If you enjoy please like, reblog and comment! If even anyone enjoys this piece it would encourage me to try again. Thank you so much

*also this is not proof read - I’m too embarrassed to go through it again. So please let me know if there are any mistakes!*

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡꘎

A flowing river of blue, the smell off wildflowers blowing in the breeze, and the chirping of birds flying overhead. And then… pain? No longer were you in a calm meadow garden, outside of a homey cottage. Instead you are sat alone, inside of your art room, suddenly aware of the pain in your legs.

You had been so immersed in finishing the last details of the painting you had started weeks ago, that you had lost track of time. You had been staring at it so intently, trying to look for flaws to perfect, it had almost felt like you were there. You hadn’t been at home just then, you were transported into your work of art relaxed and undisturbed within the canvas.

It was light outside when you began working. You remembered hearing the sound of people strolling the streets and children playing in the nearby park. Now however, the sky was beginning to darken and the streets were almost silent, other than the sound of the odd car driving past. The outside world was proof enough that you had been sat too long, without a single break to stretch your legs.

Had you not been so wrapped up in your painting, you would’ve remembered to take a walk or go for a snack to prevent the intense pain you were currently feeling. Aaron always reminded you to do so.

Speaking of Aaron, you desperately hoped he would be home soon, you knew the pain would only intensify once you started moving around, and you wanted nothing more than for him to be there to comfort you. He was so wonderfully helpful when you needed comfort. He was your rock and no matter how you were feeling, he always managed to make you feel somewhat better. He had researched the best ways to reduce the pain you often felt and despite how tired he may be from work, he always made the time to make sure you were safe and content.

Stretching out a paint speckled arm, you reached for your phone prepared to text Aaron to see if he would be home soon, he was due back to his evening. But once again he proved to be the best husband you could ask for, as not even a second after grabbing your phone, you heard the front door opening. Perfect timing.

The sound of the door shutting quietly, a bag hitting the ground and the locks of the door being set, you knew it was your husband finally back from the week long case he had been on with the team.

“Sweetheart?” his voice was soft and carried some tiredness with it, you knew this had been a tough case for him and immediately felt guilty for wanting his comfort and attention when he had only just returned home. You knew how hard he worked and didn’t want to burden him. So instead you decided you would greet your husband and try your best to hide the pain as not to worry him. Though with a skilled profiler as a husband, you knew this was wishful thinking.

When you went to stand, you hissed as an intense pain shot through your knees, causing them to buckle. Luckily, Aaron had come in search of you, having not heard a reply when he called out for you. Just as you were about to fall back to the ground you had previously been occupying, you immediately felt arms wrap around your frame, engulfed in the scent of your husbands cologne.

“Hey, take your time. It’s ok let me help you”. There goes your plan of hiding the pain. Aaron immediately knew what was wrong and slowly supported you to stand. Once you were fully elevated he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, holding most of your weight off of your knees. Despite the fact that Aaron repeatedly told you to stretch your legs to prevent this from happening, he wasn’t going to lecture you. You were in pain and he just wanted to bring you comfort, so he didn’t say anything. He just held you close and softly began to play with your hair the way that you liked.

The mixture of love you felt from Aaron’s care and the pain you were feeling in your legs caused tears to appear in your waterline. Aaron immediately shifted into gear, wanting to reduce the pain as much as possible, “how about we take a little walk hm? Just around the apartment. Give your legs a chance to stretch and I’ll tell you all about how much I missed you while I was gone?” You smiled and nodded in response through the tears. He always knew how to make you feel better.

Aaron didn’t rush you, he didn’t leave you to take care of yourself. Instead he lovingly wrapped an arm around your waist and let you set the pace as you walked out of your art room and into the kitchen. Though this caused the pain to intensify, you knew that in the long run it would help. So as you grimaced and slowly treaded through the pain, Aaron kept to his word and informed you of how awful it was to be away from you for the week. You laughed as he mentioned that he was caught looking at the picture of you he kept in his wallet by Morgan and he was teased by the team for the rest of the case. He told you that instead of ordering his original coffee from the coffee shop near the precinct, he ordered your favourite drink. It was too sweet for him and didn’t wake him up as much as he liked, but it made him feel closer to you.

As you approached the front door on your walk, near where he’d left his bag, Aaron reached inside and hid his hands behind his back, something grasped tightly in his fist.

“After we wrapped up the case I saw these in a store window and they made me think of you. One for me and one for you”. Aaron brought his hand in front of you both and opened it, revealing 2 key rings that looked to be a matching pair. One of them was a key shape, and the other a locket. You knew these weren’t the kind of thing Aaron cared for at all, in fact he found them extremely cheesy. But he knew you loved small things like this and just wanted to see you smile.

And smile you did. You looked from the keyrings in Aaron’s large hand, then back up to his eyes, a large grin on your face. You couldn’t believe the reputation Aaron had at work as the stoic grouchy boss. How could anyone describe this man (who was currently staring at you with a soft smile on his face and some tacky keyrings in his hand) as anything other than perfect? That’s what he was to you. Perfect. He was always thinking of you and you could not be more grateful.

“I love them” you whispered, Aaron didn’t respond, he just looked lovingly into your eyes and continued along with you on your walk to the living room. At this point, whilst your legs still ached, you found it hard not to focus on how happy you were with your partner. It was hard not to be happy around him. Your tears had eased up and had instead been replaced with a loving stare directed at your husband.

Once you had done a lap of the apartment, Aaron suggested a bath together to soothe your joints, which you quickly agreed to. He sat you on the side of the bathtub as he messed with the taps and added some bubbles, just the way you liked it. Once the bath was ready he held your hand and helped you in, slipping in himself afterwards, your back leaning against his chest. Not many words were exchanged, they didn’t need to be. You both knew exactly what you wanted to say ‘I love you so much’, ‘thank you for loving me’, ‘I’m so grateful to have you in my life’. Instead, Aaron softly hummed as he gently scrubbed away the paint from your body and placed soothing kisses along the back of your neck. You felt so safe and at home here within his arms.

Once the water began to turn cold, you and Aaron stepped out of the bathtub and he wrapped a towel around you.

“Your painting looked beautiful by the way” he whispered as you both prepared to brush your teeth and get settled for bed.

Despite being together for 7 years, he still made you feel giddy with his compliments. Turning to face him, a small thank you passed your lips. He was always so supportive of whatever hobby you picked up and loved to shower you in the compliments he believed you so deeply deserved.

The two of you soon got settled into bed and Aaron wrapped you into his arms, “how are you feeling honey? Any better?” he questioned.

Placing a soft kiss to his bare chest, you sighed in sleepy contentment before nodding your head. “You always make me feel better.”

“I just wish I was here more often for you” Aaron sighed. You knew he felt guilt about leaving you alone whilst he went away with the team, but even if he wasn’t with you, you rarely felt alone. Even at his busiest, he made time, even for something as small as an ‘I love you’ text or a ‘have a good day’ message.

“You’re perfect for me Aaron, please don’t doubt that. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” you sleepily replied, meaning every word. He gazed at your tired face and drooping eyes and saw that you were on the verge of sleep. Aaron swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He felt so overwhelmed with love that he felt emotional. Pulling you closer, he placed a soft goodnight kiss against your lips. “I love you sweetheart”, but you had already drifted off.

But even though you didn’t hear it, that didn’t matter. He didn’t have to say it. You knew. You’d never felt more loved in your life, Aaron loved you and he never let you forget it.

#Aaron Hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #Aaron hotchner x you #fluff #hurt/comfort #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #Callie writes

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with-my-calamitous-love · 4 months

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I DONT LIKE ANYONE EXCEPT SOMETIMES YOU

shinso x reader

thoughts about how shinso would act in a relationship. same premise as the kirishima ver.

inspired by backburner

hitoshi shinso, who’s facetimes with you always run late into the night. you ramble on about your day while he hums in response, knowing that you know he’s not the talkative type. he never asks “how was your day?” he always says “tell me about your day.” because he really, truly wants to hear about your day. you could have cured a disease or simply just gotten out of bed, and he’d still want to hear every single detail simply because its from you.

hitoshi shinso, who loves to cook. only you're aware of it, because he doesn't always like sharing personal details with others, but you never complained- it just means more for you. you're always the first person that gets to try his food, though he claims you're not a very good critic. but you can't help it, everything he makes tastes so good. and with every compliment you shower him in, he'll hit you with a 'yeah, yeah, whatever.' and then next moment, make you more so you can always stay fed during long days at UA and long hours during hero-training. its his silent way of telling you he loves you.

hitoshi shinso, whose cats love you more than they love him. he has three triplets, a black british short hair, a siamese, and a grey ragdoll- pepper, lexi, and mustache- he absolutely hates the last name, but he had just adopted the kitten and you named it for its white streak right below its nose. he'll deny it forever, but he gets pouty and huffs in annoyance whenever he sees the cats run to you, even after he's fed and taken care of them for all of their lives. but he also cant deny the way his heart skips a beat whenever he seems them cuddled up with you on his bed, wearing one of his big t-shirts. it softens his heart in a way that nothing else does- your love fills his heart more strongly and more passionately than anything does.

hitoshi shinso, who is the closed-off, funny but quiet dickhead of his friend group. he's known for his out-of-pocket roasts at the right times and his nonchalant nature that contrasts with the loud, spunkiness of his multicolored-haired friends. but with you, he softens. the few times he's brought you along with him to movie night or training sessions, you've softened his heart enough for the love in him to seep out towards others as well. whenever you crack a joke, make someone else at the table smile, and draw laughs and happiness from their chests, a blush blooms across his cheeks. obviously, he fell for you, how could he not?

hitoshi shinso, who's favorite activity with you is your sunday-ritual. you'll wake up together, either in the same bed or over the phone, and bike down to the coast. you'll bug him about wearing a helmet, but he always complains that it ruins your hair. he'd never admit that its because he thinks you're absolutely adorable when you dote on him. afterwards he'll share a smoothie with you- he hates all the flavors except for mixed berry, which is the one he always insists on getting. he hates the the overpricing for what the product actually is, but loves the smile it puts on your face after a tiring bike-ride. and afterwards, you two will go back to either his of your place. his place if your parents aren't home, and his place when his parents are home, and binge watch a long t.v show of your choosing. he'll always complain that its stupid, poorly written or drawn out, but get pouty whenever you watch an episode without him. it's the one thing he looks forwards to at the end of a long week, drawn out with endless studies, training, and burnout. you're his safe place, and he needs it more than he'll admit.

hitoshi shinso, who somehow remembers every tiny detail about you. his mind works like gears, arranging formulas and deciphering codes, but the intellect of his mind makes you its priority. he remembers the way you pick your nails and cuticles when you have anxiety, and how placing his warm palm over yours soothes some of those thoughts. he remembers how prefer to tie your hair back during training but how you somehow always forget a hair tie- and he knows how you always give him a peck on his cheek once he shows off the one he's been keeping on his wrist for you. he remembers how you can't sleep without your nightly calls, and how he needs to hear your voice before he drifts of too- maybe more than you need it. he remembers the first day you met, the first thing he said to you, the first time he ever felt love for you. he remembers all of it and keeps it embedded in his heart. hitoshi shinso may seem like he hates everyone, but the one exception to that is you. and he'll remember that forever.

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takes1 · 5 months

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final part. bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

thank you for all the kind words on this series!! fell in love with writing again and the support really helps me stay motivated! hit up my requests to lmk what else ya'll might wanna read from me!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. nsfw / semi-public sex / safe sex! / m. first time / implied exp. reader / f. receiving oral / almost m. oral / mentioned handjobs / time skip / tsukki has horrible stamina / tsukki figuring out condoms / tsukki needing his glasses / needyshima / 3.5k

🤍 kei series. part one -- four here

more links. my ao3, my other stuff. request box

"What? You don't have to do that!"

Honored that the team as a unanimous entity agreed that you shouldn't clean and lock up the gym yourself, you blinked away the unexpected backlash.

You turned to Daichi, unable to buck up the courage to address everyone, "It's really not a big deal. You guys need to rest before this thing, I want all of you to get home as soon as you can."

He turned it over in his head a few times, looking to Suga for a second opinion, while most others insisted that they didn't want you staying longer.

They all had their personal reasons. Most were only doing it to be polite, but there were also a number of idiots that wanted to train for much longer than they should be allowed to.

Logic won out and soon you were twirling the keys around your finger, waving goodbye to the most disheartened Hinata you'd ever seen.

"You can come out," You called to Tsukishima after securing the closed doors.

He blended right out of the crowd earlier, sneaking off to the gym closet before anyone noticed his absence. It was pretty impressive how he managed to go so overlooked at his height.

From the clacking and banging that ensued beyond the closet entrance, you could only imagine he must've buried himself under some tricky supplies to remain hidden.

These desperate measures weren't commonplace; your parents were gone often, so most of the risque endeavors were kept to your bed. You made the mistake of going to his house only once, and thankfully were (mostly) clothed when his brother barged in.

When you approached, he was kicking a bucket off of his foot with the grumpiest frown on his face. It only deepened as you laughed at him.

"Ooh, was that tough?" You teased, taking his attitude-stricken face in your hands.

He rolled his eyes and let you pepper him with a few quick kisses.

"It was your idea," You reminded him, trying to make him maintain eye contact.

Neither of your homes had been a good option to see each other in lately. For a week, it was just studying together in public spaces. Though the normalcy was nice, you were both itching after the end of every practice to really 'see' each other.

His eyes flickered to match your gaze, but it was gone in an instant because he stole your lips for a gentle, long-awaited kiss. His body melted into yours, features relaxed when you pulled away.

He let you pull him back deeper into the closet, but not without some payment in return. It wasn't exactly a sexy place to be.

"This is-," You said between rushed, indecent kisses, "Pretty exciting," Your hand caught on a pile of heavy gymnastics mats to catch yourself from his clumsy pushing, "Isn't it?"

The presence of the mat did give him some ideas. Maybe it wasn't so bad.

With a bit of tantalizing force, he picked you up and smushed you against the only bare wall in the closet. Your tummy tightened and you locked around him with an uncontrollable moan.

There were a lot of things he thought to say, but didn't dare ruin how hot that was with his, at the worst of times, mood-ruining comments.

You nonverbally thanked him with a roll of your hips on his strained cock and a bold tongue against his own. He felt heavier on you, clawing at your ass under your shorts, a low groan just barely tangible against your mouth.

His tendency to get lost in these small things held the romantic in you captive- while also tending to your more animalistic impulses.

He just wanted more and more of you, and couldn't ever get enough.

It was because of this that you found it so difficult to wriggle out of his grasp, even though it was clear you were trying to take your shirt off.

You chuckled at his uncoordinated grabbing, nuzzling against your hair, and eventual drop to his knees when you unclipped your bra.

On his way down, he removed his soaked shirt off and cast it aside.

From this height he could offer his hands and mouth much easier. He never envied shorter men until he started getting neck pain from kissing you all the time.

His hands took up so much of your chest it looked a bit funny to you. At least for a moment. He pressed the flat of his tongue to a sensitive bud and sighed some preoccupied satisfaction through his nose when he sucked a kiss to the other.

His eyes were fierce and hard to look at when he was ever beneath you, it always sent a chill down your spine.

You bit back many a-sound to not let it all go to his ego too quickly. Despite this, he felt your excitement through your rapid, uneven breathing and relished in it anyway.

The imaginative idea of being on his knees was new to you-- and it gave you a good opportunity to introduce a growing interest of yours.

He was of course grumpy to be directed back up to stand.

It came out mostly in the form of his arms catching you before you could replace him on the floor.

"What- What are you doing?" His cool demeanor failed horribly.

You craved to see the way he got all huffy and sensitive again at your touch. The furthest you'd gotten so far regarding his pleasure were two brief hand jobs.

A gentle, yet firm rub of your palm on his clothed erection eased his doubt. His hold twitched into something softer and his chest puffed out.

"Relax, Tsukki," You cooed with a small peck to his jaw, "I just wanna try something."

He had horrible stamina, it felt quite complimentary to your abilities. You wanted to see how long he'd last when you were actually trying. He slowly allowed you the freedom to drop down to your knees.

There was just one problem.

He was so far away in this position. Not even just his head, which really did look like it was a mile up- but his hips were not where they needed to be.

His legs took up so much of his height, you were shocked to just now be noticing.

Confused, yet determined to make this work, you tugged on him.

"I'm... not squatting," Tsukishima bit back the humor bubbling beneath the surface just for you.

He watched you glance around the room for anything to put under your knees. A bit disinterested in finishing too quickly, he didn't allow you much time to think beyond a few more unproductive seconds.

"Probably for the best," He muttered, brought you up to stand, and glanced over your impossibly cute disappointment, "'M too sweaty for that."

It was a fair reason to be hesitant, but did nothing to ease your dismay. It was short-lived though, because his fingers flitting over your ribs gave a new intensity to your better-hidden desire.

He stepped between your legs and leaned forward, forcing you to take a stumbly step back. The back of your knees hit the heavy stack of training mats and left you no option but to sit.

For all you knew, his excuse could've been a clever cover-up to get to his preferred method of foreplay.

If there was anything he picked up the best from your weeks of scattered and fervent physical rendezvous, it was eating you out. The pride of making you cum on his tongue completely consumed him for the days following.

It was so strong at practice that Kageyama would often identify his newfound, difficult confidence in a series of angry disputes.

"You should lay down," Heavy-lidded eyes flickered over that validating look on your face that told him you just couldn't wait to be under his skilled tongue.

You fell into a rhythm whenever his courage found him again; once he believed he was good at something, he put 100% of his effort into it. This was, to your delight, one of those lucky instances.

Warm, wet, rushed kisses over your tummy preceded the skilled and subtle slide of your shorts and panties to the floor.

He knew what you liked. A rough grip around your thighs and a gentle, teasing kiss over your sex.

"So wetalready," He mumbled against you, prepping you for that addictive slide of his tongue from your entrance to your clit.

"A-ah," You failed to bite back a broken sound.

A combination of embarrassment to eclipsing pleasure left your thighs flexing against his grasp.

At the foreign feeling of something a bit hard, a bit uncomfortable, you realized--

"You're-- mmn-, glasses," You tried to communicate.

Completely deaf and unconcerned with the process or any words that didn't express how good he felt, he let your shaky, clumsy hand remove them.

He knew how to be just cocky enough to make you squirm. This gentle, endearing action inspired him to start swirling some soft circles around your clit.

"God," You choked, "That's soo fucking good..."

You rested them next to you and opted for your fingers in his fluffy blond hair.

It did help him, though. He felt them getting a bit crooked when he started, but didn't want to let you go and interrupt his flow. Now he could lean more freely.

Another rough kiss and your body curled in response- he kept your thighs, despite their straining, where he wanted them.

"Mm-!" You whined at his strength and tenderness all at once. Your mind couldn't help but wonder how that translated to his cock.

It must've been tough, since most of your bedroom activities centered around making out, eating you out once he fell in love with it, and the couple of times you made him cum with just your hand in record time.

Little to your knowledge, he was committing your visits to memory by getting off before and after. Not to mention nearly every morning now, and after the practices you couldn't be with him after. It was a pretty chronic addiction.

He lapped up the excess wet and used it as extra, completely unnecessary lubrication for his gentle, steady assault on you.

It edged you so close to finishing you had to tug him up by the roots.

"Tsukki- a-ah, I'm-,"

His chin dripped in lewd clear, his eyes bordering on mean how he squinted (blind) up at your interruption.

Ohh, fuck.

Despite hating the premature ending, even his contentious personality couldn't deny that pouty, needy expression on such a pretty face.

He only had a moment to wipe off the drool, amongst other substances, from his chin, as you pulled him in.

"I need you- so bad," You begged between hot kisses and his preferential taste for sucking just under your ear.

You heard him quite clearly stop breathing for a moment.

"Yeah?" He rasped, hardly a trace of brown in his sparkling eyes. The generous bulge prodding against you from his athletic shorts was a welcome challenge.

His body weighed on you as he smashed his lips into yours, clumsy and enthusiastic and wanton. Your legs wrapped around his waist and stirred a shaky groan from his throat.

That vivid print crammed against your pussy gave you a very bleak, disheartening reminder.

Your brow furrowed and you pushed a bit on his chest.

Highly sensitive to this small act of rejection, he took nearly all of his weight off of you at once.

Quick on the uptake though, you explained, "I-, I really do want you, it's just- I'm not comfortable doing this without a condom."

The epic battle playing in his head halted at once.

His eyes lit up wide, but his voice was as flat as usual, "I have one."

Confusion, relief, and chiefly the excitement between your legs took over all at once.

You laughed, leaning up to give him a smiley, lustful kiss, "Since when are you so optimistic?"

He returned it with an ardent, brief passion and tore himself away to collect his wallet from the floor. There was no extra inflection nor amorous implication to his words as he responded.

"Since you."

In a way, it almost sobered you up. The matter-of-fact statement was somehow new and old news, but hearing him declare it, instead of a mere suggestion, built a bridge you didn't realize you were still missing.

You got up to a kneel on the mats and pulled him in for a softer and appreciative kiss. He wore a little confused smile when you pulled away, but didn't question you.

Between you was the condom pinched between his index and middle finger. The thumb on his other hand was hooked under his waistband.

"Can you-," He looked away from you, bashful with a cute frown.

"Show you?"

A tiny nod.

There was no doubt in your mind for how you wanted to take him.

"Get on your back for me, baby," You mumbled against his lips with a fleeting kiss.

Stiff with nerves from your self-assuredness, he swiped off the rest of his clothes and put his back to the sticky vinyl-covered mat. You weren't aware of the curious tilt your head gave as you settled above him, but it spurred a whole-body shiver in him.

"You see the little rim? And how, if I turn it upside down, it's not the same?"

He squinted only for a millisecond before grabbing around for his glasses -adorable- and gave a nod when he saw what you meant.

"It's like a contact," He muttered.

You nodded, carefully picking up his hard-on enough to slide the thing on. He watched, learned, intently how you managed to do this.

"If you put it on the wrong way, it's more likely to slip off."

Your hips slid up over his now-safe dick. He was silently relieved he could feel just a fraction less with it on, because you looked too damn good perched up on him like that. No way he'd be lasting very long.

Dropping to your elbows, you gave him another soft kiss and took his glasses off again with a chuckle.

"I can't watch you?" He muttered, finding your eyes now that he couldn't see as well. That was your goal; he always gave you better eye contact when he couldn't tell his left from right.

"Mm-mm," You hummed against his cheek, positioning him against your aching pussy.

It was all on your accord to take him as you liked. He was too smart to move before he knew you wanted him to.

That didn't stop the grip on you from getting twitchy and hard, nor his unrestrained sounds.

"Augh-aha, jesus--, fuck..." Awe flashed across his face for a moment, quickly overshadowed by a deeply furrowed brow and an unwavering, adoring stare.

You seethed, eyes rolling back at his size filled you up. There was heavenly electricity he somehow pushed through your entire body. Even your fingers were buzzing.

His hip-work was a bit confused, but it was charming, slow, and good for a start when you suggested that he move.

"That feel good?" You breathed, shaky, but wanting to know all of his thoughts. As if he wasn't wearing it all over his face.

He was coated in sweat- you were, too, because there was no cooling in here, but he was distractingly so. The side of his face glistened in the orange-hued room.

"Fuc-k, ye-ah..." He wore an open-mouthed half-smirk as he admired your slick body sit up on his cock and ride him.

You kept your palms on his chest to support yourself, head leaning to the side as you focused on taking him. He kept his touch on your thighs light now, since he didn't want to risk fucking anything about this perfect performance up.

A hand slipped from his chest and to your own needy clit- you gasped and let out a quiet moan, bucking a little at the feeling.

You had no idea how much you needed it. After his tongue, the grinding, and how he started matching your own preferred pace, that thrilling, pleasant strain deep inside of you grew at an irresponsible rate.

"That's--s' hot," He choked, eyes narrowed and glued to the sight of your swirling fingers.

"Hm?" You smiled and moved both hands to the sides of his head, mistaking his admission to mean a more general vibe.

His breath stalled with effort as he bottomed out and stayed there.

He guided your hand back and pressed it between your legs again.

You sat a bit up again so you could better chase that high, tingly with an acceptable amount of embarrassment of being watched like that. You were practically edging yourself at this point and his gaze was threatening to throw you off the edge.

Those massive, sweat-slicked hands filled once more with the plush of your hips. He was struggling to keep his eyes open to watch, but managed alright.

"You-gotta teach me,h-ah- sometime," His bottom lip caught between his teeth as his focus tunnelled on the filthy sight of his own rough hold and his cock sliding in and out of your cunt.

He was a fast learner. His strokes were less shaky now, and grew more confident by the second. It may have been partially due to the fact that he knew you could take him, which just drew him closer to orgasm.

You could ride and listen to him all day, if it wasn't for your own body's limited capacity for the way he was taking you.

"Why don't I--mmn! Teach- you- ah, now?" You made him look at you again, a favorite maneuver of yours now, only just barely clawing to a paper-thin veil of poise to torture him with, over a quickly approaching climax.

"'Cause, I'm gonna cum before I figure it o-ut," Tsukishima sigh-laughed and moved one hand to your lower back.

It brought you down to your elbows. From here, he could kiss you hard and hit at a deeper angle- it was messy and rough and uncalculated; astoundingly hot coming from him.

Tsukishima never let himself act that way. It was a telltale sign that he was coming completely undone.

That hold on your hips hardened, his nails digging into you as his groans gradually started turning into whines and curses.

"F-uck--! Mmn- ha-h-ah," He cried softly on your lips as he came, panting like a dog.

Those unabashed, vulnerable sounds seized your heart and your pussy, and soon you found yourself not close behind, thanks to the fact that he didn't stop fucking you even after he came.

Shaky fingers scratched at his neck and shoulders, clinging like a lifeline. White-hot waves crashed over you as he drowned the rest of your sounds in another sloppy, worshiping kiss.

The gym was so quiet when neither of you were making any noise.

There was the hum of cicadas outside, but not even the fans were turning. It was just your laden breathing in here.

Slowly, you were able to see more of him on the backend of that shared high. Your head buzzed with the comfort and warmth his body provided you. His heavy arms squeezed around your middle.

It looked like he was swimming in satisfaction with a familiar, smug smile on his lips and closed eyes.

"Mm, you gonna look at me, pretty boy?" You rubbed the laughable amount of sweat around on his tummy and chest.

A deep shade of red returned to his cheeks. You grinned.

"Pretty?" He repeated in a scoff.

He'd come to appreciate it more, because, "It's true. You are pretty."

Sure, he sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, but he wouldn't be so embarrassed if he didn't see a little truth in it.

It was getting a bit cold, now that you weren't so worked up anymore.

"Shit...we've gotta clean this place up."

There was a quiet beat between you.

For a very slow and hesitant 30 seconds, you gripped the rim of the condom on his still rock-hard cock and slid off of him with a shudder. He remembered that maneuver for next time.

You climbed off of the mat and began putting on your clothes. The gym around you felt 300 times bigger than it actually was.

After figuring out how to take it off without getting drenched in his own cum, he tied it and observed the thing for a second. Then, he slid -yeah, slid- to the corner of the mat and stayed seated while he watched you get dressed.

Now you had even more to put away and wipe down, because Tsukishima left a 6 foot long pool of sweat on the mat. He wore a devious smirk.

"Since I'm the one competing in Nationals tomorrow, I think I'll just leave you to it--"

"You better get your lanky ass up right now," You swatted him with your shirt and he broke out into a playful grin as he heaved himself up and snatched it from you.

Now when he stood over you, it felt thrilling instead of threatening. He fixed the twist in your bra strap without looking away from your eyes.

He kept the shirt far out of your reach while he stole a kiss, "I'll help as long as you clean like this."

taglist:

TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT AND REPLIES!! the energy here was so great! requests are open!

@v15aexe @hotvinimon @cyzvx @aloveablechaos @kozumesphone

@beaniedoodz @idiotboys @djmoyolehuani @ilovemymomscooking

@imiqz @vierciale @sukunassaltysack @garlicbread9104 @awkwardaardvarkforever

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gilverrwrites · 8 months

Note

Im back on my supernatural shit, can you please do TFW + Gabe and anyone else you wanna do reacting to finding out the reader had a dirty dream about them?

Author note: Me too Boo, me too. I added lucifer, just cause I wanted too. Hope you enjoy! I also switched things up with gifs for each instead of one image for everyone. Lemme know which one you guys prefer.

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: that it is enough to exist as you are.

Dean

You’ve never seen a bigger shit-eating grin in all your life; he looks like he hit the jackpot.

No matter how much or how little you tell him, he won’t stop making jokes or bragging how bad you want it.

Dean I need you t- “Yeah you do.” Stop it! “Bet you weren’t saying that in your dreams last night.” *Gesturing at something even remotely suggestive* “Hey hey hey, did we do that?”

He promises to stop if you give him the full run down.

And when you do, he’s like Christmas came early.

All wide eyes and dopy smiles, occasional blushing.

He’s got a million and one questions throughout, but the final and most is obviously: “You wanna go at the real thing?”

Sam

Immediate shuts down for like 5 minutes. His brain has to comprehend and then reboot.

He won’t joke or make fun of you, at least not in front of other people.

But as soon as you’re alone, he’s got questions, lots of detail-oriented questions.

He’s not outright asking what your dream was, just teasing you with meticulously detailed fantasies of his own posed as questions.

“Did I make you beg for it? Did you make me beg?” “Were you completely naked, stretched out underneath me? Were my hands around your throat?” “What did I say? Did I tell you I would ruin you? That you deserved it? Did you want me to?”

Castiel

Angels don’t dream. Primarily because they don’t sleep.

So, he’s not really sure what to make of this confession at first.

Queue the signature furrowed brow and head tilt.

“Why?” I don’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose! “That’s true. I suppose this is your mind’s subconscious way of informing you that you are sexually attracted to me."

Boy, he doesn’t beat around bushes.

He would need time to stew on it from there.

It could be hours, days, maybe weeks before he brings it up again.

“I am curious about your dream.” What dr- oh right. “I am flattered. Should you be willing, I would like to discuss this more. For example, which of us…”

Gabriel

You can sense the raised brows and the satisfied smirk before he even does it.

“Reeeeeally?”

Gabe’s reaction is very similar to Deans, just like a Trickster in a candy store.

Only he’ll wait to get you alone before he starts bombarding you.

If you won’t tell him outright, he’ll keep guessing.

And every new guess is accompanied by a costume and/or scenery change.

“Maybe we filmed the newest instalment of casa erotica?” “No? Maybe you paid Dr Sexy a visit?” “Mile high club?” “No? Kinkier? You into a little BDSM?”

I’ll let you fill in the visual blanks. 😉

Lucifer

His reaction is a lot more subdued.

That doesn’t make it any less dubious. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

He’ll ask earnestly enough to start out.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you refuse, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke, or tease.

But the smile he keeps giving you.

The way he watches you, totally engrossed but poised, is enough to drive you crazy.

When he finally asks again, later on, in that low, relaxed tone:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about your dirty little fantasies?”

Temptation really is his game.

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #spn gabriel x reader #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #spn gabriel #spn lucifer #gilverrwrites

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pre11yyy · 5 months

Text

Synopsis: Mark got short of money so he decided to take jeno's idea of trying porn into consideration

A.N: i don't really know how porn works so everything here is made up, also i forgot to a point that this was supposed to be porn so there is that.

Mark has been running short of money lately, so short, none of his part time jobs were enough for his college titutions neither they were enough to pay for his rent, he sighed resting his head on the single black sofa thinking about what he can do, he chew on his lower lip recalling his friend's Jeno words yesterday "what about acting in porn?" the later asked making Mark widen his eyes in disbelieve from the words that left his friend, his ears red "wtf do you mean dude no" he was quick to shut the offer down. But now he couldn't help but think about it.

He had heard stories about people earning so much in a single shoot, he wasn't a virgin but he had never had sex with someone he didn't know, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so he decided to call Jeno and ask for more information about the job. Jeno was quick to answer the phone. "Hey, I was starting to think you had changed your mind about that offer." Mark felt a little embarrassed, but he had to face reality. "No, I'm still interested. I just… needed some time to think about it, I guess." "Well, you came to the right place," Jeno replied with a chuckle. "I've got some connections in the industry, and I can get you an audition for one of the biggest production companies around. They're always looking for new talent." "Really?" Mark asked, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "Really. Just meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow at noon, and I'll give you all the details you need." "Okay," Mark agreed, hanging up the phone. He sat there for a moment, still unable to believe that he was actually considering this.

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a real possibility. And if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He would give it his all, just like he always did. The day of the audition came, Mark had no idea what they r gonna make him do in this audition, lucky for him that Jeno knew one of the guys that he introduced him to as Jaemin, he was quick to reassure Mark about everything, scanning him from head to toe before encouraging him to come to the audition. "So,What do you need me to do?" Mark asked, trying to hide his nervousness. Jaemin smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "Well, We just want to see how you handle yourself on camera. We need you to follow my instructions, and do exactly what I tell you. Understood?" Mark nodded, taking a deep breath. "Understood." "Great. Now, why don't you get comfortable?" Jaemin motioned for him to sit on the black leather chair in the center of the room. "Just close your eyes and relax. I'm going to give you some directions through your earpiece."

Mark closed his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself. He could feel the weight of the earpiece in his ear, and the gentle hum of Jaemin's voice as he began to give him instructions. "Okay… Mark… take a deep breath. Now, slowly exhale…" As he followed Jaemin's instructions, Mark felt himself beginning to relax. His heart rate slowed down, and his muscles loosened. He was ready. Or at least he thought so before Jaemin's next words hit him like a ton of bricks.

"All right, Mark. Time to strip for the camera and jerk off." What the hell? As much as Mark knew this is what the job is about he couldn't help the shock he felt, he has never done anything like this in front of anyone before, he cleared his throat reminding himself that he needs the money , this is his only shot to make it out of this hole he dug himself into, and he has to do it. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing his toned abs and broad chest. Then he slid off his pants, revealing his boxer briefs, which were already starting to bulge. He hesitated for a moment, but then continued, unfastening his belt and lowering his underwear. His cock sprang free, hard as a rock, and he couldn't help but feel self-conscious about it.

"That's it, Mark. You're doing great," Jaemin encouraged him through the earpiece. "Just keep going, and remember to make it look realistic." With a deep breath, Mark began to stroke himself, trying to mimic the movements he had seen in porn. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of his hand gliding up and down his shaft, and the anticipation of the inevitable release. As he continued, he could feel the tension building within him. His breathing became labored, and his muscles tensed. He knew he was close, but he had to hold on for just a little longer. He could hear Jaemin's voice in his ear, guiding him through each thrust, each caress.

Finally, he felt the familiar tightening in his abdomen, and the warmth spreading through his body. He moaned softly as he released his load, shooting thick, white ropes of cum across the room. His muscles relaxed, and he collapsed back into the chair, spent. He opened his eyes, blinking away the last remnants of the orgasm. Jaemin was watching him intently from across the room, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Very good, Mark. You will definitely work for us" Jaemin was impressed by the man's cock and expressions, having already a vision of how many people will come searching for his videos in the future . "Thank you," Mark managed to say between ragged breaths not really sure about what he is thanking the man about but he had to say something. "Don't mention it. Now, why don't you go ahead and get dressed? We'll talk about the next steps once you're ready." Gratefully, Mark stood up and began to dress. As he did, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed after seeing the mess he made on the leather chair but he shook it off quickly, following one of the staff to another waiting room where other contestants were sitting . He took a deep breath, and tried to compose himself, waiting for someone to tell him what would happen next.

"Mark?" a familiar voice said, and he looked up to see Jeno standing beside him. "You did great in there." "Thanks," Mark managed to reply, still feeling a little shaky. "I hope so." Jeno smiled reassuringly and squeezed his shoulder. "Trust me, you killed it. You're going to be perfect for this job." He paused, then added with a wink, "And don't worry about the mess you made. They clean up after everyone." Mark couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "Okay," he said, feeling a little more at ease. "Thanks, Jeno. I really appreciate it." They sat in silence for a moment, just watching the others in the room. Finally, one of the staff members approached them and informed them about the last test which was for them to fuck a woman, Mark was so nervous, it has been so long since he has been laid or even thought about sex with someone else, he couldn't help but worry about his performance. "Don't worry about it," Jeno whispered to him. "You'll be fine. Just remember to enjoy it." And with that, the woman was brought in, and the final test began.

Mark was so nervous, he couldn't even remember your name. All he could focus on was your body as soon as he stepped in, seeing you laying on the bed in your whole glory, wearing only a red dress that left nothing to imagination, you turned your head upon hearing the door click and you couldn't help the sarcastic laugh that slipped out of you, you were sure that he is inexperienced just by the way he walked towards you, his steps hesitant and unsure. "You can take your time, sweetheart," you said with a smirk, your voice dripping with honey. Mark looked at you, his eyes wide with anticipation, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "I… I don't want to hurt you," he stammered. You laughed, a genuine, throaty sound that made his cock twitch. "Oh, don't worry about that. I can take care of myself." He nodded slowly, still unsure, but you could see the determination in his eyes. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your legs, you locked your eyes with his trying to seduce him and wanting just to get over this, sure that he won't do a good job but to your surprise he did.

Mark could feel his cock twitch at the way your were giving him attention his eyes wondering around your body not really sure where he should start with but remembering Jeno's words he followed his instincts trying to ignore the way the camera was on him. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, and then slowly began to make his way up your body. Your skin was so soft beneath his lips, and you let out a soft moan as he reached your breast. He cupped it in his hand, gently massaging your nipple through the fabric of your dress. "That's it," you whispered, arching your back. "Touch me." He took this as a go signal and slowly began to unbutton your dress, revealing more and more of your body to him. Your breasts were full and perfect, and he couldn't help but marvel at them. With one final pull, the dress fell to the floor, leaving you completely naked. "Fuck," he breathed, staring at your body. "You're so beautiful." You smiled, running your hands through his hair. "Thank you," you purred. "Now, why don't you show me what you've got?" your eyes drifted to the tent on his pants, biting your lips you dragged your foot over it seeing how he dropped his head to the back a small groan leaving his lips, you smirked he looks big and you were so curious to see if you were right or not . He looked up at you, eyes dark with lust and it made your insides clench, maybe just maybe he started to grow up on you, Jaemin ruined this moment signaling you to hurry up as there is more contestants coming in and he didn't want you two to be late. "Come here, Mark," you said, pulling him down to you. "Let's see what you can do." He didn't hesitate, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss as he pushed his pants down, freeing his cock. You wrapped your hands around him, marveling at how hard he already was so impressed by how heavy he felt in your hold, your insides throbbing with anticipation before you guided him towards you entrance, both of you let breathy moans as you felt him stretch you perfectly, your eyes already watering at his size . "Fuck, you feel so good," he moaned, thrusting deeper into you. "So tight." You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you felt him bottom out. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, before pulling back and slamming hard into you again. "Yes," you cried, your head falling back, loving the feeling of him filling you so completely.

His pace was relentless, and you knew he was going to leave you sore and bruised, but that was the last thing you cared for, enjoying the stretch and focusing on the way he thrusts on you, your eyes rolled back, moaning constantly while Mark was basically on another dimension, loving the way you clench around him and the feeling of you dragging him down for a kiss. "Oh, God, I'm close," he panted, his rhythm becoming erratic and all the doubts he had about this job started fading away he'll definitely enjoy his job here, he find his hands going to wrap around your jaw, making you lock eyes with him and seeing the way you looked at him, biting your lip and moaning , he knew that this won't be the last time, he'll make sure to keep you coming back to him, he'll make sure to get into this contract and be your personal toy.

"Me too," you said, arching your back and grinding down on him. "m s-so fucking close" everything about you was so pornographic from the way you moaned to your facial expressions, everything was driving him crazy and Mark couldn't help himself, he wanted to ruin you, he wanted you to scream his name and collapse under him. With a harsh cry, your body tensed and you came, your inner muscles gripping him tightly as your release spilled around him. He followed close behind, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself into you. "Fuck," he groaned, collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily. You wrapped your arms around him, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing through you. "That was… intense," you panted. That was the last time you've met Mark, he got accepted to the company yet your schedules never aligned and that was a shame cause none of people you had after him stretched you that good, every time you can't help it but imagine him instead… Months passed by and you started hearing a lot about him, you refused to check out his videos, scared? maybe! But you were more hopeful that you'll have a project together and you wanted to find out what changed, how good he has become, it was more thrilling for you this way and as if the universe had heard your prayers your manager had assigned you a project with Mark, you couldn't believe it, the stars were really aligned tonight.

Receiving the script that same morning your heart throbbed so hard from excitement , you had butterflies in your stomach and for the first time in a long time, you couldn't wait for the day to be over, for you two to meet again and for you to see if he's still as good as you remember.

And here you are, sitting in the makeup chair, wearing a small nurse dress, your boobs threatening to spill from the material, your hair down and wavy, a tiny ribbon tied around it. You're nervous, excited, and a bit anxious. "Almost done," the makeup artist says, finishing up with your lips. There was nothing out of ordinary in this makeup, it was leaning more to the natural side, but you still felt like a million bucks. Stepping out from you makeup room you noticed a more muscular figure back facing you while talking with Jaemin, an undercut black hair styled perfectly, the black button on hugging his body perfectly, highlighting his sculpted form, as it was tucked on his jeans, his waist so much smaller making him stand out, 'that's not Mark right?' there was no way he became this muscular in a short amount of time. Jaemin's voiced cut your thoughts signaling you to come in, the man next to him turned around as well and you couldn't help the way your breath hitched at the sight of Mark, more handsome than last time and most importantly his demeanor a lot different, more confident it was as if he was a different person. You felt his eyes scan your uniform, biting on his bottom lip as he take it in, before smiling at you . "You look great," he says, taking your hand and planting a kiss on the back. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, taking in his scent, something musky and earthy, and you can't help the way it makes your insides flutter, Jaemin smiled already loving the chemistry "you'll look so good in this video i can sense the hit" he smirked as he took in the tension between the both of you.

"You two know what to do" he said and left, letting you and Mark talk things out before filming. "How have you been?" you asked, feeling a little bit awkward after all those months,"I've been good, you?" he replied, still holding your hand. "I've been… fine," you shrugged. "So… you like the new look?" u gestured to the different color you died ur hair to,He smirked and ran his fingers through his hair. "I do, it suits you." "Thanks," you breathed out. "You look… different." u added and he chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah…I've been working out" he shrugged making you hum in response He tilted his head to the side, studying you, obviously hesitating to say something before he let it go "So, have you seen any of my videos since then?" You shake your head. "No, I've been avoiding them." you replied honestly and that made him raise an eyebrow. "Why?" curiosity very evident on his tone and it made you giggle,glancing away, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Well, i just wanted to discover how much u've improved since then live, you know.."

He smiled at that. "Sounds like you've waiting for this to happen" he gestured to the small studio you r in right now, a bunch of medical equipment filling the space with a single bed in the center. "Well, I've been practicing. I've gotten better at…" he paused, his cheeks flushing a little. "You know." you chuckle at his flustered face nodding in understanding "yeah" you mumbled, shifting your hair the the other side, you could feel Mark's eyes bore into you, his gaze focused on your exposed neck looking forward to what will happen, the scenario playing on his head again, and again and again…

The staff were making sure to set the place perfectly, trying different angles in the camera to see which one works the best before signaling for you to start, Mark was sitting on the small bed which looked even smaller in contrasts with his bigger form, his hands playing with his phone waiting for you 'his nurse' to show up, with a deep breath you stepped in smiling while welcoming him, carrying a small medical kit in your hand. Mark put his phone away, returning your smile as you walked closer. "Hey, Mr Lee, how are you feeling today?" you ask, making sure to keep eye contact. He chuckled, his gaze lingering on your lips. "I'm good, thanks.how about you?"

"I'm doing great, actually." You set the medical kit down on the bedside table and turned bending over a little bit to get the 'thermometer' that fall 'accidentally', flashing your whole ass to the camera and to Mark as your small dress rode up, his eyes scanning your backside as you stood back up, he swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled, trying to not give anything away. "It seems like you're doing a lot better." you tried to soften your voice turning back to him helping him to pull up his sleeves, his arm revealing his toned and muscular biceps, making you want to touch them. "Oh definitely" He replied, his eyes staring at ur cleavage that was presented deliciously in front of him, his pants tightening in arousal, his hand twitches, wanting to touch it, to feel it,

"So, let's get started." You say, taking his hand and leaning him down to the bed, your breasts almost touching his arm. "I need to take your temperature first." "Oh, alright." He nods, his grip on your hand tightening. Once he's lying down, you climb onto the bed as well, straddling his waist. Your hair cascades over his chest, and you can feel his breath hot against your neck as you reach up to take his temperature.

As you take his temperature, your breasts brush against his chest, and you feel his hands snake around to gently grope them through your shirt. He sucks in a breath, his hips bucking against yours in silent invitation. The feel of his strong, warm body beneath you sends a shiver down your spine. But you had to follow the script, trying to pull away from his grasp his hands keeping you tightly from moving, his lips whispering loud enough for the mics to pick "Don't act like you don't like it, you've been teasing me since i came in here, you're my nurse and it's your duty to take care of me, don't u agree?" You moan,despite you shaking your head in disagreement, pushing him away, Mark scoffed his hand going to wrap around your hair tugging at it to expose your neck, his free hand traveling to the front of your dress, groping your breast through the material harshly, your head falling back as he does.

"That's more like it" he groaned as another moan escaped ur lips, his fingers working harder on ur nipples twisting and tugging at the bud on top of the dress, his other hand still tangled in your hair, his tongue traced your earlobe making you shiver "You pretend like you don't want to get fucked yet look at you not even wearing a bra, such a dirty girl" "Please," you beg, arching into his touch.His lips ghosting over ur breasts wetting the fabric with is tongue as he took one nipple between his teeth, his free hand now cupping your ass and lifting you onto him, his hard cock pressing directly into your core.

"God you're wet" he growled, feeling your wetness through his pants,his fingers sliding down under ur panties parting your folds, finding your clit already hard and swollen. His fingers teased you, circling your bud for a few seconds, before he carried you making you sit on his face, his tongue lapping at your wetness, your hands finding their way into his hair pulling at it slightly as he worked his tongue on your folds. "Oh fuck yes," you moan, grinding your hips down against his mouth, using him, rolling your eyes back and arching your back, enjoying his tongue lashing on ur cunt. "You taste so good, baby," he groans, his words vibrating through your body making you tighten your grip on his face choking him with your thighs.

Mark can feel himself getting lightheaded, his vision starting to blur, but he doesn't care. All he can think about is the way your pussy tastes and the way your body feels pressed against his. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, and he can feel the blood rushing to his head. He moans against your clit,the vibrations send a shock wave after another one through your body, making you tremble with pleasure. "I'm going to cum," you warn him, and he doubles down, his tongue thrusting into your hole making you throw ur head back, he was so good at using his tongue his nose rubbing against your clit consistently.

"Mmm, yeah," he growls loving your taste, his voice muffled by your pussy."oh my god!" you cry out, your body shaking as you reach your climax, the pleasure rippling through you, your legs turning into jelly as you collapse on top of him. He takes in a shuddering breath, his mind spinning from the combination of the oxygen deprivation and the taste of your cum on his tongue. His cock is painfully hard, and he can feel it throbbing against his pants, desperate to be free and inside you. "Fuckkk" he groaned, his voice rough from the lack of air and the intense sensations that have just washed over him.

With shaking hands, he reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, tugging them and his boxers down to reveal his hardened cock. His eyes meet yours looking down at him with flushed face ur thighs resting between his head and it took everything from him to not bite on the soft flesh, he lifted you again, easily guiding you down to meet his hardness.

"Fuck into me" his voice was so commanding that it sent a shiver down your spine, his hands grabbing and squeezing your ass while his lips attached themselves to ur breasts again biting and sucking on ur nipples while keeping your dress on. "Oh God," you whimper, feeling his cock stretching you open, the same stretch you've been craving for, your hips bucking, ur hands digging into his shoulders as you try to take him in deeper. "Fuck yeah," Mark groans, his hips thrusting up, meeting ur movement, his mouth moving higher, sucking on your collarbones, the saliva on his lips making a wet sound as they connect with your skin. His hands move up, cupping your breasts, squeezing and massaging them, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, making them hard and sensitive.

"Fuck I love how wet you are," he moans, his hips thrusting up, the thick head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Your moans fill the room, ur hips moving in rhythm with his, your hands fisting in his hair as you ride him, ur nails digging into his scalp as you lose yourself in the feeling of him inside you…. "Fuckkk, I'm gonna…" you pant, your orgasm building, growing, threatening to consume you whole. He growls, his hips slamming into you harder, his hand moving between your bodies, rubbing ur clit roughly, his free hand sliding up your body to cup your mouth, his fingers pressing into your lips"Suck," he orders, and you eagerly comply, taking two fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, the salty taste of his sweat and the musky smell of his body overwhelming your senses, making your head spin and your pussy tighten around him.

"That's it," he says, his voice low and dangerous, his hand moving back down, kneading ur ass before delivering a hard smack, the sting making you gasp. "Fuck," you cry out, your head dropping back, your eyes squeezing shut, your orgasm washing over you, waves of pleasure crashing down on you, your body trembling with the force of it, your inner walls gripping him, pulsing, milking him. "That's it, baby, cum for me," he groans, his hands gripping your hips, his nails digging into your flesh, his hips stuttering, his own release approaching,

"Fucking shit," he grunts, his hips jerking up, burying himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he spills himself into you, filling you with his seed, the sensation bringing you over the edge once more, making you scream and sob, tears running down your cheeks, your body shaking with the intensity of your release, the camera quick to capture the scene, both of your fucked out face and his cum spilling out of your hole caught in full HD as he pulled away, leaving you on the bed with ur legs spread open, your body still shaking as he tucked his softening cock into his pants and 'leaving'. The director signaled for cut and the whole set sighed in relief, some chuckling at the state you were in and how quick Mark has become a star, they were impressed and couldn't wait to see how far this will go, Jaemin smirked seeing Mark walking towards him, his hair a mess from all the tugging and pulling, his shirt a bit crumpled and his lips slightly red.

"You did a great job " Jaemin smiled,Mark's lips curved into a grin, nodding and thanking him, his eyes drifting back to you as one of the staff helped you clean up. "She's good, isn't she?" Jaemin asked and that snapped him out of his thoughts. "Yeah, she is"

I wasn't planing to write this now but guess i did lmao, it's not the best in terms of quality especially in the smut as i rushed writing it tbh, but i'll add stuff to it when i get out of work, but yeah anyways... M also planing this to be a series so we will see how it's gonna go

#nct #nct dream #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #kpop smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut

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randomdragonfires · 1 month

Text

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part Two

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of Substances and Alcohol; Complicated Relationship Dynamics.

PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader

WORD COUNT | 13.2k

Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!

A/N | Not beta read. ;)

She sits at Aemond’s kitchen counter, her eyes wandering over the photographs sprawled out in front of her. Each image captures the haunting beauty of the ruins of Valyria, a place Aemond has been passionate about for ages due to his heritage. The smell of French toast wafts through the air, mixing with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He pours her a mug and slides it over to her.

Just for a second, the domesticity of it all makes her want to blush.

She has been seeing men, yes. Ever since she got to college, there have been no shortage of men who want to date her; but she has been hesitant about letting any of them close. Perhaps it is the idea of being touched once more, or the comfort she has grown for herself that she refuses to let anyone in - she does not know.

But not Aemond, seems like. He’s been her bedrock ever since she moved to Oldtown, and sometimes, he does little things that make her feel warm.

She has a hard time figuring out what it is, but it’s certainly not feelings. She’s had them before, for Daeron - it’s a lot more intense, usually.

This is easy. Too easy. It is easy to be attracted to Aemond, he’s got that about him. But he’s also Aemond - Daeron’s brother. It is quite messed up. It is easy to be infatuated, she feels. But she’s not quite ready to do anything about something so miniscule - especially given what he means to her.

It’s all a bit of fun, really. A mindless little crush. All of it goes away in time.

And there’s also the fact that he seems to like someone else, and not her.

Aemond moves gracefully around the kitchen, flipping slices of bread in a sizzling pan. His expression is animated as he recounts the details of his recent trip. "Valyria is everything I imagined and more," he said, his voice filled with awe. "The architecture, even in ruins… phenomenal.”

She picks up a photo showing a grand, crumbling archway, its intricate carvings still visible despite centuries of decay. "This is incredible," she murmurs, tracing a finger over the image. "Like walking through time.”

He smiles, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Exactly. Every piece of rubble, every shattered column… and the dragons… you can feel their presence, even now."

She looks up at him, curiosity piqued. "Did you find anything related to your family?"

"I did. There were symbols and inscriptions that matched the Targaryen coat of arms. There was this…” He turns quickly to rustle his hands through the photos, trying to find one that he probably intends to show her. When he spots it, he slides it to her by the fingertips. “This old stone tablet with the Targaryen dragon carved into it, still intact despite the centuries.”

"That's incredible. It must have been surreal to see it in person."

"It was," Aemond agrees, his voice tinged with reverence as he went back to the stove. "There were also ancient manuscripts, or what was left of them. The text was almost completely eroded, but you could still make out references to my ancestors. And there was a mural, faded and cracked, but you could see the dragons soaring over Valyria in them, with what we believe were the early Targaryens among them."

He placed the plate of French toast in front of her and sat down, his eyes glowing with excitement. "I even found a piece of what might have been a dragon egg, petrified but still recognizable.”

Wylde takes a bite of the French toast, savoring the warm, cinnamon flavor, but her mind was captivated by Aemond's discoveries. “How’d you end up making the trip? Thought it was closed for like… government reasons or something?”

“Right, so… Aegon-”

“That never ends well.”

The edge of his lips twinges upward and she clocks his faint smile. “He's the creative director of The Kingslander now.” She has heard of it. Aegon Targaryen was quite the flighty boy growing up, with little to no focus on anything low-key. He would always have an eye for anything creative and aesthetic though, and had a unique style. Alicent spotted an early opportunity for her eldest son, and had him intern at The Kingslander, one of the many magazines that Targaryen Consolidated owned. Soon enough, he had something to channel himself into, and it showed. From fashion photography to various directed photoshoots, he was in his element.

But at heart, Aegon was never meant for the desk lifestyle. So when Sara Snow - an archeology professor - tumbled into his life and told him she was to leave on an expedition for half a year, he took the opportunity to let loose and chase her across the globe. She had him enrolled into the documenting team so he wouldn’t be twiddling his thumbs, and he seems to have taken to it quite well.

‘So I’m like, into history now.’ She can clearly hear him say it. “I don’t know. He likes this girl, and he got access, so he invited me to go along because there may never be a chance again.”

“Sounds like such an Aegon thing to do,” she says wistfully as the last bits of her food disappear from the plate.

“What?”

“To put his heart on the line and take risks that involve going halfway across the globe to a restricted area for a girl.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“You wouldn’t do it?”

Aemond pauses, contemplating the question. "It's not that I wouldn't. It's just... different for me."

Wylde raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Different how?"

“He’s so… out of control. I’d not prefer that.”

“Hm. Or perhaps you haven’t had your crazy grand romantic moment yet.” Red blooms over his cheeks as he faces away, taking her plate to dump it into the sink. “Speaking of. You mentioned you met someone months ago! I’ve been here for three months already and you’re yet to tell me anything!”

“It’s very casual.”

“Liar. You’d not be hiding her like your life depended on it if it was.”

“Hm.”

She stands up, gathering her books and bag, ready to go home. She begins to assemble all the photos, carefully placing them back into the box. As she reaches for the last few, her fingers brush against a small, delicate emerald locket she hadn't noticed earlier. She holds it up, admiring its intricate design.

"Is this from the expedition too?" she asks, curiosity evident in her voice.

Aemond turns, scratching the back of his neck as he answers, "No, that's a friend's. She was looking at the photos earlier." A faint blush creeps up his cheeks, but Wylde notices it immediately.

"And is this the same… friend that you're trying to hide from me?" she teases, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Perhaps," Aemond admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

She chuckles, and stores at the back of her mind the observation that whoever he’s seeing comes and goes to the flat, just like her. "Good taste in jewelry, I'll tell you that much. I like her already."

She walks up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug and planting a friendly kiss on his cheek. The tingling feeling is back again, but she ignores it like the plague.

"Food was good. One of these days you'll give Criston a run for his money," she jokes - to lower his tension or hers, she does not know.

Aemond mutters his thanks, his blush deepening. "Don't get your hopes up too high."

She strolls through the lively streets of Oldtown, her phone pressed to her ear. The scent of fresh pastries from a nearby café mingles with the distant hum of conversation, and the old world charm brightens up her day.

“Hey… been a while!” she says, her voice bright with genuine enthusiasm. “How’s everything at KLU?”

There’s a brief pause before Daeron’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Hi, yourself! Things are going great here. Campus is even more lively than I expected, classes are alright. How’s Oldtown treating you?”

You could have found out for yourself if you’d followed through with me, she thinks. She’s quick to kick her bitter thoughts to the curb though.

She glances around at the charming storefronts and the lively crowds. “It’s been a whirlwind. The courses are intense, but I’m getting used to the pace. I’m really enjoying the city - it’s everything I hoped it would be. So different from home, but in a good way. Aemond and I spend a lot of time together, so that’s nice.”

“Yeah, Oldtown is amazing,” Daeron agrees, his enthusiasm unwavering. “I remember going there to visit grandpa often as a kid.””

“Oh yeah!” Her curiosity gets the better of her, and her question tumbles out before she can stop herself. “How’re things with you and Floris?”

There is a moment of silence on the other end of the line. She can almost hear Daeron shifting, his voice a bit more guarded when he replies. “Oh, Floris is… she’s doing well. She’s been really busy with her studies and all. It’s been a bit hectic for her, but she’s handling it. You know how she is - always on top of things.”

No, I don’t know how she is, actually.

Her brow furrows slightly as she walks past the café, where the smell of coffee and baked goods wafts out into the street. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something feels off to her. “That’s good to hear. But you sound a bit... dull. Everything okay?”

Daeron let out a nervous chuckle. “No, it’s nothing like that. We’ve just been caught up in our own worlds lately. It’s a lot to balance with everything going on. But she’s fine, really. We’re fine.”

He’s lying. She knows. She knows him like the back of her hand.

Arianne Martell approaches her in the distance, her bright smile unmistakable. She sighs into her phone, deciding to let the topic drop for now. “Hey, Daeron, I’ve got to go. Catch up later, yeah?”

“Okay, bye. And hey-”

“What?”

“I miss you.”

Much and more has happened between them, but she can’t help but smile all the same. “Me too. We’ll talk soon.”

Heart warmed by the fact that she can have a conversation with him again without wanting to pull his spun silver hair out, she picks up the pace to join Arianne.

They queue up at the cart, their conversation slipping into the familiar rhythm of college gossip. Arianne’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she leans closer. “You won’t believe what I heard about Margaery Tyrell. Apparently, she’s been sneaking off to meet with Lionel Hightower.”

Wylde raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Margaery? Really? I thought she was with-”

Arianne nods enthusiastically. “Renly Baratheon, yes. But my brother saw him and Loras Tyrell making out at one of his parties.”

“Well. Fair enough.”

Arianne grins, clearly enjoying the drama. “Oh, it gets better. Apparently, they’ve been trying to get Cregan Stark to join them but he’s much too prudish for a threesome.”

“Prudish or just uncomfortable with them?”

“Who knows?”

As they walk past the cart, Wylde’s gaze drifts toward the window of a nearby restaurant. For a moment, she spots a familiar silhouette through the glass. She wants to think it’s Aemond, but it would be a reach to assume every tall man in a black hoodie is him.

But she spots Vhagar parked out front, and now she knows for sure.

Aemond is seated with his back to her, and she can tell by his posture that it's him. He’s accompanied by an obscured woman who gestures animatedly as she talks. They seem engrossed in deep conversation, and Aemond’s face is animated, his focus entirely on the woman before him.

Her curiosity is piqued, but she quickly refocuses on Arianne, who is now recounting the latest gossip involving the drama club’s lead actor.

It feels wrong to be peeking into Aemond's life like this.

Arianne’s laughter draws her attention back. “Anyway, I have a date with Arys tonight!”

“STOP! Really?”

“He finally asked me out, thank the Gods. Thought he was going to drag it out forever!”

She laughs, the earlier sight of Aemond slipping from her mind.

“Yeah so, you’ll come in and help me get ready?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They are sprawled on his plush leather couch, the glow from the laptop illuminating their surroundings. The soft hum of a wildlife documentary is heard, the narrator's voice a soothing backdrop to the scenes of the Sarnor savannah playing out on the screen. Bowls of snacks—popcorn and chocolate-covered almonds—are scattered around them, within easy reach.

She is nestled comfortably against Aemond’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm is draped casually around her, fingers idly tracing patterns on her arm. They are so close, their bodies glued together that it’d be so easy to assume that they were a couple, rather than friends who’ve known each other their entire lives. Every so often, Aemond’s hand dips into the bowl of popcorn, bringing a few kernels to his mouth, while she picks at the chocolate almonds. She feels the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the warmth of his body seeping into hers.

As his fingers trace gentle patterns on her arm, she feels a shiver run through her. It’s a simple touch, yet it sends her heart racing. She’s hyper-aware of every point of contact, every subtle shift in his posture. The way he holds her, casually yet protectively, makes her wonder if he feels the same way. Does he know how much these small gestures mean to her?

He’s just being friendly to a girl he’s known almost his entire life.

She steals a glance at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the laptop screen. His sharp features are softened in the dim light, and she notices the slight furrow in his brow as he concentrates on the documentary. She resists the strange urge to smoothen out the lines on his face and help him calm down.

She sighs contentedly, but soon a dull ache begins to build at her temples. She shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the headache persists. She groans softly, bringing a hand to her forehead.

Aemond glances down at her, a look of concern crossing his features. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a headache,” she murmurs, closing her eyes and leaning further into him. “It’s been a long day.”

Without a word, Aemond begins to gently massage her scalp, his fingers working through her hair with practiced ease. His attention remains fixed on the laptop screen, but his touch is gentle and soothing, each movement easing the tension from her temples.

She feels a flutter in her chest, a familiar sensation she’s tried to ignore. The crush she has on Aemond, usually kept carefully in check, creeps up on her as he continues to massage her scalp. His touch is both comforting and intimate, sending shivers down her spine.

Hormones are a nasty little thing, she surmises as her mild feelings refuse to go away. How could they, when he’s holding her like this?

She feels the need to speak if only to calm herself down.

“Daeron and I spoke today.”

His hands stop immediately, and his face hardens as he looks down at her. She looks up to meet his gaze, and she refuses to think of how close she is to his lips. She won’t.

Perhaps she is a little attracted to him.

It’s natural, and honestly? An inevitability. He’s Aemond. Anyone with proper vision and a sound mind would be attracted to him. She’s just lucky that she knows him well enough to be part of his space.

It’s stupid and even a bit silly. She’ll be over it just fine.

She moves away from him, sitting facing him with crossed legs. “What did he say?” He asks, and she spots the defensiveness in his tone.

“Nothing to worry about, it was nice actually.” She smiles, still very fond of her long-time best friend. “We just caught up and he was telling me about KLU. He also said he had plans to visit here in the summer, so I’m quite excited!”

“And how can you be sure that he’s not going to let himself be pulled away again?”

“About that…” She sighs. Regardless of how messy their equation had been towards the end of school, she has grown back her affinity for the youngest Targaryen brother. She supposes all they needed was time. “I asked about him and Floris today, he seemed very hesitant with his answers.”

“Hm.” She hears the pop of each of his knuckles as he cracks them with a concentrated look on his face.

“I don’t know. I think he’s lying.”

“You’re sure?”

“I know him. I know him well, like the back of my hand. I know when he’s lying. He didn’t sound like himself. I worry for him.”

“It’s not your place to do anything until he asks for help.”

“But I didn’t even-”

“You know him and I know you. You’d trip over yourself trying to help him.”

Her shoulders slump as she realizes he’s right. It is in Daeron’s nature to come to her when he’s down, and it is in her nature to be there for him. She’s wired that way, truly. How can she not be, when she’s been that way for as long as she’s known him?

“I’d rather you not be hurt again. Daeron is… careless. He and Aegon never consider anything beyond the next ten minutes, and they leave a big mess in their wake.”

She smirks. “Are you using me as an excuse to take shots at your brothers?”

She sees the corner of his lips twitch, and she brings her hands together as she sighs once more. “I just… I’ve had time to get over the fact that we drifted apart. But it made me quite sad that he felt the need to lie to me and smooth things rather than actually tell me what’s going on, you know?”

“Happens.” His replies are curt and his disposition is rougher. She doesn’t know why, and she refuses to let it grow. “Nothing you can do about it,” he adds.

“Hm.”

The sounds of the documentary keep the room from being pin drop silent, and she gets off the sofa to go to the fridge. “We’ve run out of cheesecake.” She says, coming back to where she was sitting before.

“Yeah, I need to get more.”

“You could have gotten some when you went to Moonbloom a few days ago.”

Aemond’s nervousness was almost imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him well. But to her, the subtle shifts were as clear as daylight. She noticed how his jaw tightened just a fraction, the way his eyes seemed to flicker with an almost invisible tension. His usually steady hands would still, fingers curling ever so slightly into his palms. He’d draw in a slow, controlled breath, his chest rising just a bit higher than usual.

“When did you see me?”

The eyebrow of his functional eye lifts just a little, almost as if he’s asking her how she knew. "I saw Vhagar parked outside. Figured nobody else had a bike that looked similar. Thought you may be with someone, so I didn’t want to intrude."

"Professor Rivers," he replies, his tone dangerously neutral. "I was working on my papers about the expedition, using them for my semester submission, and we bumped into each other."

"Oh, okay. Weird, isn’t it? To bump into professors outside of campus. Like people let out of their natural habitat."

"Hm. Perhaps." His cheeks take on a faint pink hue, and she can’t help but smile.

"Why are you blushing?" she asks, laughing heartily, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "You don’t have a crush on her or something, do you?"

"Gods, no," he replies quickly, the words almost too quick. It’s a lighthearted quip to her, nothing more, but the slight tilt in his tone lingers in her mind, a small seed of curiosity planted.

“I mean, she is pretty. I wouldn’t blame you.” She laughs, trying to tease him further and he disappointedly nods side to side.

A few hours go by as they continue to pass the time, but Aemond seems a little tense from thereon out. He’s quieter - if that’s even possible - and his responses, more measured. She notices the way he occasionally bites the inside of his cheek, a habit he has when something's bothering him. His fingers tap lightly against his knee in an uneven rhythm, betraying his otherwise calm demeanor.

When she asks him a question, he pauses just a moment longer than usual before answering, as if carefully choosing his words. The slight furrow in his brow, the way his gaze occasionally drifts to the floor, and the almost imperceptible sighs he lets out - they all speak of an unease that she spots effortlessly.

These are the times when she hates knowing the Targaryen children as well as she does.

She watches him closely, feeling a pang of guilt. He’s not the kind to take these things to heart usually, but something about her teasing seems to have unsettled him this time. She no longer feels welcome, and she knows he’d rather be left alone now and to find her when he’s ready for her again. She doesn’t like that it has to be this way, but giving him his space is the most she can do.

She stands abruptly, murmuring something about an early class in the morning and how she has to go. He immediately softens then, and stands idly with his hands in his pockets as she packs her bag.

She doesn’t like leaving him like this, but just as she moves to the door, she turns at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand, holding onto her wrist. With his other hand at the back of his neck, his look is almost sheepish. “Listen, sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable-”

“I’m sorry too. It wasn’t funny to tease about your professors. Didn’t realize you were quite touchy about it.”

“I’m not, just… I don’t know what happened.”

Her gaze is fixed at his strong hand holding hers, and she looks at it for too long before he notices it and drops it like hot coal. She misses the warmth of him immediately with a strange overwhelming feeling she cannot put into words. It’s not her silly little crush on him, it’s just a natural physical reaction, she tells herself.

She softens and melts immediately at his peculiar attempt to smooth things over with her, and it is heartwarming to her that he tries. “Aemond, it’s okay. You’re fine. If anything, I should apologize and I am sorry.”

“Neither of us should be apologizing, this is a non-issue.” He says, and she recognises the finality of his tone. There is no space for debate; and in all honesty, she doesn’t know why a throwaway statement became a big deal anyway.

“Okay.” As is her habit, she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him on his warm cheek before saying bye. Tonight however, neither of them seem to want to leave each other as they continue to be glued to where they stand. She notices the ring on his finger and remembers Daeron, her mind racing to the conversation they had once more. Her mind travels to every word he said on their phone call, and the words rush out of her before she can help herself.

“You wouldn’t ever lie to me, would you?”

He sighs, leaning on the doorway with his hands folded into his chest. She cannot deny how effortlessly good he looks right then.

“I’d never hurt you.”

“Okay.” She absentmindedly nods as she repeats the words to herself and she bites her lip. She clutches onto her sling bag as she finally moves away.

She doesn't quite dwell on the fact that he promised not to hurt her but didn't exactly promise never to lie.

The thrum of music pulses through the packed house, every beat vibrating through her bones. She scans the crowd, trying to spot Arianne, but her friend has disappeared into the sea of bodies. She shrugs, taking another sip of her beer. The alcohol has dulled her senses just enough to make everything feel a little softer around the edges.

As she leans against the wall, Willas Tyrell saunters over, a confident smile playing on his lips. They’ve been eyeing each other all night, and now, with eight rounds of beer warming her veins, she feels bolder than usual.

"Hey, lost your friend?" he asks, his voice smooth and warm.

"Yeah, Arianne's somewhere in this madness," she replies, laughing lightly. "But it's not so bad. I found you."

He chuckles, taking a step closer. "Lucky me. What are you drinking?"

"Beer. Not my first choice, but it does the job."

"Well, if you're up for something better, I’ve got some whiskey upstairs," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Interested?"

She arches an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Whiskey, huh? That does sound tempting. Is that all on offer though?"

"Why don’t you come and find out?" he teases, holding out his hand.

Without hesitation, she takes it, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrap around hers. They weave through the crowded living room, climbing the stairs to a quieter part of the house. The music grows fainter, the air cooler, as they reach an empty room at the end of the hall.

He closes the door behind them, and she turns to face him, her heart pounding with anticipation. They are inches apart, the charged energy between them palpable.

"You know," she says, her voice low. "I've always thought you were kind of cute."

"Kind of cute?" he repeats, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I was hoping for more than 'kind of.'"

"Well, you might have to work for it," she challenges, stepping closer until their bodies are almost touching.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small flask, unscrewing the cap and offering it to her. "How about some of this?"

She takes a sip, the burn of the whiskey warming her insides and adding to the haze in her mind. She hands it back to him, their fingers brushing in the exchange, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Not bad," she says, licking her lips. "Maybe you do have good taste."

He laughs softly, his eyes darkening with desire. "Glad you think so. Now, where were we?"

"Right about here," she whispers, closing the distance between them.

He doesn't need any more encouragement. Willas cups her face with one hand, the other sliding around her waist as he pulls her in for a kiss. It is slow and deliberate at first, but quickly grows more intense, their mouths moving hungrily against each other. She can taste the faint hint of whiskey on his lips, mingling with the lingering taste of alcohol on her own.

Her hands roam over his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles through his shirt. He responds by sliding his fingers under the hem of her top, lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. His touch is electric, sending shivers down her spine as he deftly unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the floor.

"You’re full of surprises," she murmurs, her breath hitching as he kisses down her neck.

"You have no idea," he replies, his voice husky with need.

He pushes her onto the bed, the world around them narrowing to just the two of them. She lands on her back, looking up at him with a mixture of desire and haziness, the room spinning slightly around her. Willas hovers above her, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of her bare skin. He leans down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss, his hands exploring her body with a desperate urgency. She arches into his touch, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulls him closer.

Their kisses grow more frantic, each movement a testament to their mutual need. He trails his lips down her collarbone, pausing to nip at the sensitive skin, eliciting a gasp from her. His hands slide lower, brushing against her waist, before moving to undo the button of her jeans.

She’s caged between his strong arms, with nowhere to move. For a fleeting moment, the sensation is thrilling. But then, as Willas's hands slide lower, the room spins faster, and the walls seem to close in. Her breath catches in her throat, and she’s suddenly transported back to that night in school with Jason Lannister, his oppressive presence, the helplessness, the terror.

A cold sweat breaks out on her skin. The memory floods her mind: Jason's hands on her, her desperate attempts to push him away, the fear that froze her limbs. The room spins more violently now, and the warmth of Willas's body becomes suffocating.

"Stop," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her ears.

Willas doesn't hear her, his kisses growing more insistent. The panic rises in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Stop," she says again, louder this time, but it still feels like she’s shouting underwater.

Her heart races, and her vision blurs. She tries to push him away, her hands trembling. "Willas, stop," she says more firmly, her voice cracking.

This time, he hears her. He immediately pulls back, his eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle but edged with worry.

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I can't... I can't do this. I'm sorry."

He moves away quickly, giving her space. "Hey, it’s okay. It's okay," he reassures her, his tone soft and understanding. He sits beside her, not touching, giving her the room she needs.

She sits up, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. The room still feels like it's spinning, and her thoughts are a jumbled mess. Willas watches her with genuine concern, not pushing, just waiting.

After a few moments, he reaches for her discarded top and hands it to her along with her bra. "Here, put this on. Take your time."

"I'm so sorry," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Don’t apologize," he says softly. “You’re good, just breathe. You’re fine.”

She nods, focusing on her breathing, trying to regain control. The panic begins to ebb, replaced by a shaky calm. Willas stays beside her, offering quiet support.

"Thank you," she finally manages to say, looking at him with gratitude and a lingering hint of embarrassment.

"Anytime," he replies with a gentle smile. "Do you want me to call someone?”

“No, I… I think I’m gonna just… go.”

“Let me help you.”

“It’s okay. Can you just… I need a moment, if that’s okay. I’m so sorry if I ruined tonight for you.”

“You’re alright. I don’t feel good letting you go off alone like this though.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

She steps out of the house, the cool night air hitting her like a splash of cold water. The noise of the party fades behind her, replaced by the quieter sounds of the street. Scattered red cups and empty beer bottles litter the front yard, remnants of a night that feels distant and surreal now. A figure lies passed out on the lawn, oblivious to the world as others continue to mill about inside.

She walks to the corner of the pavement, her steps slow and unsteady. The streetlight above her makes the world feel too bright and too stark. She sits down, her knees drawn up to her chest, and tries to steady her breathing. The cool concrete is a small comfort, grounding her as she struggles to calm her racing heart.

With trembling hands, she pulls out her phone and dials Aemond’s number. The ringing seems to echo in her ears, each tone stretching into what feels like an eternity. Finally, the call connects, and she hears the distant, muffled sound of conversation.

“Aemond,” she says, her voice cracking and barely more than a whisper. “I—I need you. I’m… I’m outside Margaery Tyrell’s party.”

There’s a brief pause on the line. She hears the faint hum of a cheerful woman’s voice, laughter floating in the background. A pang of guilt hits her hard. She feels like an intruder, her mind racing as she realizes she might be interrupting something important.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. “I—I’m really sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t mean to interrupt… whoever you're with. I just— I’m so scared. Can you… can you come get me? Please?”

Her breathing comes in ragged bursts, her words tumbling out in a breathless, almost incoherent rush. The panic clawing at her chest makes it hard to focus, and the alcohol hasn’t worn off one bit.

“Wylde?” Aemond’s voice is suddenly urgent, cutting through her frantic apologies. There’s a concern in his tone that makes her stomach clench. Don’t move. I’ll be there soon. Just breathe, okay?”

She struggles to calm her racing heart, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her voice trembling with desperation. “I’m really sorry… I just… I can’t… One minute we were kissing and the next I’m crying, I can't breathe...I-”

“Wylde, listen to me,” Aemond says firmly, but gently. “It’s okay. I’m on my way. Just stay where you are. I need you to breathe and stay calm. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

The call ends abruptly, and she is left in the cold night air, clutching her phone with shaking hands. Her breaths come out in shaky, uneven puffs as she tries to focus on Aemond’s calming words. The street feels both stark and surreal, the shadows around her stretching long and foreboding. She pulls her jacket tighter around her, trying to find comfort in its warmth while waiting for him to arrive.

As they arrive at his apartment, the familiar rumble of the motorbike fades as he turns the keys. Aemond helps her off the bike with a gentle but firm hand, guiding her carefully up the stairs and into his apartment. The door swings open to reveal a cozy space, bathed in the dim, warm glow of a few scattered lamps.

He holds onto her with one hand, using his free hand for everything else. Her head rests under his chin, and she can’t help but nuzzle herself into his neck and make herself at home as his warmth pervades her dulled senses.

He leads her inside and guides her to the bathroom. With a tender touch, he helps her sit on the edge of the tub. The gentle hum of the apartment and the soft rustling of his movements are a soothing backdrop to her foggy consciousness. He rummages through a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of water and painkillers.

“Here,” he says softly, handing her the water and pills. “You should take these. They’ll help with the headache.”

She nods weakly, managing to swallow the medication with a few sips of water. Her head feels heavy, and her thoughts are a jumbled mess, but the care in his voice and his steady presence offer a small measure of relief.

Aemond helps her to her feet and guides her to the bedroom. The room is dim, the only light coming from a small bedside lamp. He pulls out a clean pair of shorts and one of his t-shirts from a drawer. Gently, he helps her out of her clothes, the fabric of her dress feeling foreign against her skin as it’s removed. He helps her into the comfortable shorts and oversized t-shirt, the soft material a welcome contrast to the night’s chaos.

As he tucks her into bed, pulling the sheets up around her, he is both careful and attentive. She shifts under the covers, trying to get comfortable, but her eyes are heavy and her body feels weighed down by the evening’s events. She feels his warm lips on her forehead once more, and she reaches out to hold onto his wrist before he goes away.

“Stay. Please.” she murmurs, her voice barely audible as she begs.

Aemond’s gaze softens. “I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures her, settling down on the edge of the bed. He sits there for a moment, his hand gently stroking her hair, the motion soothing and familiar.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice wavering slightly. “I’m sorry for all this.”

She hears the faint ticking of a clock as her heartbeat calms down. The rustling of sheets as Aemond adjusts himself to join her. The warm golden glow of the bedside lamp. The warmth of her hand in his under the sheets. The feel of his thumb gently moving over her knuckles. The softness of his hands as he brushes off stray hairs off her face. The strength of it as he cradles her head like it’d break if he pressed further.

Aemond wakes in the middle of the night, his hand instinctively reaching out to the empty space beside him. The cool, undisturbed sheets where her warmth should be jolt him fully awake, a sudden surge of concern piercing through the remnants of his sleep. He sits up quickly, the room around him still cloaked in the deep shadows of night, and listens intently. The faint glow emanating from the kitchen draws his attention, a small beacon in the darkness.

He slips out of bed, his bare feet silent against the floor as he pads softly toward the light. Each step feels measured and deliberate, his senses heightened in the quiet stillness of the early morning. The corridor seems longer than usual, the dim light at the end creating an almost surreal atmosphere, as if he’s moving through a dream.

As he approaches the kitchen, the scene gradually comes into focus. She’s sitting at the counter, bathed in the soft, warm glow of the single dim yellow light over the countertop. The rest of the kitchen is enveloped in darkness, the contrast making her appear almost ethereal. Her presence is both comforting and concerning.

She’s wearing one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of his shorts, her bare feet resting on the lower rung of the counter-height stool. The loose fabric drapes over her frame in a way that makes her look even smaller and more vulnerable. Her posture is slightly hunched, and she’s absently stirring the contents of a mug, the soft clinking of the spoon against the ceramic creating a gentle, rhythmic sound that fills the otherwise silent space.

He takes a moment to observe her, his heart aching at the sight. Her hair falls messily around her face, and her nose looks flared. She seems lost in thought, her eyes focused on the swirling liquid in the mug, as if trying to find answers in its depths. The tension in her shoulders is palpable, and he can see the strain of the night’s events weighing heavily on her.

He doesn’t yet know what’s happened. All he knows is that she’d been in a bad time once more, and it’s one too many times for someone as sensitive as she is. Her eyes are downcast, lost in thought, and she seems miles away, even though she’s right there in front of him.

Aemond watches her for a moment, noticing the way she grips the mug tightly, as if drawing strength from its warmth. Stepping into the light, he moves towards her with a quiet grace, not wanting to startle her. She looks up as he approaches, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and relief. He pulls out a stool beside her and sits down, their knees almost touching, creating an intimate, comforting space amidst the darkness.

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly, concern evident in his voice.

She lets out a small, tired sigh, her fingers tightening around the mug. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything just… it feels too much.”

They sit in silence for a while, the atmosphere thick with unspoken emotions. She slowly sips from the mug—warm milk, he notices. His eyes wander to the honey bottle at the far end of the counter, suggesting she had been stirring it in when he came in. The soft clinking of the spoon against the mug fades into the background, replaced by the quiet, steady rhythm of their breathing.

His hand rests gently on her thigh, his fingers making slow, soothing movements that help to calm her. She feels the warmth and comfort of his touch, and instinctively, she settles her hand over his, drawing strength from the simple contact. Time seems to slow down, and they remain like this for a while, enveloped in the stillness of the moment.

He looks at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, and he remembers the first time he realized he had some sort of feelings for her - fleeting, if not definitive. Back in King's Landing, in her bedroom, he had been so close to her that he’d had half a mind to kiss her. But she had been so troubled, and he knew from seeing Aegon and Helaena, that no good comes from entering into anything when you're not quite yourself.

He thought he would ask her out when she came to Oldtown, imagining a fresh start in a new place. But by then, the distance had played its part.

His feelings, once intense in the way that only teenage introverts could experience, had started to dissolve, replaced by the new experiences and people that college inevitably brings into one's life. And then there was Alys. With Alys, there was no power play or domination that one would expect from a relationship with the age gap that they have - just two people who understood each other's interests and passions deeply, like no one else in their lives did. They were kindred spirits, and being with her felt easy and right. Alys was good to him, and their relationship felt solid and mature - regardless of how shaky the existence of it would seem to everyone around him.

Yet, as he sits here with her, he takes in her soft face, framed by her hair and lit up by the golden dim light. It is then that he realizes that his feelings - no matter how mild, how fleeting - never completely went away.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice gentle and full of concern. “What happened?” he asks, his eyes searching hers for answers.

“I was at the party, and Will Tyrell and I were flirting.” His hand tightens over the smooth expanse of the skin of her thigh. “I’d had like… ten rounds of beer or something. One thing led to another and next thing I know, we’re making out in an empty room and…” She exhales with more effort than is required for her to live, and he encourages her to go on. “It just took me back to Jason Lannister for a moment and I started panicking. Couldn’t breathe for a moment there, really.”

“Hm.”

She leans her head down to be eye level with him, and she takes his hand in hers before she lets out a playful smile. “You’re like… my knight in a black motorcycle now, you know? Twice now I’ve had weird things happen to me at a party, and you've come to the rescue both times.”

“It’s not funny,” he says. He’d genuinely felt his heart stop when he heard her panicked voice over the phone at Alys’ house.

“It’s not. Sorry, I’m just grateful for you.”

Her hand leaves his to cradle his cheek. She’s the one who was found reeking of alcohol and vomit, and somehow he’s the one that needs comforting. “You’re always so serious, hm? So serious…” He grunts in response.

“Thank you. For being with me.”

He’s never been good with compliments, and this is a heavy one that he cannot wrap his mind around. He lets it wash over him like a calm evening breeze.

When her mug is empty and they come back to his bed, neither of them are in the right mindspace to wonder about how easily intimacy comes to them.

Instead, she chooses to watch him, his silhouette. She’s still tired and hazy from the alcohol, and given the moment they’ve just had and the complete darkness of his bedroom, she can’t help but say it.

“You’re pretty.”

He doesn’t react, so she feels emboldened enough to continue. “You have such pretty eyes too. I always thought about it, but you always hated talking about your eyes so I never quite bothered with telling you.”

“Hm.”

Her quiet knight on a black motorcycle.

How the fuck is she supposed to get over him now?

She wakes slowly, the world coming into focus as the soft light of morning filters through the blinds. She feels the warmth of Aemond’s chest against her back, his arm draped loosely around her waist. There’s a quiet comfort in the way they’re entangled, as if this is exactly where she’s meant to be. She’s still wearing his clothes - his t-shirt and shorts - and somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Her gaze drifts over to the bedside table, and she spots his reading glasses resting on top of a copy of Ten Thousand Ships. She thinks about how she never wants to see a table without his glasses again.

The thought lingers, surprising her with its intensity. She tries not to move, not wanting to break the spell of the moment, and instead lets her eyes take in the little details around the room.

The leather jacket hanging neatly on a hook behind the door catches her attention, standing out in what she could only describe as clinical cleanliness. The pale walls, the simplicity of the space - it’s all so Aemond. Everything is meticulously arranged, no clutter in sight, just like him. Every little thing in this room reflects who he is, and she finds herself memorizing it all, as if trying to hold onto this feeling for as long as she can.

Before her thoughts can go further, she hears him stir behind her, his voice low and groggy. “Morning,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of her neck.

She turns her head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of him. “Morning,” she replies softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

Aemond tightens his arm around her waist, pulling her just a little closer, and she feels her heart swell with a warmth that she isn’t ready to let go of. This, right here, feels like everything she didn’t know she needed.

She shifts slightly in his arms, just enough to face him. There’s a comfortable silence between them, one that feels both familiar and new. She traces lazy circles on the back of his hand with her finger, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

“This is nice.” she says with a playful grin, trying to keep things light despite the weight in her chest. “Girlfriend behavior. Waking up in your bed, wearing your clothes… I’m basically halfway there.”

Aemond raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement. “Is that so? You’re already planning our future together, then?”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “We’d probably spend our weekends at bookstores and museums. You’d drag me to some obscure historical sites, and I’d make you try every new coffee shop in town while I move around taking photos.”

“Sounds terrible,” he deadpans, though the warmth in his eyes betrays him.

“Absolutely dreadful, the most boring couple ever.” She agrees, her tone just as teasing. “But, hey, I’d get to borrow your shirts all the time, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Aemond smirks, but his expression softens as he looks at her. “Are you alright?” His voice is gentle, laced with concern.

She nods, trying to brush it off with a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He doesn’t let it go, though, his thumb brushing lightly against her side. “Really?”

Everywhere he touches, her heart seems to follow. It skips a beat at the sincerity in his eyes, and she feels the familiar tug of emotions she’s not quite ready to name. “I promise, Aemond. I’m fine.”

He studies her for a moment longer before finally nodding, though the worry doesn’t entirely leave his face. “Hm.”

She can’t help but laugh at his persistence, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly. “I’m alright, I swear.”

She presses a hand to her forehead, feeling the dull ache settle behind her eyes. “I’ve got a slight headache,” she admits, her voice a little groggy. “And I could really use some food.”

Aemond nods, concern flickering across his face. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

They both slide out of bed, and she follows him to the bathroom where they keep spare toothbrushes for each other. It’s a simple, unspoken thing - having brushes at each other’s places because they often sleep over - but this is the first time she’s woken up with his arms around her. As she brushes her teeth beside him, the domesticity of it all makes her blush. It feels so natural, so easy, and yet there’s something about it that sends her heart racing.

After rinsing her mouth, she drinks a glass of water to ease the remnants of her headache before heading to the kitchen. She takes her usual place on one of the bar stools behind the counter, turning on the coffee machine. The sound of it humming to life is oddly soothing, and she watches as Aemond walks in, already rolling up the sleeves of his black sweatshirt to get started.

He pulls out the ingredients, his movements efficient and practiced. Wylde offers to help, and he nods her over without hesitation. As she steps closer, he lifts a small slice of cut avocado to her lips, eyes not moving away from the chopping board - habitual, it all seems habitual. She grunts, leaning in to eat it straight from his hand before taking over with slicing the bread.

They work together in comfortable silence, moving around each other with the ease of familiarity. Aemond cooks the eggs while she toasts the sourdough, and before long, they’re sitting at the counter with plates of food in front of them. The avocado is perfectly creamy, the eggs just the right amount of runny, the toast crisp and warm and her coffee is just right.

Then she remembers he found her a right mess last night, and he’s simply being nice to a friend who had a bad night.

She wonders if the girl he’s hiding from her is perfect for him. She wonders if she ever embarasses herself in front of him like she clearly did last night. She wonders if he’s made her toast. She wonders if she’s woken up to the warmth of his lean arms wrapped around her waist. She wonders-

“What’s on your mind?”

She nods from side to side, a reassuring smile that is convincing enough that he doesn’t push further.

They eat in peaceful silence, exchanging small smiles as they enjoy the meal. It’s a quiet moment, but there’s a warmth in it that neither of them can ignore. When they’re done, they clear the dishes together, and for a brief moment, she lets herself imagine that this is what it could be like - easy and comfortable.

She wanted to catch him by the shoulders. She wanted to hug him till it hurt and her feet left the ground. She wanted to tuck her head into his neck and breathe in the smell of him, bask in the warmth of him.

Choose me, choose me, choose me, choose-

She wants him.

Gods.

She says thank you and leaves instead.

The next few weeks pass in a series of moments - each one small and seemingly insignificant, yet all of them add up to something much larger in her heart. It’s as if the universe has conspired to put Aemond in her path at every turn, and with each encounter, she finds herself falling deeper into feelings she’s not quite ready to name.

In the university hallways, she always spots him first. He’s usually leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a book he seems completely absorbed in. The early morning light filters through the tall windows, casting a golden hue over him. She notices the way his hair catches the light, the soft strands glinting silver against the dark fabric of his jacket. He looks so focused, so utterly engrossed in whatever he’s reading, that she almost doesn’t want to interrupt. But then he glances up, meeting her eyes, and a small, rare smile pulls at his lips.

“Morning,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

“Morning,” she replies, feeling her own smile spreading as she walks over.

The rest of their walk is silent until their hands reach out to graze at each other for just a few moments before they go their separate ways.

A few days later, she finds herself in the library, hunting down a book for one of her Foundation of Art in Essos assignments. The place is quiet, the scent of old paper and ink filling the air, and she’s completely lost in the stacks when she hears a familiar voice.

“Looking for something?”

She turns to find Aemond standing just a few feet away, a small stack of books in his arms. His eyes flicker to the title in her hand, and she swears she sees a hint of amusement in them.

“Yeah, just…this one,” she says, holding up the book she’s just found.

He nods, stepping closer. “That’s a good one. You might also want to check out the one by Mallister - it gives a different perspective.”

She takes his word and joins him at his table. She lets herself blush and be bothered by their feet touching under the table occasionally.

In their one shared class, she finds herself sneaking glances at him more often than she’d like to admit. Aemond always sits a few rows ahead, his attention fixed on the professor. She watches the way he takes notes, his handwriting neat and precise, and the way he occasionally pushes his hair back when it falls into his eyes. It’s such a small thing, but it makes her smile every time.

One day, he catches her looking. Instead of brushing it off or ignoring her, he turns slightly in his seat and raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. She feels her cheeks heat up, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she raises her own eyebrow in response, a silent dare.

After class, they walk together, discussing the lecture and the points that stood out to them. Aemond’s insights are sharp and thoughtful, and she finds herself hanging on to every word he says. There’s something about the way he sees the world - so different from anyone else - that fascinates her.

Then again, he could tell her that the dragons have come back to life - and she’d find a way to believe that too.

Cafe Moonbloom - her favorite cafe at Oldtown - becomes another place where their paths cross. It’s a cozy spot, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and soft, ambient music. She often comes here to study or relax, and more often than not, Aemond shows up too, as if drawn by the same comforting atmosphere.

One afternoon, she’s sitting at a corner table, sipping her usual lavender latte, when he walks in. He spots her immediately, and after ordering his drink, he joins her at the table without hesitation.

She smiles. Seems it’s all she’s capable of doing in his presence these days.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, each of them absorbed in their own work. But every now and then, she finds herself looking up, catching glimpses of him as he reads or types on his laptop.

At one point, he reaches across the table to take a sip of her drink, curiosity in his eyes. She lets him, laughing softly when he makes a face at the taste.

“Not a fan?” she teases.

“Too floral,” he replies, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes her heart skip a beat.

“You say that each time.”

“That’s it,” she declares, looking over at Aemond, who’s deep into his notes. “We need a break. A real break.”

Aemond glances up, raising an eyebrow. They’re sitting in her flat, surrounded by textbooks and empty coffee cups. She closes her laptop with a decisive snap. “A break,” she repeats, leaning back against the couch and stretching her arms above her head. “We’ve been drowning in work for weeks. Let’s take a day off tomorrow and just… see the city. No papers, no studying. I can’t anymore.”

He considers her words for a moment, then slowly nods, a small smile forming on his lips. “Alright.”

When tomorrow comes, they’re on his motorbike - and she has no idea what he has planned.

The decision is made in a heartbeat. Aemond’s nod is all the confirmation she needs, and by morning, they’re zipping through the streets on his motorbike. The city blurs around them as the wind whips through her hair, the sound of the engine filling her ears. She clings to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, trusting him completely as they speed through the early morning light.

They weave through the streets, bypassing the usual morning traffic as the city slowly begins to wake up. The cool morning air carries the scent of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby river. Her excitement only grows as they approach the Honeywine, the river shimmering under the pale sunlight.

Finally, Aemond guides the bike down a quiet lane and comes to a stop near the edge of the river. She can see the Quill and Tankard ahead—a tall, timbered building leaning slightly southward, the dark wood exterior glowing in the morning light. The pub is nestled on an island in the middle of the Honeywine, connected to the rest of the city by an old plank bridge.

Aemond parks Vhagar, and they both dismount. She removes her helmet, her hair tousled and windswept, and follows Aemond as he leads the way to the bridge. The wooden planks creak slightly underfoot, adding to the charm of the place. She glances over the side, watching the water ripple below, the sound of the river soothing after their wild ride.

“You brought me to the Quill and Tankard?” she asks, her voice filled with pleasant surprise as they reach the other side of the bridge, her fingers brushing against his arm.

Aemond glances at her with a small, knowing smile. “Good spot to start,” he replies.

As they step inside, the warmth of the pub wraps around them like a cozy embrace. The common room is inviting, with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and sunlight filtering through the tall, narrow windows. The smell of bacon, eggs, and freshly baked bread wafts through the air, making her stomach growl in anticipation.

They find a table near the window, the perfect spot to enjoy the view of the river and the old apple trees outside. Aemond shrugs off his leather jacket, draping it over the back of his chair, his movements casual but undeniably graceful. She follows suit, but can’t help but notice how effortlessly he commands the space around him.

When their breakfast arrives - thick slices of sourdough toast topped with peanut butter, peaches, and pomegranate, alongside a pot of rich, dark coffee—she sighs in contentment, her eyes sparkling as she glances at Aemond. “This is perfect,” she says, her voice soft and sincere.

He nods, the corners of his lips lifting into a faint smile as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m glad,” he replies, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. She thinks her heart actually skips a beat.

They eat slowly, savoring the food and the easy conversation that flows between them. Every now and then, their knees brush under the table, sending a little thrill through her that she tries to ignore, though the faint flush on her cheeks might give her away. Aemond seems to notice, a small, teasing smile playing at his lips whenever their eyes meet.

After they finish, they linger for a while longer, sipping the last of their coffee and enjoying the calm, the comfortable silence between them punctuated by the occasional shared glance and knowing smile. When it’s finally time to leave, she feels a reluctant tug in her chest. She doesn’t want the morning to end, but she knows they have the whole day ahead of them.

As they cross the old plank bridge again, she reaches out and takes Aemond’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. His skin is warm against hers, and she can’t help but notice how naturally their fingers intertwine. He glances at her, his expression softening as he squeezes back.

“Where to next?” she asks, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she tilts her head, her eyes searching for a clue.

Aemond smirks, his eye glinting with the hint of another surprise. “You’ll see,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

When they finally arrive at the Starry Sept, she hops off the bike, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the towering structure before them. The sept stands like a sentinel over the city, its seven-pointed star gleaming in the sunlight.

“This is incredible,” she breathes, her excitement palpable as she hurries ahead, eager to explore. She glances back at Aemond, who trails behind with a small smile on his lips, his phone in hand as he quietly captures the moment—the soaring architecture, the play of light and shadow, and her own vibrant enthusiasm as she moves from one point of interest to the next.

She leads the way, her steps light as she marvels at the intricately carved statues and the colorful stained-glass windows that adorn the sept. Every now and then, she turns to share her excitement with him, her voice animated as she points out something new—a particularly beautiful mosaic, a hidden alcove, the way the sunlight pours through the windows, casting rainbows on the stone floor.

Aemond, as usual, is quieter, but she can see the way his gaze softens whenever he looks at her, how he pauses to take photos not just of the sept but of her too, capturing the way her eyes light up with each discovery. There’s something in his expression, a quiet contentment that makes her heart flutter whenever their eyes meet.

They wander deeper into the sept, through narrow corridors that twist and turn like a labyrinth, the ancient stones cool under their fingertips. She is in awe of the place, her footsteps echoing in the silence as they venture further inside.

When they reach a section that is clearly marked as restricted, she hesitates, looking at him with a raised brow. “Are we allowed in there?” she asks, a mix of curiosity and caution in her voice.

Aemond’s response is a single word, spoken with quiet confidence. “Otto.”

She laughs softly, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor. “Of course. Should’ve guessed.”

With a smirk, he pushes open the heavy wooden door, leading them into a part of the sept that few ever see. The air here is different, almost sacred, and she feels a shiver of reverence as her fingers brush against the rough stone walls.

At one point, her foot catches on an uneven flagstone, and she stumbles, a startled gasp escaping her lips as she feels herself begin to fall. The world around her seems to tilt, the ancient stones rushing up to meet her, but before she can even process what’s happening, Aemond is there. He moves with a speed and grace that never ceases to amaze her, his strong arms enveloping her in a firm, protective embrace.

His hands settle on her waist, fingers splayed wide as if to shield her from the world itself. The sudden, intimate contact sends a jolt of electricity through her, making her pulse quicken and her breath hitch in her throat. For a moment, they are frozen like that, their bodies pressed close together, and all she can hear is the rapid pounding of her own heart.

Aemond’s chest is solid against her back, the warmth of his body seeping into hers, calming and steadying yet igniting something deep within her. His breath is warm and steady, ghosting across her ear in a way that sends shivers down her spine. She’s hyper-aware of every point of contact—the way his fingertips press gently but possessively into her sides, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the subtle scent of leather and pine that clings to him.

She turns in his arms and for a moment, she thinks he might kiss her. The thought is dizzying, and she’s caught between hope and fear, between wanting to close her eyes and lean in, and wanting to pull back before everything changes. But then, almost as quickly as it began, the moment shifts. He blinks, the intensity in his gaze softening just a fraction, and she sees the flicker of restraint, the conscious decision as he takes a step back, putting a small but significant distance between them.

The loss of his warmth is immediate, almost jarring, and she feels the absence of his touch keenly, like a missing piece she hadn’t realized she was holding on to. He’s still close, still within reach, but the spell between them has broken, the moment passed, leaving behind a lingering sense of what might have been.

She gives him a small, grateful smile, though it feels a bit shaky, her heart still pounding in her chest. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice quieter than she intends, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile understanding they’ve just shared.

He nods, his lips curving into a faint smile, though there’s something in his expression that she can’t quite read, something that leaves her wondering if he’s as affected by the moment as she is. His hand drops from her waist, but not before his fingers trail lightly down her arm, a touch so fleeting it’s almost like an afterthought, yet it leaves a trail of fire in its wake.

Eventually, they reach a small, secluded courtyard, open to the sky and bathed in golden light. She lets out a soft sigh as she looks around, her eyes wide with wonder.

Something has shifted. This much they both know.

The ride back to her flat is quiet.

They’ve spent the entire day together, yet there’s a weight in the air between them, something that hangs in the silence. The Starry Sept, the Quill and Tankard, the moments that lingered just a little too long - all of it circles in her mind, and she wonders if he’s thinking about it too.

She holds onto him just a little tighter.

As they near her apartment, she breaks the silence with a light-hearted comment. “You know, if someone told me a month ago that I’d be exploring the Starry Sept with you, sneaking into restricted areas like we’re in some spy movie, I’d have laughed them off.”

Aemond chuckles softly, the sound almost drowned out by the bike’s engine. “Guess you’re more adventurous than you thought.”

She grins, resting her chin on his shoulder as she speaks into his ear. “Or maybe you’re just a bad influence. You and your… Otto connections.”

He smirks, though she can’t see it through his helmet. “I prefer ‘resourceful.’”

She laughs, a light, musical sound that makes his chest tighten in a way he can’t quite explain. “Resourceful, huh? I’ll keep that in mind the next time I need to get into a restricted section of the library.”

He shakes his head, amused. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re too serious,” she teases, nudging him gently with her knee. “You need to loosen up, Aemond. Enjoy life a little.”

“I enjoy life just fine,” he counters, though there’s a trace of defensiveness in his tone.

“Oh, really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you could use a bit more fun.” She tilts her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well. I bring the fun, you bring the… brooding?”

“I do not brood,” he says, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She raises an eyebrow. “You totally brood. It’s your thing. That, and being all mysterious and - ”

“And what?” he interrupts, genuinely curious now.

She pauses, the words hanging in the air between them as they finally pull up to her building. He turns off the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. Slowly, she slips off her helmet, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders as she considers her next words carefully.

“And… thoughtful,” she finally says, her voice softer, more serious now. “You notice things about people. You’re observant, and you care. Even if you don’t always show it.”

Aemond is quiet for a moment, processing her words. He steps off the bike, standing close to her as she sits on the seat, their proximity making her heart race. His voice is low, almost vulnerable.

“More than you might think.”

There’s a moment of silence as they look at each other, the air between them thick. She bites her lip, her usual playfulness replaced by something deeper, more intense. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Aemond takes a step closer, his hands resting on either side of the bike, his body inches from hers. “You do?” he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She nods, her eyes searching his, looking for the truth in his words. “Yeah. I do.”

Aemond’s eyes hold hers for a long moment, the violet of his iris darkening as his gaze drops to her lips, then back to her eyes. She can see the conflict there, the way he’s holding himself back, the tension in the air between them charged with tension every passing second.

She inhales deeply, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the heat spreading through her body. Her fingers flex slightly, still gripping the edge of the seat, a lifeline to steady herself as she teeters on the edge of something she’s been avoiding for far too long.

He shifts closer, the space between them shrinking to almost nothing. His hands hover just above her thighs, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of her dress. She can feel the roughness of his breath against her skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he fights the same battle she is.

Pull him in, or let him pull away.

And then he’s moving, slow, deliberate, one hand lifting to trace the line of her jaw. His thumb brushes over her bottom lip, the contact so light it sends a shiver down her spine. She parts her lips slightly, instinctively, her breath catching in her throat.

Aemond watches her, his gaze intent, burning, like he’s committing every detail to memory. Her flushed cheeks, the way her lashes flutter as she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, the way her breath hitches as his thumb drags down, grazing her chin.

She’s the one who leans in first, just enough for their noses to brush, for his breath to mingle with hers. “Aemond…” she murmurs, barely a whisper, a plea and a question all at once.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, his hand slides to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he closes the distance between them. His lips meet hers in a kiss that starts slow, tentative, like he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far she’ll let him go.

But she’s not holding back, not now. Her hands move to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as she pulls him closer, her lips parting to deepen the kiss. He responds in kind, a low sound escaping from the back of his throat as he presses against her, the kiss turning heated, urgent.

It’s not a gentle kiss, not after all the tension, the words, the stolen glances. It’s everything they’ve been holding back, all the frustration, the longing, the need crashing together in a tangle of lips and tongues and breathless gasps.

She shifts on the bike, her knees brushing against his thighs as she pulls him closer, needing more of him, needing to feel him everywhere. His hands slide to her waist, fingers digging in as he lifts her slightly, positioning her so she’s sitting on the very edge of the seat, her legs parting to make room for him.

Aemond steps between her thighs, his body pressing into hers, the kiss deepening as he takes control, his mouth claiming hers with a hunger that leaves her dizzy. Her hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping tight, as if she’s afraid he might pull away, that this might be a dream she’ll wake up from.

But he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he presses closer, his hands roaming over her back, her sides, mapping out every curve, every inch of her that he’s been dreaming of touching. His mouth moves against hers with a desperation that matches her own, a need to make up for all the lost time, all the moments they could have had but didn’t.

She tilts her head back slightly, giving him better access as his lips move to her jaw, then down to her neck. He kisses a line down to the hollow of her throat, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp, her nails digging into his clothed shoulders.

“Aemond,” she breathes out, her voice shaky, needy.

He pulls back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark, intense, filled with something she’s never seen before. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice rough, barely controlled. “Tell me, and I will.”

“I thought you were seeing someone.”

“Tell me to stop.” The sentence holds no space for argument, almost as though he knows for certain that she wouldn’t stop him.

She couldn’t even if she wanted to.

Instead, she shakes her head, her fingers curling around the nape of his neck as she pulls him back to her, her lips finding his in a kiss that says everything she can’t put into words. She does not want to think, she simply wants to be.

The world falls away. There’s no more fear, no more doubt, no more holding back. It’s just them, tangled together in a mess of heated skin, breathless kisses, and a desperate need for more.

Time seems to slow down and speed up all at once, the kiss stretching on for what feels like an eternity and yet not nearly long enough. She feels like she’s drowning in him, in the way he tastes, the way he feels pressed against her, the way his hands hold her like she’s something precious, something he’s afraid to lose.

And when they finally pull apart, gasping for air, their foreheads resting together, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, she realizes that this - whatever this is - was inevitable. They were always going to end up here, at this moment, with everything they’ve been holding back finally spilling over.

The streetlamp glows, the light flickering over them. The air is cool and crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of rain, though the clouds have long since parted to reveal a sky dotted with stars. They hear the occasional whoosh of a car passing on a nearby street, tires hissing against the damp pavement, the sound growing louder before fading into the distance. Somewhere nearby, a dog barks once, twice, before falling silent, leaving the night to its quiet.

The scent of the city surrounds them - a mix of wet asphalt, a hint of exhaust, and the faint, lingering aroma of coffee from the cafe on the corner. But there’s something else too, something she only just notices now - the subtle, clean scent of Aemond’s cologne, mingling with the smell of leather and the faintest hint of smoke, clinging to his clothes and skin. It’s comforting, grounding her in this moment, making it feel all the more real.

The soft thud of her heart is almost louder than the ambient noises around them, each beat echoing in her ears as she takes in the scene - the way Aemond’s hair catches the light, the way his eyes seem to reflect the stars above them, the way his breath mingles with hers in the small space between them.

You’re seeing someone else, she had said. He hadn’t disagreed.

She wants to reach out, to shake his shoulders, to demand that he tell her what this all means. She wants him to choose her, to see her in the way she sees him - more than just a fleeting moment, more than just this night. The urge is so strong it almost frightens her, this need to make him say it, to make him admit what they both know is simmering between them. But she holds back. She swallows the words before they can form, feeling them burn in her throat, a quiet ache that spreads through her chest.

She could ask him, right now, what this means for them, whether this is something real or just another moment that will fade with the dawn. But the fear of his answer, or worse, his silence, keeps her rooted in place. The thought of hearing him say that this is nothing, that they are nothing, is more than she can bear. So she says nothing.

Instead, she stays silent, feeling the weight of a barrier that she both wants to break and keep intact. Because asking him, forcing him to confront whatever this is, might ruin it. Might turn this into something complicated, something messy.

She’s not sure she’s ready for that. Not yet.

She decides, in that moment, that she would rather have him like this - halfway, uncertain, but here - than risk losing him entirely. So she bites her tongue, swallows her fear, and chooses to stay in the safety of their unspoken connection. It’s easier this way, she tells herself. Easier to take what he’s willing to give and leave the rest unspoken, untouched.

“This is real.” He nods.

She leans into the warmth of him, feeling the press of his hand on her thigh, the steady beat of his heart against her own, and lets herself have this.

For now, it’s enough.

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writella · 1 year

Text

Go to Sleep

Synopsis: Daryl and the reader explore a new way of trying to help you get to sleep.

Details: Smut, 18+, soft-dom!Daryl, afab!reader, tiny bit of mean Daryl but not really, tiny bit of somnophilia but in the end it isn’t really either, Daryl reveals a little of his praise kink, thigh riding, oral (reader receiving), brief descriptions of anxiety, but ends sweetly. wc: 2.8k.

You hate the feeling of having your eyes closed but being so, desperately awake. It feels like a frustrating loop of constantly thinking about the thing you should be doing, the peace you should be feeling, but you simply, just, can’t.

It’s not like when you’re sitting out in the woods, the sun so nice and bright as you rest upon a tree, or when you’re on a ride with Daryl and you close your eyes, resting on his shoulder as the wind hits your face. It doesn’t feel warm and safe; it feels like a dark, void space, and you’re running endlessly to nowhere.

This is how it was, you had been having terrible sleep for weeks now. You felt it in your throat and in your chest whenever— and it was every time— that you woke up with your heart pounding in the middle of the night. You felt your heart beating without even touching your body, and it made you want to throw up.

This is why Daryl had slept with you for the past two weeks, hoping to ease your thoughts.

What you and Daryl had remained undefined at this point. He was loyal and cared for you deeply, but he was also independent and enjoyed doing things at his own pace— initiating wasn’t his strong suit.

This is also why, just the other night nearing twelve am, you had to beg Daryl to take you around the Alexandria houses for a fourth time on his bike before allowing him to leave you on your doorstep. This is where you admitted what was going on, “Please,” you asked sadly, “When I’m alone… I just- I just start thinking too much. I can’t sleep.”

So of course, he took you around again. He didn’t even say anything, just grabbed one of your hands tighter around him, starting to ride slowly. Firstly because he wasn’t trying to wake anyone up, and secondly because he was trying to make it last longer for you. He went around five more times.

Every time you saw your home approaching again your eyes dropped knowing what was coming until he just kept going. But after the fifth time, just when you hoped maybe this was a dream where you could just go around in peaceful circles all night with Daryl, he stopped. He had to sleep too.

He stood between his bike then, waiting for you to get your door, but you moved at a deafeningly slow pace. You hated the darkness that was beginning to weigh behind your eyes. You hated the night now and you hated it even more when you weren’t with him. So, as you hit the top step, you turned back around, running up to him.

Your eyes were meek when you paused before making your final request, “Daryl… please, will you stay with me?”

And that did it: as if you already hadn’t made him go around the neighborhood almost 10 times, those were the words that hit him at the bottom of his heart the most. Neither of you were ever as forward as you were being that night and he couldn’t say no. You told him that you needed him.

The first night was a success, in fact. You happened to fall asleep quite quickly as his strong arms held you down, grounding you in safety. Though as the days trailed on, it seemed that wasn’t exactly enough anymore. Your intrusive thoughts always found a way of sneaking in through Daryl’s stronghold.

Tonight was a night like that. Your eyes were closed, but your mind was very much awake.

You had initially gone to sleep on your side— you both were. Daryl’s face was almost touching yours.

He wasn’t much of a talker all the time, but the typical method that had been working other than laying on his chest was asking him about his day, what things he might have gathered from any trips outside, or seeing if, and it was only on rare occasions, he would tell you a story from his past.

There weren’t many fond memories, but he would always find something: maybe about one of his first hunting trips, or some hijinks he and his brother got into before he ditched when Daryl was a kid… but he didn’t like casually talking about his brother. He’d keep those short for now. You waited patiently for them to get longer. Either way, the stories always helped you get to that initial sleep, so he’d make sure to find one to tell if it made you feel better.

But now you were still awake and Daryl was seemingly asleep. You knew he could probably tell you were turning and shifting at some points, but you didn’t want to truly wake him up yet. It felt greedy after he was being so giving. And it was so rare to see him so peaceful. His eyes were usually elusive and stern. You might have started to know him more than others, but still, it wasn’t all the time that you could tell what was in his head. He was always guarded, especially between the mouth and eyes, but when he was asleep, his face relaxed.

Though the insomnia was killing you, it was nice to see him like this— he was just so handsome. His hair, his lips, his arms— you were obsessed with every shirt he ruined by cutting the sleeve— his abdomen, you almost grazed his lower stomach with your finger tips, thinking about if and how much you would love his-

Then a thought came up.

Probably worse than waking him up even though that would do it regardless, but you moved mindlessly before really thinking about it.

Your legs slid forward, slotting Daryl’s top leg that perched forward, knee almost touching your leg, in the middle of your own two.

Your legs move up a bit and you brush yourself against his thigh once, the movement is so small, then twice, the slight friction feels good, your eyes finally close again, but then you stop. What were you doing? Your head turns face first into the bed and stays there for a moment, quietly letting out your frustration into the sheet.

“You gonna move or what?” It comes out as a grumble and it makes you jut.

You’ve been caught.

“You ain’t slick,” his eyes are still closed, “but go on.” He takes his top leg out from between you and places it better, from the awkwardness ‘trying’ to not wake him up angle you had it at before.

You hold his top shoulder and he holds you right by the waist and you begin to rock. Daryl starts to flex his quad up into you as you grind down onto him. Your wetness finally seeping up so that your lips open a little as they push and rock against him. You can now feel your clit getting more attention from the hard pressure his thigh causes against you.

Daryl opens his eyes for a moment, yours are closed. Face twisted and eyes scrunched as you let out short breaths. You were invested in getting yourself off, you grinded down faster, his hands on your hips now were loose allowing you to go as hard as you pleased, for a minute, then another, and then another until he stopped you.

He pushed his hands and fingertips hard into your hips, deciding he wanted to control the pace. He pushed you into him slow and deep and despite it feeling good, you wanted to go fast, to stop thinking. It made you whine, complainingly as you came down from the high you felt you could have reached. “But Daryl-”

“Shut up.” It sounded like a quiet bark.

You were getting him riled up, yes, but it was also a full moon tonight and Daryl would rather be sleeping on the hard rock ground under the stars than in a bed, only being able to stare at the sky from a window. Even though he knew you had been feeling anxious about something for a while, and he wanted to make you feel okay, he can’t lie, your sleep not improving was starting to get on his nerves a bit. And especially so tonight when your restlessness kept him up the whole time, despite you not knowing.

He allowed you to keep riding him at his pace for a moment until he got a new idea: he pushed your leg off and you gave an exasperated sighed, frustrated at the feeling of nothingness. “Shh,” was all he whispered, it came out sharp.

“Daryl, let’s just-”

“Stop.” He took you by the face when he said it, squeezing your jaw roughly. “Don’t talk.”

He lays you on your back and takes off your pants you were sleeping with, they’re ruined, and you weren’t wearing any underwear after your shower. The blanket is pushed to his side of the bed now as he goes downward, spreading your legs, not too wide but just enough for him to get in between. Holding your thighs, his thumbs kneading the skin on the inner side. He licks the outside of your hole, almost slurping in your wetness as he does it just so he could move it up your pussy toward your clit and sucks in again. He lays his tongue flat and presses back down again, repeating the motion, making you even more wet, everywhere.

Your upper back moved forward, your elbows and forearms propped up so you could watch. This felt better than before, even with his slower movements, he felt so good there so instantly that you couldn’t help yourself but staying up to look, but after he sees you he stops.

Silently, Daryl pushes your shoulders back into the bed, you can’t tell if he was only accidentally being rough. He pushes your pillow up only slightly against the headboard, just enough so your head wasn’t completely propped up, but just so if you wanted to move your head to the side you could still look if you wanted to when you realized you could. “Stay,” then begrudgedy he adds, “and close your eyes.”

Daryl went down again, making his pace slower than before: His lips and tongue sucked in your clit again, it coming into his mouth as much as the little thing could and he repeats it again until he had peppered you there with slobbery kisses and then he moved to one side of your labia, his lips slotting themselves above and under that one side as his tongue goes out and in, kissing you deeply. The man was literally making out with your pussy.

Just as he would with your mouth, his head turned and leaned into it, pushing his tongue in and pressing against you, his lips in between one of your own down there as he did so. He went in the middle of you again, his nose rubbing against your clit a few times as his tongue went lower, sucking in more of your wetness again. His nose brushing against you made you shudder.

Your eyes were still closed, but they scrunched even harder now and your head started shaking side to side. You have never felt him down there being so intentional, deliberate, and intense. Something so surprisingly romantic, but still so fucking dirty and sexy. He has pushed your wetness everywhere. You felt like a dripping mess and more than half of his face was all coated in it and it just felt so good.

He moved to the other side of your pussy now, giving it the same attention as he did the first. Making out with you down there as if he could do it forever. So slow, but it felt so warm and deep.

You felt him suck you in and swallow some of your wetness. He hummed into you as he did it, a raspy “mmmm” melted into you and it made you moan, the sound coming from you instantaneously because of the vibration you felt down there from his voice. You covered your mouth, your house was quiet and you didn’t want to wake anyone up but the more he continued, the harder it was becoming.

Now, his lip suctioned your pussy lip in between his and he slid down, tongue trailing the inner side until he was able to slot his tongue inside your hole, staying there and still kissing you. Moving his tongue in and out now, still slowly, feeling every bit as he moved.

Your quiet pants were continuous, but you were trying hard to hold in your noises. Not wanting to wake up anybody else you lived with, but also not knowing if Daryl would stop again if you spoke too much.

To your misfortune, he stopped anyway. Your eyes open and push your head to the side of your pillow so you can look down at him. Your mouth was open, but you made sure not to complain.

His chin almost rested on your mound, he was already looking up. “Does it feel good?” You couldn’t read his eyes, but his voice was surprisingly tender and questioning.

You assured him immediately, “yes,” you whispered giggling. You brush his hair with your fingers, undoing some tangles. You got lost in his eyes for a moment before he went down again.

“Tell me,” he says, it almost sounds muffled as he sucks you in until he takes a breath to say more clearly, “I wanna hear you now.”

“Don’t wanna get to loud,” you’re breathless.

He licks you off his lips, looking you in the eye, “so don’t.”

Daryl starts going faster now, breathing you in and humming, knowing you can feel the vibrations, jerk. “Mmm, Daryl, please.” You start to pant again, still too scared you might let yourself go too far.

His fingers spread wide, splaying over to your lower stomach, pushing down until he reaches your tit and circling your nipples. His other hand joins him, it makes you inhale sharply. With that and the way he circled your hole, trying to get his tongue to go in and press as much as he could, it caused you to jerk up, taking one of his hands in your own, squeezing it. Your other hand went to his hair. His fingers weren’t even inside of you, but his hands felt so big no matter where he touched you and his tongue felt incredible, you didn’t know how he did it and it made you start to loose it, “ah- Daryl-”

“You like that?” He pushed you hand off his head and he took his free hand to finger your clit and he went back to sucking and making out with you toward your center. It all makes you nod your head, shaking quickly.

“Say it.”

“I like it,” it came out as a whispered shriek. “I like it, I like it,” you were breathless, “Daryl you feel so good.” You were holding on as hard as you could, but it wasn’t working. Your thighs came to close in on his face but he pushed his hands into your inner legs opening them even further and he kept going down, his nose pressing into you.

His mouth moved up again making out with your clit and lips on top and two of his fingers went into your hole.

You held onto his other hand again and squeezed and he thrusted his fingers into you hard and fast, he wanted to make you reach the end now.

“Oh- Daryl- oh my god,” you were coming out pathetically now as his fingers started to curl into you, and he added another.

Suddenly, you felt it. Right at the bottom of your stomach, the spark, the indescribable electricity as he kept humming into you on top and jamming into you at the bottom. All you heard was the squelch of you and his fingers and tongue lapping and lapping until you let out as much of a suppressed moan as you could release as you came.

Your eyes finally relaxed as you settled down and Daryl sat up on the bed, watching your breathing slow.

He stayed there for a moment, looking at how the night’s light shined on you from the window.

You had pulled the blanket over your legs again but he pulled it off. You didn’t know exactly what he was doing but your eyes were still closed. You were tired and sexed out now, you couldn’t get yourself to open them or ask questions, and it wasn’t a particularly cold night anyway and you still had his shirt on. You let it be, your mind finally drifting until you heard quiet footsteps travel down stairs, until they quickly ascended again.

Daryl took you by the upper back and under your knees, picking you up. With no words he took you to the front porch, gently laid you on the blanket, the side closest to the door. He laid himself on the opposite, closest to the sky.

You’re curled into his chest, you almost looked like a kitten, arm over him, fist curling into your chin contentedly, eyes closed and so peaceful, but you still kept nestling.

“Go to sleep,” he insisted softly. His hand went into your hair, lulling you further into your trance. This time it worked. He did everything right and now the trick was paying off, you couldn’t help but fall closer and closer into your slumber.

Daryl turned to his left to look at the moon, its gentle gleam finally coaxing him into his own sleep as well.

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